Chapter 3

I.

Sailing o'er the sparkling waters, With accordant breezes favoured, Came a vessel homeward bearing, And a gladsome people on it. Sang they songs, and danced, and sported; Sadness was unknown amid them; Old, and young, and middle-aged Were they, and of divers stations. While their pleasures were the fullest, Sero saw their joys and pondered,-- Pondered with his inward spirit: "Lo! they have an idle fancy, All their thoughts are gay and heedless, And they dream not of destruction, Think not of a danger nearing, Nor will hearken to the warnings Which are ever spoken to them. Ere another morn has wakened Shall their joys be turned to mourning. I will send, and turn, and change them." Said he to retainers by him, "Seest thou that fair-like vessel, And the mirthful crew upon it? Go, and captive make the number, And their spirits hither bring me; But their bodies can be portioned To the monsters of the ocean. Neptune I shall call and waken; He will lend me storms and tempests, Lightnings and mighty thunders, Which shall in the mission aid thee, Give an awful grandeur to it; Like the flowing of great banners, And as many torches blazing, And the sounds of drums and trumpets, Shall be storms, and flames, and thunder." So the mission goeth forthwith O'er the still and tranquil waters; And they waken slumbering Neptune, Who advanceth storms and tempests; And the waves rise up in anger, Foam and hiss in reckless fury; Thunders bellow martial music; Lightnings flash their vivid torchlight. Grand and mighty the procession! Neptune, in majestic pomp, came In his chariot, attended By a myriad mystic beings, To direct the storms and thunders, And to rule the foaming billows. Spake he thus unto the waters: "Ope your gates, ye billows, open, That great Sero's host may enter With the booty they have taken, And the bodies of their captives, Which shall in my caverns slumber, In my rocky halls and grottos." Then the mighty gates were opened; And they all went downward, down, Down into the dark, cold waters, With their cries and earnest prayers, Wailings bitter and lamentings. Woeful was the scene to witness: Children clinging to their mothers, Husbands in their wives' embraces, Brothers by their sisters holding, Others running wild and madly, Crying to their gods for succour; Every heart in very terror Quailing at the rising future. But these cries cannot be answered; They have sought too late for succour; For the gates are closed upon them, And the victors have their spirits, Bearing to their princely Sero, And their bodies are consigned To the halls of mighty Neptune. Then did Sero take the spirits As the mission brought them to him; And for every one which entered By the wicket on his right hand, Leading to the land of gladness, Seven by the other entered, Down into the pit of terrors.

II.

Stood a fair and stately dwelling In the concourse of the people, Of the lofty of the people; Looked it on the smaller buildings Downward in a scornful manner; Proud was it of fine appearance, Proud the people who dwelt in it. There the arts of every nation Met with the united purpose To adorn and to give splendor To the chambers of this mansion, To its corridors and landings. Ottomans of downy velvet In the looms of Utrecht woven, Vases of Chinese production, Crystals, bright and burnished figures, Models made of gold and silver, Tapestry, and lace, and network, Carpets from the looms of Brussels, Woven into gaudy figures. In a certain gorgeous chamber, In apparel likewise gorgeous, Sat a mighty, pompous woman. Very high were her ideas Of her own expanded person, And her own unmeasured value; All the world would not contain them, They were so elate and soaring. Luxury and ease were round her, As she fancied to receive them; And a host of powdered servants Waited idly for her orders. Now she calls for an attendant, And doth give him orders thuswise: "'Not at home' shall be the answer Unto all who this day seek me, Save unto his highness Fashion; Ye shall give to him admission." State obeisance marks his exit, Ready for a plumper falsehood, Spoken to his lady's order. Soon a knock, which sounds familiar. Lo! it is the dunning trader, Who is sorely run to hold him From the stream of dangerous rumours; But the answer thus is told him-- "Not at home, my lady is not." So the tradesman from her doorway, Empty-handed, homeward turns, Thinks not such a ready answer Is an utter fabrication. Sero, from his seat beholding, Saw this lounging lump of matter, Puffed up in pomp and splendor. He was moved to indignation, And said, in a scornful manner, "O blinded fool! O filthy pomp! Glory ye in dust and shadows? See ye not the wild delusions, Which ye cherish so and fondle, Through the darkness they are set in?" Said he to attendants by him, "Go ye to that stately chamber Where this pompous woman sitteth; Pass the trader in the doorway And the ready story-teller, Enter and lay hold upon her; Take the lusty look she weareth, Cast it to the winds that ramble, Racing through the hills and mountains; Take her great imaginations, Sift them in the seive of honor-- Lo! they are as dross and ashes, And her pomps and giddy grandeur Scatter and disperse them likewise." So went Sero's servants forward, Did as had their chief commanded, Smote this pompous woman sorely-- With the rod of sickness smote her; And the ruddy color left her, And those lofty airs and manners; Sickness and a ghastly pallor Came upon her limbs and forehead, And she hourly sank and wasted Till a spectre she resembled. Then the spirit fled the body, And was carried unto Sero; Sero through the wicket passed it To the pit of Long Damnation. What is now this pompous woman, And her great imagination? These have vanished like a shadow, As a myth or phantom figure; And that body, once so lusty, Is a mouldering lump of matter, Corruptible, and vile, and filthy.

III.

In a miserable dwelling Sat a miserable old man Mid a heap of hoarded treasures, Buried in the walls and burrows; And it was his constant idol, And his brain was ever scheming How he might augment the numbers. Oft he turned the treasure over, Counting fondly and recounting; And he joyed to hear the jingle Of the yellow coins he counted. Threescore years had been devoted, Scraping of this gain together. He had fed on scanty portion, Grudging sorely every morsel; And had clothed himself in raiments Which a beggar scarce would stand in. He had never fed the hungry, And had never clothed the naked, That he might increase his riches. Sero in this hovel saw him Bending o'er his golden treasures; And he laughed derisive laughter, And sarcastic was his manner, As his servants he commanded To the miser's presence, saying, "Lo! our princely Sero wisteth Whence are all these hoarded riches,-- If in scruple they were gathered. If ye long to take them with you When you leave this land of Weemus For the lands of the hereafter; If ye think to buy a passport To the land of Blisses with them, Ye are sadly much mistaken. This we deem as dross and worthless. Ye can never enter thereto Bearing such a burden with you. Ye must feed the hungry with it, And must clothe the naked wanderer, And employ it as a talent To be used for wiser purpose Than to hoard in walls and burrows, If ye long to be admitted To the tranquil land of Blisses." But the old man would not listen To the words of wisdom spoken; He was so engrossed in counting, And in adding to his riches. So the servant raised his weapon, Sorely therewith smote the miser,-- With destruction did he smite him,-- That he fell a lifeless clay-heap Down among the hoarded moneys; And his spirit was removed Unto Sero, and he opened Wide the wicket on his left hand, And it passed into the darkness, To the pit of gloom and terrors. Then the door was rudely opened Of this miserable dwelling By the people claiming kinship; And they scrambled for the riches, And in many quarrels sought them, Tending to the disuniting Of the sacred bonds of friendship; Brother against brother rising, Raging in a bitter conflict. Many, who received a portion, Went and squandered to his ruin All he had in lust and gambling, Till his life was sorely broken. When his riches had been pillaged, Then the body of the miser Was removed quick and coldly, Lowered in the grave and covered; But of they who followed with it, No one wept a tear of sorrow, No one mourned for his departure; But they gave attendance only,-- That, stern duty had commanded. Thus the end was of the old man, Of the miserable miser.

IV.

In a wilderness of houses In the heart of a great city, Full of riches, full of plenty, And of people high and prosperous, Of its ancient greatness boasting, And its modern princely splendors; In a loathsome and a dark street, Foulsome odors rising from it, Rife and pregnant with diseases, Stood a hovel, foul and filthy; Lay a being, wane and wasted, On a straw heap in a corner; Scarce a rag to hide her person, Lice and vermin creeping on her; And beside her stood distraction, Woe, and want, and piercing hunger; And her look was wild and vacant, Like a spectre's, wandering madly. When the night came, it was laden Much with gloomy fear and sadness, And a trembling apprehension That the dawn would not approach her; And the morning was attended With but little hope or succour. Charity, in cold attendance, Came with many words and wishes; And, in fair and full pretending, Stood, and pitied, and regretted; But it gave a meagre pittance Or of comfort or appeasing, To withdraw the pangs of hunger, Or relieve her sunken spirit. But good Sero saw in pity. He beheld her calm endurance Of the anguish bearing on her; And he sent and took her spirit-- Took it gently from the ruin, From the filth and the pollution; And he opened wide the wicket By his right hand, and conveyed it From the misery and anguish To the happy land of Blisses, To the land of peace and plenty.

With the burden of my stories I shall not detain you further, Lest ye weary to pursue them Through the dreary way they lead you. Let me further only mention, Sero's servants were engaged Ever seeking and conveying Subjects from the hands of Weemus To the watch-ward of their chieftain. Mute and mystic were their movements; Softly, and without observance, Passed they to the secret chamber,-- Took from thence the hidden subject; From the lover's fond embraces Tore away his dearest treasure-- She, to whom his life was wedded, Was for ever sworn betrothed; Went into the stately dwelling, And the lowly and the humble, Heedless of position took them; To the sacred courts of prayer, Where the Maker of the kingdoms Held communion with the people; And into the gay assemblies, To the scenes of mirth and gladness, Where were songs and revel dances, In a maddened fulness rising. Many widows left they mourning-- Widows wailing, orphans weeping, In unmitigated sorrow, For the loss of near and dear ones. Hard and cruel seemed their dealings In the sight of all the people; For they could not learn the purpose Which, in all their acts, directed. Yet these were most wisely ordered; For the Maker of the kingdom, Of Nimaera's kingdom,--moved them-- Moved, and guided, and informed them. Sero to the land of Blisses Passed all the just and lowly; They whose lives had been preserved From the soiling stains of evil; Who had lived in single purpose, Holy and uprightly always; Who had made oblations fitting, Praise and honor to the Founder Of Nimaera and his kingdom; And had made a full endeavour In obeying the commandments Which were written for their guidance; Who of charity gave freely Unto all the poor and needy, And, in giving, had no purpose Selfishly to further thereby. But unto the pit of terrors Evil and unrighteous people, All the lukewarm and the heedless Of the order of the statutes, All blasphemers and revilers, And all foul and filthy talkers, Liars, brawlers, and adulterers, They whose hands are stained in murder, All the proud and haughty boasters, All licentious and deceivers, They who are the poor's oppressors, Robbers and unjust receivers,-- These for ever had their portion In the pit of gloom and terrors.