 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
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THE WILLEY HOUSE.
Here pause upon this ruin. What a tale
Of grandeur and of woe is written here!
He, whom we think not of, because his power
Leads all things gently with the cords of love,
Doth sometimes teach us with a startling blow,
That wakes our senses to his majesty.
He touched the trembling mountain and it fell,—
Fell, with its burden of rent rocks and trees
Of giant growth, a fearful avalanche,—
Fell, amid storm and tempest, while the clouds
Dropped down in floods, and angry lightnings flashed,
And thunders echoing rolled. It seemed as God
Descended in his terrors, as of old
On Sinai, wrapped in darkness, clouds, and storm.
The mountain felt him near,
And trembled from its base; the swelling streams,
Each with its own commission, carried forth
The message of destruction, bidding man
Tremble, adore, and think upon his God.
Of grandeur and of woe is written here!
He, whom we think not of, because his power
Leads all things gently with the cords of love,
Doth sometimes teach us with a startling blow,
That wakes our senses to his majesty.
He touched the trembling mountain and it fell,—
Fell, with its burden of rent rocks and trees
Of giant growth, a fearful avalanche,—
Fell, amid storm and tempest, while the clouds
Dropped down in floods, and angry lightnings flashed,
And thunders echoing rolled. It seemed as God
Descended in his terrors, as of old
On Sinai, wrapped in darkness, clouds, and storm.
The mountain felt him near,
And trembled from its base; the swelling streams,
Each with its own commission, carried forth
The message of destruction, bidding man
Tremble, adore, and think upon his God.
Behold this house. Thus near the horror came,
A few short feet, and stayed, and left it safe.
O, had its panic-stricken tenants staid,
They had been safe; but in their fear they fled,—
Fled from their shelter to the very death
They feared. The morning saw them in their tranquil home,
A family of love; the mother smiled
Upon her five young mountaineers, and joyed
To aid them in their sports, and lead them on
To better things than sport. The drizzly rains
Confined the father, too, within; and much
They talked, perchance, and marvelled at the storm,
That, seemingly exhausted, still poured on
Floods inexhaustible, and gathering
Blackness and fury tenfold, as the day
Passed on. Yet what felt they of fear, or why?
Were they not sheltered in a quiet home?
And what but pleasure, from their nook secure,
To look abroad on this sublime display
Of nature's glorious and unusual pomp?
A few short feet, and stayed, and left it safe.
O, had its panic-stricken tenants staid,
They had been safe; but in their fear they fled,—
Fled from their shelter to the very death
They feared. The morning saw them in their tranquil home,
340
Upon her five young mountaineers, and joyed
To aid them in their sports, and lead them on
To better things than sport. The drizzly rains
Confined the father, too, within; and much
They talked, perchance, and marvelled at the storm,
That, seemingly exhausted, still poured on
Floods inexhaustible, and gathering
Blackness and fury tenfold, as the day
Passed on. Yet what felt they of fear, or why?
Were they not sheltered in a quiet home?
And what but pleasure, from their nook secure,
To look abroad on this sublime display
Of nature's glorious and unusual pomp?
So came the eve, and with the eve came fear.
The tumult thickens, fiercer winds arise,
More copious torrents fall, the mountain groans,
Signs of unwonted dread are heard abroad.
But what do they portend?—the danger, what?
The safety, where? in quiet or in flight?
O, horrible suspense! and, at some sound
Of ominous import, forth at once
Wife, husband, children, in distraction rush.
Again the sound terrific, like the crash
Of earth's last wreck, burst on their frightened ear,
And the descending ruin bears them down.
The tumult thickens, fiercer winds arise,
More copious torrents fall, the mountain groans,
Signs of unwonted dread are heard abroad.
But what do they portend?—the danger, what?
The safety, where? in quiet or in flight?
O, horrible suspense! and, at some sound
Of ominous import, forth at once
Wife, husband, children, in distraction rush.
Again the sound terrific, like the crash
Of earth's last wreck, burst on their frightened ear,
And the descending ruin bears them down.
They sleep in peace; and, humble as they were,
Few of earth's honored sons have monument
Magnificent as this.
To form it, this perpetual hill did bow,
These hoary rocks forsook their ancient base,
And here, while time shall last, the funeral pile
Shall tell where they repose. The crowds that come
To worship at this mountain, countless tribes,
With numbers yearly growing, shall be found
Seeking their sepulchre, to learn their names,
To hear the story of their fate, and speak
One word of pity at the awful tale.
Sleep, then, in peace; unwonted death was yours;
Yours an unwonted monument; and yours
Funereal pomp that kings have never known.
Here, in the embosomed depth
Of these your native mountains, sleep in peace,
Till the last tempest rend the mount again,
And call you from its bosom into light.
Few of earth's honored sons have monument
Magnificent as this.
To form it, this perpetual hill did bow,
These hoary rocks forsook their ancient base,
And here, while time shall last, the funeral pile
Shall tell where they repose. The crowds that come
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With numbers yearly growing, shall be found
Seeking their sepulchre, to learn their names,
To hear the story of their fate, and speak
One word of pity at the awful tale.
Sleep, then, in peace; unwonted death was yours;
Yours an unwonted monument; and yours
Funereal pomp that kings have never known.
Here, in the embosomed depth
Of these your native mountains, sleep in peace,
Till the last tempest rend the mount again,
And call you from its bosom into light.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |