The Descent into Hell Second Edition, Revised and Re-arranged, with an Analysis and Notes: To which are added, Uriel, a Fragment and Three Odes. By John A. Heraud |
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| ODES. |
 | The Descent into Hell |  |
267
ODES.
KLOPSTOCK'S “DER FRÜHLINGSFEYER;”
OR, THE SOLEMNIZATION OF SPRING.
Not into the World-Ocean would I soar,
Nor hover where the First-Create adore,
The Sons of Light, a Choir of Jubilee,
And, as they worship, sink in ecstasy—
But round the Drop upon the Bucket's brim,
Only round Earth, I hover worshipping—
Sing, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! sing!
The Drop upon the Bucket, (praise to Him!)
Did also flow, at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
Nor hover where the First-Create adore,
The Sons of Light, a Choir of Jubilee,
And, as they worship, sink in ecstasy—
But round the Drop upon the Bucket's brim,
Only round Earth, I hover worshipping—
Sing, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! sing!
The Drop upon the Bucket, (praise to Him!)
Did also flow, at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
When from his hand of Power Infinite
The greater Earths outwelled,
When rushed the Streams of Light,
And the Planets Seven compelled —
Then flowedst thou, Drop! at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
The greater Earths outwelled,
When rushed the Streams of Light,
And the Planets Seven compelled —
Then flowedst thou, Drop! at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
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When rushed a Stream of Light, and grew our Sun,
When dashed, like storm-cloud down a rock,
Of lustrous waves a billowy shock,
And girt Orion, belted One—
Then flowedst thou, Drop! at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
When dashed, like storm-cloud down a rock,
Of lustrous waves a billowy shock,
And girt Orion, belted One—
Then flowedst thou, Drop! at his command,
Out of the hollow of the Almighty's hand!
The thousand-thousands, myriads—what are they,
The Drop who people or have peopled?—nay,
What even am I? To the Creator's praise
Loud Hallelujahs raise!—
More than all Earths that from his hand outwelled,
More than the Starry Seven that were from rays compelled.
The Drop who people or have peopled?—nay,
What even am I? To the Creator's praise
Loud Hallelujahs raise!—
More than all Earths that from his hand outwelled,
More than the Starry Seven that were from rays compelled.
But thou, O greenly golden Worm of Spring!
That flutterest nigh with playful glance—
Thou livest—thou—and art, perchance,
Ah! no immortal thing!—
Forth went to worship I—
Weep I instead? Forgive—forgive—
This tear to poor mortality,
Thou who for aye dost live!
Thou wilt all doubts to me unveil, even Thou,
Who through Death's valley dark and dern
Wilt guide my path! I then shall learn,
Whether the golden Worm a Soul endow—
Art thou but shaped Dust alone?
Offspring of May—thus then,
Dispersant dust become again
Or what else wills the Eternal One.
That flutterest nigh with playful glance—
Thou livest—thou—and art, perchance,
Ah! no immortal thing!—
Forth went to worship I—
Weep I instead? Forgive—forgive—
This tear to poor mortality,
Thou who for aye dost live!
Thou wilt all doubts to me unveil, even Thou,
Who through Death's valley dark and dern
Wilt guide my path! I then shall learn,
Whether the golden Worm a Soul endow—
Art thou but shaped Dust alone?
Offspring of May—thus then,
Dispersant dust become again
Or what else wills the Eternal One.
Shed thou anew, my Eye!
The tears of gladness—
My Harp! rise thou from sadness,
And praise the Lord on High.
Wreathed again, with palms—with palms
Wreathed is my harp, my lips are glad with psalms—
Here stand I, while around my raptured sense
All teems with Wonder, with Omnipotence.
Creation I behold with awe of heart—
For Thou!
O Nameless! Thou!
Its Author art!
The tears of gladness—
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And praise the Lord on High.
Wreathed again, with palms—with palms
Wreathed is my harp, my lips are glad with psalms—
Here stand I, while around my raptured sense
All teems with Wonder, with Omnipotence.
Creation I behold with awe of heart—
For Thou!
O Nameless! Thou!
Its Author art!
Airs! that about me blow,
And breathe soft coolness on my fervid brow—
Marvellous Airs! his Word of might
Sent you—the Lord, the Infinite!
But now they hush—they scarcely breathe—
The morning-sun glows sultrily—
Above, clouds stream and wreathe—
He comes—the Eternal!—visibly.
They swoop—they rush—the Winds whirl now!
How bows the Wood—the Stream swells how!
Visible, as to mortals thou mayst be,
Thou comest, Infinite! ay, visibly!
The Forest bends—the Stream recedes apace—
And fall I not upon my face?
Lord! Lord! God! merciful! and full of grace!
Have mercy, thou who art so nigh, on me!
And breathe soft coolness on my fervid brow—
Marvellous Airs! his Word of might
Sent you—the Lord, the Infinite!
But now they hush—they scarcely breathe—
The morning-sun glows sultrily—
Above, clouds stream and wreathe—
He comes—the Eternal!—visibly.
They swoop—they rush—the Winds whirl now!
How bows the Wood—the Stream swells how!
Visible, as to mortals thou mayst be,
Thou comest, Infinite! ay, visibly!
The Forest bends—the Stream recedes apace—
And fall I not upon my face?
Lord! Lord! God! merciful! and full of grace!
Have mercy, thou who art so nigh, on me!
Lord! wroth art thou,
That Night is thus thy garment now?
This Night to Earth is Blessing rather—
Thou art not wroth, O Father!
That Night is thus thy garment now?
This Night to Earth is Blessing rather—
Thou art not wroth, O Father!
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Before Thee all is still; Approaching Power!
All round about is in deep stillness lying!
The gold-clad Worm looks upward in this hour—
Not soul-less then, perhaps? perhaps, undying?
O were my power to praise Thee as my will!
Ever more glorious thou thyself revealest—
Darker the night becomes where thou concealest,
But heavier grows with Blessing—fuller still!
All round about is in deep stillness lying!
The gold-clad Worm looks upward in this hour—
Not soul-less then, perhaps? perhaps, undying?
O were my power to praise Thee as my will!
Ever more glorious thou thyself revealest—
Darker the night becomes where thou concealest,
But heavier grows with Blessing—fuller still!
Sign of him nigh, see ye the quivering beam?
Jehovah's thunder hear ye?
Hear ye it, how near ye?
The shattering thunder of the Lord Supreme!
Lord! Lord! God!
The merciful! the full of grace!
Be worship and high laud
Unto thy glorious Name!—
—And the storm-winds? They bear the Thunder!
How they rush!
O how, in their impetuous mood,
They stream with loud waves through the wood!
And now they hush—
And slowly, in its place,
The swart cloud wanders whence they came.
Jehovah's thunder hear ye?
Hear ye it, how near ye?
The shattering thunder of the Lord Supreme!
Lord! Lord! God!
The merciful! the full of grace!
Be worship and high laud
Unto thy glorious Name!—
—And the storm-winds? They bear the Thunder!
How they rush!
O how, in their impetuous mood,
They stream with loud waves through the wood!
And now they hush—
And slowly, in its place,
The swart cloud wanders whence they came.
New token now, see ye the flashing beam?
Hear ye on high his thunder, Lord Supreme?
He calls: Jehovah!—Jehovah!—Alas!
Smokes the smit forest—but—
Oh! not our Hut!
Our Father gave command,
His dread Destroyer's brand
Our Hut should overpass!
Hear ye on high his thunder, Lord Supreme?
He calls: Jehovah!—Jehovah!—Alas!
Smokes the smit forest—but—
Oh! not our Hut!
Our Father gave command,
His dread Destroyer's brand
Our Hut should overpass!
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Ah! pours already—ah! already pours
Heaven, and Earth flows with the prolifick Showers!
Now is the Earth refreshed (how thirsted she!)
And Heaven of his full Blessing is set free—
No more Jehovah comes in storm and dread,
But in still murmurs sweet,
He comes; and underneath his feet,
Behold the Bow of Peace, an arch of beauty, spread.
Heaven, and Earth flows with the prolifick Showers!
Now is the Earth refreshed (how thirsted she!)
And Heaven of his full Blessing is set free—
No more Jehovah comes in storm and dread,
But in still murmurs sweet,
He comes; and underneath his feet,
Behold the Bow of Peace, an arch of beauty, spread.
December, 1833 .
272
THE AUTUMNAL BENEDICTION;
In Emulation of KLOPSTOCK's “DER FRÜHLINGSFEYER.”
[17th August, 1831]
Man's Soul is worthier than the Universe;
Even Heaven doth pale before her holier gaze,
And thee, dim Earth! with power she can transpierce,
And consecrate thee to thy Maker's praise.
Who died on Calvary, made that Earth-Hill
More sacred than Celestial Mount of Vision—
And Men who, Liberty! thy Law fulfil,
May build on each an Altar to Decision,
Even Heaven doth pale before her holier gaze,
And thee, dim Earth! with power she can transpierce,
And consecrate thee to thy Maker's praise.
Who died on Calvary, made that Earth-Hill
More sacred than Celestial Mount of Vision—
And Men who, Liberty! thy Law fulfil,
May build on each an Altar to Decision,
Fair art thou, Mother! to the Soul
That meditates on thy creation hour,
When the Omnifick Word set either pole,
To be the columns of thy house,
And bade thee rise, Heaven's fruitful Spouse,
And gave thee marriage dower:
While yet but Chaos' Daughter. As the spheres
Anthemed thy nuptial welcome, Seraphim,
And Cherubim,
Baptized thee with their fiery tears,
And a holy hymn,
Amidst the Stars,
Rang out in glory from their mystick cars.
That meditates on thy creation hour,
When the Omnifick Word set either pole,
To be the columns of thy house,
And bade thee rise, Heaven's fruitful Spouse,
And gave thee marriage dower:
While yet but Chaos' Daughter. As the spheres
Anthemed thy nuptial welcome, Seraphim,
And Cherubim,
Baptized thee with their fiery tears,
And a holy hymn,
Amidst the Stars,
Rang out in glory from their mystick cars.
273
Thou hearest yet that Word,
When Winter's Snows thy womb with warmth invest,
When Spring awakens first the lyrick bird,
Or Summer peoples with new tribes the faery nest.
When Winter's Snows thy womb with warmth invest,
When Spring awakens first the lyrick bird,
Or Summer peoples with new tribes the faery nest.
Autumn! thy plains are glorious; there the Corn
Waves at even, noon, and morn;
And the round Moon, broad as old warrior's shield,
With conquest red, walks jovial o'er the field.
The Heavens are drunk with victory—
Earth! thou art drunk with plenty. Harvest teems;
And thy strong Children, Nature! see:—
The sickle and the sheaf—them either well beseems.
Waves at even, noon, and morn;
And the round Moon, broad as old warrior's shield,
With conquest red, walks jovial o'er the field.
The Heavens are drunk with victory—
Earth! thou art drunk with plenty. Harvest teems;
And thy strong Children, Nature! see:—
The sickle and the sheaf—them either well beseems.
Oh Nature! Toil and Skill of thee are born—
Stern Labourers; their Mother thou; their Sire
Thou art, O Mind! The thistle and the thorn
Depart, as from the soil high Thoughts aspire—
High Thoughts! ye soar aloft and pass the sky,
And seek your Father, where he secret dwells,
The Eternal in his own Eternity,
Fount, whence all Seasons flow, and Time outwells:—
Stern Labourers; their Mother thou; their Sire
Thou art, O Mind! The thistle and the thorn
Depart, as from the soil high Thoughts aspire—
High Thoughts! ye soar aloft and pass the sky,
And seek your Father, where he secret dwells,
The Eternal in his own Eternity,
Fount, whence all Seasons flow, and Time outwells:—
The God of Harvest! Kneel,
Children of Nature born;
From His full horn
The Bounty which ye reap—confess his Love, who feel!
Feel ye not Him in the soft airs, that now
Fan, in the noon tide heat, the sweating brow?
Him in these gentle drops that, big and few,
Fall on the weary, like refreshing dew?
Your eyes are raised, as if to Him, on high—
The clouds a little dim the sky—
No breeze is stirring, and a sudden calm
Quiets the sense, subdued as if with balm.
—All still—how still! Children of Nature! she
Awaits in silence what shall be—
The All-Present makes his Presence known,
Not only (as felt) by the deep Heart alone—
But to the Ear, and to the Eye,
Audibly and visibly.
How glows the air!—what if with ire?
For God is a consuming Fire!
Children of Nature born;
From His full horn
The Bounty which ye reap—confess his Love, who feel!
Feel ye not Him in the soft airs, that now
Fan, in the noon tide heat, the sweating brow?
Him in these gentle drops that, big and few,
Fall on the weary, like refreshing dew?
Your eyes are raised, as if to Him, on high—
The clouds a little dim the sky—
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Quiets the sense, subdued as if with balm.
—All still—how still! Children of Nature! she
Awaits in silence what shall be—
The All-Present makes his Presence known,
Not only (as felt) by the deep Heart alone—
But to the Ear, and to the Eye,
Audibly and visibly.
How glows the air!—what if with ire?
For God is a consuming Fire!
Fears Earth His coming that she crouches so,
While the storm blackens in her Lord's swart frown?
While Heaven collects his armies, to come down,
What if in wrath? and dreads she wreck and wo?
—He comes! in darkness comes! God! verily,
Thou hidest thy perfections! Who shall see
The Almighty, and survive?
He comes in mercy then, who wills that Man shall live!
While the storm blackens in her Lord's swart frown?
While Heaven collects his armies, to come down,
What if in wrath? and dreads she wreck and wo?
—He comes! in darkness comes! God! verily,
Thou hidest thy perfections! Who shall see
The Almighty, and survive?
He comes in mercy then, who wills that Man shall live!
Merciful Father! in the Spring heard we
Thy thunder, and saw thee
In the dark teeming clouds. Then poured the rain,
To feed the budding grape, to swell the springing grain—
—Therefore we will not fear,
Because thou comest now in majesty,
Though the Sun hide himself, ere thou appear:
Not deathless he—but the Soul cannot die!
—The Corn has ripened with the Sun and Dew,
The Showers have swelled the ears—we watched it while it grew—
Now the ripe Shocks stand in the field uppiled,
And Man rejoices—God is reconciled.
—Yes! though the arrowy Lightning, from his bow
Elanced, flash through the excited atmosphere—
Look! Saw ye not the Shaft pass now?
Hark! heard ye not? do ye not hear?
Holy! Holy! Holy!
On Earth have Mercy, Lord!
Holy! Holy! Holy!
To Man his Prayer accord!—
Thy thunder, and saw thee
In the dark teeming clouds. Then poured the rain,
To feed the budding grape, to swell the springing grain—
—Therefore we will not fear,
Because thou comest now in majesty,
Though the Sun hide himself, ere thou appear:
Not deathless he—but the Soul cannot die!
—The Corn has ripened with the Sun and Dew,
The Showers have swelled the ears—we watched it while it grew—
Now the ripe Shocks stand in the field uppiled,
And Man rejoices—God is reconciled.
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Elanced, flash through the excited atmosphere—
Look! Saw ye not the Shaft pass now?
Hark! heard ye not? do ye not hear?
Holy! Holy! Holy!
On Earth have Mercy, Lord!
Holy! Holy! Holy!
To Man his Prayer accord!—
That peal was loud and long—
The Thunder of His Power—
The Lord our God is strong—
His Voice makes Flesh to cower.
His bolt hath smitten yonder Oak,
Hills trembled at the flash,
Rivers leaped up beneath the stroke,
And echoed with the crash—
Holy! Holy! Holy!
On Earth have Mercy, Lord!
Holy! Holy! Holy!
To Man his Prayer accord!
The Thunder of His Power—
The Lord our God is strong—
His Voice makes Flesh to cower.
His bolt hath smitten yonder Oak,
Hills trembled at the flash,
Rivers leaped up beneath the stroke,
And echoed with the crash—
Holy! Holy! Holy!
On Earth have Mercy, Lord!
Holy! Holy! Holy!
To Man his Prayer accord!
The Clouds have burst—the torrent shower
Descends. It is a fearful hour!
While as the Deluge swoops, the Lightnings fly,
And the proud Thunder neighs about the Sky.
Holy! Holy! Holy!
The Lord our God is strong—
Holy! Holy! Holy!
His Wrath endures not long.
Descends. It is a fearful hour!
While as the Deluge swoops, the Lightnings fly,
And the proud Thunder neighs about the Sky.
Holy! Holy! Holy!
The Lord our God is strong—
Holy! Holy! Holy!
His Wrath endures not long.
Mingle together Heaven and Earth—
Ah! the great truth is now revealed—
Love stoops from his high seat to bless the Birth,
Wherewith the mighty Mother hath appealed
To him whom, at the time
Of Nature's prime,
She wedded; and, in his embrace, she hears,
Well-pleased, of his delight sublime
In her prolifick years.
Ah! the great truth is now revealed—
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Wherewith the mighty Mother hath appealed
To him whom, at the time
Of Nature's prime,
She wedded; and, in his embrace, she hears,
Well-pleased, of his delight sublime
In her prolifick years.
Therefore with mighty tumult, and great noise,
He doth rejoice,
And scattereth noxious vapours from the air,
And fertilizeth every-where.
—Anon, the Clouds disperse, and Eve serene
Breathes fragrance, while the softened Sun
Spreads peaceful o'er the smiling scene;
That Benediction done!
He doth rejoice,
And scattereth noxious vapours from the air,
And fertilizeth every-where.
—Anon, the Clouds disperse, and Eve serene
Breathes fragrance, while the softened Sun
Spreads peaceful o'er the smiling scene;
That Benediction done!
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