Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A STORY OF DOOM: BOOK 6, by JEAN INGELOW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Night. Now a tent was pitched, and japhet sat Last Line: Nor specially a foe that means us ill.' Subject(s): Devil; God; Hearts; Night; Satan; Mephistopheles; Lucifer; Beelzebub; Bedtime | ||||||||
NIGHT. Now a tent was pitched, and Japhet sat In the door and watched, for on a litter lay The father of his love. And he was sick To death; but daily he would rouse him up. And stare upon the light, and ever say, 'On, let us journey;' but it came to pass That night, across their path a river ran, And they who served the father and the son Had pitched the tents beside it, and had made A fire, to scare away the savagery That roamed in that great forest, for their way Had led among the trees of God. The moon Shone on the river, like a silver road To lead them over; but when Japhet looked, He said, 'We shall not cross it. I shall lay This well-beloved head low in the leaves -- Not on the farther side.' From time to time, The water-snakes would stir its glassy flow With curling undulations, and would lay Their heads along the bank, and, subtle-eyed, Consider those long spirting flames, that danced, When some red log would break and crumble down, And show his dark despondent eyes, that watched, Wearily, even Japhet's. But he cared Little; and in the dark, that was not dark, But dimness of confused incertitude, Would move anear all silently, and gaze And breathe, and shape itself, a maned thing With eyes; and still he cared not, and the form Would falter, then recede, and melt again Into the farther shade. And Japhet said: 'How long? The moon hath grown again in heaven, After her caving twice, since we did leave The threshold of our home; and now what 'vails That far on tumbled mountain snow we toiled, Hungry, and weary, all the day; by night Waked with a dreadful trembling underneath, To look, while every cone smoked, and there ran Red brooks adown, that licked the forest up, While in the pale white ashes wading on We saw no stars? -- what 'vails if afterward, Astonished with great silence, we did move Over the measureless, unknown desert mead; While all the day, in rents and crevices, Would lie the lizard and the serpent kind, Drowsy; and in the night take fearsome shapes, And ofttimes woman-faced and woman-haired Would trail their snaky length, and curse and mourn; Or there would wander up, when we were tired, Dark troops of evil ones, with eyes morose, Withstanding us, and staring; -- O! what 'vails That in the dread deep forest we have fought With following packs of wolves? These men of might, Even the giants, shall not hear the doom My father came to tell them of. Ah, me! If God indeed had sent him, would he lie (For he is stricken with a sore disease) Helpless outside their city?' Then he rose, And put aside the curtains of the tent, To look upon his father's face; and lo! The tent being dark, he thought that somewhat sat Beside the litter; and he set his eyes To see it, and saw not; but only marked Where, fallen away from manhood and from power, His father lay. Then he came forth again, Trembling, and crouched beside the dull red fire, And murmured, 'Now it is the second time: An old man, as I think (but scarcely saw), Dreadful of might. Its hair was white as wool: I dared not look; perhaps I saw not aught, But only knew that it was there: the same Which walked beside us once when he did pray.' And Japhet hid his face between his hands For fear, and grief of heart, and weariness Of watching; and he slumbered not, but mourned To himself, a little moment, as it seemed, For sake of his loved father: then he lift His eyes, and day had dawned. Right suddenly The moon withheld her silver, and she hung Frail as a cloud. The ruddy flame that played By night on dim, dusk trees, and on the flood, Crept red amongst the logs, and all the world And all the water blushed and bloomed. The stars Were gone, and golden shafts came up, and touched The feathered heads of palms, and green was born Under the rosy cloud, and purples flew Like veils across the mountains; and he saw, Winding athwart them, bathed in blissful peace, And the sacredness of morn, the battlements And outposts of the giants; and there ran On the other side the river, as it were, White mounds of marble, tabernacles fair, And towers below a line of inland cliff: These were their fastnesses, and here their homes. In valleys and the forest, all that night, There had been woe; in every hollow place, And under walls, like drifted flowers, or snow, Women lay mourning; for the serpent lodged That night within the gates, and had decreed, 'I will (or ever I come) that ye drive out The women, the abhorred of my soul.' Therefore, more beauteous than all climbing bloom, Purple and scarlet, cumbering of the boughs, Or flights of azure doves that lit to drink The water of the river; or, new born, The quivering butterflies in companies, That slowly crept adown the sandy marge, Like living crocus beds, and also drank, And rose an orange cloud; their hollowed hands They dipped between the lilies, or with robes Full of ripe fruitage, sat and peeled and ate, Weeping; or comforting their little ones, And lulling them with sorrowful long hymns Among the palms. So went the earlier morn. Then came a messenger, while Japhet sat Mournfully, and he said, 'The men of might Are willing; let thy master, youth, appear.' And Japhet said, 'So be it;' and he thought, 'Now will I trust in God;' and he went in And stood before his father, and he said, 'My father;' but the Master answered not, But gazed upon the curtains of his tent, Nor knew that one had called him. He was clad As ready for the journey, and his feet Were sandalled, and his staff was at his side; And Japhet took the gown of sacrifice And spread it on him, and he laid his crown Upon his knees, and he went forth, and lift His hand to heaven, and cried, 'My father's God!' But neither whisper came nor echo fell When he did listen. Therefore he went on: 'Behold, I have a thing to say to thee. My father charged thy servant, "Let not ruth Prevail with thee, to turn and bear me hence, For God appointed me my task, to preach Before the mighty." I must do my part (O! let it not displease thee), for he said But yesternight, "When they shall send for me, Take me before them." And I sware to him. I pray thee, therefore, count his life and mine Precious; for I that sware, I will perform.' Then cried he to his people, 'Let us hence: Take up the litter.' And they set their feet Toward the raft whereby men crossed that flood. And while they journeyed, lo, the giants sat Within the fairest hall where all were fair, Each on his carven throne, o'er-canopied With work of women. And the dragon lay In a place of honour; and with subtlety He counselled them, for they did speak by turns; And they being proud, might nothing master them, But guile alone: and he did fawn on them; And when the younger taunted him, submiss He testified great humbleness, and cried, 'A cruel God, forsooth! but nay, O nay, I will not think it of Him, that He meant To threaten these. O, when I look on them, How doth my soul admire.' And one stood forth, The youngest; of his brethren, named 'the Rock.' 'Speak out,' quoth he, 'thou toothless slavering thing, What is it? thinkest thou that such as we Should be afraid? What is this goodly doom?' And Satan laughed upon him. 'Lo,' said he, 'Thou art not fully grown, and every one I look on, standeth higher by the head, Yea, and the shoulders, than do other men; Forsooth, thy servant thought not thou wouldst fear, Thou and thy fellows.' Then with one accord, 'Speak,' cried they; and with mild persuasive eyes, And flattering tongue, he spoke. 'Ye mighty ones, It hath been known to you these many days How that for piety I am much famed. I am exceeding pious: if I lie, As hath been whispered, it is but for sake Of God, and that ye should not think Him hard, For I am all for God. Now some have thought That He hath also (and it may be so Or yet may not be so) on me been hard; Be not ye therefore wroth, for my poor sake; I am contented to have earned your weal, Though I must therefore suffer. Now to-day One cometh, yea, an harmless man, a fool, Who boasts he hath a message from our God, And lest that you, for bravery of heart And stoutness, being angered with his prate, Should lift a hand, and kill him, I am here.' Then spoke the Leader, 'How now, snake? Thy words Ring false. Why ever liest thou, snake, to us? Thou coward! none of us will see thee harmed. I say thou liest. The land is strewed with slain; Myself have hewn down companies, and blood Makes fertile all the field. Thou knowest it well; And hast thou, driveller, panting sore for age, Come with a force to bid us spare one fool?' And Satan answered, 'Nay you! be not wroth; Yet true it is, and yet not all the truth. Your servant would have told the rest, if now (For fullness of your life being fretted sore At mine infirmities, which God in vain I supplicate to heal) ye had not caused My speech to stop.' And he they called 'the Oak' Made answer, ''T is a good snake; let him be. Why would ye fright the poor old craven beast? Look how his lolling tongue doth foam for fear. Ye should have mercy, brethren, on the weak. Speak, dragon, thou hast leave; make stout thy heart. What! hast thou lied to this great company? It was, we know it was, for humbleness; Thou wert not willing to offend with truth.' 'Yea, majesties,' quoth Satan, 'thus it was,' And lifted up appealing eyes, and groaned; 'O, can it be, compassionate as brave, And housed in cunning works themselves have reared, And served in gold, and warmed with minivere, And ruling nobly -- that He, not content Unless alone He reigneth, looks to bend Or break them in, like slaves to cry to Him, "What is Thy will with us, O Master dear?" Or else to eat of death? For my part, lords, I cannot think it: for my piety And reason, which I also share with you, Are my best lights, and ever counsel me, "Believe not aught against thy God; believe, Since thou canst never reach to do Him wrong, That He will never stoop to do thee wrong. Is He not just and equal, yea, and kind?" Therefore, O majesties, it is my mind Concerning him ye wot of, thus to think The message is not like what I have learned By reason, and experience, of the God. Therefore no message 't is. The man is mad.' Thereat the Leader laughed for scorn. 'Hold, snake; If God be just, there SHALL be reckoning days. We rather would He were a partial God, And being strong, He sided with the strong. Turn now thy reason to the other side, And speak for that; for as to justice, snake, We would have none of it.' And Satan fawned: 'My lord is pleased to mock at my poor wit; Yet in my pious fashion I must talk: For say that God was wroth with man, and came And slew him, that should make an empty world, But not a better nation.' This replied, 'Truth, dragon, yet He is not bound to mean A better nation; maybe, He designs, If none will turn again, a punishment Upon an evil one.' And Satan cried, 'Alas! my heart being full of love for men, I cannot choose but think of God as like To me; and yet my piety concludes, Since He will have your fear, that love alone Sufficeth not, and I admire, and say, "Give me, O friends, your love, and give to God Your fear,"' But they cried out in wrath and rage, 'We are not strong that any we will fear, Nor specially a foe that means us ill.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BREATH OF NIGHT by RANDALL JARRELL HOODED NIGHT by ROBINSON JEFFERS NIGHT WITHOUT SLEEP by ROBINSON JEFFERS WORKING OUTSIDE AT NIGHT by DENIS JOHNSON POEM TO TAKE BACK THE NIGHT by JUNE JORDAN COOL DARK ODE by DONALD JUSTICE POEM TO BE READ AT 3 A.M by DONALD JUSTICE ROUND ABOUT MIDNIGHT by BOB KAUFMAN ECHO AND THE FERRY by JEAN INGELOW GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW |
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