Classic Poem

A VISION

SCENE, A WOOD, NEAR KESWICK, BELONGING TO GREENWICH HOSPITAL .

I.

Beneath the shadow of an ancient oak,
Dreaming I lay, far 'mid a solemn wood,
When a noise like thunder stirr'd the solitude,
And from that trance I suddenly awoke!
A noble tree came crashing to the ground,
Through the dark forest opening out a glade;
While all its hundred branches stretching round,
Crush'd the tall hazles in its ample shade.
Methought, the vanquished monarch as he died
Utter'd a groan: while loud and taunting cheers
The woodmen raised o'er him whose stubborn pride
Had braved the seasons for an hundred years.
It seem'd a savage shout, a senseless scorn,
Nor long prevail'd amid the awful gloom;
Sad look'd the forest of her glory shorn,
Reverend with age, yet bright in vigour's bloom,
Slain in his hour of strength, a giant in his tomb.

II.

I closed mine eyes, nor could I brook to gaze
On the wild havoc in one moment done;
Hateful to me shone forth the blessed sun,
As through the new form'd void he pour'd his rays
Then rose a dream before my sleeping soul!
A wood-nymph tearing her dishevell'd hair,
And wailing loud, from a long vista stole,
And eyed the ruin with a fixed despair.
The velvet moss, that bath'd its roots in green,
For many a happy day had been her seat;
Than valley wide more dear this secret scene;
— She asked no music but the rustling sweet
Of the rejoicing leaves; now, all is gone,
That touch'd the Dryad's heart with pure delight.
Soon shall the axe destroy her fallen throne,
Its leaves of gold, its bark so glossy bright —
— But now she hastes away, — death-sickening at the sight!

III.

A nobler shape supplied the Dryad's place;
Soon as I saw the spirit in her eye,
I knew the mountain-goddess, Liberty,
And in adoring reverence veil'd my face
Smiling she stood beside the prostrate oak,
While a stern pleasure swell'd her lofty breast,
And thus, methought, in thrilling accents spoke —
" Not long, my darling Tree! must be thy rest!
" Glorious thou wert, when towering through the skies.
" In winter-storms, or summer's balmy breath;
" And thou, my Tree! shalt gloriously arise,
" In life majestic, terrible in death!
" For thou shalt float above the roaring wave,
" Where flags denouncing battle stream afar; —
" Thou wert, from birth, devoted to the brave,
" And thou shalt sail on like a blazing star,
" Bearing victorious N ELSON through the storms of war! "