Part 2

But in mine eyes strange virtues grew; And now the Heaven of Heavens, to view Rose glorious as the light! Oh it were idle to strive to tell, But I can remember, remember well, How wonderful seem’d the sight. I was not there; but saw afar How happy the heavenly spirits are, Like him of old, with a gulf between My longing soul and the glorious scene. Oh, never shall pass that dread ravine A soul defiled by sin! But there was I, and I could see How desolate all without must be, How rapturous all within.

XLI.

It seem’d as if in Heaven, they all Were keeping some high festival: For, far and near, they thronging came, Angels, and shapes of living flame, That had been wandering with their peers, Out, o’er remotest stars and spheres, And roaming over fields of light, Adoring ever, at the sight Of wondrous things, beyond our seeing, Creations bursting into being, New suns and planets ever making, And new-born light forever breaking.

XLII.

And wonder seem’d their high employ Forever, in their homes of joy; _These are thy works_—the endless song Forever roll’d those worlds along. And now they came, to worship flying, From stars beyond old Saturn lying; From far they came, all homeward winging, And ever on their journey singing, And trooping to their homes again From realms beyond our utmost ken, Legions on legions—from the coasts Of all thine empire, Lord of Hosts!

XLIII.

A pair of angels came apart Of flaming soul, and flaming heart, And flying through the holy air From Paradise’s gardens fair, As if two flowers that there were wreathing, Had sprung to life, all wing’d and breathing. Ulla and Arah, they are lovers; Ulla with Arah ever hovers; Ever together—twins in Heaven; To whom, by God himself ’twas given That loving all, and loving Him, They should be loving cherubim, And ever in his empire dwell, Two heavenly souls, yet one as well, In love that is unspeakable.

XLIV.

Ulla and Arah, there they came Floating in atmosphere of flame, And hovering, in the amber blaze, Like phantoms in a golden haze. Oh, ye that rapt in wondrous awe, Have seen what ancient hands could draw, Bethink ye of the shapes divine, With wavy grace in every line, In rainbow rays of glory hung, Which rapt Rafaelle’s pencil flung; And ye can tell how there I felt, To see those cherubs as they knelt, Their wings and arms together twining, Their beamy locks together shining, And rising, falling, bathed in light, As eagles poise them in their flight; On waves of ether swan-like sailing, And, in their angel-worship, veiling, As Holy, Holy, they did call, In music-notes seraphical.

XLV.

And I could see, when there above, This was thine essence, Holy Love! For love, below, unfailing comer To light and shade our life’s young summer; The love that stirs each earthly bosom, When life’s first blushing roses blossom; That joyful, gleeful, blissful sighing, Dying for love, yet never dying: Oh, that sweet speech of eye to eye, Is love, but not like love on high. ’Tis all the same in essence fair, But mingled here—’tis perfect there: Here, earthly, troubled, never sure, Above, ’tis tearless, blest, and pure: Here, never can we call our own, Flesh of our flesh, and bone of bone; Above, two hearts may join in one, And never is the tie undone, Unending still, and still begun.

XLVI.

Oh yes! for it was born above, That Medo-Persic law of Love! It hath in God himself its spring, And is like God, a holy thing. They that love on, and love through all, Though fortune lower, and fate appal; The wife that wed in happy day, Loves still when clouds come o’er the way; The manly heart, that ne’er so warm, Gives his own breast to brave the storm, So he may shield her faded form; These loving spirits—think ye these Well moor’d at length in calmer seas, And brighter, fairer, blest above, Will love the less, where all is love? Oh, there upon that happy shore They wed, and give away no more, But angel-lovers, they abide, And roam the blissful regions wide, In love sublimed and purified.

XLVII.

And then I thought if I should ever Reach that dear home, to leave it never, I too would find some angel-spirit Risen from Earth through Christ, his merit, With whom I too might ever hover, In heavenly love, a heavenly lover. Then did it seem—oh pray no sin So sweet a thought of heaven be in! Then did it seem, that heaven the dearer Would surely be, and joy sincerer, To have some soul, akin to mine, Go out o’er all the fields divine, Link’d with mine own—some soul that I Had known this side Eternity: That we, no more to part asunder, Together there, might gaze and wonder; Praising the Lord for all things there, For all his wondrous works and fair, So vast, so bright: but most, that we Safe landed there at last, should be! And then along our starry walk, Of this lone planet would we talk, The dear green Earth, our once sweet home, Of which such few, far tidings come; Of all its joy, of all its woe, Of many a landscape there below; How we were children there, and grew; How many a joyful hour we knew, Of how we dwelt, of how we roved, And dearer far, of how we loved! And so together would we be Blest, through a long Eternity; As o’er the loving worlds we trod, With all our love absorb’d in God.

XLVIII.

The Heaven of Heavens is fill’d with One, Of rays shot forth, and God the Sun: For God is Love, and this is He, That filleth all Immensity. And seraphs in his sight are dim, They are but beings out of Him! ’Tis central Glory—and its beams: ’Tis Light’s great Fountain—and its streams: ’Tis One—so great, so good, so bright, And hosts inscrutable as light, A Voice—and echoes of its sound; God,—and his living smiles around!

XLIX.

But God forbid that I should dare Discover, what I next saw there: Or tell the music, or the word, That from immortal tongues I heard. I saw, but oh I must not tell, The vision was unspeakable! Millions on millions, bright to see, All crowding through Immensity: Myriads on myriads, far away, To keep the worship of that day, That stood in serried, close array, And bent, and sway’d them, to the breeze Of soul-controlling harmonies; As if the heavenly fields were sown With wavy light, to harvest grown.

L.

I saw them like the elders fall, Whom once in Patmos’ lonely isle, In dream apocalyptical The Prophet saw, and quak’d the while: But mine was nothing but a dream; A phantasy, a fearful vision, Reflected in a troubled stream, A soul that long’d for sights elysian; Mine was an agony of thought, By grief, and subtle fancy wrought, And what I saw I only tell As my deep slumber’s miracle; For well I know, that nothing gives, And nought is known by man that lives, Nor earth hath heard, nor thought conceived, Nor Fancy into vision weaved, What joys the Faithful have in store, Where our dear Lord is gone before.

LI.

But God has told us by his Son, How that triumphant church is one With all the saints, on Earth, who go Campaigning through a world of woe; And one with that dear army blest, Whose fight is o’er, yet calmly rest, In Paradise—not mute, nor dumb, Praying with us, _Thy kingdom come_, And ready, at the Master’s call, To rise where Christ is all in all. Oh ye baptised, and cross’d beside, Ye soldiers of the Crucified, That stand in phalanx deep and broad, The one Church Catholic of God! Know ye full well, that every day With you, the old Apostles pray; With you, as if on Earth they stood, The prophets’ goodly brotherhood Are praising God; and with them bright, The martyrs’ noble host in light.

LII.

These that from great afflictions came, The martyrs with their tongues of flame, And spirits of the Just, as well, In companies innumerable; With our still further voices blend, All one with those that there ascend. I heard their clouds of song arise In full liturgic sacrifice! One song from all their legions given Came rolling through the deep of Heaven; And far as vision’d eye could gaze, Alike they worshipp’d in amaze; And holy lauds, that I could hear Far off the same, the same a-near, Uprose before the living throne, Where dwells the Infinite Unknown; Where lives in light—the nameless Name, Whose presence is a burning flame, A flame of love—a flame of fire, A God of mercy—and of ire!

LIII.

Gone! and the vision roll’d away, As Heaven shall roll that dreadful day! The stars, with Earth’s great star, the Sun, Our God shall quench when time is done, But in that day, that direful day, When blotted out is every ray, ’Twill all be light, yes, glorious light, To that unfathomable night, That, in a moment, leap’d around, And chang’d the vision of my swound.

LIV.

