The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume Ii Part 18

Here droops in banishment!

Hail, Smyrna, hail!

Beneath thy towers, and piers, and bastions, Far-seen through intermingled cypresses, 110 Ships from all nations, with their ensigns, float Silent; but, lo! a purer light from heaven Is on thy walls, while from the citadel Streams the triumphant banner of the Cross.

And beautiful thy sisters of the faith,[137]

First, in the east, when the wide world was dark, Laodicea, Philadelphia, And Pergamos, and Thyatira, shine, While Sardis, at the foot of Tmolus high, Seems from the wildering plains below, to gleam 120 Like a still star that guides the sailor's way O'er Adria![138] But, alas! here Antichrist Shall rise with power, permitted from on high!

Mourn, Ephesus, thy glory and thy light Extinguished! Sardis,[139] Thyatira, mourn: Yet the blessed kingdom of the Lamb again Shall be restored, and all the earth bow down To the "unarmed Conqueror of the world."[140]

Turn to the south, there are the pines of Crete, And, hark! the frantic Coribantes[141] shout 130 To Cybele, the mother of the G.o.ds, Drawn, by gaunt lions, in her car: they move In stern subjection, and with foot-fall slow, And s.h.a.ggy necks hung down, though their red eyes 134 Flash fire beneath; silent and slow they pace.

'Mid cymbals, shouts, and songs, and clashing swords, Pipes, and the dissonance of brazen drums, She bears aloft her calm brow, turreted.

JOHN.

Oh, pomp of proud and dire idolatry!

Crete, other sounds thy sister-island heard, 140 Far other sounds, when, on his seat of power, Amid the altars of the Queen of Love,[142]

The Christian faith there touched a heathen's heart.

Paul was in Cyprus: the Proconsul prayed To hear of faith from the Apostle's lips, But Elymas withstood him, Elymas The sorcerer. He beckoned up his legions dire Of fierce and frowning shadows. Paul, unmoved, Smote him, amid his gaunt and grisly troop,-- Smote him with instant blindness, and he stood 150 Dark in the midday sun.

STRANGER.

Was not the hand Of G.o.d so visible, that ships of Tyre Might bear the tidings from the east to west From Tyre to Thule? South from Crete, behold The land of ancient Egypt, scarce discerned Above the sea-line, the mysterious land Of Isis, and Anubis; of the Sphynx, Of Memnon, resonant at early dawn,[143]

When the red sun rose o'er the desert sands; 160 Of those vast monuments[144]--their tale unknown-- 161 Which, towering, pale and solemn, o'er the waste, Stand mocking the uplifted mace of Time, Who, as he smites in vain, mutters, and hies To other spoil! Yet there the timbrelled hymn Rings to Osiris; there, great Isis reigns, Veiled, and no mortal hath removed her veil; There, Thoth,[145] first teacher of the mysteries Of sacred wisdom, hid in signs obscure, Is still invoked to lead the ghosts, that pa.s.s 170 Through the dim portal, to h.e.l.l's silent king.

JOHN.

Hast thou forgotten, that in this dark land, The pa.s.sover--meet emblem of the Lamb Of G.o.d--was first ordained? That here his power In wonder and in judgment was displayed?

"Fire ran along upon the ground,"[146] with hail Mingled; and darkness, such as might be felt-- Darkness, not earthly, was on all the land.

Arrested and suspended at G.o.d's word, On either side the billows of the deep 180 Hung over those who pa.s.sed beneath their shade, While Pharaoh's charioteers and hors.e.m.e.n sank In the Red Sea: "not one of them is left."

STRANGER.

And Miriam took a timbrel in her hand, 184 And all the women went out after her, With timbrels, and with dances, and they sang: And Miriam answered them, Sing to the Lord, For he hath triumphed--triumphed gloriously!

The rider and his horse hath he cast down Into the sea--the rider and his horse! 190 And the dark sea was silent over them.

But Israel's children safely held their way, And the Lord went before them in a cloud Like to a pillar, and a fire by night, Till Moses, bearing with him Joseph's bones, Beheld, from Pisgah's top, far off, in clouds, The land of promise--saw that blessed land, And died in peace.

JOHN.

Oh! may the pilgrimage Of the tired Christian, in the wilderness 200 Of life, so lead him to his home of rest!

STRANGER.

Look northward--for the sheet let down from heaven Had "its four corners knit:" and are not these The north, the south, the east, the west--in bonds Of brotherhood, and faith, and charity?

Mountains and forests by the Caspian, plains Of Scythia, and ye dwellers on the sh.o.r.es Of the Black Sea, where the vast Ister hurls, Sounding, its ma.s.s into the inner deep; Shout, for the banners of the cross of Christ 210 Far as your dark recesses have been borne, By Andrew and by Thomas,[147] messengers 212 Of the slain Lamb--even to the utmost bounds Of wild and wintry Caucasus! Aloft, In silence, high above the rack of earth, That solitary mountain stands, nor hears The thunder bursting at its base.

JOHN.

So stands The Christian, calm amid the storms of life, Heaven's sunshine on his head, and all the cares 220 And sorrows of the world beneath his feet!

STRANGER.

Yea! and the Cross shall further yet be borne, To realms of pagan darkness and deep night!

The cymbals to the G.o.ds of fire and blood Shall clash no more; the idol-shapes are fled; Grim Moloch's furnace sinks in smoke, to sounds Strange and unutterable; but that shriek!

It came from Tauris, from the altars red Of Scythian Diana[148] terrible!

She, too, has left that altar and its blood, 230 As when her image young Orestes[149] bore (So fable masters of the pagan harp)-- Bore in his ship o'er the black waves to Greece.

Greece! who can think of thee, thou land of song, Of science, and of glory, and not feel How in this world ill.u.s.trious thou hast been, If triumphs such as thine may be p.r.o.nounced Ill.u.s.trious, worthy thine own Plato's fame!

Here the proud Stoic[150] spoke of constancy, 239 Of magnanimity, which raised the soul Above all mortal change; of Jove's high will; Of fate;--and here the master,[151] from the schools Of human wisdom, to his votaries, Spoke of the life of man but as the flower Blooming to fade and die; alas! to die, And never bloom again! Vain argument!

'Twas on that hill, named of the fabled lord Of battle and of blood,[152] amid the shrines And altars of the Grecian deities, Before the temple of the Parthenon,[153] 250 That shone, on this ill.u.s.trious hill, aloft, And as supreme o'er all the lesser fanes, Fronting the proud proficients in the code Of such vain wisdom, vain philosophy, Fearless amid this scene of earthly pomp, Eloquent, ardent, and inspired by Heaven, The loved Apostle stood. With look upraised, And hands uplifted, he spoke fervently; Spoke of that G.o.d, whose altar he had marked, "The unknown G.o.d," who dwelleth not on earth, 260 In temples made with hands, but in the heavens, 'Mid inaccessible and glorious light.

In Him we live and move; He giveth life, And breath, and all things. Him alone behoves To worship and adore with prayer and praise.

That G.o.d is now revealed, who, by his Son, Shall judge the world in righteousness, when earth And heaven shall pa.s.s away; when the last trump 268 Shall sound above the graves of all who sleep; When all who sleep, and all who are alive, Shall be caught up together in the clouds, To stand before the judgment-seat of Him Whom G.o.d appointed Judge; who shall descend From heaven, with a shout, and with the voice Of the Archangel, and the trump of G.o.d, While sun, and moon, and stars, are blotted out, And perish as a scroll!

As Paul thus spoke-- Spoke of the resurrection of the dead-- 'Mid the proud fanes of pagan deities, 280 At Athens, the stern Stoic mocked; the flowers Seemed withering on the brow of that fair youth, Whom Epicurus taught that life was brief, Brief as those flowers which in the garden bloom Of that philosopher of earthly bliss.[154]

And what the moral? Let us eat and drink, For we to-morrow die. Oh! heartless creed!

Far other lessons Christ's Apostle taught, Of faith, of hope, of judgment, in a world To come, of light and life beyond the grave. 290 So Athens, Corinth, Macedonia, heard The tidings of salvation.[155] Hark! the sound Is gone forth to all lands: the glorious light Extends--the light of faith, and hope, and joy-- The light from Heaven; whilst he, so falsely called The G.o.d of Day,[156] shorn of his golden hair, And rays of morn, shall leave his Delphian shrine, Discomfited, and hide his head in night.

The dayspring of Heaven's purer light hath reached Imperial Rome: the tyrant[157] on his throne 300 Starts; at his voice the famished lion springs And crashes the pale martyr at his feet; While the vast amphitheatre is hushed, And not a sound heard through the mult.i.tude, But that dire crash, and the breath inly drawn, The moment it is heard, from the still throng Shuddering; the blood streams from the lion's beard, Whilst that vast, breathless amphitheatre Bursts into instant thunders to the skies.

But not the lion, with blood-matted mane, 310 Nor the fierce fires about the martyr's stake, With rolling smoke, that the winds warp away In surges, when the miserable man Blackened and half-consumed appears; not these, Nor famine, nor the sword, nor death, nor h.e.l.l, Shall move the Christian's heart or hope, or fray Him, steadfast and victorious, though he die.

Farther and farther yet the light is spread:[158]

And thou hast lived to see this gospel-dawn Kindling from Asia, like a beacon-flame 320 Through darkness--oh! more cheering than the morn, With all its lovely hues, on sea or sh.o.r.e, As now it shines around us!

John replied: Teacher of wisdom, or from heaven or earth, We know that Paul, our brother in the faith, Proclaimed the tidings of "Him crucified"

From Rome to Spain; but Paul is in his grave: Soon must I follow him, and be at rest: Who then shall bear these tiding of great joy, 330 To all the people of all lands?

STRANGER.

That book Which the Lamb opened, as a "flying roll"

Angels of light shall bear with wings unseen, From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e; and thus, though Paul be dead, He still shall speak, and millions yet unborn Shall bless the boon. Thou shalt reveal the things That thou hast seen; but that same book, which none In heaven or earth could open, but the Lamb, None but the Lamb shall close. Awake, awake, 340 Ye who now slumber in the shades of death!

Yes! every nation shall confess the Lord; Till all shall be fulfilled, and there shall be, Through the wide world, "one Shepherd and one fold."

For deem not this small frith, called "the Great Sea,"[159]

That girds yon promontories, girds the world: Without is the great ocean, the main sea, Rocking in tempest and in solitude; Ten thousand isles are scattered o'er the waste Of those dark waters, and each isle and land, 350 All earth, shall be one altar; and from earth To heaven one flame of incense, and one voice Of prayer and praise and harmony shall rise!

So these two held communion on the sh.o.r.e Of melancholy Patmos, when a sound As of a griding chain was heard, and, lo!

A criminal is kneeling at the feet Of the old man: G.o.d has been kind to me, He cried, and hid his forehead with his hands.

Oh! listen to my tale, and pray for me. 360 'Twas when the Roman sentinel, who paced The platform of the dungeon where we slept, Had called the midnight watch, and overhead Bright Aldebaran held his course in heaven, Westering o'er yonder Cape, I waked, and mused On my eventful life.

Then to my heart Came words which I had heard from thee: I wept Even as an infant, and I smote my breast.

The brave companion of my fortunes died-- 370 Died yesterday, stern and impenitent As he lived, pitiless; and, left alone, I cried for mercy, mercy of that G.o.d Whom thou didst call thy Father; and I prayed To Christ, and cried, Me--me--oh! pardon me!

I dare not lift my eyes. Thou, father, hear.

I am a free-born citizen of Rome, My name, Pedanius,[160] the Decurion.

When t.i.tus led his legions to the East, Against the city of Jerusalem, 380 To raze it from the earth; at the last day, When the third wall shook to the battering-rams, Amid the shrieks of horror and despair, Flung from the tottering battlements, a babe Fell at my horse's feet.[161] Famished and black, With livid lips and ghastly, on the ground It lay; when, frantic from the crowd within, A wretched and bereaved woman rushed, And held my bridle, fearless of the swords That flashed above her head. I heard her cries-- 390 Protect me!--he is dead!--my child, my child!

Brave soldier, for the love of G.o.d! I looked 392 A moment, there was famine in her face, Wasted, yet beautiful. Pitying, I spoke: Follow; and through the clouds of smoke we pa.s.sed To the green olive trees, and then she sank Upon the ground, and, pale and still as death, Lay long--the winds just stirring her dark hair: I brought her water from the spring that wells, Soft murmuring, from the brook of Siloa: 400 She drank, and feebly opened her dark eyes, Which seemed more large, for all her flesh was shrunk; Then she looked up, and faintly spoke again; My mother--and my husband--and my child-- Are--and she sobbed aloud. By Him, I cried, Who rules among the G.o.ds, I will protect Thy life with mine! Her tears fell fast and warm Upon the b.l.o.o.d.y hand which held the sword; The other checked my fierce and foaming horse.

Hark! hark! a turret falls! Hark! hark! again-- 410 They shout, ten thousand voices rend the skies, The Temple, the proud Temple to the ground!

The Temple, the proud temple to the dust!

Her infant she had taken from the ground, To lay it in her bosom, while the tears Fell on its folded hands; but when she saw Still its wan livid lips, and the same glare Of its dead eyes, she turned away her face, Half looking down, half raised to heaven, and shed Her tears no more: one hand as thus she sat, 420 With fingers spread, held fast her infant's arm, O'er its right shoulder, while its arid lips She drew, in vain, towards her open breast, Still fearing to look down: her other hand, Instinctively, she laid on its cold feet, As if to cherish them: the gouts of blood 426 Fell heavy from its matted hair, and stained Her bosom; but she had composed its hands, Which now, though cold and dead, each other clasped, Beneath her neck, as living. So she sat, Nor sighed, nor moved her face, nor shed a tear I gently took the infant from her arms, And buried it beside the sacred brook, And then, with muttered prayer, she turned and wept-- Wept, as bereaved of all she loved on earth!

Fly! and I placed her on the horse with me-- Leaving behind the sounds and sights of death-- The shrieks of ma.s.sacre, the crash of towers Falling, the heavy sound of battering-rams: We pa.s.sed the victims, blackening in the sun, 440 And some, yet breathing, on the crucifix.[162]

On, through the valley of Jehoshaphat, I spurred my horse; we pa.s.sed the sepulchre Of Lazarus, restored from the dark grave, So those who own the faith of Christ affirm, With eye-b.a.l.l.s ghastly glaring in the light, At the loud voice of Him who cried, Come forth!

We held our eastern way from Bethany, Till now we reached the "Plain of Blood."[163] I paused A moment, ere we entered that sad plain. 450 Ah! there are tents upon the southern edge Of the horizon! Fly! it is the camp Of Arabs: see! with long and couched spears, A troop is flying o'er the sands! We hear Their cries--this way they rush--this way-- Fly! fly! and instant, as an arrow speeds, (My pale companion breathless, and scarce held) We bounded o'er the desert, till the track 458 Was lost. The voices died away: she sank Faint in my arms, and with her head declined Upon my breastplate. We will rest a while; For she was now so feeble, it behoved Thus oft to rest, if haply she might feel Some cool reviving airs breathe on her face, Gently; a few dry dates were all our food.

We gazed in silence on the sun, that, red, Was sinking now beyond the lonely sands, And hurriedly again renewed our flight.

The track is lost! Fear not--those are the bones, Not of a murdered traveller. Look out! 470 Is that a cloud? or seest thou not the smoke Of some lone cottage on the hills? List! list!

Is it the tinkle of some rivulet, Wandering in solitude? On, on, my steed!

We reached the hills, and, looking back, beheld The western cope of heaven, as night came down, All fiery red. It was the light, far off, Of the proud Temple flaming! Through the night We held our toiling way, when, at gray dawn, We saw, beneath us, palms, and city walls, 480 And Jordan, slowly flowing to the south.

Yes! these are palms and walls of Jericho; But all was silent and forsaken. War Had blown his trump; and Pity, at the blast, Had knelt in tears, and hid her face to hear That deep, dire groan; but it is heard no more, For Silence, Solitude, and Ruin sit, Mocking each other, at the city gates.

Here were no murmurs of tumultuous life.

We joined a mourning train, that held their way, 490 Women, and children, and white-headed men, Forlorn, by Jordan's banks, to Galilee, 492 Seeking the city of Tiberias.

With many tears, my poor companion told Her tale: a daughter of Jerusalem Implored their pity; and the daggers, raised To pierce a Roman soldier to the heart, Were in the act arrested, for her sake-- Trifosa, of the tribe of Benjamin, Who owed her life and safety to his sword. 500 We reached the city: here she had a friend, Widowed like her, who wept to hear her tale.

Here, wedded, and by Israel's laws made one, I lived--a fisher toiling with his net To gain our daily bread; but soon my heart Beat for a wider scene--for enterprise, The soul of a young soldier; and with thoughts Stirring and restless, after twelve long months, We came, by Tabor, to the western sea.