It may be that the music of the brook
Gave me new strength-It may be that I took
Fresh vigour from the mountain air
Which cooled my cheek and fanned my hair;
Or was it that adown the breeze
Came sounds of wondrous melodies,-
Strange sounds as of a maiden's voice
Making her mountain home rejoice?
Following that sweet strain, I mounted still,
And gained the highest hemlocks of the hill,
Old guardians of a little lake, which sent
Adown the brook its crystal merriment,
Blessing the valley where the planter went
Sowing the furrowed mould and whistling his content.
Through underwood of laurel, and across
A little lawn shoe-deep with sweetest moss,
I passed, and found the lake, which, like a shield
Some giant long had ceased to wield,
Lay with its edges sunk in sand and stone,
With ancient roots and grasses overgrown.
But far more beautiful and rare
Than any strange device that e'er
Glittered upon the azure field
Of ancient warrior's polished shield
Was the fair vision which did lie
Embossed upon the burnished lake,
And in its sweet repose did make
A second self that sang to the inverted sky.
Not she who lay on banks of thornless flowers
Ere stole the Serpent into Eden's bowers;
Not she who rose from Neptune's deep abodes
The wonder of Olympian Gods;
Nor all the fabled nymphs of wood or stream
Which blest the Arcadian's dream,-
Could with that floating form compare,
Lying with her golden harp and hair
Bright as a cloud in the sunset air.
Her tresses gleamed with many stars,
And on her forehead one, like Mars,
A lovely crown of light dispread
And now she touched her harp, and sung
Strange songs in a forgotten tongue;
And, as my spirit heard, it seemed
To feel what it had lived or dreamed
In other worlds beyond our skies,—
In ancient spheres of paradise;
And as I gazed upon her face
It seemed that I could dimly trace
Dear lineaments long lost of yore
Upon some unremembered shore,
Beyond an old and infinite sea,
In the realm of an unknown century.
For very joy I clapped my hands,
And leaped upon the nearest sands!-
A moment, and the maiden glanced
Upon me where I stood entranced;
Then noiselessly as moonshine falls
Adown the ocean's crystal walls,
And with no stir or wave attended,
Slowly through the lake descended;
Till from her hidden form below
The waters took a golden glow,
As if the star which made her forehead bright
Had burst and filled the lake with light!
Long standing there I watched in vain,-
The vision would not rise again.
Again, in sleep, I walked by singing streams,
And it was May-day in my Realm of Dreams :-
The flowering pastures and the trees
Were full of noisy birds and bees;
And, swinging roses like sweet censers, went
The village children making merriment,
Followed by older people ;-as they passed,
One beckoned, and I joined the last.
We crossed the meadow, crossed the brook,
And through the scented woodland took
Our happy way, until we found
An open space of vernal ground ;
And there around the flowery pole
I joined the joyous throng, and sang with all my soul. But, when the little ones had crowned their queen,
And danced their mazes to the wooded scene,
To hunt the honeysuckles, and carouse
Under the spice-wood boughs,
I turned, and saw with wondering eye
A maiden in a bower near by,
Wreathed with unknown blossoms, such as bloom
In orient isles with wonderful perfume.
And she was very beautiful and bright;
And in her face was much of that strange light
Which on the mountain lake had blessed my sight;
Her speech was like the echo of that song
Which on the hillside made me strong.
Now with a wreath, now with a coin she played,
Pursuing a most marvellous trade-
Buying the lives of young and old,
Some with fame, and some with gold.
And there with trembling steps I came;
But ere I asked for gold or fame,
Or ere I could announce my name,
The wreath fell withered from her head,
And from her face the mask was shed;
Her mantle dropped-and lo! the morning sun
Looked on me through a nameless skeleton!
Again I stood within the Realm of Dreams,
At midnight, on a huge and shadowy tower;
And from the east the full moon shed her beams,
And from the sky a wild meteoric shower
Startled the darkness; and the night
Was full of ominous voices and strange light,
Like to a madman's brain.
Prophetic tongues proclaiming woe
Echoed the sullen roar
Of ocean on the neighbouring shore;
And in the west a forest caught the sound,
And bore it to its utmost bound.
And then, for hours, all stood as to behold
Some great event by mighty seers foretold;
And all the while the moon above the sea
Grew strangely large and red,—and suddenly,
Followed by a myriad stars,
Swung at one sweep into the western sky,
And, widening with a melancholy roar,
Broke to a hundred flaming bars,
Grating the heavens as with a dungeon-door.
Then to that burning gate
A radiant spirit came, and through the grate
Smiled till I knew the Angel, Fate!
And in its hand a golden key it bore
To open that celestial door.
Sure, I beheld that angel thrice;
Twice met on earth, it mocked me twice;
But now behind those bars it beamed
Such love as I had never dreamed,
Smiling my prisoned soul to peace
With eyes that promised quick release;
And looks thus spake to looks, where lips on earth were
"Behold, behold, the hour is come!"
A WEARY, wandering soul am I,
O'erburthened with an earthly weight;
A pilgrim through the world and sky,
Toward the Celestial Gate.
Tell me, ye sweet and sinless flowers,
Who all night gaze upon the skies,
Have ye not in the silent hours
Seen aught of Paradise?
Ye birds, that soar and sing, elate
With joy, that makes your voices strong,
Have ye not at the golden gate
Caught somewhat of your song?
Ye waters, sparkling in the morn,
Ye seas, which glass the starry night, Have ye not from the imperial bourn Caught glimpses of its light?
Ye hermit oaks, and sentinel pines,
Ye mountain forests old and grey,
In all your long and winding lines
Have ye not seen the way?
O moon, among thy starry bowers,
Know'st thou the path the angels tread?
Seest thou beyond thy azure towers
The shining gates dispread?
Ye holy spheres, that sang with earth
When earth was still a sinless star,
Have the immortals heavenly birth
Within your realms afar?
And thou, O sun! whose light unfurls
Bright banners through unnumbered skies,
Seest thou among thy subject worlds
The radiant portals rise?
All, all are mute! and still am I
O'erburthened with an earthly weight; A pilgrim through the world and sky, Toward the Celestial Gate.
No answer wheresoe'er I roam-
From skies afar no guiding ray ;
But hark! the voice of Christ says, "Come!
Arise! I am the way!"
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