 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
Isaiah, Chapter 13.
See! Heav'n's dread Banners, waving in the Air,
And Signals, scatter'd o'er the hilly Ground,
Shew the approach of Vengeance. Hark! the Noise
Makes Mountains tremble, and the Vales return,
In shuddering Sounds, the Weight and Din of War,
The stable Rocks confess, with hideous groan,
The Burden of a God; whose awful Call
Summons the Nations, far disjoyn'd, together;
And, round his Standard, congregates the Pow'rs
Of Heav'n, embattled. Lo! the Day is come!
Awake, O Land, and view Disasters near.
See Terrors spread, and Ruin stalks abroad.
Already, Fear and Trembling seize the Crowd.
All Hands hang down, and Visages grow pale,
And, thro' each Soul, convulsive Horrors start.
No wonder: 'tis th' Omnipotent, who comes,
Array'd with Glory, and begirt with Strength.
He comes revengeful. Prodigies prepare
His dreadful March: and Wrath around displays
Its fatal Signs, to rouze the slumb'ring World.
What Thunders roar to charge the destin'd Foe?
What Arrows thirst for human Gore? See! lightnings
Flash, in the Van! and Troops of Death stalk horrid
In the destructive Rear! All Nature stands astonished,
And broad Creation seeks to shun the Fright.
How Earth's Foundation quakes? what dire Convulsions
Reach Heav'ns high Arch? ha! sudden Night o'erspreads
The starry Frame, the Plannets skulk in Clouds.
The Sun, amaz'd, at Dawn of Day, retires
To Shades. Below Distraction reigns around,
And wild Confusion rules the azure Space.
And Signals, scatter'd o'er the hilly Ground,
Shew the approach of Vengeance. Hark! the Noise
Makes Mountains tremble, and the Vales return,
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The stable Rocks confess, with hideous groan,
The Burden of a God; whose awful Call
Summons the Nations, far disjoyn'd, together;
And, round his Standard, congregates the Pow'rs
Of Heav'n, embattled. Lo! the Day is come!
Awake, O Land, and view Disasters near.
See Terrors spread, and Ruin stalks abroad.
Already, Fear and Trembling seize the Crowd.
All Hands hang down, and Visages grow pale,
And, thro' each Soul, convulsive Horrors start.
No wonder: 'tis th' Omnipotent, who comes,
Array'd with Glory, and begirt with Strength.
He comes revengeful. Prodigies prepare
His dreadful March: and Wrath around displays
Its fatal Signs, to rouze the slumb'ring World.
167
What Arrows thirst for human Gore? See! lightnings
Flash, in the Van! and Troops of Death stalk horrid
In the destructive Rear! All Nature stands astonished,
And broad Creation seeks to shun the Fright.
How Earth's Foundation quakes? what dire Convulsions
Reach Heav'ns high Arch? ha! sudden Night o'erspreads
The starry Frame, the Plannets skulk in Clouds.
The Sun, amaz'd, at Dawn of Day, retires
To Shades. Below Distraction reigns around,
And wild Confusion rules the azure Space.
Go forth (says God) thou executing Sword,
Ye various Instruments of Ruin, fly,
And punish this rebellious Land. Allow
No Quarter, nor compound with impious Man.
Against my Foes my Indignation burns,
And, on their Land, my Vengeance points its course.
Treasures of Fury, and Reserves of Wrath,
Grown ripe with Age, shall pour, at once, their Force
Collected on this Country. In a Deluge
Of purple Dye, I'll bathe the Vales around,
And melt the Mountains with the People's Blood.
The haughty Chiefs shall seek, in vain to hide
Their destin'd Heads: and, with Plebeian Clay,
Shall royal carnage mix. He, who before did spurn
My Grace and Bounty, low in Dust, shall howl
Beneath my Might, and wish Release, in vain.
So desolate I'll lay this sinful Realm,
That savage Brutes, at sight of human Faces,
Shall gaze, as Men at Prodigies, affrighted.
Ye various Instruments of Ruin, fly,
And punish this rebellious Land. Allow
No Quarter, nor compound with impious Man.
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And, on their Land, my Vengeance points its course.
Treasures of Fury, and Reserves of Wrath,
Grown ripe with Age, shall pour, at once, their Force
Collected on this Country. In a Deluge
Of purple Dye, I'll bathe the Vales around,
And melt the Mountains with the People's Blood.
The haughty Chiefs shall seek, in vain to hide
Their destin'd Heads: and, with Plebeian Clay,
Shall royal carnage mix. He, who before did spurn
My Grace and Bounty, low in Dust, shall howl
Beneath my Might, and wish Release, in vain.
