Of poetry composed in dreams there are several well-authenticated instances—the most remarkable, perhaps, being the fragment of Kubla Khan composed by Coleridge: instances of ‘dream-music’ are, I think, less common. The history of the dream, in which the accompanying specimen of dream-music was composed, is here given in the words of the dreamer. In adapting words to the music, a slight transposition of the lines recalled by the dreamer seemed necessary, in order to meet the rhythmical necessities of the melody.
“I found myself seated, with many others, in darkness, in a large amphitheatre. Deep stillness prevailed. A kind of hushed expectancy was upon us. We sat awaiting I know not what. Before us hung a vast and dark curtain, and between it and us was a kind of stage. Suddenly an intense wish seized me to look upon the forms of some of the heroes of past days. I cannot say whom in particular I longed to behold, but, even as I wished, a faint light flickered over the stage, and I was aware of a silent procession of figures moving from right to left across the platform in front of me. As each figure approached the left-hand corner, it turned and gazed at me, and I knew (by what means I cannot say) its name. One only I recall—Saint George: the light shone with a peculiar blueish lustre on his shield and helmet as he turned and slowly faced me. The figures were shadowy and floated like mist before me: as each one disappeared an invisible choir behind the curtain sang the ‘Dream Music.’ I awoke with the melody ringing in my ears, and the words of the last line complete—‘I see the shadows falling. And slowly pass away’—the rest I could not recall.”
Words by Lewis Carroll. Music by C. E. Hutchinson.
When midnight mists are creeping,
And all the land is sleeping,
Around me tread the mighty dead,
And slowly pass away.
Lo, warriors, saints, and sages,
From out the vanished ages,
With solemn pace and reverend face
Appear and pass away.
The blaze of noonday splendour,
The twilight soft and tender,
May charm the eye: yet they shall die,
Shall die and pass away.
But here, in Dreamland’s centre,
No spoiler’s hand may enter,
These visions fair, this radiance rare,
Shall never pass away.
I see the shadows falling,
The forms of old recalling;
Around me tread the mighty dead,
And slowly pass away.