Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PHANTASMATA: 1, by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PHANTASMATA: 1, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The world was sleeping in the lap of night
Last Line: To stay the rise of hyperion's orb.
Subject(s): Creation; Hearts; Love; Memory; Poetry & Poets; Wandering & Wanderers; Wanderlust; Vagabonds; Tramps; Hoboes


THE World was sleeping in the lap of Night,
Lulled by the Ocean's murmuring monody,
Which came as low and gentle on the air
As the first sigh of Love-strain o'er the heart
Of guileless maiden,—pure and wondrous sweet,
Imbuing all things with a solemn joy.
The soft and mellow radiance of the stars,
The gentle ripple, ripple, on the shore,
The sleepy sighing of the fitful wind
Enhanced the stillness of that Summer night.

A Wanderer stood upon the gleaming sands;
Tall and dark-haired he was, and he was young;
You might have called him handsome, had not care—
Or, perhaps 'twas Hate, or Evil Passions, or
The iron hand of Misfortune—graved shadows
On his dark countenance, and drawn his brows
Into a gloomy frown, and deeply seared
His forehead with the marks that will not go.
With low and mournful voice he murmured thus:
"Oh, God! lift up Thine Hand from off my heart!
"What have I done to merit this of Thee?...
"Crush me not to annihilation, Lord!
"Break not the bruisèd reed!" And as he spoke
A bursting sigh rent passage through his breast,
And mourned into the ear of pitying Night. ...
The silent thousands who were thronging round,
Watching his grief in awe-struck sympathy,
Murmured among themselves "What hath he done
"That his poor heart should weep such tears as this?"
Uttered a Voice far up the Dome of Heaven
"God chasteneth whom He loveth!—Question not."..
And memories of the happy past, that ne'er
Ceased haunting him, now, in the clear, still night,
Came with a doubled agony. The calm
That reigned without, made deeper by contrast
The woe that rent his soul; his head fell down
Onto his bosom; his eyes earthward cast
Beheld earth not; his mind was far away,
Tossing upon the vext Sea of the Past;
A ship without a rudder, yawing wide
From thought to thought,—from Joyfulness to Grief,
From Love and Hope to Scorn and deep Despair.

Strange memories thronged upon him;—once again,
In words of glowing poetry and love,
He oped his heart to her who there held reign;
Once more he pressed, unchid, with trembling lips,
That brow of purity, that satin cheek
Surrendered to him with a holy calm,—
A deep confiding innocence, most like
The love that man can fancy angels bear
Toward each other in the Heaven above;
Once more he felt the clasp of that small hand,
Whose earnest pressure filled his very soul,
And gave him dreams of—of—no matter what!
They ne'er were realised, and so—are nought.
The picture changed; his head sank lower still,
And darker shadows gloomed upon his face.
Ay! he was spurned, and spurned for one with whom
He would have scorned to balance mind or heart;
And Pride had said, "Resign her now at once.
"Perchance when thou art gone, the memory
"Of thy deep love and deeper sufferings,
"May draw her thought to where thy pale brow lies,
"And moulders into dust beneath the sod.
"If not—care not!—She was unworthy thee."
But when 'twas o'er, in vain he turned to Pride—
"Wilt thou uphold me in mine heavy grief?"—
And through his life since then, each moment struck
That one harsh chord "Despair!—despair!—despair!"

But yet this woe, though deep and sore to bear,
Eating the very life of his sick heart,
Had failed to break his temper or his mind.
True, now his mood was colder and more grave
Upon the surface, but beneath that mask
Of different manner, lay the kindly fount,
The same deep spring that had been there of old.
He loved young children; and he loved old age
When wise with years of truth; he loved the trees,
The warbling songsters of the wild greenwood,
The tinkling brooks, the heaven-gazing flowers,
The butterfly and wild-bee, and the swift
And gauze-winged dragon-fly, the myriad-eyed
And million-minded skimmer of the pools;
He loved old village churches, deep embowered
'Mong ancient, wrinkled trees; he loved to see
The sunshine sleeping on their aged walls,
Half brown, half green, 'twixt time and ivy leaves;
And the white path that wandered out among
The fields and brooks and hedges; the old lanes
Deep seamed with many wheels, and here and there
Chequered with branching trees; he loved the cots
That nestled by the wayside, half-unseen,
Around whose porches honeysuckle climbed,
And by whose windows thick rose-bushes grew;
He loved the fragrant hawthorn, with its host
Of white and rosy blossoms, and the scent
Of new-mown hay; he loved the gleaming fields
Of waving corn, as yellow as the light
Which kissed them into ripeness, and the low
Of cattle 'mid the clover in the eve.

He loved these things as he had loved them erst,
But yet fled from them, for amid such scenes
The dirge of that great life-joy, flown for e'er,
Rang loudly, wildly, through his tortured heart;
And so he fled: he saw bright things on Earth,
And joys and blessings, and he loved them all,
But would not grasp a fruit from God's full tree,
For that dread voice that harboured in his heart
Said "Thou hast lost what thou canst never find;
"Life is but short for mourning; go thy way
"In sackcloth and in ashes to the end."

And so he fled: he curst not man, because
He was a man and wretched in the name;
He curst not Nature, for that Nature's law
Had acted all too strongly on his heart;
He curst not Woman, for that one had wrought
This mighty woe upon him; he loved God
And all God's works too much to rave and curse
At what had been;—he passed upon his way,
Hiding his grief beneath a face as calm
As ice-bound waters, and where'er he went
He ministered to others, till a peace
That only giving gives fell on his heart;
And, by degrees, while still he wandered on,
The bitter dirge that filled his life with woe,
Was tempered and attuned by Faith in God,
And humble resignation to His will.

No imprecations ever passed his lips,
But he was mortal, and the plaint would rise,
"Why is my young life used thus hardly, Lord?
"Why my soul withered like an Autumn leaf?
"Am I to live and die without a joy?"—
But now he stood with folded arms, and head
Drooping upon his breast; his raven curls
Shadowed his mournful features like a veil;
His pallid lips moved quiveringly, without
Articulated sound,—but from the depths
Of his young soul, a Voice went up on high,
Soft as the spirit-tones of a bruised flower,
Sighing a plaintive tale of grief and pain;
And it arose to God, that mournful voice,—
He clasped it to His bosom, gave it life,
And placed it on a throne to hymn His praise.
White-robed and garlanded, it sings the Love,
The Power, Grace, Mercy of the Elohim. ....
And to the Wanderer by the sea there came
A soothing sweetness o'er his wounded heart,—
Like the dear tones of One beloved, to him
Who, writhing on his couch in fevered pain,
Feels that small hand, whose slightest pressure thrills,
Soothing his heated brow with gentle care,
And hears the dulcet tones of that dear voice,
Floating about his couch like angel notes,
Breathing a holy influence round his head;—
And Hope came down and rested there—a dove
Perching within a ruined temple-fane,
From whose High Altar incense had gone up
In worship of a Deity of clay,
Which proved but merciless, as idols do,
Wanting the foremost attribute of God;
Deaf to the deep-breathed fervency of prayer
And anguished supplication for some hope,
Which the High Priest (called Feeling among men)
Poured forth with all the earnestness of pain
And unredeemed unhappiness and woe,
Unto the Image which he had enshrined
And made a God of;—still adoring it
Even amid his misery, until
Moved by some power to work its own despite,
The Idol bent from high, and headlong prone
Fell at the altar's foot;—alas!—alas!
The shrine was shattered by the grievous fall,
And the bare broken ruins were the all
The sorrowing Hierarch could return to Him,
The Maker and the King, who should have held
Ever the first place there. He, in His grace,
Was pleased to accept the offering. Now he sent
The Architect and Renovator, Hope,
To restore and occupy in his high name.—

And calmer thoughts came to the Wanderer's mind,—
Thoughts of the pregnant Future,—mystic time!
More thought of and more prized by foolish man,
Than either Past or Present. Should it be thus?
Do we, who boast our reason-power, forsooth,
Show our deep wisdom in the eager search
That has been held since man was born on Earth,
For means to lift the veil that hides our fate,
And pry into the mysteries of Time?...
If sorrow-fraught, farewell the joy of Life,
Of present, passing Life:—an anxious dread
Would ever brood and prey upon your heart,
Like vulture on the chained Prometheus,
Embittering every thought.—True, when the Woe
Fell on your head, its force would be the less,
But this would not repay the many hours,
Or months, or years, spent in expectancy:
Your heart would, like a flower that having closed
Its leaves and shrank into itself at night,
Is plucked before the morn awakes it, ne'er
Again unfold and look upon the light.
Would this be well? ... And if with joy it teemed,
Anticipation would destroy its taste.
Think you 'twould give as much delight as if
It came unhoped and unexpected all?
And yet as long as flesh is flesh, and Man
Is of the flesh, he still will thirst to know
The hidden and mysterious,—the Fate.—
These thoughts passed through his mind, as musing there,
He gazed with dreamy eyes upon the foam
Which gathered at his feet.—Sudden, a wave
Upreared a haughty crest above its peers,
And, slow and stately as a legion's march,
Moved onwards to the shore. The ocean-pulse,
The throbbing life that swelled the mighty sea,
Seemed stilled into itself with very awe;
The bee-like murmuring of the gentle waves
Was hushed as quickly, and the ripples crept
Silent and softly down the silver sands;
While the blind Wind, astonished at the pause,
Ceased his low song, and held his breath to hear.
The Wanderer gazed in wonder at the change
A moment had effected,—whiles the wave,
The solitary wave, advanced with slow
And silent majesty along the face
Of the smooth star-mirroring waters;
But as it neared the shore its crest sank down,
Lower and lower still, till at the last
It stole in sparkling ripples to his feet,
Where the faint effort of its waning strength
Now rolled the secret it had brought so far,
A shell of small size, pearly and rose-lipped.

Again the throbbing ocean heaves and falls,
Again the tinkling ripples raise their song,—
As sweetly tuneful as the silver bells
Whose voices in the night dance o'er the snow,
Mingling with music of still sweeter tone,
From instruments of God's design and make,
The lips of lovely women and light-hearted,—
While Zephyr breathes as low and soft as erst.

The Wanderer stooped and raised the gleaming shell,
And slow retiring from the water's edge,
He laid himself along the soft dry sand.
His thoughts went back into the happy time
Of childhood's careless hours, when, as he roved
Along the shore, he would pick up the shells,
And place them to his ear, and list their song,—
The low, sweet song that told of Ocean's caves;—
And now he smiles, and lifts the rose-lipped shell,
And puts it to his ear; a drowsy hum,
A lulling melody sounds in its depths;
The soothing influence steals o'er his mind,
And steeps his senses in forgetfulness.
He does not sleep, but deaf to all things else,
With eyes half-closed, he feels a dreamy bliss
Pervade his being, while his inner soul
Seems floating in a sea of liquid light,
And angel-voices murmur all around
A holy, soft, and thrilling harmony!
But still he hears the shell's low, dreamy tone,
Distinct from this and clearer than before.
It seemed to utter words he could not catch,
And yet their sense he dimly understood
To be of joy and happiness, and as
He listened to those strains, a vision rose
Within his soul.

He saw a glorious land,
Unsullied by man's presence, fresh and pure,
And full of lovely things, birds, flowers, and trees,
Which worshipped God in peace and joyfulness.
The radiant birds with blithe and tuneful notes,
The waving trees with low and harp-like song,
The rainbow-robed flowers with sweet incense,
And all alike with wondrous loveliness,
Thus glorifying Him in His own gifts;
And all was beauty there and innocence,
Nor Man nor Fear, his follower, had e'er
Polluted with unhallowed foot that land.
Kissing the mossy roots of an aged tree,
A hoary Patriarch mightier than the rest,
A bubbling fountain welled, whose silvery stream
Sank in the emerald sward fast as it rose,
And nourished its bright life. A glorious land,
Whose hymns went up unpurposed unto God,
In music in each pulse.

He looked and listened, soul-entranced the while,
And all forgetful that it was a dream;
But on his raptured sense the strain now broke,
Distinct and loud and sweet with swelling joy,—
Such as, when sleeping in his rugged cave,
Salutes the ear of dreaming Anchorite,
And gives him visions of the Angel-choir,
Hymning Jehovah's praise on harps of gold,—
'Twas thus in thrilling numbers sang the shell:—

"Know, Star-eyed Dreamer,
"This is God's garden.
"Conceived in beauty—
"In love created—
"The last of His works—
"The best and fairest
"Of gems in His Crown!

"'Tis a bridge 'twixt Earth and Heaven!
"'Tis a link 'tween God and Man!
"'Tis the Paradise of Spirit!—
"The Holiest of Things!——
"God for Man in mercy made it,
"For the Eden he had lost,
"From the brightest of His angels,
"The Seraphim divine!

"Would Man use it rightly,
"He'd find Heaven there;
"A Heaven of flowers and birds,
"Heart-odours and soul-songs,
"Joy, Peace, and Innocence,
"Truth, Love, and Deity!

"All this and more
"Is there enshrined,
"To glorify
"And to exalt
"His name with Man.

"It is His dwelling—
"Consecrate to Him—
"Blessed with His presence,
"Breathing of His love.
"Oh! Land of Beauty!
"Favoured spot of God!

"Garden of Eden!
"Temple of the Lord!
"Will thy brightness fade?
"Will thy light grow dim?
"Will thy Songs of Praise
"And thine Incense-prayers
"Cease to ascend?. .....

"It must be so with thee,—
"A dark cloud arising, I see!
"Ere long will a ruthless hand
"Defile thee, thou Pleasant land!
"I see! I see!

"He comes with hurried steps,
"He comes with an eager joy,
"For this lovely land and its purity
"He lusteth to destroy!

"Thy flowers are uprooted for weeds!
"Thy timber a furnace feeds!
"Thy fountain bright is turned to oil,
"And with fiery hiss and bubbling boil
"It aids the furnace flame!

"Alas! and alas! for thee, Pleasant land,
"Thy God hath given thee to the spoiler's hand!"

And here the Voice waned slowly to a strain
Of low sweet music, lulling thought to sleep;—
And then, behold, another vision rose
Before the Dreamer.
'Twas a mighty reach
Of terraced esplanades, and tier on tier
Of battlements, and temples, and tall towers;
Of gorgeous palaces and buildings huge,
With glittering domes and spires, and colonnades
Of marble pillars, stretching far away
Into dim vistas, from whose depths there came
The gleam of fountains; arches triumphal,
Grand, massive, and insculptured with the forms
Of thrilling deeds; long avenues of trees,
With lovely statues peering from their shades;
Bright gardens filled with flowers, and redolent
Of sweetest perfumes; trees weighed down with fruits,
Luscious, and ripe and rosy; swift-winged birds,
With voices tuned by God, and decked in all
The colours of the sunset. In the streets
And through the avenues were walking men,
With golden diadems upon their brows;
And golden harps, thick set with precious stones,
Sapphire, and rube, and topaz, in their hands;
In snow-white robes, zoned at the waist with red,
These men were clad, and ever and anon
They struck their harps, and sung a joyous strain.

This was the vision that within the soul
Of the young Dreamer, slowly, line by line,
Grew into truth and beauty; first a mass,
Misty and indistinct, of roofs and spires,—
As of a mighty city seen afar
In early morn from some high mountain peak,—
But at the last as perfect in each line
As heliographic pictures; and, behold,
As this bright vision slowly, grandly grew
To perfect semblance in the Dreamer's soul,
So rose the honeyed murmur of the shell
Into a pœan, whose deep thrilling power
Seemed ever soaring heavenward, till at last
The mighty tide broke on the shore of Speech,
And lost itself in words:—

"Long ago, in distant ages,
"Looking down upon the world,
"God resolved to build a City,
"Mighty in its grand conception,
"Wondrous in its magic beauty;
"With strong walls and deep foundations,
"Proof against the force of foeman;
"And He laid the deep foundations,
"And the towers thereof He builded,
"And the gleaming palace ranges,
"And the colonnades far-stretching;
"And the avenues He planted,
"And He filled them full of statues
"Of great beings, good and noble,
"Sculptured from the living model
"In the purest of white marble,
"By His own all-skilful right hand;
"And He carved the triumph-arches
"With the forms of glorious exploits;
"And He made the laughing fountains
"To refresh the air at noon-day;
"And He clothed the birds in plumage
"Brighter than the summer rainbows,
"And He gave them sweetest voices,
"Ever to repeat His praises;
"And throughout He scattered flowers,
"Delicate in make and tinting,
"And sweet scented as the incense
"Rising ever up before Him,
"From the hearts of loving children.—
"Thus He laboured, never resting,
"To endow this mighty City:
"And, behold! when all was finished,
"And God saw that it was good,
"He, in His all-bounteous kindness,
"Gave it to these white-robed harpers,—
"To Himself reserving only,
"Of the thousand mighty buildings,
"One bright Temple in the centre;
"Stipulating that this Temple
"Should be kept intact and holy,
"Sacred to His kingly Presence. ...
"All the dwellers here are holy,
"All are free from sin and folly,
"And in loving admiration,
"To and fro they wander on,—
"Finding ne'er an end to wonders
"And new beauties everywhere.—
"This, young Dreamer, is the history
"Of this great yet simple Mystery.

"This is God's City;
"Erected by Him
"To give to His children,
"The gold-crowned harpers,
"A fit habitation,—
"A grand and gorgeous,
"Impregnable dwelling,
"For ever and ever:
"And in the love
"That o'erflows their hearts,
"He finds His reward.—
"Thus and still thus
"At the sight of each gift
"That He has bestowed,
"Their love thrills within them,
"And bursting its way forth
"In voices of harp-strings,
"Ascends unto Heaven;—
"And the Stars hear the voices,
"And echo them onward,
"Onward and onward,
"Through Space and Eternity,
"Into the Infinite
"Being of God!

"Can it ever hap that this Holy Place
"Should be soiled by the breath of Sin?—
"Alas! it must be, and the hour is near,
"When a Serpent, nursed therein,
"Shall work a woe that will make thee weep
"To think that ever such things should be
"Wrought in this Holy Place.—Ah me!
"A Night is falling o'er land and sea,
"And the Serpent a plenteous harvest shall reap,
"Darkness, and Doom, and Misery!

"The Serpent was young and tender,
"The Serpent was graceful and slender,
"The Serpent gleamed like a precious jewel,
"Though the Serpent was sly, and base, and cruel,
"They handled the Serpent like children in play;
"''Tis a glittering toy enough,' quotha;
"Some said it was evil, but others said no,
"And the Serpent gleamed and glittered, and so
"''Tis as harmless within as without,' quotha,
"And that's why the Serpent is there this day!

"In the ears of the Queen the Serpent
"Mutters and murmurs low,—
"Words of guile and deceiving,
"Words of death and woe:—
"And the Queen in the palace chamber
"Bends an attentive ear,
"And over the City a shadow
"Falls like a sudden fear.

"Now the Queen, uprising, giveth
"Order that the Temple fall.
"Thus she utters, 'No one liveth
"'In it. It is useless all:
"'And the Serpent has discovered
"'Weakness in the outer wall.
"'Let the Temple stones recovered,
"'There prevent impending fall.
"'This it is our will and pleasure
"'Should be done ere evening chime.
"'And now, fare ye well, good lieges,
"'Happy thoughts and pleasant time
"'E'er be with you;—Fare ye well.'

"A Night is falling o'er land and sea,
"Darkness, and Doom, and Misery!
"Alas! look through your tears and see
"The Serpent's triumph and victory.
"For out in the darkness, far away,
"The wind, as it tosses the ocean spray,
"Bears upward the sound of a mighty Host;
"The Serpent has played his hand to-day,
"And Holy City is ruined and lost!—

"Deeper and deeper the darkness,
"Nearer and nearer the foes,
"And in the City, by torchlight,
"The workmen redouble their blows;—
"Pillar by pillar the Temple,
"Slowly but steadily falls,
"And the hallowed stones are carried
"To brace impregnable walls!—

"Hark!—Loud peals the awful thunder
"'LET THE DEAD DEAL WITH THE DEAD.'—
"To and fro and far asunder
"Sways the lately strengthened wall,
"Grinding, crashing, thundering headlong
"Downwards in disastrous fall!—
"And in at the breach, tumultuous,
"Wave on wave, a tossing sea
"Of dark helms and flashing spear heads,
"Rush the foe! Misserrime!

"Consummatum est! and silence
"Wraps the smoking, blood-stained ruins;
"Faintly glowing through the darkness
"Lurid gleams fade, one by one,
"Into nought,—and all is done!—

"Young star-eyed Dreamer,
"Chosen Priest of God,
"Mankind and his deeds,
"Unveiled to thine eyes,
"Shall, in succession
"Passing before thee,
"Sink into thy soul;
"And when thou hast seen
"The ulcerous evils,
"The loathsome cancers
"That feed on his heart,—
"And hast seen the Sin,
"Corruption, and Death,
"Wrought by his passions
"Upon the Lord's works,—
"The once bright Earth
"Corpse-heaped and blood-stained,
"His Angel Companions
"Defiled in body,
"Polluted in soul,
"Enslaved while living,
"Forgotten when dead,—
"His heart, soul, and mind
"Debased and degraded
"To purvey and pander
"To vile brute-pleasures,—
"Disclosing His Will,
"The Godhead to thee,—
"His dealings with man
"In times past and present,
"Revealed and justified,—
"Shall make known the Truth
"Of the Heavens and the Earth,
"And the Veil that withholds
"The Flesh from the Spirit,
"Shall be lifted aside,
"And thine eyes shall pierce,
"Undazzled and bright,
"The wonders of Death—
"The wonders of Life—
"The wonders of Soul—
"The wonders of Flesh—
"The wonders of God—
"The wonders of Man—
"The wonders of Light—
"And those of Darkness. ....
"And the Hand of Thy God
"Shall guide and bless thee,
"And the angel-host
"Shall love and caress thee,
"And the spirits of Earth,
"And the spirits of Fire,
"Shall guard and uphold thee,
"And work thy desire.
"The Future lie open,
"Disclosing in visions
"The great Life-Drama
"And the Fate of Man. ....

"But for this, thou must bear
"With contumely and scorn,—
"With laughter and jeering,
"And scoffing and sneering,
"Thy proud soul be torn!
"Ever beaten and beating,
"Till thou retreating
"In rage and despair—
"Like a wounded lion
"Seeking a lair—
"God's hand shall guide thee
"By night and day
"On thy lonely way,—
"O'er land and sea
"His presence shall be,—
"Through the dangerous haunt
"Of Care and Want,—
"Through the festal-hall
"And its poison-thrall,—
"To that Pestilence fen,
"The City of Men.—

"There shalt thou rest a while,
"Bright eyes on thee shall smile;
"Souls with responsive beat,
"Joyfully thy tones shall greet;
"Strong hands shall grasp thine own,
"On Earth no more alone,
"Thine once again to know
"Joys from the heart that flow!....

"But short must be there thy stay.
"An iron foot,
"A tireless tread,
"That might wake an echo
"In the ears of the Dead,
"Shall be given to help thy way.—
"Onward and onward till another Ocean
"Beat at thy feet in throbbing Life-emotion!
"There is the last of nations, thence beginning,
"The Truth shall roll, like earthly conqueror, winning
"Its path o'er thousand corpses, o'er the ruins
"Of dead and shattered Creeds!"

Here the strain ceased;—in awe and wonderment,
Bewildered by the things thus seen and heard,
He oped his eyes unto the quiet Night,
Which still reigned over all, and slowly rose
From his recumbent posture to his feet. ....
With dizzy brain and senses all astray,
He gazed in silence at the pink-lipped Shell,
And turned it o'er and o'er, but nothing saw
To help his thought in its perplexity.
Then looked he on the sea,—the Ocean-heaven
That now lay far-outstretching, still and staid
And smooth as any mirror, in whose depths
The stars were born again, and proudly calm
It bore them on its bosom, fair to sight,
And rivalled even the Heavens which smiled down
In grand serenity upon the brow
That now upturned, gleamed pallid 'neath their ray.
The Wanderer's heart leapt up to greet that smile,
The shadow left his features, and in turn
He smiled up to the stars,—while in his eyes
A light was born that was not of the Earth,
A free-will offering from the Spirit-thrones
Which gleamed upon him there. ....

The night passed on,
And he lay on the sands, but sleeping not.
His eyes were fixed aloft, and still the stars
Gazed down upon him there. ....

The night passed on,
The Ocean and the Earth were wrapped in sleep,—
But Stars and Mortal, that divine discourse,—
Silent but subtle, still, but not less deep,
Whose subject none may predicate—yet held.
Time would have stood to listen, but the night
Passed on its way, and soon the cold gray streak
Appearing in the east, proclaimed the Day;
And, one by one, the Stars, smiling "Adieu,"
Retreated from the rising of the Sun. ....
A Form still lay upon the fateful shore,
And watched them disappear, until at last,
Arradiant Lucifer reigned in the sky;
And only then he rose, and with bared head,
Tendered thanksgiving to the God who sent
Such happiness to fill his creature's breast,—
And prayed for power to worthily fulfil
His Father's high behest,—then inland turned,
And left the sea behind him, and the Sun.
Such glory filled his heart, it cared him not
To stay the rise of Hyperion's orb.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net