University of Virginia Library

O'er “Wharncliffe of the Demons” thou,
Dear Ellen, hast a wanderer been:
Thy second letter places now
Before my soul the beauteous scene.
But thou hast named a name that brings
Back the deplored and hopeless past,
And o'er remember'd Wharncliffe flings
An angel's shadow, flitting fast.
Why did'st thou name that mournful name?
Beautiful in its worth and woe,
Over my sadden'd heart it came,
Like funeral music, wailing low;
Or like a deep cathedral toll,
At midnight swung o'er Witham's wave,
Proclaiming that a weary soul
Had cast his staff into the grave.
Oh, never more will Lycid see
That relic of the forest old
Which spread, “like an eternity,”
Its green night over plain and wold;
Grey Wharncliffe, and the oaks, that stand
Like spectres of their sires sublime;
Yet how unlike, though old and grand,
Those giants of the olden time!
Symbols of age-long funerals,
They frown'd o'er fear's suspended breath,
And pillar'd in their living halls
The deathless might of mental death.
Oh, Superstition! cruel, blind,
False, restless, fair, as ocean's foam,
How shall I paint, where shall I find,
Save in man's darkness, thy dark home?

I.

While to the she-wolf from afar
Her prowling mate replied,
And muffled moon, and riddled star,
Glimpsed on the dusk lake's mirror wide;
Asleep, and dreaming, Etheline
Rock'd on her bosom Telmarine,
At lonest Waterside.
Spirit of all that lives to die!
Relate her dream of agony.
She thought, a shape of darkness bow'd
Heav'n's concave, crushing in her breath,
As with the weight of cloud on cloud
To rock-like substance press'd;
And two pale arms snatch'd from her breast
Her nursling, while it slept.
She gasp'd, she wept;
But grief was deafen'd in her soul
By thunders, which then o'er her roll'd,
And would, she thought, for ever roll
Beneath the grave of death,
When suns in death were cold.
Then, did a realm of frost,
A cloud-homed desert without shore,
Receive her; and for ever lost
With tears for light, her only light,
Stone-still, she stood before
Featureless Night.
No sound was there, no flutter'd wing,
No leaf, no form, no living thing,
No beating heart, but hers—no air;
But cold that pierced the soul was there,
And horror which no tongue can tell,
And silence insupportable:
'Twas depth unplumb'd, 'twas gloom untrod,
'Twas shuddering thought alone with God.

II.

