# LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. J 
 
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 I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 
 

^ 
 
 Z E T H A R , 
 
 THE CELESTIAL YISITANT, 
 
 A POEM, IN * * BOOKS. 
 
 BY B.-D. HASKELL. 
 
 A? 
 
 " He made the Stars also." — Moses. 
 "A Spectacle to Angels." — Paul. 
 
 HAVEEHILL: 
 
 SMILEY & JACQUES, 
 1863. 
 
"PS ;«t 
 .H3 
 
 CHAEACTEES: 
 
 ZETHAR, (One who sees or examines,) The Celestial Visitant. 
 UCAL, (Power of Prevalence,) His Guide and Teacher. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 
 B. D. HA-SKELL, 
 
 la the Clerk's Oflace of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 %.r (9 % if 
 
ZETHAR 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 Father, Preserver, and Sovereign of all I 
 With lowly petition, Thy Spirit I seek, 
 Dispenser Divine — of thy manifold grace, 
 Omnipotent, viewless, mysterious, pure ; 
 Whose presence o'ershadowed dark chaos at first, 
 And wrought in its bosom the embryo forms 
 Of grandeur, life, order, joy, beauty and love ; 
 By whom all the prophets of old were inspired 
 To see the great future of dim-flowing years. 
 And utter their visions in wonderful verse, — 
 With lips touch'd with fire from the altar of heaven ; 
 O, grant that blest power may descend on my soul ; 
 Unworthy ! The unction, O, how can I share ? 
 Alas ! for my lips are unclean, and I dwell 
 'Mid people unclean, both of heart and of lip ; 
 
4 ZETHAK. [Book I. 
 
 Yet, let all my poverty serve as my plea, 
 
 And prevalent rise to the mercy-girt throne, 
 
 And, through the Divine Mediator, avail 
 
 In answering gifts of effectual grace ; 
 
 My blindness enlighten, my errors redress, 
 
 My follies forgive ; raise, refine and expand 
 
 My low, narrow thoughts to the theme of my song, — 
 
 A theme well deserving an angel's essay, — 
 
 To show to a vagrant, degenerate woi'ld 
 
 Its aspects, as view'd by intelligent eyes, 
 
 Sojourning from regions unfallen and pure. 
 
 Yet, if I rise not to the heights of this theme, 
 
 But sink all despondent to warble no more, 
 
 Be thine still the praise, still adored be thy name ; 
 
 The kingdom, and power, and the glory are thine. 
 
 As dews that on Hermon descended of old ; 
 Or rain that the long-thirsty pasture revives, — 
 (The barren brown glebe owns the heaven-sent boon. 
 And smiles, decked anew in its verdure and bloom ;) 
 Or, as the sweet light, with its clear ruddy beams, 
 Disperses the long-gathered gloom of the storm ; 
 So breaks, in its richness, the Favor Divine, 
 On souls ever conscious of darkness and want : 
 New life, and new joy, and new sti-ength it imparts. 
 Lifts up the cloud-curtain that darkened the scene. 
 And opes a fair vista, whence hope springs anew. 
 
 Nor alone is its influence felt to illume, 
 With peace and with hope, the dark cells of the soul ; 
 The ministrant grace, in the heart it controls, 
 
[Book I. ZETHAR. 5 
 
 Refines, and elicits collateral gifts ; 
 
 For Eloquence, Music and Poesy wait, — 
 
 Fair handmaids, — the steps of Religion and Truth. 
 
 Hence sung, in the wilderness, Moses of old, — 
 
 Historian, Lawgiver, Prophet and Bard, — 
 
 Ere Greece wooed the muses or Homer was born ; 
 
 And hence the sAveet singer of Israel drew 
 
 The pure inspirations and grace of his verse. 
 
 "When, later, the night media3val dispersed, 
 
 Truth's dawn reawakened the genius of song ; 
 
 " The rains of the winter were over and gone, 
 
 The time of the singing of birds then had come, 
 
 And the voice of the turtle was heard in the land." 
 
 And Germany, Switzerland, Albion heard 
 
 From city and cottage new harmonies rise : 
 
 Not the doggerel verse of Benares or Rome, 
 
 Chanting praise or petition to woman or saint ; 
 
 Not vain repetition, like Hindoo's, or monk's. 
 
 But pure upward gushings of renovate hearts, — 
 
 Intelligent, rational, simple, sincere. 
 
 Could I, a lone wanderer, venturing forth 
 In these later ages, with harp vnd with hymn, 
 To fame all unknown, and unskilful in song, 
 But drink at that fountain ! partake of their fire ! 
 Ah ! then, not the muse, or the themes of those bards 
 Whose lays stirred the heroes of Greece and of Rome, 
 Should point my ambition, or challenge my aim : 
 No warriur strife, with confusion and noise. 
 And garments all rolled in the blood of the slain, 
 Where orphans and empires are made in an hour ; 
 
6 zetSar. [Book I. 
 
 No grim hero-monster, whose blood-reeking blade 
 Has carved his base name on the slab-roll of. Fame ; 
 No tournament's pageant, where iron-wheeled Pride 
 Disports o'er the necks of the lowly and poor^ 
 Should furnish my truth-speaking numbers a theme, 
 Or share the poor meed of the poet*o applause. 
 
 Avaunt ! ye great manes of hoary old Time^ 
 Alexander or Caesar i, Copt, Persian, or Moor ! 
 Enough hath your race known of you and your deeds ; 
 Full enough, for your shrift is recorded on high ; 
 Away to the dust-covered charnel, and rest 5 
 Ay, rest, if the mediums and tourists permit ; 
 Full soon on your slumbers the trumpet-tongued morn, 
 Intruding, shall summons to doom and despair. 
 
 But come, gentle Virtue ! Christianity come ! 
 With Charity, Purity, Wisdom, and Truth, 
 Embellish and guide as my song shall recite 
 The advent of Zethar ; — a Cherub, who comes 
 With Ucal, his mentor, from far^distant spheres 
 To see the sad work sin hath made in the Earth. 
 
 Come forth, now, my brother, and linger with me, 
 If truth thou dost seek ; if thine heart be as mine, — • 
 E'er tost with sad, loving, and onerous thoughts, — 
 Then come, and, forsaking thy hearth and thy home. 
 Let us wander awhile at this still midnight hour. 
 Above, and beneath, and around, all is still ; 
 Save cricket and waterfall, — treble and bass 
 Monotonous, hymning the ever-same song ; 
 Nature sleeps, — in her quiet and beauty she sleeps 5 
 Sleeps man, and his passions and follies are mute ;-=» 
 
[Book I. ZETHAR. '• 
 
 Awake, "like a lion I asleep, like a babe ! 
 
 But heaven is all marshalled and out in array, 
 And words are deploying in grandeur and light, — > 
 Whose mountains outmeasure the ocean-girt earth 5 
 And pondrous systems are circling around, 
 Whose spaces and motions bewilder the sense. 
 What are those vast systems ? are they the abode 
 Of beings intelligent ? — dost thou inquire ? 
 I answer : Ethereal space that extends 
 Above and around, is the ocean of God ;— 
 All shoreless and limitless, — stretching away 
 AVhere thought's utmost eifort ia lost in its depth % 
 Ay, plume e'en the wings of an angel for flight, 
 With speed as electric, and charge to explore 
 For millions of ages I Back, back from the task, 
 All jaded and spent, would the Seraph return, 
 And say, " Of its fathom, or shore, I found none." 
 Creation hath bounds ; from its outermost orb ; 
 The eye may look forth in a mighty abyls, — 
 All shoreless and starless, the Ocean of God. 
 
 The worlds, and the systems that sail in that sea, 
 Are vast floating islands, where — more than is feigned 
 In orient fancy's voluptuous dreams, 
 Of beauty, magnificence, glory — is found. 
 These all are abodes of ihe pure and the good, 
 Ordained and prepared by munificent Love, 
 Where Life reigns immortal, and pleasure, — divine, 
 Unmarred, undiluted with sorrow or pain. 
 There, for hatred, or envy, or fear, or remorse, 
 The heart hath no pang, nor the language a name. 
 
8 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 Distinct from the blessed, who dwell in those spheres, 
 Are Angels, and Seraphs, Dominions and Powers ; — 
 All servants of God, who embark, with swift wing, 
 On mission or message of knowledge or love, 
 From system to system, — at home in them all ; — 
 Iji numbers untold, in authority, power, 
 Superior they to the sons of the spheres. 
 A few are detail'd for the service of Earth : 
 With sweet condescension they minister here 
 " To those who the heirs of salvation shall be." 
 
 The Demons infest but the purlieus of Earth ; 
 Expelled ftom all systems, the "Prince of the air" 
 Holds court with his bands in the high mountain peaks, 
 Eocks, caverns, ravines, and in wide desert wastes, 
 Where foot of lone traveller never hath pressed ; 
 He rules in the hearts of the children of pride ; 
 In cities and precincts, where squalor and wealth 
 Limp and strut, side by side, to the trench and the tomb ; 
 In haunts of debauch ; or where Violence raves 
 'Mid tumult and broil ; or in lone forest paths, 
 Where wayfayers fall for their watch and their purse ; 
 In Senates, where base politicians concoct 
 Their measures, involving wide regions in blood. 
 
 These are the outAvorkings ; the fiends work within : 
 Restrained, in their rancor and malice, they aim 
 To mar what is left of the good Avork of God. 
 Earth, alone, is apostate, of all the bright spheres. 
 And rolls her blood-burden askance to the sun. 
 Disfigured and rent with convulsion and storm ; 
 Here man weaves his destiny ; — sin-stricken man ! 
 A poor blind Ephemera ! sport of a day ! 
 
[Book I. ZETHAR. 9 
 
 A saint, or a fool, or a knave, or a Avretcli ; — 
 Make better or worse of the race if you can. 
 
 Like clustering flowers on the wide azure field, 
 The Pleiads appear ; and amid the fair train, 
 Alcyone shines as the great central sun. 
 Round which, in its grandeur, the universe rolls ; 
 (Of this I shall tell thee yet further anon.) 
 Beyond that, as far as from thence to the Earth, 
 Revolves in its system the planet Idele, 
 Unseen by the earth-born astronomer's eye, 
 Though the tube of his telescope reach to the clouds. 
 In size and in garniture Earth, it excels. 
 As Earth did the Moon, ere its beauty was stained; 
 For Wisdom and Goodness divine, has prepared 
 Congenial abodes for the children of peace, 
 Where fountains of knowledge and happiness flow, 
 Exhaustless, and pure, all-inviting and free. 
 
 Here Zethar had lived, here had learned, and had loved ; 
 Intelligent, curious, ardent and free, — 
 Excelling his peers ; for his wide-searching mind, 
 Insatiate of knowledge, had thirsted and drank, 
 Had drank, and still thirsted for knowledge again, 
 Yet garnered his gains in fond memory's urn, 
 And tutored his heart still to love as he knew. 
 
 When night in those regions relumin'd her lamps, 
 And hung the bright beacons around in the sky, 
 He viewed them with wonder and ceaseless delight ; 
 For much had he learned of their history rare. 
 
 Oft came to that planet the angels of God ; 
 
10 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 (Such, met the old Patriarch, once on his waj, 
 Who styled them in rapture the " Host of the Lord " ;) 
 Alone, or in numbers, on mission, or tour, 
 Alike was their presence regarded with joy ; 
 Then, gathering round from their arbors and groves, 
 The joyful inhabitants welcomed their guests 
 Witli music supernal, and festive array : 
 Newfriendships they sought, or the old to renew, 
 New lessons to learn, and new knowledge to gain 
 Of all the vast, marvellous works of our God. 
 One day there arrived, on a mission divine, 
 A messenger, high in the service of Heaven, 
 Who tarried awhile on his way, to refresh ; 
 As travellers stop at the house of a friend 
 To rest and refresh, of a midsummer night. 
 When Eve hath scarce shut her sweet eye on the day. 
 Ere morn her fair sister awakes in the East ; 
 So tarried the angel near Zethar's retreat ; 
 And then, as was usual, a meeting they held, 
 But not in a temple of marble and gold, 
 Where Science, with Labor and Art, have combined 
 To pile the coarse fabric, dark, heavy and chill, — 
 Fit tomb of man's innocence, piety, hope ; — 
 No, there they convened in umbrageous groves, 
 Where branches, o'erarcliing and lofty, inlocked, 
 And hung their deep verdure in graceful festoons, 
 Impendent with fruits and intwin'd with fair flowers ; 
 Song burdened the zephyrs, ne'er burden'd with sighs j 
 And beauty, and fragrance, in rarest assort, 
 Enhanced but the grace of this Temple of God. 
 
[Book I. ZETHAR. 11 
 
 And here the Great Angel his auditors held, 
 Engross'd with great themes, through the gentle-wing'd 
 
 hours 
 Of a summer-like day (for no Avinter is there.) 
 
 Such Temple, such audience, speaker and themes, 
 Say, muse, canst thou celebrate here in the dust, 
 Where terms and equivalents cannot be found ? 
 Ah ! no ; for man's knowledge and language is poor ? 
 Yet, if a frail mortal, with eloquent words, 
 Holds juries, and senates, and masses, entranced ; 
 Much more shall the themes of an angel import, — 
 Addressing immortals, on topics sublime. 
 What topics ? (thou sayest.) Of what did he speak ? 
 Of nebulse, star-dust, or matter unformed. 
 Careering chaotic in space unreclaimed ? 
 Of stars that are double, quadruple, or sole? 
 Of suns, or of comets, or dim milky-way, 
 Just seen through their atmosphere streaming afar ? 
 Did he speak of strange forms, both of beauty and love, 
 Developed, yet hid in some dark little star. 
 So dark, that it borrows its light from abroad, 
 So small, blotted out, — it would never be missed ? 
 Or, say, did he speak of those heavenly courts, 
 Where God, in whose ^' presence is fullness of joy," 
 Maintains his high throne and his government, pure^ 
 Unsearchable, Glorious, Changeless and Good ? 
 Oh themes so transcendent I may not encroach ; 
 Ye wise men of Earth, ye whose theories, spun 
 Like gossamer filaments thrown to the winds 
 To fasten perchance to some casual twig, 
 
12 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 Over which, in your fancy, ye creep the profound ! 
 When you shall learn wisdom from scources like this, 
 The lessons divine you need never unlearn ; 
 But spin out your hour ; for I may not disturb. 
 
 Whate'er were his topics, the twilight at length 
 Invited alike to repast and repose ; 
 Yet, ere they dispersed, he would add a few words, — • 
 As friends add in postscript an item or so : — 
 " I have heard of a world that's apostate from God, 
 Where sin hath perfected its terrible fruits 
 In blindness, debasement, guilt, sorrow and death ; 
 I have heard of such world , but have never been there ; 
 My duty hath led far away from that sphere." 
 
 The terms, thus presented, conveyed to their minds 
 No adequate vieAv of the things that were meant ; 
 Like problems, propounded (abstracted and deep) 
 To gay, happy childhood, absorbed in its joy. 
 
 Of all that he said, scarce a Avord had been lost 
 On Zethar's reflecting, inquisitive mind ; 
 But chiefly the last, — of that alienate world. 
 He queried and thought, till his queries and thoughts 
 Confusing, he sought from the angel to gain 
 Solution, and rest for his questions and doubts. 
 Him found, he saluted with deference due, 
 And kind salutation the angel returned ; 
 His various questions, (with leave,) he proposed ; — 
 " How far to that world ? and, Loav long had it sinned? 
 What plea, or excuse, for their sin could they urge ? 
 What rank held the people in intellect's scale ? 
 Could any e'er visit the renegade orb ? 
 
[Book I. ZETHAR. 13 
 
 Why God had permitted such blot in his works ? 
 What end had in view in his sufferance long ? 
 Would it ever remain undisturbed, and unchanged ? 
 Had God e'er resigned his authority there ? 
 If not, by what rule did he govern a world, 
 Where Justice and Truth in abeyance were held ? " 
 
 To all these inquiries the angel replied ; — 
 "My brother, thy questions invite a wide scope 
 And time, more than duty, permits me to spend ; 
 To-morrow I leave the blest scenes of Idele, 
 And long it may be ere I meet thee again : 
 Consider, I said I had never been there, 
 I know but by heresay and public account ; 
 la wide fields of knowledge one may not know all, 
 And much in God's work even angels may learn ; 
 Accept then my answer, and Avhere it may fail 
 To meet thy inquiries, seek light from above. 
 'Tis known in all Heavtn that thez'e is such a world ; 
 For many go there to behold the strange work, 
 And One on th« throne hath espoused their cause, 
 Through whose mediation God's justice a while 
 Defers to a scheme of probation and grace ; 
 When ends that probation, the judgment will sit, 
 Worlds listen the summons, and learn its results." 
 
 He ceased, and his auditor, musing long while, 
 Broke silence at length : " Would the angel convey 
 His prayer for permission to visit that world ? " 
 
 Unknown, save on earth, is the mean monster pride, 
 That finds, in superior talent or rank, 
 Occasion for mere exaltation of self : 
 
14 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 True nobleness joys in the joy it imparts ; 
 
 Such joy was the angel's, (surprised,) as he gave 
 
 Consent to the ardent yet novel request ; 
 
 So, after reciprocal courtesies passed, 
 
 They parted, and never have met since that hour. 
 
 Now Night had her star-broidered curtain let down, 
 And Zethar should share in the general rest ; 
 "What mattered the couch where he sought his repose 
 (Of odorous mosses unknown in the Earth,) 
 That Sleep, gentle nymph, would not visit his eyes ? 
 Why forth must he wander and peer 'mongst the stars, 
 As if he might catch but a glimpse, in the train 
 Of aught that would answer the dream of his soul ? 
 Ah ! thoughts new and strange now enraptur'd his mind. 
 And Fancy, new fledged, aimed a far wider flight ; 
 Hence, back to his couch, then away, on the watch, 
 As stars rose and set, did he linger till dawn ; 
 And then sought his friend, but the angel had flown ; 
 On the first golden wing of the morning he sped. 
 
 Now seasons rolled on, and the joy in Idele, 
 Its friendships, its peace, knew no blight or decay ; 
 Still blest were its children, in all that could serve 
 To minister full, incorruptible bliss ; 
 And Zethar still shared in that pleasure and peace, 
 But never his lesson or prayer could forget : 
 Yet, time passing on and no answer received. 
 His thoughts into quiet submission were hushed ; 
 He had asked too much, or had asked amiss. 
 
 Of prayers of the faithful no vestige is lost ; 
 Though sighs, or but tears in our weakness we send, 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 15 
 
 Those sighs and those tears will come np as a plea 
 Accepted, and owned in the Presence Divine : 
 Our prayers, through the urgency sin hath entailed, 
 And imminent dangers that compass us round, [Name, 
 Come at once to the Throne, through the Prevalent 
 And help opportune rushes down at our need. 
 But Zethar's petition, the angel's true heart 
 Retained as a treasure, while wandering far : 
 Keturning at length, the desire of his friend 
 He lodged, in due form, on the altar of heaven. 
 
 How fleet are the years that we count upon earth! 
 Of space and duration our measure how scant ! 
 Our ages are hours on the dial of heaven ; 
 The snail mocks our motion, — the insect our life ; 
 From infancy onward, we slumber and eat. 
 Eat, sleep, labor, sorrow, then sicken and die, 
 Ere one revolution some planets complete. 
 
 Long time had now past, of the earth-measured time. 
 Since the angel went forth on his mission afar, 
 When Zethar, one evening, apart from the throng 
 For worship and calm meditation retired ; 
 But soon, from his musings, behold him aroused ! 
 A motion and sound on the undulate air 
 Proclaimed a celestial Intelligence nigh ; 
 And soon a tall Seraph before him appeared. 
 Whose aspect inspired him with awe and surprise ; 
 Six wings, shedding odors, his person adorned ; 
 Twain covered his radiant face from above, 
 Twain covered his feet, and with twain he did fly : 
 His countenance was as the beauty of morn, — 
 
16 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 A morn without clouds, on the mountains outspread— 
 
 And energy, purity, wisdom sedate, 
 
 Were blended with love in his lineaments fine ; 
 
 And then, other elements marked his contour, 
 
 Which Zethar could neither define nor explain ; 
 
 The outer, a bold and a resolute mein ; 
 
 The inner, a gentle suiFusion appear'd ; 
 
 These gave to his aspect such beauty and power, 
 
 That Zethar, forgetting the courtesies due. 
 
 Stood gazing intent, all abstracted and mute. 
 
 The voice of the Seraph recalled him at length : 
 
 " I am Ucal ; I come from the presence of God, 
 
 Fulfilling his will, with a message I come ; 
 
 Art thou that Inquirer, whose angel-winged prayer 
 
 Long since an acceptable record hath found ? " 
 
 " I am Zethar ; and hath my petition indeed 
 Been heard, and remembered, and granted of God ? " 
 
 " Thy prayer hath been heard ; and the councils di- 
 vine. 
 With this sole condition, permit thy request : — 
 Thy service is due and is claimed of the Lord, 
 To minister there, till his judgment reveals 
 The destinies meet for the evil and good. 
 But, further, I show thee a price for the boon ; 
 Nor think thou that wisdom is gained without price : 
 Her lessons, her discipline, deem not severe ; 
 They mould, they elicit, confirm and expand 
 The powers of the soul ; and they open new fields, 
 Where knowledge, and treasure, and glory, are hid. 
 
 " Know first, that the system to which thou wouldst go 
 Is distant, far distant, in regions of space ; — 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 17 
 
 A pathway unmeasured, by thee unconceived : 
 Long time must be spent, on a Seraph's bold wing, 
 To reach that dim goal, and long time to return ; 
 Long must thou be absent, sojourning ; but more, — 
 As thou leavest, — thou ne'er canst return to Idele. 
 
 " Know too that, full often, thy heart shall be sore 
 At wrongs and oppressions thou mayst not redi'ess, 
 And burn with revenges thou mayst not enact ; 
 And, what is more bitter to generous hearts, 
 Oft witness corroding and heart-breaking griefs 
 Thou mayst not be able to heal or assuage ; 
 And there all thy associations will be, — 
 Unlike the refined and the pure in Idele ; 
 For oft shalt thou meet with th-e mean, and the proud, 
 The cruel, the false, the unclean and debased, 
 Till thy generous spirit shall sicken and pall ; 
 There, each luring prospect, that cheers ardent hope, 
 Is drap'd with Uncertainty's gray misty veil ; 
 There, ail things are subject to change and decay ; 
 For, restless Vicissitude loiters about 
 To crumble and blight eveiy beautiful thing, 
 That shines, or that blooms, in her wild wayward path : 
 
 Dost see yon fair cloud, which the last gleam of day 
 Hath painted in radiant colors serene ? 
 Mark now, from thy gaze how the pageantry fades, 
 And nought but the dull leaden vapor is left ! 
 So there do all lovely and excellent forms, 
 Affection's choice treasures, grow pallid and wan, 
 Then ghastly, and moulder aAvay to the dust ; 
 And Love, wearied oft, disappointed and balked, 
 Draws in her torn tendrils and mourns the sad change. 
 2 
 
18 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 " AVhile thus I enlarge, I seek not to dissuade, 
 And rather instruct, than prevent, thy free choice ; 
 'Tis meet, for wise choice, thou shouklst be well advised ', 
 Thy prayer thou canst either withdraw or renew : 
 Say now, at such price and condition imposed, 
 Dost thou still insist, and accept the strange boon ? " 
 
 Then Zethar replied : " Holy Teacher, thy words 
 Are strange to my ears, and their import more strange ; 
 Since I, in my knowledge, know only the good, 
 I judge the things meant are of good the reverse, 
 Which, not comprehended, excite little fear ; 
 But then I consider an absence, so long 
 From these cherished scenes of my friendship and joy, 
 Sufficient inducement my plea to withdraw, 
 Did not the condition affixed to the boon 
 Imply a direction for duty and love. 
 God's service is heaven, — -none the less in those scenes 
 "Where evil (thou sayest) abounds and prevails : 
 This thought now hath changed all the aim of my prayer ; 
 I thought but to learn, I would now go to serve, — 
 To serve, for I love, — and I therefore must go." 
 
 " 'Tis well," said the Seraph ; " thy service and love, 
 Acceptable, rise as the incense of morn ; 
 Yet, having permission, how will it avail, 
 If thou hast no power to remove from this sphere, — 
 And that, with such speed, as to reach that dark world, 
 Ere judgment shall silence the cry of its guilt ? 
 And then thou didst ask for no guide to conduct ; 
 Without such direction, diverge but a line. 
 Thy wonderful journey would tend far aside ; 
 The power for this journey, and knowledge to guide, 
 
Book I.] ZETHAE. 19 
 
 Hast thou of thine own, that thou didst not implore ? " 
 
 Now a new dilemma did Zethar perplex : 
 He gazed at night's wonderful, silent array, 
 Himself he surveyed, and then took a side glance 
 At Ucal's winged form, and at length he replied : 
 
 " Ah ! no, I have nothing ! how simple my thought ! 
 One favor I sought, but two greater I need ! 
 Yet, asking too much, I might nothing receive." 
 
 " Not so," answered Ucal; "with liberal hand 
 God gives, those who ask him, great gifts in his love ; 
 The rule for his bounty respects not his wealth, 
 But rather our power to appreciate and use ; 
 His bounty exceeds thy request, and thy thoughts ; 
 Behold, at thy prayer I come to confer 
 The requisite power, and attend as thy guide ! " 
 
 So saying, he touched Zethar's arm with a wand, 
 "When, forth from his shoulders, all graceful and lithe, 
 Two wings like the cherubim ample extend, — 
 Ten cubits on this side, ten cubits on that : 
 New spirits, infusing new light and new poAver, 
 Expanded his person, his mind and his mien ! 
 Behold now our Zethar ! ennobled, endowed, 
 No longer a child of the planet Idele, 
 But raised to the ranks of the bright angel-powers ! 
 
 When bound on their journeys celestial, remote, 
 No long preparation do angels require ; 
 No pack of coarse luggage, on camel or car ; 
 No tender adieus from solicitous hearts. 
 That tremble, lest sorrow or sickness should smite. 
 Where Love's gentle hand could not soothe or restore ; 
 
20 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 Lest accident maim, or the traveller, Death 
 O'ertake, and lay low in the stranger's lone grave ; 
 No, fearless they gird for their marvellous flight, 
 And launching, with ardor and vigor unspent. 
 Where roam fiery comets, where glow mighty stars, — 
 Unmourned they depart, and unharmed they i-eturn. 
 
 With morn's purple tokens, that usher the day, 
 Our travellex'S soared from a mount in Idele, 
 On pilgrimage, bound to the Planet of ill. 
 At first, with due caution did Ucal lead on, 
 Till Zethar, new pinioned, could gather in speed ; 
 (Thus parent-bii'ds nurture the fiight of their young.) 
 
 Now, daylight advancing revealed to the view, 
 In glorious beauty, the scenes of Idele : 
 The skill of the painter, or poet would fail 
 To draw to the eye of the fancy, or sense 
 An adequate sketch of its grandeur and grace. 
 When poets dilate on the beauties of Earth, 
 The mountain, the forest, the lawn and the lake ; 
 The varied hues and pei'fume of the flowers. 
 The frost-tinted woodlands when autumn hath come, 
 The music of birds, and the hum of the bees, 
 The roar of the waterfall, prattle of brooks, 
 The loAv, heavy moan of the far-distant sea, 
 That siglieth to rest after tumult and storm ; 
 All these, and much more, at the will of the bard. 
 Contribute concurrent their charms, to enhance 
 The song that dilates on the beauties of earth ; 
 Yet all of Earth's beauty were less than a tithe 
 Of what, with rapt vision, the pilgrims beheld 
 In grand panorama extended beneath. 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 21 
 
 0, ye gentle readers, whose hearts are attune 
 With nature's sweet voices, if poets knew all, 
 The song, more discursive, might tell you much more. 
 
 Still upward they rise, and the well-defined scenes 
 Conglomerate mingle, confused, yet still fair ; 
 Anon, all appears as a misty gray mass ; — 
 And then, a broad glare, like the moon on the lake : 
 As onward they journey it gleams on their way, 
 As evening star gleams on the mariner's course ; 
 At last, with faint glimmer, it fades from their sight : 
 Adieu, blissful planet ! Adieu for a while ! 
 Who knows, in the future, what fates may unfold ? 
 The Bard may yet visit and bask in thy joy ! [spheres, 
 
 Now, on the great thoroughfare, leading 'mongst 
 With wing still accelerate, onward they press ; 
 But soon strange impediment met in their path ; 
 For, lo ! in the distance a retinue bright 
 Advanced in due order with harp and with song ! 
 At once from their pathway did Ucal lead off; 
 And then a small comet, that lagged in their way. 
 The arm of the Seraph restrained in its course. 
 That from its mist-curtain unseen, they might see. 
 (Astronomers wise, make an item, I pray ; 
 For proximate cause of disturbance is here.) 
 Not long did they wait, for, with shout and acclaim 
 The jubilant tide rolled exulting along; 
 So sang, in the morn of creation, the spheres, 
 And sons of God shouted responsive the joy. 
 First, came mighty Cherubim, — girded with light, 
 With eye-studded wheels, awe-inspiring and high ; 
 
22 ZETHAK. [Book I. 
 
 Next came the six-wiuged, — the Seraphim they, 
 
 As heard by the holy Bard-Prophet of old ; 
 
 (They uttered responsive, " Thrice holy the Lord ! ") 
 
 Then Princes, Dominions, Authorities, Powers, 
 
 And orders angelic, the numbers untold, — 
 
 Their rank and appointments, their speed and their joy, — 
 
 The pilgrims beheld from the vapory world ; 
 
 They gazed till the bright cavalcade had passed by : 
 
 "Who were they, their object, and whither their flight ? 
 
 Were questions that Zethar failed not to propose : 
 
 But queries were useless ; for Ucal withheld 
 
 Whatever he knew of their mission or aim. 
 
 Now, leaving the comet to speed on its course, 
 They sought once again the celestial highway. 
 This thoroughfare, reader, extends from the verge 
 Where angels look forth, in vacuity vast. 
 On night's awful empire, vmbroken and chill ; 
 Thence through the wide universe, glowing and grand. 
 It crosses, far southward, the dim milky-way. 
 And near by the window-celestial ; thence on, 
 And on, till it reaches the opposite verge, 
 Where the hand of Omnipotence stayeth its work ; 
 An opposite pathway, diagonal, leads 
 From verge unto verge, through its mighty extent ; 
 Thence branches, diverging and numberless, lead 
 To each lesser system, comprised in the whole. 
 
 Scarce had the two messengers gained the highway. 
 Ere new interruption before them appeared ; 
 Their path was now crossed by a heavenly cortege, 
 And so they must linger till that had passed by. 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 23 
 
 Ten limes in one day, (as the days of a man,) 
 
 Did such interrupt, till to Zethar it seemed 
 
 The city of God Avere forsaken, of all 
 
 Its glorious sons, for a stroll through the spheres. 
 
 " Why seek to avoid them ? " at length he inquired : 
 
 Said Ucal, " Our object we may not reveal ; 
 
 Our mission requires that we travel incog." 
 
 So, turning abrupt from the travelled highway, 
 They took a by-path leading far to the North. 
 
 Compared with the other, this path in the skies 
 "Was like a romantic, secluded green lane, 
 Divergent and quiet, that winds through the woods, 
 Alluring the wayfarer, sick of the noise, 
 With raiment and nostrils and eyes all adust ; 
 Who leaves the highway to the lumbering team, 
 The market-man's wagon, the cab, or the coach, 
 The gig, or the tumbrel with furniture piled ; 
 And glad to escape, finds a pleasant exchange. 
 With due alternation of sun and of shade, 
 NoAV skirting the meadow, now hid in the grove ; 
 Each sound and each prospect composes and charms ; 
 A thousand sweet voices, and beauties, combine 
 Such peaceful retreats to adorn and to cheer : 
 Nor, mar the fair prospect yon cottage and barn, 
 Askew to each other, askew to the road. 
 As if they had fall'n from the clouds long ago, 
 And lay as they fell on the carpet-like sward. 
 Sequestered, dear scenes, how I envy your peace I 
 Such like be the path where I finish my course ; 
 Such like, (when comparing great things by minute,) 
 
24 ZETHAB. [Book I. 
 
 Was the path that our wayfarers took in the spheres ; 
 Above, and beneath, and upon either hand, 
 Fair suns blazed forth, from cerulean depths 
 Of green, purple, golden, and rose-tinted rays ; 
 While round them, harmonious, their satellites moved. 
 
 Now, 'scaped those detentions, they hasten their flight, 
 Away, far away, o'er the measureless plains, — 
 The light and the lightning might lag in their path ; 
 And, left to themselves, conversation began : 
 For Zethar, still true to his nature and name, 
 (Though outwardly changed,) still must learn and must 
 
 know ; 
 And still, in his mentor, those singular traits 
 Remained an enigma unsolved to his mind. 
 The time seemed appropriate now to inquire : — 
 " My teacher," said he, " and my guide, I would leara 
 What, whence, are those new indefinable traits 
 That mark thy demeanor, so strange, so unlike 
 All others that e'er I have seen in Idele ? '* 
 
 Said Ucal, " I know not of what thou dost speak ; 
 Yet, doubtless, there are many sympathies new, 
 Drawn forth and matured by the service in Earth. 
 (For Earth is the name of the planet we seek;) 
 The angels that minister there are select, 
 And I am the first of that class in Idele ; 
 And marvel not m.uch that thine eye should remark 
 Developments new from a service so strange. 
 Describe what thou seest, that I may instruct." 
 
 " The one," answered Zethar, " is resolute, bold ; 
 The other is melting, and gentle, and kind." 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 25 
 
 Said Ucal, " Those gifts, born of sorrow and strife. 
 Are Courage and Pity, — so called upon Earth : 
 The last is the gush of benevolence true, 
 When misery's wail breaketh once on the ear : 
 Thou never hast pitied ; thou has not seen grief: 
 On Earth thou shalt see it, and Pity shall learn, — 
 A sympathy gen'rous that fuses the powers 
 And mellows and chastens exuberant joy. 
 But Courage, 'mid peril and conflict is born ; 
 "War wasteth the Earth, — there the demons and men 
 Meet angels and men in long ages of strife." 
 
 "The demons," said Zethar, "Who are they, and 
 whence ? " 
 
 Said Ucal, " Apostasy did not begin 
 In sorrow-veiled Earth ; it was born in the spheres. 
 When Lucifer, son of the morning, rebelled, 
 And drew in his train a third part of the stars ; 
 A planet there was, next but one to the Earth, 
 In size and endowment surpassing and fair ; 
 There gathered the Prince of Apostates his hosts, 
 And spread to the Earth the defection and curse : 
 Alas ! in the train followed sorrow and death, 
 To blight and to ruin the beautiful orb ; 
 But mercy, recuperate. Earth shall restore. 
 
 " The Lord then made bare the right arm of his power, 
 And gathered his ministrant agencies dire ; 
 I saw, when the confluent powers, at his word, 
 Hemmed in the base horde, in their chosen retreat,-— 
 As a city besieged by sea and by land. 
 The planet beleagured I'olled heavily on. 
 
26 ZETHA.R. [Book I. 
 
 And reeled like a drunkard along in its course : 
 
 Soon wrath-kindled fires at the centre began 
 
 Intense, that embowelled the planet, and thrust 
 
 Their red-forked tongues from the mountain-tops forth ; 
 
 Dense vapors, malignant, shut out the sweet light ; 
 
 Then peal'd awful thunders, incessant and loud ; 
 
 Then heaved the thin soil as the tempest-tossed sea ; 
 
 Convulsion beneath and commotion above ! 
 
 At length a vast chasm, thro vn agape by the heat, 
 
 Let down a whole ocean at once to the fire : 
 
 How trembled the fair constellations around ! 
 
 And angels fell back from the scene, in dismay, 
 
 And saw with strange wonder a planet destroyed ! 
 
 That ocean, unmeasured, converted to steam 
 
 Explosive, projective, dismembered the orb. 
 
 Resistless, and scattered the fragments afar. 
 
 Here, ocean and air took a spherical form, 
 
 And orbit elliptic, (now comets are called ;) 
 
 There, matter more solid shot forth into space, 
 
 As wandering stars, with a part of that horde 
 
 To blackness of darkness forever reserved; 
 
 Their course is a line (not sweet circle benign, 
 
 That binds all the spheres in the light of God's love ;) 
 
 In chaos, night, winter, still deeper they plunge ; 
 
 Their journey knows neither an end or return, 
 
 Some fragments still move in that orbit, diverse, 
 
 Unshapen and sterile, — the Asteroids called. 
 
 The Prince and his remnant, (the demons we call,) 
 
 Expelled from all spheres, sought a refuge in earth ; 
 
 And there only lingers the strife and the curse. 
 
Book I.] ZETHAK. 27 
 
 Thou art bound to that scene of contention and ill, 
 Where service will teach thee the lessons divine, 
 To pity the lost, and to strive for the right." 
 
 He ceased, and his auditor pondered the theme : 
 Great themes and strange truths put his powers to the 
 
 task, 
 And numberless questions were urged and resolved ; 
 What God had decreed ? and why angels rebelled ? 
 The field grew still wider and deeper the depths, 
 Till, (lost in the intricate mazes of thought,) 
 The Seraph directed, as grateful relief. 
 Their thoughts to the order and beauty around. 
 
 The time will not serve, or grace of my song, 
 To tell thee, kind reader, their further discourse : 
 Suffice that to Zethar did Ucal impart 
 A sketch of the fall of our race at the first, 
 And consequent history, — down to the time 
 He left on the mission afar to Idele. 
 
 Meanwhile, Earth still rolled her vicissitudes round; 
 The farmer thrice scattered his seed in the Spring ; 
 Thrice watched, through the Summer, the blade and the 
 
 ear ; 
 Thrice garnered in Autumn the fruits of his toil ; 
 Thrice spread hoary Winter his mantle of snow 
 O'er mountain, lake, f a-est, and field of the north : 
 Still on, and away, did the travellers press. 
 Out-speeding the glance of the storm in their flight. 
 
 Now Zethar had noticed an orb in their way. 
 Increasing in brilliance aod beauty and size ; 
 And, as their direction the Seraph still kept, 
 
28 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 'Twas evident they through its system would pass. 
 
 " What sun," he inquired, " is that one we approach ? " 
 
 He said, " Tis Alcyone, — Orb of Repose, — 
 A blest Sabbath-sphere, and a great central sun ; 
 To us it will serve as a place to refresh ; 
 A while we shall tarry and share of its x*est." 
 
 Three times and a half, from the morn of their flight, 
 Were spent on the way, ere that system they reached. 
 They passed all the planets, and straight to the sun, 
 Unquailing, through floods of effulgence they moved, 
 Nor stopp'd, till, within a few leagues of the orb ; 
 On pinions, well poised, they surveyed the great scene. 
 To the right, or the left, or before, or behind, 
 As far as the ken of an angel could reach, 
 'Twas an ocean, tumultuous, of billowy light, 
 Where planets, their oceans, their empires and all. 
 Would seem but as spots on that glorious disc. 
 
 The light, not concrete, but each hue of the prism 
 Distinct, and asserting its separate right 
 To dance with the rest of the luminous train ; 
 On crests of the billows phosphoric and bright 
 Careering, infolding, emerging ; — intense ; 
 No eye less than angel's the scene could endure. 
 Shot forth by attrition so active, so keen. 
 And bound on a service for Wisdom afar. 
 The partisan rays mingle up on the route. 
 And hasten, with multiform influence, to bless 
 Where wait the dark shadows in planets remote ; 
 And yet, all this motion vehement was mute, — 
 As silent as shades of the summer-lit eve, 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 29 
 
 When the last zephyr dies at the set of the sun, 
 Lo ! these are but parts of thy marvellous works, 
 Great Author of all things ! Thy wisdom and power 
 Exceed, in their heights and their depths, all our 
 
 thoughts ! 
 Long while the two angels beheld and admired 
 The turbulent, gorgeous and wonderful scene ; 
 When Ucal, advising no longer delay, 
 And calling to Zethar to follow his course, 
 Drew back for a space, and, well poising his aim, 
 When a deep whirling vortex of light rolled along 
 That seemed to extend to a void far within, 
 He plunged ; and the tide of effulgence passed on, 
 And hid his bold form from the view of his friend. 
 " Me follow ? " thought Zethar ; " how, whither, and 
 
 when. 
 May I from such tumult expect to emerge ? " 
 He lingered in long hesitation and doubt, 
 Then made a faint effort, ill-chosen and vain ; 
 For, caught in its eddies, the tempest of light 
 Waved him over and round like a leaf in the gale ; 
 When, after long effort, he 'scaped from its power. 
 He sought many leagues (but in vain) for some chasm 
 Or opening by which he might pass the bright sea. 
 Recalling the course that the Seraph pui'sued. 
 Seven times he essayed, ere success crowned his aim. 
 Once within — what a heavenly serenity reigned ! 
 The surface, beneath, of those luminous clouds. 
 Was quiet and still as the depths of the sea ; 
 And there, at the centre, revolved a fair world 
 
130 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 That angels might choose for a permanent home. 
 
 Like the rings of the planet astronomers see, 
 
 A belt cast its wide-spreading shade, that secured 
 
 The sweet alternation of day and of night ; 
 
 Not night as in earth, when in darkness malign 
 
 The tempest or pestilence lurks at our doors ; 
 
 Or man, worse than pestilence, tempest or death, 
 
 For lucre or malice waylays our poor lives ; 
 
 No, more it resembled a night at the pole. 
 
 When the sun rides about o'er his northern domain, 
 
 And veils in short twilight his glorious face. 
 
 But where now is Ucal ? (His new protegfe 
 Has taken one lesson in courage alone ;) 
 Soon found, for within he awaited his friend. 
 And both then proceeded at once to that world ; 
 And soon they alight on its thi-ice-blessed soil. 
 Here, charmed and entranced by the varied grace, 
 And loveliness crowding on every side. 
 They promised each other rich pleasure and joy — 
 This field of God's works to explore and admire. 
 But, such w'as the soothing effect of the air, 
 That, ere they could take e'en a cursory view. 
 Soft sleep overpowered ; and the angel-bright forms 
 Were laid, in a careless recumbence, to rest 
 On beds of fair flowers, that in hue and perfume 
 Outrivalled the gardens of orient song. 
 Seven days and seven nights in this manner they slept ; 
 A sleep, such as angels alone can partake. 
 At length they awoke, and, refreshed and renewed, 
 Determine a while to remain, and explore 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 3i 
 
 Together, a scene so enchanting and fair. 
 
 Long time thus they tarried, and during their stay 
 (Much longer indeed than at first they designed,) — 
 Though numberless orders of life, not unlike 
 The dove, or the fawn, or the bright-eyed gazelle, 
 (All creatures of beauty, of joy and of song,) 
 Were oft in their pathway, or came at their call, — 
 Of life intellectual here they saw none. 
 The atmosphere here was impregnate and rife 
 With life, love, and joy, and a Lethe-like peace, 
 Satiating the soul with the bliss of the hour ; 
 The past or the future scarce adding a drop 
 To the cup overflowing of happiness pure. 
 No beast, bird, or insect, its life here sustained 
 By preying on others, defenceless and weak; 
 Flowers shed choicest odors, but never their leaves ; 
 Fruits hung in rich clusters that never decayed ; 
 Here Death, reckless monster ! ne'er claimed as his prey 
 E'en the gauze-winged insect that sleeps in the flower. 
 
 0, how evanescent and changeful is Earth ! 
 Our homes, our conditions, opinions and plans. 
 Our judgments, our persons, our friends, and our hearts. 
 Are changeful as sands in the wash of the wave. 
 Or hues of the wind-cloud that fades in the west. 
 Not so in this sphere ; here the hand of the Lord 
 Unchanging perfection hath stamped on his work. 
 
 Fair Solitude weareth the coronal here ; 
 And Order, and Silence, and Peace, and Repose, 
 With Concord and Beauty, attend in her train. 
 Avaunt ! ye low votaries, bold, in the shout, 
 
82 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 The wassail, and song of the bacchanal feast ; 
 Bold only 'mid numbers, poor cowards at heart ; 
 Afraid of your conscience, afraid of the good, 
 Afraid of yourselves, of the future afraid, 
 In solitude fearful, afraid of your God ! 
 
 No solitudes burden the soul that is free 
 From bondage in sin, — free from fear and remorse ; 
 To such, the sweet presence of God, ever felt, 
 (Like a fount of sweet water enirching the vale,) 
 And all his fair handiwork spreading around, 
 Is company ample, congenial and blest. 
 
 Pass we on, in our sketch of this world in a sun 
 (As wheel within wheel by the prophet foreseen ;) — ■ 
 Much larger it was, and more fair, than Idele ; 
 Its soil into lovely savannas was spread, 
 Or graceful gradation of hill and of dale, 
 Or lifted as mountains, serene in their height ; 
 Its waters, more limpid and rarer than Earth's, 
 Were spread in broad seas, or meandering streams, 
 Or lakes that reflected the smiles of the sphere ; 
 The shores of the lakes, and the oceans alike, 
 Were strewn with rich gems, of such water and size 
 One only, would purchase a realm vipon Earth ; 
 Here, polished by gentle attrition, they lay 
 As if angels had wrought at the gem-cutter's art, 
 And scattered profusely their works on the strand ; 
 And ledges of emerald and ruby gleamed out, 
 And diamond and sapphire, 'mongst verdure and bloom ; 
 Why not? O, thou sceptic ! Omnipotent power 
 Can mould at its pleasure gem, mica, or slate ; 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 33 
 
 But not for our idols, bedizened witli glare ; 
 Ah me ! our blind hearts ! not the baubles we need, 
 But, Father — the light of thy presence and love ! 
 And, hearts all redeemed from idolatries base. 
 The diamond and ruby might sleep in the sand, — 
 As valueless then as the granite or quartz. 
 
 But how shall the poet describe in the song 
 So spacious a world, and so richly endowed. 
 And crowned in its bliss with the halo of rest ? 
 The cynic may ask, Why this outlay divine, 
 Since man is not there to behold and admire ? 
 Thou fool ! Doth man notice, or love and adore, 
 That God and his loveliness seen in the Earth ? 
 Insensate he wanders, consumes, and perverts, 
 The bounties and beauties surrounding his path, — 
 Nor heeds the Great Author and Giver of all ! 
 Place only one family here, of that race, 
 How soon, through these scenes of ineffable peace, 
 "Would violence, cruelty, treachery stalk, — 
 Its silence be marred by the shriek and the wail, 
 The roar of the cannon, the roll of the drum ! 
 Not here is man wanted, or welcome, I trow ; 
 One hell in God's universe, sure, may suffice. 
 But -why may not God (for his nature is love. 
 And loveliness is but its effluent grace) 
 Create and adorn such a beautiful world, — 
 As garden sequestered, or sacred parterre,— 
 Wherein he may walk, as in Eden of old. 
 "He walked in his glory and majesty forth," 
 Survey' d all the marvellous works of his hand, 
 3 
 
34 ZETHAE. [Book I. 
 
 Survey'd in the joy of his infinite heart, 
 
 And smiling benignant pronounc'd them all good. 
 
 No wonder if, 'midst such attractions and bliss, 
 Our pilgrims were not in great haste to depart ; 
 And so it occurred, that, the longer their stay. 
 The less inclination to journey they felt ; 
 Why journey ? — the chalice of happiness full. 
 No more could contain, — why then journey for more ? 
 So, often for hours they would wander apart. 
 Then, meeting awhile, they would wander again ; 
 Till hours became days, and then days lengthened out 
 To seasons, unnoted ; forgotten alike 
 Were Ileal the Seraph, and Zethar his charge, 
 The joys of Idelfe, and the travail of Earth, — 
 The journey, the object, the service forgot ! 
 
 But Earth's moment-seasons still circled their way ; 
 For armies had swept to the battle-plain oft. 
 And Death had swept armies adown to the plain, 
 And dynasties rose like the billows, and fell, 
 And empires had passed through their zenith, to fall ; 
 And still in this Eden the pilgrims remained, 
 Engrossed with its treasures of wonder and joy ; 
 And there might they still have remained until now, 
 But God, who has work for his servants to do, 
 Can use his own means to recall to their trust. 
 
 Among all the wonders this Eden contained, 
 One mountain there was of such wonderful height, 
 It pierced the bright chaplet of light-giving clouds, 
 And, seen in a glass from the Earth, might appear 
 A spot in the sun, boding famine and thrall : 
 
Book I.] ZETHAK. 35 
 
 But innocent all are the stars of our woe ; 
 
 Guilt reads its own doom in the clouds and the spheres. 
 
 Conspicuous far, and fi-om every side, 
 
 This mountain the pilgrims discovered ; and, drawn 
 
 From far-distant points, but with similar aim 
 
 (To reach its vast summit), they met at its base: 
 
 Recognition, though partial, could not but impart 
 
 To each a reciprocal joy and delight ; 
 
 Not much of the past did their mem'ries recall, — 
 
 One object, then present, united their path ; 
 
 That mount to ascend, and together survey 
 
 The prospect its sides or its top might afford. 
 
 With devious steps, and with frequent delays, 
 
 Still sl-owly ascending, they enter the belt 
 
 Of night-spreading vapor, cool, dense and opaque ; 
 
 Emerging, they enter the radiant clouds, 
 
 Serene and eflfulgent ; as higher they rise, 
 
 The rush, and the whirl, and the brilliance are there, 
 
 And glory, the same as they witnessed at first ; 
 
 At last they came forth on the top of this mount, 
 
 And here they discovered a wonderful fane, 
 
 Or grotto, or temple of ruby-like stone : 
 
 Its galleries, corridors, lofty-arched halls. 
 
 Were polished and smooth as the lip of those shells 
 
 That mariners bring from the orient sea, 
 
 (Whose echoes resound in the fancy-tuned ear 
 
 The voice of the surge on its own native strand.) 
 
 A vestibule large, at the top of this fane, 
 
 Conducted direct to a great central hall. 
 
 Thence galleries, spacious, circuitous, ope 
 
36 ZETHAE. [Book I. 
 
 Their trumpet-shaped mouths on each side of the mount. 
 
 The angels must needs this new wonder behold ; 
 
 They enter, descending its vestibule deep. 
 
 The spacious concave shut the light from all sides, 
 
 And heavenward opening, wide-spreading, disclosed 
 
 The vast constellations, in order sublime ; 
 
 That orb and its nucleus, revolving meanwhile, 
 
 Brought all the great pageant by turns to the view ; 
 
 Not only the primary suns could be seen. 
 
 But planets, and satellites, small and remote ; 
 
 Such optical power did this portal impart : 
 
 And never before did these angels behold, 
 
 In such comprehensive and ample display, 
 
 The vast, countless, wonderful works of the Lord. 
 
 With reverent awe, long in silence they gazed ; 
 
 Long gazing, at length all the suns and the spheres 
 
 Accelerate motion appeared to acquire ; 
 
 Yet each due precision, proportion, and speed 
 
 Maintained, and in cycles or ample or small 
 
 Still faster they rolled, and Alcyone owned 
 
 The impetus novel, and faster revolved 
 
 Her periscope over the marvellous scene : 
 
 Still faster to axis and orbit they rolled ; 
 
 Suns, planets, moons, comets, appeared to complete 
 
 The cycles of ages in less than an hour ; 
 
 A feint, by this wonderful portal induc'd ; 
 
 The speed, though it were but apparent to them, 
 
 Yet, reader, the motion and order are there, 
 
 And not the less real and wonderful, sure. 
 
 Because, in the scope of thy embryo life, 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 37 
 
 Thou failest to measure the flight of one sphere. 
 Who made those vast masses of matter, inert, 
 With such strange precision and order to roll ? 
 The universe is but the type of one thought. 
 The thought of one mind, — that, the mind of our God. 
 
 In vain did the pilgrims attempt, in their thought, 
 To realize fully this wonderful scene, — 
 From the infinite whole to descend to the parts ; 
 What varied forms, both of order and life, 
 Of beauty, and grandeur, each planet contained, 
 Swift whirling, by millions, unguided in space ! 
 The effort o'erpowered them ; bewildered and weak 
 They hasted away through an arch to the hall ; 
 Absorbed and o'ercome by the vision they left. 
 Sleep came to their rescue, and sealed each sense 
 Before they could notice the singular sounds 
 That filled this capacious, mysterious dome ; 
 For voices and cadences, utterance strange, 
 Articulate sentences, murmured around ; 
 From every planet, or small or remote, 
 Each sound having meaning, here ever is heard ; 
 The song of an angel, the prayer of a saint, 
 The hymn of the spheres where no sorrow is known ; 
 And Earth's many voices of tumult, or wrong ; 
 The onset of battle, the wail of the slave, 
 The shout of his captor, the patriot's boast, 
 Whose gold bribes the demon away to bis work ; 
 The whispering sigh, where, immured in the cell, 
 The falsely accused, pines and prays for release ; 
 Yea^ each burdened voice, in this oracle vast 
 
38 ZETHAE. [Book L 
 
 Hath a home ; and is heard by the disciplined ear. 
 In short, of the numberless systems and spheres, 
 This fane was the eye and the ear of the whole. 
 
 From slumbers angelic these sleepers were roused 
 By music supernal, and heavenly chords, 
 That swelled, in full tide of rich harmony, round, 
 Through each circling passage and arch in that dome. 
 The Seraph sprang up with a cry of delight : 
 "My brother, awake ! let us listen, and join 
 The psalm universal, — the hymn of the spheres." 
 
 They heard the great prelude, resounding afar 
 As voice of great waters ; they listened, and heard 
 The voice of sweet harpings, from heaven's dulcet harps. 
 And grand diapason of thunderings loud : 
 From each distant system, from every sphere, 
 The tribute of joy, adoration and praise, 
 Commingling, rolled forth in ethereal space ;. 
 And upward as incense it rose to the Throne. 
 These sang of God's wisdom, and those of his powei^ 
 "When into black chaos his tiat went forth, 
 And light sprang, and order, and beauty divine, 
 Where darkness, confusion, and torpor had reigned. 
 Alternate, responsive, in song or in chant. 
 His Holiness, Truth, and his Goodness they sung. 
 Then came the great chorus, uniting in one 
 The voice and acclaim of the universe wide ; 
 Utill wider, and louder, the incen&e of sound 
 Swelled outward, and upw^ard, and far into space, 
 It waned, as the voice of the tempest retires. 
 It ceased, and a singular silence succeeds, — ■ 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 39 
 
 Such, silence, the prophet-evangel of old, 
 
 The exile-apostle of Patmos, records, 
 
 "Why listen the spheres ? is the worship complete ? 
 
 So thought the two pilgrims ; but hark ! there's a song, 
 
 All tremulous, plaintive, and piercing it comes, — 
 
 A sigh in a song, or a song in a sigh, — 
 
 The first note of sorrow that Zethar e'er heard ; 
 
 It stirred the deep fount, now first broken within, 
 
 And sent the bright tokens apace to his eyes. 
 
 " What now ! " he exclaimed, " and what music is this 
 
 That probeth so deeply ? " The Seraph replied : 
 
 " The worship of Earth ; it has claimed thy first tear ; 
 
 But listen again, for we soon shall hear more." 
 
 They list, and again, through ethereal depths, 
 It came, that sweet strain, and the words could be heard 
 Distinct, as if uttered withiu that vast hall. 
 The theme was the love and compassion of God ; 
 It spoke of redemption through One who had died, 
 Ascribing salvation to God and the Lamb ! 
 "Thou art worthy," they sang, " evermore to receive 
 All glory, and honor, and blessing ; for Thou 
 Wast slain, and hast brought us to God by Thy blood, 
 From nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue ! 
 Amen, Alleluiah ! " Again they respond, — 
 " For power, strength, and wisdom forever are Thine ! " 
 Again swelled the chorus ; and now not a sphere, 
 Nor atom minute, floating loosely in space, 
 Seemed luute, or discordant ; each, all had a tongue, — 
 Harmonious all ; and aloud in the praise, 
 With joy, reverential, the pilgrims unite. 
 
40 ZETHAK. [Book I, 
 
 Thy praise I would join, O, Beneficent One, 
 My Author, my Sovereign, Preserver, and Hope ; 
 Though poor and imperfect the tribute I bring, 
 Beneath all thy notice, with frailty infect, 
 Accept that as praise which thy grace hath inspired ! 
 
 The worship is o'er ; but Earth's sigh has restored 
 The record of memories long in the past ; 
 Escaped the oblivious charms of the plain, 
 Back rushed to their minds, with accumulate power. 
 The travail, the charge, and the long-waited prayer, 
 The object, the journey ; reciprocal glance 
 Betrayed to each other the mutual pang, 
 (Akin to regret and surprise,) which they felt. 
 That aught from their purpose seduced them so long ; 
 And then, there, at once, they resolved to pursue 
 Their journey ; nor venture again to the plain. 
 
 The caviller asks, are not angels upright ? 
 How then could they swerve from their purpose benign ? 
 
 I answer, "We read, in the record of truth, 
 That even God's angels with folly are charged ; 
 But folly and sin are two different words ; 
 And folly is but a comparative term ; 
 Their wisdom is folly, compared with the Lord's ; 
 Compared with our wisdom, their folly is wise ; 
 No sin-motive staiued their unconscious delays, 
 Nor heart-nursed rebellion their purpose defiled. 
 
 The angels went forth to the vestibule now, 
 Where Ucal showed Zethar the stars of our sky, — - 
 Or northward, or southward where Sirius flames, 
 Or windows celestial that mariners see, 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 41 
 
 (That seems to conduct, through a vista of light, 
 To regions of beauty and glory beyond,) 
 Orion, Arcturus, Bull, Scorpion, or Goat ; 
 And last, if not least, was the sun of our sphere. 
 
 Now, taking their leave of Alcyone fair, 
 The pilgrims launch forth on their journey once more, 
 Aud hasted perchance their lost time to redeem : 
 What systems they passed, or what wonders they saw, 
 'Tis not in the scope of my song to relate. 
 Still on, and away, o'er the measureless fields, 
 Again they pressed onward, with speed as the light. 
 
 As traveller, forsaking some rural retreat, 
 Or settlement sparse, for the city or mart, 
 Where commerce, wealth, industry, mingle their streams, 
 At first through deep woods and untenanted wilds, 
 His path may conduct, passing only, for hours, 
 Some slow-creeping team with its driver asleep, — 
 And then a log hut at the edge of the wood ; 
 Or village obscure 'mongst the hills and the trees ; 
 Yet, keeping still on in his journey, he sees 
 Appearances change ; for the woods disappear, 
 And dust-sprinkled wayfayers, thither and fro, 
 Betoken the end of his journey at hand ; 
 So now in the journey celestial it seemed, 
 For, leaving the path of seclusion behind, 
 And coursing along the celestial highway, 
 They met, on their missions, the messenger bands. 
 Or angel or seraph, and sacred salute 
 Eeciprocal changed, as they journeyed along. 
 
42 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 The Sun too, that looks on earth's sorrow and guilt, 
 Glowed brighter and larger each day of their flight, 
 By which the celestial sojourners could mark 
 That now they drew near to the system they sought. 
 
 The Cherub now noticed in many they met 
 Coincident grace, as in Ucal at first 
 He saw, but not courage or pity it seemed, 
 And he had no names ; yet he doubted not now 
 The grace, and the charm, and the beauty severe, 
 Were gathered by them in the service on Earth. 
 What was it ? what is it ? ye generous hearts, 
 Whose sympathies yeai-n in your sleep for your foes. 
 Whose nights oft are restless and joyless the day. 
 Unless you can bless some poor sorrow-stained soul ! 
 What is it ? Say ye, 'Tis a beauty within, 
 A charm of the soul that lights up the blear eye. 
 And spreads o'er the wrinkles and pallor of age, 
 A halo of loveliness meet for the spheres. 
 O ! gather this grace while Earth sorrows and sins ; 
 For Heaven hath no poverties, sorrow, or guilt. 
 
 And now they have passed near the outermost orb 
 That moves in our system, (as yet undiscerned, 
 Alas, for our science, our glasses, our eyes !) 
 An aqueous, gaseous, and vapory mass, — 
 Fit only for life of those dragon-like forms, 
 Whose vertebra sleep in the marl or the sand. 
 Now Neptune and Herschel they pass in their flight. 
 And Saturn ; its wonderful rings and its moons 
 Enamored the Cherub, and much he desired 
 Awhile to remain ; but the Seraph replied : 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 43 
 
 *' Consider, thy boon was a visit to Earth ; 
 The visit completed, thy service begins ; 
 No longer may we from that purpose digress ; 
 And mark in the distance the object we seek, — 
 That pale, sallow star in the east is the Earth." 
 
 Now Jupiter passed, and the Asteroids next, — 
 A straggling coretge, — next the red-visaged Mars, 
 Next Earth and her satellite beam in their way, 
 And thither directing their wearisome flight 
 They light on the opposite side of the Moon. 
 
 As nearer they drew to the end of their course, 
 By Orders celestial the pathway was thronged ; 
 Some, bound to that world, or to see, or to serve, 
 Some, on their return, with great lessons impressed ; 
 'Mongst others, one visage all marred and malign, 
 Malevolent, sinister, passed in their way, [form, 
 
 Whose look sent a thrill through the Cherub's bright 
 And shudder repulsive : " What is it ? " he asked ; 
 '• A demon," said Ucal, " apostate accurst : 
 Their presence we may not avoid in the Earth ; 
 And therefore more fully our object to gain, 
 I draw a thin veil o'er ourselves and our sight ; 
 Except but ourselves we shall see but as men, — 
 Unseen by all else save ourselves and the Lord." 
 This said, seven times with his wand he o'er waved, 
 And straight a dim shadow encircled them round, 
 And angel or demon no more they beheld. 
 
 The Moon, that for ages has held her pale torch, 
 Unconsciously waxing and waning, to light 
 Our amours, our sorrows, our crimes, and our graveSj 
 
44 ZETHAR. [Book I. 
 
 Is not on all sides of true spherical form,— - 
 But flattened, obtuse, on its outermost side ; 
 And hence shows the ever-same face to the Earth,— 
 Just like a halved apple that swims in the pool : 
 Its atmosphere, true to the spherical law^ 
 On this side though rare, is far denser on that ; 
 So much, that some orders of life there exist, — 
 A lowly, small people, whose day and whose night 
 Together are equal to one of our months. 
 
 No time would the Seraph allow in this sphere ; 
 But rapidly urged, or afoot or on wing. 
 Their course o*er deep precipice, crater, or crag, 
 Away to some point whence the Earth could be seen ; 
 The Sun, shining now at the back of the Moon, — 
 Full soon the last range intervening they scale, 
 And there lay the Earth in the blaze of his ray, — ' 
 Immovable, beautiful, changeful, serene ; 
 From every point whence beheld froui the Moon,—-" 
 Still keeping the ever'-same post in the sky ; 
 Spread out like a map, — now revolving in light, 
 Now veiled in her own sombre shadow the while, 
 Four-fold her diameter that of the Moon ; 
 Her broad, mottled face ever turning away, 
 As if half ashamed to be scrutinized long ; 
 Just like a weak maid, full of smiles, tears, and frowns ; 
 In sunlight here bathed, there in tempest-cloud tears, ^*- 
 As weeping, all contrite, her ills and her wrongs. 
 
 The fields at the north, where the snow-carpet lay 
 As yet undissolved by the smile of the spring. 
 Threw back a strong glare, while the tropical beam 
 Was Io>st in the verdure and beauty it blest ; 
 
Book I.] ZETHAR. 45 
 
 And so with old ocean, the rays more dh-ect 
 
 He drank in his deep reedy caverns below, 
 
 Or prisoned his tide-waving gardens to grace ; 
 
 But when the rays smote at due-angle the wave, 
 
 They glanced far aAvay, with a brilliance that seemed 
 
 To rival the rays more direct from the sun, 
 
 And flashed till some object revolving obscured : 
 
 Yet, veiled at one point, they flashed out at a score, 
 
 Thus changing, revolving, in shadow and light, 
 
 Alternate, nor rising nor setting, a scene 
 
 At once most entrancing, surpassing, vinique ! 
 
 The angels stood mute for a while, and beheld ; 
 Then Ucal broke silence : " And that is the Earth I 
 And that is the world whose great issues enlist 
 The notice and thought of the councils on high I 
 (A spectacle, Earth, to the angels of God.") 
 He added : " My brother, thus far have I led 
 Thy way through the vast Constellations of Heaven ; 
 And now, ere thou enter Earth's manifold scenes, 
 I charge thee, remember that alienate world 
 Is yet on pi'obation, — the evil and good 
 Alike are on trial, and justice awaits ; 
 The good may transgress, and the evil repent; 
 The proud and the evil the righteous afflict ; 
 Beware lest thy sinless and generous heart [dress ; 
 
 Should prompt thee to smite ; — grievous wrongs to re- 
 For vengeance the Lord to himself hath reserved." 
 
 And now for the Earth their bright pinions they spread. 
 And light on the top of the Himmaleh range. 
 
 END OF FIKSX BOOK. 
 
ZETHAR.-SECOND BOOK. 
 
Z E T H A R . 
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 FIRST DAY. 
 
 Return we, reluctant, from far distant spheres, 
 By sin unpolluted, by sorrow undimmed ; 
 (Yet, could but our persons and friends have been there , 
 Our labors and burdens completed on Earth, 
 Ah ! then if God pleas'd, we had never return'd ;) 
 But back we have come, and high company bring ; 
 Or, rather they come, and we follow their steps, — 
 That lessons in wisdom by stealth we may gain. 
 
 We greet thee. Oh, Earth ; — yet with hesitant voice ; 
 As trav"ler retui-ning, might greet a sick friend 
 Infected with lep'rous contagion most foul : 
 With chary advances, and well muffled voice 
 He asks of his health, ere that friend lie embrace ; 
 So we, from salubrious regions return'd, 
 (Where late in pleas'd sojourn we linger'd erewhile,) 
 Would ask Avith due caution, " How fores thee, Oh 
 
 Earth ? "— 
 Ere in thy old bosom we nestle our hopes, 
 Or call thee again, (as in childhood,) " our home." 
 Yet still thou art fair ; for the blight of the curse 
 4 
 
50 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Has never entirely thy beauty defac'd ; 
 
 Faint impress still lingers through all thy strange 
 
 scenes, 
 Of what thou hast been, and again thou shalt be. 
 But how art thou now ? "While we tarried abroad. 
 Have all the great Epochs of Prophets expir'd. 
 Hath sin ceas'd to poison the founts of thy joy ? 
 Hath death, in the tenantless grave of the just. 
 At last hid his gaunt meagre carcass, unwept ? 
 Hath Truth, peace, and purity, tented, once more 
 Thy plains, valleys, hills, and beside all thy streams ? 
 Ah no ! we approach, and, far out, on thy airs 
 Thy carrion we smell, and we hear the old moan ; 
 Thy atmosphere redolent is with the fume, 
 Sulphuric or nitric, from battle-fields borne ; 
 And, tremulous, quivers with myriad sighs, 
 "Wrung out from worn hearts overburden'd and wrong'd ; 
 Thy bosom is saturate still with men's blood : — 
 Aye ! young, inexperienc'd, and peace-seeking men, 
 Decoy'd or coerced to their death on the field 
 By crown'd, titled wretches, whose long black arrear 
 Stern judgment shall cancel, where mercy ne'er pleads. 
 No ! avarice, pride, lust, and power still combine 
 The weak to oppress, wrong, debauch, and despise 
 Then stalk unabash'd and unpunish'd abroad ! 
 Ah no ! not our home till the Epoch Divine ; — 
 When, purg'd, and restor'd, and with righteousness 
 
 crown'd, 
 The God of our mercy shall dwell Avith us here ; 
 But back now asPilgrims with Pilgrims we come : — 
 
1st day.] ZETHAR. 51 
 
 Beware, ye unclean in your crime and debaucli i 
 For eyes from the spheres shall look in on your lust ; 
 As birds of the air shall they carry the news,* 
 And that which hath wings shall your secrets betray. 
 
 And now, from the top of the orient range. 
 The angels descend through the cumbersome air : 
 (Earth's atmosphere, gross, much impeded their flight,) 
 Not here could they soar, as they threaded the spheres, 
 All agile as beams of the morn, and as free ; 
 And yet, even here, might their movements confound 
 Our sluggish conception of motion and speed ; 
 For boldly they soar, while we tremble and creep. 
 Now westward they steer, and alight in a vale 
 Secluded, and fair, in the wild Kurdistan; 
 Far northward, the Caspian cradled its waves : 
 And westward were spread the Assyrian plains, 
 This vale seemed a holy unfrequented spot ; 
 For here the Nestorian, Tartar, or Kurd, 
 Ne'er spread their lone tents, nor enfolded their flocks ; 
 Here lighting, the Seraph to Zethar thus said : — 
 
 "Near this, at Earth's morn, was the Garden of God, 
 " The site sadly marr'd by the deluge and curse, 
 *' But yet, still retaining some features unchang'd, 
 *' There meanders Euphrates, here Hiddekel glides, 
 *• And east flow the rivers of gems and of gold ; 
 " Here planted, adorn'd by its maker Divine, 
 " Were found all rare Plants, both for beauty or fruit, 
 " The eye or the taste to delight or regale ; 
 
 * Eccles. s. 20. 
 
52 ZETHAR. [Book II, 
 
 " (What grace shall be spared when the Hand of the 
 
 Lord 
 " Essays for his sons an abode to prepare,) 
 "Here plac'd he the last, and the best of His works, — • 
 " Man made in his image, exquisitely form'd 
 " Of Earth's choice material, — with spiritual life, 
 " Intelligence, Reason, and Purity crown'd. 
 
 ''But man must be tried; for, apostacy now 
 " Already had scath'd and infected the spheres ; 
 " And hence He permitted the Tempter's approach, 
 " To test the new subject, fore-charg'd and fore warn 'd. 
 "Man fell, disbelieving his Maker, and God, 
 " Believing the liar — he fell, — and incurr'd 
 " The consequent penalties — sorrow and Death. 
 
 " Estrang'd from his God, from the Garden expell'd, 
 " And from Life immortal excluded, man sighs 
 " Through all his vast tribes, — in the city or waste, 
 "Or Palace, or hovel, — and wanders Earth o'er, 
 " Lost life and lost Paradise still to regain ; 
 " But loves not that God, who his bliss can restore. 
 " Pray tell me," said Zethar, " The import of Death ? " 
 " I'll show thee," said Ucal ; and waving his wand, 
 A slow rolling mist hid the vale from his view, 
 And when it drew up at the sides, what a scene ! 
 Enchanted, the cherub, it seem'd in a trice 
 He had wing'd his way back to Alcyone fair, 
 Or lovely Idele, far away 'mongst the spheres — 
 Again wav'd the Seraph his magical wand, 
 When, lo ! in their view stood the father of men, 
 As first from the skill of his Former he came ; 
 
1st day.] ZETHAR. 53 
 
 Transfix'd at the vision, the cherub look'd on ; 
 Admiring, he gaz'd ; yea ha gaz'd, — and admir'd 
 The workmanship rare, — stamp'd with wisdom benign, 
 Intelligence, manliness, purity, truth. 
 
 Again wav'd the wand, and the woman appear'd, 
 Nude, beautiful, pure, — a fair casket divine 
 With all loving thoughts and affinities stor'd, — 
 As mother, wife, sister, or daughter, — dear names ! 
 (Accurst be the lore of those lecherous " saints'^* 
 Accurst of the Lord, and detested of men, 
 That desecrates ever this Temple of Love, 
 To pander vile passions, — a cradle of Lust! 
 A harem 'rnongst Christians ! forbid it, Oh heaven ! 
 Shame, honor, truth, womanhoodj manhood forbid.) 
 Long while might the cherub essay, to decide 
 Which most of the two charming phantoms to love ; 
 For, sure, matter thus — bore the impress of heaven. 
 " Thou seest," said Ucal, " the type of the race, 
 *' As guileless at first by their maker ordain'd ; 
 " Mark well, now, the consequent changes indue'd 
 *' By sin, and its ultimate penalty Death." 
 
 He look'd ; 'neath those lineaments, late so benign, 
 Where purity, peace, and beneficence beam'd, 
 There crept a malfeasance, — insidious, — strange, — 
 The germ of a progeny nameless, unknown 
 In all the blest spheres and Etherial plains. 
 Alas ! all Earth's tongues have some names for the 
 
 fiends, — 
 As malice, pride, perfidy, envy, revenge, 
 
 * Mormons. 
 
54 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Fear, selfishness, cruelty, shame, and remorse : 
 
 Oh, how marr'd these passions that beauty and grace, 
 
 And quench'd all the love in the cherub's true heart ! 
 
 He look'd : Sorrow, care, plough'd their furrows 
 about, 
 The graceful grew angular ; sallow, the skin ; 
 Grey, grizzled, and bald grew the heads, and the forms 
 Decrepid and bent with infirmities new ; 
 Next langour and pallor invaded ; at length, 
 All ghastly and lifeless, they sink to the Earth ; — 
 " They sleep," said the cherub, appall'd at the scene : — 
 " The Death sleep," said Ucal ; " they wake not again." 
 
 He watch'd : And putrescence now hasten'd its work, 
 And stain'd all man's Glory ; there nestled at will 
 The maggot, or worm, in the mouth and the eye, 
 And rottenness, stench, and pollution were there ; 
 At last some small dust with a few mouldy bones 
 Were all that remain'd of that glory and grace. 
 
 " That is Death," said the Seraph; and waving his 
 wand, 
 The scene pass'd away, — they were still in the vale. 
 
 As weeps pensive childhood the fate of a flower, — 
 Some rare passion-flower it had lov'd and had watch'd, 
 Assail'd by the blight, or the frost, or the worm, 
 So wept the kind cherub the phantom's decay. 
 Alas ! Holy angel ! lamenting our fate ? 
 Restrain all thy grief till our crimes are unveil'd ; 
 Our Destiny, less than our guilt ; then deplore. 
 Oh ! light were the doom by stern Justice announc'd, — 
 " Dust art thou, and thou to the dust shalt return," — 
 
1st day.] ZETHAR. 55 
 
 Could we but creep back with the forfeited clay 
 Unstain'd, undefil'd by sucb passions, and deeds 
 As Demons out-demon and angels appal ! 
 
 "Weep angels ? — Those blest holy children of Light, 
 Whose home is the limitless ocean of space, 
 Whose day is the brilliance of thousands of Suns, — 
 Who bask in the beams of the Sun of all Suns ! 
 Weep not those blest visitants? — Avhen from the depths 
 Of amberous light, of unchangeable joy, 
 Their hearts first take in all the griefs of our sore ! 
 Then weep not ? — those hearts were of adamant sure ! 
 They joy when a penitent wanderer turns, 
 Why may they not Aveep our debasement and woe ? 
 Be sure, thoughtless man, that no generous mind, 
 In all the vast worlds of the realm of our God 
 Could measure thy guilt or thy sorrows, unmov'd. 
 Grief spends its own strength, effervescing away, 
 As fire in the stubble that rages and dies, 
 When guilt doth not feed it with faggots of thorns : 
 Then burns the dense passion deep into the soul. 
 Consuming the sinews of pleasure and hope ; 
 And, but one Physician can probe or restore. 
 
 Soon spent was the grief of the cherub : a tide 
 Of calm loving thoughts, of indigenous joy 
 Well'd up and flow'd over the fountains within. 
 And spread its soft breathings of heavenly peace. 
 Recurring again to the subject, he asks : — 
 " But why were there two in the vision of Death, — 
 *' Unlike in their beauty, alike in their fate ? " 
 
 Said Ucal : " The Author of all things ordain'd 
 
56 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " This law, rudimental, to govern this sphere, 
 
 " That each should produce and continue its like ; — 
 
 *' Thus, ever repairing the inroads of Death, 
 
 " Man follows the organal law of the sphere." 
 
 " What mean you," said Zethar, " God only creates." 
 
 " True," answei''d the seraph ; " yet men reproduce ; 
 
 (This power is God-given, and they are but means ;) 
 
 And hence were the sexes the vision reveal'd, 
 
 Each fitted the other to charm and to serve ; 
 
 But, alienate now from their Maker, lust burns, 
 
 A wayward strong passion, impinging all bounds, 
 
 Whence much of their guilt and their sorrow depends ; 
 
 The race labors down, through the vista of Time, 
 
 A funeral train from the womb to the grave." 
 
 "How strange," said the cherub, "and fain I would 
 see 
 The race and their offspring as now they appear :" 
 " Thou shalt," said the seraph, " but all in good time," 
 
 Now gathered the shadows of night, o'er the earth, — 
 Dense, noisome, and cheerless, when innocence hides, 
 While raven and murder creep forth for their prey. 
 They spent this first night in a myrrh-scented grove ; 
 And when the red gleam op'd the gates of the morn, 
 The seraph went forth to enjoy the choice hour, 
 But Zethar remained in a care-troubled sleep : 
 As oft the poor invalid labors in dreams, 
 And night but repeats all the griefs of the day, 
 He slept, till the glare of the morning broke in 
 And scatter'd the night-gather'd vapors and shades; 
 Then woke, but seem'd lost in a fever'd amaze 
 
let day,] zethae. 57 
 
 Whicli Ucal, (returning,) could not but remark, 
 
 And said, " What, my brother, distracts thy repose ?" 
 
 Said Zethar : " First tell me if I still exist 
 
 In nature and state, as of yesterday's life ? 
 
 For I have lived into yea through a strange life, 
 
 Abridg'd in the slow-burden'd hours of a night : 
 
 I have been but mortal, and knew I must die 
 
 All through weary years ; as I counted them off, 
 
 A Raven stood watchman and call'd the slow hours, 
 
 (I knew by the stars that each was but an hour,) 
 
 Drawn out by strange process to wearisome years :— 
 
 I have been a man, I have lov'd, (as men love,) 
 
 A fair loving form as in vision I saw ; 
 
 Yet loving, this object so lovely dissolv'd, 
 
 And fell from my grasp — but a handful of dust : 
 
 Love's object had ceas'd, but the passion remain'd, 
 
 And clutch'd the pale shadow that memory drew : 
 
 I felt, too, a treachery lurking Avithin, 
 
 Suggesting, consenting to curse God and die ; 
 
 How close the dark shadow envelop'd my soul, 
 
 '' When feeling God's presence forever depart: 
 
 " I knew by the cry of the Raven, my years 
 
 " Were now in the past, I must die, and I felt 
 
 " The cold, turgid humors seize hard at my life, 
 
 "And snap't, one by one, were the strings of my joy ; 
 
 " The death- film drew over my vision, I knew 
 
 " That soon I should be but a handful of dust, 
 
 " Unwritten, unknown in the records of life." 
 
 And then, as the patriarch Esau of old, 
 
 Bereft of his birthright and blessing, bewail'd 
 
58 ZETHAE. [Book II. 
 
 In a loud and a bitter lamentable cry, — 
 " Bless me ! Oh ! my father ! Oh bless even me ! " — 
 So woke the chafd cherub's loud cry on the air : 
 " Oh ! tell me, my Brother, that I shall not die ! " 
 " Thou shalt not," said Ucal, " it was but a dream ; 
 " Peace be to thee, brother, and thus I disperse 
 " The mists, that thy spirit confuse and disturb." 
 So touching his brow with the tip of his wand, 
 The fountains immortal of life and of joy, 
 Late pent, at the signal, gush'd onward anew, 
 Dissolving the hallucination and doubt. 
 Restor'd to himself, he inquir'd Avith surprise, 
 " Have not I been mortal, and liv'd a strange life ? 
 A dream didst thou call it ? — and what is a dream ? " 
 Said Ucal, "A phantasm peculiar to earth : 
 (Earth hath many dreamers, awake and asleep ;) 
 Dreams oft are but echo's of thoughts, fears, or cares. 
 That burden'd the soul through the hours of the day : 
 When sleep has imprisond'd the reason and sense, 
 Wild fancy, uncurb'd, re-enacts at her will, — 
 Or mingles in new combinations most strange. 
 Uncouth, and distorted, — the scenes of day-life. 
 And leads the lost spirit through perils and death. 
 But fancy alone does not minister dreams ; 
 Sear'd conscience oft echo's to guilt's drowsy ears 
 Her verdict in dreams, and preludes the last knell ; 
 And memory oft, in the moments of sleep 
 Ke-opes her deep treasure, and brings in review 
 Events, scenes, and objects, forgotten by day ; 
 Lov'd voices, long silent in death, seem to call ; 
 
1st day.] ZETHAR. 59 
 
 And forms grace man's slumbers, long lov'd and long 
 
 lost; 
 God speaks, too, in dreams, though by sense unper- 
 
 ceiv'd 
 "When sleep and deep slumbers have fallen on men, 
 Pie opens the ear of the soul, to receive, 
 And seals their instruction, salvation, and peace. 
 Thy dream hath its lessons ; thy wisdom will be,— 
 To learn, and digest, and apply them aright." 
 
60 ZETHAE, [Book II. 
 
 SECOND DAY. 
 
 The Seraph now beckou'd ; and graceful they rose, 
 And soar'd from the vale tow'rds the east and the 
 
 west ; 
 O'er river, plain, desert, and ocean they soar'd ; 
 And, high in mid air, saw the land and the sea, — 
 Outspread like a picture in beauty serene. 
 The Guide wav'd his wand, and the scene was all 
 
 chang'd ; 
 And far, far beneath them, the Pilgrims could trace 
 The spread, (as at first,) of the race in the Earth ; 
 The cry, too of violence rose to their ears ; 
 And then, ere my song could the vision recite, 
 Death wrapt the whole scene in the shroud of the Sea : 
 So vivid the vision to Zethar appear'd, 
 He paus'd o'er the waste, like the Dove from the ark. 
 
 That ocean subsides ; from the old stricken world, 
 An Ark bears her emigrant freight to the new ; 
 And chasten'd, the race spread again in the earth. 
 'Neath the wand of the seraph, the scenes and events, 
 The history, character, changes, and works 
 Of earth's former age were renew'd in a day, 
 First eastward they soar'd and beheld, as the race 
 
2d day.] zethar. . 61 
 
 Dispers'd in its course over mountain and plain : — 
 
 There wander'd the Tartar ; the Mongols, there, rear'd 
 
 Their cities and walls to the dim eastern sea ; 
 
 Thence on to the Isles of Ladrone,* and Japan, 
 
 An isolate empire-j- whose ruins, attest 
 
 The progress in arts of an isolate race ; 
 
 Next westward they turn, where the orient streams, 
 
 The Ganges, (held sacred,) and Indus, enrich 
 
 The Land of the Brahmins, of Idols and castes 
 
 Long since to Idolatrous orgies debas'd ; 
 
 Still westward their way as of empire the course, — 
 
 Or Sun from his cloud-dappled tent in the east. 
 
 Who drives his bright phaeton still to the west, — 
 
 So pinion'd, the angels their luminous flight. 
 
 And paused o'er the plains where young Empire was 
 
 born : 
 Where Belus (so call'd) rear'd his city and towers, 
 Or Nimrod, the fam'd tyrant-hunter of old, — 
 Alas ! since his time how the Tyrant-pretence 
 Survives all times, changes and still — to protect 
 Is but an old feint — to abuse and oppress ! 
 Obedient now to the Avide-waving wand, 
 Old Nineveh rose from her ruins once more, 
 And glow'd the white sculpture of palace and fane ; 
 And Babylon, too, once the wonder of Earth, 
 From earth-cover'd mounds rose in splendor again ; 
 And teem'd the wide plains with a race, and their 
 
 works, 
 
 * Emph-e of Japan. f Kuhis said to exist in one of the 
 
 Ladrone Islands, 
 
62 zetsae. [Book II. 
 
 Who liv'd, ere young History blotted and and blurr'd 
 Her first meagre page with, the records of man. 
 Thence, on was their way where the annual Nile 
 Laves massive rock-memoirs, the work it might seeifl, 
 Of giants in stature and giants in mind. 
 No need of the wand over Egypt's great wastes : 
 Her Memnon her Luxor, and Karnac are there ; 
 But peopled again at the seraph's behest, 
 Were all her lone ruins and desolate halls ; 
 And forth, on the wide stretching deserts afar, 
 The dark visag'd African races advanc'd. 
 
 The turn, in our course. Holy Zion to thee :— 
 Intwin'd with our first early thoughts are thy scenes,—* 
 Thy Jordan, thy Hermon, thy Tabor are ours, — 
 Aye, ours, as the rivers, the valleys, and hills, 
 Where wander'd in childhood our careless young feet, — 
 Still ours, sacred Land ! Though all desolate now,— ^ 
 Blest type of our changeless Inheritance still. 
 The angels here stoop'd, in obeisance, their flight ; 
 And here 'neath the wand smok'd the altars again. 
 And glow'd in the sunlight the temple of God. 
 Here rose through the ambient air, to their ears, 
 A many-voic'd symphony, mystic, divine. 
 The song of the blest minstrel -prophets of old, — 
 Long silent in death. By the seraph renew'd. 
 Their theme from the gates of barr'd paradise 'scap'd, 
 And swept o'er the dark bloody lapses of time, 
 Till lost in deep cadence afar o'er the sea. 
 Spell-bound was the cherub ; the wonderful airs, 
 All pregnant with destiny blissful or stern, 
 
2d day.] zethar. 63 
 
 Had ceas'd ; but he heard, sympathetic, a strain 
 Symphonious breath'd from the Harp of the Soul, — 
 And listen'd he still ; for he could not divine 
 The music without, from the music within. 
 
 Lowly mortal ! that listens in patience my song, 
 And pardons its faults for the charm of its theme ! 
 Thrills not in thy spirit an answering chord, 
 In unison chaste with this music divine ? 
 O ! heed the high minstrelsy borne to faith's ear ; 
 For know that God's plan has a purpose and end, 
 And thy Destiny is in its issues involv'd. 
 
 Still on went the angels : Phoenicia next rear'd 
 Her portals and quays from the Isle and the main ; 
 Her galleys, adventurous, cover'd the sea, — 
 By wind- wafted sail, or by oarsmen impell'd. 
 
 Thence over the regions of classic report, 
 "Where reign'd the rich monarch, — when Homer first 
 
 sung,— 
 And, ruin'd and wasted, proud Ilion lay. 
 Thence west o'er the "Isles of the Gentiles," their 
 
 course, — 
 Where Liberty first found a cradle and grave ; 
 Fair Grecia, the world owes thee much for thy works ; 
 "We wonder, e'en now,' at thy arts and thy skill ; 
 But most, at (he keen and discriminate taste, 
 And appreciation of all that is fair. 
 Just, lovely, and true, or iu nature or art, 
 That spreads such a charm o'er thy beautiful works i 
 The world of to-day while of progress it vaunts, 
 Attempts but to equal ; 'it cannot excel. 
 
64 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 Restor'd, at the signal supernal, were seen 
 As erst, — her fair cities, and oracles fam'd, 
 Her navies and marts, and Olympian lists 
 Where racers and wrestlers contested in games ; — 
 Restor'd as of old in her zenith she stood 
 When orators, painters, philosophers liv'd, 
 And sculptors and poets ; (Heaven pity the bards — 
 Poor mendicant minstrels who sigh as they sing, — 
 Who muse, sigh and sing for all ages to come, 
 In lays more enduring than marble or brass, 
 Unknown, unappreciated e'er, — till they die !) 
 Still on kept the pilgrims, when Italy smiles 
 'Neath skies that would grace e'en a clime in Idele ! 
 Mid ruins, here, Rome superannuate sits, 
 A grey wrinkled harlot, decrepid, and mean. 
 But blood-thirsty still,* in the weakness of age. 
 Those times were, in vision, by Ucal restor'd, 
 When in senate, and forum, her iron-mail'd men 
 Stood firm as the rock, when her citadel stood, — 
 Ay, firm in integrity, frugal and just. 
 But bold as a lion when danger was near. 
 
 The angels next turn to the snow-mantled Alps ; 
 Thence, east, ever Europe's new soil, they beheld 
 The races Sclavonic, Teutonic, advance, — 
 Bold, savage, and cruel, debas'd, and untaught ; 
 Divided in clans, and incessant in strife, 
 They spread over Germany, Britain, and Gaul : 
 The embryo nations of Europe were they, 
 
 * Perugia.* 
 
2d day.] zethak. 65 
 
 Misgovern'd by Emperors, prelates, or kings, 
 Dukes, princes, thanes, bisliops, whatever the name — 
 In nature, men-monsters, perfidious, base. 
 Oppressive, and cruel. Had justice her own, 
 How few of their number the fate had escap'd 
 They dealt to their betters, — the gibbet or cell. 
 Despotic, their aim was to riot, and strut 
 In wealth, from men's coffers or sinews distrain'd. 
 To govern, their plea ! Men are govern'd to death. 
 Better leave them ungovern'd ; perhaps they will live ; 
 And rogues even then, might not always escape. 
 
 A few, from the black royal list, we except, [race, — • 
 Whose wisdom and worth blest their age and their 
 Relieving sad History's blood-blotted page. 
 And Britain, we spare now thy sceptre and crown : — 
 The virtues domestic a diadem grace : — 
 A wife and a mother is more than a queen.* 
 
 The angels now follow, with waft of the wand, 
 A fleet of frail barques, that went over the sea 
 To people the shores of the new western world ; 
 And still they kept onward, and met in their way 
 The tide of the race as it flow'd from the west, 
 Thence, over the ocean Pacific, begemm'd 
 With sweet sunny islands, like emeralds set 
 In a clear matchless ground of empyrean blue ; 
 And then o'er the regions they watch'd in the morn, 
 Japan, China, Thibet, and then in the vale 
 They found their retreat at the set of the sun. 
 
 * Victoria^ 
 
66 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 And thus had the Pilgrims encii-cled the Earth 
 In a day, and beheld from their airy campaign 
 In pantomime grand, comprehensive display'd 
 The progress and course of the Races of men : 
 The view had in vision was gen'ral, remote, 
 A cursory outline ; — as when from afar 
 A city is seen, when the wayfarer rests 
 Awhile from the heat and the dust of his way 
 And views, in the distance, in aspect serene, 
 Mid verdure and beauty its palaces shine 
 And cupolas, gleaming with purple and gold ; 
 As seen through the haze of the calm summer air — 
 Half dreaming — he deems it the " city of God ! " 
 Not so it appears the next morn, when he threads 
 With way-weary footstep its purlieus unclean, 
 Where infamy grovels, and misery sighs : — 
 With distance, the dream of the distant has fled. 
 And so to the cherub, at first, might appear 
 The cursory Avouderful views of the day : 
 He saw but in abstract the changes, results, — 
 The progress and work of the race ; but the means, 
 The process and details were wanting as yet ; 
 Not yet had he look'd 'neath the curtain of Life 
 To see what was there ; hence the visions reveal'd 
 Had minister'd lessons unburden'd and free ; 
 And only one cloud cast a shade on his thought : 
 The deluge, that swept o'er the dwellings of men, 
 This waken'd inquiry, and Ileal replied : 
 
 " The soul (like a chalice) with happiness? fill'd, 
 In union intact with the Fountain Divine 
 
2d day.] zethar. 67 
 
 No poverty suffers, and seeks no supply. 
 Thus all the immaculate sinless are blest, 
 But alienate man from the sources of joy 
 Dissever'd, — in selfishness, poverty, owns « 
 
 No bliss, nor resource in himself can he find ; 
 Hence wanders abroad to invade or distrain 
 A brother's possession by fraud or by force. 
 Thus wrought the base leaven of sin in the Earth ! 
 The strong Avrong'd the weak, in their person or goods ; 
 These rose to retaliate, save, or defend ; 
 Hence violence sprung frona contention and strife ; 
 From violence, anarchy, murder and war ; 
 Thus outrage and violence coverd the Earth, 
 And rose to the ear of the Infinite One, — 
 The blood-cry that wakeu'd the vengeance Divine, — 
 And seald to destruction a reprobate race : 
 (One family faithful, were saved by an ark,) 
 The servitor angels advis'd of its fate, 
 Long watch'd for the means His omnipotent hand 
 Might use ; for God works, when he pleases, by means, 
 Or works at His pleasure by absolute power. 
 At length, ere the long-waited era expir'd ; 
 We saw, as we cours'd 'mougst the heavenly spheres, 
 The proximate agency God had ordain'd : 
 A comet, whose orbit elliptic transvers'd 
 The Earth's, now was nearing its primate the sun ; 
 Just then, when the Eax'th in her annual tour 
 Attain'd the same point, and above her north limb 
 Incumbent, hung heavy the slow moving mass ; 
 Yet ere the gi'eat crisis, precipitant, fell, 
 
68 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The epoch was spent, and the righteous inark'd, 
 
 And the last hoary saint* was now garner' d to rest, 
 
 Attracted at first were the vapors ; the air, 
 
 Elongate, drew out on the side toward the north ; 
 
 And rush'd from its sluices the rain from above ; 
 
 Close followed the ocean, resounding, — a tide 
 
 From the wide, coral beds of the deep southern sea 
 
 Surg'd upward and over the 'habited earth. 
 
 O'er precipice lofty, o'er mountain it surg'd, 
 
 And whelm'd in its ruin the race and their works. 
 
 How ominous, solemn and silent that sea ! 
 
 All waveless, all shoreless, unstirr'd by a breeze, 
 
 But cumber'd with spoil from the forest and plain. 
 
 While far in its depths lay a reprobate world, 
 
 (Unshriven, unsaved,) in their blood and debauch. 
 
 Borne north, and deposited there by the wave 
 
 From tropical regions, beasts, reptiles, and plants, 
 
 As fossil, in strata, or ice, yet remain. 
 
 The slow stupid wisdom of men to confound, 
 
 The comet receding, the air and the sea, — 
 
 (But each in its order,) flow'd back to a poise. 
 
 First came from the northward the wide sweeping wind^ 
 
 Divinely ordain'd ; next, the waters assuag'd 
 
 And slowly return'd to their level once more. 
 
 The saved from the ark, as in vision display'd, 
 
 Went forth to repeople the world as at first ; 
 
 Thus was God's great purpose of justice fulfill'd, 
 
 To vindicate ever his honor and throne ; 
 
 * Methusaleh. 
 
2d day.] zethar. 69 
 
 The lesson yet lives, in men's legends and lore, 
 And will till its anti-type, judgment, descends." 
 
 He ceas'd : and, alike by his voice and his theme 
 Instructed and charm'd, but not satisfied yet, 
 The cherub stood listening. Again he inquir'd, 
 " Thou saidst that contention to violence led; 
 Is man, then, so evil ? has he the strange power 
 To wrest from his brother the life which God gave." 
 "Alas ! " said the seraph, " That such is thefact ; 
 Not only when goaded by insult or wrong. 
 Or passion, — but malice, lust, envy, revenge. 
 Alike have their victims by myriads slain ; 
 <,Earth's soil is a blood-cup that fumes up to heaven, — 
 Unexpiate, urging for vengeance its suit." 
 
 Amazement held Zethar in silence ; awhile 
 He ponder'd and sigh'd, then new questions propos'd ; 
 These solved, op'd the way to new queries again ; 
 Thus, through the still hours of a calm vernal night, 
 (The moon hanging cloudless and high in the heaven,) 
 They talk'd and commun'd till the break of the day. 
 
70 ZETHAR. [Book 11. 
 
 THIRD DAY. 
 
 Mom came ! blushing mom ! usber'd in with sweet 
 
 song, 
 Chaste, cool, and all jewelM with dews and with flow- 
 ers, — 
 The Pilgrims went forth from the vale, and addrest * 
 
 Their purpose and thought to the work of the day ; 
 Said Zethar, " My Brother, with marvellous power 
 Thus far hath thy wand, (in its visions,) display'd 
 The lesson of Earth ; but permit me to see 
 The race, and their offspring, as now they appear." 
 " This day," said the seraph, " w^e spend at thy choice :" 
 
 And now from the mount they descend to the plain : 
 When, nearing a thicket, a rush and a cry 
 Attracted their notice, a poor trembling lamb, 
 Adorn'd with pet ribbon, but bloody and torn, 
 Pursued by a wolf, sought a shelter in vain ; 
 In vain, for the foe with a leap and a howl 
 Fix'd deep his great fangs in its trembling form, 
 And rent the meek victim. The cherub surprised, 
 Aroused, at the sight of oppression and wrong. 
 Though seen but in brutes, rais'd his hand to avenge 
 And smote the foul beast, — so the bolt from the skies, 
 
3d day.] zethar. 71 
 
 Unseen, scatlies the oak, long the pride of the plain. 
 " Thus far," ansAvered Ucal " this act must suffice : 
 What Grod long has suffer'd, thou may'st not redress." 
 " How is it," said Zethar, " what right, or what cause 
 Had this loathesome beast to assail and destroy 
 The weaker, — the helpless ? " The seraph replied : 
 " His need was his law ; to sustain his own life, 
 He prey'd on his victim ; this feature is seen 
 In most of the manifold forms of earth's life, — 
 From insects that raven unseen, in a drop, 
 To monsters that rule in the forest or sea ; 
 Antagonist interests keep earth all at war. 
 Man forms no exception ; indeed, the reverse ; 
 He lives on all life, — from the muscle that sleeps 
 Demure in the sand, — to the highest life-forms 
 Of Earth, then becoming a victim in turn : 
 Death preys on all life, and life lives in all death ; 
 Intense, and incessant, the agony burns." 
 
 Said Zethar : " From whence is this feature malign, 
 Adverse, as it seems, to God's infinite love 
 That worketh no ill to the things he has made ? 
 Whence, too, this type-beast with its power to aggress, 
 And needs, all subversive of right and good will ? " 
 " This lesson is thine," said the seraph : " Thy thought, 
 And further researches, the way may prepare 
 For grateful solution ; meanwhile we well know. 
 Though hid in deep waters the footsteps Divine ; 
 And clouds and thick darkness around Him are spread. 
 That justice and judgment His throne still sustain. 
 These beasts, too, are types of two classes of men 
 Who live in all ages, conditions, and climes ; 
 
72 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The one is aggressive, base, selfish, malign ; 
 The other, kind, gentle, and aim but to bless ; 
 I nail thy sojournings 'mongst men, thou wilt see 
 The wolf and the lamb oft enacted again." 
 
 The morning still lay on the wild Kurdistan 
 When two hoary pilgrims, with cassock and staff, 
 Were seen slow descending the mount on the Avest ; 
 Two ven'rable men they appear'd, — in whose mien 
 And features shone Avisdom, with peace, and good will ; 
 'Twas Ucal, the seraph, with Zethar his charge, 
 Transform'd by the wand and disclos'd to the eye 
 Of mortals, awhile^ in this peaceable guise. 
 A thicket near by, — Avhere the vine on the oak 
 Impendent and wreath'd, form'd a tempting retreat, 
 Attracted their steps as if there they Avould rest ; 
 Thence looking afar to the west they could scan 
 The mound-covered plains, Avhere Assyrian pride. 
 Once rampant and gorgeous, a sepulture finds ; 
 The swift-darting * stream on whose margin of old 
 The prophet of Judah,f in vision, beheld 
 Earth's fate in sublime diorama display 'd. 
 Said Zethar : " From yesterday's vision, how chang'd ! 
 Where now all the pageant, the pomp, the parade ? 
 The battlements lofty, the palace, the tower ! 
 The rattle of chariots, prancing of steeds ? 
 The brazen-mouth'd herald, the shout of the brave ;" 
 "All pass'd," said the sei'aph, "Long since to the dust, 
 As clouds of the morning or mist of the stream ; 
 
 * Tigris. t Daniel. 
 
3d day.] zethae. 73 
 
 Remember ; here all things are doom'd to decay, 
 Those mounds are the graves both of palace and tower ; 
 These plains, in their verdure and solitude, now 
 The dust of whole nations inconscious inuin." 
 
 The theme now was broken ; approaching, they hear 
 The tiny sweet voices of children, which thrill 
 With singular interest the cherub's keen ear, — 
 So like the sigh-song of the Orrery vast 
 In distant Alcyone : Now they have come, 
 Those children, and peer through the vine-leaves, 
 
 abash'd ; 
 Assur'd and invited by kindness, they broke 
 The leafy inclosuve ; and full in the view 
 Of visitant angels, in innocence stood 
 Two beautiful buds from the human life-tree ; — 
 Twin brother and sister were they, and their forms, 
 Half-veil'd by a scanty but graceful attire, 
 Were models of symmetry, beauty, and health. 
 With timid, inquisitive glances, they scann'd 
 The pilgrims, alternate ; then bolder become, 
 Loquacious, they talk of their home aud their toys, 
 And lamb that had stray'd from the fold over night, 
 Which now they were seeking. Said Ucal, " Behold, 
 Not feign'd by the wand, but in palpable forms, 
 The offspring of men ! " And the cherub beheld 
 With wonder and pleasure, celestial and new, 
 These first fairy specimens of a frail race ; 
 He took them by turns to his bosom, then gazed 
 With long loving looks in their eyes, — as if there. 
 Perchance, of their destiny good he might read» 
 
74 ZETHAR. [Book 11. 
 
 Perceiving the Seraph's grave look, he inquir'd 
 
 If aught of their future the wand could reveal ? 
 
 The seraph replied by a wave of his wand ; 
 
 When, lo ! in perspective before them was seen 
 
 A wild desert region, all sterile and lone, 
 
 O'er which, unsuspecting, some travellers pass ; — 
 
 By bandits waylaid ; in whose leader, at once 
 
 The cherub discover'd the boy in his arms — 
 
 Again waved the ominous wand, and again 
 
 "Was chang'd the dim scene. Now before them they see 
 
 A city, its gateway with stern-visaged men 
 
 Was throng'd, and the headsman stood there, by the 
 
 block, 
 Then forth came the manacled culprit to die, — 
 A robber, a murderer. Zethar again, 
 Identified still in the culprit — the boy. 
 
 The wand waved again, and once more a ne'vf scene : 
 The sister, in beauty and womanly grace, 
 Is woo'd by a treacherous man, and deceived ; 
 Cast off with contempt from her friends, and her home ; 
 Dishearten'd and desperate, now the poor waif 
 Found shelter and sustenance only where guilt 
 And infamy dwelt ; and each wave of the wand 
 Reveal'd only deeper degrees in her fall, 
 Till death cast the livid frail form in the sea. 
 At the sign of the seraph the vision exhal'd, 
 And only the mound-cover'd plains could be seen ; 
 But sobs from a bosom celestial awoke, 
 And tears all angelic — love's jewels dropt down. 
 Meanwhile the two children still prattled and play'd, 
 And, artless, — ^pierced deeper the cherub's new grief. 
 
3d day.] zethar. 75 
 
 When grief lent him utterance, " "Why thus," he in- 
 
 quir'd; 
 Said Ucal, " The three primal causes are these : 
 Mis-culture, temptation, and alienate hearts ; 
 But more shalt thou learn in thy service of love 
 Hereafter." Again he inquir'd, " Can no hand, 
 Angelic or human, for them interpose ? " 
 Said Ucal, " Men could ; but their reprobate hearts 
 Are occupied each with some enterprise vain. 
 Which hides from their purpose such effort benign." 
 Brief silence ensued ; then the cherub arose 
 And gather'd them, each 'neath an arm, and at once 
 Erect and determin'd he girded for flight. 
 "Whither now? " said the seraph. "I go to Idele," 
 Said he, " There to nurture them safe, where no ill 
 Can ever betide." When the seraph forbade, 
 All wistful and tearful persistent he stood. 
 Then spread his broad wings, (by the children unseen). 
 But, touched by the wand, — as the wax-fitted wings 
 Of luckless Icarius fail'd in the sun, 
 So, powerless the pinionr, cherubic avail'd. 
 
 Though foil'd, yet intent on his purpose, he pleads : 
 "Permit me, my brother," said he, " to depart ; 
 This boon, I entreat ; other service for this — 
 And further researches in earth, I forego," 
 " Thou canst not," said Ucal : " These earth-nurtur'd 
 
 forms 
 Would fail, ere one league of the journey were spent." 
 " How then can I help them ?" said Zethar again, 
 " Thy service," said Ucal, " Ere long will cor&mence ; 
 
76 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " Seek then, and assist them as best thou shalt find." 
 This said, with a blessing he sent them awey. 
 
 Again on the pinions celestial, they soar 
 Southwestward, their course over desert and sea, — 
 Sahara, Atlantic, Brazil, Paraquay, 
 And ocean Pacific. At length they alight, 
 Unseen, at a cluster of beautiful Isles, 
 With climate that rivall'd Alcyone blest ; 
 They wander not long through the spice-scented groves, 
 For, gaining a hill, at its base they beheld 
 A group of dark savages, seated around 
 A smouldering fire, — all begrim'd were their forms, 
 Their features repulsive and stupid, — their mien 
 And manners degraded, and beastly, and fiei'ce, 
 Voracious they clutch'd some charr'd flesh from the fire, 
 And grumbled and fought, like a herd of starved curs 
 A carcass bestride. 'Twas a cannibal feast. 
 The sight fill'd the cherub with instant disgust, 
 And quickly he turn'd from the loath'some display : 
 "What creatures are these? Are they demons?" said 
 
 he. 
 " Come forward," said Ileal, " approach and behold ; 
 These are not mere phantoms, conjur'd by the wand, 
 But men that thou seest, descendants of those 
 Beheld in the vision ; whose beauty and fate 
 Alike won thy love and thy gi'ief at the first." 
 
 Unseen, they now loiter'd around the vile group 
 And noted, unnoted, their manners and work : 
 How fallen, besotted and cruel the man ! 
 The woman, degraded, a drudge and a slave ! 
 
3d day.] zethar. 77 
 
 Unlike, (0 how chang'd !) to their pristine estate. 
 Near by, where the cherub, repugnant, approach'd. 
 Lay pininion'd, a pris'ner ; ere long from the groups 
 A dark featured warrior rush'd with his club. 
 And butcher 'd the victim ; the death-struggle o'er, 
 He dragg'd the bruised corpse to the fresh-kindled fire. 
 To roast and prepare for their further repast. 
 
 The sight was too much for the cherub ; away 
 He mounted, and sped as a dove from the pots, — 
 With wings tipp'd with silver and feathers of gold ; 
 And Ucal soon followed his fugitive flight, — 
 Directing their course to the far-distant north. 
 
 When well on their way, and in spirit allay'd. 
 Said Zethar : " If these I have seen are but men. 
 What worse could e'en demons perform, or become ? " 
 Said Ucal : "In power and malevolence, sure 
 The demons surpass, since their tutelage vile 
 Has help'd to degrade and debase fallen man ; 
 The tendency ever of sin, in the soul. 
 Is first to obscure, then imbrute, then destroy ; 
 The group we have seen are the lowest depos'd, 
 In intellect, knowledge, and habits, — not guilt : — 
 Their guilt will be judg'd by the knowledge and means 
 'Gainst which they transgress'd ; and thus judg'd, we 
 
 shall find, 
 With intellect, knowledge, refinement, and means, 
 Men blacker in infamy, deeper in guilt. 
 Unlike to the demons, though vile and debas'd ; 
 Affinities human, to demons unknown. 
 And kindlier sympathies linger within, — ' 
 
78 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " Betraying from whence, and liow low they have 
 
 fall'n, 
 From thence, if God please, by his grace they might 
 
 rise ; 
 But demons can never to God be restored." 
 "By what means, to what point," thought the cherub, 
 
 " could such 
 E'er rise ! " But the time seem'd as yet premature 
 To puoh the inquiry, and then to his thought 
 Eecurr'd the report of the angel of prayer, 
 The guest in Idele, — " That God's justice in Earth, 
 Defers for a time to probation and grace." 
 
 With speed all angelic, the travellers press'd 
 Still noithward ; the hours of the morning were spent, 
 Whtn earth-ward they stoop'd, and the cherub beheld 
 Beneath them a region improvident, cold ; 
 For spring coy and laggard, long loiter'd away. 
 The rock-rifted pastures were frosted and bare, 
 And the broAvn buds of summer were slow to unfold ; 
 But cosy and cheerful, on hill-side, in glen 
 Or evergreen forests, the villages lay ; 
 And scattered, but peaceful abodes were around, 
 By the thin curling smoke of the hearth-stone betray'd. 
 
 Where clustered some dwellings, the angels alight; 
 And Ileal, led on to a Fane by the way, 
 In work and design unpretending and plain : 
 'Twas the place and the moment of worship and prayer. 
 The isolate Temple they enter, unseen. 
 Ere yet had ascended the offering of praise. 
 The cherub survey'd this new group with surprise. 
 
3d day.] zethar. 79 
 
 Contrasting so strangely with that -which they left : — 
 Here were wrinkled old men, — over whose wasting 
 
 forms 
 Many storms, hoth of winter and sorrow had pass'd, — 
 And care-weary matrons, and men in their prime, 
 And youths in the morn of their beauty and strength, 
 And life-buds of infancy ; here had they come 
 To worship in simple and decorous forms, 
 Devout, unaffected — the Glorious Oxe. 
 
 At Ucal's behest, when the incense of praise 
 Went heaven-ward, then — as an angel of old 
 Went wondrously up in the tlarae from the pyre, — 
 So rose in the volume of worship and song. 
 The visitant angels ; and went on their way. 
 
 They next saw an African slave at his toil, 
 Unpaid and unpitied, the type of a race 
 On whose humble rights, every tyrannous hand — 
 Implacable, selfish, and cruel, makes war 
 Uncneck'd ; — from the insolent, treacherous Moor, 
 To Christians, (so calld) from whose love-lighted faith 
 Better fruits, than oppression and wrong, should pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 So long hath their servitude now been endur'd, 
 Themselves and their tyrants are sed'lously taught 
 By recreant priests, 'twere a sin to be free ! 
 Doth God make account of their innocent blood, — 
 Who fled for dear freedom, but found it in death, — 
 Shot down in the cane-brake, or hunted by hounds. 
 Or burnt at slow fires ! Hark ! The blood-cry ascends, 
 Like Abel's, and moans in an Infinite Ear 
 
80 ZETHAE. [Book II. 
 
 Commisserate, errless, vindictive and true ; 
 The vengeance of ages, accumulate, hangs 
 Impending and imminent, Avaiting its hour. 
 
 Thej now cross the ocean and enter, unseen, 
 Unchalleng'd by warder or sentinel grim, 
 The halls where the household ot royalty dwells ; 
 They saw the stern man as he ponder'd alone, — 
 A crown chaf 'd his forehead, a burden his heart ; 
 They saw, too, the household, which proud etiquette 
 Had moulded and fettcr'd to courtly grimace, 
 Whence simple-wing'd love had, unmiss'd stol'n away 
 To nestle and solace in lowdier homes. 
 
 They next saw a Calmuck, a shepherd was he, 
 In the broad steppes of Asia, the chief of a tribe, 
 Who sat in his tent in the wane of the day. 
 At ease, with his pipe and his dogs, — while around, 
 His flocks croi^p'd the hei'bage or listless repos'd. 
 
 A Chinese philosopher next they beheld, 
 Intent at his lore in his shed of bamboo, 
 Still a student, though envious Time had inlin'd 
 With grey his lone tuft, and with wrinkles his brow ; 
 Demure as an owl, he appear'd, and much like, 
 With great goggle glasses that ventur'd astride 
 His ample flat nose : while again and again, 
 Ancestral traditions of dragons, or nats, 
 And idle chimeras devoutly he conn'd ; 
 A pitiable, painful, yet ludicrous sight. 
 Smile not, holy visitant ! sneer not, ye wise ! 
 Fools are not confintd to the realms of Cathay ; 
 We, Occident fools, have chimeras as vain, 
 
Sd day.] zethar. ■ 81 
 
 Round which our dark hearts, led by fancy, revolve 
 
 Self-pleas'd, self-deluded, and bask in the light 
 
 Unreal, illusive, of self-kindled sparks 
 
 That gleam but to fade : then in darkness we sink. 
 
 Oh ! blest is the soul, that, illumined of God ; 
 
 Sees light in his light ! The perspective of Faith 
 
 Discerns in the Record prophetic, inspir'd. 
 
 Attested of history ; premises sure, 
 
 (Whence reasons, conclusive, analagous point 
 
 Unerring her eye to a promised result, — > 
 
 A world, now apostate, restor'd and renew'd.) 
 
 Once more had the sun in the dim breezy west 
 His red burning wings folded up, and again 
 The visitant angels retir'd to the vale. 
 Seven views had they taken in aspect diverse, 
 Of man, in these varied conditions and lights :— 
 The two Ivui'dish children, the cannibal horde. 
 The worshipping group, and the African slave, 
 The king and his household, the pastoral chief, 
 And last the wise sage of the orient realm. 
 And thus was completed the third day in earth. 
 The sketch in the song is but outline ; e'en now 
 The butterfly-bard, o'er the wide spreading field, 
 Must sip as he skips in his hasty career 
 Lest, lagging, the lessons angelic be lost : 
 Not meagre and bare to the angel each scene, 
 (As sung by the poet ;) his sentient eye 
 Took in at a glance, the condition, and fate, 
 The character, burdens, and wrongs of each type j 
 6 
 
82 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 And further solution the serapli supplied 
 
 In after discourse, as the song w.U recite. 
 
 On the threshold of earth's awful temple, this day 
 
 The cherub had enter'd ; and what he had seen 
 
 Already had stirr'd the deep fountain of thought, 
 
 Perplexing and various ; long he communed 
 
 With Ucal, till evening had waned into night. 
 
 Said he, " If apostacy be the sole root 
 
 Of all man's estrangement, debasement and ill, 
 
 From whence the disparity seen in the groups, — 
 
 The savages base, and the worshippers true ? 
 
 Such difference argues a singular cause." 
 
 " True," answered the seraph, " Men's hearts are alike, 
 
 Man's nature is one, in the serf or the prince, — 
 
 Estrang'd, all alike, from God's service and love, — 
 
 All bearing like fi'uits, though in measure unlike, 
 
 And lending alike to debasement and death ; 
 
 Which had long ere this supervened, in the course 
 
 Of obvious cause, had not God interpos'd 
 
 (For wonderful purpose, mysterious, high,) 
 
 A system of mercy, to ransom and save 
 
 A people from earth, to the praise of His grace ;) 
 
 (Of which, in due time, I will further instruct ;) 
 
 From thence is the difference seen in those groups." 
 
 "■ So great is the contrast, 'twere hard to conceive," 
 
 Said Zethar, " These races alike were deprav'd." 
 
 " The Avand shall assist thee," said Ucal, — He waved 
 
 The wonderful wand, and the cannibal feast 
 
 He saw re-presented, as seen in the morn ; 
 
 Again, at the signal he stood in the Alps, 
 
3d day.] zethar. 83 
 
 Mid glaciers and snow rifts, and saw from the east 
 Again the rude tribes people Europe's new fields. 
 One tribe in advance, near approaching, he marks ; 
 A filthy, coarse company, cruel itnd vile, 
 Which range side by side with the cannibal feast ; 
 Two pictures well match'd, in their shadows were they. 
 
 A pantomime, now, in the vision went on : 
 Two parties in sport, on the point of their spears 
 Toss'd some poor captive children, the victims of w^ar, — 
 As maids toss the shuttlecock, thither, and fro : 
 As writhed the poor innocents, bleeding and torn, 
 The fiercer the brutal hilarity rag'd. 
 The cherub, unable his ire to restrain, • [deed, 
 
 Cried, "Smite the base wretches;" and rose for the 
 Abash"d, he di-ew back ; 'tis a vision he sees. 
 He paus'd, and again the mute lesson progress'd : 
 They wreath'd a huge wicker of alders and withs, 
 In which some new victims, promiscous, were thrust, 
 And then in a fire ; with idolatrous rites 
 The sad awful holocaust, slowly they burn : 
 " This is but a vision," said Zethar, and turn'd 
 Eye- weary away, when the twin-picture met 
 His gaze, Avhere were acted the scenes of the morn : 
 There sat the same savages, dark and begrim'd, 
 The prisoner lay there, and the warrior rush'd 
 And slew him, and dragg'd to the fire for repast ! 
 Waved the wand, and the scenes faded out and were gone. 
 " Though visions," said Ucal, " The visions are true : 
 The one thou hast seen as enacted to day ; 
 The other as truly exhibits the work 
 
84 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 Of tribes whicli existed some centuries since. [ed ? "" 
 
 Which now of these tribes, dost thou judge most deprav- 
 
 He answer'd, ".The question were hard to decide; 
 
 Yet those who delight in the pain they inflict 
 
 Are surely, most hateful, (whatever the name,) " 
 
 "'Tis cruelty," answer'd the Seraph, " a taint 
 
 Most hellish and base of the death-plague of sin."" 
 
 " Know then," he continued, " The tribe thou dost judge 
 
 Most evil and hateful, and hence most debas'd, 
 
 Were yet the progenitors true, of that gi'oup 
 
 Whose decorous worship, and manners so chaste, 
 
 Were seen in marked contrast with savages vile : 
 
 God makes them to differ, distinguishing Grace 
 
 Has followed, and reach'd them with culture and means. 
 
 Supernal of which in due time I will speak." 
 
 Of Slavery, next, of its cause and its curse, 
 And Government stern, and its use, he inquired : 
 " Both spring," said the Seraph, " from one primal cause. 
 The selfishness ever inherent in man ; 
 The first is its fruit, and the other its curb. 
 The slave system is, in its aim and its work, 
 Essentially all that is selfish and mean ; 
 The murderer smites but his foe, in his wrath, 
 The thief pilfers pelf, and, perchance, for his need, 
 Which finds its way back through the channel of trade ; 
 Each crime is one act againt Law, Love, and Right ; 
 But the slave-actor plans a deliberate scheme, 
 Involving both murder and robbery mean : 
 Against the defenceless and poor, he proceeds. 
 
3d day.] zethar. 85 
 
 In covert of false-fram'd iniquitous laws 
 
 And truculent pleas, as unjust as his crime; 
 
 Against, not the rights of his victims alone, 
 
 But entailing the wrong, on his ojfspring and race, 
 
 A monstrous, huge outrage, grown grey with the world ! 
 
 Of government other than God's, in the earth, 
 No need, till the I'aee from his service rebell'd ; 
 Now needed, the right to define and defend. 
 Legitimate government, simple and just, 
 Dispens'd by the good is a blessing to man ; 
 But, sad for the race the experiment proves ; 
 The good, jostled out by the tongue of reproach, 
 The violent, false, the unscrupulous, mean, 
 Monopolize chiefly each office of trust, 
 And soon from legitimate objects pervert 
 Its vises to selfish and partisan aims, • 
 
 Involving the rights, and the lives of the poor ; 
 A burden, a blotch, and a curse then it proves." 
 And next they discourse of the pastoral life. 
 Its dangers, immunities, pleasures and peace j 
 And then of the themes of the orient sage, 
 And schemes of philosophy various, vain, 
 Prevailing in different ages, and climes : 
 Vain efforts of poor human reason, to pierce 
 The darkness that curtains the dungeon of life ! 
 
 Meanwhile had the night drawn her shadows apace ; 
 And silver-edg'd clouds, with a dense shaggy ground, 
 Portentous, had veil'd the fair moon and her train : 
 The visitant angels betake to repose. 
 
86 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 FOURTH DAY. 
 
 When morn broke the shadows, the cherub again 
 Out-slept his companion ; and when he awoke 
 A burden again seem'd to cumber his thoughts, 
 (But not as before, to confuse and deceive ;) 
 And Ucal at once mark'd his manner, and said, 
 " ^^lat ! dreaming again ? let me hear it I pray ;'^ 
 And Zethar, unurg'd, thus related his dream : 
 " I thought, in my sleep, that I stood on a hill 
 In earth, and before me an outspreading plain 
 Whereon, as I gazed, a deep pit I beheld, 
 Whose wide yawning mouth and dark cavernous depths 
 Thrill'd over my spirit a shudder and chill ; 
 Black vapors, forth issuing, spread o'er the scene 
 A baleful, strange twilight, an ominous shade ; 
 Intent, I beheld, and dark forms gather'd there, — 
 Or demon, or human, I could not decide ; 
 Their aspect was bestial, unclean and debas'd. 
 Their gesture vehement, their gibberish strange : 
 Ere long they dispute, and fierce insolent words 
 Lead on and provoke to more violent deeds : 
 
4tli day.] zetuar. 87 
 
 Then forth, from the sides of the cavern, they draw 
 Clubs, stones^ and rude missile of various sort, 
 With which in their rancor and passion they smite, 
 Disable, and mangle each other, till low. 
 Their mutilate foi'ms were spread over the plain : 
 I look'd for their rise, but they rose not again ; 
 For,, lo ! by the cold yellow light of the moon 
 Foul beasts gather'd there, and the carrion-birds, 
 And gorg'd undisturb'd at a fearful repast ! 
 Anon, a new company came, — less debas'd, 
 But demon-like still, in their air and tlvdr aim ; 
 These deeper drew out, from the fountain malign 
 New weapons of mischief more skillfully wrought, — 
 Keen blades, barbed lances to wield or to poise, 
 And slings to hurl stones at a hair and not miss : 
 Again raged the contiict, and strown was the plain. 
 Once more, with the gash'd gasping victims of strife ; 
 Again, 'neath the gaze of the dew-dropping stars, 
 The wolf, the hyena, and vulture, regaled. 
 New company gathered once more to my view, 
 In manners and raein more refined than the last, — 
 But still lurked the demon their polish beneath ; 
 The&e brought tapering timbers, and over the pit 
 A paralax triple and lofty they rear'd ; 
 Thence pendent werepuries, and ropes that entwined 
 A windlass, and cranks, by the demons revolved ; 
 A line in the fearful recess they let down, 
 Thence slowly upraising I heard in my dream 
 The rattle and creak of the devilish gear 
 Disturb all the peace and repose of the night, 
 
88 ZETHAB. [Book II. 
 
 As oft they drew up and swung out on the plain 
 Some novel contrivance to torture or kill : • 
 (The object seem'd ever malignant and base.) 
 
 Of much thus discovered I saw what appear'd 
 A brazen mouthed pillar, supported on wheels ; 
 A flash of black powder and ponderous balls 
 The demons press'd into the mouth of the peice, 
 Then, lit with a reed, it exploded at once 
 With a flash and a roar, like the storm in its rage ; 
 I saw as it ploughed in deep columns of men, 
 A furrow appalling, of havoc and blood, 
 And heard the heart-harrowing cry, in my dream, 
 As broken and shapeless they sunk to the ground ! 
 Ah me ! what dire phantoms infest my I'epose ! 
 It seem'd, too, whole ages went by in an hour : 
 And still, with new arts, fierce destruction sped on ; 
 When, lo ! of a sudden, the blast of a trump, 
 A clangor unspeakable, shook all the plain. 
 And fiends from their murders betook them to prayer : 
 Shook earth 'neath my feet, and then trembled the stars. 
 The powers of my soul seem'd dissolved at the sound : 
 Just then I awoke, and, behold ! 'twas a dream ! " 
 
 The Seraph stood musing awhile, then replied, 
 " Thy dream hath its lesson, God teacheth thee still ; 
 Attend ! and thy travail new wisdom shall serve : 
 Not all a mere dream is thy dream, and yet, more, 
 Thy dream is not all : fact does fancy surpass ; 
 And this thou shalt prove from the scenes of the day : 
 The pit is man's heart, ere renew'd by God's grace, — 
 Man's heart a great deep only fathom'd of God, — 
 
4th day.] zetuar. 89 
 
 From whence come base thoughts, mui'ders, lewdness 
 
 and strife, 
 And evil inventions, and treachery dark. 
 
 If late at earth's portal the visitant paus'd 
 Awe-struck, at the signals that cumber the door, 
 What now if he enter its cloisters and cells, 
 Its dungeons, and charnel ? My heart and my harp 
 Would gladly repudiate, ever, such theme ; 
 For earth hath oases in desert and waste, 
 And fitful short glimmer of beauty and bliss : 
 Of these I might sing ; but, impell'd by a voice 
 Divine that enjoins me, I follow my theme. 
 Earth hath, too, her fester ; and he that wrould heal 
 The gangrenous ulcer, must open and probe. 
 
 The angels again to their purpose address 
 Their thought, and their pinions angelic infold : 
 (So some faii-y-fly, when its lights for a while. 
 Folds up its gauze wings in a casement of green.) 
 The Seraph now laid in a mossy recess 
 The wonderful wand, as not needed that day ; 
 And "when he resum'd it at nightfall again 
 There bloom'd, in the spot where the baton reposed^ 
 A fair tiny floweret of white, red and blue, 
 Which Zethar recall'd as a flower of Idele :■ 
 Diminutive, odorless, here was it found, 
 By frost and sterility, pinch'd and repressed. 
 How came the sweet stranger so far, and alone. ? 
 Ye florists ! who search in that valley remote;, 
 
00 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 1 charge, if you find, that you spare me a germ. 
 
 And now they go forth, on their visitant tour, 
 To mingle with men and examine their work : 
 Your locks and your bolts ye may draw if ye will, 
 Ye artful designers of mischief and wrong ; 
 Yea, double your outposts, your sentinels set, — 
 In vain ; for at will shall these travellers come, 
 And note and unravel your guilty designs. 
 And loathe you the more for your manifold crime : 
 Yea, God hath a record ; and when it is read. 
 Swift witnesses they, (both of person and fact,) 
 To speed the just sentence, " Forever accurs'd." 
 No bolts do ye need, ! ye children of love. 
 If in your assemblies they enter perchance : 
 Thrice welcome, such guests, in your midst to abide. 
 
 The pilgrims descend from the wild Kurdistan, 
 And enter the plains of the Orient world, 
 Thence northward they journeyed through Tartary's 
 
 wastes. 
 And frozen Siberia's settlements lone ; 
 And noted the rude social structures, and forms 
 Of life both in cities and wandering clans. 
 Where first in the morning the vigilant sun 
 Beams o'er the Pacific, and lights from the sea 
 Japan's island-empire and China's old realm, 
 There next the two angels we find at their work ; 
 In city and village, field, palace or fane. 
 Or prison, or hovel, with speed did they come. 
 And go with their lessons, all-seeing, unseen, — 
 In crowds, by the way, or the varied resorts 
 
4th day.] zethar. 91 
 
 Of pleasure or profit, of worsliip or crime, 
 
 They mingled at will ; and the cherub by turns 
 
 "With anger, surprise, horror, pity was mov'd, 
 
 While witnessing still and on every hand 
 
 A sad exhibition of sorrow and shame, — 
 
 Of treachery, cruelty, folly, and Pride ; 
 
 But most, at the self-chosen ignorance, seen 
 
 Of God and their varied relations to Him : 
 
 Their profits, lusts, idols and pleasure they sought, 
 
 But God, in whose infinite hand was their fate, 
 
 The Fountain of Blessing, — the Giver of life, 
 
 They sought not, they knew not, they car'd not to know. 
 
 While thus the two pilgrims their journey pursued, 
 Through dark narrow streets where the vertical beam 
 Just ventures at noontide, they saw from his cell 
 A woe-begone prisoner condemn'd and led forth, 
 (By blind human justice,) to die for a crime 
 Of which his accuser was guilty alone ; 
 When once he looked round, with a grief-stricken eye, 
 As if he would catch but the gleam of a hope 
 To snatch his poor name from an infamous fate, 
 The cherub looked up for a ray from the spheres 
 To pierce the dim shadows, and justice conserve. 
 No ray broke the darkness ; the beam, as it fell,* 
 Crush'd out both his hope and his life at a blow. 
 They saw the accuser, alone and secure, 
 Gloat o'er his success and his blood-pur chas'd gains 
 And revel in pleasure and luxury on, 
 
 * Eeferring to a mode of puuishmeut practic'cl m China. 
 
92 ZETHAE. [Book 11. 
 
 Unscatli'd of stern justice, unstung of remorse. 
 Deep moved at the instance, astounded, perplexed, 
 " Alas ! " cried the cherub, " The innocent die 
 'Neath obloquy, hate, and unmerited shame ! 
 The guilty and perjured survive, and enjoy ! 
 Oh ! tell me, my brother, where, when is redress ?" 
 The Seraph replied, " The enigma's of life 
 Are numerous, various, bitter, and dark, 
 And often insoluble, save by the light 
 Of judgment and strict retribution to come, 
 Decreed in the councils of justice supreme 
 Let patience perfect thee ; this lesson, in turn, 
 When view'd from that stand-point, new wisdom shall 
 serve." 
 Then forth from the city, they stood by a quay 
 Where, rang'd side by side, heaves a city of boats 
 All teeming with life but debased and forlorn ; 
 And saw from a junk, by a mother's own hand 
 A wan, feeble infant cast into the sea, 
 Unpitied, unrescu'd, a prey to the sharks ; 
 Saw temples of idols, with worshippers throng'd, — 
 A lie on their lips and a lust in their hearts, 
 Prostrating, grimacing before their dumb gods : 
 Rude sculptures of monkey, rat, dragon, or snake ; 
 Fit shapes to scare pilfering birds from the grain. 
 
 Thus over the Orient realm and the isles,* 
 Unseen, as mere mortal sojourners, they pass'd, 
 Save only in speed : in the lapse of an hour, 
 
 * Japan. 
 
4:th day.] zethar. 93 
 
 On our waning dial, the work was complete ; 
 No phase of depravity, sorrow or wrong. 
 Remained from their vigilant scrutiny hid. 
 
 From China they pass to the beautiful plains 
 Of dark Industan, (moral darkne-s how deep 
 Broods over its races,) where nature is seen 
 In grandest proportion, in richest display : — 
 Vast mountains,* that tower in their grandeur aloft ! 
 And plains where broad rivers, o'er jewelly beds 
 To pearl-stranded seas, roll in beauty along; — 
 There, man is debas'd, dwells in shadows and night, 
 Long merg'd, and long bound by tradition and caste : 
 Vile systems of error, oppression, and crime, 
 Have fettered for ages the heart of the race. 
 All over these plains did their journey extend ; 
 Through city and village they noted, and saw 
 The secret as well as the open display 
 Of vice, in its loathsome and manifold work ; 
 Saw the monstrous, repulsive, and puerile forms 
 In which they embodied ideals of God, — 
 Akin to their grov'ling and sensual thoughts ; 
 Saw the pyre of the widows ; the Thugs at their work, 
 (A system of sly pious murder and theft ;) 
 They saw the old shrines superstition had rear'd, — • 
 Pagodas, where lizards and bats found a home, 
 And temples unclean where idolatrous rites 
 "Were practic'd with gross and licentious display, 
 Austerities futile, and pains self-impos'd : 
 Vain effort, the justice divine to appease ! 
 
 * Himmaleh. 
 
94 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 From Indu they turn to the tribes on the west, 
 Who hunt in the mountains, or roam o'er the plain ; 
 The AfFghans, and fierce Belochees, in their tents 
 They saw ; and then south through the islands of spice, 
 And Borneo's torrid, unfrequented Isle, 
 "With verdure, and venom, and raven replete ; 
 And ravenous men, here ; the travellers saw 
 Beneath an old banyan of wide-branching shade, — 
 A band of wild savages, little above 
 The apes of their forests in manners and mind, — 
 At feast ; and they dress for their hateful repast. 
 The body of one (of superior race) 
 Their treacherous leader had captur'd and slain : 
 Of pale intellectual features was he, 
 And placid in death, as an infant asleep. 
 Said Ucal, " This man from a far distant land 
 Came hither, these men to instruct, bless, and save ; 
 And such is the welcome their blindness extends 
 To gen'rous self-sacrifice, ardent, sincere." 
 While Zethar, incens'd, gazed intent on the dead, 
 A hallucination, celestial, spread round, — 
 Transforming from torrid to temperate Zone 
 The aspect of all things ; the hot stifled air 
 Grew frosty and clear ; and the buzz and the cry 
 Of poisonous insects and ravenous beasts 
 Was hush'd in an instant ; — The banyan, and palm, 
 And jungle, by grey lea-^ess woods were displaced ; 
 And barren brown pastures extended around ; 
 And streamlets and lakelets were flashing and bright ; 
 
4th day.] zethar. 95 
 
 And o'er this strange scene was a peaceful repose, 
 
 Spread out like a gauze-tent pavilion for rest : 
 
 So peaceful, so sacred, select, and so like 
 
 Alcyone's heavenly rest, that in thought, 
 
 One moment, the cherub return'd and abode. 
 
 But mingling resound, from the forest and hill, 
 
 Recall'd to his mem'ry the song of the seers, 
 
 Late heard over Ziou's delectable hills : 
 
 'Tis the chime of the church bells, in spirit, he hears 
 
 Inviting the humble to worship and prayer. 
 
 Dost know this new picture ? O ! son of that soil ! 
 This morn, the most chaste and select of the seven ? 
 Not somewhere hereby is the home of thy heart ? 
 Thy grey bearded father ? Thy mother ? dear name ! 
 New England ! thy homes and thy Sabbaths I bless ! 
 Lov'd land of my birth, of my boyhood, and prime ! 
 Though sterile, ungenial, thy clime, and soil, 
 And chiefest thy products, rock, iron, and ice : 
 Yet here, in thy social substrata repos'd, 
 "What gems of rare beauty and value are hid ; 
 And, here, the fair virtues and charities thrive, — 
 Intelligence, poesy, science, and art ; 
 And liberty here i-ests her world-weary wing, — 
 Fair fugitive, exiled from regions remote ; 
 While heaven born piety savors these streams. 
 Collateral streams from the fountain of truth. 
 The poet digresses ; the vision proceeds : — 
 A home now is seen, with its manifold joy ; 
 The father, the mother, and children are there ; 
 And in the lov'd group, fresh in beauty and health, 
 
96 zfiTSAR. [Book II. 
 
 The young future martyr the cherub beholds : 
 
 Auon, at the water a company meet, 
 
 And down in its bosom the messenger leads 
 
 A neophyte young, and the watery rite 
 
 Is pledge of a sacrifice death shall exact, 
 
 With circumstance painful, yea awful and dire. 
 
 In Borneo's torrid unfrequented Isle. 
 
 'Tis eve, and two hearts long afiiane'd are wed, 
 
 And both are affianced to God and his cause ; 
 
 The cherub now sees the devoted embark. 
 
 The last prayer is offer'd, the sails are unfurl'd, 
 
 The last look is taken, through tear's blinding sheen, 
 
 Of loved ones and home they shall see never-more. 
 
 The cry of a pard in the thicket dispersed 
 The vision celestial, and when it exhaled, 
 The cannibal crew had the martyr devour' d. 
 Heart sick was the cherub, in haste he retired, 
 Deep musing that demons could angels devour ! 
 
 The angels continue their course through the isles, 
 Sumatra, and Java, and last but not least 
 The great island continent* famed for its gold. 
 Thence northward, along the east African coast,-— 
 Arabia Felix and Desert ; thence on 
 And down the west coast, long to science unknown, 
 Where Congo and Niger their streams disembogue, 
 Through Dahomey's borders and dark Coomassie 
 Whose blind fetish worship, and blood-mingled rites, 
 The pilgrims beheld as they pass'd on their way. 
 
 * Austr.alia. 
 
4th day.] zethar. 97 
 
 Awlaile they reclin'd in the shade of a tree, 
 (Far inland,) whose stem by the deluge was lav'd ;* 
 A village of lowly abodes was near by, — 
 Mud huts, thatch'd with palm, but with peace in the 
 
 door ; 
 Nor danger the sable inhabitants fear'd ; 
 But danger was lurking, with death in its league, 
 While yet the two angel-sojourners were near ; 
 For, soon, a fierce shout from the jungle arose, 
 And then cruel men, arm'd for desperate work, 
 And strangers alike to compassion or fear, 
 Rush'd out, and assaulted the humble retreat. 
 Fear-stricken the hapless inhabitants fly ; 
 They die who resist, while the wretch who survives 
 Far better had died, than in servitude drear 
 And hopeless, — to drag a poor remnant of life. 
 Scarce better far'd they v/ho the foray escap'd, — 
 A destitute, homeless, and fugitive group ; 
 Who, from some precarious hiding-place, saw. 
 With grief-swullen eye and disconsolate heart, 
 A father, wife, brother, or children, or friends, 
 Either slain or dragg'd forth to a bondage afar, 
 Fi'om whence neither tidings could come or return. 
 And that lowly hut, (all they had for a home,) 
 A black smould'ring ruin, — a grave for the slain. 
 
 The cherub, incens'd at this wanton assault, 
 Could scarcely his just indignation restrain ; 
 And, but for the Seraph's behest and control. 
 Not one of the guilty aggressors has 'scap'd; 
 
 * Some African trees are suppos'd to be 5000 years old. 
 7 
 
98 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 (So far do the angels excel, in their might, 
 The power of mere mortals, though many and strong : 
 One angel went forth, in a night of God's wrath, 
 And smote nine-score thousand ere morning appear'd.) 
 
 Said Zethar, " Why dost thou due justice avert ? " 
 "We are not," said Ucal, " Appointed and sent 
 As ministers, dire, of God's justice and wrath ; 
 Leave this to the instruments He shall ordain ; 
 Thy mission, on Earth, is to see and to serve; 
 Remember, I taught thee while yet in Idele, 
 That often in earth should thy spirit be sore 
 At outrage and wrong which thou conldst not redress, 
 And burn Avith revenges thou couldst not enact ; 
 Besides, these offenders are not first in guilt ; 
 Their principals, distant, who tempt and reward 
 This brutal assault on the lowly and poor. 
 Are men who know better, have motive, and light, 
 Can pray, know the truth, of God's mercy can plead. 
 Yet they are the guilty ; if thou couldst reach them> 
 And God so ordain, then might justice approve; 
 But God has his means, and his justice a time 
 When these black arrears shall the guilty repay, — 
 Unscreen'd by hypocrisy's pious pretense." 
 
 The angels now journey through Barbary's coast. 
 And Egypt, the Fellahs, the fierce Bedouins, 
 The Turks, and the various races and tribes 
 Infesting the borders of Asia the less, 
 Were each in their turn by the visitants seen. 
 Blind dreamers were all, but their dreams all unlike, 
 Each class had a scheme of its own to expound. 
 
4tli day-l zethar. 99 
 
 Alike but in this all wei-e dark, and debas'd, 
 Proud, treacherous, cruel, and strangers to peace. 
 
 The path of the pilgrims lay through the fair land, 
 (Once fair but now desolate,) where, in old time, 
 The patriarch-prophets of sacred renown 
 Once liv'd, sung, wept, pray'd ; now reposing in hope, 
 Their dust still ennobles the desolate soil : 
 Vile races disfigure and desecrate, now, 
 That soil ; — but its final redemption is near ; 
 And God's holy eyes are upon it for aye, 
 Until that choice dust, re-embodied, shall rise ! 
 
 The travellers linger'd, oftimes, to survey 
 The ruins that cumber those regions remote, — 
 Mementos of times fam'd in history's page ; 
 The relics of Tadmor, and gorgeous Balbec, 
 And many whose names not tradition can call, 
 Where column, arch, statue, promiscvious are thrown 
 By time, war, or earthquake, dismember'd and reft. 
 
 Oh Earth ! when thou cleavest again in thy throes, 
 Take back the dumb stone from thy bosom disrupt, 
 Not pure, as when quarried, but stain'd with our 
 
 crimes 
 Take back all the sculpture, the tinsel and paint, — 
 Vain tokens of folly, ambition, and pride ; 
 Oh hide them forever, but leave us God's love : 
 Better dwell in a hut and have purity there, 
 Than strut in a palace of marble in guilt. 
 
 And now they had pass'd in their journey through 
 Greece : 
 Greece lives in her history, ruins, and tombs, 
 
100 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 In poesy, sculpture, and painting alone ; 
 
 Her mountains and valliep, her rivers and Isles, 
 
 Are there as of old, but fair Greece is no more. 
 
 From Greece they remove to Italia's shore, 
 The garden of Europe, — aye, also its grave, — 
 The place of a sword and the place of a skull; 
 Golgotha should blazon its heraldry e'er. — 
 
 They travers'd its fields to an eminence high, 
 From whence the two angels beheld a wide plain 
 O'erhung by a grey nitrous vapor, 'neath which 
 There rag'd a mysterious commotion, so fierce 
 And awful that Zethar stood mute and aghast ; 
 The deaf'ning wild uproar would sure overpass 
 The feign'd pandemonium of England's great Bard,* 
 Run riot with discord, or demons at war, 
 Here, quick detonations, explosive, resound 
 As if all the storm-clouds of heaven were at strife ; 
 And there roar and rattle, continuous, pour'd. 
 Commix'd with the hoarse cry of struggle and pain ; 
 In short dismal lapses, occasional peal'd 
 Wild dissonant music ; the clarion bray'd. 
 Drums rattled, and shriek'd the shrill fife on the ear ; 
 Grew denser the blue nitrous vapor, and still 
 More fierce, all the roar and commotion went on. 
 " What means all this turmoil ?" said Zethar, surpris'd. 
 When just as he spoke, a fresh breeze from the west 
 Gather'd up the blue vapor, and roU'd it away ; 
 And, oh ! what a scene to the angels disclos'd ! 
 All over the plain were vast masses of men, 
 
 * Milton. 
 
4tli day.] zethar. 101 
 
 Drawn up in deep columns or raarshall'd in lines, 
 Equipp'd and accouter'd with implements dire, 
 (As seen by the cherub, ere- while in his dream,) 
 All merg'd in stern conflict; not images dark, 
 That peopled the regions of fancy in sleep, 
 Ah, no ! the fair sun, from his azure, look'd down 
 And swept o'er the conflict the rain-cloud of heaven, 
 And verdure and beauty were teeming around ; 
 But fathei's, and husbands, and brothers, and sons 
 Lay there in death's agonies ; hideous wounds, 
 Mute expostulation, gap'd upward to heaven. 
 
 Far off, in lone cottage, or village, or mart 
 Were worn wasting hearts, that with tremulous fears 
 And awful suspenses like aspen leaves shook. 
 When rattled the latch of their door, lest the news 
 Of death, should attend and extinguish all hope. 
 Kor yet was the fell devastation complete. 
 The weapons — and work, that infested his dreams, 
 The cherub beheld, now, in palpable forms ; 
 Quick rattled the rifle, the swift leaden hail 
 "Was quench'd in the cramp"d living bodies of men, 
 The cannon belch'd forth on its mission of death 
 The pond'rous stern iron, and thousands, each hour. 
 Were sacrificed here to the demon of luar ; 
 And thousands of souls to the judgment were thrust 
 Uushriven, unpitied, unsolac'd, unknown. 
 
 Not long could the cherub this havoc behold ; 
 Unable his horror and grief to suppress, 
 Heaven- ivard he extended his hands, and exclaim'd, 
 " O God of the universe ! Holy, Supreme, 
 
102 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Almighty and perfect in knowledge and love, 
 
 Sees't thou, from thy glorious throne in the heavens. 
 
 This monstrous implacable outrage in earth 
 
 Unmov'd ? The aggressor, O, smite in thy wrath ! 
 
 The innocent spare ! Or, if mercy still pleads, 
 
 Let down from thy presence a flood-light intense, 
 
 Or curtain of darkness so dense and so deep 
 
 That, swathed in its blindness, this carnage may cease ; 
 
 Or, if it best please Thee, command the firm earth, 
 
 Uphaaving, to roll like the billowy sea. 
 
 Dispersing these squadrons, unhors'd, and affright." 
 
 He ceas'd, then to Ucal he tum'd, and with sighs, 
 
 And heart-broken utt'rance, gave vent to his thoughts r — 
 
 " What hatred is this ! How malignant, intense ! 
 
 " What wrong or aggression inspires such revenge 
 
 "In each angry breast, of these partisan hordes? 
 
 " Is't one common insult ? or personal hate 
 
 " In each, toward all of the opposite side ? " 
 
 " Ah, no," answer'd Ucal, " Of all these vast hordes, 
 
 Not one has a personal wrong to allege, 
 
 Or redress, and may not bear a personal hate 
 
 Tow'rds one of the party with whom he contends." 
 
 "What then so infatuates?" Zethar enquired. 
 
 " Men choose to have party and national lines," 
 
 Said Ucal, " A river, or mountainous range 
 
 Dividing the country, divides too men's hearts ; 
 
 Divided, — then partisan interests, and aims 
 
 Conflict, — and the quarrel is settled in blood. 
 
 The war-spirit lives in the reprobate heart 
 Of man, but not all to its promptings give rein ; 
 
4th day.] Zethae. 103 
 
 While some are conservative, others are base ; 
 The selfish, aggressive, unscrupulous class 
 Stop not at the motives humanity pleads : 
 The tyrant is in them, whate'er their pretense ; 
 And if their iniquitous measures prevail, 
 Then war, with its horrors attendant, — ensues ; 
 The young, poor, and helpless are drawQ to the field 
 By conscript, recruit, or as law may provide ; 
 And thus, as we see them, are sacrificed there." 
 
 Said Zethar, " What penalty equals such guilt? ''" 
 Said Ucal, " Accurs'd is the wretch, of our God, 
 Who builds his own weal in the life^-blood of men, 
 Hell hath in her dungeons none deeper than his ; 
 The war-makers, — all her black legions give way 
 And let him sink down to the fate he deserves : 
 The demogogue, he, — in the councils of state. 
 Who pleads, with fair speech but with treacherous aim, 
 His recondite lies, glozed with hollow pretence 
 Of national honor or patriot zeal, 
 Pleads love for his country ! Base monster, he lies ! 
 (He loves not his country who loves not his race,) 
 He seeks his own ends in the blood of the poor ; 
 And heaven, earth, and hell, from their heights and their 
 
 depths 
 Resound their amen, when he sinks to his doom." 
 
 " God speed the just sentence," the cherub rejoin'd; 
 " But quickly let's leave this revolting display, — 
 " So brutal, and monstrous, the folly of hell ! " 
 Thus saying, he waited not further discourse, 
 But strode in the heat of his spirit away, 
 
104 ZETHAK. [Book II, 
 
 And, guided by Ileal, return'd to the plain. 
 Descending tbe hill, its environs they found, 
 And roads, all encumber'd with baggage, and trains 
 For army supplies, ammunition, and tents, 
 And teamsters, and horses in wildest uproar, 
 And sutlers, pimps, showmen, and venders of wines, 
 And news-mongers, — riding like princes about : 
 The most seem'd to count it a holiday rare, 
 Albeit but yonder the death-work went on, 
 The dead lay disjointed in furrows and heaps, 
 And dusty and gory the wounded crept out 
 To staunch their deep wounds 'neath some hedge, and 
 expire. 
 AAvay from the awful and hideous scene 
 The angels depart ; in the lapse of an hour 
 They pass'd many leagues from the region of strife 
 And found, in the change of location and scene, 
 A partial relief from the horror and pain 
 Induc'd by the sight of atrocities dire. 
 Meanwhile, as the day now drew near to its close, 
 They turn'd once again to their home in the vale, 
 Discoursing the while of the day and its work ; 
 For Zethar, whose thoughts still recurr'd to the strife, 
 Renew'd his inquiries of Ucal, and said, — 
 " I cannot conceive of just cause, or excuse, 
 For work so abhorrent and brutal, as war." 
 " Sin never has adequate cause or excuse," 
 Said Ucal, " And hence it is justly condemn'd ; 
 " All questions might ever be settled in peace, 
 *' Far better than strife, but the heart of lost man 
 
4th day.] zethar. 105 
 
 '• Recoils in its pride from the merciful plea, 
 
 '* And, spurr'd by malevolence, revels in blood; 
 
 " Man's heart is a cage, where the dove and the asp 
 
 " Sojourn and do battle, — with venom the asp, 
 
 " With loving and patient endurance the dove : 
 
 " Wins love, then its casket to heaven is transferr'd ; 
 
 "Wins hatred, — 'tis thrust Avith the victor to hell. 
 
 «•' Man deems, — guilty man, breathing discord ana war, — 
 
 " That crucified love dies but once in -the earth, 
 
 " (Though matchless, supernal, transcendant, that love ;) 
 
 " But no ! the meek pilgrim still compasses earth, 
 
 " By hatred and envy and malice pursued ; 
 
 " She pleads in the bosom, she sings in the grove, 
 
 " And weeps o'er the grief that she cannot redress ; 
 
 " Yet ever, and always, a thorn, or a scourge, 
 
 " A cross, or a spear for her fate, man reserves, 
 
 " And kills the sweet angel that pines in his breast." 
 
 Said Zethar, " Whence springs this implacable thirsty 
 "This spirit, of vile animosities fed, 
 " Whose look is a thorn and whose word is a spear ? " 
 " All spring," said the seraph, " from that baleful fount, — 
 " A heart long apostate from God and from right." 
 
 And now, having reach d their retreat in the vale; 
 And alter due ofF'ring of worsh'p in song, 
 The seraph, resuming the subject, thus said : — 
 " Delight in the sight and infliction of pain, 
 Is only one latent dark trait of the race ; 
 Ambition another ; — the passion for power ; 
 To rule, wrong, depress and coerce at his will 
 His fellows, — is man's most implacable aim, 
 
106 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Oppos'd, then his cruelty clictalfes the means 
 To punish his foes or complete his success, 
 And History stains with the record her page." 
 
 " Earth's history revels in battles and blood) 
 As needless as cruel, its records reveal 
 All phases of cruelty, art could supply ; 
 And strange though it seem to thy spirit benign, 
 The worst that men's malice or skill can inflict, 
 They often sustain by some pious pretense, 
 More strange, that eolighten'd communities oft 
 Though blest with truth, culture, and means from above, 
 Surpass in malev(^ent methods and skill. 
 Their heathenish neighbors ot ancestors blind." 
 
 The seraph here ceas'd, but the points to assure, 
 The baton he took from the nook where it lay, 
 And w^av'd it around, — by the signal evok'd, 
 Behold ! a succession of pantomimes pass'd, 
 In dim silent order, slow moving along. 
 
