Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/14

2 Oft, when the gleamings of his mountain brass Flash through the clouds and tint them as they pass, Those glories mock the hues of closing day, And Heaven's bright wantons hail their hour of play; Try, ere the time, the magic of their glance, And deck their beauty for the twilight dance. Far spread the wilds where eager hunters roam, Tracking the lion to his dreary home; For though the melting snow has washed away The crimson blood-drops of the wounded prey, Still the fair pearls that graced his forehead tell Where the strong elephant, o'ermastered, fell,— Cling to the lion's talons, and betray, Falling at every step, the mighty conqueror's way. Dear to the Sylphs are the cool shadows thrown By dark clouds wandering round the mountain's zone, Till the big rain-drops fright them from the plains To those high peaks where sunshine ever reigns. There birch-trees wave, that lend their friendly aid To tell the passion of the love-born maid. So quick to learn with metal tints to mark Her hopes and fears upon the tender bark.

List! breathing from each cave, leads The glorious hymn with all his whispering reeds, Till Heavenly Minstrels raise their voice in song And swell his music as it floats along. Where the fierce elephant wounds the scented bough To ease the torment of his burning brow. The bleeding pines their odorous gum distil, And breathe rare fragrance o'er the sacred hill.