I saw a picture in the air, A shape that bleeding hung: It caught from some far fires a glare, That fearful shadows flung: As when the culprit in his cell, Sees him he slew, and knows him well, So did my conscience cry, ’tis He; So did I know the sight! A being, bleeding patiently, In that terrific light! A flickering blaze it was, that threw Upon his form, a light so blue, And gave pale limbs, a livid hue, To fright me down to Hell! Each sinew strain’d—a writhing frame, The figure in the subtle flame, How fearfully it went and came, How lighted up—and fell!

LV.

A glorious being suffering, A thorny crown’d and bleeding king, His patient arms spread wide; The trickling drops were on his brow, The scar was on his side; I gaz’d—methinks I see it now! It was the Crucified!

LVI.

A lamb before his shearers dumb! I heard no sound or murmur come, Though, but to look, mine eyes did ache, To see the very gibbet shake, And know it was in agony The Lord himself endur’d for me. Methought on me, the tortur’d eye Fell meek, and so forgivingly! But Oh, the worst reproach it seem’d, To see how merciful it beam’d; So like the look that broke, of old, The heart that could no longer hold, But burst to bitter tears abhorr’d, Of him, that had denied his Lord.

LVII.

And I had wept—but had no tears! I had denied him many years! And ’twas the second death, I trow, To look upon that Saviour now, And think, what I on earth had done, To pierce afresh that Holy One I yearn’d to think ’twas all a dream! But no—I see him there! I strove to waken with a scream, But voices mock’d in air: I strove to cry—I yearn’d to pray: And a voice broke in on my wild dismay, Go—go, poor creature, begone for aye! And a demon laugh ha-ha’d away.

LVIII.

There is another world than this, And there ’twas mine to fall: ’Tis never a world of joy or bliss, But a world where fear and darksomeness, And gloom, enshroudeth all. Oh pray ye now, while pray ye can, That never ye come, where then I came; For never return’d a tell-tale man, That once went down to that world of flame.

LIX.

Oh where was my poor soul to run! I came to light once more, And knew it was the blessed sun That such a flood did pour! Oh yes, it was that gorgeous one, As glorious as before! And I was league on league from here, Away the stars among: I could not see our little sphere, Or know how sweet she sung; But I had been so far to roam, I called the Solar System—home.

LX.

And still I gaz’d upon the sun! It was that old familiar one! And I remember’d how it seem’d, When daily, o’er the earth, he beam’d. For I had often seen him rise In splendor up the golden skies, With varied clouds, around to curl, Like hues that paint the mother-pearl. And I remember’d, true and well, His glory, o’er the Ocean’s swell, When oft, beneath his path of fire, The sea’s calm bosom would respire, Or bid each foam-capp’d ocean sprite Leap up, and clap his wild delight.

LXI.

The same dear sun was shining yet, Whose setting sheen, I’ll near forget, When oft at eve, the hills among, O’er the deep West I saw him hung, Till stretch’d the woodland shadows brown, And bright apparell’d, he went down. ’Twas sweet to think, so far away, Of youth and its romantic day, Of blue Owasco, and my joy To frolic there, a sailor-boy, Till sunlight went, and many a tune Beguil’d my voyage beneath the moon; Of all the mountain streams, and groves, That yet my memory keeps and loves, That dearer, brighter, lovelier, were To me, star-wandering voyager, For memories, golden as the day, Of morn, or evening’s lingering ray.

LXII.

I saw the little world from far, And did not know my home; But bless’d the little fairy star That did so lonely roam; ’Twas spinning round, and round, and round, And singing all the while, As went, until Apollo bound, Latona’s holy isle: Away the constellations shone Like stellar Cyclades, And spun the little Earth alone, Upon the airy seas.

LXIII.

The Earth, it is a little ball That sails thro’ ether clear, And beautiful it moves, through all The silent atmosphere; Ten thousand, thousand, miles away From any sister star, It is a lonely thing, they say, Yet shineth from afar; To each remotest star it smiles, And flieth all the time, And all its airy way, beguiles, With some celestial chime.

LXIV.

