Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
America: Vols. XXV–XXIX. 1876–79.
The Phantom City
By Frances L. Mace (18361899)M
Above the hills like some night-opening rose,
Uplifted, pours its beauty down the vale
Where broad Penobscot flows.
And I remember now
That this is haunted ground. In ages past
Here stood the storied Norembega’s walls
Magnificent and vast.
The stately walls were built of golden ore,
Its domes outshone the sunset, and full boughs
Hesperian fruitage bore.
Has wandered many a sea-tossed daring bark,
While eager eyes have scanned the rugged shore,
Or pierced the wildwood dark.
They saw the spires gleam golden on the sky,
The distant drum-beat heard, or bugle-note
Wound wildly, fitfully.
Beckoned from distant heights, yet as the stream
Narrowed among the hills, the city fled
A mystery,—or a dream.
Like the enchanted princess of romance,
Wooing an endless search, yet still secure
In her unbroken trance.
No mirage of the wilderness wert thou!
Though yet unfreed from the mysterious spell,
I deem thee slumbering now.
White-sandalled, pass amid the moonbeams pale;
Yon shadowy wave may be some lordly barge
Drifting with phantom sail.
A myth, it was a prophecy as well;
In Norembega’s cloud-rapt palaces
The living yet shall dwell.
Here shall the river run o’er golden sands!
These hills in burnished tower and temple shine
Beneath the Builder’s hands.
When the true knight shall the enchantment break?
Unveil the peerless city of the East,
The charméd princess wake?
To none but dreaming bards the Future’s boon!
Till then, guard thou the mystery of the vale,
Midsummer midnight moon!