Classic Poem

SUPPOSED TO BE BY THE AUTHOR OF " JUDGMENT, A VISION. "

Methought I stood within a palm-tree grove,
Held in a sleep-like spell — the cooling shades,
Verdure o'er-canopying, voice of birds,
Green hues of nature, perfumes exquisite,
And heaven's fair front with all its glory tricked,
With dazzling argentry and golden waves,
Clouds roseate-wreathed, and broad pavilion spread
High in the west, with crimson tapestry
And Tyrian purple hung — these o'er my senses
Came like a dreamy trance. In that fair grove,
The level beams of the retiring sun
Streamed mottled, multiform, with magic tints,
'Mid the long spiry leaves and tall straight columns,
Where glorious birds, with plumage many-colour'd,
Sat motionless. In their declining trains,
Shone 'mid the foliage from aloft, the glow
Of ruby, emerald, topaz, sardonyx,
All hues that sparkled in the diadems
Of Babylon's or India's monarchs old,
Irradiant.
As I gazed, beside the grove,
A green vale gently sloping I beheld.
There grew the date, the fig-tree and the plane,
And in the midst a whispering brook, that kiss'd
Pebbles to modern mineralogists
Unknown, made music breathing equally of life
And calm repose — Its margin many-tufted
With peerless flow'rets, such as blushed of yore
In Nebuchadnezzar's yard, or the parterre
Of Solomon, or in the regal bower
Of great Semiramis.
An easy swell
Rose from the vale: reposing on its summit
A bulky structure lay; most like two barks,
Joined latitudinally, covered with a platform,
Whereon a dome is reared, o'er-canopied
With shelving roofs. Mechanic specimens
Drawn by exertions of equestrian strength,
Like this, on Hudson's wayes are visible; —
From such, when Tyre defied the child of Ammon,
Its massive freight the huge balista hurled —
Methought a stair clomb high the green hill side,
To where in that vast edifice expanded
A portal stood. Then came a mingled train,
With weary steps and sad reverted eyes,
Of size like Amalek, or him of Gath,
Or his surpassing stature, who maintained
His royal throne in forest-girdled Bashan,
And stretched his ponderous limbs on couch of iron.
First, touched with earliest frosts of sacred eld,
Yet upright, with majestic port elate,
The undeluged world's great patriarch went. In vain
My quest (so strange the pageantry of dreams!)
Sought to behold his venerable spouse.
Then passed into the ark, three goodly men,
Following the sage, each with encircling arm
Supporting a fair form of peerless mould;
And a long train behind went mounting still;
As prisoners upon whom the massive portal
Shuts, grating dolorous requiem to the joys
Of liberty and daylight — so they went,
And darkness hid them from. But anon,
Soft on the breeze came notes of minstrelsy;
A bridal train along the vale advanced,
In quaint attire and jewels sheen arrayed;
With step elastic, bounding to the change
Of quick delightful music. There the sons
Of Tubal touched with fingers light the chords,
Which quivered with ecstatic harmony;
And Tubal's offspring bade the sounding brass
Wake its bold clangors. Others through the coil
Of serpent tubes the winding sound prolonged;
While some on pastoral flutes and sweet recorders,
Breathed tones like those, which o'er Italian seas,
Heard in the stillness of the radiant night,
Imbodying passion's soul in melody,
Feed love and young desire.
As when a stranger,
Lingering amid the gardens of the deep,
That stud the glittering Caribbean waves,
In some Antillian grove, beneath the shade
Of tall palmettos, and the embowering wood
Of fig-tree huge, self-multiplied, beholds
Dark Afric's children, on a festal day,
In rainbow colours dight, their dance uncouth,
Albeit not void of grace with vigorous limbs,
Prolong to rustic banja's tinkling twang, —
While on the lively green, the blushing grape,
The golden orange, and the shapely pear,
And ripe ananas with its scaly coat
And virent tuft, in rich confusion lie; —
The stranger looks delighted on the scene
Novel and gay; — so looked I on the rout
Who came with joyance and with minstrelsy.
Then in the porch the hoary patriarch stood
With aspect tristful yet severe — " Avaunt! "
He cried, " repent, repent! the hour is come,
Even now the deluge comes! "
With slight respect,
I trow, to his gray hairs, that sportive band
Sent forth, responsive to the warning voice,
Their heart's gay laugh exuberant, that shook
Their diaphragms, as to the glorious west
They pointed. As in Bagdad's ancient pomp,
Or Ispahan, when the last night is o'er
Of Ramadan's long fast, a flood of light
Pours from the bazars, on the sequent eve,
Resplendent, and the orient waves therein,
Burnished with brilliant blazonry, along
The streets and crowded marts, in splendid glow
Beam like the array of some enchanter's home;
So far and wide the kindling occident
Caught from the eternal fire one blaze of pomp,
Flashing with all its multitudinous tints,
From molten gold that swam in opal fields
To fierce intolerable glory. Thus
The sun went down, upon that fatal eve —
The portal closed. The man of God withdrew.
The mirth, the dance, the minstrelsy went on.
But where the glory of the west? As when
On Jersey's shore, the kindled meadows throw
A pale dull hue of red along the welkin,
So faint, so dim, was now the verge of heaven.
Untimely twilight came. A volumed mist
Rose suddenly, and far unrolling hung
Its sombrous drapery o'er the vaulted cope,
Darkening and deepening. — Whirlwinds pass'd along
On pinions terrible; the forest trees
Bowed their tall heads, and writhed in agony,
Like masts upon the ocean tempest-lashed —
The bridal train swift scattering, from my sight
Vanished — The birds flew screaming in wild circuits,
Mazed and in terror lost — And blackening still
The clouds went up. Sullenly, heavily,
Huge drops came pattering down. A hollow groan,
Even from the bowels of the monstrous world,
Was heard presaging wo. And then a roar,
As of a thousand chariots, or the voice
Of all the ram's horns when the embattled towers
Of Jericho in whelming ruin fell,
At distance came. The solid frame of earth
Shuddered beneath me; — when above, at once,
From tenfold darkness, burst the livid sheet
Of lightning, that revealed the horrid depths
Of blackness round; and on the distant brow
Of the horizon, as it fell, I marked
The ocean, piling wave on wave, advance,
A wall of waters, beetling over-head,
And climbing still, till its impending height
Threatened whole continents; as when it closed
On car-borne Ammon's chivalry and power;
With murmurs wrathful, like the eternal roar
On Lapland's sounding coast. While overhead
The dreadful thunder spoke; and with the peal,
I woke — Right gladly through the casement then,
I marked the dew-drops on the pendant spray,
Glittering with early morning's roseate beam,
And bless'd my stars that I had not been drowned.