From the Times.
THE MEETING OF THE NATIONS IN HYDE PARK.
BY W. M. THACKERAY.
But yesterday a naked sod,
The dandies sneered from Rotten-row,
And cantered o'er it to and fro;
And see, 'tis done!
As though 'twere by a wizard's rod,
A blazing arch of lucid glass
Leaps like a fountain from the grass
To meet the sun!
A quiet green but few days since,
With cattle browsing in the shade,
And lo! long lines of bright arcade
In order raised;
A palace as for fairy prince,
A rare paradise, such as man
Saw never, since mankind began
And built and glazed!
A peaceful place it was but now,
And lo! within its shining streets.
A multitude, of nations meets:
A countless throng,
I see beneath the crystal bow,
And Gaul and German, Russ and Turk,
Each with his native handiwork,
And busy tongue.
I felt a thrill of love and awe
To mark the different garb of each,
The changing tongue, the various speech
Together blent.
A thrill, methinks like His who saw
"All people dwelling upon earth
Praising our God with solemn mirth
And one consent."
High Sovereign in your Royal state!
Captains and Chiefs and Councillors,
Before the lofty palace doors
Are open set.
Hush! ere you pass the shining gate;
Hush! ere the heaving curtain draws,
And let the Royal pageant pause
A moment yet.
People and Prince, a silence keep!
Bow coronet and kindly crown,
Helmet and plume bow lowly down;
The while the priest
Before the splendid portal step,
While still the wondrous banquet stays,
From Heaven supreme a blessing prays
Upon the feast!