Classic Poem

Malvacea calls her tribes around her throne,
Decked in her crimson robe and golden zone;
Around her flowing locks she binds a wreath
Of brightest blossoms, while her curls beneath,
Of softest auburn, wanton in the wind,
And her argentine veil floats loose behind.
Her nymphs attend, from meadow and from stream,
From plain and hillock, — gay as morning's beam.
The tropic Naiad, Carolinea, moves
Resplendent through Guiana's giant groves;
O'er the blue wave she bends, and round her binds
Loose floating robes, that wanton in the winds;
A gaudy chaplet decks her flowing hair,
Such as the the festal maids of Chio wear,
Bright crimson sprigs on yellow beds repose,
And morning's radiance mingles with the rose.
Where Niger grandly rolls his mystic wave,
And Afric's jetty nymphs in freedom lave,
Majestic Adansonia rears her form,
And braves, through countless years, the flood and storm;
The gathered tribes beneath her boughs enjoy
Kind Nature's simple gifts without alloy,
Indulge in slumbers, which no cares invade,
Secure beneath this wilderness of shade,
Or, dancing, lead the happy moments by,
When evening suns go down the golden sky;
And as the ceaseless generations roll,
From life's first dawn, to death's unerring goal,
Amid the wreck, her head she firmly rears,
And bears the wasting of a thousand years.
In silken fleece more white than Zemla's snow,
Whose spotless folds in loose disorder flow,
Through India's forests soft Bombacia moves,
And lightly wanders in the woods she loves;
Above her tower the Gauts, their sable walls,
Down which the rain-stream, thund'ring, foaming, falls,
Shed coolness o'er her, and the plains below,
Through which those streams in soft meanders flow,
Their flower-starred thickets and their rice-clad vales,
Their groves that load with balm the passing gales,
Their tapering pagods and their spiry walls,
Their vine-clad cots, their bamboo-pillared halls,
All lie before her, like a fairy dream,
That glows and glitters in the evening beam.