I ceased, and sat as one forlorn. Then said the voice, in quiet scorn, "Behold, it is the Sabbath morn." And I arose, and I released The casement, and the light increased With freshness in the dawning east. Like soften'd airs that blowing steal, On to God's house the people prest : Passing the place where each must rest, Each enter'd like a welcome guest. One walk'd between his wife and child, With measur'd footfall firm and mild, And now and then he gravely smiled. The prudent partner of his blood And in their double love secure, These three made unity so sweet, I blest them, and they wander'd on: A second voice was at mine ear, A murmur, "Be of better cheer." As from some blissful neighbourhood, "I see the end, and know the good." A little hint to solace woe, A hint, a whisper breathing low, 66 I may not speak of what I know." Like an Æolian harp that wakes Far thought with music that it makes : Such seem'd the whisper at my side: "What is it thou knowest, sweet voice ?" I cried. "A hidden hope," the voice replied : So heavenly-toned, that in that hour To feel, altho' no tongue can prove, And forth into the fields I went, I wonder'd at the bounteous hours, I wonder'd, while I paced along : The woods were fill'd so full with song, There seem'd no room for sense of wrong. So variously seem'd all things wrought, And wherefore rather I made choice THE DAY-DREAM. PROLOGUE. LADY FLORA, let me speak: A pleasant hour has past away While, dreaming on your damask cheek, The dewy sister-eyelids lay. As by the lattice you reclined, I went thro' many wayward moods To see you dreaming- and, behind, A summer crisp with shining woods. And I too dream'd, until at last Across my fancy, brooding warm, The reflex of a legend past, And loosely settled into form. And would you have the thought I had, And see the vision that I saw, Then take the broidery-frame, and add THE SLEEPING PALACE. I. THE varying year with blade and sheaf Clothes and reclothes the happy plains; Here rests the sap within the leaf, Here stays the blood along the veins. Faint shadows, vapours lightly curl'd, Faint murmurs from the meadows come, Like hints and echoes of the world To spirits folded in the womb. 2. Soft lustre bathes the range of urns Deep in the garden lake withdrawn. On the hall-hearths the festal fires, The peacock in his laurel bower, 3. Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs: The mantles from the golden pegs More like a picture seemeth all 4. Here sits the Butler with a flask Between his knees, half-drain'd; and there The wrinkled steward at his task, The maid-of-honour blooming fair: The page has caught her hand in his : His own are pouted to a kiss: The blush is fix'd upon her cheek. 5. Till all the hundred summers pass, 6. All round a hedge upshoots, and shows Thorns, ivies, woodbine, misletoes, And grapes with bunches red as blood; |