Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1884-05-01
M@istellaueuns &eading.
For the Yorkville Enquirer.
THE WINGS OF THOUGHT.

For the Yorkvile Enquirer.
THE WINGS OF THOUGHT.
PROSE POEM.
BY INGoMAR.
1 soar aloft on the wings of thought o'er
mountains and forest and sea, a bird's-eye
view of the world to take as l course on my
charger free | float in the light of a sun
beam bright DER Roman and Saxon and
Gaul; from broken arch of London bridge
the ruins l sketch of Saint Paul's. On the
splendid dome of the church of Rome I
view the beautiful Cross that shone sublime
to Constantine, eclipsing the Crescent and
Mosque. view the ruins of Pompeii, and
sail on the grand old Nile; bask in the
shades of classic Greece whose wales are lit
up with smile. The frozen gates of the
Polar sea swing ope on their hinges for me,
and pass beyond into wide eXpanse and
revel in wild luxury mid walrus and whale
and polar bear and androgynal monsters
race, who roam thro' time those regions sub
lime on the confines of boundless space. l
soar thro' clouds on a moon-beam pale the
souls of the ransOmed to see, then down to
Hela on lightning flash to regions Of felo de
Sc. On ray of light wing my flight to
"India's coral strand" then shoot like star
or meteor bright o'er "Africs golden sand"
I perch on the cliffs of high Teneriffe then
leap to Niagara Falls; I sail with Charon on
river Styx, and dance in Mozambique halls.
1 weep at the tomb of Washington, strew
flowers on that of Lee, and sigh at the grave
of the Corsican in that dreary Isle Of the
Sea. view the realms of gods OF old, and
hear the clariOn's call, as Oden marshalS his
hosts Of souls in Mythology's sacred hall.
Here I'll pause awhile my wild career elys-
ian fields to explore, and drink draught
from the sacred fount of Mythology's god of
yore. I'll view his palace so fair to see,-
the golden-roofed Valhalla,- bright
abode Of this god of old whom Druids
called their allah. I'll take view of the
Well of Time o'er which doth grow the tree
Yggdrasil, that mythical tree whose brilliant
hues Druidish eyes did dazzle. I'll drink
from the fount of Wisdom deep--the fount
yclept the Hymer Ed, that's guarded by
three beautiful nymphs round which the
gods their councils held. Those beautiful
Nymphs (or Fates) we're told-Urder, Sculd,
and bright Verdanic,-the present, past and
future too, like mirrors Showed to gods
Odinic. I'll bathe in the lake of Perpetual
Youth, and sit in their kiosks and bowers,
and catch promethean rays that fall in pyro-
technic showers. I'll view the city of
height of storied realms of gods of old in
regions of fadeless light. I'll view the city
that hangs in space where dwells the giant
Heimdall, who guards the Bridge of Rain
bows bright that spans the river Suthral.
I'll range the land of Jotenheim, the tabled
giants of old, and thro' dread woes of Mid
gard I'll rove, where pennance for sins are
sadly told, as 1 soar aloft on the Wings OF
Thought o'er mountains and forest and sea,
bird's-eye view of all things to take as 1
course on my charger free. I'll stand on
the Bridge of Rainbows bright and look out
thro' time and space, and roll aside the
curtain that hides from my view the godly
race. The misty spray of the rainboW's ray
that shrouds the famed Valhalla, I'll roll
aside like curtain wide and enter its pOr-
tails tomorrow.
Embower'd in shade of Tree Yggdrasl,
'tWiXt lakes in whose bright waters tranquil
Naiads and Nymphs are oft disporting seen,
his god-ship's palace is now seen to .gleam
with gems most rare from caves OF ocean
deep, where Neptune rules and Naiads vigils
keep: Its walls are coral, interspersed with
pearl, diamonds, rubies, amythist and beryl,
sapphire, onyx, topaz and em'rald green, car
buncle, Jasper stones of brilliant sheen,-
the gifts Of gods and spirits, to adorn this
dome reSplendent as a summer morn: per-
petual sunshine Eliminates the throne from
prismed rays Of walls of ieWeld stone.
Such the palace thatnoW bursts on my view,
curtained with royal purple, crimson, blue
such the abode of Odin, Druid's allah, the
reigning god Of glorious Valhalla.
The god called Odin now appears in view,
clothed in robes of various lustred hue sit
ting on throne etfulgent as the sun, his reign
of youth seems but to have begun. BY
Well Of Wisdom he is wont to sit, to list to
poesy, eloquence and wit of minor gods and
nymphs, who, 'round his throne, are wont
to minister to him alone. From golden
chalice (as the Norns impute) he quatfs liba-
tiOns which embalm his youth, and keep in
pristine vigor form and face so dear to spir-
its of Druidish race. In his hand'sa scepter,
on his head crown, on breast a jewel, from
shoulders flowing gown of royal purple, fit
for god to wear who rules a realm that
floats in ambient air.
Floating in ambienta air oerhead are choirs
of Nymphs, by Zivola led, who breathe
sweet music for his god-ship's ears to Danish
e17lui and relieve dull care: music sweet as
e'er stole chords along, and sweet as angels
breathe in heavenly song: music sweet as
zephyrs float from silvery bells, or mermaids
whisper thro' the bright sea shells: peans
and anthems swell upon the breeze, ands
like sunbeams thro' the linden trees 'mong
which I wander carelessly along, entranced
with beauty, sentiment and song: music
that rippes like a bright sea wave that
dances lee-ward the shore to lave: music
that sinks and swells and charms the heart
like thrills and MARBLES from IEolian harp:
music such as Naiads might weeping sing
when they Eolus in silken chains did bring
to charm Neptune on his aqueous throne
sweet music fit for ears of gods alone.
SONG.
Let all those who are weary
And signing for rest,
Come dwell in our bright gardens,
The home Of the blest:
This is far famed Valhalla,
So fair to behold,
With it's palace of diamonds
And streets paved with gold!
Quit the shores of dull Midgard
Where sad cares annoy,
And on bright Bridge Of Rainbows
Cross over to joy!
Come bathe in our bright fountains
OF Wisdom and Truth,
They'll embam you forever
With perpetual youth!
These tho bright fields elysan
Lit up with a smile!
Where dull care never fingers,
Where JOY doth begule;
Where bliss reigns forever,
Where the weary find rest,
Then come to our Valhala
The home Of the blest
Now souls from Midgard are seen to pass
along, waiting on high the gladstone, well
come song, that floats from fields elysian
sweet and clear, solace-balm sad mortal
hearts to cheer; but as they anxious try to
reach the goal of fields elysian, where the
weary soul might rest in peace from llte's