O'er beds of violet and through groves of spice, Lead thy proud bride into the nuptial bower;For thou hast bought her with a fearful price, And she hath dowered thee with a fearful dower.
The price is life.The dower is death.
Accursed loss! Accursed gain!
For her thou givest the blessedness of Seth, And to thine arms she brings the curse of Cain.
Round the dark curtains of the fiery throne Pauses awhile the voice of sacred song:
From all the angelic ranks goes forth a groan, 'How long, O Lord, how long?'
The still small voice makes answer, 'Wait and see, Oh sons of glory, what the end shall be.'
"But, in the outer darkness of the place Where God hath shown his power without his grace, Is laughter and the sound of glad acclaim, Loud as when, on wings of fire, Fulfilled of his malign desire, From Paradise the conquering serpent came.
The giant ruler of the morning star From off his fiery bed Lifts high his stately head, Which Michael's sword hath marked with many a scar.
At his voice the pit of hell Answers with a joyous yell, And flings her dusky portals wide For the bridegroom and the bride.
"But louder still shall be the din In the halls of Death and Sin, When the full measure runneth o'er, When mercy can endure no more, When he who vainly proffers grace, Comes in his fury to deface The fair creation of his hand;When from the heaven streams down amain For forty days the sheeted rain;And from his ancient barriers free, With a deafening roar the sea Comes foaming up the land.
Mother, cast thy babe aside:
Bridegroom, quit thy virgin bride:
Brother, pass thy brother by:
'Tis for life, for life, ye fly.
Along the drear horizon raves The swift advancing line of waves.
On: on: their frothy crests appear Each moment nearer, and more near.
Urge the dromedary's speed;
Spur to death the reeling steed;
If perchance ye yet may gain The mountains that o'erhang the plain.
"Oh thou haughty land of Nod, Hear the sentence of thy God.
Thou hast said, 'Of all the hills Whence, after autumn rains, the rills In silver trickle down, The fairest is that mountain white Which intercepts the morning light From Cain's imperial town.
On its first and gentlest swell Are pleasant halls where nobles dwell;And marble porticoes are seen Peeping through terraced gardens green.
Above are olives, palms, and vines;
And higher yet the dark-blue pines;
And highest on the summit shines The crest of everlasting ice.
Here let the God of Abel own That human art hath wonders shown Beyond his boasted paradise.'
"Therefore on that proud mountain's crown Thy few surviving sons and daughters Shall see their latest sun go down Upon a boundless waste of waters.
None salutes and none replies;
None heaves a groan or breathes a prayer They crouch on earth with tearless eyes, And clenched hands, and bristling hair.
The rain pours on: no star illumes The blackness of the roaring sky.
And each successive billow booms Nigher still and still more nigh.
And now upon the howling blast The wreaths of spray come thick and fast;And a great billow by the tempest curled Falls with a thundering crash; and all is o'er.
In what is left of all this glorious world?
A sky without a beam, a sea without a shore.
"Oh thou fair land, where from their starry home Cherub and seraph oft delight to roam, Thou city of the thousand towers, Thou palace of the golden stairs, Ye gardens of perennial flowers, Ye moted gates, ye breezy squares;Ye parks amidst whose branches high Oft peers the squirrel's sparkling eye;Ye vineyards, in whose trellised shade Pipes many a youth to many a maid;Ye ports where rides the gallant ship, Ye marts where wealthy burghers meet;Ye dark green lanes which know the trip Of woman's conscious feet;Ye grassy meads where, when the day is done, The shepherd pens his fold;Ye purple moors on which the setting sun Leaves a rich fringe of gold;Ye wintry deserts where the larches grow;Ye mountains on whose everlasting snow No human foot hath trod;Many a fathom shall ye sleep Beneath the grey and endless deep, In the great day of the revenge of God."...
