The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield In two volumes |
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ABADDON, THE SPIRIT OF DESTRUCTION. |
 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
279
ABADDON, THE SPIRIT OF DESTRUCTION.
280
THE ARGUMENT.
Abaddon or Apollyon, as the name imports, is supposed to be subordinate only to Satan, the adversary or tempter, who prepares by intrigue and seduction for the terrible triumphs of the Fiend of Ruin. The scenes subsequent to the flight of Abaddon have been necessarily selected for a general illustration of the desolation and agony which sin has entailed upon the world; and the purpose of the author has been to exhibit, in the strongest light, the malevolence, the ingratitude, and the weakness of men; their ineptitude to choose the highest good; their bigoted perseverance in confirmed and habituated crime; their insusceptibility, in the midst of desperate vice, to permanent impressions of virtue; and their ill-fated adherence to all that demoralizes the heart and degrades the mind. From the vast empire of History but few examples could be delineated or even named in a poem so brief as this; but it is trusted that enough have been presented to unfold the melancholy truth, that man has too often been the dupe of fallacy and the slave of passion, devoted to the accomplishment of ambition or opulence—the common vain glories of life—though exposed to the penalty of popular execration and personal unhappiness. Little relief has been thrown upon the picture; for the purest religion has been for centuries made subservient, in too many instances, to the perfidious policy of designing men, who sullied the purity which opposed their ambition, or annihilated by ostracism, the scaffold, or the pyre, the enlightened few of a darkened era.
True piety, averse from contention, and humble in its lofty devotion, exerts but little influence over the affluent and the worldly. The Spirit of Love breathes over the agitated waters, but seldom hushes their commotion; the rainbow of beauty only adorns the storm-cloud which it cannot disperse.
281
Where the wild darkness of the nether world
Fell with its ghastliest grandeur, and vast clouds
Trailed o'er the panting firmament, and hung
Like sworded ministers of vengeance, low
Upon the dismal, thick, and deadly air,
Abaddon stood companionless, and wrapt
In wasting thought—a pyramid of mind
On the dark desert of Despair! Alone
He stood, and his broad shadow quivered o'er
The jagged and tumultuary clouds,
Where living blackness struggled with the glare
Thrown from the fierce volcano's lava breast,
With even a deeper gloom; for moral guilt
Transcends the tempest's terror and the wreck
Of warring elements, and brands its curse
Upon the tortured spirit, from its throne
Hurled down, and doom'd to agonize and burn.
Abraided of his glory—shrouded now
In the dire garments of the accursed race
Whom Pride, the child of Intellect, o'erthrew,
Buried in blackness with the muttering slaves
Of his tremendous treasons—worst of all,
Too proud in desolation's loneliest hours
To hold communion with inferior minds,
Or, for a moment, bend the archangel's brow
To baser natures, pale Abaddon leaned
Against a towering pillar charged with flame,
And spurned the fierce coiled serpents at his feet
With calm derision, for he felt within
Strong anguish past their power. His blasted brow
Worked in a terrible torture as the throng
Of horrible remembrances went by,
And all the majesty of mind unblest
Glared in the high and haughty scorn that burst
From his indrawn, remorseless, withering eyes.
Fell with its ghastliest grandeur, and vast clouds
Trailed o'er the panting firmament, and hung
Like sworded ministers of vengeance, low
Upon the dismal, thick, and deadly air,
Abaddon stood companionless, and wrapt
In wasting thought—a pyramid of mind
On the dark desert of Despair! Alone
He stood, and his broad shadow quivered o'er
The jagged and tumultuary clouds,
Where living blackness struggled with the glare
Thrown from the fierce volcano's lava breast,
With even a deeper gloom; for moral guilt
Transcends the tempest's terror and the wreck
Of warring elements, and brands its curse
Upon the tortured spirit, from its throne
Hurled down, and doom'd to agonize and burn.
Abraided of his glory—shrouded now
In the dire garments of the accursed race
Whom Pride, the child of Intellect, o'erthrew,
Buried in blackness with the muttering slaves
Of his tremendous treasons—worst of all,
Too proud in desolation's loneliest hours
To hold communion with inferior minds,
Or, for a moment, bend the archangel's brow
To baser natures, pale Abaddon leaned
Against a towering pillar charged with flame,
And spurned the fierce coiled serpents at his feet
With calm derision, for he felt within
Strong anguish past their power. His blasted brow
Worked in a terrible torture as the throng
282
And all the majesty of mind unblest
Glared in the high and haughty scorn that burst
From his indrawn, remorseless, withering eyes.
Hurled from the pinnacle of glory—hurled
From seraph throne, from love, from heaven and hope,
The matchless mind, that consummated bliss
When o'er the crystal fountain of his soul
Hovered ethereal Purity and smiled,
Now sealed the utter madness of his doom.
Memory—the star-eyed child of Paradise!
Rushed o'er the burning realm of banished thought,
Raining her scorpion arrows—Shame, Remorse,
Vain Penitence and Hatred of himself
Haunted the ruined altar of his soul,
And offered up the sacrifice of death,
That found no mercy and could never die.
The glacier barriers of his banishment,
Perdition's shattered rocks, whose awful peaks
Gleamed in the holiest light of glory lost,
Closed round his prison-house—his living tomb
Of still tremendous intellect; despair
Followed his steps along his lava path,
And pride restrained his anguish, though no more
He watched with the wild agony of hate
The dayspring or the twilight flight on high
Of gleaming seraphim, or heard the hymns
Of cherubs drinking knowledge from the fount
Of Love and basking in the light of God.
The thoughts, that cast him from his palmy state,
The limitless aspirings and desires
Of an immortal nature, once to him
The ambrosia and the diadem of bliss,
Came o'er him like the spectres of the past,
To shriek amid the ruins they had caused,
And pierce like fire-bolts through his maddened brain.
He dared, and perished in his power and pride,
Fell from the hallowed throne of cherished hope
And sunk to shame—it was enough to know
And feel as great minds feel their perill'd might
And ruined fame, and conscious guilt beyond
The venal casuistry of proud self-love.
He would not be Mezentius to himself,
And wed his great ambition to the corse
Of his dead being; nor, Procrustes-like,
Measure departed happiness in heaven
By present misery in Hades' vault.
From seraph throne, from love, from heaven and hope,
The matchless mind, that consummated bliss
When o'er the crystal fountain of his soul
Hovered ethereal Purity and smiled,
Now sealed the utter madness of his doom.
Memory—the star-eyed child of Paradise!
Rushed o'er the burning realm of banished thought,
Raining her scorpion arrows—Shame, Remorse,
Vain Penitence and Hatred of himself
Haunted the ruined altar of his soul,
And offered up the sacrifice of death,
That found no mercy and could never die.
The glacier barriers of his banishment,
Perdition's shattered rocks, whose awful peaks
Gleamed in the holiest light of glory lost,
Closed round his prison-house—his living tomb
Of still tremendous intellect; despair
Followed his steps along his lava path,
And pride restrained his anguish, though no more
He watched with the wild agony of hate
The dayspring or the twilight flight on high
Of gleaming seraphim, or heard the hymns
Of cherubs drinking knowledge from the fount
Of Love and basking in the light of God.
The thoughts, that cast him from his palmy state,
The limitless aspirings and desires
Of an immortal nature, once to him
The ambrosia and the diadem of bliss,
Came o'er him like the spectres of the past,
To shriek amid the ruins they had caused,
And pierce like fire-bolts through his maddened brain.
He dared, and perished in his power and pride,
Fell from the hallowed throne of cherished hope
And sunk to shame—it was enough to know
283
And ruined fame, and conscious guilt beyond
The venal casuistry of proud self-love.
He would not be Mezentius to himself,
And wed his great ambition to the corse
Of his dead being; nor, Procrustes-like,
Measure departed happiness in heaven
By present misery in Hades' vault.
So back upon himself, with dire resolve,
The voiceless desperation of his doom,
He deeply shrunk, and reck'd not of the Power
Forever paramount, nor punishment
Doomed to the round of ages; desolate,
He cherished not a hope of happier hours,
Loved not, confided not, but breathed above
All sympathy and fellowship and fear.
He poured not tears on thunder-riven rocks,
Nor sighs upon the burning air, that fell
Like lava on his brain and through his heart
In livid lightnings wandered; but he grasped
His garments of eternal flame and wrapt
Their blazing folds around his giant limbs,
And stood with head upraised and meteor eye,
And still lips, whose pale, cold and bitter scorn
Smiled at eternity's deep agonies,
The Spirit of Destruction undestroyed!
Remote from all who fought and fell like him,
In the lone depths of vast Gehenna's waste,
And by the lava mountains overhung,
That darkened e'en the vaulted vapour's gloom,
He stood in that sick loneliness of soul,
That awful solitude of greatness lost,
The Evil, highly gifted, only know,
When every passion riots on the spoils
Of knowledge, and the fountain springs of life
Burst in a burning flood no time can quench.
The voiceless desperation of his doom,
He deeply shrunk, and reck'd not of the Power
Forever paramount, nor punishment
Doomed to the round of ages; desolate,
He cherished not a hope of happier hours,
Loved not, confided not, but breathed above
All sympathy and fellowship and fear.
He poured not tears on thunder-riven rocks,
Nor sighs upon the burning air, that fell
Like lava on his brain and through his heart
In livid lightnings wandered; but he grasped
His garments of eternal flame and wrapt
Their blazing folds around his giant limbs,
And stood with head upraised and meteor eye,
And still lips, whose pale, cold and bitter scorn
Smiled at eternity's deep agonies,
The Spirit of Destruction undestroyed!
Remote from all who fought and fell like him,
In the lone depths of vast Gehenna's waste,
And by the lava mountains overhung,
That darkened e'en the vaulted vapour's gloom,
He stood in that sick loneliness of soul,
That awful solitude of greatness lost,
The Evil, highly gifted, only know,
When every passion riots on the spoils
Of knowledge, and the fountain springs of life
Burst in a burning flood no time can quench.
But that which agonized his hopeless heart
And stung him oft to phrenzy—that, which hung
O'er his all-dreading yet all-daring soul
Like thousand mountains of perpetual flame,
Was earthly innocence. Ere then, had flown
The fame of man's creation, in a sphere
Fashioned in beauty for his joy and use,
Through the black chambers of the central world:
And misery, leagued with being's deadliest foes,
Blighted Ambition and vain hope of Good,
Restless Remorse and desolating Shame,
Pictured the loveliness and love of earth—
The sunlight hills, to whose immortal thrones
Morn like a seraph in its glory came;
The shadowy valleys, where autumnal airs
Mid pine and firwoods uttered those sweet hymns,
That sink into the spirit and become
Oracles of future joy when earth grows dark;
The leafy groves, still'd at the fervid noon
That silence may attend on solemn thought,
The incense rendered on the sun's vast shrine;
The broad and beautiful and glittering streams,
Where Nature, in her soundless solitudes,
Smiled grateful back the eternal smile of Hope.
And stung him oft to phrenzy—that, which hung
284
Like thousand mountains of perpetual flame,
Was earthly innocence. Ere then, had flown
The fame of man's creation, in a sphere
Fashioned in beauty for his joy and use,
Through the black chambers of the central world:
And misery, leagued with being's deadliest foes,
Blighted Ambition and vain hope of Good,
Restless Remorse and desolating Shame,
Pictured the loveliness and love of earth—
The sunlight hills, to whose immortal thrones
Morn like a seraph in its glory came;
The shadowy valleys, where autumnal airs
Mid pine and firwoods uttered those sweet hymns,
That sink into the spirit and become
Oracles of future joy when earth grows dark;
The leafy groves, still'd at the fervid noon
That silence may attend on solemn thought,
The incense rendered on the sun's vast shrine;
The broad and beautiful and glittering streams,
Where Nature, in her soundless solitudes,
Smiled grateful back the eternal smile of Hope.
With the bright hues misfortune gives to joy,
The outcast angel, in his dungeon gloom
Girdled and counselled by the false and vain,
The wicked without aim save love of change,
The galley felons of unguerdoned guilt,
Painted the matchless charms of new born earth;
And, as he imaged forth its blissful scenes,
His burning, riven, desolated heart
Groaned till the caverns of remotest hell
Echoed, and all the envious demons laughed.
For well he knew that while the laws of God
Were as the breath of life to man, no power
Could loose Destruction's adamantine chains,
Or shield his haughty spirit from the scoff
And contumelies low of herding fiends,
Who drivelled e'en in torment, and could find
Meet mirth in wilder madness, and misdeemed
Their crime and agony of less amount,
When mind alone was wanting both to rend
And still renew the anguish ne'er to close.
The outcast angel, in his dungeon gloom
Girdled and counselled by the false and vain,
The wicked without aim save love of change,
The galley felons of unguerdoned guilt,
Painted the matchless charms of new born earth;
And, as he imaged forth its blissful scenes,
His burning, riven, desolated heart
Groaned till the caverns of remotest hell
Echoed, and all the envious demons laughed.
For well he knew that while the laws of God
Were as the breath of life to man, no power
Could loose Destruction's adamantine chains,
Or shield his haughty spirit from the scoff
And contumelies low of herding fiends,
Who drivelled e'en in torment, and could find
Meet mirth in wilder madness, and misdeemed
285
When mind alone was wanting both to rend
And still renew the anguish ne'er to close.
But soon from Eden, o er the wide void deep,
Returned the adversary, the master fiend,
Moulder of fiercest passions—queller, too,
Of turbulence and vain ferocity,
Whose serpent wisdom nourished matchless pride,
Whose hope was ruin and whose counsel, death,
In guile without a peer; on holy works
And customary rites attendant e'er
As come their seasons, with a zealot's speech
Prolonged and trumpeted that pours and pours
Like turbid waters by the tempest hurled.
He holds devoted natures with the grasp
Of death, and 'neath the pictured mask of grace
Hides the atrocity and doom of hell.
Opinion, fount of action, falsely held,
Founds and confirms his empire; fallacies,
With master skill and magic, he distorts
And beautifies with the fair robes of faith;
The martyr's sacrifice—the patriot's doom—
The just man's dungeon hours—the last despair
Of virtue, and proud honour's agony,
To him are mirth and music; and he feasts,
With hetacombs of victims offered up
Upon the idol shrine of evil here,
His own eternal anguish and remorse.
The rushing of his dragon wings, like storms
In mountain gorges, shook the conscious air,
And rapture sounded in their vast quick sweep
Along the dim confines and swirling gulf
Of chaos! Crowded round the cloudy throne
Of Pandæmonium all the rebel horde,
And rapidly, with haughty gesture, passed
Abaddon to his place, the loftiest there
Save one, and terribly his glowing eyes
Watched and awaited the descending chief.
Returned the adversary, the master fiend,
Moulder of fiercest passions—queller, too,
Of turbulence and vain ferocity,
Whose serpent wisdom nourished matchless pride,
Whose hope was ruin and whose counsel, death,
In guile without a peer; on holy works
And customary rites attendant e'er
As come their seasons, with a zealot's speech
Prolonged and trumpeted that pours and pours
Like turbid waters by the tempest hurled.
He holds devoted natures with the grasp
Of death, and 'neath the pictured mask of grace
Hides the atrocity and doom of hell.
Opinion, fount of action, falsely held,
Founds and confirms his empire; fallacies,
With master skill and magic, he distorts
And beautifies with the fair robes of faith;
The martyr's sacrifice—the patriot's doom—
The just man's dungeon hours—the last despair
Of virtue, and proud honour's agony,
To him are mirth and music; and he feasts,
With hetacombs of victims offered up
Upon the idol shrine of evil here,
His own eternal anguish and remorse.
The rushing of his dragon wings, like storms
In mountain gorges, shook the conscious air,
And rapture sounded in their vast quick sweep
Along the dim confines and swirling gulf
Of chaos! Crowded round the cloudy throne
Of Pandæmonium all the rebel horde,
And rapidly, with haughty gesture, passed
Abaddon to his place, the loftiest there
Save one, and terribly his glowing eyes
Watched and awaited the descending chief.
286
As in the prophet's vision by the brink
Of Ulai's orient wave, the victor foe
Touched not the earth in haughtiness of power,
But, ere confronting, conquered in the spoil;
So rushed the giant prince of darkness now
On condor pinions, with hyæna eye,
And broad brow in the storm-cloud deeply wrapt,
In his career exultant that despair
And death from birth to burial should infect
Man's heart pulse, paralyze his spirit's power
Seal all his human hopes with vanity,
Burden all pleasure with besetting fear,
Wed honour to disgrace and pride to shame,
Bring widowhood in youth, and friendless leave
Unportioned orphanage in evil days,
And change each quickened breath to sobs and sighs,
And o'er all scenes of love and rapture cast
The gloom of peril, hopelessness and want
That trails and languishes yet fears to end.
Of Ulai's orient wave, the victor foe
Touched not the earth in haughtiness of power,
But, ere confronting, conquered in the spoil;
So rushed the giant prince of darkness now
On condor pinions, with hyæna eye,
And broad brow in the storm-cloud deeply wrapt,
In his career exultant that despair
And death from birth to burial should infect
Man's heart pulse, paralyze his spirit's power
Seal all his human hopes with vanity,
Burden all pleasure with besetting fear,
Wed honour to disgrace and pride to shame,
Bring widowhood in youth, and friendless leave
Unportioned orphanage in evil days,
And change each quickened breath to sobs and sighs,
And o'er all scenes of love and rapture cast
The gloom of peril, hopelessness and want
That trails and languishes yet fears to end.
Crowned with a volcan glory, came the fiend,
Trembling amid his triumph lest the wrath
Of fiercer retribution should pursue
His victory, and o'er his deathless fate
Hang with unutterable revenge that grasps
Eternities of misery, though he felt
Awful capacities, transcendant powers,
Knowledge of good and evil past the scope
Of all created minds, and strength of will
Matched only by his restless agony.
On—on he rushed, like that dread vision borne
O'er Gilboa's midnight hills when shield and spear
Shiver'd and regal crown and sceptre rolled
Down desolate ravines—resolved to bear
All evil worst imagined with a soul
Of quenchless majesty, till o'er all space
Annihilation reigned by chaos' side.
So, fanning the black gulf of flame amid
The horrible profound, his cloud-like wings
Furled at the flaming footstool of his throne.
Trembling amid his triumph lest the wrath
Of fiercer retribution should pursue
His victory, and o'er his deathless fate
Hang with unutterable revenge that grasps
Eternities of misery, though he felt
Awful capacities, transcendant powers,
Knowledge of good and evil past the scope
Of all created minds, and strength of will
Matched only by his restless agony.
On—on he rushed, like that dread vision borne
O'er Gilboa's midnight hills when shield and spear
Shiver'd and regal crown and sceptre rolled
Down desolate ravines—resolved to bear
All evil worst imagined with a soul
Of quenchless majesty, till o'er all space
Annihilation reigned by chaos' side.
So, fanning the black gulf of flame amid
The horrible profound, his cloud-like wings
Furled at the flaming footstool of his throne.
287
“Triumph, Dominions!” loud the arch-dæmon cried,
His eyeballs flashing round; “The Son of Heaven
“Hath fallen as we fell! Ye legions? Lift
“Your voices till the rifted concave shrieks,
“For I have vanquished His peculiar work!
“We lost our birthright for Ambition's wreath
“Of martyrdom, and for ourselves alone
“We bleed and burn; but these weak beings sought
“Evil for evil's sake—knew not, forewarned,
“That knowledge is the crown of destinies,
“And thought not that one crime in them must breed
“Myriads of myriads, and perpetuate
“Misery and madness till unnumbered years
“Have wafted hosts on hosts to one abyss
“And earth no more can sepulchre the dead.
“Who shall arraign the Tempter? faith, untried,
“May be but falsehood; innocence becomes
“Virtue but in victorious trial; proved
“In his proud conquest o'er deceit and guile,
“Man had been worthy of his Maker's trust,
“But, disobedient to well known commands,
“He stands disrobed, unfolding what he is.
“The Almighty held denial in his power
“Of the permission to attest his work,
“But used it not; he might have crowned the man
“With perspicacity and strength beyond
“The daring of the bravest; but he left
“His creature to the workings of his will,
“The illusions of his uncontrolled desires,
“Though oft premonished; so, at once he fell
“And reaped the recompense, and where 's the guilt?
“Not mine, but his who saw yet boldly sinn'd!”
While Satan thus harangued his rebel band,
Mounted in pyramids the lurid flames
On the black mountains and the vales of hell,
And loud the concentrated shouts went o'er
The radiant battlements of heaven, where stood
Seraph and cherub on their missioned charge.
His eyeballs flashing round; “The Son of Heaven
“Hath fallen as we fell! Ye legions? Lift
“Your voices till the rifted concave shrieks,
“For I have vanquished His peculiar work!
“We lost our birthright for Ambition's wreath
“Of martyrdom, and for ourselves alone
“We bleed and burn; but these weak beings sought
“Evil for evil's sake—knew not, forewarned,
“That knowledge is the crown of destinies,
“And thought not that one crime in them must breed
“Myriads of myriads, and perpetuate
“Misery and madness till unnumbered years
“Have wafted hosts on hosts to one abyss
“And earth no more can sepulchre the dead.
“Who shall arraign the Tempter? faith, untried,
“May be but falsehood; innocence becomes
“Virtue but in victorious trial; proved
“In his proud conquest o'er deceit and guile,
“Man had been worthy of his Maker's trust,
“But, disobedient to well known commands,
“He stands disrobed, unfolding what he is.
“The Almighty held denial in his power
“Of the permission to attest his work,
“But used it not; he might have crowned the man
“With perspicacity and strength beyond
“The daring of the bravest; but he left
“His creature to the workings of his will,
“The illusions of his uncontrolled desires,
“Though oft premonished; so, at once he fell
“And reaped the recompense, and where 's the guilt?
“Not mine, but his who saw yet boldly sinn'd!”
While Satan thus harangued his rebel band,
Mounted in pyramids the lurid flames
On the black mountains and the vales of hell,
And loud the concentrated shouts went o'er
The radiant battlements of heaven, where stood
Seraph and cherub on their missioned charge.
Scarce ceased the wild acclaim, ere swiftly rose
Abaddon and down dropped his chains; the blaze
Of battle burst along his broad high brow,
Its thunder from his voice; he stamped his foot,
And hell recoiled; he turned his scorching eyes
Upon the gathered fiends, and all fell back,
Save Moloch, with a shudder felt through all
The realm of darkness; but a withering smile
Quivered o'er Satan's dreadful countenance
To witness thus his victory; his thoughts
Sprung on eternity's vast shadowy wings,
And down the viewless future madly rushed,
With the uproar of ocean breaking through
The crashing mountain barriers of the earth.
Conquered and manacled, but unsubdued,
Despairing, yet devoted to his crime,
He grasped at all fantastic shapes—all shades
Of stalwart phantoms, gaunt, and grim, and huge,
And moulded them to giant foes of God.
Though in his Titan heart the poison stirr'd,
Thrilled through each vein, and every iron nerve
Convulsed, and mounted to his burning brain
In boiling eddies, yet his scornful lip
Still pressed the chalice of a vain revenge.
He started from his vision as the fiend
Of Ruin, dark Abaddon, shook his plumes,
Broad as the tempest's banner, on the air,
And, roaring like the famished lion round
The wastes of Tadmor or Ipsamboul, cried—
“My time hath come! no more in this black den
“Of sloth, and desolation, and despair,
“Slumbers the Spirit of Destruction! Sin
“Invokes her bridegroom Ruin! Earth and Time
“Already shudder, conscious of my tread.
“We meet no more save on our embassies
“Of woe and terror till our prince achieves
“His glutted vengeance; but in many a land
“Ye shall be gods to nations, who shall fall
“Before your shrines and sacrifice their blood
“In rites the stars shall mark with pale affright,
“Mysteries and sorceries and magic charms,
“To win the endless torment of our hell!
“My spirit feels the knowledge—fallen man
“Will dare beyond the damned—sink his soul
“In vengeance and corruption—bare his arm
“Against the heavens that bless him, and exceed,
“Once taught, e'en my capacity of hate.
“Therefore, exult! exult! and fare ye well!”
He said; and momently his pinions shook
Their first quick curses o'er the quivering void!
Abaddon and down dropped his chains; the blaze
288
Its thunder from his voice; he stamped his foot,
And hell recoiled; he turned his scorching eyes
Upon the gathered fiends, and all fell back,
Save Moloch, with a shudder felt through all
The realm of darkness; but a withering smile
Quivered o'er Satan's dreadful countenance
To witness thus his victory; his thoughts
Sprung on eternity's vast shadowy wings,
And down the viewless future madly rushed,
With the uproar of ocean breaking through
The crashing mountain barriers of the earth.
Conquered and manacled, but unsubdued,
Despairing, yet devoted to his crime,
He grasped at all fantastic shapes—all shades
Of stalwart phantoms, gaunt, and grim, and huge,
And moulded them to giant foes of God.
Though in his Titan heart the poison stirr'd,
Thrilled through each vein, and every iron nerve
Convulsed, and mounted to his burning brain
In boiling eddies, yet his scornful lip
Still pressed the chalice of a vain revenge.
He started from his vision as the fiend
Of Ruin, dark Abaddon, shook his plumes,
Broad as the tempest's banner, on the air,
And, roaring like the famished lion round
The wastes of Tadmor or Ipsamboul, cried—
“My time hath come! no more in this black den
“Of sloth, and desolation, and despair,
“Slumbers the Spirit of Destruction! Sin
“Invokes her bridegroom Ruin! Earth and Time
“Already shudder, conscious of my tread.
“We meet no more save on our embassies
“Of woe and terror till our prince achieves
“His glutted vengeance; but in many a land
“Ye shall be gods to nations, who shall fall
“Before your shrines and sacrifice their blood
“In rites the stars shall mark with pale affright,
“Mysteries and sorceries and magic charms,
“To win the endless torment of our hell!
289
“Will dare beyond the damned—sink his soul
“In vengeance and corruption—bare his arm
“Against the heavens that bless him, and exceed,
“Once taught, e'en my capacity of hate.
“Therefore, exult! exult! and fare ye well!”
He said; and momently his pinions shook
Their first quick curses o'er the quivering void!
