PART THIRD.

Look northward—for the sheet let down from heavenHad "its four corners knit:" and are not theseThe north, the south, the east, the west—in bondsOf brotherhood, and faith, and charity?Mountains and forests by the Caspian, plainsOf Scythia, and ye dwellers on the shoresOf the Black Sea, where the vast Ister hurls,Sounding, its mass into the inner deep;Shout, for the banners of the cross of Christ210Far as your dark recesses have been borne,By Andrew and by Thomas,[147]messengers212Of the slain Lamb—even to the utmost boundsOf wild and wintry Caucasus! Aloft,In silence, high above the rack of earth,That solitary mountain stands, nor hearsThe thunder bursting at its base.

JOHN.

So standsThe Christian, calm amid the storms of life,Heaven's sunshine on his head, and all the cares220And sorrows of the world beneath his feet!

STRANGER.

Yea! and the Cross shall further yet be borne,To realms of pagan darkness and deep night!The cymbals to the gods of fire and bloodShall clash no more; the idol-shapes are fled;Grim Moloch's furnace sinks in smoke, to soundsStrange and unutterable; but that shriek!It came from Tauris, from the altars redOf Scythian Diana[148]terrible!She, too, has left that altar and its blood,230As when her image young Orestes[149]bore(So fable masters of the pagan harp)—Bore in his ship o'er the black waves to Greece.Greece! who can think of thee, thou land of song,Of science, and of glory, and not feelHow in this world illustrious thou hast been,If triumphs such as thine may be pronouncedIllustrious, worthy thine own Plato's fame!Here the proud Stoic[150]spoke of constancy,239Of magnanimity, which raised the soulAbove all mortal change; of Jove's high will;Of fate;—and here the master,[151]from the schoolsOf human wisdom, to his votaries,Spoke of the life of man but as the flowerBlooming to fade and die; alas! to die,And never bloom again! Vain argument!'Twas on that hill, named of the fabled lordOf battle and of blood,[152]amid the shrinesAnd altars of the Grecian deities,Before the temple of the Parthenon,[153]250That shone, on this illustrious hill, aloft,And as supreme o'er all the lesser fanes,Fronting the proud proficients in the codeOf such vain wisdom, vain philosophy,Fearless amid this scene of earthly pomp,Eloquent, ardent, and inspired by Heaven,The loved Apostle stood. With look upraised,And hands uplifted, he spoke fervently;Spoke of that God, whose altar he had marked,"The unknown God," who dwelleth not on earth,260In temples made with hands, but in the heavens,'Mid inaccessible and glorious light.In Him we live and move; He giveth life,And breath, and all things. Him alone behovesTo worship and adore with prayer and praise.That God is now revealed, who, by his Son,Shall judge the world in righteousness, when earthAnd heaven shall pass away; when the last trump268Shall sound above the graves of all who sleep;When all who sleep, and all who are alive,Shall be caught up together in the clouds,To stand before the judgment-seat of HimWhom God appointed Judge; who shall descendFrom heaven, with a shout, and with the voiceOf the Archangel, and the trump of God,While sun, and moon, and stars, are blotted out,And perish as a scroll!As Paul thus spoke—Spoke of the resurrection of the dead—'Mid the proud fanes of pagan deities,280At Athens, the stern Stoic mocked; the flowersSeemed withering on the brow of that fair youth,Whom Epicurus taught that life was brief,Brief as those flowers which in the garden bloomOf that philosopher of earthly bliss.[154]And what the moral? Let us eat and drink,For we to-morrow die. Oh! heartless creed!Far other lessons Christ's Apostle taught,Of faith, of hope, of judgment, in a worldTo come, of light and life beyond the grave.290So Athens, Corinth, Macedonia, heardThe tidings of salvation.[155]Hark! the soundIs gone forth to all lands: the glorious lightExtends—the light of faith, and hope, and joy—The light from Heaven; whilst he, so falsely calledThe God of Day,[156]shorn of his golden hair,And rays of morn, shall leave his Delphian shrine,Discomfited, and hide his head in night.The dayspring of Heaven's purer light hath reachedImperial Rome: the tyrant[157]on his throne300Starts; at his voice the famished lion springsAnd crashes the pale martyr at his feet;While the vast amphitheatre is hushed,And not a sound heard through the multitude,But that dire crash, and the breath inly drawn,The moment it is heard, from the still throngShuddering; the blood streams from the lion's beard,Whilst that vast, breathless amphitheatreBursts into instant thunders to the skies.But not the lion, with blood-matted mane,310Nor the fierce fires about the martyr's stake,With rolling smoke, that the winds warp awayIn surges, when the miserable manBlackened and half-consumed appears; not these,Nor famine, nor the sword, nor death, nor hell,Shall move the Christian's heart or hope, or frayHim, steadfast and victorious, though he die.Farther and farther yet the light is spread:[158]And thou hast lived to see this gospel-dawnKindling from Asia, like a beacon-flame320Through darkness—oh! more cheering than the morn,With all its lovely hues, on sea or shore,As now it shines around us!John replied:Teacher of wisdom, or from heaven or earth,We know that Paul, our brother in the faith,Proclaimed the tidings of "Him crucified"From Rome to Spain; but Paul is in his grave:Soon must I follow him, and be at rest:Who then shall bear these tiding of great joy,330To all the people of all lands?

John replied:Teacher of wisdom, or from heaven or earth,We know that Paul, our brother in the faith,Proclaimed the tidings of "Him crucified"From Rome to Spain; but Paul is in his grave:Soon must I follow him, and be at rest:Who then shall bear these tiding of great joy,330To all the people of all lands?

STRANGER.

That bookWhich the Lamb opened, as a "flying roll"Angels of light shall bear with wings unseen,From shore to shore; and thus, though Paul be dead,He still shall speak, and millions yet unbornShall bless the boon. Thou shalt reveal the thingsThat thou hast seen; but that same book, which noneIn heaven or earth could open, but the Lamb,None but the Lamb shall close. Awake, awake,340Ye who now slumber in the shades of death!Yes! every nation shall confess the Lord;Till all shall be fulfilled, and there shall be,Through the wide world, "one Shepherd and one fold."For deem not this small frith, called "the Great Sea,"[159]That girds yon promontories, girds the world:Without is the great ocean, the main sea,Rocking in tempest and in solitude;Ten thousand isles are scattered o'er the wasteOf those dark waters, and each isle and land,350All earth, shall be one altar; and from earthTo heaven one flame of incense, and one voiceOf prayer and praise and harmony shall rise!So these two held communion on the shoreOf melancholy Patmos, when a soundAs of a griding chain was heard, and, lo!A criminal is kneeling at the feetOf the old man: God has been kind to me,He cried, and hid his forehead with his hands.Oh! listen to my tale, and pray for me.360'Twas when the Roman sentinel, who pacedThe platform of the dungeon where we slept,Had called the midnight watch, and overheadBright Aldebaran held his course in heaven,Westering o'er yonder Cape, I waked, and musedOn my eventful life.Then to my heartCame words which I had heard from thee: I weptEven as an infant, and I smote my breast.The brave companion of my fortunes died—370Died yesterday, stern and impenitentAs he lived, pitiless; and, left alone,I cried for mercy, mercy of that GodWhom thou didst call thy Father; and I prayedTo Christ, and cried, Me—me—oh! pardon me!I dare not lift my eyes. Thou, father, hear.I am a free-born citizen of Rome,My name, Pedanius,[160]the Decurion.When Titus led his legions to the East,Against the city of Jerusalem,380To raze it from the earth; at the last day,When the third wall shook to the battering-rams,Amid the shrieks of horror and despair,Flung from the tottering battlements, a babeFell at my horse's feet.[161]Famished and black,With livid lips and ghastly, on the groundIt lay; when, frantic from the crowd within,A wretched and bereaved woman rushed,And held my bridle, fearless of the swordsThat flashed above her head. I heard her cries—390Protect me!—he is dead!—my child, my child!Brave soldier, for the love of God! I looked392A moment, there was famine in her face,Wasted, yet beautiful. Pitying, I spoke:Follow; and through the clouds of smoke we passedTo the green olive trees, and then she sankUpon the ground, and, pale and still as death,Lay long—the winds just stirring her dark hair:I brought her water from the spring that wells,Soft murmuring, from the brook of Siloa:400She drank, and feebly opened her dark eyes,Which seemed more large, for all her flesh was shrunk;Then she looked up, and faintly spoke again;My mother—and my husband—and my child—Are—and she sobbed aloud. By Him, I cried,Who rules among the gods, I will protectThy life with mine! Her tears fell fast and warmUpon the bloody hand which held the sword;The other checked my fierce and foaming horse.Hark! hark! a turret falls! Hark! hark! again—410They shout, ten thousand voices rend the skies,The Temple, the proud Temple to the ground!The Temple, the proud temple to the dust!Her infant she had taken from the ground,To lay it in her bosom, while the tearsFell on its folded hands; but when she sawStill its wan livid lips, and the same glareOf its dead eyes, she turned away her face,Half looking down, half raised to heaven, and shedHer tears no more: one hand as thus she sat,420With fingers spread, held fast her infant's arm,O'er its right shoulder, while its arid lipsShe drew, in vain, towards her open breast,Still fearing to look down: her other hand,Instinctively, she laid on its cold feet,As if to cherish them: the gouts of blood426Fell heavy from its matted hair, and stainedHer bosom; but she had composed its hands,Which now, though cold and dead, each other clasped,Beneath her neck, as living. So she sat,Nor sighed, nor moved her face, nor shed a tearI gently took the infant from her arms,And buried it beside the sacred brook,And then, with muttered prayer, she turned and wept—Wept, as bereaved of all she loved on earth!Fly! and I placed her on the horse with me—Leaving behind the sounds and sights of death—The shrieks of massacre, the crash of towersFalling, the heavy sound of battering-rams:We passed the victims, blackening in the sun,440And some, yet breathing, on the crucifix.[162]On, through the valley of Jehoshaphat,I spurred my horse; we passed the sepulchreOf Lazarus, restored from the dark grave,So those who own the faith of Christ affirm,With eye-balls ghastly glaring in the light,At the loud voice of Him who cried, Come forth!We held our eastern way from Bethany,Till now we reached the "Plain of Blood."[163]I pausedA moment, ere we entered that sad plain.450Ah! there are tents upon the southern edgeOf the horizon! Fly! it is the campOf Arabs: see! with long and couched spears,A troop is flying o'er the sands! We hearTheir cries—this way they rush—this way—Fly! fly! and instant, as an arrow speeds,(My pale companion breathless, and scarce held)We bounded o'er the desert, till the track458Was lost. The voices died away: she sankFaint in my arms, and with her head declinedUpon my breastplate. We will rest a while;For she was now so feeble, it behovedThus oft to rest, if haply she might feelSome cool reviving airs breathe on her face,Gently; a few dry dates were all our food.We gazed in silence on the sun, that, red,Was sinking now beyond the lonely sands,And hurriedly again renewed our flight.The track is lost! Fear not—those are the bones,Not of a murdered traveller. Look out!470Is that a cloud? or seest thou not the smokeOf some lone cottage on the hills? List! list!Is it the tinkle of some rivulet,Wandering in solitude? On, on, my steed!We reached the hills, and, looking back, beheldThe western cope of heaven, as night came down,All fiery red. It was the light, far off,Of the proud Temple flaming! Through the nightWe held our toiling way, when, at gray dawn,We saw, beneath us, palms, and city walls,480And Jordan, slowly flowing to the south.Yes! these are palms and walls of Jericho;But all was silent and forsaken. WarHad blown his trump; and Pity, at the blast,Had knelt in tears, and hid her face to hearThat deep, dire groan; but it is heard no more,For Silence, Solitude, and Ruin sit,Mocking each other, at the city gates.Here were no murmurs of tumultuous life.We joined a mourning train, that held their way,490Women, and children, and white-headed men,Forlorn, by Jordan's banks, to Galilee,492Seeking the city of Tiberias.With many tears, my poor companion toldHer tale: a daughter of JerusalemImplored their pity; and the daggers, raisedTo pierce a Roman soldier to the heart,Were in the act arrested, for her sake—Trifosa, of the tribe of Benjamin,Who owed her life and safety to his sword.500We reached the city: here she had a friend,Widowed like her, who wept to hear her tale.Here, wedded, and by Israel's laws made one,I lived—a fisher toiling with his netTo gain our daily bread; but soon my heartBeat for a wider scene—for enterprise,The soul of a young soldier; and with thoughtsStirring and restless, after twelve long months,We came, by Tabor, to the western sea.I had a robber's cavern at the foot510Of Carmel, and oft skirred the neighbouring plainsOn my fleet battle-horse, with spurs of blood.Here I was joined by soldiers, desperateAnd outcast as myself; we were a bandOf secret and of fearful brotherhoodThat tenanted these caverns. But my wife,When we were absent, and the cave was still,Wept, for the love of those who were no more;Trembled, and wept for me. When I returned,Weary, at night, she sat and sang to me;520And sometimes, when she was alone whole days,She wandered o'er the mountains, gathering flowers,Hyacinths, lilies, and anemones;[164]And when my hands were bloody, gave me them,With trembling hand, and sadness in her look.525Why should I think, or sigh, or feel remorse!Was I not leader of the bravest bandThat ever shook their flashing scymitarsAgainst the morning sun! But, oh! that look!How has it thrilled, even to my inmost heart:530One child, the pledge of warm affection, died,And now she roved in morning dew no more;And oft, when I returned with gore-stained brow,I saw a strange, sad wandering in her eyes.Alas! her gentle mind was gone! She sang—She gazed upon my face—she smiled—she died—And her last words were, O Jerusalem,Jerusalem! I buried her in peace,Without a name, among the mountain flowers.And now my heart was hardened as a rock540Against the world. I heard no soothing voice;I never looked upon a human faceWith tenderness again; a darker shadeOf passions gathered on my lonely heart,Till love, and charity, and pity died.I may not say what I have seen and done:Here I have lived a fettered slave seven years;Here thy mild voice has called back to my heartSad recollections. Father,—and he kneltAnd kissed his withered hand, and cried again,550Oh! father, pray for me!The stranger stoodUnmoved, but tears were on the old man's cheek.

So these two held communion on the shoreOf melancholy Patmos, when a soundAs of a griding chain was heard, and, lo!A criminal is kneeling at the feetOf the old man: God has been kind to me,He cried, and hid his forehead with his hands.Oh! listen to my tale, and pray for me.360'Twas when the Roman sentinel, who pacedThe platform of the dungeon where we slept,Had called the midnight watch, and overheadBright Aldebaran held his course in heaven,Westering o'er yonder Cape, I waked, and musedOn my eventful life.Then to my heartCame words which I had heard from thee: I weptEven as an infant, and I smote my breast.The brave companion of my fortunes died—370Died yesterday, stern and impenitentAs he lived, pitiless; and, left alone,I cried for mercy, mercy of that GodWhom thou didst call thy Father; and I prayedTo Christ, and cried, Me—me—oh! pardon me!I dare not lift my eyes. Thou, father, hear.I am a free-born citizen of Rome,My name, Pedanius,[160]the Decurion.When Titus led his legions to the East,Against the city of Jerusalem,380To raze it from the earth; at the last day,When the third wall shook to the battering-rams,Amid the shrieks of horror and despair,Flung from the tottering battlements, a babeFell at my horse's feet.[161]Famished and black,With livid lips and ghastly, on the groundIt lay; when, frantic from the crowd within,A wretched and bereaved woman rushed,And held my bridle, fearless of the swordsThat flashed above her head. I heard her cries—390Protect me!—he is dead!—my child, my child!Brave soldier, for the love of God! I looked392A moment, there was famine in her face,Wasted, yet beautiful. Pitying, I spoke:Follow; and through the clouds of smoke we passedTo the green olive trees, and then she sankUpon the ground, and, pale and still as death,Lay long—the winds just stirring her dark hair:I brought her water from the spring that wells,Soft murmuring, from the brook of Siloa:400She drank, and feebly opened her dark eyes,Which seemed more large, for all her flesh was shrunk;Then she looked up, and faintly spoke again;My mother—and my husband—and my child—Are—and she sobbed aloud. By Him, I cried,Who rules among the gods, I will protectThy life with mine! Her tears fell fast and warmUpon the bloody hand which held the sword;The other checked my fierce and foaming horse.Hark! hark! a turret falls! Hark! hark! again—410They shout, ten thousand voices rend the skies,The Temple, the proud Temple to the ground!The Temple, the proud temple to the dust!Her infant she had taken from the ground,To lay it in her bosom, while the tearsFell on its folded hands; but when she sawStill its wan livid lips, and the same glareOf its dead eyes, she turned away her face,Half looking down, half raised to heaven, and shedHer tears no more: one hand as thus she sat,420With fingers spread, held fast her infant's arm,O'er its right shoulder, while its arid lipsShe drew, in vain, towards her open breast,Still fearing to look down: her other hand,Instinctively, she laid on its cold feet,As if to cherish them: the gouts of blood426Fell heavy from its matted hair, and stainedHer bosom; but she had composed its hands,Which now, though cold and dead, each other clasped,Beneath her neck, as living. So she sat,Nor sighed, nor moved her face, nor shed a tearI gently took the infant from her arms,And buried it beside the sacred brook,And then, with muttered prayer, she turned and wept—Wept, as bereaved of all she loved on earth!Fly! and I placed her on the horse with me—Leaving behind the sounds and sights of death—The shrieks of massacre, the crash of towersFalling, the heavy sound of battering-rams:We passed the victims, blackening in the sun,440And some, yet breathing, on the crucifix.[162]On, through the valley of Jehoshaphat,I spurred my horse; we passed the sepulchreOf Lazarus, restored from the dark grave,So those who own the faith of Christ affirm,With eye-balls ghastly glaring in the light,At the loud voice of Him who cried, Come forth!We held our eastern way from Bethany,Till now we reached the "Plain of Blood."[163]I pausedA moment, ere we entered that sad plain.450Ah! there are tents upon the southern edgeOf the horizon! Fly! it is the campOf Arabs: see! with long and couched spears,A troop is flying o'er the sands! We hearTheir cries—this way they rush—this way—Fly! fly! and instant, as an arrow speeds,(My pale companion breathless, and scarce held)We bounded o'er the desert, till the track458Was lost. The voices died away: she sankFaint in my arms, and with her head declinedUpon my breastplate. We will rest a while;For she was now so feeble, it behovedThus oft to rest, if haply she might feelSome cool reviving airs breathe on her face,Gently; a few dry dates were all our food.We gazed in silence on the sun, that, red,Was sinking now beyond the lonely sands,And hurriedly again renewed our flight.The track is lost! Fear not—those are the bones,Not of a murdered traveller. Look out!470Is that a cloud? or seest thou not the smokeOf some lone cottage on the hills? List! list!Is it the tinkle of some rivulet,Wandering in solitude? On, on, my steed!We reached the hills, and, looking back, beheldThe western cope of heaven, as night came down,All fiery red. It was the light, far off,Of the proud Temple flaming! Through the nightWe held our toiling way, when, at gray dawn,We saw, beneath us, palms, and city walls,480And Jordan, slowly flowing to the south.Yes! these are palms and walls of Jericho;But all was silent and forsaken. WarHad blown his trump; and Pity, at the blast,Had knelt in tears, and hid her face to hearThat deep, dire groan; but it is heard no more,For Silence, Solitude, and Ruin sit,Mocking each other, at the city gates.Here were no murmurs of tumultuous life.We joined a mourning train, that held their way,490Women, and children, and white-headed men,Forlorn, by Jordan's banks, to Galilee,492Seeking the city of Tiberias.With many tears, my poor companion toldHer tale: a daughter of JerusalemImplored their pity; and the daggers, raisedTo pierce a Roman soldier to the heart,Were in the act arrested, for her sake—Trifosa, of the tribe of Benjamin,Who owed her life and safety to his sword.500We reached the city: here she had a friend,Widowed like her, who wept to hear her tale.Here, wedded, and by Israel's laws made one,I lived—a fisher toiling with his netTo gain our daily bread; but soon my heartBeat for a wider scene—for enterprise,The soul of a young soldier; and with thoughtsStirring and restless, after twelve long months,We came, by Tabor, to the western sea.I had a robber's cavern at the foot510Of Carmel, and oft skirred the neighbouring plainsOn my fleet battle-horse, with spurs of blood.Here I was joined by soldiers, desperateAnd outcast as myself; we were a bandOf secret and of fearful brotherhoodThat tenanted these caverns. But my wife,When we were absent, and the cave was still,Wept, for the love of those who were no more;Trembled, and wept for me. When I returned,Weary, at night, she sat and sang to me;520And sometimes, when she was alone whole days,She wandered o'er the mountains, gathering flowers,Hyacinths, lilies, and anemones;[164]And when my hands were bloody, gave me them,With trembling hand, and sadness in her look.525Why should I think, or sigh, or feel remorse!Was I not leader of the bravest bandThat ever shook their flashing scymitarsAgainst the morning sun! But, oh! that look!How has it thrilled, even to my inmost heart:530One child, the pledge of warm affection, died,And now she roved in morning dew no more;And oft, when I returned with gore-stained brow,I saw a strange, sad wandering in her eyes.Alas! her gentle mind was gone! She sang—She gazed upon my face—she smiled—she died—And her last words were, O Jerusalem,Jerusalem! I buried her in peace,Without a name, among the mountain flowers.And now my heart was hardened as a rock540Against the world. I heard no soothing voice;I never looked upon a human faceWith tenderness again; a darker shadeOf passions gathered on my lonely heart,Till love, and charity, and pity died.I may not say what I have seen and done:Here I have lived a fettered slave seven years;Here thy mild voice has called back to my heartSad recollections. Father,—and he kneltAnd kissed his withered hand, and cried again,550Oh! father, pray for me!The stranger stoodUnmoved, but tears were on the old man's cheek.

The sounds of an approaching storm—Vision,etc.

The east is overcast; the nearer islesAre hidden by a sudden spleen; the cloudsUpon Elijah's promontory[165]nowAre mustering gloomily; there is a soundOf rain, and as, with interrupted gusts,The winds are rising, a long murmur comes,More hollow, from the seas; at times a wail,At distance, seems to mingle with the wind,Audibly; even the sea-birds on the cliffsCower, while the sounds as of a trump are heard,10Prophetical and sad. Let us retire,For Sagittarius rules the wayward year.[166]Pensive, they both retired into the cave.The eyes of John were heavy, and ere longHe sank into deep slumber, like a child,Hushed by the ocean sounds; and now aroseVisions more dark and terrible. He sawThe Lamb of God open the book. Hark! hark!The thunder and the tempest roll! John sawFour cherubims, and they said, Come and see!20He looked, and, behold! on a white horseSat one who had a bow, and he there was crowned;And with his bow, and crowned, he went forth,"Conquering and to conquer."Hark! a moanComes up from all the earth! The second sealIs opened, and the second cherubim27Cries, Come and see! Behold another horse,And it is red;[167]and he who sits thereonIs like a warrior, waving in his handThe sword of slaughter; so he goeth forthTo kill and to destroy, and "to take peaceFrom all the earth." Listen! for the third sealIs opening now, and the third cherubimCries, Come and see! Then said a voice to John,What dost thou see?

JOHN.

Lo! a black horse appears—Its rider has a balance in his hand.Ride on—ride on! Justice and EquityVisit the earth, with Plenty.[168]40The fourth sealIs opened now, and the fourth cherubimCries, Come and see!

VOICE.

What seest thou?

JOHN.

A pale horse—

VOICE.

And rider?

JOHN.

Yes—a dire anatomy.As he rides on, nations with terror shriek—Death! and the gulf of hell shoots out its flameAfter the footfall of that ghastly horse.50The rider shouts, and haggard Famine crawls,With wan and wasted visage, from her cave;And Pestilence, speeding unseen in air,Breathes, and ten thousand perish, and wild beastsHowl in the city of the dead, and feedUpon the black and countless carcases.[169]Low thunders rolled, and sounds of woe were heard,When the fifth seal was opened; and John sawA burning altar, and beneath it, soulsOf those who had been slain—the witnesses,60Confessing Christ in torments, and they cried,How long, O Lord, holy, and just, and true,Dost thou not judge—judge and avenge our cause!And robes of white were given to each of them,And a voice said, Oh! rest ye yet a while,Rest ye till persecution's cup be drained;The judgment leave to Him who sits in heaven.The thunders louder rolled, as the sixth sealWas opened. Ah! the sun is black aboveAs sackcloth, and the round moon red as blood;70Earth rocks from east to west; the stars are fallen,And falling, as the fig-tree casts its figs,When shaken by the mighty hurricane.Heaven is departing, like a scroll; the kings,And the chief captains, and the mighty men,Bondmen and free, have hid them in the caves,And mountains, and dark places of the earth,And to the mountains and the rocks they cry,Fall on us! hide us—hide us from the faceOf the incensed Lamb, for his great day80Of wrath is come, and who on earth may stand![170]And after this, John saw four angels stand82On the four corners of the earth; they heldThe rushing winds, that not a wind should blowTumultuous on the earth, or on the sea,Whilst they stood silent; then with radiant wings,Bright as the sun ascending from the east,Another glorious angel came, who boreThy seal, O living God; and a loud voiceTo the four angels cried, Hurt not the earth90Or seas, till on their foreheads we have sealedThe servants of our God. And they were sealedOf all the tribes of Israel. After this,A multitude which no man on the earthCould number, of all nations and all tongues,Clothed in white robes, and bearing in their handsPalms, as triumphant, stood before the throneOf glory, and before the Lamb of God,And cried aloud, Salvation to our God,Which sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb.[171]100And all the angels stood about the throne,The elders, and the mighty cherubims,And on their faces fell, before the throne,And worshipped God, and cried aloud, Amen:Blessing and glory, wisdom, honour, power,Be to our God, for ever and for ever!Then seemed that one among the elders spakeTo John, and said, What are these multitudesWho bear triumphant palms, all clothed in white?John answered, Sir, thou knowest. He replied,110These are victorious saints, who have come outFrom the great tribulation, and have washedTheir bloody garments, and have made them white—White through His blood who died upon the cross;Therefore they stand before the throne of God,115And in his temple serve him day and night,And He that sitteth on the throne shall dwellAmong them. They shall hunger now no more,Nor thirst; the sun shall cheer them, but not burn;The Lamb shall feed them, and shall lead them forth120To pleasant pastures, and to fountains bright,And from their eyelids wipe away all tearsFor ever.There was silence in the heavens,When the seventh seal was opened, and John sawSeven angels standing by the throne of God,Having seven trumpets; and an angel came,Who, hovering, with a golden censer, stoodBefore an altar, and the smoke went up,Of incense, from the altar. These are prayers130Of all the saints on earth—prayers which ascend,Like incense, from the censer in the handOf that bright angel, to the throne of God.Ah! he has cast his censer to the earth;And suddenly the earthquake and the stormAwoke, and through the darkness, rolled and flashedDeep thunders and the lightning; and, behold!The seven angels lift their trumpets high,Lift, and prepare to sound. And now the firstSounds—and there follows instant hail, and fire140Mingled with blood, which on the earth was cast;So that the trees stood bare and desolate,And the green grass was withered and burnt up.The second angel sounded, and, behold!A burning mountain cast into the sea.The third part of all creatures in the seaDied, a third part of all the ships that sailedUpon the sea was smitten and destroyed.And the third angel sounded; and there fell149A star from heaven. It fell on the third partOf rivers, and the fountains of the deep;And swollen and livid carcases were left,Weltering, beside the dark, blood-heaving sea.And the fourth angel sounded; and the sunFor the third part was smitten, and the moonFor the third part was darkened; and John sawAnd heard an angel flying in mid heaven,And crying with a mighty voice, Woe, woe,Woe to the earth, by reason of the voiceOf the three trumpets that are yet to sound!160And the fifth trumpet sounded; and John sawA star fall from the heavens to the earth;And to the angel of the star was givenThe key that shuts the nethermost abyssUpon the groans of those that groan therein.The pit is opened, and the volumed smoke,Shooting red flames, as from a furnace, rolls,And out of it there issued crawling things,[172]Like scorpions; but they had no power to hurtThe green grass of the earth, but those alone170Who on their foreheads had no seal of heaven:These shall seek death, but find him not, for deathShall fly from them, when they most pray to die.Like horses trained for battle, a dire troopComes sounding; on their heads are crowns, like gold;Faces are theirs, like men; and they have hairAs women, and teeth white and terribleAs lions; and their iron breastplates shake,With hurtling noise; the sounding of their wingsIs as the chariots and the steeds of war,180Rushing to the thick war. Who is their king?181Apollyon, angel of the deep abyss.One woe is past, yet two more woes remain;For the sixth angel sounded, and John heardA voice like thunders: The four angels loose,In the great river of Euphrates bound.And the four giant angels are unbound,And they go forth to slaughter. And John sawThe horses in the vision, and he sawThose who sat on them, with breastplates of fire,190Of jacinth, and of sulphur; and the headsOf the gaunt horses were as lions' heads,And from their mouths issued red fire and smoke.But men repented not, nor turned awayFrom their dark idols, or their sorceries,From worshipping their gods of gold, or stone,Or brass, or silver! Hush! the sound of wings!Another mighty angel comes from heaven,And lights on earth, clothed in a radiant cloud.There is a rainbow on his head; his face200Is as the orient sun; his feet appearPillars of fire; in his right hand a book.He sets his right foot on the seas, his leftUpon the earth, and cries, with a loud voice,Till the world shrinks: and when he thus has cried,Seven thunders answer, uttering to heavenTheir voices.Then the angel said to John,Art thou about to write? Seal up the thingsWhich the seven thunders uttered: write them not.210The angel which John saw stand on the seas,And on the earth, raised his right hand to heaven,And swore by Him which liveth, who shall liveFor ever and for ever—swore by HimWho made the heaven, the earth, and all therein,215That time shall be no more: the mysteryOf God shall be concluded in the daysOf this last angel's voice. That awful voiceJohn heard entranced; and the voice said to him,Take from the angel's hand,—the hand of him220Who standeth on the seas and on the earth,—That book thou markest open in his hand.That book, the rapt Apostle cried, that book!The angel mildly answered, Let thy heartFeed on it; sweet and bitter it shall be,And thou shalt prophesy of things to come,Of dark things yet to be upon the earth.The seventh angel lifted high his trump,And sounded; when from heaven a voice was heard—The kingdoms of this world they are become230The kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ:For ever and for ever, he shall reign,For ever and for ever.Now the arkOf God appeared; and round about the arkThere was a rainbow stealing through the rain,The ark of the new covenant: and, lo!A shining company stood with the LambUpon Mount Zion, and a song was heardOf harpers, harping a new song—the song240Of life and immortality. And JohnThen heard a voice—a voice from heaven, which said,Write, write, From henceforth blessed are the deadWhich in the Lord shall die, for they shall restFrom all their labours! Blessed are the dead!The shadows are departed; horse and trumpAre seen and heard no more; the trumpet's clangDies far away: the Apostle turned and prayed,With eyes upraised; and now, for pealing trumps,249Heard in the wind the lessening sound of harps,Still lessening, and still lessening, till the caveWas silent; and the stirring winds withoutAlone were heard, like sweet, sad melodies,Remembered in old times; whilst he who stoodBeside him watched; and after, as the daySlowly declined, they two conversing sat,Conversing of God's judgment—of the voiceWhich said to man the sinner, Dust thou art,And unto dust thou shalt return—of death,And immortality through Christ restored;260So they deceived the time, till John, oppressedWith sights and sounds so terrible, lay down,And sank to sleep, not to awake till dawn.

Morning—Roman Commander—Vision—Babylon—New Jerusalem—Evening—Night Scene—Stars—Temptation—Dream.

Back to Index Next