Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse By the Rev. Robert Montgomery ... Third Edition--Revised and Enlarged |
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THE FINAL DOOM. |
 | Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes In Verse |  |
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THE FINAL DOOM.
Oh! say, what Fancy, though endowed sublime,
Can picture truly that tremendous time,
When the last sun shall blaze upon the sea,
And Time be buried in eternity!
A cloudy mantle will enwrap that Sun
Whose face so many Worlds have gazed upon;
The placid moon, beneath whose pensive beam
We all have loved to wander and to dream,
Dyed into blood, shall glare from pole to pole,
And tinge the gloomy tempests as they roll;
And those sweet stars, that, like familiar eyes,
Are wont to smile a welcome from the skies,
No more shall fascinate our human sight,
But quench their beauty in perpetual night.—
And, hark! how wildly on the ruined shore
Expiring Ocean pants in hollow roar,
While earth's abysses echo back the groan,
And startle Nature on Her secret throne!
Can picture truly that tremendous time,
When the last sun shall blaze upon the sea,
And Time be buried in eternity!
A cloudy mantle will enwrap that Sun
Whose face so many Worlds have gazed upon;
The placid moon, beneath whose pensive beam
We all have loved to wander and to dream,
Dyed into blood, shall glare from pole to pole,
And tinge the gloomy tempests as they roll;
And those sweet stars, that, like familiar eyes,
Are wont to smile a welcome from the skies,
No more shall fascinate our human sight,
But quench their beauty in perpetual night.—
And, hark! how wildly on the ruined shore
Expiring Ocean pants in hollow roar,
While earth's abysses echo back the groan,
And startle Nature on Her secret throne!
But ere creation's everlasting pall
Unfold its darkness, and envelop all,
The tombs shall burst, the cited dead arise,
And gaze on Godhead with unblasted eyes.
Unfold its darkness, and envelop all,
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And gaze on Godhead with unblasted eyes.
Hark! from the deep of heaven a trumpet-sound
Thunders the dizzy universe around;
From north to south, from east to west it rolls
A blast that summons all created souls;
And swift as ripples form upon the deep
The dead awaken from their dismal sleep;
The Sea has heard it, coiling up with dread,—
Myriads of mortals flash from out her bed,
The graves fly open, and with awful strife
The dust of ages startles into life!
Thunders the dizzy universe around;
From north to south, from east to west it rolls
A blast that summons all created souls;
And swift as ripples form upon the deep
The dead awaken from their dismal sleep;
The Sea has heard it, coiling up with dread,—
Myriads of mortals flash from out her bed,
The graves fly open, and with awful strife
The dust of ages startles into life!
All who have breathed, or moved, or seen, or felt;
All they around whose cradles Kingdoms knelt;
Tyrants and warriors, who were throned in blood;
The great and mean, the glorious and the good,
Are raised from ev'ry isle, and land, and tomb,
To hear the changeless and eternal doom.
All they around whose cradles Kingdoms knelt;
Tyrants and warriors, who were throned in blood;
The great and mean, the glorious and the good,
Are raised from ev'ry isle, and land, and tomb,
To hear the changeless and eternal doom.
But while the universe is wrapt in fire,
Ere yet the splendid ruin shall expire,
Beneath a canopy of flame, behold,
With shining banners at his feet unrolled,
Earth's Judge; around seraphic minstrels throng
And chant o'er golden harps celestial song;—
But, let the hush of holy silence now
Brood o'er the heart, and more than words avow,
While the huge fabric of the world gives way,
And shrieking myriads to the mountains pray,
“Descend upon us! Oh, conceal that sight,
The Lamb encompassed with consuming light!”
Behold, a burning Chaos hath begun,
The moon is crimsoned, and how black the sun!
While cloud-flames, welt'ring in confusion dire,
Flash like a firmament of sea on fire;
Yea, all the billows of the main have fled,
And nought appears but ocean's waveless bed,
Whose caverned bosom with tremendous gloom
Yawns on the world like dead Creation's tomb.
Ere yet the splendid ruin shall expire,
Beneath a canopy of flame, behold,
With shining banners at his feet unrolled,
Earth's Judge; around seraphic minstrels throng
And chant o'er golden harps celestial song;—
308
Brood o'er the heart, and more than words avow,
While the huge fabric of the world gives way,
And shrieking myriads to the mountains pray,
“Descend upon us! Oh, conceal that sight,
The Lamb encompassed with consuming light!”
Behold, a burning Chaos hath begun,
The moon is crimsoned, and how black the sun!
While cloud-flames, welt'ring in confusion dire,
Flash like a firmament of sea on fire;
Yea, all the billows of the main have fled,
And nought appears but ocean's waveless bed,
Whose caverned bosom with tremendous gloom
Yawns on the world like dead Creation's tomb.
But, lo! the breathing harvest of the earth
Reaped from their graves to share a second birth;
Millions of eyes with one deep dreadful stare
Gaze upward through the flaming scene of air,
In pierced Immanuel their own Judge to see,
And hear him sentence man's eternity!
Wing'd like bright angels, warbling hymns of love,
The saints are soaring unto Christ above;
Still as they mount increasing splendours play,
And light the progress of their hallowed way.
Yet, hark! what horrid yells beneath him rise
From perished Souls who lift their guilty cries,
And by the brink of sin's awarded Hell
Shriek unto God and man their wild farewell!
Reaped from their graves to share a second birth;
Millions of eyes with one deep dreadful stare
Gaze upward through the flaming scene of air,
In pierced Immanuel their own Judge to see,
And hear him sentence man's eternity!
Wing'd like bright angels, warbling hymns of love,
The saints are soaring unto Christ above;
Still as they mount increasing splendours play,
And light the progress of their hallowed way.
309
From perished Souls who lift their guilty cries,
And by the brink of sin's awarded Hell
Shriek unto God and man their wild farewell!
But here let silence our religion be,
And prayer become the Muse's poetry;
Nor must the power of meditative song
Grasp the high secrets which to God belong.
Struck with due awe, let Fancy then retire,
And Faith divine the dreaming soul inspire,
Under the shade of that Almighty Throne
From whose dread face the Universe hath flown!
And prayer become the Muse's poetry;
Nor must the power of meditative song
Grasp the high secrets which to God belong.
Struck with due awe, let Fancy then retire,
And Faith divine the dreaming soul inspire,
Under the shade of that Almighty Throne
From whose dread face the Universe hath flown!
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