SONNET.—CYDNUS.
Reading edition
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BY WM. ALEXANDER.
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Cydnus! thou art a memorable stream!
Clear, crystal-like, thy proud waves roll apace,
As when with snowy plume and pallid face,
The daring Grecian felt thy cold extreme—
Two thousand summers have now passed away,
Yet, like white garments waving ’mid the gloom,
Seems thy bright water’s foam. Many a tomb
Lines thy green banks, as when in sad array
The great procession passed, with viol’s wail,
While underneath the canopy of gold,
Raised on the deck, lay Egypt’s queen, as cold
As when the aspic stung her. Spectres pale
Still haunt thy shore; thy waves all uselessly
Sweep on; “no galley there—no ship shall pass thereby.”