The Captive Ladie/Visions of the Past

I sat me by a shrine and heard a strain,
Sweet as thy whispers, cedar'd Lebanon!
Which lull the weary pilgrim, when the sun
Seeks in wide ocean's gem-lit, vast domain
His nightly haunt: it sunk, then swell'd again,
High to the throne of Israel's Holy one,
Nor swell'd its vestal symphony in vain;—
Echo'd by sainted spirits He hath won!
The bridal song of her the spouse below:
I wept!—How oft, O world! thy harlot-smile
Hath woo'd me from the fount whose waters flow
In beauty which dark Death will ne'er defile:
I wept!—A Prodigal once weeping sought
His Father's breast,—and found love unforgot!—

Methought I stood within a blushing bow'r
Bosom'd upon a mount: it was the hour
Of Eve: the sun in flaming majesty—
Like a proud dream of glory—had now sunk
Beneath the western wave—his azure home,—
And from the bright—jem-studded firmament
The Moon—sweet queen of Beauty!—gently smiled
Like a young mother on the new-born earth
Cradled upon interminable space.—
How lovely!—yea—how lovelier far than aught
That even Fancy from her fairy land—
Her region of enchantment ever lent
To bard reposing in the noon-tide vale,
Or by the marge of mossy fount—entranc'd!—
Legions of beings with glad wings that beam'd
Soft-starry radiancy—and diadems
Of sparkling lustre throng'd in bright array,
Some flying thro' the dewy-slumbering air—

Like stars that oft upon their cars of light—
Night's messengers—walk the infinity
Swifter than thought:—while some on harps of gold
Waked strains like those which oft-times haunt the ear
When thou, O! gentle charmer—Hope! art nigh!

** There I stood within that bow'r,
And from the aery brow of that high mount
Look'd all around with gaze of wonderment.
Hills—vales and plains, all verdure-rob'd, now burst
Before me—and soft flow'rs that blushing bloom'd
And roses without thorns:—and gentle streams
With murmur'd melody glided o'er the fields
Flinging upon the air soft—liquid sounds—
While pillow'd on their breasts unnumber'd stars
Slumbered in bright repose and loveliness:—
I saw the sky that canopied the earth
Bend down to kiss the ocean—for as yet
Huge cities were not on the spreading plains
With tow'rs and battlements and bastions—
Nor woods of ancient majesty and hoar—
Nor mountains—piny-diadem'd—that soar'd
In proud aereal grandeur—pillowing high
Their heads on the blue bosom of the heavens—
The Himalay—home of eternal snow!

And Atlas—who beneath the western star ^[1]
Stands as a pillar swelling to support
The Earth's bright canopy upon its head— .
Or the far Andes—there to intercept
My view:—nor yet the countless broods of man
Walk'd the green bosom of the new-born Earth,
But silence sat with pensive solitude
In voiceless meditation— **

I turn'd me round—when lo! within a bow'r—
Fairer than that wherein I stood entranc'd—
With roof enwoven of green-fragrant leaves,
And verdant wall festoon'd with many a flow'r,
The lily pale—the rose with blushing cheek—
While 'round sweet breezes sang their melodies—
Natures' soft lullaby—two beings lay
Pent in each others arms in balmy rest,—
Though both unlike the radiant beings that throng'd,
Above—around as if in guardianship—
Yet were they not less beautiful:
********Methought I saw those radiant beings that throng'd
Above—around—as if in guardian-ship,

Gaze on her while the beaming eloquence
Of admiration sat upon each brow
And wonderment—for utterance too deep!
Yea—e'en the very planets as they roll'd
Majestic wanderers of Eternity—
And hymn'd their Maker's everlasting praise
In one—eternal—glorious jubilee—
Look'd brighter as they gaz'd on that fair being!
A vision of loveliness incorporate—
Bright emanation from the fount eterne,
Immaculate—where beauty ever dwells!
I stood entranced and in my bosom woke
Feelings—the tongue can never syllable!

I said I saw two beings in that bow'r
Pent in each other's arms in balmy rest—
Was it a dream?—Or didst thou wing me back—
Fancy!—thou aery visitant and sweet!
Through the dim waste of ages—wild and vast—
The sepulchre of Empires and of men—
Of things that were—whose mournful eloquence
In deep—sad—solemn accents tell the tale
Of Time's proud triumph over all below!
Oh!—didst thou wing me back to loveliest scenes
Primeval,—when Creation brightly steep'd

In sunny glory smiled as the fair brow
Of Virgin pure—unclouded—when the blight
Of sin—like the vast shadow of some cloud
Dark-wing'd and brooding o'er a sun-lit spot—
Dimm'd not the spring-ting'd beauty of her cheek—
When the young Earth shone as the image fair
Of Heaven—glass'd on blue ether—joyously—
When the great father of mankind arose
God-like in Majesty—and look'd around
On his proud heritage—a wondrous world
And multitudinous—and clad in light—
And Woman bloom'd in Love's bright halo-wreath'd,
And innocence—sweet beauty's sweetest gift!—

I said I saw two beings in that bow'r,
Pent in each other's arms in balmy rest,
In bliss without alloy—the birth-right then
Of Man—when he in scathless beauty won
Heaven's brightest smiles and cloudless—glorious boon!
'Twas night—and all around the vast expanse
Star-lit and bright—was hush'd to list in joy
Ineffable—in joy whose depth alone
Silence interprets—hush'd in joy to list
To melody which swell'd and sunk again
To softest cadence—for from grove and bow'r
It came—a fairy spirit—came and went

In wanton play:—and myriads too were there
Of beings refulgent—children fair they seem'd
Of some far planet where with dewy locks
Morn smiles—a realm of light and cloudless ray:
But there was one amidst that sunny throng—
And there he came as some dark visag'd cloud
Careering on in gloomy majesty—
Which dims the tranquil smile of every star
And wings its lightless path along the sky;—
A form of awe he was—and yet he seem'd
A sepulchre of beauty—faded—gone—
Mould'ring—where memory, fond mourner, keeps
Her lone-some vigils sad—to chronicle
The past—and tell its tale to coming years!—
Or—like a giant tree in mighty war
With Storm, on whirl-wind car and fierce array,
Blasted—and crush'd—of all its pride bereft—
Or like a barque which oft had walk'd the deep,
In queen-like Majesty—and proudly brave,
But by the fiery hand of some dread fiend,
Nurs'd in the starless caves of Ocean, shorn
Of all its beauty on the boundless surge—
A phantom of departed splendour—lone!
I trembled—and methought each beaming brow
Of those aereal entities which throng'd,
Above—around—pal'd at his dread approach:

He came, and as he near'd the blooming bow'r,
Of that bright pair—I saw the light which beam'd,
And wove soft haloes 'round all sudden fade—
As when dim Twilight—sable-rob'd and slow,
Doth frown away the gladsome smile of gold
From Day and sadden Nature all around:—
There was a stir—as if a thousand wings,
Cleft the deep air in hurried flight—I look'd—
All—all had fled—the beings which erst had throng'd
Around—so beautiful and starry-wreath'd
Of softest sheen and lovely—all had fled!
There was a hush—and melody which came,
Soft undulating on the viewless wing
Of every breeze from grove and bow'r, now sunk
To low-breath'd wails—such as the pilgrim hears—
The pilgrim of the mid-night deep—the dirge
Of spirit disenthrall'd from bond of clay—
Its plaintive dirge, Love! o'er thy watery grave!
The Moon was pale—and all that fairy scene
Swift faded from before me: shadows vast
Now curtained all around in misty trance—
I wept—and knew not why—yet wept again!
********

I stood in solitude,—and as I look'd

Night wan'd—that lovely night of star-lit smile,
With all its hosts—save, morn! thy gentle star,
Who with his dewy coronet of light
Sits on his throne—in lonely beauty—far—
To glass him in thine laughing eyes and then
Flee to some slumb'rous haunt to dream of thee!—
Night wan'd—and now the pilgrim fair of Light—
The sun—whose path is on the sky—uprose
Careering: Nature smiled her eloquent
And gentle welcome as he came in pride
And beauty—such as when rapt Delian maid
In voiceless adoration saw him rise—
God of the silver bow and deathless lyre!

But where were they—the tenants of that bow'r,
Those gentle beings whom I there beheld
Pent in each other's arms in balmy rest?
I look'd—but saw them not; for shadows vast
Still brooded 'round their flow'ry home and frown'd
On Light and dim'd her brow and joyous mood.
How fearful!—for it look'd—that lovely bow'r—
Like some dark isle upon a sunny sea—
The haunt of Phantoms dire and such as flee
The realms of Day.—Aereal shapes and grim
Now crowded fast in misty—sullen throngs

As if some sunless world had just unbar'd—
—Land of pale spectres and of Night profound—
Had just unbar'd her portals to disgorge
Her darksome brood from cavern'd sleep and lone:—
They came—oh! how unlike the beings bright,
That, ere that night of starry smile had wan'd—
Disported 'round—oh! how unlike they throng'd—
Ghastly—and pale—and joyless—horrid crew!
I stood, as one by foul Enchantress' wand,
From sunny scenes, or blithesome revelrie
Of Fays by mossy marge of moon-lit fount,
Wing'd to some Donjon's dark and starless keep—
Where the lone captive weeps in solitude—
And shrieks of agony oft rend the ear
From spirits disenthrall'd, who nightly haunt
Dire scenes—where murder bares her hideous arms!
****

I stood, when, hark!—a sudden voice there came—
—Forth from that bow'r now curtain'd as by wall
Of darkness dense for mortal ken too deep—
Awful and deep like thunder and it said,
In accents of proud triumph, lo! 'tis done!
There was a shriek of joy—methought it burst
From that dread throng—and rolling far and near—

It sunk—Earth trembl'd—and from grove and bow'r
There came a sound of mournful wail and sad:
I look'd—the sun had veil'd his dazzling brow—
As when he saw upon thee, Calvarie!
The Pilgrim from His Father's bosom—He—
His God—with blood-stain'd brow and crown of thorn
Die on th' accursed tree—yea—die to save—
And dying pray for those who shed His blood!
****

Slowly and sad, with brow where still the shade
Of sorrow linger'd, on to western realms
The Sun now hied him, and the star of Eve
Came pale and all alone with throbbing breast—
Unwoo'd by melody from twilight bow'rs—
Unwelcom'd by sweet breath of flow'rets fair,
Which ope their dewy eyes to gaze in joy
On her soft brow of loveliness and smile!
I sigh'd—and as I sigh'd methought there came
Loud blasts and shrill of trumpets from afar,
And dazzling, waves of light of cloudless beam,
Above the brightness of the sun—now roll'd
Along the blue expanse of Heav'n—erst dim—
—Such as once burst upon the Pilgrims' path,
When he with fiery wrath and fierce intent

Trod Syria's sunny plains and view'd afar
Damascus—and fast pal'd the noon tide ray—^[2]
Night fled—not with her wonted steps so slow
And ling'ring, when—as matron loth to leave
Some lovely maiden gay midst festal scenes
Of joyaunce—from bright morn she hies away,
But in wild hurried flight as routed host—
Night fled before that light which beam'd around
As if ten thousand suns were in the sky—
Earth trembl'd—and methought the pathless sea,
—Like giant waken'd from his deep repose,
Rose in wild tumult—Nature stood in awe,
As the dread blasts of trumpets louder swell'd,
Such as before thee, Sinai! mount of God—
The Pilgrims of the Desert heard and quak'd! ^[3]
****

I look'd—it came that fulgent vision bright
In splendour which no human tongue may name!
Millions and millions of bright beings enshrin'd
On cars of winged radiancy and crown'd
In diadems all lustrous—sheening far,
Came thronging round a throne of purest ray,
Zon'd by the rain-bow brighter far than when
Upon you blue expanse it once unfurl'd

Its gorgeous wings of purple and of gold,
To tell sad Nature, trembling still in awe,
Of dove-eyed Peace and everlasting rest—^[4]
Awful it was that throne and round it play'd
Flashes of vivid lightning—and methought
The aery beings which around it throng'd
Submiss and minstrant, veiled with starry wings
Their eyes before its fulgence—dazzling all,—
And on that throne I saw what once the Son
Of Buzi, by thee, Chebar! lucid stream—
When with thy liquid murmurs there he came
To mingle his sad plaint—a captive lone!
Th' unutterable Majesty Eterne! ^[5]
****

I look'd—it came that fulgent vision bright—
A fleet of light upon a crystal sea!
And as it came the shadowy beings which throng'd
And hung around that bow'r of loveliness
Like misty curtains, fled speed-wing'd and fast,
—As when, Bengala! on thy sultry plains
Beneath the pillar'd and high arched shade
Of some proud Banyan—slumberous haunt and cool—
Echo in mimic accents 'mong the flocks,
Couch'd there in noon-tide rest and soft repose,
Repeats the deafening and deap-thunder'd roar

Of him—the royal wanderer of thy woods!
They fled—that dark-some crew and as they fled
I saw that bow'r of beauty—but how chang'd—
How chang'd, alas! from primal loveliness!
As if some desolation-breathing blast
Had wing'd in blighting sweeps its dark career
Over its fairy beauty—withering all!
But where were they, the gentle beings and fair
I erst beheld within that blushing bow'r—
Pent in each other's arms in balmy rest?
Methought I saw them stand with pallid brow
Eclips'd—as when from out the starless realm
Of the dark Grave—by Fancy fondly woo'd—
In mid-night resurrection, the pale shade
Of what was once ador'd and beautiful,
Stands by the mourner's pillow—silently!
But as they saw that aery vision bright,
They fled like Guilt behind a leafy tree.—
I stood as one entranced and sight and sense
Slumber'd in deep oblivion and dark.
****

I woke—that vision of ethereal ray
Had melted—and 'twas night again and dark,
With stars of sickly smile and pallid brow:—
I look'd tow'rd that fair bow'r and as I look'd

I saw a sword of flame and fiery gleam
Wav'd round it by some viewless hand and fierce!
And on the silent plain that gentle pair—
Its tenants—wander in dim solitude.
They wept—but were those tears which gently flow'd,
Oh! were they tears which dark despair will wake
T' embalm the memory of our blasted hopes?
They wept—but not in dark despair—they wept
As Guilt—all penitent—when, Mercy! thou
Dost plead—nor plead in vain—in gentle strains
To justice stern to win redeeming grace!