Baptistry

One winter eve, at twilight, when the sound

Of sorrowful winds scarce troubled Nature’s rest,

As she lay sleeping, with her hair unbound,

Holding her grey robe to her shivering breast,

I enter’d through a low-arch’d oaken door,

Circled with curious sculpture; and I crept

With slow, hush’d footsteps, o’er the shadow’d floor,

Where organ notes in sudden silence slept;

Far down the aisle, where darkness seem’d to brood

With such wide-spreading wings, and where the sigh

Of murmur’d prayer scarce came,-until I stood

In the deep stillness of the Baptistry.

There, in the dim side-chapel, no bright glow

From jewelled windows on the wall was shed;

No sunbeams rested on the font below,

Or kiss’d those mighty arches overhead.

Soft lines and curves went upward, and were lost

In solemn shadow and in dreamy space;

Only the level floor was faintly crost

With glimmering brightness from the holy place.

And, as I listen’d, I heard music sweet

Trembling and swelling through the soundless air,

Threading dark aisles, as if an angel’s feet

Were bidden bring God’s message to me there.

Ah! and the echo of those anthem notes

Wanders and whispers in my heart for aye:

In all my life the mystic language floats,

Fitful and faint, as in my ears that day.

One whom we knew had enter’d into rest-

Calm on the pillow lay his hoary head;

And through that music spoke, in accents blest,

Our holy Mother’s voice, hallowing the dead,

Telling of perfect peace, of labours done,

Of long years’ sorrow turned to joy at last-

The quiet sleep, when battles all are won-

The hush of evening when the day is past.

I look’d upon the font, and mused of all

Its wondrous meaning, till my thoughts grew dim

And vast and shadowy as those columns tall;-

Morning of life for me-death’s night for him!

How fancy tried to span that awful space

Between the two-between the here and there!

To bridge the nave-up to that blessed Place

Where light and song stream’d on the chancel-stair!

Dim recollections drifted through my brain-

Echoing footfalls of past childish years,

When the baptismal robe had less of stain,

E’en though unwash’d by penitential tears.

I saw the gloomy shadows o’er my head,

And sigh’d to think how I had suffer’d loss;

I saw the soft light, and was comforted,-

I knew it shone straight from the chancel-cross.

A few more steps, and then I stood below

The towering minster coronet again;

Down on my face that pure and gentle glow

Fell, like a pitying kiss in time of pain.

Down to my feet it stream’d; a passage dim,

With hosts of phantom-shapes on either side,

It drifted through;-as songs of seraphim

Drift through our mourning hearts at Easter-tide.

Looking up then, I seem’d to see my life,-

A long, dim vista, where the rays descend-

Where light and darkness wage continual strife;

But only light-the full light-at the end.

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• Robert Burns: Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.: Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Miss Ferrier: Enclosing the Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Impromptu On Carron Iron Works: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On The Death Of John M’Leod, Esq,: Brother to a young Lady, a particular friend of the Author’s. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Jean Scott: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Bard At Inverary: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Elegy On “Stella”: The following poem is the work of some hapless son of the Muses who deserved a better fate. There is a great deal of “The voice of Cona” in his solitary, mournful notes; and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone’s language, they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet.-R.B. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech, Publisher: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church: Who was looking up the text during sermon. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To Wm. Tytler, Esq., Of Woodhouselee: With an Impression of the Author’s Portrait. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Hey, Ca’ Thro’ – Boat song: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. William Michie: Schoolmaster of Cleish Parish, Fifeshire. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epitaph For William Nicol, Of The High School, Edinburgh: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Lines Written Under The Picture Of The Celebrated Miss Burns: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Bottle And Friend: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Elphinstone’s Translation Of Martial’s Epigrams: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Book-Worms: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram Addressed To An Artist: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epigram At Roslin Inn: by Robert Burns

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