The bridal of Vaumond :: :: University of Virginia Library

A shuddering tremour shook
The rocks of that earthly womb,
And massy fragments broke
From the warrior's living tomb.
Bursting from its cavern'd vent,
Roars around convuls'd the thunder,
Muttering, deep, by mountains pent;
Lodowick in appalling wonder
Breathless mark'd the stern event;
Rifted, gape the walls in sunder!
Bows the arch above his head—
The rugged stones forsake their bed—
Speeds the whelming ruin down!
On the earth the lamp is thrown;
Gapes that earth—precipitate
Down the chasm it holds its way,
Nor pause its track may now await
Until it speed, impell'd by fate
Where bar'd hell's central regions lay.

108

II.

Darkness, ruin, now surround;
Tottering in that fearful stound,
On a trembling mass that hung
O'er that gulf of horror swung,
Down the knight his knee hath bent—
I will not say but his cheek was blent
With terror's ashen hue,
While the hoarse voice of earth was roaring,
And her secret chambers' depths exploring,
Round him the masses flew—
Ever leaving that frail stone
That now bears his frame alone,
Tottering to its destin'd wreck!
Pale was then the warrior's cheek—
But in his heart devotion glow'd
As his lips it taught to pray
To the holy mother of our God
And to Saint Agatha.

III.

Streaming on the blackness deep
Was a glare at distance shed,
Quick from his knee did the warrior leap—
As his saviour rock down sped!
The sign of the blessed cross he made
And onward rush'd where the gleaming play'd;
Now by rudely jutting stone
Backward in his progress thrown—
Plunging on with steps of haste,
Downward, darkling was he cast;—

109

As in a dream no harm we feel,
Hurl'd down precipice and hill,
So terror, hope, and faith combined,
While sense to toil and pain was blind,
To lead the youth toward the light
In the waking dream of that awful night!

IV.

Ha! Maria! can they bear
Now, thy frame recoiling there?—
Whence the glare? far, far below
Infernal seas of liquid fire—
Raving, roaring, sullen, flow,
Lashing fierce to hell-wrought ire!
High their steam sulphureous wreathes,
Taints the air where mortal breathes,
Its vapory hangings wildly surging,
From whose red, fiery clouds emerging
Blue, quivering lightnings wildly shoot
To guide the wanderer's trembling foot.
Through a disjointed bridge of stone
O'er that dread lake all tottering thrown,
With frequent gap and yawning rest
Betray'd its tides each glittering cleft;—
Behind—convulsions tear the womb
Of earth, as in her thrall of doom.
And now th' unlovely light that prob'd
Those warring realms in shadows rob'd,
Show'd heaving mounds or whelming steeps
Down the interminable deeps
Thund'ring in swift career;—

110

Before—a half-supported mass
Shot high across that lurid pass,
And spann'd the chasm drear,
Abruptly o'er the top it ceas'd—
And leap the rest—who may!
Yet still the tumult wild increas'd,
Still melts the mass away;
Down hissing in the flame it fell,
Each sound, of death the awful knell,
That warns the wanderer of the hour
Of fiery doom—of fiendish power!

V.

No safety there—despair in flight!
Onward, onward went the knight;
Though frailer be that trembling span
Than sabre arch of mussulman,
While darker hell and fiercer death
Foam and roar and yawn beneath,
Onward, lo! he treads the arch—
He casts no look below,
To mark despair's unsteadied march,
The flame's unearthly glow;
But its dun vapours round him wreathe,
And fear, that bade him not to breathe
Preserv'd his life—that withering fire
He who would breathe again may not respire!

VI.

He leaps the pass—and terrible
The yielding ruin whelming fell
Headlong into the lake;

111

His footstep slips, that wild shore gain'd;—
Despair its energies retain'd,
High o'er the abyss a black crag jutting
By chance he caught—his eyelids shutting—
He felt that fragment quake;
He hangs above that fiery sea—
That trembling stone alone may be
His saviour in his jeopardy!
But 'twas a grasp of agony
That had from its time-rooted bed
Ætna's proud chesnut borne!
One mad'ning spring the warrior made—
Forth was the fragment torn!—

VII.

But he is safe!

—“Fell it alone? alone it fell.” Rokeby.

—the struggle o'er
The cold dews gush'd from every pore—
An icy trembling came;
Such knew he not on battle plain,
When the bloodhound gorging o'er the slain
Laid the quivering flesh all bare,
Till bursting with his banquet there
Sunk down his bloated frame!
A deathlike damp was on his brow—
The nerveless limbs all idly now
In fear's delirium motionless
The passive failing will confess.

VIII.

O! rouse thee from thy lethargy!
For life—revenge—salvation—flee!

112

Thy fate unknown—thy memory curst—
Thy manhood stamp'd with flight;
And worst—if yet there can be worst
To soul of gallant knight—
Beyond—thy dark conclusion seal'd,
All unassoil'd and unanneal'd
By one atoning rite,
Mock'd by the fiend—thy prayer unheard,
On earth abhorr'd—from heaven debarr'd!

IX.

Yes:—all the Christian, all the man
Around his heart quick summon'd, ran.
Onward his unlit path he grop'd
That wandering strange, still downward slop'd;
Seem'd it an iron channel led
To earth's remotest, secret bed—
Narrow that chamber, where he bent
Full low his form as on he went;
Its walls were hard and firm and cold,
Nature's impenetrable hold.

X.

Still a low murmuring seem'd to rise
That iron cavern through—
Notes caught the warrior with surprise
Of language that he knew;
It was of Sicily—but ne'er
Such tones before did mortal hear;
Such voices ne'er his native tongue
To such a fearful descant sung.

113

Long through th' untrodden maze he err'd,
Still, still that pæan wild he heard.

XI.
Song of the Spirits in Aetna.

When, while mortals pale are trembling
At their mother's agony;

This description of an earthquake is, in general, taken from Hill's translation of an account of one by a Sicilian, as far as relates to the incidents of an earthquake. Cowper, in his description in the Task, has mentioned the most prominent—perhaps, not the most terrible. The involuntary trembling of animal life, the wild terrors of the brute creation, who seem conscious that their mother earth is no longer a place of safety, must add greatly to the fearful effect.

When in upper air assembling
Hold we our high revelry!

When in mist-envelop'd fields
Hath the sun all cheerless stood,
When the moon no radiance yields
Trembling in a sea of blood;

When the messenger of death
Shoots o'er heaven's expanse profound,
Fiery pestilence his breath
Ruddy meteors shedding round;

When pale streaks of livid light
Dart on high their awful rays,
Circuiting the brow of night
With their wild and ghostly blaze.

When the brute, in terror quaking,
Beats his parent's shuddering breast;
When the bird, her home forsaking,
Wildered, flies her children's nest;

114

When the angel flaps his pinion,
Mortal sickness shedding round,
Sinking in his stern dominion,
Man no resting-place hath found;

Death, despair, all rank dividing,
Friendship, love, affinity—
Then hurra! the whirlwinds riding
Hold we our high revelry!

XII.
SONG CONTINUED.

Now begins the riot high,
Trembles earth's remotest cell,
Groaning in her agony,
Bellowing peals her anguish tell.

Peals around the deaf'ning din,—
Mute were now the bolt of heaven,
All unheard the culverin,
All unfear'd the blazing levin!

Now, like ocean, earth is heaving,
Waves on waves tumultuous press;
Mountains, their foundations leaving,
Find another resting-place.

Hark! the deep, its barriers breaking,
Pours its furious deluge blind;
Hell triumphant, God forsaking,
Fate to us hath man resign'd!

115

Husbandman! thy toil is done,
Whelm'd thy fields beneath the main;—
Avarice, thy wish is won,
Central regions hoard thy gain!

Father! all thy cares are over,
Ocean all thy children hath;—
Hope not, fear not, sue not, lover!
Thou shalt meet thy bride—in death!

Mother! who his fate shall tell,
Who so stately woo'd thy breast?—
Where yon pile tremendous fell
Are his sightless ruins prest!

XIII.
SONG CONTINUED.

Now the home, by whirlwinds sever'd,
Leaves no mournful wreck behind;
Now before yon altar, shiver'd,
None a resting-place may find.

Saint, nor miracle, nor spell
Save thee, priest, or sinner pale;
'Tis the jubilee of hell!
'Tis the hour when WE prevail!

Now from smoking ruins glaring
Where the wand'rer sought his home,
In his anguish, wildly staring,
Mock we at the wretch's doom.

116

Now, in flame or flood, exulting,
Jest we with the dying cry;
O'er the struggling wretch insulting,
We enjoy his latest sigh.

XIV.
SONG CONTINUED.

Earth is rending—chasms gape
From beneath the flying tread,
Closing, hopeless of escape,
On the living and the dead!

Half is buried, half is thrown
Writhing on the earth again;—
Shapeless mass! we catch its groan
We prolong its mortal pain.

What is beauty?—mangled members
Now, that once it was proclaim;
Half consum'd in bloody embers,
Who was this? and what her name?

XV.
SONG CONTINUED.

Horror, horror gathers round,
Clouds the scene are veiling fast;
Darkness, dismal and profound,
Hath her robe around them cast.

117

Hid the canopy—no eye
Now may pierce the gloominess,
Nor one blessed ray descry,—
All is black and fathomless.

Sun, and moon, and stars, have faded,
Showers of ashes ceaseless fall,
Central night hath day pervaded,
Nature dead beneath her pall.

Then the flame sulphureous, guiding,
Lure we on the wilder'd one,
Till his heedless footstep sliding
His last race on earth is run.

XVI.
SONG CONTINUED.

Horror, horror darker gathers,
Hunger fury lends despair,
Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers,
Own no tie of nature there.

Than the famish'd lioness,
For a wilder deed prepar'd,
On for food to death they press,
And destroy whom we had spar'd!

Two towards the dying flame
Of a cottage, darkling led,
By the lurid embers came,
And each hollow face survey'd;—

118

One a female;—she had caught
From a dying man his food;
There an infant's corse she brought,
Mangled, streaming in its blood.

Fitful blazing as the fire
On each wasted visage shone,
She beheld that infant's sire—
She beheld her new-born son!

They had lov'd as few can love;
Not one year he call'd her spouse,
Since the marriage wreath was wove,
Since that cottage heard their vows.

On the spot that saw them wed
Warr'd they for the babe's remains,
Tore away the reeking head,
Eager suck'd its famish'd veins.

Gorg'd they, till in death they sunk—
E'en we shudder'd at the sight,
Horror-struck, away we shrunk,
Wandering in that awful night.

Soon, hurra! the fiend's dominion
Uncontrol'd on earth shall be;
Soon, hurra! on whirlwind's pinion,
Mount we for our revelry!

XVII.

Sore Lodowick had toil'd, and long,
While still awoke the demon song.

119

Now wider that dark channel grew,
And suffocating, round him blew
Sulphureous currents,—and he might
Afar descry a pale blue light:—
So lately lur'd, will he agen,
Trust hope within this fearful den?
It was not hope—it was the burst
That darts man on to dare the worst—
To brave all peril—rash, to pry
Into the realms of mystery.

XVIII.

He trac'd the beam—through a rift it stole—

See the wonderful history of Dr. Faustus, how he was sold to the devil, &c.

He gaz'd—heaven help th' unpardon'd soul!
The pit was deep, and high, and wide—
Blue wreathing flames on every side
Curtain and canopy, unfolding
Upon the eye that ach'd, beholding;
A pageantry, the cheek to blanch,
And freeze the heart of warrior staunch,—
Dire mockery of the festive hall—
The mountain spirits' trysting place;—
The livid glare confounded all
The movements of that damned race;
But earnest strove he to dispel
The mist that on his eyelids fell,
And mark'd he flitting, undefined
Fantastic shapes below,
And round and round again they wind,
All dizzily they go.
And there was of flame a crawling ring
Their giddy goings circuiting;

120

All around it snakes were hissing
Slimy fold in fold caressing;
Lizards dragg'd their nauseous mire
Creeping countless round the fire;
Living members there he spied,
Sever'd from corses putrified,
And these around the circle leapt;
But from the liquid trunk corrupt,
Where the loathing worm no longer supt,
A myriad slimy insects crept.

XIX.

Another step the cavern treads,
Another form reveal the shades—
How?—in this infernal world
Comes there aught of mortal mould?
Limbs of man it hath indeed,
Of a goodly man they seem—
Armour it weareth—Mary speed!
That monarch port—that sable crest—
It cannot—ay, HE stands confest—
Or is it all a dream?

XX.

He spoke—
“Black cor'd and juggling fiends,
Truce with your foolery!
Him, who on my behests attends,
On this night summon ye!
Till mine eternal judgment come
I am your lord, and this your home
Shall quake and bow to me!

121

—Enough your dupe—O foul deceit!
Gall mingles with the surfeit sweet;
The ruddy fruit, with crimson stain,
Is fairest on Sicilia's plain;

There is in Sicily a kind of orange called Sanguineus, red in the middle, and of the finest flavour. Hill.

Sweet its core, with red imbued,—
Highest, pleasure, bought with blood!
The meanest slave, for fancied wrong,
May bid his bravo vengeance seek—
The proudest noble, peers among,
Must stalk all-impotent along,
Controll'd by demons' conscience meek!
—She has escap'd—her wrongs to brawl,
And he must live—accurst of all—
Both with my fame and peace to sport—
One blow had cut the story short.”

XXI.

Thus he spoke; in troubled ire
Answer'd him the conclave dire.

1.

We have no power
O'er Christian life;
Till the destin'd hour
For carnal strife.
We may but tempt—
Who holds his faith
From harm exempt
We may not do to death.

2.

Thou hast a charmed being
That weapon may not harm—

122

When battle is raving
Its terrors braving
Then spill the life-blood warm;
But in battle or peace
Till the charm shall cease,
Fear not earth or heav'n or hell,
None but thee can break the spell.

3.

Destin'd one!
Thy doom is done
When thy homage is said to the Holy one
Remember!

XXII.

“My bands in many a darksome cave,
Await my signal word;
Brief space shall see my standard wave,
And this fair isle the reptile's grave
Who dares deny its lord.
Yet, ere the whirlwind sweep its plain,
There is one lovely flower that fain
These hands would pluck away—
And taste its fragrance ere it fade;
Anon its beauties will be dead—
Perchance before its glory dies
The storm of vengeance shall arise
And bear it, where it may.
Mine is the monarch's fabled grasp—
Whate'er my hands unhallow'd clasp
Your care converts to gold;—
O gorgeous mockery of bliss!
My never-dying soul for this

123

To you and hell was sold!
That fades upon this icy heart
Which hope that lur'd me did impart;
And all the stores of power and pride,
And beauty yielding at my side
For me are chill and cold!
Mine is your dæmon grasp—whate'er
It haply touches, it must sear—
To life and hope it may not beat
Wrapt in a venom'd winding sheet!

XXIII.

“My soul within itself must coil—
Why speak its pangs to ye
Who wait to close its circling toil?—
Ye idle murmurs then—begone—
Or nestle here—with fiends alone
I may find sympathy!

XXIV.

“Let then my nuptial rites be said—
As fiends should wed—so will I wed,
And Isabel shall grace my bed”—
—“Now God forbid!”—cried Lodowick—
And all that pageant faded quick,
As the blaze of the levin red—
As when in the fulness of ripen'd years,
When the last trump shall shake the spheres,
Yon heavens away shall fade!

XXV.

They vanish'd—blackness fell around
Impenetrable and profound.

124

A hollow roar of mirth all strange
In distant echoes died,
And Lodowick was left to range
The solitudes untried.
And seem'd it that in chaos then
Were whelm'd the warrior's soul and brain—
Nor doubt—nor fear—nor hope remain.
If from his dream he ever wake
And blest communion e'er partake
Of fellow-man—again, if e'er
His tones are breath'd, where such may hear,
Where cheerful day's glad fountain glows,
What secrets can the knight disclose!
—He wander'd on—to stupor wrought,
The excommunicate of thought—
As seeing, hearing, feeling, nought;
A glittering on his eye there came
Of opal light and ruby flame;
But they fell on the brain's obscurity,
Like the beam, absorb'd that may not be
In the pitchy waves of Galilee.

The Dead Sea. See Josephus, Clarke's Travels, &c.

They cannot his clouded soul engage
That had purchas'd a monarch's heritage;—
There were tones of wo and voices loud
That had woke the dead from their coffin and shroud—
They fell on his ear like the trumpet's breath
That shall rouse him from the sleep of death—
They died on his soul like the murmur'd roar
Of ocean heard on a distant shore.
He trod where a snake had made her nest,
And the slimy brood to death he prest,—

125

The parent her venom'd tongue thrust out
And tight, his leg she wound about,—
He slipp'd in the slime as he trod on her head,
But he heard not the hissing fierce she made;
He shook off the living, madden'd coil,
As ye dash thro' the tangled forest's toil!

XXVI.

Is yon another luring ray?
Or is it a spark of glorious day?—
Was that the mountain's voice he heard,
Or is it the song of a little bird?—
Hope sprang again to life; and sense
Asserted her omnipotence,
As with wild joy, the cleft he tried—
When he stood on Ætna's giant side!
He could not bear the blazing tide
Even in the forest shade,
But he fell on the earth—and to the Power
That had led him safe, in that awful hour,
With soul o'erflowing pray'd.

University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX. Vesuvius, Ætna, and Stromboli, are supposed to be connected. Vesuvius is certainly hollow. Ferber, Voltaire. Stromboli is quite excavated by its disgorgements. Lithgow. ÆTNA.

I.

II.