And all the great mysterious mansion quivers,

And moves, with shadows everywhere unseen But close at hand; yet none of them delivers By speech or shape what their uprisings mean.

All is awakened, and the night is trembling With a strange sense of wonder and of fear; Who knoweth what they are, or why assembling, That have possession of the darkness here?

The fear grows fast,-I fly,-as if pursuing

The palace all behind me seems to close;

But opens still before at the undoing

Of each new door, and still new scenes it shows.

Between the gilded rooms, no signal guiding,
With trembling fingers I unlock the door,
Knowing not but that at the next in hiding
I meet the very thing I flee before.

Yet still the fear is mastered by the wonder,
The swift, strange glimpses fresh at every turn,
The secret things that lie beyond and under
Impatient to my restless question burn.

The heavy curtains sweep in purple shimmering Down the whole height of the luxurious walls, And from the pictured ceilings silver glimmering A fluctuating lustre softly falls.

Books are there, floating perfumes, vases golden,
Unfolded silken coverings orient-dyed,

Signs all about of costly service holden,
And scattered robes thrown carelessly aside.

Within these mazes manifold entangled

I traversing these great saloons perceive Each of them has four doors and stands four-angled, And one of these I choose, and three I leave.

Which is the right one? But no time to ponder,
For the wild terror seizes me too near ;
Behind me the unseen, before me yonder

The unknown-both a breathless rush of fear.

If I should miss !-then all at once is over ;-
And yet not fear alone my flight compels :
The longing some strange secret to discover

Is still the strongest of these silent spells.

Dashing through one, and in an instant's glancing
Choosing the next, and bounding straight across
The spacious passage, in the swift advancing
Of those who follow, every moment's loss

Destruction-scarce my fingers turn for trembling
The handle, and no time to draw it close;
Open behind me streams the endless mystery
Of all this magic midnight house of foes.

Yet, head to foot with the approaching capture
Panting and shuddering, mingles therewithal
An unexplained and unaccounted rapture
As of some mighty marvel to befall.

I turn at length, still onward blindly speeding,
Into one room from whose enclosing wall
There is no other door nor opening leading;
-I am at the inmost chamber of them all!

Here is the end, and I am trapped within it;
My eyes are hidden waiting for the blow
To fall, at last has come the fatal minute :—

For what? I wake, and still I do not know.

41

A STARRY SIGN.

I DWELT within a city of old days,

Beside a river ;-all who dwelt therein

Feared God, and served him, and obeyed his

voice,

And listened for it, and abode in peace.

There was no thought of poverty or wrong

Between us, and our prayers rose day by day
In harmony, and all the days were fair ;
Yet hope of something fairer ever kept
The stirring of a live flame at the heart.
And in those days a new portent was seen
In heaven ;-for in that city night by night
All read the stars, having no other book,
And knowing them by name, and loving them
As living lights along the mortal way.

But now amid the white familiar host

Would suddenly break forth some unknown star,

Or sometimes many stars, of splendour strange,
And mystic message from the lords of life.

At even or at midnight or towards dawn

The vision came, and in the depths of heaven
The new stars shone, and this was in their power-
One only could behold them, and that one

Who saw them, him they called and drew away,
So that he might but follow, east or west,

As the sky held them; and he passed the gate
With his eyes fixed upon them, following
Their glory, else invisible to all.

But none of all who passed returned again,
Nor could they speak aright the semblances
Of what they saw, nor that whereby their star
Differed from other stars; but most the light
On their own faces told us of some joy
Hidden from us, and incommunicate.

Now over all the city sweet and still

Brooded a shadow of mysterious hope,

Unmixed with fear, for heaven and man were

friends;

Yet not on every night the signs appeared,

But often far between,—or yet again

On some auspicious hours they crowded in,
Fast following, or together: therefore all