With men whom tales of that world’s golden strand
Had lured to leave their vines. Oh! who shall say
What thoughts rose in us, when the tropic sky
Touch’d all its molten seas with sunset’s alchemy!
XLVII.
Thoughts no more mingled! Then came night—th’ intense
Dark blue—the burning stars! I saw thee shine
Once more, in thy serene magnificence,
O Southern Cross![303] as when thy radiant sign
First drew my gaze of youth. No, not as then;