The writings of Robert C. Sands :: :: University of Virginia Library

A misty dream—and a flashy maze—
Of a sunshiny flush—and a moonshiny haze!
I lay asleep with my eyes open wide,
When a donkey came to my bedside,
And bade me forth to take a ride.
It was not a donkey of vulgar breed,
But a cloudy vision—a night-mare steed!
His ears were abroad like a warrior's plume,—
From the bosom of darkness was borrowed the gloom
Of his dark, dark hide, and his coal black hair,
But his eyes like no earthly eyes they were!
Like the fields of heaven where none can see
The depths of their blue eternity!
Like the crest of a helmet taught proudly to nod
And wave like a meteor's train abroad,
Was the long, long tail, that glorified
The glorious donkey's hinder side!
And his gait description's power surpasses—
'Twas the beau ideal of all jack asses.

I strode o'er his back, and he took in his wind—
And he pranced before—and he kicked behind—
And he gave a snort, as when mutterings roll
Abroad from pole to answering pole—
While the storm-king sits on the hail-cloud's back—
And amuses himself with the thunder-crack!

395

Then off he went, like a bird with red wings
That builds her nest where the cliff-flower springs—
Like a cloudy steed by the light of the moon,
When the night's muffled horn plays a windy tune;
And away I went, while my garment flew
Forth on the night breeze, with a snow-shiny hue—
Like a streak of white foam on a sea of blue.
Up-bristled then the night-charger's hair too,
Like a bayonet grove, at a shoulder-hoo!

Hurra! hurra! what a hurry we made!
My hairs rose too, but I was not afraid;
Like a stand of pikes they stood up all,
Each eye stood out like a cannon ball;
So rapt I looked, like the god of song,
As I shot and whizzed like a rocket along.
Thus thro' the trough of the air as we dash'd,
Goodly and glorious visions flash'd
Before my sight with a flashing and sparkling,
In whose blaze all earthly gems are darkling.
As the gushes of morning, the trappings of eve,
Or the myriad lights that will dance when you give
Yourself a clout on the orb of sight,
And see long ribands of rainbow light;
Such were the splendours, and so divine,
So rosy and starry, and fiery and fine.

Then eagle! then stars! and then rainbows! and all
That I saw at Niagara's tumbling fall,
Where I sung so divinely of them and their glories,
While mewed in vile durance, and kept by the tories.
Where the red cross flag was abroad on the blast
I sat very mournful, but not downcast.
My harp on the willows I did not hang up,
Nor the winglets of fancy were suffered to droop,—

396

But I soared, and I swooped, like a bird with red wings,
Who mounts to the cloud-god, and soaringly sings.

But the phantom steed in his whirlwind course,
Galloped along like Belzebub's horse,
Till we came to a bank, dark, craggy, and wild,
Where no rock-flowers blushed, no verdure smiled—
But sparse from the thunder cliffs bleak and bare,—
Like the plumage of ravens that warrior helms wear.
And below very far was a gulf profound,
Where tumbling and rumbling, at distance resound
Billowy clouds—o'er whose bottomless bed
The curtain of night its volumes spread—
But a rushing of fire was revealing the gloom,
Where convulsions had birth, and the thunders a home.

You may put out the eyes of the sun at mid-day—
You may hold a young cherubim fast by the tail—
You may steal from night's angel his blanket away—
Or the song of the bard at its flood-tide may stay,
But that cloud-phantom donkey to stop you would fail!

He plunged in the gulf—'twas a great way to go,
E'er we lit mid the darkness and flashings below;
And I looked—as I hung o'er that sulphurous light—
Like a warrior of flame!—on a courser of night!
But what I beheld in that dark ocean's roar,
I have partly described in a poem before,
And the rest I reserve for a measure more strong,
When my heart shall be heaving and bursting with song!

But I saw as he sailed 'mid the dusky air,
A bird that I thought I knew everywhere,
A fierce gray bird with a terrible beak,
With a glittering eye, and peculiar shriek,

397

“Proud Bird of the Cliff!” I addressed him then—
“How my heart swells high thus to meet thee again!
Thou whose bare bosom for rest is laid
On pillows of night by the thunder-cloud made!
With a rushing of wings and a screaming of praise
Who in ecstasy soar'st in the red-hot blaze!
Who dancest in heaven to the song of the trump,
To the fife's acclaim, and bass-drum's thump!
Whence com'st thou,” I cried, “and goest whither?”
As I gently detained him by his tail-feather.
He replied, “Mr. N---! Mr. N---, let me loose!
I am not an eagle, but only a goose!—
Your optics are weak, and the weather is hazy—
And excuse the remark, but I think you are crazy.”