 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
41
THE SIXTH SEAL.
“And I beheld, when he had opened the Sixth Seal; and lo! there was a great earthquake, and the Sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the Moon became as blood.
“And the Kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and
the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every freeman, hid themselves in the dens, and in the rocks of the mountains.
“And said to the mountains and rocks, ‘Fall on us, and hide us from the face of Him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb.’”—
Apocalypse vi, 12.
The hour is come! The mighty Sun
Darts downward, like a blood-red shield.
Earth, has thy final day begun?
Earth, has thy solid centre reeled?
Why bursts the ocean on its shore?
Howls tempest, tenfold thunders roar!
Darts downward, like a blood-red shield.
Earth, has thy final day begun?
Earth, has thy solid centre reeled?
Why bursts the ocean on its shore?
Howls tempest, tenfold thunders roar!
42
Like foam along the surges borne;
Like leaves, when gusts of Autumn rise;
From Heaven's eternal Vine are torn
The Stars, the clusters of the skies.
The Moon, like barks by tempests driven,
Wanders her wild, blind way through Heaven.
Like leaves, when gusts of Autumn rise;
From Heaven's eternal Vine are torn
The Stars, the clusters of the skies.
The Moon, like barks by tempests driven,
Wanders her wild, blind way through Heaven.
No Chance has bid you rush, ye Winds!
No Chance has bid those thunders roll!
Whose are those earthquakes? His who binds
The fetter on the struggling soul.
Ye lightnings! yours is not the blaze;
A mightier withers, smites, and slays!
No Chance has bid those thunders roll!
Whose are those earthquakes? His who binds
The fetter on the struggling soul.
Ye lightnings! yours is not the blaze;
A mightier withers, smites, and slays!
The thunder peals for overthrow;
The ripening of a World of crime.
Thou crimsoned mass of wrong and woe,
Now comes the great, consummate time,
When thou shalt blaze from pole to pole—
Ashes and dust—a burning scroll.
The ripening of a World of crime.
Thou crimsoned mass of wrong and woe,
Now comes the great, consummate time,
When thou shalt blaze from pole to pole—
Ashes and dust—a burning scroll.
43
Six thousand wild and weary years
By Truth the sackcloth has been worn;
The prize of Virtue chains and tears,
And Faith a stain, and Zeal a scorn!
And gold and gems have paid the blow
That laid their glorious beauty low.
By Truth the sackcloth has been worn;
The prize of Virtue chains and tears,
And Faith a stain, and Zeal a scorn!
And gold and gems have paid the blow
That laid their glorious beauty low.
Earth's scourges—Heaven's avenging ire—
War, famine, pestilence, the chain,
All fruitless—scorned the prophet's fire,
The dungeon, nay, the grave, in vain!
The sole inheritance of Time,
The hardened heart, the deeper crime.
War, famine, pestilence, the chain,
All fruitless—scorned the prophet's fire,
The dungeon, nay, the grave, in vain!
The sole inheritance of Time,
The hardened heart, the deeper crime.
Still, man makes fellow-man a slave;
Still raves the livid Infidel;
Still burthens Earth that more than grave,
Dungeon of soul, the Convent cell;
Still Idols are the gods of Rome.
But vengeance wakes!—the hour is come!
Still raves the livid Infidel;
Still burthens Earth that more than grave,
Dungeon of soul, the Convent cell;
Still Idols are the gods of Rome.
But vengeance wakes!—the hour is come!
44
Who rides upon the whirlwind!
Who rushes, slaying and to slay!
His Angels, Woe and Death, behind,
Calling the vultures to their prey!
I hear the desert lion roar,
Snuffing afar the feast of gore!
Who rushes, slaying and to slay!
His Angels, Woe and Death, behind,
Calling the vultures to their prey!
I hear the desert lion roar,
Snuffing afar the feast of gore!
Whose lifted sceptre smites earth's thrones;
Whose glance eclipses star and sun?
God! shall we worship “stocks and stones!”
Come in Thy might! “Thy will be done!”
And standing upon sea and shore,
Proclaim that “Time shall be no more.”
Whose glance eclipses star and sun?
God! shall we worship “stocks and stones!”
Come in Thy might! “Thy will be done!”
And standing upon sea and shore,
Proclaim that “Time shall be no more.”
Ye men of blasphemy and blood,
The sword is out, your reign is o'er;
Fierce caterers of the vulture's food,
Ye now shall gorge them with your gore,
Pay pang for pang, and groan for groan;
Tortures that tear, but not atone!
The sword is out, your reign is o'er;
Fierce caterers of the vulture's food,
Ye now shall gorge them with your gore,
Pay pang for pang, and groan for groan;
Tortures that tear, but not atone!
45
And ye, the most undone of all,
Who dragged the martyr to the pyre!
Call to the depths of ocean—call,
To quench within your breasts the fire.
Worse than the earthquake or the storm—
The sting of soul, th' undying worm!
Who dragged the martyr to the pyre!
Call to the depths of ocean—call,
To quench within your breasts the fire.
Worse than the earthquake or the storm—
The sting of soul, th' undying worm!
Aye, now ye know what 'tis to die!
Howl to the mountains and the caves;
Aye, fix on Heaven the frenzied eye;
Plunge terror-stricken in your graves!
Ye doomed! the time is past for prayer;
Your heart has but one word—despair!
Howl to the mountains and the caves;
Aye, fix on Heaven the frenzied eye;
Plunge terror-stricken in your graves!
Ye doomed! the time is past for prayer;
Your heart has but one word—despair!
Wail to the skies, thou guilty globe!
Wail, all thy warriors, all thy Kings!
When ruin wraps thee like a robe,
When flame from all thy mountains springs,
And Ocean feels its burning breath,
All death—an Universe of Death!
Wail, all thy warriors, all thy Kings!
When ruin wraps thee like a robe,
When flame from all thy mountains springs,
And Ocean feels its burning breath,
All death—an Universe of Death!
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