Chapter VII: Part 7

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

JOHN.

Caesar! 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 Caesar's throne,
Or Caesar'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 praefect 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 AEgean 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 AEgean 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 Caesars 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 AEgean, 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 AEgean 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 AEgean 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! Caesar 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 AEgean waves beheld, far off,
The cave, the lonely sands and lessening capes
Of dreary Patmos sink to rise no more.

* * * * *

APOCALYPTIC HORSES.

WHITE HORSE, RED HORSE, BLACK HORSE, PALE HORSE.

BLACK HORSE.--The period of the "black horse and rider with the
balance" is generally referred to the reign of Severus. But here
the commentators are at a loss. "The balance" sometimes betokens
justice; sometimes is considered as indicative of a season of
scarcity. The "black horse" is always associated with calamity. I
humbly differ from all commentators. The "horse is black," say
some, to show the "severity of the nature" of this emperor. But his
nature was generally the reverse of severity. Now I shall give
reasons for considering that "the balance" is the balance of
Justice, and the "bread for a penny, and oil and wine," indicative
of plenty, not scarcity--of plenty owing entirely to the prudent
provisions of this emperor; and in proof of this, as well as what I
shall say further on the subject, I adduce, not the testimony of
professed Christian commentators, but the _undesigned_
testimony--the stronger for that reason--of one of the most astute
adversaries of Christianity--Gibbon.

Now, Christian reader, mark his _undesigned_ corroboration of the
veracity of this prophecy, as applied to Severus.

_Scripture_--"Balances in his hand."

What says Gibbon? "Salutary laws were executed with inflexible
firmness." "In the administration of justice, the judgments of the
emperor were characterised by attention, discernment, and
impartiality;[187] and whenever he deviated from the strict line
of equity, it was generally in favour of the poor and
oppressed."--_Gibbon_.

_Scripture_.--"A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures
of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine."

_Gibbon_.--"He left in the public granaries a provision of corn for
seven years, at the rate of 2500 quarters a day."

But the "black horse." Does this colour seem suitable to a period
of general equity and justice? How simple is one explanation, at
least so it appears to me, the first, I believe, who ever remarked
the circumstance, and how minutely does the singular fact tend to
attest the awful truth of the prophecy--"Severus was an
African!"--_Gibbon_. And the "horse is black," not as indicative of
calamity, but of the country of which Severus was a native.

The prophecy connected with the "horses" seems as regular as
possible, beginning from the times of the Apostle. The white horse
and rider is universally considered as emblematic of the gospel,
going forth "conquering and to conquer." The red horse is the horse
of blood, under Trajan, who literally took "peace from all the
earth." The pale horse designates the famine and dreadful
pestilence under Gallienus. I have shown, not from the writers in
favour of Christianity, but from the attestation of the most astute
and insidious writer against it, the regular succession and
wonderful accordance, in the several successive periods, of the
fact and the prophetic adumbrations. Under Gallienus, how
remarkable are these words, as applicable to the "pale horse," and
pestilence, in the third century, commencing about one hundred and
fifty years after the death of John! "Famine is almost always
followed by epidemical diseases: other causes, however, must have
contributed to the furious plague which, from the year 250 to the
year 265, raged, without interruption, in every province, every
city, and almost every family of the Roman empire. Five thousand
died daily in Rome; and we might suspect, that war, pestilence, and
famine had, in a few years, consumed the moiety of the human
race."--_Gibbon_.

THE RED HORSE.--"Take peace from all the earth." Trajan's
conquests. "Every day the astonished Senate received intelligence
of new names and new nations that acknowledged his sway. The kings
of Bosphorus, Colchis, Albania, &c.; the tribes of the Median and
Carducian hills had implored his protection; Armenia, Mesopotamia,
and Assyria were reduced to provinces."--_Gibbon_.

For the elucidations of this last book, I have referred, generally,
to commentators, chiefly Bishop Newton, though the reader may
sometimes be disposed to smile rather than acquiesce.

But I cannot omit my own views of some particular passages. One
head of the beast, wounded, "but not to death," is most singularly
descriptive of the Roman empire, restored to strength and power,
under Claudius the Second and Aurelius. "And the beast which I saw
was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear,
and his mouth as the mouth of a lion." How unexpectedly do they
tally with what Gibbon says of the Roman empire at the time,
consisting of the "tyrants" (lions)--"soldiers," scattered through
the vast and various provinces, and "barbarians"--Goths, indicated
by the bear!

I may observe, further, that the "locusts and crawling things like
scorpions," issuing out of the smoke, are, first, locusts--the
innumerable northern armies; secondly, "crawling things like
scorpions"--the loathsome vileness attributed to nature by the
succession of Gnostic sects, depraving the beautiful code of
Christianity, and all agreeing in one doctrine, derived from the
Chaldean philosophers. The Genius of Evil, according to the
philosophy of the Chaldeans, produced the body, as Orosmades the
soul! Hence "forbidding to marry," unnatural austerities, &c.; and
remark, one book of Tertullian to the Gnostics is called--what?
Scorpio.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 112: These sonnets have been printed in their chronological order in the preceding volume of Mr Bowles' poems.]

[Footnote 113: Particularly Joanna Baillie, Mrs Hemans, Miss Landon, and my namesake--no otherwise related than by love of kindred music--Caroline Bowles.]

[Footnote 114: Criminals were banished to this island.]

[Footnote 115: The period is uncertain.]

[Footnote 116: Now Tino.]

[Footnote 117: See the first chapter of Revelation.]

[Footnote 118: Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.]

[Footnote 119: Rev. i. 17, 18.]

[Footnote 120: Domitian, who had banished him, and who had so proclaimed himself, was now dead, but without its being known to St John.]

[Footnote 121: See the harrowing account of the siege of Jerusalem, when the prophecy in St Matthew was fulfilled to the letter.]

[Footnote 122: Josephus.]

[Footnote 123: Rev. iv. 3.]

[Footnote 124: Rev. iv. 3.]

[Footnote 125: Rev. iv. 4.]

[Footnote 126: A chasm is shown in the cave, from which it is said the voice in the Revelation proceeded.]

[Footnote 127: Rev. iv. 6. I follow the best expositors in making those appearances (translated "beasts") the higher order of angels.]

[Footnote 128: Rev. v. 2.]