UlBRARY OF CONGRESS,! 
 
 # # 
 
 k.4^3^:^%^^,u]i. :f 
 
 I JjT/.e// M.(^. |i 
 
 I UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ^^ 
 
J 
 
MARY'S VISION 
 
 A 
 
 POKM. 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 4!|HiHai^ 
 
 HARTFORD : 
 
 
 The Case, Lockwood & Brainard Co., 
 
 Printers. 
 
 1874. 
 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, 
 
 By THE CASE, LOCKWOOD & BRAINARD CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librarican of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
P E E F A C E 
 
 "So, 'twas an idle dream" — well, dreams have been 
 A power that shaped the destinies of men. 
 
 A Pharaoh dreamed, a captive Hebrew heard, 
 That skilled in dream:?, interpreted the word, 
 And stores of corn in Egypt's garners grew, 
 That plenty's hand to suppliant famine threw; 
 And Judah lived, and Judah's line gave birth 
 To Him whose kingdom fills the heaven? and earth. 
 
 A sightless beggar dreamed of Helen's charms 
 And Illion's fall ; and skilled in arts and arms, 
 A State grew up, whose influence will expire 
 When the last mortal sees a world on fire. 
 
 When idle visions of a midnight hour, 
 Saved the Redeemer from a tyrant's power ; 
 A long predicted empire sprung to view, 
 And hoary time began to count anew 
 Creation's annals, from a kingdom's rise. 
 Whose grand emporium is in the skies ; 
 Its borders unexplored — and none will write, 
 (No future Gibbon,) " Here, it reached its height : 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 And here, amidst convulsions that appall, 
 Began its ultimate ' Decline and Fall.' " 
 
 The pictured scroll of Heaven ; star-spangled o'er, 
 Where comets wander wide, and find no shore ; 
 The etherial depths that mocks the wildered eye, 
 Sprung from a reverie of the Most High. 
 
 Oceans and mountains; woods and flowery sod, 
 Spangled with jewels, is a dream of God. 
 
 Ethereal as mists, the sport of storms. 
 Yet oft hath visions petrified to forms 
 Lasting as rocks — deep-seated as the hills ; 
 That poet's page, and history's record fills. 
 
MARY'S VISIO:^ 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE VIGTL. 
 
 I. 
 
 I would the weary night were o'er ; 
 I'm sick of watching on the floor 
 The pallid moonlight stealing slow, 
 And sick of glancing to and fro, 
 With sudden, superstitious dread, 
 As if there glided round my bed 
 Some presence strange, whose step of fear, 
 And rustling garments, scared mine ear. 
 
 II. 
 
 I'll rise up, since I may not sleep, 
 And by my lattice muse and weep, 
 'Till languor chases from my breast, 
 These thoughts that will not let me rest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yes, then the heavens wore such an hue. 
 Such light clouds floated o'er the blue ; 
 
6 MARY's VISION- 
 
 And the full moon did wear, as now, 
 Such dazzling brightness on her brow,^ 
 And threw her radiance far and wide, 
 That night when sister Ellen died. 
 
 Just as I see it now — that night 
 Yon tall ash lifted to the light, 
 Such mosses grey, as if it held 
 Locks rudely plucked from wrinkled eld. 
 
 IV. 
 
 So from its distant mountain source, 
 The brook betrayed its straggling course, 
 Through groves of alders — rushes green, 
 Or glanced from drooping willow's sheen^ 
 With hasty skirl, or sluggish flow, 
 Adown the valley leagues below. 
 
 V. 
 
 A thousand misty jets, like smoke. 
 From out the swampy forest broke. 
 That curling upward slow, did change 
 To shapes fantastic, wild and strange; 
 " Souls disembodied," fancy said ; 
 " The ghosts of matter, whilom dead ; 
 Of withered flowers, of leaves and logs,^ 
 That lie festering in the bogs. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And round its border, closely pent 
 With vines and branches, laced and blent. 
 All, all around that leafy screen, 
 The fire -flies' torches flashed between. 
 
mart's vision. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Its dim recesses, spangling o'er 
 Tiie girdle, lonely darkness wore. 
 
 And up the meadow, wet with dew, 
 Where tree or shrub its shadow threw ; 
 Those little link-boys, nursed in damps, 
 Sprang up and lit their tiny lamps. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I shall remember till I die, 
 How looked that night, the earth and sky, 
 For when I left the room of death 
 A moment brief, to take my breath ; 
 The glories of the pictured scroll, 
 Burst overwhelming on my soul ; 
 As charnels' deepest gloom might seem 
 Ojntrasted with a fairy dream : 
 And thus I spake, " 'Tis wonder great, 
 That Nature wears her robes of state, 
 At such a time, and all unmeet 
 Is her demeanor calmly sweet. 
 When death has come to break love's spell, 
 And white Hps breathe a last 'farewell.' " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Recumbent on her dying bed, 
 With fathers' arm beneath her head ; 
 And breathing hurriedly she lay, 
 While mother wiped the drops away. 
 
 Unearthly brilliant were her eyes, 
 As stars that stud the wintrv skies ; 
 
8 mart's vision. 
 
 And on our faces round were cast, 
 From one to other glancing fast, 
 With gaze intense, as if to trace 
 The lineaments of each dear face ; 
 That she might sketch (in lonely hour,) 
 Our features, far in heavenly bower. 
 
 X. 
 
 many a parting hath there been, 
 Since evil cursed the homes of men ; 
 But few so desolate and drear, 
 As when we felt that death was near ; 
 And stood among our group distressed, 
 The dark-browed angel, fearful guest. 
 
 Poor father seemed by hope forsook. 
 And John, O how his strong frame shook ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 So slow she died, we thought belike 
 The king of terrors fears to strike ; 
 Appalled by presence stern and high, 
 Who scares him with rebuking eye, 
 For then, when all were deeply stirred, 
 And nought but choking sobs were heard, 
 And we with sorrow almost wild. 
 She whispered " Jesus" twice, and smiled. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then came the morn ; 't was not for her 
 But rife with all the sick'ning stir 
 Of preparation : then again. 
 Another night of sleepless pain ; 
 
Mary's vision. 
 
 The gathering for the preached word, 
 Where once her tuneful voice was heard, 
 So clear and musical, each note 
 "Would long in soft vibrations float. 
 As if the vaulted roof on high, 
 Refused to let the cadence die ; 
 And aged men would turn and smile. 
 And aged mothers glance the while, 
 To our sweet singer in the choir. 
 
 Whose lips seemed touched with hallowed fire. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Alas ! we all remembered well, 
 (When last she sung) how rose and fell. 
 Low sinking, swelling, lingering long, 
 Those words of Zion's loftiest song, 
 " O when, thou city of my God, 
 Shall I thy courts ascend?" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And when they passed with measured tread 
 Around the aisles to view the dead, 
 It seemed, as two by two they crossed, 
 That every home a friend had lost. 
 
 XV. 
 
 And when the minister came slow, 
 And bent above with locks of snow, 
 He who had taught submission still, 
 And urged it as " our Father's will 
 That Ellen, in a grander choir 
 Should sing, and thrill assemblies higher;" 
 
10 maky's vision. 
 
 Himself from grief could not refrain, 
 But wept and gazed, and wept again. 
 
 And at the grave, when on the lid 
 Above where Ellen's face was hid. 
 The sod fell heavy, he did start, 
 As if 'twas fallmg on his heart. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Ah me ! since that affliction came, 
 Life never hath been quite the same. 
 But round our home, and on us all 
 A gloomy twilight seemed to fall, 
 As if when she in dust was laid, 
 The dear departed left her shade. 
 
 I can discover, since that day. 
 That father hath grown old and gray ; 
 And mother — though she saith "'Tis nought"' 
 Her quivering lip betrays the thought, 
 And when she fancies none is near, 
 I hear her murmuring " Ellen dear." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And John, who whistled once, and sang. 
 Till long and loud the echoes rang ; 
 If in the house or at the plow, 
 He seldom sings or whistle? now. 
 
 Nor doth Bob Lincoln in the mead, 
 Spring upward from the bowing reed 
 With half so gay and varied song, 
 Nor flies, nor carols half so long. 
 
Mary's vision. 11 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 From out the grove, at evening still 
 More plaintive sounds the whip-poor-will, 
 And winds from forest verge, or brake, 
 More melancholy voices wake, 
 As if the wanderers had told 
 To branch and leaflet " Ellen's cold." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The clock strikes three. That lingering chime 
 Was the retreating voice of Time, 
 That tremulous the hour hath told, 
 And cast it to the hours of old. 
 
 'Tis awful thus alone to abide 
 Where some familiar friend hath died, 
 Watching our life sands as they run, 
 And hear Time count them one by one. 
 
 To advance, as 't were, v?ith measured tread 
 Toward the eternal Shadows dread. 
 And feel them as the traveler feels. 
 When evening dark with tempest steals 
 Along his path, and thunder's boom 
 Reverberates through the forest's gloom. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Hark! hark! — 0, 't was the breezes' Hgh 
 Oppressed with the owls' long cry — 
 " To who-oo-oo !" — as omen feared, 
 It is so lonely, wild, and weird. 
 
12 maey's vision. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And she is lonely — none do go 
 To gossip iQ her dwelling low. 
 
 For there indeed 'twere vain to come, 
 Her ear is cold, her lips are dumb; 
 But pitying Heaven weeps above 
 The spot where sleeps our buried love ; 
 And dews like glistening tear-drops lave 
 The sod that covers Ellen's grave. 
 
 Thus Mary spake. When morning's early beam 
 Broke o'er the hills, she slept, and dreamed a dream. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 Her hour had come to die, and o'er the clay 
 The soul shook out its wings for, far away, 
 And up that path where Ellen's spirit flew, 
 (The earth and ocean fading from her view,) 
 She swiftly sped, 
 
 and still careering fast, 
 The utmost planetary worlds were passed. 
 
 The sun grew indistinct, and far on high, 
 Another sun, unseen by mortal's eye. 
 From dim recess of space, its beams unfurled, 
 That fast approaching, grew a blazing world ; 
 And lessening fast, a dying spark appeared, 
 And other sun of brighter beams was neared, 
 
mart's vision. 13 
 
 That vaster system lit; and others yet 
 
 In long succession rose, and shone, and set, 
 
 Till far beyond where suns describe the days, 
 
 And stars the night — or wandering comet strays — 
 
 The world's forsaken 
 
 in her upward race. 
 And heaven's last taper lost in distant space. 
 
 Now while her spirit seemed to pass in haste 
 Through vaster solitudes of airy waste, 
 That Science's toil and Fancy's flights defied, 
 A lone infinitude on every side, 
 A wondrous thing befell; 
 
 nor light expired, 
 Nor night's dark curtains fell when suns retired; 
 
 But brighter day — and brighter yet was born, 
 As early traveler meets the advancing morn. 
 
 The wide expanse with gold and purple burned, 
 And colors fair, that mortal ne'er hath learned. 
 All hues that grace the flowers of earth were there; 
 And nameless tints hung quivering in the air. 
 
 Sweet strains of melody unheard before. 
 Now faintly swelled as from some distant shore, 
 Come strains of music, when the vagrant air 
 Finding -^olian harp in bower fair, 
 Steals softly o'er, 
 
 and from the ravished strings 
 To far off ears the pilfered sweetness brings. 
 
 Now through the void increasing splendors spread, 
 Flashed from a world of brightness far ahead, 
 As oft on earth, 
 
 when gloomy night enshrouds, 
 2 
 
14 mart's vision. 
 
 A burning city's radiance fires the clouds. 
 
 From diamond quarries hewn, and half revealed, 
 And by excessive brightness half concealed, 
 A city's walls appeared, of towering height, 
 Block piled on block above the eagle's flight, 
 On either hand, 
 
 receding from the gaze, 
 As mountain ridges vanish — lost in haze. 
 
 High on its castled summit, here and there. 
 Were groups of winged creatures — passing fair: 
 
 And other groups now fa>t appearing — 
 
 fold 
 Beside these Sentinels, their wings- of gold. 
 
 Some pointing out to guide their comrade's glance, 
 And some exulting mark her swift advance 
 With gestures passionate, 
 
 and turning cry 
 " Glory to God, a ransomed soul is nigh." 
 
 Anon — as soldiers at the trumpet's call, 
 Thousands on thousands, throng the lengthened wall, 
 Far as the eye can reach on either hand, 
 As to the terrace crowd the household band ; 
 When the loved wanderer is first discerned, 
 From stormy seas, and savage lands returned. 
 
 Leaning, with parted lips, and steadfast eye. 
 With hurried question asked, and brief reply, 
 In deep suspense, 
 
 that almost fretful grew 
 The shining hosts await a neaier view. 
 
 Till known as one, of whom in former days, 
 The whisper circled round, " Behold, she prays ;" 
 Now fully recognized — all doubt destroyed, 
 
Mary's vision. 15 
 
 A mighty shout went thundering thro' the void, 
 Prolonged and echoing: ere the echoes slept, 
 
 Ten thousand hands, ten thousand harp-strings swept 
 As thus they sung, 
 
 (words half in sweetness drowned,) 
 " The dead now lives again — the lost is found." 
 
 As winds career, the joyful tumult passed 
 Through Heaven ; each burst remoter than the last ; 
 Till like a ball's rebound, the burden fond, 
 Was roused again an ocean's breadth beyond ; 
 And oft repeated — 
 
 then, as sinks the day; 
 The far retreating triumph died away. 
 
 " Throw wide the gates," from eager crowds was heard, 
 A gate of pearl flew open at the word. 
 And ere high noon on earth, 
 
 (she died at seven,) 
 The wond'ring pilgrim breathed the air of Heaven. 
 
 As peasant maid, accustomed from her birth. 
 To smoky rafters, and a floor of earth ; 
 When brought to kingly hall, sees overhead 
 A starry dome — beneath her noiseless tread 
 Fabrics of eastern looms — and sees dismayed. 
 In mirrors huge, her own rude form displayed ; 
 So overwhelmed with terror and surprise. 
 The bashful stranger stood with downcast eyes ; 
 While crowds approaching did their steps delay. 
 And pausing, courteous, turn their looks away ; 
 Till, she grown confident, 
 
 they round her pressed. 
 And sister Ellen came among the rest. 
 
 'Twas Ellen yet, as if when gathering nigh 
 
16 
 
 MARY S VISION. 
 
 Her dying bed, to catch her latest sigh, 
 The soul impressed 
 
 with image of the clay, 
 Bore its distinctive features ; far away, 
 
 She seemed in gesture — lineaments the same. 
 And who had known her once, would call her name ; 
 But as the sun on polished metal streams. 
 And wakes a light more dazzling than its beams ; 
 So now that face, 
 
 so earthly fair before. 
 The brighter image of the heavenly bore. 
 
 And Mary saw, and smiled to see her care 
 For others' good, as watchful here, as there. 
 
 There, 'twas her voice the ruffled spirit soothed^ 
 And her's the hand that sickness' pillow smoothed. 
 
 She saw each need — she heeded every call, 
 And had a word, and helping hand for all : 
 And now in Paradise 
 
 her watchful eyes 
 Detect each little vpant, as wants arise. 
 
 Is aught mislaid by one, and vainly sought, 
 She trips away, the missing thing is brought. 
 
 Is vesture soiled — does curl disordered stray,. 
 That is composed, the stain is brushed away, 
 
 Do winds disturb a garland on some brow, 
 Her busy hands adjust the chaplet now. 
 
 Song is rehearsed, or tale repeated o'er 
 To careless ears that lost the strain before ; 
 "With thousand other arts 
 
 that love beguiles, 
 And wins the costly merchandise of smiles. 
 
 What words can paint the scene : 'tis hard to teacb^ 
 
mart's vision. 17 
 
 Immortal things, by forms of mortal speech. 
 
 As child (in nursery tale) by goblin hand 
 Conveyed from cradled rest, to fairy land ; 
 On towers of gold sees gems profusely flung 
 Like drops of rain — and strives with simple tongue 
 To tell the wondrous tale — 
 
 so Mary tries, 
 But scarce can break the silence of surprise. 
 
 " He dwelh-^th not in temples made with hands." 
 High — lifted up — a cloudy structure stands. 
 That sure from nature's inspiration sprung ; 
 " No hammer fell, or pondrous axes rung " 
 On yonder vast expansion ; round its crest 
 Are rainbow wreaths ; below, and ill repress'd 
 By smothering darkness, black as raven's wings 
 A host of fiery exhalations spring. 
 Like brandished torches — or froin thunder cloud. 
 As hosts of lightnings burst their sable shroud 
 In quick succession, flashing and retire 
 Back to their chambers : darkness is on fire 
 From veiled Divinity, 
 
 that flameth out. 
 And lighteth His pavillion round about. 
 
 Around the temple's base (that seems to rest 
 On mount of jasper, broad as Ocean's breast;) 
 A golden canopy of cloud is spread 
 Over the worshipers — that else had fled 
 From blaze too dazzling bright 
 
 to be endured — 
 Till fir and wide by sheltering mists obscured. 
 
 From out the "darkness thick," there comes a roar, 
 2* 
 
18 mart's vision. 
 
 (Like ocean breaking on a rock-bound shore) 
 Of Hallelujahs, as the " sound of seas " 
 Rising, and falling with the varying breeze : 
 Or joined by throngs without, 
 
 swell high, and higher, 
 As far-off nations pause, and aid the choir. 
 
 The temple's outer courts are girdled round 
 With winged couriers — home, or outward bound, 
 That pass like glancing meteors, 
 
 to and fro, 
 As round some isle, the sea-birds come, and go — 
 
 Some, swift descending, fold their pinions bright, 
 Some issuing forth, spread out their wings for flight ; 
 And fast ascending, leave behind a trail 
 Like Northern lights that arctic skies exhale. 
 
 With courteous word, 
 
 they pass the homeward bounds 
 Pass into space, and fade in the profound. 
 
 As these evanish, brilliant points appear, 
 From distant courts and worlds, approaching near ; 
 Shining ambassadors, 
 
 that gathered there, 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand, cleave the air. 
 
 " Within my Father's house," the Saviour said, 
 *' Are many mansions" — if that whisper dread 
 Of "worm undying," 
 
 hath such boundless scope 
 As "many mansions" hath — alas for hope. 
 
 Seen by celestial telescopic eye. 
 That conquers space, and brings the distant nigh, 
 A universe of cities loads the ground, 
 Tliat earth might girdle in her annual round: 
 
mart's vision. 1^ 
 
 A congregation numberless, of powers, 
 
 Of thrones — dominions — palaces and towers : 
 
 Of terraced mansions, spires, and public halls, 
 
 Each a transparency, with jeweled walls 
 
 And dazzling hues, that make the gazer sigh, 
 
 " These sprung from revery of the Most High : 
 
 Too consummate for art, that potent word. 
 
 That rent the veil of night hath here been heard ; 
 
 *' Let there be Light : " 
 
 as on creation's morn, 
 When Nature burst her shroud, and Time was born. 
 
 In pictures grand, that vie with skill divine, 
 Nature unfolds each limitless design 
 Of wood, and sounding glen, and valleys fair, 
 And guards her rude domain with jealous care. 
 
 There, groves of cypress cast a pleasing gloom, 
 Midst flowering forests of perpetual bloom, 
 With walks and pools, 
 
 o'er which the lilies lean, 
 And troops of flowers in varied robes are seen. 
 
 Ten thousand founts their costly cups o'erflow, 
 Where round and round the tinted bubbles go 
 But soon, these mimic ships — 
 
 too rudely toss'd. 
 Are with their freights of beauty, wreck'd and lost. 
 
 The rill, to vale, a river's tribute pours — 
 Rivers like oceans, wash remoter shores : 
 And mountain crags are piled — as if was hurled 
 Higli up, the fragments of a shattered world: 
 That angel wanderers from every land, 
 Might come to revel in the wild and grand ; 
 
20 mart's vision. 
 
 And reared to soathe that mudng love 
 
 that clings 
 In heart of ruined man, to ruined things. 
 
 Compared to rocks that seem to hang in space — 
 With jutting crags that have no resting place; 
 With peaks on peaks, 
 
 in savage grandeur piled, 
 The Alps are baubles of a Switzer's child. 
 
 Not all of savage grandeur, and of fear ; 
 The pine, a cloud of foliage lifteth here; 
 O'er dark abyss, the venturous fir trees stoop, 
 From dizzy heiglits, the cedar's ringlets droop. 
 Each glen and dim recess 
 
 is thronged with flowers, 
 And beauty nestles in a thou-^and bowers. 
 
 O'er all this vast array of plain and mount. 
 Of endless cities, stream, and rill, and fount ; 
 From you cathedral fair a glory streams. 
 In which the sun would faint, and hide his beams ; 
 Yea, myriad suns, 
 
 if forced to exhale the fire 
 That lights this vast emporium — would expire. 
 
 "I saw the tribes of Israel in their tents." 
 To count the population that frequents 
 These fields and avenues — if Time should pass 
 One of a world of atoms thro' his glass, 
 For each inhabitant ; 
 
 when all had run, 
 His task herculean, would not be done. 
 
 If all the quick and dead of women born, 
 Since Eve first travailed on Creation's morn ; 
 Summoned — should rise, and come with one accord. 
 
mart's Vision. 21 
 
 To join the mighty household of the Lord : 
 The vast array would vanish 
 
 mid the bless'd, 
 As drop of rain is lost in Ocean's breast. 
 
 Did angel wanderer career — or float 
 As -elow and difficult to climes remote ; 
 As man propelled by coursers, or the breeze, 
 Creeps o'er his little continents and seas ; 
 The far off fi'iends, he fondly calls his own, 
 Were naught to him — their forms and speech unknown, 
 And to their distant homes, 
 
 his thoughts would stray, 
 As vague as mortals thro' the milky way. 
 
 As fast careering, as electric fires, 
 The slaves of science, run along the wires, 
 The journeying Angel flies, and unconfined 
 The eye and ear, the messengers of mind ; 
 Or darts afar — 
 
 or lures melodious sound 
 From space above ; or Heaven's utmost bound. 
 
 As oft on earth, pervading far and wide, 
 A Sabbath stillness reigns at eventide : 
 When Nature's pulses cease, or softly beat. 
 And wide dissevered household's laughing greet ; 
 And voices musical, come stealing o'er 
 The valley wide from group at Cottage door; 
 So when Celestial eve sinks wide and still, 
 And soothing twihght falls on tower and hill ; 
 Sound seems embalmed — as floating from afar, 
 Greeting or song, like voices from a star, 
 Traverse the silent air — 
 
 nor fail to reach 
 
22 mart's vision. 
 
 The distant ear ; communing each with each. 
 
 Or when in far, illustrious public halls, 
 AssembUes meet ; seen thro' the Crystal walls 
 As bees in hives of glass : if some old sage 
 Rehearses deeds from History's ample page. 
 Or poets numbers chant, or low, or loud, 
 Some princely Orator harangues the crowd ; 
 The distant list'ner can hear at will. 
 Or lonely rest in brooding silence still, 
 As man receives discourse ; 
 
 or hears it not 
 When lost in revery, the sound forgot. 
 
 Nor art — that passes art — and seems inspired^ 
 Nor fine device of Nature, more admired: 
 Not all the mysteries the heavens fill, 
 So illustrates the Father's power and skill. 
 As the diversities 
 
 of form and face 
 That mark in endless maze, the Angel race. 
 
 For tho' they are numberless, not one can call 
 Other his counterpart, among them all. 
 
 Yet are they like : as if a circle 'round, 
 Was drawn by artist wondrously profound ; 
 Who thus decreed. ''Within this narrow space 
 Shall dwell diversities of form and face 
 With close resemblances ; not one shall pass 
 These outward lines, or see as in a glass 
 His image counterfeited — 
 
 not too near, 
 Nor too remote ; but each distinct, and clear. 
 
 Various their forms and faces, as the flowers, 
 
mauy's vision. 23 
 
 Their manners, attitudes, and mental powers ; 
 The last unbounded. 
 
 Knowledge hath no bar, 
 To mind's expansion, none hath said "Thus far." 
 
 And wide the space betwixt the young and gay, 
 Who sing and dance the joyous hours away ; 
 And they whose far exploring 
 
 Sails have cast 
 Their shadows on the ocean of the past. 
 
 The curious eye may trace them as they pa?s 
 In slow development from class to class, 
 And mark the ascending stages. 
 
 As they rise 
 From youth's simplicity to gravely wise. 
 
 These, wild as storm-toss'd wave that scorneth rest, 
 Light as the foam thrown upward from its crest. 
 
 They know, ('tis all they care) their Father nigh, 
 Watches his darlings with a sleepless eye ; 
 Pleased with each quaint device, and childish whim, 
 As oft for fond applause they look to him. 
 For God, to mortals vague and undefined. 
 Is ever present to an angel's mind ; 
 And they, to win his smile 
 
 their arts employ. 
 As earthly father sees his curly bqy. 
 
 Thus joyously enacting life's prelude. 
 Years roll away, and other thoughts intrude. 
 
 Some legend old embalmed in minstrel's lay. 
 Or tales of heroes of an earlier day, 
 Awakes inquiry, and in dance and song. 
 They pause from revelry, and ponder long 
 
24 mart's vision. 
 
 Oazing on vacancy, 
 
 As shadows fly 
 Across each face — as clouds across the sky. 
 
 And now, before their minds, maturhig fast. 
 An endless panorama of the past, 
 With all its mighty deeds, 
 
 begins to unroll 
 From history's page, and epic's pictured scroll. 
 
 See yonder youth ; his heart within him burns, 
 As he in past eternity discerns 
 The royal standard planted on the wall. 
 And nations gathering at the trumpet's call. 
 Are spread abroad, 
 
 like armies in their tents, 
 And all is on the eve of great events. , 
 
 The " Bayard's" and " Boileau's" of olden time, 
 i' Sidney's" and " Raleigh's" of their native clime, 
 Have led the chivalry of heaven afar 
 Beyond celestial ray, or gleam of star, 
 To realms of ancient night, where anarch old 
 O'er discord reigns, and darkness hastes to enfold 
 Her struggling monsters 
 
 from aggressive light, 
 And hide her fearful progeny from sight. 
 
 Into these dreadful shades with torch and brand. 
 The hosts of heaven were led ; and hand <o hand 
 Grappling with horrors, rolled their surges back, 
 While myriad shapeless corpses strewed their track : 
 Each step contested 
 
 as a fortress floor. 
 Where e'er men pass, the sword must pass before. 
 
■mart's vision. 25 
 
 Thus toiling on a spacious field was won, 
 Where many worlds in circles wide might run, 
 And strong and watchful 
 
 sentinels were set 
 Along the line where light and darkness met. 
 
 And DOW had come the long expected morn. 
 To plant the wilderness with empires, born 
 Of God's creative power ; and far and wide, 
 Thousands of leagues away on every side, 
 Were waiting multitudes, 
 
 and high above. 
 Were clouds of angels, silvered like a dove. 
 
 In mute expectancy they look to where 
 The banner waves, for God the Son is there, 
 And God the Spirit — lo, through all the void 
 A tremulous brightness darts, that seems employed 
 In new creations ; worlds begin to grow 
 Like stars in midnight sky, with fiery glow. 
 Enlarging fast, till each a ponderous globe. 
 They looked like jewels in an azure robe, 
 That hands divine 
 
 (smoothing the drapery's flow,) 
 Spread o'er infinity, that sleeps below. 
 
 Over the miglity concourse silence broods, 
 And wondering awe enthralls ihe multitudes. 
 
 Where fast and far the darting splendors run, 
 They fee the infant orbs but just begun ; 
 And silently they watch them as they grow 
 To full maturity ; for well they know 
 The Holy Ghost is there — His form concealed : 
 The " chief among ten thousand" stands revealf d ; 
 3 
 
26 mary's vison. 
 
 The " altogether lovely," 
 
 full in view, 
 StanJs prominent among his retinue. 
 
 With beating heai ts and half suppressed breath, 
 They watch the dream of beauty, still as death. 
 
 Far out in space the anchored planets float ; 
 Is it a tuneful voice or trumpet note 
 That rises musical, and waxes high ? 
 Forth at the call the winged millions fly 
 In columns, widening each space between, 
 And far diverging in their flights ai*e seen, 
 Hovering in flocks above tho-e 
 
 mounts of gold, 
 Then settling slowly down, their pinion> fold. 
 
 Again thai call is heard, and at th3 sign. 
 The obedient planets wlieeling into line. 
 Begin their mighty march, 
 
 and heaven hears 
 The song of praise — " the music of the spheres." 
 
 Such tales they heard that youthful fancy charms. 
 How valor bore its native arts and arms 
 To savage wilds, 
 
 where valor was afraid, 
 And on his lips his warning finger laid. 
 
 The host's departure and their lengthened stay, 
 Unseen again till centuries passed away ; 
 The assembled tribes of heaven, that met to hear 
 Of daring deeds performed on shapes of fear 
 That have no name, nor kind ; the monster nigh. 
 Hath its own shape — its own peculiar cry — 
 
mart's vision. 27 
 
 Each one its specie?, 
 
 but alike in this, 
 Hate was their common bond, and strife their bliss. 
 
 Who cheer'd the faltei-ing bauds where many bled, 
 The hope forlorn through dangerous passes led. 
 And stormed the heights ; they loved to hear and tell, 
 Tiie new creations, and the fond farewell 
 To parting emigrants, were epochs rife 
 With grander memories than common life 
 That lured the youthful mind 
 
 to studious hours ; 
 That charmed his fancy, and enlarged his powers. 
 
 As genius rears its pyramids of song 
 O'er human progress, or colossal wrong ; 
 O'er giant enterprise, or fields of strife, 
 Where nations died, or nations sprung to life ; 
 So Heaven's higher art, o'er scenes and times 
 Of sterner enterprise, and darker crimes, 
 Hath rear'd its lasting monuments that stand 
 Down the long past, like peaks in mountain land. 
 
BOOK TI. 
 
 Bright were the scenes in dramas of the past. 
 Or if with transient sorrow overcast, 
 Actors and audience felt 
 
 that brief distress, 
 Was but the path to ultimate success. 
 
 One tragedy there was, remeraber'd yet. 
 And they who watched its course, will ne'er forget. 
 That deep engraved in living hearts remain, 
 As on some dungeon floor the dark red slain 
 Tells in its silent way 
 
 where victim bled, 
 The stealthy step, the struggle, and the dead. 
 
 Here, in the careful Father's daintiest bower. 
 Beneath the very shadow of his power, 
 Sin's specious voice was heard, and creature frail, 
 Heeded the temptress' cry — " Macbeth, all hail ;" 
 And " wither'd hag.^," and 
 
 " wild in their attire " 
 Danced round the " bubbling cauldron," and the fire» 
 
 The hour when first repining fancies sprung 
 In princely Lucifer, when high among 
 The assembled peers, he saw with envious eyes 
 The glorious vision of the Father rise 
 
Mary's vision. 29 
 
 In clouded majesty — 
 
 and heard the songs 
 Of praise and wonder from admiring throngs. 
 
 His startled consciousness of sin, and shame 
 For base ingratitude to God, till came 
 A sense of wrong for regal power denied ; 
 His doubts, and fears, and ever-growing pride, 
 And stern resolve to be like the Most High, 
 To live the observed of all, to reign or die ; 
 Though from his comrades 
 
 carefully concealed, 
 By History's groping fingers was revealed, 
 
 His frequent absence from the council board, 
 His mute abstractions, and the mutter'd word : 
 His bold presumptuous gaze — fixed, deep in thought 
 Upon the "Silent One," as if he sought 
 To weigh his wrath, and prudently foresee 
 If come the worst, then what that worst might be : 
 His vain attempts by sorcery to forecast 
 The future years, and read them as the past : 
 All the descending slages of his fate, 
 From love to fear ; from fear to deadly hate, 
 A thousand records tell ; 
 
 and when at last. 
 All doubt dispelled, the " Rubicon " was past ; 
 The subtle sophistries and arts malign, 
 The burning eloquence, almost divine. 
 That dazzled and seduced the glittering rings 
 From their allegiance to -the King of kings ; 
 The dark conspiracy — the boding dread 
 That like a thunder cloud o'er Heaven spread ; 
 3* 
 
so Mary's vision. 
 
 The terms of peace repulsed with scoffing slight, 
 
 Till Justice frowned, and Mercy's cheek grew white r 
 
 The waves of battle surging to and fro, 
 
 The kingly shout — the flight to shades below ; 
 
 The poet tells, and with such tragic power. 
 
 Conjures to view the actors and the hour; 
 
 That he who reads, 
 
 seems on that tempest toss'd 
 Fears, and exults, and sorrows for the lost. 
 
 As in some plague-struck mart, where death hath 
 learned 
 Some potent art, by science undiscerned ; 
 They meet in mute amaze, and words too weak 
 Their funeral faces eloquently speak, 
 So when the battle passed, they looked in vain 
 For old acquaintances, ne'er seen again, 
 Pale was each visage, and the troubled eye 
 Questioned, and answered with the mute reply, * 
 
 " "Where are the comrades 
 
 of an earlier day," 
 And sadder glances answered, " Where are they." 
 
 "Wide through the heavens a consternation spread^ 
 And silent groups went sorrowing for the dead 
 Midst their accustomed haunts — as when the earth 
 Seized with convulsions, stills the voice of mirth 
 In some gay Capital sad groups are seen 
 Scanning the ruins with dejected mien ; 
 And dark imaginings, 
 
 that fain would know 
 " How look the faces now, that sleep below." 
 
 On distant provinces the tidings fell, 
 As on some household falls the funeral knell : 
 
Mary's vision. 31 
 
 And startled worlds — 'till now unused to tears, 
 Surprised — were filled with strange unwonted fears, 
 And anxious thoughts that could not conoprehend 
 How moral death could be, or lite could end ; 
 But half believed them 
 
 creatures of the brain, 
 "Who once their joy, were now an aching pain. 
 
 "Thou hadst a dream, and now 'tis passed away; 
 Sure 'twas an idle dream :" " I tell thee nay ; 
 A something real occupied this spot ; 
 It lived and died. It was, and then was not. 
 It had a breathing form, was conscious, fair, 
 But soon became impalpable like air ; 
 Yet as a dream when waking breaks the spell, 
 It vanished, sunk, but how, I cannot tell." 
 
 It was, as heavenly Chronicles rehearse, 
 A grievous mourning to the Universe; 
 As if the worlds arrayed in 
 
 funeral gloom. 
 In long procession followed to the tomb. 
 
 And rumor said, and runaor was believed, 
 That for his children lost, the Father grieved : 
 That o'er his visage high, at times there came 
 A shade of sorrow, like a fainting flame 
 Obscured by passing mists, 
 
 as if he said 
 '•■ Ephraim is not." " My first born, and my dead.'* 
 
 And so it came to pass in after days, 
 When memory's conjuring wand, the lost did raise 
 All signs of grief 
 
 were carefully suppress'd. 
 Lest he they loved so well should be distress'd. 
 
32 mary's vision. 
 
 But as the " house of mourning " on the earth 
 For man, is safer than the " house of mirth ;" 
 So even in paradise, 
 
 (the record says) 
 " Wisdom was justified in all her ways." 
 
 Ere they were chastened, " Evil " was a word 
 The fams whereof their careless ears had heard 
 As " something to be feared ;" but from that hour 
 They learned in suffering, its fearful power 
 To '' trouble Israel ;" there did begin 
 A loathing horror of the name of sin — 
 A hatred passionate, 
 
 that much abhors 
 The wily hag, of death the fruitful cause. 
 
 And ev'ry pang of grief, and bitter tear, 
 Made vice more hideous seem, and virtue dear. 
 
 And so from seraphs old, whose thoughts explore 
 That sea whose surges roll and find no shore ; 
 Down to the youthful angels lightly gay. 
 Who sing and dance the joyous hours away, 
 All are imbued with knowledge 
 
 that insures 
 Their safety while eternity endures. 
 
 Such pictures fill the student's lonely hours, 
 And so impels his crude but grasping powers, 
 He deems the past, its changes and decay. 
 Worlds waxen old, "like vestures laid away," 
 The "store-house of the Almighty," 
 
 wide and high. 
 Will scarce his nature's boundless wants supply. 
 
 And future years the Father calls his own. 
 Their undeveloped mysteries unknown; 
 
MARY S VISION. 
 
 In these obscurities with upward spring, 
 Imagination spreads her daring wing; 
 Ranges at will, and saith " They're 
 
 fair to see, 
 But less than things that have been, and shall be." 
 As mind expands, and brings from fields of thought 
 Their golden sheaves, a growing sense is brought 
 Of his great Father's greatness ; 
 
 every where 
 In past eternity he finds Him there. 
 
 Each far excursion down the vistas dim, 
 Of torch-lit history, proves a path to him 
 Who still presides where ancient millions swarm, 
 "Rides on the whirlwind and directs the storm;" 
 And every where 
 
 the multitudes are stirred 
 As woods by tempests where that voice is heard. 
 
 Conscious of knowledge vast; unconscious yet, 
 That finite knowledgw hath its limits set; 
 He vainly seeks to find 
 
 the Almighty out, 
 " With clouds and darkness curtained round about." 
 
 As eaglet, mountain born, full fledged at length, 
 Soars towards the sun exulting in his strength; 
 But wearied out comes back with panting breast, 
 (His pride rebuked,) to seek the sheltering nest. 
 So rash enquiry, soaring upward, faints, 
 And fluttering down, come home with sad complaints ; 
 " Dazzled with beauty, 
 
 weary and afraid," 
 And faltering Reason calls for Fancy's aid. 
 
 3S 
 
34 3iary's vision. 
 
 " Go search through years and space, if there's a spot, 
 Or long gone centuiy where he is not." 
 
 Forth speeds the light-winged Ariel of the wind, 
 Leaving creation's limits far behind; 
 Darts through the realms of Anarch, on and on, 
 To climes remoter yet, when these are won ; 
 She paused at last amidst a pulseless gloom, 
 Of Life the grave ; 
 
 of Death himself the tomb — 
 Or unborn Nature sleeps in darkness' womb. 
 
 "Tell me," the herald said in trembling fear 
 Amidst Immensity, " If thou art here." 
 
 "I am," a voice replied, and as it spoke 
 " I am " again, the startled silence broke 
 From far responding shades, 
 
 where ray of light 
 Would scarce arrive in a thousand centuries' flight. 
 
 Awe-struck, returning home, she told the tale 
 Of that dread interview, with aspect pale; 
 Then pierced the centuries, careering fast 
 Through periods numberless, she came at last 
 To buried hosts of years, that have no name. 
 Their records lost, their deeds unknown to Fame, 
 And long forgotten, save, no bubble burst; 
 No leaf was stirred, no tiny insect nursed. 
 No flower to catch the dews 
 
 held out its cup, 
 But in the heart of God is garnered up. 
 
 And known to him what hollow echo says ; 
 The tramp and turmoil of departed days 
 Resounding yet, as if in murmurs low, 
 The hoary depths conversed of "long ago;" 
 
Mary's vision. 35 
 
 Replying each to each, 
 
 as when on high, 
 The thunders seem conversing in the sky. 
 
 In this seclusion where no pulses beat, 
 And none intrudes, the Almighty's lone retreat; 
 His musing solitude, as man retires 
 To muse in lonely glen when day expires. 
 She paused again, the dews upon her brow; 
 Awe-struck and sore afraid she whispered now, 
 "Ancient of Days 
 
 forgive the herald sent. 
 Are these vast shades the curtains of thy tent?" 
 
 "I am," a voice replied; "I am" again 
 Broke from eternity in far refrain. 
 
 Tier daring hope- rebuked, and wiser grown 
 Of what may be, and what may not be known, 
 "Of that obscure," he saith, ("whence Reason fled. 
 Where wild Conjecture stood in trembling dread;) 
 "1 do remember me that Wisdom saith 
 ' Those shoreless deeps are called " the Realms of Faith," ' " 
 Where the Almighty Father 
 
 dwells apart. 
 And sheds a shadowy prescience on the heart. 
 
 Here is an Infinite enough for thee, 
 There is a limitless infinit}-. 
 Where ves-'pl of research 
 
 is aimless toss'd, 
 And finite wanderer for ever lost. 
 
 Yet as a watch-fire throws from rocky height, 
 Far o'er a midnight sea the tell-tale light; 
 So Knowledge's lamp, if lit at Wisdom's shrine. 
 Reveals the utmost part of the Divine ; 
 
36 mart's vision. 
 
 And as supplied with oil it brighter glows, 
 Profoundei- depths, and vaster circle show? ; 
 For ever widening 
 
 as the flashes go, 
 Yet leaves an endless sea that none may know. 
 
 Thus step by step he comes to comprehend 
 That 'tis his chiefest good, his highest end 
 To know the Lord, and leaving things revealed, 
 Still press toward the infinite concealed ; 
 His distant goal 
 
 eternity and space, 
 A tireless runner in an endless race. 
 
 As bolder aim and brighter hope appears, 
 He grows in beauty as he grows in years. 
 
 A solemn grandeur spreads that visage o'er, 
 Where simple innocence was seen before; 
 As mountain scenes 
 
 of clitf, and peaks, and storms, 
 On mountain child daguerreotype their forms. 
 
 But not as man, in whom the curse of pride, 
 "With gentle Learning groweth side by side ; 
 These have no secret vaunt, 
 
 nor open boast. 
 But he is lowliest who knows the most. 
 
 The ancient hierarch, whose life hath been 
 Made up of periods unknown to men. 
 Of his long gathered lore, is not too fond. 
 But meekly sees the infinite beyond; 
 And estimates himself 
 
 as simple youth, 
 Who "gathers pebbles on the shores of Truth." 
 
Mary's vision. 37 
 
 No written law, that loud appeals to fear, 
 And saith "Obey, the avenging sword is near:" 
 Nor gentle precepts 
 
 falling like the dew 
 Restrains, or urges the angelic crew. 
 
 Their ruler holds such feeble bonds in scorn, 
 That evil breaks, when virtue's locks are shorn ; 
 And to his subjects hastens to impart 
 A mightier law that binds them heart to heart : 
 A law that speaks in gentlest 
 
 tones of love, 
 Its harshest notes, the cooings of the dove. 
 
 If thousands congregate in hall or bower, 
 Or gay companions while the passing hour ; 
 Or busy groups, 
 
 or idle wanderers greet 
 They seem like lovers as their glances meet. 
 
 As maid beloved, puts on an aspect cold. 
 To hide her own, 'till others' love be told; 
 But in unguarded moment near his side, 
 Forgetting all her maiden fear and pride ; 
 Thrilled with his voice, looks up in quick surprise, 
 Her heart's dear secret beaming from her eyes ; 
 So angel glance 
 
 with ardor seems to bum. 
 So fondly passionate the quick return. 
 
 Here, where each calls another's good, his own. 
 The homely word " Contentment" is unknown ; 
 And "joy" itself, and "rapture" 
 
 are too weak, 
 For glowing ecstaeies, that none may speak. 
 4 
 
38 
 
 MARY S VISION. 
 
 The hours are ships from far enchanted land : 
 The moments, manners, that load the strand 
 With fruits and fabrics rare, and promise more 
 So rare and costly from that friendly shore ; 
 And expectations so unbounded rise, 
 That reason chides with Hope, when Hope replies 
 " How canst thou call 
 
 my wildest wish 'excess,' 
 When boundless power and love delights to bless."^ 
 
 It is not here the weakest hath the worst — 
 As on the earth) that maxim is reversed 
 And simple innocence 
 
 hath at its call 
 Like regal power, the gathered strength of all. 
 
 In crowded avenues, if thousands meet, 
 In halls of learning sit at wisdom's feet ; 
 Or dress the flowery mead with quaint design : 
 Or hands industrious train the vintage vine ; 
 If tireless coursers bear a radiant throng 
 O'er hill and plain, or rivers' banks along ; 
 Or pensive companies sit down by stream, 
 Listening to Chronicle, or poet's dream ; 
 Or dip the oar — careering side by side 
 In golden skiffs, reflected by the tide : 
 Where'er they congregate — by sea or shore, 
 That charming scene is acted o'er and o'er ; 
 Where princely Jonathan, 
 
 by virtue won, 
 Threw his own robe o'er Jesse's Shepherd son. 
 
 And round the mount is seen that gentle deed. 
 Where wanderers meet in numbers that exceed 
 
maky's vision. 39 
 
 The population of the eartli thrice told — 
 A girdle 'round its base, would thrice enfold 
 The earth's circumference : and a raortal's eye 
 With aid of telescope, would scarce descry 
 Its misty peaks ; that seem exploring space 
 To find another Heaven and other race ; 
 Yet leaves to vague 
 
 conjecture and debate, 
 If forms of life are there, and what their state. 
 
 A tender impulse moved the Father's hand 
 To rear this pile amidst the promised land 
 Of fairy palaces — for in angel's breast 
 There is a want, if baffled is distress'd 
 For Nature's rugged ways — 
 
 as man, in Time, 
 Expands amidst the awfully sublime. 
 
 And so the Father called for grandeur vast, 
 And round his form his shaggiest mantle cast ; 
 The wrecks of aged worlds, 
 
 w dissolved in storms, 
 
 In clouds ascending, petrified to forms. 
 
 Now, all aglow with brilliances of life : 
 If sportive groups engage in friendly strife 
 To scale the cliiF above, or rocky tower; 
 Or grope in caves to find a wondrous flower. 
 Famed for its fair, but melancholy hue ; 
 In darkness born, in dripping coolness grew : 
 And famed for long resistance to decay, 
 When borne by pilgrim wanderer far away; 
 Yet pines for home, 
 
 and as the exile sighs, 
 At last by hope deserted — drooping dies. 
 
40 mart's vision. 
 
 Are white-robed lilies, linked in garlands, flung 
 Round fair young brows, with glossy curls o'erhung 
 Midst shouts of fond applause; or others bend 
 O'er dark abyss, where fearful depths descend, 
 And awed by mystery, listen to the flow 
 Of some imprisoned stream that moans below : 
 Or drop the massive pebble, still and dumb, 
 'Till hours away, the answering echoes come; 
 Or soaring high, on moveless wing survey 
 Oceans of vast upheavals lone and grey : 
 In ev'ry circumstance of time and place — 
 In all diversities of form and face 
 That gallant maxim reigns, 
 
 that " Wealth and power, 
 Are held in guardian trust, as Weakness' dower." 
 
 One custom strange that men on earth retain. 
 Who searches for in Heaven, will search in vain. 
 
 No son of science, nursed in schools that part 
 Moral, and mental — intellect and heart: 
 That gives to intellect the highest seat. 
 While moral truth like beggar from the street 
 Sits down in lowly guise, though royal born, 
 A mark for ribald jests, and plebeian scorn ; 
 That saitli to God, 
 
 " that footstool is thine own ; " 
 While heathen gods sit on the great White Throne. 
 
 No son of science, cunning, and acute. 
 But dwarfed in moral growth — and so minute, 
 That he who hears its voice, doubts if it be, 
 And brings celestial microscope to see ; 
 Creeps 'round this awful monument to find 
 Some bone, or pebble that absolves his kind 
 
Mary's vision. 41 
 
 From law divine ; and restless, strives to wrest 
 From nature's rude, but bold and loyal breast, 
 Some signal, or response, 
 
 that gives the lie 
 To sacred history's page, and prophesy: 
 
 And demonstrates, (as kindred fools applaud), 
 That fair Religion "is the child of Fraud." 
 
 If such amidst these wonders groped and blinked^ 
 In other days, the species is extinct : 
 
 And if in excavating in the ground. 
 Its fossil skeleton by chance was found ; 
 It would at once the finder's 
 
 fortunes raise 
 "And make abundant sport for after days." 
 
 Such tales and pictures, Mary still averred. 
 Were in her morning vision seen and heard; 
 When to the light of paradise 
 
 inured. 
 And when by gentle courtesies assured. 
 
 But now, emerging from the cloudy screen 
 That veils di\'inity, a form was seen 
 That drew the eyes of all; no crown he wore. 
 Nor badge of rank his simple vesture bore; 
 And none officious heralded his name. 
 But voices sunk to whispers as he came. 
 And then to silence — every head was bowed 
 In reverence, as he passed the brilliant crowd, 
 Exchanging greetings 
 
 with a quiet grace, 
 That drew delighted smiles to every face. 
 
 Nor giant stature his, nor eye of fire, 
 4* 
 
42 mart's vision. 
 
 Nor presence of command ; but something higher 
 Marked his development, 
 
 that well defined, 
 Revealed a princely Leader of his kind. 
 
 His brow expansive, marked with lines of care, 
 And bright as evening star, had something there 
 That awed, 
 
 as grandeur awes the hearts of men, 
 When girdled round by cliffs in mountain glen. 
 
 So did one seem o'ershadowed by the vast, 
 As if the solemn ages as they passed, 
 There writ their chronicles ; that one by one, 
 The year^, in long procession as they run ; 
 Had paused before the student, to rehearse 
 The gathered wisdom of the universe. 
 
 Who fixed upon that front his wond'ring gaze, 
 Ponder'd too rudely in his mute amaze; 
 Till waked to consciousness, he would refrain. 
 Then lost in thought would turn and gaze again; 
 Such massive beauty marked his brow, and so 
 Flexile and changeful was the face below; 
 That every shade 
 
 of other's feeling caught, 
 And sympathetic mirrored back its thought. 
 
 Was one of princely dignity addressed, 
 His features then a grave respect expressed ; 
 But did his wandering glance fall on the young, 
 A merrier mood than theirs, impulsive sprung; 
 As if his "childish things," not 
 
 " Put away," 
 Were brought to age; an age without decay. 
 
Mary's vision. 43 
 
 The light and pensive, thoughtless and profound, 
 Was seen, and answered as he glanced around; 
 And every shade of feeling mirrored clear, 
 " From grave to gay, from lively to severe," 
 In speech and air of one 
 
 that others styled 
 "The accomplished scholar, and the little child." 
 
 Onvpard he came, as vessel cleaves the tide. 
 Through that refulgent sea to Mary's side. 
 
 " I marvel much," she said, vrhen they had first 
 In light desultory way awhile conversed; 
 "I marvel much that paradise doth show 
 Such high respect to mortal poor and low. 
 
 It is as if a city's heart was stirred. 
 That, loud proclaimed, a beggar's coming heard ; 
 And through its streets a mighty pageant swept, 
 To grace the wretch that in its portals crept 
 In tattered garb, 
 
 that they might well deride," 
 "Thou dost mistake," the angel quick replied. 
 
 "The lowliest child of Adam, steeped in crime, 
 That drifteth hither from the storms of Time, 
 Comes introduced, 
 
 and hei'alded by Fame 
 As one who bears the heaven's loftiest name. 
 
 The Bride of Christ, as Eve from Adam's side, 
 When wrapt in sleep was born a perfect bride, 
 So man from Jesus' sleep, 
 
 derived his breath 
 A second time, and Life was born of Death. 
 
 If from a man, a breathing lump of clay, 
 The germ of men and things was plucked away 
 
44 Mary's vision. 
 
 In Eden's solitude, and that the birth 
 Of all the tribes and cities of the earth ; 
 What future glory waits the race, for whom 
 The ' Lord from heaven ' travailed in the tomb, 
 And wrapt in a profounder slumber, 
 
 died. 
 While his beloved was taken from his side ? 
 
 What deeds shall they perform, what trophies raise, 
 What states and empires found in after days; 
 Whom prophets old announced as 
 
 ' priests and kings ? ' 
 As 'heirs of God,' and legal 'heirs of things.' 
 
 Who views the darker side of human life, 
 Sees pride and cunning, lowly wants, and strife; 
 Where each one lives to multiply his store, 
 And who hath most, he most doth sigh for more. 
 
 ' So much,' he gravely saith, 
 
 'derived from thine. 
 And one to carry adds so much to mine.' 
 
 Their common life, if taken at the worst, 
 Appears like peaceful duels, interspersed 
 With joyless revelry and moods of ire; 
 Now wild with mirth, fantastic in attire, 
 Now furious, covering acres with the dead. 
 Then settling down (the paroxysm fled) 
 To peaceful frauds, 
 
 some laden with the spoils, 
 And others famished, fainting under toils. 
 
 And who but glances at such world of knaves, 
 That never satisfied for ever craves; 
 Will wonder why the Saviour 
 
 left his throne, 
 
Mary's vision. 45 
 
 To link their lowly fortunes with his own. 
 
 But closer view discerns the jewels gleam 
 In caves, half smothering its misty beam. 
 
 The most degraded of the race betrays 
 Some marks of gentle birth and better days ; 
 And in disgrace a consciousness retains 
 That princes' blood is coursing in his veins. 
 As if in weariness of sin and shame, 
 Comes dim remembrance of a place, and name 
 Some far-off isle that 
 
 lifts his father's towers, 
 The home of earlier days and happier hours. 
 
 And as the prodigal in affluence born, 
 Midst low carousals views with secret scorn 
 His rude companions, abject and forlorn ; 
 So gently nurtured man, from plebeian toils. 
 And low distress instinctively recoils. 
 Frets at the tide, 
 
 that sweeps his works away, 
 Resisteth Time, and wrestles with Decay. 
 
 But vainly wrestles, for above the mould 
 Where ' Ellen dear,' is wrapped in clay too cold ; 
 He rears defiantly the marble block, 
 And carves her record on the lasting rock ; 
 And leaves it there, 
 
 With solemn charge to keep 
 The long, long vigil o'er his darling's sleep. 
 
 And *0,' he saith, 'when stranger's feet shall tread 
 In days remote, around her lowly bed 
 Heedless of my Beloved — 
 
 do thou proclaim 
 With stout persistency, her slighted name. 
 
46 mart's vision. 
 
 Let years innocuous pass these letters plain, 
 And ages brush their rugged curves in vain.' 
 
 But lo, ere yet the mourner's pulse is stilled 
 With dust and moss, those chiseled curves are filled, 
 And lo, the shaft, oppressed by ages' flight. 
 Like weary sentinel outwatched by Night, 
 Nods o'er his task, 
 
 falls prostrate in the dust, 
 And to oblivion betrays his trust. 
 
 "Wide is the gulf that separateth men 
 As what they are, from what they might have been ; 
 But wider yet the illimitable sea 
 ' Twixt what they ' might have been,' and what shall be. 
 
 As germ of perfect manhood lieth hid 
 Beneath the infant form and closed lid ; 
 So ripened manhood in its best estate, 
 Is the minutest germ of something great 
 Concealed in future years ; 
 
 as mists enshroud 
 The distant mountain, swaddled in the cloud. 
 
 And that the germ of something yet to come — 
 The cradled infant, helpless, weak, and dumb, 
 Compared to what eternity 
 
 shall show, 
 A grand development, that God doth know. 
 
 And so we watch the fortunes of thy race, 
 The struggle and debate 'twixt sin and grace 
 In every human heart, and deem each soul 
 A lawless world, that broken from control, 
 ^ Hangs blind and blackening, in the eternal way ; ' 
 Beyond the reach of shower and solar ray : 
 
mart's vision. 47 
 
 Its herbage withered, and its fouutains dry : 
 'The Tides are in their graves,' ''Tis lost!' we cry; 
 •No power can save — too wide the wanderer strayed/ 
 But reaching forth, the Almighty hand that made 
 Arrests the truant, 
 
 that again appears 
 In the majestic circle of the spheres. 
 
 The. scathed and blackened mass with sluggish pace, 
 Like foundering ship, rolls heavily in space. 
 
 Dead to projecting forces that impelled — 
 Dead to attractive sympathies that held, 
 'T will perish yet, but lo, there is above 
 A form — a form, it seemeth like a dove 
 Of pure white plumage, 
 
 hov'ring round the ball, 
 That guides its motions, and prevents its fall. 
 
 Away, away, it plunges through the air: 
 'Tis lost — 'tis lost; no, no; the dove is there. 
 
 He stoops below with sudden, 
 
 rapid swing. 
 And fans it upward with his spotless wing. 
 
 Another fall, again the watcher sprung, 
 And bore aloft, as eagle bears her young. 
 
 Now, as it gains its wonted force once more, 
 A fairer herbage grows, unknown before ; 
 And gayer tribes of plants 
 
 and flowers appear. 
 Than Nature's hand untaught by grace could rear. 
 
 And groves and forests filled with sweeter song, 
 Where breezes much enamored, paused too long. 
 
 The waiting cloud did chide the lazy air, 
 For his long dalliance in those bowers fair ; 
 
48 Mary's vision. 
 
 'How can I crown at eve 
 
 the mountain's crest, 
 Or join the congregation in the west.' 
 
 Adown the vales majestic streams are led, 
 From 'smitten rocks,' and secret fountains fed, 
 And ' wells that spring to everlasting life ' ; 
 And wood and vale, and shaggy peak are rife 
 With brighter luster 
 
 than the lurid glow 
 That made the darkness, darker, long ago. 
 
 Fair as the Moon, its borrowed glories light 
 The distant traveler's pathway thro' the night: 
 And shed a gentle 
 
 radiance afar, 
 A world is saved ; hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! 
 
 Who strives to number all, will strive in vain, 
 That born in earthly homes, and born again. 
 Have grown to greatness here ; and many a spot 
 By man unvisited, and long forgot. 
 Will draw the pilgrim's feet as classic ground ; 
 And oft described, the scenes that girt it round : 
 For there a Name 
 
 become a household word, 
 In Zion's palaces, at first was heard. 
 
 Yon structure vast, imbued with changeful dyes, 
 Its minarets, veins of light, that pierce the skies ; 
 Its groves and columns stretching leagues away. 
 Where seraphs old with list'ning students stray ; 
 And youths are taught the sciences of Heaven, 
 By sages famous as the Grecian seven ; 
 There one presides — 
 
 a mortal born, whose name, 
 
Mary's vision. 49 
 
 Unchronicled by men — hath grown to fame. 
 
 And while on earth a deep, and deeper gloom 
 Hath gathered round his birthplace, and his Tomb ; 
 And so remorseless is oblivion's ban, 
 That none doth say of him — ' Tiiere lived a man' ; 
 His star is here ; 
 
 and who, as years unroll, 
 Can cast his horoscope, and read the scroll ? 
 
 An orphan he, nor yet in wedlock born, 
 The child of shame, deserted and forlorn ; 
 Nursed by the sons of toil, that sore bestead 
 To win their own half-famished children bread. 
 Gave doubtful welcome to their meagre board, 
 And watched with jealous pain, the less'ning hoard : 
 Almost denied — 
 
 yet coldly bade him share, 
 For pity gave what penury ill could spare. 
 
 Thus, fed and hated by the tattered crew, 
 Who pitying gave, and grudging, half withdrew 
 His stinted morsel, 
 
 bought with shame and tears, 
 Passed slow and sorrowful his early years. 
 
 But as the mountain pine still lifts its form, 
 And grows apace when wrestling with the storm ; 
 And when assaulted by the tempest's shocks 
 Its roots instinctive clasp the anchored rocks. 
 And gropes in darkness and exploring feels 
 For things unyielding, as the column reels 
 'TUl towering high, it casts a shadow wide 
 O'er sheltered vales at morn and eventide. 
 5 
 
50 mart's vision. 
 
 So did his rugged nature 
 
 grow erect, 
 Fostered by pain, and nurtured by neglect. 
 
 When youth had passed, and sterner toils began, 
 And storms of envious hate raged round the man ; 
 His soul that groped for God when he was young, 
 Now round the Rock of Ages closer clung ; 
 And some admired 
 
 what secret source supplied 
 That soul that lived where thousands might have died. 
 
 From such deep root, the man to greatness grew, 
 And won the love or hate of all who knew, 
 As one whose heart another's grief could feel, 
 Who hated evil with a prophet's zeal ; 
 Whose brand and plume were foremost in the fight. 
 When wrong assailed, and valor struck for right ; 
 O'er fallen virtue stood, 
 
 like bear bereaved. 
 And with the good and gentle, smiled and grieved. 
 
 Justice was pleased with one so true and brave, 
 And to his hand, her sword she smiling gave ; 
 For well she knew where turpitude was plain, 
 That mercy's pleading tears would fall in vain : 
 
 Yet mercy loved him well, for she had seen 
 The pitying mood he vainly sought to screen ; 
 And marked, and heard 
 
 the quiv'ring lip, and sigh. 
 When law stood up, and guilt was doomed to die. 
 
 And oft in solitude, had heard his prayer 
 That God would save the wretch, he could not spare ; 
 And mourn that man no sacrifice 
 
 could give, 
 
mart's vision. 51 
 
 Or rear a cross where guilt might look and live. 
 
 The widowed mother and her orphan brood 
 Looked up to him for sheltering care and food. 
 
 The oppressor's victims sought his side, and they 
 Who staggered wearily along the way, 
 Too heavy laden, 
 
 and whose hopes had died, 
 Who had no helper, found a friend and guide. 
 
 It needed not a prophet to foretell ; 
 On evil times and evil tongues he fell. 
 
 The pride of envious men could not endure 
 To live o'ershadowed by a name obscure, 
 Of lowly birth ; 
 
 nor bear the bright contrast 
 Of virtue by their side ; it could not last. 
 
 His foes vindictive, talked of 'justice sold; ' 
 His friends seduced by lying tales, grew cold 
 Just wlien triumphant 
 
 envy's gathered wave 
 Rolled o'er his head, and crushed him to the grave. 
 
 That cot wherein he drew his earliest breath. 
 Re-echoed back his latest sigh in death. 
 
 A structui'e rude, deserted long before. 
 And where his mother hid her shame of yore. 
 When driven from her home, 
 
 her father's pride 
 Repelled his erring child, and where she died. 
 
 In ruins now, the floor defaced by stains 
 From winter snows oft piled, and driving rains. 
 The walls in rents through which the sky appeared. 
 And unobstructed, autumn gusts careered, 
 
52 mart's vision. 
 
 Bustling the straw 
 
 whereon the dying lay, 
 And shook his raven locks, now tinged with grey. 
 
 Rough men, but kindly, waited round his bed, 
 And watched his laboring breath, and raised his head ; 
 And moralized of life ; 
 
 and deemed it sure 
 That they were happiest who lived obscure. 
 
 Their eyes were holdeu that they could not know 
 The winged attendants passing to and fro 
 As silently they enter, 
 
 and retire, 
 Nor hear the whispered summons, ' come up higher.' 
 
 Denied a grave in consecrated ground, 
 They bore him to a solitude profound, 
 Deep in a grassy glen, on either side 
 Ascending woods, high up, the rocks defied 
 Invading storms ; 
 
 but frowning at the blast, 
 Their moody shadows did the vale o'ercast. 
 
 There hosts of leaves from mountain branches torn, 
 Some, high aloft, by eddying currents borne. 
 Some fluttering wildly round, 
 
 as if alarmed 
 At such transition sad, sunk down becalmed. 
 
 Fairest in death, their vivid hues outvie 
 The faded robes of flowers, that standing nigh, 
 Did each one seem to say 
 
 with gloomy brow, 
 * What I was once, in youth, I am not now.' 
 
 And there they buried him at vesper hour, 
 Unblest by priest, unknelled from temple tower ; 
 
mart's vision. 53 
 
 Save, (if too fanciful it doth not seem,) 
 That heaven itself, (but 'tis an idle dream) 
 Provoked at man's neglect, indignant spoke, 
 When fiom the cloud, the deep-voiced thunder broke ; 
 And as midst shower.-;, 
 
 the echoes rose and fell, 
 That weeping nature tolled a hero's knell. 
 
 There, far secluded ; by the world forgot, 
 No lettered monument to mark the spot ; 
 Nor sculptured mourner bowed in mute despair, 
 Hath the Almighty hid with jealous care. 
 One of his jewels, 
 
 fashioned to his mind. 
 And in affliction's fiercest fires refined. 
 
 An oak, wide-spreading — crowned with leafy towers, 
 At morn; (rude mourner,) weeps in dewy showers, 
 And like wild harp responsive, softly sighs 
 When summer gale o'er branch and leaflet flies; 
 Or far abroad its plaintive wailing flings, 
 When winter's ruder fingers sweep its strings ; 
 In summer sighs, 
 
 and wails when summer's flown, 
 Above a form, once massive as its own. 
 
 No mortal knows his grave, but when the flush 
 Of morn appears, or day's retiring blush 
 Purples the west ; or through the moonlit night. 
 Do gentle spirits come with steps so light, 
 The soft impress, 
 
 nor bows the violet's head, 
 Nor wrecks the drops of dew, as round they tread." 
 
 •' And are such creatures real ?" Mary said : 
 5* 
 
54 Mary's vision. 
 
 " Some say there dwell in grove and forest green, 
 
 And lone wild glen, the beetling cliffs between ; 
 
 Strange airy shapes, of undiscovered birth, 
 
 Too gross for heaven — too spirit-like for earth, 
 
 That oft emerges, clad in misty grey, 
 
 From copse that skirts the lonely traveler's way ; 
 
 Or self creative, seemeth as it were 
 
 Formed, and developed from the viewless air, 
 
 To something tangible: 
 
 none knoweth how, 
 And stand revealed where nothing was till now. 
 
 It moves so phantom like, with noiseless tread 
 O'er withered leaf, wild flower, and mossy bed ; 
 So unobstructed are the sunny rays 
 That through its seeming substance, brightly strays. 
 And where its shadow should be shineth clear, 
 That he who sees will mutter, much in fear, 
 ' I see no foot print 
 
 where its foot was laid. 
 It glided there, and lo, it cast no shade. 
 
 Sometimes, in sportive mood, this wondrous elf 
 Reveals his shadow, and conceals himself. 
 
 When o'er the fountain sleeps the languid air. 
 And not a breath disturbs its surface fair : 
 He bends (invisible above) 
 
 to show 
 His little shape daguerreotyped below. 
 
 And when the thirsty steed, approaching nigh, 
 Swerves from the brink with apprehensive eye ; 
 And the vexed rider vainly tries to urge 
 The frightened courser near the fountain's verge; 
 
mary's vision. 55 
 
 It laughs — the prodigy, with childish glee ; 
 And other prodigies, who came to see — 
 Themselves invisible, the burden take, 
 And with loud mirth the sleeping echoes wake 
 From thousand rocky caves ; 
 
 a meiTy noise, 
 Like ha, ha, ha, of little wanton boys. 
 
 Are there such presences — and are they true ? 
 Those wild traditions of the muses, too ? 
 
 Some Legends fanciful of olden time, 
 Describe a fountain strange, in Grecia's clime. 
 Where sparkling waters rising far below 
 In earth's dark caves, come up with ceaseless flow; 
 And he who drinks, 
 
 through all his veins it thrills 
 In murmurs musical, like mountain rills. 
 
 And if he hath by Nature's gift, an ear 
 Attuned to melody, and lists to hear. 
 The murmurs change to words, 
 
 and loud and long 
 His lips burst forth in everchanging song. 
 
 Around the fountain is a group divine 
 Of shadowy creatures, called the Sacred Nine ; 
 Who haunt the groves, 
 
 and watch the fountains play, 
 And laugh, and sing, and weep, by night and day — 
 
 And when one drinks, and murmuring voices rise 
 Within his heart, they place before his eyes 
 A pictured roll ; 
 
 that though most strange it seems. 
 Their pencils painted in the land of dreams. 
 
56 mart's vision. 
 
 And he must watch and sing, as they unroll, 
 'Till on his spirit's heai'th the fire is cold : 
 And then they wait, 
 
 'till wild with fluttering pain, 
 He seeks the bubbling fount, and drinks again. 
 
 Is the tale mystical, where man would find 
 A key, to secret wonders of the mind 
 By band invisible of three times three, 
 From — " ayoht the shore, and ayont the sea ?" 
 
BOOK III 
 
 The angel answered smiling, " I suspect 
 A Greek of Pindar's era, would detect 
 Some errors in the tale : it matters not 
 K half the tale was learned, or half forgot. 
 
 When Zion's light hath spread, and Grace hath brought 
 A higher type of man, and nobler thought ; 
 The enlightened schools, 
 
 will change the heathen's scheme 
 To grace the Christian Church, that reigns supreme. 
 
 When to the prophet, rapt, the Spirit sent 
 Those gales that shook the folds of ' Jacob's tent ; ' 
 And inspiration sung that song of clieer 
 To Zion's daughter, faltering, and in fear : 
 'Lift up thine eyes and see' — what troops are these 
 That hither come, from distant lands and seas 
 With costly offerings : 
 
 by land and sea 
 The tributary nations come to thee?' 
 
 'Twas not of kingly power, nor golden heaps, 
 Nor diamonds rare, nor pearls from coral deeps 
 The Spirit spake — 
 
 shame were it to bestow 
 On Jesus' gentle bride, such offerings low. 
 
58 mart's vision. 
 
 But all the gems, and golden threads of truth. 
 That old humanity, from earliest youth 
 By Nature's lamp had won : each ray that fell 
 On phrenzied bard, or pierced the Sage's cell, 
 Fashioned to spiritual 
 
 robes of thought, 
 To grace the spiritual bride are brought. 
 
 There are more things in Heaven and Earth, was sung, 
 By bard who dwelt the phantom tribes among ; 
 Than our philosophy hath dreamed ; and this 
 Is true in climes celestial, as in his, 
 
 To him who seeks for knowledge, much is shewn, 
 Beyond that much, an infinite unknown 
 Is lost in shadows, 
 
 where conjectui'e still 
 Wanders about, and peoples at her will. 
 
 We have a consciousness that by our side. 
 More subtle essences than ours glide ; 
 That airy nothings, unperceived exist. 
 Who ride the gale, and hover in the mist ; 
 And fancy gives to each, 
 
 and who can blame, 
 * A local habitation, and a name.' 
 
 Common alike to innocence and guilt. 
 The creeds and theories that man hath built 
 Of graceful presences, that haunt the glade, 
 The mountain gorge, the vales, and forest shade : 
 Almost divine, the theory that gives 
 To things — a breathing consciousness that lives"; 
 Harmless, and beautiful, 
 
 the Hebrew plan 
 Of Nature's sympathy with God and man. 
 
MARY'S VISION. 
 
 59 
 
 When rapine's hand, some hamlet's blood hath chilled, 
 And age is mute, and childhood's voice is stilled. 
 To seas, the tempest howls it in his wrath, 
 And to the tombs along his haunted path ; 
 And hoary mountains 
 
 hear with frowning brow, 
 ' There, where, 'twas vocal once, 'tis silent now.' 
 
 A fluttering tremor seizeth branch and leaf. 
 When winds to woods rehearse some tale of grief; 
 Perchance of ruined mansion on the waste, 
 That men approach in fear, and fly with haste; 
 For tragic memories noted 
 
 far and wide. 
 And shunned as 'haunted,' by the country side. 
 
 When its dark outline meets the traveler's eye. 
 He spurs his steed and passes swiftly by. 
 
 Within its precincts lovers fear to stray. 
 And thence the huntsman calls his hounds away 
 With startling earnestness, 
 
 nor cares to wake 
 Its spectral solitudes for Reynard's sake. 
 
 There the marauding spider, silent all. 
 Stretched her grey tapestry along the wall, 
 And mocked the hands, 
 
 now nerveless in the tomb, 
 That once industrious plied the busy loom. 
 
 There shapes impalpable, ('twas said,) like mist, 
 From shroud and cofiin kept their nightly tryst; 
 For 'lated traveler had seen them flit 
 From room to room, on soundless foot, and sit 
 
60 mart's vision. 
 
 Fast by the ingle — mother, children, 
 
 sire — 
 And brood on Tiopes that death had quenched as fire. 
 
 "What did the maniac there ? since reason fled. 
 She daily came to gossip with the dead 
 That seemed to live, 
 
 and to her crazed brain 
 They seemed to speak, when echoes spake again. 
 
 And there she sat, and with old friends conversed 
 Of other days; and many a tale rehearsed 
 With lively air, asserted and denied. 
 And fretful grew when her own voice replied 
 As sharp and positive, and fast she spoke, 
 And faster yet the clamoring voices broke 
 From every angle sharp and dim recess, 
 Till round the visitor did seem to press 
 Old forms and faces, 
 
 and the place was rife 
 With all the bustling stir of real life. 
 
 Alas for her, when Reason's lt>rch threw out 
 Some fitful gleams, she started, looked about 
 With sudden consciousness; then cowering, wept. 
 And down the tangled pathway moaning crept, 
 To escape from where her hopes, last 
 
 sands had run, 
 And her young dreams had faded one by one. 
 
 Alas for her, when pitying soul came there 
 To drive away the shadows of despair 
 With hope from heaven, and standing by her side, 
 Conversed of God, and told how Jesus died, 
 She could not comprehend; but long would gaze 
 
mart's vision. 61 
 
 Into the speaker's face in blank amaze, 
 Mute as the shipwrecked child when cast among 
 Some stranger tribe, he hears th' unwonted tongue, 
 And scared as sparrow 
 
 when there cometh loud, 
 The eagle's scream from out the drifting cloud. 
 
 Or winds to woods repeat the tragic tale, 
 How far to sea where ship doth seldom sail; 
 Where vast leviathan doth ne'er intrude, 
 Nor sea-bird dare the awful solitude ; 
 There rolled a ship amid the billows gray, 
 Dismantled quite, her bulwarks swept away ; 
 And when we came with ' lifting leaches ' near. 
 And ' Ship Ahoy' rang out in accents clear, 
 No moving forms were seen or voice replied. 
 As charging billows thundered 'gainst her side 
 At measured intervals, and breaking, threw 
 Their foam above that coffin of her crew. 
 By famine stricken, 
 
 aud that lay asleep, 
 Rocked by the throbbing pulses of the deep. 
 
 The infant fount 'forgotten by the foot,' 
 That steals from under some gigantic root 
 On mountain top, or creeps from dim recess, 
 Where cliffs almost embracing, light repress; 
 *God' is the burden of its first low cry. 
 And plaintive farewell to its sources nigh; 
 Its murmuring music as it glides along. 
 Or falls, the burden of its tinkling song; 
 That mixed with sighing winds, 
 
 and song of bird, 
 6 
 
62 mart's vision. 
 
 (Alas for that poor soul that hath not heard.) 
 
 As fast descending, other fountains greet, 
 Each hath its tale of wonders as they meet. 
 Swelling the chorus till the gathered rills 
 The congregated woods and caverns fill 
 With hallelujahs, and the slender reed 
 Shakes in the melody, as on they speed 
 Through twilight vistas, to the vale below, 
 Where wandering along with gentle flow, 
 The traveler tells to flowers, that listening stand, 
 Of dim cathedral in a mountain land; 
 Its pillared aisles, its 'dim religious light,' 
 Its choirs that chant the hymn by day and night; 
 Its altars high, of Him who dwelleth there, 
 O'er all his works his tender mercies are; 
 And some have heard him charge the 
 
 careless rain, 
 'Do not forget my lilies on the plain.' 
 
 Flowers nod their little heads, "tis so indeed,' 
 And cheerful bids the bustling bi'ook 'God speed;' 
 We pray thee, noisy friend, go tell 
 This thing by every nook and dell ; 
 For it may be if told to all, 
 And they are good, no frosts will fall. 
 Nor chilling winds will ever blow 
 To dim these robes that grace us so. 
 
 And when thy time shall come to die. 
 Do breathe it with thy latest sigh. 
 When on the bosom of the deep, 
 The tired wanderer falls asleep. 
 
 The river wide, where multitudes of rills 
 To join the host have hurried from the hills, 
 
Mary's vision. 63 
 
 Now leagued together, 
 
 the majestic stream 
 Sends up its offering on the morning beam. 
 
 It murmurs 'God' o'er spacious valleys spread, 
 And roars his name, through narrow gorges led. 
 Or o'er the precipice 
 
 with thundering jar, 
 Through echoing forests sends the word afar. 
 
 And when at first, ascending tides embrace 
 Descending floods that know their trysting place, 
 A rippling tumult rises, 
 
 and the choir 
 Of many waters swell the anthem higher ; 
 Then turning downward to the ocean bears 
 The awful name of God that ocean scares. 
 
 ' What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou didst fly, 
 And as thou fledst didst lift thine hands on high ? ' 
 
 What ailed the embattled cliff, his forehead gray, 
 Deep seamed, and thunder-struck in midnight fray 
 Lights up, as if that One had come at length. 
 Who bade him curb the ocean's restless strength, 
 Long, long ago, 
 
 and now his guerdon won, 
 He waits to hear the word ' Well done, well done.' 
 
 ' Tis not the Creed, that all that God creates, 
 Have tongues that praise him in Creation's gates 
 That sylvan creatures 
 
 dance through moonlit hours, 
 That saps and enervates the moral powers. 
 
 The poet's dreams (not more, but less than truth 
 As they must be), attend the vigorous youth 
 
64 mary's vision. 
 
 Of growing states, 
 
 and urge an Empire's rise ; 
 But wo to nations when the fervor dies. 
 
 When lust of gold, slow creeping through its veins. 
 The body politic, no power retains 
 To travail with that spirit life, 
 
 that grown 
 To everlasting youth, renews its own. 
 
 No ' Scio's birth,' nor ' Stratford's giant child,' 
 Nor 'Bard of Paradise' its age beguiled 
 Back to its early dreams : too little worth 
 Its means and ends ; too sensuous to bring forth 
 The higher forms of life, itself impure. 
 Its bards become artistic, and obscure. 
 Wrapping old platitudes 
 
 in empty sound, 
 Folly is wise, and darkness is profound, 
 
 When human life, successful, and full fed, 
 Turns its broad face to Heaven, untouched by dread ; 
 Then Heaven sees precursors of decay 
 And final death, or near, or far away 
 The tangled thicket ; 
 
 the encroaching wild 
 Spreading o'er fields, that once with plenty smiled. 
 
 The City old, that sat a Queen before, 
 Sits down a widow now, her glories o'er ; 
 And sees the stream, that once her pride did nurse, 
 Creep slow along, a turbid stagnant curse. 
 To choke the air and undermine the wall, 
 ' Till arch, and tower, and temple, tottering fall ; 
 Changing the busy hum, 
 
 to silence deep. 
 
Mary's vision. 66 
 
 Where Desolation folds her wings to sleep. 
 
 Yet haply comes some wanderer from afar, 
 Guided across the waste by glimmering star 
 Of vague tradition ; and in evening dews, 
 And morning grey, sits lonely there to muse ; 
 And trace the wrecks thrown up by 
 
 century's surge, 
 From broken column chants her final dirge. 
 
 And once again, when Time with beckoning hand, 
 Hath called Oblivion o'er her grave to stand. 
 Do wanderers come, and deep explore the clay. 
 To wake some answering voice from dull decay : 
 While steed and camel, 
 
 crop the herbage green, 
 Tether'd together, but with gulf between. 
 
 The steed endowed with some mysterious sense, 
 Gazes about in quivering suspense. 
 And starts at ev'ry sound, 
 
 and seems to know 
 That dust of buried men is hid below. 
 
 His small ears vibrate on his graceful head. 
 As if he listened for the ghostly tread 
 Of something felt, 
 
 but yet not quite discerned. 
 The stupid camel grazes unconcerned. 
 
 Tlje muse mythology, that had its rise 
 In Grecian Lore, was borrowed from the skies : 
 And as the ' Sons of God,' forgot their birth, 
 And 'took them wives of dwellers on the earth'; 
 So, lured by Genius, did the gentle Nine 
 Their homes of innocence and peace resign, 
 6* 
 
66 mart's vision. 
 
 To mix in scenes of violence 
 
 and lust, 
 Till fair Religion names them with distrust. 
 
 But when the time shall come, (as come it will) 
 When lust of gold, 'the root of ev'ry ill,' 
 Hath crept through all the avenues of life, 
 And fraud and cunning, in perpetual strife, 
 Wrestle together : and when in the street, 
 Suspicions' brooding scowl confronts Deceit ; 
 When eager, watchful, jealous of a foe, 
 Each striving to avert, or aim the blow: 
 They wear their vices 
 
 to protect from ills, 
 As bristling porcupine erects his quills : 
 
 When Justice, bought and sold, her bolts hath hurl'di 
 And war and pestilence rebuke the world ; 
 And ghastly famine every where appears ; 
 When rising from its fields of blood and tears 
 Amazed humanity discerns the cause, 
 And him who hoards the shining dust abhors : 
 Then will the muse's energy impart 
 A mighty impulse to Religion's heart ; 
 And ranging wide through oceans, earth, and air, 
 They'll surely bring to deck their mistress fair, 
 ' The glory of the Gentiles' 
 
 all their pride, 
 Her handmaids bring from far, to deck the ' Bride.' 
 
 The Muse of Sculpture, cold, but loved'of men, 
 And they who guide the pencil and the pen ; 
 Will each in Zion's Courts 
 
 a priestess reign, 
 And Music, all her wonted fires regain, 
 
mart's vision. 67 
 
 Dejected maid, they said 'midst festal throng,' 
 (For they who wasted her required a song) 
 When loud and furious the revel grew, 
 And o'er the lyre her hurrying fingers flew ; 
 She'd pause, forgetful of her theme, and pale. 
 Change the light glee to low and plaintive wail, 
 That spoke of sorrow so profoundly deep 
 That they who listened, could not choose but weep 
 With one so fair, whose tears were falling fast 
 As if her thoughts were busy with the past 
 In her own land, 
 
 where she did whilom sing. 
 And wand'ring pluckt the early flowers of spring. 
 
 For hope of Heaven the muses turn away 
 Even from the fascinations of decay. 
 
 For much they love the vigil lone to keep. 
 Where cities burst like bubbles on the deep; 
 Or, glide within deserted hall, or cot, 
 Where busy mortals were, but now are not : 
 Wave round the hearth-stone, Fancy's magic wand, 
 And conjure back from shadowy vales beyond, 
 The vanished household, and when all are there. 
 They do delight to mingle, as it were 
 In their fond schemes ; 
 
 the loves, and hopes and fears, 
 That stirred the little group in former years. 
 
 A wondrous magic hath the ruin grey. 
 Where human hearts have throbbed, and passed away, 
 The nine with melancholy joy to fill, 
 And stir their sympathies ; but dearer still 
 They love to linger with suspended breath, 
 Round the obscurities of Sin, and Death. 
 
68 Mary's vision. 
 
 And half in wonder ; half in terror gaze 
 Into those mists when lighted by the blaze 
 Of Prophet's fire, 
 
 as through the stormy night, 
 The electric fluid darts its tongues of light. 
 
 But more than all, would linger round the Cross, 
 That still must be as endless ages toss, 
 Creation's landmark, the Hegira great. 
 From whence tiie future and the past will date 
 Their long, long annals, and the epochs old — 
 The ancients, hoary ages will unfold 
 Their dusty records, and begin to trace 
 Their altered lineage to the time, and place, 
 Where Heaven's sovereign 
 
 gave up his breath, 
 And Christ became 'Obedient unto death.' 
 
 Some far, far hour, such countless cycles o'er, 
 History would reel beneath the cumbrous store ; 
 When little group of ransomed souls shall meet, 
 With pebbly fountain bubbling at their feet, 
 In lone melodious dell, apart from all ; 
 And each to each in conference recall 
 The cherished scenes of time ; beloved so, 
 That memory clinging, will not let them go. 
 When thus they meet, 
 
 one theme will seem the best, 
 The Cross, the wondrous Cross, will hide the rest. 
 
 The Cross will be, (as ages glide away,) 
 The fruitful theme of Heavenly minstrel's lay : 
 
 And this the theme when by and by shall rise 
 In lofty strains, the epic of the skies; 
 
Mary's vision. 69 
 
 And this in wrapt attention 
 
 hold the young, 
 When evening tales of Heaven are said, or sung. 
 
 In days remote, the seraph old will tell 
 To youthful spirits, h ow it once befell. 
 That God, in Christ, 
 
 was overwhelmed with hate. 
 And doomed by mortals, met a felon's fate. 
 
 And when the passionately chanted tale. 
 Stranger than fiction, makes his hearers pale ; 
 He'll lead them forth, and pointing earthward say 
 * See ye yon lustrous planet, far away : 
 That fairest orb ; appareled like a bride, 
 Her Moon, like maiden walking by her side ? 
 That world, now fair, was once in olden time 
 A place of sepulchres, the hold of crime : 
 The favorite hunting ground of Death and Hell, 
 Haimted by demons, swept by passions fell. 
 That over empires rolled their wasting flood : 
 Its early histories were tales of blood. 
 Of murders huge, of slaughters ribald, wild, 
 Of fields with mutilated corpses piled 
 In ghastly heaps : and gaily was it done. 
 With gaudy streamers fluttering in the sun, 
 With sounds of music too, 
 
 the air was filled. 
 Some waked sweet voices while the others killed. 
 
 There once in lowly guise did the Most High, 
 For deadly enemies descend to die. 
 
 The prophets dreams of Christ — as, 'who is this 
 That comes from Edom, traveling in his 
 
70 mary's vision. 
 
 Dyed garments, steeped in blood ? What mighty birth, 
 From Bozra's shades, majestic treads the earth, 
 The Old Waste places, 
 
 and the ruins hoar 
 Of many generations to restore ? ' 
 Rouses the muses like a trumpet blast 
 Hailing the resurrection of the past ; 
 Inspire their tlioughts and dreams, by day and night. 
 When tempests veiled the sun's declining light ; . 
 'Melpomene' wandering pensive from the crowd 
 To the white margin of a thunder cloud. 
 That led the vanguard of the coming storm ; 
 She wrapt its misty drapery round her form. 
 And sunk to sleep, and dreamed she saw one stand 
 High on Parnassus' top, with harp in hand 
 Sweeping its strings : at first it seemed a hymn. 
 Chanted by Hope, amidst the twilight dim 
 Of Time's nativity, 
 
 Creation's morn. 
 And o'er the cradle where thy race was born. 
 
 Anon, it changed to melancholy dirge, 
 Rising and falling like the Ocean's surge 
 On rock-bound shore 
 
 and then ' twas piercing sharp, 
 As shriek from hell had rent the quiv'ring harp. 
 
 Again it seemed that Mercy bathed in tears, 
 Was wailing low amidst the wrecks of years ; 
 And widowed Nature, 
 
 clad in weeds of grief, 
 Wept o'er the withered flowers, and fallen leaf. 
 
 Now, 'twas like trumpet's animating strain. 
 That hails the leaders to the battle plain 
 
mart's vision. 71 
 
 Who to his shatter'd 
 
 columns brings relief, 
 Or city's welcome to a conquering chief. 
 
 Sometimes ' t would vacillate from grave to light, 
 Aflfronting evil with contemptuous slight ; 
 Inspiring Truth 
 
 with words of lofty cheer, 
 Or whelming Sin with bitter, withering sneer. 
 
 From Calvary's summit, Faith inspired the song, 
 And danced before it, as it passed along 
 To later times ; and led by prophet's light. 
 It passed the present, boldly pierced the night 
 Of future ages, ringing in the glen 
 "Where children sported 'round the serpent's den, 
 And ere the lingering strain 
 
 to silence fell 
 It echoed far and wide Time's last farewell, 
 
 When near the border of the darksome vale, 
 His race complete, with wild excitement pale ; 
 He heard a mighty voice that shook the shore. 
 Swear by the Lord that time should be no more; 
 He paused apace, the final sands must run. 
 Watched the slow filtering atoms, one by one : 
 Threw up his glass triumphant, 
 
 leapt across. 
 And in eternity's vast shades was lost. 
 
 Mute were the listeners while the lay was trolled. 
 And round the earth its swelling volume rolled. 
 
 Where'r ' twas heard, there hurrying men delayed, 
 And o'er their tasks, industrious hands were stayed 
 
 The ploughman stopt 
 
 with half his furrow turned. 
 
72 Mary's vision. 
 
 The schoolboy had but half his lesson learned. 
 
 The smith astonished did forget to beat 
 The glowing iron, till it lost its heat, 
 And on the anvil's surface 
 
 sharply rung, 
 Cold as the hammer that suspended hung. 
 
 The ship boy listened, clinging to the shroud ; 
 The steersman old, forgot the storm was loud. 
 And fixed on vacancy his 
 
 dreamy glance, 
 Till sails aback, and flapping, broke his trance. 
 
 Within his lone retreat the student grey. 
 Deemed ' twas an echo from an earlier day 
 Cleaving the centuries, 
 
 as loud and clear, 
 The classic numbers floated to his ear. 
 
 Young lovers walking in the dewy even, 
 Conversed of God, Eternity, and Heaven ; 
 And boisterous little ones, from sports refrain'd. 
 And each to each in earnest tones explained 
 Religious mysteries ; or many prest 
 Where some slight orator harangued the rest 
 About eternal things, 
 
 and with the lore 
 Of twice three years, did endless years explore. 
 
 They leaned attentive to their gifted mate. 
 But nobly claimed the freedom of debate 
 By contradictions, ev'ry one could show 
 Wherein the speaker erred — ' 'Twas so, and so ;' 
 And each asserted 
 
 with a knotted brow, 
 And gestures positive, that ' this was how.' 
 
mauy's vision. 73 
 
 The speaker courteously responded ' yes,' 
 Then much in hasle went on with his address ; 
 Quite undisturbed 
 
 by childish manners free, 
 His pride unhurt, ' the feint a pride had he.' 
 
 Round sickness' couch the weary hours were whiled, 
 Vice shrunk abashed, and gentle virtue smiled. 
 
 As thus she dreamed, the cloud whereon she slept, 
 Had been by gusts, and eddying currents swept 
 From front to centre of the tempest dark. 
 Where airy whirlpools toss'd it like a barque 
 Midst breakers thrown, 
 
 and crashing thunders broke 
 So loud, she starting from her dream, awoke. 
 
 Darkness was blazing ; vivid sheets of light, 
 And rills of brilliancy, too dazzling bright. 
 Pierced the obscurities, above, below. 
 And vapory masses hurried to and fro, 
 Each, as a chai'ging squadron fast careers ; 
 While sounds like chariots roll, the crash of spears. 
 The boom of guns ; the triumph and defeat. 
 And distant voices, dying in retreat 
 Were mixed, 
 
 as if confusion did rejoice. 
 And wild magnificence had found a voice. 
 
 The tragic muse in pleasing terror gazed, 
 While thunders rolled around, and lightnings blazed, 
 Till past the storm, 
 
 she drifted to the west, 
 And o'er the setting sun, in state did rest. 
 
 7 
 
74 mart's vision. 
 
 Curtains of azure, gold, and ^ourple deck'd 
 Her floating couch, with silvery spangles fleck'd, 
 And feathery vapors, 
 
 white as ocean's foam ; 
 And wasteful splendors lit her chamber's dome, 
 
 A rainbow fair, of many colors blent, 
 From pale to vivid, propt the spacious tent ; 
 Its eastern base supported by the deep, 
 And curving over with a graceful sweep ; 
 Now to her thought a tragedy recalled. 
 That had at once instructed and appalled, 
 When many waters 
 
 rising in a rage. 
 Obscured earth's scenery, and swept the stage, 
 
 ' 'Tis long since then,' she murmured, 'long ago 
 The master of assemblies hung his bow 
 Athwart the cloud ; and underneath its arch, 
 Have generations kept their steady march 
 Four thousand years, and as it once did grace 
 The " Exeunt Omnes " of almost a race ; 
 So will it hang till they again 
 
 retire 
 From stage and scenery all wrapt in fire. 
 
 How strange is human life ; how fair the earth, 
 On which these weird immortals have their birth. 
 
 How passing strange that God should so adorn 
 A home for creatures sinful and forlorn ; 
 And have that stage with costly 
 
 pomp arrayed 
 Where scenes so ghastly, are announced, and played. 
 
 yes, 'tis strange, that landscape, oh how fair, 
 One scarce can realize that death is there. 
 
Mary's vision. 75 
 
 Lake, stream, and ocean, 
 
 all are glassy still, 
 Save where the wild bird dips his wing or bill. 
 
 The forest's dr.rk green foliage wet with showers, 
 The fragrant homely furze, the dripping flowers ; 
 That bow their heads a^ if in musing sweet. 
 They watched the moisture stealing round their feet, 
 And thought 
 
 "how bravely in the winds we'll dance, 
 And bear unmoved the Sultan's fiery glance." 
 
 These creatures lovely and diversified, 
 Are ghosts of things that whilom lived and died.' 
 
 As thus she spake of life, and death's contrast, 
 Her dream recurred that for a space had past ; 
 And all its parts revolving 
 
 o'er and o'er, 
 As evening fell, she slept, and dreamed once more. 
 
 Close by that fountain in whose pebbly cup 
 CastaHa's waters toss their bubbles up ; 
 She in her vision saw a mountain rise. 
 Whose towering summit pierced the starry skies; 
 And from its breast another fountain burst, 
 That cured all sicknesses, and ills accurst 
 That flesh is heir to, 
 
 and that did in truth, • 
 Restore to palsied age, its long lost youth. 
 
 And he who drank the wave, was born anew. 
 Became a child, a youth, to manhood grew ; 
 Approached life's border land, 
 
 with cheerful breath. 
 Sprang lightly o'er, and turning, laughed at death. 
 
76 mart's vision. 
 
 Yet few approached the sacred fount to drink, 
 Nor greatly worn the herbage round its brink. 
 
 Among that few, one sad, with eye intent 
 Surveyed the multitudes, that heedless went. 
 Though many a glance that way, 
 
 the crowd did give, 
 When heralds shouted thence, ' come, drink and live.* 
 
 Then sorrowing much that fountain ope'd for sin, 
 Did bootless run to waste ; he did begin 
 To cast about for some device to bring 
 The healing waters, to the classic spring ; 
 And leagued together, 
 
 send them round the earth, 
 With voice of melody to every hearth. 
 
 A heavy task ; for though not far away 
 Each from the other, yet between them lay 
 Many obstructions, such as ruins vast 
 Of ancient fortress, pleading for the past ; 
 Of groves and altars, where for learning sent. 
 The youth of Israel divers worships blent ; 
 Brought Christ and Belial 
 
 to close accord, 
 And worshiped images, and served the Lord. 
 
 Of finely sculptured stones, and masses huge 
 Of rock, rolled thither by the great deluge, 
 Or shaken rudely 
 
 from the mountain's brow 
 By fires within, or grew, and none knows how. 
 
 Along that way that mocked a mortal's toil. 
 And might an army's hardiest efforts foil; 
 He did begin as one in reverie lost, 
 Or one too rash to pause and count the cost; 
 
Mary's vision. 77 
 
 To shape a causeway for the stream to run, 
 And move the smaller fragments one by one; 
 But all unconscious 
 
 that he did progress, 
 And win his wa) with wonderful success. 
 
 Too wrapt to see what others clearly saw, 
 Matter released from gravitation's law. 
 
 Yet ofttimes pausing in a mute surprise, 
 To see great boulders from their beds arise 
 When lightly pressed, 
 
 as if from eartli and air, 
 The powers invisible were working there. 
 
 The conscious earth did seem to loose her hold 
 From blocks of granite bedded in the mould. 
 And toss her nursling 
 
 upward from her breast, 
 When by the laborer's hand but lightly pressed. 
 
 And when some hindering mass approaching near, 
 That Archimedes' science scarce could rear; 
 He did begin despondingly to grieve. 
 Those unseen friends the baffling rock would heave 
 Light as the thistle-down, and strange to tell, 
 Each block and boulder fitted where it fell 
 With nice precision, as if they were brought 
 By master builder of far reaching thought, 
 Long, long ago, 
 
 to serve on distant day 
 As rough materials to pave the way. 
 Thus toiling on obscurely day and night. 
 As insect toils unseen on mountain height. 
 The last obstruction was removed, and lo! 
 7* 
 
78 mart's vision. 
 
 Through channel smooth the stream began to flow 
 With lively motion, 
 
 hurrying along 
 To meet the bosom of the fount of song. 
 
 This rose to welcome the expected guest, 
 With joyous ripples whirling on its breast, 
 And troops of bubbles 
 
 dancing gaily round, 
 As festive circles dance to viol's sound. 
 
 Fast rose the fountain, and with ceaseless play, 
 So chafed its narrow boundaries away; 
 That where the child once leapt from side to side, 
 There soon became a deep majestic tide, 
 That rolling downward through the haunted vale. 
 Loaded with melody the passing gale. 
 And with its shores 
 
 in gentle tones conversed, 
 And wondrous tales and fanciful rehearsed. 
 
 On either bank appeared a charming view, 
 Where all the tribe of flowers profusely grew. 
 From the tall rose, whose graceful bearing high. 
 Challenged the visitor's most searching eye, 
 Down to the violet, unobtrusive, meek, 
 Who pulled her bonnet o'er her little cheek. 
 As if she said, 
 
 ' pray don't look at me, 
 A little dowdy thing, not fit to see ! ' 
 
 Wide spreading trees as if by magic sprung, 
 And o'er the wave transparent fondly hung. 
 That glass 
 
 where Nature's toilet was arranged, 
 And skies and cliffs their cloudy vestments changed. 
 
Mary's vision. 79 
 
 Thither, attracted by its healing fame, 
 The weary multitudes at evening came; 
 At early dawn, 
 
 or ofi at noontide heat, 
 Reclining, listened to its murmurs sweet. 
 
 Dull, heavy age its soothing loues could hear, 
 When other voiceo vainly smote its ear; 
 And sire and grandara 
 
 loitered on its brink, 
 Listening and doubting, stooped at last to drink. 
 
 The man from business' bustling scenes came there, 
 His sallow visage marked with lines of care ; 
 Attentive heard, and straight there did begin 
 To haunt his soul, a heavy sense of sin; 
 Of shame and penitence for health destroyed 
 In hoarding wealth for selfish ends employed, 
 In such a world, 
 
 that weary with its load 
 Of sin and sorrow, reels along its road. 
 
 And from that hour by Helle's stream beguiled, 
 The hard, keen worldling was a little child 
 In fraud and cunning, merciful became. 
 And like the gentle Bayard won a name 
 For lofty chivalry, because his heart 
 Did with the poor and outcast stUl take part. 
 
 Thus living daily 
 
 till his dying day, 
 Without reproach or fear he passed away. 
 
 Thither the shepherd loved to drive his flocks, 
 And there the maiden smoothed her shining locks, 
 But quite forgot 
 
 that she was young and fair, 
 
80 Mary's vision. 
 
 Such thoughts of penitence and heaven were there. 
 
 And when the sun threw back in silvery lines, 
 His farewell glances at the mountain pines, 
 And evening fell, the mother's task complete, 
 She guided thitherward her children's feet. 
 And felt secure that such melodious strain 
 Oft heard in childhood, would not be in vain, 
 But haunt the memory, 
 
 and in after dajs 
 Lure back the wanderer to virtue's ways. 
 
 Along its banks the hand of cheerful toil 
 Won golden harvests from its teeming soil ; 
 And many cottages and hamlets neat, 
 Village and city with its crowded street, 
 Dotted the banks, or climbed the neighboring steep 
 Down to the sandy margin of the deep. 
 Where the clear current mingled with the main, 
 To rise in mists and then descend in rain 
 On tribes and languages 
 
 of many a shore. 
 Till tribes and languages shall be no more." 
 
 As thus conversed the angel, they who heard, 
 Had been at intervals amazed and stirred 
 By strains of music from the mountain side. 
 And hallelujahs that to harps replied, 
 As if with thousand tongues 
 
 the mountain spoke, 
 And rocks and hills their lasting silence broke. 
 
 Well might the mountain sing, for chaos' child, 
 Who wore his shaggiest robes in riot wild, 
 Was ne'er so petted ; 
 
 nor did beauty praise 
 
Mary's vision. 81 
 
 With such exultancy, his rugged ways. 
 
 On cliff and parapet, on boulders gray, 
 On tottering towers of rock, they stand, or stray 
 In shining groups, or wandering, or at rest; 
 And far on either hand from foot to crest 
 Are flying brilliances, 
 
 now lost to sight 
 In dim recess, now issuing forth to light. 
 
 Some soar aloft, where barren summits lift 
 Their awful tops, and then descending swift, 
 Baffle the eye, that sees but ribbons bright 
 Facing the walls, and some with easy flight 
 Curve round the precipice with graceful swing, 
 And then ascending up with fluttering wing. 
 Are lost in deep ravine ; some hover round 
 The cedar top?, then sink to dark profound, 
 Or fast emerging, 
 
 glancing to and fro, 
 They gild immensity, above, below. 
 
 Though distant far, such countless voices swell 
 Their sacred songs : they sing so wild and well ; 
 And praise is mixed with music so profound, 
 The ra\nshed winds raise up the dying sound 
 That fainting falls and on and onward floats ; 
 And so protracts the sweet and lingering notes, 
 To join the melody 
 
 each bosom heaves. 
 And silence's self, that he is voiceless grieves. 
 
 Now while they listeninoj stood, a mighty shout, 
 Wild as an army's battle-cry, rang out ; 
 And raptured millions 
 
 swelled the loud applause, 
 
82 Mary's vision. 
 
 When high in Heaven's serene, appeared the cause. 
 
 As they might seem, descending from the moon, 
 When night's fair queen attains her highest noon ; 
 So, far aloft did floating angels lay, 
 In ranks on ranks spread out like war's array, 
 The squadrons crescent shaped, 
 
 convex before, 
 Their numbers as the sands on ocean's shore. 
 
 Smooth was its surface as a sleeping tide, 
 And wing to wing, but divei'se hues divide 
 In grand divisions, 
 
 and the eye detects 
 Where each bright host with other intersects. 
 
 There, a long line of azure robes unite. 
 And borders on a line of spotless white. 
 
 And these, a glancing 
 
 drapery display. 
 As moon-beams on the rippling wavelets play. 
 
 There, orange colors darkly tinged with green, 
 Are side by side with flaming vestments seen, 
 And simple violet 
 
 parallel doth run, 
 With gorgeous robes, like clouds o'er setting sun. 
 
 The central column, hath by one consent. 
 More costly drapery with jewels blent. 
 And wide reflects 
 
 as down descending nigher. 
 On things below their splendors of attire. 
 
 Their crimson robes are crossed by bars of blue, 
 These studded thick with stars of silvery hue. 
 And these begirt with 
 
 cinctures that enfold. 
 
Mary's vision. 88 
 
 Linked each to each, with thousand threads of gold. 
 
 One massive gem is blazing on each breast, 
 Fair as the sun when sinking in the west; 
 And smaller jewels 
 
 glitter in thtir hair, 
 That makes their lustrous faces yet more fair. 
 
 Stilled their applauding voices, and the cheer 
 Ceased as the vision grew distinct and clear : 
 Too deep their thoughts for shout, 
 
 or muttered word ; 
 And now, a chanted melody is heard. 
 
 None could translate the fervid song they sung, 
 To the rude patois of a mortal's tongue, 
 But this the burden on expansion flung. 
 
 " Father beloved, and Thou, the Eternal Son, 
 And All pervading Spirit, Three in One : 
 Ancient of Days : Whate'er thy children see — 
 Or see they not in vast Infinity, 
 Are but Thy shadows 
 
 on the canvas cast; 
 But light impressions where the Almighty passed, 
 
 And all the hosts of worlds, and heaven and earth, 
 And dark abyss where monsters have their birth 
 Are flitting lights and shades, 
 
 that space receives, 
 And unimpaired th' exhaustless substance leaves. 
 
 But not for this, O Father, does the fire 
 Bui'n on affection's altars high, and higher : 
 Nor springs the passionate desire to be 
 ' Nearer my God, nearer my God to Thee,' 
 From cold Supremacy that dwells alone, 
 And makes the deep foundations of his throne 
 
84 Mary's vision. 
 
 Justice and Judgment : 
 
 that too coldly pure, 
 Affrighted Virtue fears, and dwells secure. 
 
 But Thou art Love, and all that hath been told 
 Of other's tenderness, is icy cold 
 Compared with Thine, who bidst all else depart 
 But simple love, and traffics with the heart. 
 And barters all thou hast, 
 
 and far above 
 All other things. Thyself, for simple love. 
 
 O Father, teach Thy children dear to raise 
 Sublimer songs, with sweeter notes of praise, 
 And let each say 
 
 in ecstasy of bliss, 
 ' My Well Beloved is mine, and I am His.' " 
 
 On that descending plain, no wing was stirred, 
 As slowly settling down their song was heard : 
 And armies motionless 
 
 on ether lay. 
 When trumpet note dispelled the bright array. 
 
 The columns parted first, and clear was seen 
 Spaces of sky, diverging lines between; 
 And now the squadrons each from each retire. 
 Then all dissolve, as fabric touched by fire. 
 Now hanging motionless, or moving slow, 
 Like curdled atoms, lit by evening's glow ; 
 They pause a space, 
 
 then wheeling upward pressed. 
 They vanish in the mountain's rugged breast. 
 
 When past the dream of beauty, Mary said 
 " Is there another Heaven overhead. 
 Fairer than this, from whence this pageant fell ? " 
 
mart's vision. 85 
 
 " Far in the chambers of the south, they dwell," 
 The angel said : " If thou shouldst go to view 
 A century's fliojht across the fields of blue ; 
 Thou wouldst discover (when thy goal was won), 
 A host of worlds revolving round a sun, 
 That leads his ponderous flock 
 
 such circuit o'er, 
 That 'wildered science stops, and counts no more. 
 The wide area they girdle in their flight, 
 Was once the home of uuillumined night ; 
 Peopled by furies, and chimeras dire, 
 Where undistinguished races, children, sire. 
 All, in all other's blood 
 
 their hands imbrued, 
 Till they expired, by cold-eyed Fate pursued. 
 
 Into these regions desolate, and dread. 
 The bolder sons of God their followers led ; 
 Invaded, and destroyed 
 
 old Anarch's reign, 
 And carved their empires from his wide domain. 
 
 I do remember well, when I was young. 
 And long ere man's abode from chaos sprung ; 
 'Twas noised abroad that Alcemer did rise 
 (His name another word for bold emprise) 
 Among his peers, and moved a daring scheme 
 To penetrate, to conquer, and redeem 
 The southern wilderness, but little known. 
 For fearful myst'ry claimed it for its own. 
 Save daring wanderers whose wings had stirred 
 Its outer curtains, oft had seen and heard 
 
86 mart's vision. 
 
 Strange shapes of fear, 
 
 and voices that appalled, 
 As if in shrieks, despair to horror called. 
 
 And when Alcemer, (in whose eyes of grey, 
 The lion and the lamb together lay,) 
 Revealed his thought, the assembled peers were mute. 
 Till old ' Lorates ' (held in high repute 
 For gracious wisdom, o'er whose locks had fled 
 Unnumbered centuries) approached, and said, 
 ' Dear youth, when thou hast come to riper years, 
 Thou'lt council less with rashness, more with fears. 
 
 Discretion mild, 
 
 is valor's better part : 
 Thou ailest here,' and touched the other's heart. 
 
 The flower of chivalry laughed with the rest. 
 When the old seraph's hand his bosom prest. 
 
 But when the Father High, (to whom he went,) 
 Approved the plan, and smiling gave consent ; 
 All Heaven sprung to arms — 
 
 and they who mocked, 
 And they who doubted, to his standard flocked : 
 
 Armies of armies came in fiery haste, 
 All burning to explore the fiery waste. 
 
 The millions he 
 
 enrolled, 'twere long to tell, 
 And then the parting came, the long farewell. 
 
 Months grew to years, and years to years were cast, 
 When long desired, a herald came at last ; 
 His visage darkly bronzed, 
 
 and told a tale 
 Of fields of strife that made the hearers pale. 
 
mart's vision. 87 
 
 And others came at intervals so wide, 
 That hope, too long deferred, had almost died — 
 And others yet, till on a distant day. 
 When years to ages gathered, roll'd away; 
 One hour o'er which fond memory's watch is set, 
 That trumpet's voice waxed loud, and louder yet, 
 That long before was heard 
 
 with boding fears, 
 When on receding friends we gazed in tears. 
 
 Yes, they had come : with shouts the skies were riven, 
 Music and dancing shook the halls of Heaven. 
 
 The greetings o'er, aud bursts of joy allayed, 
 They were in haste to Heaven's Sire conveyed 
 Obscured, and soil'd with many a blow and fall ; 
 Begrimed and scarred ; their leader most of all. 
 They stood before the Lord, who veiled his brow ; 
 His Godhead hid — and all the Father now ; 
 They loved (who saw) in after days to tell 
 How deep his joy : how fond his glances fell 
 On his worn sons ; and with what rapturing smile 
 He chid Alcemer for his raiment vile, 
 And hinted that, 
 
 " bad company, alas, 
 Had brought his darlings to a fearful pass :" 
 
 But now the time had come for mightier hand 
 To people, and adorn the conquered land 
 With bright communities 
 
 of worlds, and light 
 A sun to warm, and guide their circling flight. 
 
 A joyous crowd, its limits undefined. 
 That left almost a solitude behind — 
 
o» MART S VISION. 
 
 Went forth, its vanguard headed by the Son, 
 Borne by the sph-it onward, swiftly won 
 The borders of that lonely waste, that lay 
 In darkness once ; but now a twilight grey 
 Through the dim vista's struggling shadows, show 
 O'er crude consistence flitting to and fro, 
 As if midst their old haunts, 
 
 where darkness reigned, 
 The ghosts of monsters wandered, and complained. 
 
 The thousand leagues of life, that waited there, 
 Loading the shore, and hovering in the air, 
 Were awed to silence, as far out in space. 
 The Holy Spirit's movements they could trace 
 By dazzling gleams of light, as fast employed, 
 He rolled together from the formless void 
 The ponderous globes ; but when the Son did cry 
 ' Let there be light,' and broke from orb on high 
 A sudden brightness. 
 
 Then the sons of God 
 Shouted for joy that echoed far abroad. 
 
 "Among the sons of God," the angel said, 
 And as he spake, his quiv'ring voice betrayed 
 His deep emotion ; " None was more admired 
 Than Lucifer, in blazing gems attired, 
 And oft they gazed 
 
 where in resplendent pride, 
 The ' Son of the morning ' stood by Jesus' side. 
 
 And when the wonderful put on his Grace, • 
 And glided forth majestical in space — 
 His unrepressed effulgence glancing round, 
 With flood of glory lit the wide profound ; 
 
Mary's vision. 89 
 
 And grasped each world, till one by one, the band 
 Went on their courses, whirling from his hand; 
 No voice rang louder in the wild applause 
 Than his, who since defied his monarch's laws : 
 And none could guess 
 
 that spirit grand possess'd 
 Envy's foul poison fest'ring in his breast. 
 
 And many a graceful spirit with him fell, 
 Whose radiant beauty left such lasting spell. 
 That love appeals to hope, though o'er and o'er, 
 She shakes her head, and says, ' they come no more ;' 
 And love persisting, 
 
 piteous to see, 
 Hope's pallid cheek replies, ' it ne'er can be.' 
 
 Of all the families of worlds that glide, 
 Or distant each from each, or side by side; 
 Or near, or where on far excursion toils 
 Adventurous thought, and fainting, back recoils : 
 Or groups nor near, nor far, that cruise between, 
 And just discerned in space, their shiv'ring sheen : 
 Among them all, no field wherein they run. 
 With such heroic constancy was won ; 
 No shining clan 
 
 that traverses the arch. 
 Hath brighter glow, or more majestic march. 
 
 From thence, these pilgrims, journeying through space. 
 Have hither come to see their Father's face. 
 And old associates, as a child of men 
 In foreign land, bewails his native glen 
 With hungering love, and saith 'I'll cross the sea; 
 That spot of earth is all the world to me ; 
 
 8* 
 
90 mart's vision. 
 
 Where father toiled to win his children bread, 
 And mother dear, ere parting tears were shed, 
 Hung o'er her little flock, 
 
 and sisters fair ; 
 I must away, my heart's dear bourne is there.'" 
 
 Unseen they sportive climbed the rocky steep. 
 By winding paths, through twilight gorges deep; 
 Then to surprise, 
 
 sprang outward from its crown. 
 And all in bright array came floating down. 
 
 " Why was the central column," she inquired, 
 "In gayer robes and costlier gems attired?" 
 
 "Their home," the angel answered, "is a star 
 That draws the eyes of wanderer from afar 
 By its excessive splendor. Nature fair, 
 An everlasting gala 
 
 loves to wear. 
 As if eternal holiday was there. 
 
 The bloom of woods, and fields, and mountain, vies 
 With stream, and lake, and many-tinted skies. 
 
 Through seeming diadems founts spring to light, 
 And dance away o'er diamond pebbles bright; 
 Or down the vale the idle, winding brook, 
 That turns to gossip with each shady nook ; 
 Glasses the lily, but the gem-paved elf. 
 Revealing image fairer than herself, 
 She chides, 
 
 but yet, delighted that 'tis done, 
 Smiles as she says ' O fie ! O fie upon.' 
 
