'Dream , The' by George Gordon, Lord Byron

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I

Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past -they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power -
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not -what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow? -What are they?
Creations of the mind? -The mind can make
Substances, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
I would recall a vision which I dreamed
Perchance in sleep -for in itself a thought,
A slumbering thought, is capable of years,
And curdles a long life into one hour.

II

I saw two beings in the hues of youth
Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,
Green and of mild declivity, the last
As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such,
Save that there was no sea to lave its base,
But a most living landscape, and the wave
Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men
Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke
Arising from such rustic roofs: the hill
Was crowned with a peculiar diadem
Of trees, in circular array, so fixed,
Not by the sport of nature, but of man:
These two, a maiden and a youth, were there
Gazing -the one on all that was beneath
Fair as herself -but the boy gazed on her;
And both were young, and one was beautiful:
And both were young -yet not alike in youth.
As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge,
The maid was on the eve of womanhood;
The boy had fewer summers, but his heart
Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him; he had looked
Upon it till it could not pass away;
He had no breath, no being, but in hers:
She was his voice; he did not speak to her,
But trembled on her words; she was his sight,
For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,
Which coloured all his objects; -he had ceased
To live within himself: she was his life,
The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
Which terminated all; upon a tone,
A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,
And his cheek change tempestuously -his heart
Unknowing of its cause of agony.
But she in these fond feelings had no share:
Her sighs were not for him; to her he was
Even as a brother -but no more; 'twas much,
For brotherless she was, save in the name
Her infant friendship had bestowed on him;
Herself the solitary scion left
Of a time-honoured race. -It was a name
Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not -and why?
Time taught him a deep answer -when she loved
Another; even now she loved another,
And on the summit of that hill she stood
Looking afar if yet her lover's steed
Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.

III

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
There was an ancient mansion, and before
Its walls there was a steed caparisoned:
Within an antique Oratory stood
The Boy of whom I spake; -he was alone,
And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon
He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced
Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned
His bowed head on his hands and shook, as 'twere
With a convulsion -then rose again,
And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear
What he had written, but he shed no tears.
And he did calm himself, and fix his brow
Into a kind of quiet: as he paused,
The Lady of his love re-entered there;
She was serene and smiling then, and yet
She knew she was by him beloved; she knew -
For quickly comes such knowledge -that his heart
Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw
That he was wretched, but she saw not all.
He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp
He took her hand; a moment o'er his face
A tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;
He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps
Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,
For they did part with mutual smiles; he passed
From out the massy gate of that old Hall,
And mounting on his steed he went his way;
And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.

IV

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds
Of fiery climes he made himself a home,
And his Soul drank their sunbeams; he was girt
With strange and dusky aspects; he was not
Himself like what he had been; on the sea
And on the shore he was a wanderer;
There was a mass of many images
Crowded like waves upon me, but he was
A part of all; and in the last he lay
Reposing from the noontide sultriness,
Couched among fallen columns, in the shade
Of ruined walls that had survived the names
Of those who reared them; by his sleeping side
Stood camels grazing, and some goodly steeds
Were fastened near a fountain; and a man,
Glad in a flowing garb, did watch the while,
While many of his tribe slumbered around:
And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in heaven.

V

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Lady of his love was wed with One
Who did not love her better: in her home,
A thousand leagues from his, -her native home,
She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy,
Daughters and sons of Beauty, -but behold!
Upon her face there was a tint of grief,
The settled shadow of an inward strife,
And an unquiet drooping of the eye,
As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.
What could her grief be? -she had all she loved,
And he who had so loved her was not there
To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish,
Or ill-repressed affliction, her pure thoughts.
What could her grief be? -she had loved him not,
Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved,
Nor could he be a part of that which preyed
Upon her mind -a spectre of the past.

