PART SIXTH.
Reflections—Grecian Girl and Dying Libertine—Reflections on Past History of the World—Angel's Disappearance—Ship brings the Elders of Ephesus to invite John to return—Parting from Patmos, and Last Farewell.
Then the mysterious and majestic man
Thus spoke: Among the banished criminals,
As they passed yesterday, didst thou not mark
A pale, emaciate youth, and by his side,
Oft looking in his altered face, with tears,
A beauteous Grecian female! He was one6
Who crowned his hair with roses; trod the path
Of love and pleasure, till the vision fled.
And left him here, an outcast criminal,
Soon, without hope, to sink into the grave,
And leave his young companion desolate!
So ends a life of pleasure! Woe for them,
The young, the gay, the guilty, who rejoice
In life's brief sunshine, then are swept away,
Forgotten as the swarms in summer time.
As thus he spake, smiling amid her tears,
With eyes that flashed beneath dishevelled hair,
A female stood before them.
Look on me,
She sighed, and spake:20
No! father, hear my prayer:
At Corinth I was born; my mother died
When I was yet a very child; my sire
Trafficked to Tyre, and when my mother died,
He left the woods, the hills, and shores of Greece
To seek a dwelling-place in Asia,
At Tyre or Smyrna; but the tempest rose,
And cast his vessel on the rocky coast
Of Cyprus. I was found upon the shore,
Escaped I know not how, for he was dead;30
And pitying strangers bore me to the fane
Of Paphian Venus.[180] There my infancy
Grew up in opening beauty, like the rose,
Ere summer has unfolded it; I looked
Upon the dove's blue eyes; how sorrowful,
That it must die—upon the altar die;
And then it seemed still dearer, and I heard
Its murmuring on my bosom with a tear,38
Kissing it; but a young Athenian,
Whom Epicurus taught that life's sweet prime
Was like the rose; for whom Anacreon
Sang, Let us seize the moments as they fly,
And bind our brows with clusters of the vine;
Roaming, in summer, the Ægean deep,
Enticed me from the shrines of her I served,
And led me with him (for he had a boat,
Charmed by the syrens) led from isle to isle.
Joyous and reckless were his youthful crew,
Their hair with myrtle and with roses wreathed,
Who dipped the oar, in cadence, to the sound50
Of dulcimer, and tambourine, and lute,
While damsels, like immortal goddesses,
Their light hair gently waving to the breath
Of summer, in the bloom and light of youth,
Sang with accord of dulcet harmony,
As if to charm the seas; and Cupid sat
Aloft, his small right hand upon the helm,
While with the left he loosed the purple sail[181]
Free to the morning zephyrs. So we sailed,
With music on the waters, sailed along,60
And thought not of the sounds of a sad world
We had forsaken; while the lute thus woke
The echoes of the listening Cyclades:
Go, tell that pining boy to cast
His willow wreath away;
For though life's spring too soon is past,
Though youth's sweet roses fade too fast,
They shall not fade to-day.
Nay, father, frown not thus like withering care,69
He who is old may yet remember hours
Of happiness like these, and will forgive;
And wilt not thou, my father, wilt not thou?
From Cyprus, island of the Queen of Love,
We came to Naxos, and I joined the train
Of bacchanals, still singing, as we danced
Upon the mountains, to the bell and pipe,
Evoe, Bacchus! Thence we sailed away,
Careless, in the bright sunshine of the morn,
And never thought the tempest would arise
To cloud our happy days; but, hark! the storm80
Of night is howling round us; not a star
In heaven appears, to light our wintry way;
Alas! the pinnace, with its company,
Was dashed upon the rocks of Attica,
Where stern Minerva stood, and with her spear
Shivered it into fragments at her feet.
Cast on the shore, again I sought the fane
Of her I served in Paphos, and once more
Danced round the altars of the Queen of Love.
He, scarce escaping, all his substance gone,90
Joined the sea-robbers; and of late, I heard,
Was banished to this isle, a criminal,
Wasted by slow disease, and soon to die.
My father, I have heard that thou canst call
Spirits from heaven, of such strange potency,
They can awake the dead, restore to life
The dying: oh! restore the youth I loved,
And bring the rose to his pale cheek again!
JOHN.
Unhappy child! the path of pleasure leads
To sorrow in this world, and in the next.100
GRECIAN GIRL.
The next! the next! My father, I have heard101
That thou dost worship a new God—a God
Who has no priestess. I can dance and sing
Light as Euphrosyne, and I can weep
For pity, and can sigh, how tenderly!
For love; and if thou wilt restore that youth
To health and love, oh! I will kneel to thee,
And offer sacrifice, morning and eve
To thy great God, and weave a coronal,
When I have culled the choicest flowers of Rhodes,[182]110
Father, to crown those few white hairs of thine.
John answered, I will pray for him and thee;
But leave me, child, now leave me to those prayers.
The man of loftier wisdom spoke again:
How sing the thoughtless in their songs of joy,
Our days of happiness, at best, are short[183]
And profitless, and in the death of man
There is no remedy, for we are born,
And we shall sleep hereafter in the dust,
As we had never been; so all our days120
Are vanity, our breath but as a smoke,
A vapour, and we turn again to earth,
And this high spirit vanishes in air—
Into thin air; our very name shall be
Forgotten, and Oblivion on our works
Sit silent, while our days have sped away
As clouds that leave no trace, or as a mist
Dispersed and scattered by the noonday sun!
Time is itself the shadow of a shade,
Hurrying; and when our tale of days is told,130
The tomb is sealed, and who ever rose,131
To stand again beneath the light of day!
Then let us crown with rosebuds, ere they fade,
Our brows, and pass no blooming flower of spring!
Such heartless sophistries have still deceived
Earth's poor wayfarers, they who know not God,
For God created man—oh! not to die
Eternally, but live, for ever live
(So he be found holy, and just, and pure),
The image of himself! What dost thou see?140
Thine eyes are fixed, and turned on vacancy.
John said, I see the dead, both great and small,
Stand before God; the loud archangel's trump
Hath ceased to thunder o'er the bursting graves;
How deep, how dread the silence, as that book
Is opened! Ah! there is another book.
STRANGER.
It is the Book of Life; the dead are judged
According to their works.
JOHN.
Above the throne150
Interminable space of glorious light
Is spread, and angel-troops and hierarchies,
With golden harps, half-seen, into the depths
Of that interminable light recede,
Till the tired vision shrinks. The sea, the sea,
Gives up its dead! and Death and Hell pour forth,
All hushed and pale, their countless multitudes,
Shivering to meet the light; and millions pray,
In silence: Hide us, hide us, earth, again!
A gulph, beneath them, black as tenfold night,160
Glaring at times with intermittent flames,161
Opens; and, hark! sad sounds, and shrieks of woe,
Come through the darkness. At the dreadful voice,
Depart from me, ye cursed! John, amazed,
Looked 'round: he saw the blue Ægean shine,
And the approaching sail white in the wind.
Then he who stood by him thus spoke: Awake;
Let us toward the sea, for, look! the ship
Approaches nearer to the eastern bay.
As near, and still more near, she speeds her course,170
On this gray column, prostrate in the dust,
Its tale unknown, the sole sad relic here
Of perishable glory,[184] and, who knows,
Perhaps a pillar of some marble fane,
Raised to dark pagan idols, let us rest,
And muse upon the change of mortal things.
The Apostle sat, and as he watched the sail,
Leaned on his staff to hear.
The stranger spoke:
Lo! the last fragment of departed days,180
This shaft of a fallen column; and even so
Shall all the monuments of human pride
Be smitten to the desert dust, like those
Who raised them, long to desert dust returned.
Where are the hundred gates of regal Thebes!
Let the clouds answer, and the silent sands.
Where is the Tower of Babel, proudly raised,
As to defy the Lord, above the clouds!
He raised his arm, and, as a dream, it sank.
Waters of Babylon, by thy sad shores190
The children of captivity sat down,
Sat down and wept, when they remembered thee,
O Sion! But the trump and cornet bray;193
It is Belshazzar's midnight feast! He sits
A god among his lords and concubines.
A thousand torches flame aloof; the songs
Of wantonness and blasphemy go up!
And are those golden vessels, from the shrine
And temple of the living God, brought forth,
In impious derision? Does the hymn200
Resound to Baal, and the gods of gold?
And at this hour, do all the princes rise?
Is the wine poured from vessels which the Lord
Had consecrated? Do they drink, and cry,
The King shall live for ever? Ah! how changed
His countenance! he trembles, and his knees,
Smite one against the other! Look, how changed!
God of eternal justice, what is that?
The fingers of a man, against the wall,
Moving in shadow, and inscribing words210
Of dreadful import, but which none may read.
Call the Chaldeans and Astrologers!
Are they all mute? Call the poor captive slave,
Daniel, the prophet of the Lord! The crowd
All turn their looks in silence, with their breath
Hushed by their terrors. Has he spoken? Yes!
Thy sceptre is departed! Hear, O King!
He hears and trembles; and that very night,
He who blasphemed is gone to meet his Judge!
Proclaim the conquering Persian; it was God220
Who led his armies forth, who called his name
Cyrus;[185] and under him again shall rise
The temple at Jerusalem, shall rise
In beauty and in glory, till the day
Of tribulation smite it to the earth,
As we have seen! Weep for Jerusalem;226
But in the light of heaven, the Church of Christ
Shall lift its battlements, till He shall come,
With all his jubilant, acclaiming hosts,
Amid the clouds!
The old man raised his eyes,
And on his forehead placed his withered hand,
A moment musing; then he turned his look
Again to his companion at his side.
Ah! he is gone; but, hark! a rustling sound
Is heard, and, bright above the eastern cliffs,
Behold, a glorious angel's pennons spread.
Look! he ascends into the azure depth
Of light; he still ascends, till the blue sky
Is only interrupted by some clouds240
Of lightest brede and beauty, o'er the sea
Transparent hung. John gazed with hands outspread,
But nothing in the airy track was seen,
Save those small clouds. Then pensive he sat down,
His withered hands extending as in prayer.
But, lo! the vessel drops its sail; a boat
Is hurrying, smooth and rapid, through the spray—
The sounds of men are heard—see, they approach!
Yes, they are messengers of peace! they come
With tidings to the lonely habitant.250
Two elders of the Church of Ephesus
Greet him with salutations from the ship
Whose banner streams—the banner of the Cross—
Beneath the rocks of Patmos: from the beach
The elders slow advanced, and one thus spoke:
Hail, father! Cæsar is no more! Thy Church
At Ephesus again, by us, implores
Thy presence and thy guidance; and, behold!
The bark now waits to bear thee o'er the deep,
For Nerva has reversed the stern decree200
Passed for thy banishment: arise, return,
Return; for now the light of heaven again
Gleams on the temple of our infant faith;
The radiance of the "golden candlestick,"
That shone in the deep darkness of the earth,
Shall flame more bright. Arise—arise—return!
John took their hands, and, blessing them, gave thanks
To God who rules above; then cried, I go—
With many thronging thoughts—back to the world,
To wait how Heaven may yet dispose my lot,270
Till the grave close upon my pilgrimage.
Yet would I stay a while, to bid farewell
To that, my cave,[186] where I have seen strange things,
And heard strange voices, and have passed five years
In loneliness and watching, and in prayer.
Let me not part till I have said farewell!
Hereafter I shall tell what I have seen.
But now, O Lord and Saviour! strengthen me,
A poor old man, returning to the world;
Oh! look and let me feel thy presence now,280
Whom I have served so long I shall not see
Again thy glorious form upon the earth,
But I have lived to see thy Church arise,
Now in its infancy, and gathering power
From day to day; and thou shalt be adored
Till the remotest isles, and every land,
Shall praise and magnify thy glorious name!
My days are well-nigh told, and few remain,
But I shall live, protected, to record,
O Lord and Saviour! all which I have seen,290
High and mysterious; as I declared,
In the beginning was the Word; the Word,292
In the beginning, was with God; the Word
Was God!
And now farewell! Oh! may I pass
What yet remains of life in faith and hope,
Till Christ shall call me in his mercy hence,
And lead me gently to my last repose.
Then may his Church, which he has raised on earth,
Stand, though the tempest shake its battlements,300
Stand, till the trumpet, the last trumpet sound,
And He shall come in clouds who founded it!
As thus he spoke, his stature seemed to grow
More lofty, with a step more firm he trod;
Whilst a mild radiance, lambent on his face,
Shone, as the radiance from the mercy-seat.
He held his way, oft looking back to mark
The cave where he had lived, when, lo! the dove,
So often fed from his pale hand, has left
The cliff, and flies, faint-murmuring, round his hair.310
And now he turns his eyes upon the deep;
Yet scarce had reached the margin, when he saw
The sullen dwellers on these rugged shores,
Led on by him who had confessed his sins—
The robber of Mount Carmel, in his chains—
Kneel at his feet. They blessed him, sorrowing
That they should see his face on earth no more.
The stern centurion hid a starting tear;
The poor emaciate youth knelt down, and she
Who tended him with love and tenderness,320
Wept, as he faintly sank, and breathed his last,
His hands extending feebly, as he sunk,
To John, in fervent prayer! The Grecian girl
Fell, desolate and sobbing, on his breast.
But, lo! the wind has veered, and, streaming out,
The red cross pennant points to Asia,326
As heaven-directed. Speed, ye mariners!
The sails are swelling, and the widening deep
Is all before you, surging to the gale.
So they kept on their course to Ephesus,
And o'er the Ægean waves beheld, far off,
The cave, the lonely sands and lessening capes
Of dreary Patmos sink to rise no more.