The Poetical Works of James Thomson The City of Dreadful Night: By James Thomson ("B. V."): Edited by Bertram Dobell: With a Memoir of the Author: In two volumes |
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AN OLD DREAM |
 | The Poetical Works of James Thomson |  |
351
AN OLD DREAM
The maiden lay in a perfect trance,
As sweet, as sad as Love;
Embowered deep from the night's expanse,
As a forest-nested dove;
Through the leaves came never a single glance,
For the stars were quenched above.
As sweet, as sad as Love;
Embowered deep from the night's expanse,
As a forest-nested dove;
Through the leaves came never a single glance,
For the stars were quenched above.
The world seemed doomstruck, almost dead,
Nor dared to breathe aloud;
A wannish mist of grave-light spread
From the moon within her shroud;
No sky,—but the mute woods overhead
Hung like a thunder-cloud.
Nor dared to breathe aloud;
A wannish mist of grave-light spread
From the moon within her shroud;
No sky,—but the mute woods overhead
Hung like a thunder-cloud.
In a pure white robe lay the maiden there,
A shroud or a bridal white;
Her pale face set in her long rich hair,
Golden and dimly bright;
Free from joy and woe and care,
Entranced within the night.
A shroud or a bridal white;
Her pale face set in her long rich hair,
Golden and dimly bright;
Free from joy and woe and care,
Entranced within the night.
352
At length that night was rolled away
With its buried stars and moon;
Advanced the pomp of a royal day
In a dawn of glorious boon;
But consciousless the maiden lay
Till the crowning hour of noon.
With its buried stars and moon;
Advanced the pomp of a royal day
In a dawn of glorious boon;
But consciousless the maiden lay
Till the crowning hour of noon.
And then she opened her large wild eyes
In the universal glow:
Their late trance blent with their new surprise,
They gazed; and drank in slow
Grand gleams of the solemn azure skies
And the clouds of dazzling snow.
In the universal glow:
Their late trance blent with their new surprise,
They gazed; and drank in slow
Grand gleams of the solemn azure skies
And the clouds of dazzling snow.
The noontide reigned in perfect power,
Full-sphered with heat and sheen;
The soft blue haze of the secret bower
Was lit with golden green;
Feeling their rich life fruit and flower
Basked languidly serene.
Full-sphered with heat and sheen;
The soft blue haze of the secret bower
Was lit with golden green;
Feeling their rich life fruit and flower
Basked languidly serene.
Sumptuous rose-leaves flushing red,
And lilies white as snow
Made for her limbs an ample bed,
Lying still and low;
But pansies pillowed her solemn head
With their deepest purple glow
And lilies white as snow
Made for her limbs an ample bed,
Lying still and low;
But pansies pillowed her solemn head
With their deepest purple glow
353
And the bower's roof and wall and crown
Was all one mighty vine,
That linked and clothed the tree-stems brown
With an endless leafy twine,
Which the sultry clustered grapes weighed down,
Heavy with wealth of wine.
Was all one mighty vine,
That linked and clothed the tree-stems brown
With an endless leafy twine,
Which the sultry clustered grapes weighed down,
Heavy with wealth of wine.
Thus richly couched she lay alone,
Without one cry or start,
Although her face was set like stone
Against some cruel smart;
Until her anguish found a moan,
Complaining to her heart—
Without one cry or start,
Although her face was set like stone
Against some cruel smart;
Until her anguish found a moan,
Complaining to her heart—
“Oh, this is sad, sad, sad!” it sighed,
“Oh, this is a cruel doom!
What glorious life fills the whole world wide,
What fruit and flower and bloom!
Yet none for me—who must abide
In this ever-lonely tomb.
“Oh, this is a cruel doom!
What glorious life fills the whole world wide,
What fruit and flower and bloom!
Yet none for me—who must abide
In this ever-lonely tomb.
“The sky is all a-daze with light,
The air one murmurous chime;
The joyous sea sways blue and bright,
The earth laughs green with prime;—
For me no love and no delight
In this fair world of Time!”
The air one murmurous chime;
The joyous sea sways blue and bright,
The earth laughs green with prime;—
For me no love and no delight
In this fair world of Time!”
354
She moaned—and raised a sculptured arm
To where the great grapes hung;
Her cold hand drew them dusk and warm
To moisten her languid tongue,—
To kindle some life through her wasted form
With the summer's rich blood young.
To where the great grapes hung;
Her cold hand drew them dusk and warm
To moisten her languid tongue,—
To kindle some life through her wasted form
With the summer's rich blood young.
The whole green-woven umbrage bent
And swayed to her light stress;
The sun-steeped grapes to her wan lips leant
In an unreserved caress;
How could she 'plain of famishment
Amid such grand excess?
And swayed to her light stress;
The sun-steeped grapes to her wan lips leant
In an unreserved caress;
How could she 'plain of famishment
Amid such grand excess?
The sunlight's fervent golden wine
Came streaming through the bower,
The clouds of the firmamental vine
Burst in a crimson shower;
She loomed in the midst like a maid divine
Veiled, glorious, by her dower.
Came streaming through the bower,
The clouds of the firmamental vine
Burst in a crimson shower;
She loomed in the midst like a maid divine
Veiled, glorious, by her dower.
Over the roses and lilies white,
Over the mossy ground,
The rills of the vine blood revelled in light,
Dancing around and around;
With a multitudinous laughter bright
And a song of murmurous sound.
Over the mossy ground,
The rills of the vine blood revelled in light,
Dancing around and around;
With a multitudinous laughter bright
And a song of murmurous sound.
355
But look on her pallid brow and face,
Look on her white robe fair,—
There riot hath left what a bloody trace,
What a ghastly vestige there!
What a wild weird purple drowns the grace
Of her shining golden hair!
Look on her white robe fair,—
There riot hath left what a bloody trace,
What a ghastly vestige there!
What a wild weird purple drowns the grace
Of her shining golden hair!
The blood of the lusty summer prime
Could pour no life through her,
The noon of the gorgeous summer time
No health, no strength confer:
She sank back cold from the boons sublime
To the trance that could not stir.
Could pour no life through her,
The noon of the gorgeous summer time
No health, no strength confer:
She sank back cold from the boons sublime
To the trance that could not stir.
And who had seen her when the grey
Was fading into gloom,
Had thought a sculptured lady lay
Upon a white stone tomb,
Besprent with blood, to mark for aye
Some awful tragic doom.
Was fading into gloom,
Had thought a sculptured lady lay
Upon a white stone tomb,
Besprent with blood, to mark for aye
Some awful tragic doom.
Throughout calm depths of heaven were strewn
The pure stars throbbing bright,
The golden lustre of the moon
Was spreading through the night,
When next from out that mystic swoon
Her spirit rose to light.
The pure stars throbbing bright,
The golden lustre of the moon
Was spreading through the night,
When next from out that mystic swoon
Her spirit rose to light.
356
She woke—“Ah, once I lived, it seems,
Through ever mournful years;
But now I wake from heavenly dreams
That fill my eyes with tears;—
From floating far down Eden-streams
With a band of glorious feres.
Through ever mournful years;
But now I wake from heavenly dreams
That fill my eyes with tears;—
From floating far down Eden-streams
With a band of glorious feres.
“And all my heart a throbbing gush
Of life and love and bliss;
And all my face a dawn-bright flush
From some enraptured kiss;
And all our Heaven the breathless hush
Of crowning ecstasies!”
Of life and love and bliss;
And all my face a dawn-bright flush
From some enraptured kiss;
And all our Heaven the breathless hush
Of crowning ecstasies!”
While thus she murmured soft and low,
And still half-trancedly,
What calm bright forms came sinking slow
Adown the moonlight sea?
What strange sweet music 'gan to grow
Throughout night's mystery?
And still half-trancedly,
What calm bright forms came sinking slow
Adown the moonlight sea?
What strange sweet music 'gan to grow
Throughout night's mystery?
In the deep heart of all the wood
Came down the seraphs bright;
Around the maiden's couch they stood,
All shining with the light
Of the beauty of pure sanctitude
Upon her ravished sight.
Came down the seraphs bright;
Around the maiden's couch they stood,
All shining with the light
Of the beauty of pure sanctitude
Upon her ravished sight.
357
They clasped her in a dear embrace
Of high and holy love;
Their voices thrilled the lonely place—
“Meek sister! stricken dove!
Come soar with us, and see the face
Of Him who reigns above!”
Of high and holy love;
Their voices thrilled the lonely place—
“Meek sister! stricken dove!
Come soar with us, and see the face
Of Him who reigns above!”
So sang they sweet; and all around
The music swelled on high
To an ocean of triumphant sound,
That mingled gloriously
With the moonlight, filling up the bound
Of all the night-wide sky.
The music swelled on high
To an ocean of triumphant sound,
That mingled gloriously
With the moonlight, filling up the bound
Of all the night-wide sky.
As if rapt heavenwards by the might
Of that harmonious wind,
The seraph-wings flashed broad and bright
And left the earth behind;
And dim within their fulgent flight
The maiden's form reclined.
Of that harmonious wind,
The seraph-wings flashed broad and bright
And left the earth behind;
And dim within their fulgent flight
The maiden's form reclined.
And up the music-moonlight sea
They floated calm and slow—
So that it rather seemed to be
The earth was sinking low
Than that they soared, so steadfastly
Ascending they did go.
They floated calm and slow—
So that it rather seemed to be
The earth was sinking low
Than that they soared, so steadfastly
Ascending they did go.
358
They bore the maiden, still and dim,
When first they rose from earth;
But ere the splendour and the hymn
Left all our sphere a dearth,
A seraph with the seraphim
She soared in her new birth.
When first they rose from earth;
But ere the splendour and the hymn
Left all our sphere a dearth,
A seraph with the seraphim
She soared in her new birth.
Friday, September 23, 1859.
| The Poetical Works of James Thomson | |