Maremna sleeps Amidst the scenes that rear’d her early years Yet is Maremna now no more a child, Nor guileless with the innocence of youth. Hers it has been to roam God’s mighty world, And learn the ways and woful deeds of men, And, weary with her world-wide pilgrimage, Maremna’s steps have sought her early haunts, Hoping for rest where childhood once did play. Rest for Maremna! An idle thought; a foolish sentiment! Unto the brain which God has bidden “Think” No rest can come from Solitude’s retreat; For solitude breeds thought, and shapes its course And bids it live within the form of speech, Or bids the mighty pen proclaim its life, And write its words upon the scrolls of men. Thus with Maremna. Rest she has sought, but sought it all in vain. What God decrees no mortal hand can stay. “Think.” He ordains, and lo! the brain _must_ think, Nor close its eyes upon the mammoth truth. Truth must prevail! Truth must be held aloft! What matter if the cold world sneers or scoffs? Sneering and scoffing is the work of man, Truth, the almighty handiwork of God. It may be dimm’d, it may be blurr’d from sight, Yet must it triumph in the end, and win; For is not truth a sun which cannot die, Though unbelief may cloud it for a time? Maremna sleeps; Sleeps where in childhood oft she lay and dream’d, Dream’d of fantastic worlds and fairy realms. And now, in sleep, Maremna dreams again, But dreams no more of elves and laughing sprites. Hers, though a dream, is stern reality, Mingled with visions of a future day; Hers is a dream of hideous, living wrong, Wrong which ’tis woman’s duty to proclaim And man’s to right, and right right speedily, Or crush the form of justice underfoot. Maremna sleeps, And in her sleep a vision fills her brain. This is Maremna’s Dream. [Illustration] GLORIANA; OR, _THE REVOLUTION OF 1900._ _BOOK I._ CHAPTER I. “I am tired, mother.” “Tired, child! And why?” “Mother, I have been spouting to the wild sea waves.” “And what have you been saying to them, Gloria?” “Ah, mother! ever so much.”