Thither that ship is bound: nor storms, nor seas,
Rocking in more terrific amplitude,
Impede its course. Long years shall roll away,217
And when deep night shall wrap again the shores,
Of Asia; where the "golden candlestick"
Now gleams, illumining the pagan world;
And where a few poor Christian fishermen
Shall here and there be found; even where thy Church
Of Ephesus stood in the light of heaven,
From that far isle, amid the desert waves,
Back, like the morning on the darkened east,
To lands long hid, in ocean-depths unknown,
The radiance of the gospel shall go forth,
And the Cross float triumphant o'er the world.
JOHN.
Even now, in vision rapt of days to come,
I see her Christian temples, pale in air,230
Above the smoke of cities; o'er the deep
I see her fleets, innumerable, spread,
Chequering, like shadows, the remotest main;
And, lo! a river, winding in the light,
Silent, amid a vast metropolis,
Beneath the spires, and towers, and glittering domes!
Ah! they are vanished, and a sudden cloud
Hides, from the straining sight, temple, and tower,
And battlement.
STRANGER.
Pray that it pass away.240
JOHN.
Ah! the pale horse and rider! the pale horse
Is there! silence is in the streets! The ark
Of her majestic polity, the Church—
The temple of the Lord—I see no more!
STRANGER.
Pray that her faith preserve her: the event245
Is in His hands who bade his angels sound
Their trumps, or pour the avenging vials out.
Let us descend, the wind is fresh and fair,
Direct from the north-east, let us descend.
And they descended, silently and slow,250
Towards the craggy cave, and rested there,
Looking upon the sunshine on the waves
Of the pale-blue Ægean, still intent,
Watching the sail, that, by the western beam
Illumined, held its course towards the shore.
Icarian figs furnished a scant repast,
With water from the rock, after their toil;
While they, within the cave, conversing sat
Of virtue and of vice, of sin and death,
Of youth and age, and pleasure's flowery path,260
Leading to sorrow and untimely death.