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156

A DREAM OF THE PAST.

I

Dearest! my dream was of thee!
My dream at the morning's breaking,
When thy sweet eyes inquired of me,
Why, why this sudden waking?

II

Fondest! my dream was of thee!
Ask not why this sudden waking,
Or why this start, and clasp to my heart
At the morning's ruddy breaking?

III

I dream't of a circle scatter'd,
Of thy home 'mid the hills of heather—
Of faces fair that shone out there
When we cast our lot together.

IV

I dream't of a comely matron,
Into whose lingering beauty
The chisel of Time had graven sublime
The struggle of Love with Duty—
157

V

Of the mother of the household,
A woman true and tender,
Whose step was grace, Love's throne her face,
And round her beam'd the splendour

VI

With which Artists and their pencils
Strive vainly to invest
The Virgin mild and the wondrous Child
On her nectar-flowing breast.

VII

I dream't of a white-haired patriarch,
Versed in the Celtic tongue,
Who took his laugh at the Sassenach
That courted his daughter young—

VIII

An ancient 'mong the patriarchs,
Who can speak to his hundred years,
And though reft of sight is still in the fight—
Still in this valley of tears!

IX

I dream't of a band of brothers,
Four strong and heartsome boys,
Who work'd out the charm of the Highland farm,
And its barren hills made rejoice.
158

X

Where now these sons of promise?
Ask of the New World, ask of the Old;
Enquire of the seas and the wand'ring breeze,
Enquire of the fields of gold!

XI

Question our Western colonies,
Question the blustering States;
Some potent key they can give, it may be,
To their fortunes or their fates.

XII

I dream't of a group of sisters,
Numbering the mystic seven;
Among the bereft five still are left,
Two have their home in heaven!

XIII

A bevy rare of damosels
Might angel's heart beguile,
For seven such graces, and seven such faces,
Shone not on our sea-girt isle.

XIV

The two the angels have taken
Are but pledges for those that remain;
In the household of heaven, as one be the seven,
Linked in Love's golden chain!
159

XV

Beloved! in this rendering
Back to the eyes of the mind
Of our days of mirth and the happy Hearth
Lit up with faces kind,

XVI

I had framed to me a picture
Of joys to be restored—
Of youth as it was, and a glorious Cause
That needed nor Cross nor Sword;

XVII

For, on its dazzling Banner,
Two Hearts were the Device,
And the motto above was “Love, ay, Love!
For to Love is to Sacrifice.”

XVIII

When lo! a silent shadow crept
Over the Dial's face,
And I knew its power to disturb the hour,
And darken the gateways of grace—

XIX

To hinder the passage upward,
And perplex the faith of the core;
The thoughts that lie under, of doubt and of wonder,
To ravel them more and more.
160

XX

Dearest! the Light has its Shadows,
Evening steals over the Day;
With the promise of Dawn rise spectres wan,
But Love will chase them away.

XXI

And though the Curtain be falling
On the Drama acted here,
Let us look beyond to a life as fond
In a purer and happier sphere,

XXII

Where a sense of the true prevaileth,
And neither by Book nor Priest
Are we taken to task for the mercies we ask,
Nor fenced from the Holy Feast.

XXIII

Be our Hope and our Faith and their Longings
Toward the Home of Love,
And the wings that transport to the upper Court
Will be given us from above!
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