THE THREE WAKINGS.

Among the ancient Laplanders magic was an hereditary art. There were, however, some magicians of a higher character, to whom, in three supernatural sicknesses, or trances, one in childhood, one in youth, and one in manhood, the spirits themselves taught the secrets of the invisible world. These were honoured by the whole nation as seers. Mone. Geschichte des Heidenthums.

ARGUMENT.

The poet-child plays on the margin of the river of life. There the First Trance overpowers him. He awakens from it to the wonderful beauty of the universe. The magic boat bears him away from the broad stream of life to the regions of fancy. There the Second Trance overshadows him. In it he is aroused to the sense of duty and the necessity of work. He girds himself for the strife. In the flush of the triumph which succeeds it, he is overcome by the Third Trance. In it are revealed to him the grace of God, redemption, and the free service of love.

I.

BESIDE the ancient river
The infant poet played,
The grave old rocks above him
Laughed at the mirth he made.

The boat that bore him thither
Lay idle on the shore,

His pearly boat that fast could float

Without or sail or oar.

The fresh young leaves on the hoar old trees
Quivered and fluttered in glee,

And the merry rills from the mighty hills
Shouted as loud as he.

The birds poured joyous welcomes,
For they deemed him one of them;
And the snowdrop laughed in her quiet joy,
Till she shook on her delicate stem.

Broad is that ancient river,

And its depths no sailor knows;

It comes from a place no foot can trace
'Mid the clouds and the ancient snows;

And on its breast is bounding

Many a gallant bark ;

(Do they know that at last o'er a chasm vast It leaps into the dark?)

But to the child its waters

Were his playmates glad and sweet,

Chasing each other merrily

To bathe his snowy feet;

The starry hosts above him
Were the flowers of the sky,
Too high, perhaps, to gather,
But too beautiful to die;

The world with all its wonders,
Its heavens and its sea,
Was his play-room, full of playmates,

Each one as glad as he.

But as he laughed and gambolled
Strange languor o'er him stole;

His eyes grew dim, and faint each limb,
And dark the sunny soul,

The world was a royal palace,

And no stranger guest was he;
As the silvery fish in the silvery brooks
Leaps in its wanton glee,—

As the lark in the air and sunshine

When the early mists are curled,-
His spirit bathed and revelled
In the beauty of the world.

He sought not his joy to utter,
He was content to see;
It was enough to listen-
It was enough to be!

He had rejoiced for ever
In this Eden to abide,
But the pearly boat began to float
Languidly down the tide.

He left the ancient river
Where the great navies lay,
And glided up a quiet stream
From the din and strife away.

The waves its prow disparted
Made music as it went,

Like lyres and lutes and silvery flutes,
In sweet confusion blent;

Till they came through a rocky portal

Roofed with many a gem, (But one of the countless number

Had graced a diadem.)

THE THREE WAKINGS.

Into a world of wonders,

Where reigned nor sun nor moon, But a magie light as still as night, And warm as the softest noon.

Onwards and onwards gliding

By those shores of wondrous things, 'Mid the murmur of dreamy voices, And the waving of viewless wings;

Beneath Aladdin's palace,

Where the gems lay thick as flowers,
And the languid day trickled away
Like the fountain 'midst leafy bowers;

Amidst the tangled woodland,
Where in the chequered glade,
With wild and tuneful laughter
The fairy people played;

Beneath the cliffs he glided,
And the unclouded sky,
Where the stately Attic temple
Reared its white shafts on high;

And kingly men and women,

The brave and wise and strong, Earth's loftiest and sweetest souls, Lived and made life a song;

Beneath the Northern forest,

Where the thunderbolts were made, And spirits and gods and mighty men Met in the mystic shade;

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