VI

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Wanderer was returned. -I saw him stand
Before an altar -with a gentle bride;
Her face was fair, but was not that which made
The Starlight of his Boyhood; -as he stood
Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came
The selfsame aspect and the quivering shock
That in the antique Oratory shook
His bosom in its solitude; and then -
As in that hour -a moment o'er his face
The tablet of unutterable thoughts
Was traced -and then it faded as it came,
And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke
The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,
And all things reeled around him; he could see
Not that which was, nor that which should have been -
But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,
And the remembered chambers, and the place,
The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,
All things pertaining to that place and hour,
And her who was his destiny, came back
And thrust themselves between him and the light;
What business had they there at such a time?

VII

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Lady of his love; -Oh! she was changed,
As by the sickness of the soul; her mind
Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes,
They had not their own lustre, but the look
Which is not of the earth; she was become
The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts
Were combinations of disjointed things;
And forms impalpable and unperceived
Of others' sight familiar were to hers.
And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise
Have a far deeper madness, and the glance
Of melancholy is a fearful gift;
What is it but the telescope of truth?
Which strips the distance of its fantasies,
And brings life near in utter nakedness,
Making the cold reality too real!

VIII

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,
The beings which surrounded him were gone,
Or were at war with him; he was a mark
For blight and desolation, compassed round
With Hatred and Contention; Pain was mixed
In all which was served up to him, until,
Like to the Pontic monarch of old days,
He fed on poisons, and they had no power,
But were a kind of nutriment; he lived
Through that which had been death to many men,
And made him friends of mountains; with the stars
And the quick Spirit of the Universe
He held his dialogues: and they did teach
To him the magic of their mysteries;
To him the book of Night was opened wide,
And voices from the deep abyss revealed
A marvel and a secret. -Be it so.

IX

My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality -the one
To end in madness -both in misery.

Editor 1 Interpretation

Poetry, Dream by Lord Byron: A Masterpiece of Romanticism

Poetry, Dream is a poem written by George Gordon, Lord Byron, one of the most celebrated poets of the Romantic era. This literary masterpiece, first published in 1816, is a vivid expression of Byron's imagination, the depth of his feelings, and his philosophical outlook on life. The poem is a profound meditation on the power of poetry and its ability to move and inspire us. In this literary criticism and interpretation, we will delve into the key themes and motifs of Poetry, Dream by Lord Byron and explore its significance in the context of Romantic literature.

Romanticism and Lord Byron

Before we dive into the poem, it is essential to understand the context in which it was written. The Romantic era was a cultural, artistic, and literary movement that emerged in Europe in the late 18th century and lasted until the mid-19th century. It was characterized by a strong emphasis on emotion, individualism, and the natural world. Romanticism was a reaction against the Enlightenment, which emphasized reason, logic, and rationality.

Lord Byron was one of the most prominent figures of the Romantic era. His poetry was deeply influenced by his own experiences, his travels, and his personal relationships. Byron's poetry is characterized by a strong emphasis on emotion and imagination. He was known for his use of vivid imagery, powerful metaphors, and his ability to capture the complexity of human emotions.

Poetry, Dream: Themes and Motifs

Poetry, Dream is a complex and multi-layered poem that explores several themes and motifs. At its core, the poem is a meditation on the power of poetry and its ability to move us. Byron suggests that poetry has the power to transcend time and space and connect us with something greater than ourselves.

The poem begins with a description of a dream that Byron had. In this dream, he is transported to a beautiful and mysterious place where he is surrounded by the sounds and sights of nature. The dream is a representation of the power of imagination and the ability of poetry to transport us to another world. Byron suggests that poetry has the power to take us on a journey, to help us escape the mundane and the ordinary.

The poem also explores the relationship between poetry and memory. Byron suggests that poetry has the power to preserve our memories and keep them alive. He writes, "Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds." Poetry has the ability to capture the essence of a moment and preserve it for future generations.

Another key theme in the poem is the relationship between poetry and emotion. Byron suggests that poetry has the power to move us, to stir our emotions and touch our souls. He writes, "Poetry is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake." Poetry has the ability to release the emotions that are trapped inside us, to give voice to our deepest fears and desires.

The Power of Imagination

One of the most striking aspects of Poetry, Dream is the emphasis on the power of imagination. Byron suggests that imagination is the key to unlocking the power of poetry. He writes, "Imagination is the air of mind, the food of the soul." Imagination allows us to see beyond what is in front of us, to imagine new possibilities and new worlds.

The dream that Byron experiences in the poem is a representation of the power of imagination. In the dream, he is transported to a magical and mysterious place where he is surrounded by the sounds and sights of nature. The dream is a representation of the ability of imagination to transport us to another world, to help us escape the mundane and the ordinary.

The Relationship Between Poet and Reader

Another key aspect of Poetry, Dream is the relationship between the poet and the reader. Byron suggests that the poet has a responsibility to connect with the reader, to move and inspire them. He writes, "A poet's words are the soul of the poet." The poet's words are a reflection of their own soul, and they have the power to touch the souls of others.

Byron suggests that the poet has a responsibility to speak to the reader's emotions, to move them, and to inspire them. He writes, "Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance." Poetry should feel familiar to the reader, as if it is a reflection of their own thoughts and feelings.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Poetry, Dream is a masterpiece of Romantic literature that explores the power of poetry and the imagination. Byron's poem is a meditation on the ability of poetry to move and inspire us, to connect us with something greater than ourselves. He suggests that poetry has the power to transcend time and space, to preserve our memories and keep them alive. The poem is also a reflection on the relationship between the poet and the reader, and the responsibility of the poet to connect with the reader and move them. Overall, Poetry, Dream is a powerful and moving poem that captures the essence of the Romantic era and the power of poetry to touch our souls.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

The world of poetry is a vast and beautiful one, filled with countless masterpieces that have stood the test of time. One such masterpiece is the classic poem, "The Dream," written by George Gordon, Lord Byron. This poem is a true gem of the Romantic era, and it is a perfect example of the beauty and power of poetry.

At its core, "The Dream" is a poem about love and loss. It tells the story of a man who falls in love with a beautiful woman, only to lose her to death. The poem is divided into three parts, each of which explores a different aspect of the man's experience.

The first part of the poem is a description of the man's dream. In this dream, he sees the woman he loves, and he is filled with joy and happiness. He describes her beauty in vivid detail, and he revels in the feeling of being in love. This part of the poem is filled with imagery and sensory details, which help to create a vivid and immersive experience for the reader.

The second part of the poem is a reflection on the man's loss. He wakes up from his dream and realizes that the woman he loves is gone. He is filled with sadness and despair, and he laments the fact that he will never be able to be with her again. This part of the poem is more introspective and reflective, and it shows the depth of the man's emotions.

The third and final part of the poem is a meditation on the nature of love and loss. The man reflects on the fact that love is fleeting and that all things must come to an end. He realizes that his love for the woman will never truly die, but that it will always be tinged with sadness and loss. This part of the poem is philosophical and contemplative, and it shows the poet's deep understanding of the human experience.

One of the most striking things about "The Dream" is its use of language. Lord Byron was a master of language, and he uses it to great effect in this poem. The language is rich and evocative, and it creates a sense of atmosphere and mood that is truly captivating. The use of imagery and sensory details is particularly effective, and it helps to create a vivid and immersive experience for the reader.

Another notable aspect of "The Dream" is its use of structure. The poem is divided into three parts, each of which explores a different aspect of the man's experience. This structure helps to create a sense of progression and development, and it allows the poet to explore the themes of love and loss in a nuanced and complex way.

Overall, "The Dream" is a true masterpiece of poetry. It is a beautiful and powerful exploration of the human experience, and it shows Lord Byron's deep understanding of the complexities of love and loss. The language is rich and evocative, and the structure is masterful. This poem is a true gem of the Romantic era, and it is a testament to the enduring power of poetry.

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