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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391550" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Night-Scene in Genoa</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Genoa, when the sunset gave<br>Its last warm purple to the wave,<br>No sound of war, no voice of fear,<br>Was heard, announcing danger near:<br>Though deadliest foes were there, whose hate<br>But slumber'd till its hour of fate,<br>Yet calmly, at the twilight's close,<br>Sunk the wide city to repose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when deep midnight reign'd around,<br>All sudden woke the alarm-bell's sound,<br>Full swelling, while the hollow breeze<br>Bore its dread summons o'er the seas.<br>Then, Genoa, from their slumber started<br>Thy sons, the free, the fearless-hearted;<br>Then mingled with th' awakening peal<br>Voices, and steps, and clash of steel.<br>Arm, warriors, arm! for danger calls,<br>Arise to guard your native walls!<br>With breathless haste the gathering throng<br>Hurry the echoing streets along;<br>Through darkness rushing to the scene<br>Where their bold counsels still convene.<br>- But there a blaze of torches bright<br>Pours its red radiance on the night,<br>O'er fane, and dome, and column playing,<br>With every fitful night-wind swaying,<br>Now floating o'er each tall arcade,<br>Around the pillar'd scene display'd,<br>In light relieved by depth of shade:<br>And now, with ruddy meteor-glare,<br>Full streaming on the silvery hair<br>And the bright cross of him who stands,<br>Rearing that sign with suppliant hands;<br>Girt with his consecrated train,<br>The hallow'd servants of the fane.<br>Of life's past woes, the fading trace<br>Hath given that aged patriarch's face<br>Expression holy, deep, resign'd,<br>The calm sublimity of mind.<br>Years o'er his snowy head have pass'd,<br>And left him of his race the last;<br>Alone on earth - yet still his mien<br>Is bright with majesty serene;<br>And those high hopes, whose guiding-star<br>Shines from th' eternal worlds afar,<br>Have with that light illumed his eye,<br>Whose fount is immortality,<br>And o'er his features pour'd a ray<br>Of glory, not to pass away.<br>He seems a being who hath known<br>Communion with his God alone,<br>On earth by nought but pity's tie<br>Detain'd a moment from on high!<br>One to sublimer worlds allied,<br>One, from all passion purified,<br>E'en now half-mingled with the sky,<br>And all prepared - oh! not to die -<br>But, like the prophet, to aspire,<br>In heaven's triumphal car of fire.<br>He speaks - and from the throngs around<br>Is heard not e'en a whisper's sound;<br>Awe-struck each heart, and fix'd each glance,<br>They stand as in a spell-bound trance:<br>He speaks - oh! Who can hear, nor own<br>The might of each prevailing tone?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Chieftains and warriors! ye, so long<br>Aroused to strife by mutual wrong,<br>Whose fierce and far-transmitted hate<br>Hath made your country desolate;<br>Now by the love ye bear her name,<br>By that pure spark of holy flame<br>On freedom's altar brightly burning,<br>But, once extinguish'd, ne'er returning;<br>By all your hopes of bliss to come<br>When burst the bondage of the tomb:<br>By Him, the God who bade us live<br>To aid each other, and forgive -<br>I call upon ye to resign<br>Your discords at your country's shrine,<br>Each ancient feud in peace atone,<br>Wield your keen swords for her alone,<br>And swear upon the cross, to cast<br>Oblivion's mantle o'er the past!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No voice replies - the holy bands<br>Advance to where you chieftain stands,<br>With folded arms, and brow of gloom<br>O'er shadow'd by his floating plume.<br>To him they lift the cross - in vain,<br>He turns - oh! say not with disdain,<br>But with a mien of haughty grief,<br>That seeks not, e'en from heaven, relief:<br>He rends his robes - he sternly speaks -<br>Yet tears are on the warrior's cheeks.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Father! not thus the wounds may close<br>Inflicted by eternal foes.<br>Deem'st thou thy mandate can efface<br>The dread volcano's burning trace?<br>Or bid the earthquake's ravaged scene<br>Be, smiling, as it once hath been?<br>No! for the deeds the sword hath done<br>Forgiveness is not lightly won;<br>The words, by hatred spoke, may not<br>Be, as a summer breeze, forgot!<br>'Tis vain - we deem the war-feud's rage<br>A portion of our heritage.<br>Leaders, now slumbering with their fame,<br>Bequeath's us that undying flame;<br>Hearts that have long been still and cold<br>Yet rule us from their silent mould;<br>And voices, heard on earth no more,<br>Speak to our spirits as of yore.<br>Talk not of mercy - blood alone<br>The stain of bloodshed may atone;<br>Nought else can pay that mighty debt,<br>The dead forbid us to forget.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He pauses - from the partiarch's brow<br>There beams more lofty grandeur now;<br>His reverend form, his aged hand,<br>Assume a gesture of command,<br>His voice is awful, and his eye<br>Fill's with prophetic majesty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The dead! - and deem'st thou they retain<br>Aught of terrestrial passion's stain?<br>Of guilt incurr'd in days gone by,<br>Aught but the fearful penalty?<br>And say'st thou, mortal! blood alone<br>For deeds of slaughter may atone?<br>There hath been blood - by Him 'twas shed<br>To expiate every crime who bled;<br>Th' absolving God who died to save,<br>And rose in victory from the grave!<br>And by that stainless offering given<br>Alike for all on earth to heaven;<br>By that inevitable hour<br>When death shall vanquish pride and power,<br>And each departing passion's force<br>Concentrate all in late remorse;<br>And by the day when doom shall be<br>Pass'd on earth's millions, and on thee -<br>The doom that shall not be repeal'd,<br>Once utter'd, and for ever seal'd -<br>I summon thee, O child of clay!<br>To cast thy darker thoughts away,<br>And meet thy foes in peace and love,<br>As thou would'st join the blest above.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still as he speaks, unwonted feeling<br>Is o'er the chieftain's bosom stealing;<br>Oh! not in vain the pleading cries<br>Of anxious thousands round him rise;<br>He yields - devotion's mingled sense<br>Of faith, and fear, and penitence,<br>Pervading all his soul, he bows<br>To offer on the cross his vows,<br>And that best incense to the skies,<br>Each evil passion's sacrifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then tears from warriors' eyes were flowing,<br>High hearts with soft emotions glowing;<br>Stern foes as long-loved brothers greeting,<br>And ardent throngs in transport meeting:<br>And eager footsteps forward pressing,<br>And accents loud in joyous blessing;<br>And when their first wild tumults cease,<br>A thousand voices echo 'Peace!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Twilight's dim mist hath roll'd away,<br>And the rich Orient burns with day:<br>Then as to greet the sunbeam's birth,<br>Rises the choral hymn of earth;<br>Th' exulting strain through Genoa swelling,<br>Of peace and holy rapture telling.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far float the sounds o'er vale and steep,<br>The seaman hears them on the deep,<br>So mellow'd by the gale, they seem<br>As the wild music of a dream:<br>But not on mortal ear alone<br>Peals the triumphant anthem's tone;<br>For beings of a purer sphere<br>Bend with celestial joy, to hear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391550" data-title="Night-Scene in Genoa de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="In Genoa, when the sunset gave
Its last warm purple to the wave,
No sound of war, no voice of fear,
Was heard, announcing danger near:
Though deadliest foes were there, whose hate
But slumber'd till its hour of fate,
Yet calmly, at the twilight's ..."></div>
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