So desolate I'll lay this sinful Realm,
That savage Brutes, at sight of human Faces,
Shall gaze, as Men at Prodigies, affrighted.
For now the Day, the great, tremenduous, Day,
Big with the Fate of Babylon, is come.
The Time is come, when God will pay th' Arrears
Of Judgment, due to Sinners. It comes on
Adorn'd with all the Images of Horror.
The Heav'ns, afraid, forsake their Place: and Earth
Shakes to its Center, and th' Almighty shuns,
While, brandish'd, in his red right Hand, the Sword
Of Vengeance glares. Lo! Now the radiant Spoiler
Fierce, urges on, and lays the Country waste.
Where'er his Course the angry Victor bends,
Ruin, in all its horrid Forms, pursues.
No Age, no Sex, no different Rank, or State,
From common Ravage and Destruction freed,
Escapes the pointed Mischief. Pow'rs ally'd,
Partake the People's Fate. Promiscuous, all
Mix in the Carnage, as in Sin combin'd.
Mark! how th' insulting Conquerors march on,
With Lust and Rage, inspir'd. What Blood, what Rapes,
Cry horrible to unrelenting Actors?
How is the Fruit of the maternal Womb
Blasted in Blossom? What sharp Pangs are felt
By tender Mothers? How the Infants draw
Their Breath in Torture; and, at Dawn of Life,
Sink in eternal Death? They see the Light,
And, as they see, expire! afflictive Scene!
Big with the Fate of Babylon, is come.
169
Of Judgment, due to Sinners. It comes on
Adorn'd with all the Images of Horror.
The Heav'ns, afraid, forsake their Place: and Earth
Shakes to its Center, and th' Almighty shuns,
While, brandish'd, in his red right Hand, the Sword
Of Vengeance glares. Lo! Now the radiant Spoiler
Fierce, urges on, and lays the Country waste.
Where'er his Course the angry Victor bends,
Ruin, in all its horrid Forms, pursues.
No Age, no Sex, no different Rank, or State,
From common Ravage and Destruction freed,
Escapes the pointed Mischief. Pow'rs ally'd,
Partake the People's Fate. Promiscuous, all
Mix in the Carnage, as in Sin combin'd.
Mark! how th' insulting Conquerors march on,
With Lust and Rage, inspir'd. What Blood, what Rapes,
170
How is the Fruit of the maternal Womb
Blasted in Blossom? What sharp Pangs are felt
By tender Mothers? How the Infants draw
Their Breath in Torture; and, at Dawn of Life,
Sink in eternal Death? They see the Light,
And, as they see, expire! afflictive Scene!
Behold the Medes, a formidable Race!
Hasten to spoil. See! how, in dread Array,
Their Legions stretch along contiguous Lands!
They move in Triumph, and exult in Strength.
What Schemes of Death, in ev'ry Soldier's Thought,
Are deep revolv'd? Their generous Souls contemn
The Persian Luxury and Wealth. Dauntless they march
To execute th' Almighty's Will. Where'er they move,
The destin'd Foes must yield. Idly, they scorn
To bend the Bow. On every Dart, the Stings
Of Death attend. No Quarter they allow,
And none in pity spare. All share the Fate
Of bloody War, and desart turns the Land.
Hasten to spoil. See! how, in dread Array,
Their Legions stretch along contiguous Lands!
They move in Triumph, and exult in Strength.
What Schemes of Death, in ev'ry Soldier's Thought,
Are deep revolv'd? Their generous Souls contemn
The Persian Luxury and Wealth. Dauntless they march
To execute th' Almighty's Will. Where'er they move,
The destin'd Foes must yield. Idly, they scorn
To bend the Bow. On every Dart, the Stings
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And none in pity spare. All share the Fate
Of bloody War, and desart turns the Land.
And thou, O Babylon, the great! the proud!
Think not to 'scape. Tho' now the boasted Head
Of the Chaldean Glory, thou shalt fall.
No more shall Nations bend before thy Throne,
No more shall tribute humbly wait thy Nod.
Low on the Ground, thy tow'ring Pomp shall lye,
And deep in ruin shalt thou hide thy Head.
The stately Walls, which now, with impious Height,
Conceal the Clouds from human Eye, shall sink
Abject in Earth. The glorious piles, that spread
Lustre around, and rival Stars, shall waste
In all-devouring Flames. Nor shall Mankind
Repair thy ruin'd Domes, thy Walls, destroy'd;
No pitying Hand exalt thy humbled State.