Ev'n while she dream'd, in silence pass'd,
Moon-lighted gloomily,
A wanderer through the forest vast,
Unto the Throne of Mystery
Bearing a child,
That gazed around her in surprise,
Or innocently smiled,
Looking on him, with Konig's eyes
Of deep, deep, darkest blue,
Almost to blackness deepen'd, yet
Blue as Carpathia's violet.
But soon in fear her arms she threw
Around his neck; for the dim light
Made darkness touchable to sight;
Nor darkness only. Through the dusk
Fierce shadows moved; from fierce eyes came
Quick sparks of living flame;
Hot pantings gather'd, thicker; then, a husk
Of sound was heard—nor bark, nor growl—
Which sometimes swell'd into a howl;
And still, to hunger's instinct true,
Nearer the dog of forests drew.
Nought fear'd the Wanderer of the Night,
Whose brow of gloom,
And ghastness in the shadow'd light,
Scarce seem'd of earth, or heav'n or hell;
He, unconvinceable,
Could not have trembled, if, o'er head,
The desolated heav'ns had fled,
While crash'd the trump of doom.
But, lo, a flash, a glare, a blaze,
Illumed the wood with ghastly rays,
Suddenly!
And the gaunt prowlers, balk'd of prey,
Stopp'd, whined, crouch'd low, and skulk'd away.
The wanderer sought a temple grand;
Behold! its portal was at hand,
The vast cathedral's forest-porch;
Through which stream'd light from many a torch,
Rays many-colour'd, piercing far
The chaster light of moon and star,
Beneath the wood-rill's canopy;
And, lo, at once, the eastern aisle,
In length a gloom-foreshorten'd mile,
Reveal'd its groin'd immensity!
So, when, at midnight, thunders roll
O'er lone Roch Abbey's ruin'd fane,
The dead walls, in the lightning's blaze,
To God within the listening soul
Chaunt old Religion's hymn of praise;
Pillar and arch, in darkness hidden,
Start up to sight, like things forbidden;
And buried ages live again.
“Pretty!” the child, delighted, cried,
And clapp'd her hands; for she espied
Five coming shapes, each bearing high
A staff-raised brand of red, blue, green,
Purple, and golden fire; which cast,
As slowly they came nigh,
On living buttress vast,
And cloudy shapes between,
And arch sublime, and tracery,
Not wrought by man, commingled hues—
Lovely as emerald ocean's foam
Beneath an April sky;
Disclosing lone side avenues,
And domes which seem'd to come and go,
Dome after dome, dome after dome,
While shaft by shaft advanc'd, withdrew
Like giants countermarching slow.
Grim were the four—coal-black their vests,
Their helms, and crests—
Who bore the red, green, yellow, blue
Torches; but robed in purest white,
A female form of stateliest height,
And fair to view
As love and truth,
Was she who bore the purple light:
Her locks of snow,
In amplest flow
Descending to her feet,
Cover'd her, like a sheet;
And in her stedfast eye
And sculptured look, eternity
Seem'd wedded to immortal youth.
Sudden, she stopp'd. Around her closed
The sable four; their torches raised,
Each touching hers, united blazed,
And, lo, the cluster'd five composed
A many-colour'd flower of flame,
Beautiful, beautiful,
As that bright rose which dark maids cull
Where himalayan summits tower
O'er fiery plain, and fiery flower!
Then, from the unnumber'd voices came,
Wailing the forest-depths among,
Unearthly notes of chaunted song,
Wild, mournful, grand; as shipwreck's cry,
Heard through the groan of sea and sky,
Convulsed in boundless agony;
And like a yell of mockery,
Forestalling worth's reward of pain,
With the laugh'd lie
That virtue toils in vain.
Thus, sang, unseen, deep shades among,
The singers of inhuman song:
“When did the wisdom of the wise
Expunge from life one human ill?
Ever the Seeker's victories
Leave his hard heart unconquer'd still:
Therefore the gods the wretch deride
Whose soul on truths forbidden feeds;
And crush the atheist in his pride,
(Cold, good-pretending deicide!)
Who turns life's fairy flowers to weeds.
Gods! curse him wet; Gods! curse him dry;
Where fin can swim or foot repair!
In light and darkness, cold and heat!
Curse him wherever wing can fly!
Curse him wherever heart can beat!
And blast him with his granted pray'r!”

III.

The dread chaunt ceased, and over all,
Except the Wanderer and the child,
Strange awe, like death-bed fear, did fall,
Or sleep, that dreams of woe.
On came the Wanderer, unaffrighted;
And while the valiant child, delighted,
Listen'd or clapp'd her hands and smiled,
He stood before the Nun of Snow.

IV.

“Fear not, thou Wanderer sad,” she said,
“To follow whither I must lead:
The pray'r is pray'd, the rede is read;
And ever best the boldest speed.
Well hast thou done th' appointed deed:
Full well the chasten'd understand
That they are govern'd who command:
And long, oh, Wanderer sad, have we
Expected thee.”

V.

“Fear?” he replied—and huger grew
His vastness, where on her he threw
A wondering glance; “Ye do my will,
And but my purpose here fulfil.
Proceed ye on your destined way,
Obeying Him, whom all obey.”

VI.

