THE MOTHER'S DREAM.
She slept—and there was visioned to her eye
A stately mountain, green it seemed, and high;
She sought to climb it—lo! a river dark
Rolled at its foot; there came a gallant bark,
And in the bark were forms the eldest fiend
Had shaped to mock God's image; fierce they leaned
O'er the ship's side, and, seizing her, rushed through
The river wave, which kindled as they flew.
Then to the bank came one and laughed aloud;
Bright robes he wore, stern was his look and proud:
He stretched his arm, and hailed her for his bride;
The shuddering waters washed his robe aside,
And showed a shape the fiend's tormenting flame
Had sorely vexed; she shrieked, and faintness came.
Then shouts she heard, and sound of gladsome song,
And saw a stream of torches flash along.
The feast was spread, the bridal couch prepared,
Dread forms stood round, with naked swords to guard.
Nor looked she long: one whispered in her ear,
"Come, climb thy bed; for lo! the bridegroom's near."
She cried to heaven—at once the wedding joy
Was changed to war-shout and to funeral cry;
Swords in the air, as sunshine, flashed and fell,
Then rose all crimsoned; loud came groan and yell,
And from the middle tumult started out
A form that seized her: blow, and shriek, and shout
Came thick behind. Down to the Solway flood
Fast was she borne—it seemed a sea of blood;
She felt it touch her knees, and with a scream
She started back, and wakened from her dream.
Were "The Mother's Dream" a traditionary fiction, and its predictions unfulfilled, gladness would be diffused around many hearths, and the tears wiped away from maliy matrons' cheeks. It was related to me by a Dumfriesshire lady: her voice was slow and gentle, and possessed that devotional Scottish melody of expression which gives so much antique richness and grace to speech. Under the shade of a long
