Classic Poem

Soon as the scene had closed, a cheer
Of gentle voices old and young
Rose from the groups that stood to hear
This tale of yore so aptly sung;
And while some nymphs in haste to tell
The workers of that fairy spell
How crowned with praise their task had been
Stole in behind the curtained scene,
The rest in happy converse strayed—
Talking that ancient love-tale o'er—
Some to the groves that skirt the glade,
Some to the chapel by the shore,
To look what lights were on the sea,
And think of the absent silently.

But soon that summons known so well
Thro' bower and hall in Eastern lands,
Whose sound more sure than gong or bell
Lovers and slaves alike commands,—
The clapping of young female hands,
Calls back the groups from rock and field
To see some new-formed scene revealed;—
And fleet and eager down the slopes
Of the green glades like antelopes
When in their thirst they hear the sound
Of distant rills, the light nymphs bound.

Far different now the scene—a waste
Of Libyan sands, by moonlight's ray:
An ancient well, whereon were traced
The warning words, for such as stray
Unarmed there, “Drink and away!”
While near it from the night-ray screened,
And like his bells in husht repose,
A camel slept—young as if weaned
When last the star Canopus rose.

Such was the back-ground's silent scene;—
While nearer lay fast slumbering too
In a rude tent with brow serene
A youth whose cheeks of wayworn hue
And pilgrim-bonnet told the tale
That he had been to Mecca's Vale:
Haply in pleasant dreams, even now
Thinking the long wished hour is come
When o'er the well-known porch at home
His hand shall hang the aloe bough—
Trophy of his accomplished vow.

But brief his dream—for now the call
Of the camp-chiefs from rear to van,
“Bind on your burdens,” wakes up all
The widely slumbering caravan;
And thus meanwhile to greet the ear
Of the young pilgrim as he wakes,
The song of one who lingering near
Had watched his slumber, cheerly breaks.