Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/154

Fair stream, my Tajo! youth with all its glow
And pride of feeling through my soul and frame
Again seems rushing, as these noble waves
Past their bright shores flow joyously. Sweet land,
My own, my Fathers' land, of sunny skies
And orange bowers!—Oh! is it not a dream
That thus I tread thy soil? Or do I wake
From a dark dream but now? Gonzalez, say,
Doth it not bring the flush of early life
Back on th' awakening spirit, thus to gaze
On the far-sweeping river, and the shades
Which in their undulating motion speak
Of gentle winds amidst bright waters born,
After the fiery skies and dark red sands
Of the lone desert? Time and toil must needs
Have changed our mien; but this, our blessed land,
Hath gained but richer beauty since we bade
Her glowing shores farewell. Seems it not thus?
Thy brow is clouded.—

Gonzal.To mine eye the scene