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One moment of darker purple in the sky of a thousand rose-hues in the water of shade half victorious over light; and then burst forth at once the countless stars the moon is up night has resumed her reign!
Distant the day, oh! distant far, When the rude hordes of trampling war Shall scare the silent vale; And where, Now the sweet heaven, when day doth leave The air, Limns its soft rose-hues on the veil of eve; Shall the fierce war-brand tossing in the gale, From town and hamlet shake the horrent glare!
The sun, declining toward the west, scattered rose-hues among the clouds. Sloops and schooners had lost steerage-way, and their sails flapped idly against the masts. The grind of oars between the thole-pins came distinctly across the water from far-distant boats, while songs and calls of birds, faint and etherealized, reached them from the shores.
Behold! how the shell's rose-hues, The cheek and the breast of snow, And the delicate limbs suffuse, Like a blush, with a bashful glow. Sailing on, slowly sailing O'er the wild water; All hail! as the fond light is hailing Her daughter, All hail!
I dropped my eyes on the caldron. "See," whispered Margrave, "the sparkles at last begin to arise, and the rose-hues to deepen, signs that we near the last process." The fifth hour had passed away, when Ayesha said to me, "Lo! the circle is fading; the lamps grow dim.
In one, a flight of steps ascended to the lake, and a gay group was seen feasting on the margin; in another, sunset threw its rose-hues over a vast villa or palace, backed by Alpine hills, and flanked by long arcades of vines, while pleasure-boats skimmed over the waves below.
I remembered another verse of the immortal poem I had learned from the lips of Ernest: "Happy they, whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, The air and the sky that to mortals are given; May the horror below never more find a voice, Nor man stretch too far the wide mercy of heaven. Never more, never more may he lift from the sight The veil which is woven with terror and night."
The river ran, a broad highway of molten gold, into the flaming sky; the far-off mountains loomed purple across the marshes; belts of rich green, the river banks stood out on either side against the rose-hues of the rippling water; in front, as we forged steadily onward, hung the tropic night, dim and vast. On December 15 we reached Corumba.
The clouds lay motionless to the west, in that sky so darkly and intensely blue, never seen but over the landscapes that a Claude or a Rosa loved to paint; and dim and delicious rose-hues gathered over the grey peaks of the distant Apennines.
The wrongs inflicted by the man she loved may leave, what they have left to me, an undying sense of a past existence radiant, joyous, hopeful; of a time when the earth seemed covered with blossoms, just ready to burst into bloom; when the skies through their haze took the rose-hues as the sun seemed about to rise.
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