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john4525

lisalluded to in the poem
are well authenticated.
I saw him in vision--the last of that race
Who were destined to vanish before the Pale-face
As the dews of the evening from mountain and dale
When the thirsty young Morning withdraws her dark veil; Alone with the Past and the Future's chill breath
Like a soul that has entered the valley of Death.
He stood where of old from the Fane of the Sun
While cycles unnumbered their centuries run
Never quenchednever fadingand mocking at Time
Blazed the fire sacerdotal far o'er the fair clime;
Where the temples o'ershadowed the Mexican plain
And the hosts of the Aztec were conquered and slain;
Where the Red Hand still glows on pilaster and wall
And the serpent keeps watch o'er the desolate hall.
He stood as an oakon the bleak mountainside
The lightning hath withered and scorched in its pride
Most stately in deathand refusing to bend
To the blast that ere long must its dry branches rend; With coldness and courage confronting Life's care
But the coldnessthe couragethat's born of despair.
I marked him wherewinding through harvest-crowned plainThe "Father of Waters" sweeps on to the main
Where the dark mounds in silence and loneliness standAnd the wrecks [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]