The Porch of Hell
" Seek pe the path traced hpe the wrath of God for sinfull mortals?
Of the reprobate this is the gate, these are the gloomp portals!
For ginne and crime from the birth of tyme dugge mas this Gulph Enfernal.
Guest! let all Europe on this threshold stop! here reigns Despair Eternal. "
I'read with tears these characters — tears shed on man's behalf;
Each word seemed fraught with painful thought, the lost soul's epitaph.
Turning dismayed, " O mystic shade! " I cried, " my kindly Mentor,
Of comfort, say, can no sweet ray these dark dominions enter? "
" My son! " replied the ghostly guide, " this is the dark abode
Of the guilty dead — alone they tread hell's melancholy road.
Brace up thy nerves! this hour deserves that Mind should have control.
And bid avaunt fears that would haunt the clay-imprisoned soul.
Mine be the task, when thou shalt ask, each mystery to solve;
Anon for us dark Erebus back shall its gates revolve —
Hell shall disclose its deepest woes, each punishment, each pang,
Saint hath revealed, or eye beheld, or flame-tongued prophet sang. "
Gates were unrolled of iron mould — a dismal dungeon yawned!
We passed — we stood — 'twas hell we view'd! — eternity had dawned!
Space on our sight burst infinite — echoes were heard remote;
Shrieks loud and drear startled our ear, and stripes incessant smote.
Onward we went. The firmament was starless o'er our head,
Spectres swept by inquiringly — clapping their hands they fled!
Borne on the blast strange whispers passed; and ever and anor.
Athwart the plain, like hurricane, God's vengeance would come on!
Then sounds, breathed low, of gentler woe soft on our hearing stole;
Captives so meek fain would I seek to comfort and console:
" O let us pause and learn the cause of so much grief, and why
Saddens the air of their despair the unavailing sigh! "
" My son! Heaven grants them utterance in plaintive notes of woe;
In tears their grief may find relief, but hence they never go.
Fools! they believed that if they lived blameless and vice eschewed,
God would dispense with excellence, and give beatitude.
They died! but naught of virtue brought to win their Maker's praise;
No deeds of worth the page set forth that chronicled their days.
Fixed is their doom — eternal gloom! to mourn for what is past,
And weep aloud amid that crowd with whom their lot is cast.
One fate they share with spirits fair, who, when rebellion shook
God's holy roof, remained aloof, nor part whatever took;
Drew not the sword against their Lord, nor yet upheld his throne:
Could God for this make perfect bliss theirs when the fight was won?
The world knows not their dreary lot, nor can assuage their pangs,
Or cure the curse of fell remorse, or blunt the tiger's fangs.
Mercy disdains to loose their chains — the hour of grace has been!
Son! let that class unheeded pass — unwept, though not unseen. "
Of the reprobate this is the gate, these are the gloomp portals!
For ginne and crime from the birth of tyme dugge mas this Gulph Enfernal.
Guest! let all Europe on this threshold stop! here reigns Despair Eternal. "
I'read with tears these characters — tears shed on man's behalf;
Each word seemed fraught with painful thought, the lost soul's epitaph.
Turning dismayed, " O mystic shade! " I cried, " my kindly Mentor,
Of comfort, say, can no sweet ray these dark dominions enter? "
" My son! " replied the ghostly guide, " this is the dark abode
Of the guilty dead — alone they tread hell's melancholy road.
Brace up thy nerves! this hour deserves that Mind should have control.
And bid avaunt fears that would haunt the clay-imprisoned soul.
Mine be the task, when thou shalt ask, each mystery to solve;
Anon for us dark Erebus back shall its gates revolve —
Hell shall disclose its deepest woes, each punishment, each pang,
Saint hath revealed, or eye beheld, or flame-tongued prophet sang. "
Gates were unrolled of iron mould — a dismal dungeon yawned!
We passed — we stood — 'twas hell we view'd! — eternity had dawned!
Space on our sight burst infinite — echoes were heard remote;
Shrieks loud and drear startled our ear, and stripes incessant smote.
Onward we went. The firmament was starless o'er our head,
Spectres swept by inquiringly — clapping their hands they fled!
Borne on the blast strange whispers passed; and ever and anor.
Athwart the plain, like hurricane, God's vengeance would come on!
Then sounds, breathed low, of gentler woe soft on our hearing stole;
Captives so meek fain would I seek to comfort and console:
" O let us pause and learn the cause of so much grief, and why
Saddens the air of their despair the unavailing sigh! "
" My son! Heaven grants them utterance in plaintive notes of woe;
In tears their grief may find relief, but hence they never go.
Fools! they believed that if they lived blameless and vice eschewed,
God would dispense with excellence, and give beatitude.
They died! but naught of virtue brought to win their Maker's praise;
No deeds of worth the page set forth that chronicled their days.
Fixed is their doom — eternal gloom! to mourn for what is past,
And weep aloud amid that crowd with whom their lot is cast.
One fate they share with spirits fair, who, when rebellion shook
God's holy roof, remained aloof, nor part whatever took;
Drew not the sword against their Lord, nor yet upheld his throne:
Could God for this make perfect bliss theirs when the fight was won?
The world knows not their dreary lot, nor can assuage their pangs,
Or cure the curse of fell remorse, or blunt the tiger's fangs.
Mercy disdains to loose their chains — the hour of grace has been!
Son! let that class unheeded pass — unwept, though not unseen. "
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