Classic Poem

Vaster and mightier a thousandfold
Than Babylon or Nineveh of old,
Shrouded in snow the silent City slept;
And through its heart the great black River crept
Snakewise, with sullen coils that as they wound
Flash'd scales of filmy silver; all around
The ominous buildings huddled from the light
With cold grey roofs and gables tipt with white,
And lines of lamps made a pale aqueous glow
With streaks of crimson in the pools below
Between the clustering masts. 'Twas still, like Death!
Still as a snow-clad grave! No stir! No breath!
A mist of silence o'er the City asleep,
A frozen smoke of incense that did creep
From Life's deserted Altar. And on high
Clouds white as wool that melted o'er the sky
Before the winnowing beams. In Heaven's Serene
No sound! no stir! but all the still stars, green
With their exceeding lustre, shedding light
From verge to verge of the great dome of Night,
And scattering hoarfrost thro' the lustrous space
Between their spheres and the dark dwelling place
Of mortals blind to sight and dead to sound.

So lay the silent City glory-crowned,
All the rich blood of human life that flows
Thro' its dark veins hushed in deep repose,
The pulses of its heart scarce felt to beat,
Calm as a corpse, the snow its winding sheet,
The sky its pall; and o'er its slumbers fell
The white Moon's luminous and hypnotic spell,
As when some bright Magician's hands are prest
With magic gloves upon a Monster's breast,
So that the heart just flutters, and the eyes
Shut drowsily! — But it dream'd beneath the skies
God knows what dreams! What dreams of Heavens unknown,
Where sits the Lord of Life on His white Throne,
While angel-wings flash thick as fowl that flee
Round islands Hebridean, when the Sea
Burns to a molten sapphire of dead calm!

Upon my fever'd eyes fell soft as balm
The ablution of the Midnight, as once more
I led that old Man weary and footsore,
Guiding his steps, while ever and anon
He paused in pain; and thro' the light that shone
O'er the still Bridge we falter'd, with no sound.
Then, as he paused for breath, and gazed around,
Again I questioned gently whence he came,
His place of birth, his kindred, and his name,
And whisper'd softly, " I can surely see
Thou art a comer from a far Countrie,
And thou art very old!" — " So old! so old!"
He answered, shivering in the moonlight cold;
Then raised his head, upgazing thro' the Night,
And threw his arms up quick, and rose his height,
Crying, " For ever at the door of Death
Faintly I knock, and when it openeth
Would fain creep in, but ever a Hand snow-cold
Thrusteth me back into the open wold,
And ever a voice intones early and late
" Until thy work is done, remain and wait! "
And century after century I have trod
The infinitely weary glooms of God,
And lo! the Winter of mine age is here!"

Even as he spake, in a low voice yet clear,
Clinging upon me, with his hungry eyes
Cast upward at the cold and pitiless skies,
His white hair blent with snows around him blown,
And his feet naked on the Bridge of stone,
Methought I knew that Wanderer whom God's curse
Scourgeth for ever thro' the Universe
Because he mocked with words of blasphemy
God's Martyr on the path to Calvary,
Yea, did deny Him on His day of Death!
Wherefore, with shuddering sense and bated breath
I gazed upon him. Shivering he stood there,
The consecration of a vast despair
Cast round him like a raiment; and ere I knew
I moaned aloud, " Thou art that Wandering Jew
Whose name all men and women know too well!"
Strangely on me his eyes of sorrow fell,
And bending low, as doth a wind-blown tree,
In a low voice he answer'd: