 | Abaddon, the spirit of destruction ; and other poems |  |
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THE EUDÆMONIST.
Last night, o'er glorious woods with leaves like wings,
Luxuriant meads and orchards all in bloom,
And the glass'd beauty of transparent springs,
Which seem'd elysium far beyond the tomb,
The sunset linger'd, and threw o'er the gloom
Radiant revealments of a holier trust,
And, as I gazed, methought the grave's cold womb
Could never quench the spirit proud and just,
Nor dim the light of God in earth's unhonoured dust.
Luxuriant meads and orchards all in bloom,
And the glass'd beauty of transparent springs,
Which seem'd elysium far beyond the tomb,
The sunset linger'd, and threw o'er the gloom
Radiant revealments of a holier trust,
And, as I gazed, methought the grave's cold womb
Could never quench the spirit proud and just,
Nor dim the light of God in earth's unhonoured dust.
From their blue orbits in the realms of air,
Forth flash the myriad monarchs of the night,
Regents of heaven! who hold o'er man's despair
The silent empire of serene delight;
Gloriously beautiful and deeply bright,
Their emanations blend like music's breath,
And to the bosom through the enchanted sight,
Their softness and their sanctity bequeath,
The knowledge how to live—the hallowed awe of death.
Forth flash the myriad monarchs of the night,
Regents of heaven! who hold o'er man's despair
The silent empire of serene delight;
Gloriously beautiful and deeply bright,
Their emanations blend like music's breath,
And to the bosom through the enchanted sight,
Their softness and their sanctity bequeath,
The knowledge how to live—the hallowed awe of death.
Memory, melancholy and patient hope
Attend your missions through the midnight hours,
Unfaltering courage with life's ills to cope,
Devotion kneeling in forsaken bowers,
And breathing odours from youth's withered flowers.
Life, at the best a dream of happier spheres,
A dim, vague vision while the tempest lowers,
In your soft light o'ercomes its human fears,
Bends o'er the throne of thought and worships heaven in tears.
Attend your missions through the midnight hours,
Unfaltering courage with life's ills to cope,
Devotion kneeling in forsaken bowers,
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Life, at the best a dream of happier spheres,
A dim, vague vision while the tempest lowers,
In your soft light o'ercomes its human fears,
Bends o'er the throne of thought and worships heaven in tears.
How burns the spirit, in its seraph mood,
To drink your mysteries, the shadowy smile
Of Him, who beautiful from chaos' flood
Wrought countless worlds! how boundless hopes beguile
The heart that festers in its earthly toil,
And give to night enchantment, when the mind,
Untaxed, untasked, around its shrine may pile
Sweet buds of thought, whose fragrance in the wind
Soars to love's glorious realm, by martyrs scarce divined.
To drink your mysteries, the shadowy smile
Of Him, who beautiful from chaos' flood
Wrought countless worlds! how boundless hopes beguile
The heart that festers in its earthly toil,
And give to night enchantment, when the mind,
Untaxed, untasked, around its shrine may pile
Sweet buds of thought, whose fragrance in the wind
Soars to love's glorious realm, by martyrs scarce divined.
With awful reverence on my soul I gaze,
The echoed image of a birthless God,
The trembling shadow of Jehovah's blaze,
Whose light to heaven mounts from the buried sod;
On seraph wings electric thought abroad
Rushes and floats on midnight's silvery sea,
And from all lands where human foot hath trod,
And all that glow in fabling fantasy,
Return, with hoarded gems, too blest e'en thus to be.
The echoed image of a birthless God,
The trembling shadow of Jehovah's blaze,
Whose light to heaven mounts from the buried sod;
On seraph wings electric thought abroad
Rushes and floats on midnight's silvery sea,
And from all lands where human foot hath trod,
And all that glow in fabling fantasy,
Return, with hoarded gems, too blest e'en thus to be.
'Tis only when the dust, the tomb's dark dust
Hath shrined our ashes that our memories bloom,
'Tis only then the intellect can thrust
Aside the darkness of our mortal doom;
But even now, though grovelling in the gloom
That broods perpetual o'er the deeds of earth,
The soul, in hope of spotless life to come,
Drinks in quick glimpses of that deathless birth,
Whose happiest days endure nor agony nor mirth.
Hath shrined our ashes that our memories bloom,
'Tis only then the intellect can thrust
Aside the darkness of our mortal doom;
But even now, though grovelling in the gloom
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The soul, in hope of spotless life to come,
Drinks in quick glimpses of that deathless birth,
Whose happiest days endure nor agony nor mirth.
The evil know this not; the stained in soul,
The sear'd in guilt, the branded and the lost;
Cains of their kind, o'er them all seasons roll,
Unmark'd, uncheer'd by all that gladdens most;
The fiendish calumny, the tumid boast
Darken their sun, and wassail wastes the night;
But to the heart oft pierced and foiled and cross'd,
Imagination, steeped in nature's light,
Brings highest, purest bliss from its empyreal flight.
The sear'd in guilt, the branded and the lost;
Cains of their kind, o'er them all seasons roll,
Unmark'd, uncheer'd by all that gladdens most;
The fiendish calumny, the tumid boast
Darken their sun, and wassail wastes the night;
But to the heart oft pierced and foiled and cross'd,
Imagination, steeped in nature's light,
Brings highest, purest bliss from its empyreal flight.
At Pentecost, THE ELEVEN together sat,
Bereaved of Him who veiled his power and died,
The Omnipotent, the Deathless! to his fate,
That hurled destruction on man's maniac pride,
Submitting meekly! poor, outcast, belied,
Netted by foes, in danger, want and woe,
They talked of him, from whose gored, writhing side
Earth's poor life gushed, while heaven's own radiant glow
Revealed the Godhead's brow, and nature shrieked below.
Bereaved of Him who veiled his power and died,
The Omnipotent, the Deathless! to his fate,
That hurled destruction on man's maniac pride,
Submitting meekly! poor, outcast, belied,
Netted by foes, in danger, want and woe,
They talked of him, from whose gored, writhing side
Earth's poor life gushed, while heaven's own radiant glow
Revealed the Godhead's brow, and nature shrieked below.
Darkened and desolate, and rent by doubt,
Faith feebly soared though great love held its power,
When suddenly high voices all about
Uttered their oracles at midnight's hour,
And heaven illumed revealed each holy bower
Of rest and bliss, and all spake tongues unlearned,
Adoring Him for this celestial dower.
Then grieved hearts bathed in bliss, for which they yearn'd,
While to the throne of God the Spirit blest returned.
Faith feebly soared though great love held its power,
When suddenly high voices all about
Uttered their oracles at midnight's hour,
And heaven illumed revealed each holy bower
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Adoring Him for this celestial dower.
Then grieved hearts bathed in bliss, for which they yearn'd,
While to the throne of God the Spirit blest returned.
And thus, though oft bewildered and astray,
Oft crushed by cares and every earthly ill,
We yet sometimes may drink a wandering ray
From the pure fount of Deity, and fill
Our burdened spirits, on the holy hill
Of the mind's Sion, with archangel thought,
That well atones for suffering bravely still,
And soothes the soul which years of woe have taught
To reap deep wisdom from each work that God hath wrought.
Oft crushed by cares and every earthly ill,
We yet sometimes may drink a wandering ray
From the pure fount of Deity, and fill
Our burdened spirits, on the holy hill
Of the mind's Sion, with archangel thought,
That well atones for suffering bravely still,
And soothes the soul which years of woe have taught
To reap deep wisdom from each work that God hath wrought.
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