Classic Poem

Canto I.

In ages past, when smit with warmth sublime,
Their bards foretold the dark events of time,
And piercing forward through the mystic shade,
Kings yet to come, and chiefs unborn survey'd,
Amittai's son perceiv'd, among the rest,
The mighty flame usurp his labouring breast: —
For this, in dreams, the voice unerring came
Of Him, who lives through every age the same:
" Arise! and o'er the intervening waste,
" To Nineveh's imperial turrets haste;
" That mighty town to ruin I decree,
" Proclaim destruction, and proclaim from me:
" Too long it stands, to God and man a foe,
" Without one virtue left to shield the blow;
" Guilt, black as night, their speedy ruin brings,
" And hottest vengeance from the King of Kings. "
The prophet heard — but dared to disobey,
(Weak as he was) and fled a different way;
In Joppa's port a trading ship he found
Far o'er the main to distant Tarshish bound:
The price of passage to her chief he paid,
And there conceal'd with wandering sailors stay'd,
His purpose fixt, at once perverse and blind,
To leave his country, and his God behind.
But He who spread the ocean's vast expanse,
And views all nature with a single glance,
Forth from its prison bade the tempest fly —
The tempest swell'd the ocean to the sky;
The trembling barque, as the fierce billow knocks,
Scarce bears the fury of repeated shocks;
Her crew distrest, astonish'd and afraid,
Each to his various god in anguish pray'd,
Nor trust alone to penitence and prayer,
They clear the decks, and for the worst prepare,
The costly lading to the deep they throw,
That lighter o'er the billows she may go,
Nor with regret the wealthy cargo spared,
For wealth is nothing when with life compared.
But to the ship's remotest chambers fled
There pensive Jonah droop'd his languid head,
And, new to all the dangers of the deep,
Had sunk, dejected, in the arms of sleep —
'Twas then the master broke the prophet's rest,
And thus exclaim'd, and smote his frantic breast —
" O sleeper, from thy stupid slumbers rise,
" At such an hour can sleep invade thine eyes? —
" If ever thou to heaven didst send a prayer,
" Now send thy warmest supplications there,
" Perhaps thy God may pity our distress,
" And save us, foundering in this dark abyss. "
Thus warn'd, the seer his vows repentant paid —
Meantime, the seamen to their fellows said:
" No common waves our shatter'd vessel rend,
" There must be one for whom these storms impend,
" Some wretch we bear, for whom these billows rise,
" Foe to the gods, and hated by the skies;
" Come, since the billows all our arts defy,
" Come, let the lot decide for whom we die. "
Instant the lots amidst the vase they threw,
And the markt lot dejected Jonah drew!
Then thus their chief the guilty man address'd,
" Say, for what crime of thine are we distrest?
" What is thy country, what thy calling, say,
" Whence dost thou come, what potentate obey?
" Unfold it all, nor be the truth deny'd. " —
The master spoke, and Jonah thus reply'd:
" A Hebrew I, from neighbouring regions came,
" A Jewish prophet, of no vulgar fame:
" That God I fear who spread this raging sea,
" Who fixt the shores by his supreme decree,
" And reigns throughout immeasurable space,
" His footstool earth, the heaven his dwelling place.
" But I, regardless of his high command,
" His mandate slighting, fled my native land,
" Fool that I was, from Joppa's port to fly,
" Who thought to shun his all-pervading eye!
" For this the tempest rends each tatter'd sail,
" For this your vessel scarce supports the gale! "
The seamen heard, distracted and dismay'd;
When thus again their trembling pilot said:
" How couldst thou thus, ungenerous as thou art,
" Affront thy patron, and with us depart? —
" Lo! for thy crimes, and not our own, we die;
" Mark, how the wild waves threaten from on high,
" Our sails in fragments flit before the blast,
" Scarce to its station we confine the mast;
" What shall we do, unhappy man, declare,
" How shall we act, or how direct our prayer,
" That angry Neptune may his rage restrain,
" And hush once more these tumults of the main? "
The seer reply'd, " The means are in your power
" To still the tempest in this dreadful hour: —
" High on the sea-beat prow will I ascend,
" And let the boldest of your crew attend
" To plunge me headlong from that giddy steep
" Down to the bosom of the unfathom'd deep;
" So shall the ocean from its raging cease,
" And the fierce tempest soon be hush'd to peace: —
" 'Tis for my crimes this angry ocean raves,
" 'Tis for my sin we plough these fearful waves;
" Dislodge me soon — the storm shall then decay,
" Which still grows louder while on board I stay. "
Thus he — but they, to save their vagrant guest,
Refus'd as yet to grant his strange request,
And though aloft on mountain waves they ride,
And the tost galley reels from side to side,
Yet to their breasts they drew the sweepy oar,
And vainly strove to gain the distant shore:
The ruffian winds refuse that wish'd retreat,
And fiercer o'er the decks the billows beat.
Then to the skies the chief his prayer addrest,
" Thou Jove supreme, the greatest and the best!
" Because thy sovereign pleasure doth require
" That death alone must satisfy thine ire,
" O spare us for thy dying prophet's sake,
" Nor let us perish for the life we take;
" If we are wrong, his lot was thy decree,
" And thou hast done as it seem'd best to thee. "
Then from the summit of the washy prow,
They plunged the prophet to the depths below,
And straight the winds, and straight the billows cease,
And every threatening surge lay hush'd in peace;
The trembling crew adore the Power Supreme
Who kindly thus from ruin rescued them;
Their vows they send to his imperial throne,
And victims offer to this God unknown.

When from the prow's intimidating height
They plung'd the prophet to the realms of night,
Not long he languished in the briny deep,
In death's cold arms not yet decreed to sleep. —
Jehovah saw him, from the abodes of bliss,
Sunk to the bottom of the vast abyss,
And bade a whale, the mightiest of the kind,
His prophet in these dismal mansions find —
The hostile form, approaching through the wave,
Receiv'd him living to a living grave,
Where three long days in dark distress he lay,
And oft repenting, to his God did pray —
The power benign, propitious to his prayer,
Bade the huge fish to neighbouring shores repair —
Instant the whale obey'd the high command,
And cast him safe on Palestina's strand.
The prophet then his past transgressions mourn'd,
And grateful, thus to heaven his thanks return'd:
" Afflicted from the depths of hell I pray'd,
" The dark abyss of everlasting shade:
" My God in mercy heard the earnest prayer,
" And dying Jonah felt thy presence there.
" Because I dared thy mandate disobey,
" Far didst thou plunge me from the face of day:
" In the vast ocean, where no land is found,
" The mighty waters closed thy prophet round:
" On me the waves their utmost fury spent,
" And all thy billows o'er my body went,
" Yet then, surrounded by the dismal shade,
" Thus to my Maker from the depths I said:
" Though hid beneath the caverns of the main,
" To thy blest temple will I look again,
" Though from thy sight to utter darkness thrown,
" Still will I trust, and trust on thee alone —
" With anguish deep I felt the billows roll,
" Scarce in her mansion stay'd my frighted soul;
" About my head were wrapt the weeds of night,
" And darkness, mingled with no ray of light;
" I reached the caves the briny ocean fills,
" I reached the bases of the infernal hills,
" Earth, with her bars, encompass'd me around,
" Yet, from the bottom of that dark profound
" Where life no more the swelling vein supplies,
" And death reposes, didst thou bid me rise.
" When fainting nature bow'd to thy decree,
" And the lone spirit had prepar'd to flee,
" Then from my prison I remember'd thee.
" My prayer towards thy heavenly temple came,
" The temple sacred to Jehovah's name. —
" Unhappy they, who vanities pursue,
" And lies believing, their own souls undo —
" But to thine ear my grateful song shall rise,
" For thee shall smoke the atoning sacrifice,
" My vows I'll pay at thy imperial throne,
" Since my salvation was from thee alone. "

Once more the voice to humbled Jonah came
Of Him, who lives through every age the same:
" Arise! and o'er the intervening waste
" To Nineveh's exalted turrets haste,
" And what to thee my Spirit shall reveal,
" That preach — nor dare the sacred truth conceal —
" To desolation I that town decree;
" Proclaim destruction, and proclaim from me. "
Obedient to Jehovah's high command,
The prophet rose, and left Judea's land,
And now he near the spiry city drew,
(Euphrates pass'd, and rapid Tigris too:)
So vast the bulk of this prodigious place,
Three days were scant its lengthy streets to trace;
But as he enter'd, on the first sad day,
Thus he began his tidings of dismay:
" O Nineveh! to heaven's decree attend!
" Yet forty days, and all thy glories end;
" Yet forty days, the skies protract thy fall,
" And desolation then shall bury all,
" Thy proudest towers their utter ruin mourn,
" And domes and temples unextinguished burn!
" O Nineveh! the God of armies dooms
" Thy thousand streets to never-ending glooms:
" Through mouldering fanes the hollow winds shall roar,
" And vultures scream where monarchs lodg'd before!
" Thy guilty sons shall bow beneath the sword,
" Thy captive matrons own a foreign lord. —
" Such is the vengeance that the heavens decree,
" Such is the ruin that must bury thee! "
The people heard, and smit with instant fear,
Believ'd the fatal warnings of the seer:
This sudden ruin so their souls distrest,
That each with sackcloth did his limbs invest,
From him that glitter'd on the regal throne,
To him that did beneath the burden groan. —
Soon to their monarch came this voice of fate,
Who left his throne and costly robes of state,
And o'er his limbs a vest of sackcloth drew,
And sate in ashes, sorrowful to view —
His lords and nobles, now repentant grown,
With equal grief their various sins bemoan,
And through the city sent this loud decree,
With threatening back'd, and dreadful penalty:
" Ye Ninevites! your wonted food refrain,
" Nor touch, ye beasts, the herbage of the plain,
" Let all that live be humbled to the dust,
" Nor taste the waters, though ye die of thirst;
" Let men and beasts the garb of sorrow wear,
" And beg yon' skies these guilty walls to spare:
" Let all repent the evil they pursue,
" And curse the mischief that their hands would do —
" Perhaps that God, who leans to mercy still,
" And sent a prophet to declare his will,
" May yet the vengeance he designs, adjourn,
" And, ere we perish, from his anger turn. "
Jehovah heard, and pleas'd beheld at last
Their deep repentance for transgressions past,
With pity moved, he heard the earnest prayer
Of this vast city, humbled in despair;
Though justly due, his anger dies away,
He bids the angel of destruction stay: —
The obedient angel hears the high command,
And sheathes the sword, he drew to smite the land.

Canto IV.

But anger swell'd the haughty prophet's breast,
Rage burn'd within, and robb'd his soul of rest;
Such was his pride, he wish'd they all in flame
Might rather perish than belie his fame,
And God's own bolts the tottering towers assail,
And millions perish, than his word should fail.
Then to the heavens he sent this peevish prayer —
(Vain, impious man, to send such pinings there):
" While yet within my native land, I stay'd,
" This would at last reward my toil, I said,
" Destruction through the Assyrian streets to cry,
" And then the event my mission falsify;
" For this I strove to shun thy sight before,
" And sought repose upon a foreign shore;
" I knew thou wert so gracious and so kind,
" Such mercy sways thy all creating mind,
" Averse thy bolts of vengeance to employ,
" And still relenting when you should'st destroy,
" That when I had declar'd thy sacred will,
" Thou would'st not what I prophesy'd fulfil,
" But leave me thus to scorn, contempt, and shame,
" A lying prophet, blasted in my fame —
" And now, I pray thee, grant my last request,
" O take my life, so wretched and unblest!
" If here I stay, 'tis but to grieve and sigh;
" Then take my life — 'tis better far to die! "
" Is it thy place to swell with rage and pride,
" (Thus to his pining prophet, God reply'd)
" Say is it just thy heart should burn with ire
" Because yon' city is not wrapt in fire?
" What if I choose its ruin to delay,
" And send destruction on some future day,
" Must thou, for that, with wasting anguish sigh,
" And, hostile to my pleasure, wish to die? "
Then Jonah parted from the mourning town,
And near its eastern limits sate him down,
A booth he builded with assiduous care,
(Form'd of the cypress boughs that flourish'd there)
And anxious now beneath their shadow lay,
Waiting the issue of the fortieth day —
As yet uncertain if the Power Divine
Or would to mercy, or to wrath incline —
Meantime the leaves that roof'd his arbour o'er,
Shrunk up and faded, sheltered him no more;
But God ordain'd a thrifty gourd to rise,
To screen his prophet from the scorching skies;
High o'er his head aspired the spreading leaf,
Too fondly meant to mitigate his grief,
So close a foliage o'er his head was made,
That not a beam could pierce the happy shade:
The wondering seer perceiv'd the branches grow
And bless'd the shadow that reliev'd his woe;
But when the next bright morn began to shine
(So God ordain'd) a worm attack'd the vine,
Beneath his bite its goodly leaves decay,
And wasting, withering, die before the day!
Then as the lamp of heaven still higher rose
From eastern skies a sultry tempest blows,
The vertic sun as fiercely pour'd his ray,
And beam'd around insufferable day.
How beat those beams on Jonah's fainting head!
How oft he wish'd a place among the dead!
All he could do, was now to grieve and sigh,
His life detest, and beg of God to die.
Again, Jehovah to his prophet said,
" Art thou so angry for thy vanish'd shade —
" For a mere shadow dost thou well to grieve,
" For this poor loss would'st thou thy being leave? " —
" My rage is just, (the frantic prophet cry'd),
" My last, my only comfort is deny'd —
" The spreading vine that form'd my leafy bower;
" Behold it vanish'd in the needful hour!
" To beating winds and sultry suns a prey,
" My fainting spirit droops and dies away —
" Give me a mansion in my native dust,
" For though I die with rage, my rage is just. "
Once more the Almighty deign'd to make reply —
" Does this lost gourd thy sorrow swell so high,
" Whose friendly shade not to thy toil was due,
" Alone it sprouted and alone it grew;
" A night beheld its branches waving high,
" And the next sun beheld those branches die;
" And should not pity move the Lord of all
" To spare the vast Assyrian capital,
" Within whose walls uncounted myriads stray,
" Their Father I, my sinful offspring they? —
" Should they not move the creating mind
" With six score thousand of the infant kind,
" And herds untold that graze the spacious field,
" For whom yon' meads their stores of fragrance yield;
" Should I this royal city wrap in flame,
" And slaughter millions to support thy fame,
" When now repentant to their God they turn,
" And their past follies, low in ashes, mourn? —
" Vain, thoughtless wretch, recall thy weak request,
" Death never came to man a welcome guest; —
" Why wish to die — what madness prompts thy mind?
" Too long the days of darkness thou shalt find;
" Life was a blessing by thy Maker meant,
" Dost thou despise the blessings he has lent —
" Enjoy my gifts while yet the seasons run
" True to their months, and social with the sun;
" When to the dust my mandate bids thee fall,
" All these are lost, for death conceals them all —
" No more the sun illumes the sprightly day,
" The seasons vanish, and the stars decay:
" The trees, the flowers, no more thy sense delight,
" Death shades them all in ever-during night.
" Then think not long the little space I lent —
" Of thy own sins, like Nineveh, repent;
" Rejoice at last the mighty change to see,
" And bear with them as I have borne with thee. "