Hymns and Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Was it a fancy, or in very truth
Did I behold angelic faces near me?
And there was music too! It is most strange;
Once in my boyhood's morn I had a dream
Of a most noble Minster, rear'd aloft
Upon the realms of Chaos and old Night,
Fair in proportion, full of mysteries,
And typical of all creation's scheme;
A supernatural glorious edifice
Raised by no hand of mortal architect!
Most curiously it dwelt upon my mind,
And, as I grew, supplied to teeming fancy
A subtle food, and to myself I named it
Minster of Eld! Now in its very courts
I seem to be;—how hither brought
From couch of sickness nigh to death,
From couch of weary convalescence long,
A secret unexplain'd; and as I gaze,
Unless my sense deceive, it spreads abroad
Wider and wider still its beauteous aisles.
How pleasant is this turf, with fairy-rings
Of old primeval growth! How delicate
This scent of flowering thyme, which as I tread
I cannot choose but crush! These gates that stand
As entrance to the Nave, are broad and high
Beyond imagination, yet not larger
Than suits the rest; and yonder seven great bolts
That keep them closed in bonds of adamant,
Inscribed with hieroglyphics mystical,

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So massive seem, they well might typify
The very bars of Nature which hold fast
The Universe in one. Upon the seventh
Appears a Runic text, which may afford
Haply some clue to my perplexity.

[He reads.

‘When the Universe was made,
On its hinge this door was laid;
Once unbolted hath it been;
Once again shall so be seen.
When its folds were opened first,
Inward the flood of waters burst;
When they next apart shall leap,
Inward a flood of flame shall sweep.
In the midst of that great din
Comes the King of glory in,
He who at Creation's door
Watching standeth evermore!’

Methinks I can decipher me in part
The meaning here contain'd. O, joy of joys!
And can it then be so in very deed
As I somewhile have thought, that here I stand
Within that glorious Minster of old time,
Which in my boyhood's days
Did evermore around me seem to rise,
By glimpses caught through the half-opening haze
Of nature's outward mutabilities,
Then quick withdrawn again, lest I
Too narrowly its secrets should espy.
Oh, Minster of my youth!
How oft on mossy stone
Seated alone
In the deep woods I heard thine anthem's solemn tone!
How oft I saw unfold
Around the setting sun thy skirts of gold,
And felt mine inmost heart dance with a joy untold!

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And of thy glories to imbibe did seem,
Till thou alone wast real and earth a dream!

Brief date had those glad hours,
Soon by advancing manhood put to flight;
The world with all its powers
Came sweeping on before my ravish'd sight,
And I with it was borne, as on the waves of night,
Far from sweet Nature's face,
Too far, my God, from Thee and Thine embrace,
Till the fair vision of mine earlier years
Faded in mists of tears,
And its sweet music found no echo in mine ears!
Thrice welcome then, blest place,
If so indeed it be,
Up whose long avenues with joy I go;
And may thy scenes efface
Henceforth for me
Remembrance of vile earthly things below,
Which all too long endures, feeding the heart with woe.

[He proceeds up the nave.

How soft and pearly is the light that doth
Inhabit here! Yon pillars, dimly shown
Through swathing clouds, might vie in girth and height
With Babel's Tower. This floor is one vast down,
On which a thousand herds might feed apart
And still leave room for more; and as I see,
On yonder mound there sits a shepherd boy
Beside his nibbling flock. I will address him.
What, ho! good shepherd boy, canst tell me aught
About this holy fane?

SHEPHERD BOY.
Nay, sir, not much
Myself, but not so far away there dwells
A Hermit of Mount Carmel, who can tell thee

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All thou shalt choose to ask. If thou art thirsty,
Here is a most sweet spring; and I entreat thee
Take bread from my poor scrip. Oh, I have seen
Strange things upon the plain since I came hither
To keep this flock in charge. The Angel Choirs,
The same that sang in Bethlehem, oft I've heard
Singing o'erhead in the still moonlight hour.
If thou wilt go with me, I'll show the way
To where the Hermit lives. But I must call
My little sister first to take my place,
Now absent gathering anemones
To weave a necklace for some favourite
Among her lambkins. She will hasten back
Soon as she hears this pipe.

[He plays, and they proceed together.