 | A Midsummer Day's Dream |  |
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THE DREAM.
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Methought that, as I lay,
A shape of dazzling light stood over me;
His stature more than man's, but full of grace
And indescribable beauty. Gold-tinged locks,
That shone like sunbeams, round his temples curl'd,
And cluster'd in his neck; his ample brow
Was pure and open as the cloudless heaven;
His eye gazed on me with a bright, soft fire,
Like the first sun-tints on some mountain's peak
Seen from the vales below, ere day hath risen.
He seem'd not flesh like man, nor yet mere air;
But like some glorious thing of light create,
Rosy with morn's first blush. High majesty
He had; but therewith blended a divine
Softness, benignity, and gracefulness:
And, where he stood, I mark'd the slender grass,
That would have bent beneath an insect's weight,
Standing unbow'd, and freely vibrating
To every sighing breeze.
A shape of dazzling light stood over me;
His stature more than man's, but full of grace
And indescribable beauty. Gold-tinged locks,
That shone like sunbeams, round his temples curl'd,
And cluster'd in his neck; his ample brow
Was pure and open as the cloudless heaven;
His eye gazed on me with a bright, soft fire,
Like the first sun-tints on some mountain's peak
Seen from the vales below, ere day hath risen.
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But like some glorious thing of light create,
Rosy with morn's first blush. High majesty
He had; but therewith blended a divine
Softness, benignity, and gracefulness:
And, where he stood, I mark'd the slender grass,
That would have bent beneath an insect's weight,
Standing unbow'd, and freely vibrating
To every sighing breeze.
He spake at length:—
The tones were tender as the lightest pulse
Of that sweet harp touch'd by the delicate fingers
Of spirits of the air, yet had a power
Upon my soul like low-discoursing thunder
Heard in the still night: with that power a charm
Like woman's voice, when in the deep repose
Of summer's twilight she first owns her love.
I could not fear, for 'twas not terrible;
I could not love, for it was too majestic;
But I could deeply, fervently admire,
And bow my spirit down as when I gaze
At midnight on the unfathomable deep
Of ether, spangled with its myriad fires.
Thus the melodious-voiced one spake; and the air
Took fragrance from his rosy-tinted lips.
The tones were tender as the lightest pulse
Of that sweet harp touch'd by the delicate fingers
Of spirits of the air, yet had a power
Upon my soul like low-discoursing thunder
Heard in the still night: with that power a charm
Like woman's voice, when in the deep repose
Of summer's twilight she first owns her love.
I could not fear, for 'twas not terrible;
I could not love, for it was too majestic;
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And bow my spirit down as when I gaze
At midnight on the unfathomable deep
Of ether, spangled with its myriad fires.
Thus the melodious-voiced one spake; and the air
Took fragrance from his rosy-tinted lips.
“Thou art a son of earth, and earthly eyes
See nought but what is earthly. The fine shapes
Ethereal that people this fair world
And the vast universe, ye cannot see:
Ye can behold the rich vermilion clouds
Of morning and of eve, but cannot view
The beautiful spirits that therein reside,
And make them beautiful. Ye can see the flowers,
Their shapes and colours, and your other sense
Perceives their odorous exhalations; but
The forms from your thick sight are hid, that mould
Their elegant fabric, paint their various hues,
And breathe into them perfume. When the wind
Wails through the gloomy forest, ye see not
The solemn spirit on the lonely hill
Making that mournful music. Ye can hear
The voice of thunders, thronging waves, and groans
Of earthquakes; but ye never could behold,
And live, the terrible and mighty powers
That work them.
See nought but what is earthly. The fine shapes
Ethereal that people this fair world
And the vast universe, ye cannot see:
Ye can behold the rich vermilion clouds
Of morning and of eve, but cannot view
The beautiful spirits that therein reside,
And make them beautiful. Ye can see the flowers,
Their shapes and colours, and your other sense
Perceives their odorous exhalations; but
The forms from your thick sight are hid, that mould
Their elegant fabric, paint their various hues,
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Wails through the gloomy forest, ye see not
The solemn spirit on the lonely hill
Making that mournful music. Ye can hear
The voice of thunders, thronging waves, and groans
Of earthquakes; but ye never could behold,
And live, the terrible and mighty powers
That work them.
“All the earth, the sea, the sky,
Have many such; your fellow planets too
That roll like yours round yon magnificent sun:—
He also hath ethereal ministers
That do his errands here and through all space,
Subjected to his influence. One of these
I am.
Have many such; your fellow planets too
That roll like yours round yon magnificent sun:—
He also hath ethereal ministers
That do his errands here and through all space,
Subjected to his influence. One of these
I am.
“To us, whose purer elements
Are all unfetter'd by gross matter, time
And space are nought, or almost nought; for we
Are not ethereal quite. That highest Spirit
Whom we name not, but, thinking of, bow down,—
That Highest One alone is spirit pure.
Yet farthest space by us is quicker spann'd
Than by man's quickest thought. Pass in your mind
Around the globe,—o'er seas and continents
Speed with a glance,—yet our fleet essences
Shall reach the goal before you.
Are all unfetter'd by gross matter, time
And space are nought, or almost nought; for we
Are not ethereal quite. That highest Spirit
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That Highest One alone is spirit pure.
Yet farthest space by us is quicker spann'd
Than by man's quickest thought. Pass in your mind
Around the globe,—o'er seas and continents
Speed with a glance,—yet our fleet essences
Shall reach the goal before you.
“When, o'ercome
By the hot blaze of day, and lull'd by sounds
Of drowsy earth and waves, you laid you down
To rest on this soft bank, even then was I
On the sun's orb, awaiting the command
To visit earth; for on this day we hold
A festival, and all the spirits that wait
Upon the summer, giving it its flowers,
And balmy airs, and dews, and rosy skies,
Pour this day all their treasures out, rejoicing;
Yet, ere your languid senses had sunk down
In slumber, I had shot athwart the fields
Of ether 'twixt yon sun and this your globe,—
A distance inconceivable by thought
Of man, though he hath number'd it in words
Pronounc'd as easily as if he took
The altitude of a mole-hill, but no more
Conceived thus than when he names infinity,
And thinks that measures it.
By the hot blaze of day, and lull'd by sounds
Of drowsy earth and waves, you laid you down
To rest on this soft bank, even then was I
On the sun's orb, awaiting the command
To visit earth; for on this day we hold
A festival, and all the spirits that wait
Upon the summer, giving it its flowers,
And balmy airs, and dews, and rosy skies,
Pour this day all their treasures out, rejoicing;
Yet, ere your languid senses had sunk down
In slumber, I had shot athwart the fields
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A distance inconceivable by thought
Of man, though he hath number'd it in words
Pronounc'd as easily as if he took
The altitude of a mole-hill, but no more
Conceived thus than when he names infinity,
And thinks that measures it.
“The race of earth
Love beings moulded like themselves of earth:
Existences more subtile are too fine
For their gross sympathies. Th' ethereal race
Love also more peculiarly the things
Compounded like themselves, yet they disdain not
To hold at times communion with mankind;
Partly that with man's clay a spirit like theirs,
Though much inferior, is join'd, aspiring
Oft-times to noble speculations; partly
That higher natures look with pitying eye
On human weakness, and would aid the worm
To put on wings, and voyage through the air,
If its gross nature make it not prefer
To crawl the dirty ground.
Love beings moulded like themselves of earth:
Existences more subtile are too fine
For their gross sympathies. Th' ethereal race
Love also more peculiarly the things
Compounded like themselves, yet they disdain not
To hold at times communion with mankind;
Partly that with man's clay a spirit like theirs,
Though much inferior, is join'd, aspiring
Oft-times to noble speculations; partly
That higher natures look with pitying eye
On human weakness, and would aid the worm
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If its gross nature make it not prefer
To crawl the dirty ground.
“With some few men
Of highest intellect, and thereto join'd
The highest virtue, that enlarged love,
That makes them see in all the race of men
One family; that bids them gently judge
Their fellow's weakness, knowing that themselves
Are weak; that teaches pity even for guilt;
(For who can know how circumstance, or error,
Venial perhaps at first, hath led the wretch
Step after step, resisting, but compell'd?
For who can know how, in the course from fault
To crime, he hath endured agony,
Remorse, and shame?—how virtuous purposes
Have risen within him,—resolutions great
For future days, only to fall in turn,
As others fell, from force of outward thing
And strain the rack-wheel of remorse and shame
To more endureless torture?)—
Of highest intellect, and thereto join'd
The highest virtue, that enlarged love,
That makes them see in all the race of men
One family; that bids them gently judge
Their fellow's weakness, knowing that themselves
Are weak; that teaches pity even for guilt;
(For who can know how circumstance, or error,
Venial perhaps at first, hath led the wretch
Step after step, resisting, but compell'd?
For who can know how, in the course from fault
To crime, he hath endured agony,
Remorse, and shame?—how virtuous purposes
Have risen within him,—resolutions great
For future days, only to fall in turn,
As others fell, from force of outward thing
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To more endureless torture?)—
—with such men
The spirits of the elements have oft
Commun'd, and giv'n to their frail sense a power
To see the beautiful and mighty workings
Of Nature, else invisible to man.
Such favour'd men their fellows reverence,
And call them great and godlike, and their names
Are glorious through long ages.
The spirits of the elements have oft
Commun'd, and giv'n to their frail sense a power
To see the beautiful and mighty workings
Of Nature, else invisible to man.
Such favour'd men their fellows reverence,
And call them great and godlike, and their names
Are glorious through long ages.
“But there are
Who, lacking the high mind, and knowing nought
But a warm love for nature's visible charms,
Have yet by some kind spirit been indulged
With glimpses of her hidden loveliness;
And therefore do I visit thee to show
Thy feeble, but admiring eyes the things
That are around thee; for th' ethereal shapes
That tend these cliffs and glens, and those pure waters,
Tell how from earliest morn, nay through the night,
Thou hast been giving up thy soul to feel
Nature's divine delights on this bright day,
The brightest of the year. Now, up! and look
With a new sight about thee.”
Who, lacking the high mind, and knowing nought
But a warm love for nature's visible charms,
Have yet by some kind spirit been indulged
With glimpses of her hidden loveliness;
And therefore do I visit thee to show
Thy feeble, but admiring eyes the things
That are around thee; for th' ethereal shapes
That tend these cliffs and glens, and those pure waters,
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Thou hast been giving up thy soul to feel
Nature's divine delights on this bright day,
The brightest of the year. Now, up! and look
With a new sight about thee.”
At these words
Methought I started up and saw—Oh heavens!
What words can tell the infinite delight
Of that fine vision! All the hills and vales
Teem'd with celestial shapes: the skies and waters
Were throng'd with them. Some rode upon the sea,
And, where they touch'd, the waves grew suddenly bright,
And crisp'd and danced. Some skimm'd along its face,
With graceful windings bending here and there;
Now slow and languidly,—now shooting out
Right o'er the deep to the horizon's edge,
Diminish'd in an instant to a point,
Yet to my strengthen'd sight still visible.
There, on that delicate line where sea and sky
Seem blending, I could trace their mazy flight
Like atoms in the sunbeam; and anon,
Ere I could speak, again they rode the waves
Close to the shore. Thousands along the sky
In all directions flew, yet without wings,
As if the will alone impell'd them on.
Some gently sail'd along on the mid air;
And if they pass'd at times a thin white cloud,
It would expand, and take a rosy tint,
Like a pale virgin's blush. Some from the sea
Sprang up at once with perpendicular flight
Into the heavens, and there, no more to view
Than the small insects floating in the air
On summer's evening after rain, they flew
In mazy windings; then again glanced down
In straight or curved track; or took sometimes
A flight still upward, and dissolved at once
In the infinite distance.
Methought I started up and saw—Oh heavens!
What words can tell the infinite delight
Of that fine vision! All the hills and vales
Teem'd with celestial shapes: the skies and waters
Were throng'd with them. Some rode upon the sea,
And, where they touch'd, the waves grew suddenly bright,
And crisp'd and danced. Some skimm'd along its face,
With graceful windings bending here and there;
Now slow and languidly,—now shooting out
Right o'er the deep to the horizon's edge,
Diminish'd in an instant to a point,
Yet to my strengthen'd sight still visible.
There, on that delicate line where sea and sky
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Like atoms in the sunbeam; and anon,
Ere I could speak, again they rode the waves
Close to the shore. Thousands along the sky
In all directions flew, yet without wings,
As if the will alone impell'd them on.
Some gently sail'd along on the mid air;
And if they pass'd at times a thin white cloud,
It would expand, and take a rosy tint,
Like a pale virgin's blush. Some from the sea
Sprang up at once with perpendicular flight
Into the heavens, and there, no more to view
Than the small insects floating in the air
On summer's evening after rain, they flew
In mazy windings; then again glanced down
In straight or curved track; or took sometimes
A flight still upward, and dissolved at once
In the infinite distance.
Here in groups they sport,
Pursuing and pursued; or, forming rings,
They tread the air in merry dance, and still
Fly as they tread,—now sideways, now aloft,
Now down, and up again; and some I saw
Seated on ruby clouds, that gave them music—
As seem'd—from glittering harps, though yet my ear,
Ungifted, heard it not:—and then again,
As I look'd on the hills, the woods, the vales,
The same bright forms were there,—not all alike
In size and hue: some were of infant stature,
With rosy cheek, and ever-laughing eye;
These chiefly sported on the flowery banks,
And brush'd along the tops of the tall grass,
That sway'd and sparkled where they flew. Some were
Like virgins in the blossom of their youth,
Of inexpressible loveliness: these lay
In the rich vales, beneath the shade of trees,
Or floated at their ease along the meadows,
Couch'd on the air: where'er they moved, the flowers
Bow'd down their tender heads, all—faint with bliss
'Neath that luxurious presence. Others wound
Among the woods, their bright shapes gleaming through
The thick shade, and upon the quivering leaves
Casting by fits a sunny glow. But some,
Of noblest form and height, were of the hues
Of those most gorgeous clouds that shrine the sun
At morn or eve, and of each delicate tint
Blended between them. These along the sky
Moved chiefly,—glorious shapes of fire!—lighting
The heavens where'er they flew, and casting down
Upon the hills and waves all radiant hues.
Pursuing and pursued; or, forming rings,
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Fly as they tread,—now sideways, now aloft,
Now down, and up again; and some I saw
Seated on ruby clouds, that gave them music—
As seem'd—from glittering harps, though yet my ear,
Ungifted, heard it not:—and then again,
As I look'd on the hills, the woods, the vales,
The same bright forms were there,—not all alike
In size and hue: some were of infant stature,
With rosy cheek, and ever-laughing eye;
These chiefly sported on the flowery banks,
And brush'd along the tops of the tall grass,
That sway'd and sparkled where they flew. Some were
Like virgins in the blossom of their youth,
Of inexpressible loveliness: these lay
In the rich vales, beneath the shade of trees,
Or floated at their ease along the meadows,
Couch'd on the air: where'er they moved, the flowers
Bow'd down their tender heads, all—faint with bliss
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Among the woods, their bright shapes gleaming through
The thick shade, and upon the quivering leaves
Casting by fits a sunny glow. But some,
Of noblest form and height, were of the hues
Of those most gorgeous clouds that shrine the sun
At morn or eve, and of each delicate tint
Blended between them. These along the sky
Moved chiefly,—glorious shapes of fire!—lighting
The heavens where'er they flew, and casting down
Upon the hills and waves all radiant hues.
“Those whom thy pleas'd eye tracks along the air,”
My mild instructor said, “are such as I,
Dwellers within the sun: they are come down
On this bright holiday to give to earth
Increased splendour, suited to the time
When their great ruler comes in all his pomp
To mount his summer's throne.
My mild instructor said, “are such as I,
Dwellers within the sun: they are come down
On this bright holiday to give to earth
Increased splendour, suited to the time
When their great ruler comes in all his pomp
To mount his summer's throne.
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“But, not to tell
The mysteries of their several agencies,—
Too deep for thee, if told, to comprehend,—
I show these beautiful visions, but that thou
May'st truly know how lovely Nature is.
Yet thou hast only seen; but there are sounds,
That earthly ears hear not, as beautiful
As these fine sights,—these also thou shalt know.
Thine ears are open'd: hear ethereal music.”
The mysteries of their several agencies,—
Too deep for thee, if told, to comprehend,—
I show these beautiful visions, but that thou
May'st truly know how lovely Nature is.
Yet thou hast only seen; but there are sounds,
That earthly ears hear not, as beautiful
As these fine sights,—these also thou shalt know.
Thine ears are open'd: hear ethereal music.”
As when a man who from his birth has lived
In blindness, knowing not the glorious forms
And hues of nature, powerless to conceive
The immensity of ocean, the bright sun,
And the majestic arch of heaven, its blaze
At noon, or deep repose at night, when all
The stars are twinkling silently and clear;—
As when, by skilful hand the darkening spots
Remov'd, he first looks forth and feels the rush
Of beauty on his soul from the green earth,
The many-colour'd flowers, the rolling sea,
The mazy landscape, towering hills and vales,
Rivers and woods, and human form divine,
And the all-embracing firmament of heaven,—
Then knowing first what blindness is;—even so
On me, when that bright spirit ceased, there came
A new and overwhelming sense: it seem'd
As if the earth, and air, and heavens were made
Only for music; for above, below,
Around, all breathed forth harmony. The waves
Sent up with every swell a joyful voice,
Rolling about in multitudinous chorus:
From the rich vales and glens delicious sounds
Arose like exhalations; the hill tops
Chanted aloud in the clear air; from trees,
And herbs, and flow'rs, and the slow-waving grass.
Innumerous and perpetual melodies
Floated about like perfume on the air:
The winds were nought but music; every cloud
As it sail'd o'er sent a soft song to earth;
The murmuring of the sea-shore was a hymn
Sung by sweet voices; every chafed pebble
Rang with a crystal tinkling as it roll'd;
The thin noon mist rose with a gentle swell
Of music exquisitely faint and dim,
Like the first doubtful tint of morning light
On the pure ether, when the watching shepherd
Looks towards the eastern heaven, and asks himself
“Is that the daybreak?” All the air and sky
O'erflow'd with whispering melodies; each breeze
Seem'd like a concert of sweet instruments
Struck by invisible hands that hurried by.
In blindness, knowing not the glorious forms
And hues of nature, powerless to conceive
The immensity of ocean, the bright sun,
And the majestic arch of heaven, its blaze
At noon, or deep repose at night, when all
The stars are twinkling silently and clear;—
As when, by skilful hand the darkening spots
Remov'd, he first looks forth and feels the rush
Of beauty on his soul from the green earth,
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The mazy landscape, towering hills and vales,
Rivers and woods, and human form divine,
And the all-embracing firmament of heaven,—
Then knowing first what blindness is;—even so
On me, when that bright spirit ceased, there came
A new and overwhelming sense: it seem'd
As if the earth, and air, and heavens were made
Only for music; for above, below,
Around, all breathed forth harmony. The waves
Sent up with every swell a joyful voice,
Rolling about in multitudinous chorus:
From the rich vales and glens delicious sounds
Arose like exhalations; the hill tops
Chanted aloud in the clear air; from trees,
And herbs, and flow'rs, and the slow-waving grass.
Innumerous and perpetual melodies
Floated about like perfume on the air:
The winds were nought but music; every cloud
As it sail'd o'er sent a soft song to earth;
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Sung by sweet voices; every chafed pebble
Rang with a crystal tinkling as it roll'd;
The thin noon mist rose with a gentle swell
Of music exquisitely faint and dim,
Like the first doubtful tint of morning light
On the pure ether, when the watching shepherd
Looks towards the eastern heaven, and asks himself
“Is that the daybreak?” All the air and sky
O'erflow'd with whispering melodies; each breeze
Seem'd like a concert of sweet instruments
Struck by invisible hands that hurried by.
Then, too, of all those fine ethereal shapes
I heard the ecstatic voices, and the harps
Struck by the cloud-throned spirits to the tread
Of jocund dancers in the sky, though they
Needed not such, for every moving limb
Made its own music, and their voices kept
Perpetual song.
I heard the ecstatic voices, and the harps
Struck by the cloud-throned spirits to the tread
Of jocund dancers in the sky, though they
Needed not such, for every moving limb
Made its own music, and their voices kept
Perpetual song.
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Thus could I with delight
Have look'd and listen'd, with still craving eye
And ear, for ever feasting,—never full,—
For months, for years; but now the gentle spirit
That show'd me these began, and to his voice
My pleased ear turn'd.
Have look'd and listen'd, with still craving eye
And ear, for ever feasting,—never full,—
For months, for years; but now the gentle spirit
That show'd me these began, and to his voice
My pleased ear turn'd.
“But a small space of earth
Thou hast beheld; yet, in whatever part
'Tis now high summer, the same lovely forms
Keep festival. But we will hence, and thou
Shalt go to the deep waters, and shalt see
What thou unharm'd canst see: the depths of earth
Thou also shalt behold. But I must change
Thy mortal clay, and give thee for awhile
A shape of airy fabric, that thou may'st
Descend into the heart of sea and earth,
Or dart across the firmament, or up
Through boundless space.”
Thou hast beheld; yet, in whatever part
'Tis now high summer, the same lovely forms
Keep festival. But we will hence, and thou
Shalt go to the deep waters, and shalt see
What thou unharm'd canst see: the depths of earth
Thou also shalt behold. But I must change
Thy mortal clay, and give thee for awhile
A shape of airy fabric, that thou may'st
Descend into the heart of sea and earth,
Or dart across the firmament, or up
Through boundless space.”
Even as he spake I felt
My flesh dissolving, as a water drop
Turns in the hot sun to invisible air.
Oh! what ineffable bliss methought it was
To live uncumber'd thus by clay; to have
Keen love for all that's grand and beautiful
In this sublime creation, and a power
To see and know it all; to be at once
Where thought is; in the inmost heart of earth,
Or in the deep seas, or the crystal skies,
Or in new worlds and suns. But thus again
The ethereal nature spake.
My flesh dissolving, as a water drop
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Oh! what ineffable bliss methought it was
To live uncumber'd thus by clay; to have
Keen love for all that's grand and beautiful
In this sublime creation, and a power
To see and know it all; to be at once
Where thought is; in the inmost heart of earth,
Or in the deep seas, or the crystal skies,
Or in new worlds and suns. But thus again
The ethereal nature spake.
“The tenement
Of earth wherein thy spirit dwells is now
Sublimed like ours to a thin essence, less
In power and beauty, as before it was,
But gifted like our own to fly through space,
To pierce the solid, to endure the breath
Of polar winter, or the fiercest rage
Of fire, unharm'd. The elements have now
No influence upon thee: the soft breeze
Passes, and feels no stop where thou art. Look!
Thy substance casts no shadow on the ground;
The sunbeams through thee go as through the air;
Yet dost thou see, and hear, and think, and move,
Though with no mortal organs. But, away!
I see thee all impatient to put forth
Thy new-conferred powers: give me thy hand.”
Of earth wherein thy spirit dwells is now
Sublimed like ours to a thin essence, less
In power and beauty, as before it was,
But gifted like our own to fly through space,
To pierce the solid, to endure the breath
Of polar winter, or the fiercest rage
Of fire, unharm'd. The elements have now
No influence upon thee: the soft breeze
Passes, and feels no stop where thou art. Look!
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The sunbeams through thee go as through the air;
Yet dost thou see, and hear, and think, and move,
Though with no mortal organs. But, away!
I see thee all impatient to put forth
Thy new-conferred powers: give me thy hand.”
This said, he sprang up with me high in air,
And in an instant all the spacious view
That I had gazed on, wondering,—hills, and rocks,
And far-stretch'd plains, and the expanse of sea,—
Look'd like a little plot of garden ground
Standing within a lake. Had I retain'd
Mere mortal sight, our speed had blinded me;
Nor can I tell but with slow course of words
What in the doing fill'd no smallest point
Of time. A thousand leagues of land and sea
Were spread below us; and before the eye
Could on the smallest map have traversed
From Africa to Spain—lo! we had flown
Sheer over seas and islands, and vast fields
Of ever-during frost; and stood at last
Upon the summit of a mountain, high
As Etna on Olympus, bright and clear
As crystal.
And in an instant all the spacious view
That I had gazed on, wondering,—hills, and rocks,
And far-stretch'd plains, and the expanse of sea,—
Look'd like a little plot of garden ground
Standing within a lake. Had I retain'd
Mere mortal sight, our speed had blinded me;
Nor can I tell but with slow course of words
What in the doing fill'd no smallest point
Of time. A thousand leagues of land and sea
Were spread below us; and before the eye
Could on the smallest map have traversed
From Africa to Spain—lo! we had flown
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Of ever-during frost; and stood at last
Upon the summit of a mountain, high
As Etna on Olympus, bright and clear
As crystal.
The immense expanse of view
Show'd nought but icy mountains, strangely heap'd;
Rugged and sharp, and of all wildest shapes;
Beauteous in their disorder; brilliant
With all the bright and tender hues that flash,
And glow, and tremble in the diamond.
Show'd nought but icy mountains, strangely heap'd;
Rugged and sharp, and of all wildest shapes;
Beauteous in their disorder; brilliant
With all the bright and tender hues that flash,
And glow, and tremble in the diamond.
The sun, which we had left in highest heaven,
Now just above th' horizon stood, and threw
His level rays on the clear tinted heads
Of the crystal mountains, leaving the deep dells
Of never melted snow in a soft dark.
There was intensest silence; not a breath
Of air; no life; no motion visible:
The cloudless sky was infinitely pure;
And, farthest from the sun, I could discern
The struggling sparkle of some brilliant stars,
That shone in spite of day.
Now just above th' horizon stood, and threw
His level rays on the clear tinted heads
Of the crystal mountains, leaving the deep dells
Of never melted snow in a soft dark.
There was intensest silence; not a breath
Of air; no life; no motion visible:
The cloudless sky was infinitely pure;
56
The struggling sparkle of some brilliant stars,
That shone in spite of day.
“Now thou hast known,”
My radiant guide began, “how spirits pass
Through space. An instant back we left the shore
Of southern Britain, with the sun in midst
Of heaven; and now we stand upon the peak
Of the North Pole, and the slow moving sun
Hath, like a falling meteor, sunk behind us,
Down to th' horizon. Here, through half the year,
He never sets; but round and round the sky
Glides like a watching guard; then, when he sinks,
Again through half the year he rises not;
And night continual, and terrific tempests,
Hang o'er this region now so beautiful,
So bright and tranquil.
My radiant guide began, “how spirits pass
Through space. An instant back we left the shore
Of southern Britain, with the sun in midst
Of heaven; and now we stand upon the peak
Of the North Pole, and the slow moving sun
Hath, like a falling meteor, sunk behind us,
Down to th' horizon. Here, through half the year,
He never sets; but round and round the sky
Glides like a watching guard; then, when he sinks,
Again through half the year he rises not;
And night continual, and terrific tempests,
Hang o'er this region now so beautiful,
So bright and tranquil.
“Thou hast heard the sound
Of rushing storms, and seen the ocean shook,—
Its billows dash'd above the brim, as 'twere
Some petty bowl o'erfill'd, that thy least touch
Would make o'erwash its edge:—thou hast beheld
The pines bow'd down, and the unbending oak
Dragg'd, crashing, from his socket; the vast forests
Leaning and swinging round, as their strong trunks
Were stubble only:—thou hast heard them groan,
And crack, and roar beneath the torturing wind;
But, to the terrors of the polar storm,
These are but May-day zephyrs. The oak here,
When the unimaginable fury came,
Would dance upon the air, as the least twig
Upon the stream. The strong and deep cast towers,
That barely tremble in your fiercest winds,
Biding the pelting of a thousand years,
Would fall before a blast.
Of rushing storms, and seen the ocean shook,—
Its billows dash'd above the brim, as 'twere
57
Would make o'erwash its edge:—thou hast beheld
The pines bow'd down, and the unbending oak
Dragg'd, crashing, from his socket; the vast forests
Leaning and swinging round, as their strong trunks
Were stubble only:—thou hast heard them groan,
And crack, and roar beneath the torturing wind;
But, to the terrors of the polar storm,
These are but May-day zephyrs. The oak here,
When the unimaginable fury came,
Would dance upon the air, as the least twig
Upon the stream. The strong and deep cast towers,
That barely tremble in your fiercest winds,
Biding the pelting of a thousand years,
Would fall before a blast.
“Look where we stand:—
Seems not this glittering mountain, with its bulk
Immense, and fearful altitude, to rest
Firm as a continent?—And so it doth:—
But where are its foundations?—In the bed
Of ocean, leagues below the surface, bound
In ever-during frost. The tempest there
Can never reach; but these high pinnacles,
Mountains themselves, are split and dash'd down headlong
In its terrific rage: and there are hills
Thou may'st discern, far in the utmost distance—
Hundreds of miles away—as bright as these,
And seemingly as irremoveable:—
They also rest upon the ocean;—all
That thou canst see is ocean;—but they stand not
Like these, foundation'd in the uttermost deeps.
They in the tempest's anger are lift up
Like bubbles. When the troubled sea first swells,
They stand awhile unshook, fast chain'd together
Down to their base: but the thick plains of ice
Begin to heave, bending, and going back
Laboriously. Anon, a groan like thunder
Is heard far underneath, running along
From hill to hill; but nought appears above
Save that slow, long, and heavy lift, as though
The ice-deep then were coming into life,
And swell'd with its first breath. But soon again
Another groan is heard—another yet:—
The whole mass, plain and mountain, slowly rocks:
Thunders and crashings shoot along all round;—
At length the prison'd deep, gathering in wrath,
Bursts up its icy-ceiling with a roar
Like a thousand thunders, rushing fiercely through,
Foaming and hissing. Ponderous sheets of ice
Rise up,—and clash together,—and fall back,—
And come again,—and split,—and shiver to dust.
Then the loos'd mountains float; slowly at first,
With gentle rise and fall; and, if they touch,
They grind together harshly, and go back
Heavily trembling. But if in its rage
The storm advances, they begin to mount,
And sink, and swing their huge heads to and fro,
Like ships at anchor on a rolling sea;—
Higher and higher they go up, and lower
And lower yet they sink;—they clash; they split;—
Down come the shivering pinnacles, and beat
The spray up to the clouds;—and the angry sea
Roars,—and the winds howl awfully:—the hail
Hisses;—and clouds of snow dash heavily down,
Like waves of curded foam. The heavens are black
As pitch; but ever and anon there comes
From the encountering hills a stream of fire,
That now seems lightning in the clouds, and now
A flame within th' abyss: so high they soar,
So low again they sink.
Seems not this glittering mountain, with its bulk
Immense, and fearful altitude, to rest
Firm as a continent?—And so it doth:—
But where are its foundations?—In the bed
58
In ever-during frost. The tempest there
Can never reach; but these high pinnacles,
Mountains themselves, are split and dash'd down headlong
In its terrific rage: and there are hills
Thou may'st discern, far in the utmost distance—
Hundreds of miles away—as bright as these,
And seemingly as irremoveable:—
They also rest upon the ocean;—all
That thou canst see is ocean;—but they stand not
Like these, foundation'd in the uttermost deeps.
They in the tempest's anger are lift up
Like bubbles. When the troubled sea first swells,
They stand awhile unshook, fast chain'd together
Down to their base: but the thick plains of ice
Begin to heave, bending, and going back
Laboriously. Anon, a groan like thunder
Is heard far underneath, running along
From hill to hill; but nought appears above
59
The ice-deep then were coming into life,
And swell'd with its first breath. But soon again
Another groan is heard—another yet:—
The whole mass, plain and mountain, slowly rocks:
Thunders and crashings shoot along all round;—
At length the prison'd deep, gathering in wrath,
Bursts up its icy-ceiling with a roar
Like a thousand thunders, rushing fiercely through,
Foaming and hissing. Ponderous sheets of ice
Rise up,—and clash together,—and fall back,—
And come again,—and split,—and shiver to dust.
Then the loos'd mountains float; slowly at first,
With gentle rise and fall; and, if they touch,
They grind together harshly, and go back
Heavily trembling. But if in its rage
The storm advances, they begin to mount,
And sink, and swing their huge heads to and fro,
Like ships at anchor on a rolling sea;—
Higher and higher they go up, and lower
60
Down come the shivering pinnacles, and beat
The spray up to the clouds;—and the angry sea
Roars,—and the winds howl awfully:—the hail
Hisses;—and clouds of snow dash heavily down,
Like waves of curded foam. The heavens are black
As pitch; but ever and anon there comes
From the encountering hills a stream of fire,
That now seems lightning in the clouds, and now
A flame within th' abyss: so high they soar,
So low again they sink.
“Such is the rage
Of polar storms. Man never hath beheld—
And could not view them. Thy new-moulded form
Feeleth not fire nor frost; but couldst thou stand
With mortal body for one instant here,
In the keen wintry night, thy breath would fall
In snow-flakes, and thine eyes be frozen stiff
Ere thou couldst close them: but man could not live
To breathe or look; for, as the lightning strikes
With instantaneous death, so suddenly
That intense blast would turn the flesh to stone.
Of polar storms. Man never hath beheld—
And could not view them. Thy new-moulded form
Feeleth not fire nor frost; but couldst thou stand
With mortal body for one instant here,
In the keen wintry night, thy breath would fall
In snow-flakes, and thine eyes be frozen stiff
Ere thou couldst close them: but man could not live
To breathe or look; for, as the lightning strikes
61
That intense blast would turn the flesh to stone.
“Yet have these awful regions, even in depth
Of winter, beautiful scenes that milder climes
Know not. The winds are sometimes hush'd as now;
The crystal mountains, and the snowy dells,
Lie motionless and silent, as if they
Through all eternity had stood unshaken:
The skies are deeply pure; the thronging stars
Burn dazzlingly; and those innumerous hills,
With their clear spires, and pinnacles, and domes,
And pyramids grotesque, reflect them back
With shifting and incessant twinklings, bright
As if they were all frosted o'er with stars
Of all fine colours. Glorious meteors too
Sail through the air, and wind among the hills,
Kindling them gorgeously. If thou couldst stand
At such a time where now thou art, thine eye
Would view a splendid sight. Through the low vales,
As the bright fire glides slowly on, the hills
Flash, and go out:—now here a temple starts,
With mighty dome, and glittering cupola,
A thousand fathoms high:—again 'tis gone;—
And you behold a fortress on a rock,
And thronging warriors on its battlements,
Waving their swords, and hurrying to and fro,
And blazing standards fluttering in the wind.—
That passes; and, upon the other side—
Lo! a fierce conflagration, like a tower
Quivering and red with ardent heat.—'Tis gone;—
And, far beyond, you see a diamond hill
On which a ruby palace stands;—its gates
Are silver, and its crystal windows gleam
To the setting sun.—But that too vanishes;—
And, farther yet, behold a cataract
Pouring a flood of silver from the clouds
Down to the earth. Now grottos, palaces,
Vast arches, fiery pillars, shooting up
At once from earth to heaven; all possible shapes,
And of all hues, start up from side to side,
Till the bright meteor dies; or mounts perchance
To sail the heavens like a wandering moon;
Or steals away among the distant hills,
That flash,—and fade,—fainter—and fainter,—till
The quivering gleams are lost in infinite distance.
Of winter, beautiful scenes that milder climes
Know not. The winds are sometimes hush'd as now;
The crystal mountains, and the snowy dells,
Lie motionless and silent, as if they
Through all eternity had stood unshaken:
The skies are deeply pure; the thronging stars
Burn dazzlingly; and those innumerous hills,
With their clear spires, and pinnacles, and domes,
And pyramids grotesque, reflect them back
With shifting and incessant twinklings, bright
As if they were all frosted o'er with stars
Of all fine colours. Glorious meteors too
Sail through the air, and wind among the hills,
Kindling them gorgeously. If thou couldst stand
At such a time where now thou art, thine eye
Would view a splendid sight. Through the low vales,
62
Flash, and go out:—now here a temple starts,
With mighty dome, and glittering cupola,
A thousand fathoms high:—again 'tis gone;—
And you behold a fortress on a rock,
And thronging warriors on its battlements,
Waving their swords, and hurrying to and fro,
And blazing standards fluttering in the wind.—
That passes; and, upon the other side—
Lo! a fierce conflagration, like a tower
Quivering and red with ardent heat.—'Tis gone;—
And, far beyond, you see a diamond hill
On which a ruby palace stands;—its gates
Are silver, and its crystal windows gleam
To the setting sun.—But that too vanishes;—
And, farther yet, behold a cataract
Pouring a flood of silver from the clouds
Down to the earth. Now grottos, palaces,
Vast arches, fiery pillars, shooting up
At once from earth to heaven; all possible shapes,
63
Till the bright meteor dies; or mounts perchance
To sail the heavens like a wandering moon;
Or steals away among the distant hills,
That flash,—and fade,—fainter—and fainter,—till
The quivering gleams are lost in infinite distance.
“Here lightnings too—not such as wake the thunders,—
But noiseless, beautiful, and harmless fires,
Play in the sky, and run among the mountains,
Casting excessive splendour. And there are
Magnificent gleams along the ethereal heavens,
So bright, that even to your lower clime
A faint reflection sometimes hath been sent:
These turn the night into a glorious day:
The sky is fill'd with them; they shoot—and quiver,—
And wave—and shake,—as if some army of Heaven
Were passing with its gorgeous, sun-light banners,
And fiery arms along the fields of space.
But noiseless, beautiful, and harmless fires,
Play in the sky, and run among the mountains,
Casting excessive splendour. And there are
Magnificent gleams along the ethereal heavens,
So bright, that even to your lower clime
A faint reflection sometimes hath been sent:
These turn the night into a glorious day:
The sky is fill'd with them; they shoot—and quiver,—
And wave—and shake,—as if some army of Heaven
Were passing with its gorgeous, sun-light banners,
And fiery arms along the fields of space.
64
“All these fine sights, and those appalling storms,
Are workings of the viewless shapes of air.
Earth every where is beauteous, or sublime,
Though man perceive it not: tis not alone
Within the fertile fields which he hath till'd,
That higher natures dwell;—the barren heath,
The inaccessible mountain, the vast desert,—
All have their favouring visitants, and all
Would to thy purified sight be beautiful:—
But thy short term of life would pass away
Ere I could show thee half their loveliness:—
And there are beauteous and noble things
That mortal sight hath never yet beheld;
These rather will I show thee.”
Are workings of the viewless shapes of air.
Earth every where is beauteous, or sublime,
Though man perceive it not: tis not alone
Within the fertile fields which he hath till'd,
That higher natures dwell;—the barren heath,
The inaccessible mountain, the vast desert,—
All have their favouring visitants, and all
Would to thy purified sight be beautiful:—
But thy short term of life would pass away
Ere I could show thee half their loveliness:—
And there are beauteous and noble things
That mortal sight hath never yet beheld;
These rather will I show thee.”
Saying thus,
The glorious spirit caught me by the hand,
And up into the air we flew. Our course
Was now less swift than at our first ascent,
Yet inconceivably rapid. O'er the deeps
We took our way toward the sun, that rose
Higher and higher in the sky. Still, still
The huge abyss was underneath us. Islands
Seem'd in our rapid flight to sail the deep,
Like shadows of swift travelling clouds. The sun
With every instant mounted till he stood
In middle heaven; then gradually fell,
While over a vast continent we pass'd,
As he were setting in the East. Again
The ocean was below us; and the sun,
As over that immensity we flew,
Sank down,—and down,—and dipp'd his burning disk
Into the waves, as it were evening there:
But when we check'd our course he also paused,
And turn'd his chariot back into the sky;—
And it was morning now.
The glorious spirit caught me by the hand,
And up into the air we flew. Our course
Was now less swift than at our first ascent,
Yet inconceivably rapid. O'er the deeps
65
Higher and higher in the sky. Still, still
The huge abyss was underneath us. Islands
Seem'd in our rapid flight to sail the deep,
Like shadows of swift travelling clouds. The sun
With every instant mounted till he stood
In middle heaven; then gradually fell,
While over a vast continent we pass'd,
As he were setting in the East. Again
The ocean was below us; and the sun,
As over that immensity we flew,
Sank down,—and down,—and dipp'd his burning disk
Into the waves, as it were evening there:
But when we check'd our course he also paused,
And turn'd his chariot back into the sky;—
And it was morning now.
A thousand leagues
Beneath us I beheld,—one boundless plain
Of flashing, burning, ever-rolling waters.
Beneath us I beheld,—one boundless plain
Of flashing, burning, ever-rolling waters.
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“Thou hast beheld,” the placid spirit said,
“The climes of everlasting frost;—and now
We hover o'er the regions where the sun
Makes a perpetual summer:—these vast waters
Know little of the tempest, but still lie
In a calm majesty; and numerous hosts
Of airy shapes have here their loved abode:
Through them our passage lies to the heart of earth;—
Let us descend.”
“The climes of everlasting frost;—and now
We hover o'er the regions where the sun
Makes a perpetual summer:—these vast waters
Know little of the tempest, but still lie
In a calm majesty; and numerous hosts
Of airy shapes have here their loved abode:
Through them our passage lies to the heart of earth;—
Let us descend.”
So saying, we dropp'd down,
And sank into the waves. There was no dash
Of parted waters, as our subtile forms
Plung'd underneath, for we cut smoothly through,
As through the air;—but the bright sunshine soon
Became a glowing emerald hue, that changed
To deep—and deeper;—and when I look'd up,
I saw no sun, but a green canopy
Above us, exquisitely pure, yet dark,
Like a new firmament. Still down we sank
Unfathomably deep; and reach'd at length
The rocky bottom. Not a ray of light
Pierc'd to this awful depth: there was no sound
Heard there, nor motion felt.
And sank into the waves. There was no dash
Of parted waters, as our subtile forms
Plung'd underneath, for we cut smoothly through,
As through the air;—but the bright sunshine soon
Became a glowing emerald hue, that changed
To deep—and deeper;—and when I look'd up,
I saw no sun, but a green canopy
Above us, exquisitely pure, yet dark,
Like a new firmament. Still down we sank
Unfathomably deep; and reach'd at length
67
Pierc'd to this awful depth: there was no sound
Heard there, nor motion felt.
“This is to thee,”
My gentle and beneficent guide began,
“All blank:—thy mortal fabric is sublimed
To spiritual fineness; and thy senses are
Strengthen'd and clear'd; yet thou hast not the powers
That airy beings have; thou canst not hear
The voices and the sounds that I now hear;
Thou canst not see the thousand shapes that dwell
Within these awful depths; for I have left
Thy human faculties, lest terrible forms
Or sounds o'erwhelm thee:—but I will light up
These dark abysses like the sunny fields;
And thou shalt see how Nature, even here,
Is beautiful.”
My gentle and beneficent guide began,
“All blank:—thy mortal fabric is sublimed
To spiritual fineness; and thy senses are
Strengthen'd and clear'd; yet thou hast not the powers
That airy beings have; thou canst not hear
The voices and the sounds that I now hear;
Thou canst not see the thousand shapes that dwell
Within these awful depths; for I have left
Thy human faculties, lest terrible forms
Or sounds o'erwhelm thee:—but I will light up
These dark abysses like the sunny fields;
And thou shalt see how Nature, even here,
Is beautiful.”
Now suddenly the darkness
Fled; and a glorious light shone round about,
As if the waters, over-charged with heat,
Had burst into a blaze. Then I beheld
The bed of the great deep:—mountains of rock,
Huge as earth's highest hills; and rocky valleys,
All bright, and glittering, and pure: no weed,
Or earth, or slime, as in the shallow seas,
Defil'd them;—the transparent waters rested
Upon them like an emerald atmosphere.
Fled; and a glorious light shone round about,
68
Had burst into a blaze. Then I beheld
The bed of the great deep:—mountains of rock,
Huge as earth's highest hills; and rocky valleys,
All bright, and glittering, and pure: no weed,
Or earth, or slime, as in the shallow seas,
Defil'd them;—the transparent waters rested
Upon them like an emerald atmosphere.
Then thus again the beautiful spirit spake.
“Here are not verdant fields and waving trees,
Flowers of sweet perfume, fanning airs, or clouds
Of gorgeous colours;—nought that makes the face
Of earth so lovely:—but, is there no charm
In these majestic, unadorned hills,
Those brilliant plains and valleys, this pure light,
This awful solitude? Thou hast beheld
The shapes of air and earth; there also are
That in these watery deeps oft make abode.
Some love to sport in the calm seas, and toss
The sparkling waves, and creamy foam about:—
Some go down to these lowest depths, where storm
Can never reach; but everlasting silence,
And a green twilight reigns, or total dark.
Here are the down-prest waters heavier
And harder than the adamant:—no plummet
Can ever fathom here:—the weightiest anchor
Would float as lightly as the thistle-down
Upon the whirlwind:—were the hugest rock
Cast forth into these waters, it would find,
Ere it could sound their depths, a buoyancy,
Strong as their surface gives the fleetest bark:—
Here the enormous monsters of the deep
Can never come; their region is above,
In the lighter waves:—the vertical sun looks here,—
If all above be calm,—faint as the moon,
When through thick mists her orb may just be traced,
But of a deep, soft green:—his hottest ray
Gives here no warmth, more than the glow-worm's beam:—
Yet in this everlasting silence and repose,
And thickest dark, alternating with light
That seems but darkness of another hue,
There's a sublimity and awfulness
That suits some natures well.
“Here are not verdant fields and waving trees,
Flowers of sweet perfume, fanning airs, or clouds
Of gorgeous colours;—nought that makes the face
Of earth so lovely:—but, is there no charm
In these majestic, unadorned hills,
Those brilliant plains and valleys, this pure light,
This awful solitude? Thou hast beheld
The shapes of air and earth; there also are
That in these watery deeps oft make abode.
Some love to sport in the calm seas, and toss
69
Some go down to these lowest depths, where storm
Can never reach; but everlasting silence,
And a green twilight reigns, or total dark.
Here are the down-prest waters heavier
And harder than the adamant:—no plummet
Can ever fathom here:—the weightiest anchor
Would float as lightly as the thistle-down
Upon the whirlwind:—were the hugest rock
Cast forth into these waters, it would find,
Ere it could sound their depths, a buoyancy,
Strong as their surface gives the fleetest bark:—
Here the enormous monsters of the deep
Can never come; their region is above,
In the lighter waves:—the vertical sun looks here,—
If all above be calm,—faint as the moon,
When through thick mists her orb may just be traced,
But of a deep, soft green:—his hottest ray
70
Yet in this everlasting silence and repose,
And thickest dark, alternating with light
That seems but darkness of another hue,
There's a sublimity and awfulness
That suits some natures well.
“Others there are
That love to work the tempest,—turn the deeps
Round like a chariot-wheel; and in the gulf
Suck navies down, whirling the huge ships round
And round, like atoms of the dust, that winds
Catch from the parch'd road in their sportive curls.
But these are not the shapes that thou hast seen:
Mighty they are, but terrible. The wretch
Who rides the roaring deep in the thick night,
Dreading each mountain wave may bury him;
Who, in the shoutings of the elements,
Finds his own loudest shout become a sound
Faint as the breathing of a sleeping child;—
He doth not know how these appalling forms
Are round him, and beneath him, and above,—
Rolling the waters up from their deep bed,—
Riding upon the black and labouring clouds,
And howling in the winds.—
That love to work the tempest,—turn the deeps
Round like a chariot-wheel; and in the gulf
Suck navies down, whirling the huge ships round
And round, like atoms of the dust, that winds
Catch from the parch'd road in their sportive curls.
But these are not the shapes that thou hast seen:
Mighty they are, but terrible. The wretch
Who rides the roaring deep in the thick night,
Dreading each mountain wave may bury him;
Who, in the shoutings of the elements,
Finds his own loudest shout become a sound
71
He doth not know how these appalling forms
Are round him, and beneath him, and above,—
Rolling the waters up from their deep bed,—
Riding upon the black and labouring clouds,
And howling in the winds.—
“Look upward now
Tow'rds yon huge mountain!—on its top thou seest
Enormous masses of black rock, that seem
Like some gigantic city overthrown:
And such it was; the work of those who lived
Ere man was; for the ocean hath not always
Cover'd these hills. That mighty wreck was once
The abode of life and joy:—the sun shone there;
And the winds play'd amid the trees and flowers.
How silent, dark, and lonely is it now!
So deep beneath the topmost waves, no storm
Can move those waters that enshrine it, keeping
The elements of decay at rest. Yet there
The wise have counsell'd, and the fair have smiled:—
There generations first drew breath, and lived,—
And saw their children, and their children's sons
Grow up in peace! What myriads from that height
Have look'd out on the sea beneath, to hail
The rising sun; or to espy the ship
Coming from distant lands, that brought their sons,
Fathers, or husbands! That black, mournful wreck
Was once magnificent temples, palaces,
And dwellings of the wealthy!—and they deem'd
Their city was eternal. In a moment
It ceas'd to be:—the waters cover'd it.—
Listen! and thou shalt hear how this befell.
Tow'rds yon huge mountain!—on its top thou seest
Enormous masses of black rock, that seem
Like some gigantic city overthrown:
And such it was; the work of those who lived
Ere man was; for the ocean hath not always
Cover'd these hills. That mighty wreck was once
The abode of life and joy:—the sun shone there;
And the winds play'd amid the trees and flowers.
How silent, dark, and lonely is it now!
So deep beneath the topmost waves, no storm
Can move those waters that enshrine it, keeping
The elements of decay at rest. Yet there
72
There generations first drew breath, and lived,—
And saw their children, and their children's sons
Grow up in peace! What myriads from that height
Have look'd out on the sea beneath, to hail
The rising sun; or to espy the ship
Coming from distant lands, that brought their sons,
Fathers, or husbands! That black, mournful wreck
Was once magnificent temples, palaces,
And dwellings of the wealthy!—and they deem'd
Their city was eternal. In a moment
It ceas'd to be:—the waters cover'd it.—
Listen! and thou shalt hear how this befell.
“Oh! it is beautiful to see this world
Pois'd in the crystal air,—with all its seas,
Mountains, and plains majestically rolling
Around its noiseless axis, day by day,
And year by year, and century after century;
And, as it turns, still wheeling through the immense
Of ether, circling the resplendent sun
In calm and simple grandeur!
Pois'd in the crystal air,—with all its seas,
Mountains, and plains majestically rolling
Around its noiseless axis, day by day,
And year by year, and century after century;
And, as it turns, still wheeling through the immense
73
In calm and simple grandeur!
“Yet a time
Hath been, in the profound of ages past,
When this fair order was disturb'd. The earth
Was then not what ye see it now; nor man,
Such as now is, existed then; nor beasts;
Nor did the globe bend toward the sun its poles
As now; but yet it held sublimely on
The same unerring path along the heavens.
Hath been, in the profound of ages past,
When this fair order was disturb'd. The earth
Was then not what ye see it now; nor man,
Such as now is, existed then; nor beasts;
Nor did the globe bend toward the sun its poles
As now; but yet it held sublimely on
The same unerring path along the heavens.
“Then suddenly there came a fiery star,
Wandering from out its orbit, masterless.
The dwellers of the earth,—they were a race
Mightier than yours,—look'd nightly on the sky,
And their thoughts were troubled: night by night the star
Grew brighter, larger;—waving flames shot out
That made the sky appear to shake and quiver.
Night after night it grew;—the stars were quench'd
Before its burning presence;—the moon took
A paler—and a paler hue:—men climbed
Upon the mountains every eve to watch
How it arose; and sat upon the ground
All night to gaze upon it. The day then
Became the time for sleeping; and they woke
From feverish rest at evening to look out
For the terrific visitor. Night by night
It swell'd and brighten'd:—all the firmament
Was kindled when it came. The waning moon
Had died away; and when she should have come
Again into the sky men found her not.
Still, still the heaven-fire grew!—there was no night;
But to the day succeeded a new day
Of strange and terrible splendour. Darkness then
Became a luxury; and men would go
To caves and subterranean depths to cool
Their hot and dazzled eyes. The beasts of the field
Were restless and uneasy, knowing not
Their hour for slumber: they went up and down
Distractedly; and, as they fed, would stop,
And tremble, and look round, as if they fear'd
A lurking enemy. The things of prey,—
Monsters that earth now knows not,—came abroad
When the red night-sun had gone down; for day
With its mild light less glar'd upon their eyes
Than that fire-flashing firmament. Yet,—yet
With every coming night the terrible star
Expanded: men had now no thought but that:
All occupations were laid by:—the earth
Was left untill'd:—the voyagers on the deeps
Forsook their ships, and got upon the land
To wait the unknown event. O'er all the world
Unutterable terror reign'd. Men now
By thousands, and by tens of thousands, met—
Wond'ring and prophesying. Day and night
All habitable regions sent to heaven
Wailings, and lamentations, and loud prayers.
The ethereal shapes that peopled earth, as now,
Saw with astonishment, but not with fear,
This strange disorder;—for the wreck of worlds
Injures not them. The spirits of the sun
Look'd wondering down, expecting what might come;
For right tow'rds earth the blazing Terror held
Its awful course; and all the abyss of space
Resounded to the roarings of its fires.
Wandering from out its orbit, masterless.
The dwellers of the earth,—they were a race
Mightier than yours,—look'd nightly on the sky,
And their thoughts were troubled: night by night the star
Grew brighter, larger;—waving flames shot out
That made the sky appear to shake and quiver.
Night after night it grew;—the stars were quench'd
74
A paler—and a paler hue:—men climbed
Upon the mountains every eve to watch
How it arose; and sat upon the ground
All night to gaze upon it. The day then
Became the time for sleeping; and they woke
From feverish rest at evening to look out
For the terrific visitor. Night by night
It swell'd and brighten'd:—all the firmament
Was kindled when it came. The waning moon
Had died away; and when she should have come
Again into the sky men found her not.
Still, still the heaven-fire grew!—there was no night;
But to the day succeeded a new day
Of strange and terrible splendour. Darkness then
Became a luxury; and men would go
To caves and subterranean depths to cool
Their hot and dazzled eyes. The beasts of the field
Were restless and uneasy, knowing not
Their hour for slumber: they went up and down
75
And tremble, and look round, as if they fear'd
A lurking enemy. The things of prey,—
Monsters that earth now knows not,—came abroad
When the red night-sun had gone down; for day
With its mild light less glar'd upon their eyes
Than that fire-flashing firmament. Yet,—yet
With every coming night the terrible star
Expanded: men had now no thought but that:
All occupations were laid by:—the earth
Was left untill'd:—the voyagers on the deeps
Forsook their ships, and got upon the land
To wait the unknown event. O'er all the world
Unutterable terror reign'd. Men now
By thousands, and by tens of thousands, met—
Wond'ring and prophesying. Day and night
All habitable regions sent to heaven
Wailings, and lamentations, and loud prayers.
The ethereal shapes that peopled earth, as now,
76
This strange disorder;—for the wreck of worlds
Injures not them. The spirits of the sun
Look'd wondering down, expecting what might come;
For right tow'rds earth the blazing Terror held
Its awful course; and all the abyss of space
Resounded to the roarings of its fires.
“Night after night men still look'd out:—it grew
Night after night, faster and faster still.
The crimson sky announc'd its terrible coming
Long ere it rose; and after it went down
Look'd red and fiery long. Each night it came
Later,—and linger'd later in the morn,
Till in the heavens the sun and it at once—
Eastward and westward—shone, with different lights:
The sun, as still he shines, ineffably pure;
The other of intensest burning red.
But one was still the same;—the other swell'd
Each day to a terrific bulk, and grew
Dreadfully bright, till the out-blazed sun
Look'd pale,—and paler,—and at last went out;—
And men knew not when he arose or set.
Night after night, faster and faster still.
The crimson sky announc'd its terrible coming
Long ere it rose; and after it went down
Look'd red and fiery long. Each night it came
Later,—and linger'd later in the morn,
Till in the heavens the sun and it at once—
Eastward and westward—shone, with different lights:
The sun, as still he shines, ineffably pure;
The other of intensest burning red.
But one was still the same;—the other swell'd
77
Dreadfully bright, till the out-blazed sun
Look'd pale,—and paler,—and at last went out;—
And men knew not when he arose or set.
“The terrible event was then at hand:
Throughout the day the roarings of its fires
Oppress'd all ears;—and when the fury sank
Beneath the horizon, still throughout the night
They heard its threatenings; dying far away
Till midnight; then with every hour returning
Louder and louder, like advancing thunders
Riding upon the tempest.
Throughout the day the roarings of its fires
Oppress'd all ears;—and when the fury sank
Beneath the horizon, still throughout the night
They heard its threatenings; dying far away
Till midnight; then with every hour returning
Louder and louder, like advancing thunders
Riding upon the tempest.
“Yet once more
It rose on earthly eyes. One-fourth the heavens
Was cover'd by its bulk. Ere it had reach'd
Its middle course, the huge ball almost fill'd
The sky's circumference;—and anon there was
No sky!—nought but that terrible world of fire
Glaring,—and roaring,—and advancing still!
It rose on earthly eyes. One-fourth the heavens
Was cover'd by its bulk. Ere it had reach'd
Its middle course, the huge ball almost fill'd
The sky's circumference;—and anon there was
No sky!—nought but that terrible world of fire
Glaring,—and roaring,—and advancing still!
78
“Men saw not this:—th' insufferable heat
Had slain all things that lived. The grass and herbs
First died:—the interminable forests next
Burst into flames:—down to their uttermost deeps
The oceans boil'd,—spurting their bubbling waves,—
Rocking and wallowing higher than the hills:—
The hills themselves at last grew burning red;
And the whole earth seem'd as 'twould melt away.
Had slain all things that lived. The grass and herbs
First died:—the interminable forests next
Burst into flames:—down to their uttermost deeps
The oceans boil'd,—spurting their bubbling waves,—
Rocking and wallowing higher than the hills:—
The hills themselves at last grew burning red;
And the whole earth seem'd as 'twould melt away.
“Intensest expectation now held all
The ethereal natures silent. From the heights
Of space they look'd, and waited for the shock;
For in right opposite courses the two orbs
Rush'd tow'rds each other, as two enemies haste
To meet in deadly combat. 'Twas a sight
Sublime, yet sad, to see this beautiful earth,—
Stript of all verdure, empty of all life,—
Glowing beneath the comet's terrible breath,
Like a huge coal of fire!
The ethereal natures silent. From the heights
Of space they look'd, and waited for the shock;
For in right opposite courses the two orbs
Rush'd tow'rds each other, as two enemies haste
To meet in deadly combat. 'Twas a sight
Sublime, yet sad, to see this beautiful earth,—
Stript of all verdure, empty of all life,—
Glowing beneath the comet's terrible breath,
Like a huge coal of fire!
79
“They now drew nigh:
Rapidly rolling on they came!—They struck!—
Rapidly rolling on they came!—They struck!—
The universe felt the shock. We look'd to have seen
The earth shatter'd to dust, or borne away
By that tremendous fire-star; but they touch'd
Obliquely,—and glanced off. The comet soon
Shot swiftly on again:—the weaker earth,—
Jarr'd from her orbit,—stood awhile,—turning
Backward upon her axis,—vibrating
Down to her very centre;—then went on
Faltering,—swinging heavily to and fro
Upon her alter'd poles.
The earth shatter'd to dust, or borne away
By that tremendous fire-star; but they touch'd
Obliquely,—and glanced off. The comet soon
Shot swiftly on again:—the weaker earth,—
Jarr'd from her orbit,—stood awhile,—turning
Backward upon her axis,—vibrating
Down to her very centre;—then went on
Faltering,—swinging heavily to and fro
Upon her alter'd poles.
“Such was the shock,
Hills started from their roots, and flew away
Leagues through the air:—islands and deep-fix'd rocks
Leap'd from the sea, and on the continents
Became new mountains:—continents were rent
Asunder; and the boiling seas rush'd in,
And made of them new islands:—all the waters
That round the earth rose upward, and rush'd on
Toward the new equator. Then the hills
Were overflow'd;—the highest mountain tops,
Still peeping o'er the flood, became sea rocks
And islands;—and the bed of the old deeps
Was left dry land.”
Hills started from their roots, and flew away
Leagues through the air:—islands and deep-fix'd rocks
Leap'd from the sea, and on the continents
Became new mountains:—continents were rent
Asunder; and the boiling seas rush'd in,
80
That round the earth rose upward, and rush'd on
Toward the new equator. Then the hills
Were overflow'd;—the highest mountain tops,
Still peeping o'er the flood, became sea rocks
And islands;—and the bed of the old deeps
Was left dry land.”
| A Midsummer Day's Dream | |