The Judgement of the Flood :: :: University of Virginia Library

So through the Vale of Armon forth they went;
And Ardis looked down on them from above.
The primal race dwelt on that mountain's top,
By Adam, from his Son born after Seth,
Called Ardis. The next age, the peopled sides
From Armon, their first dweller, name received,
Whence, too, the Vale and Stream therefrom that flowed.

Of these discoursed the Pilgrims—Chava sage,
And Japhet, Shem, and Ham; Ahola fair,
And Leilah, and Ahama; and Zateel,
Whose wondering praises charactered the road.

The race of Seth dwelt on the mountain-top,
With Ardis; and no cover needed then,

Native to the pure air, the Sons of God,
Till tempted to their fall. With Armon too,
The pious seed of Enosh made abode
Upon the hill's descent. Then 'gan the tribes
Of men to take possession of the earth,
And Cainan on its slopes a village wrought.
Anon, the vale was peopled; and his Son,
Mahalaleel, fair tabernacle raised,
For residence, and worship; and prepared
Way for dominion in the minds of men—
Far in the region, distant from the rest,
Need was, for Jared's kingly race, should be
Fair habitations found. A capitol,
In midst of that wide country, so his sire
Established, and there prideless rule he held,
Religiously derived. But Enoch bent
His soul to contemplation, and had built
His City in the skies; yet to his Son
Direction left, who, at that vale's extreme,
Made for his progeny a resting place,
The homesteads of Methuselah, who now
Reigns patriarch of all the tribes about.
Thus occupied the vale, scant room was left
For Lamech's offspring; and beyond the bounds,
And over other hills, by other streams,
And in far other vales, he was compelled
To win fit dwelling for his numerous race;—
Yet named from Armon still—Hard toilsome lot,
With Noah shared, his Son; till in due time,
Himself a father, Noah, warned by God,
His household nigh to Paradise removed,
That, on the guarded mount, and within charge
Of the Cherubic terrour, he might build
The appointed Ark, the Refuge of the World.

Fair is the Morn on Armon; fair, and bright
The woods in loveliest bloom, the islet lakes,

Or isleless, 'mid her mountains, sweetly clear,
And beautiful the crests of hill, and rock.
Eagle, and Vulture; with the Hawk, and Kite;
There make their homes, sublimest eyeries;
And oft from cliff o'er chasm do shoot, and shriek,
Or, circling in the sky, with scornful soar,
Abysses spurn whence giddy fancy shrinks,
Exulting in the daylight as it grows;
While o'er the gentler uplands, flower-bestrewn,
The Bee of blossoms fresh unfolded there,
With buzzing murmur, provident enquiries,
Where to alight, nor stir the tender bloom.

Grand is the Noon on Armon; passing grand,
And glorious, pride of day. There silence reigns
Profound, and solitude magnificent;
Wherein the lapse of waters musical,
The fall of far-off rivers, solemn sound,
Heard by lone echo, hill, and vale repeat.
So deep the awe attends thee, when, O Sun;
As o'er the crown of some triumphal arch;
Centre of sky, thou reinest thy rampant steeds,
And stayest thy chariot, pausing as for state,
Majestic Warriour, radiant all in arms.
—And what more wonderous hast thou to behold,
All-seeing Titan, o'er the dædal earth,
Than That which on the side of Paradise,
The Cherub-guarded Mount, in great repose
A waiting its commission, rises huge?
More sacred, and august, in its design,
Than ruined Tower in solemn state of years,
Where save the Owl nought dwells, once lordly seat,
Or princely, now by age, and long decay,
With moss, and ivy, on its wall, and roof,
Hallowed, and sanctified; or ancient Grove,
Once holy place, with branches overgrown,
Hiding all glimpse of day, or starry night;

And holy still; yea, holier than before,
To the Poetic Soul which apprehends,
In that capacious shade, at noon-tide, met,
Shapes of high phantasy, to celebrate
Mysterious worship, altar undisturbed.
—More sacred, and august, the appointed Ark,
With more associations dignified;
A Temple it; and of all temples since,
Sign, and precursor; thus ordained, to save
A world from ruin, and restore mankind.

Gradual, even like the forests whence the beams
Were taken that composed its massy frame,
It rose, by labour reared. Nor were they few,
Who toiled upon the God-appointed work;
Chief Noah, and his sons, and them besides
The numerous progeny, not yet depraved,
Of old Methuselah, and Lamech's tribes,
The brethren of the prophet, still submiss
To patriarchal sway. So was the pile
Completed, and now stood a monument
Of perseverance, and of faith divine;
Prepared, and daily seasoned, to endure
The wear its destined service must await.
So midst the woods it grew, itself a wood;
And, to prophetic vision, magnified
With light more glorious than of sun, or moon;
Though glorious they, when, in the leafy trees,
They kindle up an unconsuming fire,
At morn, or summer eve, serene, and calm,
And beautiful as a redeemèd soul.

Sweet is the twilight Eve in Armon's vale,
Sweet, lovely, tranquil; sometimes, darkly throned,
And oft refulgent: soft the western wind,
Floating white clouds through silent depths of blue,

O'er hills, and haunts secluded; where the voice
Of waters murmurs with the bleat of Lambs,
And, from the fungous hollow of old oak,
The lively Squirrel starts, pleased with the songs,
From thicket gushing, of the pious Birds;
Homage, and pageant, duteous to the hour
Of sunset. Well the Shaphan loves the time—
Out from the blooming furze she comes, and brings
Her red-eyed young, wont to go forth by bands,
Dwellers of rock, and mountain; on the crag
They gambol, cropping else the herbage sweet,
Or ruminate awhile, ere they retire
To shelter. And on high the shrieking Gull
Wings to her home, upon another coast,
Ocean beyond . . threading for this ravine,
And rugged cleft, and torrent brawling there,
Undaunted in her flight. All things are now
Conscious of Eve: the circling clamorous Rook,
Fresh from his favourite trees; the quiet Deer
Leaving his lair, on open heath to take
A lingering farewell of the parting light:
And on the dizzy cliff of his repose
The Osprey worships ere he sinks to sleep.
—So sets the sun adored, to rosy couch
Departed from the hill: . . whereover, now,
Veiled with thin clouds, the guardian eyes of heaven,
Unnumbered watchers, in the dusky Night,
Not dark, look gracious through the placid air;
As listening to the current lowly toned
Of rivers, whilst, in native motion, they
Make stilly music, not inaudible,
Yet deepening silence, and itself scarce more
Than the unheard music of the distant stars.

Fair o'er the Vale of Armon walks the Moon
In brightness; and on flowers, and streams, and hills,
Flings beauteous radiance from her ample orb,

Streaking with silver lines the swarthy night—
Till, grey with age, herself foreshew her death;
The resurrection of another day,
As yet but hoped for . . like a coming joy,
Subsisting in desire . . as do the souls
In Hades, till with risen flesh reclothed.

But not at morn, or noon, or sunset eve,
Or starry night, comes Noah—borne on high,
By power divine, from evil far away.
—In adoration, he had heard the song,
The angelic harmony within his soul,
And felt it lifted up, as if with wings.
Thus was Elijah borne from Ahab's hand,
Whence Obadiah's fear—him carried thus,
Whither none knew, the Spirit of the Lord.
And he, and Enoch thus were rapt at last—
Not into heaven, for thence they came not down—
But into heavenly dwellings, chosen saints,
Who death have never tasted, and shall come,
(So theologians argue,) to restore
All things; the two prophetic witnesses,
Preceding Second Advent of the Christ.

And none knew whither Noah had been borne,
Of all in Armon. Still the marvel ran,
And wild conjecture; laughter, and loud mirth,
With the profane; and to the pious fear,
And apprehension—ignorant what cause
Man of his sabbath caution had deprived,
Since the last morning of the day of rest.
—To me revealed by him, Antient of Days,
Who hath baptized me with the gift of song,
And grace to sing this theme; . . at first a spark
Deep buried in my soul, then blazed abroad,
Wakening a spirit able to support,
Even to the end, the energy of faith.
—Thus grows in forest huge the circling fire,

And, in the attenuate air sublime, creates
A gradual wind, increasing more and more,
Till in the woods a hurricane careers,
Wild, detonating, crashing, peal on peal,
Loud, and incessant thunder: heard afar
By settler, musing at the smoky gloom,
Thickening the atmosphere; but soon alarmed,
With an impetuous Ocean all aflame,
On high above the tops of loftiest trees,
Cherubic billows—terrible as Love!

See Wordsworth's ‘Yews of Borrowdale.’