The bridal of Vaumond :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Tis night, and the bell hath told one;
There is rest in the cot of the swain,
Whose care with his labour is done;
It is still, save the murmuring main,
That is rippling beneath the pile;
There is rest on the earth, and the face of the deep,
But the eye of Isabel knew no sleep—
What marr'd her peace the while?
No sting of guilt or guile;
But the sorrows of love, too well return'd,
Chas'd the visions of sleep, and within her burn'd.

II.

The thoughts of her heart were as pure as the day
That in the courts of heav'n doth play;
But her pillow, that caught from her burning brow,
The mad'ning fire and raging glow,
To her aching head could yield no calm;
The wounded heart finds there no balm!

III.

She left her couch; the chilly air
May cool the raving fever there;—
The sea-girt pile is tall and steep,
Below there yawns a fathomless deep—
O there the wanderer might sleep!
Could Isabel such thought have fram'd,
Though tenfold agony inflam'd?
No; she could kiss the chast'ning rod
And live and die the spouse of God.

IV.

While thus she sung the sea-nymphs vile,
Who lurk'd to grasp their lovely spoil,
Ceas'd for a while their guileful strain,
Hid in the coral caves of the main.
The evil demons of the hour
Rous'd from sulphureous beds, by power
Of magic dark, away have flown,
And the innocent maid was left alone.

V.
Night Hymn.

God of tiring nature! now
Round her couch thy presence throw—
Helpless at thy throne we bow,
Shield us, Father!

Now the day hath wan'd in sleep,
O! in blest oblivion steep
Hearts that bleed, and eyes that weep,
Hear us, Father!

Unassoil'd from sinful strife,
If the ruffian's lifted knife
Threatens the warm font of life—
Shield us, Father!

From disease's uncheck'd skaith,
Bursting vessel, struggling breath,
Dark, uncheer'd, and hopeless death—
Shield us, Father!

From the flames' wild revelry,
From the whirlwind lording high,
From the earthquake's jeopardy,
Shield us, Father!

May the orb that sets in tears,
Rise releas'd from wo and fears,
When the rosy morn appears—
Hear us, Father!

O! when evening's sable brood
Shrinks before the golden flood,
Wake our song of gratitude—
God our Father!

VI.

Now mark'd the maid the silver car of night

In the Faro di Messina, a singular phenomenon often takes place before the sun rises, when it disappears. The heavens appear crowded with palaces, woods, gardens, figures of men and other animals. Byrdone's Travels in Sicily and Malta—Leonti and Gallo of Messina—See also Encyclop. Brit.—Swinburne's Travels in the two Sicilies, &c. This last author gives an account of the phenomenon, and assigns philosophical reasons for it. It is somewhat different, both as to the time of its taking place, the spot where the figures are observable, and their appearance.

Hold on her progress through the azure realm,
Mid brilliant worlds and glittering isles of light;
Nor mist nor cloud her opal glories whelm.
Still as she gaz'd, no bounds the scene disclos'd,
Below all bright the studded waves repos'd;
But shadowy forms all indistinctly rise,
Fantastic figures floating on the eyes;

Where curtain'd mists upon the distance flit,
Veiling the line where heaven and ocean meet.
That heaven seem'd opening now its glorious lands
To mortal view; a dazzling world expands—
Fair fields of emerald; stately domes of gold,
And streams, o'er diamond beds that hold their way,
With stalwart chieftains of immortal mould,
And gorgeous dames, the pageant doth display.
These past:—two banner'd hosts appear above,
In proud array their lengthen'd columns move;
They meet, in mimic shock conflicting there,
They part, they scatter wide, and vanish into air.

VII.

Was it a show prophetic fancy rais'd
From shadowy nothing, as the maiden gaz'd?
Or did indulgent heaven her mists unrol,
To bid her read the future's awful scroll?
Howe'er it was, she saw, or thought she view'd,
A beauteous dame, by chieftains twain pursu'd;
Of godlike port they were, and martial mien,
The form of one was darkly, dimly seen;
In shades envelop'd, oft obscur'd was he,
He follow'd still, but mov'd in mystery.
An aged man arrests the lady's flight,
And drags her struggling to the sable knight—
She tears her hair, she lifts to heav'n her hands,
The knight implores, the aged man commands.

VIII.

Sudden and wondrous, then her actions change;
Is womankind so fickle? it was strange—

She yields—the sable warrior clasp'd the maid,
And bar'd the failing chief his glittering blade;
Then clouds and blackness gather'd round his form,
He sunk in night, and vanish'd with the storm.

IX.

Now a bright altar seem'd to lift its head,
There was the bride, no more resisting, led;
Where round array'd a motley group there stood,
Wild, wandering forms the astonish'd lady view'd:
But it was fearful to behold the glare
Of ruddy light, that flash'd around them there—
'Twas not, I ween, the glow of kindling day,
No vivid beams in flaming glory play;
'Twas not pale Dian's chaste and holy tide;
With blood-red hue, the deep, the heavens were died.
A fiery band the pair encircling seem'd,
And mystic characters around them gleam'd—
Then startling thunder shook the mists around,
And gathering night outstretch'd her veil profound—
Red lightning stream'd their sable screen along,
O'er the prone altar rush'd, and hid the shrinking throng.

X.

But why dissolve the phantoms all away?
Lo! the first blushes of the glimmering day
Upon the billowy hosts their radiance shed,
Tinging their skirts with glory, as they fled.

XI.

Marv'ling, the lady mark'd the whole,
And as afar the shadows roll,

With holy prayer to heav'n assur'd,
She sought her couch, from bale secur'd.
The sable god, invok'd, hath spread
His leaden pinions o'er her head:
Fair as the lovely dreamer, then
Came blyther scenes, with rosy train.

XII.

Sleep on—for O, if mystic heaven
To grosser ken hath ever given
A vision of the blest,
It is, when in her lonely bower,
Chaste beauty woos the tranquil power,
In calm, unsullied rest:
When all that sports with captive hearts,
When every wayward mood departs.
No gleam of passion fires her eye,
All angel, save her witchery,
To mortal sight confest—
It were idolatry to bow,
Although so bright, to thing below;
And yet she seems so passing fair,
Can human frailty harbour there?

The following lines are taken from a prize poem, by Henry Hart Milman, of Brazen Nose College, Oxford, on the “Belvidere Apollo.”

“Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep
By holy maid on Delphi's haunted steep,
Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove,
Too fair to worship, too divine to love.”

XIII.

Pure as the dying Christian's prayer,
And glorious as his hopes of bliss,
Can savage man, relentless, dare
To blast such stamp of heaven as this?
Ay, even so the chaste Lucrece
From matron dreams to horror broke,
When, fiend-like, in the bowers of bliss,
The tyrant's damned lust awoke!

But might some knight, to honour true,
With truant step such vision view,
Such were the thoughts of gallant breast—
Soft queen of rapture! in thy rest,
So share, and in thy waking hour,
No lovelier dream, in fairy bower,
Could golden fancy form;
O, dearer than the meed well won
In battle's proudest storm,
Or that high race, so nobly run
In glory's giddy car—
Than all the soldier's pride, that wakes,
When earth with closing armies shakes,
The ecstacy of war!
More precious than the starry zone
Of fame could yield me ever—
And thou art helpless and alone,
And will I wrong thee, lonely one?
By Him who made me, never!

University of Virginia Library

SCENE II. THE VISION.

I.

II.