Chapter VI: Part 6

'Twas in the rugged and forsaken isle
Of Patmos, dreariest of the sister isles
Which strew the AEgean, 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 Caesar 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 AEgean--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 AEgean, 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 AEgean, 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 praefect 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.