DARKLY EXPRESSIVE OF SOME PAST EVENTS THAT WERE SOON TO BE REVEALED TO HER. .... Last night I dreamt, Whate'er it may forebode it moves me strangely, That I was rapt into the raving deep; An old and reverend sire conducted me: He plunged into the bosom of the main, And bade me not to fear, but follow him. I followed; with impetuous speed we dived, And heard the dashing thunder o'er our heads. Many a slippery fathom down we sunk, Beneath all plummet's sound, and reached the bottom. When there, I asked my venerable guide If he could tell me where my sister was; He told me that she lay not far from thence Within the bosom of a flinty rock, Where Neptune kept her for his paramour Hid from the jealous Amphitrite's sight; And said he could conduct me to the place. I begged he would. Through dreadful ways we past, 'Twixt rocks that frightfully lowered on either side, Whence here and there the branching coral sprung; O'er dead men's bones we walked, o'er heaps of gold and gems, Into a hideous kind of wilderness, Where stood a stern and prison-looking rock, Daubed with a mossy verdure all around, The mockery of paint. As we drew near Out sprung a hydra from a den below, A speckled fury; fearfully it hissed, And rolled its sea-green eyes so angrily As it would kill with looking. My old guide Against its sharp head hurled a rugged stone— The curling monster raised a brazen shriek, Wallowed and died in fitful agonies. We gained the cave. Through woven adamant I looked, and saw my sister all alone. Employed she seemed in writing something sad, So sad she looked: her cheek was wondrous wan, Her mournful locks like weary sedges hung. I called—she, turning, started when she saw me, And threw her head aside as if ashamed; She wept, but would not speak—I called again; Still she was mute.—Then madly I address'd, With all the lion-sinews of despair, To break the flinty ribs that held me out; And with the struggling waked. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE ICE-CREAM SANDWICH by KAREN SWENSON REVELATION by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE FLY by BARNABY (BARNABE) GOOGE THE YOUNG GLASS-STAINER by THOMAS HARDY ON HEARING A LITTLE MUSIC-BOX by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT |