CARACAS! when I think of thee I hear the bells chime tunefully, The bells of Spain that mark the hour Within thy gray cathedral tower, And echo sweet and faint and far Where Ávila's green summits bar, Beyond the vale, the northern sea — The shining, storied Caribee. Superb in bronze and porphyries I see, within the plaza trees, Victorious thy Bolívar ride; And 'gainst the mountain's bosky side, Within the Pantheon where rest Thy noblest and thy mightiest, In stately pomp his urn enshrined, A pæan sung by every wind! And lo, to south, our Washington Faces serene the tropic sun, Benignant, firm, thy hills before, As on his fair Potomac shore, And at his feet, in endless May, Thy merry, dark-browed children play: Honor is his, by every sea, Who won the world for Liberty! But where is bronze or urn for him Whose fame should never lapse or dim While Caribee thy border laves? Hast thou no grave, of all thy graves, To give the boldest of thy braves? No pedestal whereon to set The chief nor peaks nor vales forget? — Great Guaicaipu'ro, name to raise The dead with, and to crown with bays! Mould in metal or carve in stone This Indian hero! Make him known With thy Bolívar as he stood, Despairing, fierce, that night of blood When country, freedom, life were lost As round him closed the invading host With thrust of sword and pall of flame And shouts that stayed the stars in shame; And, dying, to his gods he cried For vengeance, and in crying, died! ... Set the statue where all may heed, And on its flawless marble read (Perchance his curse were lighter thus — Lifted a shadow from thy strand) @3To Guaicaipu'ro valorous, Defender of his native land.@1 |