St John In Patmos.

This poem was first published under the name of "One of the Living Poets of Great Britain." I have thought it best to revise and publish it in my own name, and as it is the last written by me, and the last I may ever live to write, I have added, from volumes long out of print, some selected verses of my earliest days of song.[112]

Since these were written, I have lived to hear the sounds of other harps, whose masters have struck far more sublime chords, and died. I have lived to see among them females[113] of the highest poetical rank, and many illustrious masters of the lyre, whose names I need not specify, crowned with younger and more verdant laurels, which they yet gracefully wear. Some who now rank high in the poet's art have acknowledged that their feelings were first excited by these youthful strains, which I have now, with melancholy feelings, revised for the last time.

It is a consolation that, from youth to age, I have found no line I wished to blot, or departed a moment from the severer taste which I imbibed from the simplest and purest models of classical composition.

TIME - Four days.

CHARACTERS. - St John - Mysterious Stranger - Pr'fect of the Roman Guard - Robber of Mount Carmel, converted - Grecian Girl and Dying Libertine - Elders of Ephesus - Visions.

ST JOHN IN PATMOS.

War, and the noise of battle, and the hum

Of armies, by their watch-fires, in the night,

And charging squadrons, all in harness bright,

The sword, the shield, the trumpet, and the drum -

Themes such as these, too oft, in lofty song

Have been resounded, while the poet strung

His high heroic lyre, and louder sung

Of chariots flashing through the armed throng: -

But other sights and other sounds engage,

Fitlier, the thoughts of calm-declining age,

More worthy of the Christian and the sage;

Who, when deep clouds his country have o'ercast,

And sadder comes the moaning of the blast,

To God would consecrate a parting lay

Of holier homage, ere he pass away.

PART FIRST.

Cave in Patmos - Apparition - Mysterious Visitant - Day, Night, and Morning.

'Twas in the rugged and forsaken isle

Of Patmos, dreariest of the sister isles

Which strew the 'gean, where the pirate, wont

To rove the seas with scymitar of blood,

Now scowled in sullen exile, an old man,

Tranquilly listening to the ocean-sounds,

And resting on his staff, beside a cave,    7

Gazed on the setting sun, as it went down

In glory o'er the distant hills of Greece.

Pale precipices frowned above the track

Of dark gray sands and stone; nor wood nor stream

Cheered the lone valleys, desolate, and sad,

And silent; not a goat amid the crags

Wandering, and picking here and there a blade

Of withered grass, above the sea-marge hung.

The robber[114] scowled, and spoke not; his dark eye

Still flashed unconquered pride, and sullen hate

To man, and, looking on his iron chain,

He muttered to himself a deeper curse.

The old man had his dwelling in a cave,    20

Half-way upon the desert mountain's side,

Now bent with the full weight of eighty years

And upwards; and that caverned mountain-crag

Five years had been his dwelling:[115] there he sat,

Oft holding converse, not with forms of earth,

But, as was said, with spirits of the blessed,

Beyond this cloudy sphere, or with the dead

Of other days. A girdle bound his loins;

Figs and Icarian honey were his food;

An ill-carved cup by a clear fount was seen;    30

His long locks and his white descending beard

Shook when he tottered down into the sun,

Supported by a slender cross of pine,

His staff; and when the evening star arose

O'er Asia, a brief time he stood and gazed,

Then sought his melancholy cave and prayed.

And who, in this sad place, was this old man?

Who, in this island, where the robber scowled,

Was this old man, exiled and destitute -

Old, but so reverenced, the murderer passed    40

His rocky dwelling, and bade peace to it?

'Twas he who leaned upon our Saviour's breast

At the last supper; he to whom the Lord,

Looking upon his countenance of youth,

His calm, clear forehead, and his clustering hair,

Said, What if he shall tarry till I come!

Long years - and many sorrows marked these years -

Had passed since this was said; and now that face

Was furrowed o'er with age; and weariness

And exile, in the last lone days of life,    50

Were now his lot; for they whom he had loved -

They, the disciples of "Him crucified" -

Professing one warm faith, one glorious hope,

Were all, in the same faith and the same hope,

Laid down in peace, after their pilgrimage,

Where the world ceased from troubling.

He alone

Lingered when all were dead, with fervent prayer

Soon in the bosom of his Lord to rest.

And now he comes forth from his rocky cave    60

To gaze a while upon the silent sea,

In the calm eventide of the Lord's day;

To think on Him he loved, and of that voice

Once heard on earth: so, pondering, on his staff,

The old man watched another sun go down

Beyond the Cape of Tenos.[116] The still sea

Slept, in the light of eve, beneath his feet,

And often, as in very gentleness,

It seemed to touch his sandals, and retire.

And now the last limb of the sinking orb    70

Is hid, yet far away the cloudy track

Reddens with its departing glory.

Hark!    73

A voice, and, lo! seven "golden candlesticks,"[117]

The "Angels of the Churches" upon earth,

"Seven golden candlesticks," and He, the Lord,

Among them, like unto that Son of God

Who radiant on the mount of vision[118] stood,

Now recognised the same, in the same shape.

His hair was white as snow; his eyes were flame;    80

His voice, the sound of waters; in his hand -

His raised right hand - seven stars; his countenance

As the bright sun, that shineth in his strength;

And yet serene as the descending day.

It was the Lord: the old man at his feet

Fell down as dead; the apparition stood

Glorious above his head, and spoke:

Fear not;

I am the first and last; the last and first:

Lo, I am he that liveth, and was dead:    90

And now, behold, I live for evermore -

For evermore, and have the keys of hell

And death![119]

The glory passed - and all around

Is still as death: the old man sinks to earth,

Astonied, faint, and pale. When the slow sense

Struggled to recollection, he looked around,

Yet trembling; but no voice was heard; no form

Stood, bending in its glory, o'er him.

Then seemed the hills of that forsaken isle    100

More dreary; and the promontories bare

Lifted their weather-beaten brows more dark

And desolate. Back to his lonely cave

The old man passed; and, wrapped in thoughts of heaven,

Lifted in prayer his clasped emaciate hands;    105

Then on his bed of rushes in the cave

Lay down to rest till dawn. What was his dream?

He saw again, as when the rocks were rent,

And "darkness at midday was o'er the land,"

His Saviour calmly bowing his meek head    110

Upon the cross: he heard that thrilling voice

Even from the cross, Woman, behold thy son!

Son, look upon thy mother!

Then he saw

The forms of those whom he had loved on earth,

And heard their voices still; and stood entranced,

With Peter and with James, upon the mount

Of glorious vision; now he saw, in dreams,

Again the glistening apparition rise,

And stand above him. He has tarried long    120

And lonely in the world: the vision comes

To animate his hopes - to say, Live, live

With me, for evermore! And, lo, the keys!

This opens the bright mansions of the blessed;

This closes the eternal gates of hell,

Upon the gnashing of the teeth, and groans

Unutterable. So the Saviour spoke,

As seemed in his sleep. Ah! the stern shade

Of murdered C'sar rises: Art thou dead,

King of the world? for this didst thou proclaim    130

Thyself a god - a living god on earth?[120]

Let the pit hide thee! But thou art a god!

Then bid the fury of these flames assuage

Ere they reach thee! Who shrieked?

At the sound,

The ancient and the solitary man

Started from sleep

The cold gray dawn appeared,    138

When, standing opposite, with steadfast look,

And in the glimmer of the inmost cave,

He saw a stranger.

Whence and who art thou?

With trembling voice he asked - whence? who art thou?

Perhaps the spirit of this dismal isle!

Or, cast upon these melancholy rocks,

A poor and world-forsaken thing, like me!

The stranger gazed unmoved, and answered not:

His looks were those of pity - of respect -

As mingling thoughtful wisdom with the grace

Of beauty. In his hand he held a book:    150

He opened it; and never light appeared

So fair as that on his majestic brow,

For now the sun had risen, and its beams

Shot far into the cave.

John gazed with awe

On that majestic man, he knew not why;

And well might he have gazed with reverence,

For here, in this rude spot, he only saw

Men the most dark and savage of their kind,

Murderers, and ruthless criminals in chains.    160

He spoke to them of truth and righteousness -

He spoke of an offended God! Some looked

To the bright sun, defying; others turned

Muttering. He spoke of pity, and they heard,

Even as the relentless hurricane

Hears the last prayer of the faint mariner,

Whom wintry waves had dashed upon the rocks.

Yet ever with the gentlest offices,

With tears and prayers the holy exile strove

To wake their better feelings, for he laid    170

His hands upon the sick, and they looked up

With hope and blessed him, and, restored to strength,

Forgot the vows they made; him, too, who died    173

Hardened, and, as to human eyes, in sin,

He laid in the cold grave, and said a prayer

For mercy to the God of all, the Judge,

To whom all hearts be open, and from whom

No secret thought is hid - and, self-accused,

Mortal himself, presumed not to condemn.

So passed this ancient holy man his days,    180

Peaceful, amid the banished criminals,

Banished and poor himself, but living thus,

Among the sternest of their kind, he prayed

For their salvation: - so he passed his days

Peaceful, but sad; and now, with anxious gaze,

He turned his look to the mysterious man,

Who, steadfastly beholding him, thus spoke:

The voice of prophecy has been fulfilled;

Where is the Temple? where Jerusalem?

Ah! wretched city! Famine, war, and woe    190

Have done their destined work. The living drops[121]

Dead on the carcase he is burying!

That famished babe is black! Oh! turn away!

All - all is silent now; and thou hast seen

This prophecy fulfilled, for not one stone

Of beautiful and sacred Solima

Is left upon another! He who died,

When he beheld the city, o'er it wept,

And said, O daughters of Jerusalem!

Weep not for me, but for your little ones!    200

The tender words - dost thou remember them?

Jerusalem, Jerusalem! how oft

Would I have gathered up those little ones,

Even as a hen beneath a mother's wing;    204

But ye would not: and now, behold your house

Is left unto you desolate! Alas!

How desolate! But even in those last days

Warning was given, if yet they would repent.

A bloody sword, like a red comet, hung

Above the Temple, and a strange sad light    210

Sat on the altar; while the inner gate,

Untouched, at midnight burst its brazen bars,

And stood wide open; armed men did fight

Amid the clouds; and, in the dead of night,

The pale priest heard a voice, Depart! depart![122]

So the fair city of Jerusalem

Perished: but, lo! Christ's holy Church shall rise -

Rise from its ashes - yea, is risen now;

Its glorious gates shall never be cast down,

Till He, the King of glory, shall appear!    220

He founded it upon a rock - a rock,

Which time, the rushing earthquake, or the storm,

Whilst earth endures, shall never shake!

Old man,

Beloved of the Lord, wouldst thou know more -

What things shall be hereafter? rise and mark!

The old man, lifting up his eyelids, slow,

Saw a door opened in the heaven, and heard

A voice, as of a trumpet: Come and see!

Straight he was in the Spirit, and the voice    230

Inquired, What vision comes? The seer replied:

There is a throne in heaven,[123] and on the throne

One sitteth, and he seems, to look upon,

Red as a sardine-stone - a deep, deep red

Is round about, yet, as a jasper, bright

His face! The sun is of an ashy pale,    236

So red and bright that form!

VOICE.

Thou seest the throne

Of the Eternal Justice. Look again.

JOHN.

There is a rainbow[124] round about the throne,    240

Tempering the fiery red.

VOICE.

It is the bow

Of mercy, and of pardon, and of peace;

Of mercy, as when, stealing from the clouds,

It came forth, beautiful and silently,

Above the waste of waters, and the flood,

Receding - token of the covenant

Of grace restored; while the great orb of day

Shone westering, and some few small drops of rain

Fell transient in the sunshine, where, far off,    250

The wings of the ascending dove were seen,

And by the altar, in the rainbow-light -

That light upon the altar and his brow -

The world's survivor stood. What seest thou more?

JOHN.

About the throne are four and twenty seats;[125]

And four and twenty elders, clothed in white,

Each having on his head a crown of gold,

Are on those seats.

VOICE.[126]

Dost thou not hear a voice?    259

JOHN.

Yea! voices, such as earth ne'er heard; and, lo!

There are seven lamps of fire, before the throne.

VOICE.

They are the Spirits of the living God.

JOHN.

Four mighty cherubims,[127] which blaze with eyes,

Having six wings, and full of eyes within,

Are 'round the throne: I see their radiant forms.

VOICE.

These rest not night nor day.

JOHN.

I hear them now,

Proclaiming, Holy, holy, holy Lord,

Lord God Almighty, Him who was, and is,

And is to come! And while these cherubims    270

Give honour, glory, praise, and thanks to Him

Who sitteth on the throne, -

VOICE.

To Him who lives

For ever and for ever!

JOHN.

They fall down,    275

The four and twenty elders, at the feet

Of Him who sitteth on the throne, and cast

Their crowns before the throne, and cry, O Lord

Almighty! thou art worthy to receive

Glory and honour, majesty and might!    280

Thou hast created all things; and for thee

They are and were created!

VOICE.

Oh that earth

Might answer their glad voices! Oh that earth

Might listen and repeat! What more?

JOHN.

I see,

In His right hand who sitteth on the throne,

A book; without, within darkly inscribed,

Having seven seals. Now, a strong angel cries,

With a loud voice, What man is worthy found    290

To loose the seals, and open that dark book![128]

VOICE.

Ah! no one, in the heaven or on the earth,

May open that same book, or look thereon!

Why dost thou weep?

JOHN.

I weep because no man

Is worthy found to open, or to read,

Or look upon that book. I weep for this.[129]

VOICE.

Weep not; but say what follows.    298

JOHN.

Lo! a Lamb,

As it were slain - it hath seven horns and eyes.

He takes the book from the right hand of Him

Who sitteth on the throne!

VOICE.

What follows? mark!

JOHN.

The elders and the mighty cherubims

Fall down before the Lamb, the Lamb of God,

With solemn harps, and golden vials full

Of odours.

VOICE.

These are prayers of saints on earth:

They sing a new song to the Lamb!

JOHN.

And shout:    310

Thou only, Lamb of God! art worthy found

To take the book, and ope the seals thereof;

For thou wert slain, thou hast redeemed us

From every tongue and nation upon earth!

VOICE.

Hearest thou aught beside?

JOHN.

I hear the voice,    316

Of shining mighty troops, about the throne,

Angels, and seraphim, and cherubim,

Ten thousand and ten thousand hierarchies,

Lift up their voices:

Worthy is the Lamb,

Slain from the world's foundation, to receive

Riches and wisdom. Blessing, glory, power

Be unto Him that sitteth on the throne,

And to the Lamb, for ever and for ever!

The quail[130] goes clamouring by; the old man raises

His eyelids, and the vision floats away.

PART SECOND.

Morning in the 'gean - Contemplative view - Seven Churches of Asia - Superstitions - Crete, Egypt - Spread of Gospel Light through the Pagan World.

How beautiful is morning on the hills

Of Asia, stretching far, and faint descried!

While, nearer, all the sunny Sporades,[131]

That break the blue 'gean, shine in light,

On this autumnal dawn!

How musical

The fresh airs, and the ocean's solemn sound

Come to the mountain grot!

Let us go forth,    9

Said then the unknown and mysterious man.

JOHN.

First on that mossy stone, beneath the arch,

Kneel we, and offer up our orisons

To Him who bade the sun go forth:

O God,

Thou didst create this living world! Thy voice,

When darkness sat upon the lonely deep,

Spoke - Be there light, and there was light! Thy hand

Spread out the heavens, and fashioned from the dust

Man, the high habitant of earth, now fallen,

And to return to dust again: but thanks    20

Be unto thee, O Christ! who, when the trump

Shall sound, and all this mortal pomp is passed,

Shalt call the dead up, incorruptible!

And glory be to Thee, O Spirit pure!

Who hast infused into our hearts of flesh

The love of God, through faith in Jesus Christ!

Oh! in the hour of death, and in the day

Of judgment, Lord, to us be merciful!

So prayed they, suppliant, when morning shone

Upon the seas; so they together prayed,    30

Giving God thanks that one more day of light

Was granted to the feeble and the old,

Ere long to rest in peace. Upon their heads,

As slow they rose, a halo seemed to rest,

Touching the forehead of the aged man:

The features of the younger, as he stood,

Were mild, but awful; thoughtful, yet not sad;

Whilst, from the caverned rock, into the sun,

The lonely and the last Apostle came.

As both together stood and gazed a while    40

Upon the deep blue sea, the younger said:

Listen, old man: I was at Antioch,

When mild Evodias[132] filled St Peter's chair;

And fair that place, as well beseems the spot

Where first the Christian name[133] was heard.

The Vale

Of Tempe, sung through Greece, is not so fair

As that green valley, where Orontes winds,

Beneath the grove of Daphne, to the sea;

Scarce Eden fairer, where the first-formed man    50

Stood up majestic, in the world's new day.

I heard Evodias, and from youth I loved

To wander 'mid the scenes of old renown,

Hallowed by prophets, and by holy men,

Who long from earth had passed. How beautiful

Upon those hills and mountains were the feet

Of them who brought glad tidings of the light,

Now risen on the darkened world!

I sat

Upon a stone of fallen Jerusalem,        60

Sat down and wept, when I remembered thee,

O Sion! and thy Temple, and thy sons

Scattered in the wide world - scattered or dead!

Like him, the mighty prophet,[134] who of yore

Watched the dark gathering of the clouds and rain,

I stood upon Mount Carmel, and beheld

The great sea westward. Hark! Euroclydon[135]

Is up; the tempest rushes from the east;

Fire and the whirlwind follow; but, O God!

Thou art not in the whirlwind nor the fire.    70

And, after, came a still small voice, which said,

Go, visit John, sad and in solitude.

We sailed from Joppa, in a Tyrian ship,

To Rhodes: a skiff was waiting near the shore,

On which the shadowy moonlight seemed to rest;

Then a pale mariner, who never spoke,

Conveyed me hither, swift as silently -

Swift, though the passing keel no murmur made,

As the dim sail no shadow cast. I looked,

When I had reached the shore, and it was gone!    80

I saw thy mountain-cave: I stood and gazed

A while on thy gray hairs as thou didst sleep,

And the same voice which came, after the wind,

Said audibly, Reveal to him the things

That shall hereafter be, as I unfold.

I watched when the great vision came to thee,

Hearing the voice and answer: it was sent

To animate thy hope! Art thou refreshed,

As now these airs of morn blow soothingly,

And breathe a sad repose? John placed his hand,    90

Pale and emaciate, on his breast, and said:

Thy words might raise from earth the heaviest heart.

Then both in silence gazed on the blue sea,[136]

And heard it murmuring. John his full look

Towards his face who spoke now turned intent,

To mark his features. Dignity serene

Was on that face; and as the freshening airs

Stirred the dark locks that clustered round his brow,

A faint rose mantled on his cheek; his cloak,

Gathered upon his breast, descending touched    100

His sandals; whilst, with more majestic mien,

Pointing to Asia's hills, he spoke again:

Old man, lift up thine eyes - turn to the east:    103

How fair, with tower and turret, by the stream

Of clear Cayister, shines that Ephesus,

The "angel" of whose "golden candlestick"

Here droops in banishment!

Hail, Smyrna, hail!

Beneath thy towers, and piers, and bastions,

Far-seen through intermingled cypresses,    110

Ships from all nations, with their ensigns, float

Silent; but, lo! a purer light from heaven

Is on thy walls, while from the citadel

Streams the triumphant banner of the Cross.

And beautiful thy sisters of the faith,[137]

First, in the east, when the wide world was dark,

Laodicea, Philadelphia,

And Pergamos, and Thyatira, shine,

While Sardis, at the foot of Tmolus high,

Seems from the wildering plains below, to gleam    120

Like a still star that guides the sailor's way

O'er Adria![138] But, alas! here Antichrist

Shall rise with power, permitted from on high!

Mourn, Ephesus, thy glory and thy light

Extinguished! Sardis,[139] Thyatira, mourn:

Yet the blessed kingdom of the Lamb again

Shall be restored, and all the earth bow down

To the "unarmed Conqueror of the world."[140]

Turn to the south, there are the pines of Crete,

And, hark! the frantic Coribantes[141] shout    130

To Cybele, the mother of the gods,

Drawn, by gaunt lions, in her car: they move

In stern subjection, and with foot-fall slow,

And shaggy necks hung down, though their red eyes    134

Flash fire beneath; silent and slow they pace.

'Mid cymbals, shouts, and songs, and clashing swords,

Pipes, and the dissonance of brazen drums,

She bears aloft her calm brow, turreted.

JOHN.

Oh, pomp of proud and dire idolatry!

Crete, other sounds thy sister-island heard,    140

Far other sounds, when, on his seat of power,

Amid the altars of the Queen of Love,[142]

The Christian faith there touched a heathen's heart.

Paul was in Cyprus: the Proconsul prayed

To hear of faith from the Apostle's lips,

But Elymas withstood him, Elymas

The sorcerer. He beckoned up his legions dire

Of fierce and frowning shadows. Paul, unmoved,

Smote him, amid his gaunt and grisly troop, -

Smote him with instant blindness, and he stood    150

Dark in the midday sun.

STRANGER.

Was not the hand

Of God so visible, that ships of Tyre

Might bear the tidings from the east to west

From Tyre to Thule? South from Crete, behold

The land of ancient Egypt, scarce discerned

Above the sea-line, the mysterious land

Of Isis, and Anubis; of the Sphynx,

Of Memnon, resonant at early dawn,[143]

When the red sun rose o'er the desert sands;    160

Of those vast monuments[144] - their tale unknown -    161

Which, towering, pale and solemn, o'er the waste,

Stand mocking the uplifted mace of Time,

Who, as he smites in vain, mutters, and hies

To other spoil! Yet there the timbrelled hymn

Rings to Osiris; there, great Isis reigns,

Veiled, and no mortal hath removed her veil;

There, Thoth,[145] first teacher of the mysteries

Of sacred wisdom, hid in signs obscure,

Is still invoked to lead the ghosts, that pass    170

Through the dim portal, to hell's silent king.

JOHN.

Hast thou forgotten, that in this dark land,

The passover - meet emblem of the Lamb

Of God - was first ordained? That here his power

In wonder and in judgment was displayed?

"Fire ran along upon the ground,"[146] with hail

Mingled; and darkness, such as might be felt -

Darkness, not earthly, was on all the land.

Arrested and suspended at God's word,

On either side the billows of the deep    180

Hung over those who passed beneath their shade,

While Pharaoh's charioteers and horsemen sank

In the Red Sea: "not one of them is left."

STRANGER.

And Miriam took a timbrel in her hand,    184

And all the women went out after her,

With timbrels, and with dances, and they sang:

And Miriam answered them, Sing to the Lord,

For he hath triumphed - triumphed gloriously!

The rider and his horse hath he cast down

Into the sea - the rider and his horse!    190

And the dark sea was silent over them.

But Israel's children safely held their way,

And the Lord went before them in a cloud

Like to a pillar, and a fire by night,

Till Moses, bearing with him Joseph's bones,

Beheld, from Pisgah's top, far off, in clouds,

The land of promise - saw that blessed land,

And died in peace.

JOHN.

Oh! may the pilgrimage

Of the tired Christian, in the wilderness    200

Of life, so lead him to his home of rest!

STRANGER.

Look northward - for the sheet let down from heaven

Had "its four corners knit:" and are not these

The north, the south, the east, the west - in bonds

Of brotherhood, and faith, and charity?

Mountains and forests by the Caspian, plains

Of Scythia, and ye dwellers on the shores

Of the Black Sea, where the vast Ister hurls,

Sounding, its mass into the inner deep;

Shout, for the banners of the cross of Christ    210

Far as your dark recesses have been borne,

By Andrew and by Thomas,[147] messengers    212

Of the slain Lamb - even to the utmost bounds

Of wild and wintry Caucasus! Aloft,

In silence, high above the rack of earth,

That solitary mountain stands, nor hears

The thunder bursting at its base.

JOHN.

So stands

The Christian, calm amid the storms of life,

Heaven's sunshine on his head, and all the cares    220

And sorrows of the world beneath his feet!

STRANGER.

Yea! and the Cross shall further yet be borne,

To realms of pagan darkness and deep night!

The cymbals to the gods of fire and blood

Shall clash no more; the idol-shapes are fled;

Grim Moloch's furnace sinks in smoke, to sounds

Strange and unutterable; but that shriek!

It came from Tauris, from the altars red

Of Scythian Diana[148] terrible!

She, too, has left that altar and its blood,    230

As when her image young Orestes[149] bore

(So fable masters of the pagan harp) -

Bore in his ship o'er the black waves to Greece.

Greece! who can think of thee, thou land of song,

Of science, and of glory, and not feel

How in this world illustrious thou hast been,

If triumphs such as thine may be pronounced

Illustrious, worthy thine own Plato's fame!

Here the proud Stoic[150] spoke of constancy,    239

Of magnanimity, which raised the soul

Above all mortal change; of Jove's high will;

Of fate; - and here the master,[151] from the schools

Of human wisdom, to his votaries,

Spoke of the life of man but as the flower

Blooming to fade and die; alas! to die,

And never bloom again! Vain argument!

'Twas on that hill, named of the fabled lord

Of battle and of blood,[152] amid the shrines

And altars of the Grecian deities,

Before the temple of the Parthenon,[153]    250

That shone, on this illustrious hill, aloft,

And as supreme o'er all the lesser fanes,

Fronting the proud proficients in the code

Of such vain wisdom, vain philosophy,

Fearless amid this scene of earthly pomp,

Eloquent, ardent, and inspired by Heaven,

The loved Apostle stood. With look upraised,

And hands uplifted, he spoke fervently;

Spoke of that God, whose altar he had marked,

"The unknown God," who dwelleth not on earth,    260

In temples made with hands, but in the heavens,

'Mid inaccessible and glorious light.

In Him we live and move; He giveth life,

And breath, and all things. Him alone behoves

To worship and adore with prayer and praise.

That God is now revealed, who, by his Son,

Shall judge the world in righteousness, when earth

And heaven shall pass away; when the last trump    268

Shall sound above the graves of all who sleep;

When all who sleep, and all who are alive,

Shall be caught up together in the clouds,

To stand before the judgment-seat of Him

Whom God appointed Judge; who shall descend

From heaven, with a shout, and with the voice

Of the Archangel, and the trump of God,

While sun, and moon, and stars, are blotted out,

And perish as a scroll!

As Paul thus spoke -

Spoke of the resurrection of the dead -

'Mid the proud fanes of pagan deities,    280

At Athens, the stern Stoic mocked; the flowers

Seemed withering on the brow of that fair youth,

Whom Epicurus taught that life was brief,

Brief as those flowers which in the garden bloom

Of that philosopher of earthly bliss.[154]

And what the moral? Let us eat and drink,

For we to-morrow die. Oh! heartless creed!

Far other lessons Christ's Apostle taught,

Of faith, of hope, of judgment, in a world

To come, of light and life beyond the grave.    290

So Athens, Corinth, Macedonia, heard

The tidings of salvation.[155] Hark! the sound

Is gone forth to all lands: the glorious light

Extends - the light of faith, and hope, and joy -

The light from Heaven; whilst he, so falsely called

The God of Day,[156] shorn of his golden hair,

And rays of morn, shall leave his Delphian shrine,

Discomfited, and hide his head in night.

The dayspring of Heaven's purer light hath reached

Imperial Rome: the tyrant[157] on his throne    300

Starts; at his voice the famished lion springs

And crashes the pale martyr at his feet;

While the vast amphitheatre is hushed,

And not a sound heard through the multitude,

But that dire crash, and the breath inly drawn,

The moment it is heard, from the still throng

Shuddering; the blood streams from the lion's beard,

Whilst that vast, breathless amphitheatre

Bursts into instant thunders to the skies.

But not the lion, with blood-matted mane,    310

Nor the fierce fires about the martyr's stake,

With rolling smoke, that the winds warp away

In surges, when the miserable man

Blackened and half-consumed appears; not these,

Nor famine, nor the sword, nor death, nor hell,

Shall move the Christian's heart or hope, or fray

Him, steadfast and victorious, though he die.

Farther and farther yet the light is spread:[158]

And thou hast lived to see this gospel-dawn

Kindling from Asia, like a beacon-flame    320

Through darkness - oh! more cheering than the morn,

With all its lovely hues, on sea or shore,

As now it shines around us!

John replied:

Teacher of wisdom, or from heaven or earth,

We know that Paul, our brother in the faith,

Proclaimed the tidings of "Him crucified"

From Rome to Spain; but Paul is in his grave:

Soon must I follow him, and be at rest:

Who then shall bear these tiding of great joy,    330

To all the people of all lands?

STRANGER.

That book

Which the Lamb opened, as a "flying roll"

Angels of light shall bear with wings unseen,

From shore to shore; and thus, though Paul be dead,

He still shall speak, and millions yet unborn

Shall bless the boon. Thou shalt reveal the things

That thou hast seen; but that same book, which none

In heaven or earth could open, but the Lamb,

None but the Lamb shall close. Awake, awake,    340

Ye who now slumber in the shades of death!

Yes! every nation shall confess the Lord;

Till all shall be fulfilled, and there shall be,

Through the wide world, "one Shepherd and one fold."

For deem not this small frith, called "the Great Sea,"[159]

That girds yon promontories, girds the world:

Without is the great ocean, the main sea,

Rocking in tempest and in solitude;

Ten thousand isles are scattered o'er the waste

Of those dark waters, and each isle and land,    350

All earth, shall be one altar; and from earth

To heaven one flame of incense, and one voice

Of prayer and praise and harmony shall rise!

So these two held communion on the shore

Of melancholy Patmos, when a sound

As of a griding chain was heard, and, lo!

A criminal is kneeling at the feet

Of the old man: God has been kind to me,

He cried, and hid his forehead with his hands.

Oh! listen to my tale, and pray for me.    360

'Twas when the Roman sentinel, who paced

The platform of the dungeon where we slept,

Had called the midnight watch, and overhead

Bright Aldebaran held his course in heaven,

Westering o'er yonder Cape, I waked, and mused

On my eventful life.

Then to my heart

Came words which I had heard from thee: I wept

Even as an infant, and I smote my breast.

The brave companion of my fortunes died -    370

Died yesterday, stern and impenitent

As he lived, pitiless; and, left alone,

I cried for mercy, mercy of that God

Whom thou didst call thy Father; and I prayed

To Christ, and cried, Me - me - oh! pardon me!

I dare not lift my eyes. Thou, father, hear.

I am a free-born citizen of Rome,

My name, Pedanius,[160] the Decurion.

When Titus led his legions to the East,

Against the city of Jerusalem,    380

To raze it from the earth; at the last day,

When the third wall shook to the battering-rams,

Amid the shrieks of horror and despair,

Flung from the tottering battlements, a babe

Fell at my horse's feet.[161] Famished and black,

With livid lips and ghastly, on the ground

It lay; when, frantic from the crowd within,

A wretched and bereaved woman rushed,

And held my bridle, fearless of the swords

That flashed above her head. I heard her cries -    390

Protect me! - he is dead! - my child, my child!

Brave soldier, for the love of God! I looked    392

A moment, there was famine in her face,

Wasted, yet beautiful. Pitying, I spoke:

Follow; and through the clouds of smoke we passed

To the green olive trees, and then she sank

Upon the ground, and, pale and still as death,

Lay long - the winds just stirring her dark hair:

I brought her water from the spring that wells,

Soft murmuring, from the brook of Siloa:    400

She drank, and feebly opened her dark eyes,

Which seemed more large, for all her flesh was shrunk;

Then she looked up, and faintly spoke again;

My mother - and my husband - and my child -

Are - and she sobbed aloud. By Him, I cried,

Who rules among the gods, I will protect

Thy life with mine! Her tears fell fast and warm

Upon the bloody hand which held the sword;

The other checked my fierce and foaming horse.

Hark! hark! a turret falls! Hark! hark! again -    410

They shout, ten thousand voices rend the skies,

The Temple, the proud Temple to the ground!

The Temple, the proud temple to the dust!

Her infant she had taken from the ground,

To lay it in her bosom, while the tears

Fell on its folded hands; but when she saw

Still its wan livid lips, and the same glare

Of its dead eyes, she turned away her face,

Half looking down, half raised to heaven, and shed

Her tears no more: one hand as thus she sat,    420

With fingers spread, held fast her infant's arm,

O'er its right shoulder, while its arid lips

She drew, in vain, towards her open breast,

Still fearing to look down: her other hand,

Instinctively, she laid on its cold feet,

As if to cherish them: the gouts of blood    426

Fell heavy from its matted hair, and stained

Her bosom; but she had composed its hands,

Which now, though cold and dead, each other clasped,

Beneath her neck, as living. So she sat,

Nor sighed, nor moved her face, nor shed a tear

I gently took the infant from her arms,

And buried it beside the sacred brook,

And then, with muttered prayer, she turned and wept -

Wept, as bereaved of all she loved on earth!

Fly! and I placed her on the horse with me -

Leaving behind the sounds and sights of death -

The shrieks of massacre, the crash of towers

Falling, the heavy sound of battering-rams:

We passed the victims, blackening in the sun,    440

And some, yet breathing, on the crucifix.[162]

On, through the valley of Jehoshaphat,

I spurred my horse; we passed the sepulchre

Of Lazarus, restored from the dark grave,

So those who own the faith of Christ affirm,

With eye-balls ghastly glaring in the light,

At the loud voice of Him who cried, Come forth!

We held our eastern way from Bethany,

Till now we reached the "Plain of Blood."[163] I paused

A moment, ere we entered that sad plain.    450

Ah! there are tents upon the southern edge

Of the horizon! Fly! it is the camp

Of Arabs: see! with long and couched spears,

A troop is flying o'er the sands! We hear

Their cries - this way they rush - this way -

Fly! fly! and instant, as an arrow speeds,

(My pale companion breathless, and scarce held)

We bounded o'er the desert, till the track    458

Was lost. The voices died away: she sank

Faint in my arms, and with her head declined

Upon my breastplate. We will rest a while;

For she was now so feeble, it behoved

Thus oft to rest, if haply she might feel

Some cool reviving airs breathe on her face,

Gently; a few dry dates were all our food.

We gazed in silence on the sun, that, red,

Was sinking now beyond the lonely sands,

And hurriedly again renewed our flight.

The track is lost! Fear not - those are the bones,

Not of a murdered traveller. Look out!    470

Is that a cloud? or seest thou not the smoke

Of some lone cottage on the hills? List! list!

Is it the tinkle of some rivulet,

Wandering in solitude? On, on, my steed!

We reached the hills, and, looking back, beheld

The western cope of heaven, as night came down,

All fiery red. It was the light, far off,

Of the proud Temple flaming! Through the night

We held our toiling way, when, at gray dawn,

We saw, beneath us, palms, and city walls,    480

And Jordan, slowly flowing to the south.

Yes! these are palms and walls of Jericho;

But all was silent and forsaken. War

Had blown his trump; and Pity, at the blast,

Had knelt in tears, and hid her face to hear

That deep, dire groan; but it is heard no more,

For Silence, Solitude, and Ruin sit,

Mocking each other, at the city gates.

Here were no murmurs of tumultuous life.

We joined a mourning train, that held their way,    490

Women, and children, and white-headed men,

Forlorn, by Jordan's banks, to Galilee,    492

Seeking the city of Tiberias.

With many tears, my poor companion told

Her tale: a daughter of Jerusalem

Implored their pity; and the daggers, raised

To pierce a Roman soldier to the heart,

Were in the act arrested, for her sake -

Trifosa, of the tribe of Benjamin,

Who owed her life and safety to his sword.    500

We reached the city: here she had a friend,

Widowed like her, who wept to hear her tale.

Here, wedded, and by Israel's laws made one,

I lived - a fisher toiling with his net

To gain our daily bread; but soon my heart

Beat for a wider scene - for enterprise,

The soul of a young soldier; and with thoughts

Stirring and restless, after twelve long months,

We came, by Tabor, to the western sea.

I had a robber's cavern at the foot        510

Of Carmel, and oft skirred the neighbouring plains

On my fleet battle-horse, with spurs of blood.

Here I was joined by soldiers, desperate

And outcast as myself; we were a band

Of secret and of fearful brotherhood

That tenanted these caverns. But my wife,

When we were absent, and the cave was still,

Wept, for the love of those who were no more;

Trembled, and wept for me. When I returned,

Weary, at night, she sat and sang to me;    520

And sometimes, when she was alone whole days,

She wandered o'er the mountains, gathering flowers,

Hyacinths, lilies, and anemones;[164]

And when my hands were bloody, gave me them,

With trembling hand, and sadness in her look.    525

Why should I think, or sigh, or feel remorse!

Was I not leader of the bravest band

That ever shook their flashing scymitars

Against the morning sun! But, oh! that look!

How has it thrilled, even to my inmost heart:    530

One child, the pledge of warm affection, died,

And now she roved in morning dew no more;

And oft, when I returned with gore-stained brow,

I saw a strange, sad wandering in her eyes.

Alas! her gentle mind was gone! She sang -

She gazed upon my face - she smiled - she died -

And her last words were, O Jerusalem,

Jerusalem! I buried her in peace,

Without a name, among the mountain flowers.

And now my heart was hardened as a rock    540

Against the world. I heard no soothing voice;

I never looked upon a human face

With tenderness again; a darker shade

Of passions gathered on my lonely heart,

Till love, and charity, and pity died.

I may not say what I have seen and done:

Here I have lived a fettered slave seven years;

Here thy mild voice has called back to my heart

Sad recollections. Father, - and he knelt

And kissed his withered hand, and cried again,    550

Oh! father, pray for me!

The stranger stood

Unmoved, but tears were on the old man's cheek.

PART THIRD.

The sounds of an approaching storm - Vision, etc.

The east is overcast; the nearer isles

Are hidden by a sudden spleen; the clouds

Upon Elijah's promontory[165] now

Are mustering gloomily; there is a sound

Of rain, and as, with interrupted gusts,

The winds are rising, a long murmur comes,

More hollow, from the seas; at times a wail,

At distance, seems to mingle with the wind,

Audibly; even the sea-birds on the cliffs

Cower, while the sounds as of a trump are heard,    10

Prophetical and sad. Let us retire,

For Sagittarius rules the wayward year.[166]

Pensive, they both retired into the cave.

The eyes of John were heavy, and ere long

He sank into deep slumber, like a child,

Hushed by the ocean sounds; and now arose

Visions more dark and terrible. He saw

The Lamb of God open the book. Hark! hark!

The thunder and the tempest roll! John saw

Four cherubims, and they said, Come and see!    20

He looked, and, behold! on a white horse

Sat one who had a bow, and he there was crowned;

And with his bow, and crowned, he went forth,

"Conquering and to conquer."

Hark! a moan

Comes up from all the earth! The second seal

Is opened, and the second cherubim    27

Cries, Come and see! Behold another horse,

And it is red;[167] and he who sits thereon

Is like a warrior, waving in his hand

The sword of slaughter; so he goeth forth

To kill and to destroy, and "to take peace

From all the earth." Listen! for the third seal

Is opening now, and the third cherubim

Cries, Come and see! Then said a voice to John,

What dost thou see?

JOHN.

Lo! a black horse appears -

Its rider has a balance in his hand.

Ride on - ride on! Justice and Equity

Visit the earth, with Plenty.[168]    40

The fourth seal

Is opened now, and the fourth cherubim

Cries, Come and see!

VOICE.

What seest thou?

JOHN.

A pale horse -

VOICE.

And rider?

JOHN.

Yes - a dire anatomy.

As he rides on, nations with terror shriek -

DEATH! and the gulf of hell shoots out its flame

After the footfall of that ghastly horse.    50

The rider shouts, and haggard Famine crawls,

With wan and wasted visage, from her cave;

And Pestilence, speeding unseen in air,

Breathes, and ten thousand perish, and wild beasts

Howl in the city of the dead, and feed

Upon the black and countless carcases.[169]

Low thunders rolled, and sounds of woe were heard,

When the fifth seal was opened; and John saw

A burning altar, and beneath it, souls

Of those who had been slain - the witnesses,    60

Confessing Christ in torments, and they cried,

How long, O Lord, holy, and just, and true,

Dost thou not judge - judge and avenge our cause!

And robes of white were given to each of them,

And a voice said, Oh! rest ye yet a while,

Rest ye till persecution's cup be drained;

The judgment leave to Him who sits in heaven.

The thunders louder rolled, as the sixth seal

Was opened. Ah! the sun is black above

As sackcloth, and the round moon red as blood;    70

Earth rocks from east to west; the stars are fallen,

And falling, as the fig-tree casts its figs,

When shaken by the mighty hurricane.

Heaven is departing, like a scroll; the kings,

And the chief captains, and the mighty men,

Bondmen and free, have hid them in the caves,

And mountains, and dark places of the earth,

And to the mountains and the rocks they cry,

Fall on us! hide us - hide us from the face

Of the incensed Lamb, for his great day    80

Of wrath is come, and who on earth may stand![170]

And after this, John saw four angels stand    82

On the four corners of the earth; they held

The rushing winds, that not a wind should blow

Tumultuous on the earth, or on the sea,

Whilst they stood silent; then with radiant wings,

Bright as the sun ascending from the east,

Another glorious angel came, who bore

Thy seal, O living God; and a loud voice

To the four angels cried, Hurt not the earth    90

Or seas, till on their foreheads we have sealed

The servants of our God. And they were sealed

Of all the tribes of Israel. After this,

A multitude which no man on the earth

Could number, of all nations and all tongues,

Clothed in white robes, and bearing in their hands

Palms, as triumphant, stood before the throne

Of glory, and before the Lamb of God,

And cried aloud, Salvation to our God,

Which sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb.[171]    100

And all the angels stood about the throne,

The elders, and the mighty cherubims,

And on their faces fell, before the throne,

And worshipped God, and cried aloud, Amen:

Blessing and glory, wisdom, honour, power,

Be to our God, for ever and for ever!

Then seemed that one among the elders spake

To John, and said, What are these multitudes

Who bear triumphant palms, all clothed in white?

John answered, Sir, thou knowest. He replied,    110

These are victorious saints, who have come out

From the great tribulation, and have washed

Their bloody garments, and have made them white -

White through His blood who died upon the cross;

Therefore they stand before the throne of God,    115

And in his temple serve him day and night,

And He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell

Among them. They shall hunger now no more,

Nor thirst; the sun shall cheer them, but not burn;

The Lamb shall feed them, and shall lead them forth    120

To pleasant pastures, and to fountains bright,

And from their eyelids wipe away all tears

For ever.

There was silence in the heavens,

When the seventh seal was opened, and John saw

Seven angels standing by the throne of God,

Having seven trumpets; and an angel came,

Who, hovering, with a golden censer, stood

Before an altar, and the smoke went up,

Of incense, from the altar. These are prayers    130

Of all the saints on earth - prayers which ascend,

Like incense, from the censer in the hand

Of that bright angel, to the throne of God.

Ah! he has cast his censer to the earth;

And suddenly the earthquake and the storm

Awoke, and through the darkness, rolled and flashed

Deep thunders and the lightning; and, behold!

The seven angels lift their trumpets high,

Lift, and prepare to sound. And now the first

Sounds - and there follows instant hail, and fire    140

Mingled with blood, which on the earth was cast;

So that the trees stood bare and desolate,

And the green grass was withered and burnt up.

The second angel sounded, and, behold!

A burning mountain cast into the sea.

The third part of all creatures in the sea

Died, a third part of all the ships that sailed

Upon the sea was smitten and destroyed.

And the third angel sounded; and there fell    149

A star from heaven. It fell on the third part

Of rivers, and the fountains of the deep;

And swollen and livid carcases were left,

Weltering, beside the dark, blood-heaving sea.

And the fourth angel sounded; and the sun

For the third part was smitten, and the moon

For the third part was darkened; and John saw

And heard an angel flying in mid heaven,

And crying with a mighty voice, Woe, woe,

Woe to the earth, by reason of the voice

Of the three trumpets that are yet to sound!    160

And the fifth trumpet sounded; and John saw

A star fall from the heavens to the earth;

And to the angel of the star was given

The key that shuts the nethermost abyss

Upon the groans of those that groan therein.

The pit is opened, and the volumed smoke,

Shooting red flames, as from a furnace, rolls,

And out of it there issued crawling things,[172]

Like scorpions; but they had no power to hurt

The green grass of the earth, but those alone    170

Who on their foreheads had no seal of heaven:

These shall seek death, but find him not, for death

Shall fly from them, when they most pray to die.

Like horses trained for battle, a dire troop

Comes sounding; on their heads are crowns, like gold;

Faces are theirs, like men; and they have hair

As women, and teeth white and terrible

As lions; and their iron breastplates shake,

With hurtling noise; the sounding of their wings

Is as the chariots and the steeds of war,    180

Rushing to the thick war. Who is their king?    181

Apollyon, angel of the deep abyss.

One woe is past, yet two more woes remain;

For the sixth angel sounded, and John heard

A voice like thunders: The four angels loose,

In the great river of Euphrates bound.

And the four giant angels are unbound,

And they go forth to slaughter. And John saw

The horses in the vision, and he saw

Those who sat on them, with breastplates of fire,    190

Of jacinth, and of sulphur; and the heads

Of the gaunt horses were as lions' heads,

And from their mouths issued red fire and smoke.

But men repented not, nor turned away

From their dark idols, or their sorceries,

From worshipping their gods of gold, or stone,

Or brass, or silver! Hush! the sound of wings!

Another mighty angel comes from heaven,

And lights on earth, clothed in a radiant cloud.

There is a rainbow on his head; his face    200

Is as the orient sun; his feet appear

Pillars of fire; in his right hand a book.

He sets his right foot on the seas, his left

Upon the earth, and cries, with a loud voice,

Till the world shrinks: and when he thus has cried,

Seven thunders answer, uttering to heaven

Their voices.

Then the angel said to John,

Art thou about to write? Seal up the things

Which the seven thunders uttered: write them not.    210

The angel which John saw stand on the seas,

And on the earth, raised his right hand to heaven,

And swore by Him which liveth, who shall live

For ever and for ever - swore by Him

Who made the heaven, the earth, and all therein,    215

That time shall be no more: the mystery

Of God shall be concluded in the days

Of this last angel's voice. That awful voice

John heard entranced; and the voice said to him,

Take from the angel's hand, - the hand of him    220

Who standeth on the seas and on the earth, -

That book thou markest open in his hand.

That book, the rapt Apostle cried, that book!

The angel mildly answered, Let thy heart

Feed on it; sweet and bitter it shall be,

And thou shalt prophesy of things to come,

Of dark things yet to be upon the earth.

The seventh angel lifted high his trump,

And sounded; when from heaven a voice was heard -

The kingdoms of this world they are become    230

The kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ:

For ever and for ever, he shall reign,

For ever and for ever.

Now the ark

Of God appeared; and round about the ark

There was a rainbow stealing through the rain,

The ark of the new covenant: and, lo!

A shining company stood with the Lamb

Upon Mount Zion, and a song was heard

Of harpers, harping a new song - the song    240

Of life and immortality. And John

Then heard a voice - a voice from heaven, which said,

Write, write, From henceforth blessed are the dead

Which in the Lord shall die, for they shall rest

From all their labours! Blessed are the dead!

The shadows are departed; horse and trump

Are seen and heard no more; the trumpet's clang

Dies far away: the Apostle turned and prayed,

With eyes upraised; and now, for pealing trumps,    249

Heard in the wind the lessening sound of harps,

Still lessening, and still lessening, till the cave

Was silent; and the stirring winds without

Alone were heard, like sweet, sad melodies,

Remembered in old times; whilst he who stood

Beside him watched; and after, as the day

Slowly declined, they two conversing sat,

Conversing of God's judgment - of the voice

Which said to man the sinner, Dust thou art,

And unto dust thou shalt return - of death,

And immortality through Christ restored;    260

So they deceived the time, till John, oppressed

With sights and sounds so terrible, lay down,

And sank to sleep, not to awake till dawn.

PART FOURTH.

Morning - Roman Commander - Vision - Babylon - New Jerusalem - Evening - Night Scene - Stars - Temptation - Dream.

John woke from slumber, when the early trump

Rang from the Roman camp below, at break

Of the gray dawn; and when the sun arose,

After his orisons to Heaven, he sat

On the rude stone before his cave, and marked

His staff and form shadowed against the rock,

Watching the fitful gleams that, here and there,

Chequered the pale 'gean, far away;

While he, who never left his side, appeared

Now more majestic, as the beams of day    10

Shone on his waving tresses, when he raised    11

His look to heaven, and stood sublime in light.

But see, with vitis[173] of command, and plume

And crest, in momentary sunshine bright,

The pr'fect of the Roman guard approach,

Hail, father, hail! he cried.

And hail to thee,

The old man answered, mildly. Art thou come

With tidings from the Mistress of the World?

ROMAN COMMANDER.

The world's great sun is set - C'sar is dead!    20

JOHN.

C'sar! Ah! in my dream did I not see

His shadow stern and sad; the purple robe

Dropping with blood!

ROMAN COMMANDER.

Why, was he not a god? -

So he proclaimed himself - a god on earth!

Giving command that altars to his name

Should blaze, as to great Jupiter! Old man,

Art thou not prisoner for gainsaying this?[174]

But, father, if a soldier might pronounce,

With all respect to thy gray hairs, I deem    30

The sole, imperial master of the world

Might worthier claim that title, than a man

Mocked, scourged - ay, scourged! - and crucified with thieves!

Rose and ascended into heaven! replied

The meek old man - a hectic on his cheek -

Rose, and ascended into heaven, to sit    36

At the right hand of God, from thence to come,

Judge of the quick and dead! Proud soldier, hear -

Hear how a prisoner for Jesus Christ

Can answer thee!

When King Agrippa sat

Upon his throne, in oriental state,

Surrounded by the Roman soldiery,

With axe and fasces of imperial sway,

Fair Berenice seated on his right,

And on his left Festus the governor,

Paul, a poor prisoner of Jesus Christ,

Before him stood, in chains; and as he spoke

Of "resurrection," and the world to come,

He cried, King of the Jews, dost thou believe    50

The prophets! Yes! I know thou dost believe.

The king, with faltering voice, tremblingly cried,

Paul, Paul, thou dost persuade even me, almost -

To be a Christian! Paul, with lifted hand

And steadfast look, thus answered him, Almost!

Oh! would that the whole world were not "almost,"

But "altogether" such as I am now,

Except these bonds.

Soldier, I say the same.

But hie thee to thy eagle; I am here,    60

A poor old man, like Paul, a prisoner,

And thou, an officer of mighty Rome;

Yet would I pray to God, that thou may'st be,

Oh! not "almost," but "altogether," such

As I am now, except these few gray hairs,

Old age, and many sorrows; yet even here

My soul hath been sustained by Him who said,

Lo! I am with you alway, and I know

He still is with me. I have heard his voice,

And seen his look of glory and of love    70

Turned on me, in this solitude; and he -

He who did shudder with me at the voice

Of thy bold blasphemy, here lately came

With words of comfort, and these aged eyes

Have seen the things that must hereafter be;

Yet know, stern soldier, if my days were passed

Lonely as hopeless, I would not exchange

These few gray hairs for thy green laurel crown -

This solitude, for living C'sar's throne,

Or C'sar's subject world!        80

The soldier turned

Disdainful, and his crest shook in the wind;

Then, lifting high his ensign of command,

He bade the trumpet sound the second watch.

John knelt, and prayed, Thy kingdom come, O Lord!

Then he who stood beside him, spoke unmoved:

Rome - Rome shall be no more! At dead of night,

Hark! the barbarian trump; Jerusalem

Shall be avenged; and those of distant days,

Pondering the fate of empires, there shall come    90

To muse upon the fragments of her might,

Her ancient glory passed as morning clouds,

And tremble for the judgments of the Lord

In all the world!

Now to the cave retire,

For other visions of the things to come,

And other fearful shadows, must thou see.

John sat, and held his hands upon his brow:

The earth seems to retire, and all the sounds

Of tumult and of woe at once to cease.    100

Then John was in the Spirit, and he saw

Seven angels, and, beneath, a sea of glass

Mingled with fire; and on the sea of glass

Those who had gained, on earth, the victory    104

Over the beast, all standing on the sea

Of glass, and in their hands the harps of God,

And thus they sung, Oh! great and marvellous

Art thou, Almighty God, and just and true

Are all thy ways, thou King of saints! Amen.

Now from the temple a loud voice was heard,    110

Which said to the seven angels, Go your ways,

Pour out the vials of the wrath of God

Upon the earth.[175] Then on the men which bore

The mark upon their foreheads of the beast,

Or fell down to his image, noisome sores

And plague-spots fell.

The second angel poured

His vial on the sea, and it became

The blood of a dead man; and every thing

Which had the breath of life died in the sea.    120

And the third angel poured his vial out

Upon the rivers, and fresh fountains clear,

And they became red blood. And then John heard,

In trance, the angels of the waters say,

Righteous art thou, O Lord! and righteously,

O thou which art, and was, and which shall be,

Thus hast thou judged, for they have shed the blood

Of prophets and of saints! A voice replied,

From out the altar, Even so, O Lord!

Almighty God, thy judgments are most true!    130

And the fourth angel poured his vial out

Upon the sun, and power was given to him

To scorch men with the fire, and they blasphemed

The name of God, and still repented not,

Looking with gnashing teeth upon the sun.

And the fifth angel poured his vial out

Upon the kingdom of the beast, and, lo!    137

The kingdom of the beast at once was dark:

But men repented not - even while they gnawed

Their tongues for pain, blaspheming God in heaven.

And the sixth angel poured his vial out

Where the great river of Euphrates rolls,

And it was quick dried up, and so became

A highway for the armies of the east,

And for the kings of earth, and the whole world,

Gathering to battle, on the dreadful day

Of the incensed Lord, into a place

Called "Armageddon," in the Hebrew tongue.

And the seventh angel poured his vial out

Into the air, and a loud voice was heard    150

Out of the temple's inmost shrine, which cried,

All is fulfilled! At once an earthquake shook

The ground, and lightnings, red and terrible,

Flashed, and the thunders rolled along the sky,

And strange and fearful voices in the air

Were heard, so dreadful was that storm. Aghast,

The nations fell; and the great Babylon

Came in remembrance before God, to pour

On her the fierceness of his wakened wrath.

And now John saw another angel fly    160

In clouds, and coming down with power from heaven

Unto the earth; and all the earth beneath

Was lighted with his glory; and he cried,

With the loud voice of judgment, Babylon

The great is fallen! And then another voice

Answered, Come out of her! Hath she not said,

I sit a queen, mighty as Ashtoreth?

The kings of earth shall tremble when they see

The smoke of her great torment; they shall stand

Afar off from her burning, and shall cry,    170

That mighty city, Babylon, alas!        171

In one hour is her judgment come! The voice

Of harpers and of trumpeters no more

Shall in her streets be heard: the blood of saints,

Of prophets, and of martyrs, is avenged!

The cries are heard, the smoke is seen, no more.

And after this, John lifted up his eyes,

And heard the voice of mighty companies,

Which sang and shouted, Alleluia! reign

For ever, Lord of lords and King of kings!    180

Salvation, honour, glory, power, and praise,

Be unto thee, O Lord! for thou hast judged

With righteousness! They, with acclaiming voice,

Still sang and shouted, Alleluia - reign

For ever, Lord of lords and King of kings!

Heard through the empyrean, the great voice

Again went up, whilst all the courts of heaven

Rang, Alleluia! glory be to thee,

Glory and power, Lord God Omnipotent![176]

Then the heaven opened, and, behold! a horse    190

As white as snow, and he who sat thereon

Was called "True and Faithful;" on his head

Were crowns on crowns, and underneath a name

Which no man knew, save he who bore that name.

His vesture was a robe of blood, and they

Who followed him proclaimed, The Word of God!

And all the heavenly armies followed him

On horses white like his; and on his robe

Was written - King of kings and Lord of lords.

The pomp is passed, and now John raised his eyes,

And saw an angel standing in the sun.    201

The angel in his watch looked down to earth,

And all the armies of the earth came forth

To war with the bright chivalry of heaven,    204

And Him who sat on the white horse! And, lo!

Before the mighty cherubims advanced

Michael, the great archangel, while a shout

Rang, that the sun in heaven might seem to stand

Still at a sound so terrible. Opposed

To the great armies of the living God,    210

Frown the Satanic host, far as the eye

Can reach; and horses black as night,

And spectre armies, led, in front, by Death,

Appear, receding into farther depths

Of blackness; while, anon, a dragon, scaled,

Moves weltering onward. Michael, from the ranks

Of cherubim advancing, lifts on high

His mace, and full on the scaled dragon's crest

Smites. At his feet the dragon lay, and, lo!

The sable phantom-horsemen at the sight    220

Are vanished. Raise the victor-song to Him

Who rides on the white horse, and to his God

In heaven, for the great dragon is cast down

Into the bottomless and burning lake!

Another angel, with white waving plume,

Descends; an iron chain is in his hand,

And the dark key of destiny, which shuts

The bottomless abyss, from whence the smoke

Ascends - ascends, but not a groan is heard.

The ancient dragon is cast down, and bound -    230

Bound for a thousand years, in chains, and thrown,

Howling, into that nethermost abyss;

While mercy, equity, and peace, and truth,

Like angel forms, visit the earth, and move,

Radiant as light, among the sons of men,

And only sounds are heard of harmonies,

Such as in heaven are sung about the throne,

O'er which, in dewy light, the rainbow bends.    238

The trump of bannered war, the sighs and groans

Of miserable slaves, that rise from earth,

In one deep murmur, to high heaven, are ceased;

For love and mercy walk among mankind,

And so shall walk, till the last trump shall sound.

Now a new heaven and new earth appear;

And, coming down from heaven, even as a bride

Adorned to meet her husband, John beheld

The City of the New Jerusalem,

Glittering beyond the clouds; and then he heard

A voice from a bright cloud, The Lord shall come

And dwell with men, and he shall be their God;    250

And God shall wipe from every eye the tear,

And death shall be no more!

John spread his hands,

And cried, with eyes upraised to heaven, Oh! stay,

Visions of bliss! I am bowed down with age,

Forlorn on earth, and I have tarried long

Alone and sad. Oh! come, Lord Jesus Christ!

A voice replied, Thou shalt be where he is!

Hark! 'twas the billow beating on the rocks

Of melancholy Patmos, and John wept,    260

As, slowly fading, like a summer dream,

He saw the towers, and gates, and palaces,

Of New Jerusalem fade in the clouds

Of eve, which shot its gleaming pinnacles

Aloft in the pale sky, and flushed the track

Of the sun's westering orb with crimson light.

As the sun sunk, the sound of trump and horn

Shrilled, and the old man, starting from his trance,

Beheld below the cave the Roman troop,

Stationed to guard the island criminals,    270

Wind slow, in martial file, with banners spread,    271

Returning to their tents.

Ah! where are now

The temples of the New Jerusalem,

Glittering amid the clouds of parting day?

Gone, like the rack; and Patmos' dreary isle

And melancholy caves return the sound

Of marching men, and the hoarse Roman trump.

The Apostle to the entrance of his cave,

The last remaining light on his gray hairs,    280

Comes slowly forth, and rests upon his staff,

When the rock-pigeon, at the trump disturbed,

Flew to his withered hand. With plumed crest

Upon his brazen helmet, holding high

The ensign of command, an eagle borne

Before him, on a spear, the pr'fect leads

His legionary band; and as aloft

The banners wave, and shields and corslets throw

Back a pale glimmer, mark a mournful train

Of fettered men move sullenly, with whom,    290

Thoughtful, and with his hands upon his breast,

His eyes, at times, uplifted to the heavens,

One, as a soldier worn with toil, but marked

With a stern sadness on his manly brow,

Comes silently, a tear on his dark cheek.

Near him, a youth, wan and emaciate,

Leans on a female, by his side, in bloom

Of youthful beauty; while, at intervals,

Whene'er the trumpet ceased to ring, is heard

The breath of muttering, and the clank of chains.    300

John sighed, and, turning to the stranger, said

(For both were at the entrance of the cave):

Even to this desert spot in the lone waves,

War, and the ensigns and the sounds of war,    304

Have reached.

His guest illustrious, with a smile,

Answered: Yet this is the mere mimickry

Of that appalling spectacle, that fills

The world's wide scene with havoc and with blood;

The murmur of whose mighty coil goes up    310

Still to the ear of Heaven. So man, the worm,

Preys on his fellow-worm. Turn from the earth,

As gradual evening shades the sinking scene,

And think upon its sins and strife no more.

Come, let us, on the stone, before the cave,

For all above is still and glorious,

Sit down, and watch the stars as they steal out,

One after one, and garnish the pale cope

Of heaven. How bright the troops of Hesper shine,

Above the shadow of yon farther rock,    320

Whose western side is lustrous; for the moon,

Ascending in her car of glory, casts

A meditative and a solemn light

From cape to cape! Look! there is Helice,[177]

Watched by the Grecian traders of the deep -

How clear she shines to-night above the sea!

High in the zenith, here and there, apart,

Some solitary stars, now scarce discerned,

Seem to retire into the farthest space,

As if to shun the prouder planet's gaze,    330

Each in his watch, with never-blenching eye,

Steadfast. Nor marvel, then the stranger said,

When all the silent host of the blue sky

Appear so beautiful, Idolatry

Should deem them gods, and to the Sun and Moon,

Bel and Astarte, pay the worship due    136

To the invisible, Almighty Lord,

Who rules in heaven and earth.

Is there a God?

Yes! Nature cries aloud, There is a God,

Visible in his works, and infinite

In power! There is a God, and he is just!

There is a God, and he is merciful!

Yet might we rather say, there is no God,

Than think, that to a being such as man

No revelation of bright hope was given:

That man, created in God's image, placed

Amid this vast and unknown universe,

To sojourn upon earth a few brief years

Of feverish life, should look, for the last time,    350

Hopeless, upon the setting sun, and die.

Oh! better be the worm that feeds on him.

With lifted gaze, the last Apostle cried,

Fervently cried, Oh! yes, Lord Jesus Christ,

Thou art the Christian's hope! but most of me -

Of me, whom thou hast visited, and cheered

Through life's long pilgrimage; of me, of me,

In age and solitude; I, too, shall live

When all the clouds of time are rolled away,

For ever live in glory where thou art!    360

Retiring to the cave, pausing, he turned

To his companion, but he was not there;

The moon shone, but there was no form or shape

Of living thing; so lonely to his cave,

O'erwearied, John retired, there musing lay

On what he saw and heard, till sleep unawares

Oppressed him, and that night - that only night -

He had not fallen upon his knees, and prayed,

Protect me through this night, O Lord my God!

When, suddenly, a hiss was heard without,    370

And the dull hurtle, as of iron wings,

And short and intermitted flames, at times,

Lighted the cavern roof; then all again

Was dark, save when the moon dilated hung,

And all again was still. John's heavy eyes

Were closed; and dreaming half, and half awake,

He slumbered in the cavern. Who art thou?

Starting, he cried, and trembled, for strange eyes

Glared through the dusk, and seemed to look at him.

It was the coinage of the aged brain,    380

When sadness and the sense of loneliness

Oppress the weary heart! His eyes are closed

A moment, when strange voices, in the air,

Syllable words unknown, as mocking him,

Then all is hushed again: from the dark roof

Fantastic and deriding shapes, half seen,

Point down long fingers, and a laugh is heard

From the dark fissure of the rocky cave,

Till even his shadow, by a moon-glance seen,

Seems joining the fantastic mockery.    390

Strange forms of beasts and birds, with monstrous beaks

Solemnly nodding, in the dusk appear.

Yonder, by moonlight, all with heads hung down,

There moves a shrouded and a moping train,

But not a form distinctly visible,

Save of a corpse, that silently they bear,

On which the moonlight falls. Now a dark cloud

Is interposed, and the dim troop dissolves.

Forthwith a spectre, towering to the skies,

Moves onward - on, directly to the cave;    400

And, towering higher as he moves, he lifts -

Half cloud and half anatomy - a dart,

Barbed with fire, and a deep voice is heard,

Through the involving clouds about his head:    404

I am Apollyon; dost thou sleep, old man?

Tremble - and die!

John raised his eyes, and prayed,

Still shuddering, Save me, save me, Jesus Christ!

The spectre vanished: some faint lightning shone

At distance; and now gentler forms drew nigh,    410

With airy minstrelsy of harps unseen,

Surrounding him, like shadows of the blessed:

Here, radiant female forms came gliding by;

There, in a stream of light, an angel turned

His look upon him, while soft voices sing:

Christian, dost thou yet remain

In this weary world of pain?

Dost thou bend thy hoary head

When all beloved on earth are dead?

Hast thou oft, by years oppressed,    420

Prayed for rest, eternal rest?

Lo! we come, ere morning peep,

To sing thee to thy rest asleep.

ECHO FROM THE CAVE.

Asleep.

VOICES.

Asleep.

Sing thee to thy rest asleep.

ECHO.

Asleep.

Then came another song, like lullabies

Of ocean, mingled with the airs of night:

Whilst a mother's only child        430

Rests in short and sweet repose,

All her troubles are beguiled

When its placid eyelids close!

But angels watch beside the bed

Where aged Christians rest their head,

And as their watchful vigils cease,

Parting, they whisper, Peace!

ECHO FROM THE CAVE.

Peace.

PARTING VOICES.

Peace.

Tired nature sank to sleep, like infancy    440

Soft-breathing, and as calm. Then, in a dream,

The shades of mitred and majestic James,

Peter, and Paul, came up. He heard their voice,

And saw their forms, as when they lived on earth.

James looked upon his beard of snow, and said:

We have borne witness to the truth in blood;

But thy old age shall calmly pass away,

Till death be lost in sleep. Then thou shalt wake

In everlasting bliss, to weep no more,

For He whom thou hast seen shall be with thee,    450

And we shall live together - where He is.

After a placid and refreshing sleep,

The last Apostle raised his eyes, and saw

The same majestic and mysterious man

Who stood before him in the cave, and now

The dim dawn broke on the 'gean deep.

PART FIFTH.

Day-break - Ascend the highest Mountain - Comparison with the Vision on Mount Tabor - Transfiguration - View to East and West - Ship descried from the East - Descend.

John, gazing on the glimmering eastern surge,

Sat with fixed eyes, when thus the stranger spake:

Up! for the Word and Spirit of the Lord

Are come to me. Let us ascend, old man,

The summit of Elijah's cliff, that hangs

High o'er the ocean surge, and see the sun

Rise o'er the 'gean solitude to-day.

John answered, Can these feeble limbs sustain

The labour up the long and slow ascent,

Step by step, when I feel my strength decay    10

Daily, and draw my breath with pain?

Thy God

Will give thee strength, the stranger said, and took

His trembling hand, and led his feeble step

Slow up the hill; and ever as they went,

And the horizon widened, in his heart

John felt a strange reviving power, that braced

His sinews, and gave a vigour to his steps,

Conquering the pain and labour of the way:

But needs not pain or labour, for a thought    20

Hath brought them there, the white hairs, in the wind,

Of John, yet gently stirring, and his cheek

Just lighted with a transient glow; and now

Both stood upon the promontory's point,

Thoughtful and silent: soon they saw the sun

Slowly emerging, a vast orb of fire,

Above the shadowy edge of ocean; now

Flaming direct o'er Asia, with a stream    28

Of long illumination, on the clouds,

Marked with confusion of rich hues, and thence

Touching the nearer promontory's height,

Pale cliffs, and eagles' wings above the clouds,

And now careering through the heaven, supreme,

Full and magnificent, in loneliness

Of glory. When the rays first touched his brow,

Then more exalted, and of larger frame,

The stranger seemed to grow, as not of earth,

Or earth's inhabitants; so tall his form,

So glorified his aspect. John had fallen

Upon his knees, but a mild voice rebuked:    40

See that thou do it not; hast thou received

Or strength or comfort, give the thanks to God.

John, resting on the crag of the wild rock,

Looked up, and then to his companion spoke:

Not uninstructive hath thy converse been,

Nor unrefreshing to my weary heart

Thy presence; more so, in a scene like this,

Raised, as it were, above the shade and clouds

Of transient time. And so, long since, my soul

Felt a divine refreshment, when I stood    50

Upon the mount of vision with our Lord

That day when in transfigured form he rose.

Oh! well do I remember it, who saw,

With James and Peter, by the sight oppressed,

The glorious apparition. Each stray cloud

Wandered far off, and lost in the blue sky,

And not a freckle stained the firmament

High overhead. The mystic mount itself,

Tabor, seemed rising up to heaven, and loomed

In such illumination, that the track        60

Below, and all the plains of Galilee,

Rivers and lake to the great western sea,    62

Looked cold and dim, even in the morning sun;

Such was the glory of the sudden blaze

That wrapped the mount. The crowd of lesser hills

On to the city of Tiberias,

Appeared below o'er which the eagle sailed,

Mute, for his eyes yet blenched from the excess

Of light, unlike the sun, that startled him,

With bursting splendour, where he slept. He flew,    70

High soaring o'er the hills of Jezreel,

On to the mountains of Samaria.

We fell upon the ground, and with our hands

Covered our faces, when we raised our eyes,

We saw three glorified appearances;

Two, as of aged prophets, with their beards

Streaming; each held a book, and in the midst,

And, buoyant in the air, his countenance

Bright as the sun, our Saviour's form appeared

Above them, while his vest, intensely white,    80

Floated, as thus transfigured he arose.

With clasped hands, and eyes upraised to heaven,

Peter, in joy and wonder, ardently

Cried: Let us build three tabernacles here,

To Moses, and Elias, and to thee,

Saviour and God! not knowing what he said.

A cloud now interposed between the light,

Softening its glory, while a voice was heard

From the bright cloud, Lo, my beloved Son -

Hear him! At once the shadowy imagery,    90

The visionary pomp, the radiant cloud,

Were rolled away, and Jesus stood alone;

For they who held high converse, and whose forms,

Appeared in thinner air, above the blaze,

Were gone with the departing cloud: his hand

He placed upon our heads, and said, Fear not!    96

And that calm look of dignity and love

Was placed upon us, as before. Again

We saw the sun - the cloudless cope of heaven -

The long green valley of Esdraelon -        100

The pines of dewy Hermon, and the smoke

Of Nain, where once a widowed mother wept

Her lost and only son, whom Jesus raised

From death's cold sleep, restoring to her tears

Of joy; we saw the cavern and the cliffs

Of Endor, where the wizard-woman called

Up from his sleep of death the prophet[178] old,

To tell to trembling Saul his hour was come.

Oh! hills, and streams, and plains of Palestine;

Scenes where we heard, long since, our Master's voice,

And saw his face! how often, with a tear,    111

Have I remembered you, how often sighed:

Oh! for the swiftness of an eagle's wing,

That I might flee away, and visit you

Once more! But this great vision of the mount,

With shadowings of glory, was displayed,

That we might be sustained in the dread day

Of trial, when the very rocks should burst -

When, through deep darkness, the loud cry should come:

My God, my God, hast thou forsaken me?    120

That we might be prepared, through every ill,

In peril and in pain, in life, in death;

Though persecution, famine, and the sword,

Fronted our way, prepared to hold right on;

Calm to take up our cross, and follow Him

Who meekly bowed his head upon that cross;

For if in this life only we had hope,

We were of all most miserable. Lord,

Thee have I followed, now in age, and poor,    139

Thy sufferings were for us - for us? for me;

For me thy bleeding side was pierced, for me

Thy spirit groaned! Oh! come, Lord Jesus Christ!

Oh! come, for I have tarried long on earth;

Come, Lord and Saviour! have I prayed in vain?

Thou didst appear in glory on the mount;

And thou hast come, even now, and cried, Fear not,

I live for evermore, and have the keys

Of death and hell. And wherefore should I fear,

Now waiting only to depart in peace!

But I have wandered in my thoughts; this view    150

From this high mountain, and congenial thoughts,

Have waked the memory of that vision bright,

When once we saw, above the clouds of earth,

Our Lord in glistening apparel shine.

Then he who stood upon the mountain's van

With John, and gazed upon the seas below,

Said, Look towards the East: what dost thou see?

John answered, There is nothing but the clouds

And seas. And both were silent.

STRANGER.

Look again.    160

John answered, There is nothing but the clouds

And seas, and the great sun above the waves,

That goeth forth in beauty.

STRANGER.

Look again.

John answered, Yes, upon the farthest line

Of the blue ocean-track, there is a speck

Of light; no; yes; there is a distant sail

In sight; it seems as speeding hitherward.

STRANGER.

Enough. Look to the west: what seest thou there?

JOHN.

Ah! all that hid the vast and various scene    170

Slowly withdraws, like morning mist. I see

Regions, in light and shade, beyond the isles,

Delos and Mycone, mountains and capes

Unfolding, through the mist, as if they stood

Beneath our feet. There, bays, and gulfs, and plains,

And wandering streams appear; and o'er them, high

Upon a hill, in the pale atmosphere,

A temple vast, as of some god renowned

In pagan lands.

STRANGER.

Thou seest the shores of Greece,    180

And that the illustrious city, so renowned,

Athens; upon that hill, the hill of Mars,

Paul stood, when, pointing to the skies above,

He spoke of fanes "not made with hands;" of God,

Who liveth in the heaven. What seest thou more?

JOHN.

Another land, stretched, like a giant's arm,

Across the deep, with seas on either side.

There, on seven hills, I see a city, crowned

With glittering domes; the nether champagne spread

With aqueducts, and columns, arches, and towers.    190

STRANGER.

It is the Imperial Mistress of the World,

Rome - Rome - now pagan; but a power unknown

Shall rise, and, throned on those seven hills -    193

When C'sars moulder with their palaces,

Shall hold dominion o'er the prostrate world,

Not by their glittering legions, but the power

Of cowled Superstition, that shall keep

Kingdoms and kings in thrall; till, with a shout,

A brighter angel, from the heaven of heavens,

As ampler knowledge shoots her glorious beams,    200

Shall open the Lamb's book again, and night,

Beckoning her dismal shadows, and dark birds,

Fly hooting from the dayspring of that dawn.[179]

Burns not thy heart to think upon those days!

But long and dire shall be the tale of blood;

Let it be hid for ever! Look again:

JOHN.

I see the pillars and the rocky bounds

That gird this inland sea.

STRANGER.

What seest thou more?

JOHN.

I see a ship burst through the narrow frith    210

Into the sea of darkness and of storms,

There lost in boundless solitudes. Oh! no,

There is an island; with its chalky cliffs,

Beauteous it rises from the billowy waste.

STRANGER.

Thither that ship is bound: nor storms, nor seas,

Rocking in more terrific amplitude,

Impede its course. Long years shall roll away,    217

And when deep night shall wrap again the shores,

Of Asia; where the "golden candlestick"

Now gleams, illumining the pagan world;

And where a few poor Christian fishermen

Shall here and there be found; even where thy Church

Of Ephesus stood in the light of heaven,

From that far isle, amid the desert waves,

Back, like the morning on the darkened east,

To lands long hid, in ocean-depths unknown,

The radiance of the gospel shall go forth,

And the Cross float triumphant o'er the world.

JOHN.

Even now, in vision rapt of days to come,

I see her Christian temples, pale in air,    230

Above the smoke of cities; o'er the deep

I see her fleets, innumerable, spread,

Chequering, like shadows, the remotest main;

And, lo! a river, winding in the light,

Silent, amid a vast metropolis,

Beneath the spires, and towers, and glittering domes!

Ah! they are vanished, and a sudden cloud

Hides, from the straining sight, temple, and tower,

And battlement.

STRANGER.

Pray that it pass away.    240

JOHN.

Ah! the pale horse and rider! the pale horse

Is there! silence is in the streets! The ark

Of her majestic polity, the Church -

The temple of the Lord - I see no more!

STRANGER.

Pray that her faith preserve her: the event    245

Is in His hands who bade his angels sound

Their trumps, or pour the avenging vials out.

Let us descend, the wind is fresh and fair,

Direct from the north-east, let us descend.

And they descended, silently and slow,    250

Towards the craggy cave, and rested there,

Looking upon the sunshine on the waves

Of the pale-blue 'gean, still intent,

Watching the sail, that, by the western beam

Illumined, held its course towards the shore.

Icarian figs furnished a scant repast,

With water from the rock, after their toil;

While they, within the cave, conversing sat

Of virtue and of vice, of sin and death,

Of youth and age, and pleasure's flowery path,    260

Leading to sorrow and untimely death.

PART SIXTH.

Reflections - Grecian Girl and Dying Libertine - Reflections on Past History of the World - Angel's Disappearance - Ship brings the Elders of Ephesus to invite John to return - Parting from Patmos, and Last Farewell.

Then the mysterious and majestic man

Thus spoke: Among the banished criminals,

As they passed yesterday, didst thou not mark

A pale, emaciate youth, and by his side,

Oft looking in his altered face, with tears,

A beauteous Grecian female! He was one    6

Who crowned his hair with roses; trod the path

Of love and pleasure, till the vision fled.

And left him here, an outcast criminal,

Soon, without hope, to sink into the grave,

And leave his young companion desolate!

So ends a life of pleasure! Woe for them,

The young, the gay, the guilty, who rejoice

In life's brief sunshine, then are swept away,

Forgotten as the swarms in summer time.

As thus he spake, smiling amid her tears,

With eyes that flashed beneath dishevelled hair,

A female stood before them.

Look on me,

She sighed, and spake:        20

No! father, hear my prayer:

At Corinth I was born; my mother died

When I was yet a very child; my sire

Trafficked to Tyre, and when my mother died,

He left the woods, the hills, and shores of Greece

To seek a dwelling-place in Asia,

At Tyre or Smyrna; but the tempest rose,

And cast his vessel on the rocky coast

Of Cyprus. I was found upon the shore,

Escaped I know not how, for he was dead;    30

And pitying strangers bore me to the fane

Of Paphian Venus.[180] There my infancy

Grew up in opening beauty, like the rose,

Ere summer has unfolded it; I looked

Upon the dove's blue eyes; how sorrowful,

That it must die - upon the altar die;

And then it seemed still dearer, and I heard

Its murmuring on my bosom with a tear,    38

Kissing it; but a young Athenian,

Whom Epicurus taught that life's sweet prime

Was like the rose; for whom Anacreon

Sang, Let us seize the moments as they fly,

And bind our brows with clusters of the vine;

Roaming, in summer, the 'gean deep,

Enticed me from the shrines of her I served,

And led me with him (for he had a boat,

Charmed by the syrens) led from isle to isle.

Joyous and reckless were his youthful crew,

Their hair with myrtle and with roses wreathed,

Who dipped the oar, in cadence, to the sound    50

Of dulcimer, and tambourine, and lute,

While damsels, like immortal goddesses,

Their light hair gently waving to the breath

Of summer, in the bloom and light of youth,

Sang with accord of dulcet harmony,

As if to charm the seas; and Cupid sat

Aloft, his small right hand upon the helm,

While with the left he loosed the purple sail[181]

Free to the morning zephyrs. So we sailed,

With music on the waters, sailed along,    60

And thought not of the sounds of a sad world

We had forsaken; while the lute thus woke

The echoes of the listening Cyclades:

Go, tell that pining boy to cast

His willow wreath away;

For though life's spring too soon is past,

Though youth's sweet roses fade too fast,

They shall not fade to-day.

Nay, father, frown not thus like withering care,    69

He who is old may yet remember hours

Of happiness like these, and will forgive;

And wilt not thou, my father, wilt not thou?

From Cyprus, island of the Queen of Love,

We came to Naxos, and I joined the train

Of bacchanals, still singing, as we danced

Upon the mountains, to the bell and pipe,

Evoe, Bacchus! Thence we sailed away,

Careless, in the bright sunshine of the morn,

And never thought the tempest would arise

To cloud our happy days; but, hark! the storm    80

Of night is howling round us; not a star

In heaven appears, to light our wintry way;

Alas! the pinnace, with its company,

Was dashed upon the rocks of Attica,

Where stern Minerva stood, and with her spear

Shivered it into fragments at her feet.

Cast on the shore, again I sought the fane

Of her I served in Paphos, and once more

Danced round the altars of the Queen of Love.

He, scarce escaping, all his substance gone,    90

Joined the sea-robbers; and of late, I heard,

Was banished to this isle, a criminal,

Wasted by slow disease, and soon to die.

My father, I have heard that thou canst call

Spirits from heaven, of such strange potency,

They can awake the dead, restore to life

The dying: oh! restore the youth I loved,

And bring the rose to his pale cheek again!

JOHN.

Unhappy child! the path of pleasure leads

To sorrow in this world, and in the next.    100

GRECIAN GIRL.

The next! the next! My father, I have heard    101

That thou dost worship a new God - a God

Who has no priestess. I can dance and sing

Light as Euphrosyne, and I can weep

For pity, and can sigh, how tenderly!

For love; and if thou wilt restore that youth

To health and love, oh! I will kneel to thee,

And offer sacrifice, morning and eve

To thy great God, and weave a coronal,

When I have culled the choicest flowers of Rhodes,[182]    110

Father, to crown those few white hairs of thine.

John answered, I will pray for him and thee;

But leave me, child, now leave me to those prayers.

The man of loftier wisdom spoke again:

How sing the thoughtless in their songs of joy,

Our days of happiness, at best, are short[183]

And profitless, and in the death of man

There is no remedy, for we are born,

And we shall sleep hereafter in the dust,

As we had never been; so all our days    120

Are vanity, our breath but as a smoke,

A vapour, and we turn again to earth,

And this high spirit vanishes in air -

Into thin air; our very name shall be

Forgotten, and Oblivion on our works

Sit silent, while our days have sped away

As clouds that leave no trace, or as a mist

Dispersed and scattered by the noonday sun!

Time is itself the shadow of a shade,

Hurrying; and when our tale of days is told,    130

The tomb is sealed, and who ever rose,    131

To stand again beneath the light of day!

Then let us crown with rosebuds, ere they fade,

Our brows, and pass no blooming flower of spring!

Such heartless sophistries have still deceived

Earth's poor wayfarers, they who know not God,

For God created man - oh! not to die

Eternally, but live, for ever live

(So he be found holy, and just, and pure),

The image of himself! What dost thou see?    140

Thine eyes are fixed, and turned on vacancy.

John said, I see the dead, both great and small,

Stand before God; the loud archangel's trump

Hath ceased to thunder o'er the bursting graves;

How deep, how dread the silence, as that book

Is opened! Ah! there is another book.

STRANGER.

It is the Book of Life; the dead are judged

According to their works.

JOHN.

Above the throne    150

Interminable space of glorious light

Is spread, and angel-troops and hierarchies,

With golden harps, half-seen, into the depths

Of that interminable light recede,

Till the tired vision shrinks. The sea, the sea,

Gives up its dead! and Death and Hell pour forth,

All hushed and pale, their countless multitudes,

Shivering to meet the light; and millions pray,

In silence: Hide us, hide us, earth, again!

A gulph, beneath them, black as tenfold night,    160

Glaring at times with intermittent flames,    161

Opens; and, hark! sad sounds, and shrieks of woe,

Come through the darkness. At the dreadful voice,

Depart from me, ye cursed! John, amazed,

Looked 'round: he saw the blue 'gean shine,

And the approaching sail white in the wind.

Then he who stood by him thus spoke: Awake;

Let us toward the sea, for, look! the ship

Approaches nearer to the eastern bay.

As near, and still more near, she speeds her course,    170

On this gray column, prostrate in the dust,

Its tale unknown, the sole sad relic here

Of perishable glory,[184] and, who knows,

Perhaps a pillar of some marble fane,

Raised to dark pagan idols, let us rest,

And muse upon the change of mortal things.

The Apostle sat, and as he watched the sail,

Leaned on his staff to hear.

The stranger spoke:

Lo! the last fragment of departed days,    180

This shaft of a fallen column; and even so

Shall all the monuments of human pride

Be smitten to the desert dust, like those

Who raised them, long to desert dust returned.

Where are the hundred gates of regal Thebes!

Let the clouds answer, and the silent sands.

Where is the Tower of Babel, proudly raised,

As to defy the Lord, above the clouds!

He raised his arm, and, as a dream, it sank.

Waters of Babylon, by thy sad shores    190

The children of captivity sat down,

Sat down and wept, when they remembered thee,

O Sion! But the trump and cornet bray;    193

It is Belshazzar's midnight feast! He sits

A god among his lords and concubines.

A thousand torches flame aloof; the songs

Of wantonness and blasphemy go up!

And are those golden vessels, from the shrine

And temple of the living God, brought forth,

In impious derision? Does the hymn    200

Resound to Baal, and the gods of gold?

And at this hour, do all the princes rise?

Is the wine poured from vessels which the Lord

Had consecrated? Do they drink, and cry,

The King shall live for ever? Ah! how changed

His countenance! he trembles, and his knees,

Smite one against the other! Look, how changed!

God of eternal justice, what is that?

The fingers of a man, against the wall,

Moving in shadow, and inscribing words    210

Of dreadful import, but which none may read.

Call the Chaldeans and Astrologers!

Are they all mute? Call the poor captive slave,

Daniel, the prophet of the Lord! The crowd

All turn their looks in silence, with their breath

Hushed by their terrors. Has he spoken? Yes!

Thy sceptre is departed! Hear, O King!

He hears and trembles; and that very night,

He who blasphemed is gone to meet his Judge!

Proclaim the conquering Persian; it was God    220

Who led his armies forth, who called his name

Cyrus;[185] and under him again shall rise

The temple at Jerusalem, shall rise

In beauty and in glory, till the day

Of tribulation smite it to the earth,

As we have seen! Weep for Jerusalem;    226

But in the light of heaven, the Church of Christ

Shall lift its battlements, till He shall come,

With all his jubilant, acclaiming hosts,

Amid the clouds!

The old man raised his eyes,

And on his forehead placed his withered hand,

A moment musing; then he turned his look

Again to his companion at his side.

Ah! he is gone; but, hark! a rustling sound

Is heard, and, bright above the eastern cliffs,

Behold, a glorious angel's pennons spread.

Look! he ascends into the azure depth

Of light; he still ascends, till the blue sky

Is only interrupted by some clouds    240

Of lightest brede and beauty, o'er the sea

Transparent hung. John gazed with hands outspread,

But nothing in the airy track was seen,

Save those small clouds. Then pensive he sat down,

His withered hands extending as in prayer.

But, lo! the vessel drops its sail; a boat

Is hurrying, smooth and rapid, through the spray -

The sounds of men are heard - see, they approach!

Yes, they are messengers of peace! they come

With tidings to the lonely habitant.    250

Two elders of the Church of Ephesus

Greet him with salutations from the ship

Whose banner streams - the banner of the Cross -

Beneath the rocks of Patmos: from the beach

The elders slow advanced, and one thus spoke:

Hail, father! C'sar is no more! Thy Church

At Ephesus again, by us, implores

Thy presence and thy guidance; and, behold!

The bark now waits to bear thee o'er the deep,

For Nerva has reversed the stern decree    200

Passed for thy banishment: arise, return,

Return; for now the light of heaven again

Gleams on the temple of our infant faith;

The radiance of the "golden candlestick,"

That shone in the deep darkness of the earth,

Shall flame more bright. Arise - arise - return!

John took their hands, and, blessing them, gave thanks

To God who rules above; then cried, I go -

With many thronging thoughts - back to the world,

To wait how Heaven may yet dispose my lot,    270

Till the grave close upon my pilgrimage.

Yet would I stay a while, to bid farewell

To that, my cave,[186] where I have seen strange things,

And heard strange voices, and have passed five years

In loneliness and watching, and in prayer.

Let me not part till I have said farewell!

Hereafter I shall tell what I have seen.

But now, O Lord and Saviour! strengthen me,

A poor old man, returning to the world;

Oh! look and let me feel thy presence now,    280

Whom I have served so long I shall not see

Again thy glorious form upon the earth,

But I have lived to see thy Church arise,

Now in its infancy, and gathering power

From day to day; and thou shalt be adored

Till the remotest isles, and every land,

Shall praise and magnify thy glorious name!

My days are well-nigh told, and few remain,

But I shall live, protected, to record,

O Lord and Saviour! all which I have seen,    290

High and mysterious; as I declared,

In the beginning was the Word; the Word,    292

In the beginning, was with God; the Word

Was God!

And now farewell! Oh! may I pass

What yet remains of life in faith and hope,

Till Christ shall call me in his mercy hence,

And lead me gently to my last repose.

Then may his Church, which he has raised on earth,

Stand, though the tempest shake its battlements,    300

Stand, till the trumpet, the last trumpet sound,

And He shall come in clouds who founded it!

As thus he spoke, his stature seemed to grow

More lofty, with a step more firm he trod;

Whilst a mild radiance, lambent on his face,

Shone, as the radiance from the mercy-seat.

He held his way, oft looking back to mark

The cave where he had lived, when, lo! the dove,

So often fed from his pale hand, has left

The cliff, and flies, faint-murmuring, round his hair.    310

And now he turns his eyes upon the deep;

Yet scarce had reached the margin, when he saw

The sullen dwellers on these rugged shores,

Led on by him who had confessed his sins -

The robber of Mount Carmel, in his chains -

Kneel at his feet. They blessed him, sorrowing

That they should see his face on earth no more.

The stern centurion hid a starting tear;

The poor emaciate youth knelt down, and she

Who tended him with love and tenderness,    320

Wept, as he faintly sank, and breathed his last,

His hands extending feebly, as he sunk,

To John, in fervent prayer! The Grecian girl

Fell, desolate and sobbing, on his breast.

But, lo! the wind has veered, and, streaming out,

The red cross pennant points to Asia,    326

As heaven-directed. Speed, ye mariners!

The sails are swelling, and the widening deep

Is all before you, surging to the gale.

So they kept on their course to Ephesus,

And o'er the 'gean waves beheld, far off,

The cave, the lonely sands and lessening capes

Of dreary Patmos sink to rise no more.

*    *    *    *    *