Oh do not smile! it is not vain, Though envy sneer, and doubt complain; They do not dream, who say they hear The music of each little sphere, On some clear evening, when aloft The stars are out, and shining soft. Oh Earth, it is a lonely thing Through empty regions wandering, Yet charm’d forever, by a sound From all the deep blue Heaven around; The Heaven above, the Heaven below, The Heaven wherever she may go, The starry vault through which she flies, The deep, unfathom’d, pathless skies.

LXV.

Oh Earth, it is a little gem, The green Earth, and the bright; An emerald, in a diadem Of sapphire, blue as night; As night—when all the stars are dim, Because the moon shines fair, And Nature sends her holy hymn, Up, through the stilly air. And now I know that angels bright Are ever with it, in its flight, And dance around it, as it rolls, And spinneth on its silver poles. They flit anear its azure coasts, The legions of the Lord of Hosts; Ten thousand, thousand, angel wings Are with it in its journeyings, And these are they, whose simple smile Is starlight to the little isle; And oft their troops are visible In changing columns, quick and glancing, As if the skies, by miracle, Were full of angel-lustres dancing. And these in bright successive changes, The boy, that through the woodland ranges Beholds appall’d, and in his fear Believes the judgment-day is near; While duller wits are gravely set With glass, and tube and tourniquet, And eyes asquint,—at what they call Naught but Aurora-Boreal; Unweeting that the sign is there, As God in flesh, did once declare, That all the world might know before, How earth should rock, and ocean roar, And nations quake, and empires wail, And man’s strong heart with terror fail.

LXVI.

The Earth, it is a tiny thing, That hath all colours bright; And zones, that gird it like a ring, With green and snowy white! And ocean gives it fields of blue, And mountains boss it fair; It carries every blessed hue Through all the deep of air. Oh yes, I’m coming nearer, nearer, I see my little dwelling clearer, And yonder—yes—it is the moon, Up gleaming from her highest noon!

LXVII.

I saw the fairy vision ope, Such as ye ken through the telescope: Now, ’twas a globe of frost-work hung High up in air, the stars among; Then as it came to daylight more, ’Twas a blister’d orb of silver ore; And lo! as the nearer sunbeams steal, ’Tis an orange stripp’d of its golden peel. And so was the night-queen lost in light; Oh ye should look on the moon at night!

LXVIII.

I saw it was only our planet’s shade, That men call night, and are sore afraid; And ever, ’tis so, with the mortal breast, With the gloom of its own dark soul distress’d; He feareth a shadow, that only can be A speck in the sunshine of happiness free; For man, like his planet, must ever be going Half dark, and half light, on his wonderful way, While ever his God, like the sunlight, is throwing His merciful, glorious, unquenchable ray.

LXIX.

I never lik’d the world so well, It never seem’d so dear: For I beheld it, as I fell, And bless’d the little sphere. And now I breathed the air again, And felt ’twas native breath; And I long’d to speak once more to men, And tell them what is death: But I was high in the sky-vault yet, And slow I sunk, and slower: Oh, how I long’d my foot to set On the dear green Earth once more!

LXX.

There cometh a winged form! What meanest thou, so high? His wing was wet from a lower storm, And he wafted, slowly by, For his was a spirit warm, And his was a quenchless eye! And I knew ’twas the eagle—untameable bird! For he came with the earth’s perfumes; And a mountain scent, wherever he stirr’d, He shook from his glittering plumes.

LXXI.

Another—another! dear bird of my love, Stay, stay thy worn winglet, thou beautiful dove! His bosom was heaving, and panting for breath; His maiden-like eye, it was filmy as death; And the dear little creature, he wing’d me by So faint, and so feeble, I knew he would die: And he seem’d like a spirit broke loose from earth, That long’d to be off to a purer birth, That rose into heaven, and joyously there Was happy a moment, in heavenly air, But wearied anon of its hope, and its wing, Was dropping to earth again: poor little thing!

LXXII.

A hawk—a hawk in chase above! Oh fast! fly fast, my little dove! A hawk!—a hawk! I’ve come again To breathe the atmosphere of men, For ever and aye, in the world ’twas so, Where a dove was flying, a hawk would go!

