University of Virginia Library


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Book 6: Mansouls Dream City


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I borne was forth then, ín much mingled Press,
Of cítizen dream-souls, fróm their Market-place;
Which sued with Mansoul, towards the Acropolis.
Founded was that on white great marble cliff:
Whereon, on this part, stood the Parliament House;
With majesty of more than craftsmens handiwork.
A two-fold flight of sculptured steps ascended;
To that Basilica-like proud Edifice:
Wherein appeared bright golden stately porch;
Not builded, but with chisel only wrought.
And seemed likewise, óf the same living rock;
The many-chambered marble colonnades;
Which joined, thereto, as wings, on either part.
And whiles I gazed, Mansoul I saw mount up,
Alone by the degrees. And at the height;
To meet him, stand Dream-Citys purpled Senate.
Worship and dignity was in their high looks.
All entered then, and thé great gates were shut.
Whose two-leaved doors, of fretted cedar-work,

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Gold-ringed, with noble bronze bedight in part;
(And that gem-set, with azure stars and flowers;)
Upon their brazen sockets, silent rolled
Had to.
On the large alabaster step,
I watched an hour without, but all for naught:
Came Mansoul and the Council no more forth.
The entáblature I márked and pediment fair adorned,
With inlaid portraitures of Worlds righteous spirits;
And crystal-clear were pillars underset.
Whose chapiters were, of copper-smiths cunning-work;
Gilt leaves, adorned.
Mine eyes, from that high terrace,
Surveyed Dream-Citys Prospect forth; great Maze,
Of hundred streets beneath, 'twixt clustered roofs;
But soon anéw I felt impelled my steps;
On that high chambered marble colonnade;
Which on the right hand was.
First, I was stayed;
Where men severe of port, Philosophers,
Conférred of Mans estate. A little group,

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Next whom I stood, (Hellenes,) entreated thus:
. . . Renouncing all, whereof Man hath no need;
Lifted above base ferment of birth-flesh;
Made subject rédeemed human sense thenceforth,
Unto every good intent: might, with souls health,
Man best approach to Wisdoms perfect source.
And the Hinges of the World, with patient steps,
Ascending from things known, take knowledge of.
Some there I viewed, which stood, by twos and threes,
Them night, that would be counted of their part.
But little had they wrought of wórthy work.
I looked, and presently those became a masque;
Which púrsued after painted butterflies.
Each then his sovereign Remedy loud professed;
When he had caught a fly, of human ills.
I marvelled, how théy passed the Citys Watch!
Went further forth, I stayed with peace of spirit;
Beneath domed Chamber, on whose azure walls;
Pourtrayed were the night-seasons starry signs.
Wherein, past Reasons reach, may eyes of flesh;
That wheeling Temple, of the Firmament;
Mens thousand ages' dread Astonishment!

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Behold! Eternity visible to Mankind:
And Architecture of the Universe;
Governed by immutable Laws, (might we them read!)
Within, Nights lifelong faithful Watchers sate;
Sons of Urania, ambrosial heavenly Muse.
Great-souled, large-browed, attent; it was their part,
Beholding reverent fróm Earths tiding Round
That sovereign March of Heavens Firmament:
The supreme works to Chronicle, óf the SIRE
Of men and Gods.
Whilst World self-shadowed sleeps,
Till tardy day awake; sáve the lone voice,
Of elemental winds, waves, water-brooks:
Gazing, through their perspective tubes, they may pierce;
The amazing Vision of heavens starry coast!
And being their discipline, that alone which doth;
Of mens school-doctrines, stand without debate,
Of inept tongues, which better fed than taught:
They of Times, the everlasting Ordinance,
Predict; and can, in Balances of the Mind,
Poise even Earths Mass; compute celestial paths

