The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield ::

This Poem is founded on the terrible incidents recorded in the nineteenth chapter of Genesis. All readers of biblical history are thoroughly acquainted with the ineffable crimes—the luxury and abandonment—the impiety and shamelessness—and the merciless fate of the inhabitants of the Cities of the Plain. Whether their utter destruction was the result of natural causes or the immediate infliction of an offended Deity, it is unnecessary to inquire, as this is a matter of no importance to the Poet. It avails not to controvert or confirm the assertion that no bird can fly over the Dead Sea; that no fish can live or human being drown in its bitter waters; for all the purposes of poetry, it is enough to know that Desolation has spread its wings over the countless dead and that no voice, during thousands of years, has startled the ravining wild beast from his idle search of prey.

O'er the blue verge of summer's glorious vault,
In godlike beauty, rolled the tropic sun,
Wrapt in his gorgeous splendors, like the hope,
The last wild hope that leaves us desolate,
Most radiant at the hour when dusky night
Waves her dim pinions, and, with clouded smiles,
Looks o'er the darkening earth and deep blue heaven;
And, 'neath the shadow of an ancient palm,
Towering in majesty, its ample boughs,
Green in the dew, far branching round his tent,
On Mamre's plain, in Hebron's pleasant Land,
The Father of the Faithful sat alone.
Flowers of all hues blushed beauty while they breath'd
Their odours o'er the scene of peace and love;
The rose, the enamour'd heart's fair history,
The bulbul's worship since the Lesbian maid
Transfused her burning soul into its folds;
The violet, tender as a maiden's fame,
Whose bloom grows deeper at the kiss of air;
The rich geranium, whose colors burn
Amid the incense of its threaded leaves;
The purple lotus floating on the stream,
That seems to catch its radiance as it flows,
E'en as the prophet breathes the breath of heaven;
And each delicious thing that buds and blooms
In the fair Orient—the realm of light.
Beneath the palmy shades, their noontide bowers,
The flocks and herds leapt up and snuff'd the air,
And feasted on the verdure wet with dew,
Drinking the freshness of the evening breeze;
And plants, and flowering shrubs, and crispy grass
Lifted their drooping fibres and shrunk leaves

In silent worship unto heaven; and birds,
The happiest minstrels of eternal love,
Sung vesper hymns, while the tall cedars threw
Their solemn shadows o'er the boundless fields,
And eve's soft-tinted clouds hung in the sky
In that fantastic form and wild array
Lovers adore and poets paint; and airs,
Born in the fairy realms of ether, swayed
Their filmy folds, and pictur'd magic domes,
Fair temples pinnacled, and palaces,
Sweet groves and gardens, and the seashore cliffs,
Which changed, each moment, like a summer dream,
Raised by the spell of necromantic power.

At his tent-door, amid the shadowy scene,
Reposed the Father of the Faithful now;
And there he led the quiet life of love,
Whose annals are good deeds and hallowed thoughts,
And purified affections—love to man,
And gratitude to God; thence he upraised
Heartfelt orisons, every morn and eve,
To Him, the Supreme Good, whose works and ways,
Howe'er mysterious, are forever just;
Rendering continual homage, that His laws,
In peril's hour, when many evils came
From men and things, had shielded him and kept
The light of beauty burning in his heart;
Had been to him a glory and a crown,
Earth never could confer or rend away.

Thus, as he worshipped in the sanctitude
Of a forgiving heart, Three Forms, like men,
Save that their seraph brows wore majesty
That shamed the common sons of earth, appeared,
Unsummoned guests—unheralded by ought
Familiar with earth's usage; for no sound
Of footstep rustled in the grove—no shade
Glimmered amid the twilight to reveal
Approaching visitants; and these, that now
Came, strong avengers, to Gomorrah's bowers

And Admah's halls, in outward semblance seem'd
But wayworn palmers, destined to the shrine
Of sanctity; yet sacred was the name
Of stranger in the East, and household bread
Sealed the true bond of heartfelt brotherhood.
So the great Father of the Faithful rose
To do them reverence as his pilgrim guests,
And to their seeming and intent purveyed
His hospitalities; then on their way
Held consort for a time, and treasured well
Angelic counsel humanly bestowed.

While thus they communed on their path, amid
The shadows of the oriental night;
Quick as the barque leaps o'er the cataract,
Or gossamer is borne on tempest winds,
E'en in a moment's unperceived elapse,
The Glory of the Triad turned his eye
Full on the gleaming Cities of the Plain,
And his broad brow glowed like a fiery cloud,
As, trumpet-like, his awful voice arose,
Denouncing judgement—“They must perish!” Far,
Through lower and mid and upper air, and thence
Through all the starry spheres, and upward still
From heaven to heaven arose the dread decree—
All angels, from the cherub full of love
And gentleness, to the archangel throned
On thunders, crying in the voice of death,
Awfully echoed—“They must perish.”—Then
The rush of mighty winds went by; wild sounds
Mysterious murmured in the startled sky;
The quick earth quivered, and the hillgirt sea,
Through its dark mass of troubled waters, heaved,
Moaning to its unfathomable abyss;
And every sable forest and bare cliff
Gave forth strange accents—and the world was full
Of fearful omens. Silent mid the Three
The awestruck Father stood, while through the skies
Flew the dread mandate, and the Earth, aghast

With terror, to its deep foundation shrunk.
Silent he stood; how awful was the pause!
Thrice o'er the fated cities, dark as night,
A giant vision passed; thrice o'er them flashed
A fiery sword and sceptre broke in twain;
Thrice rung a warning cry, that rose unheard,
Though conscious Earth did quake: then all was still—
Still as the realms of Hela, still as fear,
Whose pulse doth sound like midnight's deep-voiced knell.
Wildered and crushed by terror and despair,
The Shepherd Prince on Earth's cold bosom fell,
And a wild vision of the woes to come,
In broken tumult, searched his burning brain.

But Faith has godlike power, and holy men
May intercede, when terrors are abroad,
With God as with their high and holy friend,
E'en when his messengers are bolts of flame,
And thunders wake the astonished universe
To utterance of His awful destinies.
Strength to contend and fortitude to bear
Attend the heroic spirits of the Good;
Alike in desert land and meadows green,
Tissued with dimpling rills, that purl in smiles;
Alike in pleasure and adversity,
The strong persuasion of avoided ill
And shunn'd allurement fills the heart with joy,
And the unsinning for the guilty pray
Though destined wrath hath ratified their doom.
Upheld by faith that falters not in woe,
The intercessor rose and cried aloud
For mercy on the guilty race:—“Slay not
“The scorner in his scoffing! shall the voice
“Of blasphemy be heard e'en in the grave?
“Oh! must they die in utmost guilt—debarr'd
“Forever from thy light and beauty, Lord?
“Beyond atonement and the reach of hope?”
“Counsel, entreatment, menace they have heard
“In vain; their doom is fixed and cannot change.”

To the blue heavens, o'ercanopied with stars,
Serene in glory—oracles of years!
In anguish, then, he lifted up his soul,
And yet once more besought. “Wilt thou destroy
“The sinner and the saint together, Lord?
“The son of Belial and thy covenant's heir?”
“The Righteous are redeemed,” a Voice replied.
Again and yet again the holy man
Implored forbearance, still, with faltering voice,
Pleading in awe with the Supreme of Heaven,
To stay the hour of vengeance—but in vain!
For not among the nations, on whose pride
The signet of destruction had been set,
Was left the least redemption from the wrath
Omnipotent—most awful when deferred!
So o'er the plain of Mamre, 'neath the glow
Of the starr'd firmament, slowly in grief,
Lone as the breaking billow of the main,
The Patriarch trod his melancholy way;
Yet oft turned back to weep and gaze once more
On the doomed cities, where destruction called
Dark desolation to attend his path,
And Ruin flapped the air with bloodred wings.

On Zion's hill (the name of other days)
The Father of the Faithful sought repose,
And grief fell on his heart, and dreariness
Came o'er his spirit as he watched the storm
That gathered round the Cities of the Plain.

In starlight beauty lay the pleasant plains
Of Jordan; and on every hillock green
Slept the white flocks, dotting the uplands green,
And imaged household bliss; the slumbering herds
Were gathered round the wells, awaiting morn
Never to dawn on them; the shepherd's crook
Leaned idly by the palm, while, mid his fold,
He watched and read the stars, and skill'd in lore
By solitary commune, gave them names
Unfolding nature; all their potencies

O'er birth-hours and successive times he knew;
How in their march they bore our fate along,
And mingled good and evil lot below
With their eccentric motions; how our life
Revolves from pleasure to calamity
In ceaseless alternations, as the stars
Describe their evolutions in the skies.
Thus to the old Chaldee heaven's watchers were
High Deities, and worship, morn and eve,
When they came forth in the blue deep of heaven,
And when they faded in the dayspring's gush,
Was rendered unto them; and so he grew
Resigned to their mysterious destinies,
And they became his gods, revealing powers,
Benignant or malign. Or, by the side
Of fellow herdsman lying, he became
The historian of the elder days, when Earth
Was full of love, and all its motions were
Sweet poetry; and then he told the tales
Of reverend eld, how sun-winged angels came
In the world's youth, and held converse with men,
Ministering condolement to their grief,
And counsel for their guidance; how the Earth
Sprung into life at His immortal word,
And forests rose from the unfathomed sea,
Blooming in beauty; and how, when their sire
Had sinn'd, and woe was born of his offence,
And troubles came, and he was driven forth
From Paradise, on diamond pinions flew
Young Hope before him on his exile way,
Winning him gently from his cherished grief,
And lighting with her smile the rugged path,
That, through the gloom of years, led unto bliss.
In such discourse on laws and legends passed
The lingering night, and not a sound revealed
The terrors of the awful day to come.

The dewy glistening of the starlight groves,
The hush of the broad leaves, the scudding clouds,
Through whose dim folds full many a diamond star

Looked beautiful—the stillness and the charm
Of Night—the poet's hour of love—when heaven
Bends o'er his bosom smiling! all the scene
Breathed sweetness and blushed odours; rivulets
Glided along in music, faint and soft
As the low breathing of a newborn babe,
And the trees sighed their melancholy song
To the night-breeze, so indistinct, the ear
Could catch the hum of silence; in the vale
The flow of Jordan by its reedy banks,
Where hive the honey-bees and herons build,
Mysterious rose, and melancholy notes,
(Such as float o'er the heart in rapture's hour
When lofty thoughts with inspiration burn,)
Sighed o'er the hills and mingled with the breath
Of flocks that slept upon the upland mead.

It was a lovely scene—a holy time,
A season of deep feeling, and a place
Whose garniture was love; the senses sleep
The spirit wakes to bliss on such a night;
The outward forms of cold realities
Are mellowed into beauty, and the heart
Is lifted up into a realm of dreams
And visionries; and glory fills the mind,
And we become the pure abstracted things
Imagination pictures, when we rove
By flowery brooks or on the mountain side,
Or mid the hyrst's deep solitudes and muse
On the heart's mysteries—its hopes and fears,
Its trials and its final destiny.

Life—what is human life? quick breathings sent
From the deep pulses of a bleeding heart!
Life! 'tis the shadow of the dial-stone,
The echo of the solitary bell!
Life! 'tis the music of departed days,
Dew upon earth and vapour in the sky,
A beauty and a glory—and a dream!

On such a holy night the pleasant scenes
Of earlier life recur in all their bloom,
And faded glories waken, and the heart
Is young again; the fountain of the soul,
Stirr'd by the wings of angels, brings forth joy,
That springs to being as in olden time
Heaven's daughter from the ocean's silvery foam.
But green leaves wither in the autumn winds,
And desolation marks the closing year;
Years blanch the head and harrow the quick heart,
And furrow the fair brow and crush the frame,
And leave us blighted hopes and broken hearts,
And scattered vestiges of wasted power;
And we are left alone in the cold world,
Without a friend, and to life's lingering close
Our toil must be the weary gathering-in
Of blasted fruits and mildewed flowers (that youth
Planted in gladness) and despair o'erlooks
The harvest of our agony—alas!
How deep we feel without participant
When silence slumbers on the dreamy heart!
But soon 't will prove a silence none can break,
The shadowing of oblivion! when the hopes,
That light the spirit's glorious orrery,
(The golden Chersonesus of our dreams,)
Will vanish, and the fearful night of doom
Will come, as came the tempest of despair
O'er the proud nations of the fruitful Plain.

In meek and solemn worship Haran's son
Had offered up his evening sacrifice
When the angelic visitants appeared.

From the outer gate of Sodom, revently
The unpersuading advocate of truth
Among the faithless Punics of old days,
The moral Centaurs of a peopled waste,—
Whose nameless guilt in latter time hath grown
Into the proverb of supremest shame,
A word ineffable—arose, sole good
Mid evil, mid the bann'd sole bless'd, and bowed

Before the avenging ministers of doom.
Onward through mocking multitudes he led
The heavenly visitants, and, though reviled,
He answered not again; the holy light
Of his example, like the Hyades,
Shone in a cold and cloudy clime; to him
Truth was a triumph, virtue a reward,
And evil things the dusky hues that gave
His glory lustre; like Cyrene's sage,
He felt the troubles of humanity,
But not like him pourtrayed them; he was meek
And patient in his sufferance of earth's ills,
For 'mid the worst of woe he e'er beheld
Redeeming judgement in a holier world.
He had gone forth by Jordan's banks to pray
With heart as pure as the famed river's spring,
The fountain Paneade: and he had gazed
On Palestine's blue hills, and breathed the airs
Of Araby the Blest, while pondering o'er
The sin, the shame, the guilt, the wanton lust,
Of all who shared the mercies of the Lord
E'en with his chosen; the good man alone
Had wandered forth to pray, and more, perchance,
To lead some atheist to the tree of life.
And so he sat in Sodom's gate, and night
Look'd down upon him from her starry throne
With a mild sorrow, and her gentle dews
Fell round him in the starlight, and his heart
Grew calm beneath the blessed influence
Of that sweet hour when dovelike breezes bring
Soft odours from the flower, and the stars
Are full of glory, and the dark cold earth
Looks beautiful amid the holy light.
Wrapt in his high communion, passers-by
Blasphemed him as they went and on him threw
Reproach and scorn; like misbelievers now,
Unto his warnings rendering mad replies—
“Hoar hypocrite! thy drivelling suits thee well!”
But faithful still and reckless of his doom,
Like the first martyr dying at his shrine,
His voice was raised against all evil men,

In peril's hour his spirit slumbered not.
Strong in his faith, temptation he o'ercame,
Collusion scorned; with priests and haughty kings,
Like Agelnoth and Agobard, he held
His soul triumphant, though wassailers drowned
His fond orisons in loud mockeries.
“The mercy of the Lord doth linger long,
“His loving-kindness hath been sorely tried,”
Said Haran's chosen son; and—as he spake—
The dread destroyers entered Sodom's gate.

