Classic Poem

The holy exile lies all desolate,
In that lone island of the Grecian sea.
And does he murmur at his earthly fate,
The doom of thraldom and captivity?

No, lulled by the rushing of th' unquiet breeze,
And the dull solemn thunder of the deep
Under the hanging boughs of loftiest trees,
Behold the Apostle sunk in silent sleep.

And is that slumber dreamless, as the lone
Unbroken, frozen stillness of the grave?
Or is his soul on some far journey gone
To lands beyond the wildly howling wave?

Where Zion's daughter views with tear dimmed eye
Her proud, all-beauteous temple's lofty form,
Piercing with radiant front the blue bright sky,
And mourns with veiled brow the coming storm.

Haply his spirit lingers where the palm
Upspringing from the flow'ry, verdant sod
Throws a dark, solemn shade, a breezeless calm
Over the home where first he spoke with God.

Or to his freed soul is it once more given,
To wander in the dark, wild wilderness?
The Herald of the lord of Earth and Heav'n,
Who came, in mercy came; to heal and bless

No: from his eyes a veil is rent away,
The will of God is gloriously revealed;
And in the full light of eternal day,
Jehovah's fix'd decrees are all unsealed.

The armed hosts of God, in panoply
Of splendour most insufferably bright,
Rush forth triumphant from the parting sky,
Whose wide arch yawns before those floods of light.

He hears the voices of Archangels tell
The doom, the fiery, fearful doom of Earth;
And as the trumpet's tones still louder swell,
On the dark world red plagues are poured forth.

At once ten thousand mighty thunders sound,
With one wild howl the sea yields up her dead;
A flaming whirlwind sweeps the trembling ground,
The skies are passed away in fear and dread.

All earth departs, at God's supreme behest
Sinners are bound, in the black depths of hell;
The souls of righteous men for ever rest,
Where angel harps in sounds harmonious swell.

And now the new Jerusalem descends,
Beaming with rainbow radiance, from on high;
In awe and fear the holy Prophet bends,
As that bright wonder rushes on his eye.

He hears the last voice, ere Heavens gates are sealed,
Proclaim, that all God's works are consuminate;
That unto him, th' Almighty hath reveal'd
Th' unfathomed mysteries of Time and Fate.

He wakes from his wondrous trance and hears
Faint distant warblings, from the morning sky;
Floating, like tuneful music of the spheres,
Sweet as the voice of Angel harmony
Sounding Jehovah's praise to all eternity —