 | The Demon of Destiny |  |
37
BOOK VI.
Th' Assyrian tale the aged pastor told,
As if he thought the sadness of Salome
Proceeded from some unavailing fondness
Which the fram'd system of the world forbade;
And the shrewd veteran mark'd, with heedful eye,
The coursing shadows that his visage show'd
At every incident, and saw his fancies
Were all the issue of some early passion,
Like that which fir'd the Babylonian boy;
But nothing said, for night was wearing late,
And sleep invited to the bower of dreams.
As if he thought the sadness of Salome
Proceeded from some unavailing fondness
Which the fram'd system of the world forbade;
And the shrewd veteran mark'd, with heedful eye,
The coursing shadows that his visage show'd
At every incident, and saw his fancies
Were all the issue of some early passion,
Like that which fir'd the Babylonian boy;
But nothing said, for night was wearing late,
And sleep invited to the bower of dreams.
Salome, still thoughtful, restless on his bed
Writh'd, as if struggling with a malady,—
And with a malady he did contend;
For o'er his spirit, with the grasps of passion,
The Demon of his Destiny was lord,
Or tried to be, despite of all the aids
That Nature lent him for such midnight strife.
Writh'd, as if struggling with a malady,—
And with a malady he did contend;
For o'er his spirit, with the grasps of passion,
The Demon of his Destiny was lord,
Or tried to be, despite of all the aids
That Nature lent him for such midnight strife.
At last the orient mantl'd morning smil'd
Into his chamber, and the birds without
Sooth'd his rack'd bosom to tranquillity;
But, with the contest of the dismal night,
He look'd so woe-begone, haggard, and wan,
That all might see how dreadful in his breast
Had been the Earthquake of his cogitations.
Into his chamber, and the birds without
Sooth'd his rack'd bosom to tranquillity;
But, with the contest of the dismal night,
He look'd so woe-begone, haggard, and wan,
That all might see how dreadful in his breast
Had been the Earthquake of his cogitations.
The blameless pastor ponder'd at the sight,
Deeming, perchance, in some unguarded hour,
He had obey'd the instigating fiends;
For deeper far he saw into his soul
The iron had enter'd, than he ever thought—
Mild blameless man—could passion without guile;
And thus while yet the way-worn veteran slept,
His legendary lore a tale supplied,
By which he thought to calm his guest again.
Deeming, perchance, in some unguarded hour,
He had obey'd the instigating fiends;
For deeper far he saw into his soul
The iron had enter'd, than he ever thought—
Mild blameless man—could passion without guile;
And thus while yet the way-worn veteran slept,
His legendary lore a tale supplied,
By which he thought to calm his guest again.
“Lone on the moorland liv'd an Anchorite,
Who ever silent mus'd, and with his sighs,
Which burst in anguish as he sat forlorn,
Oft Nature sympathis'd, and from their caves
The pitying Echoes, moaning, shar'd his woe.
Who ever silent mus'd, and with his sighs,
Which burst in anguish as he sat forlorn,
Oft Nature sympathis'd, and from their caves
The pitying Echoes, moaning, shar'd his woe.
“What care or crime had scorch'd his sinless heart,
When in the world he brav'd the war of men,
Was undivulg'd. The list'ning solitude
But only heard one sad lamenting moan.
When in the world he brav'd the war of men,
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But only heard one sad lamenting moan.
“Once, in the sultry of a summer's day,
When rills from uplands were as strings of stars,
Where torrents rag'd, sleep on him fell.
And when he woke, his alter'd look appear'd
As if the slumber had subdued his pain.
And it was so; for he in trance had seen
The Great Assize,—the solemn day of Heaven;
And thus the vision of his dream disclos'd:—
When rills from uplands were as strings of stars,
Where torrents rag'd, sleep on him fell.
And when he woke, his alter'd look appear'd
As if the slumber had subdued his pain.
And it was so; for he in trance had seen
The Great Assize,—the solemn day of Heaven;
And thus the vision of his dream disclos'd:—
“‘Methought I stood upon a lofty tower,
And from the battlements, beheld around
The rimless realm of the Almighty God;
And where I stood, refulgent roll'd below
The cycl'd and the circling worlds of time.
And from the battlements, beheld around
The rimless realm of the Almighty God;
And where I stood, refulgent roll'd below
The cycl'd and the circling worlds of time.
“‘The sight was glorious; countless orbs around
Shone in the boundless vast, and forms all sight
Were visible, on merciful intents,
Amidst the linked spheres—Angels of God
Bright issuing ever from the gates of Heaven.
Shone in the boundless vast, and forms all sight
Were visible, on merciful intents,
Amidst the linked spheres—Angels of God
Bright issuing ever from the gates of Heaven.
“‘While I that horizonless scene survey'd,
And that infinitude of holy fires
Which, wing'd with glory, erranded with bliss,
Pervaded all the orbits of Creation,
I saw reveal'd, as to the guardian powers
That ward the several destinies of worlds
All things are shown, whate'er in them is seen:
The secret hearts of those that there inhabit
Were not laid bare; but by the eye of God
Their occultations are alone discern'd.
And that infinitude of holy fires
Which, wing'd with glory, erranded with bliss,
Pervaded all the orbits of Creation,
I saw reveal'd, as to the guardian powers
That ward the several destinies of worlds
All things are shown, whate'er in them is seen:
The secret hearts of those that there inhabit
Were not laid bare; but by the eye of God
Their occultations are alone discern'd.
“‘Startling my mood of wonder, as I gaz'd,
A mighty seraph came to Heaven's gate,
And with a trumpet blazon'd an alarm
So mighty, universal, and so dread,
That it was almost as the judgment voice
Of the Omnipotent, pronouncing doom.
A mighty seraph came to Heaven's gate,
And with a trumpet blazon'd an alarm
So mighty, universal, and so dread,
That it was almost as the judgment voice
Of the Omnipotent, pronouncing doom.
“‘But ere I could from my amazement rouse,
I saw the space in which the planets roll'd
As in the air, all scintillate,—and from
Each orb, past angels' computation, rise
Millions on millions of the souls of those
Who had as mortals liv'd responsible.
All different seem'd,—not two were there alike,
And each was by itself to be adjudg'd.
I saw the space in which the planets roll'd
As in the air, all scintillate,—and from
Each orb, past angels' computation, rise
Millions on millions of the souls of those
Who had as mortals liv'd responsible.
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And each was by itself to be adjudg'd.
“‘Anon I heard, while standing on that tower,
A hurl far louder than the thunder's hurl,—
Yea, more tremendous than all sounding sounds,—
And presently from out Heaven's portal came
The winged chariots which were stor'd of old
In God's great arsenal, between the Mounts,
Moving instinctively; for now was then
The solemn day for which they were prepar'd.
A hurl far louder than the thunder's hurl,—
Yea, more tremendous than all sounding sounds,—
And presently from out Heaven's portal came
The winged chariots which were stor'd of old
In God's great arsenal, between the Mounts,
Moving instinctively; for now was then
The solemn day for which they were prepar'd.
“‘Then I beheld, descending to the Earth,
A stream of radiance,—as down Etna's steep
The fiery torrents of the lava pour,—
But more in splendour, brightly luminous,
Than sheen of day, seen in some vault obscure
Piercing the gloom—all other light shut out.
A stream of radiance,—as down Etna's steep
The fiery torrents of the lava pour,—
But more in splendour, brightly luminous,
Than sheen of day, seen in some vault obscure
Piercing the gloom—all other light shut out.
“‘Then o'er the spirit of my dream a change
Came suddenly, and I upon the earth
Stood in the valley of Jehosaphat,—
Where, like the morn unfolding, I beheld
The Judge of all, with all his angels, come—
A blaze unspeakable. Upon my heart
I felt the glow of that sublimity—
And round arose as 'twere th' autumnal stir
Of wither'd leaves in lone primeval woods.
Then I beheld, all holding hand in hand,
The generations of the human kind
Conven'd from Death to learn their final doom.
Came suddenly, and I upon the earth
Stood in the valley of Jehosaphat,—
Where, like the morn unfolding, I beheld
The Judge of all, with all his angels, come—
A blaze unspeakable. Upon my heart
I felt the glow of that sublimity—
And round arose as 'twere th' autumnal stir
Of wither'd leaves in lone primeval woods.
Then I beheld, all holding hand in hand,
The generations of the human kind
Conven'd from Death to learn their final doom.
“‘Bare beggars of a Royal line were there,—
Those who had rotted in uncoffin'd rags,
Yet heirs of thrones and principalities.
There, too, were scions of the proud superb,
Humbl'd and pale; and from the gallows tree,
The felon sons of many a virtuous Sire:
Born slaves, with diadems of Kings, and all
That sullied or adorn'd the sentenc'd earth.
Those who had rotted in uncoffin'd rags,
Yet heirs of thrones and principalities.
