The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

TO QUEEN ADELAIDE, (BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION,) THE FOLLOWING POEM Is most respectfully inscribed, BY HER MAJESTY'S VERY DUTIFUL AND OBLIGED SERVANT, THE AUTHOR.

455

BOOK I.

“Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant,
Sic nos scripturæ depascimur aurea dicta,
Aurea, perpetuâ semper dignissima vitâ!”
Lucret. lib. iii.

“Prophecy is of prodigious extent.—It commenced from the fall of man, and reaches to the consummation of all things.—The declared purpose for which the Messiah, prefigured by so long a train of prophecy, came into the world, corresponds with all the rest of the representation,—it was to deliver a world from ruin, to abolish sin and death, to purify and immortalise human nature. We have no words to denote greater ideas than these; the mind of man cannot elevate itself to nobler conceptions.”—Hurd.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK I.

Apostrophe to the Divine Spirit—Creation, the Off-spring of Almighty Love—Sketch of Man's primal state and fall—The fathomless Mystery of Evil— The Curse, and its attendant awfulness—Necessity of Atonement.—The Majesty of Christ's Redemption —He is the Soul and Centre of all Revelation and Rites—Was present at the delivery of the Law from Sinai—Picture of the Camp of Israel in the Wilderness—The Gloom of Death as it must have appeared to our first Parents—Their Retrospections—Birth of Eve's first Child, and her triumphant Exclamation —Abraham—Isaac—The offering of the latter, a type of that Heavenly Sacrifice hereafter to be offered up for the whole World—Beauty and Simplicity of the Patriarchal State—Balak—Prophecy— Grandeur of the Prophetical Character—The Announcement of Messiah, a leading Characteristic of the Sacred Predictions—Job, the Doctrine derived from his Sufferings—His sublime expression of Faith in a Redeemer—David, his magnificentc haracter as a Poet and Prophet—Prophecies relative to Christ—Isaiah, his Style, and Predictions—Ezekiel, Daniel, and Malachi—Each considered as Prophetical Announcers of Christ and His Kingdom—Reflections on the Saviour, as they may arise to a contemplative Mind in Solitude—The Glory and Felicity of Spirits who worship, love, and obey Him.

456

Of Man's redemption by almighty Blood,
When God incarnate on the earth became
Apparent, and in bleeding glory died,
I sing: O Thou! for Whom the worlds were made,
Instruct me in this high attempt, and theme
August of all-surpassing Love divine;
That with no daring eye or step profane
The Muse may wander where the Saviour trod:
If e'er at morning, noon, or solemn night,
Thy shadow on my soul hath been, or prayer
Or praise before Thy hymnéd Throne prevail'd,
Priest of the Universe! my song inspire.

Ere Matter out of nothingness arose,
Or, Time his destined march of years began,
Himself was All! the unapparent God:
But, Life the symbol of His Love appeared;
He will'd a universe, and lo, it was!

With Nature in her young excess of bloom
Array'd, and with a living sense of joy
Abroad upon the verdant face of things,
How exquisite must earth's primeval state
Have been, how tinted with the hues of heaven!
And when amid it, from unbreathing dust
A living Shape of godlike beauty rose,
Alas! that e'er on such transcendent scene
A shade of guilt could fall! that clouds advanced
In wrath and darkness o'er offending Earth,
No longer bright with angel-steps, but sad
And stricken, trembling at her God!

When Man as monarch of the globe was placed
Where lavish Eden waved and smiled, erect
He stood; but to his Maker homage due
By test of one supreme command was tried.
“Of every tree which in the garden grows
All freely eat, save that, wherein of Good
And Evil the forbidden knowledge lies;
Whereof the day thou eatest,—thou shalt die!”
A Tempter came, the interdicted Fruit
Man dared to eat, and from his high estate
Of sinless glory into darkness fell!

In this black hour when evil Doom prevails,
Shall finite teach the Infinite his ways
Or shape the path Omnipotence shall tread?
Shall man, in dreams of wild presumption, dare
His Maker criticise, or blindly call
Our fate unjust? Shall fancy, in her flight
Insane, beyond the Empyréan soar,
The God unthrone, His attributes affect,
And fashion worlds to prove his wisdom wrong?
Let Nature hope; and while her blessings thrive,
To secret Heaven resign the dark unknown!

A deathless soul, as imaging its God,
In preciousness the jewell'd earth transcends;
And when 'twas darken'd, vast Creation felt
Its value, since the righteous Curse which came
On ruin'd manhood, thrill'd all nature through,
And round the world its dread vibration ran!
Cited for judgment, then the Creature saw
The Face Almighty robed in frowning ire
Bent o'er him; and with sinking brow and frame
While reel'd the ground whereon the trembler trod,
Heard the dread fiat, which all time confirms,—
“Dust since thou wert, to dust return and die!”

Pale in the gloom of that departed Cloud,
Whose shadow, like a lightning-track had scathed
The bowers of Paradise, when Adam stood
With eyes aghast, and view'd the forfeit-world
Wither around him, while his fancy heard
The Curse still rolling on the awe-struck wind,
The dimness and the agony of doubt
How terribly his fallen soul endured!
For what forbade, but in the hour he sinn'd,
By one annihilating word consumed
That earth should perish in the pangs of hell?
Oh! ye, who in the choir of Cherubim
Divinely shaped, upon your sapphire-thrones
Which in the palace of Jehovah blaze,
One anthem of seraphic bliss prolong,
My lyre attune, triumphantly to sing,
Who sun-like dawn'd upon the gloom of death,
Justice and mercy in His cross combined,
And roll'd away God's thunders from the world!

But say, hath ever hymn by Angel sung,
Hath thought divined, or human voice express'd
This miracle of miracles profound,
A world redeem'd, and Christ redemption's Lord?
I've seen the Sun, creation's paramount,
Rise o'er the waves and lead the march of Day;
Alone have mused, when tempest roof'd the heavens
With blackness, and the quiring Ocean heard,
When choral billows, as with conscious swell,
Chanted loud anthems in the hush of night;
The dark sublimity of deepest storms
Hath girdled, and the glories of the sky

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O'erwhelm'd me: in humbleness and awe
Before the majesty of human Worth
I've bow'd, and felt how lovely Virtue is;
But poor and powerless, dim and undefined,
The adoration born of scenes or hours
Below, to that which o'er the spirit comes,
When silent, Lord! it thinks alone of Thee.

In Christ all Revelation lives. His voice
With man in Eden dread communion held,
To teach him morning-vow, or evening-prayer,
Or sacrifice divine: the shadowy Type,
The mystic Law, and sacramental Powers,
To Him relate: and when thy desert rang
O Sinai! with the battle-hymns of old,
While Judah's banners in victorious play
Flouted the vassal wind, the Lord o'erhung
The travell'd wilderness; a signal-Cloud
By day and night His awful guidance led:
And Horeb heard Him; when, in lightning veil'd,
Her giant form beneath His thunder bow'd,
As high o'er all the dreadful trumpet clang'd
With heaven-toned music, till the Desert shook.

That Wilderness! oh, when hath mind conceived
Magnificence beyond a midnight there,
When Israel paused, and o'er her tented host
The moonlight lay? On yonder palmy mount,
Lo, sleeping myriads in the dewy hush
Of night repose: around, in squared array,
The camps are set; and in the midst, apart,
That curtain'd Shrine where mystically dwells
Jehovah's presence: through the soundless air
A cloudy pillar, robed in burning light,
Appears; concentered as one mighty heart
A million lie, in mutest slumber bound,
Or, panting like the Ocean when a dream
Of storm awakes her. Heaven and Earth are still:
In radiant loveliness the Stars pursue
Their pilgrimage, while moonlight's wizard hand
Throws beauty, like a spectre-light, on all.
At Judah's tent the lion-banner stands
Upfolded, and the pacing sentinels,—
What awe pervades them, when the dusky groves,
The rocks Titanian, by the moonshine made
Unearthly, or yon mountains vast, they view!
But soon as morning bids the sky exult,
As earth from nothing, so that countless host
From slumber and from silence will awake
To mighty being: while the forest-birds
Rush into song, the matin-breezes play,
And streamlets flash where roving sunbeams fall.
Like clouds in lustre, banners will unroll,
The trumpet shout, the warlike tramp resound,
And hymns of valour from the marching Tribes
Ascend, to gratulate the risen Morn.

Though Mercy, when a malediction fell
On Life and Matter from the lips of God,
That Woman's seed should bruise the Serpent's head
Predicted, still, in ghastly vision came
The shadows of thy then unenter'd world
O Death! but time hath half thy gloom unveil'd.
Though yet invisible, no more thy realm
A desert seems where nothing human dwells:
By ages peopled, 'tis the haunt of Dreams
Forsaking earth, to roam and muse awhile
With Shapes of being, who did once imbibe
The vital breath. There, ancient Seers exist,
Whose words were mightier than thunder-tones
When Nature trembles; there, the Good abide,
The glorious, gifted, and immortal are.
And who of death would all oblivious be
When friends are tomb'd, and parents smile no more?
To loved eternity where they repose
The orphan wanders in parental dreams
How often, and the widow calls it, Home!

Yet 'twas not thus, when new-created Earth
From chaos rose, with deepest verdure clad:
Flower, fruit, and tree, in primal beauty waved;
No tint of death, no touch of sad decay
Then marr'd the freshness of the lovely scene.
Hence, the dread fiat, “Perish! dust thou art,
And unto dust shalt thou again return,”
To Adam sounded like Creation's knell!

Upon the wide and voiceless world, alone
The guilty wanderers, whom fair Eden once
Embower'd, in fond remembrance often mourn'd
The bloom of Paradise, and pure estate
For ever lost. The Morning rose, and light
Around them in its warm luxuriance fell;
But ah! it could not through the spirit beam
As once, when Day and Heaven together rose,
While harping angels on the breezes sang:
And Evening, with her tenderness of shade
O'ercame them, like a cloud of solemn grief;
For then, of Paradise and dewy calm
They thought, as there they watch'd the vesper-hues
In beautiful consumption fade and die,
All innocently blest. Thus pass'd the day

458

In wo; and dreams of sworded Cherubim
Glared on their slumber! still, their God was near;
And when the pangs which only mothers feel
Dejected Eve endured, and lo! a child
Was born, th' unclouded spring of hope began.
And who can fathom that deep hour of love
When first an infant on its mother smiled,
And in the bright enchantment of that bliss
Her babe she clasp'd, and to Jehovah cried,
“The promised Seed! Almighty! now 'tis born!”

Thus dimly on the world's primeval state
Messiah dawn'd; till God himself declared
To sainted Abram, as the countless orbs
Of midnight glitter'd over Hebron's plain,
That like yon stars a glorious race should rise
Unnumber'd, till the earth's Deliverer came,
And crown'd all nations blest. Then, Isaac rose,
The child of promise, the Redeemer's type
On the stern altar by his parent laid!
The son, the only son, whom Abram loved
Yet did not spare, when Heaven commanded, “Slay!”

Ere the rich morning on the mountains flung
A robe of beauty; in that vestal hour
When birds are darting from the dewy ground,
And nature, soft as sleeping life, begins
To waken, and the spell of day to wear,
Unseen the patriarch and his cherish'd boy
Uprose, the sacrificial wood prepared,
And thus, companion'd by his household-youths,
They onward journey'd with the laden ass.
Through piny glens, and green acacia-vales
The pilgrims wound their undulating way.
Oft as he went, upon his child beloved
The Sire of nations look'd, and inly pray'd;
And felt the father in his bosom rise,
As bound and bloody, on the altar stretch'd
He vision'd him!—the long-hoped, destined son
Who fond and dutiful had ever been,
And guiltless of a parent's tear. But, faith
Triumphant in the power of mercy proved.
Twice had the Sun around the pilgrims drawn
His evening-veil, when o'er a distant mount,
Upon Moriah's steep and rocky clime
A Vision of the Lord reposed, and shone,—
A cloudy signal, shaped for Abram's eye
Alone to see, and there his altar raise.
The patriarch bow'd; and o'er the mountain-path
Both child and parent took their solemn way,
But each was silent, for they thought of Heaven.
Thus on they went, till at the mount ordain'd
Arriving, with enamour'd gaze they saw
Green heights, and forest-crested hills afar,
And willow'd plains; and drank the balmy air,
And cool'd their foreheads in the breeze, which play'd
Like the soft tremor of an angel-wing;
So hush'd the hour, the spot so calm, that God
Himself seem'd waiting there to welcome man!
Then Isaac, as the stony altar-pile
Beneath the shadow of a mountain-tree
Was reared, and sacramental fire prepared,
In words of unsuspecting sweetness cried,
“My father!”—Abram answer'd, “Here, my son!”
“The wood and fire behold! but where the lamb
Of sacrifice, to crown yon flaming pyre?”
Then heaved his bosom with the love of years
Departed; and a tear paternal rose
As gazed he fondly on that only child,
And far away a childless mother saw
Whose heart had echoed every infant-cry!
But soon the strife, and soon the tear was o'er:
To Heaven he look'd, and thus to Isaac spake:
“My son! in thee a sacrifice the Lord
Hath found, and—thou to God art dedicate!”
He answer'd not; but meekly knelt him down
And on the altar lay, a willing Lamb.
But God descended; and the hand uplift
In glorious faith to sacrifice a child,
Was holden, while angelic tones proclaim'd
“O Abram! spare thy son! thine only spare,
And let him live, for thou art faithful found.”
With thrilling wonder and ecstatic awe
Up look'd the Patriarch, and behold! a ram
Beside him, in a woody thicket caught:
And while it bled, again the Voice sublime
Repeated, like the sound of golden waves,
“In blessing I will bless thee; and thy seed
The sand of ocean shall outnumber far,
And from it spring the Glory of the World!”

But next, on Jacob, in symbolic dream
The Incarnation dawn'd, as lone and sad,
His couch the earth, his canopy the skies,
The exiled patriarch from wild Esau fled.
When night had deepen'd, homeless, pale, and worn,
The wanderer, pillow'd on a stone-built couch,
For slumber stretch'd him on the dreary plain.
Companionless he was, 'mid forests dark
With midnight-umbrage, torn by wolfish winds,
And echoed by the frequent lion-roar
Howl'd from the hills; but God he ever felt;
And round his heart parental blessings twined,
Till sleep came o'er him, like a smile from Heaven.
Rude was the couch, but oh! his angel-dream

459

To witness, Saints would now a ruder share!
He dreamt; and lo! a Ladder, based on earth,
And buried in the sky, before him rose;
Adown it Shapes of awful beauty stole,
While others clad with archangelic beams
Did solemnly from step to step ascend:
Above, a formless Apparition shone,
Ineffable! from Whom a voice divine
In accent richer than the full-toned sea,
Proclaim'd, “Thy father's God! and thine, behold!
Wide o'er the world thy destined seed will spread,
And, numberless, empeople lands and isles,
Till One arise, and make all kingdoms blest.”
“How dreadful! 'tis the gate of heaven!” he cried:
'Mid solemn breathings of melodious air
Aloft then moved the hierarchal Pomp;
And ere the lark to hymn the Day began
The exile rose, a rocky pillar raised,
Shed o'er its top the consecrating oil,
And in the hush of morning hied away.

“From Judah's hand the sceptre shall not fall,
Till Shiloh come; to Him shall Empires bow!”
So spake a patriarch from his couch of death;
And thus, through all the realm of holy Writ,
Messiah is the Morning Star of Hope
Who beams for ever on the soul of truth.

But, ere deep Prophecy its organ-strain
Its full magnificence of tone begin,
A vision of that unforgotten prime
The patriarchal age, when Earth was young,
Awhile, oh! let it linger. On the soul
It breaketh, like a lovely burst of spring
On gazing captives, when the open skies
Again are floating over Freedom's head.
Though sin had wither'd with a charnel-breath
Creation's morning-bloom, there still remain'd
Elysian hues of that angelic scene
When the Sun gloried o'er a sinless world,
And with each ray produced a flower. From dells
Untrodden, hark! the breezy carol comes
Upwafted, with the chant of radiant birds;
While meadows, bathed in greenest light, and woods
Gigantic, towering from the skiey hills,
And odorous trees in prodigal array,
With all the elements divinely calm,
Our fancy pictures on the infant globe.
And ah, how godlike, with imperial brow
Benignly grave, yon patriarchal Forms
Tread the free earth, and eye the naked heavens!
In nature's stamp of unassisted grace
Each limb is moulded; simple as the mind
The vest they wear; and not a hand but works,
Or, tills the ground with honourable toil.
By youth revered, their sons around them grow
And flourish; monarch of his pastoral tribe,
A Patriarch's throne is each devoted heart;
And when he slumbers on the tented plain
Beneath the vigil-stars, a living wall
Is round him, in the might of love's defence.
And he is worthy: sacrifice and song
By him are ruled; and oft at shut of flowers
When queenly virgins in the sunset go
Water to carry from the crystal wells,
In beautiful content, beneath a tree
Whose shadows hung o'er many a hallow'd sire,
He sits; recording how Creation rose
From nothing, of the Word almighty born;
How man had fallen, and where Eden-boughs
Had waved their beauty on the breeze of morn;
Or, how the Angels still at twilight love
To visit Earth with errands from the Sky.

But like a river that its course renews,
Again my song to its high Theme returns.
When Balak, frighted by the banner'd hosts
Of Israel, camping on unbounded plains,
For Balaam sent, upon his trancèd eye
Prophetic visions from th' Almighty fell.

There, when the monarch on the mountain stood,
Seven altars, oxen, and seven rams prepared,
And sacrifice of mystic numbers paid,—
The Seer his oracle of light unroll'd.
He look'd, and lo! along that river'd vale
Where Arnon glitter'd, shone the myriad tents
Of Judah, whitening in the lustrous air,
Like clouds which congregate on summer-sky
In ranks of infinite and fresh array:
Then, all the chords of Heaven's predictive lyre
Quiver'd, with more than melody intoned,
And superhuman Poetry began!
His curse was buried in the bliss foretold;
While glory, blessing, and mysterious joy
The tents of Jacob from the prophet drew:
Till Ecstacy this higher strain attuned
In—“I shall see Him, but not now! a Star
From Jacob, and from Israel shall arise
A Sceptre, in whose shadow will depart
Thy race and region, O deserted king!”

Thus Prophecy to man from heaven was breathed
A miracle beyond all utterance deep,
Immeasurably vast; outmarching Time,
Subduing Space, and with colossal might
Erecting Thrones; or crushing city-walls
With curses, like the winds when desert-born,
Terrific, loud, with desolation wing'd!

460

And they, elected to be Mouths for God,
Dread Oracles! whose dooming words have blanch'd
The cheek of Empires in their godless pride
And palsied high-domed Capitals with fear,
August and lonely, sad, yet all sublime
They lived, in sackcloth robed, in deserts housed
Or mountain cavern; fated, and apart
From blinding shadows of terrestrial sway,
They dwelt, communing with almighty Thought.
The gloom, the glory, and the Vision came,
The Future rendered voiceless secrets up,
And then, like phantoms, from eternity,
Dim Ages rose, and answered to their Spell!

And he, whose sorrow was sublimely borne,
Whose grief was glory, for it made the soul
A witness how the Everlasting thinks,—
Behold him! on the ashy ground reclined.
Seven days and nights have o'er his throbbing head
Departed, still, in mutest wo he bows
With three beside him. Oft when darkness rose,
A groan sank dreary on the midnight-air;
But, soon his agony again retired
Back to the gulph of unlamenting gloom!
Nor lip, nor limb his inward strife reveals;
Despair in stone was not more dumb than he!
Prometheus, chain'd on Scythia's burning rock,
When lightning, tempest, and Tartarean ire
With thund'ring earthquake round his martyr'd frame
The tragedy of Nature's wreck begun,
In full sublimity of godlike wo
Was less exalted than the silent Job.

And, what a lesson of undying truth
The torture of the Scene supplies! Array'd
In whirlwind, did the vocal God declare
Secrets of glory, or mysterious depths
Of Essence Infinite to man unshroud?
No! sea and mountain, thunder-storm and cloud,
The glorious miracles of life and form
Which float the waters, or the earth command,
These are but types of Trinitarian power,
Yet, who the mystery of their being knows?
Lost in the march of God's material ways,
If Reason wander, how could thought abstract
His moral Kingdom perfectly conceive?
To question deeply what we darkly know,
Our boding fancies in their raven flight
Cross and re-cross a universe of gloom,
And yet, in this appall'd conviction ends,—
That God is good, and infinite, and wise,
But Man a daring antichrist, who dreams
Himself the measure of Eternal Mind!

When Nature, in her awful doubt, creates
Mystery and madness for the heart and brain,
From all which life endures, let mortals feel
That man, the infant of eternity,
By wo is nursed, and strengthen'd for the skies;
And a brave soul, though Earth and Hell combine
To scatter tempest round its blighted way,
Beholds a God in all things but despair!
In hours of sadness, when Oppression rules,
And each pale sunburst of unwonted joy
Breaks o'er the spirit, like derisive beams
Of summer playing round a wintry realm,
Let Grief remember how the patriarch cried
With voice that travell'd o'er the sea of Time,
“Oh! that the graven rock my words imprest,
And iron stamp'd them with eternal truth!
For though in dust my body be dissolved,
That my Redemer liveth, and shall stand
When time is ended, on this mortal earth,
I surely know: on Him mine eye shall gaze,
And in my flesh shall I The Lord behold!”

God's Incarnation is the focal truth
Where prophecy's converging beams unite.
And Thou! the shepherd-king, of Jesse born,
Of Heaven beloved, similitude express
Of Christ, the Lord of everlasting worlds,
Whether on Zion hill thy holy strain
Be harped, or by the brook of Kedron hymn'd;
Or nightly warbled, when unnumber'd orbs
To thee their origin divine declared,—
Thy words are breathings by the soul attuned;
For aye thou seem'st a Singer from above
Who chants the glory of remember'd skies.

Wouldst thou in meekest adoration bend,
Or mount the heavens, and with bright myriads swell
The chorus of eternity? Does Grief
Around thee blacken in her stormy ire,
Or sad dejection on thy eyelids weigh?
The royal minstrel hath a mood for thee
And in his heart deep echoes for thine own!
But when the frame of this majestic World
The mind o'erawes, then! who like him appeals
To clouds and whirlwinds, with the Thunder talks,
Partakes the tempest, and of Ocean learns
Such mimicry sublime, that Fancy hears
In God's own orchestra of waves and winds
The billows, echoed by his heaven-strung lyre.
But Nature in her gentleness, alike
From David woos a sympathy divine.
The lull of night, the language of the stars,

461

And all that beautiful, serene, or blest
Is deemed, his harp melodiously inspires.

Bard of the Spirit! thine heroic song,
Whose hallelujahs in Engeddi's cave,
Or forest glens, and palmy grove, prevail'd
O'er every pang his exiled bosom felt,—
Attunes Religion's universal voice.
Canadian forests, or the parchèd wilds
Of Afric, ocean-rocks, and cavern-gloom,
Wherever Man to God in prayer ascends,
Thy melodies the yearning heart relieve.
And oh! what blessings have thy hymns evoked
From Heaven's vast treasury of light and love
Since first they sounded on a shepherd's lyre!
For they are all Imagination dreams
Angelic lips might warble:—on the Cross
Of Calvary, ere the Son of Man dismiss'd
His martyr'd spirit, thine was His farewell!

But chief o'er all in David's glorious strain,
The homage wafted to that destined Throne
Whereon would reign a universal King
From him descended:—in his darksome wo
The Martyr and the Maker of our world
Was symbolised, beneath a veiling gloom.
And when exalted, his far-reaching eye
By heaven unscaled, in emblematic light
Foreshadowed Him, the Triumpher o'er death,
And Victor of the grave. Thus, vision-blest,
The prophet-minstrel all divinely sung;
Thus rose from mortal to immortal themes,
Above his nature tower'd, and hail'd on high
Christ from eternity by God decreed
The earth to ransom and mankind restore.

And how he imageth the Lord of souls
Before us, when he mounteth on the wings
Of rapture, soaring through the heaven of heavens!
“From Zion shall He wither in His wrath
Rebellious kings! to me hath He declared,
My Son thou art! this day Jehovah hath
Begotten Thee; the heathen are Thine own,
And vanquish'd worlds beneath Thy sceptre bow!”

But when the starry hush and pomp of night
O'erawed him, and the moon her Maker's hand
Confess'd, the spirit of prophetic Truth
Again was vocal: thus the minstrel sang:
“When I consider how the balanced heavens
Almightiness in moving pomp reveal,
Lord! what is man? yet Him hast thou encrown'd;
Upon the deep his vast dominion walks,
And subject earth beneath his sceptre bows.

“Ever before me lives the Lord of Hosts!
His hand o'ershades me, and my heart exults:
And soaring hope, by inspiration plumed,
Wings o'er the sepulchre its flight,—for there
A Soul shall triumph; and thy Holy One
No dark corruption of the dead shall stain!”

“How beauteous Thou, above the sons of men!
Upon Thy lips what loveliness diffused!
Array Thee in thy glory! gird Thy sword
Upon thy thigh; majestically ride!
Hark! Earth is quaking; her foundations rock,
Thine arrows thicken; terrible Thy sway!
For ever and for ever is Thy Throne,
And righteously Thy boundless sceptre rules,
And over all Thy God anoints Thee great.

“Through dateless ages are Thy years unroll'd;
The earth was founded, and the heavens were arch'd
By Thee; Creation felt Thy forming hand;
But while they perish, Thou shalt aye endure:
When, like a vesture, they are changed and gone
Still, Thou art One, Eternal and the True!”

And thus did Zion's royal minstrel chant,
And through the cloud of unaccomplish'd time
His glance direct, to that transcendent reign
Of Mercy, when the veil would be uproll'd
And brightly dawn th' Incarnate Sun of Worlds.

Next in the train of these immortal Seers
Another of the heaven-directed hail;
Who, like the clarion that shall rouse the dead,
Might quicken dust,—such life his song inspires!
Amid a temple, bright as Syrian noon,
Upon a Throne unutterably high
O'er which the six-wing'd Seraphim appear'd,
The Lord was seated; and the awful cry
Of “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord!”
Melodious came from each seraphic lip:
And in that Vision, as a centre stood
Appall'd Isaiah, seeing, hearing all.

Terrific Bard, and mighty! in thy strain
The passion and the poetry of truth
And deep-toned storms of inspiration roll,
Whether for cities by th' Almighty cursed
Thy wail arose; or, on enormous crimes
Which darken'd heaven with supernatural gloom,
Thy flash of indignation fell, alike
The feelings quiver when thy Voice awakes!
Borne in the whirlwind of a dreadful song
Our spirit travels round the destined globe,

462

While shadows, cast from solemn years to come,
Fall round us, and we feel a God is nigh!

But when a gladness from thy music flows,
Creation brightens; glory decks the sky,
The Sun is mantled with millennial smiles
And green earth temper'd for immortal spring:
The lion smoothes his ruffled mane, the lamb!—
And wolf together feed, and by the den
Of serpents, see the rosy infant play!

There is a Day, the darkness of whose scene
In visitings of dread might well subdue
The world's false brightness, foreordained to come,
When the huge fabric of this stately Globe
Shall bow with terror in the storm of doom.
Then, in that hour of chaos, while the earth
And heaven shall fade like elemental dreams,
High on some rocky eminence enthroned
Methinks Isaiah might his voice awake
In bursts of wo magnificently wild,—
The last that lingers round a dying World!

But, Prince of Prophets! in thy page eterne,
How visibly the Son of God appears!
“Behold, a Virgin shall conceive, and bear
A son; Immanuel shall his name be call'd.”
Again;—“For unto us a Child is born,
To us a Son is given; and his name
Is, Wonderful, the Everlasting Prince
Of Peace! the Counsellor, and mighty God!

“A Voice comes wafted through the Wilderness!
Prepare the way, and be the Desert smooth:
Arise, ye valleys! and ye mountains, sink
Before Him! for the Lord Jehovah comes!

“Despised, rejected, and a Man with grief
Acquainted, surely He our woes hath borne,
And in His bosom all our sorrows ta'en!
Our chastisement is on Him: we are heal'd,
But He is wounded! and on Him alone
The Lord hath laid th' iniquity of all!”

Nor, when captivity by Chebar mourn'd,
And Israel wore the Babylonian chain
Beside the willow-shaded streams, was dumb
The Voice prophetic: but where Belus rose
In her stupendous prodigy of towers,
Ezekiel pour'd his passionate lament;
Or shaped for time the Destinies he saw
From heaven prefigured:—what colossal shades
As though reflected from the scenes immense
Around him, crowd upon his fated world!
But high o'er all the visionary Pomp
To us the Cedar of the Gospel rears
Its allegoric boughs, beneath whose shade
Birds of all clime, and wing, and beauty dwell.

So Daniel, when his midnight-trance began
On the dim bosom of that mystic Sea
Whose waters quiver'd in the tempest-grasp,
Beheld him, coming with the clouds of heaven,—
The Son of Man; then, throned in flaming pomp
With myriads of Angelic Forms begirt,
Perpetual empire to the Son was given
O'er land and language, kingdom, sea, and isle.

And thus, wherever bright prediction beams,
The glories of the Incarnation dawn.
At last, with healing on his wings, arose
The Sun of Righteousness, to him who cried,
“Before the splendour of that dreadful day
A Herald of the Lord, Elijah comes,
To turn thy heart, O guilty world! to me,
Or thou shalt wither in My blast of ire!”

So Prophecy, with time begun, with time
Shall end; and when in some empyreal Sphere
The mind expands with far sublimer reach
Than prescient faith, or fancy can extend,
In proud fulfilment Prophecy will reign.
For, having grasp'd the glory of the world
Redeem'd, and taught us how Millennium smiles,
Beyond the Universe of sense it wings
An awful flight, and in mysterious depths
Of Being unexplored, for man foredooms,
A state unspeakably divine and pure,—
Eternity, O God! and shared with Thee.

Almighty Priest! Thou angel-worshipp'd Lord
In secrecies of uncreated Light
Though now enthron'd, Thy sympathies retain
Their human oneness with Thy People still;
And, for the Church, thy Mystic Body call'd,
Plead and prevail with eloquence divine.
As oft in chamber dim, or lonesome walk
By leafy twilight arch'd, the Mind foreviews
Its own eternity, and dreams Thy Form
To life again,—how wonderful, apart,
By time unsoil'd, by accident, or sin
Immaculate as Love and Law required
Thy Being riseth in irradiant truth,
Before us, purer than the light of light,
Of all Transcendencies the sum and soul!
And when did Earth Thine attribute display,—
One vast Benevolence, which girt a world
Of hearts by catholic embrace of love?
All time and truth, all empires and all powers

463

That were, or would be, in the march of fate,
By Thee were compass'd for Redemption's plan!

When o'er the grandeur of unclouded heaven
Our vision travels with a free delight,
As though the boundless and the pure were made
For speculation, so the towering mind
By inward oracle inspired and taught,
The Lofty and the Excellent in mind reveres;
And thus, the Incarnation of divinest love,
God's perfect Image, humanised for Man,
As Finite loved, as Infinite adored,
Messiah is; and hence to faith presents
A Model for the Universe.—Though God
Be round us, by the shadow of His might
For aye reflected; and with plastic Hand
Prints on the earth the character of Things;
Yet He Himself,—how awfully retired
Depth within depth, unutterably deep!
His Glory brighter than the brightest thought
Can image, holier than our holiest awe
Can worship—utter'd only in, I AM!

But Thou! apparell'd in a robe of true
Mortality; meek Sharer of our low
Estate, in all except compliant sin,
To Thee can sacrificial Awe devote
A living holocaust of sense and soul
By love enkindled. Thou hast lived and breathed;
Our wants and woes partaken; all that charms
Regenerate hearts to Thine unspotted truth
May plead for sanction; Virtue but reflects
Thine image; Wisdom is a voice attuned
To consonance with Thine; and all which yields
To Thought a pureness, or to Life a peace,
From Thee descends; whose spirit-ruling sway,
Invisible as thought, around us brings
A balm almighty for Affliction's hour.
Once felt, in all the fulness of Thy grace
The mystic essence of our moral life
To form,—and heaven by holiness begins!
Which purifies the base, the dark illumes,
And binds our being with that holy spell
Whereby each function, faculty, and thought
Surrenders meekly to the central Guide
Of hope and action, by a God empower'd.

Until the eyelids of the Dead unclose
Though Christ has vanish'd into viewless light,
High o'er the world, beyond heroic state,
To reach or rival, is Man's inner-life
Securely founded on the Rock of faith!
All the wide glories which the eye commands,
Or air and ocean, earth and heaven supply,
Of Him report, whose potency begat
Them all. The ground is hallow'd, for 'twas trod
By Him; all Earth is radiant with a sense
Ethereal, born of His remember'd sway:
Nor pang, nor trial, torture, grief, nor care
Communion high and mystic interchange
With Him destroys; in solitude alike,
As in the roaring capital, a Saint
Embodies into human Form again
That living Saviour, Whom the Past perceived
And worshipp'd, angels gloried to announce,
And Whose perfections so harmonious are
That o'er them God's eternal sabbath smiles.

BOOK II.

“The intellectual Power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way.”
Wordsworth.

“Melior origo nos expectat, alius rerum status. Dies iste, quem tanquam extremum reformidas, æterni natalis est.”—Seneca, Epist. 102.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK II.

Having shown that the gradual announcement of an Incarnate Redeemer was the primary object of the Prophetic Scheme, the Second Book is principally devoted to a consideration of the necessity and probability of a Revelation from God, by an argument drawn from the nature of the human mind and the destinies of man.

Natural and Revealed Religion—The total inadequacy of the former is endeavoured to be shown by exhibiting a mind most exquisitely attuned to the glories and harmonies of the Universe, yet averse to the truth and character of Christ's atonement; till, finally convinced, by the utter helplessness of human philosophy, it reposes in the Faith which is from Heaven—The probability of a Revelation from God, induced from the weakness, obscurity, and impotence of ancient systems, and the frequent longing of their founders for some certain Lawgiver from above—The Doctrine of Pagan and Christian Philosophy—Sublime superiority of the latter—Its triumphant effects—This Revelation was gradually made, in analogy with the progressive tendencies of the human mind, and the Divine arrangements from the commencement of the World—Belief by compulsion would violate the freedom of the will, and reduce the character of man to an irresponsible nature—Christ—Revelation extends through all ages—Apostrophe to England as a country gloriously distinguished by the ameliorating influence of Christianity—Her Sabbaths—Prayers for the diffusion of the Gospel—And our Country's efforts in this holy toil—Concluding thoughts, sentiments, and descriptive associations.

There is a God, the Universe exclaims:
There is a God, Man's echoing heart replies,
And round the world that heaven-born answer rolls!
And thus Creation, while the spirit throbs

464

In full response to her sublime appeal,
Hath canonised Imagination's creed,
Till all her splendours to the soul become
The faint reflections of a Vast Unseen!

Yet, vainly beautiful this god of earth
Whom Nature's worship for the soul creates:
Our homage is material; and the mind,
While in the light of elemental pomp
It lives and moves, may still its darkness keep;
Unvisited by that perpetual ray
Of Truth divine, from revelation born,
Where God a Person, not Abstraction is,
And His high Attributes to faith become
That inward Decalogue the will obeys.

There is a haunt whose quietude of scene
Accordeth well with hours of solemn hue,—
A church-yard, bosomed in a beauteous vale
Besprinkled o'er with green and countless graves,
And mossy tombs of unambitious pomp
Decaying into dust again. No step
Of mirth, no laughter of unfeeling life
Amid the calm of death that spot profanes.
The skies o'er-arch it with serenest love;
The winds, when visiting the dark-bough'd elms,
An airy anthem sing; and birds and bees
That in their innocence of summer joy
Exult, and carol with commingling glee,
But add to solitude the lull of sound.
By sea environ'd, yet the choral waves
By noon entranced, in dreaming slumber lie;
And when roused Ocean at the roaring blast
Foams in loud fury, still, the deep-toned storm
Mellow'd by distance, into music dies
Like that which echoes from the world afar,
Or lingers round the path of perish'd Years.

And here, companion'd by his soul alone,
A Being, whose unfathom'd spirit fought
With Loneliness, did wander oft and muse
His hours away; while dream-wove spells entwined
Their mystery round him:—if the Tomb its dead
Surrender'd, well might he arise and prove
How frail the creed which erring Nature moulds
When darkness rushes on the doom of Man!

In vain the witchery of words would tell
How fondly, by impassion'd dreams inspired,
His fancy wed the Universe with love.
The hues and harmonies of blended Things
Were beauty to the magic of his mind;
And all the thousand wheels of moving life
The intellectual melodies, which played
For ever on the mystic harp of Thought.
Such warm imaginings, where'er he came,
A glittering falseness on the true and stern
Suffused; and through the light of feeling shone
The scene of earth, and countenance of heaven.
The young enchantment of angelic Spring
Flow'd in his veins, voluptuously deep;
The budding infancy of flowers was dear
To him, nor would he tread their life away;
Nor wander in the soundless gloom of dell
Or grove, without a sympathetic hush.
And oh! to view him when the balmy night
Breathed o'er this quiet world, and from her throne
The lustrous Moon on tree and temple pour'd
The pallid radiance of her peaceful smile,—
In second paradise he seem'd to muse,
Priested by Sentiment, to worship there!

So lived, so felt he; making all without
Enchantment for responsive thought within;
But that Eternity which girdles time,
Majestic Faith, and everlasting Hope,
Commoved not him: Hereafter drown'd his soul
In seas of darkness, billowing with doubt
And fear!—That this divine, all-beauteous Orb
Whose faintest impulse, sent from breeze or star,
So thrillingly his heart confess'd, was framed,
Upheld, and circled through the void profound
By Power apart, invisibly enthroned,
His innate majesty of mind declared.
But such a god, of dreams and shadows born,
No bended knee, no voice nor vow adored:
He was—a Spirit, or pervading Sense,
A sightless Agent, an almighty Self
Articulated by the tones of Earth
And gloriously by nature's pomp reveal'd,—
So fancy dreamt; and Feeling taught no more.
And hence did Pride and Passion, which imbue
Mortality with taints of sin and wo
And colour all the atmosphere of life
With clouds of awful gloom, work unrestrain'd,
And rule or sanction the decrees of Thought.

At length Affliction, in whose teaching gloom
The keen-eyed jealousy of Guilt beholds
Truths which our mental Cains deny, or dread,
Blighted his home with desolating blast!
And One, the beatings of whose heart were his
Re-echo'd, she who walk'd with angel-step,
Her looks the living sunshine of his soul,
Her tones the music of his memory,
Whose printless foot made consecrated ground,
The hope and heaven of all,—lay still in death!
Then came that worldless, dread, eclipse of mind,
The agony which curdles soul and sense
As though annihilation had begun,
Or man were mouldering into dust again!

465

One beam of heaven had brought salvation now;
But Darkness girt him with its deepest shroud,
Wherein he stood, nor wept, nor spoke, nor sigh'd,
But, mute and stone-like, turn'd to cold despair!

With tender rudeness to his couch they bore
The widow'd martyr; day by day, and hour
By hour, Affection with her heavenly eye
Attended, faintly smooth'd his pallid brow,
Then touch'd his hand, and with a yearning gaze
Woo'd his dumb anguish into speaking life,
Which came at last; and then, alone he nursed
His sorrow;—in the breathless noon of night,
All unperceived, the lovely dead he found;
There stood, and gazed, enamour'd of the grief
That, now unfrozen, from his spirit pour'd
Tears fast and free, in all the storm of wo!
On that cold form, so spiritually pale,
Where the lone night-watch flung a spectral gleam,
He look'd, as though a life were in that look
Absorb'd, and felt that never more would flash
From pulseless clay revealings of the soul!
The mystery of Being was fulfill'd,
The seal of Nature set, the vision gone,
Or vanish'd in some universe of gloom!
And yet, from dreams a Light immortal soothed
The mourner, when from out the grave he saw
An Apparition, bright as golden air,
Ascend, assume her own appealing smile
And point with waving hand to better worlds!

But Life no longer seem'd the living sense
Of mortal nature; but a ghastly dream
Wherein he moved, by Destiny compell'd.
A dismal trance of dull satiety
This lone world grew; a dampness of despair,
The sullen winter of a broken heart
Was all he felt,—was all he wish'd to feel!
A demon-shadow, by his anguish bred,
O'er all things brooded: in the light no light
Appear'd; e'en melody no music brought,
And earth emaciate as an orb of death
To him became; his thoughts alone did live;
And these, like pulses from a tortured brain,
Throbb'd in the spirit with eternal pang!

And now, the poison of dejection work'd;
His cheeks were blighted; o'er his thin-worn hands
The veins meander'd with a dying hue;
The mournful hair that arch'd his manly brow
Droop'd like decaying locks; his bright eye lost
The boldness of expressive fire, and grew
Unearthly, from its depth of lifeless gaze:
And oft did mothers heave maternal sighs,
And children cease their revel, when he pass'd
Unheedful by them, like a Shape from tombs.

At length, the unbeliever sought the Night
To tell him secrets of eternity.
And then, how terrible the spirit-throes
Of doubting agony a Deist felt!
Above him,—the majestic sea of heaven
Where island-orbs of beauty sail'd and shone;
Around him, dimness and the calm of death
By nothing marr'd, but when some moving branch
Of cypress, like a dying billow shed
A faint sound on the feeble wind.—Intense
And deep, and passionate the gaze he sent
Far in the blue infinity of night!
Oh, let some Angel on his wings of love
Be wafted, and the burning doubt which preys
On sorrow with permitted voice subdue!
He listen'd!—on the air a faded leaf
Fell slowly, with a sad and ling'ring sound
Whose tone seem'd not of earth; but soon it still'd:
And then, the midnight of despair return'd,
And in the blackness of his heart he wish'd
Eternal nothingness his tomb to be!

An hour there came from heaven at last, when Faith
Look'd up, and view'd her God.—As evening smiled
On ocean's western brim, where molten waves
A restless glory of rich waters made,
A pensive wanderer, on the pebbled beach
He stood, communing with the conscious Scene.
Where'er his feeling glance reposed, a charm
There glow'd, which told Almightiness had touch'd
The world; and when the folding clouds enwreath'd
The Day-god on his sunset-throne, and cool
And calm the unimpassion'd Twilight rose,
That purity of second childhood came
Whose tenderness is truth.—In such meek hour
When darkness from the soul dissolves away,
With gentle step and gentler mien approach'd
A hoary Sage, by hallow'd wisdom blest.
The balmy light, the beauty and romance
Of scene, well harmonised with heavenly thought.
And hence, the solemn Teacher on his soul
The dews of immortality distill'd:—
Not hiding Mercy in dogmatic gloom,
Or, led by light presumingly inspired,
Outvent'ring on the mystic waves which roll
Between us, and the shore of worlds unseen;
But, meekly firm, of everlasting Love,
Creative power, and providential Truth

466

That Christian spake; and leaf by leaf the Book
Of Man's redemption from primeval wo
Unroll'd, and challenged wide Creation's law
To prove, how Nature visioneth the plan
Which God himself descended to reveal.

With soften'd eye, and brow intently sad,
Such theme of glory did the sceptic hear,
Yet answer'd not; but look'd to heaven, and sigh'd.
Now twilight into solemn gloom retired;
The pomp of clouds was o'er; and ocean lay
In floating darkness round the rock-hewn beach;
But here and there prevailing starlight gleam'd
On some excited billow: deep the hour
And holier the scene, as each, immersed
In contemplation, track'd his homeward way;
Unvoiced their feelings, and their thoughts unknown:
But Heaven had watch'd them; and ere shrouding night
Mantled the earth, an unbeliever pray'd!—
When years had vanish'd, and converted mind
Lived in the light of Deity, and knew
The depths of God's redeeming love, how look'd
The Infidel on what his heart had been?
Go! ask some martyr of a dungeon-gloom,
How fresh the light, how beautiful the airs
Of heaven which visit his reviving frame,
And he shall tell thee, what the mourner felt
When broke the clouds from his benighted soul
And Morn, eternal Morn, began to smile!

So weak is all unaided Nature lends
To educate the restless soul of man,
Or solace wo, or subjugate the will
To Conscience, on whose throne dread Justice reigns.
Became it not, then, that almighty Love
From Whom did emanate this wondrous world,
The silence of eternity to break,
Become apparent, and His Name divulge
That mortals might draw near Him, and adore?
Could He, to whom the universe of life
From wave and wind a hymn of worship sends,
Let Man alone be ignorantly dumb,
Or mock by Superstition's jarring creed
The awful witness of the God within?
And, did not Man himself, of old, secure
By feign'd communion with celestial Pow'rs,
Profound dominion for the sacred rites
That reach us from the past? In wood, or grove,
And cave orac'lar, Legislation knew
From Heaven to find a sanction and a strength
Reveal'd; and long'd for Deity by truth
Declared, and by celestial faith adored.
Thus Plato, in his pure ambition, nursed
A glorious longing for supremer Mind,
The soul to tune, and teach him perfect Law.

The past survey, and what hath Reason done?
Passion and Doubt her waning light withstood:
And stubborn ages, as they swept along,
But mock'd her impotence with blind misrule,
Of creed, or crime begot. Man look'd abroad,
And on his spirit rush'd one vast belief!
From life and matter, from the sun and moon
And the deep waters did a power appeal,
Attesting God, and teaching His domain;
But how to worship, how His law obey,
In vain would philosophic Reason find
In pensive shade, or Academic bower.
The World was deified; terrestrial gods
In all that pantheistic Sense believed,
A mystic reign for adoration held:
Thus, Neptune on his ocean-car appear'd,
Apollo gloried in the realm of light,
And Dian, with her starry nymphs begirt,
The virgin Moon inspired. No wind there breathed,
There waved no grove, no fountain-music play'd,
No River roll'd in liquid joy along,
But Superstition lent a listening ear
To hail her fancied god; each City claim'd
Presiding deities, and built her fanes
For monsters imaged out of monstrous thought,
Where dark Pollution fed her secret fires.
At length, Idolatry the mind subdued;
From tombs evoked the undeserving Dead,
Or, round the statues of her living great
In sycophantic homage knelt, and pray'd.

Religion thus in clouds of error lost,
Morality no saving charm possess'd
To harmonise the wheels of social life.
The world without, to that far mightier world
Within, a secondary station held,
And action was alone the source of law;
While thought and impulse, those creative springs
On which the conduct of our being turns,
In secret wildness kept unholy sway.
Men learn'd to live, but were not taught to die;
Each hour proclaim'd its own peculiar heaven;
The heart might covet what the hand revered;
And in the soul, a thousand years of sin
Lie floating, on a sea of fancy toss'd,
And be unblamed! No inward law prevail'd,
Like that which ever to the Christian speaks;
Prejudging thought, ere yet by deed express'd,
And throning conscience in the heart of man.

467

Thus, who can wonder that a darkness hung
Round heathen ages, by no hand unveil'd?
Magnificent and mighty was the Past,
In learning, prowess, and devoted arts:
Yet ne'er was hero, in his sun-bright car,
With all his panoply of gorgeous hues
And lauding thunders from a nation's lip
To tell his conquest,—so sublimely great
As dying Stephen, when that martyr quench'd
By glorious faith the agonies of death,
The sky beheld, and for his murd'rers pray'd!

Bright as the morning of primeval day
Burst on the waters of chaotic gloom,
Came revelation on the darksome world.
Then error vanish'd in celestial truth;
Hush'd were false Oracles, and quench'd the fires
Which savage bigotry for ages fed:
New light, new order, new existence rose!
The pangs of Wo, the wrongs of patient Worth,
Were now no more, as once their truth had been:
Eternity the debt of Time would pay,
The soul redeem, and justify its God.

Yet was not this transcendent scheme of love
To Earth unfolded, till maturing age
Had nerved the spirit for its high display.
But just as nature, by apparent means
And fine gradations of effective power,
The miracle of life and form achieves,
So Mind, in her advance to heavenly things,
Progressively to full redemption came.
In the calm innocence of youthful Time
When Earth undeluged lay, the vocal Word
By deep communion did Himself impart
To his frail creature, Man: and Spirits bright,
And loving Angels by their Lord empower'd
Brought inward messages from God on high.
When darkly sunk in Amoritish guilt
The patriarchal purity was o'er,
Religion hallow'd with Mosaic law,
And special covenant, and ritual pomp
Of ark and fane and sacrificial blood,
The chosen People; thus in types began
Sublime Theocracy; and when it sunk
To kingly sway, prophetic Bards reveal'd
The One Jehovah, and the promised Seed:
Thus moved the destinies of Earth along
In light and darkness, as career the waves
Through sun and tempest, till Messiah rose.

There are, who deem no revelation true
Which doth not, by divine compulsion, awe
The universal mind to one belief.
But, where the freedom of inviolate will,
If, dazzled into reasonless assent,
Belief is passive, and conviction blind?
The lines of human character are lost,
No principle can act, no feeling sway,
No Passion on the altar of pure Faith
Can nobly die, in sacrifice to Heaven:
As heave the waters to a reinless wind,
So, led by impulse, would the spirit yield
To Fate's high will, without one virtue blest.
For what is virtue, but a vice withstood,
Or sanctity, but daring sin o'ercome?
Life is a warfare, which the soul confronts,
While good and evil, truth and error clash,
Or rally round it in confused array;
And he who conquers, wins the crown of Light
Which Heaven has woven for her warrior-saint.

A God incarnate, with His glory veil'd,
Altar, and priest, and sacrifice combined
In mystic oneness of almighty Love,
Behold Him bleeding! on His awful brow
The mingled sorrows of a world repose:
“'Tis finish'd!”—at those words Creation throbs;
Round Hell's dark universe the echo rolls;
All nature is unthroned; the mountains quake
Like human beings when their death-pang comes;
The sun has wither'd from the frighted air,
And with a tomb-burst, hark! the Dead arise,
And gaze upon the living, as they glide
With soundless motion through the darken'd streets
Most awfully!—the world's Redeemer dies!

That hour of Blood, that scene of Death, is past,
And quench'd the savage eyes that mock'd and smiled
On Calv'ry, when the direful Cross upbore
A martyr'd Saviour: but there comes a mood,
When Fancy wanders to that fated hill,
And from His pleading face, to heaven upturn'd
In godlike pity for the murd'rous Jew,
A look celestial for the soul derives
When faints it oft in penitential gloom.

And thou, my Country! foremost in the van
Of glory found, no Empire which bedecks
The globe, exalted mercies can record
Like those that crown, and still encircle Thee,
Eden of isles! whom ocean loves to guard.
From the foul darkness of engulphing sin
Celestial Mercy bade thy spirit rise
Victorious, and in Christ regen'rate be.

468

And, thus environ'd by elective grace,
E'en like a fortress for the faith art thou:
And though not spotless be thy past career,
Religion from thy thousand Temples calls
Aloud on Deity, and walks unseen
The paths of goodness, musing holy joy.

But ah! that day of spiritual delight
Of old revered, and by our fathers blest,
Thy Sabbath, England! is that halcyon morn
Of holiness, when Heaven remembers thee
With sanctifying love, and sheds abroad
A balm that beautifies the face of things.
Redemption won the boon; and long may sounds
From steeple-towers of venerable gloom
Or Minsters brown which deck the hawthorn-vales,
Of sabbath-music on the breezy wings
Of matin rise, and soft emotions crowd
The soul that listens to their tender chime.
And thus, while unpolluted Altars stand
O'er time secure, and christian ardour keeps
The virtues of our glorious Land alive,
Jehovah! still for us Thine arm will rule;
And Ocean, faithful to her island-born,
Bulwark the clime whose sceptre bows to Thee.

And may the glories of Thy gospel shine
From zone to zone, till earth one Temple prove,
And lauding angels, as they gird the Throne
With choral raptures, hear from saints below
Perpetual anthems which to Christ ascend.
For Thou hast promised, and Thy word shall reign!
Let earth be riven, sun and system die,
Or nature into nothing be recall'd,
Ere this be doubted,—the decree of God!
Oft in the hush of meditative hours
When fancy wanders on mysterious wing
Far into chaos, greets the dawning world,
And down the surging tides of ages floats
E'en to the living hour,—I glow to trace
Omniscient wisdom and perennial love.
E'en now, as here in solitary mood
My spirit warbles in a dream of song,
What destinies are weaving for the race
Of man! what energies of heart and soul
In mingled yet harmonious play, for time
That doom complete Eternity has plann'd?

And, if our wingèd aspirations dare
The hour outfly, and future glory meet,
My brother Man! wherever doom'd thou art,
In dark isles bosom'd on the dusky main
A savage found, magnificently free;
Or, in some icy wilderness of waves,
Soon on thy soul may Revelation dawn
And bid lost nature recognise its God.

That prayer is heard: for with it richly blend
Approving echoes from Britannia's heart.
E'en now, her Genius on some native cliff
Let Fancy view, in speculation rapt.
To rocky isles, and dreadful island-wastes
That spot the billows, her dejected eye
Is turn'd, and what a vision of despair
The savage dwellers on the sea create,
Who round their dying captive dance and howl;
Or, prostrate at some tow'ring idol's car,
In bloody rapture limb and life destroy.
To Heaven she looks, and lo! a sudden burst
Of morning-brightness o'er the midnight-scene;
For woods of horror, laughing corn-fields wave;
For cavern'd homes, and huts of wildest gloom
What sylvan cots and glitt'ring mansions rise,
While sun-clad spires in every woodland gleam!
And ships are riding in securest bays
Of Commerce, where of old untravell'd sea
Lay in grim slumber, or by whirlwinds lash'd.
All things have glided into beauteous change,
And Man, at whose creation God rejoiced,
Not in the gloom and guilt of nature pines,
But beaming with recover'd soul, appears,
A true Schechinah where the Spirit dwells.
The Genius of my Country!—on her brow
What apostolic smiles of love and light
Begin; for her the vision hath unroll'd
Its promise; and to her hath God appeal'd
For Earth, and bade from His divinest source
The spirit of immortal truth proceed
In heavenly conquest, till the knell of Time
Be sounded, and the church in heaven complete.

And here awhile, on this majestic hope
Of brighter ages let the Lyre repose.
But pardon, ye who feel how Nature makes
Her priesthood vocal, if in fond delay
A poet gaze upon the gorgeous eve,
And watch the shadows of a waning sky.

A sunset! what a host of beaming clouds
In mingled lustre multiplied and flash'd,
And flung their beauty in reflected tints
On golden waters, lull'd in gleaming rest,
And then, concenter'd in one pomp of light
Like that which girds th' apocalyptic throne!
But, ere the sun behind yon sea withdrew,
A thunder-gloom in silent threat advanced;
And the loud hiss of unexpected rain
Rang through the air with its rejoicing fall,
The verdure sparkled, and the sun retired
On waves of glory like an ocean god:
From out the billows beam'd a rainbow-form

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Which died in azure o'er the distant hills;
The sea-gull flutter'd on his foam-like wing,
And, like a seraph in the air conceal'd,
The wind-tone warbled with unearthly joy.

An hour with nature is an hour with heav'n,
When feeling hallows what the fancy views:
And thus, O Twilight! may a soul discern
In thy meek stillness what harsh day obscures.
Now Mem'ry too with mournful love recalls
Some heart-romance, till years of verdant joy
Revive, and bloom within affection's world.
Bright Forms, by greeting childhood so beloved!
Maternal tones, and features, of whose smile
In blissful rivalry our own was born,
And voices, echoed in our dreams of heaven,
Around us throng, until th' unliving past
Our being enters, and seems life again.

In no false weakness heaves the votive sigh
Of fond remembrance o'er man's fleeting youth;
The poetry of pure regret is there!
To love the past but makes the present dear;
The mournful wisdom of our discontent
Can then unteach what young Delusion taught
Alone; since who that lives, and living, thinks,
But adds another to an endless train
Of sad Confessors since the world began?—
A life of glory is a dream fulfill'd,
That fades in acting, as the gorgeous cloud
E'en as it dazzles is but dying air!

If I too, ere autumnal age my brow
Has wrinkled, or the twilight of chill days
Begun, the barrenness of earth perceive,
And feel mortality's most aching wear
Fever and fret the soul; if all which bloom'd
Like Eden once, hath grown a desert now
Of dying hope, and faded joy; if Life be lone,
And sad, and bleak, while aspirations droop
Unwatch'd within me, and delightless earth
More tomb-like grows, as death's absorbing dream
Haunts the worn spirit wheresoe'er it fly
For refuge, may I not existence mourn?
No! let me fall, and worship at the Fount
Of promise; life is Heaven's surpassing gift,
And what his Maker wills, should man revere.

To cover earth with shades of hell; accuse
The sun of darkness, and the world blaspheme;
All hope deny, coequal man disdain,
And mar the heavenliness of human joy,
Betrays a tempest of unholy thought
Raised by the Demon of our darker hours!
But, nobly true, inexplicably deep
That mournfulness by solitude inspired,
When mild dejection ends in musing bliss.
Like a mute pilgrim, on some distant shore
At twilight shaping in the skiey air
The towers and temples of his native land,
While on his ear the sounds of home renew
The sweetness of their social melody,—
Oft may some Dreamer in a spirit-trance
Fancy existence to be exile now;
See visions of departed heaven, and hear
The muffled language of mysterious Worlds.
And oh! how oft beneath the bluest sky
In summer arching over lake or wood,
When round and round, with antic motion sport
The insect-populace of beams and flowers;
When herb is bright, and breeze is gay, the Mind
A mystic shadow of dejection feels,
While voiceless omens and prophetic fears
Haunt the deep heart with their undying spell.
For ever on the solemn verge we seem
Of gloom unknown, or glory unreveal'd;
And who shall say, that life does not preserve
A faint reflection of some vanish'd State
By man forgot, as oft the sea retains
A dim resemblance of departed storm?

'Tis night; the holiness and heaven of time!
And censure me, mild Elements, whose sway
Of loveliness hath now serened the world,
If by your charm my soul is unsubdued
By prayer, while Nature in devotion seems.
Mysterious hour! when most self-knowledge reigns.
And minutes are soft Teachers, whom the heart
Obeys: and, art Thou not more deeply fill'd
With inspiration from thy Maker sent,
O Earth! than in the day's tyrannic roar?
And if there be, as saintly minds allow,
Some god-like moment, when pure Spirits walk
This lower world, where man is doom'd to strive,
Tranquillity enshrines their presence now.
In pale omnipotence of light the moon
Presides, too brilliantly for meeker stars
To venture forth, save one bright watcher, seen
O'er yon lone hill to let his beauty smile:
The clouds are dead; and scarce a breeze profanes
The blissful calm, save when some rebel dares
On fitful wing to wander into life
Awhile, and make unwilling branches wave,
Or moonlight flutter through the boughs, and fall
In broken radiance on the grass beneath.
The earth grows soundless; and yon giant elms
Hush'd into leafy trance their shade project
Before them: Night and Stillness are enthroned.

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Now may the spirit on religious wing
Expatiate; soaring where no science can,
Yet haply, hover round some truth unknown.
And be this earth all reverently trod,
Since out of it did human Dust proceed!
Let all we look upon religion make
For inmost thought, or meditative love.
On choral winds aye let there float a voice
Of God; and Ocean with his organ-waves
Eternal anthems to Jehovah peal.
And oh! may I, when pangful life is o'er,
In some pure region of almighty bliss
A harping strain from those bright Singers learn,
Who in the orchestra of Glory waft
Divine Emmanuel! to Thy merit due,
From golden lyres an everlasting praise.

BOOK III.

“Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!
A God! a God! the echoing vales reply.”
Pope.

“A venerable and sacred tradition relates, that by the rising of a certain uncommon star was foretold, not diseases or death, but the descent of an adorable God for the salvation of the human race, and the melioration of human affairs; which star, they say, was observed by the Chaldeans, who came to present their offerings to the new-born God.”—From Chalcidius, an ancient Commentator on the Timæus of Plato.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK III.

The fulness of Time—Probable Sympathy of distant and unknown Worlds—Despair of the Evil One— State of the World—Gabriel commanded to Earth— The Annunciation — Mary's holy raptures — Her Visit to her Cousin at Hebron—Her Journey described—The subject naturally suggests an allusion to the hallowed associations which the beauty and scenery of Palestine awake—The Virgin's arrival— Congratulations—Cæsar's Order for a General Census —Birth of the Messiah—Appearance of the Angels to the Shepherds in Bethlehem Vale—Their Hymn —Visit of the Shepherds to the Cradle of Jesus— Reflections on the humility of Christ's entrance into this World—How contrary to the martial ideas of the Jews—Their doubt, rejection of Christ, and consequent dispersion, when compared with their former high estate, kindle our deepest thoughts of fear and faith—Their future Restoration—Return to the order of the Gospel—Day of Circumcision— Presentation of the Divine Babe in the Temple— Simeon's Ecstacy—Return of the Holy Family to the Vale of Nazareth—Arrival of the Magi—The Craft and Cruelty of Herod—Massacre of the Innocents—Childhood of Jesus—His appearance among the Rabbis at twelve years of age in the Temple— Second Return to Nazareth—The Meditations of the Saviour as He contemplated the Redemption of Man, amid the seclusion and silence of his lowly lot—John the Baptist—His Dwelling in the Desert —Obeys the Holy Spirit—Announces the coming of Christ—Preaches Repentance, which is true wisdom. The Book ends with a view of the consolation of the Scriptures, and the beauty of the outward Universe, when enjoyed in connexion with the Divine Creator.

Now was the fulness of predestined time
Complete, when councils of the God Triune
In Christ embodied, should at length evolve;
And not ungreeted did Redemption's hour
Arrive: before the Throne new radiance burn'd;
And emanations of intenser bliss
Than that which kindled o'er creation's birth,
Angelic myriads felt, as peal'd their chants
Of hymning wonder!—yea, in spirit-worlds
From whence no living Shape to earth has come,
Round these, perchance, a sympathetic thrill
Of worship ran, when first Salvation dawn'd.

And thou! the demon-King of darkness throned
In thine eternity of tort'ring fires,
Thou dread Apostate! who didst shake the skies
For vict'ry, vanquish'd, but rebellious still;
On thee the glories of Messiah's reign
Beam'd terrible: within thy dark abyss
When ruin'd angels to the summons throng'd,
With dreadful beauty, like a dying sun
Amid the tempest sinking, each adorn'd,
No triumph on thy thunder-blasted brow,
But deeper vengeance, more despairing wo
Than yet the realms of agony endured,
Was visible; that hour, so long foredoom'd,
Is coming, when a world shall be unbound
From chains infernal, and the Powers of Hell
Disarm'd for ever on their crumbling thrones!

Meanwhile, on earth mute Expectation sat
And listen'd; for a rumour, echoed down
From dateless time, of two surpassing Kings
Predestined on the globe to rule, prevail'd;
Whose powers, though blended in Virgilian song,
Sublimely differ'd. In Augustan peace
The world reposed; and grateful Rome beheld
Her Janus shut, her crimson banners furl'd.
No more Dodona, from the oaken shade,
Or Delphi, from exhaling cavern, sent
Vain oracles in mystic verse enweaved.
The Temples mourn'd; Idolatry was dumb,
Or mutter'd faintly from her glimmering shrines;
While Art and Science, in their palmy state,
Triumphantly advanced. Thus, all matured,
And apt to question with profoundest thought

471

Each creed or doctrine of diviner sway,
The World awaited her Messiah's dawn:
From realm to realm a vast tradition reign'd
Of sibyl-words, which sang the coming God;
While many a heart, prophetically deep,
Mused in the silence of majestic hope,
Or, heaven-inspired, the Earth's Redeemer hail'd.

Thus all below; when Gabriel heard a voice
Of thunder from the Throne proceed, which bade
To Galilee a wingèd flight convey
His presence, where in rocky Naz'reth dwelt
A Maiden pure, to Joseph then betroth'd.
And lo, an Angel brighten'd into view
Before her, like a lovely burst of morn!
And while she trembled, dazzled into dread,
A Salutation of entrancing sound
Fell on her ear:—“Divinely favoured Thou!
Of women blest! The Lord is with thee, hail!
A Son, behold, thy virgin womb shall bear;
Son of the Highest! Jesus let His name
Be called; upon the throne of David fix'd,
O'er Jacob's house for ever shall he reign,
And endless his predestined kingdom prove.”
“But how?” cried Mary, “Since I know not man.”
Again the Angel: “Overshadowing thee
The Holy Spirit will in power descend,
And That thou bearest, Son of God be call'd.”
Then answer'd she, “Behold thy handmaid, Lord!
And be thy word fulfill'd,” as brightly fled
The glowing Angel to his native skies.

Let Silence think, for how can words reveal
Her full devotion of ecstatic thought,
When Mary ponder'd on that promised Child?
Let mothers tell! to whose enchanted ears
Earth brings no music like the helpless cry
Of new-born life, from lips which know not guile.
Oh! Maid elect! with more than gladness wing'd,
In the young beauty of thy spousal bloom
To Hebron didst thou o'er the mountains pass,
And visit one, by Heav'n's bright herald warn'd.

'Mid the faint crimson of a flushing dawn
That Pilgrim started, when the breeze was up,
And, like a wing, invisibly career'd
O'er woods and waters: from the grey ravines
The oak and olive sent a leafy sound,
And with her multitude of orient flow'rs
The blooming Sharon glitter'd from afar;
Or, gazing from some terraced rock or hill,
The herding goats from villages and vales,
And wild onàgras, free as desert-wind,
Her eye discern'd; while veil'd Arabians sought
A distant well, like Midian girls of old;
And others to empurpled vineyards hied,
'Mid the soft radiance of unshrouding morn.

By Heaven secured, o'er lone and lofty heights
She glided on; and trod with eager foot
Each verdant slope, each rocky change of scene,
Where olive waved, or cypress-shadow fell.
But oft she paused, and bless'd the vital breeze
From lake upborne; or, when some hill or plain
Of green magnificence, or glorious view
Of nature's wonders, to her eye appeal'd,—
How beautiful! to hear the Maiden chant
Hymns to Jehovah, while her soul recall'd
Those hallow'd memories which ever cling
To ground immortal as great Palestine!

Oh, tell me not of trophied Greece, and groves
Where Plato wander'd; or poetic streams
That wind through Homer's page, or Pindar's song;
For Palestine by God Himself was loved,
Inhabited, and blest! His Spirit there
Hath walk'd, the shadow of His glory been,
His miracles prevail'd,—the mountains blazed
With His descending lustre! all her vales,
Her fountains, rivers, and delicious plains,
Of patriarchs and prophets speak; beneath the shade
Of her ancestral trees have Angels sat,
And holy Abram smiled: her meanest spot
Is mighty, and her dust a sacred charm,
For in it sleep the World's primeval sires!

Unbounded Fancy! on whose fairy wings
The spirit voyageth o'er realms and isles,
Oh, waft me now to Tabor's solemn height,
Where Barak and his heaven-arm'd thousands hid,
And there the Drama of the world renew!
Let Eden rise, her boughs and branches wave,
And Shapes aerial from the clouds descend,
To view her lovely bowers. The Flood react,—
Earth, sea, and sky in billowy chaos lost!
Revive the Patriarchs; mark their rev'rent forms,
Or hear the Prophets when the people rage.
Or, wouldst thou from the sacred past retire

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To scenes which live,—from haunted Tabor view
The greenness of a hundred glorious plains!
Lo, vast Esdraelon, like a verdant sea,
By dew-famed Hermon bound; there, Endor lies.
Where dwelt the night-hag in unholy gloom
And Saul seem'd wither'd as the spectre rose,
Wrapp'd in a mantle, out of Hades call'd.
But northward, lock'd in azure calm of noon,
Thy lake, Tiberias! on that blue extent
Of shining waters oft the Saviour look'd;
And near yon mountain, iced with dazzling snow,
The sacred hill whereon He sat, and taught
The wisdom of eternity to man.

But, see! o'er Judah's aromatic clime
The sun is west'ring: long ere twilight rose
With dewy welcome to her second night
Of mountain-pilgrimage, the Virgin stood
Beneath the shelter of a rustic cot,
In Hebron, and her holy cousin hail'd,
Enraptured! What sublime emotion clad
Each feature, what a radiance fill'd her eyes,
And touch'd her form, when that saluting voice
Was heard, as thrilling with celestial truth
Elizabeth on Mary gazed, and cried,
“Of Women blest! divinely blest, art thou!”
While leapt the babe within her womb, for joy.
And thus did Mary in her chant respond,
“My soul the gracious Lord doth magnify!
The proud He scatters, but the meek regards;
For thus to Abram and our fathers spake
The God of Israel; glorious be His name!
For me, his lowly Handmaid, ever-blest
Shall ages deem, and generations call.”

But now, from Cæsar came a high command
For Judah's offspring to enroll their birth.
Then Joseph, by angelic dream forewarn'd
How vestal Mary had from God conceived,
To Bethlehem went; and there the infant Christ
His Virgin-Mother in a manger laid:
All pure and holy, as the promise spake.—
And say! what hour so awefully instinct
With Secrets from eternity ordain'd,
As when th' Incarnate met the placid gaze
Of His unspotted Mother! what enshrined
A scene, where Deity the mortal shape
Of feeble infant took, and, rudely wrapt,
In new-born meekness smiling forth the God,
Deliver'd earth and thrill'd the Heavens with joy!

That night were shepherds at their watches due
Around unfolded sheep, in that soft vale
Whose fountain warbled to the dreaming ear
Of David, when he sought Adullam's cave.
A calm so deep, that silence seem'd a soul,
Pervaded all things; dew-light on the ground
Was glist'ring, and the vigil-shepherds watch'd
Contentedly their breathing charge recline
On pastures, where the morning flock had fed.
No cloud the heaven defiled; but, clear and large,
The planets in their throbbing lustre shone.
'Twas then, while Nature mute as dreaming air
Reposed, a melody in wafted flow
Advanced; and when it reach'd the starry plain,
An earthless Form, seraphically robed,
Evolved, and glitter'd like a noontide-sea.

Awe-smote, and blinded with excessive blaze
Of archangelic lustre, on the ground
Each shepherd sank, nor dared with lifted eye
The Glory face, till words of music came:
“Ye pious watchers; tremble not; behold
The tidings of eternal joy I bring:
This night the Saviour of the World is born!
Within a manger, lo! the Babe is found!”
He said; and as the lull of golden streams
When soft-toned winds melodiously awake,
The radiant quiver of angelic plumes
The air attuned, which trembled into song,
While, robed with brightness, thus the choir began:

“Thou Lord of Lords, and Light of Light!
Who, with empyreal glory bright,
Art seated on th' Eternal Throne
Invisibly, the vast Alone,
Ten thousand worlds around Thee blaze,
Ten thousand harps repeat Thy praise,
Yet hymn, nor harp, nor song divine,
Nor myriad orbs created Thine,
This measureless display of love
To earth below and heaven above
With blending eloquence can tell
That ends the Curse, and conquers Hell;
For lo! the manger where He lies,
A world-redeeming Sacrifice:
Peace on earth, to Man good will,
Let the skies our anthem fill!

“Hail, Virgin-born! transcendent Child
In mortal semblance, undefiled,
By ages vision'd, doom'd to be
The Star of Immortality;
Hail! Prince of Peace, and Lord of Light!
Around thy path the world is bright;
Where'er Thou tread'st an Eden blooms,
And Earth forgets her myriad tombs:

473

Thy voice is heard—and Anguish dies,
The dead awake and greet the skies;
Lo! Blindness melts in healing rays,
And mute Lips ope in hymns of praise;
The famish'd on Thy bounty feed,
While myriads at Thy summons speed
Redeem'd from woe, and sin, and pain
To see the lost restored again:
Peace on earth, to Man good will,
Let the skies our anthem fill!

“Awake, awake, thou ransom'd Earth!
And, blooming with a second birth,
In loveliness awake and shine,
Thy King is come, Salvation thine!
The winds are rock'd in holy rest,
The waves asleep on Ocean's breast,
And beautiful the boundless calm
O'er nature spread, like midnight balm;
For lo! the manger where He lies,
A world-redeeming Sacrifice;
The Promised, since the world began,
To live and die for guilty Man.

“Again, again, the anthem swell!
For Heaven shall burst the gates of Hell!
A vision of uncounted years
Which travel on through toil and tears,
Is all unroll'd in wild extent
Like ocean's surging element:
But soon that darken'd scene hath past
And rules the Lord in light, at last!
The sunbeams of a sabbath-day
Around adoring myriads play:
From north to south, from east to west,
All pangs are hush'd, all hearts at rest:
Pacific homes, Atlantic isles,
Far as the vast creation smiles,
The rudest spot which man can own,
Shall hail Messiah on His throne;
And lauding souls by land and sea,
One Altar build, O God! to Thee;
While men and angels round it throng
To chant the sempiternal song,
Peace on earth, to Man good will,
Let the skies our anthem fill!”

Hush'd the deep chant, the choral Train ascends, And then commingles in one pomp of light,
While all entranced th'adoring she pherds kneel:
But when the bright ascent was o'er, up rose
They all in ravishment; to Bethlehem sped,
And there Messiah wrapp'd in swaddling-clothes
They found, and sang with reverential joy
A hymn of worship to the Babe divine;
While Mary, meekly silent, heard the tale
Of wonder, musing with prophetic soul.

O World! and was it thus thy Saviour came?
Rich as the chorus of Creation's morn
From every region should thy lips have pour'd
A loud hosannah to proclaim the Lord!
The skies have bent, the mountains clapp'd their hands,
The cedars waved from every conscious hill,
And Sun and Moon, and each melodious Star,
And Ocean, with his jubilee of waves
Have thrill'd the universe with natal joy!
But all was silent, unobserved and still;
No Empire sung, when man's Redeemer came;
The peasant-mother in her Alpine cot,
At dreadful midnight, no desertion feels,
Like that rude manger where the Virgin lay,
And scarce a solitary taper shone!

Is this the Wonderful? the Prince of Light,
The King of kings, o'er countless worlds enthroned.
Oh! Language cannot with its brightest words
Adumbrate, or by epithets express
The imagined splendors which proud Judah dreamt
Would crown Messiah, when He came to give
Her ransom'd myriads all Isaiah sung!

Empires have sunk, and waning kingdoms died,
But still, apart, sublime in mis'ry stands
The wreck of Israel! Christ hath come, and bled,
And miracles and ages round the Cross
A holy splendour of undying truth
Preserve; yet still their pining spirit looks
For that unrisen Sun which prophets hail'd!
Where once the Temple, bathed in golden hues,
Immense as glorious, with her matchless spires
On mount Moriah stood, a race exist
In darkness,—still to Zion turn, and weep!
And when I view him in his garb of wo,
A wand'ring outcast, by the world disown'd,
The haggard, lost, and long-oppressèd Jew,
“His blood be on us,” through remembrance rolls
In fearful echo from a nation's lip!

Then widow'd Zion! still for thee awaits
A future, teeming with triumphal sounds
And Shapes of glory; still a remnant lives,
Who once again thy banner shall unroll
And plant it on thine everlasting walls.
The Cities huge which overaw'd the world
Rot in a gloom, irrevocably seal'd,
Of desolation; Time shall never rear
The towers, nor crowd their weed-grown walks again.
But Judah, like some Babylonian wreck

474

Which age nor elemental wrath subdues,
In mournful grandeur that outlives decay
There as it lies on yon deserted plain,—
Shall yet endure, till Restoration's voice
Her orphan'd race to Salem's clime recall.

Exult, O Zion! for thy God is king,
And lift thy banner on the mountain-tops;
From Egypt, Pathros, and Assyria call'd,
From Shinar, Hamath, and the sea-born isles,
From the vast regions of the utmost orb
Returning Israel for dominion comes!
A voice of Weeping, it is heard no more;
The timbrels sound, her glad-eyed maidens dance,
Her young men shout, the aged meekly smile,
Rememb'ring all the pleasant things of old!
The lea of Sharon, and the pastured glen
Of Achre, beautiful in verdure shine;
While planted vincyards with a costly bloom
Wave on her hills, and court the rip'ning sun.
The lamb, the lion, and the infant play
Together; Righteousness thy gate adorns,
And peace divine, by purity bestow'd
From God incarnate, in thy sacred walls,
Recover'd Palestine! for ever dwells.

As when a mother for an absent child
Laments, till beauty on her cheek decays,
Yet haply in declining loveliness
More exquisite than in her glowing prime
Appeareth, so doth thine afflicted Land
Touch the deep spirit with diviner thought.
Now in thy wo, than when a bridal pomp
Bedeck'd thee. For the homeless race afar
Thou yearnest with a soft maternal grief;
To hill and mountain the devouring Curse
Hath clung; and rivers down unpeopled vales
Like mournful pilgrims glide; while fruit nor tree
Bear to the tyrant what thy children took
From thy fond bosom: yet, a latent power
Of life and glory in thy wither'd soil
Is buried, that shall rise when Judah comes;
Like music sleeping in a haughty lyre,
Whose muteness only to the master-touch
Breaks into sound which ravishes a world!

Now, o'er the infant God a day decreed
For circumcision rose, in wonted light,
And “Jesus” (let the heavens and earth revere
That word almighty!) was the name he bore.
And then, each light of due lustration done,
The lowly Virgin to the Temple brings
The young Redeemer; thus had God ordain'd.
No lamb had she; but in her meekness brought
Two turtle-doves of pure and spotless wing,
And solemnly within the outer-court
Awaited, while a Priest the Lord approach'd:
And haply, on the Temple's wondrous mass
Of finish'd beauty and effulgent pomp
Oft gazed, and gloried in her ancient creed
That there the God of Israel loved to dwell!
But when th' oblation of unspotted doves
Was paid, an inner court's wide precincts ope,
And Mary enters with her bosom'd child;
Then silently, with glance of tend'rest love,
For presentation yields the Babe divine.

But who is he, with beard of flowing white,
Who onward moves amid the ritual pomp?
Led by the Spirit, lo! a bending Form
Approaches, kindles as with sudden youth,
Her Babe enclasps, and to his Maker cries,
“In peace, O Lord! now let Thy servant go;
These eyes have seen, these wither'd arms embrace
Thy promised One, a Child of Glory, sent
To lighten Israel, and the world restore!”
Yes, morning, noon, and night, in dream or prayer,
In temple-worship, and mysterious hours,
For this he long'd, to see Messiah born!—
The Saviour came, and Simeon died in joy.

Each rite complete, the Holy Fam'ly sought
In Bethlehem-vale their consecrated home;
There, scarce arrived, when lo! as Magi bow'd
In nightly worship to unnumber'd worlds
Of starry name, an orbèd Meteor shone
With mystic beams oracularly bright!
But well they knew, those star-adoring Seers,
That revelation high, and sped on wings
Of holy speed to Zion's stately haunt;
There wond'ringly around old Salem's walls
Exclaim'd, “The new-born great! Judean King,
His dwelling say, for Him would we adore!”

And souls there lived, which drank, as thirsty ground
A summer-rain absorbs, refreshing hope,
When orient Sages of a mighty birth
For Israel spake: for Judah long had pined,
And on the willows hung her captive harp:
But he, whom Mariamne's murder'd form
For ever haunted like a dream of hell,
The guilty, pamper'd, pale Herodian king!
Heard this, and trembled: yet in bloody calm
His purpose lay, and thus that king address'd
Those eastern Magi: “Swift to Bethlehem, haste!
The infant find, around his cradle kneel,
And tell, where I may come and worship, too?”

475

They went; and lo! yon beauteous Star,
In loveliness beyond all radiant orbs
Which decorate the night, a guidance lent,
Till o'er that roof where lay the Lord of Worlds
It paused, and quiver'd as with conscious beams;
There sped the Magi, earth's Redeemer found
Encradled; and with bending awe they kneel,
His Form adore, and solemn worship pay
With myrrh and frankincense; while Mary stands
In wonder; with her eye to heaven upturn'd,
Her bosom swelling with a silent hymn,
And in her spirit more than mother's joy!

Their homage done, and earth's Messiah seen,
By God forewarn'd, the orient pilgrims wend
Afar from Herod, to their destined home.
That night, in visionary trance, appear'd
The Shape angelic Joseph once beheld:
“Arise! to Egypt with the Virgin speed,
And holy Infant; Him would Herod slay!”
To that high word obedient, ere the blush
Of morning crimson'd Horeb's sainted brow
Or Jordan's waters in the sunshine wound,
By Heaven environ'd, as a viewless guard,
To Egypt went he, till the monarch died:
“For out of Egypt have I call'd my Son!”
So spake the Seer, whose word our God fulfill'd.

Then passion, like a kindled hurricane
Burst from the tyrant with terrific sway,
And cruel havoc, dark as Hell desired;
Oh! then were shrieks maternal, sounds which came
From riven souls, and childless Rachel wept.
In Rama was the voice of mourning heard,
And red with blood the streams of Israel ran,
'Twas Murder's banquet on a thousand babes!—
Sweet flowers of Life, whose fragile beauty made
The living Eden of parental hearts;
Asleep in cradled stillness, with the light
Of infant slumber on their lovely cheeks,
Or prattling gaily at the cottage-door,
Slaughter o'ertook them, and with murderous yell
Mock'd the sad mothers, shrieking for their God!
That cry was answer'd when the monster-king,
By pain corrupted, turn'd a loathsome mass,
And died! Then, heralded by Gabriel's wings,
The infant-Saviour into Nazareth came;
For Archelaus o'er Judah's empire ruled,
And, Herod-like, had bathed his throne in blood.

Mysterious Time! o'er many realms and lands
Thy shadow broods, which man cannot dispel,
Or brighten; but o'er that most hallow'd scene
Where dwelt unknown, in human meekness veil'd,
Incarnate Glory, lies thy thickest gloom.
For ever hidden, by no voice reveal'd,
The holy childhood of the Saviour-God.
Yet, wafted back on no irrev'rent wing,
Imagination oft her eye would fix
On that green vale, where first The Morning-Star
With mildest beauty rose. By earth unfelt,
Celestial watchers! did ye not descend
And hover round, while grew that awful Child
In the pure light of Mary's pensive gaze?
Maiden and mother! whom all ages bless
When lock'd in slumber the Redeemer lay,
How on His features did thine homage dwell!

But years departed; and Messiah grew
Strong in the spirit, wisdom, grace and power;
Then oft at eve, when sultry day was o'er,
The holy Infant, by parental knee,
The Book of Life with tender awe perused,
And question'd; while in love's delightful dream
Each parent mused; recalling oft the Shapes
Angelic, or that vision Bethlehem saw;
Or, sounding all the dim and mighty depths
Of prophecy, where solemn meanings lay.
And ah, how beautiful! in cradled sleep
While slept her Child, to mark the wedded Maid
On His pure brow a gentle kiss implant,
And then to Joseph, with a speaking look
This truth convey—“How wonderful is Heaven,
If there the Hope of fallen Israel lies!”
When twelve years thus the Son of God had spent,
To celebrate a high and solemn feast,
Begun when over Egypt's first-born flew
The direful Angel on his wings of death,
All came; and with excited myriads went
Christ's holy parents up to Salem's walls,
As true adorers. When the seventh day saw
Each rite concluded, back to Nazareth vale
They speed, but where is He, the sacred Boy?
With friends beloved, or in Jerusalem lost?
There hasten'd they, and sorrowingly roam'd
The Virgin-mother, garden, grove, and field;
And as she hurried through becrowded paths
Her eye's fond question moved each passing face
With feeling:—such as thoughts untold betray
When look is language, and that language read
By hearts which sympathise with pangs unknown.
And thus she sought Him with unwearied step,

476

Till tears had gather'd, and her gaze was dim,
Yet found Him not: when hark! a burst of joy
Maternal; in the temple, lo, He stands;
With priest and sage, and vested rabbis mix'd,
The lost One lingers:—on His brow the light
Of Godhead! from His lips a stream of words
Is flowing, fraught with spirit-moving power
That shook all hearts, the ear of Age entranced,
And through dark conscience pour'd celestial rays
Which had not shone before. Each look'd on each,
Astounded; wisdom seem'd a thing unwise
By man announced; Divinity was there!
But, garb'd in lowliness, that peasant-Child
His temple left, a mother's smile renew'd,
And gently her inquiring wonder check'd
With words unfathom'd, yet, in Mary's heart
Embalm'd for ever with revering love!
Then, homeward once again the pilgrims haste
United; musing on the festal pomp,
And crowded worship, such as Salem loved.
And long before the pallid star of Eve
Had heralded the hush of twilight-hour,
A cot was round them, in their quiet vale.

By Nazareth are green and silent dells,
Secluded groves, and rocky shades profound;
And here Messiah dwelt:—those eighteen years
Of fameless calm, wherein the Lord of Light
Reposed, and suffer'd like a human Child,
But sinless, all our burden, toil, and tears,
With what a mystery of voiceless awe
They sink upon the inmost heart of man!
Whether on thee, O Virgin blest! we muse,
Thy soul by reverence and awe subdued
To something holier than mother's love;
Or that all-glorious all-majestic Form
In Whom was center'd man's eternal hope,
Survey, amid the still and solemn vale,—
Our thoughts are thrilling as the tears which rise
When Angels warble round a soul forgiven:
That wondrous Being! in those mountain-dells
As lone He wander'd, did He not forecast
The awful drama of His life to come?
On this He ponder'd; this the mind perceived;
From Cana's miracle to Calv'ry's mount,
The crown and cross, the agony of death
He view'd; nor dash'd the bitter Cup away
The Curse had fill'd, and Man was doom'd to drink
Had Christ not come, and drank the cup, and died!

But now the hour decretive Heaven ordain'd
For Jesus to unfold th' Almighty will,
Approach'd. Tiberius o'er imperial Rome
Was reigning, and in subject Judah ruled
The savage Pilate; when the Word of God
To John amid the wilderness was sent;
For thus the Seer prophetically sang:
“A voice comes wafted through the wilderness!
From Him who crieth, ‘Let the mountains sink,
The valleys rise, and be the deserts smooth!
A God approaches! be His way prepared!’”

That great Precursor, whose proclaiming voice,
“Repent ye!” pierced the wilderness with dread,
Was robed in hairy sackcloth; round his loins
A leathern girdle wound; the mountain-spring,
Which bubbled through the vale, his drink supplied;
His meat was honey and the locust wild.
Alone, but angel-watch'd, that Orphan grew
To manhood; nursed amid the elements,
A son of Nature, where the Desert waved
Her wildest boughs, or flung the blackest gloom
That cavern'd Eremite with God communed,
In storm or stillness, when the thunder voiced
His anger, or a sunshine wore His smile.
One awful loneliness his life became,
In thought and prayer mysteriously it pass'd;
And oft, sublime!—as when at sunset-hour,
A fierce magnificence of crimson hues
Redden'd the mountains, while each rocky crest
Of Judah with volcanic lustre blazed,
And slept the sultry air, the prophet knelt;
And the wild glory of his dreaming eye
To heaven was turn'd, in meditative awe.
The hush of woods, the hymn of waters faint,
And azure prospect of yon midland-sea
Beyond the desert, glimmering and vast,
And dying cadence of some distant bird
Whose song was fading like a silver cloud,—
'Mid sights and sounds, commingled like to these,
Earth had no grander scene, than when the hour
Of Syrian twilight heard the Baptist pray!

Beside the waters of th' unliving Sea
Where buried cities lift their ghastly wreck
In tomb-like waste, the Prophet chanced to muse,
Dreaming of dark Gomorrah, and the loud
Despair of millions, when the thunder knell'd
And rapidly a burning deluge came.
An airy stillness, solitude intense
Was there: no bird upon enchanted wing;
No murmur, but the reedy moan of banks
Of sickly herbage; or the creeping sound
Of Jordan, dragging its sepulchral way;
Sea, sky, and air in one unearthly calm
Reposed! In such a scene of lifeless gloom

477

While mused the Baptist on the guilt of Man,
A mighty impulse, an inbreathing power
Of Inspiration on his spirit came!
He felt the God; and, fill'd with sacred fire,
To Jordan hasten'd; soon that region round
“Repent ye!” heard each hill and vale repeat.
Where ran the holiest of holy Streams
That wind and glitter through green Palestine,
His cry awoke, from whence a warning rung
With tones of terror, till before them fled
The sinful passions of a sensual crowd,
Like waves before the wind! From Judah's realm
To Alexandria's clime, his solemn threat
Was echoed; till around the Baptist throng'd
All sects and nations, to repent, and live
By laving waters of Baptismal power.
There stood the Sadducee! with eye unscaled,
To see the darkness of the grave illumed
By Words immortal; there the glozing tribe
Of Pharisees, with frighted soul appeal'd
For mercy, cowering as the prophet cried,
“Ye vipers! who hath warn'd you from the wrath
To come? Repentance! let thy fruits appear;
The axe is laid, and every fruitless tree
Shall wither! lo, the fire of vengeance falls!”

Divine Repentance! in thy sacred tear
Alone is wisdom for the erring heart.
That infancy of soul, that stainless hour
When the stern chaos of our spirit sleeps
In passionless repose, how oft it woos
Our feelings back to purity and heaven!
Alas! that in our solitude we soar
To perfect goodness, but in life descend
To dust again!—our aspirations quench'd,
Till all which purer moments wisely taught,
And conscience sanction'd, is a dream forgot!

Yet all we ponder, fancy, feel, or view,
Hath something for the soul's mysterious chords
Attuned, to thrill them with religious tones.
But, far above each sight or sound of earth,
Or mind of man, that heaven-revealing Book
In whose dread tones of everlasting truth
The inspirations of Jehovah dwell!
There find we visions of transcendent blaze,
And heralds bright, embassadors divine,
And voices from the Throne and Seat of bliss,
And hallelujahs from angelic choirs,
And God Eternal, with His Thunder girt,
And Radiance, speaking like the ocean vast!
And you, blest Oracles! whose words relate
The story of Redemption, all sublime,
With what a simple rectitude severe
Your page immortal moves from change to change!
Nor turn'd, nor daunted, whatsoe'er the gloom
Or brightness of the awful Scene, it paints:
So rolls a river through a wide domain;
Whate'er the colour which the clouds reflect,
Or bank, or verdure, on its beauty flings,
It travels onward with the stately course
Of sound and motion, to the fated sea.

By these alone, can mortal Life unweave
Her web of mystic lines, and many hues,
And man's eternity before him rise
In dreams of light, or shadows of despair.
At evening once, beside a circling shore
Of sandy wildness, where the billows loved
Their foaming solitude, my fancy stray'd:
Dark crags, and summits, fit for tempest-thrones,
Hung near: but mid-way, on a lofty mount,
By the green splendour of tumultuous grass
Made beautiful, there mused a wither'd Shape
By sorrow featured: on his wasted cheek
Sat wan decline; but still the quenchless eye
Was glorious, — there, undying radiance gleam'd!
A Book, an ancient Book of faded leaves
Was open'd, which, with bended brow, he read
Intently: nearer still my footstep crept,
And by the breeze from his pale lip was brought
Soft under-tones of some almighty speech;
Till, quaking with excess of thought divine,
Down on the herb adoringly he sank
And fix'd his eyes upon the awful heavens,
As though enthroned there God himself appear'd!
And then, while rolling tears ran bright and large,
Exultingly his gasping spirit cried,
“For ever and for ever is Thy Throne
Transcendent, Lord, and everlasting King!”

True Adoration, what a voice is thine!
From earth it wanders through the heaven of heavens,
There from the mercy-seat in light evokes
An answer, thrilling the seraphic Host
With new additions of adoring song!
For prayer is man's omnipotence below,
A soul's companionship with Christ and God,
Communion with eternity begun.

Oh, love celestial! earth can heaven-like grow,
If man profane it not by savage tread
And sordid gaze. E'en now, the sun appears
A king of glory: and this breathing world,
Like some vast instrument of varied sound
The conscious melodies of life awakes:

478

Yon sky is covered with soft isles of cloud,
Which flash or float as sun and wind command;
The air is balm, the breeze a living joy;
My heart is dumb with an exceeding bliss
Of light and beauty, pouring in from Day's
Enchantment; while beneath yon vernal hill
Whose sunny greenness mirrors all the clouds,
Poetic murmurs from a distant sea
In lulling falls come faintly on the mind.

But now, the wearied Elements prepare
For slumber; modulated breezes swell;
The sky, with ocean-mimicry adorn'd,
Grows pale and paler; soon will stars advance
And seem to palpitate, as there they shine,
With throbbing beauty! Thus will night begin
And earth lie cradled in a dim repose,
Till the pure heaven comes down upon the soul
And all is hush'd beneath a holy spell.
So ends a sabbath; so may sabbaths end
Devoutly sacred, till the wings of Time
Be folded, and eternal sabbath reigns.
For all Thy ministries begin and end
In Love, that glorious synonyme of Thee,
Both in the heavens, and in the heart enshrined!
From the first tear which roll'd down Adam's cheek
To the last pang of living bosoms now,
In light and darkness, still our God is Love!

BOOK IV.

“Oh, Goodness Infinite! Goodness immense!
That all this good of evil shall produce
And evil turn to good; more wonderful
Than that which by creation first brought forth
Light out of darkness!”
—Paradise Lost, book xii.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK IV.

The glorious manifestation of Truth in the Appeal of the Baptist—Approach of Christ to be Baptised— Jesus led by the Spirit into the Wilderness—The Temptation described—Angels sent to console Him —Thus proved, He commences his Ministry as the Redeemer of the World—Purity and Majesty of His Life and Doctrines—First Miracle—The Marriage in Cana—Jesus goes to Jerusalem—The Modern State of Jerusalem, compared with her Ancient Glories—The Passover described, at the celebration of which Christ arrived—His entrance to the Temple —Miraculous expulsion of its Defilers—Nicodemus, his Character, and Visit to the Saviour by Night— Jesus, on the Death of the Baptist, hastens to Galilee to avoid the Jews—His Journey through Samaria — Scenery — Well of Sychem — Interview with the Woman of Samaria — He travels to Cana—The Nobleman's Son healed by a Word of Christ—His appearance in the Synagogue—Is expelled from thence by his offended Countrymen— Led to the brow of a hill—Delivers Himself from instant destruction.—Capernaum—Lake of Tiberias, described—Miraculous Draught of Fishes—Confession of Peter—Exultation of the Crowd who witnessed the miracle—To this was added an innumerable number of Divine Deeds and Mercies— Doctrine adduced from Miracles—The Power they exhibit cannot be fathomed; but the Principle which they inculcate is to be imitated—for it teaches boundless Love to the whole family of Man.

“Repent ye!” was the dreadless sermon preach'd
In Judah's Desert, by the Baptist now;
And who can measure the exalted might
Of truth, deliver'd by such daring Soul
Till conscience quiver'd, like the world's great sire
At that “Where art thou?” earth's Creator spake!
A brow irradiate with impassion'd zeal,
An eye majestic, and a voice intoned
With vocal energy from heaven inspired,
Were his, who usher'd in th' expected God!
From cot to palace rose his high reproof;
Wherever wander'd in the realm of vice
The heart of man, “Repent ye!” sounded there.

What marvel, then, Messiah's self appear'd
In John embodied, till the people cried,
With loud impatience, “Art thou Christ, the True?”
“With water I indeed baptise and bless;
But One shall come, transcendently sublime
O'er me, the very latchet of Whose shoes
I am not worthy to unbind! with fire,
And with the Holy Ghost shall He baptise;
Behold, the fan is in His fearful hands!
The wheat He gathers, but the wicked chaff
Ungarner'd, burneth with a quenchless flame!”
Thus answer'd he; and shaded Israel's heart
With wonder, dreaming on the dark unknown.

While thus by Jordan's hallow'd wave, the Rite
Of Waters, sanction'd by mysterious sway,
The Baptist to repenting souls perform'd,
The Lord of Life, in human weakness veil'd,
Himself presented. Round His awful head
No glory play'd; nor dread effulgence beam'd
As on He came: yet, sacredly o'erpower'd
By some deep impulse, vast and undefined,
The Crowd stood parted; and a solemn hush,
Like stillness o'er a forest when the winds
Lull'd into soundless trance their wings upfold,
The murm'ring host subdued: but on thy face

479

Great Harbinger! a recognition glow'd,
And spirit-bright thy gladden'd mien became;
For He, whom prescient heaven to earth foretold,
Before Thee stood; Salvation's Prince appear'd!
And this, thy greeting: “Lo! at length He comes;
Behold the Lamb of God! Oh! pure above
All Beings pure, from me this rite forego;
For need I have of Thy baptising grace,
And comest Thou to mine?” “Refuse me not;
Since thus all righteousness must be fulfill'd:”
So speaking, down the bank Messiah moved,
Stood in the waters, there the Rite received,
And thence arose, with voiceless prayer becalm'd.
When lo! the heavens miraculously oped,
The dazzling concave God himself reveal'd
Descending, lustrous with ethereal light:
While dove-like hover'd o'er the Saviour's head
Th' Eternal Spirit, and a Voice declared
Like sea and thunder when their music blends,
“Adore Him! This is My beloved Son!”

But now advanced temptation's demon-power
To crush the Saviour! By the Holy Ghost
Compell'd, within a desert's trackless wild
Alone He wander'd, unperceived by eyes
Of mortal; there to meditate and pray,
And scan the secrets of almighty grace
Himself embodied by redeeming love.
A noontide o'er his contemplation sped
Away, and still the awful Thinker roved
With foot unwearied: sunset, fierce and red,
Succeeded: never hung a savage glare
Upon the wilderness, like that which tinged
This fated hour! the trees and herbless rock
Wore angry lustre, and the dying Sun
Sank downward like a deity of wrath,
Behind him leaving clouds of burning wreck.
And then rose Twilight: not with tender hues,
Or choral breezes, but with shade as dim
And cold, as Death on youthful spirit throws:
Sad grew the air; and soon th' affrighted leaves
And branches from the crouching forest sent
A wizard moaning, till the wild-bird shriek'd,
Or flutter'd, and in dens of deepest gloom
The lion shook, and dreadful monsters glared.

Tremendous are ye, ever-potent Storms
In wild magnificence of sound and scene!
Watch'd on the mountains in convulsive play,
Or from the ocean-margin when the sea
Foams in the fiercest of her billow'd ire.
But when hath Tempest, since a deluge roar'd,
The pale Earth shaken, like that frenzied storm
Which tore the desert, while Messiah mused?
Then God to hands infernal seem'd to trust
The helm of nature, while a chaos drove
The Elements to combat, 'mid the rushing gloom
Of rain and whirlwind, in commingled wrath
Triumphant, while aloft unnat'ral clouds
Hung o'er the sky the imagery of Hell!
Not hence alone tempestuous horror sprung:
To aid the Tempter, shapes of ghastly light,
With Phantoms, grim beyond a maniac's dream,
To thunder darkness and dread midnight gave
A power unearthly:—round Thy sleepless head
Adored Redeemer! did their voices chant,
Or wildly mutter some unhallow'd spell;
Yet all serene Thy godlike virtue stood,
Unshaken, though the universe might fall.

Thus, forty days of dire Temptation leagued
Their might hell-born, with hunger, thirst, and pain.
Meanwhile, in thankless calm the World reposed:
Life went her rounds, and busy hearts maintain'd
Their action: still uprose the parent Orb,
And all the dewy ravishment of flowers
Enkindled; Day and Ocean mingled smiles;
And then, meek Night with starr'd enchantment rose,
While moonlight wander'd o'er the palmy hills
Of terraced Palestine: and thus unmark'd
By aught portentous, save demonian wiles,
His fasting period in the desert-gloom
Messiah braved. At length, by hunger rack'd,
And drooping, deaden'd by the scorching thirst
Of deep exhaustion, round Him nothing stood
But rocky bleakness, mountains dusk and huge,
Or riven crags which seem'd the wreck of worlds.
And there, amid a vale's profoundest calm,
Where hung no leaf, nor lived one cheering tone
Of waters, with an unappallèd soul
The Saviour paused, while arid stillness reign'd,
And the dead air, as if by magic quench'd
Brooded and thicken'd o'er the lifeless dale.
When lo! from out the earth's unfathom'd deep
The semblance of a mighty cloud arose;
From whence a Shape of awful stature moved,—
A vast, a dim, a melancholy Form;
Upon his brow the gloom of thunder sat,
And in the darkness of his dreadful eye
Lay the sheath'd lightnings of immortal ire!
In ruin'd glory thus the Demon faced
Messiah, cent'ring in that one still glance
The hate of Heaven, the agony of Hell,
Defiance and despair!—and then, with voice
Sepulchral, deep as when a tempest dies,

480

Him thus address'd: “If Son of God Thou be,
These stones, command them into living bread!”
“'Tis written,” answer'd the most holy Christ,
“Not bread alone, but every word of God
Is life!” Scarce utter'd that sublime reply,
When each ascended, and on noiseless wings
Invisibly both God and Demon soar'd.
Together, rapid as th' almighty glance
Enspheres infinity, on Herod's towers
From whose dread altitude the very sky
Seems nearer while below a hush'd abyss
Extendeth,—dark with supernatural depth,—
They soon alighted; where with impious wile
Again the Tempter Second Adam tried.
“If Son of God Thou be, Thyself cast down!
'Tis written, ‘Thee protecting Angels watch
For ever, lest a stone Thy feet may dash.’”
“The Lord thy God thou shalt not tempt!” replied
The Saviour: awed by such divine repulse,
The baffled Demon for his last design
Prepared; and swiftly by an airy flight,
To Quarantania's unascended top
That crowns the wilderness with savage pomp,
Messiah next he bore; from thence, a world
In visionary pomp lay all reveal'd,
By airy portraiture of magic drawn
With luring splendour: regions, thrones, and climes
Of bloom and fragrance, meadows, lakes, and groves:
And there seem'd Cities, capp'd with haughty towers,
And Piles, and Palaces of marble sheen,
And Domes colossal, with exulting flags
Of royal conquest on their gilded spires:
And there were Armies, thick as trooping clouds,
On plains assembled,—chariot, smoke, and steed,
The pomp of death, and thunder-gloom of war:
Nor absent, fleets within the silver bay
Reposed, or riding o'er a gallant sea:
All this, the world's Inspirer thus evoked,—
One vast Enchantment, one enormous Scene
Of splendour, deluging the dazzled eye
With mingled radiance till the fancy reel'd!
And then, outstretching with imperial sway
A shadowy hand, Hell's crafty monarch spake,
“This pomp and glory, this surpassing World
Is Thine! if Thou wilt kneel, and worship Me!”
Then bright as Deity, with truth erect,
Victoriously Messiah thus rebuked
That Prince of Hell: “Behind me, Satan, get!
'Tis written, thou shalt worship God alone;”
And thus responding, rays of awful truth
His Eye emitted; from Whose dreaded glance
The Devil shrunk, and wither'd into air!
When, light as breezes, lovely as the morn
Descended, blooming with celestial grace,
Angelic Creatures, in whose hands upborne,
By man unseen, the wafted Jesus sank
To earth again; and there, a squadron bright
Of heaven-born Spirits round Him knelt, and sang.

His trial o'er, by men and angels proved
Consummate Lord; by John again confess'd
Amid the Sanhedrim, as Christ foretold
Since time began, by five disciples found
And follow'd, Jesus on His glorious task
Now enters; fallen Earth shall be restored!

Will Kings array him? Shall the Palace ope
Its gorgeous portals to admit His train?
Alas! the bird his nest, the beast his lair
Inhabits, but the homeless Son of Man
Forsaken, hath not where His head to lay!
And He, Whose fiat was the birth of Things,
Whose frown had made the Universe no more,
The pangs and woes of meanest want endured;
For others wept, and toil'd through tearful gloom,
But stood Himself, unaided and alone,
A God who suffer'd, while the World he saved.

And who can paint him? Oh! the sweetest tone
That ever trembled on the harps of Heaven,
Melt into muteness, or like discord seem
Ere on the summits of celestial love
Incarnate, they can reach the Lord of worlds!
Be mine, with solemn step and reverent gaze
From miracle to miracle to roam,
Through paths of glory, tracks of peaceful light;
And on the way, devout accession cull
Of thought or meaning, from the Book divine
Translated: pleased beyond ambition's joy
If thus, companion'd by consenting mind,
My theme advances, till on Calv'ry's mount
Arriving, Faith behold her Saviour die.

In mercy, miracles from Christ began.
To Cana, peering o'er a woody crest
Of green ascent, beside Capernaum raised,
Messiah with his Virgin-mother went;
And there, by one expressive deed of Love
Sanction'd for ever hymenèal Bliss.
Unknown the bride, or whom the wedding throng
A bridegroom hail'd; but Nature has not seal'd
That fountain up, from whence all feeling flows,—
The Heart, whose current is by time unchanged.
And thus, in garlanded array behold
Two happy creatures, 'mid rejoicing friends
In white apparel gemm'd by nuptial-flowers.

481

What beautiful emotion, born of dreams
Which make the future paradise, abounds!
Yet, in thy gaze a gleam of vanish'd years
Is mirror'd, maiden! round whose virgin brow
A bridal wreath consenting parents wove.
The home of love, the haunts where infant feet
Have roam'd, with mingled and o'ermastering sense
Of truth and tenderness the past awakes,
And on thee like returning childhood come.
A cloud melts o'er thy summer-noon of joy,
Serenely dark, and exquisitely sad:
For haply, on the old familiar walls
And chamber where thy lispèd vows began
Thine eye hath look'd farewell: or down the paths
Of garden-loveliness, where tiny hands
So often labour'd with delightful toil,
How mutely hast thou wander'd!—blessing flowers
Whose fairy magic woo'd thy frequent touch
When dew and sunshine call'd thy fancy forth
To drink their beauty with absorbing gaze;
And that green haunt by fragrant trellis hung,
Yes! there thy soul hath dream'd of days no more
When twilight redden'd o'er thy girlish bowers.

But now the banquet: such as lowly roof
Demanded, and which simple manners claim'd.
O'er milk and honey, rice and kneaded flour,
And water, cool as mountain-well contain'd,
When consecrating prayer arose for Heaven's
High blessing, then the marriage-feast began.
But soon to Jesus, Mary's asking eye
Was turn'd, and meekly for the aidless want
Of friends beloved, a miracle she hoped;
But thus was answer'd: “Woman! unarrived
My dawn of glory; what have I to do
With thee?” Oh! think not from That sinless mouth
A mere denial in cold sternness came:
The pity, not the anger, of rebuke
Was there! Six stony water-pots antique,
For pure lavation, such as holy Rite
Demanded, in the nuptial chamber stood;
And each, obedient to Messiah's voice,
With gushing water to the brim was fill'd;
When lo! the Element, by power subdued,
Blush'd into wine and glow'd beneath its God!
And when the ruler of the rustic feast
Admiring drank this new-created wine,
A miracle stood forth! as shines a star
Clear, round, and large, the only one in heaven:
Each heart beat louder; on the lifted brow
Of mute-struck guests, o'erawed amazement sat;
And from the eyes of new disciples flash'd
That beaming eloquence all speech beyond,
When ecstacy is dumb. And when at night
By torch and timbrel home the vested train
Return'd, amid the hymenèal songs
Of sweetest rapture, while each bridal robe
Like snow in moonlight glitteringly shone,
The holy mildness of thy deep-toned voice
Redeemer! still in hearts its echo rang.
Though vaster miracles Thy Name enthrone,
In this omnipotently-tender shine
The rays of Love; concenter'd, calm, and clear,
They dazzle not, but still Thy power declare.

With fame before Him, now for Judah's feast
Of sacrifice, to Zion's city-queen
The Saviour went.—In moods of high romance
'Tis pleasant down the depths of Ages past,
To venture, re-erect huge Capitals,
And hear the noise of Cities now no more!
But Egypt, with her pyramids august,
Titanian Thebes, or Athens temple-famed,
Or Rome, the once metropolis of earth,
And whatsoe'er historic fancy dreams
In visions of the vast and gone, dissolve
To shadows, when Remembrance pictures thee,
Jerusalem! Alas, thy wailing harps
Have truly mourn'd; a throneless captive thou!
In dust thy robes of beautiful array
Have wither'd; tears are on thy faded cheek,
And nothing, save a deathless past, is thine!
Those Mountains, branded by th' almighty curse,
Ascend, and look down yon sepulchral vales,
Where silence by the tramp of desert steeds
Alone is echo'd: paths of lifeless length,
Dim walls, and dusky fanes, barbaric homes
And Arab-huts,—how eloquently sad
Their ruin, how sublime the tale it tells!
Jerusalem! the clank of heathen chains
In iron wrath hath sounded o'er thy doom
For ages: sword and savage on thy blood
Have feasted; fatal martyrdom was thine
From Roman, Frank, and fiery Mameluke;
E'en now, thy wreck is made an impious prey,
And minarets their flashing spires uplift
Where once the palace of Jehovah blazed!

But round thy desolation lives a dream
Of what thou wert, when Heaven o'ershadow'd thee.
Religion, fame, and glory—all endow'd
With mingled light thy once celestial home.
There, 'tween thy Cherubim, Th' Eternal dwelt!
From out the Cloud His utter'd meanings came;
The hymns of David, and the voice of seers
By vision raptured, through thy streets have roll'd;
And He, who spake as never mortal did,
In temple, home, and synagogue proclaim'd

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His awful mission:—well might Warriors pause,
The Poet chant, and pure Apostles bend
Before thee, casting down their sacred wreaths,
Queen of the desert! once by angels walk'd,
And still where murmurs of Jehovah's lip
In dreams of melody thy vales entrance!

To such high city came Salvation's Prince,
When all was loud, on that religious eve
That marks a feast, by whose unblemish'd lamb
Was typified the Lamb of God eterne.
But, hark! the clang of trumpets on the wind!
Down hill and mountain, red with lustrous sky
The banner'd Tribes of shouting Israel come:
And how magnificently full and deep
Their choral anthems! reaching from the heart
Through heaven's infinity, where angels list,
And waft their echoes round the throne of God.
Beneath them, beautiful, and bright, and vast,
Jerusalem with all her dazzling towers
Reposing; Zion the beloved is there!
And midmost, pinnacled in golden pomp
O'er all uplift, the gorgeous Temple stands,
And glitters, like the sheen of Alpine snow.
While downward, jubilant with holy glee,
Enamour'd thousands to the city rush:
Each window, roof, and balcony, alive
With gazers, scattering o'er the marching Tribes
A spring of flowers, and wreaths of rosy bloom.

While thus, from every region which the heavens
O'er-canopy, the host of Israel came
In troop and tribe, as though the Archangel's trump
Had sounded, Jesus to the Temple pass'd.
Nine gates enormous, folding back like clouds
Of splendour, when the prince of Morning comes,
Round Herod's temple blazed: without, were Courts;
And one, the Gentiles', circling with a range
Of gleaming columns of colossal height
The rest within; and here alone, the Jew
To proselytes an entrance gave; nor deem'd
That where a Gentile vow'd, Jehovah was!
And thus, with unconcern, and loud contempt
Of holiness, convened a merchant-throng
Of money-changers, in that outer-court,
Whose tongue and tread the House of God defiled.
Then rose He! like a Hierarch array'd
With might celestial; or a fervid seer
In the deep passion of prophetic truth
On realms and vices warring,—the unknown
Redeemer; driving with a wielded scourge
The vile profaners, whom His visage awed
With sudden brightness of appalling power!
“'Tis written,” cried a soul-commanding Voice,
“My House the solemn House of prayer shall be,
But ye profane it like a den of thieves?”
While fled the crowd, a mutt'ring wonder rose,
Till one, perusing with an eye of wrath
The face of Christ, thus haughtily inquired:
“For this high daring, what miraculous sign
Or what omnipotence from Heaven hast Thou?”
“This Temple scatter, and ere three days end,
Command it rise again!”—Then spake the Jew,
While o'er the vastness of Jehovah's pile
His eye-glance roll'd, and thence with flashing pride
On Jesu fell: “Through six-and-forty years
This Temple rose, and widen'd! canst Thou crush
Its Glory, and in three days bid it rise?”
But Christ of His corporeal Temple spake
In resurrection-power. Yet words that rung
A knell of ruin o'er the noblest Fane
Which earth had borne, or gazing awe beheld,
Such fatal warning could not be forgiven
E'en in that hour of agony divine
When shook the World, as pass'd her God away!

Eternity! there is a sound and sense
Of terror, dwelling in thy dim abyss
Of meaning, whether by a Spirit named
When lips are whitening in the gasp of Death,
Or utter'd by the pensive voice of Life.
In vain immunity and calm we seek,
Dark intimations of thy state will rise,
Though time be mock'd, and tombs unheeded stand.—
There was a man whom meditation charm'd
And counsell'd, by the Sanhedrim beloved
For wisdom; hiving in his inmost heart
Prophetic truths, and hopes of regal pride
For Judah destined, when her king appear'd.
All gloomy, lone, and melancholy things
To him were genial: on the face of Death
His eye would fasten a devouring gaze,
For some confession! down unpeopled haunts
At midnight, when the fainting moon retired,
Or planets sicken'd, by sepulchral caves
Where prince and prophet slumber'd,—he would stray
And ponder, dreaming of immortal doom.
No spot or scene, where past Religion shed
A glory, but to him entrancement gave.

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On Horeb he had mused, and heard the choir
Of Sinai's thunders, heralding their God:
On dewy Hermon, loved by David's lyre,
And Carmel's oaken top, where trembling stood
Elijah, when the cloudy Answer came,
He wander'd; and the eagle-haunted heights
Of cedar'd Lebanon by him were trod,—
That mountain chill'd by everlasting snow,
When all the firmament lies bathed in fire.

For high revealings of immortal truth
His soul was thus attuned; and when the light
Of miracles, by Jesu's hand perform'd,
His heart illumined, as the risen day
Oft suddenly with living splendour cheers
The gloom and hollow of deserted vales,—
A sudden radiance on his darkness stream'd.
Goodness and glory, both in Christ he saw;
But in delusions of terrestrial hope
Still blindly yearn'd a carnal Throne to see,
And scepter'd Judah queen of earth admired!
And thus, by ebbing moods of doubt and faith,
The Pharisee was sway'd, till Mercy came
And led him safely to the Lord, at last.
'Twas on a night of meditative calm,
Devoutly while his musing spirit read
The story of creation, sin and fall,
And second Eden by atoning grace
Procured, that impulses of sacred power
Moved Nicodemus to consult the Lord.
And what an interview that night reveals
'Tween sinful Earth and condescending Heaven!
Go, read it, where Eternal Life is found.
The second birth of renovated souls
Commenced; the Holy Spirit, how He comes
The world to sanctify, unseen departs,
And worketh like an unbeholden wind,
The Lord explain'd; till Nicodemus bow'd
In wonder, doubted, trembled, and believed!
Since light was born, and condemnation found
For deeds of evil, which in darkness lurk
And blacken, hating light that brings a God.
Then ask not, how the doubter home return'd,
Or how his dreams to slumber's Paradise
That night was wafted on melodious wing:
From this deep hour his heaven of faith began.
A Saviour living and a Saviour dead,—
For both he pleaded, when the bravest shook,
And they who loved Him were the first to flee!

When John was prison'd, from those hating Jews
Whom miracles confounded, Jesus fled
To Galilee; that haunt supremely loved!
Where sprung Apostles, where His childhood grew,
And where He hasten'd, when from death unbound.
Through dells of beauty, hushed and shaded haunts,
Or meadows, whiten'd by the olive-boughs
That waved and flashed amid the swelling breeze,
Through each and all, as Nature's fancy tinged
And character'd her glowing realm, He roam'd
Till day advanced; and burning, breathless noon,
When earth was heated to her inmost core,
And light and languishment the brain oppress'd,
At Sichem glitter'd round the Saviour's form.

Alone, beside a patriarchal well
He rested, wearied by the toil intense
Of travel; while his fond disciples sought
The city, bosom'd in Gerizim's vale.
Majestic calm and mournfulness divine
Around Him incommunicably reign'd,
Like stillness breathed from His eternity:
So 'tranced the air, that each minutest sound
By wing, or breeze, or basking insect made,
Was audible, and seem'd profanely loud:
At that deep moment Nature knew her God,
And bade the silent Elements adore!

While thus, immersed in some immortal dream
Of bright salvation, man's Redeemer sat,
There came a woman to that haunted well
Where holy Jacob, in the dawn of time,
Cool'd his hot thirst beneath a zenith sun.
A Jew!—of that abhorrent nation sprung,
Who, ever since on Dan and Bethel stood
Samaria's Idol, bade her miscreant race
Of heaven despair, and scorn'd her rival fane,
How spake He aught to one of Sichem born!
With touching beauty and with tender grace
Messiah answer'd, “Had she known the Gift
Of God, and who he was, that fain would drink,
A living water had divinely flow'd!”
His heaven-like mien, and voice augustly toned
With spirit-searching power, the woman awed;
And nearer still, with eye intently raised,
She wond'ring stole, and mortal-like replied;
That from the well, o'erhung by solemn boughs
Whose shadows oft on patriarchal heads
Had play'd, He had not now wherewith to draw,
And was He greater than their primal Sire?
Alas! the dimness which our being shrouds,
To keep us mortal in immortal hours!
Of Water springing with eternal Life
Whose fountain is the awful soul within,
Th' Incarnate spoke; but when the letter still
And not the spirit of His words prevail'd,
Back from her heart prophetic wisdom roll'd

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Clouds of dark guilt which there concealment spread,
And bare before it laid her life of sin!
Then, Conscience! like a voice from other worlds,
Sudden and piercing, did thy power appeal
To yon frail woman! on her cheek's array
Of paleness, in her eyes' dissolving shame
It witness'd; and her loudly-beating heart
By every throb a pang to memory paid!
Then, pointing to Samaria's mountain-fane,
Whose massy pomp of pinnacles and towers
Rose black and solemn in the cloudless air,
She call'd Him, Prophet! and in meekness ask'd
Where heaven from earth the purest essence hail'd?
From Zion's hill, or where the Fathers knelt,—
Gerizim? whence of old from Joshua's lip
The full-voiced Blessing by a myriad tongues
Was echoed, while from Ebal's blanchèd height
A Curse came down, like thunder from the skies.

Oh, ye who narrow to the dungeon-walls
Of bigotry, the limitless design of Heaven,
Approach and tremble!—God a spirit is!
And they who worship, must in spirit bend
His Throne before! The universal Heart
Of Man by revelation's light redeem'd,
Jehovah! this Thy purest temple forms.
So heard the woman; and a hope confess'd
Of coming Glory, in whose morning-beams
The night of error would dissolve away.
But when Messiah, “I who speak am He!”
Responded, mute, and statue-like, she stood,—
Embodied wonder! till disciples came
And marvell'd, how His purity could speak
To one so branded, that her blood was crime!
But awe withheld them; and on raptured wings
Of speed, to Sychar back the woman rush'd,
And, like a prophetess when new-inspired
To holy madness, gloryingly cried,
Through street and dwelling, “Lo! Messiah comes!
A Man who told me all I ever did,
The Saviour, by yon well of Jacob sits!”
At once, to see the heaven-descended Christ,
Up the green valley troop ecstatic throngs,
Till thick and fast the mingling shadows fell
From young Samaritans, on herbs and flowers,
As on they sprang, like birds to meet the morn!
While slow behind, the hoary-headed forms
Of Age were gliding, pale with wordless joy.
“The harvest, say ye not, four months will bring?
Behold! the meadows are already white,
And he who gathers, reaps immortal fruit!”
Thus spake the Saviour, and His welcome high
The crowd attracted; dumb with deepest awe
They linger'd; not a heart but quaked with bliss
Divine, or dreamt it immortality begun:
Then lovingly that simple-hearted race
The mighty Stranger to their dwellings brought,
And fell before Him, in sublime belief
Exclaiming, “Thou alone art Christ the Lord!”

From Sychar, hence to Cana Christ advanced,
And there again shone forth, incarnate God!
A Nobleman, around whose only child
The shades of death were deepening, at His feet,
With all the father mirror'd in his eyes,
Sank prostrate; and in tones which tore the heart
With dreadful truth, His healing power besought
To soothe the madness of parental wo,
And back to life a dying son recall.
“Thy son is living!” so Emmanuel spake,
And he who trusted found his faith's reward!
And thus for ever His unwearied Arm
Is present, guiding worlds along their paths,
Or waved in mercy round the fate of man.

But His it was, though all divinely meek
Each virtue shone, to drink the bitter Cup!
As in the synagogue when call'd, as won't,
From out th' assembly, to unroll and read
The Haphtoroth, a deaden'd language rose
To life upon His lips! there, all in vain
The saving wisdom of Messiah spoke:
Their eyes were dark, they saw but Joseph's son!
But when of miracles for Gentiles work'd
Alone, while famish'd Israel droop'd in dust,
And on the heavens immitigably seal'd
From dawn to midnight turn'd her mournful gaze,
When such He mention'd, to convict the soul,—
The living frame of that Assembly shook
With passion! not an eye but glared revenge!
And, fell as tigers, savagely they sprung,
And bore Him upward to the rocky hill
Where hung their city, down whose awful depth
To atoms they would hurl the Saviour-God!
But in a moment, by its dizzy brink
Each eye was dazzled, and a Power unknown
Invisibly that human chaos quell'd!
In the full whirlwind of their fiercest ire
They soften'd to a breezelike calm, which died
To utter stillness, when the crowd beheld
Their Victim, passing through the parted throng
Unhurt; as he who faced a fiery death
And walk'd the furnace with the Son of Man.

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To thee, Capernaum! by Messiah bless'd
And haunted, turn we now our solemn gaze.
There, mead and hamlet, mountain, shore, and plain
His presence felt, His mighty works enjoyed;
While Nature to each theme of glory lent
Her own sweet magic, imagery, and power.
And seest thou, girdled in by barren wilds,
Yon blue expanse? Gennesareth is there!
Quiescent now as meditation's hour
Yon lake of beauty in the noontide gleams;
But when a hurricane with Syrian roar
Descends the mountain, and its calm defies,
Then, Chinnereth! thy sleeping might awakes;
And yon deep billows with disastrous swell
In hollow thunder to the winds respond.

By the bright waters, on that lovely beach
Of famed Tiberias, where a wondering crowd
Around Him panted for immortal truth,
Was Jesus standing; while the fisher wash'd
His net, and dried it on the pebbled shore.
Two silent vessels on the lake reposed;
The one He enter'd, and the people taught;
But ere the music of His mighty words
Was still'd, “Launch forth! and let your nets descend,”
The Lord commanded: worn by fruitless toil,
All doubtingly did Peter's hand obey:
But when at once, with its enormous load
The net uprose, till e'en the laden ship
Beneath her living burden sank, and reel'd,
Silence adored! the tongueless air was hush'd,
As though Creation wonder'd! till, a cry
Yon multitude from off the shore awoke,
Which scatter'd silence like a broken dream!
While Peter, quivering with unearthly dread,
Fell in amazement at Messiah's feet
And utter'd, “Leave me, Lord! for I am vile!”
That moment his Apostleship began
For ever: death and darkness, time and wo,
From Faith's high throne he overlook'd them all!
Then James and John at once that Power revered
To Whom the Elements their laws resign'd,
And laid their sceptres down. Of old prevail'd
The Prayer of prophets, for the sick and dead
Arising; but a Word that ruled the waves
And master'd ocean with creative might,
Had ne'er till now a lip on Earth inspired!

To this high deed, an unrecorded mass
Of miracles, in one successive throng
Was added: when the sun's expiring gleam
Paled o'er Capernaum, round Messiah's door
Disease assembled all her ghastly troop
Of martyrs: in an instant, ere a sound
Could perish, Health's untainted blood return'd!
The lame and sightless, palsied, deaf, and dumb
Recover'd, fleet as resurrection's change;
And thus, by deed embodying all Isaiah sung,
Through town and village the Redeemer went
And rested never from His glorious toil;
Except when God th' incarnate Son adored,
As oft He did in melancholy wilds,
Where, all unseen, the Man of Sorrows knelt
And sanctified His human will by prayer.

And must we sink, in lifeless wonder lost
'Mid the pure radiance of such perfect deeds?
The power, but not the principle sublime
Is hidden, whence creation's ruling Lord
Each miracle derived;—and that is Love,
Which link by link connects a thousand worlds,
And chains them all to one Almighty Throne!

For true example, not inactive awe,
Messiah lived; and he who soars to Him
That living Orb of Righteousness beholds,
Whose beams are catholic with boundless grace
And sunlike fall on universal Man.

BOOK V.

------“All the stars
Thou knew'st by name, and all th' ethereal powers,
All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works,
Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea.”
Milton.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK V.

Solitude—How exaltedly employed when devoted to a contemplation of the glorious plan of Redemption —The Sermon on the Mount—Scenery—A Summary of its Doctrines—The measureless good they have effected in the world since first promulgated—Christ at Capernaum—A Leper cleansed—Escapes from the Multitude who would force Him to be their King— Passage over the Lake—Storm—Peril and affright of the Disciples—Jesus rebukes the Elements to perfect calm—The Demoniac—A description of his horrid sufferings—the Demons are expelled, and their Victim cured—How utterly impossible for Human Pen to paint or express the Divine loveliness of the Redeemer's actions and character— The Daughter of Jairus — Her youth, education, sickness, and death—The Father's despair—Arrival of the Saviour—His Miraculous Display of Power in recalling the Spirit to Life—From hence Messiah goes to Galilee, passes a Night in Prayer, and on the morrow elects His Disciples—Then passes in Retrospective View their Triumphs and Toils, as they are recalled by the associations and scenes of Nazareth—Jesus goes to Nain—Calls to life the Widow's Son—Description of the Miracle—Reflections on the tenderness of Christ in his conduct

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to Women—The Magdalene—Christ again at Jerusalem—Cures a Man at the Pool of Siloam — The Jews mock observance of the Sabbath—Observed best by imitation of Christ—Messiah enters the Desert of Bethsaida—Feeds a Multitude — Reflections on this surpassing Miracle—Our strange neglect of the wonderful Love daily exhibited by God to Man—The Disciples embark on the Lake —Storm—Appearance of Christ walking on the Waters—Peter's Faith and Despair—Lesson taught by his presumption—The Transfiguration—Pride still the dominant principle in the Disciples' souls —Christ blesses little Children, and proposes them as examples of what his Followers should be— The Woman taken in Adultery—Her accusers how appalled and subdued by conscience—The Feast of Lights—Raising of Lazarus—Christ's triumphant entry through Jericho to Jerusalem—The Widow's mite—The Saviour's last farewell to the Holy City —His prediction of its terrible fate—A vision of its fall.

How beautiful the soul's religious calm
When thought is heavenward, and the chainless mind
Like soaring Enoch, to our God ascends!
And oh! how glorious, by deep vision led,
Six thousand years to travel back and view
How from the cradle of eternity
The infant-world at God's command arose.
The new-born winds, the ocean's young delight
Heard in a rhapsody of rolling waves;
With every tint and motion, gleam or glance
Of life and matter, from the lyric host
Of Stars, with quiring gratulation loud,
To fairy insect and minutest flower,—
On each and all Imagination dreams,
When Earth lay basking in Jehovah's smile!

But what is this, or all th' amazing stream
Of glories, terrors, and supernal acts
Of truth and judgment, down the mighty page
Devolved, to thine all-wondrous Plan,
Redemption? Vast beyond the vastest dream
That circles round the comprehending soul,
Thy range extendeth! Nature's utmost bounds,
From earth to heaven, from heaven to higher worlds,
And higher still, beyond the furthest reach
Of finite thought to mention or conceive,
Immensity, and all Eternal Power
Created, forms, or may hereafter free,—
Redeemer! over all Thy glories reign!

But lo! the Mount, whereon Messiah sat
And taught; while multitudes with lifted gaze
And soul that listen'd with suspended breath,
Beneath Him swarm'd, to drink eternal Life
Whose fountain issued from the Throne of God.
The Spring was forth: young loveliness and bloom
Her reign attested; trees and meadows flash'd
With verdant lustre, while the shaken flowers
Their scent and beauty to the breeze resign'd
With playful murmur. From its sacred top
A bright extent of ever-changing view
The beatific Mount o'ergazed: from thence,
Gilboa, where amid the chariot-rush
Of Philistines, the dying Saul despair'd,
Was seen to lift her Pyrenèan crags
And cloud-like spires; Gennesareth's azure mass
Of waters, and the snow-clad Hermon's height
Conspicuous beam'd; and all which gave
To hallow'd words an instantaneous glow
Of life and feeling, full before Him lay.
Bethuliah to a thousand eyes appear'd,
When Jesus of the hill-throned City spake;
The lily-flowers, which neither toil nor spin,
Yet, beautiful beyond arrayèd Solomon!
In golden freshness on the meadows waved;
And when on providential Care alone
He bade terrestrial Want repose, and cried,
“Behold the fowls your heavenly Father feeds!”
Their wings exulted on the air around
And nerved the precept with example's force.

Oh, what a scene of heart-affecting power
Was there beheld!—That consecrated Mount
On whose green summit sat the Son of Man;
The words he utter'd; deep and awful tones,
Yet tender in their might, as mellow'd-sounds
From Ocean's lip; with all unclouded spring
Of fresh and fair commandeth; and the crowds
Which hung like bees upon the mountain-side,
As thick and numberless, yet hush'd and chain'd
To utter calm, as though their living mass
Together breathed but one absorbing soul,—
Religion! thou wert throned in godlike pomp
Amid a scene transcendently endow'd
Like this, with attributes of holy might
Beyond the Temple in its costliest hour.

And what a doctrine of almighty depth
Messiah founded, when His truth declared,
In meekness lies the majesty of Man!
At once the Wisdom of the world was dumb,
And Mammon blighted on his throne of bliss.
The ways of pleasantness, the paths of peace
Are dim and narrow, tracks of noiseless gloom
Which Glory flies, and Grandeur seldom walks:
The poor in spirit, and the meek in heart
Who thirst and hunger for Thy righteous Word,
Oh! these are blest, for Thine unerring Voice
Hath call'd them so, and crown'd their lowly Lot,
And sanctified its unrebellious tear.
To them divinely was the blessing given;

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And while in shed or cottage, swamp or wild,
The sacred pangs of Poverty endure,
There Goodness and her Lord may constant meet,
And Charity, with soft and silent foot,
Move like an Angel to a deed of heaven.

And vaster Truths, unspeakably divine,
Which live before the Throne, and light effuse
O'er all who worship their immortal Source,
Did Christ reveal:—of uncomplaining Love,
Forgiving, as it hopes to be forgiven;
Of Sanctity, within the spirit shrined;
Of Passion, rooted from terrestrial ties
And trampled as the soul's unhallow'd weed;
Of alms in secret,—temples in the mind
Where God in dedicated moments comes
To earth unknown, and needs no trumpet-voice
To tell the world a conscious sinner prays;
Of Providence, life's angel, ever nigh,
Who feeds the bird, and robes the meadow-flower;
Of lofty hope, of meditative peace,
And feeling, touch'd with man's infirmity,
O'ercoming wrong with mercy's tender gaze
That looks aside when human error falls,
But loves a virtue in its frailest hours,—
Of these He spake, and taught believing Man
A worship, which eternal Wisdom loves.

E'en Him, whom yonder choir of worlds
Adores, our faltering tongues may Father call!—
Glory of glories! can archangels boast
A voice, or language of mysterious love
Surpassing this, which bids “our Father” sound
From lip of mortals, when a soul renews
Her solemn intercourse with God on high?
Give ear, O Heaven! thou wondering Earth, be still,
For here is love so measureless and deep,
That Feeling staggers, and Expression fails,
Or ventures only, “let Thy will be done!”
Oh! long as man upon creation moves,
In solemn aisles of monumental gloom
Ascending with a loud melodious swell,
In rustic fane, or tranquil home beloved,
By hoary age, or lisping childhood breathed,
From cave or desert, dungeon, rock, or sea,—
That mighty Prayer upon the mountain taught
To Heaven and Jesus may it ever rise,
And win the Mercy it was framed to woo.

His task is o'er, the sacred Teacher gone,
And the last murmur of descending feet
Dies on the hill; where now a breeze awakes
The spring-born flowers, till livingly they stir
And tremble into low sweet song again.
But all the host who heard immortal Truth
Upon the beatific Mount declared
Are vanished, like the dew of yesterday!
And thrones and states and Babylonian piles
Have wither'd; Dust has claim'd its dead
For ever, quenching in sepulchral sleep
The Earth's unquiet generations gone;
Yet, pure as perfect, Christ's majestic Law
High o'er the wreck of Men and Things endures,
And will,—till heaven and earth dissolve away!

What toils and agonies, what glorious tears
And blessed pangs by penitence sublimed,
The earth has known, though unrecorded left!
O History, thou hast done the world a wrong
Immense and mournful; on the alpine heights
Of human Greatness, thine enamour'd gaze
Has linger'd; mindless in that partial mood
Of meek-eyed Virtue, in the vale below!
And robed thy themes of darkness with a veil
Of bright attraction, as the Thunder wraps
His ruin oft in clouds of gorgeous spell.
Yet better far, had thy pervading glance
From earthly pomp to scenes of heavenly truth
Descended; marking how the Saviour's word
Had triumph'd, how it lived in lonely hearts
And aching bosoms, weeded daily life
Of sin and wo, and dried the widow's tear.—
Sublime of Sermons! atheistic tongues
Have bless'd thee, and the worldling's rocky soul
Gush'd into tears beneath thy tender sway:
When life is gladness, or when sorrow flings
A sudden autumn o'er the leaves of joy,
The purest homily of peace and love
Wisdom has utter'd since the world began!

But thou, Capernaum! once again the Arm
Almighty bares itself for thee, and thine
Oh, misbelieving Land! to heaven upraised
And hell cast down.—A grim and ghastly wreck,
Upon his face beneath Messiah's feet
A Leper falls, there, lifts his bloodshot gaze,
And with a voice of choked and dying tone
His help implores:—From Egypt's fiery realm
The dread corruption came, when burning noon
Flamed o'er the limbs of Pharaoh's toil-worn slaves;
And now, a victim of its direst rage
The Son of Man beheld. Each sign accursed
Disease had printed on his mouldering form;
Till fruit had wither'd in the hot embrace
Of each infected hand!—let Fancy shrink,
But still a martyrdom of nature see,
Then, picture how the Lord of Being look'd,
When graciously His godlike hand approach'd,

488

The Leper touch'd, and with a word divine
Commanded, “Be thou clean!” and lo! he sprang
To earth again, a free and perfect man
And pure as childhood in its glowing prime!
For, health with instantaneous gush o'erflow'd
His being; like the world's untainted Sire
He stood in glory, eyeing earth and heaven
As though his spirit would encircle all!

And well might gratitude obedience quench;
On wings, that seem'd round every limb to play,
O'er mount and vale th' ecstatic Creature fled,
A living miracle: and cried aloud
“A God! a God! His mighty cure behold!”
Roused into motion, like autumnal leaves
By wind invoked, a rushing Host that cry
Re-echoed: onward with exulting speed
To fall in worship round th' Almighty Priest
They came: but not in Him, the loud uproar
Of shouting numbers, nor the false delight
Of glory flashing over envious eyes,
Nor crown, nor throne upon the dying breath
Of sudden wonder raised,—acceptance found.
The shady desert, and the dark-bough'd wild
Again He haunted; there, amid the calm
Of Nature, hush'd by some instinctive awe,
Alone The Everlasting pray'd, and thought.
But, vain seclusion! through the verdant depth
Of solemn woods the rush of thronging feet
Advanced; and voices, with a sea-like roar
Confused and clashing, round the Saviour roll'd:
'Twas then, escaping from the countless herd,
Upon the Lake His prompt disciples launch'd
Their bark, and bore the great Redeemer on.
Far o'er the blue and rippled waters sail'd
The boat; serene as yonder twilight-cloud
It moved, whose haven was the ruddy west.
In pillow'd slumber on the silent deck
The Son of Man reposed: sublimely calm
His features in the light of evening shone;
And oft entranced, some fond disciples stood
To gaze upon His holy sleep, and draw
Transcendent meanings from that Face Divine!

But ere the Twilight, and her fairy crowd
Of splendours, melted in the dark embrace
Of night, with soul intent the seamen heard
The incantations of a Storm begin!
The air was toned with sadness, like a sigh
Of broken hearts, or moan of guilty dreams
When Midnight is confessor: o'er the Lake
A breezy and a sudden life arose,
Till ripples flash'd, and bubbling foam began
To whiten o'er the waters. In the sky
No mercy dawns; for all is scowling there,
And savage clouds are in funereal march
Benighting heaven with one enormous gloom.
But hark! with ominous array it comes,—
Creation's tyrant! list the Tempest howls;
The South-East sends her hurricane, and back
The Jordan in affrighted motion rolls:
The Lake is heaving with convulsive throes
And billows writhe in agonising play
Loud o'er the surface, till like living Shapes
Of water battling with the Winds they seem
In liquid thunder, wheresoe'er they move!
In that wild hour, while star nor moon reveal'd
A solace, and the only light which gleam'd,
Shone when red lightning with a wizard flash
Call'd the dun mountains into dreary form
And station,—then the pale disciples ran
And cried, “We perish! save us, Lord! arise!”
He heard; He rose; and while the vessel creak'd,
And cordage rattled in the roaring gale
Like wither'd branches in a forest-wind,
Till o'er the deck the climbing billows rush'd
And darken'd round her with devouring yell,
His hand He waved, the rolling storm rebuked,
The Tempest knew her God,—and still'd!
Then o'er Tiberias, calm as cradled sleep,
The Moon uprose; and in her silver hue
Each cloud dissolved, as angry feeling dies
By music overcome; and once again
The doubting crew their wingèd bark beheld,
With stars above, and star-lit waves beneath,
Serenely gliding on to Gadarene:
Oh! then, amid that elemental trance
The meek reproach of their forgiving Lord
Was felt; each gazed on each with holy fear;
The calm of Nature grew a fearful charm;
For Sea and Air with more than language cried
“The waters hear Him, and the Winds obey!”

The shore is reach'd; but what unearthly Shape,
What Thing accurst, in human semblance clothed,
Foaming and wild, with eyeballs sternly fix'd,
Glares on them, like a cavern'd brute aroused
By errant footsteps, when her whelps are nigh?
O Prince of Darkness! and ye Powers of Air
By Heaven permitted, from the fiery doom
Of Hell's abyss, to roam the peopled earth
A while, and enter in the breathing frame
Of mortals, maddening with demonian rage
Both blood and spirit,—there, your victim stands!
Thou dreaded martyr! words and feelings fly
Aghast, or shudder round thy gloomy pangs:
Thy limbs are bare, and down their wither'd length
The blood has track'd the lacerating stone
Tormented Madness from the hills hath wrung
To glut her agony! Among the tombs

489

Thy dwelling is; from human face apart,
The dead around thee in sepulchral caves
Of rocky darkness,—there thy spirit moans,
Or mutters, till the very mountains seem
Appall'd to echo with thy blasphemy!
But, dreader far, when night's dominion came
To hear thy howlings! e'en the desert-beast
Hath trembled, when the horrid echoes rang;
While, pillow'd on a sleeping mother's breast,
The infant shook to think thy shadow nigh!

Thus stood the foaming maniac, while there glared
The terror of his demon-haunted eyes
Through each disciple's heart!—but, ere a limb
Could move, that dreadless Voice, which made
The roaring Tempest mute, and never spake
But Heaven was raptured, and profoundest Hell
With agonies of coming doom convulsed
Or shaken,—like omnipotence arose:
“Come forth, defiler!” and the spirit fell
In kneeling torture at Messiah's feet!
There, “By the living God!” dark Legion cried,
“Thou Jesus! Son of the Most High! adjured,
Before our time torment us not! nor plunge
Our spirits in th' Infernal Deep again,
But let us enter in yon mountain-prey.”
When thus permitted, like a gentle dawn
His soul emerged, and spread each vital hue
Of nature o'er the freed demoniac's frame.
And when the crowding Gadarenes advanced
In gazing terror round Messiah's form
No bleeding maniac from the rocky tombs
They witness'd, but a man renew'd and mild,
From Hell deliver'd, at the feet of Christ
Reposing, with his native vesture clad:
And as he sat, how superhuman seem'd
The great Restorer! thanks in wonder died;
But what a language in his lifted eye,
Whose words were tears, the eloquence of joy!

Divine perfection of embodied Love,
Supremely fair, insufferably bright,
By Thee, the Muse is dazzled! all is deep
August, and holy, where Thy presence rules;
The bigot tamed, the hypocrite unmask'd,
The Law illumed, and blinded Israel taught
The darkness of exclusive faith was o'er,
And light celestial, from the depths of God
Would soon irradiate universal Man.
Him, Son of Alpheus! though the luring world
Had long enchain'd thee, thou didst not refuse,
When, “Follow me” fell sudden on thine ear,
And thou wert his, by deathless grace redeem'd.

But what awaits us? Let maternal Hearts
Whose pulse beats love, approach and tell,
Oh life! how beautiful thy maiden-bloom
In that bright morn, when youth's unfolded years
Like rising veils before enchantment spread,
Recede, and down a fairy vista roams
The glancing joy of Expectation's eye!
Then day by day, as some meek violet rear'd
By fondling sunshine, grows the virgin Mind
In home's retreat, till childhood melts away,
And dawning Womanhood her smile begins.
Then all is fair; affection's graceful smile
From out a purity of spirit plays,
And life and motions, inspirations are
Which tone the voice, or teach the step delight;
And frowning Sorrow, though it shade the cheek,
The soul can darken not, whose placid tears
Melt as they rise, like tender dews of wo.
Romance is true, reality a dream,
And cares,—oh! what are they, but minute-clouds
That speck the ether of our calmest life!

And canst thou, Death! congenial dungeons quit
Where thou art woo'd by dark and wretched men,
To come where Youth and Loveliness unite
Their magic, and the breath of life is joy?
Alas! the knells, that with diurnal grief
The wind intone; alas! the frequent pall,
The church-yard tales on tomb and stone rehearsed,
A blinded chamber, or that weeping Home
Where round some coffin drooping parents bend,
Like marble shapes of monumental Wo,
Thy victims tell, thy savage choice reveal!

Then think, if in bereavement's blackest hour,
When flooding agonies the brain o'erwhelm,
And a last gaze seems looking life away,
The parted spirit of the Dead return'd!—
For such the scene, by Revelation drawn.
On Jairus Heaven an only child bestow'd;
A lovely scion, round whose being twined
The clinging fondness of parental fear.
For beautiful as Syria's lonely flowers,
That wave and murmur on the shady top
Of wooded Lebanon, her form had grown
From infancy, till now revealing time
Had written woman on her vestal cheek.

Born in that Land where summer's pregnant beam
Was brightest, where the fruits of Eden hung,
And the rich mulberry spread a snowy bloom,

490

While grapes empurpled every terraced hill,
Her shape and spirit magic influence caught
From Syria's clime of glory. Nature's grace
By power of exquisite attraction seem'd
Reflected from it; light and beauty fill'd
Her soul, and flash'd from those irradiate eyes;
And walk'd she not, as Israel's daughter would,
The mighty scenes where patriarchal feet
Had trodden, where the God of Zion spake!
Lake, fount, and river, and those Mountains three
Which camp'd her warriors, and that still o'erlook
Esdraelon's plain, where tented Arabs dwell,
Around whose home, when dewy nightfall comes,
The gamb'ling flocks to reedy murmurs play,—
From each and all pure inspiration sprung,
And told, how beautiful religion look'd
By youth entempled in a spotless heart!

And yet on her, with vestal radiance clad,
Infection breathed, and poison'd blood and brain,
Till the rich bloom of animation died.
Her form was blighted; and her faded cheek
The pallid certainty of coming doom
Betray'd: oh, hear it, Heaven!—a father's prayer
The sky ascends to claim a brighter hope:
Away, with agonising speed he flies,
Nor treads the ground, nor hears the city-roar,
Nor feels the motion of his moving limbs!
Condensed, and darken'd into wild despair
His soul became, till Nature's functions fail'd,
And earth was reeling from his dazzled gaze,
When full amid the pharisaic throng
He rush'd, and prostrate with a burst of wo,
Voiced his dread agony with this deep cry,
“My daughter, Lord! her deathful pangs approach,
But hasten! touch her with Thy healing hand
And yet my child shall live:” ere Jesus came
Her spirit vanish'd, like a lovely sound!

The house of mourning!—hark, the funeral-dirge,
The doleful flutes, and dying melodies
Of instrumental tone, or wailing yells
Of frantic Grief, and mercenary Wo.
But, enter! there in yon sepulchral room,
Alone a childless mother comes to seal
The lids of Death, and on that marble lip
Imprint a long and last—the parting kiss!
And shall the worm of putrefaction feed
On that young form, of Beauty's finest mould?
The light and life of twelve enchanted years,
All sunk and shaded in remorseless dust!
Oh agony! could thawing tears the soul
Dissolve, let suffering Nature shed them now.
While o'er thy cheek, so eloquently pale,
Once full of rosy life, her bending eye
With dreadful speculation broods, beloved
And blessed! all thy winning ways and smiles,
Thy look and laugh, in one sweet throng, return
Upon her, till thy warm and living breath
Again is playing round Affection's heart!
But ah! her martyr'd frame's convulsive heave,
As if in that chaotic gloom of mind
When feeling is our only faith, the soul
Would rive the body and at once be free,—
Betokens thou art death, and she despair!

Believe, and fear not: in the blackest cloud
A sunbeam hides; and from the deepest pang
Some hidden mercy may a God declare.
There as she stood, delirous, rack'd, and wild,
The Saviour enter'd, and his soothing glance
Fell on the mother's torn and troubled heart
As moonlight on the ocean's haggard scene.
The wailing minstrel, and the dirge of death,
He bade them cease; “The maiden is not dead,
But sleepeth!” Then around her vestal couch
The mourning parents, with His chosen Three,
Advanced, and in the midst, divinely calm,
The son of Man! In lifeless beauty laid,
A loveliness and not the gloom of death
The virgin wore; and on her placid cheek
The light of dreams reposed: oh, ne'er could dust
A purer sacrifice from Death receive!
But when He stoop'd, and held her icy hand,
And utter'd, “Maid, arise!” the beating heart
Of wonder, doubt, delight, and awful fear
Was hush'd; for, swift as echo to the voice
Replies, the spirit of the dead awoke
At His high summons! whether from the arm
Of Angels, lock'd in some oblivious trance;
Or from the bloom and breath of Paradise
Amid beatitude to earth recall'd,
To us untold; enough for man to know
That when the Lord of resurrection spake
The soul return'd! And mark its dawning glow;
Soft o'er each deaden'd cheek the rosy light
Of cherub slumber steals; the eyes unfold
And lift their veiny lids, as matin-flowers
When dew and sunshine fascinate their gaze;
In red and smiling play the lips relax,
And, delicate as music's dying fall,
The throb of life begins; she moves! she breathes!

491

The dead hath risen, and a living child
Sinks on the bosom of maternal Love!

From hence, to Galilee the Prince of Life
Again retreated; there His Own beloved
Received Him not, but savagely repell'd
The Nazarene; alas! they little dreamt
Of shrouded glory ark'd in Mary's Son!
But from the vain, whom pomp alone allured,
To multitudes of meek and aidless men
Who, faint and scatter'd, for instruction pined,
And tractable, the mild Redeemer turn'd.
Upon the mountain, when a night of prayer
Had pass'd, and awful Invocation knelt,
The Twelve were chosen, seal'd and heaven-inspired,
And yet, how poor!—a Galilèan tribe
By man untaught, to Science all unknown.
But not as ours, are Thine unfathom'd ways
Jehovah! in the mean Thy might display'd
Its vastness; on the low Thy lofty truth
Descended; out of weakness wisdom sprung,
As light from darkness, worlds from nothing, came!

And these were living Oracles, whose voice
Was power, whose doctrine breathed eternal life!
To them was portion'd this almighty Task,
“Advance! though Hell's dark legions rise, advance!
And preach the kingdom of approaching Heaven.
Nor gold, nor silver, raiment, staff, nor scrip,
Provide, but enter ye the city-gates;
The lame restore, the dead recal, the blind
Illumine, cleanse the leper, heal the sick,
And hurl the Demon from the haunted soul.
Be wise as serpents, innocent as doves;
Beware of all, but flatter none; for Thrones
Shall tremble, and the cheek of Kings
Look blasted, and your words of lightning cleave
The spirits which appal ye, when the lash
Is loudest, and the blood of trial flows.
Advance, and fear not! for your very hairs
Are number'd; viewless, God your Guardian is,
And he who offers to the parchèd lip
A cup of water, him will I repay!”

And did they not, by living grace empower'd,
The Earth evangelise, till idols shook
Before them, and the gates of hell were storm'd?
Its truthful witness let the solemn Past
Uplift, and there, along the boundless scene
Of time departed, shines the glorious track
Of true Apostles! On their heads the curse
Was wreak'd, and fires of persecution rain'd;
Their limbs were torn, around them dungeons gaped,
And yet, they ceased not; still the cry was heard,
“Redemption! on the Cross a Saviour hung;
Repent, believe, and be for ever blest!”

Transcendent martyrs! round your awful brows
Seraphic wreaths are twined, and ye adore,
In throned array, the Co-Eternal Three!
But with your presence, not your power sublime
Departed; still around us in their might,
Recorded mercies miracles and truths
Divine, are breathing: by whose vital sway
Are sanction'd all which daily Life enjoys
Of charity, protection, faith, and peace;
The light of Laws, the Liberty of home,
Content, and all that makes a Country dear.

From what high armory, celestial Band!
Were your bright weapons taken? Was your creed
A pliant courtier, bending to the will
Tyrannic, culling from each varied clime,
Or doctrine, some accordant hue to please
A passion, flatter doubt, or soothe despair?
Or, did ye, by undaunted truth sublimed,
Like second Daniels and Elijahs prove
And brand the vices of corrupted man?
Against the Passions, wheresoe'er they ruled,
Ye march'd, and fought them in their fiercest shape
Of Lust and Pride, and dark Ambition's dreams,
And Hopes which make eternity a lie
By moulding heaven to each infirm desire.

O traveller! far from England's elmy dales
To Syria wafted, in the trance of noon
When thou art seated on some rocky cliff
Of Nazareth, and think'st that there, unknown,
In meek subjection lived the Son of Man,
Till came the hour when like a buried stream
Of glory bursting into sudden day,
That mighty Doctrine which embraced a world
Rose into light, and ran its vast career,—
What visions o'er thy musing spirit roll?
The flood of centuries, in their fancied roar
Thou hears't them sweeping! but amid the tides
Of desolation over king and kingdom pour'd,
The “Rock of Ages,” based on earth indeed
But towering to the skies,—unshaken stands,
Deep as eternity and high as heaven!

But now, from everlasting triumph fresh
And ardent, met the apostolic Band

492

Once more around Him; then to lovely Nain
By Hermon shaded, o'er whose dazzling snow
A mid-noon burn'd, the godlike Jesus went.
Whoe'er thou art, a scene of touching might
And tender beauty waits thy spirit there.
And yet, how simple! such as link mankind
Together by unbroken ties of soul,—
The glories of the Gospel! from the heart
They spring, and to the heart alone appeal
With eloquence divine.

Behold, as noon
Was calming down from its meridian heat,
And Tabor o'er Esdraelon's verdure threw
A longer shade, where cooling Kishon ran
His midway course, the Lord of mercy reach'd
That mountain-dell where Nain of Hermon stands:
But ere He enter'd, came a mournful troop
In dark procession from the city-gates.
The air was rung with anguish; and the dirge
Fell sad and frequent on Messiah's ear:
While midmost, on a mantled bier upborne,
A youth was carried to an early grave,
An only child, the Star of widow'd home
In whose fond ray a mother's spirit smiled!
With what a sense of beautiful delight
Her ear drank in the father's fancied voice,
Still in her son triumphant o'er the tomb!
How tenderly her soul's creative eye
Gazed on the meanings of his manly face
And made each feature all the sire restore
In proud resemblance! while a sacred hope
Survived, that when her widow'd race was done,
His hand would smoothe, his gentle voice attend
Her dying bed; and tears of filial truth
Fall on the flowers which graced a mother's tomb!
But Heaven had frown'd, her living star was set,
In the bright morning of its beauty gone
For ever. Pity! thine are barren tears,
And unrefreshing as the thunder-drops
On burning sands, to wo intense as this!
For life and feeling in the grave descend;
And sounds of comfort, like the clamorous waves
In heedless revel o'er the ocean-dead,
Awake no echoes in her spirit now.

But on they come, the sad funereal crowd,
And deep o'er all the blended tones of grief
A heart-wrung widow's lamentations rise
Distinctive of the Mother! Not a gaze
By feeling unbedewed; the young men weep,
As fancy pictures, on yon cover'd bier
Their pale companion, from whose mirthful brow
So many a gleam of young enjoyment flash'd
Like daily sunshine over kindred hours:
The aged bow their heads, to dreams of death
Surrender'd; parents muse on buried hopes,
Or clasp the living with a fearful joy!
And e'en the children, as the mourning-train
Advances, from unthinking revel cease
And sadden down the innocence of glee.
'Twas then the Lord of Life and Death approach'd
The long procession, and a widow's tear
Was mighty, for it thrill'd Emmanuel's soul!
At once, majestic through the yielding crowd
Beside the corse He came, the bier He touch'd,
Then, moveless as the dead that living host
Stood silent; every throbbing breeze grew loud,
And motions of the human heart were heard
In the deep hush of this portentous hour!
The awful coming of some dread Display
Each soul awaited: then was heard, “Arise!”
The spirit answer'd, and that youth arose;
And to his mother took Messiah's hand
Her only child!

Oh, ask not, what excess
Of rapture, what ecstatic shriek of joy,
What thrilling fires of new affection rose
When heart to heart the beat of life return'd,
As there they stood, unutterably blest,
Each twined round each, affection's holy pair!
The mountain-top, though daring clouds retreat
Below it, oft victorious feet ascend;
And down the ocean have undaunted eyes
Descended; but the height and depth of Love
Maternal, who shall meet its boundless sway?
But, rather witness how one eager gaze
From the vast multitude's concentred awe
Is bent on Jesus! dreadful light enrobes
His Form, divinity His features wear,
And as He moves, in loud hosannahs rise,
“Our God hath visited His people now!”

And thus, whene'er the tears of Woman fall,
Compassion! in the Lord of pity view
Thy godlike Semblance. Never from His lip
The crushing heartlessness of cold rebuke
Descended, when the soul of woman cried!
And was not this example? Ere the tongue
Can utter, or the eye a wo reveal,
Her smile is round us, like a guardian-spell
Which nothing scatters, save the tyrant-gloom
Of death; and then, whose unforsaking glance,
Till the last hue of being fade, from dawn
To midnight keeps angelic watch beside
The ebbing spirit, lighting it to heaven?
'Tis Action makes the world of man; but life
Is feeling, such as gentler woman bears;
The fairy people of her inward world
Are true affections; when the blight hath touch'd

493

Or wrong'd their beauty, darkly cold this earth
Becomes, the elements of being fade,
And silence is the sepulchre of thought
Wherein the anguish of her spirit dwells.

But should there yet some icy soul remain
Which never melted at a woman's tear,
Let such advance, and meet The Saviour's eye!
Behold a chamber; round a simple board,
On circling couches, with unsandal'd feet
Reclined, a pharisaic throng convened;
Amid them, the Redeemer: as He lay,
Behind him crept a penitential form
Of faded beauty; years had fiercely traced,
And chronicled with Time's disastrous pen
The countless agonies of guilty wo
On her pale visage, from whose haggard eyes
The tears gush'd big and bright, while down her neck
In flowing ringlets fell unheeded hair
Of blackest lustre:—in her hand appear'd
An alabaster box of rich perfume.
But when her flood of anguish on the feet
Of Christ intruded, with her flowing hair
The tears she dried, and costly unction pour'd:
Divinely humbled, That mysterious Head
She would not dare profane! but, sin-abash'd,
Upon his feet alone an ointment due
She pour'd, the sad and silent Magdalene!

On her, as some mute parent's pensive gaze
The home-returning child of Error greets,
Messiah look'd; but from the scorner's eye
A scornful flash of indignation broke,
To think a vile corruption, frail as she,
Might touch a Prophet, or communion hold
With mortal Sanctity! Yet, ere contempt
Grew vocal, He whose comprehensive glance
Both heaven and earth and time and space commands,
And from the dungeon of the darkest soul
The craven thought with sudden light expels,
The brooding rancour of self-righteous man
Perceived, and thus the hidden soul unmask'd:
“Two debtors once a creditor forgave;
Five hundred one, the other fifty pence.
Which loved him most?” “The one forgiven most,”
The cowering Pharisee at once replied,
With curling lip, and brow which blacker grew!
“Behold yon woman! she hath loved the most,
And is the most forgiven!” Deadly rage
At those high words, which to Jehovah's lip
Belong'd, and character'd almighty power,
How fiercely did that proud assembly feel!
They spake not; but the blood's resentful ire
Flow'd on each visage with a fiery rush
Of inward passion, while derisive tones
Around the table murmuringly ran,—
That He, a throneless Heir of mortal clay,
The sanction of tremendous God assumed,
And pardon'd one by pharisaic creed
Accursed, whose presence was defiling breath,
Than whom, for their celestial robe to touch
To hug the Pestilence were purer far!
In deep soliloquy of hate and dread
So mutter'd each dark soul; but, mildly firm,
Emmanuel then to weeping Mary cried
“By faith forgiven, in thy peace depart!”

Again Jerusalem's Mosaic feast
Return'd, and Christ within her hoary walls
Hath enter'd, and beside Bethesda's pool
Unknown amid the lazar-crowd appears,
Beneath the porches lying. Round the bath
A pillared shade five towering cloisters threw
Where each with ravenous impatience eyed
The blood-stain'd waters! panting for the hour
Medicinal, when some high Angel stirr'd
That healing Pool: as oft a summer-lake
Convulsively a thrilling breeze attests,
Bethesda rippled into mystic life
Beneath the wave of His unshadow'd wings.

Amid the martyrs, pale o'er all the rest,
And ghastly, bearing on his palsied frame
The loathsome curse of eight-and-thirty years'
Dread malady, an aidless Victim met
Divine compassion, when his Lord approach'd.
“Wilt thou be whole?” the Great Physician cried:
“My limbs are moveless! lo, the crowd advance
Down in the waters ere my weakness come.”
As man to man, that pining creature spake;
But when, “Arise, thy bed uplift, and walk,”
Commanded Jesus, limb and life renew'd
Their freshness! free as Samson in his hour
Of glory, with his couch the man uprose,
While magic blood like streaming rapture ran
From vein to vein, how exquisitely felt!
He walk'd, but not unenvied; savage frowns
Were seen, and stern the loud resentment rose:
“A broken Sabbath! did it not condemn
The cure? That burden, was it not profane!”
The rebel heart of Jewish envy cried.
Thou hypocrite! let days and seasons quench
Thy soul, and narrow down the lofty creed
Of true Religion: vital worth ascends
Beyond them; goodness is a godlike power
And active; it can lead an angel-life,
But keeps a holy calendar in heaven.

Celestial Founder of the Christian faith,
Saviour of spirits! Thy denouncing words
Have been fulfill'd: the race who mock'd Thy deeds

494

And darken'd all Thy bright perfection did
Of good and wond'rous for afflicted Man,
The cup of wrath have drench'd, and are become
The scoff and vileness of our peopled globe!
But have we not Thy sacred Word defiled,
Thy Law profaned, the light of Truth repell'd,
And often crucified Thee o'er again
Lamb of the World! Descend, O Lord! descend
And lighten, as Thou didst the Jews of old,
The dimness of our nature! Still remain
The curse of Sect, the bigotry of hate,
And Doctrines impious whose exclusive lie
Would limit God, and shut the gates of heaven!
The pure and open, the unbounded scheme
Of Earth's redemption, let not man presume
To shape or alter; but submissive faith
The grand relationship of human Souls
Confess; and while external Sense reveres
Each hallow'd Rite, let inward love abound,
And centre all its paradise in Thee:
So will religion spread, and time record
The days of Eden, sabbaths of the mind
When dream and doctrine, hope and faith unite
To make the heart anticipated heaven.

Where Jordan mingled his melodious wave
With the blue waters of that famous Sea
Which often mirror'd the Redeemer's form,
The grassy desert of Bethsaida lay.
To this deep wild the Lord of Glory went
Dejected, for the murder'd Baptist's fate
A veiling sadness o'er His spirit threw.
But such a halo of pure light begirt
His Person; wisdom so surpassing flow'd
From perfect lips, that sooner might the sun
At flaming noontide from the eye recede,
Than Christ in unregarded loneness rest.
And lo! around Him, like a wilder'd flock
Of mountain-sheep, unshepherded and lost,
The poor have gather'd; and their pleading eyes
Were overpower'd, when Incarnate Wisdom spake
Of Time and Nature, man's undying soul,
And Blood mysterious that would cleanse the world:
Till deep entrancement on each spirit came,
Serene as starlight o'er a dusky lake
Of troubled water:—hunger, want, and toil
Were unremember'd in th' absorbing bliss
Of vast instruction; on the Bread of Life
They feasted, mindless of all other food!
But day was dying; and the mellow light
Of evening slanted through the desert-boughs,
Whose leafy motion, like a refluent tide
The pebbles chafing, made a restless sound.
And when Messiah in the pallid gleam
Of western sunlight mark'd the wearied host
Before Him, and a thousand faces turn'd
Full on His gaze, all famish'd, feeble, worn!—
Compassion for their uncomplaining want
Awoke; at once a miracle sublime
His soul conceived, His mighty hand perform'd.

Among the multitude a lad was found;
Five barley loaves and two small fishes made
His poor possession; but that scanty meal
Became abundance to creative Power!
By fifties rank'd, along the verdant ground
The people sat, with expectation dumb,
And trembling with profoundest awe! Then took
The bread, and lifted His majestic Eyes
To heaven, the Saviour; blessing, as He gazed,
The food from whence a miracle would rise
Magnificent, beyond those dreams of love
Celestial, such as sainted Prophets saw.
Oh! when His eye immensity o'ercame
And travell'd through yon infinite expanse
Of worlds on worlds, His own almighty Seat
It witness'd! There, pavilion'd round about
With clouds and waters, in array'd excess
Of unimagined Glory, it beheld
Jehovah!—then the mortal bread He brake,
And bade Disciples to the awe-struck crowd
The food bestow, till that enormous host
Were fill'd; and fragments of abundance lay
Around them scatter'd from the glorious feast!
As though a seed of earth's minutest growth
Rose from the ground, and like a forest spread,
From that mean food miraculously sprung
The glory of a great increase, which grew
And multiplied beneath Messiah's hand,
Till famish'd thousands were profusely fed.

Was ever banquet so sublime as this?
No canopy of regal pomp was there,
But the bright vastness of unclouded heaven;
The turf, a table, and the meanest food
A mountain-peasant knows, the sole supply,—
But God to serve, a Miracle, the meal!
The hour of beauty; Syria's matchless sky
Of floating crimson; like Genesareth stretch'd
In molten slumber, and her distant flash
Of waters gleaming through the forest-boughs,
And the deep moral of the mighty scene,—
What fancy yearns not, to have witness'd all?

But He who fed five thousand, feeds a world
And makes all earth miraculous by love!
Creation's undiminish'd banquet, spread
For ever by the elemental Laws

495

And Seasons ministrant to growth and good,
How mindless we by Whose stupendous gift
It fosters being as a boundless whole!
Enjoyment makes the world's ingratitude;
Above, around, beneath, th' almighty Hand
Itself avows; at morn, conducting forth
The Lord of Brightness; and when day concludes,
And dews descend, the fairies of the night,
Arraying yonder firmamental arch
With moon and planet, and uncounted orbs,
Too beautiful for sullied lips to name!
But, constant good proves mercy unadored;
And while dumb Glories of creation give
Their daily witness, Man alone is mute.

But night commenceth: hark! a shouting cry,
A Multitude's delighted spirit speaks,—
And woods are shaken with exulting sound!
Like mingling torrents, loud and far ascend
Their many voices, blending into one,
That hails him Monarch! who had blest the poor.—
Then Jesus to Bethsaida bade depart
His own Disciples, from the crowd withdrew,
And sought his mountain-solitude again.

Meanwhile, obedient to a high command,
Beloved disciples in their boat embark'd
Upon the lake are rocking: Darkness weaves
Her veil; and, like a tempest-demon yells
The howling wind, and tears the rising sea
To billowy madness, o'er whose heave and surge
Th' affrighted vessel like a weary bird
Advances, hung with flakes of whitest foam.
At starless midnight, on the yawning deep
The mariners with death and gloom contend,
Till in the sound of each remorseless wave
Each Heart has heard a funeral anthem howl'd!
But ere the redness of reviving dawn
Approach'd, when nature wore that spectral hue
In which the shadows of the dead arise,
A living Shape along the billows stalk'd!
God of the Waters, on the waves He moved
Sublimely calm! behind Him, like a cloud
His garments floated on the gloomy air,
And where He trod, the conscious billow sank!
At that dim sight each pale Disciple cower'd
And trembled, holding in the gasping breath,
Yet gazing, till their icy blood congeal'd,
Each limb was marble, and the palsied heart
Throbb'd loud and quick with supernatural play!
A Spectre from the unapparent World
He seem'd; or, Spirit of the tempest born,
Who walk'd the waters terribly divine!
But when in answer to a shriek of dread
Heard o'er the billows in its wildest tone,
Upon the winds in solemn murmur roll'd
“'Tis I!”—the frenzy of affright was calm'd;
And he, whose feeling human faith surpass'd,
Entreated like a God to tread the deep!
“Then come,” the Saviour like a God replied.
And he descended; on the deep he walk'd
O'erawed by dreadful wonder! wave on wave
And wind on wind, in elemental roar
Like chaos, how can mortal faith defy?
His soul hath doubted, and th' Apostle sinks,
Till, “Save me, Lord!” the drowning Peter cries;
And him the affable Redeemer caught
From out the billows, in their fierce array,
Rebuking thus, “O thou of little faith!”
His fond disciple: when the toiling bark
They both had enter'd, on the waves He look'd,—
The Lake was silent, and the Tempest gone!

Appalling grandeur! sea and midnight, God
And Man, angelic Faith and mortal Fear,—
All imaging with allegoric truth
A storm of trial on the world's great Sea!
Thus, Heaven is round us in the dreadest hour.
Her radiant mercies, like the mystic stars
Through darkness glitter on the trembling soul:
And from that shriek, 'mid whelming billows sent
By human frailness, let Presumption learn
How Nature falters when she feels secure!
Oh! could our actions overtake Resolve,
That oft in solitude so highly soars
To perfect regions of primeval Good,
What noble vengeance would the spirit wreak
On baser qualities, which clog the soul!
Alas! perfection is our moral dream,
And error, nature's true reality:
We would be angels, but we must be men!

Yet marvel not, that frail delusion hung
And hover'd o'er his apostolic mind
Who loved the Saviour with impassion'd truth,
But oft out-soar'd himself, when feeling dared
To mount where Faith alone her flight commands.
To him, as all, Messiah's kingdom seem'd
Dominion sceptred with terrestrial might;
The spell of earth was on them, and they rear'd
On words whose meaning look'd this world, beyond
Imperial thrones whereon The Twelve would sit
Holding the keys of heaven! But Jesus tore
That veil of darkness; as rejected Christ
By malefactor's death foredoom'd to die,
Himself described; and when the shrinking mind
Of Peter started with rebellious doubt,

496

How quiver'd it at that august rebuke!
“Avaunt thee, Satan! not the Things of God,
But those of men, thy blinded heart adores.”

And then, at once from out this fading world
To heaven, and heaven's unutterable scene
Whence throned in glory the Redeemer comes,
He led the Conscience, and of Judgment spake,—
A shout of Angels! and a trumpet-Voice,—
Hark! how it thunders round the shaken earth
Till space becomes a universal sound;
The graves are riven, and the Sea aghast
Unsepulchres her dead! then, all is still,
And every eye the Judge of Doom beholds!

Ere the dim shadow of this dreaded hour
Predicted, from the mind has been dispell'd,
His three disciples holy Jesus took
From out the plain, to where the balmy hush
Of aromatic Tabor breathed. And there
While Christ paternal Deity adored,
A languor like a cloud of music wrapt
The yielding Sense, till wearily o'ercome,
Their eyelids closed in slumber's soft eclipse,
And slept the mortal three. While such repose
Entranced them, into awful glory grew
The Form of Jesus! dazzlingly His face
That lustrous Mien which Seraphim behold
With eyes wing-veil'd, assumed; His raiment shone
Like robes that whiten in immortal beams
Emitted from the throned Eternal! Bright
Beyond imagined brightness, He became
Transfigured; God of God, and Light of Light
Apparent, round Him earth's surpassing two,
In type of law and prophecy fulfill'd
By Jesus, Moses and Elias, knelt,
Communing; like the roll of thunder-clouds,
Their melody of voice the air inspired
With deeper magic than expressive sound,
That woke the sleepers, whose awe-stricken eyes
Reel'd in the blaze as though in heaven unclosed!
The Cross, and Resurrection of the Dead
Appallingly distinct they heard reveal'd:
And Peter, burning with sublime dismay,
“Three tabernacles let us rear,” exclaim'd,—
“For Thee, for Moses, and Elias, one!”
But while he spake, an overshadowing Cloud
Descended, such as o'er the golden wings
Of Cherubim the Ark's shechinah made;
And from its depth a vocal Presence cried,
“My Son of Glory! hear His voice! adore!”
Like riven trees th' affrighted mortals fell
Beneath that sound almighty, till, “Arise,”
Messiah utter'd;—they arose, and view'd
Nor Cloud, nor Vision, but the lovely green
Of Tabor; Jesus in His wonted garb
Of meekness; and the soft luxurious sky
With azure canopy o'erarching all.

The passion that confounded heaven, unthroned
Archangels, and the spotless earth defiled,
Not Christ himself could overawe! In vain
Of agony and blood Messiah spake,
To be His direful portion: still prevail'd
In each frail mind Ambition's royal dream
Of Thrones to come; and whose imperial rank
Was most exalted, each with rival hope
Disputed. Fathoming their inmost heart,
Amid them all the mild Redeemer placed
A little child; then, gently with His arm
Encompassing that infant, thus began:
“Except man be converted, and become
As little children, humbled, meek, and pure,
My kingdom he cannot partake, nor feel;
For childlike is the greatest there!”—How quail'd
The pride, how shook the domineering thoughts
Of that Assembly, when they thus beheld
A passive meekness in the Form august
Of Christ embodied; and an artless child
The type of man's eternal glory made?
Thou happy mother! at whose nursing breast
That infant fed; still happier child wert thou,
Whose eyelids fell beneath Emmanuel's gaze,
Whose brow was hung with innocent alarm,
Before that holy Presence!—Fairy Things!
Incarnate poetry of human life,
Oh, teach us, as around ye lisp and play,
Nor heed the clouds, nor hear the muttering wind
Which heralds what to-Morrow's doom may be,
Like you content in uncomplaining hope
To rest resign'd; and innocently wear
The smile which universal Love bestows.

Pride blasted Eden; and the world has crouch'd
Beneath her sceptre, which to break in dust
God bow'd the heavens, and every meekness wore.
Yet, what are we, that our Titanic dreams
Assault the skies with their incessant aim?
Oh, could we read Creation's book aright
Our nothingness by each vast page would be
Convicted! Atoms mock our deepest ken;
The winds invisible as angel-wings
Attend our path, and tell not whence they come;
The Dust derides us! from the floating Orbs
Of night's dim world an overwhelming ray
Of mystery pierces the distracted mind;
And Ocean thunders with resounding scorn
When monarchs dare him, and our fleets like foam

497

From wave to wave are darted! Gaze within,
And what is there?—a tempest in repose
Of passions wild, dark energies, and powers
Which storm and madden at the Demon's call!

But evil is eternal war with heaven;
And Pride, how dauntless! E'en that hallow'd fane
Where sacramental Deity is shrined,
She enters, balancing with haughty brow
The merits which opinion, rank, or sect
Assumes, before the Throne of that Supreme
From Whose dread gaze the Universe recoils!—
When Jesus, from the triple-crested mount
Where midnight heard His orison arise,
At morn descended, as the rosy flush
Of daylight slanted over Kedron's vale
And pilgrim-waters, in the Temple throng'd
A pharisaic crowd, whose sleepless ire
With blood-hound fury track'd His glorious way.
Before Him now, as there the people stood
And drank His words like inspiration's breath,
A poor adulteress they rudely dragg'd
For judgment; should He dare condemn
Her frailty, Rome would see rebellion rise,
And dungeon him for slaughter; should He blot
Her guilt, upon His soul her crime devolved!
But Christ their black attempt at once unveil'd
And answer'd not; and, bending to the ground
In mute abstraction, with His finger wrote;
Till once again That awful Soul they tried
For judgment; then with look divinely-stern
He rose, and in a voice of withering tone,
“Let him among you who is sinless, cast
A stone the first,” the Son of Man replied:
Then, Conscience! (Thou that in the deadly night
The soul canst wring, and rack the murderer's sleep,
Or people solitude with shapes of hell,)
The vile accusers Thy terrific power
O'erawed; till one by one, as though unseen
A Hand compell'd their motion, dumb like Death,
And slow, each follow'd each till all were gone!
But on the hush of that deserted room
A sigh, as though some heart had heaved, and broke,
Distinctly fell:—the Saviour's solemn eye
Was lifted, and beheld the guilty shape
Of woman! on whose burning cheek the blood
Confess'd her spirit, and the crime which drew
Those tear-drops, running like a liquid fire
From agony within. Her downcast head was hung
With locks dishevell'd, wild as her despair;
Her lips were moveless; but the buried pang
Which heaved her bosom with convulsive throes,
And frequent shudder of her bending frame,
Were language; all which Penitence employ'd
To tell the damning shame!—“Hath none condemn'd
Thee, woman? Where are thine accusers?” “None,”
She answer'd: “Neither then,” the Saviour cried,
“Do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more?”

The Feast of Lights, when dedicated lamps
Flash o'er the walls of Israel's echoing homes,
December brings: Jerusalem is loud
With chanted song, and melodies from harp
And timbrel, dulcimer and tabret pour'd;
From towering Altars an unwearied blaze
Ascendeth, rolling up with spiral glee
And gladness, crimsoning the sultry air.
The hearths are heap'd, and silver-headed Age
Delightedly to Youth's enamour'd ear
The Festival unfolds; while maidens twine
The holy Dance, or tune the patriot-lyre
To measures, floating like the silky clouds
The west along, so meltingly they die!
The street-ways, dappled with reflected gleams
From many a lattice, like a forest sound
When every leaf is motion.—But apart,
Beneath yon shadow of the Temple-porch
Messiah walk'd, till thence the scowling Jew
Compell'd Him, thirsting for His righteous blood,
To seek a shelter where Baptising John
Had lived, when first by Jordan's laving stream
He heralded Redemption. There He taught
Believing thousands, till from Mary came
A sudden messenger of wo, who said,
That Lazarus, whom Messiah loved, was sick.
But from that sickness sprang a glorious power
The sisters dream'd not! Both did Jesus love;
Yet still He rested, till the night of death
Advanced, and Lazarus in the tomb reclined.
Then slowly went to where in mourning gloom
The fond and brotherless with mingled tears
His presence waited! Ere the olive-trees
Of Bethany o'erhung His meadow'd way,
Rush'd Martha forth, to meet her mighty Lord!
“Hadst Thou been here, my brother had not died,”
Was her sad greeting. “He shall rise again!”
Responded Jesus: “When the dead awake
And time is ended,” sadly she replied.
“I am the Resurrection and the Life!
And whoso liveth, and in Me believes,
Shall never die!” “The Son of God Thou art

498

The Christ to come, the Everlasting Lord!”
In one deep burst of lofty faith she cried,
And then withdrew, to where her sister mourn'd,—
To Mary, who the better Part preferr'd.
At once she rose, the distant meadow sought
And prostrate at the feet of Jesus fell;
“Hadst Thou been here, my brother had not died”
She utter'd; tears alone the rest could tell,
And not a lid was dry! Around He gazed,
Their tears beheld, their voiceless anguish view'd,
Then, meekly bowing His majestic Head,
He sigh'd and groan'd in spirit:—Jesus wept!

A mournful beauty, a sepulchral grace
Doth hallow nature, when the dead are tomb'd
In garden-quiet, 'mid the wave of boughs,
Which often murmur in our living ears
Like tones ancestral by the heart revived.
Beneath the twilight of o'erhanging trees
A cave was hollow'd, in whose rocky depth
Affection to the arms of Earth resign'd
Her dead; in mute companionship, there lay
The babe and mother, sister, son, and sire,
A household, though in dust! A sad delight
More exquisite than loud-tongued pleasure feels,
Serened the spirit of surviving Love
Whene'er it rambled in the pensive gloom
Of such a garden. If the summer-air
Breathed gladness, heaven was flaked with fleecy clouds,
And playsome leaves hung prattling to the wind,
While hue and sound made life immortal seem,—
A shade of sadness mellow'd, not destroy'd
The mirth and beauty of surrounding day.
Oft would the eye of some fond mourner rest
On the green rock, whose cavern'd silence made
The home of Death, where generations slept.
And haply, as the wild flowers meekly grew
From the dim verdure of sepulchral stone,
Delightful thoughts from sad mementos sprung.

'Mid such a scene departed Lazarus lay:
And lo! Messiah by the rock-hewn grave
Arrived: around him with unspeaking awe
Disciples, mourners, and the sisters meek
Collect. “The tomb unbar!”—when thus exclaim'd
The Lord of Resurrection, from the tomb
They roll'd the stone; then Martha's doubting soul
Full solemnly He chided! Time had seen
Four suns upon her brother's grave reflect
Their brightness: on his frame corruption fed
E'en now she deem'd, and buried in her doubt
That faith whose glory soon its God revcal'd.
The stone removed, apart Messiah stood,
To heaven uplifted His appealing gaze;
Divine communion with the Vast Unseen
Awhile He mutely held, and then arose
The intonations of His prayer divine.
But when a soundless answer from the Throne
Descended, more than mortal radiance clothed
Each feature! on His brow mysterious calm
Was mirror'd; like a Deity he stood,
And spake the fiat,—“Lazarus, come forth!”
And Lazarus came! as once Creation did
From darkness, by His forming Word produced.
Bound hand and foot, amid the living breathed
The dead, new risen! But his presence cast
A terror round it, awe without a name!
Entranced, as if another world begun,
Dumb with amaze, the whole assembly stood,
Till Jesus bade the grave's funereal robes
To be unwound, and breathing Lazarus spake.
As though a tree by blasting time destroy'd
Bloom'd into life, and suddenly display'd
The perfect glory of its forest-prime,
So did the freshness of reviving blood
At once the lividness of death dispel;
And Lazarus, pure as Man's primeval form
Appear'd when first creation call'd him, Lord.

Such power immense, in open day reveal'd,
Through town and village, plain and hamlet woke
A grateful wonder. At the school of Seers
The sage consulted; street and dwelling heard
One mingled clamour of admiring tongues;
And in the Synagogues a muttering crowd
Would linger, to peruse each other's face,
And chronicle, as Rumour told its tale,
The words of age, or wisdom. But the blaze
Miraculous, which round the risen dead
Concentred, fell like pestilential fire
Upon the soul of that dark Sect, whose reign
Was clouded, and whose mouldering sceptre shook.
Their fancy gloated on His bleeding form;
Their dreams were haunted with His dying pangs,
And every heart some malediction framed
To mock His agony! Amid the wilds
Of Ephraim, hence the Lord of grace withdrew,
Till came the moment for the final Scene
Of Man's redemption, to unroll its gloom:
Amid the Capital with dreadless foot
Then march'd He forth to meet that blood-red Hour!

To Jericho, along whose plain immense
In greenest lustre rose unnumber'd palms
That waved their beauty on balsamic winds,

499

Amid the breath of roses, flush'd and bright
As clouds of damask when they drink the hues
Of sunset, Jesus and disciples went.
But soon from out her walls, and stately crowd
Of palaces, and domes of marble sheen,
He passed to Bethany, where Lazarus rose,
And shouting hosts with palms had come to meet
The Son of David. From the verdant top
Of Olivet, to where a hamlet smiled
Before them, bosom'd in a mountain-vale,
The two Disciples, at the word divine,
Departed. There, as Christ's prophetic eye
Fore-shadow'd, at the village-gate they found
A colt, which never mortal burden bore,
Then led it to the Lord; devoutly hung
Their garments o'er its sacred back, and placed
The Christ thereon. Thus Zechariah sang,
When Centuries, in their darkest slumber bound,
To him like animated Creatures rose,
And utter'd visions!—Wonderful Thy ways,
Jehovah! in the whirlwind, Thou art there!
The tempest is Thy language; sea, Thy path;
And Glory, but the shadow of Thy shade!
Yet human actions, by completing words
Which drew aside the veil of Time, and roll'd
Their meaning down the depth of Years unborn,
With voice as mighty as creation speaks,
Thy power attest, Thy ruling hand portray.

But oh! what jubilant hosannahs rose
As Him they sung, magnificent, and great,
And good, and glorious, Israel's promised King,
The Prince of Peace! Beneath His path their robes
They strew'd, and round Him waved triumphant palms,
And scatter'd branches; while a choral shout
Deeper and deeper like colossal waves
Of sound ascended! till the Air partook
The rapture, and the sympathetic leaves
As with a breezy joy of summer-noon
Were shaken! Then a sudden silence came
On the loud Host; as when the pausing storm
In elemental muteness dies away,
The clamour ceased; a multitude was dumb.
On vast Jerusalem's devoted towers
The gaze of Christ prophetically fell,
And tears from out His mournful spirit rose
While He beheld them, and their doom pronounced:
“If Thou hadst known, at least in this Thy day,—
But peace hath vanish'd ever from Thine eyes!
Thine hour is coming; round Thee shall a trench
Be cast, and compass Thee on every side,
Till tomb'd in dust Thy towers and children fall,
Nor leave a stone to tell where Thou hast been!
Jerusalem! Jerusalem! whose hand
Hath stoned the prophets, and the holy slain,
How often, as the hen beneath her wings
Her brood protecteth, would My shielding hand
Have shelter'd Thee!—Thy children would not come!
Thine House is desolate, thy Kingdom gone,
And never till the clouds of Judgment waft
His Glory, will thine eyes again behold
The Son of Man. But magnify, O God,
My Father! magnify Thine awful Name:”
The heavens grew vocal, and an angel-voice
Came forth,—“I have, and will,” whose thunder spake.

Thus saying, in the portico He sat,
Where ever and anon, within a chest
Beside the pillars chain'd, an offering fell
From worshippers. Amid the pompous crowd
Of rich adorers, came a humble form,
A widow, meek as Poverty doth make
Her children; with a look of sad content
Her mite within the treasure-heap she cast:
Then, timidly as bashful twilight stole
From out the Temple. But her lowly gift
Was witness'd by an Eye, whose mercy views
In motive all which consecrates a deed
To goodness: so He bless'd the widow's mite,
Beyond the gifts abounding Wealth bestow'd.
Thus is it, Lord! with Thee: the heart is Thine,
And all the world of hidden action there
Works in Thy sight like waves beneath the sun
Conspicuous; and a thousand nameless acts
That lurk in lovely secrecy, and die
Unnoticed like the trodden flowers which fall
Beneath a proud man's foot, to Thee are known,
And written with a sunbeam in that Book
Of Life, where mercy fills the brightest page.

Front of the Temple, whose enormous wall
Outlived the fury of Chaldèan fires,
And while around chaotic ruins fell
Stood, like a master-spirit when the world
Is rocking,—Olivet's green summit rose:
And there Messiah, with his few elect,
Ascended; thence He took a last farewell!
Beneath them, in a wilderness of homes,
The thousand-streeted City lay, and roll'd
The hum and murmur of her myriad sounds
High in the air; while far around her stood
The guardian-mountains, bathed in ruddy hues

500

Of sunlight, while the peaks of countless spires
Flash'd from the midst like pinnacles of flame.
But, lone in glory, pillar'd, proud, and huge,
Colossal as some architectural dream
Embodied, Israel's massy Temple blazed;
And seem'd, in her immensity of shape,
A Shrine that would endure eternally!
When each disciple had around him gazed,
And feasted with magnificent delight
On such a miracle of pomp and scene,
“It all shall wither! not a stone endure”
Messiah cried; and, like a dying knell
That murmur sank upon their listening souls!

That dread prediction! was it not fulfill'd
Beyond Imagination's blackest dream
Of horror, when the hell of earth began,
And men were Demons with a robe of flesh
Enveloped, banqueting on human blood?
Ere forty years had swept the scene of time,
On that same Mount where spake the awful Seer
And drew from darkness the almighty Curse
To come, the fierce-eyed Romans had encamp'd
Their Legions; while the roll of martial drums,
And a loud music from the brazen lips
Of trump and clarion, with a sound of death
Frighted the hills and dales of Palestine.

Distress of nations! Sun and Moon withdrawn
Enshrouded, that their gaze might not behold
The World's disaster. From the howling sea
Hark to the tempest! on the earth are crime
And famine, fear and pestilence combined;
While Havoc, on the wings of fury borne,
Scatters fell ruin like a burning wind
Which hurries round the universal orb
To wither up creation! Far and near,
Whatever Light can face, or Darkness feel,
Is terrible: and list! amid the gloom
Of midnight, like a guilty creature shakes
A giant-City, as the earthquake-pant
With fitful heavings moves her mighty heart!
Jehovah is abroad! the heavens appall'd,
Forget their seasons; cloud-like visions, fill'd
With fiery battle, and a myriad Shapes
Of warriors charioted by burning steeds
That vanish in commotion, throng the air
With omens! Then, a starry Weapon cleaves
The sky, and flashes with descending might
As though 'twere wielded by Eternal Hands!
While day and night, Jerusalem's ghastly eye
Looks up, and sees a blood-red Comet blaze,
Fix'd like a Curse of fire above the scene
To agonise whate'er its flashes meet!
And once at midnight, with appalling burst
The massive portals of God's inner Shrine
Expanded, and the shuddering Fabric heard
A Voice that issued with a dread farewell,
Whose thunder was departing Deity!

The hour of Judgment! lo, at length it comes,
And God is in it with devouring wrath
That deepens, till the stricken Earth despairs.
The Queen of Zion, beautiful and vast,
Glory of nations! who shall paint thee now?
Enwrapp'd with horrors, famish'd, weeping, faint,
And fallen, round thee like a circling flood
Rears a huge wall of Babylonian height,
And thou a captive in the centre art
For martyrdom. But, hark! in whirlwind-rush
A roaring flame around the Temple sweeps!
Moriah like a seething furnace glows
And reddens; as a cloudy palace built
By sunset, there it dwindles, melts, and dies,—
The fabric of Jehovah! Palsied, wild, and pale,
In solemn agony hush'd myriads stand,
Scorch as they gaze, but still yon gorgeous wreck
Beholding, on their ghastly features plays
A light of ruin, ere the Temple falls,
Like funeral glory! then, in tombs of fire,
While the last pillar of expiring flame
Mounts o'er yon wreck, they shriek, despair, and die!

BOOK VI.

“But who is He with tortured brow,
Degraded, bleeding, dying, now;
His Visage marr'd beyond despair?
Thou quaking earth! thy God is there!
The Sun appall'd hath slunk away,
And darkness hides the guilty Day;
Avert, O World! thine impious eyes;
The curse is o'er,—but Jesus dies!”
—MS.

ANALYSIS OF BOOK VI.

The Book commences with an apostrophe connected with the sad and mighty events which the conclusion of the Saviour's Life unrolls; but, previous to detailing them, a retrospective view of His Character, Actions, and Doctrine, is attempted; the order of time is then preserved to the Ascension—The Sanhedrim take council against Christ — Judas agrees to betray Him—The Last Supper—Description of the same—Terror and sadness of the Disciples when Christ announced that He was about to be betrayed—The Rite of Sacrament founded—The Redeemer's Farewell—The Garden of Gethsemane

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—Jesus in His Agony—Is traduced—The Dawn of the Day of Crucifixion—Jesus brought up for trial— Peter's Denial—Reflections on his Faith and Weakness—Jesus is condemned—Led to Caiaphas—Pronounced guiltless—Pilate makes his final attempt to acquit the Redeemer—Barabbas preferred to Jesus—At last is led forth on the judgment-seat in sight of the multitude—The repentance, horror, and destruction of Iscariot—The Crucifixion and its attendant scenes—The Miracles which attested His Godhead at His Death—The Burial of Christ— Night Scene—Moonlight on the Tomb of Jesus— The Roman watch, &c. &c.—The Resurrection— Affright of the Soldiers—Vision of the Angels— Jesus reveals Himself to Mary—Journey of the two Disciples to Emmaus—Appearance of Christ—Discovered by the breaking of Bread—His Second Appearance to the Eleven—Miraculous Draught of Fishes—Peter thrice questioned—Previous to His Ascension, Christ takes the Eleven with Him to a Mountain—Explains the Scriptures, gives His Final Charge, and ascends to Heaven.

Here, as far as the Life of the Messiah is included, the Poem ends; but the Second Advent is the Hope, Faith, and Glory of a Christian, and could not be omitted. Previously to this, however, some reflections on the subject of the Poem, state of the human mind, the destinies of man, and the spirit of Poetry, viewed in connection with the advancement of Christianity, are offered: these naturally conclude in a contemplation of the immortality which was brought to light through the Redeemer —His Second Advent—Resurrection of the Dead— Last Judgment of Men and Angels—Conclusion.

Prepare, O Earth! with solemn gloom invest
Thy glories; bid the rayless Sun retire,
The Sky be sad, the Winds be tongues of wo,
And deep-toned litanies from Ocean swell:
Let time and nature, scene and conscious man
In one vast fellowship of grief unite;—
An hour is coming, charged with dreadful fate,
Whose darkness palls a Saviour's agony!

But, ere the crisis of creation dawn
And palsied Earth her bleeding God proclaims,
Behold the beauty of His matchless life
In deed and thought connecting earth with heaven!
Cull every virtue which the Mind conceives,
Or view Perfection's archetypal Form
And what can emulate the Prince of Peace?

Where once the Seasons, in luxuriant strife,
Reign'd on the shore of that immortal Lake
Whose wave is purple as the heaven it loves,
In that blest clime where fruit and verdure bathed
Their tinted beauty in the richest sun,
Where all is dreary now—Messiah dwelt,
And bodied forth God's everlasting Will
In life and love, by Incarnation there.
Born in a manger,—yet by guardians bright
And wing'd adorers, heralded and hymn'd;
The Heir of all things—yet possessing none;
Surrender'd now to tears of mortal truth,
Or ministrant at some disciple's feet,
Then,—thunder-greeted by the glorious Sky!
Here from the flower a lovely doctrine flows,
And now,—a Tempest from His frown recoils;
Hung on the cross, a malefactor's doom
He suffer'd,—yet a paradise was there
By Him accorded to the felon-soul!
Though bleeding clay,—incarnate God confess'd
Whose pangs an aching Universe partook;
While from those agonies which man beheld
And mock'd the terror-blighted Sun withdrew!

Man never spake, in words divinely-toned
With tenderness beyond a tear to move,
Like Him, to Whom unutter'd feelings lay
Free as the clouds before a sun, exposed.
The Heart,—He knew it best, and proved it most,
And touch'd the master-chords of human mind.
And oh! what exquisite discernment mark'd
Each high discourse, to creed or sect applied.
Some true analogy in scenes, or sounds,
And palpably by outward sense perceived,
From mead and plough, the summer-task or toil,
From storm and season, fruit and flower,—enlived
Each sacred lesson which Emmanuel taught.
And when hath Poet from his airy world
To shape or action summon'd such express
And touching images of graceful power,
As Parables, where conscience is instinctive judge
And to the mind celestial truth commends?
Pathetic loveliness in all abounds;
And as the eloquent Creation oft
By moonlight more than storm the soul subdues,
When language by severest wrath sustain'd,
No passion quell'd, the parable prevail'd;
Whose soft dominion, like an angel-smile
Moved o'er the heart, and seemed reflected there.

A Being thus surpassingly endow'd,
Whose life was goodness in perpetual act;
By pure magnificence of spirit raised
Above whate'er Platonic vision shaped
Of high and holy, in the perfect Man,
What hymnèd worship should all Earth have paid
To such embodied Glory! Yet a doom
Of torture hover'd o'er His righteous Head:
The Sinless for the sinful World must die!

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E'en now, the plotting Sanhedrim convened;
When suddenly, disorder'd, pale, and rack'd
With guilty terror, which on brow and cheek
Imprinted, villain! lo, the traitor comes,
And thirty pieces for his Lord betray'd
Demandeth: then with unappall'd delight
The Priesthood revels o'er His dying form!

There, as the traitor in the twilight-gloom
Is homeward skulking with a stealthy pace
While every breeze like condemnation sounds,
By Nature mutter'd with mysterious scorn,
A Spirit, dark as demons love, behold!
He, ever when the proffer'd crown approach'd
The head of Christ, in worldly vision hail'd
The sceptred honours of some high domain
About to dawn: but when the Saviour's lip
Blest the meek hands which typically pour'd
Balsamic odours to anoint His head,
Rebuke was felt, and disappointment raged;
Till Satan enter'd with a rush of guilt
The soul of Judas, and the traitor rose
A dark apostate in his dream of blood!

Meanwhile Messiah, whose omniscient word
A room appointed for the paschal Feast,
To eat the Lamb of covenant prepared.
His pangs approach, His agonies begin
To throng around Him! and that hour, foretold,
Prefigured, and so oft in gloom unveil'd
To His mistaken Twelve, is come at last
The Man of Wo to meet! A feast is set
Of wine and water, as Mosaic law
Ordain'd; where each with due thanksgiving drinks
The Cup whose seal and sanction typified
The Blood of Jesus, by symbolic power;
And then, the taintless Lamb, the ritual Herb,
And Bread unleaven'd, psalm and prayer succeed,
Each serving each with ceremonious awe.
But in the midst, again rebellious pride,
Like Satan when he darken'd Paradise
By curst intrusion, mars the lovely scene
And mournful beauty of our Lord's farewell.
But, princes, thrones, and dominations bow,
Lie mute and dead, ye arrogant desires!
Ambition! dooming life one long despair,
Quench the wild fever of thy fire-struck brain,
Heaven stoops to earth, a Deity to dust,
A God is kneeling at the foot of Man!—
Humility which makes the heart to reel,
Our blood to quiver, and the brow of pride
Prostrates beneath the scathing light of shame!
Oh, when was meekness so almighty found,
As when the Saviour dwarfs degree and state
And dims the splendour of all outward things,
Till, like the radiance of a dying eve,
The waning glories of the World depart!

But why hath sadness with a sudden gloom
On each descended? What hath blanch'd the cheek
With terror, in the eye dejection pour'd,
And stirr'd the calm of countenance with lines
Of feeling, working into restless play
Like breeze-moved water? Eye to eye, and brow
To brow, in horrible dismay upturn'd,
Each reads the other with unspoken dread
Of something buried in the soul's abyss,
Which now must be untomb'd, and stand condemn'd
In the full light of God's omniscient gaze!
And yet, though terror-struck, with sad exclaim
Each utters, “Is it I?” Eleven are pure;
Their souls are ramparted with sacred truth,
They tremble deeply, but with guiltless fear.
And one there was, o'er all the rest beloved;
Whose tender mildness and devoted faith
With childlike fervour to the Lord endear'd
A guileless nature,—him whom “Jesus loved,”
The meek St. John! Beyond expressive wo,
The tearful language of his eye reveal'd
A yearning spirit; while his drooping head
Lay fondly pillow'd on the breast of Christ.
By Peter urged, with look of saddest depth
On Christ he gazed, and whisperingly ask'd,
“Who is it, Lord?” Then Jesus, “He who takes
The bread I give, the Son of Man betrays:
But, wo the traitor! well for him, had light
And being never an Iscariot known!”
Betrayer! thou whose spirit coil'd and sunk
Within thee, as a serpent when the day
Shines on the darkness of his den retires
To deeper gloom! upon thy face appears
A pale confession, which thy tongue denies:
Yes! thou art he,—a traitor to thy Lord!
And driven by the whirlwind of despair,
Forth from the chamber of discover'd guilt
Thou speedest; darkness is a heaven to thee;
And thou hast night, sepulchrally array'd,
And starless, fit to cloak a traitor's deed
Or give to earth the gloominess of hell!

As the dim spell-work of some awful dream
Can people slumber with a ghastly host
Of shapes and sounds, till lo! the morning-smile
Dissolves it, so hath this phantasmal scene
Of doubt and dread, of agonising sway,
At once receded; and quiescent joy
Again upon the true disciples came,
When Judas from the paschal-chamber went,

503

Convicted traitor! Then, with mien august,
The mild Redeemer took the Bread, and blest
And brake it; and the cup of Wine He took,
And then of both made each disciple take:—
A holy Sacrament, whose typic shade
The great Passover was; but mightier far
The rite of Jesus, whose remembrance speaks
No single nation, but a boundless World
Deliver'd, saved, and free! As bread and wine
The body nourish, so the soul is fed
By faith in this symbolic meal of Love,
Wherein is shadow'd the Redeemer's death.

“Do This, and thou wilt then remember Me!”
Remember Thee! the Way, the Truth, and Life,
On Whose pure eyelids hung our mortal tears;
Who wert so inaccessibly supreme
In the bright plenitude of awe and power,
And yet, so veil'd by condescending love
That Childhood gazed upon Thy glorious smile,
And deem'd it heavenlier than mothers wear;
Refuge and Rest 'mid all the woes of time!
Almighty Anchor for a sin-toss'd world!
Incarnate Saviour, and co-equal God,
Remember Thee!—oh, if some dying words
Of honour'd parent round the memory cling
With aye unweaken'd charm, shall man forget
That dear and solemn, Thy divine command
Beyond all parents'? Till Thy Kingdom come
When the great Banquet of perpetual bliss
With Thee in glory Thine elected sons
Partake, O Saviour! be this Sacrifice
And Sacrament with awful love revered:
For in it pardon and preserving grace
Abound, and by it Earth with Heaven communes;
And when o'erwearied by this anxious world,
Or toss'd in the tempestuous gloom of sin
The soul repenteth, yet in doubt appears
Like Hagar in the wilderness, to weep and die
Forsaken, there in this all-heavenly Feast
Redeemer! Thine incarnate Presence dwells:
And gently as the arkless dove was ta'en
Back to a shelter from the dreary wild
Of waters, welcomed by a meeting smile,
The soul is bosom'd on Thy holy rest.

But listen! for the Lord's farewell begins,
And deeply-solemn, His mysterious tones
Fall on the silence of the sacred room,
Till tears have gather'd in their gazing eyes
From whence He parteth, to ascend and reign
Where man beholds not. Yet, in dreadless faith,
The fervent Peter, with erected brow
And voice triumphant over hell, replied,
“Though all desert Thee, still will Peter stand
A rock unshaken! death nor dungeon frights
His spirit; life itself but lives in Thee!”
“I tell thee, Peter, ere the cock shall crow
This very night wilt thou deny Me thrice!”
Then, more impassion'd with a louder voice
And lip that quiver'd with exulting throb,
“Deny Thee! unto death my soul is fix'd!”
The fond one answer'd, and on Jesus gazed
With mild reproach, like one who feels his wrong,
But pleaded only by a look which spake!

A sadness, deep and holy as the heart
E'er felt, came o'er that mute assembly now,
When the meek Saviour with angelic truth
Began: “Believe in God, in Me believe,
For in My Father's everlasting House
Are many Mansions, and your Lord departs,
That ye may follow to a place prepared.
The Comforter, the Holy Ghost, shall come,
And all I utter'd, memory shall teach,
By Him instructed; peace, immortal Peace!
Beyond the world to give, with you I leave:
Abide in Me, as branches in the Vine
Endure, and ye shall bear celestial Fruit!”
And then, as o'er Him, in its dark array
A vision of their sad desertion swept,
Messiah added, “Do ye now believe?
Behold! it cometh, yea, the hour is come!
When all are scatter'd, and the Son of Man
Is left,—yet not alone, for God is there:
The world is trouble, but in Me a peace
Unfading; let your souls in that confide
Nor tremble; I have overcome the World!”
Then, lifting his omniscient eyes to Heaven,
“My Father, glorify Thy Son!” He cried;
“Thy work is finish'd, and Thy faith is taught,
And Light and Immortality declared;
And now The Glory, Mine before this earth
Was founded, I ascend with Thee to share!”

Thus ended, Lord! thy first and last farewell.
When rose the parting hymn Devotion sang,
And all o'er Kedron to the Olive Mount
Departing, wait upon Thy steps divine.

But, veil thyself, Imagination! veil
And worship; put thy shoes from off thy feet,
Thou mortal Gazer! for on hallow'd ground
More consecrate than he of Horeb saw
When the bush burn'd with sacramental fire,

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Thou tread'st,—the garden of Gethsemane!
The Moon, pale hermitress of heaven, hath found
With no bright fellowship of starry orb
Her midway-sphere; and now with conscious dread
Shrined in a cloudy haze, she disappears,
While motionless yon patriarchal trees
Of towering olive lift their spectral gloom.
But listen! groan on groan, with awful swell
Heaves on the air, as though a God bewail'd
His creatures!—Christ in agony is bow'd,
And prostrate; while from each denuded pore
A litany of Blood to Heaven appeals!
Convulsed within Him, hark, the Human cries,
“My Father! if it can be, let this Cup
Be taken from Me, from this hour removed:
And yet not Mine, but let Thy Will, be done!”

Dark agonies, ineffable as deep
That moment knew, whose merit countervail'd
All which Eternity's remorse could pay,
Wrung from the torment of a punish'd World!
As once on Tabor His transfigured Form
A shadow of celestial Glory threw
On Man's perception, so in this doom'd hour
Gethsemane's most awful Scene declares
The dreadful Infinite of sin, and guilt.
His Manhood suffer'd all that Flesh could feel:—
God unappeased, and Satan unsubdued,
Darkness, and death, and unrepented crimes
Still brooding o'er the world, and He foredoom'd
Upon the Cross of agony to die
That Heaven might open on forgiven man,—
These were combined in one almighty pang!
Exceeding sorrowful His soul became
E'en unto death; till from the Throne His cry
Of anguish brought a soothing Angel down.
But in the passion of this fateful hour,
Oh! where are they, whose eyes so oft beheld
His wonders, in whose hearts His voice had pour'd
The balm and blessing of immortal Truth?
Alas! one hour they could not watch, nor pray;
And they were sleeping, when the Saviour thrice
From prayer arose, and thrice their sleep forgave!

Yet now sleep on; and take unthinking rest;
The Son of Man, Emmanuel is betray'd,
The traitor hath his treason-work fulfill'd!
For, hear ye not the sound of rushing feet
And ruder voices, through the moonless air
Advancing? Stirr'd, as by a tempest-wing,
Around the olive-branches creak and bend,
And light comes flashing with a fierce intent,
Till on the countenance of Christ it falls
And lights His features: marr'd and pale they shone
Beneath it, as He met a midnight-band
With torch and lantern, sword and stave empower'd
Their impious hands on His pure Form to lay.
When “I am He!” was spoken, back they fell
Like life before a sudden blast of death
By miracle emitted!—“I am He”
Again was utter'd, and again they fell
Confounded, till the traitor with a kiss
Betoken'd Jesus; then the troop approach'd
And bound Him. Legions! from your thrones of Light
Descend, and wither that unhallow'd throng!
No: meekly as a lamb to slaughter goes
The Lord hath yielded; fetter'd, silent, sad,
Deserted, and betray'd, alone He meets
The Powers of darkness in their deepest might.

The break of morning with a dim uprise!
Pale as a Prophet, when his eye foresees
Unutter'd woes upon the future throng,
The Sun awaketh from his cloudy sleep
To usher in this all-tremendous Day.
Already in yon judgment-chamber meet
The fell accusers; there, aloft upraised,
Their holy Victim in the upper-hall
His trial waiteth:—not a shade of fear
The innocence of that calm Brow defiles!
In shape a Man, in dignity a God
He seemeth. But around the palace-fire
Beneath Him, from the council-seat apart,
What curses, loud with wrathful meaning, roll?
A damsel, when the Galilean-voice
Of Peter sounded with betrayful tones,
His true discipleship at once declared
Then, he who hail'd Him “Son of living God!”
Adored His Person, saw His glory shine,
And vow'd eternally with changeless love
Through life and death unswerving faith to hold,
The sacred knowledge of his Lord denied!
But when with horrid malediction rang
The fierce denial of his furious lip,
Till his eye glitter'd with a ghastly fire,
And falsehood, cowardice, and guilty fear
All met and mingled with terrific clash
Within, a second time the Cock then crew!
And Jesus,—who shall paint the glance He gave,
Where pity, pardon, and subdued reproach

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Concenter'd in such look of loving power
That Peter shrank, and trembled into tears!

Impassion'd, bold, beyond thy strength sincere,
Sublime apostle but a sinful man,
As in thy faith, so in thy fall we find,
A truth which bids the yearning bosom feel,
E'en as thou wert, how half the world has been!
Forgiven mourner! while with mantled face
In groaning penitence without the porch
Thou weepest, and from unforgotten scenes
A radiant vision of the Past returns
With blighting splendour to condemn thy soul,
Thou art a Moral for mankind to read
And heart to study, long as Earth remains!

While thus in penance sad St. Peter wept,
Amid a council of encircling priests
And scribes and elders, lone Emmanuel stood
For judgment. Witness after witness rose,
Suborn'd and savage; yet a war of words
Where lie to lie and truth to truth opposed
A meaning, all their accusation grew;
But when His doctrine the Archpriest assail'd;
“The temple, synagogue, the open world,
Let these My doctrine testify, and tell,
For nought in secret have I said or done!”
Thus answer'd the Redeemer; then uprose
Accusers, who with dreadless voice declared
“The gorgeous Fabric which our eyes adore,
He thus blasphemed; ‘This temple built with hands,
Will I destroy; in three days shall arise
Another, built by no terrestrial hands!’”
Majestic silence was the sole reply.
Then Caiaphas, with fierce emotion shook
And darken'd; from his council-throne up sprang
And with a voice like far-off thunder cried,
“Now by the living and tremendous God
Thee I adjure! art Thou The Christ?”—“I am!
Hereafter, coming with the clouds of heaven
Girt like Jehovah, see the Son of Man!”
Then, “Let Him die!” throughout th' assembly rung.

The morning comes; and with unfolding day
The tragedy a deeper die assumes.
Again did Pilate, with proclaiming voice
To elder, priest, and multitude pronounce
The Saviour guiltless: “Let Him be released!”
In vain he cried; for hark the savage yell,
“A prisoner! be our wonted right perform'd,
A captive freed!” 'Twas in that stormy hour
The dark confession of a hideous dream
The wife of Pilate in her slumber saw,
Was then reported: but His hour had come!
“Barabbas!” was the universal shout
By thousands echoed, when their judge preferr'd
To free Messiah, “Let Barabbas loose!”
But “Christ, what deadly evil hath he done?”
Again did “Crucify!” in one fell war
Rise on the air so murderous and loud,
That Pilate quiver'd on his judgment-throne.

Then Jesus, by the soldiers dragg'd, endured
The mockery of reed, and robe, and crown
Of platted thorns, upon His temples press'd;
There as He bled, before Him bow the knees
Of scoffing worshippers, who shout and hail
“King of the Jews!” then smite His awful head
And crush the crown upon His aching brows!

Thus bleeding, marr'd and mock'd, the Saviour comes:
Unmoved He stands, insuperably calm.
But wilder grew the clamour; hand, and eye,
And voice were raging with terrific signs
Of vengeance; till the name of “Cæsar” rang
Loud on the soul of Pilate, like the knell
Of his destruction! Cæsar's foe must die;
And Hate shall crucify whom Justice spared.
Then took he water, laved his hands, and cried,
“That I am innocent of blood, behold,
Of this just Person; be it yours to bear.”
“His blood be on us! on our children be!”
In mingled answer from that murderous crowd
Ascended; dreary as the dying swell
Of ocean, up to heaven this awful breath
Of imprecation roll'd, and drew from God
The answer, Judah's myriads suffer now!

Earth never parallel'd a scene like this,
When list'ning Worlds were overawed to hear
A creature his incarnate God condemn!
A paved tribunal by the Palace rose
Of pictured marble, and mosaic sheen,
Whereon was Pilate as in kingly state
Enthroned; before him stood a bleeding Form
Of solemn aspect, in Whose mild regret
A sanctitude beyond expression spake.
Below a raving multitude was seen
Upgazing, all athirst for righteous blood;
And who, with features harrow'd by the strife
And scorn of passion, from their God invoked
Eternal vengeance for eternal Blood!

But where the vile traducer? While the doom
Of death was pass'd, and Jesus like a Lamb
To slaughter by the savage crowd decreed,
Then, Conscience, thy tremendous power began!
The beauty, glory, and sublime display
Of virtues godlike by the sinless Christ

506

Embodied, back upon his memory came;
And in the light of that immaculate Lord
From all He did reflected, dark and deep
The perfidy of His betrayer frown'd!
Lash'd by remorse, the council-Chief he sought,
The crime of Innocence by him betray'd
Confess'd; but when in vain his pleading guilt
Repented, in the Temple down he hurl'd
The wages of Iniquity, and fled
On wings of horror!—like a maniac, wild
And blasted into solitude he ran.
The ground grew fire beneath his guilty tread;
The heavens hung o'er him like a vast reproach;
And groans which make the jubilee of hell
Heaved from his soul with terrible excess!
Where rose a precipice, whose rocky gloom
The plunging billows of a torrent fill'd
With mimic thunder in chaotic roar,
At length he stood, and on the black abyss
Stared wildly—then a pace withdrew,
Look'd o'er the heavens his horrible despair!
Till Nature with a ghastly dimness seem'd
Enshrouded; round him the horizon reel'd,
The earth was waning, and with hideous yell
He seized the branches of a rock-grown tree,
Swung from its height, and down the dizzy steep
Sunk into darkness, and was seen no more!

