The poetical works of William Lisle Bowles :: :: University of Virginia Library

John woke from slumber, when the early trump
Rang from the Roman camp below, at break
Of the gray dawn; and when the sun arose,
After his orisons to Heaven, he sat
On the rude stone before his cave, and marked
His staff and form shadowed against the rock,
Watching the fitful gleams that, here and there,
Chequered the pale Ægean, far away;
While he, who never left his side, appeared
Now more majestic, as the beams of day

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Shone on his waving tresses, when he raised
His look to heaven, and stood sublime in light.

But see, with vitis of command, and plume
And crest, in momentary sunshine bright,
The præfect of the Roman guard approach,
Hail, father, hail! he cried.

And hail to thee,
The old man answered, mildly. Art thou come
With tidings from the Mistress of the World?

ROMAN COMMANDER.
The world's great sun is set—Cæsar is dead!

JOHN.
Cæsar! Ah! in my dream did I not see
His shadow stern and sad; the purple robe
Dropping with blood!

ROMAN COMMANDER.

Why, was he not a god?—
So he proclaimed himself—a god on earth!
Giving command that altars to his name
Should blaze, as to great Jupiter! Old man,
Art thou not prisoner for gainsaying this?
But, father, if a soldier might pronounce,
With all respect to thy gray hairs, I deem
The sole, imperial master of the world
Might worthier claim that title, than a man
Mocked, scourged—ay, scourged!—and crucified with thieves!

Rose and ascended into heaven! replied
The meek old man—a hectic on his cheek—

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Rose, and ascended into heaven, to sit
At the right hand of God, from thence to come,
Judge of the quick and dead! Proud soldier, hear—
Hear how a prisoner for Jesus Christ
Can answer thee!

When King Agrippa sat
Upon his throne, in oriental state,
Surrounded by the Roman soldiery,
With axe and fasces of imperial sway,
Fair Berenice seated on his right,
And on his left Festus the governor,
Paul, a poor prisoner of Jesus Christ,
Before him stood, in chains; and as he spoke
Of “resurrection,” and the world to come,
He cried, King of the Jews, dost thou believe
The prophets? Yes! I know thou dost believe.
The king, with faltering voice, tremblingly cried,
Paul, Paul, thou dost persuade even me, almost—
To be a Christian! Paul, with lifted hand
And steadfast look, thus answered him, Almost!
Oh! would that the whole world were not “almost,”
But “altogether” such as I am now,
Except these bonds.

Soldier, I say the same.
But hie thee to thy eagle; I am here,
A poor old man, like Paul, a prisoner,
And thou, an officer of mighty Rome;
Yet would I pray to God, that thou may'st be,
Oh! not “almost,” but “altogether,” such
As I am now, except these few gray hairs,
Old age, and many sorrows; yet even here
My soul hath been sustained by Him who said,
Lo! I am with you alway, and I know
He still is with me. I have heard his voice,

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And seen his look of glory and of love
Turned on me, in this solitude; and he—
He who did shudder with me at the voice
Of thy bold blasphemy, here lately came
With words of comfort, and these aged eyes
Have seen the things that must hereafter be;
Yet know, stern soldier, if my days were passed
Lonely as hopeless, I would not exchange
These few gray hairs for thy green laurel crown—
This solitude, for living Cæsar's throne,
Or Cæsar's subject world!

The soldier turned
Disdainful, and his crest shook in the wind;
Then, lifting high his ensign of command,
He bade the trumpet sound the second watch.
John knelt, and prayed, Thy kingdom come, O Lord!
Then he who stood beside him, spoke unmoved:
Rome—Rome shall be no more! At dead of night,
Hark! the barbarian trump; Jerusalem
Shall be avenged; and those of distant days,
Pondering the fate of empires, there shall come
To muse upon the fragments of her might,
Her ancient glory passed as morning clouds,
And tremble for the judgments of the Lord
In all the world!

Now to the cave retire,
For other visions of the things to come,
And other fearful shadows, must thou see.

John sat, and held his hands upon his brow:
The earth seems to retire, and all the sounds
Of tumult and of woe at once to cease.
Then John was in the Spirit, and he saw
Seven angels, and, beneath, a sea of glass
Mingled with fire; and on the sea of glass

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Those who had gained, on earth, the victory
Over the beast, all standing on the sea
Of glass, and in their hands the harps of God,
And thus they sung, Oh! great and marvellous
Art thou, Almighty God, and just and true
Are all thy ways, thou King of saints! Amen.

Now from the temple a loud voice was heard,
Which said to the seven angels, Go your ways,
Pour out the vials of the wrath of God
Upon the earth. Then on the men which bore
The mark upon their foreheads of the beast,
Or fell down to his image, noisome sores
And plague-spots fell.

The second angel poured
His vial on the sea, and it became
The blood of a dead man; and every thing
Which had the breath of life died in the sea.

And the third angel poured his vial out
Upon the rivers, and fresh fountains clear,
And they became red blood. And then John heard,
In trance, the angels of the waters say,
Righteous art thou, O Lord! and righteously,
O thou which art, and was, and which shall be,
Thus hast thou judged, for they have shed the blood
Of prophets and of saints! A voice replied,
From out the altar, Even so, O Lord!
Almighty God, thy judgments are most true!

And the fourth angel poured his vial out
Upon the sun, and power was given to him
To scorch men with the fire, and they blasphemed
The name of God, and still repented not,
Looking with gnashing teeth upon the sun.

And the fifth angel poured his vial out

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Upon the kingdom of the beast, and, lo!
The kingdom of the beast at once was dark:
But men repented not—even while they gnawed
Their tongues for pain, blaspheming God in heaven.

And the sixth angel poured his vial out
Where the great river of Euphrates rolls,
And it was quick dried up, and so became
A highway for the armies of the east,
And for the kings of earth, and the whole world,
Gathering to battle, on the dreadful day
Of the incensed Lord, into a place
Called “Armageddon,” in the Hebrew tongue.

And the seventh angel poured his vial out
Into the air, and a loud voice was heard
Out of the temple's inmost shrine, which cried,
All is fulfilled! At once an earthquake shook
The ground, and lightnings, red and terrible,
Flashed, and the thunders rolled along the sky,
And strange and fearful voices in the air
Were heard, so dreadful was that storm. Aghast,
The nations fell; and the great Babylon
Came in remembrance before God, to pour
On her the fierceness of his wakened wrath.

And now John saw another angel fly
In clouds, and coming down with power from heaven
Unto the earth; and all the earth beneath
Was lighted with his glory; and he cried,
With the loud voice of judgment, Babylon
The great is fallen! And then another voice
Answered, Come out of her! Hath she not said,
I sit a queen, mighty as Ashtoreth?
The kings of earth shall tremble when they see
The smoke of her great torment; they shall stand
Afar off from her burning, and shall cry,

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That mighty city, Babylon, alas!
In one hour is her judgment come! The voice
Of harpers and of trumpeters no more
Shall in her streets be heard: the blood of saints,
Of prophets, and of martyrs, is avenged!
The cries are heard, the smoke is seen, no more.

And after this, John lifted up his eyes,
And heard the voice of mighty companies,
Which sang and shouted, Alleluia! reign
For ever, Lord of lords and King of kings!
Salvation, honour, glory, power, and praise,
Be unto thee, O Lord! for thou hast judged
With righteousness! They, with acclaiming voice,
Still sang and shouted, Alleluia—reign
For ever, Lord of lords and King of kings!
Heard through the empyrean, the great voice
Again went up, whilst all the courts of heaven
Rang, Alleluia! glory be to thee,
Glory and power, Lord God Omnipotent!

Then the heaven opened, and, behold! a horse
As white as snow, and he who sat thereon
Was called “True and Faithful;” on his head
Were crowns on crowns, and underneath a name
Which no man knew, save he who bore that name.
His vesture was a robe of blood, and they
Who followed him proclaimed, The Word of God!
And all the heavenly armies followed him
On horses white like his; and on his robe
Was written—King of kings and Lord of lords.

The pomp is passed, and now John raised his eyes,
And saw an angel standing in the sun.
The angel in his watch looked down to earth,
And all the armies of the earth came forth

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To war with the bright chivalry of heaven,
And Him who sat on the white horse! And, lo!
Before the mighty cherubims advanced
Michael, the great archangel, while a shout
Rang, that the sun in heaven might seem to stand
Still at a sound so terrible. Opposed
To the great armies of the living God,
Frown the Satanic host, far as the eye
Can reach; and horses black as night,
And spectre armies, led, in front, by Death,
Appear, receding into farther depths
Of blackness; while, anon, a dragon, scaled,
Moves weltering onward. Michael, from the ranks
Of cherubim advancing, lifts on high
His mace, and full on the scaled dragon's crest
Smites. At his feet the dragon lay, and, lo!
The sable phantom-horsemen at the sight
Are vanished. Raise the victor-song to Him
Who rides on the white horse, and to his God
In heaven, for the great dragon is cast down
Into the bottomless and burning lake!

Another angel, with white waving plume,
Descends; an iron chain is in his hand,
And the dark key of destiny, which shuts
The bottomless abyss, from whence the smoke
Ascends—ascends, but not a groan is heard.
The ancient dragon is cast down, and bound—
Bound for a thousand years, in chains, and thrown,
Howling, into that nethermost abyss;
While mercy, equity, and peace, and truth,
Like angel forms, visit the earth, and move,
Radiant as light, among the sons of men,
And only sounds are heard of harmonies,
Such as in heaven are sung about the throne,

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O'er which, in dewy light, the rainbow bends.
The trump of bannered war, the sighs and groans
Of miserable slaves, that rise from earth,
In one deep murmur, to high heaven, are ceased;
For love and mercy walk among mankind,
And so shall walk, till the last trump shall sound.

Now a new heaven and new earth appear;
And, coming down from heaven, even as a bride
Adorned to meet her husband, John beheld
The City of the New Jerusalem,
Glittering beyond the clouds; and then he heard
A voice from a bright cloud, The Lord shall come
And dwell with men, and he shall be their God;
And God shall wipe from every eye the tear,
And death shall be more!

John spread his hands,
And cried, with eyes upraised to heaven, Oh! stay,
Visions of bliss! I am bowed down with age,
Forlorn on earth, and I have tarried long
Alone and sad. Oh! come, Lord Jesus Christ!
A voice replied, Thou shalt be where he is!

Hark! 'twas the billow beating on the rocks
Of melancholy Patmos, and John wept,
As, slowly fading, like a summer dream,
He saw the towers, and gates, and palaces,
Of New Jerusalem fade in the clouds
Of eve, which shot its gleaming pinnacles
Aloft in the pale sky, and flushed the track
Of the sun's westering orb with crimson light.

As the sun sunk, the sound of trump and horn
Shrilled, and the old man, starting from his trance,
Beheld below the cave the Roman troop,
Stationed to guard the island criminals,

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Wind slow, in martial file, with banners spread,
Returning to their tents.

Ah! where are now
The temples of the New Jerusalem,
Glittering amid the clouds of parting day?
Gone, like the rack; and Patmos' dreary isle
And melancholy caves return the sound
Of marching men, and the hoarse Roman trump.
The Apostle to the entrance of his cave,
The last remaining light on his gray hairs,
Comes slowly forth, and rests upon his staff,
When the rock-pigeon, at the trump disturbed,
Flew to his withered hand. With plumed crest
Upon his brazen helmet, holding high
The ensign of command, an eagle borne
Before him, on a spear, the præfect leads
His legionary band; and as aloft
The banners wave, and shields and corslets throw
Back a pale glimmer, mark a mournful train
Of fettered men move sullenly, with whom,
Thoughtful, and with his hands upon his breast,
His eyes, at times, uplifted to the heavens,
One, as a soldier worn with toil, but marked
With a stern sadness on his manly brow,
Comes silently, a tear on his dark cheek.
Near him, a youth, wan and emaciate,
Leans on a female, by his side, in bloom
Of youthful beauty; while, at intervals,
Whene'er the trumpet ceased to ring, is heard
The breath of muttering, and the clank of chains.

John sighed, and, turning to the stranger, said
(For both were at the entrance of the cave):
Even to this desert spot in the lone waves,

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War, and the ensigns and the sounds of war,
Have reached.

His guest illustrious, with a smile,
Answered: Yet this is the mere mimickry
Of that appalling spectacle, that fills
The world's wide scene with havoc and with blood;
The murmur of whose mighty coil goes up
Still to the ear of Heaven. So man, the worm,
Preys on his fellow-worm. Turn from the earth,
As gradual evening shades the sinking scene,
And think upon its sins and strife no more.

Come, let us, on the stone, before the cave,
For all above is still and glorious,
Sit down, and watch the stars as they steal out,
One after one, and garnish the pale cope
Of heaven. How bright the troops of Hesper shine,
Above the shadow of yon farther rock,
Whose western side is lustrous; for the moon,
Ascending in her car of glory, casts
A meditative and a solemn light
From cape to cape! Look! there is Helice,
Watched by the Grecian traders of the deep—
How clear she shines to-night above the sea!
High in the zenith, here and there, apart,
Some solitary stars, now scarce discerned,
Seem to retire into the farthest space,
As if to shun the prouder planet's gaze,
Each in his watch, with never-blenching eye,
Steadfast. Nor marvel, then the stranger said,
When all the silent host of the blue sky
Appear so beautiful, Idolatry
Should deem them gods, and to the Sun and Moon,

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Bel and Astarte, pay the worship due
To the invisible, Almighty Lord,
Who rules in heaven and earth.

Is there a God?
Yes! Nature cries aloud, There is a God,
Visible in his works, and infinite
In power! There is a God, and he is just!
There is a God, and he is merciful!
Yet might we rather say, there is no God,
Than think, that to a being such as man
No revelation of bright hope was given:
That man, created in God's image, placed
Amid this vast and unknown universe,
To sojourn upon earth a few brief years
Of feverish life, should look, for the last time,
Hopeless, upon the setting sun, and die.
Oh! better be the worm that feeds on him.

With lifted gaze, the last Apostle cried,
Fervently cried, Oh! yes, Lord Jesus Christ,
Thou art the Christian's hope! but most of me—
Of me, whom thou hast visited, and cheered
Through life's long pilgrimage; of me, of me,
In age and solitude; I, too, shall live
When all the clouds of time are rolled away,
For ever live in glory where thou art!

Retiring to the cave, pausing, he turned
To his companion, but he was not there;
The moon shone, but there was no form or shape
Of living thing; so lonely to his cave,
O'erwearied, John retired, there musing lay
On what he saw and heard, till sleep unawares
Oppressed him, and that night—that only night—
He had not fallen upon his knees, and prayed,
Protect me through this night, O Lord my God!

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When, suddenly, a hiss was heard without,
And the dull hurtle, as of iron wings,
And short and intermitted flames, at times,
Lighted the cavern roof; then all again
Was dark, save when the moon dilated hung,
And all again was still. John's heavy eyes
Were closed; and dreaming half, and half awake,
He slumbered in the cavern. Who art thou?
Starting, he cried, and trembled, for strange eyes
Glared through the dusk, and seemed to look at him.

It was the coinage of the aged brain,
When sadness and the sense of loneliness
Oppress the weary heart! His eyes are closed
A moment, when strange voices, in the air,
Syllable words unknown, as mocking him,
Then all is hushed again: from the dark roof
Fantastic and deriding shapes, half seen,
Point down long fingers, and a laugh is heard
From the dark fissure of the rocky cave,
Till even his shadow, by a moon-glance seen,
Seems joining the fantastic mockery.
Strange forms of beasts and birds, with monstrous beaks
Solemnly nodding, in the dusk appear.
Yonder, by moonlight, all with heads hung down,
There moves a shrouded and a moping train,
But not a form distinctly visible,
Save of a corpse, that silently they bear,
On which the moonlight falls. Now a dark cloud
Is interposed, and the dim troop dissolves.
Forthwith a spectre, towering to the skies,
Moves onward—on, directly to the cave;
And, towering higher as he moves, he lifts—
Half cloud and half anatomy—a dart,
Barbed with fire, and a deep voice is heard,

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Through the involving clouds about his head:
I am Apollyon; dost thou sleep, old man?
Tremble—and die!

John raised his eyes, and prayed,
Still shuddering, Save me, save me, Jesus Christ!
The spectre vanished: some faint lightning shone
At distance; and now gentler forms drew nigh,
With airy minstrelsy of harps unseen,
Surrounding him, like shadows of the blessed:
Here, radiant female forms came gliding by;
There, in a stream of light, an angel turned
His look upon him, while soft voices sing:

Christian, dost thou yet remain
In this weary world of pain?
Dost thou bend thy hoary head
When all beloved on earth are dead?
Hast thou oft, by years oppressed,
Prayed for rest, eternal rest?
Lo! we come, ere morning peep,
To sing thee to thy rest asleep.

ECHO FROM THE CAVE.
Asleep.

VOICES.
Asleep.
Sing thee to thy rest asleep.

ECHO.
Asleep.

Then came another song, like lullabies
Of ocean, mingled with the airs of night:

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Whilst a mother's only child
Rests in short and sweet repose,
All her troubles are beguiled
When its placid eyelids close!
But angels watch beside the bed
Where aged Christians rest their head,
And as their watchful vigils cease,
Parting, they whisper, Peace!

ECHO FROM THE CAVE.
Peace.

PARTING VOICES.
Peace.

Tired nature sank to sleep, like infancy
Soft-breathing, and as calm. Then, in a dream,
The shades of mitred and majestic James,
Peter, and Paul, came up. He heard their voice,
And saw their forms, as when they lived on earth.
James looked upon his beard of snow, and said:
We have borne witness to the truth in blood;
But thy old age shall calmly pass away,
Till death be lost in sleep. Then thou shalt wake
In everlasting bliss, to weep no more,
For He whom thou hast seen shall be with thee,
And we shall live together—where He is.

After a placid and refreshing sleep,
The last Apostle raised his eyes, and saw
The same majestic and mysterious man
Who stood before him in the cave, and now
The dim dawn broke on the Ægean deep.