“There was a pause; then with a tremulous smile, The maiden turned and pressed her mother’s hand: ‘Shall I not bear what thou hast borne erewhile? Shall I, rebellious, Heaven’s high will withstand? No! cheerly on, my wandering path I’ll take; Nor fear the destiny I did not make: Though earthly joy grow dim—though pleasure waneth— This thou hath taught thy child, that God remaineth!’ “And from her mother’s fond protecting side She went into the world, a youthful bride.” Fain would we linger longer among the brilliant creations of Mrs. Norton’s genius; but, like her own beautiful sleepers, our “dream” is broken, and we must return from fairy-land to encounter “the rude world.” ----- [2] The Dream and other poems, by the Honorable Mrs. Norton—Dedicated to Her Grace, the Duchess of Sutherland. “We have an human heart All mortal thoughts confess a common home.” _Shelley._ London. Henry Colburn, Publisher, Great Marlborough street, 1840. * * * * * THE VEILED ALTAR, OR THE POET’S DREAM. BY MRS. R. S. NICHOLS. I bent me o’er him as he lay upon his couch, Deep sleep weighed down the curtains of his eyes, Forever and anon the seraph seemed to touch His dreaming soul with radiance of the skies! I bent me o’er him then, for mighty thoughts did seem To pant for utterance, as he sighed for breath, _And strove to speak_—for in that dark and fearful dream He passed the portals of the phantom Death! “The chains that clogged my spirit’s pinions roll Powerless back to earth—a vain, base clod, And awe-inspiring thoughts brood o’er my soul, _As angels hover round the ark of God!_ I see before me in the distance far A mystic altar veiled, and part concealed Amid the tresses of a burning star, Whose mysteries from earth are ever sealed! “It gleams—that fountain of mysterious light At holy eve, far in the western sky, And angels smile, when man ascends by night To read in it his puny destiny! A something bears me onward towards the throne With speed which mocks the winged lightning’s glance! And here, amid the stars’ eternal home I stand, with senses steeped as in a trance! “I feel a power, a might within my soul That I could wrest from angels, themes for song! My earth-freed spirit soars and spurns control, While deep and chainless thoughts around me throng! I know the veil is pierced—the altar gained— I bend me lowly at its foot sublime; Yet false inspirers, who on earth have feigned The God, depart from this eternal clime!”