 | The last night of Pompeii |  |
191
SIXTH VOICE.
“It bursts! it bursts! and thousand thunders blent,
From the deep heart of agonizing earth,
Knell, shatter, crash along the firmament,
And new hells peopled startle into birth.
Vesuvius sunders! pyramids of fire
From fathomless abysses blast the sky;
E'en desolating Ruin doth expire,
And mortal Death in woe immortal die,
Torrents like lurid gore,
Hurled from the gulf of horror, pour,
Like legion fiends embattled to the spoil,
And o'er the temple domes,
And joy's ten thousand homes,
Beneath the whirlwind hail and storm of ashes boil.
The surges, like coil'd serpents, rise
From midnight caverns of the deep,
And writhe around the rocks,
That shiver in the earthquake's shocks,
And through the blackness of fear's mysteries,
Chained Titans from their beds of torture leap,
And o'er the heavens Eumenides
Seek parting souls for prey—
From the deep heart of agonizing earth,
Knell, shatter, crash along the firmament,
And new hells peopled startle into birth.
Vesuvius sunders! pyramids of fire
From fathomless abysses blast the sky;
E'en desolating Ruin doth expire,
And mortal Death in woe immortal die,
Torrents like lurid gore,
Hurled from the gulf of horror, pour,
Like legion fiends embattled to the spoil,
And o'er the temple domes,
And joy's ten thousand homes,
Beneath the whirlwind hail and storm of ashes boil.
The surges, like coil'd serpents, rise
From midnight caverns of the deep,
And writhe around the rocks,
That shiver in the earthquake's shocks,
And through the blackness of fear's mysteries,
Chained Titans from their beds of torture leap,
And o'er the heavens Eumenides
Seek parting souls for prey—
192
Oh God! that on these dark and groaning seas
Would soar one other day!
Vain is the mad desire,
Darkness, convulsion, fire,
Infernal floods, dissolving mountains, fold
The helpless children of woe, sin and Time—
O'er fiery wrecks hath Desolation rolled,
The Infinite Curse attends the finite crime!
No melancholy moon to gaze
With dim cold light remote!
No star, through stormy spheres, with holy rays,
O'er dying eyes, like hope of heaven, to float!
No spot—the oasis of the waste above—
Whose still, sweet beauty glistens
Through clouds that heave and riot in wild masses,
Breaks on the breaking heart! no seraph listens
In blue pavilions, while the spirit passes,
And o'er the dreariest waters bears,
Beyond the unburied's desert shore,
To skies ambrosial and elysian airs,
Where e'en the awful Destinies adore!
No tenderness from lips,
Blackened and swoln and gasping, steals
Amidst the soul's eclipse;
Would soar one other day!
Vain is the mad desire,
Darkness, convulsion, fire,
Infernal floods, dissolving mountains, fold
The helpless children of woe, sin and Time—
O'er fiery wrecks hath Desolation rolled,
The Infinite Curse attends the finite crime!
No melancholy moon to gaze
With dim cold light remote!
No star, through stormy spheres, with holy rays,
O'er dying eyes, like hope of heaven, to float!
No spot—the oasis of the waste above—
Whose still, sweet beauty glistens
Through clouds that heave and riot in wild masses,
Breaks on the breaking heart! no seraph listens
In blue pavilions, while the spirit passes,
And o'er the dreariest waters bears,
Beyond the unburied's desert shore,
To skies ambrosial and elysian airs,
Where e'en the awful Destinies adore!
No tenderness from lips,
Blackened and swoln and gasping, steals
Amidst the soul's eclipse;
193
Each, in the solitude of misery, feels,
Ineffable, his own despair,
And sinks unsolaced, unsolacing, down,
O'ercanopied by sulphurous air,
Palled, tombed by seas that terror's last cry drown!
Oh, still the piteous cry
Mounts up the heavens—“fly! fly!”
“Whither?” the billows roar
Among the wrecks and rent crags of the shore.
“Whither?” the Volcano's voice
Repeats, bidding pale death rejoice.
Oh, Hope with madness dwells,
And love of life creates the worst of deaths;
Hark! world to world ten thousand voices swells—
“Resign your breaths!”
We die; the sinner with the sinless dies,
The bud, the flower, the fruit corruption wastes,
Childhood and hoar age blend their agonies,
Destruction o'er the earth—the missioned slayer hastes.”
Swiftly along the Pæstan gulf before
The Alpine gale, scudded the Christians' barque;
Night veiled Lucania's rugged shore but oft
The dreadful radiance of the firemount hung
Ineffable, his own despair,
And sinks unsolaced, unsolacing, down,
O'ercanopied by sulphurous air,
Palled, tombed by seas that terror's last cry drown!
Oh, still the piteous cry
Mounts up the heavens—“fly! fly!”
“Whither?” the billows roar
Among the wrecks and rent crags of the shore.
“Whither?” the Volcano's voice
Repeats, bidding pale death rejoice.
Oh, Hope with madness dwells,
And love of life creates the worst of deaths;
Hark! world to world ten thousand voices swells—
“Resign your breaths!”
We die; the sinner with the sinless dies,
The bud, the flower, the fruit corruption wastes,
Childhood and hoar age blend their agonies,
Destruction o'er the earth—the missioned slayer hastes.”
Swiftly along the Pæstan gulf before
The Alpine gale, scudded the Christians' barque;
Night veiled Lucania's rugged shore but oft
The dreadful radiance of the firemount hung
194
Upon the mightiest Apennines, and there
The giant cliffs, hoar forest trees, and glens
Of cataracts—gleamed on the fear-charmed eye,
Distinct though distant; and Salernum's crags
Spurned the chafed sea that rushed before the prow.
“Lo! Pliny's galleys speed to aid at last!”
Said Pansa, gazing through the meteor light,
Towards the Sarnus and the victim host.
“All shall not perish; oars and sails bear on
The Roman armament—and now, in hope
Renewed exulting, from the dust upspring
A thousand prostrate shapes, and on the rocks
Lift their scorched hands, and shout (though we hear not)
The late rescuers on; yet many a heart
Will throb and thrill no more, but buried lie,
Like its own birthplace, till oblivion rests
On the Campanian cities and their guilt.
—Salernum's rocks for ever from our gaze
Hide the dark scene of trial, and we leave,
With swelling canvass, Rome's imperial realm,
Where Christian faith shall, like the sandal tree,
Impart its odor to the feller's axe,
To seek a hermitage in wilds afar.
—Now, as we hasten, let our spirits soar
To Him who shelters when the avenger slays!”
The giant cliffs, hoar forest trees, and glens
Of cataracts—gleamed on the fear-charmed eye,
Distinct though distant; and Salernum's crags
Spurned the chafed sea that rushed before the prow.
“Lo! Pliny's galleys speed to aid at last!”
Said Pansa, gazing through the meteor light,
Towards the Sarnus and the victim host.
“All shall not perish; oars and sails bear on
The Roman armament—and now, in hope
Renewed exulting, from the dust upspring
A thousand prostrate shapes, and on the rocks
Lift their scorched hands, and shout (though we hear not)
The late rescuers on; yet many a heart
Will throb and thrill no more, but buried lie,
Like its own birthplace, till oblivion rests
On the Campanian cities and their guilt.
—Salernum's rocks for ever from our gaze
Hide the dark scene of trial, and we leave,
With swelling canvass, Rome's imperial realm,
Where Christian faith shall, like the sandal tree,
Impart its odor to the feller's axe,
To seek a hermitage in wilds afar.
—Now, as we hasten, let our spirits soar
To Him who shelters when the avenger slays!”
| The last night of Pompeii | |