The Judgment

The rites were past of that auspicious day
When white-robed altars wreath'd with living green
Adorn the temples; — when unnumber'd tongues
Repeat the glorious anthem sung to .harps
Of angels while the star o'er Bethlehem stood; —
When grateful hearts bow low, and deeper joy
Breathes in the Christian than the angel song,
On the great birthday of our Priest and King.
That night, while musing on his wondrous life,
Precepts, and promises to be fulfill'd,
A trance-like sleep fell on me, and a dream
Of dreadful character appall'd my soul.
Wild was the pageant: — face to face with kings,
Heroes, and sages of old note, I stood;
Patriarchs, and prophets, and apostles saw,
And venerable forms, ere round the globe
Shoreless and waste a weltering flood was roll'd,
With angels, compassing the radiant throne
Of Mart's Son, anew descended, crown'd
With glory terrible, to judge the world.
Methought I journey'd o'er a boundless plain,
Unbroke by vale or hill, on all sides stretch'd,
Like circling ocean, to the low-brow'd sky;
Save in the midst a verdant mount, whose sides
Flowers of all hues and fragrant breath adorn'd.
Lightly I trod, as on some joyous quest,
Beneath the azure vault and early sun;
But while my pleased eyes ranged the circuit green,
New light shone round; a murmur came, confused,
Like many voices and the rush of wings.
Upward I gazed, and, 'mid the glittering skies,
Begirt by flying myriads, saw a throne
Whose thousand splendours blazed upon the earth
Refulgent as another sun. Through clouds
They came, and vapours colour'd by Aurora,
Mingling in swell sublime, voices, and harps,
And sounding wings, and hallelujahs sweet.
Sudden, a seraph that before them flew,
Pausing upon his wide-unfolded plumes,
Put to his mouth the likeness of a trump,
And toward the four winds four times fiercely breathed.
Doubling along the arch, the mighty peal
To heaven resounded; hell return'd a groan,
And shuddering earth a moment reel'd, confounded,
From her fixed pathway as the staggering ship,
Stunn'd by some mountain billow, reels. The isles,
With heaving ocean, rock'd: the mountains shook
Their ancient coronets: the avalanche
Thunder'd: silence succeeded through the nations.
Earth never listen'd to a sound like this.
It struck the general pulse of nature still,
And broke, forever, the dull sleep of death.
Now, o'er the mount the radiant legions hung,
Like plumy travellers from climes remote
On some sequester'd isle about to stoop.
Gently its flowery head received the throne;
Cherubs and seraphs, by ten thousands, round
Skirting it far and wide, like a bright sea,
Fair forms and faces, crowns, and coronets,
And glistering wings furl'd white and numberless.
About their Lord were those seven glorious spirits
Who in the Almighty's presence stand. Four lean'd
On golden wands, with folded wings, and eyes
Fix'd on the throne: one bore the dreadful books,
The arbiters of life: another waved
The blazing ensign terrible, of yore,
To rebel angels in the wars of heaven:
What seem'd a trump the other spirit grasp'd,
Of wondrous size, wreathed multiform and strange.
Illustrious stood the seven, above the rest
Towering, like a constellation glowing,
What time the sphere-instructed huntsman, taught
By Atlas, his star-studded belt displays
Aloft, bright-glittering, in the winter sky.
Then on the mount, amidst these glorious shapes,
Who reverent stood, with looks of sacred awe,
I saw Emmanuel seated on his throne.
His robe, methought, was whiter than the light;
Upon his breast the heavenly Urim glow'd
Bright as the sun, and round such lightnings flash'd,
No eye could meet the mystic symbol's blaze.
Irradiant the eternal sceptre shone
Which wont to glitter in his Father's hand:
Resplendent in his face the Godhead beam'd,
Justice and mercy, majesty and grace,
Divinely mingling. Celestial glories play'd
Around with beamy lustre; from his eye
Dominion look'd; upon his brow was stamp'd
Creative power. Yet over all the touch
Of gracious pity dwelt, which, erst, amidst
Dissolving nature's anguish, breathed a prayer
For guilty man. Redundant down his neck
His locks roll'd graceful, as they waved, of old,
Upon the mournful breeze of Calvary.
His throne of heavenly substance seem'd composed,
Whose pearly essence, like the eastern shell,
Or changeful opal, shed a silvery light.
Clear as the moon it look'd through ambient clouds
Of snowy lustre, waving round its base,
That, like a zodiac, thick with emblems set,
Flash'd wondrous beams, of unknown character,
From many a burning stone of lustre rare,
Stain'd like the bow whose mingling splendour stream'd
Confusion bright upon the dazzled eye.
Above him hung a canopy whose skirts
The mount o'ershadow'd like an evening cloud.
Clouds were his curtains: not like their dim types
Of blue and purple round the tabernacle,
That waving vision of the lonely wild,
By pious Israel wrought with cherubim;
Veiling the mysteries of old renown,
Table, and altar, ark, and mercy-seat,
Where, 'twixt the shadow of cherubic wings,
In lustre visible Jehovah shone.
In honour chief, upon the Lord's right hand
His station Michael held: the dreadful sword
That from a starry baldric hung, proclaim'd
The Hierarch. Terrible, on his brow
Blazed the archangel crown, and from his eye
Thick sparkles flash'd. Like regal banners, waved
Back from his giant shoulders his broad vans,
Bedropt with gold, and, turning to the sun,
Shone gorgeous as the multitudinous stars,
Or some illumined city seen by night,
When her wide streets pour noon, and, echoing through
Her thronging thousands, mirth and music ring.
Opposed to him, I saw an angel stand
In sable vesture, with the Books of Life.
Black was his mantle, and his changeful wings
Gloss'd like the raven's; thoughtful seem'd his mien,
Sedate and calm, and deep upon his brow
Had Meditation set her seal; his eyes
Look'd things unearthly, thoughts unutterable,
Or utter'd only with an angel's tongue.
Renown'd was he among the seraphim
For depth of prescience, and sublimest lore;
Skill'd in the mysteries of the Eternal,
Profoundly versed in those old records where,
From everlasting ages, live God's deeds;
He knew the hour when yonder shining worlds,
That roll around us, into being sprang;
Their system, laws, connexion; all he knew
But the dread moment when they cease to be.
None judged like him the ways of God to man,
Or so had ponder'd; his excursive thoughts
Had visited the depths of night and chaos,
Gathering the treasures of the hoary deep.
Like ocean billows seem'd, ere this, the plain,
Confusedly heaving with a sumless host
From earth's and time's remotest bounds: a roar
Went up before the multitude, whose course
The unfurl'd banner guided, and the bow,
Zone of the universe, athwart the zenith
Sweeping its arch. In one vast conflux roll'd,
Wave following wave, were men of every age,
Nation, and tongue; all heard the warning blast.
And, led by wondrous impulse, hither came.
Mingled in wild confusion, now, those met
In distant ages born. Gray forms, that lived
When Time himself was young, whose temples shook
The hoary honours of a thousand years,
Stood side by side with Koman consuls: — here,
Mid prophets old, and heaven-inspired bards,
Were Grecian heroes seen: — there, from a crowd
Of reverend patriarchs, tower'd the nodding plumes,
Tiars, and helms, and sparkling diadems
Of Persia's, Egypt's, or Assyria's kings;
Clad as when forth the hundred gates of Thebes
On sounding cars her hundred princes rush'd;
Or, when, at night, from off the terrace top
Of his aerial garden, touched to soothe
The troubled monarch, came the solemn chime
Of sackbut, psaltery, and harp, adown
The E aphrates, floating in the moonlight wide
O'er sleeping Babylon. For all appear'd
As in their days of earthly pride; the clank
Of steel announced the warrior, and the robe.
Of Tyrian lustre spoke the blood of kings.
Though on the angels while I gazed, their names
Appeared not, yet amongst the mortal throng
(Capricious power of dreams!) familiar seem'd
Each countenance, and every name well known.
Nearest the mount, of that mix'd phalanx first,
Our general parent stood: not as he look'd
Wandering, at eve, amid the shady bowers
And odorous groves of that delicious garden,
Or flowery banks of some soft-rolling stream,
Pausing to list its lulling murmur, hand
In hand with peerless Eve, the rose too sweet,
Fatal to Paradise. Fled from his cheek
The bloom of Eden; his hyacinthine locks
Were changed to gray; with years and sorrows bow'd
He seem'd, but through his ruined form still shone
The majesty of his Creator: round
Upon his sons a grieved and pitying look
He cast, and in his vesture hid his face.
Close at his side appear'd a martial form,
Of port majestic, clad in massive arms,
Cowering above whose helm with outspread wings
The Roman eagle flew; around its brim
Was character'd the name at which earth's queen
Bow'd from her seven-fold throne and owned her lord.
In his dilated eye amazement stood;
Terror, surprise, and blank astonishment
Blanch'd his firm cheek, as when, of old, close hemm'd
Within the capitol, amidst the crowd
Of traitors, fearless else, he caught the gleam
Of Brutus' steel. Daunted, yet on the pomp
Of towering seraphim, their wings, their crowns,
Their dazzling faces, and upon the Lord
He fix'd a steadfast look of anxious note,
Like that Pharsalia's hurtling squadrons drew
When all his fortunes hung upon the hour.
Near him, for wisdom famous through the east,
Abraham rested on his staff; in guise
A Chaldee shepherd, simple in his raiment
As when at Mamre in his tent he sat,
The host of angels. Snow-white were his locks
And silvery beard, that to his girdle roll'd.
Fondly his meek eye dwelt upon his Lord,
Like one, that, after long and troubled dreams,
A night of sorrows, dreary, wild, and sad,
Beholds, at last, the dawn of promised joys.
With kindred looks his great descendant gazed.
Not in the poor array of shepherds he,
Nor in the many-coloured coat, fond gift
Of doating age, and cause of direful hate;
But, stately, as his native palm, his form
Was, like Egyptian princes', proudly deck'd
In tissued purple sweeping to the ground.
Plumes from the desert waved above his head,
And down his breast the golden collar hung,
Bestow'd by Pharaoh, when through Egypt word
Went forth to bow the knee as to her king.
Graced thus, his chariot with impetuous wheels
Bore him toward Goshen, where the fainting heart
Of Israel waited for his long-lost son,
The son of Rachel. Ah! had she survived
To see him in his glory! — As he rode,
His boyhood, and his mother's tent, arose,
Link'd with a thousand recollections dear,
And Joseph's heart was in the tomb by Ephrath.
At hand, a group of sages mark'd the scene.
Plato and Socrates together stood,
With him who measured by their shades those piles
Gigantic, 'mid the desert seen, at eve,
By toiling caravans for Memphis bound,
Peering like specks above the horizon's verge,
Whose huge foundations vanish in the mist
Of earliest time. Transfix'd they seem'd with wonder,
Awe-struck, — amazement rapt their inmost souls.
Such glance of deep inquiry and suspense
They threw around, as, in untutor'd ages,
Astronomers upon some dark eclipse,
Close counselling amidst the dubious light
If it portended Nature's death, or spoke
A change in heaven. What thought they, then, of all
Their idle dreams, their proud philosophy,
When on their wilder'd souls redemption, Christ,
And the Almighty broke? But, though they err'd
When all was dark, they reason'd for the truth.
They sought in earth, in ocean, and the stars,
Their maker, arguing from his works toward God;
And from his word had not less nobly argued,
Had they beheld the gospel sending forth
Its pure effulgence o'er the farthest sea,
Lighting the idol mountain-tops, and gilding
The banners of salvation there. These men
Ne'er slighted a Redeemer; of his name
They never heard. Perchance their late-found harps,
Mixing with angel symphonies, may sound
In strains more rapturous things to them so new.
Nearer the mount stood Moses; in his hand
The rod which blasted with strange plagues the realm
Of Misraim, and from its time-worn channels
Upturn' d the Arabian sea. Fair was his broad,
High front, and forth from his soul-piercing eye
Did legislation took; which full he fix'd
Upon the blazing panoply, undazzled.
No terrors had the scene for him who, oft,
Upon the thunder-shaken hill-top, veil'd
With smoke and lightnings, with Jehovah talk'd,
And from his fiery hand received the law.
Beyond the Jewish ruler, banded close,
A company full glorious, I saw
The twelve apostles stand. O, with what looks
Of ravishment and joy, what rapturous tears,
What hearts of ecstasy, they gazed again
On their beloved Master! what a tide
Of overwhelming thoughts press'd to their souls,
When now, as he so frequent promised, throned,
And circled by the hosts of heaven, they traced
The well-known lineaments of him who shared
Their wants. and sufferings here! Full many a day
Of fasting spent with him, and night of prayer,
Rush'd on their swelling hearts. Before the rest,
Close to the angelic spears, had Peter urged,
Tears in his eye, love throbbing at his breast,
As if to touch his vesture, or to catch
The murmur of his voice. On him and them
Jesus beam'd down benignant looks of love.
How diverse from the front sublime of Paul,
Or pale and placid dignity of him
Who in the lonely Isle saw heaven unveil'd,
Was his who in twelve summers won a world!
Not such his countenance nor garb, as when
He foremost breasted the broad Granicus,
Dark-rushing through its steeps from lonely Ida,
His double-tufted plume conspicuous mark
Of every arrow; cheering his bold steed
Through pikes, and spears, and threatening axes, up
The slippery bank through all their chivalry,
Princes and satraps link'd for Cyrus' throne,
With cuirass pierced, cleft helm, and plumeless head,
To youthful conquest: or, when, panic-struck,
Darius from his plunging chariot sprang,
Away the bow and mantle cast, and fled.
His robe, all splendid from the silk-worm's loom,
Floated effeminate, and from his neck
Hung chains of gold, and gems from eastern mines.
Bedight with many-colour' d plumage, flamed
His proud tiara, plumage which had spread
Its glittering dyes of scarlet, green, and gold,
To evening suns by Indus' stream: around
Twined careless, glow'd the white and purple band,
The imperial, sacred badge of Persia's kings.
Thus his triumphal car in Babylon
Display'd him, drawn by snow-white elephants,
Whose feet crush'd odours from the flowery wreaths
Boy-Cupids scatter'd, while soft music breathed
And incense fumed around. But dire his hue,
Bloated and bacchanal as on the night
When old Persepolis was wrapp'd in flame!
Fear over all had flung a livid tinge.
A deeper awe subdued him than amazed
Parimenio and the rest, when they beheld
The white-stoled Levites from Jerusalem,
Thrown open as on some high festival,
With hymns and solemn pomp, come down the hill
To meet the incensed king, and wondering saw,
As on the pontiff's awful form he gazed,
Glistering in purple with his mystic, gems,
Jove's vaunted son, at Jaddua's foot, adore.
Turn, now, where stood the spotless Virgin: sweet
Her azure eye, and fair her golden ringlets;
But changeful as the hues of infancy
Her face. As on her son, her God, she gazed,
Fix'd was her look, — earnest, and breathless; — now,
Suffused her glowing cheek; now, changed to pale; —
First, round her lip a smile celestial play'd,
Then, fast, fast rain'd the tears. — Who can interpret? —
Perhaps some thought maternal cross'd her heart,
That mused on days long past, when on her breast
He helpless lay, and of his infant smile;
Or, on those nights of terror, when, from worse
Than wolves, she hasted with her babe to Egypt.
Girt by a crowd of monarchs, of whose fame
Scarce a memorial lives, who fought and reign'd
While the historic lamp shed glimmering light,
Above the rest one regal port aspired,
Crown'd like Assyria's princes; not a crest
O'ertopp'd him, save the giant seraphim.
His countenance, more piercing than the beam
Of the sun-gazing eagle, earthward bent
Its haught, fierce majesty, temper'd with awe.
Seven years with brutish herds had quell'd his pride,
And taught him there's a mightier king in heaven.
His powerful arm founded old Babylon,
Whose bulwarks like the eternal mountains heaved
Their adamantine- heads; whose brazen gates
Beleaguering nations foil'd, and bolts of war,
Unshaken, unanswer'd as the pelting hail.
House of the kingdom! glorious Babylon!
Earth's marvel, and of unborn time the theme!
Say where thou stood'st: — or, can the fisherman
Plying his task on the Euphrates, now,
A silent, silver, unpolluted tide,
Point to thy grave, and answer? From a sash
O'er his broad shoulder hung the ponderous sword,
Fatal as sulphurous fires to Nineveh,
That levell'd with her waves the walls of Tyrus,
Queen of the sea; to its foundations shook
Jerusalem, and reap'd the fields of Egypt.
Endless the task to name the multitudes
From every land, from isles remote, in seas
Which no adventurous mariner has sail'd :—
From desert-girdled cities, of whose pomp
Some solitary wanderer, by the stars
Conducted o'er the burning wilderness,
Has told a doubted tale: as Europe's sons
Describing Mexic', and, in fair Peru,
The gorgeous Temple of the Sun, its priests,
Its virgin, and its fire, forever bright,
Were fablers deem'd, and, for belief, met scorn.
Around while gazing thus, far in the sky
Appear'd what look'd, at first, a moving star;
But, onward, wheeling through the clouds it came,
With brightening splendour and increasing size,
Till within ken a fiery chariot rush'd,
By flaming horses drawn, whose heads shot forth
A twisted, horn-like beam. O'er its fierce wheels
Two shining forms alighted on the mount,
Of mortal birth, but deathless rapt to heaven.
Adown their breasts their loose beards floated, white
As mist by moonbeams silver'd; fair they seem'd,
And bright as angels; fellowship with heaven
Their mortal grossness so had purified.
Lucent their mantles; other than the seer
By Jordan caught; and in the prophet's face
A mystic lustre, like the Urim's, gleamed.
XVII.
Now for the dread tribunal all prepared:
Before the throne the angel with the books
Ascending kneel' d, and, crossing on his breast
His sable pinions, there the volumes spread.
A second summons echoed from the trump,
Thrice sounded, when the mighty work began.
Waved onward by a seraph's wand, the sea
Of palpitating bosoms toward the mount
In silence roll'd. No sooner had the first
Pale tremblers its mysterious circle touched
Than, instantaneous, swift as fancy's flash,
As lightning darting from the summer cloud,
Its past existence rose before the soul,
With all its deeds, with all its secret store
Of embryo works, and dark imaginings.
Amidst the chaos, thoughts as numberless
As whirling leaves when autumn strips the woods,
Light and disjointed as the sibyl's, thoughts
Scatter'd upon the waste of long, dim years,
Pass'd in a moment through the quicken'd soul.
Not with the glozing eye of earth beheld;
They saw as with the glance of Deity.
Conscience, stern arbiter in every breast,
Decided. Self-acquitted or condemned,
Through two broad, glittering avenues of spears
They cross'd the angelic squadrons, right, or left
The judgment-seat; by power supernal led
To their allotted stations on the plain.
As onward, onward, numberless, they came,
And touch'd, appall'd, the verge of destiny,
The heavenly spirits inly sympathized: —
When youthful saints, or martyrs scarr'd and white,
With streaming faces, hands ecstatic clasp'd,
Sprang to the right, celestial beaming smiles
A ravishing beauty to their radiance gave;
But downcast looks of pity chill'd the left.
What clench'd hands, and frenzied steps were there!
Yet, on my shuddering soul, the stifled groan,
Wrung from some proud blasphemer, as he rush'd,
Constrain'd by conscience, down the path of death,
Knells horrible. — On all the hurrying throng
The unerring pen stamp'd, as they pass'd, their fate.
Thus, in a day, amazing thought! were judged
The millions, since from the Almighty's hand,
Launch'd on her course, earth roll'd rejoicing.
Whose
The doom to penal fires, and whose to joy,
From man's presumption mists and darkness veil.
So pass'd the day; divided stood the world,
An awful line of separation drawn,
And from his labours the Messiah ceased.
By this, the sun his westering car drove low;
Bound his broad wheel full many a lucid cloud
Floated, like happy isles, in seas of gold:
Along the horizon castled shapes were piled,
Turrets and towers, whose fronts embattled gleam'd
With yellow light: smit by the slanting ray,
A ruddy beam the canopy reflected;
With deeper light the ruby blush'd; and thick
Upon the seraphs' wings the glowing spots
Seem'd drops of fire. Uncoiling from its staff
With fainter wave, the gorgeous ensign hung,
Or, swelling with the swelling breeze, by fits,
Cast off upon the dewy air huge flakes
Of golden lustre. Over all the hill,
The heavenly legions, the assembled world,
Evening her crimson tint forever drew.
But while at gaze, in solemn silence, men
And angels stood, and many a quaking heart
With expectation throbb'd; about the throne
And glittering hill-top slowly wreathed the clouds,
Erewhile like curtains for adornment hung,
Involving Shiloh and the seraphim
Beneath a snowy tent. The bands around,
Eyeing the gonfalon that through the smoke
Tower'd into air, resembled hosts who watch
The king's pavilion where, ere battle hour,
A council sits. What their consult might be,
Those seven dread spirits and their Lohd, I mused,
I marvell'd. Was it grace and peace? — or death?
Was it of man? — Did pity for the lost
His gentle nature wring, who knew, who felt
How frail is this poor tenement of clay? —
Arose there from the misty tabernacle
A cry like that upon Gethsemane? —
What pass'd in Jesus' bosom none may know,
But close the cloudy dome invested him;
And, weary with conjecture, round I gazed
Where, in the purple west, no more to dawn,
Faded the glories of the dying day.
Mild twinkling through a crimson-skirted cloud,
The solitary star of evening shone.
While gazing wistful on that peerless light,
Thereafter to be seen no more, (as, oft,
In dreams strange images will mix,) sad thoughts
Pass'd o'er my soul. Sorrowing, I cried, "Farewell,
Pale, beauteous planet, that displayest so soft
Amid yon glowing streak thy transient beam,
A long, a last farewell! Seasons have changed,
Ages and empires roll'd, like smoke, away,
But thou, unalter'd, beamest as silver fair
As on thy birthnight! Bright and watchful eyes,
From palaces and bowers, have hail'd thy gem
With secret transport! Natal star of love,
And souls that love the shadowy hour of fancy,
How much I owe thee, how I bless thy ray!
How oft thy rising o'er the hamlet green,
Signal of rest, and social converse sweet,
Beneath some patriarchal tree, has cheer'd
The peasant's heart, and drawn his benison.
Pride of the west! beneath thy placid light
The tender tale shall never more be told,
Man's soul shall never wake to joy again:
Thou sett'st forever, — lovely orb, farewell!"
Low warblings, now, and solitary harps
Were heard among the angels, touch'd and tuned
As to an evening hymn, preluding soft
To cherub voices; louder as they swell'd,
Deep strings struck in, and hoarser instruments,
Mix'd with clear, silver sounds, till concord rose
Full as the harmony of winds to heaven;
Yet sweet as nature's springtide melodies
To some worn pilgrim, first with glistening eyes
Greeting his native valley, whence the sounds
Of rural gladness, herds, and bleating flocks,
The chirp of birds, blithe voices, lowing kine,
The dash of waters, reed, or rustic pipe,
Blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd bell,
Come, like the echo of his early joys.
In every pause, from spirits in mid air,
Responsive still were golden viols heard,
And heavenly symphonies stole faintly down.
Calm, deep, and silent was the tide of joy
That roll'd o'er all the blessed; visions of bliss,
Rapture too mighty, swell'd their hearts to bursting;
Prelude to heaven it seem'd, and in their sight
Celestial glories swam. How fared, alas!
That other band! Sweet to their troubled minds
The solemn scene; ah! doubly sweet the breeze
Refreshing, and the purple light to eyes
But newly oped from that benumbing sleep
Whose dark and drear abode no cheering dream,
No bright-hued vision ever enters, souls
For ages pent, perhaps, in some dim world
Where guilty spectres stalk the twilight gloom.
For, like the spirit's last seraphic smile,
The earth, anticipating now her tomb,
To rise, perhaps, as heaven magnificent,
Appear'd Hesperian: gales of gentlest wing
Came fragrance-laden, and such odours shed
As Yemen never knew, nor those blest isles
In Indian seas, where the voluptuous breeze
The peaceful native breathes, at eventide,
From nutmeg groves and bowers of cinnamon.
How solemn on their ears the choral note
Swell'd of the angel hymn! so late escaped
The cold embraces of the grave, whose damp
Silence no voice or string'd instrument
Has ever broke! Yet with the murmuring breeze
Full sadly chimed the music and the song,
For with them came the memory of joys
Forever past, the stinging thought of what
They once had been, and of their future lot.
To their grieved view the passages of earth
Delightful rise, their tender ligaments
So dear, they heeded not an after state,
Though by a fearful judgment usher'd in.
A bridegroom fond, who lavish'd all his heart
On his beloved, forgetful of the Mam
Of many Sorrows, who, for him, resign'd
His meek and spotless spirit on the cross,
Has marked among the blessed bands, array'd
Celestial in a spring of beauty, doom'd
No more to fade, the charmer of his soul,
Her cheek soft blooming like the dawn in heaven.
He recollects the days when on his smile'
She lived; when, gently leaning on his breast,
Tears of intense affection dimm'd her eyes,
Of dove-like lustre. — Thoughtless, now, of him
And earthly joys, eternity and heaven
Engross her soul. — What more accursed pang
Can hell inflict? With her, in realms of light,
In never-dying bliss, he might have roll'd
Eternity away; but now, forever
Torn from his bride new-found, with cruel fiends,
Or men like fiends, must waste and weep. N ow, now
He mourns with burning, bitter drops his days
Misspent, probation lost, and heaven despised.
Such thoughts from many a bursting heart drew forth
Groans, lamentations, and despairing shrieks,
That on the silent air came from afar.
As, when from some proud capital that crowns
Imperial Ganges, the reviving breeze
Sweeps the dank mist, or hoary river fog
Impervious mantled o'er her highest towers,
Bright on the eye rush Brahma's temples, capp'd
With spiry tops, gay-trellised minarets,
Pagods of gold, and mosques with burnish'd domes,
Gilded, and glistening in the morning sun,
So from the hill the cloudy curtains roll'd,
And, in the lingering lustre of the eve,
Again the Saviour and his seraphs shone.
Emitted sudden in his rising, flash'd
Intenser light, as toward the right hand host
Mild turning, with a look ineffable,
The invitation he proclaim'd in accents
Which on their ravish'd ears pour'd thrilling, like
The silver sound of many trumpets heard
Afar in sweetest jubilee; then, swift
Stretching his dreadful sceptre to the left,
That shot forth horrid lightnings, in a voice
Clothed but in half its terrors, yet to them
Seem'd like the crush of heaven, pronounced the doom.
The sentence utter'd, as with life instinct,
The throne uprose majestically slow;
Each angel spread his wings; in one dread swell
Of triumph mingling as they mounted, trumpets,
And harps, and golden lyres, and timbrels sweet,
And many a strange and deep-toned instrument
Of heavenly minstrelsy unknown on earth,
And angels' voices, and the loud acclaim
Of all the ransom'd, like a thunder-shout.
Far through the skies melodious echoes roll'd,
And faint hosannas distant climes return'd.
Down from the lessening multitude came faint
And fainter still the trumpet's dying peal,
All else in distance lost; when, to receive
Their new inhabitants, the heavens unfolded.
Up gazing, then, with streaming eyes, a glimpse
The wicked caught of Paradise, whence streaks
Of splendour, golden quivering radiance shone,
As when the showery evening sun takes leave,
Breaking a moment o'er the illumined world.
Seen far within, fair forms moved graceful by,
Slow-turning to the light their snowy wings.
A deep-drawn, agonizing groan escaped
The hapless outcasts, when upon the Loud
The glowing portals closed. Undone, they stood
Wistfully gazing on the cold, gray heaven,
As if to catch, alas! a hope not there.
But shades began to gather; night approach'd
Murky and lowering: round with horror roll'd
On one another, their despairing eyes
That glared with anguish: starless, hopeless gloom
Fell on their souls, never to know an end.
Though in the far horizon linger'd yet
A lurid gleam, black clouds were mustering there;
Red flashes, follow'd by low muttering sounds,
Announced the fiery tempest doom'd to hurl
The fragments of the earth again to chaos.
Wild gusts swept by, upon whose hollow wing
Unearthly voices, yells, and ghastly peals
Of demon laughter came. Infernal shapes
Flitted along the sulphurous wreaths, or plunged
Their dark, impure abyss, as sea-fowl dive
Their watery element. O'erwhelmed with sights
And sounds appalling, I awoke; and found
For gathering storms, and signs of coming wo,
The midnight moon gleaming upon my bed
Serene and peaceful. Gladly I survey'd her
Walking in brightness through the stars of heaven,
And blessed the respite ere the day of doom.