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| I SAW a famous fountain in my dream, | |
| Where shady pathways to a valley led; | |
| A weeping willow lay upon that stream, | |
| And all around the fountain brink were spread | |
| Wide branching trees, with dark green leaf rich clad | 5 |
| Forming a doubtful twilight, desolate and sad. | |
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| The place was such, that whoso enter’d in | |
| Disrobèd was of every earthly thought, | |
| And straight became as one that knew not sin, | |
| Or to the world’s first innocence was brought; | 10 |
| Enseem’d it now, he stood on holy ground, | |
| In sweet and tender melancholy wrapt around. | |
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| A most strange calm stole o’er my soothèd sprite; | |
| Long time I stood, and longer had I stayed, | |
| When lo! I saw, saw by the sweet moonlight, | 15 |
| Which came in silence o’er that silent shade, | |
| Where, near the fountain, Something like Despair | |
| Made, of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair. | |
| |
| And eke with painful fingers she inwove | |
| Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn— | 20 |
| ‘The willow garland, that was for her love, | |
| And these her bleeding temples would adorn. | |
| With sighs her heart nigh burst,—salt tears fast fell, | |
| As mournfully she bended o’er that sacred well. | |
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| To whom when I addrest myself to speak, | 25 |
| She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said; | |
| The delicate red came mantling o’er her cheek, | |
| And, gathering up her loose attire, she fled | |
| To the dark covert of that woody shade, | |
| And in her goings seem’d a timid gentle maid. | 30 |
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| Revolving in my mind what this should mean, | |
| And why that lovely lady plainèd so; | |
| Perplexed in thought at that mysterious scene, | |
| And doubting if ’twere best to stay or go, | |
| I cast mine eyes in wistful gaze around, | 35 |
| When from the shades came slow a small and plaintive sound: | |
| |
| ‘Psyche am I, who love to dwell | |
| In these brown shades, this woody dell, | |
| Where never busy mortal came, | |
| Till now, to pry upon my shame. | 40 |
| |
| ‘At thy feet what thou dost see | |
| The Waters of Repentance be, | |
| Which, night and day, I must augment | |
| With tears, like a true penitent, | |
| |
| ‘If haply so my day of grace | 45 |
| Be not yet past; and this lone place, | |
| O’ershadowy, dark, excludeth hence | |
| All thoughts but grief and penitence.’ | |
| |
| ‘Why dost thou weep, thou gentle maid? | |
| And wherefore in this barren shade | 50 |
| Thy hidden thoughts with sorrow feed? | |
| Can thing so fair repentance need?’ | |
| |
| ‘O! I have done a deed of shame, | |
| And tainted is my virgin fame, | |
| And stained the beauteous maiden white | 55 |
| In which my bridal robes were dight.’ | |
| |
| ‘And who the promised spouse, declare, | |
| And what those bridal garments were?’ | |
| |
| ‘Severe and saintly righteousness | |
| Composed the clear white bridal dress; | 60 |
| Jesus, the son of Heaven’s high King, | |
| Bought with His blood the marriage-ring. | |
| |
| ‘A wretched sinful creature, I | |
| Deemed lightly of that sacred tie, | |
| Gave to a treacherous world my heart, | 65 |
| And play’d the foolish wanton’s part. | |
| |
| ‘Soon to these murky shades I came, | |
| To hide from the Sun’s light my shame.— | |
| And still I haunt this woody dell, | |
| And bathe me in that healing well, | 70 |
| Whose waters clear have influence | |
| From sin’s foul stains the soul to cleanse; | |
| And, night and day, I them augment | |
| With tears, like a true penitent, | |
| Until, due expiation made, | 75 |
| And fit atonement fully paid, | |
| The Lord and Bridegroom me present, | |
| Where in sweet strains of high consent, | |
| God’s throne before, the Seraphim | |
| Shall chaunt the ecstatic marriage hymn.’ | 80 |
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| ‘Now Christ restore thee soon’—I said, | |
| And thenceforth all my dream was fled. | |
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