Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, by J. J. OWENS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, by                    
First Line: Lo, by nilus' languid waters
Last Line: And her life is near its goal.
Subject(s): Cleopatra, Queen Of Egypt (69-30 B.c.); Nile (river)


LO, by Nilus' languid waters
Fades the dreamy summer day,
Where, on couch of gold and crimson,
Egypt's royal daughter lay, --
Dreaming lay, while palm and pillar
Cast their lengthening shadows now,
And the lotus-laden zephyrs
Lightly kissed her queenly brow.

Soft the evening steals upon her,
As behind the curtained west
Sinks the day-god in his splendor --
Folds his wooing arms to rest.
Drowsy shades of dusky Egypt
Homeward, slow, their burdens bear,
While the boatman's lazy challenge
Falls upon the quivering air.

Dreams she of her Roman lover,
He who cast a crown away,
Country, kindred, fame, and honor,
In her captive arms to lay?
Ay! of Antony her hero,
Sharer of her heart and throne,
He whose ships, now homeward sailing,
Bear her all of love alone.

Starts she in her sleeping glory,
And her brown arms, jewelled, bare,
Round and rich in queenly beauty,
Wildly cleave the slumberous air.
Beads of perspiration gather
On her matchless woman's brow,
While her parted lips in anguish
Tell of heart-pangs none may know.

Sure some vision, dire and dreadful,
Palls upon her eyes and brain,
Piercing to her being's centre
With a fiery shaft of pain.
Like a sea her full-orbed bosom
Swells and falls with pent-up ire;
Then her spirit breaks its thraldom,
And she shrieks in wild despair: --

"Charmian, quick, unloose my girdle,
Give me breath! I faint! I die!
Ho! slaves, bring my royal galley,
Let us hence to Egypt fly.
Oh for vengeance on the traitor,
And upon his Roman bride!
Let him never dare -- ah, Charmian,
Stand you closely by my side.

"Do I dream? Is this my palace --
Yon my sweetly flowing Nile?
Ah, I see -- O great Osiris,
How I thank thee for thy smile!
Oh, I've had such fearful vision --
He, my Antony, untrue;
And my heart was nigh to bursting
With its fearful weight of woe.

"But 't is over; yet I tremble --
On what brink of fate I stand;
What prophetic bird of evil
Hovers o'er this sacred land!
What if true should come my dreaming,
And no more my love return!
Ah, the thought my heart's blood freezes,
While my brain with madness burns."
. . . . . .
Then she listened, gazing outward
Toward a dim futurity --
And the Nile forever onward
Bears its burdens to the sea;
And she catches from its whispers --
Echoing whispers in her soul --
That her reign of love is ended,
And her life is near its goal.





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