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The Last Day. Book I.

by Edward Young

Ipse pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca

Fulmina molitur dextra. Quo maxima motu

Terra tremit: fug're fer'! et mortalia corda

Per gentes humilis stravit pavor.

VIRG.

While others sing the fortune of the great;

Empire and arms, and all the pomp of state;

With Britain's hero(1) set their souls on fire,

And grow immortal as his deeds inspire;

I draw a deeper scene: a scene that yields

A louder trumpet, and more dreadful fields;

The world alarm'd, both earth and heaven o'erthrown,

And gasping nature's last tremendous groan;

Death's ancient sceptre broke, the teeming tomb,

The righteous Judge, and man's eternal doom.

'Twixt joy and pain I view the bold design,

And ask my anxious heart, if it be mine.

Whatever great or dreadful has been done

Within the sight of conscious stars or sun,

Is far beneath my daring: I look down

On all the splendours of the British crown.

This globe is for my verse a narrow bound;

Attend me, all the glorious worlds around!

O! all ye angels, howsoe'er disjoin'd,

Of every various order, place, and kind,

Hear, and assist, a feeble mortal's lays;

'Tis your Eternal King I strive to praise.

But chiefly thou, great Ruler! Lord of all!

Before whose throne archangels prostrate fall;

If at thy nod, from discord, and from night,

Sprang beauty, and yon sparkling worlds of light,

Exalt e'en me; all inward tumults quell;

The clouds and darkness of my mind dispel;

To my great subject thou my breast inspire,

And raise my lab'ring soul with equal fire.

Man, bear thy brow aloft, view every grace

In God's great offspring, beauteous nature's face:

See spring's gay bloom; see golden autumn's store;

See how earth smiles, and hear old ocean roar.

Leviathans but heave their cumbrous mail,

It makes a tide, and wind-bound navies sail.

Here, forests rise, the mountains awful pride;

Here, rivers measure climes, and worlds divide;

There, valleys fraught with gold's resplendent seeds,

Hold kings, and kingdoms' fortunes, in their beds:

There, to the skies, aspiring hills ascend,

And into distant lands their shades extend.

View cities, armies, fleets; of fleets the pride,

See Europe's law, in Albion's channel ride.

View the whole earth's vast landscape unconfin'd,

Or view in Britain all her glories join'd.

Then let the firmament thy wonder raise;

'Twill raise thy wonder, but transcend thy praise.

How far from east to west? the lab'ring eye

Can scarce the distant azure bounds descry:

Wide theatre! where tempests play at large,

And God's right hand can all its wrath discharge.

Mark how those radiant lamps inflame the pole,

Call forth the seasons, and the year control:

They shine thro' time, with an unalter'd ray:

See this grand period rise, and that decay:

So vast, this world's a grain; yet myriads grace,

With golden pomp, the throng'd ethereal space;

So bright, with such a wealth of glory stor'd,

'Twere sin in heathens not to have ador'd.

How great, how firm, how sacred, all appears!

How worthy an immortal round of years!

Yet all must drop, as autumn's sickliest grain,

And earth and firmament be sought in vain:

The tract forgot where constellations shone,

Or where the Stuarts fill'd an awful throne:

Time shall be slain, all nature be destroy'd,

Nor leave an atom in the mighty void.

Sooner, or later, in some future date,

(A dreadful secret in the book of fate!)

This hour, for aught all human wisdom knows,

Or when ten thousand harvests more have rose;

When scenes are chang'd on this revolving earth,

Old empires fall, and give new empires birth;

While other Bourbons rule in other lands,

And (if man's sin forbids not) other Annes;

While the still busy world is treading o'er

The paths they trod five thousand years before,

Thoughtless as those who now life's mazes run,

Of earth dissolv'd, or an extinguish'd sun;

(Ye sublunary worlds, awake, awake!

Ye rulers of the nation, hear, and shake!)

Thick clouds of darkness shall arise on day;

In sudden night all earth's dominions lay;

Impetuous winds the scatter'd forests rend;

Eternal mountains, like their cedars, bend:

The valleys yawn, the troubled ocean roar,

And break the bondage of his wonted shore;

A sanguine stain the silver moon o'erspread;

Darkness the circle of the sun invade;

From inmost heaven incessant thunders roll,

And the strong echo bound from pole to pole.

When, lo, a mighty trump, one half conceal'd

In clouds, one half to mortal eye reveal'd,

Shall pour a dreadful note; the piercing call

Shall rattle in the centre of the ball;

Th' extended circuit of creation shake,

The living die with fear, the dead awake.

Oh powerful blast! to which no equal sound

Did e'er the frighted ear of nature wound,

Tho' rival clarions have been strain'd on high,

And kindled wars immortal thro' the sky,

Tho' God's whole enginery discharg'd, and all

The rebel angels bellow'd in their fall.

Have angels sinn'd? and shall not man beware?

How shall a son of earth decline the snare?

Not folded arms, and slackness of the mind,

Can promise for the safety of mankind:

None are supinely good: thro' care and pain

And various arts, the steep ascent we gain.

This is the scene of combat, not of rest,

Man's is laborious happiness at best;

On this side death his dangers never cease,

His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace.

If then, obsequious to the will of fate,

And bending to the terms of human state,

When guilty joys invite us to their arms,

When beauty smiles, or grandeur spreads her charms,

The conscious soul would this great scene display,

Call down th' immortal hosts in dread array,

The trumpet sound, the Christian banner spread,

And raise from silent graves the trembling dead;

Such deep impression would the picture make,

No power on earth her firm resolve could shake;

Engag'd with angels she would greatly stand,

And look regardless down on sea and land;

Not proffer'd worlds her ardour could restrain,

And death might shake his threat'ning lance in vain!

Her certain conquest would endear the sight,

And danger serve but to exalt delight.

Instructed thus to shun the fatal spring,

Whence flow the terrors of that day I sing;

More boldly we our labours may pursue,

And all the dreadful image set to view.

The sparkling eye, the sleek and painted breast,

The burnish'd scale, curl'd train, and rising crest,

All that is lovely in the noxious snake,

Provokes our fear, and bids us flee the brake:

The sting once drawn, his guiltless beauties rise

In pleasing lustre, and detain our eyes;

We view with joy, what once did horror move,

And strong aversion softens into love.

Say then, my muse, whom dismal scenes delight,

Frequent at tombs, and in the realms of night;

Say, melancholy maid, if bold to dare

The last extremes of terror and despair;

Oh say, what change on earth, what heart in man,

This blackest moment since the world began.

Ah mournful turn! the blissful earth, who late

At leisure on her axle roll'd in state;

While thousand golden planets knew no rest,

Still onward in their circling journey prest;

A grateful change of seasons some to bring,

And sweet vicissitude of fall and spring:

Some thro' vast oceans to conduct the keel,

And some those watery worlds to sink, or swell:

Around her some their splendours to display,

And gild her globe with tributary day:

This world so great, of joy the bright abode,

Heaven's darling child, and fav'rite of her God,

Now looks an exile from her father's care,

Deliver'd o'er to darkness and despair.

No sun in radiant glory shines on high;

No light, but from the terrors of the sky:

Fall'n are her mountains, her fam'd rivers lost,

And all into a second chaos tost:

One universal ruin spreads abroad;

Nothing is safe beneath the throne of God.

Such, earth, thy fate: what then canst thou afford

To comfort and support thy guilty lord?

Man, haughty lord of all beneath the moon,

How must he bend his soul's ambition down

Prostrate, the reptile own, and disavow

His boasted stature, and assuming brow?

Claim kindred with the clay, and curse his form,

That speaks distinction from his sister worm?

What dreadful pangs the trembling heart invade?

Lord, why dost thou forsake whom thou hast made?

Who can sustain thy anger? who can stand

Beneath the terrors of thy lifted hand?

It flies the reach of thought; oh, save me, Power

Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!

Thou who beneath the frown of fate hast stood,

And in thy dreadful agony sweat blood;

Thou, who for me, thro' every throbbing vein,

Hast felt the keenest edge of mortal pain;

Whom death led captive thro' the realms below,

And taught those horrid mysteries of woe;

Defend me, O my God! Oh, save me, Power

Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!

From east to west they fly, from pole to line,

Imploring shelter from the wrath divine;

Beg flames to wrap, or whelming seas to sweep,

Or rocks to yawn, compassionately deep;

Seas cast the monster forth to meet his doom,

And rocks but prison up for wrath to come.

So fares a traitor to an earthly crown;

While death sits threat'ning in his prince's frown

His heart's dismay'd; and now his fears command,

To change his native for a distant land:

Swift orders fly, the king's severe decree

Stands in the channel, and locks up the sea;

The port he seeks, obedient to her lord,

Hurls back the rebel to his lifted sword.

But why this idle toil to paint that day?

This time elaborately thrown away?

Words all in vain pant after the distress,

The height of eloquence would make it less;

Heavens! how the good man trembles!--

And is there a last day? and must there come

A sure, a fix'd, inexorable doom?

Ambition swell, and, thy proud sails to show,

Take all the winds that vanity can blow;

Wealth on a golden mountain blazing stand,

And reach an India forth in either hand;

Spread all thy purple clusters, tempting vine,

And thou, more dreaded foe, bright beauty, shine;

Shine all; in all your charms together rise;

That all, in all your charms, I may despise;

While I mount upward on a strong desire,

Borne, like Elijah, in a car of fire.

In hopes of glory to be quite involv'd!

To smile at death! to long to be dissolv'd!

From our decays a pleasure to receive!

And kindle into transport at a grave!

What equals this? And shall the victor now

Boast the proud laurels on his loaded brow?

Religion! Oh, thou cherub, heavenly bright!

Oh, joys unmix'd, and fathomless delight!

Thou, thou art all; nor find I in the whole

Creation aught, but God and my own soul.

For ever, then, my soul, thy God adore,

Nor let the brute creation praise him more.

Shall things inanimate my conduct blame,

And flush my conscious cheek with spreading shame?

They all for him pursue, or quit, their end

The mountain flames their burning power suspend;

In solid heaps th' unfrozen billows stand,

To rest and silence aw'd by his command:

Nay, the dire monsters that infest the flood,

By nature dreadful, and athirst for blood,

His will can calm, their savage tempers bind,

And turn to mild protectors of mankind.

Did not the prophet this great truth maintain

In the deep chambers of the gloomy main;

When darkness round him all her horrors spread,

And the loud ocean bellow'd o'er his head?

When now the thunder roars, the lightning flies,

And all the warring winds tumultuous rise;

When now the foaming surges, tost on high,

Disclose the sands beneath, and touch the sky;

When death draws near, the mariners aghast,

Look back with terror on their actions past;

Their courage sickens into deep dismay,

Their hearts, thro' fear and anguish, melt away;

Nor tears, nor prayers, the tempest can appease;

Now they devote their treasure to the seas;

Unload their shatter'd barque, tho' richly fraught,

And think the hopes of life are cheaply bought

With gems and gold; but oh, the storm so high!

Nor gems nor gold the hopes of life can buy.

The trembling prophet then, themselves to save,

They headlong plunge into the briny wave;

Down he descends, and, booming o'er his head,

The billows close; he's number'd with the dead.

(Hear, O ye just! attend, ye virtuous few!

And the bright paths of piety pursue)

Lo! the great Ruler of the world, from high,

Looks smiling down with a propitious eye,

Covers his servant with his gracious hand,

And bids tempestuous nature silent stand;

Commands the peaceful waters to give place,

Or kindly fold him in a soft embrace:

He bridles in the monsters of the deep:

The bridled monsters awful distance keep:

Forget their hunger, while they view their prey;

And guiltless gaze, and round the stranger play.

But still arise new wonders; nature's Lord

Sends forth into the deep his powerful word,

And calls the great leviathan: the great

Leviathan attends in all his state;

Exults for joy, and, with a mighty bound,

Makes the sea shake, and heaven and earth resound;

Blackens the waters with the rising sand.

And drives vast billows to the distant land.

As yawns an earthquake, when imprison'd air

Struggles for vent, and lays the centre bare,

The whale expands his jaws' enormous size;

The prophet views the cavern with surprise;

Measures his monstrous teeth, afar descried,

And rolls his wond'ring eyes from side to side:

Then takes possession of the spacious seat,

And sails secure within the dark retreat.

Now is he pleas'd the northern blast to hear,

And hangs on liquid mountains, void of fear;

Or falls immers'd into the depths below,

Where the dead silent waters never flow;

To the foundation of the hills convey'd,

Dwells in the shelving mountain's dreadful shade:

Where plummet never reach'd, he draws his breath,

And glides serenely thro' the paths of death.

Two wondrous days and nights thro' coral groves,

Thro' labyrinths of rocks and sands, he roves:

When the third morning with its level rays

The mountains gilds, and on the billows plays,

It sees the king of waters rise and pour

His sacred guest uninjur'd on the shore:

A type of that great blessing, which the muse

In her next labour ardently pursues.