A Vision
Night o'er the earth her dusky robe had spread,
With gloom unwonted, moon and stars conceal'd
By dense and murky clouds, denied their light.
I musing lay reclined, involved in thought,
And pondering o'er the various changing scenes
This land had witness'd, until slumbers soft
Succeeded to my reverie, yet stole
So lightly over me, that I was still
Unconscious that I slept; and still my thoughts
Pursued the path, and wander'd o'er the scenes
Where they had waking roved. What! I exclaim'd,
Would be the feelings, or the words of Penn,
Did he now view the fair wide commonwealth,
Whose infancy was foster'd by his care?
I scarce had spoken, when an airy form
Before me stood. Her dark and piercing eye
Was lighted by a smile, that o'er her face,
In female beauty rich, benignant play'd.
Her tresses unadorn'd, save with a wreath
Of dewy wild-flowers, o'er her shoulders flung,
In glossy ringlets waved, or shaded light,
Her polish'd brow. Yet seem'd she not of gross
Corporeal mould; but rather like the air,
Condensed and visible. I knew the form—
'T was one whose aid I often had invoked,
What time I tuned or swept mine airy lyre,
Imagination! with a kindly smile,
She lightly touch'd, and bade me follow her.
My soul, unfetter'd, instant soar'd aloft,
Far, far above the confines of the earth,
Then paused; and while we hover'd, light in air,
My fair conductress bade me look around.
I look'd! beneath us Pennsylvania lay,
Her ripen'd harvests waving in the breeze,
And wet with dew of morning; for not yet
The sun had risen from his wavy bed,
But redden'd by his beams, the fleecy clouds,
Bright glowing, spoke his near approach. Toward one
That rested nearest earth, with purple tinged,
My guide conducted me. As near we drew,
With wonder I beheld, within its breast,
A form reposed as in an airy car,
Which bore (though half conceal'd and indistinct)
The human likeness. O'er his face beam'd love,
Compassion mild, benevolence divine
And universal. Sin no place had there,
Nor earthly passions—but bright peace serene,
Pure piety, and happiness unmix'd.
“Behold!” exclaim'd my guide, “with awe behold
The sainted spirit of the righteous Penn!”
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poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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