There, too, were scions of the proud superb,
Humbl'd and pale; and from the gallows tree,
The felon sons of many a virtuous Sire:
Born slaves, with diadems of Kings, and all
That sullied or adorn'd the sentenc'd earth.
“‘I saw there, too, my deadliest foeman frown
Only at me, and him I deem'd my friend,
Blush as he saw me. All my father's house
Scowl'd at me sullenly, and all my mother's;—
But she received me with a mother's heart,
As if well pleas'd the Great Assize was come.
Only at me, and him I deem'd my friend,
Blush as he saw me. All my father's house
Scowl'd at me sullenly, and all my mother's;—
But she received me with a mother's heart,
As if well pleas'd the Great Assize was come.
“‘There, too, was seen, benign as lunar light,
The fair that cheer'd me in the vernal day,
Shining as lovely and incredulous,
As when I wept to see her pass away.
But who shall reckon the assembl'd there,
Save only Him who keeps the Book of Life.
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Shining as lovely and incredulous,
As when I wept to see her pass away.
But who shall reckon the assembl'd there,
Save only Him who keeps the Book of Life.
“‘While all stood waiting, in a twinkling gather'd,
A voice was heard above the glorious throng,
As if a father called his little ones,
At which the children from their parents sprung—
And sparkling, numberless, flew up to Heaven—
The destin'd cherubs of Eternity.
A voice was heard above the glorious throng,
As if a father called his little ones,
At which the children from their parents sprung—
And sparkling, numberless, flew up to Heaven—
The destin'd cherubs of Eternity.
“‘Then was the volume of the Lord unclasp'd,
And all around a wail of fear arose—
Th' unconscious utterance of the self-condemn'd.—
And an archangel bade the convicts then
To fit appointed cells and dungeons go,—
Their everlasting jails. The blest serene
Mounted aloft into beatitude.
And all around a wail of fear arose—
Th' unconscious utterance of the self-condemn'd.—
And an archangel bade the convicts then
To fit appointed cells and dungeons go,—
Their everlasting jails. The blest serene
Mounted aloft into beatitude.
“‘Another change then on my spirit fell,
And I was all forlorn; around me lay
Strange vestiges of men, with creatures dead;
The channels of all streams run out, were dry,—
The mountain springs had leap'd from their last rocks—
All leaves were fallen,—sound itself was dumb,—
And every wind was as a dead man's breath.
Great Niagara! voice of inland seas,
Mute as the mummies of the pyramids,
Show'd life was done, and time itself no more.
And I was all forlorn; around me lay
Strange vestiges of men, with creatures dead;
The channels of all streams run out, were dry,—
The mountain springs had leap'd from their last rocks—
All leaves were fallen,—sound itself was dumb,—
And every wind was as a dead man's breath.
Great Niagara! voice of inland seas,
Mute as the mummies of the pyramids,
Show'd life was done, and time itself no more.
“‘Then soon I heard myself, the final one,
Summon'd by name, commanded to declare
Why I still linger'd last of all that liv'd.
Glowing with courage never felt before,
I lowlyly but firmly made reply:—
Summon'd by name, commanded to declare
Why I still linger'd last of all that liv'd.
Glowing with courage never felt before,
I lowlyly but firmly made reply:—
“‘Thou know'st my heart; within the Book of Life
Is written all I ever thought or did:
And thus, too, are unmitigated told
Those dismal sequences I could but rue
Of my mysterious fate. Why was it so?
Why did all others prosper by the guide
That here remains, the ultimate of men?
Grant me but justice! Thou canst but be just,—
Life was unsought, and I have known but woe.
Is written all I ever thought or did:
And thus, too, are unmitigated told
Those dismal sequences I could but rue
Of my mysterious fate. Why was it so?
Why did all others prosper by the guide
That here remains, the ultimate of men?
Grant me but justice! Thou canst but be just,—
Life was unsought, and I have known but woe.
“‘With that compassion which a parent hears
The themeless babble of his idiot child,
The piteous Judge then motion'd to reply;
But, ere his words my anxious hearing blest,
The trance departed, and I woke appeas'd.’”
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The piteous Judge then motion'd to reply;
But, ere his words my anxious hearing blest,
The trance departed, and I woke appeas'd.’”
Salome survey'd the pastor while he spoke,
And thoughtful listening, as he sat beside him,
Said, with sad pregnant eyes, when he had done:—
“Why sound me thus, as if within my heart
Were aught all-sighted Heaven did not discern?
