Classic Poem

Passing on no vain journey was I upon the day
On Quadalquiver's bridge I went with footsteps free
Unto the fair encounter that thereon came to me,
Where by the River's reaches, as old Triana lay,
The lovely star Diana her beauty did display
Upon that May day early, hard at the break of morn
The Feast of holy pilgrimages to adorn, —
To Santa Ana, all the praises due, I pay! —

And there my colors for to show, I chose the flower
Of jasmine delicate and rare; the rose in bloom
Fresh from its garden breathing rarest of perfume;
And then the fleur-de-lis from the meadow bower.
Their gracious hues and honest smiled so upon that hour
They brought to mind the messenger of angel face
Who came old time and murmured " Hail, Thou full of Grace, "
Descending out of Paradise to speak its power.

Hushed be the poets all, and authors wise as well,
Homer, Horace, Vergil, Dante, and he too,
That Ovid to whose pen The Art of Love is due,
And all who e'er have written the praise of lords to tell;
For she is as the moon in the stars' citadel,
When her with other women one started to compare, —
A shining flame amid the brightest planets there —
A rose among the flowers for beauty and for smell.

Though not to be disdained for beauty or for grace
The fragile enfregyme, the flowery pride of Greece,
The blossom that the Trojan voices never cease
To praise on high and give the loftiest of place;
Yet native to our soil, where never furrows trace,
There sometimes comes to blossom so beautiful a rose,
So stately and so lovely, it quite outshineth those, —
And that alone is worthy to be put beside her face.