In the silent watches of the night, calm night that breedeth thoughts, When the task-weary mind disporteth in the careless play-hours of sleep, I dreamed; and behold, a valley, green and sunny and well watered, And thousands moving across it, thousands and tens of thousands: And though many seemed faint and toil-worn, and stumbled often, and fell, Yet moved they on unresting, as the ever-flowing cataract. Then I noted adders in the grass, and pitfalls under the flowers, And chasms yawned among the hills, and the ground was cracked and slippery: But Hope and her brother Fear suffered not a foot to linger; Bright phantoms of false joys beckoned alluringly forward, While yelling grisly shapes of dread came hunting on behind: And ceaselessly, like Lapland swarms, that miserable crowd sped along To the mist-involved banks of a dark and sullen river. There saw I, midway in the water, standing a giant fisher, And he held many lines in his hand, and they called him Iron Destiny. So I tracked those subtle chains, and each held one among the multitude: Then I understood what hindered, that they rested not in their path: For the fisher had sport in his fishing, and drew in his lines continually, And the new-born babe, and the aged man, were dragged into that dark river: And he pulled all those myriads along, and none might rest by the way, Till many, for sheer weariness, were eager to plunge into the drowning stream. So I knew that valley was Life, and it sloped to the waters of Death. But far on the thither side spread out a calm and silent shore, Where all was tranquil as a sleep, and the crowded strand was quiet: And I saw there many I had known, but their eyes glared chillingly upon me, As set in deepest slumber; and they pressed their fingers to their lips. Then I knew that shore was the dwelling of Rest, where spirits held their Sabbath, And it seemed they would have told me much, but they might not break that silence; For the law of their being was mystery: they glided on, hushing as they went. Yet further, under the sun, at the roots of purple mountains, I noted a blaze of glory, as the night-fires on northern skies; And I heard the hum of joy, as it were a sea of melody; And far as the eye could reach, were millions of happy creatures Basking in the golden light; and I knew that land was Heaven. Then the hill whereon I stood split asunder, and a crater yawned at my feet, Black and deep and dreadful, fenced round with ragged rocks; Dimly was the darkness lit up by spires of distant flame: And I saw below a moving mass of life, like reptiles bred in corruption, Where all was terrible unrest, shrieks and groans and thunder. [Illustration]