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The flowers alone would have induced me to name this Glen Flora; but having found in it also so many of the stately palm trees, I have called it the Glen of Palms. Peculiar indeed, and romantic too, is this new-found watery glen, enclosed by rocky walls, "Where dial-like, to portion time, the palm-tree's shadow falls."
I do not plead in my complaint thy loveliness is marred, Because thy words are cruel, because thy heart is hard; Would God that thou wert insensible as is the ocean wild And not to all who meet thee so affable and mild; Ah, sweetest is the lingering fruit that latest comes in time, Ah, sweetest is the palm-tree's nut that those who reach must climb. Alas!
And as Nature is unchanged there, so apparently is man; the Maroons still retain their savage freedom, still shoot their wild game and trap their fish, still raise their rice and cassava, yams and plantains, still make cups from the gourd-tree and hammocks from the silk-grass plant, wine from the palm-tree's sap, brooms from its leaves, fishing-lines from its fibres, and salt from its ashes.
Look! are the southern curtains drawn? Fetch me a fan, and so begone! Not that, the palm-tree's rustling leaf Brought from a parching coral-reef! Its breath is heated; I would swing The broad gray plumes, the eagle's wing. I hate these roses' feverish blood! Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, A long-stemmed lily from the lake, Cold as a coiling water-snake.
And as Nature is unchanged there, so apparently is man; the Maroons still retain their savage freedom, still shoot their wild game and trap their fish, still raise their rice and cassava, yams and plantains, still make cups from the gourd-tree and hammocks from the silk-grass plant, wine from the palm-tree's sap, brooms from its leaves, fishing-lines from its fibres, and salt from its ashes.
Rise, Rachel, from thy wilderness, arise, and weep no more. No more thy lonely palm-tree's shade need shroud thy secret sorrowing. The Lord hath heard the widow's sigh, the Lord hath stilled the widow's tear. Be comforted, be comforted, thy children live again! Yes! yes! upon the bounding plain fleet Asriel glances like a star, and stout Scherirah shakes his spear by stern Jabaster's scimitar.
Midsummer morn at lark-song, keep tryst beside the palace gate. "As travellers on the desert, spent and worn, see far across the sand the palm-tree's green that marks life-giving wells, so Ederyn hailed this summons to the king. The soul-consuming thirst that long had urged him on grew fiercer as the well of consummation came in sight.
Thy cheek is lovely as the morning rose Or bright carnation, and thy ruby blood Gives it the shining brightness of the sun. Thy teeth are ivory-white, and thy warm kiss Is sweet as milk or honey loved by all. Oh, see that neck, more white than palm-tree's heart, That sheath of crystal, bound with bands of gold.
Look! are the southern curtains drawn? Fetch me a fan, and so begone! Not that, the palm-tree's rustling leaf Brought from a parching coral-reef! Its breath is heated; I would swing The broad gray plumes, the eagle's wing. I hate these roses' feverish blood! Pluck me a half-blown lily-bud, A long-stemmed lily from the lake, Cold as a coiling water-snake.
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