Gross And Sensual Self Did Not Pollute. These Slaves Built Temples For The Omnipotent Fiend, Gorgeous And Vast: The Costly Altars Smoked With Human Blood, And Hideous Paeans Rung Through All The Long-Drawn Aisles. A Murderer Heard His Voice In Egypt, One Whose Gifts And Arts Had Raised Him To His Eminence In Power, Accomplice Of Omnipotence In Crime, And Confidant Of The All-Knowing One. These Were Jehovah'S Words: - 'From An Eternity Of Idleness I, God, Awoke; In Seven Days' Toil Made Earth From Nothing; Rested, And Created Man: I Placed Him In A Paradise, And There Planted The Tree Of Evil, So That He Might Eat And Perish, And My Soul Procure Wherewith To Sate Its Malice, And To Turn, Even Like A Heartless Conqueror Of The Earth, All Misery To My Fame. The Race Of Men Chosen To My Honour, With Impunity May Sate The Lusts I Planted In Their Heart. Here I Command Thee Hence To Lead Them On, Until, With Hardened Feet, Their Conquering Troops Wade On The Promised Soil Through Woman'S Blood, And Make My Name Be Dreaded Through The Land. Yet Ever-Burning Flame And Ceaseless Woe Shall Be The Doom Of Their Eternal Souls, With Every Soul On This Ungrateful Earth, Virtuous Or Vicious, Weak Or Strong, - Even All Shall Perish, To Fulfil The Blind Revenge (Which You, To Men, Call Justice) Of Their God.' The Murderer'S Brow Quivered With Horror. 'God Omnipotent, Is There No Mercy? Must Our Punishment Be Endless? Will Long Ages Roll Away, And See No Term? Oh! Wherefore Hast Thou Made In Mockery And Wrath This Evil Earth? Mercy Becomes The Powerful - Be But Just: O God! Repent And Save.' 'One Way Remains: I Will Beget A Son, And He Shall Bear The Sins Of All The World; He Shall Arise In An Unnoticed Corner Of The Earth, And There Shall Die Upon A Cross, And Purge The Universal Crime; So That The Few On Whom My Grace Descends, Those Who Are Marked As Vessels To The Honour Of Their God, May Credit This Strange Sacrifice, And Save Their Souls Alive: Millions Shall Live And Die, Who Ne'er Shall Call Upon Their Saviour'S Name, But, Unredeemed, Go To The Gaping Grave. Thousands Shall Deem It An Old Woman'S Tale, Such As The Nurses Frighten Babes Withal: These In A Gulf Of Anguish And Of Flame Shall Curse Their Reprobation Endlessly, Yet Tenfold Pangs Shall Force Them To Avow, Even On Their Beds Of Torment, Where They Howl, My Honour, And The Justice Of Their Doom. What Then Avail Their Virtuous Deeds, Their Thoughts Of Purity, With Radiant Genius Bright, Or Lit With Human Reason'S Earthly Ray? Many Are Called, But Few Will I Elect. Do Thou My Bidding, Moses!' Even The Murderer'S Cheek Was Blanched With Horror, And His Quivering Lips Scarce Faintly Uttered - 'O Almighty One, I Tremble And Obey!' 'O Spirit! Centuries Have Set Their Seal On This Heart Of Many Wounds, And Loaded Brain, Since The Incarnate Came: Humbly He Came, Veiling His Horrible Godhead In The Shape Of Man, Scorned By The World, His Name Unheard, Save By The Rabble Of His Native Town, Even As A Parish Demagogue. He Led The Crowd; He Taught Them Justice, Truth, And Peace, In Semblance; But He Lit Within Their Souls The Quenchless Flames Of Zeal, And Blessed The Sword He Brought On Earth To Satiate With The Blood Of Truth And Freedom His Malignant Soul. At Length His Mortal Frame Was Led To Death. I Stood Beside Him: On The Torturing Cross No Pain Assailed His Unterrestrial Sense; And Yet He Groaned. Indignantly I Summed The Massacres And Miseries Which His Name Had Sanctioned In My Country, And I Cried, "Go! Go!" In Mockery. A Smile Of Godlike Malice Reillumed His Fading Lineaments. - "I Go," He Cried, "But Thou Shalt Wander O'Er The Unquiet Earth Eternally." - The Dampness Of The Grave Bathed My Imperishable Front. I Fell, And Long Lay Tranced Upon The Charmed Soil. When I Awoke Hell Burned Within My Brain, Which Staggered On Its Seat; For All Around The Mouldering Relics Of My Kindred Lay, Even As The Almighty'S Ire Arrested Them, And In Their Various Attitudes Of Death My Murdered Children'S Mute And Eyeless Skulls Glared Ghastily Upon Me. But My Soul, From Sight And Sense Of The Polluting Woe Of Tyranny, Had Long Learned To Prefer Hell'S Freedom To The Servitude Of Heaven. Therefore I Rose, And Dauntlessly Began My Lonely And Unending Pilgrimage, Resolved To Wage Unweariable War With My Almighty Tyrant, And To Hurl Defiance At His Impotence To Harm Beyond The Curse I Bore. The Very Hand That Barred My Passage To The Peaceful Grave Has Crushed The Earth To Misery, And Given Its Empire To The Chosen Of His Slaves. These Have I Seen, Even From The Earliest Dawn Of Weak, Unstable And Precarious Power, Then Preaching Peace, As Now They Practise War; So, When They Turned But From The Massacre Of Unoffending Infidels, To Quench Their Thirst For Ruin In The Very Blood That Flowed In Their Own Veins, And Pitiless Zeal Froze Every Human Feeling, As The Wife Sheathed In Her Husband'S Heart The Sacred Steel, Even Whilst Its Hopes Were Dreaming Of Her Love; And Friends To Friends, Brothers To Brothers Stood Opposed In Bloodiest Battle-Field, And War, Scarce Satiable By Fate'S Last Death-Draught, Waged, Drunk From The Winepress Of The Almighty'S Wrath; Whilst The Red Cross, In Mockery Of Peace, Pointed To Victory! When The Fray Was Done, No Remnant Of The Exterminated Faith Survived To Tell Its Ruin, But The Flesh, With Putrid Smoke Poisoning The Atmosphere, That Rotted On The Half-Extinguished Pile. 'Yes! I Have Seen God'S Worshippers Unsheathe The Sword Of His Revenge, When Grace Descended, Confirming All Unnatural Impulses, To Sanctify Their Desolating Deeds; And Frantic Priests Waved The Ill-Omened Cross O'Er The Unhappy Earth: Then Shone The Sun On Showers Of Gore From The Upflashing Steel Of Safe Assassination, And All Crime Made Stingless By The Spirits Of The Lord, And Blood-Red Rainbows Canopied The Land. 'Spirit, No Year Of My Eventful Being Has Passed Unstained By Crime And Misery, Which Flows From God'S Own Faith. I've Marked His Slaves With Tongues Whose Lies Are Venomous, Beguile The Insensate Mob, And, Whilst One Hand Was Red With Murder, Feign To Stretch The Other Out For Brotherhood And Peace; And That They Now Babble Of Love And Mercy, Whilst Their Deeds Are Marked With All The Narrowness And Crime That Freedom'S Young Arm Dare Not Yet Chastise, Reason May Claim Our Gratitude, Who Now Establishing The Imperishable Throne Of Truth, And Stubborn Virtue, Maketh Vain The Unprevailing Malice Of My Foe, Whose Bootless Rage Heaps Torments For The Brave, Adds Impotent Eternities To Pain, Whilst Keenest Disappointment Racks His Breast To See The Smiles Of Peace Around Them Play, To Frustrate Or To Sanctify Their Doom. 'Thus Have I Stood, - Through A Wild Waste Of Years Struggling With Whirlwinds Of Mad Agony, Yet Peaceful, And Serene, And Self-Enshrined, Mocking My Powerless Tyrant'S Horrible Curse With Stubborn And Unalterable Will, Even As A Giant Oak, Which Heaven'S Fierce Flame Had Scathed In The Wilderness, To Stand A Monument Of Fadeless Ruin There; Yet Peacefully And Movelessly It Braves The Midnight Conflict Of The Wintry Storm, As In The Sunlight'S Calm It Spreads Its Worn And Withered Arms On High To Meet The Quiet Of A Summer'S Noon.' The Fairy Waved Her Wand: Ahasuerus Fled Fast As The Shapes Of Mingled Shade And Mist, That Lurk In The Glens Of A Twilight Grove, Flee From The Morning Beam: The Matter Of Which Dreams Are Made Not More Endowed With Actual Life Than This Phantasmal Portraiture Of Wandering Human Thought. Note: _180 Reillumined Edition 1813. 8. The Fairy: 'The Present And The Past Thou Hast Beheld: It Was A Desolate Sight. Now, Spirit, Learn The Secrets Of The Future. - Time! Unfold The Brooding Pinion Of Thy Gloom, Render Thou Up Thy Half-Devoured Babes, And From The Cradles Of Eternity, Where Millions Lie Lulled To Their Portioned Sleep By The Deep Murmuring Stream Of Passing Things, Tear Thou That Gloomy Shroud. - Spirit, Behold Thy Glorious Destiny!' Joy To The Spirit Came. Through The Wide Rent In Time'S Eternal Veil, Hope Was Seen Beaming Through The Mists Of Fear: Earth Was No Longer Hell; Love, Freedom, Health, Had Given Their Ripeness To The Manhood Of Its Prime, And All Its Pulses Beat Symphonious To The Planetary Spheres: Then Dulcet Music Swelled Concordant With The Life-Strings Of The Soul; It Throbbed In Sweet And Languid Beatings There, Catching New Life From Transitory Death, - Like The Vague Sighings Of A Wind At Even, That Wakes The Wavelets Of The Slumbering Sea And Dies On The Creation Of Its Breath, And Sinks And Rises, Fails And Swells By Fits: Was The Pure Stream Of Feeling That Sprung From These Sweet Notes, And O'Er The Spirit'S Human Sympathies With Mild And Gentle Motion Calmly Flowed. Joy To The Spirit Came, - Such Joy As When A Lover Sees The Chosen Of His Soul In Happiness, And Witnesses Her Peace Whose Woe To Him Were Bitterer Than Death, Sees Her Unfaded Cheek Glow Mantling In First Luxury Of Health, Thrills With Her Lovely Eyes, Which Like Two Stars Amid The Heaving Main Sparkle Through Liquid Bliss. Then In Her Triumph Spoke The Fairy Queen: 'I Will Not Call The Ghost Of Ages Gone To Unfold The Frightful Secrets Of Its Lore; The Present Now Is Past, And Those Events That Desolate The Earth Have Faded From The Memory Of Time, Who Dares Not Give Reality To That Whose Being I Annul. To Me Is Given The Wonders Of The Human World To Keep, Space, Matter, Time, And Mind. Futurity Exposes Now Its Treasure; Let The Sight Renew And Strengthen All Thy Failing Hope. O Human Spirit! Spur Thee To The Goal Where Virtue Fixes Universal Peace, And Midst The Ebb And Flow Of Human Things, Show Somewhat Stable, Somewhat Certain Still, A Lighthouse O'Er The Wild Of Dreary Waves. 'The Habitable Earth Is Full Of Bliss; Those Wastes Of Frozen Billows That Were Hurled By Everlasting Snowstorms Round The Poles, Where Matter Dared Not Vegetate Or Live, But Ceaseless Frost Round The Vast Solitude Bound Its Broad Zone Of Stillness, Are Unloosed; And Fragrant Zephyrs There From Spicy Isles Ruffle The Placid Ocean-Deep, That Rolls Its Broad, Bright Surges To The Sloping Sand, Whose Roar Is Wakened Into Echoings Sweet To Murmur Through The Heaven-Breathing Groves And Melodize With Man'S Blest Nature There. 'Those Deserts Of Immeasurable Sand, Whose Age-Collected Fervours Scarce Allowed A Bird To Live, A Blade Of Grass To Spring, Where The Shrill Chirp Of The Green Lizard'S Love Broke On The Sultry Silentness Alone, Now Teem With Countless Rills And Shady Woods, Cornfields And Pastures And White Cottages; And Where The Startled Wilderness Beheld A Savage Conqueror Stained In Kindred Blood, A Tigress Sating With The Flesh Of Lambs The Unnatural Famine Of Her Toothless Cubs, Whilst Shouts And Howlings Through The Desert Rang, Sloping And Smooth The Daisy-Spangled Lawn, Offering Sweet Incense To The Sunrise, Smiles To See A Babe Before His Mother'S Door, Sharing His Morning'S Meal With The Green And Golden Basilisk That Comes To Lick His Feet. 'Those Trackless Deeps, Where Many A Weary Sail Has Seen Above The Illimitable Plain, Morning On Night, And Night On Morning Rise, Whilst Still No Land To Greet The Wanderer Spread Its Shadowy Mountains On The Sun-Bright Sea, Where The Loud Roarings Of The Tempest-Waves So Long Have Mingled With The Gusty Wind In Melancholy Loneliness, And Swept The Desert Of Those Ocean Solitudes, But Vocal To The Sea-Bird'S Harrowing Shriek, The Bellowing Monster, And The Rushing Storm, Now To The Sweet And Many-Mingling Sounds Of Kindliest Human Impulses Respond. Those Lonely Realms Bright Garden-Isles Begem, With Lightsome Clouds And Shining Seas Between, And Fertile Valleys, Resonant With Bliss, Whilst Green Woods Overcanopy The Wave, Which Like A Toil-Worn Labourer Leaps To Shore, To Meet The Kisses Of The Flow'Rets There. 'All Things Are Recreated, And The Flame Of Consentaneous Love Inspires All Life: The Fertile Bosom Of The Earth Gives Suck To Myriads, Who Still Grow Beneath Her Care, Rewarding Her With Their Pure Perfectness: The Balmy Breathings Of The Wind Inhale Her Virtues, And Diffuse Them All Abroad: Health Floats Amid The Gentle Atmosphere, Glows In The Fruits, And Mantles On The Stream: No Storms Deform The Beaming Brow Of Heaven, Nor Scatter In The Freshness Of Its Pride The Foliage Of The Ever-Verdant Trees; But Fruits Are Ever Ripe, Flowers Ever Fair, And Autumn Proudly Bears Her Matron Grace, Kindling A Flush On The Fair Cheek Of Spring, Whose Virgin Bloom Beneath The Ruddy Fruit Reflects Its Tint, And Blushes Into Love. 'The Lion Now Forgets To Thirst For Blood: There Might You See Him Sporting In The Sun Beside The Dreadless Kid; His Claws Are Sheathed, His Teeth Are Harmless, Custom'S Force Has Made His Nature As The Nature Of A Lamb. Like Passion'S Fruit, The Nightshade'S Tempting Bane Poisons No More The Pleasure It Bestows: All Bitterness Is Past; The Cup Of Joy Unmingled Mantles To The Goblet'S Brim, And Courts The Thirsty Lips It Fled Before. 'But Chief, Ambiguous Man, He That Can Know More Misery, And Dream More Joy Than All; Whose Keen Sensations Thrill Within His Breast To Mingle With A Loftier Instinct There, Lending Their Power To Pleasure And To Pain, Yet Raising, Sharpening, And Refining Each; Who Stands Amid The Ever-Varying World, The Burthen Or The Glory Of The Earth; He Chief Perceives The Change, His Being Notes The Gradual Renovation, And Defines Each Movement Of Its Progress On His Mind. 'Man, Where The Gloom Of The Long Polar Night Lowers O'Er The Snow-Clad Rocks And Frozen Soil, Where Scarce The Hardiest Herb That Braves The Frost Basks In The Moonlight'S Ineffectual Glow, Shrank With The Plants, And Darkened With The Night; His Chilled And Narrow Energies, His Heart, Insensible To Courage, Truth, Or Love, His Stunted Stature And Imbecile Frame, Marked Him For Some Abortion Of The Earth, Fit Compeer Of The Bears That Roamed Around, Whose Habits And Enjoyments Were His Own: His Life A Feverish Dream Of Stagnant Woe, Whose Meagre Wants, But Scantily Fulfilled, Apprised Him Ever Of The Joyless Length Which His Short Being'S Wretchedness Had Reached; His Death A Pang Which Famine, Cold And Toil Long On The Mind, Whilst Yet The Vital Spark Clung To The Body Stubbornly, Had Brought: All Was Inflicted Here That Earth'S Revenge Could Wreak On The Infringers Of Her Law; One Curse Alone Was Spared - The Name Of God. 'Nor Where The Tropics Bound The Realms Of Day With A Broad Belt Of Mingling Cloud And Flame, Where Blue Mists Through The Unmoving Atmosphere Scattered The Seeds Of Pestilence, And Fed Unnatural Vegetation, Where The Land Teemed With All Earthquake, Tempest And Disease, Was Man A Nobler Being; Slavery Had Crushed Him To His Country'S Bloodstained Dust; Or He Was Bartered For The Fame Of Power, Which All Internal Impulses Destroying, Makes Human Will An Article Of Trade; Or He Was Changed With Christians For Their Gold, And Dragged To Distant Isles, Where To The Sound Of The Flesh-Mangling Scourge, He Does The Work Of All-Polluting Luxury And Wealth, Which Doubly Visits On The Tyrants' Heads The Long-Protracted Fulness Of Their Woe; Or He Was Led To Legal Butchery, To Turn To Worms Beneath That Burning Sun, Where Kings First Leagued Against The Rights Of Men, And Priests First Traded With The Name Of God. 'Even Where The Milder Zone Afforded Man A Seeming Shelter, Yet Contagion There, Blighting His Being With Unnumbered Ills, Spread Like A Quenchless Fire; Nor Truth Till Late Availed To Arrest Its Progress, Or Create That Peace Which First In Bloodless Victory Waved Her Snowy Standard O'Er This Favoured Clime: There Man Was Long The Train-Bearer Of Slaves, The Mimic Of Surrounding Misery, The Jackal Of Ambition'S Lion-Rage, The Bloodhound Of Religion'S Hungry Zeal. 'Here Now The Human Being Stands Adorning This Loveliest Earth With Taintless Body And Mind; Blessed From His Birth With All Bland Impulses, Which Gently In His Noble Bosom Wake All Kindly Passions And All Pure Desires. Him, Still From Hope To Hope The Bliss Pursuing Which From The Exhaustless Lore Of Human Weal Dawns On The Virtuous Mind, The Thoughts That Rise In Time-Destroying Infiniteness, Gift With Self-Enshrined Eternity, That Mocks The Unprevailing Hoariness Of Age, And Man, Once Fleeting O'Er The Transient Scene Swift As An Unremembered Vision, Stands Immortal Upon Earth: No Longer Now He Slays The Lamb That Looks Him In The Face, And Horribly Devours His Mangled Flesh, Which, Still Avenging Nature'S Broken Law, Kindled All Putrid Humours In His Frame, All Evil Passions, And All Vain Belief, Hatred, Despair, And Loathing In His Mind, The Germs Of Misery, Death, Disease, And Crime. No Longer Now The Winged Habitants, That In The Woods Their Sweet Lives Sing Away, - Flee From The Form Of Man; But Gather Round, And Prune Their Sunny Feathers On The Hands Which Little Children Stretch In Friendly Sport Towards These Dreadless Partners Of Their Play. All Things Are Void Of Terror: Man Has Lost His Terrible Prerogative, And Stands An Equal Amidst Equals: Happiness And Science Dawn Though Late Upon The Earth; Peace Cheers The Mind, Health Renovates The Frame; Disease And Pleasure Cease To Mingle Here, Reason And Passion Cease To Combat There; Whilst Each Unfettered O'Er The Earth Extend Their All-Subduing Energies, And Wield The Sceptre Of A Vast Dominion There; Whilst Every Shape And Mode Of Matter Lends Its Force To The Omnipotence Of Mind, Which From Its Dark Mine Drags The Gem Of Truth To Decorate Its Paradise Of Peace.' Notes: _204 Exhaustless Store Edition 1813. _205 Draws Edition 1813. See Editor'S Note. 9. 'O Happy Earth! Reality Of Heaven! To Which Those Restless Souls That Ceaselessly Throng Through The Human Universe, Aspire; Thou Consummation Of All Mortal Hope! Thou Glorious Prize Of Blindly-Working Will! Whose Rays, Diffused Throughout All Space And Time, Verge To One Point And Blend For Ever There: Of Purest Spirits Thou Pure Dwelling-Place! Where Care And Sorrow, Impotence And Crime, Languor, Disease, And Ignorance Dare Not Come: O Happy Earth, Reality Of Heaven! 'Genius Has Seen Thee In Her Passionate Dreams, And Dim Forebodings Of Thy Loveliness Haunting The Human Heart, Have There Entwined Those Rooted Hopes Of Some Sweet Place Of Bliss Where Friends And Lovers Meet To Part No More. Thou Art The End Of All Desire And Will, The Product Of All Action; And The Souls That By The Paths Of An Aspiring Change Have Reached Thy Haven Of Perpetual Peace, There Rest From The Eternity Of Toil That Framed The Fabric Of Thy Perfectness. 'Even Time, The Conqueror, Fled Thee In His Fear; That Hoary Giant, Who, In Lonely Pride, So Long Had Ruled The World, That Nations Fell Beneath His Silent Footstep. Pyramids, That For Millenniums Had Withstood The Tide Of Human Things, His Storm-Breath Drove In Sand Across That Desert Where Their Stones Survived The Name Of Him Whose Pride Had Heaped Them There. Yon Monarch, In His Solitary Pomp, Was But The Mushroom Of A Summer Day, That His Light-Winged Footstep Pressed To Dust: Time Was The King Of Earth: All Things Gave Way Before Him, But The Fixed And Virtuous Will, The Sacred Sympathies Of Soul And Sense, That Mocked His Fury And Prepared His Fall. 'Yet Slow And Gradual Dawned The Morn Of Love; Long Lay The Clouds Of Darkness O'Er The Scene, Till From Its Native Heaven They Rolled Away: First, Crime Triumphant O'Er All Hope Careered Unblushing, Undisguising, Bold And Strong; Whilst Falsehood, Tricked In Virtue'S Attributes, Long Sanctified All Deeds Of Vice And Woe, Till Done By Her Own Venomous Sting To Death, She Left The Moral World Without A Law, No Longer Fettering Passion'S Fearless Wing, - Nor Searing Reason With The Brand Of God. Then Steadily The Happy Ferment Worked; Reason Was Free; And Wild Though Passion Went Through Tangled Glens And Wood-Embosomed Meads, Gathering A Garland Of The Strangest Flowers, Yet Like The Bee Returning To Her Queen, She Bound The Sweetest On Her Sister'S Brow, Who Meek And Sober Kissed The Sportive Child, No Longer Trembling At The Broken Rod. 'Mild Was The Slow Necessity Of Death: The Tranquil Spirit Failed Beneath Its Grasp, Without A Groan, Almost Without A Fear, Calm As A Voyager To Some Distant Land, And Full Of Wonder, Full Of Hope As He. The Deadly Germs Of Languor And Disease Died In The Human Frame, And Purity Blessed With All Gifts Her Earthly Worshippers. How Vigorous Then The Athletic Form Of Age! How Clear Its Open And Unwrinkled Brow! Where Neither Avarice, Cunning, Pride, Nor Care, Had Stamped The Seal Of Gray Deformity On All The Mingling Lineaments Of Time. How Lovely The Intrepid Front Of Youth! Which Meek-Eyed Courage Decked With Freshest Grace; - Courage Of Soul, That Dreaded Not A Name, And Elevated Will, That Journeyed On Through Life'S Phantasmal Scene In Fearlessness, With Virtue, Love, And Pleasure, Hand In Hand. 'Then, That Sweet Bondage Which Is Freedom'S Self, And Rivets With Sensation'S Softest Tie The Kindred Sympathies Of Human Souls, Needed No Fetters Of Tyrannic Law: Those Delicate And Timid Impulses In Nature'S Primal Modesty Arose, And With Undoubted Confidence Disclosed The Growing Longings Of Its Dawning Love, Unchecked By Dull And Selfish Chastity, That Virtue Of The Cheaply Virtuous, Who Pride Themselves In Senselessness And Frost. No Longer Prostitution'S Venomed Bane Poisoned The Springs Of Happiness And Life; Woman And Man, In Confidence And Love, Equal And Free And Pure Together Trod The Mountain-Paths Of Virtue, Which No More Were Stained With Blood From Many A Pilgrim'S Feet. 'Then, Where, Through Distant Ages, Long In Pride The Palace Of The Monarch-Slave Had Mocked Famine'S Faint Groan, And Penury'S Silent Tear, A Heap Of Crumbling Ruins Stood, And Threw Year After Year Their Stones Upon The Field, Wakening A Lonely Echo; And The Leaves Of The Old Thorn, That On The Topmost Tower Usurped The Royal Ensign'S Grandeur, Shook In The Stern Storm That Swayed The Topmost Tower And Whispered Strange Tales In The Whirlwind'S Ear. 'Low Through The Lone Cathedral'S Roofless Aisles The Melancholy Winds A Death-Dirge Sung: It Were A Sight Of Awfulness To See The Works Of Faith And Slavery, So Vast, So Sumptuous, Yet So Perishing Withal! Even As The Corpse That Rests Beneath Its Wall. A Thousand Mourners Deck The Pomp Of Death To-Day, The Breathing Marble Glows Above To Decorate Its Memory, And Tongues Are Busy Of Its Life: To-Morrow, Worms In Silence And In Darkness Seize Their Prey. 'Within The Massy Prison'S Mouldering Courts, Fearless And Free The Ruddy Children Played, Weaving Gay Chaplets For Their Innocent Brows With The Green Ivy And The Red Wallflower, That Mock The Dungeon'S Unavailing Gloom; The Ponderous Chains, And Gratings Of Strong Iron, There Rusted Amid Heaps Of Broken Stone That Mingled Slowly With Their Native Earth: There The Broad Beam Of Day, Which Feebly Once Lighted The Cheek Of Lean Captivity With A Pale And Sickly Glare, Then Freely Shone On The Pure Smiles Of Infant Playfulness: No More The Shuddering Voice Of Hoarse Despair Pealed Through The Echoing Vaults, But Soothing Notes Of Ivy-Fingered Winds And Gladsome Birds And Merriment Were Resonant Around. 'These Ruins Soon Left Not A Wreck Behind: Their Elements, Wide Scattered O'Er The Globe, To Happier Shapes Were Moulded, And Became Ministrant To All Blissful Impulses: Thus Human Things Were Perfected, And Earth, Even As A Child Beneath Its Mother'S Love, Was Strengthened In All Excellence, And Grew Fairer And Nobler With Each Passing Year. 'Now Time His Dusky Pennons O'Er The Scene Closes In Steadfast Darkness, And The Past Fades From Our Charmed Sight. My Task Is Done: Thy Lore Is Learned. Earth'S Wonders Are Thine Own, With All The Fear And All The Hope They Bring. My Spells Are Passed: The Present Now Recurs. Ah Me! A Pathless Wilderness Remains Yet Unsubdued By Man'S Reclaiming Hand. 'Yet, Human Spirit, Bravely Hold Thy Course, Let Virtue Teach Thee Firmly To Pursue The Gradual Paths Of An Aspiring Change: For Birth And Life And Death, And That Strange State Before The Naked Soul Has Found Its Home, All Tend To Perfect Happiness, And Urge The Restless Wheels Of Being On Their Way, Whose Flashing Spokes, Instinct With Infinite Life, Bicker And Burn To Gain Their Destined Goal: For Birth But Wakes The Spirit To The Sense Of Outward Shows, Whose Unexperienced Shape New Modes Of Passion To Its Frame May Lend; Life Is Its State Of Action, And The Store Of All Events Is Aggregated There That Variegate The Eternal Universe; Death Is A Gate Of Dreariness And Gloom, That Leads To Azure Isles And Beaming Skies And Happy Regions Of Eternal Hope. Therefore, O Spirit! Fearlessly Bear On: Though Storms May Break The Primrose On Its Stalk, Though Frosts May Blight The Freshness Of Its Bloom, Yet Spring'S Awakening Breath Will Woo The Earth, To Feed With Kindliest Dews Its Favourite Flower, That Blooms In Mossy Banks And Darksome Glens, Lighting The Greenwood With Its Sunny Smile. 'Fear Not Then, Spirit, Death'S Disrobing Hand, So Welcome When The Tyrant Is Awake, So Welcome When The Bigot'S Hell-Torch Burns; 'Tis But The Voyage Of A Darksome Hour, The Transient Gulf-Dream Of A Startling Sleep. Death Is No Foe To Virtue: Earth Has Seen Love'S Brightest Roses On The Scaffold Bloom, Mingling With Freedom'S Fadeless Laurels There, And Presaging The Truth Of Visioned Bliss. Are There Not Hopes Within Thee, Which This Scene Of Linked And Gradual Being Has Confirmed? Whose Stingings Bade Thy Heart Look Further Still, When, To The Moonlight Walk By Henry Led, Sweetly And Sadly Thou Didst Talk Of Death? And Wilt Thou Rudely Tear Them From Thy Breast, Listening Supinely To A Bigot'S Creed, Or Tamely Crouching To The Tyrant'S Rod, Whose Iron Thongs Are Red With Human Gore? Never: But Bravely Bearing On, Thy Will Is Destined An Eternal War To Wage With Tyranny And Falsehood, And Uproot The Germs Of Misery From The Human Heart. Thine Is The Hand Whose Piety Would Soothe The Thorny Pillow Of Unhappy Crime, Whose Impotence An Easy Pardon Gains, Watching Its Wanderings As A Friend'S Disease: Thine Is The Brow Whose Mildness Would Defy Its Fiercest Rage, And Brave Its Sternest Will, When Fenced By Power And Master Of The World. Thou Art Sincere And Good; Of Resolute Mind, Free From Heart-Withering Custom'S Cold Control, Of Passion Lofty, Pure And Unsubdued. Earth'S Pride And Meanness Could Not Vanquish Thee, And Therefore Art Thou Worthy Of The Boon Which Thou Hast Now Received: Virtue Shall Keep Thy Footsteps In The Path That Thou Hast Trod, And Many Days Of Beaming Hope Shall Bless Thy Spotless Life Of Sweet And Sacred Love. Go, Happy One, And Give That Bosom Joy Whose Sleepless Spirit Waits To Catch Light, Life And Rapture From Thy Smile.' The Fairy Waves Her Wand Of Charm. Speechless With Bliss The Spirit Mounts The Car, That Rolled Beside The Battlement, Bending Her Beamy Eyes In Thankful Ness. Again The Enchanted Steeds Were Yoked, Again The Burning Wheels Inflame The Steep Descent Of Heaven'S Untrodden Way. Fast And Far The Chariot Flew: The Vast And Fiery Globes That Rolled Around The Fairy'S Palace-Gate Lessened By Slow Degrees And Soon Appeared Such Tiny Twinklers As The Planet Orbs That There Attendant On The Solar Power With Borrowed Light Pursued Their Narrower Way. Earth Floated Then Below: The Chariot Paused A Moment There; The Spirit Then Descended: The Restless Coursers Pawed The Ungenial Soil, Snuffed The Gross Air, And Then, Their Errand Done, Unfurled Their Pinions To The Winds Of Heaven. The Body And The Soul United Then, A Gentle Start Convulsed Ianthe'S Frame: Her Veiny Eyelids Quietly Unclosed; Moveless Awhile The Dark Blue Orbs Remained: She Looked Around In Wonder And Beheld Henry, Who Kneeled In Silence By Her Couch, Watching Her Sleep With Looks Of Speechless Love, And The Bright Beaming Stars That Through The Casement Shone.