Chapter 4

If ye wonder at its greatness And the grand and deep foundation Of the kingdom of Nimaera, We will take a tour and see it, Going unto every limit Where Nimaera great in power is, Where he holds his goodly council, Chief of all the powers beside him. From the womb of words it came forth, Out of chaos and of darkness, First in rude and wild confusion, Then arranged in goodly order; Lands and waters, woods and pastures, And with moving creatures peopled. First, behold the orbs above us, Which are ever sparkling brightly; Let us upward rise and see them-- See their great and many wonders, With a wonder rising mountains Through the circuit they are set in. These are worlds like our own one, And have each their separate people, Laws, and customs, and strange dealings; And these worlds are ever turning, Moving round the orbs of splendor, Fixed, in the height of spaces, For a light and heat unto them. Now we wonder if these people Are by evil spirits haunted, Which incite them to rebellion, And destroy their God-like image; But we cannot solve the wonder, And must choose to sit in darkness. Then I guide you hence awayward From the sparkling of this system, From the sun's rebounding brightness, And the pale moon's ever-fair light, And the many colored star lights, Blended in a great profusion, To the limits of our world, Which we best can know and search in. First, unto the boundless ocean, By the billow which returneth Echo to great Neptune's call, Where the mermaid host sojourneth In his ancient rocky hall; Where Leviathan, the mighty Keeper of all Neptune's treasure, Roams around the rocky caverns In majestic state, exploring. Let us see these mighty waters When they rise in foaming billows, Swallowing towns, and ships, and people, Roaring like a mighty thunder; And, when they are still and peaceful, Like a plain of pasture spreading, Sleeping as a virgin sleepeth Ere vain love-dreams fill her bosom. Both these aspects are majestic, Grand, and pleasing, and inspiring. On a bark we will convey us Through the peering rocks and islands, Where the Summer brings its sunshine, And the Winter frost and snow-storms, For a season to the lone isles. Then unto the tropic regions, Where the proud sun pours its glory On the burning sandy deserts; Streams of brightness everlasting, Like ten thousand mountains blazing; And the khamsheens wild and fiercely Sweep in burning flakes along them, And torment the weary traveller Who is slowly wading through them, Thirsting for a cooling river. And 'tis there the wild tornado Riseth in its frame of terror, Wild, and fierce, and unrelenting. To the spreading woods and forests Of the black pine and the myrtle, Of the cedar and the red birch, Of the oak tree and the walnut, Of the tulip and mahogany, All in branchy webwork blended, That the light can hardly enter To remove the clouds of darkness In the vast and deep recesses; Where the lion and the tiger, Where the panther and the leopard, And the jaguar and hyaena, And the tan wolf and the ocelot, In the daytime hold their parley, And resort for wakeful slumbers, Till the dusky hand of black night Draweth down her curtain on them; Then they leave the sylvan passes To traverse the open valley, Prowling after luckless surfeit, Lurking by the lakes and rivers For the panting prey which cometh To allay its thirsty feelings At their sweet and cooling waters. There the owl at midnight whoopeth, And the lions roar majestic, And the many prowling wild brutes Raise such divers sounds and noises, That it gives a fearful grandeur To the scene at hours of midnight. To the rocky hills and mountains We will next direct our journey, Which with heathy robes are mantled, And whose heads are ever wearing Caps of snow of many ages. These are in adorning climates, Where the seasons bring their changes, Where comes hoary-headed white frost, And the plumy flakes of white snow, Showered around in bounty's largess, Lend the plains a pure white carpet, And the hills a dazzling wrapper, Which they don in princely grandeur, Till the herald voice resoundeth O'er the mountains, hills, and valleys, From the orient regions coming: "Haste ye, Winter, your departure, And remove those chill adornments, Fold those dreary garments quickly, And begone unto your own land; For our fairy queen approacheth, Comes our gentle queen to claim her Now the rule of this dominion. Hark how sweet the songs she bringeth! We shall give her welcome greetings." Now the peaceful vales and pastures All in beauty spread before us; And the fragrant kine are grazing, And the merry lambs run frisking Mid the perfumes of the meadow, From the odors of the Spring flowers; And the Cashet dove is cooing Love songs to its cherished mate; And the shepherd boy is wooing By the rustic cottage gate. There the swains, in nature's freedom, Pour their mirth around profusely; And the aged people fondly See the mirth they once partook of. Now, from scenes so sweet and pleasant, We must turn and journey onward; From the mountains' rugged grandeur, Where the chamois and the wild deer Roam in constant freedom over; Where the eagle soaring flyeth, Scouting with a keen beholding; And with thunders rolling by us, And with lightnings trouling round us, Seek for other scenes and fancies. Thence away unto the regions, Gliding o'er the restless billows, Through the howling storms and tempests, Unto scenes of snow and icelands, Where the blocks of ice are dancing Like huge hills amid the billows, And the snows are ever sleeping, And the frosts are ever biting; Where the bears go prowling wildly, Creeping from their icy caverns. There we find a nature also, And a people who enjoy it. But that we have made a survey Rudely of the different regions, And in visits on our journey Have discerned the varying customs Of the many different people Who take glory in their white skins, Or of others who, alikewise, Build their pride in skins of copper; Let us notice more minutely Scenes, and wonders, and behaviours On this kingdom of Nimaera, As they often come before us. So the little stream we follow, Rising from a rocky mountain, See it moving onward, onward, Gathering force, and power, and beauty, Till it gets a rolling river, Sweeping onward to the ocean, Watering many pleasant valleys, Cheering many a thirsty traveller. This is like a man who riseth From a humble life and hidden Unto power, and wealth, and wisdom, Gaining large and goodly influence, Giving, as he upward rises, Courage unto needy pilgrims, Help unto the homeless wanderer. These are of Nimaera's kingdom. But, as we have traced the river From its wild and rustic birthplace, Let us see the scenes beside it; And in wonder deep we ponder How all these things were created, And of the unbounded knowledge Of the Being great who made them. First we pass the lake which spreadeth Wide its bosom to the sunshine, Or unto the winds and tempests; By its mountain bulwarks guarded, Which for everlasting passion Keep the couch whereon it sleepeth. Then the sweet and happy village, Standing in the peaceful valley, Fraught of fondest recollections Of the happy days of childhood Unto many far departed, Toiling through the world's courses. There is simple joy and humble, And in unity the daytime And the tranquil of the night time Keep harmonious pleasures by it. Stand around it woods and pastures, Full of song, and peace, and plenty; O'er them softest winds are wafted, Sporting gently with the leaflets, Which unite in murmurs often, Seeming to reproach them thuswise: "Why came ye so near our pillows, To disturb the peaceful order Of our slumbers sweet and soothing?" In the east behold the gay orb Leave its cradle for rejoicing O'er its course in might and grandeur. On the west behold the pillow Where it lieth down to slumber. Next, as we go wandering onward From these rustic scenes and pleasing, Comes the city, overflowing With a motley population. There oft pestilence and sickness Pay each other salutation, And unite their fatal efforts To destroy in deadly numbers, Raging through the streets in darkness, And disguised in the daytime To betray the one who thinks not That his doom is yet so near him. There the harlot of the midnight Holdeth forth her deadly charmings To entice the blind and simple. He is simple who doth lend her Such a glance that lusts go after; He defiled that partaketh Of the couch she sheweth to him. Seek of wisdom, and refrain thee From the path whereon she lurketh; She will draw thy vigor from thee, And thy spirit to destruction. There is sin, in all its blackness, Spreading wide its vile infection. Like unto a thief it stealeth Through the crowded lanes and alleys; And appeareth, robed more gaily, Yet as hideous in its purpose, In the dwellings of the lofty, On their walks and promenadings. Here the young are led from virtue Unto every ill devising; As the lad who, in his anger, Curseth a reproving parent Daily wanders unto evil, Till his hand is raised to murder, Reeking in a brother's life-blood. Then of fear he is betaken, And a bloody spirit haunts him, Till his days are sadly ended Hanging on the loathsome gallows. Here is revel mirth and gladness, And gay scenes, where flock the simple. They are simple who, allured, Follow Pleasure's fleeting phantom. They are led deluded onward, Till it is a curse unto them, And they have not power to leave it. They are led to low desires, Craving unto lust and evil; As the drunkard and profaner, As the vile and the licentious Glory in plebian language, With their sharp tongues dipt in slander, And their words in curses flowing, Think not of their awful ending Till destruction comes upon them. Thus the gorgeous devil hieth To the grand and gay assemblies, And attend him many pages In their many-colored costumes; They are eager at enlisting,-- Luring numbers to his bondage. Have you taken his temptation? Are you too an eager worker To allure the simple to him? Say how many souls are writhing In a long and sad destruction, Who pursued a better pathway Till you lured them to forego it. But I must not wander thuswise. We are now in the great city, Where the lofty and the lowly, And the sumptuous and the starving, Are within each other's shadows. There the merchant and the trader Tendeth each his own transactions; Some deal fairly, some deal falsely. And the judges sit dispensing Seeming justice to the people; But their judgments are corrupted, And they rule in wrong or favor. There is constant din and bustle; And the weary shopman standeth Day to day in close confinement; And the pallid seamstress sitteth For a long and tedious twelve hours Stitching, while her life is ebbing In a rapid current from her. Now awhile we see the playhouse, And the giddy hall of music, And the scenes exposed therein, Oft immodest and immoral. Next the nest of thieves and robbers, With their heaps of spoil and plunder, And their hidden laws and customs. Then we seek the house of prayer, Which is only weekly opened, Or which day to day inviteth Weary souls into its shadow, There to hold a sweet communion With the God who made and keeps them, Or the silent hours of midnight To employ in watchful prayer. As we come unto His presence Let us bow in holy reverence, As is ever due and fitting, To the God who there descendeth. Now behold the people gathered; They are all as one together, But their thoughts are widely parted. Some are earnest, true, and godly, Others wicked and regardless; Some are semi-sanctimonious, (Most obnoxious of deceivers.) Let us see their inward purpose. One doth offer true oblation-- Praise and worship, as he seemeth; While the thoughts of one near by him Are among the world's pleasures; And another has come hither To give homage, style, and fashion; And another thinks of feasting (His great god is in his belly.) Suchlike is the varied purpose Of the lofty and the humble, Met together and commingled In this sacred house of prayer. Now we leave this hallowed building, And again the street we enter. There we meet a mournful number, In a mournful measuring treading, All in sombre garments vested; And in reverent awe we follow To the place where sculls of dead men And the framework of the body In the grave's deep stillness slumber,-- Where the worms are ever feeding On the bodies fast decaying. There the mourners lay their burden In the cold grave, weeping on it Tears of anguish deep and bitter; And they heap the mould upon it, And return a little season, Till the time for their departure: Soon in death they also slumber. Let us always keep as sacred This still dwelling of our fathers, Whereto oft the lonely mourner, Oft the orphan and the widow, Come to weep a tear of sorrow On the cold ground which enshrineth The remains of dear ones parted Ever from their earthly presence. Now we leave the crowded city, With its mingled good and evil, With its noise, and din, and bustle, And the roll of laden waggon, And the mail cart, and the black van; And we pass a little onward, Down beside the pleasant river, To the fields of war and bloodshed, Where destruction's storm is raging, Where the valiant and the brave men All around are thickly falling-- Falling as the leaves of Autumn, Trampled in the dust around them, Where they soon will be forgotten, Sleeping in the depth of ages. Gory red the river runneth, And the plains with blood are steaming-- Boiling blood, which from the wounded Floweth, gushing fast and freely. Why is all this ruthless ravage, And this people fiercely warring? It is for a vain ambition, Or a little earthly matter Which they cannot settle better Than in war and deadly bloodshed, Or to gain an angry vengeance For some insult which appeareth To imagination hideous. Now we leave the sterner presence Of the earth and all its changes, And we take the wings of fancy, (Which is sister to poesy), Guided by the light of record Thereon mount, and fly, surveying, Far above the heights of knowledge. And we take a retrospective Of the ancient times and people, When was nature young and blooming, When our fathers were created, And within the blessed Eden Set to tend and to adorn it. Adam with his Eve beloved, Happy in their single nature, Thus brought forth to joy and pleasure, Innocent and sweet amusement, In attending on the fair wants Of the creatures set around them, Over which, in kingly greatness, They were made the head, the purpose Of these others in creation, From the unexplored chaos. Thence we come into the present. Age to age doth bring us onward Through the fickle term of nations And the changes of the people, Mid their tumults and their tranquils, As they stand in pomp and glory, Firm and faithful in their own strength, Till its frailty cometh on them And they are completely conquered,-- Broken down in great destruction. O'er the waters of the deluge We come sailing onward, onward; And arrive with many records From the many downcast nations, From the people of all ages, First, and last, and intervening. And we pass the time allotted To the gods of superstition, When the world was set in darkness, In the fear of gods of fancy, Who held counsel on Olympus. There sat Jupiter, the greatest, On his ivory and gold throne, And communed with his advisers, Who were Juno, his betrothed, Fairest goddess of the council, Who gave from her depths of knowledge Good advisings to her chieftain. Then were Mars, the fierce and warlike, And Apollo, for the poets, With Diana, his twin sister, Who sat on the silent moonbeam, Chaste, enchanting in her meekness. Then stood Venus, rich in charmings, Goddess sole of love and beauty; And stood Mercury, the swiftest Bearer of the council's tidings. Then came Neptune, strong and mighty, Ruler of the storms and tempests; And the god of fire near him, Who was Vulcan, rude and ready. And to Vesta, Saturn's daughter, Were entrusted fires also, More refined and more celestial; While the number was completed By good Ceres, full of bounty, Keeper of the corns and harvests. Thus in council sat the great gods, Dealing fates unto the nations; So the simple people fancied. Now the flight of fancy over, She hath brought us safely homeward, To the spot we love the fondest. There we lay the many tokens Of the wondrous journey by us, And reflect now quaintly, calmly On the great things we have witnessed In this kingdom of Nimaera; And, before our thoughts are settled, We by votaries are surrounded From the courts of every people, From the throne of every nation, Who, in tongues that widely vary, And in words that sound so strangely, Give their mission, bear their record Of the throne of King Nimaera, Of his ancient power and greatness, Of his presence with the modern, With their people of the present. And to give its own conviction Shall the voice of every creature, Of the nobles of creation, All in one together mingle, From the feeble voice of old age To the lisping tongue of childhood. Grand shall be their mingled accents, Which in verity are rising, Telling likewise of Nimaera, Who their every purpose ruleth, Tends it in its first conception, Baffles wholly and destroys it, Or unto completion brings it, Bringeth out its faults or virtues, Shewing where its merit lieth. Then shall every beast that liveth, Every bird and every reptile, Every fish and every insect, Raise their own peculiar voices-- (Terrible, or sweet, or puny); And will testify their own way Of the powers of King Nimaera, Who their being's fire feedeth, Gives them space for life and glory, With that limit ends their being; For no hidden spirit have they Image to the holy Maker. Now the grave shall yield its token, And the battle-field its relic, Stained in gore and kept in glory; And the caverns of the ocean Shall advance a token likewise, Opening wide their watery great doors, Shew the works of many ages By the hand of King Nimaera, With the wonders stored among them, Worked, and fashioned, and performed. Then the voice of stormy Winter, And the soft and pleasing fair notes Of the Springtime and the Summer, And the richly-laden Autumn, Shall a ready answer make us. And the mighty wind that bloweth, And the soothing and the soft breeze With a pensive murmur cometh-- Cometh laden with responses From the trees of every forest (Every leaflet's tiny voice joined), From the fair and fertile valleys, From among the hills and mountains, With advisings to speak boldly Of the powers of King Nimaera; That in every race or ramble Has his throne been set around them, Built of wonders and composed Far amid the wilds and fertiles. Here and hence these heralds answer; Then they take their pinions swiftly, And are vanished ere we know them, Still to roam, and race, and ramble. Next the voices shall be blended Of the brooklets and great rivers, Of the ever-murmuring ocean, Of the wild and roaring thunders, Of the tempest howling terrors, Hailstones heavy and great snow-storms, And the flames of fire roaring; These shall boldly say their saying, That he is among them alway, That they have for ever known him, And their strength dependeth on him. Then the rocks in echoes answer-- Answer to the roll of thunders, And the roaring of the ocean, In a myriad sounds replying, Own the powers of King Nimaera. Then the stars shall twinkle signs forth, Like the language of the speechless; And the sun in dazzling bright rays, And the moon with mellow fair beams, And the evening and the morning, And the noonday and the midnight, And the dew which gently falleth, And the raindrops and the vapors, And the mists on all the rivers, And the fleecy and the black clouds Shall inscribe their ready answers, And with mystic fingers write thus: "When our buoyant pinions take us High unto the outer heavens, Far beyond the eagle's soarings, Then we see Nimaera's wonders In all spaces that we visit On the earth or in the heavens, And, in every form that nears us, See his wondrous power and greatness; For his throne is firmly builded, Rising unto all the world." And they further shall inform us That some strange and mystic stories Have been spoken of Nimaera And his dealings with the people, Counted in the ancient numbers, Reckoned in the current courses. Now that we are well informed Of his throne, and power, and dealings, Let us hear the voice of Reason, Speaking lastly, yet abounding Much of wisdom and of foresight, Seeing, as a prophet, matters Hidden yet upon the future; And he tells us, "Yet a short time Stands the throne of King Nimaera; He but reigns a season longer, Then yields up his power and kingdom-- Yields it to the hand which gave it; And he well hath filled his mission,-- Ever faithful, ever constant. Now he steppeth from his high throne, Builded to the gates eternal, Which are quickly opened to him, And he joins the never ending. Then his kingdom is forgotten, And in flames as chaff consumed, Rolled away as clouds of vapor; Clouds of smoke and clouds of vapor, Flying with the roar of thunders, Terrible, and loud, and mighty, And with lurid lights illuming All the vast unfathomed chaos. Then comes gloom and dismal darkness, Falling over all the spaces, When the flames forget their burning. Now his people come for judgment, And they are in substance spirits, Born to everlasting being. Mighty is the Judge who sitteth, And His throne a sea of splendor. He gives justice without favor. He is good, and kind, and gentle. They whose lives have been directed Just, and upright, and unswerving From the ways of truth, shall see Him With a joy of sweetest measure. He is stern and firm in purpose. They whose lives have been of evil Tremble in His awful presence; For they see their doom engraven,-- 'To the pit of Long Damnation,' Awful gloom and awful terrors."

LORD HENRY OF THE EDEN-SIDE.

INTRODUCTION.

The scene of this Poem is located on the banks of the Eden, a pleasant river in Cumberland. It is founded on facts, but the names and some other immaterial points are imaginary.

LORD HENRY OF THE EDEN-SIDE.

Roll, ye gentle waters, Rich in music laden; Know ye not of matters Hid in sorrow's deep den. Bloom, ye buxom beauties, By this Eden river; Thine a gem of duties To attend it ever. Spread, ye fruitful valleys, Drawing from it life-spring; Ye may cope with allies, And a victor's song sing.

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