Classic Poem

CANTO II .

Now midnight rose, and o'er the general scene,
Air, ocean, earth, drew broad her blackest veil,
Vapour and cloud. Around the unsleeping isle
Yet howl'd the whirlwind, yet the billow groan'd,
And in mix'd horror to Amyntor's ear
Borne through the gloom, his shrinking sense appall'd,
Shook by each blast, and swept by every wave,
Again pale Memory labours in the storm;
Again from her is torn, whom more than life
His fondness lov'd. And now another show'r
Of sorrow o'er the dear unhappy maid
Effusive stream'd, till late, through ev'ry pow'r
The soul subdued sunk sad to slow repose,
And all her darkening scenes, by dim degrees,
Were quench'd in total night: a pause from pain
Not long to last; for Fancy, oft awake
While Reason sleeps, from her illusive cell
Call'd up wild shapes of visionary fear,
Of visionary bliss, the hour of rest
To mock with mimic shows. And, lo! the deeps
In airy tumult swell: beneath a hill
Amyntor heaves off overwhelming seas,
Or rides, with dizzy dread, from cloud to cloud,
The billow's back: anon the shadowy world
Shifts to some boundless continent unknown,
Where solitary, o'er the starless void,
Dumb Silence broods. Through heaths of dreary length,
Slow on he drags his staggering step infirm
With breathless toil; hears torrent floods afar
Roar through the wild, and, plung'd in central caves,
Falls headlong many a fathom into night.
Yet there, at once, in all her living charms.
And brightening with their glow the brown abyss,
Rose Theodora. Smiling, in her eye
Sat, without cloud, the soft-consenting soul,
That, guilt unknowing, had no wish to hide;
A spring of sudden myrtles flowering round
Their walk embower'd; while nightingales beneath
Sung spousals, as along the' enamell'd turf
They seem'd to fly, and interchang'd their souls,
Melting in mutual softness. Thrice his arms
The fair encircled; thrice she fled his grasp,
And fading into darkness mix'd with air—
‘O, turn! O, stay thy flight!’—so loud he cried,
Sleep and its train of humid vapours fled.
He groan'd, he gaz'd around; his inward sense
Yet glowing with the vision's vivid beam,
Still on his eye the hovering shadow blaz'd;
Her voice still murmur'd in his tinkling ear,
Grateful deception! till returning thought
Left broad awake, amid the' incumbent lour
Of mute and mournful night, again he felt
His grief inflam'd throb fresh in every vein.
To frenzy stung, upstarting from his couch,
The vale, the shore, with darkling step he roam'd,
Like some drear spectre from the grave unbound;
Then scaling yonder cliff, prone o'er its brow
He hung, in act to plunge amid the flood,
Scarce from that height discern'd. Nor Reason's voice
Nor owed submission to the will of Heav'n
Restrains him; but as passion whirls his thought,
Fond expectation, that perchance escap'd,
Though passing all belief, the frailer skiff,
To which himself had borne the unhappy fair,
May yet be seen. Around o'er sea and shore
He roll'd his ardent eye, but nought around
On land or wave within his ken appears,
Nor skiff, nor floating corse, on which to shed
The last sad tear, and lay the covering mold.
 And now, wide open'd by the wakeful Hours
Heaven's orient gate, forth on her progress comes
Aurora smiling, and her purple lamp
Lifts high o'er earth and sea; while, all unveil'd,
The vast horizon on Amyntor's eye
Pours full its scenes of wonder, wildly great,
Magnificently various. From this steep
Diffus'd immense in rolling prospect lay
The northern deep: amidst, from space to space,
Her numerous isles, rich gems of Albion's crown,
As slow the' ascending mists disperse in air,
Shoot gradual from her bosom; and beyond,
Like distant clouds blue-floating on the verge
Of evening skies, break forth the dawning hills.
A thousand landscapes, barren some and bare,
Rock pil'd on rock, amazing, up to Heav'n,
Of horrid grandeur: some with sounding ash,
Or oak broad-shadowing, or the spiry growth
Of waving pine high-plum'd, and all beheld
More lovely in the sun's adorning beam,
Who now, fair rising o'er yon eastern cliff,
The vernal verdure tinctures gay with gold.
 Meanwhile Aurelius, wak'd from sweet repose,
Repose that Temperance sheds in timely dews
On all who live to her, his mournful guest
Came forth to hail, as hospitable rites
And Virtue's rule enjoin; but first to him,
Spring of all charity, who gave the heart
With kindly sense to glow, his matin song,
Superior duty, thus the sage address'd;
 ‘Fountain of light! from whom yon orient sun
First drew his splendour: Source of life and love!
Whose smile now wakes o'er earth's rekindling face
The boundless blush of spring; O, First and Best!
Thy essence though from human sight and search,
Though from the climb of all created thought
Ineffably remov'd; yet man himself,
Thy lowest child of reason, man may read
Unbounded power, intelligence supreme.
The Maker's hand, on all his works impress'd,
In characters coëval with the sun,
And with the sun to last; from world to world,
From age to age, in every clime, disclos'd,
Sole revelation through all time the same.
Hail, universal Goodness! with full stream
For ever flowing, from beneath the throne,
Through earth, air, sea, to all things that have life;
From all that live on earth, in air, and sea,
The great community of Nature's sons,
To thee, first Father, ceaseless praise ascend!
And in the reverent hymn my grateful voice
Be duly heard, among thy works not least,
Nor lowest, with intelligence inform'd,
To know thee and adore; with free-will crown'd,
Where Virtue leads to follow and be bless'd.
O, whether by thy prime decree ordain'd
To days of future life; or whether now
The mortal hour is instant, still vouchsafe,
Parent and friend! to guide me blameless on
Through this dark scene of error and of ill,
Thy truth to light me, and thy peace to cheer:
All else, of me unask'd, thy will supreme
Withhold or grant, and let that will be done!’
 This from the soul in silence breathed sincere,
The hill's steep side with firm elastic step
He lightly scal'd; such health the frugal board,
The morn's fresh breath that exercise respires
In mountain walks, and conscience free from blame,
Our life's best cordial, can through age prolong.
There, lost in thought, and self-abandon'd, lay
The man unknown, nor heard approach his host,
Nor rais'd his drooping head. Aurelius, mov'd
By soft compassion, which the savage scene,
Shut up and barr'd amid surrounding seas
From human commerce, quicken'd into sense
Of sharper sorrow, thus apart began:
 O sight, that from the eye of Wealth or Pride,
Ev'n in their hour of vainest thought, might draw
A feeling tear! whom yesterday beheld
By love and fortune crown'd, of all possess'd
That fancy, tranc'd in fairest vision, dreams;
Now lost to all, each hope that softens life,
Each bliss that cheers; there on the damp earth spread,
Beneath a heav'n unknown, behold him now!
And let the gay, the fortunate, the great,
The proud, be taught what now the wretched feel,
The happy have to fear. O man forlorn!
Too plain I read thy heart, by fondness drawn
To this sad scene, to sights that but inflame
Its tender anguish——
‘Hear me, Heav'n,’ exclaim'd
The frantic mourner, ‘could that anguish rise
To madness and to mortal agony,
I yet would bless my fate; by one kind pang,
From what I feel, the keener pangs of thought,
For ever freed. To me the sun is lost;
To me the future flight of days and years
Is darkness, is despair—But who complains
Forgets that he can die. O sainted Maid!
For such in Heav'n thou art, if from thy seat
Of holy rest, beyond these changeful skies,
If names on earth most sacred once and dear,
A lover and a friend, if yet these names
Can wake thy pity, dart one guiding ray
To light me where, in cave or creek, are thrown
Thy lifeless limbs, that I—O grief supreme!
O fate remorseless! was thy lover sav'd
For such a task?—that I those dear remains,
With maiden rites adorn'd, at last may lodge
Beneath the hallow'd vault, and, weeping there
O'er thy cold urn, await the hour to close
These eyes in peace, and mix this dust with thine!’
 ‘Such, and so dire,’ replied the cordial friend
In Pity's look and language, ‘such, alas!
Were late my thoughts: whate'er the human heart
Can most afflict, grief, agony, despair,
Have all been mine, and with alternate war
This bosom ravag'd. Hearken then, good Youth!
My story mark, and from another's fate,
Pre-eminently wretched, learn thy own,
Sad as it seems, to balance and to bear.
 ‘In me a man behold whose morn serene,
Whose noon of better life, with honour spent,
In virtuous purpose or in honest act,
Drew fair distinction on my public name
From those among mankind, the nobler few,
Whose praise is fame; but there, in that true source
Whence happiness with purest stream descends,
In horne-found peace and love, supremely bless'd!
Union of hearts, consent of wedded wills,
By friendship knit, by mutual faith secur'd,
Our hopes and fears, our earth and Heav'n, the same!
At last, Amyntor, in my failing age
Fall'n from such height, and with the felon herd,
Robbers and outlaws, number'd—thought that still
Stings deep the heart, and clothes the cheek with shame!
Then doom'd to feel what Guilt alone should fear,
The hand of public vengeance; arm'd by rage,
Not justice; rais'd to injure, not redress;
To rob, not guard; to ruin, not defend:
And all, O sovereign Reason! all deriv'd
From pow'r that claims thy warrant to do wrong!
A right divine to violate unblam'd
Each law, each rule, that, by himself observ'd,
The God prescribes whose sanction kings pretend!
 ‘O Charles! O monarch! in long exile train'd,
Whole hopeless years the oppressor's hand to know
How hateful and how hard; thyself reliev'd,
Now hear thy people, groaning under wrongs
Of equal load, adjure thee by those days
Of want and woe, of danger and despair,
As Heav'n has thine, to pity their distress!
 ‘Yet from the plain good meaning of my heart
Be far the' unhallow'd licence of abuse;
Be far the bitterness of saintly zeal,
That impious hid behind the patriot's name
Masks hate and malice to the legal throne,
In justice founded, circumscrib'd by laws,
The prince to guard—but guard the people too;
Chief one prime good to guard inviolate,
Soul of all worth, and sum of human bliss,
Fair Freedom! birthright of all thinking kinds,
Reason's great charter, from no king deriv'd,
By none to be reclaim'd, man's right divine,
Which God who gave indelible pronounc'd.
 ‘But if, disclaiming this his Heav'n-own'd right,
This first best tenure by which monarchs rule;
If, meant the blessing, he becomes the bane,
The wolf, not shepherd, of his subject flock,
To grind and tear, not shelter and protect,
Wide-wasting where he reigns—to such a prince
Allegiance kept were treason to mankind,
And loyalty revolt from virtue's law;
For say, Amyntor! does just Heaven enjoin
That we should homage hell? or bend the knee
To earthquake or volcano when they rage,
Rend earth's firm frame, and in one boundless grave
Ingulf their thousands? Yet, O grief to tell!
Yet such, of late, o'er this devoted land
Was public rule. Our servile stripes and chains,
Our sighs and groans resounding from the steep
Of wintry hill, or waste untravell'd heath,
Last refuge of our wretchedness, not guilt,
Proclaim'd it loud to Heav'n: the arm of pow'r
Extended fatal but to crush the head
It ought to screen, or with a parent's love
Reclaim from error; not with deadly hate,
The tyrant's law, exterminate who err.
 'In this wide ruin were my fortunes sunk,
Myself, as one contagious to his kind,
Whom nature, whom the social life, renounc'd,
Unsummon'd, unimpleaded, was to death,
To shameful death! adjudg'd; against my head
The price of blood proclaim'd, and at my heels
Let loose the murderous cry of human hounds:
And this blind fury of commission'd rage,
Of party-vengeance, to a fatal foe,
Known and abhorr'd for deeds of direst name,
Was giv'n in charge; a foe whom blood-stain'd zeal
For what—(O hear it not, all-righteous Heav'n!
Lest thy rous'd thunder burst)—for what was deem'd
Religion's cause, had savag'd to a brute
More deadly fell than hunger ever stung
To prowl in wood or wild. His band he arm'd,
Sons of perdition, miscreants with all guilt
Familiar, and in each dire art of death
Train'd ruthless up: as tigers on their prey
On my defenceless lands those fiercer beasts
Devouring fell; nor that sequester'd shade,
That sweet recess, where Love and Virtue long
In happy league had dwelt, which War itself
Beheld with reverence, could their fury 'scape;
Despoil'd, defac'd, and wrapt in wasteful flames;
For flame and rapine their consuming march
From hill to vale by daily ruin mark'd.
So, borne by winds along, in baleful cloud,
Embodied locusts from the wing descend
On herb, fruit, flow'r, and kill the ripening year;
While, waste behind, destruction on their track
And ghastly famine wait. My wife and child
He dragg'd, the ruffian dragg'd—O Heav'n! do I,
A man, survive to tell it? At the hour
Sacred to rest, amid the sighs and tears
Of all who saw and curs'd his coward rage,
He forc'd, unpitying, from their midnight-bed,
By menace, or by torture, from their fears
My last retreat to learn, and still detains
Beneath his roof accurs'd, that best of wives,
Emilia! and our only pledge of love,
My blooming Theodora!—Manhood there
And nature bleed—Ah! let not busy thought
Search thither, but avoid the fatal coast:
Discovery there once more my peace of mind
Might wreck, once more to desperation sink
My hopes in Heav'n.' He said; but, O sad Muse!
Can all thy moving energy of pow'r
To shake the heart, to freeze the arrested blood,
With words that weep and strains that agonize;
Can all this mournful magic of thy voice
Tell what Amyntor feels? ‘O Heav'n! art thou—
What have I heard?—Aurelius! art thou he?—
Confusion! horror!—that most wrong'd of men!
And, O most wretched too! alas! no more,
No more a father—on that fatal flood
Thy Theodora—At these words he fell;
A deadly cold ran freezing through his veins,
And life was on the wing her loath'd abode
For ever to forsake. As on his way
The traveller, from Heav'n by lightning struck,
Is fix'd at once immovable, his eye
With terror glaring wild, his stiffening limbs
In sudden marble bound; so stood, so look'd,
The heart-smote parent at this tale of death,
Half-utter'd, yet too plain. No sigh to rise,
No tear had force to flow; his senses all,
Through all their pow'rs, suspended, and subdued
To chill amazement. Silence for a space—
(Such dismal silence saddens earth and sky
Ere first the thunder breaks)—on either side
Fill'd up this interval severe. At last,
As from some vision that to frenzy fires
The sleeper's brain, Amyntor waking wild,
A pomard, hid beneath his various robe,
Drew furious forth—‘Me, me,’ he cry'd, ‘on me
Let all thy wrongs be visited, and thus
My horrors end’—then madly would have plung'd
The weapon's hostile point.—His lifted arm
Aurelius, though with deep dismay, and dread,
And anguish shook, yet his superior soul
Collecting, and resuming all himself,
Seiz'd sudden; then perusing with strict eye
And beating heart Amyntor's blooming form,
Nor from his air or feature gathering aught
To wake remembrance, thus at length bespoke:
 ‘O dire attempt! whoe'er thou art, yet stay
Thy hand self-violent, nor thus to guilt,
If guilt is thine, accumulating add
A crime that nature shrinks from, and to which
Heav'n has indulg'd no mercy. Sovereign Judge!
Shall man first violate the law divine,
That plac'd him here dependent on thy nod,
Resign'd, unmurmuring, to await his hour
Of fair dismission hence; shall man do this,
Then dare thy presence, rush into thy sight,
Red with the sin and recent from the stain
Of unrepented blood? Call home thy sense;
Know what thou art, and own his hand most just
Rewarding or afflicting—But say on;
My soul, yet trembling at thy frantic deed,
Recalls thy words, recalls their dire import:
They urge me on, they bid me ask no more—
What would I ask? my Theodora's fate,
Ah me! is known too plain. Have I then sinn'd,
Good Heav'n! beyond all grace—But shall I blame
His rage of grief, and in myself admit
Its wild excess? Heav'n gave her to my wish;
That gift Heav'n has resum'd; righteous in both:
For both his providence be ever bless'd!’
 By shame repress'd, with rising wonder fill'd,
Amyntor slow-recovering into thought,
Submissive on his knee the good man's hand.
Grasp'd close, and bore with ardour to his lips:
His eye, where fear, confusion, reverence, spoke,
Through swelling tears, what language cannot tell,
Now rose to meet, now shunn'd the Hermit's glance,
Shot awful at him, till the various swell
Of passion ebbing, thus he faltering spoke:
 What hast thou done? why sav'd a wretch unknown?
Whom knowing ev'n thy goodness must abhor.
Mistaken man! the honour of thy name,
Thy love, truth, duty, all must be my foes.
I am—Aurelius! turn that look aside,
That brow of terror, while this wretch can say,
Abhorrent say, he is—Forgive me, Heav'n!
Forgive me, Virtue! if I would renounce
Whom nature bids me reverence—by her bond
Rolando's son; by your more sacred ties,
As to his crimes an alien to his blood;
For crimes like his——
‘Rolando's son! Just Heav'n!
Ha! here? and in my pow'r? a war of thoughts,
All terrible arising, shakes my frame
With doubtful conflict. By one stroke to reach
The father's heart, though seas are spread between,
Were great revenge!—Away! revenge? on whom?
Alas! on my own soul; by rage betray'd
Ev'n to the crime my reason most condemns
In him who ruin'd me.’ Deep-mov'd he spoke,
And his own poniard o'er the prostrate youth
Suspended held; but as the welcome blow,
With arms display'd, Amyntor seem'd to court,
Behold in sudden confluence gathering round
The natives stood, whom kindness hither drew
The man unknown with each relieving aid
Of love and care, as ancient rites ordain,
To succour and to serve. Before them came
Montano, venerable sage! whose head
The hand of Time with twenty winters' snow
Had shower'd, and to whose intellectual eye
Futurity, behind her cloudy veil,
Stands in fair light disclos'd. Him, after pause,
Aurelius drew apart, and in his care
Amyntor plac'd, to lodge him and secure;
To save him from himself, as one with grief
Tempestuous, and with rage, distemper'd deep:
This done, nor waiting for reply, alone
He sought the vale, and his calm cottage gain'd.