To number seasons, days, and months, and years, To mortal man: hope was forgotten, and fear; And Time, with all its chance, and change, and smiles,
And frequent tears, and deeds of villany
Or righteousness—once talked of much, as things
Of great renown—was now but ill remembered;
In dim and shadowy vision of the past,
Seen far remote, as country, which has left
The traveler's speedy step, retiring back
From morn till even; and long Eternity
Had rolled his mighty years, and with his years
Men had grown old: the saints, all home returned
From pilgrimage, and war, and weeping, long
Had rested in the bowers of peace, that skirt
The stream of life; and long-alas! how long
To them it seemed-the wicked who refused
To be redeemed, had wandered in the dark
Of hell's despair, and drunk the burning cup
Their sins had filled with everlasting wo!
Thus far the years had rolled, which none but God
Doth number, when two sons, two youthful sons
Of Paradise, in conversation sweet,
(For thus the heavenly muse instructs me, wooed At midnight hour with offering sincere
Of all the heart, poured out in holy prayer,)
High on the hills of immortality,
Whence goodliest prospect looks beyond the walls
Of heaven, walked; casting oft their eye far thro'
The pure serene, observant, if returned
From errand duly finished, any came,
Or any, first in virtue now complete,
From other worlds arrived, confirmed in good.
Thus viewing, one they saw, on hasty wing
Directing towards heaven his course; and now,
His flight ascending near the battlements
And lofty hills on which they walked, approached
For round and round, in spacious circuit wide,
Mountains of tallest stature circumscribe
The plains of Paradise, whose tops, arrayed
In uncreated radiance, seem so pure,
That naught but angel's foot, or saint's, elect
Of God, may venture there to walk; here oft
The sons of bliss take morn or evening pastime,
Delighted to behold ten thousand worlds
Around their suns revolving in the vast
External space, or listen to the harmonies
That each to other in its motion sings.
And hence, in middle heaven remote, is seen
The mount of God, in awful glory bright.
Within, no orb create, of moon, or star,
Or sun, gives light; for God's own countenance,
Beaming eternally, gives light to all;
But farther than these sacred hills his will
Forbids its flow-too bright for eyes beyond.
This is the last ascent of Virtue; here
All trial ends, and hope; here perfect joy,
With perfect righteousness, which to these heights
Alone can rise, begins, above all fall.
ARRIVAL OF A STRANGER SPIRIT.
And now, on wing of holy ardor strong,
Hither ascends the stranger, borne upright;
For stranger he did seem, with curious eye
Of nice inspection round surveying all;
And at the feet alights of those that stood
His coming, who the hand of welcome gave,
And the embrace sincere of holy love;
And thus, with comely greeting kind, began:
THE HEAVENLY WELCOME.
"Hail, brother! hail, thou son of happiness!
Thou son beloved of God! welcome to heaven!
To bliss that never fades! thy day is past
Of trial, and of fear to fall. Well done,
Thou good and faithful servant; enter now
Into the joy eternal of thy Lord.
Come with us, and behold far higher sight
Than e'en thy heart desired, or hope conceived.
See, yonder is the glorious hill of God,
'Bove angel's gaze in brightness rising high.
Come, join our wing, and we will guide thy flight
To mysteries of everlasting bliss ;
The tree, and fount of life, the eternal throne,
And presence-chamber of the King of kings.
But what concern hangs on thy countenance,
Unwont within this place? Perhaps thou deem'st
Thyself unworthy to be brought before
The always Ancient One? So are we too
Unworthy; but our God is all in all,
And gives us boldness to approach his throne."
"Sons of the Highest! citizens of heaven!" Began the new arrived, "right have ye judged: Unworthy, most unworthy is your servant, To stand in presence of the King, or hold Most distant and most humble place in this Abode of excellent glory unrevealed. But God Almighty be for ever praised, Who, of his fullness, fills me with all grace And ornament, to make me in his sight Well pleasing, and accepted in his court. But, if your leisure waits, short narrative Will tell, why strange concern thus overhangs My face, ill-seeming here; and haply, too, Your elder knowledge can instruct my youth Of what seems dark and doubtful unexplained." "Our leisure waits thee: speak; and what we
Delighted most to give delight-we will;
Though much of mystery yet to us remains."
"Virtue, I need not tell-when proved, and full
Matured-inclines us up to God and heaven,
By law of sweet compulsion, strong and sure;
As gravitation to the larger orb
The less attracts, through matter's whole domain.
Virtue in me was ripe. I speak not this
In boast; for what I am, to God I owe,
Entirely owe, and of myself am naught.
Equipped, and bent for heaven, I left yon world,
My native seat, which scarce your eye can reach,
Rolling around her central sun, far out,
On utmost verge of light. But first to see
What lay beyond the visible creation,
Strong curiosity my flight impelled.
Long was my way, and strange. I passed the bounds
Which God doth set to light, and life, and love; Where darkness meets with day, where order
Disorder dreadful, waste and wild; and down
The dark, eternal, uncreated night,
Ventured alone. Long, long, on rapid wing,
I sailed through empty, nameless regions vast,
Where utter Nothing dwells, unformed and void.
There neither eye, nor ear, nor any sense
Of being most acute, finds object; there
For aught external still you search in vain.
Try touch, or sight, or smell; try what you will
You strangely find naught but yourself alone.
But why should I in words attempt to tell
What that is like which is—and yet-is not?
This past, my path, descending, still me led
O'er unclaimed continents of desert gloom
Immense, where gravitation, shifting, turns
The other way; and to some dread, unknown,
Infernal centre downward weighs: and now,
Far traveled from the edge of darkness-far
As from that glorious mount of God to light's
Remotest limb-dire sights I saw, dire şounds
I heard; and suddenly before my eye
A wall of fiery adamant sprung up—
|