My aim in youth was Fortune's aid to gain,
Which rules mankind,—that I might then command:
And when she turn'd from me, I deem'd myself
Still fit to earn some guerdon of renown,
The hire of noble deeds,—that glorious prize
Which, more than gold, is worshipp'd by the world.
But all that was in me of hope is wither'd—
My life's abortive, and for that I mourn.
All things have purpose, but untask'd, I pine.
The tear of grief relieves the heavy heart,—
The pains of suffering waken anxious love;
But I am useless,—ay, as fortitude
That cheats compassion at the couch of ail.”
And thoughtful listening, as he sat beside him,
Said, with sad pregnant eyes, when he had done:—
“Why sound me thus, as if within my heart
Were aught all-sighted Heaven did not discern?
My aim in youth was Fortune's aid to gain,
Which rules mankind,—that I might then command:
And when she turn'd from me, I deem'd myself
Still fit to earn some guerdon of renown,
The hire of noble deeds,—that glorious prize
Which, more than gold, is worshipp'd by the world.
But all that was in me of hope is wither'd—
My life's abortive, and for that I mourn.
All things have purpose, but untask'd, I pine.
The tear of grief relieves the heavy heart,—
The pains of suffering waken anxious love;
But I am useless,—ay, as fortitude
That cheats compassion at the couch of ail.”
Meantime the veteran of the world had enter'd,
And heard Salome, as to their host he thus
Pour'd the corrosive of his discontent;—
He look'd at him, beheld his hopeless mein,
And warily, like one in cities bred,
Said, as unheeding, but advisedly:
“Men often fall the victims of themselves,
Mistaking wishes and desires for powers
That justify their ineffectual aims.
None but the gifted, Heaven's mysterious own,
Have influence on the structure of the world.
The multitudes, that into being rise,
Are but as hands and limbs, agents of toil;
And those who think that impulse is endowment,
See not themselves, alas! as others see them.”
And heard Salome, as to their host he thus
Pour'd the corrosive of his discontent;—
He look'd at him, beheld his hopeless mein,
And warily, like one in cities bred,
Said, as unheeding, but advisedly:
“Men often fall the victims of themselves,
Mistaking wishes and desires for powers
That justify their ineffectual aims.
None but the gifted, Heaven's mysterious own,
Have influence on the structure of the world.
The multitudes, that into being rise,
Are but as hands and limbs, agents of toil;
And those who think that impulse is endowment,
See not themselves, alas! as others see them.”
“Yes!” cried the pastor, taking up the theme,
“Since the first taste of the forbidden tree,
Men have been thralls to what they Reason deem.
Reason, that is in every one unlike,
Is judg'd by all as if it were the same;
And yet 'tis but some mystical secretion
Of Nature, as she works in different men
With humours, passions, likings and dislikes.”
“Since the first taste of the forbidden tree,
Men have been thralls to what they Reason deem.
Reason, that is in every one unlike,
Is judg'd by all as if it were the same;
And yet 'tis but some mystical secretion
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With humours, passions, likings and dislikes.”
“But think not, stranger,” said the veteran
To pale Salome, “that though on all the earth
Man, with his Reason, can but ill achieve,
There is not yet some high controlling might
That turns his errors to a blest account.
Whatever is, is but as is a germ
That will unfold into the amaranth;
And he who deems that we are but for life,—
Our only end,—and death maturity,
Should ask himself, why does the vernal wind
Shake buds to leaves, or summer's blandishments
Caress the harvest till the autumn come?
No, no; poor man, in wit so arrogant,
Forgets his momentary state,—a mote
That flickers in a ray, vouchsaf'd of God;
And judges of the boundless engin'ry,
As of a thing wound up to tell him time.
All that shall be, is, and will come to pass;
But nought that man may of himself resolve
Bears any vouchers for a progeny.”
To pale Salome, “that though on all the earth
Man, with his Reason, can but ill achieve,
There is not yet some high controlling might
That turns his errors to a blest account.
Whatever is, is but as is a germ
That will unfold into the amaranth;
And he who deems that we are but for life,—
Our only end,—and death maturity,
Should ask himself, why does the vernal wind
Shake buds to leaves, or summer's blandishments
Caress the harvest till the autumn come?
No, no; poor man, in wit so arrogant,
Forgets his momentary state,—a mote
That flickers in a ray, vouchsaf'd of God;
And judges of the boundless engin'ry,
As of a thing wound up to tell him time.
All that shall be, is, and will come to pass;
But nought that man may of himself resolve
Bears any vouchers for a progeny.”