LXXIII.

Nearer to earth, it seem’d no more, That beautiful, glorious, fairy shore; Already, so many a mile in air, I felt that a poison’d taint was there; And the hawk and dove, they brought me back To earth’s dark scenes, and its beaten track; And then I remember’d, remember’d well, As nearer, and nearer, and nearer I fell, How often my spirit had groan’d, to be On the dull time-side of Eternity; How oft I had hated and loath’d my home, And long’d to be off where the soul might roam, And sigh’d as I gaz’d on the starlight above; Oh—oh had I only the wings of a dove!

LXXIV.

O Earth, it is a weary place, A never lighten’d gloom; The charnel of a dying race; The soaring spirit’s tomb. Oh Earth, ’tis a dismal nook at best, I never can bear it more; As eaglets never can bear their nest, When once they have learn’d to soar!

LXXV.

Dids’t ever fall in a fearful dream! For now I was falling so: And ye who have dream’d a fall, may deem It was fearful to fall so low. Falling, and falling, and falling—Hark! ’Twas a voice from the Earth that caught me; ’Twas wild as the song of the morning lark, Or the laugh that my mother taught me!

LXXVI.

But where is it I ope mine eyes! Oh, can I be in Paradise! That voice so innocent—so gay, Seem’d but to laugh as angels may! A wild, full, childish peal of joy, The halloo of a noble boy, And something like a sister’s glee, Ha-ha-ing in full harmony.

LXXVII.

Mine eyes were scarcely yet unclos’d; And half awake, I half repos’d; It needed yet another peal The spell of spirit to unseal: Again it broke, I woke—I woke! Oh, do I wake to woe, or weal!

LXXVIII.

Two laughing cherubs bent above me, That look’d like Cupids sent to love me, Laughing with all their elfin might, The very sculpture of delight; Their curly locks, and merry eyes, And their full voices’ melodies, The very vision, to recall My soul, without too sad a fall; The very link I needed, given, So wild with Earth, so full of Heaven! And as I woke, they flew away, A pair of cherubs—imp and fay, In mischief, merry o’er their fun, That they had plagu’d a sleepy one, Yet screaming in their happy laughter, Lest I should up, and follow after.

LXXIX.

I could not stir—I heard them run, Two rosy children, full of fun: And now I knew the bright blue eye, The ruddy lip that kiss’d me nigh, The voice that woke, the flaxy curl, Were all a dear beloved girl, That out had scamper’d, with her brother, To pull young flowers, and hide from mother.

LXXX.

I knew it all: but there I lay, My eyes were op’d—I could not stir! I felt as some tir’d pilgrim may, That hath been years a traveller! A breeze was through my casement blowing, And oh I heard the warblers sing; And rarest plants their scents were throwing, And every breath was full of Spring And I was waking up from death, As one who hath been drown’d; Oh, how my spirit shuddereth To tell ye of that swound! I could not thank the Lord enow, That it was all a dream; The sweat was cold upon my brow, And ’twas a blessed stream; I felt the sweet life-giving air, In every tangle of my hair, But could not stir—for there was I, In more than rapture’s reverie. And was I yet in this green world, Was yet my spirit here! Was I safe home, that had been hurl’d Out o’er the farthest sphere! Oh—had I time to strive for Heaven! Or, was I dreaming still! Would God this riddle’s end were given! I said—and like a thrill, Over the hills, and over the dells, I heard your music, bells, sweet bells!

LXXXI.

I knew from earth it must arise; ’Tis always Sunday in the skies, And save on earth, there is no where That spirits need a call to prayer. The bells, the bells, the same old chime! It brought me back to childhood’s time; I saw the gray old church’s towers, The ivied porch, the funeral flowers, And smelt the very scent they flung, So full of joy, when I was young! I heard the organ’s swell once more, Through window-arch and portal pour, While throng’d the villagers to pray, In groups along the rustic way, And saw, the shadow’d walk adown, The dear old rector’s reverend gown.

LXXXII.