Classic Poem

P ENSIVE and sad, with weary steps I paced
The Nile's old realm of grandeur in decay:
The hoary sands of Egypt's wondrous waste,
Bare to the brazen splendours of the day.
Much did I marvel, in my toilsome course,
How Time had overcome, with noiseless force,
The mighty works of her meridian hour,
The vast material proofs of her stupendous power

Methought I saw the Spoiler, proud and lone,
Unsling his fearful scythe, so strong and keen,
And sit him down upon that mystic stone,
The couchant Sphinx, of mild and solemn mien;
Methought he looked, with aspect stern and cold,
Towards voiceless Thebes, and mournful Memphis old,
Then turned away, as with a conqueror's frown,
From the Titanian walls which he had trampled down.

His silent sister, dark Oblivion, drest
In many-folded robes of gloomy pride,
Half sleeping and half waking, leaned at rest
On the great pyramid's gigantic side;
Lay making riddles of a thousand things
That wore the slumbrous shadow of her wings,
And, spite of human energies and schemes,
Changing all glories past to unsubstantial dreams.

To dubious History, shrinking in a cloud
Which dim Tradition flung athwart her face,
With earnest question I exclaimed aloud —
" Explain the marvels of this desert place!
Who willed that these colossal shapes should be?
Who builded up the sombre mystery?
Answer, grey Chronicler! give up thy trust;
Why are they desolate now, and crumbling into dust! "

Straightway a sound, as of a baffled wind
In mountain passes, smote my startled ear;
As if some wakened spirit wailed, and pined
For speech wherewith to make the secret clear;
Forgotten stories in forgotten tongues,
Old fitful legends, fragmentary songs,
Came mingling, moaning o'er the dreary land, —
I listened with mute awe, but nought could understand .

Once more I mused amid the whirl and roar
Of mighty London — 'mid the human waves
Whose restless tide, from centre unto shore,
In countless currents rolls, and rolling, raves;
London, where some adventurous vessels sail
Safely, and tack with every veering gale;
While some, by adverse Fortune blown and tossed,
Fall into shattered wreck, and are for ever lost:

London, the world of gay and graceful life,
Of lavish Wealth, and silken-seated Ease;
The place of harsh deformity and strife,
Where Misery sits, " with children round her knees; "
London, where Loyalty upholds a throne,
And virtuous Penury starves and dies — unknown!
London, where friendless Genius toils and smarts, —
The paradise of thieves, the home of noblest hearts.

I looked upon her temples and her halls,
Her river foaming with a thousand keels;
Her dens, where hopeless Wickedness appals,
Where Passion revels, and where Reason reels;
Her myriad-branching streets; her spacious bowers,
Where flaunting Fashion spends its idle hours;
Her schools and jails; her pleasure-haunts and " hells, "
Where Guilt and Sorrow groan, where Folly shakes his bells.

I saw her merchant-palaces; her rooms
Where lettered lore invites the better will;
Her gorgeous theatres; her dangerous glooms,
Peopled with fallen women, reckless still;
Her Mint and Money-change, her crowded marts;
Her domes of Science, treasuries of Arts;
Her stores, where good or evil is supplied
To all who choose to come; and as I saw, I sighed.

Thus spake my soul: — " Far Future, I command
Thy truthful answer to my question now! —
Must this great city, and this greater land,
Flourish or fall, — be purified, or bow?
Must they, like Egypt, sink by slow decay,
And their transcendent glories pass away?
Down thy abyss I send my inquiring cry! "
Alas! the depth was dumb, — it deigned me no reply!