In passing conversation slightly touched,
Of such a place; yet rather to be taught,
Than teaching, answer, what thy marvel asks,
We need for we ourselves, though here, are but
Of yesterday, creation's younger sons.
But there is one, an ancient bard of Earth,
Who, by the stream of life, sitting in bliss, Has oft beheld the eternal years complete The mighty circle round the throne of God: Great in all learning, in all wisdom great,
And great in song; whose harp in lofty strain
Tells frequently of what thy wonder craves;
While round him gathering stand the youth of heaven,
With truth and melody delighted both.
To him this path directs, an easy path,
And easy flight will bring us to his seat.
So saying, they, linked hand in hand, spread out
Their golden wings, by living breezes fanned,
And over heaven's broad champaign sailed serene.
O'er hill and valley, clothed with verdure green
That never fades; and tree, and herb, and flower,
That never fade; and many a river, rich
With nectar, winding pleasantly, they passed;
And mansion of celestial mould, and work
Divine. And oft delicious music, sung
By saint and angel bands that walked the vales,
Or mountain-tops, and harped upon their harps,
Their ear inclined, and held by sweet constraint
Their wing; not long, for strong desire awaked
Of knowledge that to holy use might turn,
Still pressed them on to leave what rather seemed
Pleasure, due only when all duty's done.
And now beneath them lay the wished-for spot,
The sacred bower of that renowned bard;
That ancient bard, ancient in days and song,
But in immortal vigour young, and young
In rosy health; to pensive solitude
Retiring oft, as was his wont on earth.
Fit was the place, most fit for holy musing. Upon a little mount that gently rose,
He sat, clothed in white robes; and o'er his head
A laurel-tree, of lustiest, eldest growth,
Stately and tall, and shadowing far and wide
Not fruitless, as on earth, but bloomed, and rich
With frequent clusters, ripe to heavenly taste-
Spread its eternal boughs, and in its arms
A myrtle of unfading leaf embraced.
The rose and lily, fresh with fragrant dew,
And every flower of fairest cheek, around
Him smiling flocked: beneath his feet, fast by
And round his sacred hill, a streamlet walked,
Warbling the holy melodies of heaven.
The hallowed zephyrs brought him incense sweet;
And out before him opened, in prospect long,
The River of Life, in many a winding maze
Descending from the lofty throne of God,
That with excessive glory closed the scene.
Of Adam's race he was, and lonely sat By chance that day, in meditation deep, Reflecting much of Time, and Earth, and Man. And now to pensive, now to cheerful notes, He touched a harp of wondrous melody;
A golden harp it was, a precious gift,
Which, at the Day of Judgment, with the crown Of life he had received from God's own hand, Reward due to his service done on earth.
He sees their coming, and with greeting kind, And welcome, not of hollow forgèd smiles, And ceremonious compliment of phrase,
But of the heart sincere, into his bower
Invites. Like greeting they returned: not bent In low obeisancy, from creature most
Unfit to creature, but with manly form
Upright they entered in; though high his rank,
His wisdom high, and mighty his renown.
And thus, deferring all apology,
The two their new companion introduced :
Ancient in knowledge, bard of Adam's race! We bring thee one, of us inquiring what We need to learn, and with him wish to learn. His asking will direct thy answer best.
Most ancient bard! began the New-arrived, Few words will set my wonder forth, and guide Thy wisdom's light to what in me is dark.
Equipped for heaven, I left my native place:
But first beyond the realms of light I bent
My course; and there, in utter darkness, far
Remote, I beings saw forlorn in woe,
Burning continually, yet unconsumed.
And there were groans that ended not, and sighs
That always sighed, and tears that ever wept
And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight.
And still I heard these wretched beings curse
Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse
The earth, the resurrection morn, and seek,
And ever vainly seek, for utter death.
And from above the thunders answered still—
"Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not.”
And everywhere throughout that horrid den
I saw a form of excellence, a form
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