Showers of benevolent heat stream down upon
this desolation; not the faintest wisp of vapour floats upon the
horizon; not a sail, not a ripple, disquiets the waters. The silence can
be felt. Slumber is brooding over the things of earth:
Asleep are the peaks of the hills, and the vales,
The promontories, the clefts,
And all the creatures that move upon the black earth. . . .
Such torrid splendour, drenching a land of austerut simplicity,
decomposes the mind into corresponding states of primal contentment and
resilience. There arises before our phantasy a new perspective of human
affairs; a suggestion of well-being wherein the futile complexities and
disharmonies of our age shall have no place. To discard these wrappings,
to claim kinship with some elemental and robust archetype, lover of
earth and sun - -
How fair they are, these moments of golden equipoise!
Yes; it is good to be merged awhile into these harshly-vibrant
surroundings, into the meridian glow of all things. This noontide is the
"heavy" hour of the Greeks, when temples are untrodden by priest or
worshipper. Controra they now call it - the ominous hour. Man and
beast are fettered in sleep, while spirits walk abroad, as at midnight.
Non timebis a timore noctuno:
