Classic Poem

M Y Loving L ORD : After the tidings came
Of rife sedition, from the Sanhedrim,
And hasty couriers summoned thee away,
At early dawn, unto the judgment-seat,
I sank again into a troubled sleep;
When midst uneasy tossings to and fro,
Visions of horror inconceivable,
And dire portent to thee I saw, which shook
My inmost soul with fears unknown before.

Methought that we for ages both had lain
Inurned within the shady grove that skirts
Our favorite villa near Praeneste, when
Sudden we heard a trumpet-blast that rang
And swelled its beating note prolonged, until,
All shattered by the piercing sound, the stone
In fragments burst, and from our prison cold,
Again in corporal form, a mighty wind
Rapt us aloft, and as if on the wings
Of desert-whirlwinds, with resistless force
Swift rushing, dashed us through the air, that seemed
A chaos of thick darkness palpable,
Mingled with fire; and armies of the dead,
Sprung from their tombs like us by that dread trump,
In myriad-throngs were hurtled through the gloom.
How far we thus were driven I felt not, for
No thought could measure distance then; but, quick,
In an instant, all the innumerable hosts
Were marshalled, side by side, along a bridge:
A narrow bridge, long as a thousand worlds —
Its very ends invisible from length;
And all upheld only by slender piers
That rested, far down, on a sea of fire. And that,
Not like dull-glowing Phlegethon, whose stream,
Within its ninefold belt of sluggish red,
Engirdles feigned Elysium: billows huge
Of tumbling flame I saw, that surged and roared;
Whose breaking crests shot up fork'd tongues of fire,
Like deadly serpents' tongues, with hissings fierce;
While fast the hungry element devoured
The burning bases of the slender props
That held us from their jaws. Oh, horrible!

And yet not long I gazed, for now that trump
Had ceased, and, from a distance echoing,
The advancing sounds of solemn music rose,
And " Holy, holy, holy, L ORD of Hosts! "
Filled the becalmed air. I looked and saw,
Ranged in a sevenfold round of vast expanse,
Ten thousand times ten thousand angel forms,
Whose crystal eyes, and ever-glancing wings,
And loud-resounding golden harps, flashed light
Reflected from the glory of their G OD ;
Himself as yet unseen by us, behind
His thick pavilion-curtains of dark cloud.
These rolled away, but then my dazzled eyes,
Dark with excess of light beheld no more:
Till lo! before the throne a Man appeared,
With infinite majesty yet meekness clothed;
A Man, but yet instinct with Deity,
Before whom all the heavenly hosts fell down,
And sang loud alleluias, whose glad noise
Re-echoed through creation's utmost bound;
And chiming stars, with music of the spheres,
Swelled the triumphant symphony of glory.
That Man I saw, was this same J ESUS . There,
Before His F ATHER'S throne He raised His hands,
From whose new-opened wounds big drops distilled,
While from His blessed feet and pierced side
The ruddy streams rolled down; then slow held out
Those bleeding hands to thee , and awful wrath
And doom o'ershadowed His majestic brow,
While, with stern voice, yet sorrowful, He said:
" This Roman had the power to release,
Yet he gave up the Innocent to die! "

Not alleluias now, but groans of woe,
And anguish such as spirits only feel,
Mingled with mutterings of deadly hate,
Were heard: and all the illimitable line
That overhung the fiery ocean, joined,
With gnashing howls and execrations dire,
The general burst of fury. At the sound,
Cleaving the billows of the burning flood,
A flight of fiends uprose: their black wings swept
In rapid circles round through rolling smoke,
Till o'er our heads their forms of dusky fire
Hung for an instant poised; then, swooping down
Like lightning, round thee clutched their scorching arms.
Thou sank'st; in vain, above thy blazing head,
Wringing in agony ensanguined hands,
That still dropped blood before high Heaven! And when,
Like falling meteors, ye plunged in
The flaming, roaring gulph, thy piercing shrieks
So shook my shivering soul, that their shrill noise
Scattered the shadows of tyrannic sleep,
And scared me from this horror-laden dream;
Whose shuddering terror yet benumbed my sense,
And that cry yet was ringing in mine ears,
When, as I waked, I heard the rabble hoarse
Shout: " Crucify Him! Crucify Him! "

Thou
Hast heard that cry; thou fearest for thy power,
Tottering before the maddened rage of mobs,
Whose loud tongues thirst to lap up innocent blood;
But have thou naught to do with that just Man!
He is a G OD ! With mine own eyes I saw
The hosts of Heaven fall down and worship H IM !
And if, though guiltless, thou shalt give Him o'er
To cruel death, His blood be on thy head;
And fiery vengeance shall devour thy soul!