The Judgement of the Flood by John A. Heraud. A New Edition. Revised and Re-Arranged |
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 | The Judgement of the Flood |  |
IV. Satan, and Azaziel
Who walked upon the whirlwind that o'erwhelmed?
Who sped the unerring arrows that destroyed?
Satan rode on the whirlwind that o'erwhelmed;
Azaziel sped the arrows that destroyed.
They came in their pavilions, tended thus
With their selected ministers: their tramp
Rang as of armies on a rocky pass,
Reverberate by the surrounding cliffs;
Their voices, as the roar of cataracts,
Hurled from a thousand hills enskied in heaven,
Resounded, and astounded, with the noise
And repercussion, all that neighbourhood
Of nature's desolation, and of man's.
Who sped the unerring arrows that destroyed?
Satan rode on the whirlwind that o'erwhelmed;
Azaziel sped the arrows that destroyed.
They came in their pavilions, tended thus
With their selected ministers: their tramp
Rang as of armies on a rocky pass,
Reverberate by the surrounding cliffs;
Their voices, as the roar of cataracts,
Hurled from a thousand hills enskied in heaven,
Resounded, and astounded, with the noise
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Of nature's desolation, and of man's.
Descending from his secret place of storms,
Issued to sight the Majesty of Hell.
His foot clanged resonant on the trembling ground,
And his dilating presence royally
Spread o'er the wilds, and stretched into the clouds.
Gloomed o'er his brow the infernal diadem,
Like a black crag projected o'er a cliff,
White as the surge, the barrier of the main;
And, like a blasted orb once over-bright,
His eye, a ruin, burned; and on his cheek,
Immortal Beauty hideously shone:
A wreck as of a noble Ship long tost,
Stanced, where it rived, amid the calmèd sea,
Sublime though desolate, and beautiful
Though loveless; for her sails the winds about
Woo idly, and play round her keel the waves,
Recoiling, as in wonder, evermore.
Of her the mariner shall fable, how,
When withered by the seasons utterly,
She yet at night walks o'er the waters wide,
With all her bravery flaunting to the stars,
Weft of the wave, the Spectre of a ship,
And on her deck the Spirits of the crew;
While haunted ocean, in the shadowy gleams
Of the pale moon, looks ghostly, and aghast.
—Nor seemed less dreamy now the desart drear,
Than that old forest of the after-world,
Wherein the goblin guard, with impious pomp,
Held festival, whence awed fled all, save one:
He, through the fiery city high as heaven,
Passed bravely, unhurt; anon, by pity stayed, . .
For lo, each tree possessing sense, and speech,
The wounded rind forth gushed with human blood;
But, from the pleasant isle redeemed at length,
Unmoved by sound, or sight, or amorous wile
Of her, love-lorn, whose palace had been erst
His o'er-sweet prison, thence the Appointed chased
Phantasm, and shape, and unessential flame.
Issued to sight the Majesty of Hell.
His foot clanged resonant on the trembling ground,
And his dilating presence royally
Spread o'er the wilds, and stretched into the clouds.
Gloomed o'er his brow the infernal diadem,
Like a black crag projected o'er a cliff,
White as the surge, the barrier of the main;
And, like a blasted orb once over-bright,
His eye, a ruin, burned; and on his cheek,
Immortal Beauty hideously shone:
A wreck as of a noble Ship long tost,
Stanced, where it rived, amid the calmèd sea,
Sublime though desolate, and beautiful
Though loveless; for her sails the winds about
Woo idly, and play round her keel the waves,
Recoiling, as in wonder, evermore.
Of her the mariner shall fable, how,
When withered by the seasons utterly,
She yet at night walks o'er the waters wide,
With all her bravery flaunting to the stars,
Weft of the wave, the Spectre of a ship,
And on her deck the Spirits of the crew;
While haunted ocean, in the shadowy gleams
Of the pale moon, looks ghostly, and aghast.
—Nor seemed less dreamy now the desart drear,
Than that old forest of the after-world,
Wherein the goblin guard, with impious pomp,
Held festival, whence awed fled all, save one:
He, through the fiery city high as heaven,
Passed bravely, unhurt; anon, by pity stayed, . .
For lo, each tree possessing sense, and speech,
The wounded rind forth gushed with human blood;
But, from the pleasant isle redeemed at length,
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Of her, love-lorn, whose palace had been erst
His o'er-sweet prison, thence the Appointed chased
Phantasm, and shape, and unessential flame.
But now no mortal virtue might dissolve
The terrours here: not visionary these;
But real, and substantial as the being
Of the immortal spirit, in the mind
Of unobscurable humanity.
Yet less to them they hover round about,
Than is a dream, forgotten ere the dawn,
To him whose quiet conscience sleeps serene.
The terrours here: not visionary these;
But real, and substantial as the being
Of the immortal spirit, in the mind
Of unobscurable humanity.
Yet less to them they hover round about,
Than is a dream, forgotten ere the dawn,
To him whose quiet conscience sleeps serene.
Then Satan, with a mighty voice, which shook
The wilderness, to Hherem cried aloud:
‘Sleeper, what dreamst, in sleep profound as death,
Albeit not death—for spirit cannot die?
Of universal scorn, that, from the courts
Of hell, thee followed with disdainful hiss,
O'er Chaos, on thy way abrupt, and wild,
Precipitate, confounded, and debased;
From the dimensions of spiritual life
Dwarfed wilfully, the demon of the brute?
The brute hath sense, and oft, half reasoning,
Is of much understanding capable;
The worm owns feeling, and the insect worlds,
That are as of the dust with which they blend,
And seem but as its atoms most minute,
Have motion, life, are sensible to pain
And pleasure animal, though lowest kind,
And least degree. But thou art less than these:
A grain of sand is as a god to thee.
And thou to be the god unto the man
Who late was as a god unto mankind?
Astonishment invests me like a robe
Of poison, shrivels my angelic veins,
Consumes my blood, and licks it up like fire.
Awake, thou sleeper of the sleep of death,
All but annihilation. Wilt not wake?
Then slumber on eternally—sleep on;
Inanimate of bestial, as befits.’
The wilderness, to Hherem cried aloud:
‘Sleeper, what dreamst, in sleep profound as death,
Albeit not death—for spirit cannot die?
Of universal scorn, that, from the courts
Of hell, thee followed with disdainful hiss,
O'er Chaos, on thy way abrupt, and wild,
Precipitate, confounded, and debased;
From the dimensions of spiritual life
Dwarfed wilfully, the demon of the brute?
The brute hath sense, and oft, half reasoning,
Is of much understanding capable;
The worm owns feeling, and the insect worlds,
That are as of the dust with which they blend,
And seem but as its atoms most minute,
Have motion, life, are sensible to pain
And pleasure animal, though lowest kind,
And least degree. But thou art less than these:
A grain of sand is as a god to thee.
And thou to be the god unto the man
Who late was as a god unto mankind?
Astonishment invests me like a robe
Of poison, shrivels my angelic veins,
Consumes my blood, and licks it up like fire.
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All but annihilation. Wilt not wake?
Then slumber on eternally—sleep on;
Inanimate of bestial, as befits.’
Thus, half in ire, and half in bitter scorn,
The Archfiend raged; and felt, in sooth, his blood,
Lapped in his veins as with a fiery tongue,
Celestial ichor with infernal flame.
For him within the consubstantial hell
Burned; and, perchance, to desperate act had wrought,
Pain unendurable to mitigate,
But that Azaziel, the destroying One,
Swept by, borne in his icy chariot; whence
Alighted now, he rested on his scythe
Magnificent, wherewith he moweth down
Whole armies, front to front, in radiant rank
Opposed . . proud, brave, and ardent; prodigal
Of active energy, and breathing life,
Seeking for fame in gore-accursèd deeds,
In death, and dust for immortality.
The Archfiend raged; and felt, in sooth, his blood,
Lapped in his veins as with a fiery tongue,
Celestial ichor with infernal flame.
For him within the consubstantial hell
Burned; and, perchance, to desperate act had wrought,
Pain unendurable to mitigate,
But that Azaziel, the destroying One,
Swept by, borne in his icy chariot; whence
Alighted now, he rested on his scythe
Magnificent, wherewith he moweth down
Whole armies, front to front, in radiant rank
Opposed . . proud, brave, and ardent; prodigal
Of active energy, and breathing life,
Seeking for fame in gore-accursèd deeds,
In death, and dust for immortality.
Of old, on plains celestial, he was bred
To sports heroic, and in valourous play
Had joyaunce, and delight. He loved to list
The trump of battle braze the ardent air,
And gird him with divinest panoply,
On mountain, or in mead. And, in the vale
Of slumber, he had visions of bright fame,
And glory without end; and held it eath,
To soar above the Heavens infinite,
Or into central Hades, and beneath
The unfathomable to descend, so he
Might lead bright Honour captive, or redeem
From durance far remote, obscure, and old.
And, haunted by the shadow of such dreams,
He ranged heaven's champain, a chivalric youth,
In quest ambitious of great enterprise,
To tourney with his equals, and prevailed.
They wrestled in the strife of sacred love,
And where their weapons wounded there they healed,
For sin was not, and pain no spirit knew,
Till Lucifer aspired, ere long o'erthrown.
Exiled from heaven, he made wild work in hell,
And desolation marked his whereabout,
And aught of Order his transmuting spear
To chaos turned, to dissolution waste.
His front was scarred with thunder; and, above,
His battered helmet loured with lurid gleam,
As in the pregnant bosom of a cloud
Broods lightning, ripe for birth. His bloodshot eye
Gleamed mockery; his features were enlarged,
As if a rock could smile that had no heart,
With unangelic fulgour; and his words
Smote keenly cold the spirit they discoursed.
To sports heroic, and in valourous play
Had joyaunce, and delight. He loved to list
The trump of battle braze the ardent air,
And gird him with divinest panoply,
On mountain, or in mead. And, in the vale
Of slumber, he had visions of bright fame,
And glory without end; and held it eath,
To soar above the Heavens infinite,
Or into central Hades, and beneath
The unfathomable to descend, so he
Might lead bright Honour captive, or redeem
From durance far remote, obscure, and old.
And, haunted by the shadow of such dreams,
He ranged heaven's champain, a chivalric youth,
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To tourney with his equals, and prevailed.
They wrestled in the strife of sacred love,
And where their weapons wounded there they healed,
For sin was not, and pain no spirit knew,
Till Lucifer aspired, ere long o'erthrown.
Exiled from heaven, he made wild work in hell,
And desolation marked his whereabout,
And aught of Order his transmuting spear
To chaos turned, to dissolution waste.
His front was scarred with thunder; and, above,
His battered helmet loured with lurid gleam,
As in the pregnant bosom of a cloud
Broods lightning, ripe for birth. His bloodshot eye
Gleamed mockery; his features were enlarged,
As if a rock could smile that had no heart,
With unangelic fulgour; and his words
Smote keenly cold the spirit they discoursed.
‘Prince of dark Powers, proud Autocrat of Air;
O let there not be told, within the realms
Of ether, or the gates of the abyss,
Of strange amazement thus disparaging
The majesty of unadoring hell.
Say, why is not thy bosom mailed as mine,
Thy soul as stern, thy heart as pitiless?
Think on the day when thy bold voice declared
The race of angels free. Did I not go
To that great battle, as a festival,
For which I was athirst? Drunk with delight,
I swept destroying on. This lance erewhile
That quickened where it vanquished, now dissolved
Each substance to its elements, approved
How mutable, and chased from form to form.
Annihilate I could not, though I would,
But I might change, and dissipate, and scathe.
Earth feels my tread, and quakes. Fear, and Decay,
Famine, and Death, Storm, War, and Pestilence,
Confess my presence, as of him they serve,
Obey my mastery, worship me as god,
And do my bidding whatsoe'er I will.
Change daunts not me, nor ruin makes afraid.’
O let there not be told, within the realms
Of ether, or the gates of the abyss,
Of strange amazement thus disparaging
The majesty of unadoring hell.
Say, why is not thy bosom mailed as mine,
Thy soul as stern, thy heart as pitiless?
Think on the day when thy bold voice declared
The race of angels free. Did I not go
To that great battle, as a festival,
For which I was athirst? Drunk with delight,
I swept destroying on. This lance erewhile
That quickened where it vanquished, now dissolved
Each substance to its elements, approved
How mutable, and chased from form to form.
Annihilate I could not, though I would,
But I might change, and dissipate, and scathe.
Earth feels my tread, and quakes. Fear, and Decay,
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Confess my presence, as of him they serve,
Obey my mastery, worship me as god,
And do my bidding whatsoe'er I will.
Change daunts not me, nor ruin makes afraid.’
To whom thus Satan, gradually awaked,
Sadly replied. ‘Change I can contemplate,
O Angel, unamazed; such change as thou
Canst pleased behold, or gloriously produce.
Can Spirit be less privileged than that,
Which, in despite of efforts such as thine,
Subsists, in every change, and is in all,
By its own properties, identified?
Here lost I seem in wonder, like a man
Gazing upon a corse amazedly,—
He sees the attributes of body there,
But all the appertenance of spirit gone;
Yet, by the strange exception unconvinced,
That what has been can ever cease to be.
Of what once reasoned—willed—what here remains?
Insensible, inert, inanimate,
Of what had motion, and was sensitive,
Perplexes reason; wisdom fails me here.
Can He, who claims Creatour to have been,
Deprive the rational of faculty?
Why not of being? and annihilate
Essence spiritual, as it seems he can,
That by which only it may be discerned?
This, Angel, is a work thou canst not do,
Nor canst reverse. Thou canst not waken him.’
Sadly replied. ‘Change I can contemplate,
O Angel, unamazed; such change as thou
Canst pleased behold, or gloriously produce.
Can Spirit be less privileged than that,
Which, in despite of efforts such as thine,
Subsists, in every change, and is in all,
By its own properties, identified?
Here lost I seem in wonder, like a man
Gazing upon a corse amazedly,—
He sees the attributes of body there,
But all the appertenance of spirit gone;
Yet, by the strange exception unconvinced,
That what has been can ever cease to be.
Of what once reasoned—willed—what here remains?
Insensible, inert, inanimate,
Of what had motion, and was sensitive,
Perplexes reason; wisdom fails me here.
Can He, who claims Creatour to have been,
Deprive the rational of faculty?
Why not of being? and annihilate
Essence spiritual, as it seems he can,
That by which only it may be discerned?
This, Angel, is a work thou canst not do,
Nor canst reverse. Thou canst not waken him.’
‘Let Him who lulled him to so sound a sleep,
Do that:’ replied the War-Fiend truculent;
‘If that He did the work, or can undo.
I rather argue for His impotence,
Than His omnipotence, which not consists
With liberty. Yon spirit had his will,
Which him disposing to the lowest life,
He gravitated even unto this;
The Tyrant him restrained not, if he could.
All things are free, as in the reälties
Of Spirit, so in Nature; who, to change
So prone, so free, is ever born anew,
And propagated, and for ever teems
Herself with births; torn with perpetual throes,
Big with mischance, and procreant of caprice.
What power restrains the Avalanche? He sweeps
Terribly from the hills; and, with his foot,
Slays, and entombs, a snowy monument.
The Glacier, on his unobstructed way,
Goeth precipitate, an icy scythe,
And moweth more than armies in his march.
Who lets the Earthquake, when she minds to heave
Cities from their foundations? On the shore,
The Whirlwind, and Tornado have their will;
And, on the sea, the Tempests do their work;
And poor Humanity endures the wreck.
The Waves sport freely in the eye of Heaven;
Who checks the Winds? they blow even as they list.
For Liberty is the sole law that moves
The indefatigable Universe.
Lo, we are free; and may be what we will:
We will be gods, and shall be; nay, we are;
Or if not yet, and we have much to win,
'Tis but because 'tis easier far to fall
Than to ascend, as once we proved too well.
We are conquered, but our wills remain as free;
And Patience, well opposed, may outwear Power.
Meantime, we hurl defiance at His throne,
And thrive on hate.—My charmèd spear could once
Revive what seemed as dead: that spell has now
Departed, nor would I desire it back;
It went even with my wish, and at my will.
But it may operate mutation yet,
Or in that corse, or spirit like a corse,
And re-establish in thy heart contempt
Of Power defied, and, not Almighty, scorned.’
Do that:’ replied the War-Fiend truculent;
‘If that He did the work, or can undo.
I rather argue for His impotence,
Than His omnipotence, which not consists
With liberty. Yon spirit had his will,
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He gravitated even unto this;
The Tyrant him restrained not, if he could.
All things are free, as in the reälties
Of Spirit, so in Nature; who, to change
So prone, so free, is ever born anew,
And propagated, and for ever teems
Herself with births; torn with perpetual throes,
Big with mischance, and procreant of caprice.
What power restrains the Avalanche? He sweeps
Terribly from the hills; and, with his foot,
Slays, and entombs, a snowy monument.
The Glacier, on his unobstructed way,
Goeth precipitate, an icy scythe,
And moweth more than armies in his march.
Who lets the Earthquake, when she minds to heave
Cities from their foundations? On the shore,
The Whirlwind, and Tornado have their will;
And, on the sea, the Tempests do their work;
And poor Humanity endures the wreck.
The Waves sport freely in the eye of Heaven;
Who checks the Winds? they blow even as they list.
For Liberty is the sole law that moves
The indefatigable Universe.
Lo, we are free; and may be what we will:
We will be gods, and shall be; nay, we are;
Or if not yet, and we have much to win,
'Tis but because 'tis easier far to fall
Than to ascend, as once we proved too well.
We are conquered, but our wills remain as free;
And Patience, well opposed, may outwear Power.
Meantime, we hurl defiance at His throne,
And thrive on hate.—My charmèd spear could once
Revive what seemed as dead: that spell has now
Departed, nor would I desire it back;
It went even with my wish, and at my will.
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Or in that corse, or spirit like a corse,
And re-establish in thy heart contempt
Of Power defied, and, not Almighty, scorned.’
He, thus blaspheming, smote them with his lance,
That straight returned effectless to his hand,
Whereat enraged, he but the more blasphemed.
But Satan from that unapparent thing,
(As hard for mind angelic to conceive,
As matter void of form, unqualified,
For human intellect, however wise,)
Averted his sad eye, and thus his mate
Admonished. ‘Fury of infirmity
Reports; Leader of Hosts, and Lord of War.
Beseems it us, whether He be, or not
Omnipotent, and may annihilate
Substance with attribute, yet to retain
Consistency, Eternity's sole law;
And change not in our hate, though he destroy.
And I have practised with the minds of power,
Whence strife shall grow, that shall repair defeat,
Lately experienced from the sacred hill,
Of Paradise, and, with more sure result,
Make earth our own, and give thy hands to do
What fits them most, and best thy heart affects.’
That straight returned effectless to his hand,
Whereat enraged, he but the more blasphemed.
But Satan from that unapparent thing,
(As hard for mind angelic to conceive,
As matter void of form, unqualified,
For human intellect, however wise,)
Averted his sad eye, and thus his mate
Admonished. ‘Fury of infirmity
Reports; Leader of Hosts, and Lord of War.
Beseems it us, whether He be, or not
Omnipotent, and may annihilate
Substance with attribute, yet to retain
Consistency, Eternity's sole law;
And change not in our hate, though he destroy.
And I have practised with the minds of power,
Whence strife shall grow, that shall repair defeat,
Lately experienced from the sacred hill,
Of Paradise, and, with more sure result,
Make earth our own, and give thy hands to do
What fits them most, and best thy heart affects.’
| The Judgement of the Flood | |