LAS ORACIONES.

I moved among the moving multitude In old Manila, when the afternoon Releases labor, and the scorching skies Are tempered with the coming on of night. Above the 'ever loyal city,' rose The surging sound of unloosed tongues and feet, As the encompassed town and suburbs vast, The boated river and the sentinelled bridge Swarmed, parti-colored, with the populace. The sovereign sun, that through the toilsome day No eye had seen for brightness, now subdued, Stepping, like Holy Pontiff, from his throne, Neared to the people, and, with level rays, As hands outstretching, benedictions shed. Full the effulgence flashed upon the walls Which girt the city with a strength renowned, Rimming them with new glory: bright it gleamed Upon the swarthy soldiery, as they filed A dazzling phalanx through the gaping crowd With martial intonation, and it played Softly upon the evening-breathing throng On the Calsada's broad and dashing drive, On gay, armorial equipage, wherein Dozed dowagers: on unbonneted dames In open chariots, toying daintily With dark hidalgos, as they sipped the scene In languishing contentment, and between Responsive glances, showing hidden fire, With fluent breath of Spanish repartee. There lounged senoras, fat officials' wives, From their soft cushions casting cool disdain On the mestiza, who, in hired hack, Blooming in beauty of commingled blood, And robed in slippery tissue, rainbow-bright, Sat, in her sandal-footed grace, a queen Among her fellows, they who yesterday Whirled her lithe figure in the tireless dance, And now, with airy compliment, kept bright The flame she yet may quench in wedlock dull. Thus rolled the wealthy in their liveried ease, 'Mid walking peasantry and pale Chinese, And curious-shirted Creole; while, tight swathed Up to their shrivelled features, mummy like, The Indian women filled the motley scene. Meanwhile, the sovereign sun had crowned the palms Standing in stately clusters; and from thence Scaled the high walls and climbed the citadel, Pouring a parting radiance on the tower Of San Sebastian: mounting to its goal, It swept the public dial plate and lay, E'en in the face of stern recording time Smiling significance; thence slowly crept Up to the turret, blazing, momently, Thence reached the dizzy ball; and, last of all, Kissed with its dying lips the sacred cross. Then pealed the solemn vesper bell to prayer, And suddenly—completely—with a hush, As if a god-like voice had stricken it dead, Stood still the city! Motionless the life That but an instant off stirred the warm air With murmurs multifarious, and the waves Of great humanity, sunk silenced there, With stillness so supreme, that pulses beat More quickly from the contrast, and the soul Hearkened to listen, humbled and subdued As when the Saviour uttered 'Peace, be still.' The tardy laborer, walled within the town, Brought the uplifted hammer noiseless down, And stood in meek confession, tool in hand. The mother hushed the baby lullaby, And o'er her sleeping innocence exhaled Voiceless thanksgiving. Children ceased to play, Feeling an awe they comprehended not, And stood, unconscious of their beauty's pose, As those Murillo's pencil glorifies. Upon the airy esplanade the steed No longer pawed the air in wantonness, But, like his compeer of the fabled song, Stood statued with his rider, while below The beggar ceased his cry importunate, And to a Higher Almoner than man Sent up a dumb appeal. In folly's court The laugh was hushed, and the half-uttered jest Fell witless into air, and burning thought Cooled, as it flowed, unmoulded into speech. As throbbed the distant bell with serious pause,— Standing bareheaded in the dewless air, Or prostrate in their penitence to earth, Or bending with veiled lids,—the people prayed. Then was that moment, in its muteness, worth The laboring day that bore it, for all sense Seemed filtered of its grossness; what was earth Sunk settling with the dust to earth again, As through the calm, pure atmosphere, arose One mingling meditation unto Heaven. Oh, beautiful is silence, when it falls On housed assemblies bowed in voiceless prayer: But when it lays its finger on the heart Of a great city, stilling all the wheels Of life's employment, that to Heaven may turn Its many thousand reverend breathing souls With gesture simultaneous; when proud man Like multitudinous marble, moveless stands With God communing, then does silence seem, In its unworded eloquence, sublime. Therein, doth Romish worship point rebuke To him who doth ignore it, for therein It rises to a majesty of praise O'erspanning huge cathedrals, for it makes The censer, candle, rosary, and book But senseless mockeries. So sunk the sun Till on its amber throne, like drapery doffed, Lay piled th' imperial purple. Then the stir Of an awakened world swept through the crowd, As forest leaves are wind-swept after lulls, And, with the sense of a renewing joy, The murmurous people turned them to their homes. Manila, 1856.