Poems (Odom)/A Noonday Dream

A NOON-DAY DREAM.

(INSCRIBED TO THE M. D. R.'S OF GALVESTON.)

It was a warm, fresh day in early spring;
The sun sent drifts of golden glory down,
As though the wealth of Heaven he sought to fling,
With lavish hand, upon earth's floral crown.
Beneath the oleander's budding bloom
Upon a couch of velvet moss I lay,
My senses steeped in softened sweet perfume,
Until I slept and dreamed at noon of day.

I slept, and in my dream before me passed
A pageant, glittering, grand, and purely white,
As falls of snow from Arctic heavens cast—
So grand, so dazzling to my raptured sight.
While music swelled upon the throbbing air,
And men in royal robes rode proudly on
Their gallant steeds, with housings deadly fair,
Each helmet down, each visor closely drawn.

I.

First came a glittering, spotless car that bore
A graceful form, with ready spear in rest:
Beneath her feet swung stars of gleaming ore;
Her broad shield clasped upon her snowy breast;
The laurel hung about her temples fair
And trailed its leaves down through her floating hair.
I bent in reverence before the great
And royal emblem of our Sovereign State.

II.

This passed, another came; more lovely seemed
This second vision to my dreaming eye.
I saw a mountain, and wild waters streamed
In rushing brightness, dashing madly by.
A hero stood amid his warriors true;
A holy priest his cross and vestment bore—
This lordly man, De Soto, well I knew,
Planting the cross on Mississippi's shore.

III.

The sunlight fell across the fragrant lea,
As on and on the spotless pageant came;
I saw a rock beside a distant sea,
An altar with its white uprising flame.
A solemn, silent group, they gathered there—
Poor Pilgrims fleeing the oppressor's rod—
And every knee was bent in breathless prayer,
And every heart was lifted up to God.

IV.

Now glides before me one whose noble face
Is printed on each loyal Southern heart;
Upon his warlike steed, with princely grace,
Our own brave Lee bears out his noble part.
A daring soldier grasps his bridle rein,
His rough face clouded with an anxious fear;
He lifts his hand again, and still again,
And points in deep entreaty to the rear.

V.

Scarce had this vision passed, when whitely shines
Young Pocahontas In her beauty wild
The storms that shriek among her native pines
Are beating in the bosom of their child.
Condemned to cruel, ignominious death,
She sees her lover. At her father's feet
She flings herself and her imploring breath
Has saved a life to love and fame so sweet.

VI.

The next a Turkish scene, where on the throne
The grand Al Rashid sits in regal state,
The signs of royalty about him strewn;
While on his majesty his vassals wait.
The long white line wound on, with here and there
A sudden flash of crimson-hearted flame;
Music and fragrance filled the sunlit air,
As, sweeping past, the glorious pageant came.

VII.

Swift following upon another car,
Is borne the lovely victor of Calais
Bright with the honors of successful war,
Her soft cheek blooming with a nation's praise.
With heaven's own inspiration in her face—
The precious work that God delights to make—
She stands aflush with youth, and hope and grace,
The lovely Maid who perished at the stake.

VIII.

I still must sleep—for still I seem to dream,
Britania smiles in marble majesty;
Her hand rests on her couchant lion's mane,
Her Saxon sons around her brave and free.
Great England stands in classic marble chains
Beneath a flood of sunshine full and fair,
What if her hands are dark with bloody stains!
A royal crown shines grandly in her hair.

SECOND.

IX.

From a high and rocky steep,
Royal eyes that sadly weep
Over forest, glade and fell,
Mournful, taking their last farewell.
Regal houses, fallen down,
Ruined ermine, broken crown,
Through misfortune's shadowed door
Floats the Last Sigh of The Moor.

X.

A hero from an age now dead,
Who bound upon his lordly head
The brightest chaplet of renown,
And proudly wore the well-earned crown,
In stolid grandeur—now I see
Napoleon—man of destiny!

XI.

Who is he who smilingly stands.
Like a guest from unknown lands?
Underneath the violet skies—
Sleep already in his eyes—
A sailor to a happier coast,
Rip Van Winkle drinks the toast.

XII.

The swiftly changing scene now brings
A grand conclave of earthly kings;
Columbia's colors are unfurled,
She proudly welcomes all the world.
A hundred years her heart has known,
Their light upon her brow is thrown.
All nations in their pride and power
Bow down before their Century Flower.

XIII.

Buried in wreathes of ivy green
A marble sepulchre is seen—
Cold guardian of a brave man's dust,
Who sleeps the sleep of all the just—
His name in lettering of gold,
Upon a nation's heart is told,
From age to age time bears it on—
Peerless, immortal Washington.

XIV.

In far primeval forests green,
A fierce and warlike group is seen,
They freely clasp the whiter hand
Of him who comes from Eastern land.
Their untaught natures bending down
Before the Spanish monarch's crown.
Columbus holds in friendly grasp
Those savage fingers in his clasp.

XV.

Lounging idly on the ground
By his tub, the world renowned,
In apparent peace and ease,
Lo! we see Diogenes.
Pausing in his grand estate,
Alexander, justly great,
Asks some favor to confer
Upon the calm philosopher.
And from the mighty conqueror's store
He asks his sunshine, nothing more.

XVI.

Alas! that we should see arise,
Beneath the nineteenth century skies,
That bloody scene, long gone before,
Which splashed old England's name with gore—
Unhappy Charles! thine ending flings
Its shadow o'er a line of kings;
And all thy errors—hapless dead!
Have fallen with thy severed head.

THIRD.

XVII.

Upon a golden jewelled throne,
King Solomon, the wise,
Decides a mother's sacred claim
Before astonished eyes.
That mother, proved by cunning test,
Receives her infant to her breast.

XVIII.

Again a change comes o'er my dream,
A horseman spurs his steed
Across a bright historic stream,
With eager, fiery speed,
All doubt is o'er, the die is cast,
Cæsar, the Rubicon has passsd.

XIX.

The gallant Cortez, too, is here,
With bright uplifted sword;
The first blade drawn in Mexico,
In honor of God's word:
Here bloody stains to nations tell
The spot where Montezuma fell.

XX.

William of Prussia passes now,
His warriors brave and bold:
With fearless grace are gathered there,
In marble white and cold.
A martial, kingly band, they ride
Close by their royal leader's side.

XXI.

Another regal group I see,
In ghostly, marble guise;
'T is thus they come, each in his turn
The simple and the wise.
The Fourteenth Louis of French kings,
His tribute to the pageant brings.

XXII.

Across the brilliant, broken waves,
Bright flashing, far and wide,
The Adriatic grandly comes
To claim his fair Sea Bride,
And bending low the water king,
Bestows the precious marriage ring.

XXIII.

In peace beneath the branching trees,
A praying man is found;
While dark and dusky faces near
In silence gather round.
'T is William Penn who holds them there,
Spell-bound by simple Christian prayer.

XXIV.

Then England's proudest, greatest Queen
Her armies to inflame
With valor, at Tilbury Fort,
Among them bravely came.
And every voice was raised to bless
The dauntless spirit of Queen Bess.
This dream that was not quite a dream,
Upon my vision broke.
It passed, and from the sleeping world
Reluctantly I woke;
Then closed my eyes and tried in vain
To call this glory back again.