In such discourse they pass'd the morning hours;
And when they had dispatch'd their temp'rate meal,
The pastor rose, on rural cares intent,
As well became his frugal homeliness,
While the staid vet'ran show'd that he conjectur'd
The bosom's malady that irk'd Salome.
And when they had dispatch'd their temp'rate meal,
The pastor rose, on rural cares intent,
As well became his frugal homeliness,
While the staid vet'ran show'd that he conjectur'd
The bosom's malady that irk'd Salome.
Unansw'ring long, the Errant musing sat,
Till, as the daylight of a cloudy morn
Dawns dubiously, the cheerless thought arose,
That, though so goaded by his Love, unblest
In early youth, he strove for eminence,
Nature on him had but bestow'd desire,—
Withholding that diviner faculty
Which is the motherhood of wealth or fame,
And hung his head like one that feels, when late,
He has too bravely challeng'd destiny.
Till, as the daylight of a cloudy morn
Dawns dubiously, the cheerless thought arose,
That, though so goaded by his Love, unblest
In early youth, he strove for eminence,
Nature on him had but bestow'd desire,—
Withholding that diviner faculty
Which is the motherhood of wealth or fame,
And hung his head like one that feels, when late,
He has too bravely challeng'd destiny.
Just then the demon, as the pastor, enter'd,
And as if coming from his rural thrift,
Join'd the wayfarers, mingling in discourse;
For in the shaded fancy of Salome
He saw the omen of a change portend,
That might effect his wiles and stratagems:
Aware that hitherto the youth conceived
Himself predestin'd for some great design.
And as if coming from his rural thrift,
Join'd the wayfarers, mingling in discourse;
For in the shaded fancy of Salome
He saw the omen of a change portend,
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Aware that hitherto the youth conceived
Himself predestin'd for some great design.
With artful phrase, the guileful wove his speech
To rouse the hopes which he in youth inspir'd,
To urge Salome to crave pre-eminence.
And chiefly then he tried to work anew
The young conceit of gifts inherited,
To work the defication of mankind.
To rouse the hopes which he in youth inspir'd,
To urge Salome to crave pre-eminence.
And chiefly then he tried to work anew
The young conceit of gifts inherited,
To work the defication of mankind.
Believing him to be their pious host,
The veteran heard, as one submissive hears,
Impassion'd eloquence, beyond the need.
And when he told, with many a devious bout,
Of how the pristine world was sinless fram'd,—
And how by forfeit, for their parents' sin,
Men had incurr'd vengeance and wrath, he turn'd
To sad Salome, and feign'd a mystic tale
Of things devised on high,—what time the world
Was for its guiltiness all wash'd away.
“Yes!” he exclaim'd, “though penalty of old
Stood sentinel in arb'rous Eden's bower
Like the fam'd griffin in Hesperides,
Guarding the golden fruit,—Genius was not;
And Heav'n, that ne'er undoes, nor turns to mend,
When it decreed the world should be restor'd,
Created Genius,—and at times assigns
That glorious emanation of itself
As a new quality, ordain'd to bear
Mankind into a brighter state on high,
When Death, Its messenger, summonses us hence,
Or in this domicile to cleanse the mind.”
The veteran heard, as one submissive hears,
Impassion'd eloquence, beyond the need.
And when he told, with many a devious bout,
Of how the pristine world was sinless fram'd,—
And how by forfeit, for their parents' sin,
Men had incurr'd vengeance and wrath, he turn'd
To sad Salome, and feign'd a mystic tale
Of things devised on high,—what time the world
Was for its guiltiness all wash'd away.
“Yes!” he exclaim'd, “though penalty of old
Stood sentinel in arb'rous Eden's bower
Like the fam'd griffin in Hesperides,
Guarding the golden fruit,—Genius was not;
And Heav'n, that ne'er undoes, nor turns to mend,
When it decreed the world should be restor'd,
Created Genius,—and at times assigns
That glorious emanation of itself
As a new quality, ordain'd to bear
Mankind into a brighter state on high,
When Death, Its messenger, summonses us hence,
Or in this domicile to cleanse the mind.”
Thus, till convinc'd he had secur'd his hearing,
He seem'd in Fancy as a bard to dream;
And then, as an apocalypse, he told
Of mysteries past, and ratified by Fate.
He seem'd in Fancy as a bard to dream;
And then, as an apocalypse, he told
Of mysteries past, and ratified by Fate.
| The Demon of Destiny | |