Classic Poem

Had I the art of painting like to him
Who did the day of doom so lively limn,
That when a heathen prince beheld the same,
With terror struck, a Christian he became;
Thus would I set it forth unto your eye.
The heavens should put on a sable dye,
Mask'd with the blackest vail of thickest clouds,
Which to the sun, moon, stars should be as shrowds
To muffle them in one continued night,
Not once affording the least spark of light,
Hiding their heads as 'sham'd or griev'd to see
The horrid sins of men which then should be
Made manifest and naked to the world,
And the dire plagues that on them should be hurl'd:
From this sad object let your eye retire
To th' other side and see the earth on fire,
The sea all blood, the throne of God on high,
Whereon He sits in glorious majesty,
Legions of angels Him surrounding there,
Millions of men that newly raised were
Out of their sepulchres, by His command,
To hear their final sentence trembling stand:
Below the divils in their various shapes
Of hideous monsters, and hel's mouth wide gapes,
Casting forth flames of sulphur and thick smoak:
Enough to blot out heaven, and earth to choak.
As soon as God hath said, " Ye cursed go
Int' everlasting fire, " the devils lo
Are ready strait, and drag them down to hell,
Where they in torments infinite must dwell.
But since Apelles skill I want to make
This picture right, I shall be bold to take
A copy from the pencil of Saint John,
As here I find in his vision.
I saw, saith he, a throne both white and great
Of God Almighty: 'twas the Judgment-seat;
Mysterious in the colour, which was white,
'Cause justice should be innocent and bright.
Not like to Herod's throne, that was dy'd red
With blood of infants which he massacred;
Nor sullied o'er with falsehood and with wrong,
But like the milky way, clear all along.
As white for colour was this stately throne,
So great for quantity, whereby is showne
The greatness of the Judg that thereon sits,
Past th' apprehension of the greatest wits.
For such is His immensity none can
His measure take; beyond the reach of man.
No power then His justice can withstand,
Whose power doth both heaven and earth command;
For heaven and earth there shall be found no place,
When He appears they both flee from His face;
His face the sight whereof is heaven alone,
And joyes beyond imagination,
" I saw, " saith He " the dead both great and small
Stand before God the Judg impartial; "
His judgments are a great deep, into which
All fall alike, the poor, as well as rich,
The small as great; there not a cobweb lies,
Through which huge sinners, like to greater flies,
A passage force, while lessor stick behind
As prisoners, and no way t' escape can find;
Not a net there, in which the lesser fry
Of sinners, like to fishes may espy
Holes to slip out, whiles that the greater be
Intangled without hopes of getting free;
No, this great Judg doth smal and great convent
Before the highest court of Parliament,
From which are no appeals, but all must rest
Irrevocable, be they curst or blest.
There's no resisting, the stiff knee must bend,
And the stout heart from his high thoughts descend
And listen to his doom. You shall see there
Great Alexander quaking stand for fear,
He who the world once conquered, and did weep,
For want of more, now in a hole would creep,
And give that world which he had conquered
For one small corner in't to hide his head,
And all that wealth he got, to clear the guilt
Of all the blood which his vain-glory spilt.
There shall you see that Absolom the fair,
Who hanged was in his proud dangling hair
Confounded stand, expecting when to hear
A heavier judgment thundring in his ear,
Condemning him to hang in hell's hot'st fire,
'Cause to his father's throne he did aspire.
There shal you see King Ahab who by's wife
Rob'd Naboth of his vineyard and his life.
And that lewd woman Jezabel his queen
'Mongst many of her sex shall there be seen,
And for her witchcrafts, pride, and painting sent
To Pluto's court to have her punishment;
There shall you see Doeg, who in pretence
Of holy vows did work no small offence;
For by his malice he with Saul so wrought,
That more then four score priests to death he brought;
There shall you see the Sodomites that burn'd
In lust unnat'ral, and to ashes turn'd
By fire from heaven; but now the Lord shall send
A fire from hell to burn them without end.
There shall you see those three presumptuous men,
Core and his complices appear agen
Who for their striving against Moses, and
'Gainst Aaron too, do stigmatized stand
To all posterity; as th' earth before,
So now hell gapes to swallow them once more.
There shall you see Uzziah, though a king,
Condemned for his incense offering,
And taking on him the priest's function
Whereto he had no right nor unction.
There shal you see Antiochus the Great,
Who did commit that sacriligious feat
In robbing of the temple, doom'd to pains
Proportioned to his unlawful gaines.
There shall you see that glutton who did fare
Deliciously each day, and purple wear,
Suffering poor Lazarus to starve the while,
Begging himself now in an humble style
But for a cup of water to asswage
The furious flames that on his tongue do rage;
And justly shal that tongue such torments bear,
Which pleas'd itself so much in dainty chear.
There shall you see that Phocas who did slay
Mauritius his master to make way
For his ambition to ascend the throne
Descend into the deepest dungeon
Of Belzebub's black vault, perpetually
To suffer pains for his damn'd treachery.
There you the traitor Judas shall behold,
Who his dear Lord for thirty pieces sold.
There you shall see those prophets that pretend
To inspiration, and uncall'd ascend
The pulpit, venting of old herisies
And most abominable blasphemies,
Under the notion of new lights, these shall
To utter darkness be condemned all.
For I beheld the books wide opened were;
Another book, the Book of Life was there
Laid open too, infallible records,
Wherein were written all the deeds and words,
And thoughts, and names of men, which shall be read
In publick then, and they be punished,
Or else rewarded with great woes and joyes
According unto all their works and wayes.

To hide the time-stains on our wall
Let every tattered banner fall!
The Bourbon lilies, green and old,
That flaunted once in burnished gold;
The oriflamme of France that fell
That day when sunburned Pepperell
His shotted salvos fired so well,
The Fleur de Lys trailed sulky down,
And Louisburg was George's town.
The Bourbon yields it in despair
To Saxon arm and Pilgrim prayer.

Hang there the Lion and the Tower,
Pale emblems of Castilian power,
The flags which Lyman brought away
In triumph from Havana Bay
A hundred years ago.

Lion and tower have to fall
Unwilling from the Morro wall,
As at the Yankee fife and drum
New England and her train-bands come.

They swim the moat; they climb the ledge,
They drive the sentries from the edge,
They storm the Morro on the steep,
And tear away the flags to keep,
That so our walls may show
To England and to dying Spain
How freedom makes our sort of men.

Hang there, and there, the dusty rags
Which once were jaunty battle flags,
And for a week, in triumph vain,
Gay flaunted over blue Champlain,
Gayly had circled half the world,
Until they drooped, disgraced and furled,
That day the Hampshire line
Stood to its arms at dress parade,
Beneath the Stars and Stripes arrayed,
And Massachusetts Pine,
To see the great atonement made
By Riedesel and Burgoyne.

Eagles which Caesar's hand had fed,
Banners which Charlemagne had led,
A thousand years before,
A dozing empire meanly gave
To be the eagles of a slave,
And let the mean Elector wave
Those banners on our shore.
The mean Elector basely sold
Eagle and flag for George's gold;
And in the storm of war,
In crash of battle, thick and dark,
Beneath the rifle-shot of Stark,
The war-worn staff, the crest of gold,
The scutcheon proud and storied fold,
In surges of defeat were rolled.
So even Roman banners fall,
To screen the time-stains on our wall!

Between the Roman and the Gaul
See where our English colors fall!
Yes! under there we led the way
With Wolfe, and in Havana Bay;
But when the time had come,
That cross of white, that cross of red,
Fell in their turn, that in their stead
The pine-tree and the thirteen bars,
At sound of Yankee fife and drum,
Might float on Beacon Hill that day,
That happy spring-time morning when
In triumph He, our first of men,
Rode along Boston Neck, the day
Howe and his red-coats sailed away.
So white-robed peace resumed her sway
For us the dwellers by the Bay.

The cross which stubborn Endicott
Had from King Charles's ensign cut,
Shall on our Beacon wave no more!
No! from that hour till now,
No foeman's foot has found its way,
Across the marches of our Bay,
Nor foreign eagles sought our shore.

Beneath the war-flags' faded fold
I see our sovereigns of old
On magic canvas there.
The tired face of " baby Charles "
Looks sadly down from Pilgrim walls,
Half pride and half despair,
Doubtful to flatter or to strike,
To cozen or to dare.

His steel-clad charger he bestrides
As if to smite the Ironsides,
When Rupert with his squadron rides;
Yet such his gloomy brow and eye,
You wonder if he will not try
Once more the magic of a lie
To lift him from his care.

Hold still your truncheon! If it moves,
The ire of Cromwell's rage it braves!
For the next picture shows
The grim Protector on his steed,
Ready to pray, to strike, to lead, —
Dare all for England, which he saves,
New England, which he loves.

Vandyck drew Charles. 'T is Kneller there
Has pictured a more peaceful pair;
There Orange gives his last command,
The charter gives to Mather's hand;
And blooming there, the queenly she,
Who takes " now counsel, and now tea, "
Confounding Blenheim and Bohea,
Careless of war's alarm.

Yet as of old, the virgin Queen,
When armed for victory, might press
The smoky firelock of " Brown Bess, "
So Anna, in a fond caress,
Rests on a black " Queen's Arm. "

Beneath those forms another band,
Silent but eloquent, shall stand.
There is no uttered voice nor speech
As still of liberty they teach;
No language and no sound is heard,
Yet still the everlasting word
Goes forth to thrill the land.
Story and Greenough shall compel
The silent marble forms to tell
The lesson that they told so well,
Lesson of Fate and Awe, —
Franklin still point the common place
Of Liberty and Law;
Adams shall look in Otis' face,
Blazing with Freedom's soul;
And Molyneux see Hancock trace
The fatal word which frees a race,
There, in New England's well-earned place,
The head of Freedom's roll.

These are not all. The past is gone,
But other victories shall be won,
For which the time-worn tale we read
Is but the sowing of the seed.
The harvest shall be gathered when
Our children's children meet again
Upon this time-worn floor;
When ruddy drops flush living cheek,
And tribunes of the people speak
As living man can speak to living men;
When future Adamses conspire,
When other Danas feed the fire,
Each grandson worthy of his sire;
When other Phillipses shall tell
Again the tale he tells so well;
When other Minots shall record
The victories of some other Ward,
And other Prescotts tell the story
Of other Warrens' death and glory;
When, in some crisis of the land,
Some other Quincy takes the stand,
To teach, to quicken, to command, —
To speak with prophet's power
Of Liberty and Law combined,
Of Justice close with Mercy joined,
United in one heart and mind;
That talisman of victory find
In which our laurels all are twined, —
And for one struggle more
Forget those things which lie behind,
And reach to those before.