It was not when the sun through the glittering sky,
In summer’s joyful majesty,
Looked from his cloudless height;-
It was not when the sun was sinking down,
And tinging the ruin’s mossy brown
With gleams of ruddy light;-
Nor yet when the moon, like a pilgrim fair,
‘Mid star and planet journeyed slow,
And, mellowing the stillness of the air,
Smiled on the world below;-
That, Melrose! ‘mid thy mouldering pride,
All breathless and alone,
I grasped the dreams to day denied,
High dreams of ages gone!-
Had unshrieved guilt for one moment been there,
His heart had turned to stone!
For oft, though felt no moving gale,
Like restless ghost in glimmering shroud,
Through lofty Oriel opening pale
Was seen the hurrying cloud;
And, at doubtful distance, each broken wall
Frowned black as bier’s mysterious pall
From mountain-cave beheld by ghastly seer;
It seemed as if sound had ceased to be;
Nor dust from arch, nor leaf from tree,
Relieved the noiseless ear.
The owl had sailed from her silent tower,
Tweed hushed his weary wave,
The time was midnight’s moonless hour,
My seat a dreaded Douglas’ grave!
My being was sublimed by joy,
My heart was big, yet I could not weep;
I felt that God would ne’er destroy
The mighty in their tranc
(John Wilson)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, World Poems, Light Poems, Time Poems, Nature Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Fairness Poems, Dreams Poems, Summer Poems, Pride PoemsBased on Keywords: tranc, sublimed, tinging, melrose, mountain-cave
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