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VI. THE DARKNESS.

I.1.

O Spirit of the Universe! whereby
Things have intelligible entity,
And are arrayed in glory to man's eye,
And Nature is, because perceived to be;
O thou, unto sad Earth as soul to sense,
Life-giving Light! her graves even yearn for thee...
Strange echoes in the dreamy gloom commence,
Ancestral ages are unsepulchred,
Old oracles awaken from suspense.
The Life—the Light of men is darkened—
Dark is the lustre of the Seraphim—
The Word is silent,—lo, the heavens are dead.

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In mere nihility inane and dim,
This wreck of elements anon subsides;
Man hath slain God,—Creation dies with Him;
Time travels not—and Space no more abides.
Inquire of Night and Chaos. Can ye be,
If God be not? Adore him,—Deicides!
—May man survive his Maker? or, Light! thee?
If thou wert quenched, earth would be formless, void,
And darkness o'er the deep brood silently.

I.2.

Thou art not quenched, where Thought is still enjoyed—
Created Light of uncreated Light!
But even thou wert not, were Mind destroyed;
Thy heavenly radiance thou dost reunite
Unto its origin, in the obscure
Of the Eternal Being hidden quite.
—Let the Almighty only sleep, no more
Motion and Time revolve. Their sweet concents
Both Heaven and Earth suspend; all tasks are o'er:
The Watchers languish in their guardian tents;
Nature's heart pauseth, in whose pulse we live;
And Man doth slumber with the Elements.
Should he wax weary or old; the land would rive,
In arid clefts, and yawning gulphs disclose
Tartarean mysteries for the sky to shrive,
But that th' unconscious stars, in blind repose,
Like some fair scroll's illumined characters,
Wrinkled with eld, were darkling ere they rose.

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And lo, the once Almighty Voice deters
Ocean no more, far spooming, huge and wild;
But his dull weeds stagnate our Sepulchres.
—And might He die;..would He die like a child
Of Earth, and perish from his Universe?
Nay, it from him would perish first; exiled.—

I.3.

With the great Sun and Moon and rolling Spheres,
Swifter than a god's thought, precipitate,
Loosed from his Providence, it would disperse
Into the abyss of Chaos, ruinate:
And Chaos'-self be not. Not on the wreck
Of the demolished Earths, the expiring state
Of the Heaven of heavens, as from a courser's neck
Elanced, sheer o'er destruction's brink, shall He,
With his sublime despair, haste on, and deck
The End of All. Time, Space, Eternity,
Shall pass away, Darkness and Death be gone;
They perish from his presence utterly,
They leave him in his solitude alone;
'Till unimaginable doom obscure,
Delete, annihilate, the Essential One.
Thou art, oh man; they are;—He is, be sure.
Great God! for ever and for aye, dost Thou,
Sole Dweller of Eternity, endure.
Thou only dost the Earth and Heavens endow—
From thee her seasons hath the appointed Moon,
And the bright Stars thy handy work avow!

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II.1.

Her radiant Brother gains his highest noon,
And, at Thy bidding, hasteneth to his gaol,—
And, like a martyr, hails his fiery boon,
(Wherewith the mountain burneth like a coal,)
And sets in flame; soon to renew his race,
And, like a hero who hath run the whole,
To die again in light, and pride of place,
And glory, as he lived. Darkness God makes;
Yea, this unnatural Night that shades Noon's face,
It is His work—whereat the firm Earth quakes
In dread of dissolution—as light's car
It is to him—'tis He the earth who shakes,
Who watereth from his chambers high and far
The hills; and into the deep vale that sinks
'Twixt them, irriguous and irregular,
Who sendeth springs, whereat the field-beast drinks,
His thirst the wild ass quenches, and whereby,
Among the branches foliaging their brinks,
The fowls of heaven do blend their harmony;
Who makes to soar the vapours, and in might
Brings forth the winds out of his armoury.

II.2.

Hushed are the forest-beasts, in hunger's spite,
Yea, the young lions roar not for their prey;
They seek not food from God, this worse than night,
But couch close in their dens with strange dismay.
In whirlwind, and in earthquake, and in fire,
And in the darkness and the silence, they

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Are conscious of Thy presence, and retire,
Nor wait the Sun's bright resurrection, ere
They gather in their caves;..if thy fierce ire
Permit, again he chase them to their lair,
As wont ere this amiss,—O Thou to whom
Vengeance belongs! Yet to thy love repair
All Creatures, for the blessings which relume
Life daily—yet is thy spirit in man express,
—Free Bounty gives not, only to resume—
Though now the thunder of thy mightiness,
Which none can understand, astonish him,
And Judgement, from thy throne in heaven's recess,
Have been heard by the potent Seraphim,
And the earth's echoes answered unto thee:
Hell before thee is bare in every limb:
Destruction hath no covering.—But He,
Who dwelleth in thy secret place, abides,
Under thy shadow, in security.

II.3.

The Pestilence that in the darkness hides,
The Death which wastes at noon day, pass him by;
He treads upon the adder, and derides
The lion's rage. Thou, Helper! now art nigh,
Though he be poured like water, though his heart
Melt forth like wax,—in this extremity.
—Thou didst preserve him, when, with curious art,
Imperfect substance in its energies,
Fearfully wrought in the Earth's lowest part.

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Thou numberest every hair, each member lies,
While yet unfashioned, written in thy book,
In its continuance and dependencies.
And thou art he who thence thy Chosen took,
And made him hope upon his mother's breast;
Even from the womb, as to a Sire Sons look,
He looked to thee—Thou wert his God confest.
—To Him, who dying conquereth...all hail!
Son of the Virgin; Hero of the Blest!
Over the gates of Death and Hell prevail:
Warrior! who hast alone the wine press trod.
Reign, Victor-Victim! reign, when Time shall fail,
Reign,—perfect Man—Messiah—Saviour—God!
 

This Ode is regular, consisting of two Strophes, Antistrophes, and Epodes.