New Zealand Verse/Sunset in the Tropics

LIII.

Sunset in the Tropics.

  How grandly—when throughout the silent day,    Some ample Day, serene, divine,      Beneath the glowing Line  Our helpless ship had hung as in a trance  In light-blue glassiness of calm that lay      A wide expanse    Encircled by soft depths of ether clear,    Whose melting azure seemed to swim  Surcharged and saturate with balmiest brilliancy—  How grandly solemn was the Day’s decline!  Down as if wholly dropped from out the sky  The fallen Sun’s great disc would lolling lie  Upon the narrowed Ocean’s very rim,      Awfully near!  A hush of expectation almost grim  Wrapt all the pure, blank, empty hemisphere;  While straight across the gleaming crimson floor,  From the unmoving Ship’s black burnished side,  There ran a golden pathway right into the core  Of all that throbbing splendour violet-dyed;  Whither it seemed an easy task to follow  The liquid ripples tremblingly o’erflowing  Into the intense and blinding hollow  Of palpitating purple, showing    The way as through an open doorInto some world of burning bliss, undreamt of heretofore.  Whose heart would not have swelled, the while  Deep adoration and delight came o’er him  At that stupendous mystery, close before him!    Not less, but more stupendous that he knew    Perchance, whate’er the subtle surface-play   Of Science had to teach of level ray  Reflected or refracted; and could say,  Nay, almost count the millions to a mile,      How far away  That pure quintessence of dark fire, deep-lying  In fathomless Flame-Oceans round him flying,    His inconceivable circumference withdrew:  Knew all about the fringe of flames that frisk  In ruddy dance about his moon-masked face,  Set on like petals round a sunflower’s disc—  Each glorious petal shooting into space  Ten times as far as Earth’s vast globe is thick:  Ay! or could prate about full many a world  Worn out, and crushed to cinders, flying fleet,  Or in cold black rotundity complete,  Into his burning bosom headlong hurled,  Just by collision to strike out fresh heat,    And feed with flame, renew and trim,    And keep for aye from falling dim  That monstrous and immeasurable wick—  Say rather—everlastingly keep bright  That awful, mystic, God-created Light!