In ancient days, ere Shiloh's advent, God
Held commune with his chosen, as a man
With his familiar friend; his angels flew,
Invisible couriers of sightless air,
On good or evil mission, like the bolt
That lightens through immensity, till earth
Drew near: then as their glorious pinions fann'd
The dark, gross atmosphere of this lower world,
They, on the instant, took a human shape,
And clothed their heavenly essence in the garb
Of human habitude. And these that now
Left their bright thrones on men and evil things
To pour long suffering vengeance, wore the forms
And did observe the usages of men,
Apparent sustenance and rest received,
Indulged discourse of earthly interests,
And held the stranger's converse for a while:
How flocks and herds did prosper; how the fields
Yielded their vintage; how the cities thrived
In commerce with the nations. Thence they spake
Of government and laws, and moral use
Of privilege vouchsafed; “Doth man retain,
“Like the seashell when taken from the deep,
“A living witness of his godlike birth?
“Or, like the rose-flower's spirit, doth his heart
“Derive its breath of praise from holy air?”
With downcast eyes and clouded brow, their host
Sighed mournful disallowance, and a tear
Fell from the good man's eye—it could not save
The guilty wantoning in loathsome crime!

Amid their speech a hum of multitudes
Far distant rose, and shouts and lozel cries,
With fiendish imprecations, blasphemies,
Wild howlings and loud mockeries; and a rush
Of a vast throng was heard, like autumn winds
Pent long in mountain hollows, when they burst
At the dead midnight forth; and the deep tramp
Of feet wex'd audible, and human forms
Distincter grew in one tumultuous mass.
Nearer they came and wilder rose their cries,
Blent with the clash of weapons, swords and spears
And instruments of carnage: confident,
Exulting in their power, no law with them
Availed to shield the guiltless, or deter
The sinner, save the insolent caprice
Of hot-brained revel. Onward so they came,
Like billows breaking over ocean reefs,
And leaguered the lone mansion, summoning,
For deeds ineffable, the stranger guests.
But silent stood the Arbiters of Doom,
Though o'er their seraph brows a glory passed,
Like the revealment of electric fire
On the dark outskirts of the hurricane.
Again wild curses rose and blasphemies,
Again the summons pealed aloud—but yet
The High Three mov'd not; fear to them unknown,
And peril, they beheld the guilt and grief
Of man, with marvelling and ruth; and still
They held their awful strength unmenacing.
On pressed the maddened tumult, and the gate
Rung, shook and shivered 'neath the mad assault.
But yet their fixed gaze changed not! Vainly now
The eloquent voice of Haran's son arose,
Vain his fond prayer, his intercession vain,
His last despairing sacrifice to save
The perpetration of the unhallowed deed.
They mock'd, they spurn'd him; shouts and savage yells,
Loud oaths and curses, intermingled, rose
Far o'er the city, and the starlight skies
Echoed the startling echo—while the hearts

Of Lot's beloved fainted in their fear,
And exultation bade the throng rush on,
And seize with ruffian grasp, and bear away—
—Back fell astonished the vast multitude!
Silence stood listening for their blasphemies!
Amid the throng no voice was heard, nor sound
Of human life; like pillars in the gloom
Of Night they stood—blind, motionless and dumb!
The earth beneath them quaked, a moaning sound
Passed o'er their spirits like the distant roll
Of chariots in the battle, or the sea
Searching the caverns of the mountain rocks,
Where the proud lion meets leviathan,
And mammoth gores behemoth; then they fell
In the highway, and side by side sunk down,
Victims of unseen power; they rose no more!

“Go, warn thy kindred that they tarry not,
“For wrath awaits, and vengeance is abroad;
“Loose not the girdle of thy loins—break not
“The latchet of thy sandal-shoon—away!
“The bow is bended and the arrow drawn,
“The hearts of men are branded deep with guilt,
“The earth is stained with evil, and the voice
“Of stern oppression reacheth unto heaven.
“Go forth among the Zuzims, seek thy kin,
“And cry woe, woe to him who tarrieth here!
“The Chastener lifts his sword! the Avenger comes!
“Like the strong oaks of Bashan, they shall fall,
“The mighty—blasted as an autumn leaf,
“E'en in the strength of their dominion—now!
“The slayers are abroad—the storm of death
“Already hurtles in the troubled air.
“Haste! haste away!”—And forth the good man went.

—O Hope! creator of a fairy heaven!
Manna of angels! rainbow of the heart,
That, throned in heaven, doth ever rest on earth!
From our first sigh, unto our latest groan,
From the first throb until the heart is cold,

Thou art a gladness and a mockery,
A glory and a vision—thou sweet child
Of the immortal spirit! In our days
Of sorrow, with thy bland hypocrisies,
Thou dost delude us, and we love and trust
Thy beautiful illusions, though the soil
Of disappointment yet is on our souls.
Thou eldorado of the poor man's dream!
Sire of repentance! child of vain desires!
The bleeding heart clings to thee when all hope
Is madness; o'er our thoughts thou ever holdst
Eternal empire—and thou dost console
The felon in his cell, the galley slave,
The exile and the wanderer o'er the earth,
And pour'st the balm of transitory peace
E'en on the heart that sighs o'er kindred guilt.

Guided by thee, forth went the holy man,
And told of gathering ruin, but his sons
Held banqueting with lemans, and they scorned
The warning of their hoary sire; and e'er,
Amid the blandishments of song and dance,
The music, perfume and bewilderment
Of heart and brain—the dreamy revelries
Of a rejoicing spirit, high and proud,
His daughters listened not in danger's hour;
“Father! thy dreams ill suit the festive hall!
“Thy beggar pilgrims will o'erturn the world!
“The winged creatures of the fair blue air
“Would scorn the deed discourteous; shall they mar
“Our mirth to whom unceasing joy and love
“Are one eternal birthright? Oh! rejoice!
“The deluge hath been once—the bow is set—
“Chaos is passed—lead on the joyous dance!
“Away! away! alas, the mad old man!
“Woe to gainsayers when the Lord commands!”
It seemed the sighing of the summer wind
Or echo of the viol, and the dance
Moved on—the banquet and the wantoning.
Thus to the last beseeching and the wail

Of agonized affection made reply
The sons of heatheness—the bitter fruit
Of many a wakeful watching—many an hour
Of toil and trouble and redeeming joy.
They scorned the prophecy and they were scorned
In its accomplishment; a father's voice,
Unheeded, called aloud on righteous heaven,
And desolation on their pride came down.
With a sick heart the son of Haran turned
From grandeur, guilt, and madness—and pursued
His lonely way with faltering steps and slow;
And oft he stopp'd and gazed and wept alone
For his doomed children—left in ruin's grasp—
Then followed on his solitary path,
Wailing and weeping, as he passed away.
Around his dwelling all was stillness now
And silvery silence, and the good man paused
In meditation on his earlier days,
When far away, in Ur of the Chaldees,
He felt the bliss of being, ere the woes
Of life came o'er him—ere his bosom knew
The canker that corrodes the hollow heart,
The last extremity of grief, the strife
Of earth and heaven—of fervent, long-tried love
With conscious worthlessness! It was the hour
When rosy Morn meets her dark sister Night
Upon the confines of their wide demesnes,
And the gray shadows darkened while nor sun,
Nor moon, nor stars, held empire o'er the world.
Dark fell the dream of other days upon
The Chaldee's heart; a vision rose before
His spirit—and he wept!—
“Haste! haste away!”
Cried the destroyers—and the upper air
Was full of voices, crying “haste away!
“The storm of ruin sleeps till thou art past
“The mountains of thy refuge; heaven doth bear
“The guilt of men till thou hast fled afar.
“Fly to the deep clefts of the rugged rocks,
“The mansions of the ancient hills—away!

“Must they be left in unredeemed despair,
“Doom'd to the death of demons—they who clung
“Unto thy bosom, Love! whose smiles and tears
“Were rainbows to our bridal blessedness?
“Who were to us a treasure and a joy,
“A trouble and a triumph o'er the ills
“That ever wait our portion on the earth!
“Must they be left who laughed and leapt for joy
“Amid the green woods and the viny fields,
“Adoring the Supreme whom now they scorn?
“Oh! must they perish in their guilt?”—“Away!”
A cold, stern answer to a father's love;
And tears gushed from his aged eyes, and grief
Swelled in his widowed bosom, as he turned
On his departure—yet such tears and woes—
So deep—so awful—even angels felt
A portion of their bitterness, though none
Flow from the sunlight fountains of their bliss.
Slowly the Orient kindled in the dawn,
And dusky vapours curled, in grotesque forms,
O'er vale and upland, tinged with lurid light,
That heaved in masses o'er the ancient hills,
Darkening the brow of snowy Lebanon,
And over Tabor, Hermon, and the plains
Of Ezdraelon hanging like the smoke
Of Hecla o'er Icelandic solitudes.
Forth went the Chosen Family, in haste,
And the High Three, like towers of strength, behind
Majestic marched; o'er Siddim's purple plain,
(Late field of slaughter, where the haughty king
Chedorlaomer battled with his foes,
The rebel sovereigns of the tribute towns)
They fled in terror to the hills; and dark
And darker grew the heavens; fitful gleams
Of gory gloom threw o'er the sable skies
Unnatural blackness; bloodred clouds arose,
And all the horizon quivered as they rushed
In giant armies to the cope of heaven.
Like fiery vapours of a burning world,
They gathered round and shut out light and joy

