Classic Poem

( " L'Orient! qu'y voyez-vous, poites? " )

Now, vot'ries of the Muses, turn your eyes,
Unto the East, and say what there appears!
" Alas! " the voice of Poesy replies,
" Mystic's that light between the hemispheres! "

" Yes, dread's the mystic light in yonder heaven —
Dull is the gleam behind the distant hill;
Like feeble flashes in the welkin driven,
When the far thunder seems as it were still!

" But who can tell if that uncertain glare
Be Phaebus' self, adorned with glowing vest;
Or, if illusions, pregnant in the air,
Have drawn our glances to the radiant west?

" Haply the sunset has deceived the sight, —
Perchance 'tis evening, while we look for morning;
Bewildered in the mazes of twilight,
That lucid sunset may appear a dawning! "