How calmly sleeps the Desert! bright
At times comes down the dim moonlight;
And then yon sailing Moon like gold,
Dips in the huge Cloud's blackened fold,
And Night's broad pinions, far and near,
Darken the midnight atmosphere;
Yet still those diamond Stars on high
Kindle the white frost brilliantly.

Now stand we in the desert's heart,
From all the peaceful world apart!
Here is the roving Indian's land,
And here by their watchfires, a band
Of those fierce red men, strown around,
Dream on their chilly couch, the ground,
See, as the torch-flames fiercely glow,
The stern scowl on each swarthy brow!

How strange and wild the scene! lo, here
Glitters the Indian's ponderous spear;
And there the flickering flames reveal
The broad and sharpened battle-steel;
And by the embers, the fierce blaze
Each warrior's gaunt dark frame displays;
And at their feet the noble steed,
Whose hoof is like the wind, for speed.

High rides the round red moon; it shows
Dimly those white eternal snows,
That ever, like bright Crowns, o'erspread
Each kingly mountain's awful head.
Methinks I hear their thunders speak,
And the great Earthquake shake each peak,
And the hoar Andes' torrents bray
In their stone channels, far away.


Methinks on yon black mountain's base,
The dark Cordillera! I trace
The miner's simple hut, while high
Reared mid the tempests of the sky,
Hangs the gray Cross, that shows to all
Some traveller's place of burial,
And far above the dizzy height,
The Condor plies his lonely flight.

Broad, bleak, illimitable plain!
How like unto the shoreless main!
Thy Pampas' like its billows gleam,
And yon lone tree methinks doth seem
Even like the tall black ship that rides
Alone amid the heaving tides:
And the gaunt creatures, roaming free,
Seem like the Monsters of the sea.

And these are sons of kings, — full long
They ruled these wilds — a princely throng!
And each led on his thousand spears,
To scourge the land in those old years,
And these their children bear the same
Bold hearts, strong hands, and swords of flame —
The ostrich and the tiger quail
When their free shouts are on the gale.