 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
46
A DREAM OF JUDGMENT JUST AT HAND.
The Earth doth rock! the Earth doth reel!
It topples like a poiséd wheel,
When the hand that held it falls.
Its burning heart doth throb with dread,
As the mighty blast both quick and dead
Forth to God's Judgment calls.
The shattered air is drowned in rain:
No cloud shall ever come again.
The leaves hang down: the rank grass droops:
The storm-unshaken mountain stoops;
The ocean's roar is heard:
Less! less! and less! Ah, it doth cease!
Its broad, smooth bosom waits in peace
For the Almighty Word.
It topples like a poiséd wheel,
When the hand that held it falls.
Its burning heart doth throb with dread,
As the mighty blast both quick and dead
Forth to God's Judgment calls.
The shattered air is drowned in rain:
No cloud shall ever come again.
The leaves hang down: the rank grass droops:
The storm-unshaken mountain stoops;
The ocean's roar is heard:
Less! less! and less! Ah, it doth cease!
Its broad, smooth bosom waits in peace
For the Almighty Word.
Earth is riven! Rocks are rent!
Darting flames are upwards sent:
Everywhere the fire has vent:
Every sepulchre is burst:
Dust from dust, dust from dust,
Lo! the sinner and the just,—
To be blessed, to be blessed, blessed, or forever curst.
Crowding, crowding, they are come,Darting flames are upwards sent:
Everywhere the fire has vent:
Every sepulchre is burst:
Dust from dust, dust from dust,
47
To be blessed, to be blessed, blessed, or forever curst.
Millions, countless, yet is room,
Though each sod has been a tomb.
On the waters millions stand,
Still, as those on fixéd land.
Not a whisper,—not a breath;—
They have not yet unlearned death.
Pale, pale, oh, ghastly pale!
And the thin bodies are no more a veil
To the souls that are within,
They are so sere and thin.
Wretched, oh, wretched, wretched sight!
Every secret brought to light.
Tongue could not speak, hand could not write.
Every secret brought to light.
Tongue could not speak, hand could not write.
The sun! the sun!
The end of all things is begun.
How near! how bright!
But oh, the Earth
What is its beauty worth! what are its riches worth!
What are its paltry glories worth!
'Tis of too small a girth,—this despicable earth,—
For the Last Deed that yet is to be done.
Speech! Human speech? No! 'tis not human speech!The end of all things is begun.
How near! how bright!
But oh, the Earth
What is its beauty worth! what are its riches worth!
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'Tis of too small a girth,—this despicable earth,—
For the Last Deed that yet is to be done.
That tone no voice of man could reach!
'Tis a new sound on earth,—a screech
Of the Doomed Dead raised up:
Lord God, oh, how it doth beseech
But for one chance, a single chance, but one!
Voices, voices, everywhere,
Hiss and hurtle in the heavy air.
The air is dead: no more they breathe:
The air is dead, above, beneath.
Oh, what voices crowd mine ear!
All that ever died are here,
And God's great, last Doom so near!
All life, now, seems only fear!
All at once, yet separate,
I hear them all: each has its date
And following: Time is not done,
And yet Eternity almost begun:
Eternity and Time just blending into one.
Oh! oh! how soon, how soon shall this last time be done!
Hark! a dull, thick earthly tongue,
And still with thought all earthly hung:
“Help me to pile this costly stone
Above my neighbor:—'twas my own:—
Nay, nay, nay, nay;—let all alone;
He is not there: but can I yet atone?—
My heart was never in that wrong:
Fate drives men's blinded wills along:
I strove; but I was weak, and it was strong.
Thou dost not blame? Kneel with me, then,
And hide this shame from God and men.
This long, carved lie, that time forgot,
For Christ's sake, help me here to blot:
Help me!—thou dost not fear thy lot.”
All that ever died are here,
And God's great, last Doom so near!
All life, now, seems only fear!
All at once, yet separate,
I hear them all: each has its date
And following: Time is not done,
And yet Eternity almost begun:
Eternity and Time just blending into one.
49
Hark! a dull, thick earthly tongue,
And still with thought all earthly hung:
“Help me to pile this costly stone
Above my neighbor:—'twas my own:—
Nay, nay, nay, nay;—let all alone;
He is not there: but can I yet atone?—
My heart was never in that wrong:
Fate drives men's blinded wills along:
I strove; but I was weak, and it was strong.
Thou dost not blame? Kneel with me, then,
And hide this shame from God and men.
This long, carved lie, that time forgot,
For Christ's sake, help me here to blot:
Help me!—thou dost not fear thy lot.”
There is a sound of preparation heard,
For the dread coming of the Heavenly King,
As when the deep wood-depths unseen are stirred
Ere with the tempest's mighty gust they swing.
The King is coming: He that long ago
Came to this earth, a Man of woman born,
And o'er its wide face wandered to and fro,
Weary and weeping, and with travel worn,
Eating with earth's most wretched and forlorn.—
A fair light flares upon the sky, as if before the morn.
For the dread coming of the Heavenly King,
As when the deep wood-depths unseen are stirred
Ere with the tempest's mighty gust they swing.
The King is coming: He that long ago
Came to this earth, a Man of woman born,
And o'er its wide face wandered to and fro,
Weary and weeping, and with travel worn,
Eating with earth's most wretched and forlorn.—
50
Here are fair things: if women, or if men,
The eye scarce marks; and yet the heart may know
That these were wedded, and unsundered, when
Death into want and waste their flesh brought low.
Here is no fondness; here is no desire:
But one kind likeness grown where love filled all;
And here is mother's-love that could not tire
Nor be put off; and manly heart's true fire
That gave up all his own at others' call.
Now all is upward cast, and onward longs:
Christ is the lovely One, to whom all turn.
Onward to Him the holy feeling throngs,
And love that learned of Him, to Him doth yearn.
The eye scarce marks; and yet the heart may know
That these were wedded, and unsundered, when
Death into want and waste their flesh brought low.
Here is no fondness; here is no desire:
But one kind likeness grown where love filled all;
And here is mother's-love that could not tire
Nor be put off; and manly heart's true fire
That gave up all his own at others' call.
Now all is upward cast, and onward longs:
Christ is the lovely One, to whom all turn.
Onward to Him the holy feeling throngs,
And love that learned of Him, to Him doth yearn.
What desperate voice crawls upward from the dust?
What thing lies here, without all love, faith, hope and trust?
I am no king:
I am some meanest thing,
That washes beggars' feet:—I seek no throne,
I can bear always to be trod upon.
They that for me in sudden graves have lain,—
Must I forever wear a guilty stain?
Death never was to last:
Who sleeps, since that dread trumpet-blast?”
What thing lies here, without all love, faith, hope and trust?
I am no king:
I am some meanest thing,
That washes beggars' feet:—I seek no throne,
I can bear always to be trod upon.
51
Must I forever wear a guilty stain?
Death never was to last:
Who sleeps, since that dread trumpet-blast?”
Onward and upward glows the conquering light,
Spreading the skies around with gilded white;
And soft sweet sounds of mighty love breathe out,
Strewing the Saviour's path with heavenly flowers about.
He comes, He comes whom every eye shall see!
Lord, all the nations turn their eyes for thee!
Spreading the skies around with gilded white;
And soft sweet sounds of mighty love breathe out,
Strewing the Saviour's path with heavenly flowers about.
He comes, He comes whom every eye shall see!
Lord, all the nations turn their eyes for thee!
Was this man rich? and never rich with love?
Oh, how his cry is strained all sounds above!
“Holy prayers I made;
And countless alms have paid!
I have built churches, and my name was known
Abroad, wherever winds have blown!
“It is on record: was it all for nought?Oh, how his cry is strained all sounds above!
“Holy prayers I made;
And countless alms have paid!
I have built churches, and my name was known
Abroad, wherever winds have blown!
What price, then, ever, Paradise has bought?
When earth burns, that cheating wealth
Let it drain away by stealth:
Had I given, had I given,
I might lift my eyes to heaven!”
52
With mighty softness taking every place,
Until the flood alone doth all-wheres stand;
So doth the Presence of the King at hand
In mildest conquest make its way, apace,
Till all is held and mastered in His Grace.
Now, little voices, sweet beyond all sweet,
Pour to the most kind Lord their welcomes fleet.
“Hosanna! Glory in the highest be,
O son of David, loving Lord, to Thee!”
Like some new life, made lightly of soft notes,
This way and that, above, the child-song floats.
He that sat glittering up on high,
But knew not God, oh, what a bitter cry!
