Man; A Poem in 12 Cantos
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| Partner: | buecher.de |
| Hersteller: | Forgotten Books (Ganter, Franz S.) |
| Stand: | 2015-08-04 03:50:33 |
Produktbeschreibung
Excerpt from Man; A Poem in 12 Cantos: Ab Ovo Usque Ad Mala Man. Whose pinnacles still pierce the mountain mist, Mark too, how nigh the hitter looms a third, Its kindred, since from it that Scion sprang Who, when selected as a planting slip For Spanish ground, was snatched up as the brand. Whose lighted fire consumed the Starter´s own, And fused an empire for his goaded foe. This for our tale of Mans attendant lore: Profane or holy, this is God´s earth all, And sacred there to Man where he is born, ´Twas in a night when Spring, Earth´s waiting-maid, Through with her decking of the forward vales, Dispensed her perfume as she clomb those Heights. Who in return for her voluptuous scent. On her their bracing pine-aroma blew, Whereon her russet cheeks yet deeper glowed. In other climes the shaded air were brisk Which here is tepid felt, and therefore Night If she would hear her feathered minstrel sing Can list but in the vales, since on these Heights Where so sublimely looms her glorious brow Her praises are unsung: the more Night joys In yonder orb, whose human mien reveals That were not Man, there were no Spheres above. . As she through listless clouds the Orient scaled Now them illuming, now by them obscured. The sombre forest of majestic pines Had on the landscape set its solemn hood; Calm lay the air as were all motion stayed And Solitude, sole guardian of this glebe, At noontide bowered in its gloomiest glen Had spread herself throughout her black domain: ´Twas as all nature by Remembrance struck Of how she rose, lay in devotions trance And the creative Spirit moved again. In such an hour, her inspiration feels The hero´s soul: then states and systems fall. Yearned for by thousands, present now was none From this celestial moment´s fleeting wing To pluck the pinion of eternity Save yonder two, and can these know its worth! But only One, not they themselves could tell Who knew not what, but only that they I felt As in that hour of ecstasy for them Prolific Time more joys than seconds teemed, For they themselves were of the Eden fall Which is by Heav´n but once vouchsafed to Man Albeit its shadowed semblance may again. These two, returning from a marriage feast Broke not this spell, but gliding smoothly in About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
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