 | Erato, number I |  |
II.
He was a man of hideous mien;
His eyes were deeply set,
And the demon-fires of guilty days
Were burning in them yet.
His beard was thick, and long, and black;
Apparently the growth
Of many a day of wretchedness,
And solitude, and sloth.
His hair was matted o'er his head,
In locks of black and gray;
His cheeks were thin; with his shaggy chin
His fingers were ever at play.
They were ever at play with his shaggy chin,
And the eyebrows, iron-gray,
That lowered above his flashing eyes,
Like a cloud o'er the brilliants that gem the skies
At the close of a sultry day.
His eyes were deeply set,
And the demon-fires of guilty days
Were burning in them yet.
His beard was thick, and long, and black;
Apparently the growth
Of many a day of wretchedness,
And solitude, and sloth.
His hair was matted o'er his head,
In locks of black and gray;
His cheeks were thin; with his shaggy chin
His fingers were ever at play.
They were ever at play with his shaggy chin,
And the eyebrows, iron-gray,
That lowered above his flashing eyes,
Like a cloud o'er the brilliants that gem the skies
At the close of a sultry day.
Remorse had furrowed his ample brow—
His cheeks were sallow and thin;
His limbs were shriveled—his body was lank—
He had reaped the wages of sin:
And though his eyes constantly glanced about,
As if looking or watching for something without,
His mind's eye glanced within!
His cheeks were sallow and thin;
His limbs were shriveled—his body was lank—
He had reaped the wages of sin:
And though his eyes constantly glanced about,
As if looking or watching for something without,
His mind's eye glanced within!
And he drew in his breath, and shrank away
From the things that he saw there;
And the pallor of death o'erspread his face,
And the writhings of despair.
From the things that he saw there;
And the pallor of death o'erspread his face,
And the writhings of despair.
Wildly his eyes still glared about;
But the eye that glanced within,
Was the one which saw the images
That frightened this man of sin.
But the things he saw I may not tell—
For there 's nothing so frightful, unseemly and fell,
As the shapes in a guilty bosom 's hell.
But the eye that glanced within,
Was the one which saw the images
That frightened this man of sin.
But the things he saw I may not tell—
For there 's nothing so frightful, unseemly and fell,
As the shapes in a guilty bosom 's hell.
He drew in his breath, and shrank away,
As far as he could get—
I have no hope—my guilt is great—
Too great to be forgiven.
Hopeless—O, God!—My breast is torn—
With thoughts remorseful riven!”
“Till death there's hope”—“Nay! nay!” he cried,
“I cannot be forgiven!
“For such as I there is no place
In yonder glorious sky.”
“'Tis free for all who choose”—“Nay! Nay!
A murderer am I!
You shudder, holy man! I knew
There was no hope for me!
O, God!—Away! thou pallid form!
I know I murdered thee!
Back to thy grave! I soon shall come—
But not to dwell with thee!
Back!—do not drive me mad!—back! back!
O, God! what agony!”
As far as he could get—
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Too great to be forgiven.
Hopeless—O, God!—My breast is torn—
With thoughts remorseful riven!”
“Till death there's hope”—“Nay! nay!” he cried,
“I cannot be forgiven!
“For such as I there is no place
In yonder glorious sky.”
“'Tis free for all who choose”—“Nay! Nay!
A murderer am I!
You shudder, holy man! I knew
There was no hope for me!
O, God!—Away! thou pallid form!
I know I murdered thee!
Back to thy grave! I soon shall come—
But not to dwell with thee!
Back!—do not drive me mad!—back! back!
O, God! what agony!”
He smote his breast—and soon his eyes
Were fixed, as if in death;
But still his lips, though mute, moved on,
And still he drew his breath.
And with his coarse and grizzly beard
His fingers were at play;
And time-and-time he'd mutter low,
“Away!—not yet!—away!”
Were fixed, as if in death;
But still his lips, though mute, moved on,
And still he drew his breath.
And with his coarse and grizzly beard
His fingers were at play;
And time-and-time he'd mutter low,
“Away!—not yet!—away!”
The hoary watcher bent him o'er
The guilty wretch's bed,
And wiped the dew from his clammy brow,
And lifted his frantic head;
And he pillowed it on his breast awhile,
Then words that soothed him said.
The guilty wretch's bed,
And wiped the dew from his clammy brow,
And lifted his frantic head;
And he pillowed it on his breast awhile,
Then words that soothed him said.
When the sinful one was calm again,
The good man knelt in prayer;
But the murderer's face soon turn'd from him—
Wild—haggard with despair;
For his thoughts were borne to the Heavens above,
And they found no haven there!
The good man knelt in prayer;
But the murderer's face soon turn'd from him—
Wild—haggard with despair;
For his thoughts were borne to the Heavens above,
And they found no haven there!
But as the fervent prayer went on,
That sad face brighter grew;
And it seem'd that within that man of sin
A change was working too:
That the dried-up fount of feeling,
Which in Passion's sun for years
Had been scorching, was suddenly made again
The source of relieving tears.
The words of the good man pierced his heart,
Whence a stream refreshing rush'd;
As the rod of the prophet smote the rock,
Till the gladdening waters gush'd.
That sad face brighter grew;
And it seem'd that within that man of sin
A change was working too:
That the dried-up fount of feeling,
Which in Passion's sun for years
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The source of relieving tears.
The words of the good man pierced his heart,
Whence a stream refreshing rush'd;
As the rod of the prophet smote the rock,
Till the gladdening waters gush'd.
He cast his tearful eyes above—
The star of Hope was there!
It shone upon his soul, and lit
That desert of Despair.
And then he thanked the man of God
Time after time, and bless'd,
And asked to join with him in prayer:
“Not now—thou needest rest;”
He said, and gave a draught prepared
To lull him to repose;
And the soothed sufferer's weary eyes
Grow heavy soon, and close.
The star of Hope was there!
It shone upon his soul, and lit
That desert of Despair.
And then he thanked the man of God
Time after time, and bless'd,
And asked to join with him in prayer:
“Not now—thou needest rest;”
He said, and gave a draught prepared
To lull him to repose;
And the soothed sufferer's weary eyes
Grow heavy soon, and close.
| Erato, number I | |