Classic Poem

Now let my fancy's ship unfurl her sail,
Her course o'er smoother waters to begin,
And leave behind her all the sea of wail;
And of that second kingdom will I sing,
Where pain each mortal spirit purifies
Ere it can upward soar on heavenward wing.
Here let my Lay from Death once more arise,
O Muses, since to you do I belong,
And here Calliopë in tuneful guise
Appear, and bring with her, to aid my song,
The selfsame melody which erst they knew
Who mourn, as chattering jays, their hopeless wrong.
The oriental sapphire's lovely hue
That colour'd the pure air, serenely bright,
O'erspreading all the sky with deepest blue,
Again unto mine eyes brought back delight;
Soon as the deathly air I rose above,
The air that grieved my heart and dimm'd my sight.
The beauteous planet, counsellor of love,
Arose and shed o'er all the east her smile,
Hiding the Fish that in her escort move.
To the right hand I turn'd, and gazed awhile
At the far pole, and saw four stars, unseen
By man since sin our parents did beguile.
Their radiance gladden'd all the sky, I ween:
O region of the Northland, cold and gray,
Since parted from their brightness thou hast been!
I turn'd from gazing at the holy ray;
A little towards the north my glance was thrown,
There where the Wain but now had pass'd away.
I saw anear me an old man alone;
To whom so much of reverence seem'd due,
As to a father by his son is shown.
His beard was long, and mix'd with hoary hue,
And like unto the flowing locks he wore,
That, double-falling, both his shoulders strew.
The holy radiance of the starry Four
Shed on his forehead such a dazzling beam,
It seem'd as though the sun's own light he wore.
“And who are ye that, 'gainst Hell's sluggish stream,
From the eternal prisonhouse have fled?”
He spake, and shook his hair of silvery gleam;
“Who is your guide? and who the light that led
Forth from the night of everlasting gloom,
That darkens aye the valley of the dead?
Or broken are the laws of final doom?
And is there now new counsel in the sky,
That even the damn'd to my abode should come?”
My Master then made signs with hand and eye,
Exhorting me to make obeisance low,
And to the ancient sage bend rev'rently;
Then answer'd: “Not at mine own will I go;
A Blessëd One descended from above,
To send me as a guide through realms of woe.
But since of our condition thou wouldst prove
The truth still more, I may not say thee nay,
Nor may my will against thy wishes move.
This man hath never seen the closing day
Of life; but in his madness drew so nigh,
That little time remain'd to turn away.
As I have said, a Lady from on high
Commanded me to aid him; and no place
Of flight remain'd, save that we have pass'd by.
And I have show'd him all the wicked race,
And now would lead him through the spirit throng,
Who 'neath thy guardianship their sins efface.
To tell thee all our journey were too long;
Know, from above hath heavenly virtue flow'd,
That for this enterprise doth make me strong.
Now deign to welcome him to thy abode;
He goes to seek for liberty:—so dear
As he who gives his life for it hath show'd:
And thou must know it well, who hadst no fear
Of death in Utica;—where thou hast shed
The vesture that in glory shall appear
At the last day. Heaven's edicts are not made
In vain for us. This man hath mortal life;
And I am of that region of the dead,
Where she, who was on earth thy loving wife,
Still loves thee in the land of shadowy woe:
For her sake, then, befriend us in our strife.
Let us throughout thy sevenfold kingdom go;
To her I will take back a good report,
If thou wouldst be remember'd there below.”
“Marcia to me such gladness did impart
On earth,” he said, “that, whatsoe'er she would,
I did; so dear was she unto my heart.
Now that she dwells beyond the evil flood,
She cannot move me more; by that decree
Made when my soul forth issued with my blood.
If sent by heavenly messenger ye be,
As thou hast said, no need of flattering speech;
Enough that in such name thou askest me.
Go then, descend unto the salt sea beach,
And gird this wand'rer with the reeds that rise
Beside the wave; and wash the stains that reach
O'er all his visage: lest that, with his eyes
Dimm'd by some cloud, he should appear before
The angel ministrant of Paradise.
For all around this little island shore,
Down where the waters beat upon the strand,
There springs of reeds and rushes ample store.
No other plant may blossom 'mid the sand;
No stem resist the dashing of the main:
None that unto the billows doth not bend.
By this same path return ye not again;
The sun, that now is rising, be your guide
More easily the summit to attain.”
He vanish'd: silent I drew near the side
Of him who led me through the lake of woe.
Thus to my mute enquiry he replied:
“My son, do thou behind my footsteps go;
Let us turn back, for this way it must be,
The plain descends unto the waves below.”
The dawn was conquering the mists that flee
Before it, as the early shadows wane;
Afar I knew the trembling of the sea.
We pass'd along the solitary plain,
As one who turns again to the lost way,
And, till he finds it, seems to walk in vain.
When we were come to where the dewdrops lay,
Despite the sun (because on the long reeds
But little had the freshness pass'd away),
Then both his hands upon the scatter'd weeds
Softly my Master laid among the dew:
And I, who knew his meaning and my needs,
Bent unto him my cheeks of tearful hue;
While the dark stains he wash'd away, that bore
The impress of the hell I had pass'd through.
Now we were come unto the desert shore
Of that great sea, upon whose waters wide
He who hath sail'd returns again no more.
There was I clothëd by my gentle guide:
And then, in sooth, a wondrous thing was seen;
Swift as he pluck'd it, by the flowing tide,
Again the lowly plant sprung up, in freshest green.