Читать книгу The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, January 1844 - Various - Страница 5

I have come, I have come from a shadowy clime,

An heir of the monarch Earth’s children call Time;

With years yet unborn, I have stood in the hall

That was reared by our sire, awaiting his call:

Last eve, as I lay on his bosom at rest,

I saw slowly rise a white cloud in the west;

Now through the blue ether, through regions of space,

It floated up softly, with fairy-like grace,

And paused ’neath the light of the white-shining stars,

Whose rays pierced its centre, like clear silver bars;

The winds revelled round it, unchecked in their mirth,

As it hung, like a banner, ’mid heaven and earth.

The soft fleecy folds of the clouds swept aside,

The winds ceased their revels, and mournfully sighed;

A car slowly rolled down the pathway of Time,

A bell slowly tolled a funereal chime:

A sound in the air, and a wail on the breeze,

Swift as wave follows wave on tempest-tossed seas;

Thin shadows swept by in that funeral train,

As glide o’er old battle-grounds ghosts of the slain.

I saw the dim spectres of long-buried years—

The Seasons close followed, in mourning and tears.

Arrayed in his armor, death-darts in his hand,

The grim King of Terrors strode on with the band,

While cold, stark and ghastly, there lay on his bier

The death-stricken form of the hoary Old Year!

How bent was his figure, how furrowed his brow,

How weary he looked from his pilgrimage now!

The phantoms of Passion, of Hope and Despair,

With dark, waving plumage, encircled him there;

The Months stood around, and the bright dancing Hours

On spirit-wings floated, like birds among flowers.

A voice sweet as music now smote on my ear:

‘Go forth in thy beauty, thou unspotted Year!

The old Year hath died ‘mid rejoicings and mirth,

That rocked the stern heart of the rugged old Earth!

The midnight is passing; away to thy car!

Thou’lt sail by the lustre of morning’s bright star;

Away!’ And I rose from the bosom of Time,

And fled through the gates of that shadowy clime;

My car sped along on the wings of the wind,

While Winter, old man! tottered slowly behind.

The sky’s eastern portals impeded my flight,

When Morning rose up from the arms of the Night;

The dawn faintly glowed, and I saw the old Earth,

And sailed in my kingdom, a monarch at birth!

‘Then give me wild music, the dance and the song,

For ever!’ I shouted, while whirling along:

‘I have come, I have come from a shadowy clime,

A breath of the monarch Earth’s children call Time!’