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And numbers supputate, which exceeding thought;
Can only, in empty ciphers be expressed.
I in next chamber, many found assembled;
And listened, in that doorway leaned, to hear;
Their lore. Disputed was, whence Sun and Stars,
Their being had derived. As whether were,
An infinite elemental Mist, the Source;
Of this material visible Universe.
And some there were, who maintained thus; that Earth
From Sun, condensed to a great flaming Bulk;
As clay from Potters wheel, had been whirled-off:
And body of the Moon likewise, from Earth.
Fell ceaseless rains, on molten Earths chilled Round,
Conglobed; and rivers ran down, from all heights;
And became meres, and those to seas increased.
Whose storm-beat boisterous surges, lifted up;
Whelmed on first Lava-cliffs, in cataracts:
And thereto Her great streaming water-courses;
Gnawed much warp forth, in Morning of the World:
Warp, that in countless æons, layed layer on layer;
Was spread mile-deep, on Seas abysmal ground:

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Where ages sith, hath hardened it to stone.
And yet is ever full Earths great round Rind;
Of bowels of molten ores, whose swelling force
Is cause that shaken and riven is oft Her face;
Through tension of that planetary dross.
A certain young man standing mongst them spake:
Such day have I in mind of Etnas wrath.
Voices.
We would hear that.

Young Man.
A Summers night of stars,
It was, wherein I had painfully thróugh long hours,
With mule and guide, climbed on the mountains flanks.
Reached to an height whereas all husbandry ceased;
Before us only rose, that great last Steep,
With sulphur strewed, of Etnas cinder-cone.
Beside our path, appeared (now chill midnight;)
A shelter-cots rude walls of cinder blocks.
Our meaning was, therein, awhile to rest.
And leaving tied the mule, ascend afoot;
And reach, ere day, His cragged utmost crest:
And from those horrid cliffs, surview far out;
Trinacria, and great Italias mighty Foot;
And Etnas ímmense shadow on the Dawn-mist;

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That sun-rising should cast: and look from thence,
In the huge hollow mountains Gulf, downforth.

Dismounted in dim twilight, and about
To enter in that roofless lodge; the ground
Reeled underfoot, and seemed above our heads
To nod the stars: again with rumour deep
The ground seemed shaken, and stagger under us.
Cried that Siciliot, having found his wit;
And laid strong sudden hand on his mule-beast:
Mount! Ætna will erupt; to tarry is death!
Mount thou! and grant us Heaven, we perish not.
Headlong then breathless fugitives, we contended,
To outgo that fearful peril, in night-murk;
And stumbling oft, beyond, above, all paths:
Downward, aye downward, towards the mountains foot.
Hour-long we strove thus: detonations dread
Amazed our ears: corroding sulphurous fume
Us overtook; and seemed púrsue our steps.
When first, nigh spent, we durst pause tó draw breath;
We had gained a downward mile; and gazing back,

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A league-wide horror and fury of flame and smoke;
Saw, issuing from vast Ætnas burning crest.
Might mortal eye it survey from on height:
Should not that old-heaped, cliff-bound fearful Gulf;
Seem a fiery boiling caldron, lava-lake:
With heaving film, of molten iron dross;
Risen from infernal bowels of Mother Earth;
Through two-miles' stature of the hollow mount.
New thundrous immense din, is in our ears;
Of that rent films shards, launcht in the element:
With startling blasts, as were they cannon-shots.
Terrific conflagration! whereunto
No flesh might more approach. Should, in such moment,
To a cinder, his mortal being be consumed!
When next in downward flight for life, we halt
And glance back: hid from view is Ætnas height;
In bellowing gloom, of fiery uprolling smoke;
Wherefrom dart ceaseless quivering lightnings forth.
Was then from Ætnas cinder-flanks above;
Flowed down an horrid molten-footed flood;

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Inévitable creeping lava-tide:
That licketh all up, before his withering course.
Nor builded work, nor rampire cast in haste;
Of thousand mens hands, might, and they were helped
Of unborn-Angels, súffice to hold back;
That devastating, soulless, impious march
Of molten dross.
Dwellers round Ætnas roots;
(His, four days' journeys round encompassing Plain:)
Roused by that fearful uproar and midnight noise;
From tottering bedsteads leapt, have rushed, half-clad,
Abroad.
In silence, in awed knots, they watch;
Ætna from far-off, kindled in the skies;
(Such as years gone they heard their fathers tell!)
Whilst men gaze on, with cold and fainting hearts;
Folding their hands, with trembling lips, to Heaven:
Not few lament their toilful years, undone;
Those fields o'erwhelmed, wherein their livelihood.
Other enquire; if this were that last fire,
Divine; whose wrath, is writ, should end the world?

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Groping in night-like gloom, to lower league:
'T is there we halt, where first found mens trode paths.
Ætna is raging ever more and more!
Uprushing wreathing, teeming train blown out
And spread large forth, cloud-canopy of Hellish smoke:
(Like to a pine tree, as that Siciliot quoth;)
Huge roaring fury of His Titanic throat:
O'er lurid glow of hidden fires beneath.
Nor cease those vast heart-beats, in immane deeps
Of Ætna in travail: in this Circuit of
Worlds crust; as were it would Earth cast us forth.
Fell on our eyeballs then so thick sharp dust:
A man the cinder-ground might see uneath;
Nor the uplifted hand, that shields his face.
For thunders' din, none hears now his own voice;
Nor his companions words, how loud he shout.
To make my telling short; days midst was past;
And over all prevailed deep gloom as night;
When we attained, at length, the mountains foot;
And our first safety sought, in a walled town;
And needful rest and meat.
Was the same eve,

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We heard, how ascending certain hapless wights,
Towards their plots, on Ætnas cinder-steeps;
All suddenly, á dire rain of fiery dust;
Did on them light and deadly them invest.
Which like sparks glowing from a furnace pierced
Their coats and fretted through to the quick flesh.
Scorched unto death, those perished miserably thus.
Men lived on in a twilight World-dismayed,
Then many days, all traffic well-nigh ceased;
Days that seemed nights: and when hour was to sleep;
We alway in dread, of kindled skies above;
With Ætnas roaring ever in our ears;
(Like ceaseless weary sound, of storm-bound shore;)
Lay down unrestful ón still rocking beds.
When dawn was by the clock and men arose;
To daze another day on throbbing Earth:
We looked still on blind skies and blackened streets.
And housewives, from their doors, more cinder dust;
(Whose powder lay on every chamber-floor;)
Swept forth, on squalid heaps, as snow in frost.
Voices.
The young man sayeth sooth. To see so much

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Of Natures soulless elemental Force;
That can lift Continénts, and Sea-grounds abase;
Falleth unto few: so narrow are our days,
But naught immutable is. Like as a seed,
All that is, works, though hid, and moves and tends
Circling, without cease, meeting, without end.
Tremblings of Earths únstable Frame are rife;
Even daily, albeit not sensible unto us;
Though révealed by our réfined instruments.
(Nay is Ætna but a pimple, on Earths Face.)

New threshold passed, their cheerful looks I marked;
Which busied, in much throbbing chamber sate.
Heirs of those giants, which wrested at the first;
The Keys of Heaven, from the ancient Gods.
All full of running wheel-work, was that bower.
Tread of those soulless engines, in one hour;
Wrought more than might mens hands, in a round year;
For the Worlds welfare.
Men of ínsight there;
Founders and Builders sate of a New Era:
Searchers of hid things, in seld trodden paths;
Weaving the subtle gossamer óf their minds.

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When such, midst multitude óf their fugitive thoughts,
Discern, (or of soul-voice, which in them, taught;)
Aught, that by likelihood, might serve mankind:
They abide, and study to it bring to pass.
Though lamps themselves of little-enduring clay;
They ply their witty hands and blow to flame,
Each elect spark, which kindles in their breasts:
Whence further Light. They bridle, they even compel
Earths elements, tó yield their Titanic force;
Obey their list and execute all their hests.
By that same doorway, passed few sighing spirits
Whose hope had died, in Wínter of their hearts.
I heard some of the harms, which they professed.