We spake of ether — of the midnight heavens,
Of the wide sea, alike in every change
The vassal of the cold and distant Moon;
Of all the solemn workings of the stars
Harmonious to a hidden law, and all
That something " far more deeply interfused "
Which makes the heaven and earth one mighty whole.
Then spake we of the march of destiny
Through her appointed cycles — of the fate
Of ruined planets — of the mystic star
In Cassiopeia, which was seen of old
By the pale shepherdess, and lated hind,
Through many a summer evening to burn,
With an intense effulgence of white light,
Which deepened into red, and then became
Darkness, in its own fury self-consumed:
Thus dropping by a gradual discourse
To Earth, and that fierce shape of erring fire
Which even then (so to the untaught mind
Imagination had interpreted
The simple fact, that in its course a Comet
Would cross the pathway sacred to the earth,)
Was winding its interminable way
Through the black infinite, a wondrous orb
Made heavy with the freight of death, and charged
To crush the earth to chaos, as a hill,
Torn from its strong foundations, in its fall
Crushes the careless traveller beneath —
To say to the wild sea, " Enough, be still,
Thy tides are numbered in Eternity; "
To shake the rocks and mountains into dust,
Or scatter their huge limbs upon the air
Like drops of summer dew; from Caucasus,
And the ice-crowned Himala, unsurpassed
In loftiness, above Cathaian plains,
To the great mountains of the western world,
Clothed in enduring snow, or bright within
With caves of wondrous flame, and galleries,
Where the chained earthquake slumbers, light as day —
Yea, bearing earthwards on its awful car
Than this material ruin of a world
A deeper desolation, since at once
The blast of its destroying wrath must quell
All beatings of the wondrous human heart,
Must quench the sacred light of earthly love,
And wrap in death the soaring mind of man
In the sole world we know.
What marvel then
That when my limbs were laid in pleasant sleep
My brain was haunted with dim phantasies?
That voices of strange music touched mine ear,
And said to me, a vision to thy soul
Shall prophesy, a dream upon thine eye
Shall paint the coming hour?
With fiery speed
I felt myself borne upward far away,
Sustained upon the unessential gloom
Of the starred empyrean, whilst around,
The azure chasms of infinity,
Yawned without limit, and unfathomable!
Then saw I all the congregated worlds
Flowing around their central suns in joy
And exultation, full of perfect life:
Most wonderful! and my delighted spirit
Drank thirstily the noble harmonies
Flung from them as they passed in glorious state.
But as I gazed in passive wonderment
Upon that radiant fleet of breathing worlds
Which navigate eternally the seas
Of hollow space, under the eye of God;
Planets, and satellites, and wandering flames,
And the blind progress of chaotic stars
Ripening from vaporous films, until they shine
As orbed suns of undecaying fire;
The spirit who accompanied my flight
Spoke to me once again — " I brought thee here
From the low earth up to the sacred heavens
To spare thy human nature, when the hour
Of the annihilation shall arrive;
It were not good to render visible
The divine features of thy mother earth
Made hideous in her fearful agony.
No eye of human mould could look upon
The very lineaments of desolation;
No human ear could listen to a world
Breathing forth strange unprecedented sounds
In solemn woe, or bear the single shriek
Of mighty cities startled out of sleep
Into the arms of death. — Thou shalt behold
The hour of fate prefigured — thou shalt see
God's vengeance on the dark idolatries
Of a near globe that worships the dull earth;
And hear a mighty death-dirge, from above,
Sung by the stars in their eternal course,
Unto the wide ear of the universe;
But this is not our goal; away with me. "
I felt my brain grow dizzy with the speed
Of sudden flight, and when again the mist
Fled from my eyesight, in a plain I stood,
A wide green meadow on a river's brink.
A stately city with its thousand towers,
A wilderness of palaces and domes,
Bounded the southern aspect; on the north
Wild mountains of immeasurable height
Shot up into the sky — upon their sides
Undying snow dazzled the gazer's eye:
But their dread summits were unknown and dark;
The very atmosphere of life and light
Knew not their secret tops, but failed midway
In utter weakness, whilst unweariedly
The barren crags rose on — around them ever
Eternal blackness clung, Eternal calm.
I gazed around in blank astonishment;
The hills were thick with trees, but, as it seemed,
Their vegetation was not of the earth;
Upon the shapely stems, upon the leaves,
Upon the flowers beneath my feet, the seal
Of a mysterious difference was set:
All things, though not discordant, were unlike
Their kindred here — over its pebbly bed
The river murmured with an alien sound;
The winds breathed out a low peculiar tone
As they flew by; the clouds wore not the hues
Of earth; the sky was bright with other stars:
In lieu of the cold moon which rules our night,
Full in the centre of the living heavens
An orb of beauty shone majestical;
Smiling upon us with a disk as broad
As that, wherewith the mighty sun looks down,
Upon the fevered plains of Mercury
In middle summer, yet with light as mild
As the pale glow-worm in a flowery dell:
It filled the air with silver, as a lamp
Girt round with glistering spar of caverns old,
Low in the central earth: how beautiful!
How more than beautiful that smile divine
Fell on the snow-clad rocks, and silent stream!
Long gazed I there forgetful of all else,
In blissful musings wrapt; When suddenly
Once more I heard the voice angelical
Low breathing its mysterious melody
Upon the tranced air — till the clear heavens
Were satiated with delightful sound
Beneath that queenly moon, whose glorious orb
Blent the full powers of an unclouded sun
With all the weird solemnity of night.
" This region, " thus it spake to me, " is part
Of that fair planet which the sons of men
Have called their moon — and that ethereal light,
That brighter Cynthia, upon which thine eyes
Are fixed with such deep love, does not thy heart,
Thy human heart, taught by some magic power,
Acquaint thee with its dear familiar name?
Behold in her thy native earth. How calm!
How beautiful in her serenity
She floats upon the blue empyrean flood!
Who could believe that underneath that calm
The tides of passion are awake? We know
The sorrow and the sin that revel there,
Linked ever with the life of man — we know
What hollowness, and agony, and gloom,
The mantle of her beauty hides — but they
Whom Fate has made the tenants of this orb,
Unknowingly revere that earth as God —
Looking around with soul-less eyes, they see
The outward form and aspect, but forget
The inner life of things — That Mighty One
Whose spirit ever shineth in his works;
For what is all the spacious universe
With its proud splendour? What the thousand shapes
Which fill the human heart with loveliness —
What are they but the presence of the Lord?
Divine conceptions of the beautiful,
Imperishable ever, and deep thoughts,
Coeval with the very being of God,
Embodied in the passive elements:
They have forgotten him who gave them birth,
And turned to worship idols. — Void of love,
Incapable of elevating faith,
They bow their hearts to a debasing creed
Of sensuality, and carnal rites
Which fill the soul with darkness. But at length
The hour of chastisement arrives, and Fate
Implacable, with righteous vengeance armed,
Is pressing onward to its destined goal:
The young men see no visions, and the old
Dream not of woe and ruin, moving on
With wings of lightning speed — they shall behold
The meeting of these mighty combatants;
They shall behold their own eternal God
Vanish in dust and ashes from His sphere.
But see! Where from the city gates advance
The multitudes, thick swarming, self-deceived
With eager zeal; from every land they come,
To swell the great millennial festival
In honour of their moon; join thou the throng,
And follow where its evil guidance leads. "
He spoke, already did the plain resound
With echoing steps and voices; With such speed
The crowd came on. I saw in solemn pomp
Uncounted myriads pass by; distinct
In shape and hue, with vestures manifold,
And various forms of worship and of song.
Nations, and tribes, and languages, they came
From every corner of that populous globe,
From the far isles, and mountains, to assist
At the great sacrifice. By tribes they passed,
Each nation bearing solemn gifts, the produce
Of their own regions: Diamond, and gold,
Rare spices, ivory, and fragrant wood,
With woven robes, and costly merchandize.
Unlike, and yet analogous to man,
The divers races did appear, as though
The children of the many climes of earth,
By some strange chance were gathered in one place;
Tartar, and Ethiopian, and the sons
Of silken Hindostan, Arab, and Copt,
The feathery chieftains of the Southern isles,
The men who drink of that Assyrian stream,
Euphrates, and the wild Caucasian tribes;
Together with the wide-spread progeny
Of those, who in the rough Hercynian wood
Went naked to the beating of the storm;
With all who till that mighty continent,
Which, drawing from the mountains, and the caves,
Innumerable complicated streams
Down their strong slopes to the recoiling sea,
Great Amazon, and Orinoco, drain,
And silver Plata with her double flood;
Araucan, Caribbean, and the men
Of Patagon, feigned of gigantic size:
Such was the aspect which these multitudes
Wore as they passed. I followed in their train,
Until we reached a gently rising ground,
Where, mirrored in the soft and silent wave,
A massive temple stood, majestical
Above all human art; Such as might rise
Upon a poet's eye at dead of night,
If he that day alone had looked upon
The city of the sun — or, mightier yet,
The marble halls of Memphis in her pride;
Syene, or the wide magnificence
Of hundred-gated Thebes, with all her towers
And pyramids, fast by the river Nile;
Whilst yet, through every portal opening wide,
With bannered ornaments, and martial sound
Of echoing brass, the living tide of war
Flowed forth against the dusky kings who sat
In Meroi, and the continuous crowd
Of scythed chariots, terrible in fight,
Came thundering through her peaceful obelisks.
All of black marble was this wondrous fane,
Spreading itself abroad in halls, and towers
Frequent with mighty columns, underneath
Vast cupolas of mournful majesty.
A pile like to the great metropolis
Of some slain warrior in cycles old,
When a whole people slaughtered on his tomb,
Accompanied unto the home of death
Their ghastly monarch, that he still might rule
The city of the silent — a dead king
Of a dead people, to eternity.
As we came on, under the gloomy walls,
Before the long procession open flowed
The adamantine gates — from either side
On noiseless hinges gliding from our path;
And nation after nation entered in.
The rich moss-agate framed the temple's floor,
Stretching far onward to the lustrous stair
Behind the crimson veil, which from above,
Fastened to dizzy pinnacles, and heights
Scarce visible, athwart the lofty hall
Hung waving like a sea, and hid from sight
The altar of the oracles, untrod
Save by the priest at the appointed hour.
Circling around, black marble galleries
On columns leant, whose palmy capitals
Were living adamant, intensely bright;
Whilst high above, around the solemn wall,
Sculptured with strange device, and traceries
More beautiful than those of Phidias old,
Huge windows of the purple amethyst
Tier above tier arose, and silently
Mellowed the day into a gloom divine,
Up to the very summit of the fane.
Between each lofty window's slumbrous shade,
Great stars of glowing emerald were set,
Serenely bright and calm, and narrow lines
Of diamond light, between each purple tier,
Ran round the great majestic cupola:
Such was the temple sacred to their Moon.
Along the glossy pavement of the hall
In solemn march continuous, one by one,
The banded tribes advanced — Before the veil
They knelt to offer up the splendid gifts,
Which their vain piety had brought to add
To all the sumless wealth (statues of gold,
Invaluable gems, bright thrones of pearl,
And chrysolite,) which lay unseen below;
Stored up in the ancestral treasuries
Of the great temple, from the days of old.
Nor wanted, as they passed, the sumptuous aid
Of false religion — all the glittering rites
Idolatrous, which captivate the sense
Music, and light, and perfumes, and the swell
Of frequent hymns, and the protracted prayer,
With change of place, and vesture, and vain forms
Elaborate and perplexed — until the time
Of the last sacrifice, to be performed,
With an exceeding pomp and luxury,
To their bright Moon under the eye of heaven:
The high priest led the way, but suddenly
Upon the threshold stopped and shrieked aloud
With frantic voice and gesture. Then I saw
All that immeasurable multitude,
Fluctuate like the sea — through the long files
Ran a low murmur of despair, and dread,
In the same breath of time, communicate
From man to man, like the electric fire:
Then, with a sudden impulse, from the fane,
Regardless of all order forth they ran,
Confused and masterless, filling the plains
With dissonant and savage screams of fear.
It was indeed an awful spectacle!
A heavy vapour loaded the dense air,
In scorching folds voluminous, through which
Dimly could we discern the swift advance
Of a wild orb, glistening with blood-red beams.
Onward it rolled, shedding around its path
Wide-ruining blasts, and flakes of raging fire,
Insufferably fierce and fast: — The moon
Glowed opposite, with mild and lovely light;
And the two worlds drew near — we saw them join
Like some bright seraph, and the baleful fiend,
Meeting in mortal combat, on they came;
But we saw nought beyond — for, as they met,
From the dun skies closer and heavier fell
The sullen mist, and burning floods of smoke
Closed over us, making a denser night
Than the black vapour which was shed around
Christ crucified — or that more ancient gloom
When God with palpable thick darkness smote
Proud Egypt; and the monarch of the Nile
Trembled in sudden blindness on his throne;
But, not the less, through that gross atmosphere,
Impenetrable to the sight, there came
Strange thunderings; Ebbing and flowing sounds
Of wild uproar, like the convulsive crash
Of scattered elements in some far world.
Whilst louder than the thunders, heard above
The jar of the dissolving earth, a voice
Like the last trumpet of the Lord, arose,
Crying, " God has judged you in his wrath. That Moon
Shall shine no more in heaven — false worshippers
Of a false God, repent ye of your sins. "