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From the Khersonida
Translated by J. Bowring
THOU wondrous brother of the Prophet, sun! | |
| So brightly on Medina’s temple burning; | |
| And scarce less beautiful the crescent moon, | |
| When moving gently o’er the shadows dun | |
| Of evening, and their verge to silver turning. | 5 |
| Oh, what a lovely, soft tranquillity | |
| Rests on the earth and breathes along the sea! | |
| Here is no cedar bent with misery; | |
| No holy cypress sighs or weeps, as seen | |
| In other lands, where his dark branches green | 10 |
| Mourn in the desert o’er neglected graves: | |
| Here his all-sheltering boughs he calmly waves | |
| In the dim light, the sacred vigils keeping | |
| O’er the blest ashes on earth’s bosom sleeping. | |
| Picture of God! upon the prophet’s shrine | 15 |
| Shine brightly,—brightly, beautifully shine | |
| Upon those holy fields where once he trod, | |
| And flowers sprung up beneath his innocent feet, | |
| Tulips and aloes and narcissus, sweet, | |
| A lovely carpet for the child of God! | 20 |
| There have our privileged, pilgrim footsteps been, | |
| This have we seen,—yes, brother! this have seen: | |
| The grave, the life, the ashes, and the dome | |
| Eternal, and the heavens: and there have bought | |
| The grace of God and found the joy we sought, | 25 |
| A certain entrance to our final home. | |
| And now, be short our houseward way! | |
| Our fathers’ habitations now appear! | |
| Oh, with what transports shall we hear them say, | |
| With what loud greetings, “Welcome, welcome here!” | 30 |
| The swelling-bosomed wife, the black-haired son | |
| And black-eyed daughter greet our joyous train, | |
| Rushing from our own doors they hither run, | |
| And songs of rapture loudly hail us then. | |
| Their trembling hands the fragrant aloe bear, | 35 |
| Which joyful o’er our wearied limbs they throw; | |
| Home of our fathers! now appear, | |
| Our houseward path be shortened now! | |
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