The Spirit of Celestial Love, that stood
Beside the throne of mercy, breathing bliss
Through each ethereal bosom, inly felt
By that mysterious mind, which guides all thought
And unwilled feeling and directs all deeds,
The flight of evil and the dæmon's power;
And, silently commissioned by that mode
Ineffable and yet well known in heaven,
By which the electric will of Deity
Pervades all spirits as light gleams through the eye,
The Angel of Benevolence arose
And passed from peace and praise to wrath and hate,
From perfect bliss to doubt and care and strife,
From heaven's own glory to the gloom of earth.
But great the guerdon and the final crown,
A living and perpetual fount of joy,
By human pride unsullied, by the lips
Of guilt untouched, shrined in the unchanging skies.
—Thou soul of music in a world of hate!
Thou beautiful and holy spring of love
And mildness by the bland and blessed voice
Of martyrs and apostles gently called
Charity, that hides unreckoned sins.
O'er troubled earth thou breathest balmy peace,
Hushing disquiet with a whisper heard
Like greenwood hymns at eve; and men, unawed
By storm and earthquake, to thy soft low voice
Listen like convicts to unhoped reprieve.
Immortal love! though generations glide
In shadowy armies to the spirit-land,
And kingdoms perish, and their glories fade
In fabled legends, and untravelled seas
Lament o'er buried cities, still thy youth,
Thy brightness and thy beauty glow the same.
In living hearts thine empire changes not,
And from the vale of sepulchres thy smile
Wafts spirits purified to glory's home!—
—Forth went the angel to his trial, meek
In power, by soft allurements to o'ercome
The savage wrath of men, and thwart the aim
Of the remorseless fiend loosed on his prey.
Time with the silent speed of light passed o'er
Eden's poor wandering exiles, and the gush
Of their first anguish and remorse and woe,
Beneath the hallowed influence of love,
Daily endearment and affections linked,
And blended destinies and humbled thoughts,
Faded to an endurance and a hope
That breathed like zephyr o'er them; and they drew
From nature and her eloquence of bloom,
Her moonlight music and her starry hymn,
Her still green places of repose, her crowned
And glorious mountains, where the bannered trees
Against the sunset sky like angels stood
And waved the way to heaven—they daily drew
A blessing on their toil—a sacred charm
For loneliness that fell not on the heart,
Meek quiet filled with stilly dreams of days
Unborn—and lifted up in thankfulness—
And faith that linked them to immortal life
With Him, the Christ, redeeming what he judged.
Beside the throne of mercy, breathing bliss
Through each ethereal bosom, inly felt
By that mysterious mind, which guides all thought
And unwilled feeling and directs all deeds,
The flight of evil and the dæmon's power;
And, silently commissioned by that mode
Ineffable and yet well known in heaven,
By which the electric will of Deity
Pervades all spirits as light gleams through the eye,
The Angel of Benevolence arose
And passed from peace and praise to wrath and hate,
From perfect bliss to doubt and care and strife,
From heaven's own glory to the gloom of earth.
But great the guerdon and the final crown,
A living and perpetual fount of joy,
By human pride unsullied, by the lips
Of guilt untouched, shrined in the unchanging skies.
—Thou soul of music in a world of hate!
Thou beautiful and holy spring of love
And mildness by the bland and blessed voice
Of martyrs and apostles gently called
Charity, that hides unreckoned sins.
O'er troubled earth thou breathest balmy peace,
Hushing disquiet with a whisper heard
Like greenwood hymns at eve; and men, unawed
By storm and earthquake, to thy soft low voice
Listen like convicts to unhoped reprieve.
Immortal love! though generations glide
In shadowy armies to the spirit-land,
And kingdoms perish, and their glories fade
290
Lament o'er buried cities, still thy youth,
Thy brightness and thy beauty glow the same.
In living hearts thine empire changes not,
And from the vale of sepulchres thy smile
Wafts spirits purified to glory's home!—
—Forth went the angel to his trial, meek
In power, by soft allurements to o'ercome
The savage wrath of men, and thwart the aim
Of the remorseless fiend loosed on his prey.
Time with the silent speed of light passed o'er
Eden's poor wandering exiles, and the gush
Of their first anguish and remorse and woe,
Beneath the hallowed influence of love,
Daily endearment and affections linked,
And blended destinies and humbled thoughts,
Faded to an endurance and a hope
That breathed like zephyr o'er them; and they drew
From nature and her eloquence of bloom,
Her moonlight music and her starry hymn,
Her still green places of repose, her crowned
And glorious mountains, where the bannered trees
Against the sunset sky like angels stood
And waved the way to heaven—they daily drew
A blessing on their toil—a sacred charm
For loneliness that fell not on the heart,
Meek quiet filled with stilly dreams of days
Unborn—and lifted up in thankfulness—
And faith that linked them to immortal life
With Him, the Christ, redeeming what he judged.
So in each others' weal and in the love
Of children smiling on a wondrous world,
And, like the lonicera round the palm,
Climbing about their bosoms while the flowers
Of young mind perfumed all the enchanted air,
They found their solace; and winged pleasure sung
Around their rest, undreading future ill.
Years brought their fruits and flocks, and Abel's voice
Cheerily went up on morning airs, and swelled
In that sweet living melody of heart
Pure thoughts inspire at hallowed eventide.
His home was on the hills, his altar there;
His sceptre was his crook, his soul his throne,
Peace was his realm, his God was everywhere.
Of children smiling on a wondrous world,
And, like the lonicera round the palm,
Climbing about their bosoms while the flowers
Of young mind perfumed all the enchanted air,
They found their solace; and winged pleasure sung
Around their rest, undreading future ill.
Years brought their fruits and flocks, and Abel's voice
Cheerily went up on morning airs, and swelled
291
Pure thoughts inspire at hallowed eventide.
His home was on the hills, his altar there;
His sceptre was his crook, his soul his throne,
Peace was his realm, his God was everywhere.
Cain tilled the earth, a stern and wayward man,
Cursing the curse of toil and barrenness,
Though plenty clothed the hillside and the vale
With golden beauty, and his generous herds
Reposed, full banquetted, on broad green meads.
He recked not of the gentleness of love,
Calm virtue and submitted pride and thoughts
Exalted o'er all evil, from the dross
Of earth refined and fitted for their home.
But great ambition panted for renown
And monuments and temples and a fame
Immortal as the skies that watched his soul.
Tradition, uttered by the voice of grief,
Had told the pomp of hierarchies throned
And sceptred seraphim, and Cain's vain heart
Burn'd for their princedoms and their potencies.
So evil grew, and daily to his task
He bore a darker spirit; envy cast
Midnight o'er happiness not left for him,
And hatred tracked the shepherd to the hills.
There are two altars on a lonely mount
Since named the Throne of Elbours, mid the land
Of Iran, clothing its dark brow in clouds,
While thunder voices down each shattered gorge,
Ravine of rocks and dreary shagged glen
Mutter and moan, and in the fiery depth
The dread volcano startles into wrath.
Beside each shrine stand two majestic forms,
Beautiful in early manhood, girt with strength
As with a robe of steel, whose thousand chains
Sleep 'neath the silken draperies and plumes
And broidered cloth of gold of courtier pomp.
Yet in their orisons and deeds unlike,
Their thoughts and sacrifice, a spotless lamb
Divided lay on Abel's shrine; the fruit
Of earth, the haughty offering of a heart
That bade the Deity accept the form
Of worship, and give back the meed deserved,
Fell from the hand of pride upon the wood
Of Cain heaped on steep rocks in shapeless piles.
The shepherd's prayer in stillness mounts to God,
And fire descends and curls in lambent wreaths
O'er faith's oblation and adoring love.
But darkly broods the storm of heavenly wrath
O'er the unholy sacrifice of guilt;
Naked before the eye of judgement stands,
Benetted with hypocrisies and crimes,
The fierce conspirator, whom evil thoughts
Clothe as a garment; and he turns aside
From the heart-withering glance aghast with shame,
Yet desecrated to revenge in blood.
Lowered the flushed brow of Cain—his visage fell,
And through the darkened avenues of sin
The Fiend of Ruin to his bosom stole
And stirred the livid flame: “Thy Maker scorns
“Thee and thy service and he hath respect
“Alone for slaves who prostrate do his will.
“Thy vassal brother wins the praise of God
“By austere life and a feigned awe of heaven,
“While thou, the victim, though thou hast the power
“Of victor, waitest on his sanctity,
“And, with a forced repentance, standest by
“To breathe the accepted incense of thy foe!
“Earth, sea and hell cry vengeance—be avenged!”
Cain listened and obeyed—his weapon fell—
Death started from the gory ground and gazed
With haggard horror on his father fiend.
And fled, the trembling vanquisher! All heaven
In awful stillness heard the martyr's groan,
The cherubim amid their worship paused,
And even the viewless throne of God was veiled
In sevenfold darkness!—silence hushed her heart!
Cursing the curse of toil and barrenness,
Though plenty clothed the hillside and the vale
With golden beauty, and his generous herds
Reposed, full banquetted, on broad green meads.
He recked not of the gentleness of love,
Calm virtue and submitted pride and thoughts
Exalted o'er all evil, from the dross
Of earth refined and fitted for their home.
But great ambition panted for renown
And monuments and temples and a fame
Immortal as the skies that watched his soul.
Tradition, uttered by the voice of grief,
Had told the pomp of hierarchies throned
And sceptred seraphim, and Cain's vain heart
Burn'd for their princedoms and their potencies.
So evil grew, and daily to his task
He bore a darker spirit; envy cast
Midnight o'er happiness not left for him,
And hatred tracked the shepherd to the hills.
There are two altars on a lonely mount
Since named the Throne of Elbours, mid the land
Of Iran, clothing its dark brow in clouds,
While thunder voices down each shattered gorge,
Ravine of rocks and dreary shagged glen
Mutter and moan, and in the fiery depth
The dread volcano startles into wrath.
Beside each shrine stand two majestic forms,
Beautiful in early manhood, girt with strength
As with a robe of steel, whose thousand chains
Sleep 'neath the silken draperies and plumes
And broidered cloth of gold of courtier pomp.
Yet in their orisons and deeds unlike,
292
Divided lay on Abel's shrine; the fruit
Of earth, the haughty offering of a heart
That bade the Deity accept the form
Of worship, and give back the meed deserved,
Fell from the hand of pride upon the wood
Of Cain heaped on steep rocks in shapeless piles.
The shepherd's prayer in stillness mounts to God,
And fire descends and curls in lambent wreaths
O'er faith's oblation and adoring love.
But darkly broods the storm of heavenly wrath
O'er the unholy sacrifice of guilt;
Naked before the eye of judgement stands,
Benetted with hypocrisies and crimes,
The fierce conspirator, whom evil thoughts
Clothe as a garment; and he turns aside
From the heart-withering glance aghast with shame,
Yet desecrated to revenge in blood.
Lowered the flushed brow of Cain—his visage fell,
And through the darkened avenues of sin
The Fiend of Ruin to his bosom stole
And stirred the livid flame: “Thy Maker scorns
“Thee and thy service and he hath respect
“Alone for slaves who prostrate do his will.
“Thy vassal brother wins the praise of God
“By austere life and a feigned awe of heaven,
“While thou, the victim, though thou hast the power
“Of victor, waitest on his sanctity,
“And, with a forced repentance, standest by
“To breathe the accepted incense of thy foe!
“Earth, sea and hell cry vengeance—be avenged!”
Cain listened and obeyed—his weapon fell—
Death started from the gory ground and gazed
With haggard horror on his father fiend.
And fled, the trembling vanquisher! All heaven
In awful stillness heard the martyr's groan,
The cherubim amid their worship paused,
And even the viewless throne of God was veiled
In sevenfold darkness!—silence hushed her heart!
293
Cursed with a deathless agony—the seal
Of terror on his brow, the fire of death
Coiling around his spirit, to man's scorn
And desolation and despair marked out,
Creating solitude where'er he comes,
Shunned by the death he summoned from the sod,
And left a breathing sepulchre amid
The mirth of nuptials and the feast of birth,
Departs the Fratricide; and with him haste
To the lone wilds of Elam, land of Nod,
Belial and Moloch, grovelling chiefs of hell.
Of terror on his brow, the fire of death
Coiling around his spirit, to man's scorn
And desolation and despair marked out,
Creating solitude where'er he comes,
Shunned by the death he summoned from the sod,
And left a breathing sepulchre amid
The mirth of nuptials and the feast of birth,
Departs the Fratricide; and with him haste
To the lone wilds of Elam, land of Nod,
Belial and Moloch, grovelling chiefs of hell.
Hast thou beheld the Persecutor gloat
O'er banished virtue, outcast guiltlessness?
Hast thou beheld him following Want's slow tread
To poison every little stream of life?
Oh, hast thou heard him whisper chill distrust
And viper caution into friendship's ear,
And seen the electric change—the altered eye,
The hand withdrawn—the petrified repulse—
While voiceless Innocence retired and wept?
Hast thou seen hatred wear the guise of grace,
And robe revenge in the fair garb of heaven?
Before me rises the inquisitor,
With meek hands folded on his breast—bowed head,
And downcast eyes, and noiseless, gliding step,
Proudly exulting in the awarded praise
Of mild humility and zeal chastised
By holy ruth that weeps the doom it speaks;
While rancour revels in his bigot heart,
And chain and faggot—woe and lingering death
Rejoice his spirit more than temple hymns.
Thus to his spoil went forth the dreadful Fiend,
(And he hath many a slave even now on earth)
To gather in the harvest of his hate.
O'er banished virtue, outcast guiltlessness?
Hast thou beheld him following Want's slow tread
To poison every little stream of life?
Oh, hast thou heard him whisper chill distrust
And viper caution into friendship's ear,
And seen the electric change—the altered eye,
The hand withdrawn—the petrified repulse—
While voiceless Innocence retired and wept?
Hast thou seen hatred wear the guise of grace,
And robe revenge in the fair garb of heaven?
Before me rises the inquisitor,
With meek hands folded on his breast—bowed head,
And downcast eyes, and noiseless, gliding step,
Proudly exulting in the awarded praise
Of mild humility and zeal chastised
By holy ruth that weeps the doom it speaks;
While rancour revels in his bigot heart,
And chain and faggot—woe and lingering death
Rejoice his spirit more than temple hymns.
Thus to his spoil went forth the dreadful Fiend,
(And he hath many a slave even now on earth)
To gather in the harvest of his hate.
Crime came to consummation when the sons
Of heaven reviled the image of their King,
Wedded idolatries and nameless rites,
Debased their nature in the dust and sealed
Lovebonds with the accursed race of Cain.
Hence miscreations came—the giant kings
Of old, and monsters, hideous birth of sin,
Phœnicia's Anakim—Titanic chiefs,
Centaurs and Lapithæ, vampires and gnomes,
Malign and elvish dwarfs whom dregs suffice,
Save that they, serpent-like, will lick the dust—
Briareus, Polyphemus and their peers,
Nature's abhorrence and derision, sent
To riot in all wrong and waste and woe.
Bright, young and beautiful, the world o'erflowed
With shame that hath no voice in better days,
And mercy, wearied with perpetual guilt,
Lifted her prayer no more, and justice cried
“God's spirit shall not always strive with man!”
Of heaven reviled the image of their King,
Wedded idolatries and nameless rites,
Debased their nature in the dust and sealed
294
Hence miscreations came—the giant kings
Of old, and monsters, hideous birth of sin,
Phœnicia's Anakim—Titanic chiefs,
Centaurs and Lapithæ, vampires and gnomes,
Malign and elvish dwarfs whom dregs suffice,
Save that they, serpent-like, will lick the dust—
Briareus, Polyphemus and their peers,
Nature's abhorrence and derision, sent
To riot in all wrong and waste and woe.
Bright, young and beautiful, the world o'erflowed
With shame that hath no voice in better days,
And mercy, wearied with perpetual guilt,
Lifted her prayer no more, and justice cried
“God's spirit shall not always strive with man!”
The years of long forbearance slowly fled,
The vision of the prophet from all eyes
Vanished like sunrise vapors, and the words
Of wisdom echoed like a dying voice
In Sinai's wilderness; no spirit bowed,
No heart relented at the coming wrath.
Revel that brought no joy, and shrill-voiced mirth
Most melancholy poured their madness out,
And lozels wantonn'd o'er the poisoned bowl,
And blasphemy embraced the shape of death,
Howling hoarse curses, and all forms of sin,
All gross imaginations of desire,
All vampyre appetites and goule-like lusts
Trampled and triumphed o'er the laws of God.
The vision of the prophet from all eyes
Vanished like sunrise vapors, and the words
Of wisdom echoed like a dying voice
In Sinai's wilderness; no spirit bowed,
No heart relented at the coming wrath.
Revel that brought no joy, and shrill-voiced mirth
Most melancholy poured their madness out,
And lozels wantonn'd o'er the poisoned bowl,
And blasphemy embraced the shape of death,
Howling hoarse curses, and all forms of sin,
All gross imaginations of desire,
All vampyre appetites and goule-like lusts
Trampled and triumphed o'er the laws of God.
The pictured cloud conceals the wildest storm,
The earthquake leaps from slumber into rage,
And guilt, most safe, is nearest to despair.
All bosoms had been gored by man's excess,
And all thoughts coined and coffered up to pile
The matchless monument of evil deeds.
Poesy, the bride of Beauty and the child
Of Purity, immortal in the skies,
Soiled by the atheist and the ribald, lost
The brightness of her birthright, the blest charm
Of her ecstatic being that hung round
Her sylphic form in rainbow robes of light,
And fell before the altar of the Fiend.
Struck by the pestilence that roamed each track
Of daily life, the Good in forests dim
Or Al-Gezira's loneliest caverns dwelt,
Pale famished anchorets, and hoary hairs
Waved in the winter-winds of Oman's Sea.
These few; the undreaded Future's destinies
Rival not present policy—the scope
Of proud example, and expediency,
That sullies more than less occult offence.
Hoar heads alone rever'd celestial laws;
Exuberant youth, in confidence of time,
Held the late banquet, seeking pleasure's meed
Among the bowers of pain; and Jubal's lyre,
Hung on the willow, harped in desert winds.
To crown the cup of vengeance and to bar
All hope forever, sons of Belial poured
On Noah's heart the gall of base report
And pointed at him with a scoff and jeer,
And drove him from their dwellings with reproach.
Then came the herald of the heavens and closed,
With awful words, the prophet's mission there;
And, hovering o'er his victims in the pride
Of power, Abaddon listened to the roar
Of coming Ruin as the war-steed drinks
At mourn the music of the noon-tide strife.
The earthquake leaps from slumber into rage,
And guilt, most safe, is nearest to despair.
All bosoms had been gored by man's excess,
And all thoughts coined and coffered up to pile
The matchless monument of evil deeds.
Poesy, the bride of Beauty and the child
Of Purity, immortal in the skies,
Soiled by the atheist and the ribald, lost
295
Of her ecstatic being that hung round
Her sylphic form in rainbow robes of light,
And fell before the altar of the Fiend.
Struck by the pestilence that roamed each track
Of daily life, the Good in forests dim
Or Al-Gezira's loneliest caverns dwelt,
Pale famished anchorets, and hoary hairs
Waved in the winter-winds of Oman's Sea.
These few; the undreaded Future's destinies
Rival not present policy—the scope
Of proud example, and expediency,
That sullies more than less occult offence.
Hoar heads alone rever'd celestial laws;
Exuberant youth, in confidence of time,
Held the late banquet, seeking pleasure's meed
Among the bowers of pain; and Jubal's lyre,
Hung on the willow, harped in desert winds.
To crown the cup of vengeance and to bar
All hope forever, sons of Belial poured
On Noah's heart the gall of base report
And pointed at him with a scoff and jeer,
And drove him from their dwellings with reproach.
Then came the herald of the heavens and closed,
With awful words, the prophet's mission there;
And, hovering o'er his victims in the pride
Of power, Abaddon listened to the roar
Of coming Ruin as the war-steed drinks
At mourn the music of the noon-tide strife.
Lingering like hopeless love around the form
Of its young worship, slowly on the verge
Of the blue firmament a bannered cloud
O'er Taurus rose and rested in the air.
Upon its folds deep darkness hung and oft
Quick shooting gleams of lurid fire withdrew,
For momentary glances of mad fear,
The vast dark curtain of God's mysteries.
Then up 't was lifted o'er the lovely vault
Broader and blacker, and the thunder's voice
O'er Caucasus and Shinar's evil realm
Rushed, like the archangel's trumpet blast of doom,
Crying “Repent while judgement waits your prayers!”
But silence answered, and ascended higher
The tempest in tremendous masses swept
Like dust before the samiel. On the peak,
The utmost pinnacle of those vast clouds,
Grasping the arrowy bolts that round his brows
Hung like a crown, and glaring down on earth
With eyes of basilisk that drank the blood,
The Appearance of a giant shape appeared;
And, as the priest and prophet sadly paused
To gaze and weep, he raised his swimming eyes
To watch the moment when the door must close
And hope expire; and, like a swirling bark
In Norway's Maelstrom, sank his awe-struck heart—
For he beheld Abaddon, calling up
All wandering vapours from the shoreless Deep,
Guiding the hurricane and hurrying on
The dread reluctant Ruin, and he heard
The laugh of hell beneath the stars of heaven.
Of its young worship, slowly on the verge
Of the blue firmament a bannered cloud
O'er Taurus rose and rested in the air.
Upon its folds deep darkness hung and oft
Quick shooting gleams of lurid fire withdrew,
For momentary glances of mad fear,
The vast dark curtain of God's mysteries.
Then up 't was lifted o'er the lovely vault
Broader and blacker, and the thunder's voice
296
Rushed, like the archangel's trumpet blast of doom,
Crying “Repent while judgement waits your prayers!”
But silence answered, and ascended higher
The tempest in tremendous masses swept
Like dust before the samiel. On the peak,
The utmost pinnacle of those vast clouds,
Grasping the arrowy bolts that round his brows
Hung like a crown, and glaring down on earth
With eyes of basilisk that drank the blood,
The Appearance of a giant shape appeared;
And, as the priest and prophet sadly paused
To gaze and weep, he raised his swimming eyes
To watch the moment when the door must close
And hope expire; and, like a swirling bark
In Norway's Maelstrom, sank his awe-struck heart—
For he beheld Abaddon, calling up
All wandering vapours from the shoreless Deep,
Guiding the hurricane and hurrying on
The dread reluctant Ruin, and he heard
The laugh of hell beneath the stars of heaven.
Up to the zenith heaved the o'erfraught clouds
And hung—then fell, dread billows of the sky—
Upon the far horizon. Through the depths
Of the tumultuous welkin flew the flames
Like fiery scorpions; east to west replied;
Pole shrieked to pole; the brazen atmosphere
Grew ghastly mid conflicting lights and shades,
And quivered till the eyeballs blurred and reeled.
And peril and dismay and fainting fear
And terror and confusion and despair
Entered, like siegers furious for the spoil,
The abodes of the deserted, while the floods
Fell, like Araxes from Armenian hills,
Or thousand torrents from Cordillera's brow,
Down—down upon the drenched and gasping earth.
The apostates at their feast in songs obscene
Mocked Noah and his storm-ship, shouting “Lo!
“The madness of the hypocrite! his beams
“Of gopher to the cruel seas will tell
“A tale of wreck, and all his crowded beasts
“Will roar the lawless ocean into peace.
“Fill round and drink for wisdom—the red wine
“Mantles with pure philosophy—old Cain
“Commends its cheering in the chilly night!”
So talked the infidels; but morn replied!
And hung—then fell, dread billows of the sky—
Upon the far horizon. Through the depths
Of the tumultuous welkin flew the flames
Like fiery scorpions; east to west replied;
Pole shrieked to pole; the brazen atmosphere
Grew ghastly mid conflicting lights and shades,
And quivered till the eyeballs blurred and reeled.
And peril and dismay and fainting fear
And terror and confusion and despair
Entered, like siegers furious for the spoil,
The abodes of the deserted, while the floods
Fell, like Araxes from Armenian hills,
Or thousand torrents from Cordillera's brow,
Down—down upon the drenched and gasping earth.
The apostates at their feast in songs obscene
Mocked Noah and his storm-ship, shouting “Lo!
“The madness of the hypocrite! his beams
297
“A tale of wreck, and all his crowded beasts
“Will roar the lawless ocean into peace.
“Fill round and drink for wisdom—the red wine
“Mantles with pure philosophy—old Cain
“Commends its cheering in the chilly night!”
So talked the infidels; but morn replied!
They slept the sleep of wassail; but, ere stars
Faded behind the universe of clouds,
All woke in the wild terror of the Bad.
The solid battling skies poured deluge down,
Typhon poured out earth's dirge from heavens of wrath,
The forests shook and heaved and tossed and creaked,
The waters through their dwellings dashed and moaned,
The herds sent up a piteous cry—the flocks
Were hurried o'er the illimitable waste
Of countless torents and the desert beasts
Mingled their yells with the last wail of men.
Faded behind the universe of clouds,
All woke in the wild terror of the Bad.
The solid battling skies poured deluge down,
Typhon poured out earth's dirge from heavens of wrath,
The forests shook and heaved and tossed and creaked,
The waters through their dwellings dashed and moaned,
The herds sent up a piteous cry—the flocks
Were hurried o'er the illimitable waste
Of countless torents and the desert beasts
Mingled their yells with the last wail of men.
Day broke and in the grey and quivering gloom,
The dull, cold twilight of the cheerless morn,
All eyes beheld on waters bubbling up
From every fountain of the yawning earth,
And pouring from each livid mass above,
The Cypress Ark, the home of truth and love,
The just man's sanctuary; and with shrieks,
And supplications and despairing tears,
Ten thousand voices blended in one prayer—
“Receive us! save us from devouring deeps!
“Receive us! save us from the tempest's rage!
“Receive us! save us from the wrath of God!”
But on o'er surging seas and broken waves
Floated the Ark—the eternal door was shut.
The dull, cold twilight of the cheerless morn,
All eyes beheld on waters bubbling up
From every fountain of the yawning earth,
And pouring from each livid mass above,
The Cypress Ark, the home of truth and love,
The just man's sanctuary; and with shrieks,
And supplications and despairing tears,
Ten thousand voices blended in one prayer—
“Receive us! save us from devouring deeps!
“Receive us! save us from the tempest's rage!
“Receive us! save us from the wrath of God!”
But on o'er surging seas and broken waves
Floated the Ark—the eternal door was shut.
The shuddering waters gathered, and the cries
Of utter, hopeless, helpless agony
Rose o'er the crash and howl of elements
Convulsed and quivering in each other's wrath.
Vain were uplifted arms and faces wrought
To anguish; vain, the hoarse and strangled voice
Of sinking feebleness; and vain the shrieks
Of beauty, erst the wonder and delight
Of human passion, while the torents swelled,
And quick through shattered billows glanced pale brows,
Closed eyes and raven hair, amid the foam,
Like countless apparitions round the couch
Of fever, hovering for a moment's lapse,
Then vanishing far down the unfathomed Deep.
Of utter, hopeless, helpless agony
Rose o'er the crash and howl of elements
Convulsed and quivering in each other's wrath.
Vain were uplifted arms and faces wrought
298
Of sinking feebleness; and vain the shrieks
Of beauty, erst the wonder and delight
Of human passion, while the torents swelled,
And quick through shattered billows glanced pale brows,
Closed eyes and raven hair, amid the foam,
Like countless apparitions round the couch
Of fever, hovering for a moment's lapse,
Then vanishing far down the unfathomed Deep.
Down came the Deluge. Kuma's lonely vale
Beneath far stretching Caucasus no more
Glowed in its beauty like a virgin bride
Unclosing the barr'd vizor of her lord.
The bright and glorious hills above the flood
Looked forth and vanished, while the victims clung
To the drown'd cliffs and topmost trees and gasped
Their last quenched shriek for succour; every pulse
Ceased in the turbid waters—every head
Sank on its cold, dark pillow—all was still!
One moment's struggle—and the silence fell;
One awful pang—and Death swept o'er the sea
And found no sacrifice! Then hoary Cain,
Whom multitude of years, baptized in guilt,
And branded with impieties, had brought
To this dread expiation, 'mid his sons,
His nation of idolaters, o'erwhelmed
By the resistless billows, proudly fell
In sullen haughty silence and cold scorn
And unrepentant pride; and his last breath
Quivered with voiceless curses as he swirled
Along the surf and vanished in the gulf.
Beneath far stretching Caucasus no more
Glowed in its beauty like a virgin bride
Unclosing the barr'd vizor of her lord.
The bright and glorious hills above the flood
Looked forth and vanished, while the victims clung
To the drown'd cliffs and topmost trees and gasped
Their last quenched shriek for succour; every pulse
Ceased in the turbid waters—every head
Sank on its cold, dark pillow—all was still!
One moment's struggle—and the silence fell;
One awful pang—and Death swept o'er the sea
And found no sacrifice! Then hoary Cain,
Whom multitude of years, baptized in guilt,
And branded with impieties, had brought
To this dread expiation, 'mid his sons,
His nation of idolaters, o'erwhelmed
By the resistless billows, proudly fell
In sullen haughty silence and cold scorn
And unrepentant pride; and his last breath
Quivered with voiceless curses as he swirled
Along the surf and vanished in the gulf.
Then with a music like the battle dirge
From midnight mountains sent in waves of sound
O'er forest and dark dell and starless vale,
Abaddon whirr'd along the dreadful waste.
Loud cried he is his glory: “Triumph yet!
“Sin loves her bridegroom Ruin! loyal Death
“Obeys his monarch and the world is mine!”
Creation groaned; the universe throughout
Infinity with sudden terror quaked,
Then came a Voice: “Thou dost what God permits,
“Apostate, reprobated slave of crime!
“The author, punisher and victim too
“Of recusant and unforgiven guilt!
“Vaunt not, with fond ovation, evil done
“By heaven's allowance, lest thy doom should be
“To invent fresh torture for thy fellow fiends!”
The Dæmon quailed; yet soon above the Ark
Hovered on giant pinions, looking down
With vulture eyes unsated by despair.
The mountains trembled in the vast abyss,
The Hazaldera to their centre shook,
Hyrcania's sea forgot its ancient bounds,
Wandering o'er precipice and wood and wild,
And ocean's viewless monsters o'er their tops
And in their awful caverns rolled their vast
Unwieldy forms and played their giant game.
From midnight mountains sent in waves of sound
O'er forest and dark dell and starless vale,
Abaddon whirr'd along the dreadful waste.
Loud cried he is his glory: “Triumph yet!
“Sin loves her bridegroom Ruin! loyal Death
“Obeys his monarch and the world is mine!”
299
Infinity with sudden terror quaked,
Then came a Voice: “Thou dost what God permits,
“Apostate, reprobated slave of crime!
“The author, punisher and victim too
“Of recusant and unforgiven guilt!
“Vaunt not, with fond ovation, evil done
“By heaven's allowance, lest thy doom should be
“To invent fresh torture for thy fellow fiends!”
The Dæmon quailed; yet soon above the Ark
Hovered on giant pinions, looking down
With vulture eyes unsated by despair.
The mountains trembled in the vast abyss,
The Hazaldera to their centre shook,
Hyrcania's sea forgot its ancient bounds,
Wandering o'er precipice and wood and wild,
And ocean's viewless monsters o'er their tops
And in their awful caverns rolled their vast
Unwieldy forms and played their giant game.
Meantime, the floating temple wandered on;
And in the bosom of the house of God
Rested the child of heaven; and praise and prayer,
Chastened affection, gentle gratitude,
Serene devotedness and fearless trust
Worshipped in every pure though saddened heart.
Peace as in Paradise reigned sole; the asp
And viper coiled beside the infant's couch,
Lion and elephant and cougar fed
With lamb, gazelle and antelope; the breath
Of wolverines and leopards stirr'd the fur
Of slumbering creatures once their hate and spoil.
For there the Angel of Celestial Love
Abode as afterward above the seat
Of mercy and between the cherubim,
To commune with the spirit that had dared
The scorner's blasphemy, the earth-fiend's assault,
The hatred and contempt of men, and soared
Beyond the scope of evil—and to teach
His faith by prophecies of future good,
And glory and dominion; how that vice
Should minister to virtue and guilt change
Its nature and be fashioned into good,
And all conspiracies of men and fiends
But consummate the last great praise of heaven.
So counsell'd and consoled, when hung the Ark
On Ararat, and no more the dove came back,
Forth went the Patriarch to his own wide world.
And in the bosom of the house of God
Rested the child of heaven; and praise and prayer,
Chastened affection, gentle gratitude,
Serene devotedness and fearless trust
Worshipped in every pure though saddened heart.
Peace as in Paradise reigned sole; the asp
And viper coiled beside the infant's couch,
Lion and elephant and cougar fed
With lamb, gazelle and antelope; the breath
Of wolverines and leopards stirr'd the fur
Of slumbering creatures once their hate and spoil.
For there the Angel of Celestial Love
Abode as afterward above the seat
Of mercy and between the cherubim,
To commune with the spirit that had dared
The scorner's blasphemy, the earth-fiend's assault,
The hatred and contempt of men, and soared
Beyond the scope of evil—and to teach
His faith by prophecies of future good,
300
Should minister to virtue and guilt change
Its nature and be fashioned into good,
And all conspiracies of men and fiends
But consummate the last great praise of heaven.
So counsell'd and consoled, when hung the Ark
On Ararat, and no more the dove came back,
Forth went the Patriarch to his own wide world.
When the clear rivers had resumed their banks,
And vivid verdure gladdened o'er the plain,
And every tenant of the storm-ship, robed
Again in its peculiar nature, had gone forth
To breathe the living air of mountain haunts
And graze upon the vale of fountains bright
With moon and sunlight and the stars' soft smiles,
The rainbow revelation of the skies
O'er wood and mountain glowed with hues of heaven,
And on the altar of man's sacrifice
Appeared the missioned Angel; “Never more,
“Saith God, shall Deluge drown the earth; no more,
“Till Time expires, shall dewy seedtime fail
“Or cheerful harvest; cold and heat shall track
“Each other's footsteps in the round of years,
“And birth and death to nations shall succeed
“As nature dictates.” Upward soared the voice.
And vivid verdure gladdened o'er the plain,
And every tenant of the storm-ship, robed
Again in its peculiar nature, had gone forth
To breathe the living air of mountain haunts
And graze upon the vale of fountains bright
With moon and sunlight and the stars' soft smiles,
The rainbow revelation of the skies
O'er wood and mountain glowed with hues of heaven,
And on the altar of man's sacrifice
Appeared the missioned Angel; “Never more,
“Saith God, shall Deluge drown the earth; no more,
“Till Time expires, shall dewy seedtime fail
“Or cheerful harvest; cold and heat shall track
“Each other's footsteps in the round of years,
“And birth and death to nations shall succeed
“As nature dictates.” Upward soared the voice.
Revered in reverend age, for all his deeds
Were chronicled in Honour's living scroll
And with remembrances most sacred charged—
Beloved in his last hour—the deeper then—
For countless hearts had garnered up his thoughts,
His counsels, his examples, faith and love—
The Patriarch (by the sage of thousand years
Named Noah, consolation for the curse)
Summoned around his deathbed from afar,
Cathay, fair Al-Gezira and the isles
Since titled of the Gentiles, and the shores
Of Oman's sea and the broad realms that clasp
Those waters trusted in all times with wealth
Of argosies and galleons and triremes,
Laden by Egypt, Sidon, Tyre and Moors
Of Afric and proud lords of Christendom—
These called he—sons yet chiefs and kings—
Before his presence ere the soul grew dim,
Pour'd in their waiting minds dread prophecies,
And histories of mutable though prospered life,
And then gave up to his Preserver God
His spirit, tried and purified by time.
In latter ages he, who wanders down
Euphrates' banks, may see nomades stand
Beside an ivied moss-grown monument
Mid ancient woods, and hear the watchers say
“Behold Dair Abunah—the temple-tomb
“Of him who saw the world expire and lived.”
Were chronicled in Honour's living scroll
And with remembrances most sacred charged—
Beloved in his last hour—the deeper then—
For countless hearts had garnered up his thoughts,
His counsels, his examples, faith and love—
The Patriarch (by the sage of thousand years
Named Noah, consolation for the curse)
Summoned around his deathbed from afar,
Cathay, fair Al-Gezira and the isles
Since titled of the Gentiles, and the shores
Of Oman's sea and the broad realms that clasp
Those waters trusted in all times with wealth
301
Laden by Egypt, Sidon, Tyre and Moors
Of Afric and proud lords of Christendom—
These called he—sons yet chiefs and kings—
Before his presence ere the soul grew dim,
Pour'd in their waiting minds dread prophecies,
And histories of mutable though prospered life,
And then gave up to his Preserver God
His spirit, tried and purified by time.
In latter ages he, who wanders down
Euphrates' banks, may see nomades stand
Beside an ivied moss-grown monument
Mid ancient woods, and hear the watchers say
“Behold Dair Abunah—the temple-tomb
“Of him who saw the world expire and lived.”
Once more the earth was peopled, and the land
Portioned among the children of the just.
The branching olive in the valley grew,
The vintage on the hillside blushed, and grain
Waved its green glories o'er rejoicing fields.
But men forgot their blessings and despised
Their birthright, and the standard of their king
Deserted in the faithlessness of sin,
Deeming their own vain workmanship could build
Castles impregnable, towers proudly crown'd
By the blue heavens, secure from future wreck.
Thus tempted he, Abaddon, for he knew
That doubt brings terror—fear of boundless power
Avoidance of communion and concern
And final hate; and to this scope he swayed
The fickle mind of youth, with dread of ill
Blending sublime and thrilling phantasies
Of honour, greatness, affluence, and fame.
Hence rose corrupt condemners—judges throned
In bought authority and base insolence,
Accusers, yet dispensers of men's doom.
Hence tyrants rose, who trampled on quick hearts,
And drank the shrieks and agonies of earth.
Hence envy sprung, armed at its birth with stings
Of scorpions, and revenge from midnight gloom
Leapt on its victim with uplifted hand.
But craftsmen skill'd like Sinon in old time,
Who offered ruin upon Illum's shrine,
Or Clazomenian Artemon, who wrought
The fierce balista, or Dædalus fam'd,
Rival not wisely Him, whose moment's thought
Created myriad systems, stars and suns.
Each artizan on Babel sudden heard
Mysterious voices from familiar lips,
Unknown behests from architects wellknown,
And each misdeemed the other mad or seized
With fiend possession. Anger, wrath, distrust
Threw gloom on every stricken countenance,
And sundered the assemblage and dispersed
O'er undiscovered realms and regions wild,
Forest and seashore, mountain, dale, and plain,
Proud men and builders vain, who left behind
The monument of folly to proclaim
The nothingness of man's magnificence.
Portioned among the children of the just.
The branching olive in the valley grew,
The vintage on the hillside blushed, and grain
Waved its green glories o'er rejoicing fields.
But men forgot their blessings and despised
Their birthright, and the standard of their king
Deserted in the faithlessness of sin,
Deeming their own vain workmanship could build
Castles impregnable, towers proudly crown'd
By the blue heavens, secure from future wreck.
Thus tempted he, Abaddon, for he knew
That doubt brings terror—fear of boundless power
Avoidance of communion and concern
And final hate; and to this scope he swayed
The fickle mind of youth, with dread of ill
Blending sublime and thrilling phantasies
Of honour, greatness, affluence, and fame.
Hence rose corrupt condemners—judges throned
In bought authority and base insolence,
Accusers, yet dispensers of men's doom.
Hence tyrants rose, who trampled on quick hearts,
And drank the shrieks and agonies of earth.
Hence envy sprung, armed at its birth with stings
302
Leapt on its victim with uplifted hand.
But craftsmen skill'd like Sinon in old time,
Who offered ruin upon Illum's shrine,
Or Clazomenian Artemon, who wrought
The fierce balista, or Dædalus fam'd,
Rival not wisely Him, whose moment's thought
Created myriad systems, stars and suns.
Each artizan on Babel sudden heard
Mysterious voices from familiar lips,
Unknown behests from architects wellknown,
And each misdeemed the other mad or seized
With fiend possession. Anger, wrath, distrust
Threw gloom on every stricken countenance,
And sundered the assemblage and dispersed
O'er undiscovered realms and regions wild,
Forest and seashore, mountain, dale, and plain,
Proud men and builders vain, who left behind
The monument of folly to proclaim
The nothingness of man's magnificence.
In earlier years, unvisited as yet,
Though fraught with many evils, by the rage
Of worst assassins, in my solitude
I sung the vengeance and the recompense
Of guilt that wrecked the Cities of the Plain;
And, earlier still, the triumph on the waste
Of Israel o'er the banded host and pride
Of Egypt long renowned for arts and arms.
And now, thou beautiful imperson'd Thought!
Queen of the blest Camœnæ! Dweller lone
On promentories high, by pebbly spring,
Clear as thy soul and mirror'd like thy heart,
Here stay thy flight; thou canst not follow death
Through all its triumphs in all time, nor paint
The Dæmon as he swiftly sweeps the world,
Rushing from woe to woe, and bearing high
His carnage front, crown'd with its wreath of flame.
But thou canst picture such disastrous deeds
As leave their deadliest wounds in life, and so
Offer upon thy country's shrine thy lay.
Guide now my flying song through awful scenes
That darken the soul's sunlight, and let not
Thy deep moralities and lessons stern
Be wanting to instruct the soul of man
That wisdom dwells with cloistered gentleness,
And greatness with a conquest o'er desire,
And fame with justice and with duty, peace!
Though fraught with many evils, by the rage
Of worst assassins, in my solitude
I sung the vengeance and the recompense
Of guilt that wrecked the Cities of the Plain;
And, earlier still, the triumph on the waste
Of Israel o'er the banded host and pride
Of Egypt long renowned for arts and arms.
And now, thou beautiful imperson'd Thought!
Queen of the blest Camœnæ! Dweller lone
On promentories high, by pebbly spring,
Clear as thy soul and mirror'd like thy heart,
Here stay thy flight; thou canst not follow death
Through all its triumphs in all time, nor paint
The Dæmon as he swiftly sweeps the world,
Rushing from woe to woe, and bearing high
His carnage front, crown'd with its wreath of flame.
But thou canst picture such disastrous deeds
As leave their deadliest wounds in life, and so
303
Guide now my flying song through awful scenes
That darken the soul's sunlight, and let not
Thy deep moralities and lessons stern
Be wanting to instruct the soul of man
That wisdom dwells with cloistered gentleness,
And greatness with a conquest o'er desire,
And fame with justice and with duty, peace!
Remorseless avarice and serpent guile;
The ravine and the rapine of men loos'd
By legal sanction on each other's weal;
Accursed usury and trade that seared
The generous spirit of benignant youth;
Feud, faction, rivalry in court and camp,
In nuptial pomp and guady obsequies,
And daily intercourse; pale jealousy,
Blighting the mildewed heart and forging wrongs
To consummate suspicion; envy, hate,
Howling defiance or disguised to kill;
All desolating slander, whispered out
In night assemblies, and ere noontide hurled
O'er the wide town to feast upon the slain;
These and unnumbered terrors more were born
When cities rose and thronged societies
Drave sleeping passion into ruthless war,
The ravine and the rapine of men loos'd
By legal sanction on each other's weal;
Accursed usury and trade that seared
The generous spirit of benignant youth;
Feud, faction, rivalry in court and camp,
In nuptial pomp and guady obsequies,
And daily intercourse; pale jealousy,
Blighting the mildewed heart and forging wrongs
To consummate suspicion; envy, hate,
Howling defiance or disguised to kill;
All desolating slander, whispered out
In night assemblies, and ere noontide hurled
O'er the wide town to feast upon the slain;
These and unnumbered terrors more were born
When cities rose and thronged societies
Drave sleeping passion into ruthless war,
Nor Sheikh nor Ephori nor Archon throned
In Areopagus, nor Consul stern
In curule chair, nor chief nor king nor czar,
Could ever crush the giant crimes of men,
Or hold, when maddened by indignities,
Their bandit natures subject to his law.
All codes and pandects and enactments framed
By skill'd and titled senates cannot bind
Man to his fellow's weal, nor countermine
The quick evasions of a mind resolved
To build on human heads its dome of gold.
Custom creates desire, and want uplifts
Its voice and yearns for common vanities;
And folly, minister to pride, hath had
Its bribe in every age and clime and heart;
And interest coins new gold from sack and spoil
To bear the gorgeous pageant bravely on.
So luxury dissolves the strength of men,
And poverty degrades the eagle thought;
And faith deserts all commerce and all speech.
Then tyrants trample; but the same dark fiend,
That covered them with purple, yet hath slaves
More terrible than this; and rebels crouch
Around the throne to cleave one despot's brain,
And seat another on their vassal necks.
Thus doubt, intrigue, cabal and mutual hate,
The monstrous birth and bane of social life,
Bear retribution to the lips of all.
In Areopagus, nor Consul stern
In curule chair, nor chief nor king nor czar,
Could ever crush the giant crimes of men,
Or hold, when maddened by indignities,
Their bandit natures subject to his law.
All codes and pandects and enactments framed
By skill'd and titled senates cannot bind
Man to his fellow's weal, nor countermine
The quick evasions of a mind resolved
To build on human heads its dome of gold.
Custom creates desire, and want uplifts
Its voice and yearns for common vanities;
304
Its bribe in every age and clime and heart;
And interest coins new gold from sack and spoil
To bear the gorgeous pageant bravely on.
So luxury dissolves the strength of men,
And poverty degrades the eagle thought;
And faith deserts all commerce and all speech.
Then tyrants trample; but the same dark fiend,
That covered them with purple, yet hath slaves
More terrible than this; and rebels crouch
Around the throne to cleave one despot's brain,
And seat another on their vassal necks.
Thus doubt, intrigue, cabal and mutual hate,
The monstrous birth and bane of social life,
Bear retribution to the lips of all.
All history is but a scroll of blood,
The record of destruction and despair;
The life of man hath parted from each sod
Where spreads a kingdom, and the voice of woe
Uttered its wailings round triumphal cars,
And purple pomp and unrestricted power,
Since first the astonished sun beheld the sin
And shuddering horror of Earth's fallen sire.
Ixion's wheel, the rock of Sisyphus,
The Danaides' hopeless, endless toil,
But image to our wiser sense of fate
The misery and the madness that have crowned
Lust and ambition since the cherub's sword
Gleamed o'er the closed gate of lost paradise.
The record of destruction and despair;
The life of man hath parted from each sod
Where spreads a kingdom, and the voice of woe
Uttered its wailings round triumphal cars,
And purple pomp and unrestricted power,
Since first the astonished sun beheld the sin
And shuddering horror of Earth's fallen sire.
Ixion's wheel, the rock of Sisyphus,
The Danaides' hopeless, endless toil,
But image to our wiser sense of fate
The misery and the madness that have crowned
Lust and ambition since the cherub's sword
Gleamed o'er the closed gate of lost paradise.
Lo! glorious Babylon—the gorgeous queen,
The lady of earth's kingdom! beauty, strength,
Dominion, glory, and magnificence
Gleamed in her diadem, and nations quailed
Before the rushing squadrons of her kings.
Towers, castles, palaces and guarded walls,
That shadowed the sheen dayspring;—colonnades,
Whose porphyry pillars glowed with crowns of gems,
And glittering marts of merchant princes meet
To purchase monarchies;—and temples wreathed
With gold and diamonds, through rosy airs
Soaring to heaven;—and from vast terraces
Gardens, like Eden's in its hours of bliss,
Gemm'd with the matchless flowers of all the east,
And shaded by the cedar, laurel, palm
And grovelike banyan, hanging from the walls—
All these defended and adorned her pride,
Her boasted immortality of power,
And captive monarchs laid their sceptres down
Beneath her footstool, while her king of kings,
Nabocolasser deigned to bid them serve.
Girded by battlements that mocked assault,
And beautified by every art of man,
Her bands invincible o'erspread the earth,
And garnered up in her proud palaces
The majesty and pomp of prostrate thrones.
But strength, on odours pillowed, faints and dies,
And glory brooks not love's voluptuous ease.
Fame sculptures its own throne and monument,
O'er perishable existencies and things
Doomed to decay it pours its deathless soul,
And in the realms of thought forever reigns.
But from the hidden urns of gold and gems
The spirit of magnificence enshrined
In darkness, from temptation's weak research,
The destined king, whom vice emasculates,
Bears to his banquet poison and despair!
Nimrod and Ninus and Semiramis
Gazed from the icy pinnacle sublime
Of restless action and unslumbering toil
On broken dynasties and conquered crowns
With wine and courtezans and sycophants
Belshazzar revell'd till the spectre hand
Wrote ruin on the radiant tapestries,
And ivory pillars of his banquet hall,
And Mede and Persian up Euphrates' bed
Rushed to the throne that held no more a king.
The lady of earth's kingdom! beauty, strength,
Dominion, glory, and magnificence
Gleamed in her diadem, and nations quailed
Before the rushing squadrons of her kings.
Towers, castles, palaces and guarded walls,
That shadowed the sheen dayspring;—colonnades,
Whose porphyry pillars glowed with crowns of gems,
305
To purchase monarchies;—and temples wreathed
With gold and diamonds, through rosy airs
Soaring to heaven;—and from vast terraces
Gardens, like Eden's in its hours of bliss,
Gemm'd with the matchless flowers of all the east,
And shaded by the cedar, laurel, palm
And grovelike banyan, hanging from the walls—
All these defended and adorned her pride,
Her boasted immortality of power,
And captive monarchs laid their sceptres down
Beneath her footstool, while her king of kings,
Nabocolasser deigned to bid them serve.
Girded by battlements that mocked assault,
And beautified by every art of man,
Her bands invincible o'erspread the earth,
And garnered up in her proud palaces
The majesty and pomp of prostrate thrones.
But strength, on odours pillowed, faints and dies,
And glory brooks not love's voluptuous ease.
Fame sculptures its own throne and monument,
O'er perishable existencies and things
Doomed to decay it pours its deathless soul,
And in the realms of thought forever reigns.
But from the hidden urns of gold and gems
The spirit of magnificence enshrined
In darkness, from temptation's weak research,
The destined king, whom vice emasculates,
Bears to his banquet poison and despair!
Nimrod and Ninus and Semiramis
Gazed from the icy pinnacle sublime
Of restless action and unslumbering toil
On broken dynasties and conquered crowns
With wine and courtezans and sycophants
Belshazzar revell'd till the spectre hand
Wrote ruin on the radiant tapestries,
And ivory pillars of his banquet hall,
And Mede and Persian up Euphrates' bed
Rushed to the throne that held no more a king.
306
The solitary Syrian pilgrim roams
Through Hellah's dismal hamlet and discerns,
He deems, from hot and drifted sand exhumed,
Relics of Babylon—yet doubts his quest,
And searches more intently, while the wind
Moans o'er the desert with a broken voice,
And bats and bitterns hover, and the fox
Springs from his burrow, and the jackal's scream
Haunts the lone air throughout the livelong night.
This is ambition's triumph! this the crown
And consummation of earth's monarchies!
Myriads have toiled their threescore years, and bled,
And swallowed loathingly their galley food,
And died, the slaves of myrmidons, for this!
Childless Chaldea! realms of sorceries,
And worldly wisdom and enchantment! queen
Of all that charms man's nature and inflames
His fatal hopes—pale dust to dust gone down—
Thy sole memorial but a word—a name!
Through Hellah's dismal hamlet and discerns,
He deems, from hot and drifted sand exhumed,
Relics of Babylon—yet doubts his quest,
And searches more intently, while the wind
Moans o'er the desert with a broken voice,
And bats and bitterns hover, and the fox
Springs from his burrow, and the jackal's scream
Haunts the lone air throughout the livelong night.
This is ambition's triumph! this the crown
And consummation of earth's monarchies!
Myriads have toiled their threescore years, and bled,
And swallowed loathingly their galley food,
And died, the slaves of myrmidons, for this!
Childless Chaldea! realms of sorceries,
And worldly wisdom and enchantment! queen
Of all that charms man's nature and inflames
His fatal hopes—pale dust to dust gone down—
Thy sole memorial but a word—a name!
The pale pure pearl in summer daylight smiles,
But diamonds, gained by blood, alone shoot forth
Their radiance when the chandeliers disperse
Wavering darkness and the shapes it broods.
Thus joy and fame, possessed by others' good,
Shed their blest beauty o'er our brief sojourn,
While fierce ambition's earthquake ravages
Leave empires blackened by a nation's gore,
And glooming 'neath the volcan blaze of war.
Stand thou upon the holy hill of truth,
And mark below the struggles and the wrath,
The dreadful patience of death's artizans.
Behold the monarch trembling with the fear
Of viewless treason, troubled and unblest,
While envy gazes from afar and sighs.
See magi erring—and enchanters lost
In their own labyrinths of fraud revered.
The wanderings of the wisest and the fall
Of bravest combatants behold! and send
Thy spirit on the winds o'er every clime
To weep the ruin of earth's holiest hopes;
To weep that folly ministers to woe,
That weakness reigns with wisdom, and the blood
Of centuries but buys a gilded tomb!
But diamonds, gained by blood, alone shoot forth
Their radiance when the chandeliers disperse
Wavering darkness and the shapes it broods.
Thus joy and fame, possessed by others' good,
Shed their blest beauty o'er our brief sojourn,
While fierce ambition's earthquake ravages
Leave empires blackened by a nation's gore,
And glooming 'neath the volcan blaze of war.
Stand thou upon the holy hill of truth,
And mark below the struggles and the wrath,
The dreadful patience of death's artizans.
Behold the monarch trembling with the fear
Of viewless treason, troubled and unblest,
While envy gazes from afar and sighs.
See magi erring—and enchanters lost
In their own labyrinths of fraud revered.
The wanderings of the wisest and the fall
Of bravest combatants behold! and send
Thy spirit on the winds o'er every clime
307
To weep that folly ministers to woe,
That weakness reigns with wisdom, and the blood
Of centuries but buys a gilded tomb!
Then what avails the voice of old renown?
The masques and riotings and glories past?
Lived Phalaris the merciless? there are,
Who doom deserving to the dungeon now,
And chain high merit to the felon's wheel.
Did Thais, frantic o'er the maddening bowl,
Tempt him of Macedon to stain his name
And in the torrent flame of Persia's throne
Persepolis consume his memory?
Our Fathers—faith's poor exiles, fed
By Red Men's charity, and warmed to life
By their devotion to unfriended want,
Went forth from unbought refuges and fired
The dwellings of the monarchs of the land;
And from that midnight slaughter all, who dared
The wreathing flames, fell by the sword or ball.
Did the bold Granicus back to its fount
In Ida bear the shrieks of dire defeat,
And Issus and Arbela wail aloud
O'er satraps, princes and Darius slain?
Europe through all her coasts with terror saw
Destruction sweep o'er Austerlitz, and crush
Hispania 'neath his iron foot, and hurl
Embattled nations to the doom knell'd out
By the vast Kremlin's Tocsin when his host
Drank the deep cup of vengeance to the dregs.
She saw the man of destiny dethrone,
Demolish and confound the crowns of kings,
While on his banner-bearers in the van
Of desolation hurried, leaving slaves
To bury their dead conquerors—or die.
Drave Shalmaneser from Samaria sacked
And pastoral Naplousa's mountain land
The countless hosts of conquered Israel
To bondage, martyrdom—and buried all
Beneath the mysteries of viewless fate?
Careered Sesostris in chariots drawn
By kings made vassals o'er the famished realms
Where erst they reigned in Plenty, Power and Peace?
Who hath not wept o'er Poland's utter spoil
And Kosciusko like a star cast down?
His country mangled, riven, with bleeding limbs,
Hurled into Hinnom, darkened and devoured
By boyars, starosts,—ruffian hordes of chiefs—
Banished and banned, her patriot spirits robbed
Of home and hope—her throne in ruins laid—
And tyrants trampling in her temples armed!
Through ranks of victims crucified and racked
Stalked fierce Volesus and his spirit glowed
With demon gladness and a murderer's pride?
See Marat on the Greve! or hear (and quail)
The dying prayers of Glencoe, and the shrieks
Of Saint Bartholomew—the feast of God,
The holy eve of heaven! and yet again
Sicilia's Vespers and the torch of Fawkes
Mark and compare! be still and weep thy heart
The masques and riotings and glories past?
Lived Phalaris the merciless? there are,
Who doom deserving to the dungeon now,
And chain high merit to the felon's wheel.
Did Thais, frantic o'er the maddening bowl,
Tempt him of Macedon to stain his name
And in the torrent flame of Persia's throne
Persepolis consume his memory?
Our Fathers—faith's poor exiles, fed
By Red Men's charity, and warmed to life
By their devotion to unfriended want,
Went forth from unbought refuges and fired
The dwellings of the monarchs of the land;
And from that midnight slaughter all, who dared
The wreathing flames, fell by the sword or ball.
Did the bold Granicus back to its fount
In Ida bear the shrieks of dire defeat,
And Issus and Arbela wail aloud
O'er satraps, princes and Darius slain?
Europe through all her coasts with terror saw
Destruction sweep o'er Austerlitz, and crush
Hispania 'neath his iron foot, and hurl
Embattled nations to the doom knell'd out
By the vast Kremlin's Tocsin when his host
Drank the deep cup of vengeance to the dregs.
She saw the man of destiny dethrone,
Demolish and confound the crowns of kings,
While on his banner-bearers in the van
Of desolation hurried, leaving slaves
To bury their dead conquerors—or die.
Drave Shalmaneser from Samaria sacked
And pastoral Naplousa's mountain land
The countless hosts of conquered Israel
To bondage, martyrdom—and buried all
308
Careered Sesostris in chariots drawn
By kings made vassals o'er the famished realms
Where erst they reigned in Plenty, Power and Peace?
Who hath not wept o'er Poland's utter spoil
And Kosciusko like a star cast down?
His country mangled, riven, with bleeding limbs,
Hurled into Hinnom, darkened and devoured
By boyars, starosts,—ruffian hordes of chiefs—
Banished and banned, her patriot spirits robbed
Of home and hope—her throne in ruins laid—
And tyrants trampling in her temples armed!
Through ranks of victims crucified and racked
Stalked fierce Volesus and his spirit glowed
With demon gladness and a murderer's pride?
See Marat on the Greve! or hear (and quail)
The dying prayers of Glencoe, and the shrieks
Of Saint Bartholomew—the feast of God,
The holy eve of heaven! and yet again
Sicilia's Vespers and the torch of Fawkes
Mark and compare! be still and weep thy heart
What hath been is and will be. Seasons change
Their advent and departure; empires fade
And fall like autumn leaves; and manners take
New effigies, and customs like the moon
Wex, glow and wane; and e'en the steadfast earth
Unfolds fresh aspects both of land and wave;
But man and man's strange nature never change.
The mutability of brief frail life,
The woes that weave their poison in the threads
Of being, and the vanity that sinks
In loathing sickness o'er accomplished fame—
All utter counsel vainly—madly on
Borne by the whirlwind of o'erwening pride,
He pauses not—he breathes not in repose
Till the grave buries pomp and great renown,
And desert winds o'er dreadful solitudes
Utter their voices—chanters for the Dead!
What can avail magnificence and might,
Dominion bounded by the ocean's surge,
And fame, whose herald was stupendous fear?
Search Memphian pyramids and mete by line
Gigantic obelisks; tread o'er the ground
Where stood Diana's temple, dashed to earth
In blackened masses on the fated night
That shuddered o'er the birth, in Macedon,
Of the world's scourge and curse; or print thy foot
Among the ashes of Moriah's mount,
And paint in burning hues its day of doom;
Dare the simoom and let thy voice be heard
In Tadmor's awful solitudes, or turn
And mourn dismayed in Balbeck's domes of death;
Toll yet again the thunder knell of Rome
And proud Athena, and let Egypt hear
And echo back thine eloquence of thought!
And what shall this avail thee, if thou drink
No loftier inspiration from the scene
Than wonder and amaze and vain romance?
But if thou wilt be wise and choose thy good,
The large revealment is before thee here.
Ruins of glory teach thee meek content,
Beatitude that offers silent praise,
And still content, the best religion,—love,
Untrembling confidence in Him who holds
The universe in scales, and faith prepared
To mingle with its Fountain at all hours.
Destruction hath not slept since fell his chains
In deep Gehenna at the fall of man;
But better minds, on high pursuits intent,
Create and fashion fortune to their will.
The outward ill may torture, and the strife
Of the heart's foes may bow the spirit down,
But over all they reign at last, and bring
From the world's wreck and their own sorrows food
To nourish christian meekness for the skies.
Their advent and departure; empires fade
And fall like autumn leaves; and manners take
New effigies, and customs like the moon
Wex, glow and wane; and e'en the steadfast earth
Unfolds fresh aspects both of land and wave;
But man and man's strange nature never change.
The mutability of brief frail life,
The woes that weave their poison in the threads
Of being, and the vanity that sinks
In loathing sickness o'er accomplished fame—
All utter counsel vainly—madly on
Borne by the whirlwind of o'erwening pride,
He pauses not—he breathes not in repose
Till the grave buries pomp and great renown,
And desert winds o'er dreadful solitudes
Utter their voices—chanters for the Dead!
What can avail magnificence and might,
309
And fame, whose herald was stupendous fear?
Search Memphian pyramids and mete by line
Gigantic obelisks; tread o'er the ground
Where stood Diana's temple, dashed to earth
In blackened masses on the fated night
That shuddered o'er the birth, in Macedon,
Of the world's scourge and curse; or print thy foot
Among the ashes of Moriah's mount,
And paint in burning hues its day of doom;
Dare the simoom and let thy voice be heard
In Tadmor's awful solitudes, or turn
And mourn dismayed in Balbeck's domes of death;
Toll yet again the thunder knell of Rome
And proud Athena, and let Egypt hear
And echo back thine eloquence of thought!
And what shall this avail thee, if thou drink
No loftier inspiration from the scene
Than wonder and amaze and vain romance?
But if thou wilt be wise and choose thy good,
The large revealment is before thee here.
Ruins of glory teach thee meek content,
Beatitude that offers silent praise,
And still content, the best religion,—love,
Untrembling confidence in Him who holds
The universe in scales, and faith prepared
To mingle with its Fountain at all hours.
Destruction hath not slept since fell his chains
In deep Gehenna at the fall of man;
But better minds, on high pursuits intent,
Create and fashion fortune to their will.
The outward ill may torture, and the strife
Of the heart's foes may bow the spirit down,
But over all they reign at last, and bring
From the world's wreck and their own sorrows food
To nourish christian meekness for the skies.
Receive the legacy of buried years!
The thoughts sublime of high philosophy,
The thrilling music of great intellects.
It argues but a helot soul to pore
O'er mouldering instruments of havoc—lance,
Bowstring and javelin and catapult;
Or paynim rituals by Menes framed,
Solen or Numa—fittest offered up
To sculptured deities and pictured Gods.
Holier than sage sanhedrim soared the thoughts
Of Plato on their glorious way, and earth
Grew lovelier than love's bright imagings
Beneath the starry splendour of his soul.
The lion-hearted son of Arcady,
Diagoras hath shined his memory too
Deep in the stainless fountain of all truth;
For with the wanton creed and faith obscene
And faithless deeds of Jove's mad worshippers
He held no commune, but with martyr voice
Bade Venus bind her zone and veil her brow,
And Pallas cast away her ægis and no more
Gorge her beaked eagle with the blood of men.
The maniac son of Semele he bade
Forego his thyrsus, and no longer fill
The madden'd brain with fierce licentious thoughts.
Thus in the council of his country's gods
He stood—like Austin by Andraste's shrine
On Stonehenge, girdled by the Druid band,—
And with a dauntless eloquence portrayed
Their hideous idols, whom their bigots mocked.
Banished, proscribed and with anathemas
Burdened, alone into the desert passed
The stern philosopher from bondage free.
And Socrates hath left his legacy,
The immortal science of a heart resolved
To ratify its greatness in the hour
Of doom, and o'er the shrinking dread of death
Mount like Elijah to the heaven he saw.
Lo! what a hallowed beauty and a gush
Of soft seraphic beings float around,
When in the music of an elder day
The Samian sage Pythagoras reveals
The inner brightness of his spirit throned!
These in a gross and grovelling time gleamed out
As miracles of omen! and they stood
Untrembling at the tyrant's judgement seat
And heard, like Galileo from the lips
Of Bellarmine, the fiat undismayed.
The thoughts sublime of high philosophy,
The thrilling music of great intellects.
It argues but a helot soul to pore
310
Bowstring and javelin and catapult;
Or paynim rituals by Menes framed,
Solen or Numa—fittest offered up
To sculptured deities and pictured Gods.
Holier than sage sanhedrim soared the thoughts
Of Plato on their glorious way, and earth
Grew lovelier than love's bright imagings
Beneath the starry splendour of his soul.
The lion-hearted son of Arcady,
Diagoras hath shined his memory too
Deep in the stainless fountain of all truth;
For with the wanton creed and faith obscene
And faithless deeds of Jove's mad worshippers
He held no commune, but with martyr voice
Bade Venus bind her zone and veil her brow,
And Pallas cast away her ægis and no more
Gorge her beaked eagle with the blood of men.
The maniac son of Semele he bade
Forego his thyrsus, and no longer fill
The madden'd brain with fierce licentious thoughts.
Thus in the council of his country's gods
He stood—like Austin by Andraste's shrine
On Stonehenge, girdled by the Druid band,—
And with a dauntless eloquence portrayed
Their hideous idols, whom their bigots mocked.
Banished, proscribed and with anathemas
Burdened, alone into the desert passed
The stern philosopher from bondage free.
And Socrates hath left his legacy,
The immortal science of a heart resolved
To ratify its greatness in the hour
Of doom, and o'er the shrinking dread of death
Mount like Elijah to the heaven he saw.
Lo! what a hallowed beauty and a gush
Of soft seraphic beings float around,
When in the music of an elder day
The Samian sage Pythagoras reveals
The inner brightness of his spirit throned!
These in a gross and grovelling time gleamed out
311
Untrembling at the tyrant's judgement seat
And heard, like Galileo from the lips
Of Bellarmine, the fiat undismayed.
Like them, devoted scholar! treasure up
The oracles of nature and be wise.
Look not on any faith with hate or scorn,
For who hath throned thee in the place of God?
Papist or Huguenot—Condé or Guise—
Christian or Osmanlee or Brahma's chief—
Guelph or Gibbeline—theist or priest—
Their creeds revered call not thee arbiter!
It can avail thee nought to sear the heart
Of blest humanity and brand the brow
Of intellect with evil thoughts of men,
And hoard in the bright mansion of young mind
Harsh sentences and judgements to corrode
The fair work of the Deity, whose love
Pervades alike all nature and all hearts.
Rejoice that thou art free to feel and think
And utter without fear; that human judge
No more hath power to chain thee in the flame,
Or on the rack or sachentege. Beware
That while, with ashes on thy head, thou sitst
In penitence, those ashes from the fires
Of vanity and pride fall not to sear
The soul that should be purified love!
The oracles of nature and be wise.
Look not on any faith with hate or scorn,
For who hath throned thee in the place of God?
Papist or Huguenot—Condé or Guise—
Christian or Osmanlee or Brahma's chief—
Guelph or Gibbeline—theist or priest—
Their creeds revered call not thee arbiter!
It can avail thee nought to sear the heart
Of blest humanity and brand the brow
Of intellect with evil thoughts of men,
And hoard in the bright mansion of young mind
Harsh sentences and judgements to corrode
The fair work of the Deity, whose love
Pervades alike all nature and all hearts.
Rejoice that thou art free to feel and think
And utter without fear; that human judge
No more hath power to chain thee in the flame,
Or on the rack or sachentege. Beware
That while, with ashes on thy head, thou sitst
In penitence, those ashes from the fires
Of vanity and pride fall not to sear
The soul that should be purified love!
Turn, Spirit of my song! and gaze with grief
Once more on death that in the noontide comes!
Methinks, in crowded solitudes I stand,
At nightfall, by the serai's darkening walls,
In beautiful Byzantium, laved by seas
Of old renown, the Euxine, Hellespont,
And fair Propontis; and the turban'd crowd,
With ataghan and scymitar, pass on
With hastened steps that fear yet will not shun
The dreadful pestilence that sweeps along.
The distant lights of Pera, one by one,
Shoot forth, and the sweet voice of love's guitar
Comes on the fragrant yet deathladen air
With a heartstirring influence and charm
That melts into the mind like childhood's smiles.
Below me lies a weltering trunk, and yon
The headsman sheathes his kinskal to relight
His quenched chibouque, and drops into the dust
The hoar head of the Hospodar. Along
The colonnades move slow the Soldan's guards
Silent and waiting death they dare not fear.
The wan moon o'er the Bosphorus ascends
With sicklied lustre, and her mournful smiles
Rest on the countless monuments that throng
Byzantium's land of burial; and methinks
The solemn cypress trees do moan the dirge
Of all the morning sun shall see entombed.
In stillness flies the pestilence; aud prince
And slave lie writhing for an awful hour,
And perish; and the merchant's crowded mart
Of loveliness from fair Circassia's vale
Will open on the morrow to convey
Beauty unto her bridal in the tomb.
Life's breath is here extinction: moments grasp
A thousand destinies; and funerals glide
Like evening shadows by, as thick and fast;
And up the ladder of the dead methinks
I see the votaries of Islam pass,
In silent shadowy multitudes, to lay
The idols of the heart's worship where no more
Bereavement and lone widowhood of hope
Pour earth's deep night o'er visions of the blest.
Woe sits in every threshold; and the hour
Of prayer, by struck muezzin call'd in vain,
Passes without a voice ascending up.
O night and pestilence! and doubt and death!
How terribly distinct the heart-pulse throbs,
That soon may cease! as through the quivering gloom,
The quickened vision glances on the shade
Of fierce Abaddon's form that hurries by!
Once more on death that in the noontide comes!
Methinks, in crowded solitudes I stand,
At nightfall, by the serai's darkening walls,
In beautiful Byzantium, laved by seas
Of old renown, the Euxine, Hellespont,
And fair Propontis; and the turban'd crowd,
With ataghan and scymitar, pass on
With hastened steps that fear yet will not shun
The dreadful pestilence that sweeps along.
The distant lights of Pera, one by one,
312
Comes on the fragrant yet deathladen air
With a heartstirring influence and charm
That melts into the mind like childhood's smiles.
Below me lies a weltering trunk, and yon
The headsman sheathes his kinskal to relight
His quenched chibouque, and drops into the dust
The hoar head of the Hospodar. Along
The colonnades move slow the Soldan's guards
Silent and waiting death they dare not fear.
The wan moon o'er the Bosphorus ascends
With sicklied lustre, and her mournful smiles
Rest on the countless monuments that throng
Byzantium's land of burial; and methinks
The solemn cypress trees do moan the dirge
Of all the morning sun shall see entombed.
In stillness flies the pestilence; aud prince
And slave lie writhing for an awful hour,
And perish; and the merchant's crowded mart
Of loveliness from fair Circassia's vale
Will open on the morrow to convey
Beauty unto her bridal in the tomb.
Life's breath is here extinction: moments grasp
A thousand destinies; and funerals glide
Like evening shadows by, as thick and fast;
And up the ladder of the dead methinks
I see the votaries of Islam pass,
In silent shadowy multitudes, to lay
The idols of the heart's worship where no more
Bereavement and lone widowhood of hope
Pour earth's deep night o'er visions of the blest.
Woe sits in every threshold; and the hour
Of prayer, by struck muezzin call'd in vain,
Passes without a voice ascending up.
O night and pestilence! and doubt and death!
How terribly distinct the heart-pulse throbs,
That soon may cease! as through the quivering gloom,
The quickened vision glances on the shade
Of fierce Abaddon's form that hurries by!
313
—Anark and Rioter in myriad woes!
The fierce orgasms of maddened agony
Have been to thee electric ecstacy,
Demoniac rapture—since the smile of God
Was clouded by despair that weds with crime.
Before thee sink the Beautiful—the Bard,
Wasted in youth and in his flower age seared
By the world's samiel and his own quick thoughts!
The hero on the bosom of renown!
The suneyed child whose being is a bliss!
The virgin in her loveliness—the son
Of many hopes and dreams sublime of love,
When the first dawnings of his fame gleam'd out!
The mightiest armies of the dead rise not
From gory battlefield or lava seas,
Drowning still cities in deep floods of fire,
Or earthquakes yawning to profoundest depths,
Or tempest, or crusade, or ghastly plague.
Deeper than the rent banners of the slain
Was steeped the soul of Cæsar in men's blood;
And Attila from Chalons' streaming plain,
Heaped with its hecatombs of victims, fled
Before Theodric with a heart afloat
In gore of Hun and Goth. Judea's soil
Grew rank in richness o'er the sacrifice
Chivalric monarchs, led by bigot wrath.
Offered to Saladin and the Sepulchre.
Lo! awful Victory o'er seas of blood
Waving her standard, while the world contends
On Zama, Cannæ, Waterloo, made rich
By human hearts forever pierced in vain!
But Persecution hath a wider range,
An ampler spoil than these; lo! from the roll
Of Record starts the pallid student up
And cries—“Thou prince of justice and of peace!
“Wolves ravin in thy fold, and mercy shrieks
“In vain succour while the guiltless die!
“Familiar and inquisitor and doom!
“Apostle, prophet, martyr—child and eld!
“Freedom and shackles and the axe upraised
“Red with the life of Hampden, Sydney, More!
“Tyrants and parricides and length of years,
“Ismaël Aurung-Zêbe and Tamerlane!
“Oh, the soul sickens o'er the scroll of fame,
“The just man's wrongs, the widow's unseen tears,
“The orphan's helpless woes, the tyrant's power,
“The pride of Mammon, and the painted brow
“Of hypocrites exulting o'er their prey.
“God of the guiltless! in Peru's dark mines
“Her kings dig gold for murderers! and see
“Assassins goading to the Oregon
“The ancient sovereigns of our plundered realm!”
The fierce orgasms of maddened agony
Have been to thee electric ecstacy,
Demoniac rapture—since the smile of God
Was clouded by despair that weds with crime.
Before thee sink the Beautiful—the Bard,
Wasted in youth and in his flower age seared
By the world's samiel and his own quick thoughts!
The hero on the bosom of renown!
The suneyed child whose being is a bliss!
The virgin in her loveliness—the son
Of many hopes and dreams sublime of love,
When the first dawnings of his fame gleam'd out!
The mightiest armies of the dead rise not
From gory battlefield or lava seas,
Drowning still cities in deep floods of fire,
Or earthquakes yawning to profoundest depths,
Or tempest, or crusade, or ghastly plague.
Deeper than the rent banners of the slain
Was steeped the soul of Cæsar in men's blood;
And Attila from Chalons' streaming plain,
Heaped with its hecatombs of victims, fled
Before Theodric with a heart afloat
In gore of Hun and Goth. Judea's soil
Grew rank in richness o'er the sacrifice
Chivalric monarchs, led by bigot wrath.
Offered to Saladin and the Sepulchre.
Lo! awful Victory o'er seas of blood
Waving her standard, while the world contends
On Zama, Cannæ, Waterloo, made rich
By human hearts forever pierced in vain!
But Persecution hath a wider range,
An ampler spoil than these; lo! from the roll
Of Record starts the pallid student up
And cries—“Thou prince of justice and of peace!
“Wolves ravin in thy fold, and mercy shrieks
“In vain succour while the guiltless die!
“Familiar and inquisitor and doom!
“Apostle, prophet, martyr—child and eld!
“Freedom and shackles and the axe upraised
314
“Tyrants and parricides and length of years,
“Ismaël Aurung-Zêbe and Tamerlane!
“Oh, the soul sickens o'er the scroll of fame,
“The just man's wrongs, the widow's unseen tears,
“The orphan's helpless woes, the tyrant's power,
“The pride of Mammon, and the painted brow
“Of hypocrites exulting o'er their prey.
“God of the guiltless! in Peru's dark mines
“Her kings dig gold for murderers! and see
“Assassins goading to the Oregon
“The ancient sovereigns of our plundered realm!”
Thus deems the nobler mind, intent to delve
For knowledge and yet shuddering o'er its toil.
Thus vanish generations down the gulf
That opens to Eternity, and thus
The Fiend of Ruin wastes a dreaming world.
For knowledge and yet shuddering o'er its toil.
Thus vanish generations down the gulf
That opens to Eternity, and thus
The Fiend of Ruin wastes a dreaming world.
But there shall come an hour when truth shall stand
Upon the mountain and declare to earth
Her seraph oracles; when Love shall thrill
Each bosom wedded to the world's wide joy,
And image in the fountain of the soul
The universal bliss; when Faith shall roam
On lovelier meads and hills with glory clothed,
O'er whose bright summits rainbows rest in heaven,
And over the charmed universe of thought
Pour its pure radiance from the shrine of God.
Then, cries the Vision of the banished saint,
In deep Gehenna's darkest depth again
Shall writhe in adamantine manacles
The Spirit of Destruction, and no more
Vainly appeal pale Famine's hollow eye,
Or broken voice of burning Pestilence.
Or unheard groans of battle raging on.
But dove-eyed Peace shall float on snowy wings
O'er nations banded in each other's love,
And the free souls of Heaven's blest children flow
In light and love o'er earth and rest in God!
Upon the mountain and declare to earth
Her seraph oracles; when Love shall thrill
Each bosom wedded to the world's wide joy,
And image in the fountain of the soul
The universal bliss; when Faith shall roam
On lovelier meads and hills with glory clothed,
O'er whose bright summits rainbows rest in heaven,
And over the charmed universe of thought
Pour its pure radiance from the shrine of God.
Then, cries the Vision of the banished saint,
In deep Gehenna's darkest depth again
Shall writhe in adamantine manacles
The Spirit of Destruction, and no more
Vainly appeal pale Famine's hollow eye,
Or broken voice of burning Pestilence.
Or unheard groans of battle raging on.
But dove-eyed Peace shall float on snowy wings
O'er nations banded in each other's love,
And the free souls of Heaven's blest children flow
In light and love o'er earth and rest in God!
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |