Classic Poem

"Even so" (the exulting Maiden said)
"The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell,
"And thus the witness'd God! But now the clouds
"Treading, and storms beneath their feet, they soar
"Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing
"Loud songs of Triumph! O ye spirits of God,
"Hover around my mortal agonies!"
She spake, and instantly faint melody
Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow,
Such measures as at calmest midnight heard
By aged Hermit in his holy dream,
Foretell and solace death; and now they rise
Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice
The white-robed multitude of slaughter'd saints
At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant
Receive some martyr'd Patriot. The harmony
Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense
Brief slumber seized, and confused extacy.

At length awakening slow, she gazed around:
And thro' a Mist, the relict of that trance,
Still thinning as she gaz'd, an Isle appear'd,
Its high, o'erhanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs
Glass'd on the subject ocean. A vast plain
Stretch'd opposite, where ever and anon
The Plough-man following sad his meagre team
Turn'd up fresh sculls unstartled, and the bones
Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there
All mingled lay beneath the common earth,
Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the Fields
Stept a fair form, repairing all she might,
Her temples olive-wreath'd; and where she trod,
Fresh flowrets rose, and many a foodful herb.
But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure,
And anxious pleasure beam'd in her faint eye,
As she had newly left a couch of pain,
Pale Convalescent! (Yet some time to rule
With power exclusive o'er the willing world,
That blest prophet mandate then fulfill'd,
PEACE be on Earth!) An happy while, but brief,
She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet,
And heal'd the recent harm of chill and blight,
And nurs'd each plant that fair and virtuous grew.

But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow:
Black rose the clouds, and now, (as in a dream)
Their reddening shapes, transform'd to Warrior-hosts,
Cours'd o'er the Sky, and battled in mid-air.
Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven
Portentous! while aloft were seen to float,
Like hideous features blended with the clouds,
Wan Stains of ominous Light! Resign'd, yet sad,
The fair Form bow'd her olive-crowned Brow:
Then o'er the plan with oft reverted eye
Fled till a Place of Tombs she reach'd, and there
Within a ruin'd Sepulchre obscure
Found Hiding-place.

And first a Landscape rose,
More wild, and waste, and desolate, than where
The white bear, drifting on a field of ice,
Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous rage
And savage agony.