The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery Collected and Revised by the Author |
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THE TRANCE.
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 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
THE TRANCE.
A FRAGMENT.
(1827.)
------One faint and lingering glance I took,
And then, all vanish'd in the sickly light
That swam around the bed; all seem'd to melt,
Shaded by indistinctness, like the shore
From those who wander far on ocean-waves:
A dazzling giddiness my brain dissolved;
The eye-balls sunk; and coldly press'd like lead,
While creeping chills my pallid form bedew'd,
That shrank as if it shudder'd at itself,
Or would condense, like water ere it freeze!
My life-fount curdled into clotted blood;
Then, cold and nerveless lay each marble limb,
And moisten'd with the mystic dews of death.
And then, all vanish'd in the sickly light
That swam around the bed; all seem'd to melt,
Shaded by indistinctness, like the shore
From those who wander far on ocean-waves:
620
The eye-balls sunk; and coldly press'd like lead,
While creeping chills my pallid form bedew'd,
That shrank as if it shudder'd at itself,
Or would condense, like water ere it freeze!
My life-fount curdled into clotted blood;
Then, cold and nerveless lay each marble limb,
And moisten'd with the mystic dews of death.
Sightless, and breathless, thus entranced I lay;
Though motionless, with feeling so acute
As if it doubled, to make up for sight:
Thus, like a solitary cloud, I seem'd
Self-balanced in a universe of gloom!
Though motionless, with feeling so acute
As if it doubled, to make up for sight:
Thus, like a solitary cloud, I seem'd
Self-balanced in a universe of gloom!
And, oh! how sad it was, to hear and feel
Fond friends around me, dreaming Death had closed
All sense of life; their blood-warm lips to feel
Upon mine ice-cold face, and then to hear
Their heart-swell'd groans, and choking sobs and sighs
While gazing on my hush'd and breathless form!
Fond friends around me, dreaming Death had closed
All sense of life; their blood-warm lips to feel
Upon mine ice-cold face, and then to hear
Their heart-swell'd groans, and choking sobs and sighs
While gazing on my hush'd and breathless form!
When midnight-bells had toll'd the World to sleep,
A young, but unforgetting sister, came
To meditate, and sorrow o'er my doom:
Her printless steps I knew, as on they stole
Like twilight o'er the flowers. And, when she took
My pulseless fingers in her pale-worn hand,
And kiss'd the marble brow, and talk'd so sweet,
And lisp'd her mournful love,—how horrible
That Language could not speak my conscious mind!
A young, but unforgetting sister, came
To meditate, and sorrow o'er my doom:
Her printless steps I knew, as on they stole
Like twilight o'er the flowers. And, when she took
My pulseless fingers in her pale-worn hand,
And kiss'd the marble brow, and talk'd so sweet,
And lisp'd her mournful love,—how horrible
That Language could not speak my conscious mind!
Two days departed; then, the wonted shroud
Enwrapp'd me, and around my body clung
Like ruffling waters: last, the coffin came,
And well I knew, as with a fear-like touch
Of trembling hands, my dead-cold form they lay
In funeral vest enveloped. But more drear
Than all, was that long, sad, and silent hour
When, one by one, the speechless mourners took
Their last and lingering glance; their sighs I felt,
And tears which burn'd my cheek,—but yet, was still!
Enwrapp'd me, and around my body clung
Like ruffling waters: last, the coffin came,
And well I knew, as with a fear-like touch
Of trembling hands, my dead-cold form they lay
In funeral vest enveloped. But more drear
Than all, was that long, sad, and silent hour
When, one by one, the speechless mourners took
Their last and lingering glance; their sighs I felt,
And tears which burn'd my cheek,—but yet, was still!
And, oh, most horrible!—The nails I heard
Pierce the crush'd wood and seal my coffin-lid;
And then, the rattling hearse, the grave-side prayers,
The thick and careless clods, which patter'd down
Upon my bier, till bedded with the dust;
And then ------
Pierce the crush'd wood and seal my coffin-lid;
And then, the rattling hearse, the grave-side prayers,
The thick and careless clods, which patter'd down
Upon my bier, till bedded with the dust;
And then ------
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |