Classic Poem

Just then, as on the night that with veiled stars,
And brows with deeper folds of darkness bound,
Attended Christ's great burial, Titan-morn,
From out the east horizon's fiery gulf,
Upheaved his flaming orb,—just then, and near
Where, sunk below its farthest published beam,
Abaddon sat dethroned before his throne,
Amid the stern and darkness-deepening frown
Of mutinous gods,—the silent throng of saints,
Before the mountain-altar on which stood
Their sacrifice and Saviour, from the floor
Of paradise uprising, to the day
Of his refulgent look, unveiled their eyes—
Splendrous with unaccustomed light, and bathed
In the translucent dew from their great joy
Distilled, in unrepressed, calm tears, that each
Insphered a smile, as dew-born drops, a sun;
And made fresh flowers spring wher'er they fell.
He, from his eminence, discerning all
His rescued flock, as, with the rising sun,
A shepherd, from his height, o'erlooks a field
White with his peaceful feudatories, smiled
Manifest love, which that far-banished realm
Than sapphire heaven more brightened; and these words
Spake, far and near heard equally distinct.
“Loved and elect of Heaven, loved by me,
From everlasting, with fraternal love;
For whom I left the Godhead's high repose,
And clear and tranquil sway, and, in this form,
Have sought, and in this place—from earth
Descending, through the gate of death—
Meet you, with joy like yours; and greater joy
Preparing, shall soon lead you where with me,
They whose sole rest has been in sleep and death,
Shall rest from death in life, from sleep awake,
To rest in waking, where no night, nor sleep,
Falls on the eyes, nor dimness of the soul
Beclouds them, or from weariness or tears.
But first, I hither come to win the keys
Of heavenly access from the sovran foe,
And your accuser; yielded to his hand,
Till one of human kind shall wrest them thence:
Nor does he doubt, who put to test the strength
Of military heaven, and dared to cite
His thronèd liege to duel, these to keep
In his propriety, 'gainst a foe so weak.
Now, first, shall your dark janitor suspect
That not for his strict hate, and your fixed doom,
He holds that office, but for his defeat
And your advantage, in the distant scope
Of Heaven's purpose, that debars your right
To heavenly station with the pure unfallen
Deities, and yet creatures, (who, because
Created, use their gift of narrow thought
More to be just than merciful, and great
More than magnanimous,) until a man,
Never polluted, and with glory more
Than they adorned, and with the Father's love,
Lead up his erring race, and in their shape,
Before the bosom-seraphim, and great
Angelic elders, high above all place
Throned, and advanced at the right hand of Power,
Authenticate their title to a seat
Above their origin or merit; and pride,
Heaven's sole temptation, and through which alone
Angels are fallible, to worship turn
And meet humility. My coming long deferred
You deemed, and, in this banishment, complained
Yourselves Heaven's orphans, if indeed his sons.
I came not in the green and sunless time
Of patriarchal writ, the shepherd age,
When on the sparsely tented Asian fields
Still hung creation's early dawn and mist,
Lest legendary soon, forgot, or mixed
With fable, should become the act whose fame,
Though harsh to untuned ears the hymn of death,
Shall henceforth be the music of the world:
But on the plenary and highest noon
Of human wisdom, though at brightest dark,
I rose with light, and to the greatest height
Of man's ascent descended. Now begins,
Far stretching o'er all empire to the end,
My reign on earth: Jerusalem no more,
But all the earth is holy. Sion still
Bears on her hills a temple, fashioned high,
And full of glorious office, but devoid
His presence who from human lips loves truth
More than his praise; and soon her Holiest Place
Beneath the feet of nations shall be stamped,
And bruised with iron dint: To-day is laid
With deep and sure foundation in my death,
Soon, in my resurrection, to be raised
With heavenly superstructure fair, the new
Jerusalem; the undecaying pile
Of glory spiritual, whose most pure walls
Shall be the illimitable air, her gates
The East and West,—but Sion is no more.”
At this, not spoken by their heavenly Guest
Without some touch of sorrow, not a few
Among the dwellers on that pallid shore,
Wept irrepressibly; and hoary heads
Desponded patiently upon the breast
Of king and prophet; and a sound was heard,
As of the golden strings of many a harp
Broken by hasty hands, and sighs were breathed,
And sobs tumultuous; as when a band
Of exiles, on a foreign coast, to hear
The ruin of their city, while for wrongs
And injuries they should smile, break out and weep.
But thus his interrupted speech pursued
The orator divine, seer self-inspired:
“The earth is mine, my empire over all
Imperial; and now to the defeat
Of hell, and of the last infernal hope,
I lead you forth; not for the unarmed aid
That ye can render, who, at rest, shall see
Victory from armies wrested, without arms.
And to this end, through recent quarrel, sprung
From the unnatural league of fiends and men,
Innumerous hell is gathering to one field
Her legions; and, in realms of heat and cold,
All the remotest lurkings of despair
Yield their dark tenants, in one confluent host
Assembled, to receive me with my saints.
He ceased, and to the earth once more they bowed,
Thanks giving and adoring: low, at once,
Bowed saint and airy minister: but one
There was who nearer clung, and at his feet
Bewildered wept; no citizen more old
Of this fair region than that hour, with Christ,
The only human shape besides, he came,
And proved so soon the promise, “Thou this day
Shalt be with me in paradise.” Then all
The ethereous host, inspiring mighty breath,
For conceived anthemings of vaster tone,
With noise as of the calm sea thundering, stirred,
And sunk and rose in sounding depths and heights;
And to that dark profound, from highest heaven,
Their harps drew echoes; and the solemn crowd,
Beneath and distant, whitening hill and plain
Far stretched without horizon, hymning in
With apt and instant hallelujahs, poured
Doxology and thanksgiving, highest praise,
And glory highest; while, through all the air,
Upon the multitude around fell flowers,
By seen and unseen hovering angels showered,
Profusely, from their hands and loosened locks;
Fresh roses, lilies, and violets, like morn
With evening blended: as if flowery heaven
Had shaken down its blossoms to the wind,
And all its thick, ambrosial branches loosed
Their bloom and fragrance; or the under sky
Its stars had snowed down, noiseless, from the blue
Serene of night. That moment, where, beneath,
The dread, transfigured peak leaned from the verge
Of the ingulfed, unfathomable void,
A shadow fell along the airy steep,
And vanished, like a just appearing cloud
Below the horizon driven by the wind—
A shadow, but with lineaments and shape
Like human, that grew pale almost to air,
And cast a look behind, that had made dumb
Deep groaning pain, or hollow-shrieked despair;
For Judas knew his Lord, and stretched his arms,
With that last look, reverse to his descent,
And, headlong, disappeared in the deep gulf.