Then, westward turn'd the sable four;
The stately whiteness westward turn'd;
Them following, he the nursling bore;
And, raised aloft, the torches burn'd.
How strangely, pillars vast
On each hand pass'd!
How grandly, overhead,
Domes, following domes, behind them fled,
All in deep silence! Silence deep
Lay on the fretted roof, like sleep;
And there the moonlight lay, like death;
It could not pierce the gloom beneath,
Where a broad orb, beheld afar,
Shone westward, like a crimson star,
And other light was none;
Save of the torches red, green, blue,
Purple, and golden. Round they threw
Their intermingled ghastness wild,
While laugh'd with joy th' undaunted child;
But when he reach'd, with soundless feet,
The Presence, and the Judgment-Seat,
Torches and bearers all were gone!
Then paused the Wanderer. North and south,
He look'd on aisles of age-long growth,
Tree-pillar'd high, branch-arch'd, star-proof,
Cut short in darkness. Where he stood
Within the kernel of the wood,
The central vastness stretch'd out wide
Its space sublime and sanctified;
Of such a temple fitting choir;
Worthy of its eternal roof,
The bright, blue, moon'd, and starry sky,
That domed its dread tranquillity,
Commanding leaf and flower to grow
In sad and silvery light below;
For such a choir meet canopy.
Before him glared the globe of fire,
Scattering innocuous blaze and spark;
And all beneath was dark;
Save that the Wanderer might espy,
Beneath the globe of flame,
A pallid brow, a glittering eye,
That slowly went and came.
“Say,” spake a voice of deepest tone,
“What man art thou—of men alone—
Who dar'st the shadow of the throne?”
“Mine is the shadow, mine the throne,”
The Wanderer cried; “I therefore dare
The shadow of the throne;
For I am He who sits thereon,
In spirit, everywhere;
God! I am God! the all-adored!
The many-named! the only Lord!
Incarnate oft in human form;
Permitting fear to worship love,
On altar-stone, in hallow'd grove,
And proud to bless the meanest worm,
Though throned o'er earth, and sea, and sky;
My chariot Light, my torch-stand Night;
My sceptre Life; my falchion Pain;
With dateless Thought for my domain,
And Darkness for my canopy.”

VIII.

Beneath the globe of restless flame,
Indignant features went and came;
The pale brow blacken'd, the fierce eye,
Gathering its thunder gloomily,
Flash'd curses. Then, a voice austere,
In accents mix'd of scorn and fear,
Said, “Well, Sir God! what would'st thou here?”

IX.

The Wanderer answer'd, “I to thee
Consign the Maid of Destiny,
This sin-born child; for 'tis my will,
That vice which blights, and crimes that kill,
And pain, of evil born, shall bring
Blessings to every living thing;
And that all wrong, by love withstood,
Shall turn all evil into good.”

X.

But woe-tried men have feelings fine;
And loth was Adwick to resign
The nursling, at his journey's end;
As loth was she to quit her friend.
Friend? Ay, she knew his troubled brow;
Had heard him oft, in dreams, complain;
By stealth, had watch'd his sleep; and now
She clung to him, and kiss'd his cheek.
Was he, then, loved? Lived he, to find,
At last, that one of human kind
Loved the foredoom'd to crime and pain?
Almost his sanity return'd;
He wept, as if his heart would break;
Wept, but his tears were hot—they burn'd
The brain from which they rush'd:
So, lightning, when roused ocean raves,
Harrows black midnight's clouds and waves,
Together crush'd.
Irresolute, and with smother'd sighs,
He held her up: she turn'd, and smiled
A smile that thrill'd him through,
Looking on him with Konig's eyes
Of deep, deep, darkest blue,
Black almost, and yet throwing back
The crimson of the pansy's black.
But while he stood in dubious mood,
Two arms, stretch'd forth, received the child.
“Thus,” said the voice of deepest tone,
“While men, on unfoundation'd thought,
Build roofless deeds, which come to nought,
The gods preserve their own:
The sought is found, the promised maid,
Ordain'd to save their cause betray'd;
A chieftain's daughter, sin-begot,
Brought by a traitor, trusted not.”

XI.

Ceased the fang'd voice. The murderous eye,
The globe of crimson fire, were gone;
And from the sky—how silvery,
How cold o'er all, how suddenly—
Moonlight and starlight, silent shone!
The Wanderer wept—he was alone.
Not so? From choral voice and gong,
And trumpet, blown deep shades among,
Arose a storm of sound and song:
“The sought is found! and summons thee
To doom and darkness, Heresy!”
Brief, sudden, loud,
As thunder from a rainless cloud,
While shudder'd man and beast,
It rose, and ceased.
The Urus, in his reedy vale,
Heard it, and rear'd erect his tail;
Upstarted, in her fern, the hare;
Upstood, with lifted paws, the bear;
His wide-branch'd head
The huge elk raised, and sobb'd in dread;
Disturb'd, the wild pig grunted,
The she-fox growl'd;
In chorus stern, the pack'd wolf howl'd;
Fast fled the prey he hunted:
So, fear waked fear; o'er plain and hill,
And rock, and tree,
Th' affrighted circle widen'd still;
Kinder and Deadedge heard the sound,
Their tempest-pastured mountains round
Trembling in sympathy;
While echo smother'd groan on groan
O'er cragg'd hag-ridden Edlington.