University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

165

XV. THE PROPHETS.

“How beautiful upon the Mountains are
The feet of him, who with good tidings comes,
To publish Peace, Salvation to declare;
Who saith to Zion, that her God resumes
His throne, and in the holy City reigns
Almighty! Lo, his Coming far illumes
The Hills, like the young Dawn, that, ere the plains,
Tinges the heights, when, out of deepest night,
The Morning Star the coldest Air constrains
With his peculiar lustre, herald bright,
Lone harbinger of Day, that spreads anon,
In universal majesty of light,
In radiance around heaven and earth upon.
He comes, second Elias sanctified,
With holy hand, to consecrate the One
Who only might endure such rite, and died
Of that redeeming Ordinance, decreed
Ere the Worlds were. By Patience to decide
The Strife of Old,..to suffer and to bleed;..
His Cup who else might drink? His Baptism none
Could be baptized withal; of human seed

166

Or of angelick;—sole-begotten Son—
Us for His Advent comest thou to prepare,
Whom in this Orb of Hope thou hast fore-run?”
—Thus spake the Prophet who, in the mid-air,
By whirlwind was translated into heaven,
And dropt his mantle on his pupil heir,—
Who knew therewith his master's spirit given,
And gazed aloft in faith, the while he soared,
Borne with the steeds of fire and car of leven,
To those far gates his eyes in vain explored.
—Whom thus the Baptist answered: “Seers, I stood
Beneath the Towers of Salem, which the horde
Of Darkness covered, silent and subdued,
Until I heard the Watcher on the Wall,
Asked of the Night, return an answer good;—
‘Chariot and Horsemen hasten, and they call
Aloud, and sing a song of Victory
O'er Babylon, and Salem freed from thrall.’
Again they asked—‘What of the Night?’ And he
Replied—‘The Morning cometh—and the Night
Will tarry not.’ Then I arose, and me
The Archangel greeted, with returning light,
The Guardian of the City, Michaël,
With words of comfort equable and right—
‘Say thou, Isaiah, done his mission well,
Here hastes. Soon eye to eye the Lord again
Shall Zion bring—this to the captive tell—

167

Let her awake in joy; for o'er the Slain
He hath made bare his righteous arm, in sight
Of all the worlds, and hath redeemed the main!’”
Joy, of these words conceived, dispelled the night,
And in the Patriarchs' souls unveiled the morn;
But chief the Prophets glowed with full delight,
Strong as a god, mature as soon as born
To scotch the serpent's coil. Oh, happy lands,
Where Hope ne'er hopes in vain, and Love is ne'er lovelorn!
And lo, Isaiah now amidst them stands,
Majestically eminent o'er all,
And blesses them with his thanksgiving hands.
Though they so great, he towers heroical,
Though humblest of that holiest company,
Sweet as sublime—So once looked royal Saul;
So looked, but was not what he seemed to be,
Amidst the Children of his Father's land,
The goodliest, loftier than the rest was he.
But fairer Jesse's Son, whom Samuel's hand
King midst his Brethren hallowed and proclaimed.
So Samuel stood above the prophet band,
When the insane Tyrant at the Youth's life aimed,
But, smit at Naioth by the Spirit there,
Quelled at his feet lay naked and ashamed.
Now, as a pupil in his own School here,
Vaileth his reverential forehead low,
Unto the Prophet, the time-hallowed Seer—

168

A larger College is endowed now:
A true prophetick University;
The Jewels are made up, or nearly so;
One only they await, to whose broad eye
Shall be disclosed the Vision, that will fill
The Casket up, and seal it sacredly.
—Who through a tear, like dew on Hermon's hill
Pearling a sunbeam, smiles his welcome soft?
A man of woes, and victim of all ill,
On earth—perfected now by suffering—oft
Most blessed of the Blest, wont on the tide
Of tenderness, to exalt the Soul aloft,
Tearful, though nothing sad. Thus ever glide,
On such a stream, pathetick Spirits, swollen
With sympathy, and lovingly allied
To heaven. From its hid sources first was stolen
The flood, which swelled its volume that now blends
With the descending deluge, where-mid rollen,
Met half, assisted half, the Mind transcends
The ocean-chariot that convoyed it high,
And passes,—how none wholly apprehends,—
Into a region of sublimity.
So Jeremiah on a Sea of Grief
Floated his Ark of pensive melody.
—With bolder mien, and shown in strong relief,
Ezekiel, with a brother's strict embrace,
Greeted the grasp of that returned Chief;

169

Yet sighing bitterly before his face,
Because the furbished Sword contemned the Rod,
And, for a trial, glowed with its disgrace,
Sanguine with slaughter. Let it rage! For God
Will smite his hands together, and refrain
From fury—but the Vintage must be trod.
To men on earth his was a lovely strain,
Of one who sweetly sang, and deftly played,
But in a foreign land discoursed in vain.
—Oh, Daniel well-beloved! who plainly said
In no strange tongue the things that were to be,
Simple of manners, and of mind unswayed.
Dear is the welcome of simplicity!
How dear is thine, to whom for this was given
The Hope of Nations over all to see!—
—Come forth, ye sacred Band inspired of heaven,
Surround the Prophet silently controled,
And hear how well his embassy has thriven—
Hosea, the zealous; Amos, herdsman bold;
Jonas, type of our theme, and Obadiah,
And Nahum who of Nineveh foretold—
Micah and Habakkuk, and Zephaniah,
Joel, Haggai, and Malachi, who saves
But with a curse; and lofty Zechariah—
Noble your duty—noble he who braves
The stormy World, and guides the Ark devout
In safety o'er the battle-banded waves,

170

A glorious Company! which anthem out
Their ministrant service. God; thou biddest now
The stormy wind to clip their whereabout—
They who descend the Sea in Ships avow
Thy wonders in the vasty Deep. 'Tis thine,—
The watery Universe; There standest Thou,
Invisible, omnipotent, divine,
Mirrored in tempest. Foam is lift on high,
And Men ascend to heaven upon the brine,
And sink again into the immensity
Profound; because of fear their troubled souls
Melt and reel drunken in their agony—
And then they cry to thee—thy Power controls
The storm into a calm, and glad are they,
And to their bay desired pleased Ocean rolls.
Him from the womb, and ere he had a way,
Who swathed in cloud? who made the darkness be
His swaddling band? who taught him where to stay?
His destined habitation, Thy decree—
His haughty billows bound—his line allowed—
His limits—even his wrath—defined by Thee!
—Swift would the Prophets know what doth forebode
The Charge they loved?—this, swift as their desire,
Isaiah hath affectionately showed;
—A tale of Awe.—“Earth shakes as scathed with fire,
And three-fold Darkness deep and terrible,
The Universe pervadeth, loosed in ire

171

From its strange centre in the hidden Hell—
Still, strong in faith, I persevere and pass
The guarded gates, the captive citadel,—
The Temple reach—the Holiest Place. Alas,
Alas! for Speech is not, and Thought is vain,
And yet the Unimaginable was!
The Veil—the mystick Veil—'tis rent in twain!
And there amidst, amidst the Darkness there,
A bloody Cross of fire, a fiery rain
Of blood, seen but by its own light; elsewhere
Night only, Night at Noon-day; Night foretold
Of every oracle; the Day of Fear,
And of Salvation, waited for of old,
Whose glory dims the Sun, and with excess
Of Light shall blind the Nations. But, behold,
I'th' Evening shall be Light, Light re-express
From East to West, from North to South, and show
The Throne of Heaven, and pierce the Grave's recess.
So high extends that Cross, so far below—
Downward I look, but can not trace its root,
Upward, it soars beyond my ken: and, lo!
On one side, its dread rays obscurely shoot
Into the darkness, and, in the dim light,
Shadows of Slain outglimmer, moveless, mute;
There lies the Mighty,.. but in vain his might,..
And his Companions' graves are multiplied
About him, fallen, fallen, fallen to nether night;

172

Weapons of war beneath them and beside,
Chariot and Steed in huge confusion rolled,
Armies of Hell;.. they perished in their pride..
And over them enormous Death, controled
By mightier Power, stands with uplifted hand,
Ghastily dead!—On the other, I behold
The Vision of a half-emerging land,
With Michael, Leader of the Hosts of Heaven,
And the great Chiefs of that heroick band,
Sad,..even to death,..as rooted there and riven,
Like Victors, o'er a falling Universe,
Waiting the wreck where lately they had striven.
Hereat I pray to God, and he who hears
The prayer of faith, upholds my spirit now,
Dispels my doubts, and dissipates my fears;
I plunge undaunted to the Depths below,
I soar to Earth, there hangs the Crucified,
And from his wounds the healing fountains flow;
I soar to Heaven, there hath the Incarnate died—
Behold, his infinite Arms embrace the Skies,
And with his Blood the Stars are purified:
Above the Heavens I rise and rise, and rise,
Led by the Spirit to the Eternal Throne,
Entranced there and slain with mysteries,
Unutterable save by God alone,
Adoring, and absorbed in Deity,
Humbled, consumed, transformed, and not self-known.

173

—Eternal Ages might have past o'er me!
At length, awaked..on Earth, beneath the Cross,
And praying 'midst the Darkness veiling thee,
Redeemer! Darkness palpable and gross..
Anon, I saw thy human face divine—
O miracle of Grace! O mighty Loss,
Thus mightily redeemed..but mightier thine!
How great the Gain for Sacrifice so choice,
The Holiest on the most accursed Shrine!
And, from the gloom released, I heard the Voice
Of Man and Woman;..her's whose virgin womb
Conceived the Son!”—Hereat one cried, “Rejoice!”—
And ere the Prophet could his speech resume,
By all that Multitude was sung—“Behold!”
And Numbers without number, who the gloom
Of Death had passed, from ages new and old,
Of every land—all in one voice combine:
—“Behold the holy City doth unfold
In majesty. She doth arise and shine,
As if her Light were come! Behold the Cloud
Of Glory over her, from line to line,
Terrace and Temple, doth descend and shroud!
From the sublime o'ercanopying sky
To her foundations, gloriously endowed
With beauty as a Bride,..of Deity
The Bride. How beautiful in her array
The City of our God, who from on high

174

Sheds o'er her walls his everlasting day!
Her golden Streets we shall revisit still,
And in her Temple Sacrifices pay.
—Who shall, oh God! ascend thy holy hill?
Even he whose hands are clean, whose heart is pure,
Faithful of Word, and dutiful of Will.
—Lift up your heads, ye Gates that long endure!
The King of Glory comes victoriously!
Who is the King of Glory? He, besure,
The Lord renowned in battle! This is he!
Lift up your heads, ye Gates! He stands before ye.
Oh, ye æonian Gates! uplifted be,
And make to him wide entrance whom adore ye—
Who is the King ye herald? Who but he
The Lord of Hosts? Who else is King of Glory?”
—Now, by one Spirit moved, that Company
Doth from the mountains to the plain descend;
Multitudes, multitudes, successively,
Successively, increase, and still extend,
All people, and all tongues, along the plain,
Huge continent, yet thronged. As friend with friend,
They walk in order, and degree maintain,
Throughout incalculable multitudes,
Still onward—onward—a majestick train—
'Till they, on either bank of the four floods,
Whose pleasant rivers through the mighty meads,
Flow on, and fertilize far fields and woods,

175

Divide in companies, and each proceeds
Along a musical and winding shore,
And follows pensively where'er it leads;
But at the confluence of the Streams, before
The City, where they enter, in one sea,
The Paradise of God, unite once more.
—There, met on either marge, right joyfully
They hail the sacred ramparts, and behold
The Hosts of Heaven again watch over thee,
Celestial City! and thy gates unfold
For ever, yet nought enters to defile,
And Michael hovers o'er thee, as of old.
—So wend they on, not without Song the while.