To all succeeding Times thou must remain
An exemplary Scene of Woe: for ever lie
As curst Gomorrah, that, with Vengeance due,
Was burnt in Fires, for far less buruing Lust.
Think not to 'scape. Tho' now the boasted Head
Of the Chaldean Glory, thou shalt fall.
No more shall Nations bend before thy Throne,
No more shall tribute humbly wait thy Nod.
Low on the Ground, thy tow'ring Pomp shall lye,
And deep in ruin shalt thou hide thy Head.
The stately Walls, which now, with impious Height,
Conceal the Clouds from human Eye, shall sink
Abject in Earth. The glorious piles, that spread
Lustre around, and rival Stars, shall waste
In all-devouring Flames. Nor shall Mankind
Repair thy ruin'd Domes, thy Walls, destroy'd;
No pitying Hand exalt thy humbled State.
172
An exemplary Scene of Woe: for ever lie
As curst Gomorrah, that, with Vengeance due,
Was burnt in Fires, for far less buruing Lust.
The Day's at Hand, when on thy fruitful Soil,
The Product of their Labour none shall reap.
His Tent the wand'ring Arab will not spread,
Nor make thy Ground his Place of Rest. Tho' faint
With travel, he will scare his Herd
From thy embitter'd Flood. The careful Shepherd
Will warn his roaming Flocks from thy Remains,
As o'er thy ruin'd Battlements they stray,
Or in thy lowly Tow'rs attempt to graze.
Strangers shall say, ah! where is Babylon?
And when they find where once thou wert, they'll cry
Let's shun this Place, for 'tis accursed Ground.
No human kind thy Wilderness shall bless.
Nought, but the savage Beasts, and Birds of Prey,
Shall fix their hideous Habitation there.
To them ungrateful Men shall quit their Seat.
To them, thy Marble Roofs, and Cedar Rooms,
Shall then be Dens. Thy Courts of Justice then
Shall be their Haunts of State. There shall they plod
For Blood, where Tyrants bore their Spoils of old.
There in wild Harmony shall they convene,
And triumph, in their Turn; more innocent
Than Men had been, who govern'd there before.
The Product of their Labour none shall reap.
His Tent the wand'ring Arab will not spread,
Nor make thy Ground his Place of Rest. Tho' faint
With travel, he will scare his Herd
From thy embitter'd Flood. The careful Shepherd
Will warn his roaming Flocks from thy Remains,
As o'er thy ruin'd Battlements they stray,
Or in thy lowly Tow'rs attempt to graze.
Strangers shall say, ah! where is Babylon?
And when they find where once thou wert, they'll cry
Let's shun this Place, for 'tis accursed Ground.
No human kind thy Wilderness shall bless.
173
Shall fix their hideous Habitation there.
To them ungrateful Men shall quit their Seat.
To them, thy Marble Roofs, and Cedar Rooms,
Shall then be Dens. Thy Courts of Justice then
Shall be their Haunts of State. There shall they plod
For Blood, where Tyrants bore their Spoils of old.
There in wild Harmony shall they convene,
And triumph, in their Turn; more innocent
Than Men had been, who govern'd there before.
How will the mournful Satyrs there bemoan,
And Ghosts glide horrible along thy Ruins,
To view where their unburied Bodies lay?
There shall the Owls and Dragons load the Air,
And strike the Trav'ller's Ear with dismal Sound.
All the obscener Birds of dusky Night
Will there resort, and hide themselves from Day.
Voracious Monsters there shall find repose,
And hooping Horrors make the Place more baleful.
Forboding Fowls and Ghosts, confus'd, shall dwell,
And speak their dire Presages on the Walls,
With Earth laid level. This, O Babylon,
Is thy just Doom, the Punishment of Guilt.
Thus will th' Almighty, patient long, exert
At last his Vengeance on an impious Race,
Who scorn'd his Warnings, and refus'd his Grace.
And Ghosts glide horrible along thy Ruins,
To view where their unburied Bodies lay?
There shall the Owls and Dragons load the Air,
And strike the Trav'ller's Ear with dismal Sound.
All the obscener Birds of dusky Night
Will there resort, and hide themselves from Day.
174
And hooping Horrors make the Place more baleful.
Forboding Fowls and Ghosts, confus'd, shall dwell,
And speak their dire Presages on the Walls,
With Earth laid level. This, O Babylon,
Is thy just Doom, the Punishment of Guilt.
Thus will th' Almighty, patient long, exert
At last his Vengeance on an impious Race,
Who scorn'd his Warnings, and refus'd his Grace.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |