Page:A New Zealand verse (1906).pdf/74
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From “Ranolf and Amohia.”
Of hidden fires, internal strife,Amid that leafy, lush arrayOf rank luxuriant verdurous life:Glad haunts above where blissful loveMight revel, rove, enraptured dwell;But through them pierce such tokens fierceOf rage beneath and frenzies fell;As if, to quench and stifle it,Green Paradise were flung o’er Hell—Flung fresh with all her bowers close-knit,Her dewy vales and dimpled streams;Yet could not so its fury quellBut that the old red realm accurstWould still recalcitrate, rebel,Still struggle upward and outburstIn scalding fumes, sulphureous steams.It struck you as you paused to traceThe sunny scenery’s strange extremes,As if in some divinest face,All heavenly smiles, angelic grace,Your eye at times discerned, despiteSweet looks with innocence elate,Some wan wild spasm of blank affright,Or demon scowl of pent-up hate;Or some convulsive writhe confest,For all that bloom of beauty bright,An anguish not to be represt.You look—a moment bask in, blessIts laughing light of happiness;But look again—what startling throesAnd fiery pangs of fierce distressThe lovely lineaments disclose—How o’er the fascinating features flitThe genuine passions of the nether pit!