I found my mantle had the snowy white
For those to whom th' Omnipotent hath given
His promised boon, the bright and morning star-
Till then, with me, thou shalt in tranquil joy
Sport in the air, or wing thy flight above
The atmosphere of Earth, the dense, dark robe
Which wraps her wheeling form. The Sun's red beam
By day, shall in a gold garb mantle thee—
At night, the silvery Moon's, and both shall lend
Their rays to be thy chariot. We shall walk
Upon the curved Rainbow, the bright zone
Girdling the universe, and clasping worlds
Within its mighty circle. We shall dart
From orb to orb, and on our brows shall bear
The bright and shooting stars-we shall repose
In worlds of fire, that, nearest to the sun
Revolve their course, and those white orbs which roll.
Far distant from his centre-we shall sail
Through seas of ether in our cloudy ship,
And overtake the Morning-we shall list
The song which spirits hear-that song in which
The bands of angels praise the unknown name
Of the Almighty, and whose wondrous sound
Shall even to our accents still remain
Impossible, until the terrible day
Shall make us like to them. Then, when the Seals
Be open'd, and the Heavens and Earth are doom'd,
Shall the great judgment follow. Nature's things
Shall disobey her laws-Wild Anarchy
And Uproar reign-the shadow of the foot.
Of the Eternal shall blot out the Sun.
The Moon be motionless, and faint, and die,
And melt away for anguish-the bright Stars
Fall down with desolation in their light,
And burst asunder, scattering all around
Woe, woe-and bitterness-and there shall be
Blood and not water,-and the Angels' hands
Shall grasp the four winds, and then bury them
In their capacious bosoms. Then, all things
Shall groan for air; and, 'midst the pouring forth
The vials of deep wrath, and cries, and shrieks,
And trumpet blasts, and thunderings, and groans
Of Worlds, and shuddering of the crumbled Heaven-
The trampling of the death-steed shall be heard
Bearing his mighty Rider-Summoner
Of mortals, and the Herald of his God-
And then-there shall be silence, in the heaven!
A pause of death-the uproar shall be still'd-
For the Eternal cometh -not a sound
Among those myriads to break the awe
Of his tremendous presence-not a sound
Until the Volume of Eternity
Be ope'd-and closed again !—
Thou art beloved, and thy spotless life
Hath won high Heaven's grace-thou shalt throw off This chrysalis case, and rise, and wing thy way
Through fields of peace and light-thou didst but cr
One moment in thy doubts-when my bless'd soul
Ascended from the couch of pain and grief
To liberty, and uncontrolled joy.
I look'd on thee, and though in bliss, there rose
Something, which when on earth, had been a wish
That thou couldst see me, and that I could soothe
Thy grief, and bind thy faith; for thou didst doubt
In thy affliction, and didst fear thyself
Of God and hope forsaken-then the prayer
Of the departing Saint, the holy Man'
Of those dim caves, arose unto the Heaven
For thy benighted soul, that thus the faith
Of him whose heart was righteous, should not die
As the guilt-spotted man's-then Heaven heard-
And when the words of power were said, I swept
Downward from my bright cloud, and with the stream
Mingled my spirit, and from its misty breast,
Rose up before thine eyes.
Oh, how my soul Blesses thy gentle love, that thus survives
The grave, and mingles with eternity!
I am more happy in this holy bond,
Than hadst thou lived on earth; and yet there is
One bliss, if it may be, that I would claim-
I hear thee, see thee-might I touch thy hand
With my still earthly lip?
No; for that hand Were charged for thee with death; and this is not Thine hour, Oh, Beloved!-but, it comes
I feel a higher sense of joy than e'er
Mine essence knew before, for soon thou wilt
Unfetter'd be, and thy delighted spirit
Roam blessedly with me; but soft-the air
Is cut before me; something human comes
Tinted with richer hues, for there remain'd,
The roseate colours of my flower-born robe,
Memorial of my visit!-So, when man
Hereafter, as he will,-shall seek this spot,
He will behold with wonder the rose hues.
Blushing upon the snow!
Is portion'd to his actions; and that is
As the Almighty dooms him: sometimes he
Sleeps in a torpid sleep-the trance of death
Dull, heavy, senseless. Such are those who have
Inactive been, and reckless of the gifts
With which they were endow'd; their lives unmark'd
By any good, although unstain'd by crime-
Spendthrifts of time-who dogg'd away their days
As they were nights, or as, instead of time,
Eternity, was written on the brows
Of those who stood around them-The sin-stain'd
Are darker doom'd-sometimes enfetter'd to
The earth which they have quitted, they are bound
To mark the consequences of their guilt,
And watch their issue. The proud Greek of old,
The Macedonian, who with toil and blood,
Strode high above the necks of fellow-men,
And trampled on warm hearts, and wither'd joy,
To raise a mighty empire, was condemn'd
To see his huge throne shaken, and his friends
Sever, one by one, the columns !-He beheld
The swords his own ambition had unsheath'd,
Plunged in his children's hearts, and saw their shades
Rise trembling from the earth, and mount afar
Above his gloomy dungeon. These are those
Who, chain'd within the womb of the fierce sea,
Are tossed to and fro by the wild storm,
And never rise in air, except to pour
Destruction on the labouring vessel, which
May bear some ancient friend, or child beloved,
Or a lamenting wife. Some are compell'd
To guide the thunderbolt of wrath, which rends
To fragments their own home;-such one I mark'd
Weeping and throwing lightnings, and averting
His eye from where they fell!-And others float
A pestilence in air, and carry death
To the bosoms best belov'd. The Oppressor, who
Rent from the hungry the coarse sordid meal,
To heap up treasures for his heirs, beholds
Those heirs expire of famine, which himself
A deadly blight upon the herb and corn
Breathes o'er the healthy land. The Tyrant's scourge
Is wielded by the Demons, who through space
With stripes pursue the spectre-worse the lot
Of him the envy-struck, who is condemn'd
To watch the bliss of those he most abhors,
And which he strove to crush; he is, indeed,
The tortured-for the penalties of hell
Alone exceed the measure of his pangs.
Leontine. I love the theme, and yet I fear to ask, Lest with unhallow'd question I offend
The mercy of the Holiest !-If it be
Permitted thee to answer, hath thine eye
Gazed on the Majesty of God?
Permitted thee to question, for thy tongue
Is chain'd from uttering the secrets deep,
Which have been breathed into thy list'ning ear.
Thou art as yet but mortal, but ere long
Thy soul shall be enfranchised; even now
Í see, but thou canst not, where near thee stands
The beauteous shadowy King, who looks on thee
With a soft, solemn smile, and whose cold hand
Will fall so lightly on thy youthful brow,
That to the charm'd beholder his still rest
Shall seem like infant's sleep; but guard thee well,
Temptation cometh-danger and distress
Will soon beset thy soul-but be thou firm,
And thou wilt be with me-but not to gaze
Upon the light of the Eternal's eye.
That may not be till after Earth and Heaven
Enter BASIL, ZENO, and GREEKS, with ANDRONICUS.
Conversing with the demons-now, old man,
Wring from thy son his secret, let him prove
His innocence, or else behold him die!
Andronicus. Insatiate bigot! Oh! my son, my son!
Have mercy on thy father's snowy head;
Bring not the grey hairs to the grave in woe-
Let me not see thy young blood fall to earth,
Ere the old man's hath fail'd-My son, my son!
Let me not lose thee-if thou canst-reveal
Thy secret, and preserve thy life.
My life!
It is not worth a crime-I will not break
My promise but I stand prepared to die.
Weep not, oh father-death for me is bliss.
Permitted thy young soul, which, to his charge VOL. XI.
Leontine. Content!-thou, righteous heaven! hear me! oh hear! Sinless is my pursuit, but if ye deem
My wanderings other, why then, let me die ;
I stand prepared-bind on these hands your chains,
And let my father go.
Andronicus.
Nor urge him farther-Ye have wisely judged
Lead me unto the bed of peace, which waits
To clasp the limbs of the life wearied man.
Zeno. Lead him unto his sentence.
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