IMPROMPTU, ON FIRST BEHOLDING THE CINCINNATI OPERA-HOUSE.
CEASE, flutt'ring heart, thy wild, tumultuous beat, And calmly bid imagination trace The 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 testify That this bright sphere is all terrestrial, And this grand structure, which, to fancy, seems A fairy castle, reared by magic power,— Whose rare magnificence and splendor bright Lures 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 planned And 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 mind Of 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, flow From Terpsichorian instruments, and thrill Each trembling heart-chord by their silvery touch, Till mind and soul, unconsciously enthused By wild enchantment, seek the dance, And yield, instinctive, to the common joy.