 Dwelling midst beauty — in the long sojourn 
 Their tastes are fashioned; as the wild and stern 
 
mart's vision. 91 
 
 Slowly developed in a 
 
 mountain race, 
 On mind and manners leaves a lasting trace. 
 
 When thou hast done with earthly cares and pain, 
 And back to paradise hath come again, 
 Thou'lt love to read the chronicles that tell 
 Of high and gifted spirits that excel 
 In wisdom, learning, eloquence, and power, 
 With music thrills to while the passing hour; 
 And breathless bend o'er many a tale of fear, 
 That told in tuneful numbers, charms the ear ; 
 How hero sore beset on distant shore, 
 With horror's bristling pack, behind, before, 
 Outstared them all; and Fate, with hopeless moan, 
 Fled from a o;lance more fatal than her own." 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 Then Mary thus : " On earth, the Muse's friends, 
 On whom the true poetic fire descends, 
 Are deemed a helpless race, to hunger wed. 
 Shrinking from men, unskilled to win their bread; 
 Exposed to fortune, naked and disarmed, 
 They die, and leave their heart's best blood embalmed, 
 For future years, 
 
 while they themselves have found 
 A single word, a name, an empty sound. 
 
 Are heavenly minstrels prodigies that seem 
 The fools of power and weakness, both extreme?" 
 
 The angel answered: ''Many sing, and some, 
 To whom the higher oracles are dumb. 
 Can please and elevate with graceful lays ; 
 But few are gifted with the power to raise 
 The accustomed levels of the mind, 
 
 and give 
 A higher plain to thought whereon to live. 
 
 None (as on earth) of these dejected sighs. 
 Nor hopeless lives, nor unrequited dies. 
 
 Our social joys we can not bid them share, 
 Nor from their hearts the brooding shadows scare. 
 Nor if we could disperse the shades, should dare; 
 
mart's vision. 93 
 
 For fires are born 
 
 where darkest vapors loom, 
 Aud brightest flaslies burst from deepest gloom. 
 
 Their fitful moods must be ; but when we meet, 
 Profouuder glance and gentler accents greet, 
 And softer tones the trembling 
 
 spirit hears, 
 Than love itself bequeaths to other ears. 
 
 See where the spacious valley spreading wide, 
 Sends through the gorge and up the mountain side 
 A long and narrow vein of fruits and flowers, 
 And still ascending lifts its groves and bowers 
 High up, as if the vale with gentle art 
 Had climbed to reach the sheltering mountain's heart. 
 And much enamored, 
 
 Grandeur vast had wed, 
 And taken Beauty to his kingly bed. 
 
 Now the dark clusters of the vintage vine 
 Loading the rocks, he saith ' See, these are mine.' 
 
 Near where those rocks' gigantic shadows fall, 
 A lonely spirit dwells, beloved of all. 
 But left to solitude, see how they fear 
 To invade the spot, but leave a w4de area 
 Unpressed by wing or foot, 
 
 as well aware 
 The poet's dwelling is a public care. 
 
 Of human origin, that child of song, 
 Of brief career, (by man accounted long,) 
 Of thrice ten centuries, yet even now, 
 To his rude strains the ancient masters bow; 
 And expectation waits till long inured 
 To daring flights, he sends (with powers matured) 
 
94 mart's vision. 
 
 His venturous keels, instructed to explore 
 Untraversed seas, and find imagined shore. 
 Where plodding Reason, 
 
 following on, can found 
 Empires of thought that scarce confesses bound. 
 
 The story of his life (to man unknown) 
 Hath to the universe familiar grown. 
 
 When Ilion's towers fell ; from fields of dead, 
 A Lycian band to Ida's summit fled. 
 And bore a captive Greek, his home beside 
 Thessalian stream, whose clear transparent tide, 
 Its nurture drawn 
 
 from high Olympus' veins. 
 To Thalon's gulf its crystal hue retains. 
 
 When evening's shadows fell, they stole away. 
 And ere the sheltering night had changed to day 
 Was far beyond pursuit : and journeying still 
 By rivers banks along, o'er plain and hill ; 
 They scared the shepherd clans with — 'all is o'er; 
 Great Hector's head is low, and Troy no more : 
 We saw her palaces 
 
 in flames arise, 
 And Phrygia's funeral pile light up the skies.' 
 
 Hasting by day, at night by guiding star. 
 They reached their homes on Lycia's plains afar ; 
 A remnant sad. 
 
 The thousands where were they. 
 That shewed so gallantly that parting day ? 
 
 There by the Zanthus' winding stream that falls, 
 In hurrying rills from Massicitus' walls, 
 The captive exile dwelt ; and skilled to train 
 The fiery steed, and guide him o'er the plain ; 
 
mart's vision. 95 
 
 His temper mild — 
 
 his aspect fair to view, 
 The bold barbarian a favorite grew. 
 
 And by and by, his daring feats admired, 
 They promised freedom : ere the date expired 
 It came to pass, a predatory band 
 Hungry from Ishmael's heritage of sand, 
 Stooped on his home ; and he who should be free, 
 By robbers sold to rovers of the sea, 
 And thence to others bartered by Manote, 
 And others yet, till toss'd to climes remote. 
 And conscious that his home might ne'er be seen, 
 With savage lands, and stormy seas between ; 
 He grew a desperate man, that fate defied — 
 Careless and reckless, drifting with the tide ; 
 By storms on Afric's 
 
 western border cast, 
 He found a home by Congo's stream at last. 
 
 As twice ten leagues the barque ascendeth up 
 From where that torrent fills its ample cup ; 
 In front, a promontory lifts its head, 
 As if descending down the river's bed 
 Between the wooded banks, 
 
 the grassy steep, 
 That ocean's fame had heard, approached the deep. 
 
 There like a watch tower, 'Ochran's' dwelling stood, 
 His vineyard's borders trailing in the flood ; 
 And on that slope the infant poet played. 
 For Ochran took to wife an Ethiop maid ; 
 Ere Heaven's frown 
 
 on fetish worship fell, 
 And science bade the land a long farewell. 
 
96 mart's vision. 
 
 While yet in infancy, the glistening toy 
 That charms the child, and wakes his wond'ring joy, 
 Was naught to him, but if a leaf was blown 
 From wind toss'd bough, and near his pallet thrown. 
 He grasped it eagei'ly, 
 
 or with a flower 
 Clutched in his hand, was silent many an hour. 
 
 And older grown, his well-instructed heart. 
 Turned quick, instinctive from the works of art 
 To Nature's galleries, where forms severe. 
 Were touched with tints 
 
 so beautiful and clear, 
 That none could say 'Thou failest here, and here.' 
 
 Ere he had grown to youth, the daring child 
 Was more familiar with the pathless wild, 
 The dark ravine, the cascade echoing glen. 
 By beasts fi'equented, but abhorred by men ; 
 Than with the well-worn paths 
 
 where others strayed, 
 Or green whereon his timid brothers played. 
 
 Ofttiraes by moonlight, or at dawn of day, 
 He left his .sleepless couch, and stole away 
 To loose his father's skiff, and glide across. 
 The dangerous ripples that tumultuous toss, 
 Where the two streams unite 
 
 in wild embrace, 
 To hasten seaward from their trysting place. 
 
 Sometimes they watched as through the heaving surge, 
 His little hand the rocking skiff would urge. 
 Float down the current swift, 
 
 approach the shore, 
 And then for days and nights was seen no more. 
 
Mary's vision. 97 
 
 There in those wilds his earliest lays were sung, 
 And Nature listened to his stammering tongue. 
 
 The stern and terrible that waketh fear, 
 The gentle tones that beauty loves to hear ; 
 The awful storm of fallen seraph's grief; 
 The low sad requiem o'er a fallen leaf, 
 Was poured by turns ; 
 
 by turns the pleading prayer, 
 Rose up to Heaven, and found an audience there." 
 
 " What should he know of God, his race accurs'd ; 
 In rites idolatrous their children nurs'd, 
 Strangers to Israel and the Gospel Word, 
 That neither law, nor mercy's voice had heard. 
 
 How should a heathen 
 
 find the Almighty out, 
 With clouds and darkness curtained round about?" 
 
 " I cannot tell ; ' tis vain to question so 
 The ways of God, how doth the infant know 
 At life's last parting hour, to find — and rest 
 His dying head upon the Saviour's breast. 
 
 To make a treaty 
 
 with the ' Strong to save,' 
 And through his ally, triumph o'er the grave ? 
 
 That being great, who bade the planets roll, 
 Hath many avenues to reach the soul ; 
 And sure it is, the conscious Christian fled 
 In scorn, from groves where idol victims bled ; 
 And bowed by fountains 
 
 paved with sands of gold. 
 Amid the forest's pillar'd temples old. 
 
 9 
 
98 Mary's vision. 
 
 Brief was his life : as captive exile pines, 
 And beats the wall that his slow step confines ; 
 In dreams converses of his native shore, 
 And names his youth's companions o'er and o'er : 
 So did his prisoned spirit 
 
 freedom crave, 
 And round its fleshly walls impatient rave. 
 
 Ere twice ten times the annual lutus sprung, 
 And ere twice ten the love-bird reared her young. 
 The flame, that had 
 
 with wasteful flashes burned, 
 Consumed its oil, and dust to dust returned. 
 
 Full thirty centuries have passed away 
 Since in the twilight of a cloudless day. 
 While glowed the west with sunset's lingering flame, 
 Adown that hill a long procession came, 
 Half from its summit, 
 
 to the wave-washed shore, 
 And in their front his boyish corpse they bore. 
 
 Gently they laid him down, and lightly stept. 
 As if he was not dead, but only slept 
 A slumber light, 
 
 that careless ways disturbed, 
 And voice and foot-fall must be nicely curbed. 
 
 Some, sad and silent, scooped his narrow bed, 
 And some bent tenderly above the dead 
 "With low lament, 
 
 unlike the noisy grief. 
 Poured forth by menials o'er a fallen chief. 
 
 'Twas strange to see how every one concealed 
 A love, too passionate to be revealed 
 
MAKr'S VISION. 99 
 
 To others' view ; and yet was shrewdly guessed, 
 From bursts of agony, but half supprest, 
 As o'er the infant pale, 
 
 will oft arise 
 In pride's despite, the mourning mother's cries. 
 
 It was from Gambia, to the Cape of Hope, 
 A grievious mourning to the Ethiope, 
 Ajad some admired how one of stature small — 
 Shy, shrinking, sensitive, could so enthrall 
 His ruder countrymen, 
 
 and leave behind 
 Such gentle despotism in the mind. 
 
 From eve till morn : from morn till dewy eve. 
 They lingered round his grave, as loth to leave, 
 And weeping pilgrims paced the trodden ways, 
 Around his sepulchre, for many days — 
 Offending solitude, that fain would keep 
 Watch undisturbed above his favorite's sleep, 
 And now the spark 
 
 ihat Heaven could claim, had flown. 
 Would have his darling's ashes all hia own. 
 
 As time advanced, and generations fled, 
 A wondrous gossip circled of the dead, 
 That well believed, 
 
 was passed from man to man 
 In awe-struck tones, and thus the story ran. 
 
 'When storms from ocean, red with lightning's gleum^ 
 Flew up the avenue where rolls the stream, 
 When loud and hurriedly the tempest breathed. 
 And all that hill in flying mists was wreathed. 
 The dead stood up to view, and oft was seen. 
 His form enveloped in the flying screen 
 
100 mart's vision. 
 
 Of lurid vapors — 
 
 gazing far and wide, 
 Along the dark old forests, and down the headlong tide. 
 
 And long the story circled, and roused the listener's 
 fears, 
 Till the wild legend faded in dim and distant years.' 
 
 The earliest efforts of his muse, were lays 
 That pealed on high the accomplished warrior's praise: 
 For oft his father lived his battles o'er — 
 (His children gathered round the cottage door 
 At noon or eve,) 
 
 and told of ' Peleus' son,' 
 Of ' Hectors' feats,' and ' Ajax Telamon.' 
 
 Nor did the minstrel dream, that there allied 
 Was ' brutal force,' and ' superhuman pride,' 
 Till wisdom came, and thrice she signed his brow, 
 And said, ' Observe again, what seest thou now ? 
 
 Gaze long, and fixedly 
 
 with half-closed eye, 
 And leaning forward, what dost thou descry ? ' 
 
 ' I see a huge, colossal-shape, arrayed 
 In gaudy vestments boastfully displayed. 
 Thrown o'er its monstrous head, a veil is seen 
 Of tinsel ornaments, designed to screen 
 Its hideous countenance: an idiot's stare, 
 And wide extended, armed jaws are there 
 Dripping with blood ; the maid, her lover brings ; 
 Mother the son to whom she fondest clings. 
 As ' martial glory's' offerings, 
 
 ever fed, 
 The idol is forever famished. 
 
Mary's vision. 101 
 
 Gliding among the worshipers are some 
 With bloodless faces, ominously dumb : 
 Unseen, unheard, with eyes like beads of glass, 
 Who shake the threat'ning finger as they pass. 
 Accusing, and denouncing : two, aloof; 
 Nor share the idol worship ; or reproof, 
 But still, observant stand; one, on her vest 
 Hath ' Mercy ' writ, and turns away distressed 
 Yet glances back, as one who says ' farewell ;' 
 The other's marble face is sternly fell. 
 And dangerous, 
 
 as one who looks on crime, 
 And says with whitened cheek, ' I bide my time.' 
 
 Among the crude productions of the child, 
 Struggling to speak in ' native wood notes wild,' 
 Some fragments are preserved, unwrit, but caught 
 By hov'ring spirits ; and that would be nought • 
 Save for that curious interest, 
 
 that clings 
 To earliest speech of him, who later sings ; 
 
 As what his earliest thought, and how express'd. 
 Some fragments live, and this among the rest. 
 
 ' The morning looks abroad, with visage pale 
 On lofty hills that girt a spacious vale, 
 Where countless flowers in gold and purple burned, 
 As if the banished Eden had returned ; 
 Unable to endure the lingering hours 
 Of weary exile from her native bowers ; 
 Had visited again, 
 
 her ancient seats. 
 In all her garniture of fruits and sweets. 
 9* 
 
102 mart's vision. 
 
 There trees displayed (in groups or straggling bands) 
 Bloom, and maturity of tropic lands, 
 "Where close beside the fruit, 
 
 that bows with age, 
 The youthful blossom waits, like liveried page. 
 
 The fruitless tree, had beckoned to its side 
 The vintage vine, and now with seeming pride, 
 Lifted the purple groups, 
 
 and high in air 
 Tossed the dark children of its consort fair, 
 
 A little brook had left the fountain's rest, 
 That turned, and turned again, a lingering guest 
 By fragrant solitude, 
 
 as if it said 
 ' I ne'er shall see the like when I have sped." 
 
 Close by your feet, and far away was seen 
 Of varied. size, and shapes, smooth plats of green, 
 Bordered by shrubs, 
 
 that each its burden bore 
 Of fruits and sweets, till each could bear no more. 
 
 Seen here and there, along each level space, 
 A gentle swell rose upward like a vase 
 Loaded with flowers, 
 
 as if the hand of Art, 
 In Nature's careless work, had borne a part. 
 
 So lovely, and so tranquil it did seem. 
 You thought 'twas realized, that youthful dream 
 Of earthly paradise : and one would sigh 
 " I would not have these happy moments fly : 
 Let it be ever novv," and all too soon 
 The sweet-breathed morning changes to the noon, 
 
mart's vision. 103 
 
 The noon to eve, 
 
 too swiftly fades the light- 
 To deeper shades, but bless the starry night. 
 
 And sure the hours should linger as they pass, 
 And Time amazed, forget to turn his glass. 
 "Here far from strife," the weary soul might say, 
 Shall life's last ebbing currents waste away; 
 Here will I rest 
 
 till my last sands have run. 
 And they who gather round shall say "'Tis done.'" 
 But hark, my soul, what adverse sounds are these, 
 That faintly come, yet thrill the passing breeze. 
 
 No tempest broods, nor clouds are seen on high, 
 The hills are shadowed 'gainst a smiling sky ; 
 Yet still it comes, 
 
 a'faint, low, muffled sound, 
 That sends a creeping shudder through the ground. 
 
 Listen again ; it deepens to a roar 
 From either side, with sounds unheard before. 
 Of martial music; 
 
 'tis the hurried pace 
 Of armed nations to their trysting place. 
 
 The groves are mute. All that have wings have fled, 
 And Nature waits her doom with boding dread. 
 
 Is it the tumult shakes the trembling leaf? 
 Are dews upon the flowers, or drops of grief. 
 That they do hang their heads? See, far away 
 On yon dry tree, the bird of plumage gray. 
 And bending beak ; when timid natures fly 
 From fields of carnage, instinct draws him nigh. 
 
104 mart's vision. 
 
 I. 
 
 They come, and from the northern height 
 Their arms are glancing in the light; 
 And on the southern side appears 
 The waving plumes and shining spears, 
 Scattered and few at first, but now 
 Thick masses hurry o'er each brow, 
 Rolling adown — the living tide. 
 Filling the vale from side to side, 
 Till looking o'er a narrow space, 
 They stand confronted face to face. 
 
 n. 
 
 In this grim gathering of our kind, 
 One conscious feature strikes the mind, 
 That wakes the thought "■ they are insane ;" 
 Repelled — suspicion comes again. 
 
 The leaders in each vast array, 
 Are girded as for festal day. 
 And they who follow, all are dressed 
 As tor a bridal, in their best. 
 
 Some on their bonnets jewels bear, 
 And costly scarfs on mantles wear. 
 With beautiful devices fraught. 
 That white and slender fingers wrought 
 In hall or bower far away, 
 And decked them for their dying day. 
 
 III. 
 
 The others humbler tokens wear, 
 As ribbons, or a braid of hair. 
 
Mary's vision. 106 
 
 Streamers of needle-work do dance 
 From every spear aud slender lauce; 
 And horses' necks are decked with shells, 
 And little tiny, tinkling bells. 
 
 'Tis clear they're mad ; he who would doubt, 
 His brains are scooped completely out, 
 And swept and garnished is the cell 
 Where seven idiots come to dwell. 
 
 Is this a place (where furies frown) 
 To sport the whimsies of the clown ? 
 Or place for shame and gloomy fears, 
 A time for sackcloth and for tears? 
 
 Yet there is something in the heart. 
 That almost in their work takes part. 
 
 Is it a sympathy with sin 
 That stirs these wild desires within? 
 Or for the terribly sublime, 
 A love that will not yield to crime? 
 
 Where moral creature keeps high day. 
 Not all of grandeur will away 
 Though it be sinful and malign ; 
 As if a contest with Divine 
 Made evil glorious in defeat. 
 And sin a boaster in retreat. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Twice sixty thousand scarce exceeds 
 The number of the trained steeds 
 Assembled in this vast array. 
 To mingle in the coming fray. 
 
 What awful pathos in the thought. 
 That some mysterious power hath taught 
 
106 mart's vision. 
 
 These graceful creatures, sti-ong and grand, 
 To wait the rider's voice and hand ; 
 Yield his to fallen creature's will, 
 And share his fortunes, good or ill. 
 
 V. 
 
 Rising conspicuous o'er them all, 
 One steed magnificent and tall. 
 His color white and olive blent. 
 Suggestive of the Arab's tent; 
 His head tossed near his rider's face 
 With such inimitable grace. 
 He seemeth of another race. 
 
 His ears that vibrate to a breath, 
 Seem listening for the step of Death ; 
 His nostrils spread, and flashing eyes 
 The fast approaching shade defies. 
 
 I'd struggle there with none to save, 
 Alone upon a midnight wave ; 
 Or scale the cloud where thunders crash, 
 And front the lightning's fiery flash, 
 If when my breath and pulses cease, 
 I could but see his face in peace. 
 Who moulded with his wondrous hand. 
 Beauty so passionate and grand. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Why falter they ? What is the cause 
 Of this long, silent, breathless pause? 
 A stillness that so widely reigns. 
 They hear the blood, course in their veins, 
 
mart's vision. 107 
 
 And start as if a serpent stings, 
 "When far a breaking bow-string rings. 
 
 Is it the dread of "Dust to dust?" 
 The law that reigns o'er all, and must, 
 Whether they fall on battle-day, 
 Or waste by sickness' slow decay. 
 
 Or does the soul in horror shrink, 
 "With foot half o'er the dizzy brink, 
 And of its future fate despond, 
 From something that it sees beyond ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hark ! tremulous, and thrice repeated. 
 It was an eagle's scream that greeted 
 Her absent mate; on mountain's crest, 
 The mother bird is by her nest. 
 
 And now 'tis answered loud and shrill 
 From that gray watcher on the hill. 
 
 He screams again, the impatient bird, 
 And now the trumpet's voice is heard; 
 And breaks along the inner verge 
 Of either host, the living surge, 
 While deeper ranks in stillness lay, 
 Save where the javelins fall like spray ; 
 Or arrows hissing overhead 
 Fall far beyond, and souls are spedi. 
 
 vni. 
 
 "Wilder the billows heave and toss 
 Along their fronts the vale across, 
 And grows the stream from side to side, 
 More agitated and more wide. 
 
108 mart's vision. . 
 
 For where the serried spearmen pass 
 In close array, they stir the mass, 
 Or where the horsemen charge, and reel — 
 Borne backward by a wall of steel ; 
 But rallying with a fiercer charge. 
 Break through and make an opening large ; 
 There wilder yet the tumult grows, 
 Where'er each furious current flows. 
 
 Hours pass: and now the upward sun 
 Half his ascending course hath run, 
 And none are idle — ev'ry hand 
 Darts the swift lance, or wields the brand. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But who is this with haughty mien, 
 Who comes so silent, and unseen. 
 And takes his station by our side. 
 With such superior, careless pride. 
 
 His lofty brow with power is fraught. 
 And furrowed deep with care and thought. 
 
 The shades of grief his visage bears, 
 Or 'tis the gloom the student wears. 
 And passions fierce, or wasting tears 
 Have done the work of twice his years. 
 His is a face not soon forgot, 
 But yet, but yet, I like him not. 
 
 X. 
 
 The thin lips curl to mocking sneer 
 Emotions stir of rage and fear. 
 
 The eyes so passionless and bright, 
 Without one spark of feeling's light ; 
 
Mary's vision. 109 
 
 Whence all but Intellect has fled, 
 Say, " Sympathy with man is dead." 
 
 On closer view, he seems like one. 
 Who long with hope and fear hath done: 
 Whom shaggy terrors ne'er could fright, 
 Nor plaintive sorrow dim his sight. 
 
 'Tis what they call a '* Withered heart ; " 
 I would we were a league apart : 
 Or is this one of Fancy's freaks 
 This deep disgust — but hark ! he speaks. 
 
 XL 
 
 " Friend, why this strange regard on me ; 
 Is not the exhibition free ? 
 Old Madam Rumor rang her bell 
 Three days ago the news to tell ; 
 ' There'll be enacted in this vale 
 The comedy called ' Red and Pale,' 
 
 Art thou a poet of that vein 
 That revels in heroic strain 
 So much applauded by the schools? 
 If so, betake thee to thy tools. 
 
 Thy business is in good demand, 
 A heavy order's come to hand ; 
 For of these heroes, ev'ry name 
 Is worthy of eternal fame. 
 
 Five hundred thousand epics writ 
 At midnight, when the goblins flit 
 Like moths around the flick'ring light; 
 Are needed to describe the fight. 
 10 
 
110 maky's vision. 
 
 Xll. 
 
 But sir, permit me to suggest 
 The mode that strikes me as the best 
 
 Don't make your heroes all the straightest, 
 Nor all the strongest, bravest, greatest. 
 
 For though the world is sore obtuse, 
 And slow to comprehend abuse ; 
 A flash of inspiration may 
 Break through en some unlucky day, 
 And it will, pondering ask its mother. 
 How ' Each was greater than the other.' 
 
 XIII. 
 
 When falls your hero on the ground. 
 See that he makes the hills resound, 
 And gives the earth a crimson drench. 
 Before you put him in the trench ; 
 To which, in spite of soft appeals. 
 You'll drag his body by the heels, 
 No matter if Miss Maud expires; 
 Sufficient, glory so requires. 
 
 Now, when you come to sketch this part. 
 You'll best call in the painter's art. 
 
 And limn him when with grief profound, 
 
 His bearers swing him round and round ; 
 
 Like a deceased cat, or bitch. 
 To throw his body in the ditch. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Behold how pleasant 'tis to see 
 A band of brethren agree. 
 
Mary's vision. 111. 
 
 'Tis like the ointment that ran clown 
 On Aaron's beard, and reached the ground. 
 
 What fond embraces when they meet; 
 How lovingly the brethren greet. 
 
 ' Art thou in health my brother ? feel 
 In thy fond heart this loving steel.' 
 
 Then both lie down, and when they rise 
 Go arm in arm to paradise : 
 Where all is bustle to prepare 
 Reception for the strangers fair ; 
 And where to welcome them, no doubt 
 The high bred seraphs sally out, 
 Attracted by the fragrant mud, 
 A sort of mortar mixed with blood, 
 With which each one hath decked the other, 
 The 'soft impeachment' of his brother. 
 
 And envious youngsters half explode 
 To see these fashions, a la mode. 
 And pace the streets with drum and fife 
 Aspiring to a soldier's life. 
 
 XV. 
 
 There goes a ribbon — pink is low ; 
 Alas for pink ; why did he go ? 
 
 If he had lived but till to-morrow. 
 He'd saved the world, a world of sorrow. 
 
 That thing that streamed his crest above, 
 Was given by his lady love ; 
 A token for her soldier brave, 
 And was his passport to the grave. 
 
 Her lovers numbering a score, 
 Have each one gone that way before. 
 
112 mart's vision. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Beyond that height where vapors sail^ 
 Half hidden by its misty veil 
 She dwells ; and thither yestermorn 
 I hied, and asked her for her scorn. 
 
 I told her that her love was fate, 
 And pleaded wildly for her hate. 
 I kneeled and said I would not stir, 
 Till blest, I was abhorred by her. 
 
 At first, she heard me with surprise. 
 Then anger sparkled in her eyes 
 At If thou givest me hopes to wed 
 I am a man as good as dead. 
 
 I told her that her form and face 
 Was equally devoid of grace. 
 
 That Heaven itself ne'er had a right 
 To shock the sense with such a fright. 
 
 That outraged men should meet in flocks 
 And put Dame Nature in the stocks 
 For this, thy youth ; but when thou'rt old, 
 
 dear, the half cannot be told. 
 
 The very beasts will stop, and grin 
 To hear thy rattling bones within 
 Thy wither'd, sun-dried, folded skin 
 That hangs about thee like a bag ; 
 A shriveled, toothless, gibbering hag. 
 
 Pray Heaven thou may'st not live till age, 
 
 1 said, and left her, dumb with rage. 
 
Mary's vision. 113 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Lo! green and yellow bites the dust; 
 His soul is with the Saints, we trust. 
 
 Some say his race of noble blood 
 Can be traced backward to the Flood. 
 
 Others aver his household name 
 Came in with Nimrod when he came ; 
 But he was exiled from his line, 
 For marrying one who milked the kine. 
 
 His kindred met the lowly born 
 With bitter taunts, and haughty scorn ; 
 While she revengeful, in a trice 
 Fixed on his banner this device. 
 
 A mountain cat, beset with curs. 
 Lies stretched at length, and softly purrs j 
 Regardless of their furious yelps, 
 Is coolly suckling her whelps : 
 And just between her two fore paws 
 This motto's writ : ' Beware the claws.' 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 See'st thou that man of stature low, 
 That horizontally did grow ? 
 Whose breadth is equal to his length, 
 And indicates superior strength. 
 
 Whose legs bow out on either side 
 Like segments of a circle wide ? 
 
 Whose arms like wind-mills smite the air; 
 Grim, shaggy as a polar bear; 
 But ten times fiercer than the bruin, 
 Is working such prodigious ruin ? 
 10* 
 
114 Mary's vision. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 There was (as happens oft on earth) 
 A tender romance in his birth. 
 
 His father's sire ji crown did wear,. 
 His son, (the kingdom's only heir,) 
 Did stoop his princely mind so low 
 As love a captive Esquimaux, 
 
 "Which when the king, his father, heard, 
 He sent a eunuch back with word, 
 That * ere the chimes of midnight struck, 
 We'll drown your mistress — Eider Duck.' 
 