“I would kneel before my door,
Calling round the filthy poor,—
I would crawl upon my knees
To the side of loathed disease,—
Worse things, and baser things than these,—
Could I lick the very sore
With distemper running o'er,—
No! no! no! my season is no more!”
But knew not God, oh, what a bitter cry!
“I would kneel before my door,
Calling round the filthy poor,—
I would crawl upon my knees
To the side of loathed disease,—
Worse things, and baser things than these,—
Could I lick the very sore
With distemper running o'er,—
No! no! no! my season is no more!”
53
Soft sound comes forth from them that gird the Lord
Forever with their band of circling love,
Like and unlike, yet all in blest accord:
Earth hath not heard such sounds since it did move
At first, to most sweet measure, when the Word
Sent it forth blesséd, and the sons of God
With joyous song timed its far march abroad.
Down, grovelling down, the man of bloody hand
Sinks, while his cheek with those blest sounds is fanned.
“I thrust God's life out from my brother man:
Now a long death my endless life shall span;
And in the dread strife conquer neither can!”
The bright clouds open: Glory swelleth through;Forever with their band of circling love,
Like and unlike, yet all in blest accord:
Earth hath not heard such sounds since it did move
At first, to most sweet measure, when the Word
Sent it forth blesséd, and the sons of God
With joyous song timed its far march abroad.
Down, grovelling down, the man of bloody hand
Sinks, while his cheek with those blest sounds is fanned.
“I thrust God's life out from my brother man:
Now a long death my endless life shall span;
And in the dread strife conquer neither can!”
Millions upon their bended knees do fall:
These shall be saved: these are the chosen few:
Lo! on their brow a cross of glittering dew
Shines with that Glory. These were faithful, all,
And, while they lived, beyond their season small
Saw ever Judgment, Heaven, and Hell, in view:
These followed Christ and listened to His call,
New-born of water and the Holy Ghost;
And, being most forgiven, loved Him most,
54
With living food renewed and strengthened, day by day.
Falsehood and guile not yet their own place seek:
What words all thick with shame the lips can speak!
There is no manhood in that deathly cheek.—
“Those are still vows that then I spoke,
Though all that man can break I broke.
I see how strong God's high Word stands:
Yes, though I blind me with my hands!
I broke my oaths, I broke thy heart,
I broke God's law and endless love apart.
He holds me not!—I feel no tie above!—
Nothing my heart knows of Christ's blesséd love.
Child! wilt thou, too, go into bliss
With a fresh memory of this?
This most sad thing, this last of earth,
His doom, to whom thou owest birth?
Is Heaven such? Is Hell so near?
That thou in heaven itself mayest hear
The hopeless shriek, the frightful shout,
That must and ever will burst out,
Ever and ever, from the damnéd rout?
And know ‘That is my Father wailing there;
That voice I know?’ Despair! Despair!”
What words all thick with shame the lips can speak!
There is no manhood in that deathly cheek.—
“Those are still vows that then I spoke,
Though all that man can break I broke.
I see how strong God's high Word stands:
Yes, though I blind me with my hands!
I broke my oaths, I broke thy heart,
I broke God's law and endless love apart.
He holds me not!—I feel no tie above!—
Nothing my heart knows of Christ's blesséd love.
Child! wilt thou, too, go into bliss
With a fresh memory of this?
This most sad thing, this last of earth,
His doom, to whom thou owest birth?
Is Heaven such? Is Hell so near?
That thou in heaven itself mayest hear
The hopeless shriek, the frightful shout,
That must and ever will burst out,
Ever and ever, from the damnéd rout?
And know ‘That is my Father wailing there;
55
Great silence falls: but silence full of sound,
And full of splendor: and the Lord is found,
Here in the midst, at hand, and not afar,
And beauteous living things about Him are.
The eyes that looked on Mary, look on all,
And in our hearts words that men speak not fall:
The very thorns,—the spear-wound and the nails!
Life is become but love, and all thought fails.
And full of splendor: and the Lord is found,
Here in the midst, at hand, and not afar,
And beauteous living things about Him are.
The eyes that looked on Mary, look on all,
And in our hearts words that men speak not fall:
The very thorns,—the spear-wound and the nails!
Life is become but love, and all thought fails.
1845; finished July, 1863.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |