Death's prime Slave-merchants! Scorpion-whips of When, stung to rage by Pity, eloquent men
Nor least in savagery of holy zeal, Apt for the yoke, the race degenerate, Whom Britain erst had blush'd to call her sons! Thee to defend the Moloch Priest prefers The prayer of hate, and bellows to the herd That Deity, Accomplice Deity
In the fierce jealousy of waken'd wrath Will go forth with our armies and our fleets, To scatter the red ruin on their foes? O blasphemy! to mingle fiendish deeds With blessedness!
Lord of unsleeping Love,*
From everlasting Thou! We shall not die. These, even these, in mercy didst thou form, Teachers of Good through Evil, by brief wrong Making Truth lovely, and her future might Magnetic o'er the fix'd untrembling heart.
In the primeval age a dateless while
The vacant Shepherd wander'd with his flock, Pitching his tent where'er the green grass waved. But soon Imagination conjured up An host of new desires: with busy aim, Each for himself, Earth's eager children toil'd. So Property began, two-streaming fount, Whence Vice and Virtue flow, honey and gall. Hence the soft couch, and many-color'd robe, The timbrel, and arch'd dome and costly feast, With all the inventive arts, that nursed the soul To forms of beauty, and by sensual wants Unsensualized the mind, which in the means Learnt to forget the grossness of the end, Best pleasured with its own activity. And hence Disease that withers manhood's arm, The dagger'd Envy, spirit-quenching Want, Warriors, and Lords, and Priests all the sore ills That vex and desolate our mortal life. Wide-wasting ills! yet each the immediate source Of mightier good. Their keen necessities To ceaseless action goading human thought Have made Earth's reasoning animal her Lord; And the pale-featured Sage's trembling hand Strong as an host of armed Deities, Such as the blind Ionian fabled erst.
From Avarice thus, from Luxury and War Sprang heavenly Science; and from Science
O'er waken'd realms Philosophers and Bards Spread in concentric circles: they whose souls, Conscious of their high dignities from God, Brook not Wealth's rivalry! and they who long Enamour'd with the charms of order hate The unseemly disproportion: and whoe'er Turn with mild sorrow from the victor's car And the low puppetry of thrones, to muse On that blest triumph, when the patriot Sage Call'd the red lightnings from the o'er-rushing cloud, And dash'd the beauteous Terrors on the earth Smiling majestic. Such a phalanx ne'er Measured firm paces to the calming sound Of Spartan flute! These on the fated day,
Have roused with pealing voice unnumber'd tribes That toil and groan and bleed, hungry and blind. These hush'd awhile with patient eye serene, Shall watch the mad careering of the storm ; Then o'er the wild and wavy chaos rush And tame the outrageous mass, with plastic might Moulding Confusion to such perfect forms, As erst were wont, bright visions of the day! To float before them, when, the Summer noon, Beneath some arch'd romantic rock reclined, They felt the sea-breeze lift their youthful locks; Or in the month of blossoms, at mild eve, Wandering with desultory feet inhaled The wafted perfumes, and the rocks and woods And many-tinted streams and setting Sun With all his gorgeous company of clouds Ecstatic gazed! then homeward as they stray'd Cast the sad eye to earth, and inly mused Why there was Misery in a world so fair. Ah far removed from all that glads the sense, From all that softens or ennobles Man, The wretched Many! Bent beneath their loads They gape at pageant Power, nor recognize Their cots' transmuted plunder! From the tree Of Knowledge, ere the vernal sap had risen Rudely disbranch'd! Blessed Society! Fitliest depictured by some sun-scorch'd waste, Where oft majestic through the tainted noon The Simoom sails, before whose purple pomp Who falls not prostrate dies! And where by night, Fast by each precious fountain on green herbs The lion couches; or hyena dips Deep in the lucid stream his bloody jaws; Or serpent plants his vast moon-glittering bulk, Caught in whose monstrous twine Behemoth* yells His bones loud-crashing!
Whom foul Oppression's ruffian gluttony Drives from life's plenteous feast! O thou poor wretch,
Who nursed in darkness and made wild by want, Roamest for prey, yea thy unnatural hand Dost lift to deeds of blood! O pale-eyed form, The victim of seduction, doom'd to know Polluted nights and days of blasphemy; Who in lothed orgies with lewd wassailers Must gaily laugh, while thy remember'd home Gnaws like a viper at thy secret heart! O aged Women! ye who weekly catch The morsel toss'd by law-forced Charity, And die so slowly, that none call it murder! O lothely Suppliants! ye, that unreceived Totter heart-broken from the closing gates Of the full Lazar-house or, gazing, stand Sick with despair! O ye to Glory's field Forced or ensnared, who, as ye gasp in death, Bleed with new wounds beneath the Vulture's beak O thou poor Widow, who in dreams dost view Thy Husband's mangled corse, and from short doze Start'st with a shriek; or in thy half-thatch'd cot Waked by the wintry night-storm, wet and cold, Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby! Rest awhile
Art thou not from everlasting, O Lord, mine Holy one? Some believe it is the elephant, some the hippopotamus; some We shall not die. O Lord, thou hast ordained them for judg- affirm it is the wild bull. Poetically, it designates any large ment, etc.-Habakkuk. quadruped.
Children of Wretchedness! More groans must rise, With conscious zeal had urged Love's wondrous plan, More blood must stream, or ere your wrongs be full. Coadjutors of God. To Milton's trump
Yet is the day of Retribution nigh:
The Lamb of God hath open'd the fifth seal: And upward rush on swiftest wing of fire The innumerable multitude of wrongs By man on man inflicted! Rest awhile, Children of Wretchedness! The hour is nigh; And lo! the Great, the Rich, the Mighty Men, The Kings and the Chief Captains of the World, With all that fix'd on high like stars of Heaven Shot baleful influence, shall be cast to earth, Vile and down-trodden, as the untimely fruit Shook from the fig-tree by a sudden storm. Even now the storm begins:* each gentle name, Faith and meek Piety, with fearful joy Tremble far-off-for lo! the Giant Frenzy,
The high Groves of the renovated Earth Unbosom their glad echoes: inly hush'd, Adoring Newton his serener eye Raises to heaven and he of mortal kind Wisest, he* first who mark'd the ideal tribes Up the fine fibres through the sentient brain. Lo! Priestley there, Patriot, and Saint, and Sage, Him, full of years, from his loved native land Statesmen blood-stain'd and Priests idolatrous By dark lies maddening the blind multitude Drove with vain hate. Calm, pitying, he retired, And mused expectant on these promised years.
Uprooting empires with his whirlwind arm,
O years! the blest pre-eminence of Saints! Ye sweep athwart my gaze, so heavenly bright, The wings that veil the adoring Seraph's eyes,
Mocketh high Heaven; burst hideous from the cell What time he bends before the Jasper Throne,t
Where the old Hag, unconquerable, huge, Creation's eyeless drudge, black Ruin, sits
Reflect no lovelier hues! yet ye depart,
Nursing the impatient earthquake.
And all beyond is darkness! Heights most strange, Whence Fancy falls, fluttering her idle wing. For who of woman born may paint the hour, When seized in his mid course, the Sun shall wane
Pure Faith! meek Piety! The abhorred Form
Whose scarlet robe was stiff with earthly pomp, Who drank iniquity in cups of gold,
Making noon ghastly! Who of woman born May image in the workings of his thought, How the black-visaged, red-eyed Fiend outstretch'd‡
Whose names were many and all blasphemous,
Beneath the unsteady feet of Nature groans, In feverish slumbers-destin'd then to wake,
Hath met the horrible judgment! Whence that cry? When fiery whirlwinds thunder his dread name
The mighty army of foul Spirits shriek'd
She that reel'd heavily, whose wine was blood;
She that work'd whoredom with the Demon Power, And from the dark embrace all evil things
Brought forth and nurtured: mitred Atheism : And patient Folly who on bended knee
Gives back the steel that stabb'd him; and pale
Hunted by ghastlier shapings than surround Moon-blasted Madness when he yells at midnight! Return, pure Faith! return, meek Piety! The kingdoms of the world are yours: each heart, Self-govern'd, the vast family of Love Raised from the common earth by common toil, Enjoy the equal produce. Such delights As float to earth, permitted visitants! When in some hour of solemn jubilee The massy gates of Paradise are thrown Wide open, and forth come in fragments wild Sweet echoes of unearthly melodies, And odors snatch'd from beds of Amaranth, And they, that from the crystal river of life Spring up on freshen'd wing, ambrosial gales! The favor'd good man in his lonely walk Perceives them, and his silent spirit drinks Strange bliss which he shall recognize in heaven. And such delights, such strange beatitude Seize on my young anticipating heart When that blest future rushes on my view! For in his own and in his Father's might The Savior comes! While as the Thousand Years Lead up their mystic dance, the Desert shouts! Old Ocean claps his hands! The mighty Dead Rise to new life, whoe'er from earliest time
Life is a vision shadowy of Truth; And vice, and anguish, and the wormy grave, Shapes of a dream! The veiling clouds retire, And lo! the Throne of the redeeming God Forth flashing unimaginable day,
Wraps in one blaze earth, heaven, and deepest hell
Contemplant Spirits! ye that hover o'er With untired gaze the immeasurable fount Ebullient with creative Deity!
And ye of plastic power, that interfused Roll through the grosser and material mass In organizing surge! Holies of God! (And what if Monads of the infinite mind) I haply journeying my immortal course Shall sometime join your mystic choir? Till then I discipline my young noviciate thought In ministries of heart-stirring song, And aye on Meditation's heavenward wing Soaring aloft I breathe the empyreal air Of Love, omnific, omnipresent Love, Whose day-spring rises glorious in my soul As the great Sun, when he his influence Sheds on the frost-bound waters-The glad stream Flows to the ray, and warbles as it flows.
AUSPICIOUS Reverence! Hush all meaner song, Ere we the deep preluding strain have pour'd To the Great Father, only Rightful King, Eternal Father! King Omnipotent!
And what if some rebellious, o'er dark realms Arrogate power? yet these train up to God, And on the rude eye, unconfirm'd for day, Flash meteor-lights better than total gloom. As ere from Lieule-Oaive's vapory head The Laplander beholds the far-off Sun Dart his slant beam on unobeying snows, While yet the stern and solitary Night Brooks no alternate sway, the Boreal Morn With mimic lustre substitutes its gleam,
The Will, the Word, the Breath, the Living God. Guiding his course or by Niemi lake
Such symphony requires best instrument. Seize, then! my soul! from Freedom's trophied dome, The Harp which hangeth high between the Shields Of Brutus and Leonidas! With that Strong music, that soliciting spell, force back Earth's free and stirring spirit that lies entranc'd.
For what is Freedom, but the unfetter'd use Of all the powers which God for use had given? But chiefly this, him First, him Last to view Through meaner powers and secondary things Effulgent, as through clouds that veil his blaze. For all that meets the bodily sense I deem Symbolical, one mighty alphabet
For infant minds; and we in this low world Placed with our backs to bright Reality, That we may learn with young unwounded ken The substance from its shadow. Infinite Love, Whose latence is the plenitude of All, Thou with retracted Beams, and Self-eclipse Veiling, revealest thine eternal Son.
But some there are who deem themselves most free When they within this gross and visible sphere Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent, Proud in their meanness: and themselves they cheat With noisy emptiness of learned phrase, Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences, Self-working tools, uncaus'd effects, and all Those blind Omniscients, those Almighty Slaves, Untenanting creation of its God.
But properties are God: the naked mass (If mass there be, fantastic Guess or Ghost) Acts only by its inactivity. Here we pause humbly. Others boldlier think That as one body seems the aggregate Of Atoms numberless, each organized; So, by a strange and dim similitude, Infinite myriads of self-conscious minds Are one all-conscious Spirit, which informs With absolute ubiquity of thought (His one eternal self-affirming Act!) All his involved Monads, that yet seem With various province and apt agency Each to pursue its own self-centering end. Some nurse the infant diamond in the mine; Some roll the genial juices through the oak; Some drive the mutinous clouds to clash in air, And rushing on the storm with whirlwind speed, Yoke the red lightning to their volleying car. Thus these pursue their never-varying course, No eddy in their stream. Others, more wild, With complex interests weaving human fates, Duteous or proud, alike obedient all, Evolve the process of eternal good.
Or Balda-Zhiok,* or the mossy stone Of Solfar-kapper, while the snowy blast Drifts arrowy by, or eddies round his sledge, Making the poor babe at its mother's back‡ Scream in its scanty cradle: he the while Wins gentle solace as with upward eye He marks the streamy banners of the North, Thinking himself those happy spirits shall join Who there in floating robes of rosy light Dance sportively. For Fancy is the Power That first unsensualizes the dark mind, Giving it new delights; and bids it swell With wild activity; and peopling air, By obscure fears of Beings invisible, Emancipates it from the grosser thrall Of the present impulse, teaching Self-control, Till Superstition with unconscious hand Seat Reason on her throne. Wherefore not vain, Nor yet without permitted power impress'd, I deem'd those legends terrible, with which The polar ancient thrills his uncouth throng; Whether of pitying Spirits that make their moan O'er slaughter'd infants, or that Giant Bird Vuokho, of whose rushing wings the noise Is Tempest, when the unutterable shapesў Speeds from the mother of Death, and utters once That shriek, which never Murderer heard and lived. Or if the Greenland Wizard in strange trance Pierces the untravell'd realms of Ocean's bed (Where live the innocent, as far from cares As from the storms and overwhelming waves Dark tumbling on the surface of the deep), Over the abysm, even to that uttermost cave By misshaped prodigies beleaguer'd, such As Earth ne'er bred, nor Air, nor the upper Sea.
There dwells the Fury Form, whose unheard
With eager eye, pale cheek, suspended breath,
And lips half-opening with the dread of sound, Unsleeping Silence guards, worn out with fear, Lest, haply escaping on some treacherous blast, The fateful word let slip the Elements,
Was moulded to such features as declared That Pity there had oft and strongly work'd, And sometimes Indignation. Bold her mien, And like a haughty Huntress of the woods She mov'd: yet sure she was a gentle maid!
Beam'd forth so brightly, that who saw would say Guilt was a thing impossible in her!
And frenzy Nature. Yet the wizard her, Arm'd with Torngarsuck's* power, the Spirit of And in each motion her most innocent soul
Forces to unchain the foodful progeny
Of the Ocean's stream. -Wild phantasies! yet wise, Nor idly would have said for she had lived
On the victorious goodness of High God Teaching Reliance, and Medicinal Hope, Till from Bethabra northward, heavenly Truth, With gradual steps winning her difficult way, Transfer their rude Faith perfected and pure.
If there be Beings of higher class than Man, I deem no nobler province they possess, Than by disposal of apt circumstance To rear up Kingdoms: and the deeds they prompt, Distinguishing from mortal agency, They choose their human ministers from such states As still the Epic song half fears to name, Repell'd from all the Minstrelsies that strike
The Palace-roof and soothe the Monarch's pride.
And such, perhaps, the Spirit, who (if words Witness'd by answering deeds may claim our Faith) Held commune with that warrior-maid of France
In this bad World as in a place of Tombs, And touch'd not the pollutions of the Dead.
'Twas the cold season, when the Rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints And clouds slow varying their huge imagery; When now, as she was wont, the healthful Maid Had left her pallet ere one beam of day Slanted the fog-smoke. She went forth alone, Urged by the indwelling angel-guide, that oft, With dim inexplicable sympathies Disquieting the Heart, shapes out Man's course To the predoom'd adventure. Now the ascent She climbs of that steep upland, on whose top The Pilgrim-Man, who long since eve had watch'd The alien shine of unconcerning Stars, Shouts to himself, there first the Abbey-lights Seen in Neufchatel's vale; now slopes adown
Who scourged the Invader. From her infant days, The winding sheep-track vale-ward: when, behold
With Wisdom, Mother of retired Thoughts, Her soul had dwelt; and she was quick to mark The good and evil thing, in human lore Undisciplined. For lowly was her Birth, And Heaven had doom'd her early years to Toil, That pure from Tyranny's least deed, herself Unfear'd by Fellow-natures, she might wait On the poor Laboring man with kindly looks, And minister refreshment to the tired Way-wanderer, when along the rough-hewn Bench The sweltry man had stretch'd him, and aloft Vacantly watch'd the rudely pictured board Which on the Mulberry-bough with welcome creak Swung to the pleasant breeze. Here, too, the Maid Learnt more than Schools could teach: Man's shift- ing mind,
His Vices and his Sorrows! And full oft
At Tales of cruel Wrong and strange Distress Had wept and shiver'd. To the tottering Eld Still as a Daughter would she run: she placed His cold Limbs at the sunny Door, and loved To hear him story, in his garrulous sort, Of his eventful years, all come and gone.
So twenty seasons past. The Virgin's Form, Active and tall, nor Sloth nor Luxury Had shrunk or paled. Her front sublime and broad, Her flexile eye-brows wildly hair'd and low, And her full eye, now bright, now unillum'd,
In the first entrance of the level road An unattended Team! The foremost horse Lay with stretch'd limbs; the others, yet alive, But stiff and cold, stood motionless, their manes Hoar with the frozen night-dews. Dismally The dark-red down now glimmer'd; but its gleams Disclosed no face of man. The Maiden paused, Then hail'd who might be near. No voice replied. From the thwart wain at length there reach'd her
A sound so feeble that it almost seem'd Distant: and feebly, with slow effort push'd, A miserable man crept forth: his limbs The silent frost had eat, scathing like fire. Faint on the shafts he rested. She, meantime, Saw crowded close beneath the coverture A mother and her children-lifeless all, Yet lovely! not a lineament was marr'd- Death had put on so slumber-like a form! It was a piteous sight; and one, a babe, The crisp milk frozen on its innocent lips, Lay on the woman's arm, its little hand Stretch'd on her bosom.
Spake more than Woman's Thought; and all her The drowsy pang that steals on worn-out anguish.
* They call the Good Spirit Torngarsuck. The other great but malignant spirit is a nameless Female; she dwells under the sea in a great house, where she can detain in captivity all the animals of the ocean by her magic power. When a dearth
The Maid gazed wildly at the living wretch. He, his head feebly turning, on the group Look'd with a vacant stare, and his eye spoke
befalls the Greenlanders, an Angekok or magician must under- Anxiously tends him she with healing herbs, take a journey thither. He passes through the kingdom of And weeps and prays-but the numb power of Death souls, over an horrible abyss into the Palace of this phantom, Spreads o'er his limbs; and ere the noontide hour, and by his enchantments causes the captive creatures to ascend The hovering spirits of his Wife and Babes
Hail him immortal! Yet amid his pangs,
With interruptions long from ghastly throes, His voice had falter'd out this simple tale.
The Village, where he dwelt an Husbandman, By sudden inroad had been seized and fired Late on the yester-evening. With his wife And little ones he hurried his escape.
Sent forth, when she the Protoplast beheld Stand beauteous on Confusion's charmed wave. Moaning she fled, and entered the Profound That leads with downward windings to the Cave Of darkness palpable, Desert of Death Sunk deep beneath Gehenna's massy roots. There many a dateless age the Beldame lurk'd
They saw the neighboring Hamlets flame, they And trembled; till engender'd by fierce Hate,
Uproar and shrieks! and terror-struck drove on Through unfrequented roads, a weary way! But saw nor house nor cottage. All had quench'd Their evening hearth-fire: for the alarm had spread. The air clipt keen, the night was fang'd with frost, And they provisionless! The weeping wife
Ill hush'd her children's moans; and still they
Till Fright and Cold and Hunger drank their life. They closed their eyes in sleep, nor knew 't was
He only, lashing his o'er-wearied team, Gain'd a sad respite, till beside the base Of the high hill his foremost horse dropp'd dead. Then hopeless, strengthless, sick for lack of food, He crept beneath the coverture, entranced, Fill waken'd by the maiden.-Such his tale.
Ah! suffering to the height of what was suffer'd, Stung with too keen a sympathy, the Maid Brooded with moving lips, mute, startful, dark! And now her flush'd tumultuous features shot Such strange vivacity, as fires the eye Of misery Fancy-crazed! and now once more Naked, and void, and fix'd, and all within The unquiet silence of confused thought And shapeless feelings. For a mighty hand Was strong upon her, till in the heat of soul To the high hill-top tracing back her steps, Aside the beacon, up whose smoulder'd stones The tender ivy-trails crept thinly, there, Unconscious of the driving element,
Yea, swallow'd up in the ominous dream, she sate Ghastly as broad-eyed Slumber! a dim anguish Breathed from her look! and still, with pant and sob, Inly she toil'd to flee, and still subdued, Felt an inevitable Presence near.
Thus as she toil'd in troublous ecstasy, An horror of great darkness wrapt her round, And a voice uttered forth unearthly tones, Calming her soul,-" O Thou of the Most High Chosen, whom all the perfected in Heaven
Fierce Hate and gloomy Hope, a Dream arose, Shaped like a black cloud mark'd with streaks of
It roused the Hell-Hag: she the dew damp wiped From off her brow, and through the uncouth maze Retraced her steps; but ere she reach'd the mouth Of that drear labyrinth, shuddering she paused, Nor dared re-enter the diminish'd Gulf.
As through the dark vaults of some moulder'd Tower
(Which, fearful to approach, the evening Hind Circles at distance in his homeward way) The winds breathe hollow, deem'd the plaining groan Of prison'd spirits; with such fearful voice Night murmur'd, and the sound through Chaos went Leap'd at her call her hideous-fronted brood! A dark behest they heard, and rush'd on earth; Since that sad hour, in Camps and Courts adored, Rebels from God, and Monarchs o'er Mankind!"
From his obscure haunt
Shriek'd Fear, of Cruelty the ghastly Dam, Feverish yet freezing, eager-paced yet slow, As she that creeps from forth her swampy reeds, Ague, the biform Hag! when early Spring Beams on the marsh-bred vapors.
"Even so" (the exulting Maiden said)
"The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell, And thus they witness'd God! But now the clouds Treading, and storms beneath their feet, they soar Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing Loud songs of Triumph! O ye spirits of God, Hover around my mortal agonies!" She spake, and instantly faint melody Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow,- Such Measures, as at calmest midnight heard By aged Hermit in his holy dream, Foretell and solace death; and now they rise Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice The white-robed* multitude of slaughter'd saints At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant Receive some martyr'd Patriot. The harmony Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense
[The following fragments were intended to form part of the Brief slumber seized, and confused ecstasy. Poem when finished.]
"Maid beloved of Heaven!"
(To her the tutelary Power exclaim'd) "Of Chaos the adventurous progeny Thou seest; foul missionaries of foul sire, Fierce to regain the losses of that hour When Love rose glittering, and his gorgeous wings Over the abyss flutter'd with such glad noise, As what time after long and pestful calms, With slimy shapes and miscreated life Poisoning the vast Pacific, the fresh breeze Wakens the merchant-sail uprising. Night A heavy unimaginable moan
At length awakening slow, she gazed around: And through a Mist, the relic of that trance Still thinning as she gazed, an Isle appear'd, Its high, o'er-hanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs, Glass'd on the subject ocean. A vast plain Stretch'd opposite, where ever and anon
Revel. vi. 9, 11. And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held. And white robes were given unto every one of them, and it was said unto them that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellow servants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled.
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