Where the wings of a sunny Dome expand I saw a Banner in gladsome air — Starry, like Berenice's Hair — Afloat in broadened bravery there;
With undulating long-drawn flow, As rolled Brazilian billows go Voluminously o'er the Line. The Land reposed in peace below;
The children in their glee Were folded to the exulting heart Of young Maternity. Later, and it streamed in fight
When tempest mingled with the fray, And over the spear-point of the shaft I saw the ambiguous lightning play. Valor with Valor strove, and died:
Fierce was Despair, and cruel was Pride; And the lorn Mother speechless stood, Pale at the fury of her brood. Yet later, and the silk did wind
Her fair cold form; Little availed the shining shroud, Though ruddy in hue, to cheer or warm. A watcher looked upon her low, and said —
She sleeps, but sleeps, she is not dead. But in that sleep contortion showed The terror of the vision there — A silent vision unavowed,
Revealing earth's foundation bare, And Gorgon in her hidden place. It was a thing of fear to see So foul a dream upon so fair a face,
And the dreamer lying in that starry shroud. But from the trance she sudden broke — The trance, or death into promoted life; At her feet a shivered yoke,
And in her aspect turned to heaven No trace of passion or of strife — A clear calm look. It spake of pain, But such as purifies from stain —
Sharp pangs that never come again — And triumph repressed by knowledge meet, Power dedicate, and hope grown wise, And youth matured for age's seat —
Law on her brow and empire in her eyes. So she, with graver air and lifted flag; While the shadow, chased by light, Fled along the far-drawn height,
And left her on the crag.
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