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 Sre The mnumerable 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,
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.
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,
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
Nursing the impatient earthquake.
Reflect no lovelier hues! yet ye depart, 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,
Whose names were many and all blasphemous,
Making noon ghastly! Who of woman born May image in the workings of his thought, How the black-visaged, red-eyed Fiend outstretch'd! Beneath the unsteady feet of Nature groans, In feverish slumbers-destin'd then to wake,
Hatn met the horrible judgment! Whence that cry? When fiery whirlwinds thunder his dread name
The mighty army of foul Spirits shriek'd
Disherited of earth! For she hath fallen
On whose black front was written Mystery;
And Angels shout, Destruction! How his arm The last great Spirit lifting high in air Shall swear by Him, the ever-living One,
She that reel'd heavily, whose wine was blood;
So 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 immeasurabis 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, Sre we the deep preluding strain have pour'd It 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 musie, that soliciting spell, force back
Earth's free and stirring spirit that lies entrane'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 shapes 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,
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
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!
In this bad World as in a place of Tombs, And touch'd not the pollutions of the Dead.
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
'"T was 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.
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
She shudder'd: but, each vainer pang subdued, Quick disentangling from the foremost horse The rustic bands, with difficulty and toil
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 stiff cramp'd team forced homeward. There
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
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 Pace 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
Fierce Hate and gloomy Hope, a Dream arose, Shaped like a black cloud mark'd with streaks of fire.
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 moan'd,
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, lle crept beneath the coverture, entranced, Jill 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
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
(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, 1 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.
The Plow-man, following sad his meagre team, Turn'd up fresh sculls unstartled, and the bones Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there All mingled lay beneath the common earth, Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the Fields Stept a fair form, repairing all she might, Her temples olive-wreathed; and where she trod Fresh flowerets rose, and many a foodful herb. But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure, And anxious pleasure beam'd in her faint eye, As she had newly left a couch of pain, Pale Convalescent! (yet some time to rule With power exclusive o'er the willing world, That bless'd prophetic mandate then fulfill'd, Peace be on Earth!) A happy while, but brief, She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet, And heal'd the recent harm of chill and blight, And nursed each plant that fair and virtuous grew..
But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow: Black rose the clouds, and now (as in a dream)
(Victims at once and Executioners), The congregated Husbandmen lay waste The Vineyard and the Harvest. As long The Bothnic coast, or southward of the Line, Though hush'd the Winds and cloudless the high
Yet if Leviathan, weary of ease, In sports unwieldy toss his Island-bulk, Ocean behind him billows, and before A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand. And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark, Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War And War, his strained sinews knit anew, Still violate the unfinish'd works of Peace.
But yonder look! for more demands thy view!" He said: and straightway from the opposite Isle A Vapor sailed, as when a cloud, exhaled From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence, Travels the sky for many a trackless league, Till o'er some Death-doom'd land, distant in vain, It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the Plain,
Their reddening shapes, transformed to Warrior. Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose,
Coursed o'er the Sky, and battled in mid-air. Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven Portentous! while aloft were seen to float, Like hideous features booming on the mist, Wan Stains of ominous Light! Resign'd, yet sad, The fair Form bowed her olive-crowned Brow, Then o'er the plain with oft-reverted eye Fled till a Place of Tombs she reach'd, and there Within a ruined Sepulchre obscure Found Hiding-place.
Gazed through her tears, then in sad tones exclaim'd, "Thou mild-eyed Form! wherefore, ah! wherefore
The power of Justice, like a name all Light, Shone from thy brow; but all they, who unblamed Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness. Ah! why, uninjured and unprofited,
Should multitudes against their brethren rush? Why sow they guilt, still reaping Misery? Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace! are sweet, As after showers the perfumed gale of eve, That flings the cool drops on a feverous cheek: And gay the grassy altar piled with fruits. But boasts the shrine of Dæmon War one charm, Save that with many an orgie strange and foul, Dancing around with interwoven arms, The Maniac Suicide and Giant Murder Exult in their fierce union? I am sad, And know not why the simple Peasants crowd Beneath the Chieftains' standard!" Thus the Maid.
To her the tutelary Spirit replied: * When Luxury and Lust's exhausted stores No more can rouse the appetites of Kings; When the low flattery of their reptile Lords Falls flat and heavy on the accustom'd ear; When Eunuchs sing, and Fools buffoonery make, And Dancers writhe their harlot-limbs in vain; Then War and all its dread vicissitudes Pleasingly agitate their stagnant Hearts; Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats, Insipid Royalty's keen condiment! Therefore uninjured and unprofited
And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went. The Maiden paused, musing what this might mean. But long time pass'd not, ere that brighter cloud Return'd more bright; along the plain it swept: And soon from forth its bursting sides emerged A dazzling form, broad-bosom'd, bold of eye, And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound. Not more majestic stood the healing God, When from his bow the arrow sped that slew Huge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng, And with them hiss'd the Locust-fiends that crawl'd And glitter'd in Corruption's slimy track.
Great was their wrath, for short they knew their reign;
And such commotion made they, and uproar, As when the mad Tornado bellows through The guilty islands of the western main, What time departing from their native shores, Eboe, or Koromantyn's* plain of Palms,
* The slaves in the West-Indies consider death as a passport to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of which the ideas are better than the language in which they are conveyed.
Ω σκότου πύλας, Θανατε, προλείπων Ες γενος σπευδοις υποζευχθεν Ατα Ου ξενισθη σῃ γενύων σπαραγμοι; Ουδ' ολολυγμω,
Αλλα και κυκλοισι χοροιτυποισι Κ ́ασματων χαρα· φοβερος μεν εσσι
Αλλ' ομως Ελευθεριᾳ συνοικεῖς,
Στυγνε Τυραννε!
Δασκίοις έπει πτερύγεσσι σησι Α' θαλασσιον καθορώντες οιδμα Αιθεροπλαγτοις υπο ποσσ' ανεισι
Ενθα μαν Έρασαι Ερωμένησιν Αμφι πηγησιν κιτρινων υπ' αλσων, Οσσ'υπο βροτοις επαθον βροτσι, τα Δεινα λεγοναι.
Leaving the Gates of Darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a Race yoked with Misery! Thou wilt not be received with
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