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THE FOREST SANCTUARY.
75


XLVI.

We could not pray together midst the deep,
Which, like a floor of sapphire, round us lay,
Through days of splendour, nights too bright for sleep,
Soft, solemn, holy!—We were on our way
Unto the mighty Cordillera-land,
With men whom tales of that world's golden strand
Had lur'd to leave their vines.—Oh! who shall say
What thoughts rose in us, when the tropic sky

Touch'd all its molten seas with sunset's alchemy?


XLVII.

Thoughts no more mingled!—Then came night—th' intense
Dark blue—the burning stars!—I saw thee shine
Once more, in thy serene magnificence,
O Southern Cross16[1]! as when thy radiant sign
First drew my gaze of youth.—No, not as then;
I had been stricken by the darts of men
Since those fresh days, and now thy light divine
Look'd on mine anguish, while within me strove

The still small voice against the might of suffering love.
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