 | Poems |  |
17
VISION OF POESY.
The setting sun had closed the day,
The silent moon was on her way,
And men upon their couches lay
In slumber deep;
And I, too, felt the sovereign sway
Of balmy sleep.
The silent moon was on her way,
And men upon their couches lay
In slumber deep;
And I, too, felt the sovereign sway
Of balmy sleep.
But then my mind was not reposed;
For tho' my eyes no doubt were closed,
And I to all appearance dozed,
Yet I could see;
And visionary forms deposed
Strange things to me.
For tho' my eyes no doubt were closed,
And I to all appearance dozed,
Yet I could see;
And visionary forms deposed
Strange things to me.
Methought that sudden flashed a light
Around my bed, exceeding bright;
While I, confounded at the sight,
Was sore afraid;
And 'neath the bed-clothes in affright
Did hide my head.
Around my bed, exceeding bright;
While I, confounded at the sight,
Was sore afraid;
And 'neath the bed-clothes in affright
Did hide my head.
Half-smothered, breathing hard in fear,
Lest something worse should soon appear,
I waited awful sounds to hear,
Like dying groans,
Or see some shocking spectre rear
Its chalky bones!
Lest something worse should soon appear,
I waited awful sounds to hear,
Like dying groans,
Or see some shocking spectre rear
Its chalky bones!
When gentle sounds so “soft and low,”
And musically gliding slow,
Seemed from a magic source to flow,
My fears to quell;
Whereat, well-pleased, quoth I, “I'll know
Who plays so well.”
And musically gliding slow,
Seemed from a magic source to flow,
My fears to quell;
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Who plays so well.”
Unveiling then my wondering eyes,
I saw, with heart-struck, deep surprise,
A tenant of the upper skies,
Or seemed to be—
Standing arrayed in heavenly guise,
And near to me!
I saw, with heart-struck, deep surprise,
A tenant of the upper skies,
Or seemed to be—
Standing arrayed in heavenly guise,
And near to me!
The phantom seemed a female fair,
With flowing locks of auburn hair,
Her snowy arm and bosom bare,
Of finest mould;
And then her robes she knew to wear
In graceful fold.
With flowing locks of auburn hair,
Her snowy arm and bosom bare,
Of finest mould;
And then her robes she knew to wear
In graceful fold.
Her eyes gleamed with poetic fire;
And in her hand she held a lyre,
The chords thereof were golden wire—
Well worth the Muse;
Such as methinks the heavenly choir
Might not abuse!
And in her hand she held a lyre,
The chords thereof were golden wire—
Well worth the Muse;
Such as methinks the heavenly choir
Might not abuse!
She raised her lyre and brushed its string,
Softly as with a downy wing;
I heard the chords in answer ring
A pleasant tone;
To memory it seemed to sing
Days long by-gone!
Softly as with a downy wing;
I heard the chords in answer ring
A pleasant tone;
To memory it seemed to sing
Days long by-gone!
Pensive she gazed upon my face,
And seemed therein my thoughts to trace;
Then with a lightsome, gliding pace
Approached my bed,
And with a winning modest grace
She bowed, and said:
And seemed therein my thoughts to trace;
Then with a lightsome, gliding pace
Approached my bed,
And with a winning modest grace
She bowed, and said:
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“My son, I pray distrust not me—
My cognomen is Poesy;
I come with tidings unto thee—
Sprung from the Nine;
I come to tell thee thou shalt be
A child of mine!
My cognomen is Poesy;
I come with tidings unto thee—
Sprung from the Nine;
I come to tell thee thou shalt be
A child of mine!
“To Scotia's ancient bard I came,
To crown his rustic brows with fame,
And hand posterity his name
Recorded bright;
Mayhap some future bard the same
Of thee may write.
To crown his rustic brows with fame,
And hand posterity his name
Recorded bright;
Mayhap some future bard the same
Of thee may write.
“To sing I taught his faltering tongue;
Fired with new zeal his harp he strung,
And to old Scotia, listening, sung
His ditties wild;
While he to robes of Nature clung,
Like a true child.
Fired with new zeal his harp he strung,
And to old Scotia, listening, sung
His ditties wild;
While he to robes of Nature clung,
Like a true child.
“I know thou lovest Nature well!
The same full oft I 've heard thee tell—
Delighted on her works to dwell,
With her to stray
Down purling brook, or lonely dell,
In musing way.
The same full oft I 've heard thee tell—
Delighted on her works to dwell,
With her to stray
Down purling brook, or lonely dell,
In musing way.
“When Spring with all her blushing flowers
Invited thee beneath her bowers,
I saw thee with her sunny hours
Adorn her name;
Or if the earth were wet with showers—
'T were all the same.
Invited thee beneath her bowers,
I saw thee with her sunny hours
Adorn her name;
Or if the earth were wet with showers—
'T were all the same.
“When Summer, with her carpet green,
In all her beauteous prime was seen,
I saw thy sober air and mien,
And thoughtful look;
From her thou didst instruction glean,
As from a book.
