"And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn
God made himself an awful rose of dawn."
Did you ever watch an Alpine sunrise? How the light leaps from peak to
peak, warming the monotonous white landscape in an instant with a tinge
of crimson lake, and making the ice prisms sparkle like sapphires!
It was just so in my dream:--not a detail was omitted.
With the brightening of the dawn my troubles began to disappear. The
crevasse narrowed, and the distant peaks of the Matterhorn approached
nearer. Min was close to me, so close that I could almost touch the
hand she held out to guide my steps. I heard her say, "Come, Frank,
come! courage, and you're safe!" I was stepping across a thin ice
bridge, which I suddenly perceived in front of me, leading over the gulf
that separated us. I felt her warm, violet breath on my cheek. I was
just planting my feet on the further side of the glacier, and going to
clasp her in my arms, when--the frail platform on which I was crossing
gave way:--I fell downward through the chasm with a shriek of terror
that she re-echoed, and--I awoke!
Again, I was in the midst of an arid, sandy desert. The sun's rays
seemed to pelt down with blistering intensity on my uncovered head.
There was not a single tree, nor a scrap of foliage anywhere in sight,
to afford a moment's shelter:--all was barrenness; parching heat; death!
I felt faint--dying of thirst. I fancied I could hear the rippling of
waters near me, the splashing of grateful fountains; but, none could I
see. Around me, as I lay stretched on the scorching sands, were only
sun-baked rocks, and the scattered bones and skeletons of former
travellers, who had perished by the same dreadful, lingering agony
through which I was, apparently, doomed to die.
After a time, I thought I could distinguish the murmuring of waters more
plainly; and, stay--did I not perceive a stately grove of palms in the
distance? The water must be there!
I totter to my feet: I bend my feeble steps thither, and sink down
beneath the welcome shade. I hear a sweet voice calling to me: I see an
angel form stretching out a goblet of crystal water to my parching lips;
and, as I reach my hand forth to grasp it, I see that the face is that
of Min! I give vent to a cry of ecstasy; but, at the same moment, the
goblet falls from my shaking hand, shattering into a thousand pieces on
the sands of the desert; and--the vision fades away from my gaze.
All is darkness again. I am awake!
Once more the kaleidoscope of my dream changed.
I am now floating in a battered boat, without either sails or oars, on
the boundless waters of the ocean. I can hear the lap, lapping of the
sobbing sea against the sides of my frail craft; and the ripple of the
current, hurrying along in its devious course the boat, which is as
powerless to resist its influence as a straw upon the stream.
Presently the current spins onward faster and more furiously. I see the
faint outlines of purple hills breaking the vacant curve of the horizon.
A delicious fragrance from tropic flowers fills the air--the perfumes
of the jessamine, the magnolia, the cereus. A sweet, delicious languor
creeps over me. I feel a vague sense of rest and happiness, which, to
my onlooking self, seems almost unaccountable; for, there am I, still
all alone on the ocean, swept onward towards the purple hills in the
distance, over the smooth-flowing surface of azure liquid, while, not a
sound is to be heard, save the restless murmuring of the many-voiced
sea.
The boat glides on.
Now I find myself encircled by radiant groups of picturesque coral
islands, all covered with palm-trees, whose waving branches are entwined
with varied-hued passion-flowers. Lilies and ferns, narcissi and
irises, are intermingled in one chaos of beauty, skirting the velvet
sward that runs down to the water's edge.
On each tiny islet, the lavish wealth of nature, freely outpoured,
seemed to make it a perfect paradise. Brilliantly-plumaged birds
flitted here and there, their colours contrasting with the green
foliage. Gauzy-winged insects buzzed to and fro. The notes of the
nightingale, or some kindred songster, could be heard, singing an
ecstatic soprano to the cooing bass of the dove and the rippling
obbligato of babbling brooks--that filtered through golden-yellow sands
into the lap of the mother of waters--amid the sympathetic harmony of
gushing cascades, whose noisy cadence was toned down by distance to a
melodious hum.
And now I find that I am alone no longer.
I see Min stepping forward to greet me, advancing down the sloping turf-
bank of the first island I reach; but, I cannot land. I cannot touch
her hand.
No. The current sweeps my boat onward, past each tiny paradise in turn;
and, on each, I still see Min always coming towards me, yet never
reaching me! Swiftly the boat glides, swiftly and more swift; until, at
last, Min, the palm-tree-shaded coral islets and all, are lost to
sight--gradually yet in a moment.
I now seem to be borne along on the tide of a tempestuous torrent,
through rocky defiles and beneath frowning precipices.
I am in the centre of a cyclone. The sickly lightning plays around me.
The thunder mutters--growls--rolls--peals forth--in grand ear-breaking
crashes, that appear to shake the dense sky overhead; but still,
whenever the electric coruscations light up the sable darkness, I can
see Min's face, apparently ever before me, ever inviting me on, ever
inapproachable!
Anon, the boat glides back into the ocean again. Soon after, I find
myself floating amongst an army of icebergs, all glittering with
distinct gradations of tint, from that of pale sea-green up to intense
blue. In front of me stretches a frozen field of hummocky ice, like
that I had seen in my first vision.
There, too, stands Min. The current is bearing me to her; but, again,
ere I can touch the spot where she stands, my boat careens heavily
against a drifting berg, and is dashed to pieces.
Instead of sinking in the water, however, I feel myself floating in air.
The atmosphere that encircles me is all rosy illumination, as it had
been during the Alpine sunrise. I hear the most beautiful, heavenly
music, and the sound as of many voices singing together in the sweetest
of harmonies.
I see the gilded domes and minarets of a wondrous city that seems to be
built in the centre of the zenith. I am wafted nearer and nearer to it,
borne up on the pinions of the air. And, now, I can discern its golden
gates!
There, stands Min, again, before them. She is clothed all in a white
garment, that gives out a radiance as of light; while, on her head is a
jewelled crown, fashioned in the shape of olive leaves and fastened in
front with a single diamond star, whose beams almost blind me. Both her
outstretched hands are extended to greet me. A loving smile is on her
lips, in her eyes. I can hear the beautiful music chiming louder and
louder; the harmony of the voice-chorus echoing more and more
distinctly; I am on the threshold of the golden gates; I am just
clasping Min's outstretched welcoming hands with oh, such a fond,
enduring clasp; when--I awake.
This time my reveil is in real earnest:--the vision had passed!
It is broad daylight; and, a bright summer morning.
The London sparrows are chirping away at a fine rate in the garden. I
fancy, too, that I can hear my favourite thrush in the distance.
Dog Catch, also, is whining and scratching at my door to tell me that it
is time for me to get up, and take him out for his walk.
And, then, I recollect all.
I realise that I've only been dreaming; although, I almost believe that
I can see Min's dear face and outstretched arms still before me.
Of course, it was only a dream.
But, curious, wasn't it?