"And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence
Of morning through the orient cavern flowed,
And the sun's image radiantly intense

"Burned on the waters of the well that glowed Like gold, and threaded all the forest's maze

With winding paths of emerald fire. There stood "Amid the sun,-as he amid the blaze

Of his own glory, on the vibrating

Floor of the fountain paved with flashing rays

"A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn,

And the invisible rain did ever sing "A silver music on the mossy lawn; And still before me on the dusky grass

Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn.

"In her right hand she bore a crystal glass, Mantling with bright nepenthe; the fierce splendour Fell from her as she moved under the mass

"Of the deep cavern, and, with palms so tender Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow, Glided along the river, and did bend her

"Head under the dark boughs; till, like a willow, Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream That whispered with delight to be its pillow.

"As one enamoured is upborne in dream
O'er lily-paven lakes 'mid silver mist,

To wondrous music,-so this shape might seem
"Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed

The dancing foam, partly to glide along

The air which roughened the moist amethyst,

"Or the faint morning beams that fell among The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees. And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song

"Of leaves and winds and waves and birds and bees And falling drops, moved in a measure new,— Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze,

"Up from the lake, a shape of golden dew, Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon, Dances i' the wind, where never eagle flew.

"And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune To which they moved, secmed as they moved to blot The thoughts of him who gazed on them.

"All that was seemed as if it had been not;

And soon

And all the gazer's mind was strewn beneath Her feet like embers; and she, thought by thought,

"Trampled its sparks into the dust of death,As Day upon the threshold of the east

Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath "Of darkness re-illumine even the least

Of heaven's living eyes. Making the night a dream.

Like day she came,

And, ere she ceased

"To move, as one between desire and shame Suspended, I said: 'If, as it doth seem,

Thou comest from the realm without a name

"Into this valley of perpetual dream,

Show whence I came, and where I am, and whyPass not away upon the passing stream.'

"Arise and quench thy thirst,' was her reply.

And, as a shut lily stricken by the wand
Of dewy morning's vital alchemy,

"I rose; and, bending at her sweet command,
Touched with faint lips the cup she raised.
And suddenly my brain became as sand

"Where the first wave had more than half erased

The track of deer on desert Labrador,

Whilst the wolf, from which they fled amazed,

"Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore

Until the second bursts;-so on my sight

Burst a new vision never seen before.

"And the fair shape waned in the coming light, As veil by veil the silent splendour drops From Lucifer amid the chrysolite

"Of sunrise ere it tinge the mountain tops. And, as the presence of that fairest planet, Although unseen, is felt by one who hopes

"That his day's path may end, as he began it, In that star's smile whose light is like the scent Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it, "Or the soft note in which his dear lament The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress That turned his weary slumber to content,

"So knew I in that light's severe excess The presence of that shape which on the strean. Moved, as I moved along the wilderness, "More dimly than a day-appearing dream, The ghost of a forgotten form of sleep, A light of heaven whose half-extinguished beam "Through the sick day in which we wake to weep Glimmers, for ever sought, for ever lost.

So did that shape its obscure tenour keep

"Beside my path, as silent as a ghost.

But the new Vision, and the cold bright car, With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed

"The forest; and, as if from some dread war Triumphantly returning, the loud million Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star. "A moving arch of victory the vermilion And green and azure plumes of Iris had Built high over her wind-wingèd pavilion:

"And underneath etherial glory clad The wilderness; and far before her flew The tempest of the splendour which forbade "Shadow to fall from leaf and stone.

The crew

Seemed, in that light, like atomies to dance Within a sunbeam. Some upon the new

'Embroidery of flowers, that did enhance The grassy vesture of the desert, played, Forgetful of the chariot's swift advance; "Others stood gazing, till within the shade Of the great mountain its light left them dim; Others outspeeded it; and others made

"Circles around it, like the clouds that swim Round the high moon in a bright sea of air; And more did follow, with exulting hymn, "The chariot and the captives fettered there. But all, like bubbles on an eddying flood, Fell into the same track at last, and were

"Borne onward. I among the multitude Was swept. Me sweetest flowers delayed not long; Me, not the shadow nor the solitude;

"Me, not that falling stream's lethean song; Me, not the phantom of that early form Which moved upon its motion :—but among

"The thickest billows of that living storm I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime Of that cold light whose airs too soon deform. "Before the chariot had begun to climb

The opposing steep of that mysterious dell, Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme

"Of him whom from the lowest depths of hell, Through every paradise and through all glory, Love led serene, and who returned to tell

The words of hate and awe,-the wondrous story How all things are transfigured except Love; For, deaf as is a sea which wrath makes hoary,

"The world can hear not the sweet notes that move The sphere whose light is melody to lovers.

A wonder worthy of his rhyme! The grove "Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers; The earth was grey with phantoms; and the air Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers "A flock of vampire-bats before the glare Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening,

Strange night upon some Indian isle. Thus were "Phantoms diffused around. And some did fling Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves, Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing

"Were lost in the white day; others like elves Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes

Upon the sunny. streams and grassy shelves; "And others sate chattering like restless apes On vulgar hands.

Some made a cradle of the ermined capes

"Of kingly mantles; some across the tiar Of pontiffs sate, like vultures; others played Under the crown which girt with empire "A baby's or an idiot's brow, and made Their nests in it. The old anatomies

Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade

"Of demon wings; and laughed from their dead eyes To re-assume the delegated power

Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize

"Who made this earth their charnel. Others, more
Humble, like falcons, sat upon the fist

Of common men, and round their heads did soar;
"Or, like small gnats and flies as thick as mist
On evening marshes, thronged about the brow
Of lawyer. statesman, priest, and theorist ;-
"And others, like discoloured flakes of snow,
On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair
Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow

"Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained

In drops of sorrow. I became aware

"Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained The track in which we moved. After brief space, From every form the beauty slowly waned;

"From every firmest limb and fairest face The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left The action and the shape without the grace

"Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft

With care; and, in those eyes where once hope shone, Desire, like a lioness bereft

"Of her last cub, glared ere it died. Each one

Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly

These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown

"In autumn evening from a poplar tree.

Each like himself, and each like other, were At first. But some distorted seemed to be,—

"Obscure clouds moulded by the casual air; And of this stuff the car's creative ray

Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there, "As the sun shapes the clouds. Thus on the way Mask after mask fell from the countenance

And form of all. And, long before the day

“Was old, the joy which waked like heaven's glance The sleepers in the oblivious valley died;

And some grew weary of the ghastly dance,

"And fell, as I have fallen, by the way-side ;

Those socnest from whose forms most shadows passed, And least of strength and beauty did abide.

"Then, what is life?' I cried."—

THE END.

THOS GRAY AND CO., PRINTERS, GEORGE STREET, EDINBURGH.