Classic Poem

THE THIRD BOOK

The Maiden, musing on the warrior's words,
Turn'd from the Hall of Glory. Now they reach'd
A cavern, at whose mouth a Genius stood,
In front a beardless youth, whose smiling eye
Beam'd promise, but behind, wither'd and old,
And all unlovely. Underneath his feet
Records obliterate lay, and laurels sear.
He held an hour-glass, and as the sands fall,
So pass the lives of men. By him they past
Along the darksome cave, and reach'd a stream,
Still rolling onward its perpetual course
Noiseless and undisturb'd. Here they ascend
A bark unpiloted, that down the stream,
Borne by the current, rush'd, which circling still,
Returning to itself, an island form'd;
Nor had the Maiden's footsteps ever reach'd
The insulated coast, eternally
Rapt round in endless whirl: but Theodore
Drove with a spirit's will the obedient bark.

They land; a mighty fabric meets their eyes,
Seen by its gem-born light. Of adamant
The pile was framed, forever to abide
Firm in eternal strength. Before the gate
Stood eager Expectation, as to catch
The half-heard murmurs issuing from within,
Her mouth half-open'd, and her head stretch'd forth
On the other side there stood an aged crone,
Listening to every breath of air; she knew
Vague suppositions and uncertain dreams
Of what was soon to come, for she would mark
The little glow-worm's self-emitted light,
And argue thence of kingdoms overthrown,
And desolated nations; ever fill'd
With undetermined terror, as she heard
Or distant screech-owl, or the regular beat
Of evening death-watch.
" Maid, " the spirit cried
" Here, robed in shadows, dwells Futurity.
There is no eye hath seen her secret form,
For round the Mother of Time eternal mists
Hover. If thou would'st read the book of fate,
Go in! "
The damsel for a moment paused,
Then to the angel spake: " All-gracious Heaven
Benignant in withholding, hath denied
To man that knowledge. I, in faith assured,
Knowing my heavenly Father for the best
Ordaineth all things, in that faith remain
Contented. "
" Well and wisely hast thou said, "
So Theodore replied; " and now, O Maid!
Is there amid this boundless universe
One whom thy soul would visit? Is there place
To memory dear, or vision'd out by hope,
Where thou would'st now be present? Form the wish,
And I am with thee, there. "
His closing speech
Yet sounded on her ear, and lo! they stood
Swift as the sudden thought that guided them,
Within the little cottage that she loved.
" He sleeps! the good man sleeps! " enrapt she cried
As bending o'er her uncle's lowly bed
Her eye retraced his features. " See the beads
Which never morn nor nighThe fails to tell,
Remembering me, his child, in every prayer.
Oh! peaceful be thy sleep, thou dear old man!
Good Angels guard thy rest! and when thine hour
Is come, as gently mayst thou wake to life,
As when through yonder lattice the next sun
Shall bid thee to thy morning orisons! "

" Thy voice is heard, " the angel guide rejoin'd
" He sees thee in his dreams, he hears thee breathe
Blessings, and happy is the good man's rest.
Thy fame has reach'd him, for who hath noTheard
Thy wondrous exploits? and his aged heart
Hath felt the deepest joy that ever yet
Made his glad blood flow fast. Sleep on, old Claude
Peaceful, pure spirit, be thy sojourn here,
And short and soon thy passage to that world
Where friends shall part no more!
Does thy soul own
No other wish? or sleeps poor Madelon
Forgotten in her grave? — Seest thou yon star, "
The spirit pursued, regardless thaTher eye
Reproach'd him; " seest thou that evening star
Whose lovely light so often we beheld
From yonder woodbine porch? How have we gazed
Into the dark, deep sky, till the baffled soul,
Lost in the infinite, return'd, and felt
The burden, of her bodily load, and yearn'd
For freedom! Maid, in yonder evening star
Lives thy departed friend. I read that glance,
And we are there! "
He said, and they had past
The immeasurable space.
Then on her ear
The lonely song of adoration rose,
Sweet as the cloister'd virgin's vesper hymn,
Whose spirit, happily dead to earthly hopes,
Already lives in heaven. Abrupt the song
Ceased, tremulous and quick a cry
Of joyful wonder roused the astonish'd Maid,
And instant Madelon was in her arms;
No airy form, no unsubstantial shape,
She felTher friend; she presTher to her heart;
Their tears of rapture mingled.
She drew back,
And eagerly she gazed on Madelon,
Then fell upon her neck and wept again.
No more she saw the long-drawn lines of grief,
The emaciate form, the hue of sickliness,
The languid eye: youth's loveliest freshness now
Mantled her cheek, whose every lineament
Bespake the soul at rest, a holy calm,
A deep and full tranquillity of bliss.

" Thou then art come, my first and dearest friend! "
The well-known voice of Madelon began,
" Thou then art come! And was thy pilgrimage
So short on earth? and was it painful too,
Painful and short as mine? but blessed they
Who from the crimes and miseries of the world
Early escape! "
" Nay, " Theodore replied,
" She hath not yet fulfill'd her mortal work.
Permitted visitant from earth she comes
To see the seat of rest; and oftentimes
In sorrow shall her soul remember this,
And patient of its transitory woe,
Partake again the anticipated joy. "

" Soon be that work perform'd! " the Maid exclaim'd,
" O Madelon! O Theodore! My soul,
Spurning the cold communion of the world,
Will dwell with you. But I shall patiently,
Yea, even with joy, endure the allotted ills
Of which the memory in this better state
Shall heighten bliss. That hour of agony,
When, Madelon, I felt thy dying grasp,
And from thy forehead wiped the dews of death,
The very anguish of that hour becomes
A joy for memory now. "
" O earliest friend!
I too remember, " Madelon replied,
" That hour, thy looks of watchful agony,
The supprest grief that struggled in thine eye
Endearing love's last kindness. Thou didst know
With what a deep and earnest hope intense
I felt the hour draw on: but who can speak
The unutterable transport, when mine eyes,
As from a long and dreary dream, unclosed
Amid this peaceful vale, — unclosed upon
My Arnaud! He had built me up a bower,
A bower of rest. — See, Maiden, where he comes,
His manly lineaments, his beaming eye,
The same, but now a holier innocence
Sits on his cheek, and loftier thoughts illume
The enlighten'd glance. "
They met; what joy was theirs
He best can feel, who for a dear friend dead
Hath wet the midnight pillow with his tears.

Fair was the scene around; an ample vale
Whose mountain circle at the distant verge
Lay soften'd on the sight; the near ascent
Rose bolder up, in part abrupt and bare,
Part with the ancient majesty of woods
Adorn'd, or lifting high its rocks sublime.
A river's liquid radiance roll'd beneath;
Beside the bower of Madelon it wound
A broken stream, whose shallows, though the waves
Roll'd on their way with rapid melody,
A child might tread. Behind, an orange grove
Its gay, green foliage starr'd with golden fruit.
But with what odors did their blossoms load
The passing gale of eve! Less thrilling sweets
Rose from the marble's perforated floor,
Where kneeling aTher prayers, the Moorish queen
Inhaled the cool delight, and whilst she ask'd
The prophet for his promised paradise,
Shaped from the present bliss its utmost joys.
A goodly scene! fair as that fairy land
Where Arthur lives, by ministering spirits borne
From Camelot's bloody banks; or as the groves
Of earliest Eden, where, so legends say,
Enoch abides; and he who, rapt away
By fiery steeds and charioted in fire,
Past in his mortal form the eternal ways;
And John, beloved of Christ, enjoying there
The beatific vision, sometimes seen,
The distant dawning of eternal day,
Till all things be fulfilled.
" Survey this scene!
So Theodore address'd the Maid of Arc;
" There is no evil here, no wretchedness;
It is the heaven of those who nurst on earth
Their nature's gentlest feelings. Yet noThere
Centring their joys, but with a patient hope,
Waiting the allotted hour when capable
Of loftier callings, to a better state
They pass; and hither from that better state
Frequent they come, preserving so those ties
Which through the infinite progressiveness
Complete our perfect bliss.
Even such, so blest,
Save that the memory of no sorrows past
Heighten'd the present joy, our world was once,
In the first era of its innocence,
Ere man had learnt to bow the knee to man.
Was there a youth whom warm affection fill'd,
He spake his honesTheart; the earliest fruits
His toil produced, the sweetest flowers that deck'd
The sunny bank, he gather'd for the maid,
Nor she disdain'd the gift; for Vice not yet.
Had burst the dungeons of her Hell, and rear'd
Those artificial boundaries that divide
Man from his species. State of blessedness!
Till that ill-omen'd hour when Cain's true son
Delved in the bowels of the earth for gold,
Accursed bane of virtue, — of such force
As poets feign dwelt in the Gorgon's locks,
Which whoso saw, felt instant the life-blood
Cold curdle in his veins, the creeping flesh
Grew stiff with horror, and the heart forgot
To beat. Accursed hour! for man no more
To Justice paid his homage, but forsook
Her altars, and bow'd down before the shrine
Of Wealth and Power, the idols he had made.
Then Hell enlarged herself, her gates flew wide,
Her legion fiends rush'd forth. Oppression came,
Whose frown is desolation, and whose breath
Blasts like the pestilence; and Poverty,
A meagre monster, who with withering touch
Makes barren all the better part of man,
Mother of Miseries. Then the goodly earth
Which God had framed for happiness, became
One theatre of woe, and all that God
Had given to bless free men, these tyrant fiends
His bitterest curses made. Yet for the best
Have all things been appointed by the All-wise!
For by experience taught shall man at length
Dash down his Moloch-idols, Samson-like,
And burst his fetters. Then in the abyss
Oppression shall be chain'd, and Poverty
Die, and with her, her brood of miseries;
And Virtue and Equality preserve
The reign of Love, and earth shall once again
Be Paradise, where Wisdom shall secure
The state of bliss which Ignorance betray'd. "

" Oh age of happiness! " the Maid exclaim'd,
" Roll fast thy current, Time, till that blest age.
Arrive! and happy thou, my Theodore,
Permitted thus to see the sacred depths
Of wisdom! "
" Such, " the blessed spirit replied,
" Beloved! such our lot; allowed to range
The vast infinity, progressive still
In knowledge and increasing blessedness,
This our united portion. Thou hast yet
A little while to sojourn amongst men:
I will be with thee; there shall not a breeze
Wanton around thy temples, on whose wing
I will not hover near; and at that hour
When from its fleshly sepulchre let loose,
Thy phaenix soul shall soar, O best-beloved!
I will be with thee in thine agonies,
And welcome thee to life and happiness,
Eternal, infinite beatitude! "
He spake, and led her near a straw-roof'd cot,
Love's palace. By the Virtues circled there
The Immortal listen'd to such melodies,
As aye, when one good deed is register'd
Above, reicho in the halls of heaven.
Labor was there, his crisp locks floating loose;
Clear was his cheek, and beaming his full eye,
And strong his arm robust; the wood-nymph Health
Still follow'd on his path, and where he trod
Fresh flowers and fruits arose. And there was Hope,
The general friend; and Pity, whose mild eye
Wept o'er the widow'd dove; and, loveliest form,
Majestic Chastity, whose sober smile
Delights and awes the soul; a laurel wreath
Restrain'd her tresses, and upon her breast
The snow-drop hung its head, that seem'd to grow
Spontaneous, cold and fair. Beside the maid
Love went submiss, with eye more dangerous
Then fancied basilisk to wound whoe'er
Too bold approach'd; yet anxious would he read
Her every rising wish, then only pleased
When pleasing. Hymning him, the song was raised.

" Glory to thee whose vivifying power
Pervades all Nature's universal frame!
Glory to thee, Creator Love! to thee,
Parent of all the smiling Charities,
That strow the thorny path of life with flowers
Glory to thee, Preserver! To thy praise
The awakened woodlands echo all the day
Their living melody; and warbling forth
To thee her twilight song, the nightingale
Holds the lone traveller from his way, or charm
The listening poet's ear. Where Love shall deign
To fix his seat, there blameless Pleasure sheds
Her roseate dews; Content will sojourn there,
And Happiness behold Affection's eye
Gleam with the mother's smile. Thrice happy he
Who feels thy holy power! he shall not drag,
Forlorn and friendless, along life's long path
To age's drear abode; he shall not waste
The bitter evening of his days unsooth'd;
But Hope shall cheer his hours of solitude,
And Vice shall vainly strive to wound his breast,
That bears that talisman; and when he meets
The eloquent eye of Tenderness, and hears
The bosom-thrilling music of her voice,
The joy he feels shall purify his soul,
And imp it for anticipated heaven. "