A DREAM OF COLOURS.

WAS alone within a Christian fane :

The edifice, though rear'd by modern art,

Inspir'd by late-awakening piety,

Was in the fashion of the days of old :

The good old days when nought of rich or rare,
Or bright or beautiful, was deemed a gift
Too liberal to Him who giveth all.

Pillar and wall were cloth'd in gorgeous hues,
In mystic pattern wrought; the vaulted roof
Was deeply blue, sown thick with golden stars.
Like the still heaven of a summer night.
Before me blaz'd the altar rife with gold;
And not a sunbeam through the windows crept
But borrow'd some rich colour-amethyst,

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A DREAM OF COLOURS.

Ruby or emerald, or topaz gleam—

From robe of martyr'd saint or prophet old.

In dreamy mood I sate ;-the gorgeous gloomFor those deep hues had quench'd the full noon

glare

To evening's gloaming-lulling all my soul,
Like a low delicious harmony,

Till sleep possess'd me; but those ravishing hues
Still kept their magic influence, and crept

'Neath my dropt lid, and mingled with my dream.

Yet in my dream I stirr'd not from that bench
Of quaintly-carven oak whereon I sate,
But in the church I was no more alone,

For up the central aisle came gliding slow
Seven beauteous sisters, forms in glory dight;
Each in a robe of differing hue array'd.

And as they came they sang in chorus sweet,
And these, meseem'd, were the words they

sang:

"Glory to God on high! Again we come
To worship Thee in Thy most holy temple,
Whose portal hath too long been shut on us ;-

A DREAM OF COLOURS.

Most wrongfully, most ignorantly shut!
For long ago didst Thou Thyself ordain
Us to Thy solemn service; long before
Thy first fair temple rose on Zion hill,
While yet Thy chosen dwelling was in tents,
So fitly in the East we worshipp'd Thee;
And so in many an European land
In after ages, when no longer smok'd
The horned victim, but the mystic cross
O'er every altar rose. But many a year
Hath pass'd away since we have found a place
In any House of Thine in this fair isle.
Not that we ever ceas'd to worship Thee;

For still in every land, though to Thy name
Arose no temple,-still in every age,

Though heedless man had quite forgot Thy praise,
We prais'd Thee; and at rise and set of sun
Did we assemble duly and intone

A choral hymn that all the lands might hear.

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In heaven, or earth, and in the deep we prais'd

Thee,

Singly, or mingled in sweet sisterhood.

But now, acknowledg'd ministrants, we come,
Co-worshippers with man in this Thy house,

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A DREAM OF COLOURS.

We, the Seven Daughters of the Light, to praise

Thee, Light of Light! Thee, God of very God!"

So they together sang, together ceas'd.
Then singly each before the altar knelt

And chanted praise to God, each after each

In order, but with voices all unlike,

Only alike in perfect melody.

The first who knelt, in glowing accents sang:

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I, first, who in the first-born blush of day, And in the rose, for beauty first of flowers,

Praise Thee, temple."

now praise Thee in Thy holy

The next was like a burning seraphim,
And as a flame uprose her fervid song:-
"I, who in the magnific pageantry

Of sunset skies, and in the heart of fire,
And in the fruitage of Hesperian groves,

Praise Thee, now praise Thee in Thy holy temple."

Then her twin sister came, of milder mood:

"I, who amid the mellow sunshine's glow,

:

A DREAM OF COLOURS.

And in the waving fields of ripen'd grain,

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Praise Thee, now praise Thee in Thy holy temple."

Then one approach'd, of aspect soft and kind;

Her voice was like a rustling summer breeze :"I, who among the meadows, and beside

The quiet waters, and in forests old,

Praise Thee, now praise Thee in Thy holy temple."

Then follow'd one in feature and in voice
Most angel-like of all that angel band :—
"I, who in Thy great firmament all day,
And in the placid face of summer waters,
And in a thousand happy, innocent eyes,
Praise Thee, now praise Thee in Thy holy temple."

The next who came was like unto the last,
But graver in her mien, deeper her voice :-
"I, who in Thy great firmament all night,
And in the shadowy hollows of the hills,
And in the dim recesses of the deep,

Praise Thee, now praise Thee in Thy holy temple."

The seventh and last of that bright sisterhood

Thus closed in accents falling like the dew: