 | The last night of Pompeii |  |
THE DEATH-CRIES OF POMPEII.
FIRST VOICE.
Hear us! oh, hear us! will no God reply?
No ear of mercy open to our prayer?
Hath utter vengeance throned the accursed sky?
And must we perish in this wild despair?
Hear us! oh, hear us! will no mortal hand
Succor in horror—pity in our dread?
Woe! Desolation sweeps o'er all the land!
Woe! woe! earth trembles 'neath the Death-King's tread!
No ear of mercy open to our prayer?
Hath utter vengeance throned the accursed sky?
And must we perish in this wild despair?
Hear us! oh, hear us! will no mortal hand
Succor in horror—pity in our dread?
Woe! Desolation sweeps o'er all the land!
Woe! woe! earth trembles 'neath the Death-King's tread!
SECOND VOICE.
Oh, Fear and Gloom and Madness are around,
And hope from earth is vain;
The sky is blackness—waves of fire, the ground—
And every's bosom's breath—the pulse of pain.
Yet let us not deny,
In shuddering nature's agony,
The universal and immortal King!
But, rather, while we gasp,
Our dying children closer clasp, [spring!
And pass, with them, the wave where blossoms deathless
And hope from earth is vain;
The sky is blackness—waves of fire, the ground—
And every's bosom's breath—the pulse of pain.
Yet let us not deny,
In shuddering nature's agony,
The universal and immortal King!
But, rather, while we gasp,
Our dying children closer clasp, [spring!
And pass, with them, the wave where blossoms deathless
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THIRD VOICE.
Who bids us sink resigned?
Who bids us bless the Slayer?
And mid the storm of ruin, blind,
Scorched—blasted—dying—breathe again the spurned-back prayer?
Let the Creator in his vengeance take
The life he heaped on men—
No sigh—no voice—no tear shall slake
The almighty hatred that could thus condemn!
He made us but to die—
To die yet see our city's burial first—
And he shall feast upon no wailing cry
From me:—take what thy wrath has cursed!
I yet have power to hate and scorn the might
That strews the earth with dead in Desolation's night!
Who bids us bless the Slayer?
And mid the storm of ruin, blind,
Scorched—blasted—dying—breathe again the spurned-back prayer?
Let the Creator in his vengeance take
The life he heaped on men—
No sigh—no voice—no tear shall slake
The almighty hatred that could thus condemn!
He made us but to die—
To die yet see our city's burial first—
And he shall feast upon no wailing cry
From me:—take what thy wrath has cursed!
I yet have power to hate and scorn the might
That strews the earth with dead in Desolation's night!
FOURTH VOICE.
Blaspheme not in thine anguish!
We may not hope to linger,—
Yet, quickly quenched, we shall not moan and languish
In wan disease—emaciating pain—
And living death—when e'en an infant finger
Would be a burden! oh, the fiery rain
We may not hope to linger,—
Yet, quickly quenched, we shall not moan and languish
In wan disease—emaciating pain—
And living death—when e'en an infant finger
Would be a burden! oh, the fiery rain
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Comes down and withers and consumes
The mighty and the weak,
And not a voice from out yon horrid glooms,
That shroud the Sarnus and the sea
Replies to hearts that break
In agony.
Yet shut not out the hope elysian,
And fold not darkness to thy breast!—
—My babe! oh, sweet, most blest and briefest vision!
As at thy birthhour, here's thy home of rest—
My bosom was thy pillow—'t is thy tomb—
It gave thee life—and, in thine early death,
Thy latest throbs to mine—
—Oh, like harp thrillings in thy bliss and bloom,
While o'er my face stole soft thy odorous breath,
They touched my spirit with a joy divine!—
Thy latest throbs shall be
The warning that shall waft
My soul up through the starr'd infinity,
E'en where the nectar cup is by the Immortals quaff'd.
The mighty and the weak,
And not a voice from out yon horrid glooms,
That shroud the Sarnus and the sea
Replies to hearts that break
In agony.
Yet shut not out the hope elysian,
And fold not darkness to thy breast!—
—My babe! oh, sweet, most blest and briefest vision!
As at thy birthhour, here's thy home of rest—
My bosom was thy pillow—'t is thy tomb—
It gave thee life—and, in thine early death,
Thy latest throbs to mine—
—Oh, like harp thrillings in thy bliss and bloom,
While o'er my face stole soft thy odorous breath,
They touched my spirit with a joy divine!—
Thy latest throbs shall be
The warning that shall waft
My soul up through the starr'd infinity,
E'en where the nectar cup is by the Immortals quaff'd.
FIFTH VOICE.
And must we die?
In being's brightness and the bloom of thought!
Sepulchred beneath a sunless sky!
And all the spirit's godlike powers be—nought!
In being's brightness and the bloom of thought!
Sepulchred beneath a sunless sky!
And all the spirit's godlike powers be—nought!
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Wail o'er thy doom, fair boy!
Shriek thy last sorrow, maiden! for the doom,
That o'er earth's tearless joy
Rolls gory mid the shadows of the tomb!
The tomb! there shall be none
Save dark-red shroudings of the lava sea—
The fire shall quench the agonizing groan—
Moments become—eternity!
And must we perish so?
Sink, shuddering, thus and gasp our breath in flame?
And o'er our unremembered burial flow
The pomps and pageants of a worthless name?
At wonted feasts, no voices shall salute—
In temple hymns, no soul-breathed strain awake
Our memories from the realms for ever mute—
But o'er our graves barbarian kings shall slake
Their demon thirst of gore—
And redcross slayers march in bandit ranks,
From Alp and sea and shore,
To stain the Asian sands with hordes of slaughtered Franks!
Wail for the joy that never more shall breathe!
Wail for the lore and love, the bloom and bliss
That to the ocean world of fire bequeathe
Their paradise of hope! and this
Shriek thy last sorrow, maiden! for the doom,
That o'er earth's tearless joy
Rolls gory mid the shadows of the tomb!
The tomb! there shall be none
Save dark-red shroudings of the lava sea—
The fire shall quench the agonizing groan—
Moments become—eternity!
And must we perish so?
Sink, shuddering, thus and gasp our breath in flame?
And o'er our unremembered burial flow
The pomps and pageants of a worthless name?
At wonted feasts, no voices shall salute—
In temple hymns, no soul-breathed strain awake
Our memories from the realms for ever mute—
But o'er our graves barbarian kings shall slake
Their demon thirst of gore—
And redcross slayers march in bandit ranks,
From Alp and sea and shore,
To stain the Asian sands with hordes of slaughtered Franks!
Wail for the joy that never more shall breathe!
Wail for the lore and love, the bloom and bliss
That to the ocean world of fire bequeathe
Their paradise of hope! and this
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Must be our only trust—to quickly die—
And leave the pleasant things of earth behind;
Through thousand ages unremembered lie
Unknown to sunbeam smile or breath of summer wind!”
And leave the pleasant things of earth behind;
Through thousand ages unremembered lie
Unknown to sunbeam smile or breath of summer wind!”
DIOMEDE, (rushing in.)
“Away! bewailers of decrees that bring
Rest to the grief and restlessness of earth!
Away! pale tremblers mid the dawn of spring
That o'er the winter of your fate comes forth!
What are your woes to his,
Who from the throne of power beheld the glory—
Ambition's grandeur, pleasure's bliss,
Gleam on the Syrian towers like gods in minstrel story?
Gone! gone! why, see ye not the eyes
Of hell's own Furies glaring through the flame?
And hear ye not the wild, deep, dreadful cries
That call in curses on the Avenger's name?
No barque to bear us o'er the sea!
No refuge on the mountain's breast!
Earth, time, and hope like unblest shadows flee,
And death and darkness pall our everlasting rest!
What spectre sail sweeps you?
Now in the black night buried—now upon
Rest to the grief and restlessness of earth!
Away! pale tremblers mid the dawn of spring
That o'er the winter of your fate comes forth!
What are your woes to his,
Who from the throne of power beheld the glory—
Ambition's grandeur, pleasure's bliss,
Gleam on the Syrian towers like gods in minstrel story?
Gone! gone! why, see ye not the eyes
Of hell's own Furies glaring through the flame?
And hear ye not the wild, deep, dreadful cries
That call in curses on the Avenger's name?
No barque to bear us o'er the sea!
No refuge on the mountain's breast!
Earth, time, and hope like unblest shadows flee,
And death and darkness pall our everlasting rest!
What spectre sail sweeps you?
Now in the black night buried—now upon
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The billow in the horrid light careering.
Like a spirit that hath passed
The glacier and the Lybian blast,
It feels not human fearing!
It flies toward the promontory now—
The torrent fire of ruin hangs above—
And earthly forms are standing by the prow,
Clasped in the arms of love!
O Hell of Thought! and must I—in the fame
Of sumless wealth and power—sink down and die,
And, helpless, hopeless, leave the Prætor's name
To moulder with the herd's beneath
The mountain monument of death,
And be a doubt, or mock and scorn
To fierce barbarians, yet unborn,
When in the spoiler's lust, they seek the Italian sky?
Ay, curse the gods who in their hate created
The serpent death that gnaws your core of life!
E'en in your childhood's beauty, ye were fated
To writhe, howl, shudder, perish in the strife
Of elemental agonies,
As were your sires by ghastly wan disease;
And wrath, shame, guilt, despair, remorse and pain,
Their heritage and testament, have swept
Like a spirit that hath passed
The glacier and the Lybian blast,
It feels not human fearing!
It flies toward the promontory now—
The torrent fire of ruin hangs above—
And earthly forms are standing by the prow,
Clasped in the arms of love!
O Hell of Thought! and must I—in the fame
Of sumless wealth and power—sink down and die,
And, helpless, hopeless, leave the Prætor's name
To moulder with the herd's beneath
The mountain monument of death,
And be a doubt, or mock and scorn
To fierce barbarians, yet unborn,
When in the spoiler's lust, they seek the Italian sky?
Ay, curse the gods who in their hate created
The serpent death that gnaws your core of life!
E'en in your childhood's beauty, ye were fated
To writhe, howl, shudder, perish in the strife
Of elemental agonies,
As were your sires by ghastly wan disease;
And wrath, shame, guilt, despair, remorse and pain,
Their heritage and testament, have swept
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Your hearts as vultures sweep the battle plain!
Then by the tears unpitied grief hath wept,
By lone bereavement's wail,
And Evil's dark ovations,
Bid universal Ruin hail!
And swell Death's monarch march o'er buried nations!
For me—as fits the Roman lord,
When hopeless peril darkens on his way,
I crave no lingering tortures with the horde
Who gasp and grovel in the slave's dismay,
And to the sick and sulphurous air,
Where Gloom and Fire and Horror dwell,
Pour out to fiction's gods the unheard prayer,
And seek in clouds a heaven, to find on earth a hell!
Thou one Omnipotent Despair!
Whose shadow awes the prostrate world,
Thou kingly Queller of lamenting care!
Oblivion's voiceless home prepare,
And let Extinction's lightning bolt be hurled!
Banished, yet dauntless, doomed but undismayed,
Least willing, yet without a groan or sigh,
I go—dark Nemesis! thou art obeyed!
Thou awful Cliff! the billow's funeral cry
Then by the tears unpitied grief hath wept,
By lone bereavement's wail,
And Evil's dark ovations,
Bid universal Ruin hail!
And swell Death's monarch march o'er buried nations!
For me—as fits the Roman lord,
When hopeless peril darkens on his way,
I crave no lingering tortures with the horde
Who gasp and grovel in the slave's dismay,
And to the sick and sulphurous air,
Where Gloom and Fire and Horror dwell,
Pour out to fiction's gods the unheard prayer,
And seek in clouds a heaven, to find on earth a hell!
Thou one Omnipotent Despair!
Whose shadow awes the prostrate world,
Thou kingly Queller of lamenting care!
Oblivion's voiceless home prepare,
And let Extinction's lightning bolt be hurled!
Banished, yet dauntless, doomed but undismayed,
Least willing, yet without a groan or sigh,
I go—dark Nemesis! thou art obeyed!
Thou awful Cliff! the billow's funeral cry
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Thrills through my quickened sense,
That feels with life intense,
Yet, ere a moment's lapse, this soul shall sleep—
This form, a sweltering corse, beneath the unsounded deep!”
Thus to the proud heart's last throb breathing out
Defiance and blaspheming wrath—though wrecked
And ruined, hurling his terrific thoughts
Of baffled vengeance to the shuddering heavens—
A monumental Memnon, sending up
Death's music to the burning hills of death—
Upon the extremest edge of awful cliffs,
That beetled o'er the blackened billows now
Howling their dirges o'er the expected dead,
The haughty Prætor stood alone, and flung
His agonizing spirit's deadliest glance,
The farewell execrating look of pride,
Unquenched by horror, unsubdued by death,
O'er hill, shore, forest, ocean—earth and heaven;
Then, towering like a rebel demigod,
And to the fierce volcano turning quick
His brow of fearful beauty, while his lips
Curved with convulsive curses, o'er the rocks—
Down—down the void, black depths, like a bann'd star,
That feels with life intense,
Yet, ere a moment's lapse, this soul shall sleep—
This form, a sweltering corse, beneath the unsounded deep!”
Thus to the proud heart's last throb breathing out
Defiance and blaspheming wrath—though wrecked
And ruined, hurling his terrific thoughts
Of baffled vengeance to the shuddering heavens—
A monumental Memnon, sending up
Death's music to the burning hills of death—
Upon the extremest edge of awful cliffs,
That beetled o'er the blackened billows now
Howling their dirges o'er the expected dead,
The haughty Prætor stood alone, and flung
His agonizing spirit's deadliest glance,
The farewell execrating look of pride,
Unquenched by horror, unsubdued by death,
O'er hill, shore, forest, ocean—earth and heaven;
Then, towering like a rebel demigod,
And to the fierce volcano turning quick
His brow of fearful beauty, while his lips
Curved with convulsive curses, o'er the rocks—
Down—down the void, black depths, like a bann'd star,
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(That tosses through the universe, a hell,)
Or demon from a meteor mountain's brow,
He plunged and o'er him curled the shivering floods!
Meantime, charred corses in one sepulchre
Of withering ashes lay, and voices rose,
Fewer and fainter, and, each moment, groans
Were hushed, and dead babes on dead bosoms lay,
And lips were blasted into breathlessness
Ere the death kiss was given, and spirits passed
The ebbless, dark, mysterious waves, where dreams
Hover and pulses throb and many a brain
Swims wild with terrible desires to know
The destinies of worlds that lie beyond.
The thick air panted as in nature's death,
And every breath was anguish; every face
Was terror's image, where the soul looked forth,
As looked, sometimes, far on the edge of heaven,
A momentary star the tempest palled.
From ghastlier lips now rose a wilder voice,
As from a ruined sanctuary's gloom,
Like savage winds from the Chorasmian waste
Rushing, with sobs and suffocating screams:
And thus the last despair had utterance.
Or demon from a meteor mountain's brow,
He plunged and o'er him curled the shivering floods!
Meantime, charred corses in one sepulchre
Of withering ashes lay, and voices rose,
Fewer and fainter, and, each moment, groans
Were hushed, and dead babes on dead bosoms lay,
And lips were blasted into breathlessness
Ere the death kiss was given, and spirits passed
The ebbless, dark, mysterious waves, where dreams
Hover and pulses throb and many a brain
Swims wild with terrible desires to know
The destinies of worlds that lie beyond.
The thick air panted as in nature's death,
And every breath was anguish; every face
Was terror's image, where the soul looked forth,
As looked, sometimes, far on the edge of heaven,
A momentary star the tempest palled.
From ghastlier lips now rose a wilder voice,
As from a ruined sanctuary's gloom,
Like savage winds from the Chorasmian waste
Rushing, with sobs and suffocating screams:
And thus the last despair had utterance.
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SIXTH VOICE.
“It bursts! it bursts! and thousand thunders blent,
From the deep heart of agonizing earth,
Knell, shatter, crash along the firmament,
And new hells peopled startle into birth.
Vesuvius sunders! pyramids of fire
From fathomless abysses blast the sky;
E'en desolating Ruin doth expire,
And mortal Death in woe immortal die,
Torrents like lurid gore,
Hurled from the gulf of horror, pour,
Like legion fiends embattled to the spoil,
And o'er the temple domes,
And joy's ten thousand homes,
Beneath the whirlwind hail and storm of ashes boil.
The surges, like coil'd serpents, rise
From midnight caverns of the deep,
And writhe around the rocks,
That shiver in the earthquake's shocks,
And through the blackness of fear's mysteries,
Chained Titans from their beds of torture leap,
And o'er the heavens Eumenides
Seek parting souls for prey—
From the deep heart of agonizing earth,
Knell, shatter, crash along the firmament,
And new hells peopled startle into birth.
Vesuvius sunders! pyramids of fire
From fathomless abysses blast the sky;
E'en desolating Ruin doth expire,
And mortal Death in woe immortal die,
Torrents like lurid gore,
Hurled from the gulf of horror, pour,
Like legion fiends embattled to the spoil,
And o'er the temple domes,
And joy's ten thousand homes,
Beneath the whirlwind hail and storm of ashes boil.
The surges, like coil'd serpents, rise
From midnight caverns of the deep,
And writhe around the rocks,
That shiver in the earthquake's shocks,
And through the blackness of fear's mysteries,
Chained Titans from their beds of torture leap,
And o'er the heavens Eumenides
Seek parting souls for prey—
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Oh God! that on these dark and groaning seas
Would soar one other day!
Vain is the mad desire,
Darkness, convulsion, fire,
Infernal floods, dissolving mountains, fold
The helpless children of woe, sin and Time—
O'er fiery wrecks hath Desolation rolled,
The Infinite Curse attends the finite crime!
No melancholy moon to gaze
With dim cold light remote!
No star, through stormy spheres, with holy rays,
O'er dying eyes, like hope of heaven, to float!
No spot—the oasis of the waste above—
Whose still, sweet beauty glistens
Through clouds that heave and riot in wild masses,
Breaks on the breaking heart! no seraph listens
In blue pavilions, while the spirit passes,
And o'er the dreariest waters bears,
Beyond the unburied's desert shore,
To skies ambrosial and elysian airs,
Where e'en the awful Destinies adore!
No tenderness from lips,
Blackened and swoln and gasping, steals
Amidst the soul's eclipse;
Would soar one other day!
Vain is the mad desire,
Darkness, convulsion, fire,
Infernal floods, dissolving mountains, fold
The helpless children of woe, sin and Time—
O'er fiery wrecks hath Desolation rolled,
The Infinite Curse attends the finite crime!
No melancholy moon to gaze
With dim cold light remote!
No star, through stormy spheres, with holy rays,
O'er dying eyes, like hope of heaven, to float!
No spot—the oasis of the waste above—
Whose still, sweet beauty glistens
Through clouds that heave and riot in wild masses,
Breaks on the breaking heart! no seraph listens
In blue pavilions, while the spirit passes,
And o'er the dreariest waters bears,
Beyond the unburied's desert shore,
To skies ambrosial and elysian airs,
Where e'en the awful Destinies adore!
No tenderness from lips,
Blackened and swoln and gasping, steals
Amidst the soul's eclipse;
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Each, in the solitude of misery, feels,
Ineffable, his own despair,
And sinks unsolaced, unsolacing, down,
O'ercanopied by sulphurous air,
Palled, tombed by seas that terror's last cry drown!
Oh, still the piteous cry
Mounts up the heavens—“fly! fly!”
“Whither?” the billows roar
Among the wrecks and rent crags of the shore.
“Whither?” the Volcano's voice
Repeats, bidding pale death rejoice.
Oh, Hope with madness dwells,
And love of life creates the worst of deaths;
Hark! world to world ten thousand voices swells—
“Resign your breaths!”
We die; the sinner with the sinless dies,
The bud, the flower, the fruit corruption wastes,
Childhood and hoar age blend their agonies,
Destruction o'er the earth—the missioned slayer hastes.”
Swiftly along the Pæstan gulf before
The Alpine gale, scudded the Christians' barque;
Night veiled Lucania's rugged shore but oft
The dreadful radiance of the firemount hung
Ineffable, his own despair,
And sinks unsolaced, unsolacing, down,
O'ercanopied by sulphurous air,
Palled, tombed by seas that terror's last cry drown!
Oh, still the piteous cry
Mounts up the heavens—“fly! fly!”
“Whither?” the billows roar
Among the wrecks and rent crags of the shore.
“Whither?” the Volcano's voice
Repeats, bidding pale death rejoice.
Oh, Hope with madness dwells,
And love of life creates the worst of deaths;
Hark! world to world ten thousand voices swells—
“Resign your breaths!”
We die; the sinner with the sinless dies,
The bud, the flower, the fruit corruption wastes,
Childhood and hoar age blend their agonies,
Destruction o'er the earth—the missioned slayer hastes.”
Swiftly along the Pæstan gulf before
The Alpine gale, scudded the Christians' barque;
Night veiled Lucania's rugged shore but oft
The dreadful radiance of the firemount hung
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Upon the mightiest Apennines, and there
The giant cliffs, hoar forest trees, and glens
Of cataracts—gleamed on the fear-charmed eye,
Distinct though distant; and Salernum's crags
Spurned the chafed sea that rushed before the prow.
“Lo! Pliny's galleys speed to aid at last!”
Said Pansa, gazing through the meteor light,
Towards the Sarnus and the victim host.
“All shall not perish; oars and sails bear on
The Roman armament—and now, in hope
Renewed exulting, from the dust upspring
A thousand prostrate shapes, and on the rocks
Lift their scorched hands, and shout (though we hear not)
The late rescuers on; yet many a heart
Will throb and thrill no more, but buried lie,
Like its own birthplace, till oblivion rests
On the Campanian cities and their guilt.
—Salernum's rocks for ever from our gaze
Hide the dark scene of trial, and we leave,
With swelling canvass, Rome's imperial realm,
Where Christian faith shall, like the sandal tree,
Impart its odor to the feller's axe,
To seek a hermitage in wilds afar.
—Now, as we hasten, let our spirits soar
To Him who shelters when the avenger slays!”
The giant cliffs, hoar forest trees, and glens
Of cataracts—gleamed on the fear-charmed eye,
Distinct though distant; and Salernum's crags
Spurned the chafed sea that rushed before the prow.
“Lo! Pliny's galleys speed to aid at last!”
Said Pansa, gazing through the meteor light,
Towards the Sarnus and the victim host.
“All shall not perish; oars and sails bear on
The Roman armament—and now, in hope
Renewed exulting, from the dust upspring
A thousand prostrate shapes, and on the rocks
Lift their scorched hands, and shout (though we hear not)
The late rescuers on; yet many a heart
Will throb and thrill no more, but buried lie,
Like its own birthplace, till oblivion rests
On the Campanian cities and their guilt.
—Salernum's rocks for ever from our gaze
Hide the dark scene of trial, and we leave,
With swelling canvass, Rome's imperial realm,
Where Christian faith shall, like the sandal tree,
Impart its odor to the feller's axe,
To seek a hermitage in wilds afar.
—Now, as we hasten, let our spirits soar
To Him who shelters when the avenger slays!”
| The last night of Pompeii | |