Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE TOMBLESS MAN; A DREAM, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR Poet's Biography First Line: I woke from sleep at midnight; all was dark Last Line: And the glad waters murmuring to the sun. Alternate Author Name(s): Delta Subject(s): Calm; Dreams; Silence; Sleep; Placid; Undisturbed; Tranquility; Nightmares | ||||||||
I. I WOKE from sleep at midnight; all was dark, Solemn, and silent, an unbroken calm: It was a fearful vision, and had made A mystical impression on my mind; For clouds lay o'er the ocean of my thoughts In vague and broken masses, strangely wild; And grim imagination wander'd on 'Mid gloomy yew-trees in a churchyard old, And mouldering shielings of the eyeless hills, And snow-clad pathless moors on moonless nights, And icebergs drifting from the sunless Pole, And prostrate Indian villages, when spent The rage of the hurricane has pass'd away, Leaving a landscape desolate with death; And as I turn'd me to my vanish'd dream, Clothed in its drapery of gloom, it rose Upon my spirit, dreary as before. II. Alonealonea desolate dreary wild, Herbless and verdureless; low swampy moss, Where tadpoles grew to frogs, for leagues begirt My solitary path. Nor sight nor sound Of moving life, except a grey curlew As shrieking tumbled on the timid bird, Aye glancing backward with its coal-black eye, Even as by imp invisible pursued Was seen or heard; the last low level rays Of sunset gilded with a blood-red glow That melancholy moor, with its grey stones And stagnant water-pools. Aye floundering on, And on, I stray'd, finding no pathway, save The runlet of a wintry stream, begirt With shelvy barren rocks; around, o'erhead, Yea everywhere, in shapes grotesque and grim, Towering they rose, encompassing my path, As 'twere in savage mockery. Lo, a chasm Yawning, and bottomless, and black! Beneath I heard the waters in their sheer descent Descending down, and down; and further down Descending still, and dashingnow a rush, And now a roar, and now a fainter fall, And still remoter, and yet finding still, For the white anguish of their boiling whirl, No resting-place. Over my head appear'd, Between the jagged black rifts bluely seen, Sole harbinger of hope, a patch of sky, Of deep, clear, solemn sky, shrining a star Magnificent, that, with a holy light, Glowing and glittering, shone into the heart, As 'twere an angel's eye. Entranced I stood, Drinking the beauty of that gem serene, How long I wist not; but, when back to earth Sank my prone eyes, I knew not where I was Again the scene had shifted, and the time, From midnight to the hour when earliest dawn Gleams in the orient, and with inky lines The trees seem painted on the girding sky. III. A solemn hour!so silent, that the sound Even of a falling leaflet had been heard, Was that, wherein, with meditative step, With uncompanion'd step, measured and slow, And wistful gaze, that to the left, the right, Was often turn'd, as if in secret dread Of something horrible that must be met Of unseen evil not to be eschew'd Up a long vista'd avenue I wound, Untrodden long, and overgrown with moss. It seem'd an entrance to the hall of gloom; Grey twilight, in the melancholy shade Of the hoar branches, show'd the tufted grass With globules spangled of the fine night-dew So fine, that even a midge's tiny tread Had caused them trickle down. Funereal yews, Notch'd with the growth of centuries, stretching round Dismal in aspect, and grotesque in shape, Pair after pair, were ranged: where ended these, Girdling an open semicircle, tower'd A row of rifted plane-trees, inky-leaved, With cinnamon-colour'd bark; and, in the midst, Hidden almost by their entwining boughs, An unshut gateway, musty and forlorn, Its old supporting pillars roughly rich With sculpturings quaint of intermingled flowers. IV. Each pillar held upon its top an urn, Serpent-begirt; each urn upon its front A faceand such a face! I turn'd away Then gazed again'twas not to be forgot: There was a fascination in the eyes Even in their stony stare; like the ribb'd sand Of ocean was the eager brow; the mouth Had a hyena grin; the nose, compress'd With curling sneer, of wolfish cunning spake; O'er the lank temples, long entwisted curls Adown the scraggy neck in masses fell; And fancy, aided by the time and place, Read in the whole the effigies of a fiend. Who, and what art thou? ask'd my beating heart And but the silence to my heart replied! That entrance pass'd, I found a grass-grown court, Vast, void, and desolate; and there a house, Baronial, grim, and grey, with Flemish roof High-pointed, and with aspect all forlorn: Four-sided rose the towers at either end Of the long front, each coped with mouldering flags; Up from the silent chimneys went no smoke; And vacantly the deep-brow'd windows stared, Like eyeballs dead to daylight. O'er the gate Of entrance, to whose folding-doors a flight Of steps converging led, startled I saw, Oh, horrible! the same reflected face As that on either urn; but gloomier still, In shadow of the mouldering architrave. V. I would have turn'd me backI would have fled From that malignant, yet half-syren smile; But magic held me rooted to the spot, And some inquisitive horror led me on. Entering I stood beneath the spacious dome Of a round hall, vacant, save here and there, Where from the panelings, in mouldy shreds, Hung what was arras loom-work; weather-stains In mould appear'd on the mosaic floors, Of marble black and whiteor what was white, For time had yellow'd all; and opposite, High on the wall, within a crumbling frame Of tarnish'd gold, scowl'd down a pictured form In the habiliments of bygone days With ruff, and doublet slash'd, and studded belt 'Twas the same facethe Gorgon curls the same, The same lynx eye, the same peak-bearded chin, And the same nose, with sneering upward curl. VI. Again I would have turn'd to fleeagain Tried to elude the snares around my feet; But struggling could notthough I knew not why, Self-will and self-possession vaguely lost. Horror thrill'd through meto recede was vain; Fear lurk'd behind in that sepulchral court, In its mute avenue and grave-like grass; And to proceedwhere led my onward way? Ranges of doorways branch'd on either side, Each like the other:one I oped, and lo! A dim deserted room, its furniture Withdrawn; grey, stirless cobwebs from the roof Hanging; and its deep windows letting in The pale, sad dawn, than darkness drearier far. How desolate! Around its cornices Of florid stucco shone the mimic flowers Of art's device, carved to delight the eyes Of those long since but dust within their graves. The hollow hearth-place, with its fluted jambs Of clammy Ethiop marble, whence, of yore, Had risen the Yule-log's animating blaze On festal faces, tomb-like, coldly yawn'd; While o'er its centre, lined in hues of night, Grinn'd the same features with the aspick eyes, And fox-like watchful, though averted gaze, The haunting demon of that voiceless home. VII. How silent! to the beating of my heart I listen'd, and nought else around me heard. How stirless! even a waving gossamer The mazy motes that rise and fall in air Had been as signs of life; when, suddenly, As bursts the thunder-peal upon the calm, Whence I had come the clank of feet was heard A noise remote, which near'd, and near'd, and near'd Even to the threshold of that room it came, Where, with raised hands, spell-bound, I listening stood; And, the door opening stealthily, I beheld The embodied figure of the phantom head, Garb'd in the quaint robes of the portraiture A veritable fiend, a life in death! VIII. My heart stood still, tho' quickly came my breath; Headlong I rush'd away, I knew not where: In frenzied haste rushing I ran; my feet With terror wing'd, a hell-hound at my heels, Yea! scarce three strides between us. Through a door Right opposite I flew, slamming its weight, To shut me from the spectre who pursued. And lo! another room, the counterpart Of that just left, but gloomier: on I rush'd, Beholding o'er its hearth the grinning face, Another and the same; the haunting face Reflected, as it seem'd, from wall to wall! There, opening as I shut, onward he came, That Broucoloka, not to be escaped, With measured tread unwearied, like the wolf's When tracking its sure prey: forward I sprang, And lo! another roomanother face, Alike, but gloomier still; another door, And the pursuing fiendand onand on, With palpitating heart and yielding knees, From room to room, each mirror'd in the last. At length I reached a porchamid my hair I felt his desperate clutchoutward I flung The open air was gain'dI stood alone! IX. That welcome postern open'd on a court Say rather, grave-yard; gloomy yews begirt Its cheerless walls; ranges of headstones show'd, Each on its hoary tablature, half hid With moss, with hemlock, and with nettles rank, The sculptured leer of that hyena face, Softening as backwards, thro' the waves of time, Receded generations more remote. It was a square of tombsof old, grey tombs, (The oldest of an immemorial date,) Deserted quiteand rusty gratings black, Along the yawning mouths of dreary vaults And epitaphs unreadand mouldering bones. Alone forlorn, the only breathing thing In that unknown, forgotten cemetery, Reeling, I strove to stand, and all things round Flicker'd, and wavering, seem'd to wane away, And earth became a blank; the tide of life Ebbing, as backward ebbs the billowy sea, Wave after wave, till nought is left behind, Save casual foam-bells on the barren sand. X. From out annihilation's vacancy, (The elements, as of a second birth, Kindling within, at first a fitful spark, And then a light which, glowing to a blaze, Fill'd me with genial life,) I seemed to wake Upon a bed of bloom. The breath of spring Scented the air; mingling their odours sweet, The bright jonquil, the lily of the vale, The primrose, and the daffodil, o'erspread The fresh green turf; and, as it were in love, Around the boughs of budding lilac wreathed The honeysuckle, rich in early leaves, Gold-tinctured now, for sunrise fill'd the clouds With purple glory, and with aureate beams The dew-refreshen'd earth. Up, up, the larks Mounted to heaven, as did the angel wings Of old in Jacob's vision; and the fly, Awakening from its wintry sleep, once more Spread, humming, to the light its gauzy wings. XI. A happy being in a happy place, As 'twere a captive from his chains released, His dungeon and its darkness, there I lay Nestling, amid the sun-illumined flowers, Revolving silently the varied scenes, Grotesque and grim, 'mid which my erring feet Had stumbled; and a brightness darting in On my mysterious nightmare, something told The what and wherefore of the effigies grim The wolfish, never-resting, tombless man, Voicelessly haunting that ancestral home Yea of his destiny for evermore To suffer fearful life-in-death, until A victim suffer'd from the sons of men, To soothe the cravings of insatiate Hell, An agony for ages undergone An agony for ages to be borne Hope, still elusive, baffled by despair. XII. Thus as an eagle, from the altitude Of the mid-sky, its pride of place attain'd, Glances around the illimitable void, And sees no goal, and finds no resting-place In the blue, boundless depthsthen, silently, Pauses on wing, and with gyrations down And down descends thorough the blinding clouds, In billowy masses, many-hued, around Floating, until their confines past, green earth Once more appears, and on its loftiest crag The nest, wherein 'tis bliss to rest his plumes Flight-wearied; so, from farthest dreamland's shores, Where clouds and chaos form the continents, And reason reigns not, Fancy back return'd To sights and sounds familiarto the birds Singing above, and the bright vale beneath, With cottages and trees, and the blue sky, And the glad waters murmuring to the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 18 by CONRAD AIKEN LIVE IT THROUGH by DAVID IGNATOW A DREAM OF GAMES by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN THE DREAM OF WAKING by RANDALL JARRELL APOLOGY FOR BAD DREAMS by ROBINSON JEFFERS GIVE YOUR WISH LIGHT by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR |
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