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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354899" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dream by the Fountain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thought-weary and sad, I reclined by a fountain<br> At the head of a white-cedar-shaded ravine,<br>And the breeze that fell over the high glooming mountain<br> Sang a lullaby low as I gazed o’er the scene. <br>Long I’d reclined not till slumber came o’er me,<br> Grateful as balm to a suffering child:<br>When a glorious maiden seemed standing before me<br> With a lyre in her hand—O so sounding and wild! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bright was her brow, not the morning’s brow brighter,<br> But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;<br>Light was her motion, the breeze’s not lighter,<br> And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never before did my bosom inherit<br> Emotion so thrilling, such exquisite awe!<br>Never such wonder exalted my spirit<br> Before, as did now, through the vision I saw. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Robed for the chase like a nymph of Diana,<br> Her ivory limbs were half given below—<br>Bare, that the pure breath of heaven might fan her,<br> Bare was her bosom of roseate snow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then lifting the lyre, and with every feeling<br> Sublimed as with love, she awakened the strings,<br>And the while, as it seemed, into being came stealing<br> The motion and light of angelical wings. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Divine were the measure! Each voice of the wold-wood<br> Seemed gathering power in their musical thrills—<br>The loud joy of streams in their strong mountain childhood,<br> The shouting of echoes that break from the hills; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moaning of trees all at midnight in motion,<br> When the breezes seem lost in the dark, with a rare<br>And sweet soaring spirit of human devotion<br> All blended and woven together were there. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then she smiled with a look like the radiance of morning,<br> When flushing the crystal of heaven’s serene,<br>Blent with that darkness of beauty, adorning<br> The world, when the moon just arising is seen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And repressing, it seemed, many fonder suggestions,<br> Calmly she spake;—I arose to my knees,<br>Expectantly glad, while, to quiet my questions,<br> The wild warbled words that she uttered were these: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I am the muse of the evergreen forest,<br> I am the spouse of thy spirit, lone bard!<br>Ev’n in the days when thy boyhood thou worest,<br> Thy pastimes drew on thee my dearest regard. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“For I knew thee, ev’n then, in thy ecstacy musing<br> Of glory and grace by old Hawkesbury’s side—<br>Scenes that spread recordless round thee, suffusing<br> With the purple of love—I beheld thee, and sighed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Sighed—for the fire-robe of thought had enwound thee,<br> Betok ning how much that the happy most dread,<br>And whence there should follow, howe’er it renowned thee,<br> What sorrows of heart, and what labours of head! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Signed—though thy dreams did the more but endear thee.<br> It seemed of the breeze, or a sigh of thine own,<br>When I swept o’er this lyre, still unseen gliding near thee,<br> To give thy emotions full measure and tone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Since have I tracked thee through less lovely places,<br> And seen thee with sorrow long herd with the vain,<br>Lured into error by false-smiling faces,<br> Chained by dull fashion though scorning her chain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Then would I prompt, in the still hour of dreaming,<br> Some thought of thy beautiful country again,<br>Of her yet to be famed streams, through dark woods far-gleaming<br> Of her bold shores that throb to the beat of the main. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Till at last I beheld thee arise in devotion,<br> To shake from thy heart the vile bondage it bore,<br>And my joy gloried out like a morning-lit ocean,<br> When thy footfall I heard in the mountains once more! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Listen, belov’d one! I promise thee glory<br> Such as shall rise like the day-star apart,<br>To brighten the source of Australia’s broad story,<br> But for this thou must give to the future thy heart!— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Be then the bard of thy country! O rather<br> Should such be thy choice than a monarchy wide!<br>Lo! ’Tis the land of the grave of thy father!<br> ’Tis the cradle of liberty! Think and decide.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy glowed in my heart as she ceased. Unreplying,<br> I gazed, mute with love, on her soul-moulded charms.<br>Deeper they glowed, her lips trembled, and sighing,<br> She rushed to my heart and dissolved in my arms!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354899" data-title="The Dream by the Fountain de Charles Harpur" data-description="Thought-weary and sad, I reclined by a fountain
 At the head of a white-cedar-shaded ravine,
And the breeze that fell over the high glooming mountain
 Sang a lullaby low as I gazed o’er the scene. 
Long I’d reclined not till slumber came o’e..."></div>
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