Vivian GreyDisraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
ReligionIslamic
Vivian Grey
Disraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
Bildungsromans; British -- Europe -- Fiction; Political fiction; Politicians -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
O thou bright moon! thou object of my first love! thou shalt not escape
an invocation, although perchance at this very moment some varlet
sonnetteer is prating of “the boy Endymion” and “thy silver bow.” Here
to thee, Queen of the Night! in whatever name thou most delightest! Or
Bendis, as they hailed thee in rugged Thrace; or Bubastis, as they
howled to thee in mysterious Egypt; or Dian, as they sacrificed to thee
in gorgeous Rome; or Artemis, as they sighed to thee on the bright
plains of ever glorious Greece! Why is it that all men gaze on thee? Why
is it that all men love thee? Why is it that all men worship thee?
Shine on, shine on, sultana of the soul! the Passions are thy eunuch
slaves, Ambition gazes on thee, and his burning brow is cooled, and his
fitful pulse is calm. Grief wanders in her moonlit walk and sheds no
tear; and when thy crescent smiles the lustre of Joy’s revelling eye is
dusked. Quick Anger, in thy light, forgets revenge; and even dove-eyed
Hope feeds on no future joys when gazing on the miracle of thy beauty.
Shine on, shine on! although a pure Virgin, thou art the mighty mother
of all abstraction! The eye of the weary peasant returning from his
daily toil, and the rapt gaze of the inspired poet, are alike fixed on
thee; thou stillest the roar of marching armies, and who can doubt thy
influence o’er the waves who has witnessed the wide Atlantic sleeping
under thy silver beam?
Shine on, shine on! they say thou art Earth’s satellite; yet when I gaze
on thee my thoughts are not of thy suzerain. They teach us that thy
power is a fable, and that thy divinity is a dream. Oh, thou bright
Queen! I will be no traitor to thy sweet authority; and verily, I will
not believe that thy influence o’er our hearts is, at this moment, less
potent than when we worshipped in thy glittering fane of Ephesus, or
trembled at the dark horrors of thine Arician rites. Then, hail to thee,
Queen of the Night! Hail to thee, Diana, Triformis; Cynthia, Orthia,
Taurica; ever mighty, ever lovely, ever holy! Hail! hail! hail!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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