The Judgement of the Flood by John A. Heraud. A New Edition. Revised and Re-Arranged |
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| II. |
| III. |
| VII. |
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| IX. |
| IV. |
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 | The Judgement of the Flood |  |
II. The Angels
That eve, in pensive contemplation, stood
The Angel of Repentance, Phanuel;
And, through the tear-drop in his quiet eye,
Watched westering Earth, with Uriel, in the Sun:
Beside him Archangelic Michael towered.
The Angel of Repentance, Phanuel;
And, through the tear-drop in his quiet eye,
Watched westering Earth, with Uriel, in the Sun:
Beside him Archangelic Michael towered.
In the sun-world they stood, an orb of fire,
To heavenly seraphs only genial place;
To frames less ardent mortal element.
Burning both day, and night; a flashing mount
Was Uriel's throne: and, round about it set,
Seven other hills—compiled of fiery stones,
Brilliant, and beautiful, and living flames—
Supported on their slopes, and on their brows,
Unwithering trees, with odorous fruitage hung,
In clusters, breathing fragrance where he sate.
Hence, Uriel swayed the multitude of Stars;
Appointing them, in measure, and in weight,
Light; as they came, attracted; and, repelled,
Went thence to do his bidding. The Moon, too,
Waxing, or waning, was his servitress,
Handmaid of Uriel. Glorious was the throne;
And, at its footstool, flowed a river pure;
River of light, and life; billows of life,
And waves of light, which spake even as they flowed:
Tongues of quick fire, and cloven in the midst,
Singing immortal anthems, hymns divine;
Voices of music, harmonies of heaven:
Angels, the guardians of the fount of fire,
Innumerable. Glorious were the Three,
Watchers of Heaven, clad in celestial white,
Of countenance transparent—clear aspect,
That as of crystal shewed the mind within,
Not hid deceptive: holy they, and true,
Bright Uriel, Michael strong, and Phanuel meek.
And, at the back of Uriel's throne, were hung
A bow of fire, and arrows fiery
Within their quiver, and a sword of fire,
Lightning, and radiance, splendours without end.
To heavenly seraphs only genial place;
To frames less ardent mortal element.
Burning both day, and night; a flashing mount
Was Uriel's throne: and, round about it set,
Seven other hills—compiled of fiery stones,
Brilliant, and beautiful, and living flames—
Supported on their slopes, and on their brows,
Unwithering trees, with odorous fruitage hung,
In clusters, breathing fragrance where he sate.
Hence, Uriel swayed the multitude of Stars;
Appointing them, in measure, and in weight,
Light; as they came, attracted; and, repelled,
Went thence to do his bidding. The Moon, too,
Waxing, or waning, was his servitress,
Handmaid of Uriel. Glorious was the throne;
And, at its footstool, flowed a river pure;
River of light, and life; billows of life,
And waves of light, which spake even as they flowed:
Tongues of quick fire, and cloven in the midst,
Singing immortal anthems, hymns divine;
Voices of music, harmonies of heaven:
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Innumerable. Glorious were the Three,
Watchers of Heaven, clad in celestial white,
Of countenance transparent—clear aspect,
That as of crystal shewed the mind within,
Not hid deceptive: holy they, and true,
Bright Uriel, Michael strong, and Phanuel meek.
And, at the back of Uriel's throne, were hung
A bow of fire, and arrows fiery
Within their quiver, and a sword of fire,
Lightning, and radiance, splendours without end.
Now, the great Mother, active for her sons,
Came to the palace of the Lord of Day:
The rosy Hours about her coming throng.
They, from her dusky chariot, loose awhile
Her wearied steeds; and, out of golden urns,
Refresh them with the living streams of light.
Mournful in her maternal majesty,
Straight she descended from her lofty seat:
And, like the queen of sorrow, proud, and pale,
Entered the gorgeous dwelling of the Sun;
Whose glory dazed her elevated brow,
To treble wanness, and intenser grief.
The radiant angel, affable as bright,
His yellow tressèd head in homage veiled,
And gave her welcome from his shining state.
But, from her blanchèd forehead, she undid
Her oaken coronet, and cast it down
Upon the heavenly pavement, chrysolite;
The solemn foldings of her regal robe
Unclasped; and, on the footsteps of his throne,
Sank down, in woe, and agony extreme.
Came to the palace of the Lord of Day:
The rosy Hours about her coming throng.
They, from her dusky chariot, loose awhile
Her wearied steeds; and, out of golden urns,
Refresh them with the living streams of light.
Mournful in her maternal majesty,
Straight she descended from her lofty seat:
And, like the queen of sorrow, proud, and pale,
Entered the gorgeous dwelling of the Sun;
Whose glory dazed her elevated brow,
To treble wanness, and intenser grief.
The radiant angel, affable as bright,
His yellow tressèd head in homage veiled,
And gave her welcome from his shining state.
But, from her blanchèd forehead, she undid
Her oaken coronet, and cast it down
Upon the heavenly pavement, chrysolite;
The solemn foldings of her regal robe
Unclasped; and, on the footsteps of his throne,
Sank down, in woe, and agony extreme.
‘Me miserable:’ with a heavy groan,
Began the mighty Mother, mighty now
Only in sorrow. ‘Miserable me;
Whose children have been murtherers from the womb.
Far other hope was mine, whom angel harps,
Emerging from the waste of Chaos old,
Hailed, on my natal, and my nuptial day,
Sister, and bride of the perpetual heaven.
How gladly, with diurnal industry,
I journeyed toward thy orient Capitol,
To alternate warmth, radiance, and delight,
To either hemisphere of my round orb,
Together with the sweet vicissitude
Of grateful shadow, and refreshing sleep;
And still, with indefatigable love,
Controled the seasons to the weal of Man.
I nourished him with milk from out my breasts;
Naked, I clothèd him; to him I gave
Country, and home, and heritage, and tomb:
But he, ingrate, my brow defiled with blood;
With armèd heel he smote my matron face,
With bloody hand he stabbed my pregnant womb;
And violence and lust possess the lands,
With palaces, and temples unto gods,
That are no gods, sore-burthened, and distrest.
My heart is broken, sick, and sorrowful.
Ay me, I fear that the Long-suffering yet
Will rise in wrath; and, in one common wreck,
Me, for my children's sins, with them confound.’
Began the mighty Mother, mighty now
Only in sorrow. ‘Miserable me;
Whose children have been murtherers from the womb.
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Emerging from the waste of Chaos old,
Hailed, on my natal, and my nuptial day,
Sister, and bride of the perpetual heaven.
How gladly, with diurnal industry,
I journeyed toward thy orient Capitol,
To alternate warmth, radiance, and delight,
To either hemisphere of my round orb,
Together with the sweet vicissitude
Of grateful shadow, and refreshing sleep;
And still, with indefatigable love,
Controled the seasons to the weal of Man.
I nourished him with milk from out my breasts;
Naked, I clothèd him; to him I gave
Country, and home, and heritage, and tomb:
But he, ingrate, my brow defiled with blood;
With armèd heel he smote my matron face,
With bloody hand he stabbed my pregnant womb;
And violence and lust possess the lands,
With palaces, and temples unto gods,
That are no gods, sore-burthened, and distrest.
My heart is broken, sick, and sorrowful.
Ay me, I fear that the Long-suffering yet
Will rise in wrath; and, in one common wreck,
Me, for my children's sins, with them confound.’
To whom thus Uriel: ‘O majestic queen,
O melancholy mother, beautiful
In sorrow, and sublime in misery:
Thou well hast done the work thou hadst to do.
This, as the Eye of the all-seeing God,
I witness; this broad heaven doth avouch.
Thee, hence, he circles still, as in the day
Of your espousals, with intense embrace.
And he hath heard thee groan, hath heard thy cry,
From midst the floods, whereon thy throne is set;
And soon the Avenger over thee shall pass,
And thou shalt be avengèd; thou, and Heaven,
On your lewd daughters, and intemperate sons.’
O melancholy mother, beautiful
In sorrow, and sublime in misery:
Thou well hast done the work thou hadst to do.
This, as the Eye of the all-seeing God,
I witness; this broad heaven doth avouch.
Thee, hence, he circles still, as in the day
Of your espousals, with intense embrace.
And he hath heard thee groan, hath heard thy cry,
From midst the floods, whereon thy throne is set;
And soon the Avenger over thee shall pass,
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On your lewd daughters, and intemperate sons.’
Whereto the Mother: ‘Let me be overwhelmed,
Within the abrupt abyss; so but the doom
My children may escape.’
Within the abrupt abyss; so but the doom
My children may escape.’
‘It may not be,’
Interposed Michael. ‘I, in my place in heaven,
Have testified to their iniquities.
The dreamers that defile the flesh, despise
Dominion, and speak ill of dignities,
Of things they know not, and beyond their sense,
Themselves corrupting in the things they know;
Spots in the festivals of charity,
Feasting in fearlessness, and thanklessness;
Clouds without water, borne about of winds;
Trees, whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead,
Uprooted; raging billows of the sea,
Out-foaming their own shame; and wandering stars,
To whom the blackness of deep darkness is
Reserved for ever: mockers walking still
After their own ungodly lusts, and who
Divide themselves, the moieties of men,
Sensual, of spirit emptied utterly.
And every Star that watcheth in the sky,
Hath, to his jealous God, his record borne
Of adoration strange; and, from her sphere,
The Moon hath also lifted up her voice,
And the bright Sun, abashed, doth veil his beams.’
Interposed Michael. ‘I, in my place in heaven,
Have testified to their iniquities.
The dreamers that defile the flesh, despise
Dominion, and speak ill of dignities,
Of things they know not, and beyond their sense,
Themselves corrupting in the things they know;
Spots in the festivals of charity,
Feasting in fearlessness, and thanklessness;
Clouds without water, borne about of winds;
Trees, whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead,
Uprooted; raging billows of the sea,
Out-foaming their own shame; and wandering stars,
To whom the blackness of deep darkness is
Reserved for ever: mockers walking still
After their own ungodly lusts, and who
Divide themselves, the moieties of men,
Sensual, of spirit emptied utterly.
And every Star that watcheth in the sky,
Hath, to his jealous God, his record borne
Of adoration strange; and, from her sphere,
The Moon hath also lifted up her voice,
And the bright Sun, abashed, doth veil his beams.’
Hereat, the heart of Earth sobbed forth aloud:
Then Phanuel sought with these to solace her.
Then Phanuel sought with these to solace her.
‘Sorrowful mother of a sinful race,
Whose hearts I fain would turn to holiness;
Hear what my anxious care has learned for thee.
In Heaven there have been goings to and fro;
And, from among the Myrtle-trees, the Angel
Called to the Riders on the blood-red Horses,
Who are ye? and they answered: We are they
Whom he hath sent to travel, up and down,
Thorough the earth. Well, asked the questioner:
Is earth at peace? As yet, the Courier said,
She sitteth still . . she is at rest as yet.’
Whose hearts I fain would turn to holiness;
Hear what my anxious care has learned for thee.
In Heaven there have been goings to and fro;
And, from among the Myrtle-trees, the Angel
Called to the Riders on the blood-red Horses,
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Whom he hath sent to travel, up and down,
Thorough the earth. Well, asked the questioner:
Is earth at peace? As yet, the Courier said,
She sitteth still . . she is at rest as yet.’
Then thus the Mother. ‘'Tis the deepest calm,
Heralds the wildest tempest evermore.’
Heralds the wildest tempest evermore.’
‘Trust in the Father; he is merciful.’
Thus Uriel comforted her misery.
Thus Uriel comforted her misery.
So she departed; having, from his fount
Of light her horn replenished: her aspect
Glowed in his glory, radiant as the eve;
And the tall turrets of her diadem,
Fused by his eye, shone like a molten sea.
Of light her horn replenished: her aspect
Glowed in his glory, radiant as the eve;
And the tall turrets of her diadem,
Fused by his eye, shone like a molten sea.
Who then had gazed into the billowy west,
Had deemed that Uriel on his orb declined.—
How beautiful his glory: how intense
The beauty: how poetical in dew:
How bright the crown of beams around his brows,
Imparadising, with their burning hues,
The clouds voluminous; that, in their joy,
Change to a myriad tints ineffable,
Gorgeously circling his refulgent throne,
And it, in undulating majesty,
Pageant to ocean, a glad company.
Had deemed that Uriel on his orb declined.—
How beautiful his glory: how intense
The beauty: how poetical in dew:
How bright the crown of beams around his brows,
Imparadising, with their burning hues,
The clouds voluminous; that, in their joy,
Change to a myriad tints ineffable,
Gorgeously circling his refulgent throne,
And it, in undulating majesty,
Pageant to ocean, a glad company.
| The Judgement of the Flood | |