 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
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THE FIGHT IN THE SANCTUARY.
Through the aisles and arches solemn
O'er each grey majestic column
Of that silent, dim cathedral,
Streamed the moonbeam all the night;
Floating through the storied window,
Flecked with many-coloured light;
Floating through the chancel hoary,
O'er the faces, flushed with glory,
Of departed saints and heroes
Carved in marble on the wall;
O'er the silent great high altar,
O'er the Bible, o'er the Psalter;
O'er the organ, closed and voiceless,
Mute to adoration's call,
Fell the melancholy moonlight,
Sleep-like, dream-like, over all.
O'er each grey majestic column
Of that silent, dim cathedral,
Streamed the moonbeam all the night;
Floating through the storied window,
Flecked with many-coloured light;
Floating through the chancel hoary,
O'er the faces, flushed with glory,
Of departed saints and heroes
Carved in marble on the wall;
O'er the silent great high altar,
O'er the Bible, o'er the Psalter;
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Mute to adoration's call,
Fell the melancholy moonlight,
Sleep-like, dream-like, over all.
Suddenly, in lurid splendour,
Red as Night, when storms attend her,
Stood an Angel at the altar!
Guest unbidden, sad to see;
Flashing from his fiery eyeballs
Scorn and Pride and Misery.
“Mine,”;he said, “these paths enchanted,
Mine—all mine—by evil haunted;
Mine the transept, shrines, and chapels,
Fretted roof, and marble floor;
Mine the white-robed incense-flingers;
Mine the choristers and singers;
Mine the music of the organ,
Loud as tempests on the shore;
Mine the Saints and the Apostles,
Mine, all mine, for evermore!”
Red as Night, when storms attend her,
Stood an Angel at the altar!
Guest unbidden, sad to see;
Flashing from his fiery eyeballs
Scorn and Pride and Misery.
“Mine,”;he said, “these paths enchanted,
Mine—all mine—by evil haunted;
Mine the transept, shrines, and chapels,
Fretted roof, and marble floor;
Mine the white-robed incense-flingers;
Mine the choristers and singers;
Mine the music of the organ,
Loud as tempests on the shore;
Mine the Saints and the Apostles,
Mine, all mine, for evermore!”
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And he raised his hand in anger,
And, with crash like iron clangour,
Smote the pallid saints and heroes
To the pavement—one and all—
Smote them down in tinkling fragments,
From their niches on the wall.
Overturned, with scorn infernal,
Altars built to the Eternal;
And with maniac start and frenzy,
Struck the slumbering organ keys,
Till they crashed like crag-born thunder,
Till they moaned in wailing wonder,
Jarring like the rush of whirlwinds
When they vex the tropic seas,
And with mighty war-ships toying,
Snap them, like the twigs of trees.
And, with crash like iron clangour,
Smote the pallid saints and heroes
To the pavement—one and all—
Smote them down in tinkling fragments,
From their niches on the wall.
Overturned, with scorn infernal,
Altars built to the Eternal;
And with maniac start and frenzy,
Struck the slumbering organ keys,
Till they crashed like crag-born thunder,
Till they moaned in wailing wonder,
Jarring like the rush of whirlwinds
When they vex the tropic seas,
And with mighty war-ships toying,
Snap them, like the twigs of trees.
Then again, with fitful fancy,
Or as moved by necromancy,
Strode this dark and sullen Angel
To the gloomiest shrine within;
Kneeling down, as if repentant
Of his misery and sin.
But his thoughts were thoughts of evil,
Prompted by the bitter Devil
That possessed his wounded conscience,
Racked by agony and pride;
And he said, “Come, hot temptation,
Come, the deepest degradation,
Come, all turbulent unreason,
Rule me, hold me, and divide!
Good is evil! Hell's my pathway!
Let Destruction be my guide!”
Or as moved by necromancy,
Strode this dark and sullen Angel
To the gloomiest shrine within;
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Of his misery and sin.
But his thoughts were thoughts of evil,
Prompted by the bitter Devil
That possessed his wounded conscience,
Racked by agony and pride;
And he said, “Come, hot temptation,
Come, the deepest degradation,
Come, all turbulent unreason,
Rule me, hold me, and divide!
Good is evil! Hell's my pathway!
Let Destruction be my guide!”
Thus blaspheming, thus lamenting,—
Proud, defiant, unrepenting,—
Roamed he through the shadowy vistas,
Darting darkness from his eyes;
And through all that fane of Beauty
Hurling groans and agonies.
But in Passion's midway torrent,
Self-sustained, though self-abhorrent,
He beheld—and started wildly
At such vision in the place—
Golden haired, a radiant Angel—
Calm, beneficent Evangel—
Pouring splendours from his forehead;
And his clear, unsullied face
Filling all that grey cathedral,
Sunlike, with supernal grace.
Proud, defiant, unrepenting,—
Roamed he through the shadowy vistas,
Darting darkness from his eyes;
And through all that fane of Beauty
Hurling groans and agonies.
But in Passion's midway torrent,
Self-sustained, though self-abhorrent,
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At such vision in the place—
Golden haired, a radiant Angel—
Calm, beneficent Evangel—
Pouring splendours from his forehead;
And his clear, unsullied face
Filling all that grey cathedral,
Sunlike, with supernal grace.
And that Angel, mild and saintly,
With sad visage, speaking faintly,
Said—“Disturber and Destroyer,
Troubler of a holy shrine!
Hie thee to thy native darkness,
And begone! this place is mine!”
“Nay!”;replied that Evil Spirit,
“By the power that I inherit,
Mine's the Bible, mine's the Music,
Mine's the roof, and mine's the floor!
And I'll slay thee at the altar,
Slay thee by the Book and Psalter—
Slay thee, as my highest duty
To the fiends that I adore!
Get thee gone from my dominion,
Mine's the place for evermore!”
With sad visage, speaking faintly,
Said—“Disturber and Destroyer,
Troubler of a holy shrine!
Hie thee to thy native darkness,
And begone! this place is mine!”
“Nay!”;replied that Evil Spirit,
“By the power that I inherit,
Mine's the Bible, mine's the Music,
Mine's the roof, and mine's the floor!
And I'll slay thee at the altar,
Slay thee by the Book and Psalter—
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To the fiends that I adore!
Get thee gone from my dominion,
Mine's the place for evermore!”
And he raised his hand unholy,
Smote that Angel sweet and lowly!
Smote him on his cheek and bosom,
Gashed his side with gaping wound;
Till the meek and patient Seraph
Lay as dead upon the ground!
Then the great high organ pealing,
All its sympathy revealing,
Sent through chancels, crypts, and cloisters,
Melodies of pain and wail;
And one ray of moonlight falling,
Through the outer gloom appalling,
Crept upon the Angel's forehead,
Glittering like a coat of mail;
On his cheeks and closed eyelids,
On his lips so lovely pale.
Smote that Angel sweet and lowly!
Smote him on his cheek and bosom,
Gashed his side with gaping wound;
Till the meek and patient Seraph
Lay as dead upon the ground!
Then the great high organ pealing,
All its sympathy revealing,
Sent through chancels, crypts, and cloisters,
Melodies of pain and wail;
And one ray of moonlight falling,
Through the outer gloom appalling,
Crept upon the Angel's forehead,
Glittering like a coat of mail;
On his cheeks and closed eyelids,
On his lips so lovely pale.
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Sudden, as from Death upspringing,
With a shout, like triumph ringing,
Rose the Angel from the pavement;
And before the inner shrine,
Grappled with the Fiend that smote him,
Filled and fired with strength divine.
Oh the combat, long and fearful!
Oh the strife, so blood and tearful!
Oh the agony and anguish,
Madly felt or mildly borne,
Which, through all the lonely places
Where they fought with flashing faces,
For the mastery and possession—
Hopeful one, and one forlorn—
Echoed till the strife was ended,
At the dawning of the morn.
With a shout, like triumph ringing,
Rose the Angel from the pavement;
And before the inner shrine,
Grappled with the Fiend that smote him,
Filled and fired with strength divine.
Oh the combat, long and fearful!
Oh the strife, so blood and tearful!
Oh the agony and anguish,
Madly felt or mildly borne,
Which, through all the lonely places
Where they fought with flashing faces,
For the mastery and possession—
Hopeful one, and one forlorn—
Echoed till the strife was ended,
At the dawning of the morn.
Beamed the sunlight, pure and golden,
Through the oriel windows olden,
Filling all that high cathedral
With magnificence of Day;
When that Angel, evil-minded,
Bruised and beaten, fled away:
Spread his wings, in combat riven,
And with groan that pierced to Heaven,
Vanished from the shrine, polluted
By his fury and despair.
And his victor, maimed and bleeding,
But triumphant, interceding
For the foe that he had vanquished,
Turned to God his forehead fair,
And, while music filled the cloister,
Eased his happy heart in prayer.
Through the oriel windows olden,
Filling all that high cathedral
With magnificence of Day;
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Bruised and beaten, fled away:
Spread his wings, in combat riven,
And with groan that pierced to Heaven,
Vanished from the shrine, polluted
By his fury and despair.
And his victor, maimed and bleeding,
But triumphant, interceding
For the foe that he had vanquished,
Turned to God his forehead fair,
And, while music filled the cloister,
Eased his happy heart in prayer.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |