Poems (Botta)/The Earth to the Sun


Oh Sun! oh glorious Sun! The spell of winter binds me strong and dread In the dark sleep, the coldness of the dead; And song and beauty from my haunts are gone.

The skies above me lower, The frozen tempests beat upon my breast, That wearily by its snow-shroud is prest; And the wild winds rave o’er me in mad power.

At thine averted gaze, Benumbed and desolate, I droop and die: Life of my life! Lord of my destiny! Shine on me with thy life-imparting rays.

Look from thy radiant throne, And o’er this waste, drear and unlovely now, Young summer’s gorgeous loveliness shall glow, And beauty clasp me in her magic zone.

Fair landscapes shall arise, O’er which a sky of tenderest blue shall bend, Where forest, hill, and vale, and stream shall blend In beauty like a dream of Paradise.

And in thy living beams The flowers shall wake, and every dewy cup Shall send the homage of its perfume up, And give thy brightness back in rosy gleams.

A full deep symphony, The voice of streams, the air’s melodious sighs, Songs from all living things shall mingling rise In one eternal hymn of love to thee


In vain, oh Earth, in vain;— What heeds the Sun, if light or shadow rest Upon the bosom in his smile so blest, Or if thou perish in thine icy chain.

If from the shining host, Like the lost Pleiad, thou wert stricken down, He would not miss thee from his starry crown— He would not mark one ray of brightness lost.

Then for the song and bloom, The untold wealth of beauty, buried deep Within thy frozen heart, in death-like sleep, Oh! mourn thou not within thy conscious tomb.