Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA, by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH Poet's Biography First Line: Twas night upon the darro Last Line: The happy nightingales. Subject(s): Columbus, Christopher (1451-1506); Explorers; Exploring; Discovery; Discoverers | ||||||||
I 'TWAS night upon the Darro. The risen moon above the silvery tower Of Comares shone, the silver sun of night, And poured its lustrous splendors through the halls Of the Alhambra. The air was breathless, Yet filled with ceaseless songs of nightingales, And odors sweet of falling orange blooms; The misty lamps were burning odorous oil; The uncurtained balconies were full of life, And laugh and song, and airy castanets And gay guitars. Afar Sierras rose, Domes, towers, and pinnacles, over royal heights, Whose crowns were gemmed with stars. The Generaliffe, The summer palace of old Moorish kings In vanished years, stood sentinel afar, A pile of shade, as brighter grew the moon, Impearling fountain sprays, and shimmering On seas of citron orchards cool and green, And terraces embowered with vernal vines And breathing flowers. In shadowy arcades Were loitering priests, and here and there A water-carrier passed with tinkling bells. There came a peal of horns That woke Granada, city of delights, From its long moonlight reverie. Again: -- The suave lute ceased to play, the castanet; The water-bearer stopped. and ceased his song The wandering troubadour. Then rent the air Another joyous peal, and oped the gates And entered there a train of cavaliers, Their helmets glittering in the low red moon. The streets and balconies All danced with wondering life. The train moved on, And filled the air again the horns melodious, And loud the heralds shouted: -- "Thy name, O Fernando, through all earth shall be sounded, Columbus has triumphed, his foes are confounded!" A silence followed. Could such tidings be? Men heard and whispered, Eyes glanced to eyes, feet uncertain moved, Never on mortal ears had fallen words Like these. And was the earth a star? On marched the cavaliers, And pealed again the horns, and again cried The heralds: -- "Thy name, Isabella, through all earth shall be sounded, Columbus has triumphed, his foes are confounded!" All hearts were thrilled. "Isabella!" That name breathed faith and hope And lofty aim. Emotion swayed the crowds; Tears flowed, and acclamations rose, and rushed The wondering multitudes toward the plaza. "Isabella! Isabella!" it filled The air -- that one word "Isabella!" And now 'T is noon of night. The moon hangs near the earth -- A golden moon in golden air; the peaks Like silver tents of shadowy sentinels Glint 'gainst the sky. The plaza gleams and surges Like a sea. The joyful horns peal forth again, And falls a hush, and cry the heralds: -- "Thy name, Isabella, shall be praised by all the living; Haste, haste to Barcelona, and join the Great Thanksgiving!" What nights had seen Granada! Yet never one like this! The moon went down And fell the wings of shadow, yet the streets Still swarmed with people hurrying on and on. II Morn came, With bursts of nightingales and quivering fires. The cavaliers rode forth toward barcelona. The city followed, throbbing with delight. The happy troubadour, the muleteer, The craftsmen all, the boy and girl, and e'en The mother -- 't was a soft spring morn; The fairest skies of earth those April morns In Andalusia. Long was the journey, But the land was flowers and the nights were not, And birds sang all the hours, and breezes cool Fanned all the ways along the sea. The roads were filled With hurrying multitudes. For well 't was known That he, the conqueror, viceroy of the isles, Was riding from Seville to meet the king. And what were conquerors before to him whose eye Had seen the world a star, and found the star a world? Once he had walked The self-same ways, roofless and poor and sad, A beggar at old convent doors, and heard The very children jeer him in the streets, And ate his crust and made his roofless bed Upon the flowers beside his boy, and prayed, And found in trust a pillow radiant With dreams immortal. Now? III That was a glorious day That dawned on Barcelona. Banners filled The thronging towers, the old bells rung, and blasts Of lordly trumpets seemed to reach the sky Cerulean. All Spain had gathered there, And waited there his coming; Castilian knights, Gay cavaliers, hidalgos young, and e'en the old Puissant grandees of far Aragon, With glittering mail, and waving plumes, and all The peasant multitude with bannerets And charms and flowers. Beneath pavilions Of brocades of gold, the Court had met. The dual crowns of Leon old and proud Castile There waited him, the peasant mariner. The trumpets waited Near the open gates; the minstrels young and fair Upon the tapestried and arrased walls, And everywhere from all the happy provinces The wandering troubadours. Afar was heard A cry, a long acclaim. Afar was seen A proud and stately steed with nodding plumes, Bridled with gold, whose rider stately rode, And still afar a long and sinuous train Of silvery cavaliers. A shout arose, And all the city, all the vales and hills, With silver trumpets rung. He came, the Genoese, With reverent look and calm and lofty mien, And saw the wondering eyes and heard the cries And trumpet peals, as one who followed still Some Guide unseen. Before his steed Crowned Indians marched with lowly faces, And wondered at the new world that they saw; Gay parrots shouted from their gold-bound arms, And from their crests swept airy plumes. The sun Shone full in splendor on the scene, and here The old and new world met. But -- IV Hark! the heralds! How they thrill all hearts and fill all eyes with tears! The very air seems throbbing with delight; Hark! hark! they cry, in chorus all they cry: -- "A Castilla y a Leon, a Castilla y a Leon, Nuevo mundo dio Colon!" Every heart now beats with his, The stately rider on whose calm face shines A heaven-born inspiration. Still the shout: "Nuevo mundo dio Colon!" how it rings! From wall to wall, from knights and cavaliers, And from the multitudinous throngs, A mighty chorus of the vales and hills! "A Castilla y a Leon!" And now the golden steed Draws near the throne; the crowds move back, and rise The reverent crowns of Leon and Castile; And stands before the tear-filled eyes of all The multitudes the form of Isabella. Semiramis? Zenobia? What were they To her, as met her eyes again the eyes of him Into whose hands her love a year before Emptied its jewels! He told his tale: The untried deep, the green Sargasso Sea, The varying compass, the affrighted crews, The hymn they sung on every doubtful eve, The sweet hymn to the Virgin. How there came The land birds singing, and the drifting weeds, How broke the morn on fair San Salvador, How the Te Deum on that isle was sung, And how the cross was lifted in the name Of Leon and Castile. And then he turned His face towards Heaven, "O Queen! O Queen! There kingdoms wait the triumphs of the cross!" Then Isabella rose, With face illumined: then overcome with joy She sank upon her knees, and king and court And nobles rose and knelt beside her, And followed them the sobbing multitude; Then came a burst of joy, a chorus grand, And mighty antiphon -- "We praise thee, Lord, and, Lord, acknowledge thee, And give thee glory! -- Holy, Holy, Holy!" Loud and long it swelled and thrilled the air, That first Thanksgiving for the new-found world! VI The twilight roses bloomed In the far skies o'er Barcelona. The gentle Indians came and stood before The throne, and smiled the queen, and said: "I see my gems again." The shadow fell, And trilled all night beneath the moon and stars The happy nightingales. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHACKLETON by MADELINE DEFREES AMERICA IS HARD TO SEE by ROBERT FROST CONCERNING THE RIGHT TO LIFE by JORIE GRAHAM THE HEAD ON THE TABLE by JOHN HAINES PSALM OF THE WEST: SONNET ON COLUMBUS: 1 by SIDNEY LANIER PSALM OF THE WEST: SONNET ON COLUMBUS: 2 by SIDNEY LANIER PSALM OF THE WEST: SONNET ON COLUMBUS: 3 by SIDNEY LANIER PSALM OF THE WEST: SONNET ON COLUMBUS: 4 by SIDNEY LANIER FIVE KERNELS OF CORN [APRIL, 1622] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH: A DREAM OF PONCE DE LEON by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH THE THANKSGIVING IN BOSTON HARBOR [JUNE 12, 1630] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH |
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