A Night Vision

Lucina shyning in silence of the nicht;The hevin being all full of starris bricht;To bed 1 went, bot there I tuke no rest,With hcvy thocht I was so sair oppressed,That sair I langit after dayis licht.Of fortoun I complainit hevely,That echo to me stude so contrarously;And at the last, quhen I had tumyt oftFor werines, on me ane slummer softCame, with ane dretning and a fantesy.

I had a vision in the depth of night—A dream of glory—one long thrill of gladness—A thing of strangest meaning and delight;And yet upon my heart there came such sadnessAnd dim forebodings of my after years,That I awoke in sorrow and in tears!

There stood revealed before me a bright maid.Clad in a white silk tunic, which displayedThe beautiful proportions of her frame;And she did call upon me by my name—

And I did marvel at her voice, and shookWith terror, but right soon the smiling lookOf gentleness, that radiant maiden threwFrom her large sparkling eyes of deepest blue,Did reassure me. Breathless, I did gazeUpon that lovely one, in fond amaze,And marked her long white hair as it did flow,With wanton dalliance, o'er the pillared snowOf her swan-like neck;—and then my eye grew dimWith an exceeding lustre, for the slimAnd gauze-wove raiment of her bosom fair,Was somewhat ruffled by the midnight air;And as it gently heaved, there sprung to viewSuch glories underneath—such sisters twoOf rival loveliness! Oh, 'twere most vainFor fond conceit to fancy such again.The robe she wore was broidered fetouslyeWith flower and leaf of richest imagerye;And threads of gold therein were entertwinedWith quaintest needlecraft; and to my mindIt seemed, the waist of this most lovely one,Was clipped within a broad and azure zone,Studded with strange devices—One small handWaved gracefully a slender ivory wand,And with the other, ever and anon,She shook a harp, which, as the winds sighed past,

Gave a right pleasant and bewitching toneTo each wild vagrant blast.

Meseems,After this wondrous guise, that maiden sweetStood visible before me, while the beamsOf Dian pale, laughed round her little feetWith icy lustre, through the narrow pane;And this discourse she held in merry vein;Although methought 'twas counterfeited, andThe matter strange, that none might understand.

She told me, that the moon was in her wane—And life was tiding on, and that the worldWas waxen old—that nature grew unkind,And men grew selfish quite, and sore bechurled—That Honour was a bubble of the mind—And Virtue was a nothing undefined—And as for Woman, She, indeed, could claimA title all her own—She had a nameAnd place in Time's long chronicles, Deceit—And Glory was a phantom—Death a cheat!

She said I might remember her, for sheHad trifled with me in mine infancy;And in those days, that now are long agone,

Had tended me, as if I were her ownAnd only offspring. When a very child,She said, her soothing whispers oft beguiledThe achings of my heart—that in my youth,She, too, had given me dreams of Honour, Truth,Of Glory and of Greatness—and of Fame—And the bright vision of a deathless name!And she had turned my eye, with upward look,To read the bravely star-enamelled bookOf the blue skies—and in the rolling spheresTo con strange lessons, penned in charactersOf most mysterious import—she had madeLife's thorny path to be all sown with flowersOf diverse form and fragrance, of each shadeOf loveliness that glitters in the bowersOf princely damoisels,'—Nay, more, her handHad plucked the bright flowers of another land,Belike of Faerye, and had woven themLike to a chaplet, or gay diadem,For me to wear in triumph—But that sheHad fostered me so long, she feared, I'd spoilWith very tenderness, nor ever beFit for this world's coarse drudgery and moil;Did she not even now take leave of me,And her protecting, loving arms uncoil

For ever and for ever,—and though late,Now leave me to self-guidance, and to fate.

Then passed that glorious spirit, and the smileShe whilome wore fled from her beauteous cheek;And paleness, and a troubled grief the whileSubdued her voice.—Methought I strove to speakSome words of tender sympathy, and caughtHer small white trembling hand, but, she, distraught,Turned her fair form away, and nearer drewTo where the clustering ivy leaves thick grew,And shaded half the casement—There she stood,Like a tall crystal column, in the floodOf the fair moonshine, and right thoughtful-wiseShe seemed to scan the aspect of the skies;Sudden a tremulous tear filled either eye,Yet fell not on her check, but dubiously,Like dew gems upon a flower, hung quivering there;And, like a love-crazed maiden, she half sang,Half uttered mournful fancies in despair;And indistinctly in my ear there rungSomething of years to be,—of dark, dark years,Laden with sorrow, madness, fury, tears—Of days that had no sunshine—and of nightsEstranged from slumber—of harsh worldly slights—

Of cruel disappointments—of a hellThat gloweth in the bosom, fierce and fell,Which may not be extinguished—of the painsOf journeying through lone and trackless plainsWhich have no limits—and of savage faces,That showed no trait of pity!

Then that maidStretched her long arms to heaven, and wept for shame;And as upon her soul dim bodements came,Once more, in veriest sadness, thus she said:'I may not cheer him more! I may not breatheLife in his wasting limbs, nor healthy fireIn his grief-sunken eye—I may not wreatheFresh flowers for him to gaze on, nor inspireDelicious dreamings, when the paly hostOf cares and troubles weigh his spirit down,And hopes delayed, in worse despair are lost;Unaided, he may sink upon the path,No hand of succour near, nor melting eyeTo yield its pittance poor of sympathy;Already, too successful have I weavedMy tiny web of folly; undeceived,At length, he'll view its baseless fabrick pass,Like fleeting shadows o'er the brittle glass,

Leaving no substance there ; and he may curse,With bitter malison, his too partial nurse,And charge her with his sufferings!’

So weptThat maid, in seeming sorrow, till there fellFrom her lips Griefs volume-word—Farewell!And then, methought, she softly passed away,As a thin mist of glory on a rayOf purest moonshine ; or like starlet brightSailed onward through the ocean of the night!

And then, meseems, I heard the wailing soundOf a wind-harp afar, and voice of oneWho sung thereto a plaintive melody;And some words reached me, but the rest were drownedIn dimest distance, and the hollow moanOf the night-breezes fitful sweeping by;Yet these stray words, ere while on earth they fell,Told Hope had pitying smiled before her last farewell.

Then all grew dark and loveless, and afarI saw the falling down of many a star,As the moon paled in sorrow—And the roarOf darkly tumbling floods I heard, that dashed

Through the deep fissures of the rifted rock—While phantoms flitted by with ghastly mock,And jeers malign—and demons on me glar'dLooks of infernal meaning; then in silenceTroop'd onwards to their doom!

Starting, I brokeSleep's leaden bonds of sorrow, and awoke,Wondering to find my eye-balls red with tears!And my breast heaving with sepulchral fears.