Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A DREAM, OR THE TYPE OF THE RISING SUN, by JEAN ADAMS



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A DREAM, OR THE TYPE OF THE RISING SUN, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Loosed from its bonds my spirit fled away
Last Line: But I observed it keeped most in awe.
Alternate Author Name(s): Adam, Jean
Subject(s): Nature


LOOSED from its bonds my spirit fled away,
And left behind its moving tent of clay.
Aloft it soars through fields of painted air,
Which Fancy's pencil could not paint too fair.
I looked, and saw the God of Day arise;
With graceful steps he travels up the skies:
By just degrees at length he reached the line.
I saw the utmost limits of him shine:
While moon and stars before his chariot fly,
He in the floating mirror fixed his eye.
'Here fix, my eye, come to the porch, my ear:
Sit still, my thought, that I the sound may hear.'
They all obeyed, when lo, I heard a cry,
'Come out and meet the ruler of the sky.'
Implicit Nature all together ran,
Their numerous voices seemed a single man.
How from my heart the flame leaped to my eye,
While through the clear perspective I descry
Pure Nature's unconsulted harmony.
'I am his bed,' cried out the torrid clime,
'He fixed my periods,' cried revolving Time;
'He is my husband,' cried the quickening shower,
'He's my physician,' cried the drooping flower.
I heard the little insect world all cry,
'He gave me life, and force, and wings to fly.'
The vine cried out, 'He nursed me when a plant,
Ev'n to this hour he gives me what I want;
His virtue brought the moisture to my crop,
He formed the blossoms on my trembling top;
He made my clusters ready for the press,
And shall not I express my thankfulness?'
'He cut my channels,' cried exulting flood,
'I owe him all my beauties,' cried the wood.
'He gave me light and heat,' said smiling flame,
'I am his shadow,' cried exalted Fame.
'I am his darling,' cried unfeigned Truth,
'And so am I,' replied the winged youth;
'In all his actions thou may'st see me move.'
'Nay, I have all his soul,' cried divine Love.
Dumb Echo cried, 'He taught me to repeat;
None else could e'er teach me to imitate.'
'I am his cup,' cried pure unmixed Grief;
Said heavenly Joy, 'I fly to his relief.'
'I am his sword,' cried uncorrupted Hate;
'I quake before him,' cried relentless Fate.
This harmony was noble and divine;
All joyed to see their benefactor shine.
The feathered choir clapped all their wings for joy,
Whose notes made up a perfect harmony.
Now russet garments on the fields are spread,
And now palm branches in his way are laid.
All Nature seemed to wanton in her prime;
Pure pleasure seemed to turn the wheel of Time.
Forward I went, and saw society,
The pleasure-garden of the deity;
In which almighty Jove took such delight,
He walked around her walls both day and night.
At his own cost he built the threefold wall
So high, that thieves could never miss to fall.
The wall of Duty seemed to my eye
For altitude above the starry sky.
Rich curious carvings were upon the stone;
A fair foundation it was laid upon:
I saw inscribed conscious Fortitude.
The glorious hedge of Honour next I saw,
One of the fairest rules in Nature's law:
The hedge of Honour was of holy thorn,
Its natural fruit was high heroic scorn.
I thought him mad, who would attempt to climb
Where every thorn must fix its points in him.
The hedge of Int'rest was but very low,
Yet to the eye it had a glaring show;
Its worth was less than anything I saw,
But I observed it keeped most in awe.





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