 The prince he strook his sabre sheath, 
 And mutter 'd through his clenched teeth, 
 * If course of true love in the past 
 Hath ne'er run smooth — it shall run fast.' 
 
 He said, and brought with his own hand. 
 The fleetest camel of his band 
 And swung the lady to the rump, 
 Himself sprang lightly to the hump. 
 And clapping spurs in fiery haste, 
 They stood ere morn before the praste j 
 Who bound them in those silken ties 
 That lasts till one or other dies. 
 
 Now in due time (the praste attesting) 
 She grew uncommon interesting, 
 In consequence of which, one morn 
 About daylight our friend was born ; 
 And seemed he such a pi'oper child, 
 The king himself was reconciled. 
 
mart's vision. 115 
 
 XX. 
 
 lie's ambidexter, both alike 
 Of those strong hands can thrust or strike 
 His man, with such fastidious skill, 
 He's dead before he knows he's ill. 
 
 What fine perception ! perfect taste ! 
 What cool dispatch, outstripping haste. 
 
 If merit had its just reward 
 The world would place with one accord, 
 Of all the names alive or dead, 
 His name at his profession's head. 
 
 See ! how below his quarry's chin, 
 His blade glides through, nor moves the skin, 
 But leaves the head and neck and face 
 Precisely in their wonted place. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And then you will observe again 
 How Heaven's first law doth round him reign 
 Of order timing every blow. 
 Nothing too fast, nor yet too slow ; 
 Still keeping with exactness great 
 Five men beheaded, standing straight. 
 And cares not to increase his store 
 Until the first one topples o'er. 
 
 As the skilled Juggler tossing balls, 
 Throws this one up, ere that one falls. 
 So he, whom nought disturbs or plagues, 
 Keeps his full number on their legs. 
 
 And see, Miss Juliette, O dear ! 
 The other hand that holds the spear ; 
 
116 Mary's vision. 
 
 With what a gallant fancy fine 
 He brings that trio in a line, 
 Strings them like beads upon his lance, 
 And holds them up to see them dance. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 If a dull Turk should have a harem, 
 Should he not have a harem scarem ? 
 
 Ye Misses all, black, brown, and white, 
 Fly to his arm 5 with soft delight, 
 And fond your silken tresses rest 
 There on the Hero's manly breast. 
 
 Too late — come back ; 'tis true ; 'tis hard ; 
 Remorseless Fate sends in his card 
 And asks, what sure before he knew, 
 A * confidential interview.' 
 
 Did he not in the twilight hear 
 That dirge -like mu?ic warn his ear? 
 And felt and saw with sore displeasure. 
 The fatal Gorgon take his measure, 
 And weave from out the thunder cloud 
 The texture of his sable shroud. 
 And laugh, and shake the horrid tresses, 
 That round her forehead writhe with hisses ? 
 'Tis done — that steel -like lightning flew. 
 And Bandy Legs is sheared in two. 
 
 ' Who killed Prince Myrtle ? killed him who ? ' 
 Is't echo says who, who, who, who ? 
 Or does the staring bird of fate 
 Sing back the refrain to his mate ? 
 
 ' Who killed Prince Myrtle ? ' once again j 
 * Alander did it ; ' ' Who will reign ? 
 
mart's vision. 117 
 
 How dared Alander kill the heir 
 Apparent, with his bright red hair? 
 'Tis matter for a great surprise," 
 Why sir, the thing was on this wise. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Alander's wife, Duke Ivan's daughter, 
 Who had an itching ear for slaughter, 
 Had heard in hall, and heard in street, 
 The wand'ring troubadours repeat 
 The stories that the voice of fame 
 Had coupled with Prince Myrtle's name ; 
 And sung his praise on the guitar, 
 And called him chivalry's bright star. 
 Till the sweet lady pensive grew, 
 And sighed for one so stout and true. , 
 
 He did sometimes, (they loved to tell,) 
 Quarter his man before he fell 
 By swift blow downward, then a toss, 
 And then a skillful stroke across ; 
 He would the nicest butcher beat, 
 And leave him standing on his feet. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 ' Sometimes ' — they said, ' he'd skin his foe 
 As quick as thought from top to toe, 
 And leave him blushing like a lout, 
 Or turn another inside out.' 
 
 And still as they rehearsed each tale. 
 Her fading cheek grew wan and pale. 
 Slower her step from day to day, 
 And she was wasting fast away ; 
 
118 Mary's vision. 
 
 Yet told her cankering grief to none, 
 
 But walked and wept, and sighed alone. 
 
 Hiding her grief from mortal sight, 
 
 Till one unlucky, fatal night, 
 
 When she was wrapt in slumber deep, 
 
 She breathed ' Prince Myrtle ' in her sleep. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Now when her lord this name did hear, 
 He started and pricked up his ear — 
 Hoped 'twas a dream, but writhed with pain, 
 When softly came that word again. 
 Coupled with epithets so sweet. 
 As it' she pleaded at his feet : 
 Told him it was through force she wed 
 One that she ever wished was dead. 
 Offering to make her husband quaff 
 Some drug so foul 'twould take him off; 
 If 't was not severed, — their relation — 
 By some 'mysterious dispensation.' 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Then changed her tone ; and loud and clear. 
 Railed against destiny severe ; 
 And wrung her hands, and curs'd her fate, 
 With such a furious ribald hate, 
 Alander started from his bed, 
 With horror bristling round his head. 
 
 At morn he met his wife alone. 
 Told her, her guilty love was known, 
 And swore her paramour should die ; 
 At which she smiled and wiped her eye. 
 
MART S VISION. 
 
 And vowed to give her heart and hand 
 To him who proved the better man. 
 
 An odd thought sir, occurs to me ; 
 Devils agree to disagree, 
 And rav'nous bird, and savage beast, 
 Do murder to provide a feast ; 
 But these more brutal, thousands kill, 
 The world with pestilence to fill ; 
 Or tired with murder, they must toil 
 To hide the plague beneath the soil. 
 
 O for a law without appeal ; 
 Signed with the Mede's and Persian's seal. 
 When one host is by victory blest. 
 And half the world hath killed the rest. 
 That part who do their breath retain. 
 Shall gather there and eat the slain. 
 
 Scourged to the banquet, when the trench 
 Is loathsome with the rotting stench, 
 And hear this voice where vultures flap, 
 ' Uncover, murdering dogs, and lap.'" 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Horror of horrors ! who can hear 
 This villain rail ? away with fear ! 
 " Thou wretch," I said, but scai'ce began 
 When he retorted " softly man ; 
 If tbou and I should join in brawl, 
 And one by other one >hould fall, 
 Our pious neighbors there below. 
 Would take the living man in tow. 
 To where those reeking winrows lie, 
 And hang him on a gallows high ; 
 
 119 
 
120 mart's vision. 
 
 "With this inscription written there, 
 * Where is thy brother Abel — where?' 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But hath the world so toned and drilled 
 Thy heart, that 't is with wonder filled, 
 And admiration of their deeds ? 
 Or is't a heart with pity bleeds. 
 And softly chides, while I forlorn 
 Feel naught but deep contempt and scorn? 
 
 For weary days their councils sate, 
 On either side, in grave debate. 
 Those ancient men, — from every face. 
 The beard hung to the girdle's place ; 
 And gaping crowds looked on each sage. 
 As wisdom incarnated age. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 They in the scale each feather weighed. 
 Doubted, approved, but still delayed; 
 Cool, cautious, circumspect and slow, 
 They would not guess the truth, but know 
 Whether this plan or that was best, 
 At last in this they came to rest ; 
 And in this finished scheme exult. 
 And yonder is the grand result. 
 
 Could tigers in their famished ire, 
 Or maddened devils, drunk with fire, 
 Who find in riot wild their bliss. 
 Devise a scene more foul than this ? 
 Where hate, and rage, and curses fell, 
 And shrieks and groans, astonish hell. 
 
Mary's vision. 121 
 
 It may be music, sir, to you. 
 Excuse this difference, adieu." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 He's gone, the wretch, and I am glad. 
 His sneers would drive an angel mad. 
 
 If I were Hercules, I 'd run 
 And lift him if he weighed a ton. 
 And send him whistling through the air. 
 Till he alighted sprawling there. 
 Where, in his own infernal clack, 
 ''They are cutting up the meat to pack." 
 
 11 
 
BOOK Y. 
 
 A lurid vapor rises from the plain, 
 Where struggling thousands pour their blood like rain, 
 As if the earth and air would cast a shroud 
 In shame and horror o'er the maddened crowd. 
 
 The thin and misty exhalations red, 
 From the hot streams that stain their dying bed. 
 Color the groupings with a ghastly hue, 
 In which they wrestle like a phantom crew, 
 Till from the west, with slanting beams, 
 
 the sun 
 Looks on a famous battle lost and won. 
 
 Save yonder serried mass of spears that bide, 
 As sea-girt rock defies the assailing tide, 
 The assaults of thousands. 
 
 'gainst that living wall 
 Footmen are broke, and horsemen charge and fall. 
 
 A banner floats amid that doomed throng, 
 And toward the northein height slow drifts along. 
 As borne from side to side it seems to pass 
 Where fiercest waves assault the crumbling mass. 
 That wastes, and wastes : 
 
 and now the banner gray 
 Falls as the living fabric melts away. 
 
mart's vision. 123 
 
 As clouds pursued by wintry winds on high, 
 In broken fragmeuts haste across the sky; 
 But overtaken in their panic flight, 
 Are broke again, dissolving froni the sight. 
 So through the valley 
 
 over heaps of dead. 
 And up the heights the human hunt is led. 
 Some think of home, and hopeful urge the race, 
 But overtaken, sink in death's embrace. 
 
 Others outstrip the foe, and live to tell 
 In after days how many fathers fell, 
 Husbands and lovers, 
 
 youths and gray haired men, 
 Were offered up that day in Moloch's den. 
 
 But now the conquerors begin to tire 
 As day, declining, lights his jjarting fire, 
 Yet still some I'capers, 
 
 each with space between. 
 Along the ways the scattered handfuls glean. 
 
 But see, midst horses riderless in flight. 
 That royal steed careering up the height. 
 
 It must be he, though colored strange and new, 
 From ear to fetlock in a crimson hue. 
 
 His form betrays him — never far or near 
 In the wide world, could wanderer find his peer 
 If or grace and power. 
 
 While others farat from fight, 
 He springs exhaustless as at morning light. 
 
 With high exalted head he pauses now, 
 High on the northern mountain's utmost brow, 
 And turns half round — how quick the picture grew. 
 A crimson sketch against the heaven's deep blue. 
 
124 mart's vision. 
 
 Spangled with stars. 
 
 Who formed that bold desigriy 
 And touched the canvas — lo, he was divine 1 
 
 See, yonder fugitive approaches near, 
 In hope to win, but shrinks in sudden fear. 
 
 Saddle and bridle gone — it may not be, 
 His tyrants' chains are broke, and he is free 
 As clouds and winds, and far from battle-plain^ 
 He'll spring exultingly, and toss his mane 
 On green savannahs where the zebras play 
 By tumbling water-falls, away, away. 
 There he who gave him life 
 
 will cleanse his stains. 
 With mists from cataracts and driving rains. 
 
 The day's last blush has faded from the sky, 
 And dews are falling where the fallen lie 
 In careless attitudes on "Honor's bed," 
 And dying men are pillowed on the dead 
 From whence sad voices come, 
 
 where late was heard. 
 The breezes sighing, and the song of bird. 
 
 That feeble gasp from one too weak to moan 
 Is answered by some wretch's deeper groan. 
 
 There one, fast sinking in the arms of death, 
 Yields, with a long drawn sigh, his parting breath '^ 
 And now another sendeth forth a shriek, 
 That drives the color from the listener's cheek. 
 
 *Tis like he had by hardy force 
 
 repressed 
 His pain till agony had rent his breast. 
 
 Curses of rage, and pleadings low and faint. 
 The fretful cry, the querulous complaint; 
 
Mary's vision. 125 
 
 With thousand nameless rautterings of woe, 
 Now swellhig high, now fitful, sinking low, 
 Do tell this tale, (and who can think it lesj,) 
 The world hath been enamored of distress; 
 And here they pay their vows, 
 
 and this the choir 
 Hymning to misery ere they expire. 
 
 Slow pass the hours away, and now the moon 
 Looks down in beauty from her cloudless noon ; 
 Contrasting fearfully her holy light 
 With all that shocks the ear and pains the sight, 
 Too much oppressed till all the senses reel, 
 And through the dizzy brain illusions steal. 
 And fearful fancies, 
 
 for it scarce can be 
 Real and tangible, what now we see. 
 
 Two shapes (unseen before) are moving there, 
 Of vast proportions, towering in the air, 
 Whose shades and substances are wide enlarged, 
 Like clouds with gloom and threatening tempests charged. 
 As when the storm, denouncing ere it fall. 
 Throws o'er the landscape round a gloomy pall; 
 So do these phantoms 
 
 cast a dreadful shade 
 O'er all the valley where the dead are laid. 
 
 In horrid amity they seem to go, 
 One following still the other, fast or slow, 
 But forced and fatal peace, 
 
 that must refrain 
 From strife, though concord were eternal pain. 
 
 11* 
 
126 mary's vision. 
 
 For, ever and anon the foremost turns 
 And gazes back, with eye that hateful burns 
 Like fiery furnaces, their glances meet, 
 And flame is mixed with flame in fervent heat. 
 
 Yet strange to see, 
 
 that leading where she listSy 
 This faithful, following, keeps abhorred trysts. 
 
 Lo, through the veil of her that leads the way^ 
 Flashes of light in quick succession play. 
 From fires that burn her tortured breast within, 
 And through the rifts reveal her name of " Sin ;" 
 That she would hide, 
 
 but can not, for the flame 
 She feeds herself reveals her hateful name. 
 
 The other's bony hands are filled with darts^ 
 And grim and terrible in all his parts 
 He scorns concealment base 
 
 and " I am Death " 
 He boastfully proclaims, with his own breath. 
 
 These two, detestable, together roam; 
 As careful husbandman at Harvest Home 
 Treads his own fields, 
 
 and counts the clustering sheaves j 
 So their ripe fruit lies thick as forest leaves. 
 
 "Tis finished," Sin exclaims; with cruel guile, 
 And Death applauds the boast with ghastly smile. 
 
 Welcome the morn, if morning light wiU chase 
 These shapes of horror to their native place ; 
 Or purge the mind from these distressful dreams, 
 Or pierce their substance with his arrowy beamsi 
 And fo pervade 
 
 and occupy the spot, 
 
Mary's vision. 127 
 
 That though they are — we'll think these things are not. 
 
 What, wouldst thou be so timid and unwise, 
 As have the real hidden from thine eyes ? 
 
 Is it by such devices 
 
 poor and weak, 
 The storm-toss'd mariner doth safety seek? 
 
 Doth he forget the billows heaving high, 
 And pregnant clouds careering o'er the sky ; 
 And dream of placid seas ? or reef the sail, 
 Showing a smaller f^urface to the gale ; 
 And send fresh stays aloft, 
 
 and bind them fast; 
 The strong " preventer" to the yard or mast. 
 
 When pressed by winds, the ship careens too low. 
 Or ocean buffets — reeling from the blow 
 She seems to pause, and tremble as in dread, 
 Doth he not feel ? and when she lifts her head, 
 In gallant fashion, tossing back the spray. 
 And plunges on her wild untrodden way ; 
 Is it by vigilance, 
 
 or dreaming fond 
 He gains the peaceful bay that lies beyond? 
 
 Here, o»ce the Minstrels rested thro' the night,^ 
 And Music's daughters waked with morning light ; 
 Now, 'tis reversed ; 
 
 like house of ill repute. 
 The night was vocal, but the morning mute, 
 Save scattering groan?=, that break abrupt and harsh. 
 Or near, or far, like voices from the marsh. 
 
 If truant angel, wandering from his sphere, 
 Or haply driven by adverse currents here ; 
 Looked on these prostrate men, with blood defiled: 
 
128 Mary's vision. 
 
 Men mixed with beasts, in heaps and winrows piled, 
 Would he not say — 
 
 when told that "This was fame,'^ 
 In horror asking — " Where then dwelleth shame ? " 
 
 Along the battle's edge, these scores of dead, 
 Are babes asleep on "honor's truckle-bed," 
 Compared to yonder acres of the slain, 
 Where darts and javelins fell like drops of rain, 
 And swords quick glancing, rent the human veil, 
 And where the mutilated corpses pale. 
 Or smeared with dust and blood, 
 
 lie stretched along, 
 An indiscriminate, and ghastly throng. 
 
 And when so full the couch would hold no more, 
 A cloud of cavalry went sweeping o'er 
 That mortal pavement, with their iron tread. 
 And disemboweled, crushed, and stript the dead, 
 Leaving a piteous 
 
 glory ready then, 
 For the historian's, and poet's pen. 
 
 Some on their faces lay, some fell asleep 
 On hands and knees as little children creep, 
 Or back to earth, from youth * 
 
 to grey-haired sire, 
 Enwreathed and twisted in confusion dire. 
 
 Tho' half-concealed from view, the brooklet's course, 
 Can be detected from its shady source, 
 Down to its exit through the rifted hill 
 By lines of dead, that crook, and follow still 
 Its winding path, 
 
 if 'tis a gentle curve. 
 Or round some angle sweeps, with sudden swerve. 
 
mart's vision. 129 
 
 Impelled by thirst, they crept from either side, 
 And there, with heads together, drank and died. 
 
 Some faces are immersed, some lips just kiss 
 The water's surface, some too feeble, miss. 
 They reach the margin of the brook, 
 
 and there 
 Gaze down upon the wave with glassy stare. 
 
 Midst the chaotic masses, heaped and strown, 
 Some laughing devil flung, or chance hath thrown 
 Corpses in shapes 
 
 so horribly malign, 
 Their frozen attitudes seem like design. 
 
 Two troops of cavalry careering fast, 
 Have — where their edges met, a ridge upcast ; 
 And there a rearing steed, half vaulting o'er 
 A heap of dead, stands upright as before ; 
 
 His neck half-severed by a downward 
 
 blow 
 Is hanging by the throat, and drooping low. 
 
 His rider keeps the saddle, and retains 
 In either hand the sword and bridle reins, 
 And leaning back stares toward the distant height. 
 As if the body watched the spirit's flight. 
 
 South from this monument a little space, 
 A youth and veteran lie face to fa<;e. 
 
 One hand of either grasps the other's vest, 
 The sword of each is through the other's breast. 
 
 Grey, in the veteran's curling locks are mixt. 
 The scowl of battle on his brow is fixt. 
 
 His lips wide parted — writhe, 
 
 as if they curst 
 The fair haired boy, and killed his spirit first. 
 
130 mart's vision. 
 
 Some are unstained with blood — no marks of strife 
 Tells where the fatal weapon hit the life. 
 
 With eyelids closed, 
 
 and limbs composed they lay 
 In placid beauty, waiting for decay. 
 
 Here where the brook (now crammed and choked with 
 slain,) 
 Turns toward the south, and idly turns again 
 With northward flow, to clasp in its embrace 
 This spot once blooming with perennial grace ; 
 Where still some flowers are seen, and willows droop, 
 But scathed and wither'd now, there lies a group, 
 So mutely eloquent, 
 
 that pleads so well, 
 ' Twould haunt the sorrowing soul in Heaven or Hell. 
 
 ' Twas here that dark battalion stood to die. 
 Too sternly proud, — their chief, to yield, or fly. 
 
 Tis where the sod is trampled mo>t and worn 
 By wrestling feet ; and shrubs and flowers uptorn 
 By frantic hands 
 
 impatient to deface, 
 A wall of bodies rings' a narrow space. 
 
 Within this circle, girt with corpses round, 
 There lie three forms in dreamless rest profound. 
 
 Two are but youths, not quite to manhood sprung, 
 But on its verge in expectation hung ; 
 Alike in form, 
 
 and twins perhaps in years, 
 When war's curst trumpet sounded in their ears. 
 
 One home was theirs — one mother gave them birth, 
 'Tis plain to see, as backs toward the earth, 
 
mart's vision. 131 
 
 And faces sadly like, 
 
 and dark blue eyes, 
 They both look upward weeping to the skies. 
 
 Or seem to weep, for glistening drops of dew 
 Are on the lids; and on the eye-balls, too. 
 
 The thoughtful lines — each heavy, massive chin. 
 So seldom seen, ere careful years begin ; 
 Each firm cut mouth, in manly beauty fair. 
 Each brow expansive, and the curling hair, 
 Say, " round one hearth we met, 
 
 when day was done, 
 And on that hearth are shadows more than one." 
 
 Around their necks, and wrists, there is a coil 
 Of silken needle work, in-wrought with toil, 
 With letters finely raised — 
 
 these, " Cains " spell ; 
 These, stained with blood, the name of "■ Ion " tell. 
 
 Across each breast a braid of hair, retains 
 Some darker spots, though stiff with crimson stains. 
 
 What loving hearts beat o'er the busy hands. 
 That fashioned carefully, these clotted bands. 
 
 Now could they see, 
 
 how wild would rise the shriek; 
 How much like death's own hue, would grow the cheek. 
 
 Close by the brother's side, the sire doth sleep, 
 And in his breast a lance implanted deep. 
 
 Since time began, our mother earth ne'er pressed, 
 A nobler type of manhood to her breast. 
 
 Matured by years, and ripened in the storm, 
 A bolder outline marks his face and form. 
 Than his pale children have — 
 
 nor fear, nor hate, 
 
132 mart's vision. 
 
 Darkened his visage when he met his fate. 
 
 The brows are slightly raised ; the mouth below. 
 And clenched teeth, a smiling firmness show ; 
 As if his fortitude refused to yield 
 To death, or mortal hate, on his last field. 
 
 The wristlet bands 
 
 in clotted fragments stray, 
 And from his breast the braid is rent away. 
 
 His bonnet bears a leader's silver star 
 And sable plume, conspicuous from afar 
 By friends and enemies : one stifiened hand 
 Yet grasps a banner s-tafi^, and one the brand. 
 
 The banner grey, 
 
 hath eome device of blue 
 Graven in needle- work half hid from view. 
 
 Approach, and raise it up ; once, moved with fear, 
 Prudence had said " Be not too curious here ;" 
 For hardy he who dared to 
 
 rouse his ire, 
 Ere death had touched his heart, and quenched his fire. 
 
 He cares not now for violence, or fraud, 
 Unclasp his hand, and shake its folds abroad. 
 
 See, from the staff a costly fabric falls. 
 As wrought by royal dames in kingly halls. 
 
 To waiting soldier, 
 
 sketched on field of grey, 
 A woman gives a sword, and points away. 
 
 How awful is the world," there beauty guides 
 The dance of death, and as a queen presides 
 Above his revels rude. 
 
 What doth it here, 
 A woman's picture in this place of fear ? 
 
mart's vision. 133 
 
 There let it fall, and shroud the soldier o'er 
 In dark decay : no hand shall lift it more. 
 
 " Had human strength availed " what saidst it, hist ! 
 A something shadowy floateth by, like mist, 
 Obscure, and formless ; hark ! " He could redeem 
 That promise made, to ' falsify the dream,' 
 The fair haired sister, 
 
 pale and trembling told, 
 How in her slumber she had seen them cold. 
 
 If thou wouldst know, let this red rampart tell 
 With what fierce energy, how long and well. 
 When they were girt with foes, the father there, 
 Raged round his darlings like a chafed bear ; 
 'Till gliding 'neath his arm, unseen, the lance 
 Sent through his brain the reeling, dizzy trance ; 
 And home, and love, 
 
 and plighted faith forgot, 
 They heard the yell of triumph, and were not." 
 
 " Curst be the hand that dealt that fatal thrust, 
 That pierced his heart." " Be still ; that hand is dust: 
 Its owner nothing now ; 
 
 behold how low 
 His head was riven by the vengeful blow. 
 
 His children, when at play, will sudden pause. 
 And gaze on vacancy, and ask the cause 
 Why he who up the hill so often bore 
 His tired little ones, doth come no more." 
 
 O curse him not, 
 
 the poor unconscious clod, 
 But leave him to the mercy of his God. 
 
 A costly offering ambition luid 
 12 
 
134 Mary's vision. 
 
 On Moloch's altar, where these wrecks were made. 
 
 Where wait their Lemans dear, 
 
 What hearts will thrill. 
 What home the cypress wear, by stream, or hill? 
 
 Are they but shallow souls, that grieve awhile, 
 But borne by time to distance, learn to smile ? 
 Or hath deep natures, 
 
 lavished all their store 
 In these wreck'd barques, and baffled — "Never more." 
 
 How fare the desolate ? We fain would go 
 And watch their changing moods — how shall we know ? 
 
 Will they who teach the unletter'd soul to sing? 
 Who haunt the groves where mystic waters spring, 
 And wake such melody, that clouds in haste 
 To pour their treasures on the parched waste, 
 Will pause for hours 
 
 in their onward race, 
 And linger dreamily above the place. 
 
 Who, when the soul exclaims " I would 'twere done j 
 ' There is no profit here beneath the sun.' 
 These simple strains of mine will ne'er abide," 
 Do shake the threat'ning finger, frown and chide. 
 
 " The ocean's barriers of rock," 
 
 they say, 
 " Shall, like the mists of morning, fade away. 
 
 The Deep himself, amazed, shall fast retire, 
 When the old Earth puts on her wreaths of fire : 
 Yea, rise and float in steamy clouds on high, 
 And leave his mighty cauldron scorched and dry : 
 But these light airy fancies 
 
 that we give, 
 Shall mock at Ages, and forever live. 
 
mart's vision. 135 
 
 Nor distant years shall bid these thoughts "Farewell," 
 Nor far — far hour shall hear their passing knell. 
 
 If they would go before, and deftly steal 
 The things to come, and silently reveal 
 A panorama of the place of tears — 
 Of hope deferred, of darkly gathering fears, 
 That makes the heart grow sick, 
 
 if they would tell, 
 I'm sure their votary would love them well. 
 
 Hark ! tiny waterfalls are in the blood. 
 With all the voices of the mightier flood. 
 And sounds are mingling with its murmurs sweet. 
 Like measured syllables and trampling feet : 
 Yes! 'tis their footsteps 
 
 sounding in the soul, 
 And something rises! 'tis a pictured roll. 
 
 Approaching storms and night, together cast 
 A sullen gloom around a landscape vast, 
 Of plain and wood : 
 
 and mist-crowned mountains rise, 
 Like altars lifting incense to the skies. 
 
 One ridge immense, that seems with heaven to cope, 
 Falls from the East with long descending slope. 
 To meet the plain, then from its western verge. 
 Another rises like a fabled surge, 
 On which the 'wildered eye doth often lag, 
 In its ascent from curling crag to crag ; 
 Till far above, the final terrace cleared. 
 It rests upon the summit, wild and weird ; 
 That seems to reel amid the shadows dread 
 Of counter currents, striving round its head ; 
 
136 mart's vision. 
 
 And crossed by vapors, 
 
 staggers in its flight, 
 Like crowned ambition, dizzy with its height. 
 
 There, where it verges from a northern line. 
 And eastward turns ; baffling the hand divine, 
 Like some proud courser, swerving from the rein, 
 The huge upheaval, has been cleft in twain. 
 And through the rifted chasm, 
 
 dark and deep, 
 A river plunges with impetuous sweep. 
 
 Abrupt its course, and fast the waters fly, 
 Adown their path, but pause, and bound on high. 
 Where rocks, like cottages, obstruct their bed ; 
 Jarred down by freshets from the cliffs o'erhead. 
 Or, vexed with noise, 
 
 they dropped them through the air, 
 These massive pebbles that they well could spare. 
 
 From out that avenue, that erst was made 
 By some strong angel's swift descending blade. 
 The prisoned river springs with outward bound 
 Five hundred feet, to reach a gulf profound ; 
 From whence descending 
 
 to a wooded bay, 
 It southward turns, and calmly glides away. 
 
 Half up the eastern height that fronts the gap, 
 A dwelling nestles in the mountain's lap. 
 
 Not poor the occupants, nor " idly great," 
 If we may judge them by their outward state. 
 But hold that middle point, 
 
 from whence (say some) 
 Real nobility doth mostly come. 
 
mart's vision. 137 
 
 " Few from dull penury ascend the hill, 
 Of fortune's sickly minions — fewer still." 
 
 Nor cot, nor castle's turret rises there, 
 But a stone structure of an ancient air, 
 Where many generations lived and died. 
 With raised verandas running on each side ; 
 Supported from beneath 
 
 by pillai*'d blocks 
 Of dark grey granite, quarried from the rocks. 
 At either end a spacious wing is seen. 
 The doors and windows canopied with green. 
 
 A watch-dog huge, of contemplative mien, 
 And air responsible, sits on the green, 
 Watching the herds, 
 
 lest some forgetful kine, 
 Should cross the boundary that guards the vine. 
 
 Below the house a graded road doth pass. 
 That seldom traveled, is o'ergrown with grass ; 
 But it hath been with such precision lined. 
 And slightly raised, the vein is well defined 
 Through straggling groves, 
 
 and over dancing rills, 
 Far to the bosom of the northern hills. 
 
 Here turning to the south, the searching eye 
 Is baffled by a ridge, nor broad, nor high — 
 That seems to fancy's view, a grave-like mound, 
 Where giant old a sepulchre hath found ; 
 With shaggy mountain 
 
 rear'd to mark his head ; 
 His feet just reaching to the river's bed. 
 
 South from the dwelling, twice an arrow's flight, 
 12* 
 
138 Mary's vision. 
 
 Where heaves the road lo travel o'er the height, 
 And where that corse (if corse it is) 
 
 was laid, 
 There standeth two, a matron and a maid. 
 
 The elder of the two, hath gone beyond 
 Her early beauty ; but the lover fond 
 Would scarce regret that time — changing his scheme, 
 Like ripened artist, touched his early dream 
 With sober shades ; who cared not to erase. 
 But give to sprightly youth a higher grace. 
 That would awake this thought in him who saw, 
 " A noble woman, in herself a law ; 
 A mother wisely fond, a loving wife, 
 And brave companion for the voyage of life. 
 Who findeth thee, hath heaven's mercy found. 
 And well may say when standing on life's bound, 
 To see thee pass, 
 
 and ere the curtain fell ; 
 ' To thee and hope at once, farewell, farewell !' " 
 
 The other's face is very fair to see. 
 With form most graceful, and with gestures free. 
 
 But hers a beauty solemn 
 
 and severe 
 That seems impressed by nature's aspect here. 
 
 Scarce fifteen summers o'er her head have passed, 
 And all have flitted lightly but the last; 
 Yet these vast types 
 
 have written something now 
 Of their wild grandeur on her cheek and brow. 
 
 While yet a child, her senses did begin 
 To sketch these rugged scenes, and pass them in ; 
 
mart's vision. 139 
 
 Pictures of woods — 
 
 of towering rock and storm, 
 Till 'tis developed in ber outward form. 
 
 Those dark brown ringlets tbat conceal ber neck, 
 And do her forehead half conceal, and deck ; 
 Are much like some we've seen — 
 
 thou knowest where. 
 "Within that fearful circle?" "Yes, 'ty^as there." 
 
 There lie the three, enthralled by potent spell, 
 For whom these wait, bow vainly, time will tell, 
 
 Three days ago, a weary soldier crossed 
 Their hill domain, and told of battle lost ; 
 And others since. 
 
 Who passed in haste along, 
 But paused for food, did sing the raven's song. 
 
 And now they vacillate 'twixt hope and fear, 
 As evening's shadows settle dim and drear 
 Along the distant path, where if a bough 
 Is lifted by the wind, "They're coming now," 
 Delusive Hope exclaims, 
 
 as fond — they see 
 Resemblance of the loved in shrub or tree. 
 
 As deeper darkness hides the things below. 
 Squadrons of clouds are hast'ing to and fro. 
 Like troops that join the host. They summoned, run, 
 And loud and frequent booms the signal gun 
 As notes of preparation 
 
 in the sky, 
 For some grand revelry to be on high. 
 
 While day is vanquished, and in full retreat, 
 The Ethiopian comes to take her seat. 
 
140 mart's vision. 
 
 And tempests will array 
 
 old Chaos's queen 
 In robes so black, the like was seldom seen. 
 
 They have obscured her usual starry crown, 
 But pour bright jewels on her vesture down ; 
 And chains so glittering they light the gorge 
 Where leaps the stream, like flame from Vulcan's forge. 
 So that the maiden 
 
 hath forgot the three, 
 And loud exclaims, " O mother, mother, see !" 
 
 Both gaze a moment where the wild fires burn, 
 Then with a long drawn sigh, they homeward turn. 
 
 See, as we follow in their footsteps slow. 
 How darkness alternates with lurid glow. 
 
 Night comes, and hides them 
 
 with her mantle black, 
 Then fierce-eyed lightnings drive the shadows back. 
 
 'Tis fit the elements should gather round 
 In dark habiliments, with moaning sound. 
 And flash their torches foil 
 
 in each fair face, 
 'Tis grandly suited to the time and place. 
 
 For they, like vessels slightly built, and frail, 
 But deeply laden, that have spread the sail 
 On dangerous sea, 
 
 are drifting to a shore 
 From whence the mariner comes back no more. 
 
 But now the storm puts on a darker frown, 
 With sweeping gust, and drops of rain come down, 
 Giving the loiterers 
 
 a sharp reproof 
 To hurry forward to the sheltering roof. 
 
mart's vision. 141 
 
 The door is opeu at the southern side, 
 Where waxen tapers light a passage wide 
 That serves for armory 
 
 and entrance-hall, 
 With arms and armor, pendent from the wall. 
 
 Here to the right is seen a broken brand. 
 That failed, in some dread hour, its owner's hand. 
 
 A cloven helmet, and a coat of mail 
 Of curious workmanship, like fishes' scale, 
 Plundered from some Goliath 
 
 of his race, 
 Hang both together in conspicuous place. 
 
 The plaited coat of mail — two folding leaves, 
 Worn by the " Man at Arms ;" with gloves and greaves, 
 That have been once 
 
 some soldier's treacherous trust, 
 Are here with implements to strike and thrust. 
 
 The long straight sword, hangs close beside its neigh- 
 bor. 
 The crooked, garnished blade, or horseman's sabre. 
 
 The short broad weapon, for the *' Coup de Grace" 
 With dagger, active in the close embrace, 
 Are hanging by the belt, 
 
 or handle near 
 To many a slender lance, and stouter spear. 
 One lance, (the spoil of battle,) is encased 
 In gold and ivory, and richly chased 
 With quaint devices, from the point to heel ; 
 And where it joins the socket of the steel, 
 A pennon is infixed, of fabric rare. 
 That sways and trembles in the fitful air ; 
 
142 mart's vision. 
 
 As once, per chance, upon some field of death 
 It shook, and fluttered, in the war-horse's breath ; 
 Or when departing from his glen or hill, 
 The bearer said : " Farewell ;" it flutters still, 
 As through the open door 
 
 the night winds blow. 
 Though he who bore it once, is cold and low. 
 
 There, household banners wave and dinted shields 
 Are seen, the harvests of his hard-fought fields. 
 
 From prince and peasant were these trophies won^ 
 From wide dissevered tribes of diverse tongue. 
 And all-together lead the mind away 
 To many a night, when, watching for the day, 
 The strong, fierce soldier, in his fields afar. 
 Had from his dewy couches seen the star — 
 The usher of the morn, 
 
 grow pale, and wan, 
 As day advanced, and hours of strife came on. 
 
 On either hand, the visitor descries 
 Through large and lofty rooms of equal size. 
 
 This to the right is meant, 
 
 or seems to be, 
 For fi-iends' reception and for revelry. 
 
 Low cushioned stools, are marshal'd in a line, 
 And 'gainst the walls are couches to recline ; 
 And circling seats are 'round a table large 
 Of oblong shape, constructed like a barge 
 Of massive elegance, 
 
 and graceful strength. 
 With silver cups and goblets, ranged at length. 
 
 Beyond this point the tapers fail to fling 
 Their feeble light to reach the distant wing ; 
 
mart's vision. 14ft 
 
 But sliding panels 
 
 hide recesses deep, 
 But dimly seen, where weary guests may sleep. 
 
 The other, to the right where they retire. 
 Is lit by tapers, and a cheerful fire. 
 
 Here, finished taste, with busy hands adjust, 
 Without the nice precision that disgust, 
 And makes the stranger 
 
 angry with himself. 
 Lest he should jar a system from its shelf. 
 
 AU hath an air of freedom, and restraint. 
 Easy to see, but difficult to paint, 
 
 As if the things inanimate 
 
 retreat 
 Each to its place, but hardly takes its seat. 
 
 A quiet air pervadeth ev'ry part, 
 Yet all seems ready for industrious art: 
 
 Frames for embroidery of fabrics rich. 
 And homlier looms are nestled in the niche. 
 
 Pencils for painting — rolls and parchment books,. 
 Are here and there ; and pendent from the hooks 
 Some mantles, hoods, and wimples, we behold, 
 With other garments of a rougher mold, 
 That long will hang, 
 
 ere reaching from the ground^ 
 The owner's stiffened fingers take them down. 
 
 Against the open spaces on the wall. 
 Are scores of pencil sketches — large and small, 
 In sober coloring dressed, 
 
 and order neat, 
 Though some are fragmentary, some complete* 
 
144 mart's vision. 
 
 But if the groups are full, or seen in parts, 
 One figure life-like from the canvas starts, 
 So much like his we've seen in death's disguise, 
 We gaze, and wonder if the dead can rise. 
 And muse, and wonder if the husband's life 
 Can so o'ertask the being of the wife. 
 That he should seem like God, 
 
 when by her side, 
 And in her dreams o'er all the earth preside. 
 
 If 'tis a mountain scene the pencil lags 
 Till yon bold hunter bounds along the crags. 
 
 Are men for mastery striving in the ring, 
 That matchless wrestler doth his fellow fling; 
 Or, striving in the fight, 
 
 with fiercer wrath. 
 His circling weapon sweeps them from his path. 
 
 And there to him, who o'er it fondly bends, 
 The nursing child its little hand extends ; 
 And there, again, the infant, and the rest — 
 A smiling group — are hanging on his breast. 
 Who every where pervades 
 
 the artist's dream. 
 And in her fond creations reigns supreme. 
 
 On two of these the eye would still remain, 
 Or if seduced away, turns back again 
 To linger there ; 
 
 where many a lonely hour, 
 Hath passion dwelt with consummated power. 
 
 In one the care with which the pencil flings 
 Its lighter touches of minuter things. 
 Reveals how fondly one did bend above, 
 With memory quickened by her yearning love 
 
mart's vision. 145 
 
 For that dear spot where two hegiras meet; 
 "Its paths familiar to her youthful feet;" 
 And where her heart 
 
 forsook its early nest, 
 And fluttered fondly to another's breast. 
 
 A long, low dwelling is begirt with elms 
 That sweep the roof, and almost overwhelms 
 (With slender drooping boughs 
 
 that interlace,) 
 The windows, doors, and sides, in their embrace. 
 
 Close by the lattice, open to the air; 
 So very close the hand may reach it there ; 
 The oriole, or nicer finch hath hung 
 A soft, luxurious cradle for her young; 
 And with sly cunning, 
 
 to her service pressed 
 The wild and wandering winds to rock the nest. 
 
 Above the margin round with open beak 
 The fledgelings gape ; and there, with ruddy cheek, 
 A child, with one plump hand 
 
 the branch doth pull, 
 And with the other feeds the hungry full. 
 
 The parent bird regards with great alarm 
 The injudicious nurse, and pecks her arm. 
 
 Below, a bee upon a business tour, 
 Is seen half buried in a gorgeous flower; 
 And there another turneth 
 
 round and round. 
 Stowing its cargo for the homeward bound. 
 
 A feathery insect, sometimes called a "bird" 
 By gentle courtesy, is almost heard, 
 13 
 
146 Mary's vision. 
 
 So clear his colors — 
 
 poised (as we suppose) 
 On wing invisible, above tbe rose. 
 
 On that wide walk where Phoebus throws his light, 
 A shadow rests upon the gravel white, 
 Like swooping vulture 
 
 with his wings outspread, 
 And looking up we see him overhead. 
 
 The cackling brood, that by bereavements sore. 
 Have learned that dangers cast their shades before j 
 Fly fast to covert from the threatened doom : 
 All but the leader, that with glistening plume, 
 And blood red color 
 
 fastened to the fore, 
 Hath bravely mounted to the kennel door. 
 
 One fiery eye turned upward to the foe. 
 And neck outstretched, he on his trump doth blow 
 A shrill defiance, that would seem to say 
 In words as plain as such a creature may: 
 "Ho, caitiff, ho! what doest thou prowhng there? 
 Hast made thy boast that thou wouldst eat the fair? 
 Thou liest in thy throat hard by thy tie, 
 And that I'd prove if thou wert not so high ; 
 Forego thy vantage, to the lists descend. 
 To place accessible, and let thy friend 
 Show thee the difference, 
 
 thou plundering loon, 
 And he'll regard it as a special boon." 
 
 Walking where forest borders on the green, 
 A pair of lovers arm in arm are seen ; 
 The one that manly form 
 
 so often shown, 
 
mart's vision. 147 
 
 And one in youthful beauty is her own. 
 
 An aged couple, crowned with locks of grey, 
 Stand 'neath the elms, and smilingly survey. 
 
 The other picture hanging by its side, 
 Doth represent a field where hosts have died, 
 And one heroic deed that hath been long 
 Rehearsed in story, and diffused in song; 
 Because that battle 
 
 with the flight begun 
 By single champion was " lost and won," 
 
 Wide o'er the field of blood where men were flying 
 Not long ago, midst heaps of dead and dying. 
 And far beyond, along the distant height, 
 They seem to pause, arrested in their flight. 
 Pursuer and pursued, 
 
 and turn about. 
 As if their ears had caught a stirring shout. 
 
 The flying horseman checks his headlong speed, 
 And he who follows reineth up his steed. 
 
 The out-breathed footman yielding to his foe, 
 Nor heeds, nor feels th' anticipated blow 
 That hangs suspended, 
 
 as they look to where 
 That rescued banner flutters in the air. 
 
 On swarthy faces shame and rage are blent, 
 Like terror changing to a stern intent ; 
 And lowering brows, where doubt and fear are past, 
 From every side are gathering far and fast 
 Around their leader ; who with outstretched hand, 
 And with impassioned gesture points the brand 
 To that bold form 
 
 that fixes every gaze, 
 
148 mart's vision. 
 
 And fills the victors' hearts with sore amaze. 
 
 A hill, the dull monotony relieves 
 Of the vast flat that circling, upward heaves ; 
 Formed by the eddying 
 
 waters of the flood, 
 When oceans cleansed the giant sinner's blood. 
 
 Down this declivity one comes amain, 
 That he who sees would ever know again 
 Midst struggling thousands — and though dark and grim 
 From mists of battle, it is none but him, 
 So oft revealed, 
 
 where darkest terrors lower ; 
 The hour hath found its man, the man his hour. 
 
 Falchions and spears that thousand deaths presage, 
 And furious faces, dark with scowling rage, 
 Are turned to him, who, guarded by no charm 
 Beside the prowess of his matchless arm, 
 In smiling confidence 
 
 still draws his breath 
 As if defying, and afironting death. 
 
 The royal standard, gone, and lost to view, 
 An hour ago, when wildest tumult grew, 
 He hath redeemed ; 
 
 and fresh from fearful raid, 
 The blood is dripping from his hand and blade. 
 
 Behind him close, his courser (glossy black) 
 Faces the foe, retreating slowly back. 
 His armed hoofs rear'd threateningly on high. 
 And ruin leaping from his blazing eye. 
 They shrink from him, 
 
 as bushman shrinks in haste, 
 From some fierce tenant of the fiery waste. 
 
MARY'S VISION. 149 
 
 Beyond the steed, there is a narrow lane, 
 With living walls, but thickly paved with slain 
 That strews his path — 
 
 for swift his mission sped, 
 Nor yet the quick hath rolled above the dead. 
 
 Up this red pathway, to its utmost bound, . 
 An agitated circle gathers round 
 The dying chief; 
 
 whose head a crown did deck, 
 But now hangs drooping by his nerveless neck. 
 
 Some bear him up ; some haste to bind a sash 
 Around his forehead to conceal the gash 
 Through which his spirit passed, 
 
 made by that steel, 
 That they who feel but once, no more can feel. 
 
 Thus as they pass (the conqueror's ebbing sands,) 
 The other passes to the rallying bands. 
 And while his foes are shrinking 
 
 from his side, 
 He bears the banner forth in lofty pride. 
 
 In all these pictures fair, the hand that drew 
 Had skill peculiar to the gifted few ; 
 But here, with something far transcending art. 
 The fond enthusiast hath poured her heart. 
 Below each sketch, 
 
 the name " lanthe " 's placed. 
 In letters clear, but delicately traced. 
 
 Now pass the hours, and while the sands have run 
 In yon night glass, till half their task is done. 
 The maid hath sunk to sleep, 
 
 and slumbering, seems 
 13* 
 
150 mart's vision. 
 
 Wandering and muttering, in the land of dreams. 
 
 Hark! words till now, too low to reach the ear, 
 Are growing audible, distinct, and clear, 
 
 " Once in the forest Ion said to me 
 ' "What thinkst thou sister, can I strike yon tree ?' 
 I said ' no,' but far from where he stood, 
 I saw the weapon quiver in the wood. 
 
 And all the countr'y 
 
 knoweth very well, 
 When Caius strove, the stoutest wrestler fell." 
 
 " dear, dear, that horrid dream before : 
 What should we do if they should come no more. 
 They will, they will !" 
 
 and see, her brow contracts, 
 And her right hand the forceful gesture acts. 
 
 " They would not dare, for when with sword and flame 
 To sweep the vale the wild marauders came, 
 And father met them, with great haste they fled, 
 ' Shot by his eye,' dear mother mocking said." 
 
 Now sinks her voice to a whisper — now again 
 She speaks, as roving in some grassy glen, 
 That haunts her memory 
 
 from an earlier day ; 
 From doubt, and fear, and sorrow, far away. 
 
 For youthful heart first chasten'd by distress, 
 Rebels against the tyrants that oppress ; 
 And Fancy, grown impatient, spreads her wing 
 And leaves the sori'owing group with upward spring 
 To look for brighter scenes, 
 
 and from the bowers 
 Of Heaven and earth, brings home the fairest flowers. 
 
mary's vision. 161 
 
 But woe for one whose heart can win no more, 
 But trembling sits beside its garnered store 
 Of all that life can give, 
 
 when tempest tossed. 
 She sees her treasures wrecked and all is lost. 
 
 No sleep for her whose task is incomplete, 
 Though passing to and fro with hurried feet, 
 And busy hands, that yet will not refrain. 
 Though all is done, and all is done again ; 
 To still retouch, 
 
 with care that brings relief, 
 As moments pass like sands, through straits of grief. 
 
 The lights are trimmed, though bright and clear the 
 flame, 
 Each spotless picture dusted in its frame ; 
 And now she turns, and on the blazing fire 
 Laden with fuel, piles the fuel higher : 
 Removes the snowy covering from the hoard 
 Of viands rich, and spreads again the board 
 The hvmdredth time, 
 
 that first with care was spread 
 Three days ago, and waited for the dead ; 
 
 Steals to the couch where sunk the maid to rest, 
 And smoothes again the drapery on her breast. 
 
 How fair she is ! why doth the watcher stoop, 
 And o'er the sleeping maid, her eyelids droop 
 So long and still, as if her pulses stop'd ? 
 And were they tears that gather' d, shone, and dropt? 
 Yes, they were tears, 
 
 and she doth weeping trace 
 Appelles' lineaments in Dora's face, 
 
 His is the forehead arched, expansive, high ; 
 
152 mart's vision. 
 
 Brow that like rainbow spans the clouded eye ; 
 Nose slightly curved like eagle's bending beak ; 
 Lips that when mute, do eloquently speak 
 Of firmness, truthfulness, 
 
 and scorn of fraud ; 
 And his the chin that angels might applaud. 
 
 But all so proud that he who scans might say : 
 " If favoring winds do waft her on her way, 
 She'll be in after years 
 
 to few endeared, 
 A haughty creature, less beloved than feared. 
 
 But O, if mercy lights affliction's fires. 
 If friends are dead, and earthly hope expires ; 
 K pale with watching, eyes with weeping dim, 
 She gropes for God, and haply findeth him ; 
 Then one may say, 
 
 when she is in the sky, 
 A brighter spirit ne'er went up on high ! 
 
 The storm is growing loud. A deaf 'ning roar 
 Bursts like a torrent through the open door 
 When she peers out, as if from earth and air, 
 The spirit of the storm had gathered there 
 His vocal bands, 
 
 and all in black arrayed, 
 Their solemn voices joined the serenade. 
 
 As one familiar in her youth with tears, 
 Whose hair is early gray, but not with years, 
 Stepping at once from childhood, 
 
 past her prime, 
 So the young earth grew old before her time. 
 
 Now in her moo^s what awful notes she wakes, 
 And how her voice with gloomy passion shakes. 
 
biary's vision. 153 
 
 That swelling bass is startled by a toll, 
 Followed by thunders' long, protracted roll, 
 Broken at intervals by sudden shock, 
 As lightning, darting downward, smites the rock; 
 Or wrestling with the storm, 
 
 from mountain wall 
 The lofty giants of the forests fall. 
 
 How in the torrent's roar, and in the gale, 
 Too conscious Nature pours her widowed wail. 
 As if that voice, 
 
 resounding through the years, 
 "Curs'd be the earth," was ringing in her ears. 
 
 But now the hours outstrip the loitering tale. 
 And gray-beard Time in his ascending scale 
 Hath counted three, 
 
 and she who wakes doth feel 
 Thiough all her veins exhaustion's languor steal. 
 
 With open hand spread o'er her drooping brow, 
 How worn and wearily she sitteth now. 
 
 But muttered words, 
 
 and fingers working fast. 
 Reveal a mind too busy with the past. 
 
 By memory's aid she lives that evening o'er. 
 When young Appelles lingered at the door 
 Of her own cottage home — that eve he stayed 
 Beyond his usual time, and still delayed; 
 Oft rising to depart, yet still was there. 
 Oft turned away, then came with shrinking air 
 And stammering tongue, 
 
 that something, nothing told; 
 ('Twas passing strange in one so proud and bold!) 
 
 And when at last his words revealed the cause 
 
154 mart's vision. 
 
 Why he was thus, her pulses seemed to pause, 
 Then wildly beat; 
 
 for gone her secret pain 
 Of hopeless passion nursed. "Beloved again!" 
 
 And when too soon the parting moment came. 
 How shook his voice that spoke her simple name, 
 And shook his hand, 
 
 that lightly touched her own. 
 And then it seemed her very life had flown. 
 
 That sleepless night, but happy — how brief! 
 And how unlike these wasting hours of grief. 
 
 The dreamy morn, the day's sweet waking trance, 
 Her sisters' smiles, her mother's loving glance 
 Oft turned to her, 
 
 as if she now did stand 
 The reigning priestess midst the household band. 
 
 She well remembers now her father's pride, 
 When at the gathering of the country side 
 At Harvest Home, the panting courier came. 
 And thousands heard her absent lover's fame, 
 How through the breach 
 
 the " Hope Forlorn " he led, 
 And stormed the wall where veterans shrank in dread. 
 
 The smothered murmurs while he told the tale, 
 The long, loud cheers that rose upon the gale ; 
 She hears them now, 
 
 and thinks how, stooping low, 
 She plucked the flower to hide the crimson glow. 
 
 And while to her, admiring eyes were turned, 
 And while her cheek with bashful pleasure burned, 
 The aged patriarch with years oppressed. 
 His long white beard descending to his breast; 
 
mart's vision. 155 
 
 His head alike with years and honors crowned, 
 In youth for strength, in age for truth renowned ; 
 Did to her side with courteous 
 
 air advance 
 And claim her hand to lead the coming dance. 
 
 And smiling, said "he would not be denied 
 To dance one measure with Appelles' bride 
 That was to be." And then the merry laugh 
 When the old father threw away his staflf, 
 And sprang so lightly ; 
 
 they did much admire 
 How he could bound with all his youthful fire. 
 
 Now Caius' feats and Ion's infant ways, 
 Strangely distinct come back from former days. 
 
 The earliest smile of each, when first they knew 
 The hand that nursed, and when they older grew. 
 The morn when Ion first to walk assayed. 
 And from her side a fathom's journey strayed. 
 
 "When Caius launched away, 
 
 (the floor his sea) 
 And high applauded, reached his father's knee. 
 
 Their calm repose at noon or eventide, 
 Their boyish sports in field or forest wide. 
 And later yet, when youth, in woodcraft versed, 
 With glowing cheek its daring deeds rehearsed, 
 And thousand incidents 
 
 on memory fixed. 
 Are now with fancy's darker pictures mixed. 
 
 Were "they who gathered round one hearth at night,'* 
 By tides of battle sundered in the fight? 
 
 Did Caius fall alone? 
 
 did Ion feel, 
 
156 mart's vision. 
 
 Swept from his father's side, the fatal steel ? 
 
 Or in one group do sire and children lay, 
 So darkly changed, herself would turn away 
 With breaking heart, 
 
 and love refuse to keep 
 Its waking vigil o'er such ghastly sleep? 
 
 Her visage writhes as each changed face intrudes, 
 And comes suggestions of their attitudes 
 As they were thrown in battle's 
 
 stern turmoil, 
 And hints of horror drives her on to toil. 
 
 Slow breaks the morn when clouds obstruct its course, 
 And all day long the storm with voices hoarse 
 Rails on the light, 
 
 and pleads for darkness' reign. 
 Another night, and morning breaks again. 
 
 The sun ascending, nature's tears hath dried, 
 And mists are climbing up the mountain side, 
 "When maids and matrons come 
 
 to tell and hear 
 Whate'er can minister to hope or fear. 
 
 For other homes are filled with boding dread, 
 Of all the spears Appelles' banner led 
 Adown the vale, 
 
 not one hath come to tell 
 If some yet live, or fallen, where they fell. 
 
 "But now," they said, "A wounded soldier found 
 O'erwhelmed with pain, with pools encircled round, 
 Who from the field with staggering steps assayed 
 To reach the hamlet where his children played ; 
 That morn had died : 
 
 but ere his heart grew cold, 
 
maky's vision. 157 
 
 When questioned close, this tragic tale he told. 
 
 '• When broke our household clan, and fast in flight, 
 The few survivors climb'd the northern lieight, 
 I turned and looked. One serried phalanx lay 
 (Of all our shattex-ed bands.) in close array. 
 
 That banner floated there, our leader's boast, 
 Its strange device, a watchword through the host. 
 
 To waiting soldier, stretched on field of grey, 
 A woman gives a sword, and points away. 
 
 That circling mass was girt with many foes. 
 That round its border pressed, with deadly close. 
 And glancing swords and spears, 
 
 f-howed where the surge 
 Tossed the red spray around its troubled verge. 
 
 With hasty feet I gained the mountain's brow, 
 And turned again, and looked below, and now, 
 That girdling band of strife, the thrust and blow, 
 And wrestling men, had been contracted slow 
 To narrow ring, where waved the banner yet, 
 Not as 'twas seen before, securely set ; 
 But rudely shaken, swayed from side to side, 
 Its agitated texture reeling wide. 
 Or briefly poised aloft, 
 
 and now 'twas lost, 
 And now its fluttering folds were upward toss'd. 
 
 Again it fell, again on high 'twas flung. 
 But slowly drooping, still and listless hung 
 A little space, 
 
 then sinking down from view. 
 Was seen no more," 'twas all the dying knew. 
 
 The hearer's marked, and told for many a day, 
 14 
 
158 mart's vision. 
 
 How, white and still, lanthe turned away, 
 When all was told : and when they sought to cheer, 
 She heeded not, nor heard, nor cared to hear ; 
 But with her silent musings dwelt alone. 
 With voice for others' griefs, but not her own. 
 
BOOK VI. 
 
 Time counts the moments off, and to the past 
 Tosses the hours, till twice three moons are cast. 
 
 Now dull neglect is seen where order reigned, 
 As if the hands were palsied, and refrained 
 From fatal touch, 
 
 and in dejected mood 
 Stands sullen Apathy, where Hope once stood. 
 
 Through fields and vineyards fair, by stream and hill. 
 The flocks and herds untended, range at will. 
 
 The flowery province wh^e distinct, apart, 
 The fragrant races dwelt, caressed by art, 
 Hath been subverted, 
 
 and the barbarous bands 
 Of weeds and thorns, possess their homes and lands. 
 
 What change hath come within, as through the door, 
 We pass again, where once we passed before? 
 The floor is stained, 
 
 the armor dark with rust, 
 The table, cups, and seats, begrimed with dust. 
 
 In this apartment where they daily dwell. 
 The god of war hath cast a deadlier spell 
 On its divinity ; 
 
 and here the soul 
 Hath loosed its humble subjects from control. 
 
160 mart's vision. 
 
 Old scraps of food bestrow the table bare ; 
 Dishes and stools are scattered here and there, 
 With soiled apparel thrown in disarray, 
 And spiders stretch their tapestries of grey 
 Across each nook. The garments on the wall, 
 Are bound together in a filmy thrall ; 
 And pendant from the ceiling overhead, 
 Are many a clumsy loop, and swollen thread. 
 The tattered fragments 
 
 of the spider's loom ; 
 That wave their dusty burdens in the gloom. 
 
 Some hand hath turned the picture frames about. 
 Their faces to the wall — their backs without, 
 As if they said: "farewell!" Close by the fire 
 A ghostly figure sits in loose attire 
 And stooping posture ; 
 
 stilj, as if transfixed, 
 And grey is with her straggling ringlets mixed. 
 
 Her hands are clasped before, her .eyes look down 
 On smouldering embers growing cold and brown, 
 As pondering how 
 
 on altar of the heart 
 Love's fire goes out, and light and warmth depart. 
 
 Can this be she, that rising with the star 
 Of morning, " brought her merchandise from far ?" 
 Whose children " clothed in scarlet, called her bless'd ?" 
 Whose " husband praised, in silk and purple dress'd," 
 " Conspicuous midst the Elders of the land ?" 
 Who to the needy stretched her ready hand, 
 And by the law of kindness, 
 
 still impelled. 
 Of all the "virtuous daughters, most excelled?" 
 
maky's vision. 161 
 
 The mastiff stretched supine, his cares forgot, 
 And nerveless grown of late, where hope is not, 
 Oft rears his head, and while with languid air 
 The maid industrious passes here, and there. 
 The creature gifted with a strange instinct, 
 By some mysterious tie to reason linked. 
 Watches the two — now changed from former days, 
 And seems to ask, with melancholy gaze : 
 " Why are ye thus ? 
 
 what other ills impend ?" 
 Then sleeps again ; a poor, but honest friend. 
 
 Now Dora's cheek hath lost its crimson glow, 
 The sunset flush hath faded from the snow, 
 The lily droops, where late the rose did grow. 
 
 In man's extremity, when through the years 
 Journeying along, he finds his "time for tears ;" 
 It oft occurs that evening's earliest frown. 
 The first faint shades that tinge the hills with brown, 
 Fills him with boding dread. 
 
 and phantoms lower. 
 That darkness' self dispels, at later hour. 
 
 Such prescience hovers here as day declines, 
 Some voiceless prophet silently divines ; 
 His burden " dust to dust," 
 
 till vanquished light 
 Hath left the field to predatory night. 
 
 Hours pass, and but the dog's long breathing breaks 
 The silence of their flight, but now there wakes 
 A voice from yonder room, 'tis here she seems 
 With them to be conversing in her dreams ; 
 And she who in her waking hours was dumb, 
 14* 
 
162 mart's vision. 
 
 Hath found a voice iu sleep : the three have come — 
 Her door swings wide, 
 
 and forth w^ith hurried feet, 
 And agitated joy, she comes to greet. 
 
 See ! by the taper's faint and wavering glow, 
 Each hand is clasped, each kissed in mimic show. 
 
 The dog alert, but still, 
 
 from where he lies 
 Watches the pantomime without surprise. 
 
 Accustomed to the scene, that oft before 
 Hath been at silent midnight acted o'er. 
 He hears the welcome, sees the fond embrace 
 Without alarm, or rising from his place : 
 Ponders the waking start, 
 
 the sighing deep, 
 And swift retreats, then sinks again to sleep. 
 
 Suns rise and set, and now these dreams have fled, 
 And darker visions hover round her bed. 
 
 There by her side 
 
 a menial seems to stand. 
 And wait obedient to her stern command. 
 
 " Go search that field of Death — and search again, 
 Those places most where thickest lie the slain. 
 
 If thou dost find, 
 
 thou'lt know them by a braid 
 Like these dark locks, across each bosom laid. 
 
 Take food from stores below, and wine to cheer, 
 And men to aid, and bring their bodies here." 
 
 They're coming now, and through the outer door 
 She hears the sound, and deems them borne by four 
 With measured tread, 
 
 and on the table nigh. 
 
mart's vision. 163 
 
 Placed side by side, their shouded corses lie. 
 
 How awful 'tis : she comes, there's nothing there 
 Where her white fingers smoothes the fancied hair. 
 
 No faces pale, where kisses fond resound, 
 Yet softly whispering, still she hovers round 
 " Appelles dear, 
 
 hast thou forgotten me ? 
 This wrinkle in the shroud, it must not be." 
 
 Now — Caius' ruffled robes her hands employ, 
 " How changed he is," and " Ion, O my boy." 
 
 Ten times the light o'er drowsy shades prevail ; 
 Ten times the dews descend, and dews exhale, 
 And 'tis her time to walk. 
 
 Why comes she not, 
 Is all her cares in deeper sleep forgot ? 
 
 No, 'tis her voice — not passionate, and fast. 
 And mixt with household names as in the past ; 
 But low and pleading. 
 
 Hark! that name is heard 
 That fills eternity, and yet a word. 
 
 " Behold she prays." Yes, 'tis the voice of prayer ; 
 And veil thy face my soul, for God is there. 
 
 " Put off thy shoes " 
 
 with reverence profound. 
 The place whereon thou tread'st is holy ground." 
 
 Unheard the voice Divine, but her reply 
 Reveals the utterance of the Most High. 
 
 " Thy costly treasures, such as hope and love, 
 Thou shouldst have hoarded in the world above, 
 And to thy Father given thy 
 
 diamonds rare, 
 The Heaven's great garner, who could dim them there? 
 
164 mart's vision. 
 
 But lavished recklessly in man's abode, 
 Where moths corrupt, and cankering rusts corrode, 
 What could befall thy heart, 
 
 but that it must 
 See its frail structures leveled in the dust ?" 
 
 " I know it, Father dear. Too much was given 
 To frail humanity ; nor much to Heaven. 
 
 But my Lord, if thou canst mercy give 
 The poor Idolater and bid her live ; 
 Wilt thou not be more gracious yet, 
 
 and save 
 Her broken Idols, too, beyond the grave !" 
 
 " And did her prayer avail ?" " We cannot tell ; 
 She had the ear of God, and pleaded well, 
 'Tis all that man can know. 
 
 Presumptuous they 
 Who argue more than heavenly heralds say. 
 
 Yet sure it is, she was as one at rest 
 When morning broke: and Dora scarce repressed 
 Her glad surprise, when entering through the door, 
 She saw that face more bright than e'er before ; 
 Nor future fears, 
 
 nor sorrow for the past. 
 Darkened her radiant viskge to the last. 
 
 Slow " burned her candle out ;" nor human art, 
 Nor Heaven's caress, restores the broken heart. 
 
 Sometimes, but rarely, in the storms of life, 
 When griefs too sharp assail, too fierce the strife, 
 And long continued, 
 
 from its fatal bay, 
 The soul its anchor lifts, and drifts away. 
 
mart's vision. 165 
 
 Her hour had come. The mouutains laid aside 
 Their cloudy drapery that day she died, 
 Lifting their rugged summits, grey and bare, 
 Like heads uncovered, towering in the air, 
 As if when first 
 
 CJreation's work was done. 
 Some winged creature laid each topmost stone. 
 
 As one regretful that her youth decays, 
 Clings to some fashion of lier earlier days. 
 So Nature fond, those faded garments wore. 
 That drew the eyes of angels long before ; 
 When first that Word was spoke, 
 
 " Let there be light," 
 And shouting millions watched her circling flight. 
 
 But now, her lineaments severe, or mild, 
 Her gentle aspects, and her rudely wild, 
 Were all unheeded in that room of death, 
 That echoed to lanthe's parting breath, 
 As one low sound 
 
 betwixt a sigh and groan 
 The stillness broke, and Dora was alone. 
 
 'Tis long since then ; but yonder where the turf 
 Heaves up in ridges, like the heaving surf, 
 Above the wrecks of men, thou'lt find the place 
 Where sleeps the dead of all Appelles' race. 
 
 Two graves are there, 
 
 a lettered stone at each ; 
 "lanthe," "Dora," nothing more they teach. 
 
 Strange tales are told, that "in the twiUght gloom. 
 Two white robed figures flit from room to room ; 
 And none who cometh, careth to retain 
 A long possession of that fair domain ; 
 
166 mart's vision. 
 
 But overshadowed by neglect 
 
 at last 
 Another wreck is added to the past." 
 
 A pause ensued when these last words were spoke, 
 Till Mary pondering, tlie silence broke. 
 
 "'The Man of Uz' by God was justified, 
 And they rebuked, who piously denied 
 The seeming preference 
 
 to evil given, 
 And strange desertion of the good by Heaven. 
 
 No marvel 'tis, that Faith is sore distressed 
 When from the crowd, the purest and the best 
 Are singled out; as if some power malign. 
 Who hates the good, and baffles the divine 
 Called to his ruffian crew, ' See ye yon soul, 
 Who holds his passions in such stern control 
 That thought itself 
 
 grown wayward, is repressed, 
 And in his native virtue seems to rest ? 
 
 Go forth, assault, nor heed his prayer or moan : 
 Nor fight with small or great, save him alone.' 
 
 He, smitten, reels — cries out. 
 
 None heeds his call 
 He looks to Heaven, and Heaven is silent all. 
 
 Blow follows blow, till reeling, dizzy, faint. 
 The sharp-tongued echoes mock his last complaint. 
 
 Can he who sees, but think 
 
 'God hath forgot?' 
 Or he who feels but says ' He careth not ? ' 
 
 When angels contemplate their fellows' fall ; 
 Their future doomed to sufferings that appall: 
 Or scan that episode with mystery rife. 
 
mart's vision. 167 
 
 The lengthened tragedy of human life, 
 Do doubts arise ? 
 
 and does the doubter say 
 Could the 'All Wise' not find some better way? 
 
 Or do their powers comprehensive, scan 
 The whole vast system, mostly hid from man, 
 And God's design 
 
 and final purpose read ? " 
 " Nay," said the Angel, " that were vain indeed. 
 
 How could a creature's puny mind embrace 
 A scheme that fills eternity and space? 
 
 When mortal art the starry fields explore, 
 As stronger telescope discovers more ; 
 And all the old Astronomer can see, 
 But a suggestion is, of what may be. 
 So is the infinite design 
 
 concealed, 
 And but the borders of his plan revealed. 
 
 The seraph, taught of God from long ago, 
 Learning, through periods that none may know ; 
 Must walk by faith, 
 
 as at his earliest hour, 
 And live as much o'ershadowed by his power. 
 
 Nor could the doubter live, if she who lost 
 Her mortal loves, turned pale away, and crossed 
 Death's sullen stream. How soon would they expire 
 Whose love celestial is a flame of fire. 
 If well believed, 
 
 suspicion thus should speak : 
 ' He whom thou worshipest, in false, and weak.' 
 
 Were Heaven itself, in fiery flashes wreathed, 
 And one survivor midst its ruins breathed. 
 
168 mart's vision. 
 
 That lonely one, 
 
 would kneel upon the sod, 
 With trust unshaken as the throne of God. 
 
 But if suspicion backed by troops should come, 
 And urge its arguments till faith was dumb; 
 * Farewell to hope and life,' 
 
 that soul would sigh, 
 And, lost his love, would broken-hearted die." 
 
 " ' Tis strange," she said, " That love should so endure 
 In men, midst passions selfish, and impure. 
 And some explain his presence 
 
 on the earth 
 By tales improbable, that move to mirth. 
 
 When our first parents were expelled for sin. 
 From Eden's blissful seats, love was shut in : 
 And like deserted child began to grieve. 
 Ran to and fro and shouted : " Eva, Eve ; 
 Where art thou Eva ? 
 
 gone — alack, alack ; 
 I'll search the world but that I'll bring her back." 
 
 He ran towai-ds the gate with hurried springs; 
 (He could not fly, for Eve had dipt his wings) 
 But paused abrupt, 
 
 and said : " if I can pass 
 Yon giant sentinel, 'tis doubt, alas. 
 I'd give him battle, but 'twixt me and you, 
 To fight against such odds will never do. 
 
 Defeat were certain. But am I so slight?" 
 He frowned, and drew himself to his full height. 
 Something below a cubit 
 
 and a span, 
 According to the measure of a man. 
 
mart's vision. 169 
 
 "The first four miles, I'll ascertain my length. 
 And by the total calculate my strength. 
 
 But how," he said, with thoughtful, 
 
 knotted brow, 
 " Can this be done ? alia ! I have it now !" 
 
 And settling to an attitude profound ; 
 His feet wide parted, looking sternly round ; 
 As if he said " Who doubts will come to harm : " 
 With right forefinger laid in his left palm. 
 " Of solid bodies," he said, " every one 
 That comes between its mother earth, and sun, 
 Will throw a shadow 
 
 equal in extent 
 Of length and breadth, to that from which ' twas sent. 
 
 Of course it will, To doubt is " in my eye ; " 
 And thence the proverb, "Figures never lie." 
 
 Well then, what is it? why — 
 
 it comes to pass 
 I'll find my altitude down on the grass: 
 
 But how is this ? the sun is right above, 
 And winks a warning, "stand from under, love, 
 Or on your head 
 
 some beams of mine will fall ;" 
 Now Where's my shadow ? 'tis no where at all. 
 
 I have no shadow, and I'm much afraid 
 My greedy substance has devoured its shade. 
 
 This 'minds me of a story told by Eve. 
 But then, she might be laughing in her sleeve. 
 
 " Once," she averred, 
 
 " There was a curious elf, 
 That when pursued wonld swallow down himself." 
 15 
 
170 makt's vision. 
 
 My shadow's head is resting on my feet, 
 That proves another proverb — "Extremes meet." 
 
 But if these ancient sayings cross and clash, 
 And 'gainst each other out their own brains dash ; 
 I'll throw them all aside, 
 
 nor mind another, 
 For what's the good of saws that saw each other? 
 
 I'll trust to Instinct. Instinct is a matter 
 That hosts of reasons hath been known to scatter ; 
 For Instinct swings his cap, 
 
 and shouts "here goes," 
 While Reason counts the chances on his toes." 
 
 Then rallying all his powers, in a trice 
 He did devise this singular device. 
 
 With blood of grapes he dyed his heels and head, 
 And lying prostrate, left a maik of red 
 At each extremity; then with a reed 
 Measured the space between, and then with speed 
 Crept up behind, 
 
 and stood aghast, to see 
 His utmost stature reach the angel's knee. 
 
 Now vague tradition says, "When this occurred, 
 The naughty Cupid 'swore'd' a naughty word." 
 
 Others contend he whistled long and low, 
 And struck the angel an impatient blow. 
 Who, turning round, was much inclined to laugh 
 At such a foeraan, armed with such a staff; 
 But feigning anger said, 
 
 as if was brewing 
 A dangerous storm, "Whatever are you doing?" 
 
 Cupid, with watchword magical on high, 
 Answered instinctively, "I'm Love, 'tis I." 
 
mart's vision. 171 
 
 Down fell the glittering 
 
 weapon at the word, 
 And all unhurt he passed the flaming sword. 
 
 A smile disturbed their visages sedate, 
 As passion's prince, the conqueror of hate, 
 The gentle, wayward tyrant of the heart, 
 "Who bears in tragedy the leading part. 
 Was pictured as a child in thought and size, 
 Unlike his princely namesake in the skies, 
 Whom all revere, 
 
 accustomed still to see. 
 With Faith and Hope, the greatest of the three. 
 
 Now came a pleasing change from gorgeous light, 
 To softer radiance 'twixt day and night; 
 When all the hosts of heaven disperse, to muse, 
 And contemplate amid the falling dews 
 The wonders of his power, 
 
 whose brief command 
 Marshals the planets in divisions grand. 
 
 A Sabbath stillness reigns, save far away, 
 The temple choir, that .^ingeth night and day. 
 Makes silence eloquent ; as organ notes 
 Soft through the pillared aisles and arches floats, 
 Of dim cathedral ; 
 
 speaking to the soul 
 With voice more potent than its heavier roll. 
 
 Thither they wended, passing many a league 
 Of city and champaigne, without fatigue. 
 Now borne by light-oared barge, or from the crest 
 Of lofty height, as eagle from his nest 
 Floats down upon the wind, they passed beneath 
 That canopy of cloud, whose mists enwreath 
 
172 Mary's vision. 
 
 The temple courts, 
 
 and shroud a wide area, 
 Where worlds on worlds naight pass and disappear. 
 
 A cloudy wreath of many colors rings 
 The ante-chamber of the King of Kings ; 
 And misty prisms, tremulously bright, 
 Fresco the vault, "no column lifts its height," 
 Or props the boundless visionary sky, 
 That shifts alternate from remote to nigh ; 
 Compressing now the rapturous notes that rise 
 From voice and harp, or now discursive dies ; 
 As shifting winds 
 
 now bring sweet music near, 
 Or wildly sweep it from the listening ear. 
 
 Forgetful of the splendors gathered there, 
 (Divine perfections so pervade the air,) 
 The lowly child of earth 
 
 can scarce endure 
 The first approach to infinitely pure. 
 
 "Alas! alas! for what mine eyes have seen! 
 I and my people are unolean, unclean !" 
 The sorrowing soul exclaims 
 
 with long drawn sigh. 
 A still, small voice replies, "Thou shalt not die." 
 
 "A strange sensation steals," she whispered low, 
 "Through every nerve, as 'neath the cloud we go. 
 
 Oppressed with awful dread, 
 
 I greatly fear. 
 And yet my soul would dwell for ever here. 
 
 Where is the Saviour? How would guilty pride 
 Call on the rocks and hills to fall, and hide 
 Its very being? Where is Jesus now? 
 
mart's vision. 173 
 
 O let his name be written on my brow, 
 That all may know, 
 
 and every hand extend, 
 And every tongue give welcome to his friend." 
 
 '' Peace," said the angel, " Let thy terrors cease, 
 Yonder the ' Son of Man,' the ' Prince of Peace,' 
 Awaits thy coming. See!" She looked, and lo! 
 Far as a steed from morn to eve might go 
 Up a wide avenue, with seraphs bright 
 On either side, a soft, suffused light 
 Hung round a Majesty, whose aspect high 
 Obscured its satellites, as stars too nigh 
 The full, round moon, 
 
 grow pale, and are forgot. 
 Lost in her beams as if their own were not. 
 
 And she who shrunk, bewildered and amazed. 
 From angel presences that round her blazed. 
 Forgot them all, and said, 
 
 '■ How can it be 
 That the high King of Glory died for me? 
 
 How would men .-tand amazed if they could trace 
 What none can tell, the fashion of his grace?" 
 
 And none may paint, forbid by God to mar 
 With feeble hand, the " Bright and Morning Star." 
 
 But while from angels man dismayed hath fled, 
 Or panic-stricken sunk to earth as dead, 
 They seemed but darkness now 
 
 by that Great One, 
 Quenched like the glow-worm by the midday sun. 
 
 Close by the Wonderfi;!, so near they were. 
 They seemed but parts of him, and no less fair; 
 15* 
 
174 mart's vision. 
 
 Children in statnre, but of aspect bright, 
 Shining like Him with uncreated light, 
 There waited three, 
 
 on which the angels cast 
 Their beaming eyes in reverence as they passed. 
 
 The one most beautiful was sadly sweet, 
 "With jeweled robe that flowed upon her feet; 
 But stained with tears her vesture, and her eye 
 Oft sought the ground, as if the lids did try 
 With sudden haste, 
 
 when pity's drops did start, 
 To veil the fountains of her gentle heart. 
 
 Sometimes she cast at her companions near, 
 A hurried glance of mingled love and fear ; 
 Then looked to him 
 
 who marked the glance she gave, 
 And stooped to soothe her, when she murmured " Save." 
 
 The next who^e aspect meeting Mercy's sight. 
 Oft blanched her changing cheek to deadly white, 
 "Was much diverse from her ; with lofty mien, 
 And col-dly pure as arctic skies are seen 
 In wintry night : 
 
 a scroll in her left hand. 
 And leaned majestic on a glittering brand. 
 
 From ancient years, she'd borne a lofty name ; 
 But late, creation trembled with her fame, 
 "When worlds astonished 
 
 heard with solemn awe. 
 That God himself had yielded to her law. 
 
 The Mighty One had bowed his sacred head, 
 To her stern will, and sunk among the dead. 
 
 The story ran, she feared to strike the blow 
 
Mary's vision. 175 
 
 That laid the Majesty of Heavtn low, 
 Till gentle Mercy said : 
 
 " 'Tis for my sake," 
 And even then that dreadful hand did shake. 
 
 Three days, with whitened cheeks and lips comprest, 
 She watched the spot wlnrre sunk in death the Blest; 
 And ne'er till then, 
 
 was Justice discomposed. 
 Or signs of fear the Lofty One disclosed. 
 
 But Justice, sternly high — as Mercy fair, 
 Oft turned to look with reverential air 
 On their transcendent sister, who once seen, 
 The haunting vision ever came between 
 The mind, and others ; 
 
 nor could time erase 
 From memory's gallery, that wondroys face. 
 
 On her broad front, where Greatness rear'd his throne, 
 And awful grandeur through its windows shone, 
 Had beauty found a home, 
 
 and come to dwell 
 In regal splendor that became her well. 
 
 As lightning flashes with incessant gleam 
 Across the bosom of the glassy stream ; 
 Flash following flash, with rapid, ceaseless flow, 
 That gilds the waters with a fiery glow ; 
 So the swift gleams 
 
 her working soul betrayed, 
 As light-winged fancy o'er her visage played. 
 
 Beneath her brows — half shaded by her locks. 
 As drooping foliage shades the massive rocks. 
 Were eyes in which Eternity 
 
 was glassed, 
 
176 mauy's vision. 
 
 And Times, and Things, in quick transition passed. 
 
 That turning backward, worlds and systems scanned, 
 And, darting forward, worlds and systems planned. 
 
 That saw each planet in its circle roll, 
 Counted its atoms, and surveyed the whole. 
 
 Marked where the 
 
 tiny sparrow sunk in death, 
 And huge Leviathan gave up his breath. 
 
 All places and events did seem to come 
 As legions trained, who hear the warning drum ; 
 So, Times and Things, 
 
 with hasty ardor flew. 
 To pass before those eyes, in grand review. 
 Nor fitful seemed their light, like passion's glance, 
 That burns awhile then sinks in weary trance : 
 But like the steed, 
 
 whose power must be repressed, 
 Her mighty energy, was restless rest. 
 
 With God, while yet Eternity was young. 
 Over the depths her tireless pinions hung — 
 Or stooping low, 
 
 or rising o'er the steep, 
 As hangs the stormy petrel o'er the deep. 
 
 She heard that voice, to Chaos' ears addressed, 
 That called the germs of worlds from their long rest, 
 And heard their plaints, 
 
 as answering the Most High, 
 From out their swaddling-bands, the infants cry. 
 
 When on the void the Lord his compass set, 
 To mark the bounds where each division met 
 In his projected schemes of worlds, and said : 
 " Betwixt these lines, this shining host shall tread." 
 
Mary's vision. 177 
 
 And round that family, set watch and ward, 
 To mark the limits of their outmost guard : 
 Then set the compass to each planet's source, 
 And traced the circle of its future course : 
 Wisdom was there, 
 
 rejoicing in his sight 
 As one brought up with Him, and his delight. 
 
 And when he called from out the womb of Night 
 The Infant Earth, and said, " Let there be light ;" 
 And when from out his hand — as from a cup 
 He poured the sea, and shut its waters up 
 With bars and doors, and clothed it with his cloud, 
 And scared its fretfulness with thunders loud, 
 And weighed in balances, the viewless air. 
 And called the fountains forth ; the Child was there, 
 Still near to him, 
 
 the "Ancient One of Days," 
 To search perfection out, and learn his ways. 
 
 Myriads of shells, their colors undefined. 
 With forms of elegance and strength combined ; 
 And myriad flowers, 
 
 of rich and varied hue, 
 On shore and field, her teeming fancy threw. 
 
 She scooped the gulf where mountain torrent flows, 
 And mixt the life blood. of the crimson rose. 
 
 She stood majestical, and reaching forth, 
 Lit up the spacious chambers of the North ; 
 Then stooping lowly 
 
 to the violet meek. 
 Touched her light pencil to its little cheek. 
 
 The sea-bird learned from her to poise his wing. 
 The little tenant of the grove to sing ; 
 
178 mart's vision. 
 
 She taught with patient care, the insect throng 
 To tone and modulate their evening song ; 
 Then struck the key note 
 
 to those orbs that shine, 
 " The hand that made us, is a hand divine." 
 
 Where'er she stood, upon the sea or land, 
 Strange forms of beauty sprung beneath her hand ; 
 And down below, amid the fountains cold, 
 (The place of sapphires, and the dust of gold) 
 She passed — 
 
 and jewels glittered in the gloom, 
 Like lover's watch-light shining in the tomb. 
 
 All shapes and hues that please, and ev'ry sound 
 That chains the ear, she threw profusely round 
 In winds and streams, 
 
 by hill, and plain, and glen, 
 For her delights were with the sons of men. 
 
 Alike the ages chronicled, and flown, 
 And ages yet to come, are all her own. 
 
 The ancient years advances and retires, 
 And time is born, and hoary Time expires 
 (A meteor's flash to her, 
 
 who far and fast 
 Explores the future ages as the past.) 
 
 O'er that mysterious deep, whose breadth and length, 
 No barriers mark, or curbs its restless strength. 
 Toward which all fleets spread their white sails in vain ; 
 From whence the past fell slow like drops of rain, 
 She ranges unconfined, 
 
 and everywhere 
 Finds her old home, and breathes her native air. 
 
 Familiar with each distant time and place ; 
 
mart's vision. 179 
 
 Her hour "eternity" — her chamber "space." 
 
 There wisdom waited 
 
 as a little child 
 By Jesus' side, delighted when he smiled. 
 
 While Mary, Wisdom wonderingly beheld, 
 Wild strains of music from the temple swelled, 
 Where unrevealed Divinity abides. 
 And wrapt in mystery the Father hides 
 His pomp ineiFable, 
 
 and there they came, 
 While thousands heralded the Saviour's name. 
 
 " Lift up your heads ye everlasting gates, 
 The King of Glory comes" resounded loud, 
 And up in massive folds, the sable cloud 
 Rising — 
 
 revealed what never can be shown 
 Save this, " Here dwells the Infinite unknown." 
 
 Bright gleams and flashes lit the chamber vast. 
 As if from diamonds fires were glancing fast, 
 And myriad meteors 
 
 a moment fly, 
 That brief as lightning's flash, are born and die. 
 
 Remote and indistinct ; midst fiery glow, 
 And sable shade, a mountain, white as snow 
 Looms from a sea of life, that heaves and raves. 
 That lashed by passion, tosses high its waves 
 Around the throne's circumference : harp and song 
 In mighty concert storms of praise prolong : 
 And winds, 
 
 deep laden with their incense brings 
 From far-off choirs, their tuneful offerings. 
 
180 MARY'S VISION. 
 
 High, lifted up, upon the great white throne, 
 Midst regal multitudes, but yet alone ; 
 An all-pervading, and refulgent light, 
 Compared to which the sun is rayless night ; 
 Itself the exhaustless source of stars and suns, 
 Dispensing glory as the fountain runs, 
 Projecteth far abroad 
 
 its living streams 
 And darts through space its living rills and streams. 
 
 " What form is that which I can scarce discern ? 
 Night is on fire, and Darkness' curtains burn 
 Around a Majesty." As thus she spoke, 
 Increasing radiance her slumbers broke. 
 And lo, 'twas all a -dream, but since that hour, 
 The seen and tangible, hath little power 
 To move and agitate, and now she's grey, 
 Ofttimes in musing mood, she looks that way, 
 And will look thither till her dying day.