The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery Collected and Revised by the Author |
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METROPOLIS OF ANTICHRIST. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
METROPOLIS OF ANTICHRIST.
To shameless Rome, the capital of sin,
When Crime in canonised pretension smiled,
And Pride and Lust pontifically reign'd,
At length, great Luther comes. The glare of skies
O'er which the mercy of no soothing cloud
Had floated, vainly tried his toil-worn frame;
For still, o'er Alpine crags, by torrents wild,
And hoar ravines, within whose rocky depths
Yell'd the loud streams their everlasting cry,
The Monk of Wittemberg, with eager step
And soul expectant, sought the seven-hill'd Queen
Of cities; till, behold! in glimm'ring haze
Her turrets, towers, and giant temple-spires
At length emerge: and low upon the ground,
In kneeling homage, falls her duteous son,
To breathe his blessing o'er maternal Rome,
Mother, and Mistress of the churches all!
But when her pillar'd streets of pomp he trod,
And on those ruins, eloquent and vast
Around him in sublime confusion piled,
Gazed with devotion,—what a gushing sense
Of ancient glory through his being swept!
The past in tow'ring resurrection rose
Bright from the tomb of ages; while the air
Which Peter breathed, and Paul himself inhaled,
Play'd round his temples, like a breeze from heaven
New-wafted! Rome and rapture were combined;
And Luther, in one lofty dream of soul
Enchanted stood, and drank the glorious scene;
As if Religion from the very stones
Was preaching where Apostles once had trod,
And over which the martyr's flame of death
Gleam'd in dread radiance, like a glory now.
When Crime in canonised pretension smiled,
And Pride and Lust pontifically reign'd,
At length, great Luther comes. The glare of skies
O'er which the mercy of no soothing cloud
Had floated, vainly tried his toil-worn frame;
For still, o'er Alpine crags, by torrents wild,
And hoar ravines, within whose rocky depths
Yell'd the loud streams their everlasting cry,
The Monk of Wittemberg, with eager step
And soul expectant, sought the seven-hill'd Queen
Of cities; till, behold! in glimm'ring haze
Her turrets, towers, and giant temple-spires
At length emerge: and low upon the ground,
In kneeling homage, falls her duteous son,
200
Mother, and Mistress of the churches all!
But when her pillar'd streets of pomp he trod,
And on those ruins, eloquent and vast
Around him in sublime confusion piled,
Gazed with devotion,—what a gushing sense
Of ancient glory through his being swept!
The past in tow'ring resurrection rose
Bright from the tomb of ages; while the air
Which Peter breathed, and Paul himself inhaled,
Play'd round his temples, like a breeze from heaven
New-wafted! Rome and rapture were combined;
And Luther, in one lofty dream of soul
Enchanted stood, and drank the glorious scene;
As if Religion from the very stones
Was preaching where Apostles once had trod,
And over which the martyr's flame of death
Gleam'd in dread radiance, like a glory now.
But, soon the bandage of imposture fell!
And then, e'en like the Arch-fiend's mystic pomp
Summon'd before Emmanuel's heaven-bright gaze,
So fleetly vanish'd into viewless air
Thy pageantries, thou Babylon of guilt,
And scarlet Lady with the costly blood
Of God's elected, drunken and bedew'd!
Since, then reveal'd in all thy hideous truth,
He found thee but a leprous church of lies
By ages putrified, in papal form.
And then, e'en like the Arch-fiend's mystic pomp
Summon'd before Emmanuel's heaven-bright gaze,
So fleetly vanish'd into viewless air
Thy pageantries, thou Babylon of guilt,
And scarlet Lady with the costly blood
Of God's elected, drunken and bedew'd!
Since, then reveal'd in all thy hideous truth,
He found thee but a leprous church of lies
By ages putrified, in papal form.
Oh, grace divine, and wonderful as deep,
That Rome and Luther should confronted be!
And there, in Superstition's heart, one text
Almighty, like a thunderbolt of truth
Down from the throne of Revelation cast,
Should raise him, while he crouch'd in dismal faith,
Deluded! Thus, the Champion for his cause
Was train'd; and thus from Rome herself he drew
Weapons of might, whereby her powers would fall.
Hence, swift recoiling from his task abhorr'd,
Uprose the brave Reformer! free and firm
For ever: “By his faith the just shall live!”—
Thus came a Text from Inspiration's lip:
Religion, then, and Luther's mind arose
Erect; upon the rock of faith alone
Together did they face the frowning Hell,
And bid our spirit in the Lord stand free!
That Rome and Luther should confronted be!
And there, in Superstition's heart, one text
Almighty, like a thunderbolt of truth
Down from the throne of Revelation cast,
Should raise him, while he crouch'd in dismal faith,
Deluded! Thus, the Champion for his cause
Was train'd; and thus from Rome herself he drew
Weapons of might, whereby her powers would fall.
Hence, swift recoiling from his task abhorr'd,
Uprose the brave Reformer! free and firm
For ever: “By his faith the just shall live!”—
Thus came a Text from Inspiration's lip:
Religion, then, and Luther's mind arose
Erect; upon the rock of faith alone
Together did they face the frowning Hell,
And bid our spirit in the Lord stand free!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |