The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume Ii Part 21

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 G.o.d, my G.o.d, 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 h.e.l.l. 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 G.o.d renowned In pagan lands.

STRANGER.

Thou seest the sh.o.r.es of Greece, 180 And that the ill.u.s.trious 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 G.o.d, 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 Superst.i.tion, 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 sh.o.r.es, 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 pa.s.s 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 sh.o.r.e.

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 pa.s.sed 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 sh.o.r.es 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 cl.u.s.ters 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 G.o.ddesses, 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 baccha.n.a.ls, 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 sh.o.r.e, 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.