But come, thou Spirit of believing Awe
Whom nothing boundeth, and a scene behold
More wond'rous than eternity conceals,—
A crucified Redeemer! With His cross
To Calvary the lacerated Christ
Is now ascending; famish'd, faint, and pale,
Beneath the burden of a tree accursed
He falters; yet the goading throng
His limbs profane, and trample when He falls
Their silent Martyr! Lest at once He die
And cheat the tortures of intended doom,
To bear it, from Cyrene is compell'd
A pilgrim; and again with murd'rous glee
The rabble round about Him dance and hoot.
Thus, all are merciless, while Mercy bleeds,
Save thou, fond Woman! in thy faithful eyes
Are tears; and from thine unforsaking love
The language of sublimest pity flows.
Yet not for Him, but for yourselves lament;
Ye daughters of Jerusalem! who wail;
The days are coming when the soul will cry
“The wombs how blessèd which have never borne!”
But lo; the hill of Golgotha appears;
The Cross is planted; with convulsive shake
Each limb unloosen'd; and the starting blood
In liquid torment from the flesh distill'd;
In vain, a potion to benumb His pangs
Is proffer'd; dying God, He suffers all.
“Forgive them; for they know not what they do!”

And thus they crucify the Son of Man!
Those Hands are bleeding, which have bless'd a world;
Those Feet are tortured, which have never moved
Except on errands of celestial Love;
Those Brows are throbbing, and those Eyes bedimm'd
Where light and immortality were throned;
And ah! that pure, unspotted, perfect Soul,
Divine as Deity on earth could be,
Doth agonise beneath th' imputed Curse
Whereby a ransom for the World is paid:
And silently He all endures! Around His Cross
The soldiers wrangle for the parted vest;
And when His eye in lifted torment gazed
O'er Calvary, by crowding myriads trod,
How few the faces where compassion dwelt,
Or tears were trickling, did that look behold!
The scowl of Pharisees, the hate of Scribes,
And the fierce glance of hypocrites rebuked,
Were turn'd upon Him, to translate His pangs,
And drink the fulness of a deep revenge!
While others underneath the Cross advanced
To read His title with reviling scorn,
“King of the Jews!”

Two thieves beside Him hung
In kindred torture to increase the shame.
The one did rail, the other's soften'd heart
Repented; sudden faith his soul illumed,
And, “Lord! when in Thy kingdom Thou art throned
Remember me!” the dying creature said;
And lo! a paradise was his reward.

Then look'd Messiah where His mother stood,
The Virgin Mary, with His Own beloved
Disciple; agony could not subdue
His tenderness; compassion fill'd His gaze
With heavenly lustre, while in filial love
He bent on Mary the divinest look
That ever Child on weeping parent cast,
And murmur'd, “Woman! there a Son behold;
Disciple! there a future Mother see.”
O Maiden! purest of all pure, who felt
A love maternal, when thy bosom throbb'd
Beneath the pangs of thine almighty Son,
The sword of anguish, then thy soul it pierced,
As hoary Simeon in the Temple sang.

Thus in the light, 'tween heaven and earth upraised,
Upon the malefactor's cross was nail'd,
Was crucified, the Lord of living Worlds!
Till came the sixth hour, when the noontide-sun

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Waned from his throne; and sudden darkness fell
O'er all Judea, till creation seem'd
By God forsaken, Whose averted face
Bade darkness emblematically type
The gloom internal God in Flesh endured.
Jerusalem, her temples, domes, and towers,
Were shaded; Lebanon and Tabor shrunk
And wither'd; Carmel, Gilead, and the rocks
By ocean towering, shadow cover'd all
With night's terrific semblance. In the gloom
The mutter of a multitude uprose
Like sounds infernal; while their features wore
A fell expression of unearthly hue,—
Each fearing what his impious tongue denied,
As ever and anon some coward took
A shuddering glance, where Man's Redeemer hung,
While the blood quiver'd in his guilty veins
Till blasphemy in hollow murmur died!
Heart cannot dream, imagination dare
By words to image th' almighty pangs
That in His darkness and distress of soul
Th' Ineffable upon the Cross endured!
Who held His spirit as the Prince of Life,
To torment subject, till the Curse was paid.
The ninth hour came; and then, with loud appeal,
From the deep midnight of atoning Blood,
He utter'd, “Why hast Thou forsaken Me!
My God! My God!”—then came an awful hush
In which they deem'd Elias would descend
To save Him: but, a second time, a Voice
More audible the souls of myriads shook:
“'Tis finish'd! Father, to Thy hands divine
My Spirit I commend,” the Saviour cried,
And bow'd His head, and breathed His soul away!

“'Tis finish'd!” let seraphic mind these words
Translate, for immortality is there!
Which heaven re-echoed, while the regions dark
Where Christ descended in a shape of Light
Triumphant over Powers and Thrones of Hell,
Groan'd at the sound which deepen'd their despair!
The Universe a ghastly signal gave,
And Nature, as in agony, confess'd
The Lord of Glory as His Spirit fled.
The earth was palsied; and the mountains rent
Like garments; tomb and sepulchre their dead
Released, and out of dust the saints arose
And look'd upon the living; while the Veil,
As 'mid the Temple of the Holies stood
A robed High Priest, in sacerdotal pomp,
Was riven, from the top to bottom torn;
And full at once the Oracle reveal'd.
Now, in the tremor of created things
While rock and earthquake, tomb and temple, speak
With dread conviction, “'tis a God that dies!”
The pale centurion and the crowd aghast
Lift their wild looks, and smite their breasts, and cry,
With lips that shudder, “'Tis the Son of God!”

A Tragedy which made the sun eclipse
His beams, and sympathising Earth to cast
Her waken'd dead from out their riven tombs,
Is ended! and the oriental Night
O'er Palestine her dewy wings unfolds.
On Calvary the solemn moonbeams lie
All chill and lovely, like those trancèd smiles
Which light the features, when the pangs of death
Have ceased to flutter, and the face is still.
The stars are trooping; and the wintry air
Is mellow'd with a soft mysterious glow
Caught from their beauty; not a vapour mars
The stainless welkin, where the moon aloft
One blue immensity of sky commands,
Save where the fringe of some minutest cloud
Hangs like an eyelid on a brilliant Orb,
Then vanishes, in quenching lustre hid.
Few hours have fleeted, and yon trampled hill
Was shaken with a multitude, who foam'd
And raged beneath their agonising God!
But Nature hath her calm resumed; and night,
As if to spread oblivion o'er the day
And give creation a sabbatic rest,
In balm and beauty on the world descends.
The crowds have disappear'd like waves that melt
And leave a shore to quietude again:
Some in their dreams, perchance, the day renew;
But thou! upon a kingly couch reposed,
The Judge of Jesus, could thy soul conceive
That long as Time's recorded truths endure
Thy name, united to this awful scene,
Would live, when all the Cæsars are forgot?

The hum and murmur of a distant town
How faintly on the breeze they roll, and die
In soft confusion! Turn thy gaze, and see,
Encircled with a huge Titanian wall,
Where tower and turret, and Herodian piles,
And battlements of dusky gloom uprear
Their vastness, there the Holy City stands!
Augustly beautiful, in moonlight bathed,
Jehovah's palace awes the midnight-air
Around it; while her mountain-bulwarks veil'd

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With dimmer lustre, far and near preside
Like guardians planted by almighty hands,
To watch the city, where a million breathe.
From plain and desert, isles and regions call'd,
Wherever son of Abram was, they throng
For worship, and their Paschal Feast enjoy.
And there, in some unnoticed chamber lurk
The panic-struck apostles! When the gloom
Of earthquake on the hill of Calvary hung,
That God was coming from the Cross to take
Messiah, or, that Christ Himself would free
And shake the universe to show the God,—
Ambition blindly dreamt. As Lord of Worlds
Him they conceived too wonderful to die!
A veil was on them; though the truthful Lord
His future resurrection oft declared,
'Twas unremember'd, while the sudden pangs
Of terror crucified the faith of all.

But north of Zion, on a mountain-slope
That garden where the tomb of Jesus lies
Behold! impressively by vestal beams
Of moonlight touch'd, his rocky grave appears;
Before it, with a frequent play, the flash
Of steely armour, as the Roman watch
Changes and moves in circular array,
Is seen; yet, save the night's uncertain sound,
The fitful motion of a rambling breeze
That stirs the olive, or the towering palm,
And timid murmur of a garden-brook,
The scene is voiceless; while on high enthroned
Yon firmamental Orbs are fixed and bright,
As though in wonder, that their glory falls
On the dread tomb where buried Godhead lies!

Still Calvary sleeps; and nothing harsh or wild
The holy slumber of the Night arrests.
The sentries in their panoply are ranged;
Some on the gleaming worlds of air a glance
Upturn, and with inaudible delight
Adore their beauty; some on fairy wings
Of fondness to the haunt of childhood flee
Among the hills of unforgotten Rome;
Or vaguely round yon high-wall'd city view
The shadowy watch-towers on the vineyards raised,
Or mountain dim, or Maccabean pile;
While others, haply, to the tomb devote
A gaze of sorrow, for that righteous Form
They helped to rivet on the Cursed Tree!

But in that syncope, that solemn trance,
When darkness as a fading thought decays
Amid the glimmer of increasing dawn,
Like God in thunder, hark! an earthquake-throb
While the rock quivers as a shaken reed!
In rushing glory down the sky advanced
A giant Angel; from the tomb he roll'd
The barrier-stone, and on it sat, and blazed.
His face was lightning! and as dazzling snow
His vestment glitter'd: with a clang of arms
Prone on the earth affrighted soldiers fell!
And as Eliphaz, when the vision spake,
Upon the Formless turn'd a fearful gaze,
They look'd—were blasted—like the dead they lay!
And then Emmanuel from the grave arose
Invisible; all paramount and pure
The Resurrection and the Life He stood,
Lord of the tomb, victorious and sublime!
Oh, then Captivity was captive led;
Satan unthroned; His domination spoil'd;
Hell-gates were sunder'd, and from earthy sleep
The dead awaking, as they lived and moved
Felt on their brows a beam immortal play!

But He who moved invisible to man,
To guardian woman did Himself reveal.
As weeping Mary by the tomb remain'd
And bow'd within its rocky depth to gaze,
Two angel-watchers, robed in dazzling white,
Were seated, where the vanish'd body lay:
“Why weepest thou?” with gentlest tone they cried:
“Because I know not where my stolen Lord
Be taken;” back she turn'd her eye of tears,
And there stood Jesus! but to her unknown.
“Why weepest thou?” again was mildly heard;
Then Mary, with mistaking love, replied,
“If thou hast borne Him from this garden-tomb,
Oh! tell me where; these hands will take Him thence.”
But Jesus, vocal with His wonted voice,
Responded, “Mary!” and the mourner fell
Down at His feet! Rabboni she adored!
Let one at midnight, when the cradling sea
Hath rock'd his slumber, and a dream of Home
In murmuring faintness to the soul renews
Parental language, till his ocean-sleep
Is harrow'd by that heart-entrancing sound,
Her feeling image! such may faintly tell
When Mary worshipp'd how her spirit thrill'd!

'Twas on the evening of this hallow'd day
That two disciples, down a western vale
To where Emmaus in the sunset show'd
Her whitening cots, with pensive step approach'd.
O dying hour of beautiful delight!
The painter's worship and the poet's song,
How few embrace thee with a purer thought

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Than one, whose dreaming Boyhood loved to form
Romantic visions of the unreveal'd
From thine own hues; when like those fairy clouds
Which float and perish, yearning Fancy shaped
Bright unrealities long roll'd away!
Divinest evening! when thy Syrian glow
On verdurous olive, sycamore, and palm
Descended, not unfelt thy magic woo'd
These holy pilgrims. Homeward flocks and herds
Were wending; while around them richly-soft
The lingering decadence of light began.
But more than Nature on their brows has hung
A solemn meaning! of the Day they talk,
Of Death, and Resurrection; such their theme,
When, silent as the shadow of their forms,
Another came! and mingled word with word,
In deep communion. Then of Christ He spake;
From prophecy to prophecy unroll'd
Each revelation, till the shade of doubt
Fell from their spirit like a film removed
From Blindness, letting in the light of heaven.
But when, abiding to partake their meal,
He sat before them, and the Blessing gave,
That Eye, so eloquent with awe devout,
That voice heaven-toned, that superhuman Mien
Declared Messiah! Now at once He gazed
Upon them, featured like that living Christ
So often follow'd, worshipp'd,—and forsook!
Within them how each wondering heart had burn'd
To hear Him as an Oracle reveal
The Word of Life, God's Everlasting Will!
But like a vision of the soul He fled.
Then back they speeded, to th' Eleven rehearsed
Their tale of wonder: when again behold!
Th' Incarnate Saviour! “Peace be with you! hail!”
Becalming thus with salutation mild
Th' appall'd Assembly, on them all He breathed
His Holy Spirit, and to each bestow'd
O'er sin a power, to pardon or retain.
But Thomas doubted, till his hand could touch
The living Jesus! lo! again He came
Inaudibly, within a chamber barr'd;
So like a Spirit of the shapeless air
He enter'd, that o'erawed disciples quaked!
“Thy finger hither reach, These hands behold,
And thrust thine own within My wounded side,
Not faithless, but believing!” Thus He spoke
To him who answer'd “Saviour, Lord, and God!”

Once more upon the lake Messiah view,
Whose azure waters at His word o'erfill'd
With countless fish the Galilean bark,
Which night had baffled; then was Peter ask'd
That threefold question, threefold wisdom fill'd
With memory of his denial thrice!
And yet, so toned with tenderness divine,
The soul of Peter in his fond reply,
“Thou knowest I love thee!” spake with answering tears.

And now, the Counsel of eternal Love,
Mysterious, vast, omniscient as profound,
Wrapt in the folds of Heaven's decretive Will
Before the universe was shaped or born,
Concludeth! Man's Redemption is complete,
And sanction'd; all the archetypal Plan
Of Deity, for reconciling grace
With justice, by the mediating Blood
Of covenant, in Christ has been fulfill'd.
The Woman's Seed hath bruised the Serpent's Head;
For Man hath lived, for Man hath bled, and died,
Soar'd from the grave, and His true Person shown
Not in the midnight, when the spirit shapes
An earthless phantom; but by living day
Was risen Jesus handled, seen and heard.

But, ere ascending to His seat on high,
Again the apostolic Band He taught
The true Salvation, in its glorious light.
From age to age prophetically sung,
By type and shadow heralded or seen,
Begotten Son of Co-Eternal Sire,
His goings forth from Everlasting were!
Before the works of Old, ere earth began,
When God His compass on the waters set
And gave the sea commandment,—He was there!
The Star; the Prophet, like to Moses raised;
The Priest for ever, on the Right Hand placed
Of glory, while the sun and moon endure,—
Dominion o'er all nations, kings, and isles,
To Him was given, whom the Gentiles sought;
Born of a Virgin; perfect God and Man;
Desire of nations; He whom Daniel saw,
Ancient of Days; by king and kingdoms served;
The Heritor of Heathens and the Throne
Of David: higher than the Heaven of Heavens,
Expressive Semblance of the bright Unseen!
And Morning-Star of Immortality;
The Light of Light, unspotted Lamb of God,
For sin an Offering, and for sinners slain,

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But now arisen from the tomb to soar
Eternal Saviour of forgiven man!—
Thus in the beams of revelation shone
The great Messiah: thus the cloudy veil
Of error from their souls He took, and cried,
“Go forth! repentance and remission teach,
Baptising Nations in the Name triune
Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! Behold
All living Unction from the Spirit's grace
From Me shall clothe you, as the promise spake;
Within the City tarry till they come,
Lo! I am with you to the ended world.”

My soul is shaken with a mighty Dream!
Dominion, Majesty, and Truth proceed
In blended union from the deeps of Heaven.
I hear the gates of second Eden ope,
And balm and freshness on the blighted world
Come flowing forth with universal love
And Earth regenerate with redemption's smile.
And hark! the echoes of a choral strain
Above; a new and Everlasting Song
Is chanted, for the seven-seal'd Book unroll'd
The Lamb hath open'd; and symphonious hymns
Of thousand times ten thousand Saints ascend
The Throne around: “Hosannah to the Lamb!”
For He is worthy! shout, ye Angels! shout
Till Earth re-echoes that unwearied strain!
Let sun, let moon, and each melodious star,
The winds, the rivers, mountains, floods, and hills,
The diapason deepen, and the loud
Eternal hallelujah of the Sea
Wake into sound; while regions, zones, and isles,
The glory of our great Redeemer sing!
And thus with angels and archangels laud
The Lamb Almighty, in the skies adored!

But, lo! upon Mount Olivet appears
With hands uplifted in their last farewell,
The parting Saviour; on His God-like brow
The radiance of eternity begins:
Disciples kneeling for His blessing ask,
And, hark! 'tis given; on their souls He breathes
The breath of sanctity, of love sublime
And endless: then His mighty hand is lift,
But while it blesseth the beloved of earth,
The Air is waiting to upwaft its Lord.
And see, He riseth! solemnly and slow,
Array'd in brightness, such as God invests,
In soaring grandeur from the baffled gaze
Of His adorers, through the pathless air
In the full lustre of unclouded day
He riseth! leaving, like th' Atlantic sun
On ocean when he dies a gorgeous death,
A beaming track magnificently bright
Behind Him; till a radiant star He seems,
And then, is trackless., in celestial depths
Evanish'd, soaring back to God again!

But, oh, if Angels at His birth did sing,
What pæans now through heaven's wide concave roll!
Who welcome there the sempiternal Lord,
The Son incarnate, into glory come,
O'er Sin and Death victorious, with a World
Recover'd, ransom'd, and for ever saved,
To speak his triumph in the state of Man.
The skies are kindled! from the opal walls
And battlements of uncreated Light,
Lo! seraphim and cherubim appear,
With angel and archangel,—rank on rank
In wing'd array of infinite extent
And brightness, to conduct the Lord of heaven.
Now lift your heads, ye Everlasting Doors,
Receive the King of Glory! Hark! the choir
With jubilant Hosannas shout and sing,
“For ever and for ever is Thy Throne,
Thou Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord of Hosts!
By Thee of old the heaven and earth were framed,
Were founded: but they all shall fade and die
And as a vesture shalt Thou fold them up,
And they shall perish! still art Thou the same
Unchanging, Holy, Holy, Lord of Hosts!
Thy Throne eternal in the heavens resume
Almighty Saviour, and triumphant King!”

My theme is o'er, the great Messiah sung;
And this attempt, whose vast persuasion fill'd
My being with o'erawed delight, concludes.
How often, in some pause of holy fear
Hath Fancy folded her adventurous wing,
And my soul bow'd with this unutter'd thought,
That He, whose mediatorial love I sang,
Beheld me, fathoming my spirit's depth!
And now, as girt with glory, in the Heaven
Of Heavens the Son of Man His Throne resumes,
A dread comes round me, like a shadow cast
From waning tempest o'er a trancèd sea.

Thou Land sublime, of miracles and men,
Where Poetry from God on earth came down
In warbled echoes of celestial song!
Where Hebron, Tabor, and Mount Carmel, lift
Their speaking vastness in the sultry air

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Divinely-haunted; where the Jordan rolls,
Where rock, and cavern, grotto, cell and cave
Are mighty; where the curse of Heaven has graved
Terrific warning on thy blasted trees
And haggard vales, all fountainless and dry,
The stately vision of thy mingled Scene
Departeth! He whose spirit oft has heard
The thunder-music of thy tempest roll,
Beheld thy sun-blaze, seen thine eagles mount
And dream-led roved beside that mournful Lake
Where man's Redeemer in His days of earth
Hath wander'd,—bids thee now a long farewell!

Autumnal morning round my chamber threw
The gleaming wanness of its gentle smile,
When tremblingly, as though omniscient Eyes
Look'd on my soul, I struck the sacred Lyre
And bade it warble this surpassing Theme.
But ever, as the waves of moving life
From England's capital, with heave and swell
Came surging from afar, my soul partook
A deep communion with the fate of Man
Amid a sea of wide Existence toss'd,
Whose billows only the Redeemer trod
Secure; but left along the stormy wild
A track of glory for terrestrial feet
To follow, guided by the star of Heaven.

But now, the Spirit of mysterious Night
Comes forth, and, like a ruin'd Angel, seems
All dimly-glorious, and divinely-sad:
And Earth, forgetful of her primal fall,
Lies in the beauty of reflected heaven.
Oh! night creates the paradise of thought,
Enchanting back whatever Time has wrong'd
Or exiled, touch'd with that celestial hue
Which faith and fancy on the Dead bestow.
Emotions which the tyrant Day destroys
Can now awaken, like reviving flowers;
And e'en the darkness of unheavenly souls
Must feel illumined, as the Eye receives
From all its views, a loveliness which comes
To light the dimness of the spirit's depth.
As when at morning, oft a sunrise pours
A stream of splendour through the window-panes
Of Temple vast, to cheer its barren aisles,
And on the gloom of monumental Sleep
To glisten, like a resurrection-morn.

Thus, life is charter'd for a nobler fate
Than glory, by the breath of man bestow'd:
A living world a living God reflects,
Morn, noon, and night, with everlasting change!
And who can hide the universe; o'erawe
The Elements; the sun unseat; or mar
That mighty Poem which the heavens and earth
Exhibit, written by Eternal Hands?
A sense of beauty, which is so divine,
Haunts human nature with undying spell;
And while the wonders of creation teem,
To love and worship their majestic power,
Can lift the spirit into purer light
Than ever canopied the throne of Fame.

And cold the heart, whose aspirations wing'd
Their flight from thee, my own inviolate Land!
Whom night and beauty have apparell'd now.
Thy heavens are stainless, as the molten blue
Of ocean, in the noontide's dazzling sleep;
Thy starry multitudes their thrones have set;
And the young Moon gazeth on yon quiet sea
Tranced like a mother, with her doating eye
Intently fix'd upon a cradled child.
While, round, and full, and ravishingly bright,
A planet here and there the sky adorns.
A path of lustre has o'erlaid the Deep,
Which heaves and glitters, like a wizard shore
For sea-enchanters, when they rise and walk
The waves in glory: voice nor foot profanes
This dreaming silence; but the mellow lisp
Of dying waters on the beach dissolved,
Makes ocean-language for the heart and hour.

Now thought is heaven-like; and our earthly frame
Of Purity beyond the day to bring,
Is conscious. From the uncreated Fount
Of Glory, may not emanations steal,
By night absorbed, and mystically felt?
Or creatures, such as once the mental eye
Of seraph-haunted Milton saw descend
Like sunbeams darted from a riven cloud
On Eden's mount, with viewless wing career
Around us, charming with a gaze unseen
Whate'er the beauty of their glances touch?

But oh! dark Spirit, whose unquiet shade
Our fancy visions in reflected gloom,
Again thou comest! and thy frown declares
What penal agonies, what groans and pangs,
In this calm hour a bleeding World contains!
E'en now, the curtains of Futurity
Are shaken, by the blasts of coming doom!
For Self has overshadow'd Love divine
With dread oblivion; till our daring thoughts
To helm the Universe, and guide the wheels
Of human Fate, have awfully presumed!

A Mind which glories in the world of Man
And graves, immortal! on the meanest brow,
Oh! how it loves the universe, and longs
To see the spirits whom Redemption won
Annihilate the hopes of Hell! Shall souls,

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So highly destined, that a swell of joy
Heaves o'er the harp of Heaven's resounding choir
When Sin repents, be perfected and lost?
No! let us, as the prince of morning quells
A cloudy tempest with imperial rays,
So learn to vanquish with celestial light
Our Sin and Darkness, till, as demons shrunk
To shapeless nothing at Messiah's look,
Our Vices wither from our Virtues' gaze.

Amid deep Energies which now unfold
Like harmonies from some awaking lyre,
Wilt Thou, divinest of all Arts divine!
Last in the train of renovating Truths
Advance, poetical Enchantress? Muse,
Who art the Angel of the soul, whose voice
The primal loveliness of vanish'd Things
Renews; or haply, thou in pure perfection art
A Priestess, who behind the veil of sense
Conducts the Spirit to the holy shrine
Where Beauty, Love, and Everlasting Light
Are shrouded; or, a Prophetess, whose lip
Their power interprets with a vocal spell.

Thou beautiful Magician! be thy name
Whate'er Thou wilt: Creatress of delight
Expression paints not! though the World affright
Thy radiant visit, still art Thou revered;
And the soft wave of Thy descending wings
Is token'd by the pulse's quivering joy.
Beneath the play of thy melodious smiles
Our spirit quickens into thrills of heaven,
And Feeling worships at thy faintest sound!
All hours are thine; all climes and seasons drink
Thine effluence bright, and immaterial power.
Thou with the Universe twin-born didst rise!
And Thou alone, when tempted Nature fell,
Unfallen wert: and thus Thy glorious aim
Like true religion's, is to lead us back
From recreant darkness to primeval bliss.

All moods are Thine; all maladies of thought
By thee are visited with healing sway.
In those dread moments, when a hideous veil
Of darkness, woven by some demon-hand,
Lies on the world; when Love itself is cold
Or earthly; and the tone Affection breathes
Falls fruitless on the mind, as ocean-spray
Which dies unheeded on the savage rock;
When Nature is untuned, and all things wear
The coarse reality Derision loves,
E'en then, how often thine assuasive balm
Spirit of beauty! intellectual queen!
Descendeth, melting over heart and brain
Like dew upon the desert, till the soul
Revives, and this bad World seems exorcised!
And Thou canst hallow with ennobling power
High impulses, of superhuman sway,
Which come like shades of pre-existent Life
Athwart the mind, when dream-eyed Fancy rules.
For is not Man mysteriously begirt
By something dread, imagination feels,
Yet fathoms not? Dare human Creed deny
That mortal feeling, in its finest mood,
May be some thrill of sympathetic chords
Which link our nature to a world unknown!

And since the spirit with the flesh doth war,
And Life is oft an agonising thirst
Which nothing visible can tame, or cool,
That Beauty, which the hues of thought create,
By thee enchanted, slakes the mental fire
That parches us within: and yearning dreams
And hopes which breathe of immortality
Thy power ennobles with mysterious aid.
Then, long as Earth is round us, and the wings
Of Fancy by the light of faith ascend,
May Poetry her sibyl-language weave,
Enlighten, charm, and elevate the world.

Creation's hope! our universal All!
From Thee alone believing spirits learn
That man is deathless, an immortal heir
Of Being yet to be. Stupendous thought!
Though frail as dew thy fleeting life departs,
The Soul is godlike! world on world may rise
And wither, quench'd in everlasting gloom;
And surging ages into silence roll
Like haughty billows which have heaved and died;
But still unfading, bright with awful bliss,
Or pale with agony, the Soul shall live
And like Jehovah, utter its “I am!”

We shall not sleep, but we shall all arise
For judgment;—with an instantaneous frame
Of being, Dust shall look on God, and live!
An hour is coming when the grave will hear
And answer to a tomb-awakening trump
Which thunders o'er the icy trance of Death:
The waning universe, the earth and heaven
Shall vanish in th' immeasurable Deep;
But Thine own promise shall not pass away.
And though that hour, for resurrection doom'd,
Be hidden, shrouded from angelic mind
A secret buried in Eternal Thought,—

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As certain as the blood of Christ hath flow'd,
Messiah risen, and the heavens received
And throned His Presence, He shall come again!

And then, the funeral of Creation see!
Sun, moon, and star dissolve, and wane, and die;
The earth is riven; with appalling roar
The Sea departeth, as her dead ascend;
And wing'd Archangels on the winds unroll
Their summons; not an atom but is thrill'd
With life or feeling, at that dreadful sound!
And now look up! behold, He cometh! clouds
And splendours, with seraphic armies, throng
Before Him, cleaving the prophetic sky
With vanward glory, to announce The God.
And lo! the semblance of His far-off Throne
Advances; as embodied lustre bright
The Judge of Earth, the Son Almighty, comes!
And all who have been, since creation was,
Moveless and countless, on their features wear
A solemn radiance, from His Form Divine
Reflected; every eye is fix'd and still,
To Him upraised, whose eye discerneth all!

Again the trumpet! and this dread array,
The multitudinous and living mass
At once is sever'd; right and left they stand
Divided, as of old the fated sea.
Was cloven when the wand of Moses waved;
And in each soul there is a judgment-throne
Erected, where eternal Conscience reigns.

But listen!—far behind this breathing host
Of mortals, myriads of colossal Shapes,
Unearthly, wild, and dim with ghastly wo,
Rise in the glare!—the ruin'd Angels come
From darkness, and a clank of chain resounds
Appallingly, above the world distinct!
But One, who, vast above the vastest there
In towering majesty the sky confronts,
As though the fabric of the heavens would shrink
From the dark light of his unfathom'd gaze,
Behold him! how magnificently dread!
From the huge mountain into embers sunk
To the last billow of expiring sea,—
O'er all the terror of his ruin frowns,
Who battled with omnipotence in heaven
And will be fearless in the fires of hell!

Another gaze! e'er Earth and Nature die;
The Spirit of eternity descends,
Seven thunders speak, to heaven his arm He lifts,
And utters, “Time and earth shall be no more:”
Creation withers at that dread command,
And like a shade, the Universe departs!

Oh! in this agony of Nature's death
May he, who dared from erring fancy's gloom
To lift his spirit to the Light of Light,
And shadow forth some lineaments divine
Of God Incarnate, by redemption seen,
Unblasted look upon the Lord he sang:
And in yon world unutterably bright
Where thought is holy as the heaven it breathes,
By Angels taught, around The Throne renew
The song eternal hymning Time began.