Imagens das páginas

And sorrow, worst of all—yet still her mien

Held its original sweetness. Piety,

And gentleness, and charity, and faith,

Shone there, and from her soften'd eyes heam'd forth

Serenity which was not of the earth.

And all around that venerable form

Beautiful creatures floated—cheeks of bloom,

And eyes of watery light, on her alone

Fix'd with such fond and beaming earnestness,

That I might know their owners had no thought

Beyond that gentle lady's happiness.

My dream was darken'd. In that ancient house There was a deathlike silence—one alone Of all those young and lovely forms remain'd, And she was traversing the silent hall, With wild and hurried footsteps. Very pale She look'd, and in her tremulous voice was sorrow Mingled with dread—and yet she shed no tears. There seem'd a settled spirit at her heart, Triumphant o'er calamity,—a firm And holy strength ; yet ever and anon Her lips, compress'd convulsively, betray'd The struggle of her soul with agony, Methought one told me that o'er that old house Disease had spread his pinions, and that she, That gentle mother, and her youngest child, Were fading in Death's shadowy arms. Alone That maid, the ruling image of my dream, Tended their feverish beds, and sleeplessly

Was comforting the agonies of each.
Oh! 'twas most piteous to see that pale form
Gliding from room to room, and when with faint
And tremulous accent either sufferer ask'd
How fared the other, forcing painful smiles,
And striving with deceitful hope to win
Each soul from half its suffering. And then
Methought the tramp of horses, and the whirl
Of chariot wheels kept sounding in my ear;
And, one by one, familiar forms pass'd by me,
In sad succession, to that house of woe.
They were my friends in childhood, and I sigh'd
To see how thus with pallid looks they came
To weep upon that lady's sepulchre.

My dream pass'd darkly on. Methought I stood With her, the ruling image of the Vision,

Beneath the waning twilight— * *



Again my dream grew dark. We stood by night,
(I and that maiden) near the old abode,
But a new woe was on us. Doubt, and fear,
And thoughts of death, and undefined forebodings,
Hung heavy on our hearts. Then on a sudden
She had departed, and her wild farewell
Was ringing like a death-knell in my ear,
Which my heart echoed back.—I felt, that hour,
As she were gone for ever. My brain reel'd
Giddily, and dim shadows of dark thought
Throng'd through its bursting cells tumultuously.
I look'd up to the Heavens—their face was dark
With gathering tempest, and the silent moon,
In pale and melancholy loveliness,
Peep'd dimly through the clouds, whose shadowy


The winds, in rapid and tumultuous flight,
Hurl'd o'er Night's blue and starry firmament.

My dream was brighten'd. Sounds of love andjoy, And hymeneal songs, and rustic mirth, Mix'd with the music of the village bells, Broke gaily on my ear. From that old house There pass'd a merry wedding rout; the bride Was that young maiden whom I late beheld Pining in hopeless sickness; holy love, And chaste connubial raptures, fill'd her eyes, Smiling through silent tears. And then I saw That maid, the ruling image of my dream, And she was leaning on a young man's arm Whom I knew not; but in their eyes I read That each was to the other all in all.

My Vision changed its aspect. Youth's bright


Had pass'd from all the faces which I loved,
And the calm pulses of maturity

Throughout my being throbb'd. I stood begirt
By beaming faces of time-honour'd friends,
Whosechildrenplay'daround us,—happy creatures,
With cheeks and eyes of brightness, some in youth's
More ripen'd bloom, maidens with downcast looks,
And boys of gallant bearing. Peace and joy
Dwelt with us; the bright soul of other days
Stole, like an exquisite dream, into our hearts,
And childhood's scenes lay round us. And, me-


There lean'd a radiant form upon my bosom,
Dearer than all, from whose mild eyes I drank
Intoxicating bliss; all pleasant thoughts
Rose up within me, and each giddy sense
Reel'd in its own deep raptures; till, at last,
E'en with the beating of my heart, I woke.




Oh! Spirit of the Breeze,

Who singest in the trees, Making low music, while the young leaves dance;

Unveil, unveil to me

Thy heauty silently,

Let me thy bright eyes view, and dovelike countenance.


Oft doth my Fancy's eye

The Naiads fair espy,
Silently floating down some gentle stream;

And glisten as it sees

The green-rob'd Dryades,

Or Oreads dancing nightly by their Queen's pale beam.


And I, on nights of June,

Have watch'd beneath the Moon, The gambols quaint of many a gamesome Fay,

Around the tiny throne

Of mirthful Oberon,
And his capricious Queen, proud-eyed Titania.

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