Classic Poem

II

Again the Trumpet's intermitted Sound
Rouls the wide Circuit of Creation round,
An universal Concourse to prepare
Of all that ever breath'd the vital Air,
In some wide Field, which active Whirlwinds sweep,
Drive Cities, Forests, Mountains to the Deep,
To smooth, and Lengthen out the Unbounded Space,
And Spread an Area for all Human Race:
Now Monuments prove faithful to their Trust,
And render back their long-committed Dust,
Now Charnels Rattle; scatter'd Limbs, and all
The various Bones, obsequious to the Call,
Self-mov'd, advance; the Neck perhaps to meet
The distant Head, the distant Legs, the Feet;
Dreadful to View! see thro' the Dusky Sky
Fragments of Bodies in Confusion fly,
To distant Regions journying, there to claim
Deserted Members, and compleat the Frame.
*

The Trumpet's Sound each vagrant Mote shall hear,
Or fix'd in Earth, or if afloat in Air,
Obey the Signal, wafted in the Wind,
And not one Sleeping Atom lag behind
So swarming Bees, that, on a Summer's Day
In airy Rings, and wild Meanders play,
Charm'd with the brazen Sound, their Wand'rings end,
And gently circling on a Bough Descend.
*

Nor Monuments alone, and Burial-Earth,
Labour with Man to this his second Birth;
But where gay Palaces in Pomp arise,
And gilded Theatres invade the Skies,
Nations shall wake, whose unsuspected Bones
Support the Pride of their Luxurious Sons;
The most magnificent, and costly Dome
Is but an upper Chamber to a Tomb,
No Spot on earth but has supply'd a Grave,
And Human Skulls the spatious Ocean pave,
All's full of Man, and at this dreadful Turn,
The Swarm shall Issue, and the Hive shall burn.
A sudden Blush inflames the waving Sky,
And now the crimson Curtains open fly,
Lo! far within, far far above all Height,
Why're Heav'n's Great Sovereign reigns in Worlds of Light,
Whence Nature He informs, and with one Ray
Shot from his Eye, does all her Works survey,
Creates, supports, confounds! Where Time, and Place,
Matter, and Form, and Fortune, Life and Grace,
Wait humbly at the Footstool of their God,
And move Obedient at his Awful Nod;
Whence he beholds us vagrant Emmets crawl
At random on this Air-suspended Ball,
(Speck of Creation!) if He pour one Breath,
The Bubble breaks, and 'tis Eternal Death

III

That Woe, those Pangs which from the guilty breast,
In these or Words like these, shall be Exprest: —
'Who burst the Barriers of my peacefull Grave?
Ah! Cruel Death that wou'd no longer Save,
But grudg'd me e'en that narrow, dark Abode,
And cast me out into the Wrath of God;
Where Shreeks, the roaring Flame, the ratling Chain,
And all the Dreadful Eloquence of Pain
Our only Song; Black Fire's Malignant Light,
The sole Refreshment of the blasted Sight.
*

Never! where falls the Soul at that dread sound,
Down an abyss how dark, and how profound,
Down, down I still am falling, (Horrid Pain!)
Ten thousand thousand Fathoms still remain,
My plunge but still begun. And this for sin?
Could I Offend, if I had never been,
But still encreast the senseless happy Mass,
Flow'd in the stream, or shiver'd in the grass?
" Father of Mercies! why from silent Earth
Didst thou awake, and curse me into Birth?
Tear me from Quiet, ravish me from Night,
And make a thankless Present of thy Light;
Push into Being a Reverse of Thee,
And animate a Clod with Misery?"
*

Deep Anguish! but too late! the hopeless Soul
Bound to the Bottom of the burning Pool,
Tho' loath, and Ever loud blaspheming, owns
He's justly doom'd to pour Eternal Croans;
Enclost with Horrors, and transfixt with Pain,
Rowling in Vengeance, struggling with his Chain,
To talk to fiery Tempests; to implore
The raging Flame to give its Burnings o'er,
To Toss, to Writhe, to Pant beneath his Load
And bear the Weight Of an Offended God.