The metaphors exist for their own sake, and are in nowise
subordinate to the themes which they profess to illustrate. Take, for
instance, the oft-quoted passage:
"The night drew near, and in the west
Upon its couch lay Evening dreaming,
And silent, like the priests of Egypt,
The stars pursued their radiant paths,
And earth stood in the starry eve,
As blissful as a bride who stands,
The garland in her dusky hair,
Beneath the baldaquin and blushes.
Tired of the games of day, and warm,
The Naiad rested, still and smiling,
The glow of evening shone resplendent,
A gorgeous rose upon her breast;
And merry Cupid, who had slept
When sun was high, awoke and rode
Upon the moonbeams up and down,
With bow and arrow, through the forest."
This is all very magnificent; but the images tread so close upon each
other's heels, that they come near treading each other down, and
tumbling together in a confused jumble. I claim no originality in
calling attention to the fact that it must have been a colossal Naiad
who could wear the evening glow like "a gorgeous rose upon her breast.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317