A DREAM within a dream. I fell asleep
Holding a picture of the dreamer, Jacques,
And musing upon life's vicissitudes:—
I dreamed that life itself was but a dream:
This stern, dark, terrible life, with all its fears.
Its wrong and sin and suffering and despair
That it was all, only a long night's sleep.
I dreamed that I-a fair child-angel-tired
Of play amid the glorious flowers of Heaven.
Lay down at our dear Father's feet to rest;
A fountain played its silver tune beside me,
And a calm seraph, beautiful as light,
Drew me, half conscious, to her tranquil heart.
Shadowed me with her fragrant falling hair.
And lulled me into slumber with a voice
So low, so like the wave's melodious lapse.
I rather felt than heard it, and so slept.
Ah me! ah, wo is me! that fearful sleep,
Drear, cold, and dark, and haunted by strange shapes
Of evil, from whose power I shrank in vain!
I, a frail, thoughtless child, who only cared
To play with the glad flowers and birds of Heaven. To wind the loveliest in my sisters' hair.
And sing to them the deep love in my heart
I, a dismayed, bewildered fugitive,
Too weak to cope with fate so fierce and stern.
Groped through the darkness for the Father's hand.
But ere I reached it, lo! a shape more dread
Than all the rest, rose gleaming in my path-
A serpent, with cold hiss, and fiery eyes
Where hate and passion mingled. With a start
Of horror, which was death, I woke-and met
The seraph's calm eyes gazing into mine.
And heard the sweet majestic melody
That floated round. and saw the fountain play.
Illumined by His smile, that lit all Heaven,
And knew I had but dreamed.
Ah! wo is me!
There was another wakening. Worn and faint
With years of suffering, I unclosed my eyes
And saw and felt the dread reality
Of life around me still.