From the devoted victims of despair.
And they, who were in after ages called
Mothers of nations, gazed in shuddering fear
Where the red banner of destruction shook
O'er Palestine's dark mountains and the towers
Of Sodom and Gomorrah; and deep sounds,
As of the sundering of the earth, arose,
And hollow moanings, as the world bewailed
The ruin of its fairest though its worst.
The birds, with open beaks and fluttering wings,
Rose from the creaking woods and fled in haste
Unto the pinnacles of mountains, crowned
With forests inaccessible, or down
Mid dells and gorges and cliff-arched ravines
Took refuge, trembling—ever and anon
Peering with terror o'er the rugged rocks,
Then shrinking quickly back; the flocks and herds
Looked up amazed as o'er the morning skies
Gathered the miracle of horror's night;
The green turf withered and the fountains turned
To poison, and the leaves in cinders dropped,
And the dark waters quivered and men's breath
Became an agony, and all the air
Seem'd panting; and the starting eye grew wild
Beholding things o'erturned and mixed and lost
In a strange chaos; 't was a fearful time,
A desolation to the trembling heart;
And nature groaned through all her matchless works
When Guilt called down the vengeance of the Just.

“Time wears apace—Almighty vengeance waits,
“Flee to the caverns—to the mountains flee!
“Look not behind, for desolation's wings
“Winnow the Cities of the Plain; they are,
“They shall not be; like a forsaken bough,
“Whose fruit doth turn to ashes, or a tower
“Left in deserted vineyard to become
“The dwelling of the owl and bat—so they
“Shall be a hissing and a scorn forever!
“Their days are numbered and their guilt is sealed;

“Like chaff before the whirlwind, when the storm
“Howls o'er the hills, in all their pride and power,
“E'en in a moment they shall disappear:
“And never more the sound of mirth—the song,
“The voice of bridal or of banqueting,
“The prayers of idol worship or the noise
“Of battle shall be heard in all their realms.
“The hour draws nigh; the sons of evil now
“Are ripe for judgement; lo! amid the skies
“The banner of the Terrible! away!”
Thus urged the high Avengers and their cry
Was ever to all searchings into doom—
“On! for the judgement of the Lord delays!
“Behold! the heavens grow darker and the clouds
“Hang in the sky like Ararat's great ark
“Above the drowning world—a fearful sign
“To earth and heaven; dark stand the forest trees
“And leafless—verdure hath forsaken earth—
“And bird and beast are gasping out their breath,
“That soon will close—and yet the Cities sleep!
“The shattered elements are leagued in war—
“Terror before and wild affright; behind,
“Fear, feeble as the unweaned child that shrinks
“And shudders while the tempest sweeps along!
“Unto the mountains of thy refuge fly!”
And on they hurried; but the human heart
Lingers, like Adam near lost paradise,
Loth to forsake the objects of its love,
Cleaves to its wedded blisses and imparts
Its sweet affections, like the sun to heaven,
To all it cherished in life's earlier years.
When days of evil come and sorrows crush
Our quick and fine-toned feelings to the dust;
And we must wear the sackcloth of the heart,
And leave beloved things and pass away
When Danger's eye is on them and the sword
Is ready to devour—the spirit 's tried
As in a fiery furnace; when despair
Asunder rends the bleeding bonds of love,
And to the bosom even guilt is dear,

How dreadful is the sacrifice of all
The soul hath sanctified! Without a pang,
A last, long lingering gaze that bids farewell
Forever and forever, who can part
From beings loved though lost to loveliness?
It is a bitter trial to forsake,
E'en for a season in this changeful world,
The things we cherish! strange uncertainties
Await the briefest interval—an hour
Hath changed the destinies of half the world,
A moment sundered hearts that met no more.
But, oh! to part from dear familiar scenes
And creatures of endearment and to know
Death and eternity will be between
All future meeting—'t is a cup of woe,
That burns and burns forever in the soul,
Till the grave closes o'er its agonies.
Vain, from the lips of angels, is the hest,
That bars the love of mother from her child;
Love, which is born of woe and sanctified
By suffering; knows no limit, feels no want
When fearful maladies assail; in days
Of cold adversity shares every grief,
And is a higher joy than earth affords
When sunny seasons blossom! From the fount
Of her devoted heart her spirit flows
Through every vein whose life was born in hers,—
And death may stifle but can never quench
The love whose birth-hour is eternity.
From the last hill top that o'erlooked the plain,
When the last glance must now be rendered back,
The last sigh given for forsaken love,
Ere from the view she sunk forever, turned
The Victim Mother once again to weep
The guilt and ruin of the loved, the lost,
The young, the beautiful; her writhen brow
Breathed anguish, and her wildly straining eyes
Sought vainly for the dwellings of the doomed!
With outstretched arms and quivering lips, she stood
In agony unuttered—unrelieved,

By sigh or tear; and so her spirit fled,
The broken heart lay bleeding, but the life
Vanished—and there, Death's chosen monument,
She stands, o'erlooking the Dead Sea, e'en now,
Where herb, nor tree, nor winged bird can live,
Where all her hopes were buried in the gulf
Of desolating ruin; there she stands,
The mother dying for her children's sake,
The Niobe of nature! sculptured Love!
More beautiful than Venus in her pride!
Draw near, behold the triumph of the heart
O'er terror and the war of earth and heaven!

From every point of heaven the black clouds rolled
In masses to the zenith, and the woods
Crumbled to ashes, and unearthly sounds
Moaned in the caverns of the ancient hills,
And every rushing stream was like a flood
Of flame that burned along its blacken'd way.
There was no sun in the o'erpurpled East,
But a dark gory globe, the abode of fiends,
That like a mighty wreck, mid fire and gloom,
Tossing along the billows, but revealed
Terrors the spirit shuddered to behold—
For Retribution sat enthroned in Heaven.

While thus the Chosen fled unto the hills,
Amid the glorious oriental night,
The voice of Songsters and the viol's play,
The merry music of the psaltery,
And dulcimer and harp and tabret rose
Through palace court, the chambers and sweet bowers
Of the proud, purple Cities of the Plain;
And carollings of high carousal blent
With lozel strains and battle songs and jests
Not to be uttered in these latter days,
And maniac shouting, with the long, loud laugh,
Revealing a light heart, whose breath was mirth,
That throbbed, undreading ill or pain or death,
In confidence of many joyous days

Sunny as Yemen or the paradise
Of Islam's dark-eyed houris; and the cup
Was pledged to beauty while the mazy dance
Echoed the sound of sweet-toned instruments,
And eyes voluptuous, brighter than the gems
That glittered on the full white bosom, rolled
Around the pillar'd halls, and, wantonly,
Their magic glances flashed on every heart.
Like sunbows arched along the wavy cloud,
Born of the lightning and the rain-shower, Love,
High master of the revel, threw around
His wizard glances and the throng obeyed
The eloquent behest; white bosoms heaved
Beneath transparent draperies, that gave
Mysterious beauty to the bounding limbs,
And the flushed brow and burning cheek and lip,
The rosy wines, the mellow fruits—the glow
Of thousand lights—the gushing waterfalls,
Whose music stole along the outer courts,
The bloom of nature and the flush of hope,
The shadowed forms, the winning attitudes,
And the wild fever of excited sense—
All filled the brain with visions of delight,
And the heart rioted in wanton bliss.

O holy Night! unto the sage thou art,
And to the poet and the prophet e'er
A time of gladness; when, mid antique lore,
And visionary phantasies and dreams,
And glorious revelations, they become
Beings of brighter worlds than this, thou art
A season of deep counsel and high thoughts,
Or when the hollowness and falsities
Of earthly things oppress the lofty mind
In day's rude glare, thou comest with a step
So gentle that the weary heart hath rest
In thy soft shadows; but, to evil men
And evil purposes, thine hours become
The robe of guilt that gloats and feeds on shame.
Oh! many a deed, darker than is thy gloom,

Lies hidden in thy lone recesses here,
But, over all, there looketh forth an Eye,
To which the darkness is no covering.

Sabea's caravan, the worshippers
Of Mythra and Zohail and Mazzaloth,
Loaded with gorgeous raiment and perfumes,
From Araby the Blest, and pearls and shells,
From Oman's sea, whose shore the wild kings roam,
Pictured like rainbows or the leprous heart
Of a proud priest whose soul is sacrilege,
Ere that dread eve of judgement, when the Lord
Gathered his terrors for an utter war
And desolation of unrighteous men,
Had entered in Gomorrah and diffused
Gladness through all the Cities of the Plain.
Oh! then they dreamed on long bright years of wealth
And glory and rejoicing, and their hearts
Rebelled in haughty confidence; their gods
Became a jesting and a mockery;
Earth was elysium—for the world had poured
Its treasures o'er them and their lot was blessed.
Trusting their own frail pride, they scorned the Power,
That spanned the heavens, forgetting He could wear
Garments of vengeance and hear not the voice
Of dying supplication, when He trod
The winepress of his wrath and on them poured
Dark retribution—when the cup of woe
Was drained unto its deepest dregs—and when
He wrapt the blazing heavens around His brow,
And in the majesty of glory came,
Earth, seas, and skies dissolving at His frown.
Far streamed the festive lights through colonnade
And banquet hall and palace bower, and forms,
In bright array were flitting there, and all
The sons and daughters of the wise Chaldee
Were gay as birds of Paradise; the voice
Of beauty chanted the lascivious song,
And perfume floated in the music's breath.
But, oh, the madness of the mirth! no dream

Portended woe to come; no omen taught
Mysterious prophecy; the hoary sage,
The tiar'd priest of the strong Emims failed
In knowledge of his lore; the enchanter now,
Amazed, beheld his magic science lost.
Lone stood the temples—every idol fell,
But none were there to mark the prodigy.
The starry genii held their altitudes
Indicative of no disaster now,
And not a whisper breathed that could forewarn
The terrors of the dawn; so joyance leapt
In every heart until their halls grew dim,
And weary nature craved repose;—then sunk
The gay host into slumber; death were not
A deeper solitude—save where the step
Of the bent pilgrim, hastening on his way,
Broke the deep silence of the cities doomed,
Or the lone caravan, departing, sent
The echoes of their many hurrying feet.

The storm of wrath had gathered and it hung
In giant folds of blackness round the skies,
Revealed, not lightened by the glorious sun,
Whose disk gloomed like an universe of blood—
A burning ocean from the hearts of men.
The thick, hushed atmosphere did seem alive,
And beings diabolic in the clouds
Laughed louder than the storm's mysterious roar.
Beneath the black and sundered rocks the herds
Lay gasping in their agonies, and oft
The forests and the crags fell down and crushed
The dying; yet no wind stirr'd the dead boughs,
But all the world seemed waiting—mute and still—
The bursting of destruction's barriers.
Yet the bare, leafless, blackened forests shook,
Reeled and uptore the solid earth and crashed
Down the deep precipice—and tigers howled,
With famished wolves, and owls and bitterns moaned,
And vultures swooped and screamed, and eagles wheeled,
(Shunning to taste the prey that Ruin gave,)

Through the red scorching air and shrieked on high.
Now heaved the Earth, and deep low muttering sounds
Passed o'er her dark abysses, while above
Voices did question and reply, in words
That sounded like a deep toned organ's roll.
These were the oracles of coming doom,
But none did hear them save the Shepherd Prince
And Haran's son in Zoar—and they knelt
In prayer for all who were to perish now.
Darker and darker grew the storm; the glare
And gloom were terrible; the pause—the awe—
The riot of the hurrying elements—
The howling of the demons o'er their prey—
The bursting earth and the dissolving sky.
Wild meteors burst amid the lurid heavens
Louder than all the world's artillery,
And shattered globes of fire glared o'er the gloom,
Like hell's eternal billows through the night
Of death that dies not—horror without end.

As when the sea-flood, Orellana meets
In conflict with the ocean, every isle
Of Amazonia quivers in the shock,
So the earth trembled when the whirlwind rose
And howled through ether with a louder roar
Than the tornado of the equinox.
Unearthly voices echoed through the heavens
As every hurrying cloud of fire on high
Had its peculiar captain in the war
Of God with men. Now, at the appointed hour
Of vengeance, burst from every point of heaven
The tempest of destruction;awfully
The shattering thunders broke—the lightning fell
In one wild blaze unquenchable—a flood
Of flame as if the fountains of the skies
Were broken up and earth and nature given
A sacrifice to judgement!—Now awoke
The slumbering Cities in their agony
And utter woe, for o'er them leapt and hissed,
In serpent wreaths, the master element,

That mounted up in pyramids of flame,
As it would mingle with the burning heavens.
Ye terrors of an angry God! above,
Below, a penal world of gory light
No power could quench, and thunders, not like earth's,
At intervals, but one unceasing roar,
So loud, all worlds replied; so strong, they shook
Ten thousand meteors from their sightless spheres.
Then forth, like Eblis and his legions driven
By Azrael from the gates of Paradise,
In madness rushed the myriads of the Plain.
From falling tower and crushing colonnade,
And melted roof and shattered battlement,
They leapt in raving agony—the flames
Clinging, like serpents, to their tender flesh.
Then rose the voice of wailing; then the arms
Of the young mother grew around her child,
And the son clung about his father's neck,
And lovely maidens fainted in their fear
And woke no more; then sorcerers tried their charms
In vain; and priests invoked aloud their gods
Without reply. Amid the awful storm,
Among their dying people, stood the kings,
The haughty gods of idol worshippers,
Powerless and helpless as the unweaned child,
While heaven above and hell beneath conjoined
In the destruction; and their crowned queens
And daughters beautiful and kindred high
Clung round them wailing, and ten thousand prayers
Shrieked with unnumbered curses! Towers of fire
Rose round them high as heaven, and their flesh
Consumed, and then their hollow cries and prayers
And imprecations waxed more terrible.
The awful glare for leagues around revealed
The dying nations; Jordan's swelling stream
Boiled through the furnace, and the mountain cliffs
Unto their deep foundations shivered—Earth,
A trembling mass of fiery ashes, heaved
Beneath the countless multitudes; the world
Reeled to and fro and all the heavens did seem

Ready to fall.—Hosts upon hosts now lay
Dead, and the dying fell upon them there,
The monarch and the mendicant—the prince
And peasant, the fair dame in Persian robes
And the poor outcast, side by side were thrown,
And, mid the pauses of the tempest, rose
Loud yells of agony; and demons then
Mocked their last anguish, till an angel voice,
That shook the heavens, drowned the dying groans,
And cried “It is enough!”—the skies were bright!
And on the instant, the astonished Earth
Yawned in a bottomless chasm 'neath the host
Of Sodom and Gomorrah; and the dead
And dying, mingled in a mass of fire
And blood, went down into the gulf of woe,
And burning temples, palaces and towers
Glared wildly o'er them as they fell! From depths
Dark and unmeasured, like a spectre, rose
The Dead and Deadly Sea; an outstretched arm
Quivered, at intervals, along the wave,
Once rose a shriek of Death—and all was still!

University of Virginia Library

THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN.

THE ARGUMENT.