University of Virginia Library

The closing of a stormy night:—the wrecks
Of many tempests stranded on the shore
Of Time's mysterious sea:—and yet no break,
No far blue vista in the storm-tost drifts
Of clouds, that gather blackness ever and aye
Close round the wild horizon. If a star
With trembling light, and that the light of tears,
Gleams for a moment through the vault of gloom,
The swift clouds, envying Hope's sweet messenger,
Quick shifting dim its radiance, and the void
Of darkness reigns supreme. Perchance, anon,
A meteor with its dazzling train shoots by,
And hurries into nothingness—a dream
Of dying human glory—a bright torch
To light ambition to its starless tomb.
Once more the eye looks up, as if in fear
Of that which shall be, for the lightnings now
Are all abroad upon the winds of night,
Writing in vivid characters of flame,
Truths words might never utter, truths intense,
Of man's strange destiny and future worlds
Prophetic: brief their tale, as it is bright;
And after them, dim thunder sounds far off,
Like waters, or the wail of nations come,
From the lone caverns of chill shadowy mountains,
In fitful bursts upon the startled ear.
All speak of woes and tempests past and coming....

Is such the sky that stretches o'er the world?
Fool, fool,—it cannot be—just close thine eye
And open it anew, and o'er its sweep
Will rise, in faëry pageantries of joy,
Life-pictures diverse far: young pleasure's train,
Dances, and revelries, and reckless smiles,
All cluster'd there beneath a cloudless sky:—
None know it is but painted o'er their heads,
And that the true dread heavens roll rife with storms.
Tush, tush, bend down thine ear and list again:
I listen'd, and the dulcet voice of song,
And music manifold of various spells,
And the yet sweeter tones of flattering hope,
Whispering of peace and pleasures without fail,
Smiled at my fears, and ask'd me tauntingly,
If I too smiled not. But a deeper voice
Like that of thunder, utter'd answer—Peace!
There is no peace, and echoed still—no peace:
And all the after sounds of mirth, that came
Upon the moaning breezes, ever seem'd
To sicken on my weary soul, like things
Of little moment to a dying man.

Hast thou not often at lone hours of midnight,
When the vain troublous world is still, and thou
Art there amidst the universe alone,
Alone with visions of the vast unseen,
In the stern grandeur of eternal truth
Looming around thee, turn'd thy spirit's eye
Inward upon itself, and in a tone
Tremulous for fear of answer unforeseen,
Ask'd thyself what thy being's being is?
Aye, what that strange mysterious thing self is?
And all things seem to fall from off thee, like
The leaves of autumn, and the earth to sink,
The stars to fade, and all things be as dreams.
Oh! then the solitude of solitudes,
The feeling of unutter'd weariness,
Like shipwreck'd mariner cast far adrift
Upon a desert ocean, with its void
Crushes the heart: the spirit faints: till soon
The stern conviction that thou canst not stay
Heartless, and homeless, and companionless,
That struggle unto death thou must for life,
Floods all thy soul; and with a sudden spring
Of blended fear, and hope, and confidence,
Thou castest all that storm-tost thing, thyself,
Upon the blessed certainty of God:
And clingest unto Him, with energies
Lent by despair—the only anchor left;
If that could fail, all others were but straws.
Yet, clinging there, a voice within thee tells,
That cannot fail thee: 'tis thy Father's hand.
Poor child, He loves thee: love can never fail.
And then all grows serene like light, and Peace
Comes stealing o'er the waters, and aloft
Faith rises, Phœnix-like, amid the wreck.

So when that mystic undertone, no peace,
Like the dull clangour of a muffled bell
Rousing the sleep of a beleaguer'd town,
First mingled with those revelries of song,
Louder and louder pealing (whether they
Wax'd fainter, or its tone the clearer grew),
Until I seem'd to hear nor lyre nor dance,
But only that prophetic wailing; then
My spirit lost all consciousness of earth,
And listlessly I counted as they fell
The beatings of the heavy clock of Time.
I saw and slept, and sleeping still I heard;
And in my sleep my lips re-echoed ever
After that mighty pendulum of Fate
Words that it utter'd palpably,—now—then:
And then still follow'd now, and still the now
Preceded then, eternally the same.
Save when at intervals of mystic length,
The hours of those illimitable ages,
I heard a hammer strike some viewless sphere;
And straightway through the universe of worlds,
In varying number but in tone the same,
Peal'd forth the everlasting answer, ‘gone.’

And is there nothing then that fleets not thus?
Unconsciously I murmur'd. At the words,
Came crowding on my spirit's inward eye
A thousand sunny visions—mine heart leapt
To welcome them—for there were cloudless scenes
Of childhood's happy rambles; there were thoughts
That blended with the burning dreams of youth,
And like the sunbeams to the sun flew back
As to their early home, where gushes ever
That fount within a fountain, human love;
When music held her calm unruffled spell,
Or trembled into sorrow, or did wail
With deepest spirit storms, and these again
Did soothe to rest in wondrous magic wise.
Childhood and youth rose thus, and thus laid out
Their rosy landscapes at my feet: I look'd
Once more,—once more,—a moment they were gone.
I could have wept, their sojourn was so brief;
But ere the tear fell from my eye, behold
New thoughts, new burning feelings, new desires
Came rushing o'er me: all the streams of love
From that young crystal fountain, music-like,
Flow'd a majestic river through the vale
Of life; and I was wandering by its banks,
And often paused my footstep, often gazed
Into what seem'd a nether sky, where heaven
With its unfathomable mysteries,
In characters of soften'd loveliness,
Was imaged in the watery mirror. Oh
I could have linger'd by that stream, methought,
For ever and for ever, but its flow
Grew faint and fainter still, till all was air,
And viewless winds, and unremaining dreams.
Yes, I might tell for hours what there and then
Arose and vanish'd, till my bosom ached
And all my heart was pain'd within me: friends
They were and brothers, those light spirit-scenes,
For a few passing moments; but oh, when
My heart was going out towards them, when
Like bright homes nestling in a vale they seem'd
Where I long while might linger, as I mused,
Their cloud foundations sway'd before the wind;
For they were built upon the mists and winds,
And perishable were, and brief as they.

As one, awaking from a glorious train
Of dreams and phantasies at dead of night,
Looks forth upon the darkness for awhile,
Musing aghast; as if he thought straightway
Another image, beautiful as those
That have pass'd by him in their loveliness,
Would rise and fill the void of gasping thought:
But when the listless moments steal away
Unvision'd all and dreamless, doth start up
And question of himself what forms they were?
And what he is, and where, and whence, and how?
So I, as panting to lay hold on that
Which would not vanish at my touch like snow,
Struggled to cast myself from out myself
In secret prayer and agony of soul;
And though in darkness, onward felt my way,
If haply I might find a rock whereon
To stay my weary foot; for all that once
I deem'd substantial, had proved light as air,
And fragile as the foam on slippery waves.
The fashions of this world, its feasts and songs,
To my incredulous gaze seem'd planted now
Upon the words—no peace. The course of Time,
Its seeming endless cycles, its vast spans,
Stretching like new horizons day by day
Before a journeying traveller, reaching far
Athwart the clouded Past and clouded Future,
In countless maze of circles, as I gazed,
All rested on one shifting sliding point,
Which men call Present, which was ever gone
Though still renew'd like shower drops in a stream.
And when with sickening soul I turn'd away
From all the unrealities of earth,
And the brief phantoms of historic worlds,
To what I deem'd were everlasting things,
And truths that borrow'd immortality
Of deeper things than mortal hand might touch
And mortal foot explore; lo, these likewise
Had vanish'd: darkness wrapt my steps in gloom.
Yet there are things that in the darkness live
A life intense and vivid as in light.
Prayer then can wrestle on victoriously,
And Faith without suspicion lean her hand
Upon a viewless anchor: there is One
To whom the night translucent seems as day,
And though unseen, I felt His presence filling
The vast and vacant chambers of my soul.
And one by one, as wrapt in silvery mist
That caught their diamond brightness, like the stars
Of twilight visiting a lonely vale,
The words of promise beauteously brake forth
And kindled into radiance. For awhile
Wonder and rapture reft my soul of thought,
And left me tranced as a child who first
Stands on the shore of blue phosphoric waves
At midnight: but ere long the dews of heaven
Shed balm upon my fever'd spirit: all
Was peace: and the pure atmosphere of truth
Around me, like an infant's holy dream,
Diffused a light and beauty all its own.
Ah! words can never tell my bliss, for I
Had found what my soul long'd for; I had found
My spirit's home, my Father's presence, found
Wherewith to sate my bosom's infinite;
And He was smiling on me, and His peace
Was in my heart of hearts, that peace divine
Which passes understanding. I did weep,
But they were tears of joy: I sigh'd, but 'twas
The fulness of a heart, that overflow'd
Nor otherwise could utter what within
Was hidden. Long my musing lasted: long
I held intense communion with my God.

Oh, hast thou known the yearnings of delight
It is to commune with a tender father,
To cast the burden of a host of cares
Upon his father-heart, to feel thyself
His child, and in that blessed privilege
To ask his sympathy, his care, his love,
And with a deep familiar earnestness
Blend all thy thoughts with his, with filial fear
Yet fearless in affection? If thou hast
Thou knowest an emblem, faint indeed and dim,
But yet the brightest, loveliest earth affords
Of the joy fountains gushing in the heart
Of one, who, from the world a fugitive,
And from despair, and darkness, and thick doubt,
Finds there is yet one bosom where to cast
His sorrows, and a Father's heart that glows
For him, and yearns to greet him as a child.
Entranced, imparadised in joy, I knelt
There at the footstool of my Father's throne,
My Father's and my God's, and from His smile
Drank life, drank beauty, drank intensest love,
From love, and life, and beauty's fountain-head.
I may not tell ye more; but when that dream
Of glory (if ye reckon those things dreams
That have a deep and vast reality
Beyond all certainties of sight and sense,
As reaching the unseen eternal world)
Had pass'd me, like a golden sunset cloud,
My soul was as a sea of light, whereon
No grief did cast a shadow; such as oft
Thou mayst have seen within a summer sky,
Sleeping untroubled in calm mellow light,
Above the spot where the sun's chariot wheels
Sank slowly into ocean. Yes, it pass'd,
But yet I felt it was my own for ever,
A wealth, a rapture, an inheritance.
And quickly I bethought me once again
Of all those airy scenes of young delight,
That whilome, as I gazed, had pass'd away,
Or seem'd to pass, like phantom soulless things.
And a voice spake within me, “Thou hast found,
By finding out thy spirit's home in God,
A master key of truth that shall unlock
The thousand wards of earthly mysteries;
And show thee unto whom alone, the good,
The true, the noble, pure, and beautiful,
Whatever seems to mortals loveliest,
Can have or claim an immortality
Of goodness, truth, or beauty—'tis to those
Whose hearts are right, whose beings one with God,
Who in Him find their all: to other men,
The beauteous things that pass them by on earth,
Oh, yes, they are immortal, but it is
An immortality of deathless woe,
That haunts them with the sting of lost delight.”

And once again, retracing all my steps,
I gazed upon those lovely scenes of life;
Those passion fountains of unfathom'd depth,
Those springs of human love, those beautiful homes
Of friendship and affection, which the dove
Of Peace broods over evermore, and there
Doth shelter underneath her sacred wing
A father's heart, a mother's, or a child's,
Those dearest types of heaven; and lo, they rose
In tenfold loveliness before me, rose
More passionately beautiful than ever;
And oh, the blessed change!—they vanish'd not.
At first my faithless heart grew chill with fear,
And trembled as the moments swift flew by,
And the far beatings of the clock of time
Again struck dimly on mine ear, but soon
Faith whisper'd, “They are amaranthine now,
Thou livest now 'mid everlasting things—
Fear not: what once was of the present, soon
Is number'd with the past: what once was now,
Let one brief moment pass away, is then:
And Time may count these hours and cycles, gone,
But Faith hath vanquish'd Time: and she beholds
The things that have been, being, and to be.”

In peace, my spirit linger'd on the scenes
Of her eternal Past:—in peace I mused
On those delicious spots of earth, those fair
Oases in the wilderness of life,
Those isles too often few and far between,
Emblems of home upon the homeless sea,
Those Edens blooming in a ruin'd world,
Those sunbeams 'mid the storm-clouds all astray,
Those gushing springs within a thirsty land,
Those stars that startle us like friends at night,
Those blessed things so inexpressibly dear,
There, there I mused—there wander'd like a child
Through flowerets all his own; and when at length
The cycle was complete, and through the heavens
Thrice peal'd the everlasting answer, Gone,
I look'd upon those scenes of far delight,
And there unfading and unchanged they lay
In the clear cloudless region of the Past,
Imperishably shrined in love and light.