The poems of Owen Meredith (Honble Robert Lytton.) ::

One yellow star, the largest and the last
Of all the lovely night, was fading slow
(As fades a lingering pleasure in the past)
And all the east was fair, when, yet aglow
With dreams her looks had glorified, from sleep
I waked, and oped the lattice. Like a rose
Red morn began to blossom and unclose
A flushing brightness on the dewy steep.

II

A bell was chiming thro' the crystal air
From the high convent church upon the hill.
The folk were loitering by to matin prayer.
The church-bell call'd me out, and seem'd to fill
The heaven with pleasant hopes. I reach'd the door
Ere yet full-hearted hymns began to rise
And roll their liquid latin melodies
Round pious groups that strew'd the lucid floor.

III

Breathless I slid among the kneeling folk.
Shrill silvery tinklings bubbled thro' a pause
Of inward prayer. Then forth the clear chaunt broke
Along grey sculptured aisles which in a gauze

Of sunlight glimmer'd. Thickly throbb'd my blood.
I mark'd, in depths of glory-colour'd shade,
Many a little dusk Italian maid
Kneeling and murmuring: and a multitude

IV

Of misty splendours the dyed morning shook
Thro' the dim-threaded window's flame-lit webs.
They touch'd the crown'd Apostle with his hook,
And trembled where the sea of jasper ebbs
Round those white-footed Saints that stand serene,
Each with his legend, each in his own hue
Attired; some, ruby-red, some, sapphire-blue,
These topaz-golden, and these beryl-green.

V

Wherefrom, aslant the snowy altar, roll'd
A radiant interfusion of soft stains.
The organ groan'd, and greaten'd, and grew bold,
Blowing abroad melodious hurricanes.
And, bathed in bliss, while that long music peal'd,
I, looking sideways, near a little shrine
Saw, silent in a dim sweet light divine,
Irene, with claspt hands and cold lips seal'd.

VI

As one that, musing on some mountain height,
Above the breeze that breaks from vineyard walls,
Seized by the impulse of a swift delight,
Bows earthward, feels the hilltop heave, and falls,
I sank beside her. All things seem'd to expand
And reel. A wind of music swept the air.
And, when it ceased in heaven, I was aware
That, thro' a rapture, I had toucht her hand.

University of Virginia Library

A VISION OF THE MORNING.

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