I bent me o’er him as he lay upon his couch,
Deep sleep weighed down the curtains of his eyes,
Forever and anon the seraph seemed to touch
His dreaming soul with radiance of the skies!
I bent me o’er him then, for mighty thoughts did seem
To pant for utterance, as he sighed for breath,
_And strove to speak_—for in that dark and fearful dream
He passed the portals of the phantom Death!
“The chains that clogged my spirit’s pinions roll
Powerless back to earth—a vain, base clod,
And awe-inspiring thoughts brood o’er my soul,
_As angels hover round the ark of God!_
I see before me in the distance far
A mystic altar veiled, and part concealed
Amid the tresses of a burning star,
Whose mysteries from earth are ever sealed!
“It gleams—that fountain of mysterious light
At holy eve, far in the western sky,
And angels smile, when man ascends by night
To read in it his puny destiny!
A something bears me onward towards the throne
With speed which mocks the winged lightning’s glance!
And here, amid the stars’ eternal home
I stand, with senses steeped as in a trance!
“I feel a power, a might within my soul
That I could wrest from angels, themes for song!
My earth-freed spirit soars and spurns control,
While deep and chainless thoughts around me throng!
I know the veil is pierced—the altar gained—
I bend me lowly at its foot sublime;
Yet false inspirers, who on earth have feigned
The God, depart from this eternal clime!”
He woke—and swift unto the land of misty sleep
His dreams rolled back, and left him still on earth,
But ever after did the Poet’s spirit keep
This deep, unchanging, mystic, second birth!
* * * * *