EVENING ON THE SEA-SHORE.
FROM THE FRENCH OF VISCOUNT DE CHATEAUBRIAND.
The woods, the sand-beach desolate and bare,
Blend dusky with the shadows dim and far,
And, glittering from the depths, the evening star
Gleams solitary through the silent air.
Westward, and sparkling under purest skies,
Foams on the long, low reef the line of white;
And towards the north, o’er seas of crystal light,
The gathering mist of deepening purple flies.
The mountains redden still with sunset fire,
Soft dies the plaintive breeze in murmurs low,
And, each to each linked in their gentle flow,
The waves roll calmly shoreward and expire.
All grandeur, mystery, love! In this, the time
Of dying day, all nature with her state
Of mountain ranges and her forests great,
The eternal order and the plan sublime,
Stands like a temple on whose walls of light
The beauties of creation’s day are shown—
A sanctuary, where is the Godhead’s throne
Veiled by the curtains of the holy night
Whose cupola high to the zenith towers,
A glorious harmony, a work divine,
And painted with the heavenly hues that shine
In dawns, in rainbows, and in summer flowers.