MAREMNA’S DREAM. INTRODUCTION TO GLORIANA; _OR, A DREAM OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1900_. A rose-red sunset, Mingling its radiance with the purple heath, Flooding the silver lake with blushing light, Dyeing the ocean grey a crimson hue, Streaking the paling sky with rosy shafts; Clinging to Nature with a ling’ring kiss, Ere it shall vanish from a drowsy earth, To rouse in new-deck’d cloak of shining gold A waking world far o’er the ocean’s wave. Maremna sleeps, Close cushion’d in the heather’s warm embrace; The rose-red sunset plays around her form— A graceful, girlish figure, lithe and fair, Small, slim, yet firmly knit with Nature’s power— Unfetter’d Nature! which will not be bound By Fashion’s prison rules and cultur’d laws. Maremna sleeps. One rosy cheek lies pillow’d on her hand, And through her waving, wandering auburn curls The zephyr cupids frolic merrily, Tossing them to and fro upon her brow In sportive play. It is a brow of thought, Endow’d by God and Nature, though, alas! Held in paralysis by selfish laws Which strive to steal a fair inheritance, And bid the woman bow the knee to man. Maremna sleeps. The white lids veil the large grey, lustrous eyes, The auburn lashes sweep the sunlit cheeks, Yet are they wet, and cling to the soft skin Whereon the damp of tears is glazing fast. Maremna’s sleep is not the sleep of rest, For ever and anon the blood-red lips Unclose, and strive to speak, but yet remain Silent and speechless, tied by some dread force Which intervenes, denying to the brain That comfort which the power of speech doth bring. Who is Maremna?— A noble’s child, rear’d amidst Nature’s scenes, Her earliest friends! _They_ guided her first steps, Speaking of God and His stupendous works Long ere Religion’s dogma intervened. Child of a chieftain o’er whose broad domains She roamed, a happy, free, unfetter’d waif, Loving the mountain crag and forest lone, The straths and corries, rugged glens and haunts Of the red deer and dove-like ptarmigan; Loving the language of the torrent’s roar, Or the rough river’s wild bespated rush; Loving the dark pine woods, amidst whose glades The timid roe hides from the gaze of man; Loving the great grey ocean’s varying face, Now calm, now rugged, rising into storm, Anon so peaceful, so serene, and still, When passion’s fury sinks beneath the wave.