The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë/Gleneden's Dream
XX
GLENEDEN'S DREAM
Tell me, whether is it winter?
Say how long my sleep has been?
Have the woods, I left so lovely,
Lost their robes of tender green?
Is the morning slow in coming?
Is the night-time loth to go?
Tell me, are the dreary mountains
Drearier still with drifted snow?
'Captive, since thou sawest the frost,
All its leaves have died away;
And another March has woven
Garlands for another May.
'Ice has barred the Arctic waters,
Soft southern winds have set it free;
And once more to deep green valley
Golden flowers might welcome thee.'
Watching in this lonely prison,
Shut from joy and kindly air,
Heaven, descending in a vision,
Taught my soul to do and bear.
It was night, a night of winter;
I lay on the dungeon floor,
And all other sounds were silent,
All, except the river's roar.
Over Death, and Desolation,
Fireless hearths, and lifeless homes;
Over orphans' heartsick sorrows,
Patriot fathers' bloody tombs;
Over friends, that my arms never
Might embrace in love again;
Memory pondered until madness
Struck its poniard in my brain.
Deepest slumbers followed raving,
Yet, methought, I brooded still;
Still I saw my country bleeding,
Dying for a tyrant's will.
Not because my bliss was blasted,
Burned within the avenging flame:
Not because my scattered kindred
Died in woe, or lived in shame.
God doth know I would have given
Every bosom dear to me,
Could that sacrifice have purchased
Tortured Gondal's liberty!
But that at Ambition's bidding,
All her cherished hopes should wane,
That her noblest sons should muster,
Strive and fight and fall in vain;
Hut and castle, hall and cottage,
Roofless, crumbling to the ground;
Mighty heaven, a glad avenger
Thy eternal Justice found!
Yes, the arm that once would shudder,
Even to grieve a wounded deer,
I beheld it, unrelenting,
Clothe in blood its sovereign's prayer.
Glorious Dream! I saw the city,
Blazing in imperial shine;
And among adoring thousands
Stood a man of form divine.
None need point the princely victim,
Now he smiles with royal pride!
Now his glance is bright as lightning,
Now the knife is in his side!
Ha! I saw how death could darken,
Darken that triumphant eye!
His red heart's blood drenched my dagger;
My ear drank his dying sigh.
Shadows came! what means this midnight?
O my God, I know it all!
Know the fever-dream is over,
Unavenged, the Avenger's fall!
May 21, 1838.