In all her beauteous prime was seen,
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And thoughtful look;
From her thou didst instruction glean,
As from a book.
“When waning Autumn lingered near,
I saw thee mark the rolling year,
Its withered foliage scattering sere,
With great delight;
Her solemn, magic winds to hear,
Enraptured quite.
I saw thee mark the rolling year,
Its withered foliage scattering sere,
With great delight;
Her solemn, magic winds to hear,
Enraptured quite.
“When bitter Winter came at last,
Loud-roaring with his stormy blast,
Bestowing, as it rattled past,
The frozen shower,
I 've seen thee shivering stand aghast,
And own his power!
Loud-roaring with his stormy blast,
Bestowing, as it rattled past,
The frozen shower,
I 've seen thee shivering stand aghast,
And own his power!
“When Fortune with her fickle hand
Led thee to tread a foreign strand,
I saw thee listen her command,
And willing go;
But yet to leave thy father-land
Made tears to flow.
Led thee to tread a foreign strand,
I saw thee listen her command,
And willing go;
But yet to leave thy father-land
Made tears to flow.
“And when beneath a softer clime,
Where mankind sport with careful Time,
In revel live and mock at crime—
With tuneful lays
I 've heard thee sing, in artless rhyme,
New-England's praise
Where mankind sport with careful Time,
In revel live and mock at crime—
With tuneful lays
I 've heard thee sing, in artless rhyme,
New-England's praise
“These things I 've seen and heard in the
Well-pleasing in themselves to me;
Henceforward and forever be
My dear-loved son!
And for a genius thou art free
Myself to own.
Well-pleasing in themselves to me;
Henceforward and forever be
My dear-loved son!
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Myself to own.
“And take thou this, my sounding lyre,
And let it rouse thy soul to fire,
And wake a strain that ne'er shall tire,
Tho' sad the heart!
Nor let thy thankful self aspire
To higher part.
And let it rouse thy soul to fire,
And wake a strain that ne'er shall tire,
Tho' sad the heart!
Nor let thy thankful self aspire
To higher part.
“Sing of thy ancient, noble state—
Her learned sons—renowned great—
Her patriotic dead, whose fate
Your freedom gave—
Her patriotic fire innate,
That burns to save!
Her learned sons—renowned great—
Her patriotic dead, whose fate
Your freedom gave—
Her patriotic fire innate,
That burns to save!
“Sing of New-England, favored land!
Her customs dear—her social band—
Her everlasting hills that stand
Above her meads,
As when at first, by His command,
They reared their heads.
Her customs dear—her social band—
Her everlasting hills that stand
Above her meads,
As when at first, by His command,
They reared their heads.
“Her silver streams meandering slow,
As onward to the sea they flow—
Her vine-clad homes out-looking low
'Neath sheltering trees,
And seldom failing to bestow
Contented ease.
As onward to the sea they flow—
Her vine-clad homes out-looking low
'Neath sheltering trees,
And seldom failing to bestow
Contented ease.
“Tell of her sons that rove the earth
Far from the country of their birth—
Tell of the bright domestic hearth,
Her daughters fair,
And of the gay and festive mirth
That centers there.
Far from the country of their birth—
Tell of the bright domestic hearth,
Her daughters fair,
And of the gay and festive mirth
That centers there.
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“Now to my words incline thine ear:
In every place thyself revere,
Nor the harsh voice of censure fear
For thy poor lays;
Nor beg thy fellow-man to hear
To court his praise.”
In every place thyself revere,
Nor the harsh voice of censure fear
For thy poor lays;
Nor beg thy fellow-man to hear
To court his praise.”
Thus spoke the beauteous, heavenly maid.
I listened well—no more afraid,
And all distrustful feelings laid
Forgetful by;
And took the lyre, e'en as she bade,
Its tone to try.
I listened well—no more afraid,
And all distrustful feelings laid
Forgetful by;
And took the lyre, e'en as she bade,
Its tone to try.
She gave it me, still vibrating.
Its sound incited me to sing,
And busy thoughts began to spring
Profusely thick,
While skilfully I touched each string
At random quick.
Its sound incited me to sing,
And busy thoughts began to spring
Profusely thick,
While skilfully I touched each string
At random quick.
“My tongue broke forth in unknown strain”
To make the veriest minstrel vain;
The numbers in harmonic train
Adorned my song,
And sweet the whispering strings did fain
Rehearse them long.
To make the veriest minstrel vain;
The numbers in harmonic train
Adorned my song,
And sweet the whispering strings did fain
Rehearse them long.
I ceased my song with hands upraised,
At my untutored skill amazed;
And anxious waited to be praised—
Could she be there?
I looked, but lo! I sorrowing gazed
On empty air!
At my untutored skill amazed;
And anxious waited to be praised—
Could she be there?
I looked, but lo! I sorrowing gazed
On empty air!
Now Phœbus from his ocean-bed
Lifted above the hills his head;
Before his face the shadows fled,
And morning broke;
And with the night my vision sped,
And I awoke.
Lifted above the hills his head;
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And morning broke;
And with the night my vision sped,
And I awoke.
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