IMPROMPTU, ON FIRST BEHOLDING THE CINCINNATI OPERA-HOUSE.
CEASE, flutt'ring heart, thy wild, tumultuous beat,And calmly bid imagination traceThe gorgeous beauty of this lovely scene.Ah, let me shade awhile these awe-struck eyes,Till consciousness shall whisper 'tis no dream,—No magic fancy, but a literal truth;And call the senses forth to testifyThat this bright sphere is all terrestrial,And this grand structure, which, to fancy, seemsA fairy castle, reared by magic power,—Whose rare magnificence and splendor brightLures thought to dream of pleasant Como's Lake,Where lovely Pauline's pictured palace stood,Embathed in floods of alabaster light,—Is not of mystic origin, but plannedAnd nobly perfected by human skill.Ah, Claude, thou must have slept as those of old,And, in prophetic visions, saw the scheme,Embryo-laid, within the giant mindOf him who planned this noble work of art,—This grand phenomenon of human power,Which is, and shall be through long-coming years,The pride and glory of the Western world.Behold these lofty terraced galleries,Enwreathed in folds of radiating light,Adorned with noble statuary grace,And filled with proud appreciative souls,Who gaze enraptured on the scenes below,Where crystal lights with crystal fountains meet,And, mingling, flash 'mong perfumed flow'rets sweet;And list to tones that, soul-entrancing, flowFrom Terpsichorian instruments, and thrillEach trembling heart-chord by their silvery touch,Till mind and soul, unconsciously enthusedBy wild enchantment, seek the dance,And yield, instinctive, to the common joy.
