Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/44

 28 JOHN M. HARNEY. [1820-30, THE FEVER DREAM. A FEVER scorched my body, fired my brain, Like lava in Vesuvius, boiled my blood Within the glowing caverns of my heart. I raged with thirst, and begged a cold, clear draught Of fountain water. — 'Twas with tears denied. I drank a nauseous febrifuge, and slept ; But rested not — harassed with horrid dreams Of burning deserts, and of dusty plains. Mountains disgorging flames — forests on fire, Steam, sunshine, smoke, and ever-boihng lakes — Hills of hot sand, and glowing stones that seemed Embers and ashes of a burnt up world! Thirst raged within me. — I sought the deepest vale, And called on all the rocks and caves for water; — I climbed a mountain, and from cliiF to cliff Pursued a flying cloud, howling for water: — I crushed the withered herbs, and gnawed dry roots, Still crying, Water! — While the cliifs and caves. In horrid mockery, re-echoed "Water!" Below the mountain gleamed a city, red With solar flame, upon the sandy bank Of a broad river. — " Soon, oh soon !" I cried, " I'll cool my burning body in that flood, And quafi" my fill." — I ran — I reached the shore. The river was dried up. Its oozy bed Was dust; and on its arid rocks, I saw The scaly myriads fry beneath the sun! Where sank the channel deepest, I beheld A stirring multitude of human forms, And heard a faint, wild, lamentable wail, Thither I sped, and joined the general cry Of " Water !" They had delved a spacious pit Li search of hidden fountains ; sad, sad sight ! I saw them rend the rocks up in their rage. With mad impatience calling on the earth To open and yield up her cooling springs. Meanwhile the skies, on which they dared not gaze. Stood o'er them like a canopy of brass — Undimmed by moisture. The red dog-star raged, And Phoebus from the house of Virgo shot His scorching shafts. The thirsty multi- tude Grew still more frantic. Those who dug the earth Fell lifeless on the rocks they strained to upheave. And filled again, wdth their own carcasses, The pits they made — ^undomg theii' own work ! Despair at length drove out the laborers. At sight of whom a general groan an- nounced The death of hope. Ah ! now no more was heard The cry of "Water!" To the city next, Howling, we ran — all hurrying without aim: — Thence to the woods. The baked plain gaped for moisture. And from its arid breast heaved smoke, that seemed Breath of a furnace — fierce, volcanic fire. Or hot monsoon, that raises Syi'ian sands To clouds. Amid the forests we espied A faint and bleating herd. Sudden a slu'ill And horrid shout arose of " Blood ! blood ! blood !" We fell upon them with a tiger's thirst. And drank up all the blood that was not human ! We were dyed in blood ! Despair returned ;