University of Virginia Library

Deep mutterings were heard,
As of arising thunders;—now in low
And hoarsely-moaning tones, that stirred
All hearts with secret terror—then a long
Continuous, melancholy flow
Of sound, like waves that roll among
The deep, o'erhanging woods;
And then the mountains shook, and sounds
Broke forth from their deep wombs; and then
The roar of rushing floods—
That came, in swift and fearful bounds,
From mountain-top to glen.
The hearts of men were hush'd in chilling fear;
And from the palace and the peasant's cot
They came, and each drew near
The other, muttering some fearful thought.
And straining eyes were turned to heaven;
For thence—the prophet-man had said—
Should come their fearful doom:
But though the mountain-cliffs were riven—
And though each little rippling rill,
That silvered once the meadows fair,
Was swelled to rolling billows—still
No tempest broke the air:
No cloud enwrapped in sable gloom
The blue and peaceful sky;
But there the holy star-light beamed,
And placidly its radiance streamed
Upon each up-turn'd eye.

Then a quick, sharp crash, like a trumpet-blast,
Broke around and above, and the light was past;
And the trampling thunders came fierce and fast:—
Men looked around, and they looked their last.

A moment it paused, and the wind was stilled;
Not a passing zephyr the leaflets thrilled—
Not a ripple broke over the water;
And then o'er the silent sky was spread
A terrible mantle of bloody red,
Like crimson field of slaughter.
And then the lightnings, fork'd and bright,
Gleamed out on the face of the fearful night,
And wrote, in letters of ghastly white,
The sentence of all mankind:
And the eyes of men, in the awful light
Of that flaming sky—grew blind.
A shriek of desperate wo—
A hopeless, wailing, lengthen'd cry,
Of all the soul's deep agony—
Went up to that red sky.
Hushed were their voices then:
And on the stony earth they sank—
The stricken sons of men!
Forgotten now were power and rank:
The diadems of kings were low;
Monarch and peasant felt the blow:
And man crept nearer to his brother—
(He cared not who the wretch might be)
But fearfully each sought another,
For fellowship in misery.
The beggar's arm was wound a prince's neck around—
The neck of royalty.
They waited for their graves—
That silent multitude
The monarch and his slaves,
In golden and in iron chains,
With sightless eyes and throbbing veins,
In wild confusion stood.
There was stillness in heaven and earth,
Silence, and sadness, and gloom:
The world had forgotten its joyous birth,
And waited for the tomb.
And men were crouching on the ground,
And listening to their own dull breathing;
And over their bodies, and round and round,
The slimy snakes were wreathing.
The roar of the tiger was hushed:
The lion sank down, with his spirit crushed;
And forth from their caverns the jackals rushed,
And mingled with mankind!—
All—all—alike—were BLIND!

A light, low sound, as of falling rain!
And on the parched and fiery plain
The showers of heaven descended:
They cooled the hot and fevered brain,
And men were lit with hope again,
As if the curse were ended.
But, sudden on each startled ear,
There came a surging sound!
A sound as of the moaning seas,
Or like the Autumn's sobbing breeze,
That rolls so dolefully around
The bare and bending trees,—
Solemn, and sad, and drear.
Then came the thunder-peal once more,
And the rushing wind, and the ocean-roar,
And the galloping waves on the crumbling shore,
And the muttering earthquake's groan;
Then the sea up-rose, with a sudden swell,
And the heavy clouds unbroken fell,
Till over each forest, and plain, and dell,
The watery pall was thrown.
Shriekings were heard—Creation's wail!—
Howlings of terror rose wild on the gale,
And to the hills they fled—
The multitudes of sightless men!
Where were their shrines of marble then?
Where were their gods of lead?

They mounted to the hills—
The craggy steeps they gained;
And to their gods, in desperate yells,
Their choking voices strained.
The slow, engulfing waves drew nigh—
Against each rocky cliff they beat:
They reached each steep, each mountain high,
They licked their victims' feet.
Up, up!—the waves grew wilder yet
They mingled with the bloody sweat
That bathed each clammy breast:
Fiercely they came, and the multitude knelt,
As the crawling curse on their limbs they felt;
And from each gasping heart arose
A cry to Him who ruled their woes;
And each dark lip confessed
The justness of their doom!
They prayed to that strange God, whose Name
Burned in their souls like living flame—
Whose withering frown athwart the skies,
Robed in the midnight's sable guise,
Deepened the stormy gloom,—
They prayed to that strange God, whose might
Is quick to save, as fierce to smite,
To shield them from the tomb;
Each dark, despairing child of earth,
To Him who gave Creation birth—
To Him who rules in Heaven—
A deep and earnest prayer poured forth,
A prayer—to be FORGIVEN!

The scales fell from their eyes!
They saw the blesséd light!
'Twas not the golden sunlight's gleam;
'Twas not the pale moon's softer beam;
But the light of heaven's opening skies
Broke through the stormy night;
And a strain of angel minstrelsies
Fell from the mystic sky,
Whispering of hope, and love, and peace,
To the mortals doomed to die:
While far away, on the waters dark,
They saw the rescued Prophet's ark.

God in his power is kind!
God in his wrath still loves!
Behold! as round the nations, bent
In that last dying prayer,
Closes the narrowing firmament—
Ocean devouring air,—
Behold the Sign of peace—a Dove's
White wings the winds up-bear!
The multitudes behold—believe—
As through the Dark those pinions cleave.

They saw, and they believed!—
From out the bending sky,
The hope of immortality
Their changing hearts received.
Beyond the grave their faith was cast—
The bitterness of death was past:
And Mercy, from the vast profound,
Smiled o'er the waste where Justice frowned.
And in the choking ocean's fang,
And in the last, sharp, gasping pang,
When soul and sense were riven,
Their closing eyes beheld the light—
They heard the Hymn of seraphs bright,
And KNEW they were FORGIVEN.