oted grace, a queen
Among her fellows, they who yesterday
Whirled her lithe figure in the tireless dance,
And now, with airy compliment, kept bright
The flame she yet may quench in wedlock dull.
Thus rolled the wealthy in their liveried ease,
'Mid walking peasantry and pale Chinese,
And curious-shirted Creole; while, tight swathed
Up to their shrivelled features, mummy like,
The Indian women filled the motley scene.
Meanwhile, the sovereign sun had crowned the palms
Standing in stately clusters; and from thence
Scaled the high walls and climbed the citadel,
Pouring a parting radiance on the tower
Of San Sebastian: mounting to its goal,
It swept the public dial plate and lay,
E'en in the face of stern recording time
Smiling significance; thence slowly crept
Up to the turret, blazing, momently,
Thence reached the dizzy ball; and, last of all,
Kissed with its dying lips the sacred cross.

Then pealed the solemn vesper bell to prayer,
And suddenly--completely--with a hush,
As if a god-like voice had stricken it dead,
Stood still the city!

Motionless the life
That but an instant off stirred the warm air
With murmurs multifarious, and the waves
Of great humanity, sunk silenced there,
With stillness so supreme, that pulses beat
More quickly from the contrast, and the soul
Hearkened to listen, humbled and subdued
As when the Saviour uttered 'Peace, be still.'
The tardy laborer, walled within the town,
Brought the uplifted hammer noiseless down,
And stood in meek confession, tool in hand.
The mother hushed the baby lullaby,
And o'er her sleeping innocence exhaled
Voiceless thanksgiving. Children ceased to play,
Feeling an awe they comprehended not,
And stood, unconscious of their beauty's pose,
As those Murillo's pencil glorifies.
Upon the airy esplanade the steed
No longer pawed the air in wantonness,
But, like his compeer of the fabled song,
Stood statued with his rider, while below
The beggar ceased his cry importunate,
And to a Higher Almoner than man
Sent up a dumb appeal. In folly's court
The laugh was hushed, and the half-uttered jest
Fell witless into air, and burning thought
Cooled, as it flowed, unmoulded into speech.
As throbbed the distant bell with serious pause,--
Standing bareheaded in the dewless air,
Or prostrate in their penitence to earth,
Or bending with v