 First came a procession of servitors grim 
 (Of different age, clime, and hue they appear'd,) 
 Copt, Tartar, Turk, Saracen, Christian, or Jew, 
 All bearing the wept of the blood-fields of strife 
 And laid them in turn at the feet of the twain ; 
 The cherub look'd down with a tear-mingled eye 
 On the pale haggard face of the dead as they lay, 
 Surpris'd at their youth, — (Such the Moloch of war 
 Demands as of old for his blood-thirsty rites,) 
 " if war must rage, spare the young, " he exclaim'd, 
 " Let men do the brutal imperious wok ! " 
 
 The dim diorama moved silently on, 
 
4th day.] zethar. 107 
 
 Disclosing a scene in a prison in Greece, 
 
 A death scene, the prince of philosophers dies,* 
 
 A martyr to popular blindness and spite, 
 
 Unmangled, untortui-'d, he drinks the fell draught, 
 
 Reclines on a pallet, and decently dies. 
 
 On the banks of the Ganges, a Hindoo suttee 
 
 Succeeds ; next an awful libation of blood, 
 
 In Dahomey's stupid idolatrous land ; 
 
 Succeeding', — the various phases they saw, 
 
 Of heathenish cruelty Hist'ry reveals. 
 
 " Thou seest," said Ileal " What pagans have done, 
 
 " Mark now, what enlighten'd communities work, 
 
 The dim sombre pictures mov'd slowly along. 
 
 The next scene repeated a brutal display, 
 
 In late christian ages, a protestant dies, 
 
 A teacher and pastor, a martyr is he. 
 
 To priestcraft and prelacy, — stretch'd on a wheel, 
 
 A brute executioner, bruises and breaks. 
 
 His bones and his life inch by inch, and inflicts, 
 
 Attenuate agony, e'en the last blow, 
 
 Withheld, doles the torture, beneath a hot sun. 
 
 They next saw some heretics doom'd for the crime 
 Of faith and an honest confession of truth. 
 They died in their constancy — burnt at slow fires, 
 Their torture by malice dra-\vn out to the last. 
 And kings, with their courtiers, prelates and priests, 
 Attend to gloat over the suffering group. 
 " ! fearful dread pageant ! " the cherub exclaim'd, 
 
 * Socrates. 
 
108 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 •' Could hell, and its demons surpass In their hate 
 These sleek christian prelates, heaven pity the race ! 
 To fry a good man, for his faults or mistakes ! 
 Ah me ! what can equal__a folly like this ! " 
 
 The power of the baton unfolded in turn, 
 The fate of the soldier 'neath x\lbion-rule, 
 Blown off from the cannon, or scourg'd unto death ; 
 The knout of the Russian ; The iron-mask'd man ; 
 The horrid details of the awful Bastile ; 
 The dark torture-cells where Inquisitors wrought 
 With tongue like a syren, and heart like a fiend ; 
 And then the scene chang'd to the Occident shore. 
 
 On fair Alabama's meandering stream, * 
 They saw a poor bondman who sought to resume. 
 His freedom, of which he was robb'd long before, 
 Arraign'd by the robbers and doom'd for this crime : 
 The victim they bind to a tree, and beneath 
 The slow burning faggots they kindle, and jeer 
 With savage delight'at the cr)' of his pain. 
 
 Said Zethar, heart-weary, " What visions are these ? " 
 The seraph replied, " Yet the baton is true. 
 These "men hide their eyes from the fact of their guilt, 
 And foam out their shame by a zealous display 
 Of horror and grief, at the distant report 
 Of blind superstition's atrocities, wrought 
 In heathenish lands, while unmoved they behold 
 More heinous offences than heathen commit 
 And 'gainst greater light unrebuk'd at their side ; 
 Then dream Heaven complacently smiles upon them 
 And hears not the cry of their victim outrag'd. 
 
4th day.] zethar. 109 
 
 At a sign from the seraph the scenes disappear'd, 
 But long the two angels their import discuss'd, 
 Then sought their repose, undistracted of dreams 
 And thus was completed the fourth day in Earth. 
 
110 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 FIFTH DAY. 
 
 With morning's first ray, the two visitants rose, 
 And, after a psalm, their researches resume ; 
 To-day, they descend to the plains, on the west, 
 And north, tow'rds the mount* where the ark found a 
 
 port ; 
 A city lay near their circuitous route. 
 And thither they hasten intent on their work ; 
 They enter a house, in the suburbs retir'd 
 And quiet, a hush'd mournful silence was there, 
 And weeping attendants moved noiseless around. 
 For bat-winged sorrow was brooding within ; 
 Unbidden, the visitants enter a room 
 Selectest in grief, and the mourners select, 
 Some bending in prayer, some reclining in tears, 
 Some watching a pallet with grief-laden eye, 
 Whereon lay a pale and emaciate form 
 Immerg'd in the shades of the valley of death. 
 Oh Death ! monster-hound, how its terrors are spread 
 
 * Ararat. 
 
5th day.] zethar. Ill 
 
 To hunt and dislodge, from their every retreat, 
 
 Our domicil'd joys, and our earth-nestled hopes !: 
 
 Why cling we, tenacious, while so insecure, 
 
 To life's flitting treasures and forfeited bliss ? 
 
 The dying we watch, sympathetic our tears, 
 
 "We too must experience all for ourselves 
 
 The dread, undescrib'd, inconceivable change, 
 
 Mysterious, penal, eventful, unknown : — 
 
 But how look'd the heavenly sojourners, on all 
 
 The group in that chamber ? immortal themselves, — 
 
 With angel-precision they measur'd the scene. 
 
 The grief of the parents, attendants, and friends ; 
 
 But far, far more wonderful, sure in their view, 
 
 The young, pale, attenuate victim appear 'd ; 
 
 For peace, and unruffled submission, and joy 
 
 Repos'd in those dim, dimming eyes, and sufFus'd 
 
 The face with unspeakable beauty serene ; 
 
 The thick, broken utt'rance spoke only of peace, 
 
 And confidence, child-like: " 'Tis better," it said^ 
 
 " 'Tis better to trust, than to triumph in death. 
 
 Yet trust leads to triumph ; that blessing is mine ; '* 
 
 And then the chok'd utt'rance was moulded in song 
 
 Triumphant, ascriptive of praise unto God. 
 
 Surprised was the cherub, astonish'd, o'er-awed, 
 
 A death scene he witness'd where youth dar'd to die ; — 
 
 To venture its fates in death's mystery drear — 
 
 ! all the blest spheres have their Edens, and jays ; 
 
 And hell, her eternal retributive fires ; 
 
 But earth hath her death scenes wdiere virtue exults ; 
 
 Stern death, half asham'd to make virtue his prey, 
 
112 ZETHAE. [Book II. 
 
 Aside his repulsive habiliments throws, 
 
 And waits like a nurse to abate grim disease j 
 
 Then pillows love's form in his cooling embrace, 
 
 And hushes to stillness the contests of life. 
 
 When silence thus couch'd on the form of the child, 
 
 The twain, from the house of affliction, resum'd 
 
 Their journey, impress'd with the marvellous scene ; 
 
 But chiefly the cherub, his manifold thought 
 
 Deep mov'd him, and thus of his guide he inquii''d, 
 
 "If death is the penalty due to man's sin, 
 
 How is it that joy can its terrors defy ? " 
 
 " This is a result of recuperate grace, 
 " Of which," said the guide, " I already have shown ; 
 These parents are teachers come over the sea, 
 To teach the true kno^vledge and w'orship of God, 
 They come from that people whose worship, devout, 
 We saw, and this child has been nurtur'd in means 
 Appointed of God, and effectual grace 
 Not only redeems, but gives triumph in death." 
 
 Armenia's borders they visit in turn, 
 And next, by the broken Caucasian range : 
 Here, in the Avild gorge of a mountain, they saw 
 A cave, the abode of a hermit austere ; 
 Who, surfeited, turn'd at a draught of life's cup, 
 And ran fi'om the world to get rid of himself. 
 Exchanging its perils, confusion, and strife. 
 And boons, for the throes of his own weary thoughts, — 
 And made a poor bargain, at best for his pains. 
 A shepherd had gather'd his flock near the spot ; 
 In years he was young, not in wisdom or grace : 
 
5tli day.] zethar. 113 
 
 A cliild, taught of God, can instruct even age ; 
 
 Just now at his grotto the hermit he met 
 
 And, after reciprocal courtesies said, — 
 
 *' Holy father, I judge that thy wisdom and age 
 
 " Have minister' d light and repose to the soiil ; 
 
 ^' No doubt, darkness, fear, (one would think) should 
 
 enthral 
 ^' The quiet serene of thine evening sky." 
 '* Th'm judgest unwisely," the hermit replied; 
 " A cursory judgment is often unwise ; 
 *' 'Tis true, the wide world I have left, with its broil, 
 *' Deception, and wrong; — but have brought to my cell 
 " My knowledge, doubts, fears, my remorse, and my- 
 self,— 
 "Enough thou should'st deem for a lonely old man; 
 " And then, as for light, I have none in myself; 
 *' The sun does not rise in my cell, but without ; 
 " Nor light or true peace spring innate in the soul." 
 "What doubt can distress thee?" the shepherd in- 
 
 quir'd ; 
 *' Thy knowledge is varied, extensive, and sound 
 " Thy judgment, to weigh, sort, combine, and dispose 
 " The fruits of thy knowledge to final results. 
 " My knowledge is great ! " said the hermit, " Alas ! 
 * Too great ! were it less, then my doubts woxildbe less ; 
 " Too much, or too little I know for my peace ; 
 •' Each avenue open'd by science, conducts 
 " The arduous search, from the common and trite, 
 " Through fissures of dim subterranean ray, 
 " And tissues of thought, to an ultimate fact 
 8 
 
114 ZETHAK. [Book IL 
 
 " Remote and obscure, — wlxere the balk'd, restive soul, 
 " In vain struggles onward, 'gainst adamant doubt. 
 
 " So labors some tourist, in vent'rous attempt 
 " The catacombs, labyrinth- depths, to explore ; 
 " From dayliglit and life, with his torch, he descends 
 " The dark slimy passages, winding, remote, 
 " And sees on each hand, as he stumbles and gropes, 
 " Strange openings of dismal unfrequented depths, 
 '' Where often he lingers in doubt and demur ; 
 " Then onward he presses, till full in his Avay, 
 " The rock-wall, unchisell'd and rugged protrudes 
 " And bars farther progress ; he chafes, but in vain ; 
 " No more can he turn to the daylight of life ; 
 ' ' His lamp flickers feebly, then leaves him in night, 
 " Alone and dishearten'd to die in the depths. 
 " 'Tis thus with my soul ; with extravagant thirst 
 " I panted, each passage of science to probe, 
 " And left life's broad day with a single faint doubt ; 
 " But soon, in the depths I encounter'd a score, 
 " And now I know nothing of all things I doubt ; 
 " And doubters are strangers to permanent peace. 
 " No more can I turn to life's morning of joy, 
 " Ungain all my knowledge, or gain all I need 
 '.' To solve the dim problems of that which I know, 
 •' Hence, reason's pale ray flickers now round my path 
 " Obscurely, and soon I must die in my doubt." 
 
 The shepherd, with tearful but radiant eye, 
 Replied, " Holy father, thy wisdom o'erlooks 
 " One avenue, open, the knowledge of Faith ; 
 " Why should'st thou grope ever in caverns of doubt ? 
 
5lh day.] zethar. 115 
 
 " Faith opens a heavenward prospect divine, 
 
 " Unclouded, and upAvard : Begin thou with God, 
 
 "Great Sun Intellectual, Moral Supreme ! 
 
 " Believe, and find peace in his favor and truth, 
 
 " Nor ever forsake thou the light of His ray ; 
 
 " This life is too short for an idle research ; 
 
 ^' Its burdens too weighty for us to eschew^ 
 
 "True rest is in duty, submission, and faith." 
 
 The shepherd now turn'd to the care of his flock ; 
 The hermit forsook his rude home in the cave, 
 The angels continued their journey amain. 
 
 They cross'd the cold sea* where the argonauts sail'd, 
 And Europe's bold mountains were spread in their view, 
 The Balkan, and north, the Carpathian range. 
 With well-cultur'd plains and broad rivers between,— 
 Of differing races and tribes the abode. 
 Whose crimes, burdens, follies, and habits of life 
 Were subject to angel inspection, in turn. 
 
 Afar in the distance, along by the sea 
 The domes and the spires of a city were seen, 
 And thither the visitants journey ; they met, 
 Along the highway, many vehicles, fiU'd 
 With anxious pale faces, and varied assort 
 Of household utensils, and many afoot, 
 Or cloister'd securely in carriage or coach ; 
 All hasted, as if a dread foe were behind, 
 Distrustful perchance he might lurk in their pack. 
 Said Zethar, " What now ? " Then at Ucal's request, 
 
 * Black Sea. 
 
116 ' ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 He ask'd (in the guise of a traveller young) 
 
 A faint, weary footman, liis question again ; 
 
 " Young man," said the stranger, " I bid thee beware ; 
 
 " Go not to the city, the plague is within, 
 
 " And thousands are drooping and dying each day, 
 
 " Take warning at once and return to thy place, 
 
 " We fly from the city to save our own lives." 
 
 Vain flight! to the cherub's commiserate eye 
 
 The plague-spot was then in the face of the man ; 
 
 A few weary miles, and he sits by the way. 
 
 Recalls his faint mem'ries, sighs, prays, and expires. 
 
 The angels continue their journey, and meet 
 The dead-cart, just issuing forth with its freight 
 Of shipwreck'd humanity : (Life is a voyage 
 Where all who embark meet with shipwreck at last.) 
 They follow'd the vehicle, shock'd by the coarse 
 Incongruous jests of the servitors mean. 
 The dead were promiscuously thrown in a trench. 
 Unwept, and unhonor'd with funeral rites ; 
 And as each was drawn from the cart into view, 
 The cherub discern'd, with intelligent glance, 
 The history, varied and changeful, of each. 
 The first was the form of a weary old man : 
 His sons, lur'd by falsehoods, went forth to the wars 
 And never return' d ; the fond mother soon died 
 Of gi'ief, and the father, alone and bereft, 
 Made shift for a home till the death-cloud came o'er 
 And smote, not unwilling, the weary old man. 
 
 The next was a courtezan : faultless the form, 
 Nor hateful the soul ; many beautiful traits 
 
5tli day.] zethar. 117 
 
 Enricli'd the weak sinner. She fell in her youth, 
 And shame, desperation, suspicion, and pride. 
 With coldness of friends shut the door to reform ; 
 Many days have elaps'd since her home she has seen, — 
 Her home, a low fire-side that Zethar could see, 
 Where sigh-burden'd bosoms, at morning or eve, 
 Unburdeu'd their grief for the erring, in prayer ; 
 That home-group and wanderer never shall meet. 
 O God ! deal in mercy : when justice awakes, 
 Discriminate thou 'twixt the kid and the wolf] 
 
 The next was the corpse of a wealthy young man. 
 Who own'd both a palace and tomb when alive ; 
 The wife, stricken first by the plague, was inhum'd 
 In state, when the servants their peril forsook. 
 And left the survivor unwell, and alone : 
 Next morning the death-signal hung on the door. 
 The grave-men discern'd and without much ado. 
 The body they cast in the cart with the rest ; 
 None car'd for the rich in this perilous time ; 
 Love only, and faith, could such dangers out-brave. 
 
 A coarse swarthy form Avas next drawn from the bier 
 That served a poor point for the servitors jests. 
 Sneer not ! from that casket uncomely and rude, 
 A rare precious jewel is wasted and gone ; 
 By foi'm, utt'rance, poverty, diffidence, cramp'd, 
 Like a fair bird of paradise cag'd in a tower. 
 All songless, unseen, unadmir'd, and uupriz'd ; 
 Yet his were the high aspirations and throes. 
 Love, poer.y. Genius and Beauty inspire. 
 Though enrich' d thus within, he could never be known, 
 
118 ZETHA.R. [Book II. 
 
 The proud pass'd him by, as an ignorant boor, 
 Unpolish'd and rude, — yet had fortune bestow'd 
 A tithe of the culture misspent upon them, 
 He had shone on the forum or hallow'd the page. 
 ! Earth hath great gems in her fathomless depths ! 
 Far down, where the feet of the mountains abide ! 
 Those depths shall upheave in the day of God's power ! 
 And treasure and beauty unthought of disclose ! 
 
 The next was a careless and dissolute youth, 
 Who laugh'd in the morning, and quaff'd in the eve, 
 And spent on his lusts what he gain'd by his toil ; 
 The world ow'd him nothing, but many ow'd he : 
 And nothing was lost to the woi^d when he died, 
 Save one bad example and many bad debts. 
 Not thus could he die ; guilty conscience awoke, 
 Too late, but to taunt and embitter death's hour ! 
 
 The next was a man who had toil'd past liis prime 
 In vain, not for riches or fame, but success ; 
 When at last the slight boon was but just in his grasp,, 
 The j^lague the poor votary snatch'd from his prize, 
 And took him away to repose in the trench : — 
 That life is success Avhich the Lord shall approve. 
 
 The next was a waif from an Occident shore, j 
 Blown hither by gales unpropitious to love : 
 A maid, deem'd by fancy an angel, he loved 
 Too well for his peace, for his purse was too small ; 
 (Love measures sometimes by the chaplet or purse, 
 Heaven pardon ! not love, but it goes by that name ;) 
 To mend his scant fortune he ventur'd abroad, 
 From city to city, in search of the boon, 
 
5th day.] zethar. 119 
 
 But farther and dimmer receded the goal, 
 
 And fainter his hope and his heart in pursuit, 
 
 When poverty stranded him here on the shore 
 
 Of death ; but one heart, of whose love he knew not, 
 
 In secret wept oft that he never return'd : — 
 
 That heart and that sorrow the cherub could scan. 
 
 Far ofl' in a cottage a wood-land beside. 
 
 The visitants thus read the lives of the dead, 
 And saw the remains cover'd up in the trench ; 
 Then travers'd the city's disconsolate streets, 
 And felt the death-incubus brooding o'er all ; 
 Yet eve found the haunts of the city astir 
 For pleasure and vice : even death in his lair 
 Was bearded, by fierce desperation unaw'd. 
 The travellers, now, left the plague-stricken place, 
 And went on their way with a sigh for its fate. 
 
 Through Europe they journey'd, inspecting at will 
 The multiform aspects of life in her midst ; 
 Her cities, that swarm like the ant-hills with life 
 That frisks o'er the vaster deposits of death,* 
 Ephemeral, frivolous, selfish, and blind ; 
 They saw the ambitiovis, rich, royal and proud 
 Assuming the reins and control of the state. 
 And driving its wheels o'er the necks of the poor ; 
 Saw millions of hands from the tillage of peace, 
 Withdrawn to prepare the munitions of Avar, 
 While millions were craving apparel and bread ; 
 They saw christian prelates, with revenues vast, 
 Bedizzen'd with trappings and gew-gaAvs that please 
 
 * Catacombs of Kome, Paris, and other cities. 
 
120 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The painted vile savage of cannibal isles ; 
 
 Saw temples of pond'rous and turretted stone, 
 
 All fretted with sculpture's elaborate skill ; 
 
 And turn'dfrom their worship with angel-disgust : 
 
 The chant of dead language, vain forms, and grimace. 
 
 The drone of great organ, or wonderful song 
 
 Of lecherous singers, who sold for a price 
 
 Their gifts, to the church or the devil in turn ; 
 
 Saw virtue, integrity, nobleness, truth, 
 
 Still spurn' d from the council and hid in the vale. 
 
 Then, onward, through Britain's unparallel'd isle ; 
 
 A spec on the map, but a world in itself : 
 
 Enough for her pride, for her glory enough 
 
 To claim hut the dust and the fame of her sons. 
 
 Her saints, martyrs, patriots, sages and bards, 
 
 Their lives, pens, and skill, and their eloquent lips. 
 
 And all the great works their beneficence wrought. 
 
 But ah ! how the shadows her honor enshroud ! 
 
 The bard must recite Avhat the visitants saw : 
 
 Name not, in the roll of her sainted and good, 
 
 Her bankers, ber statesmen, her prelates and lords ; 
 
 The spawn of a crew who came here with their chief,* 
 
 Dredg'd out from the kennels of Norman debauch. 
 
 And strutting for ages at others expense : 
 
 Though great, from her zenith her glory declines ; 
 
 A cancerous humor her vitals infects ; 
 
 Her policy savors of lucre, and blood. 
 
 Brutality, tyranny, rancor, and pride ; 
 
 ITnhallow'd, aggressive, perpetual wars 
 
 * William the Conqueror. 
 
5th day.] zetha.r. 121 
 
 Have scatter'd the bones of her sons in all climes ; 
 And Mars has a shrine in the Temples of God. 
 Fair Scotia they saw in her mountains north, 
 Replete with her lessons, the present and past ; 
 And travers'd her mountains, her vallies and streams 
 Made classic by poets of marvellous song. 
 
 The pilgrims continued their course o'er the land 
 And met, at a lonely precipitous cliff, 
 Two men in rough garments, with hammer and pouch, 
 And chisel, and lenses ; they wrought in the cliff 
 A rude excavation, extracting with care 
 The petrified relics of life long explete. 
 O'er which they conferr'd, like two wiseacre crows 
 Debating the flavor of serpent or frog. 
 
 "While occupied thus, they were join'd by a third, 
 Of lowlier mein ; an old shepherd was he. 
 Whose spring- time and summer of life now was o'er, 
 And autumn had frosted his head and his joy ; 
 But wisdom and faith lent their grace the meanwhile, 
 To point and establish a confident hope, 
 And peace and benignity slept in his eye. 
 The angels drew near to the group, (but unseen,) 
 To hear, and perchance of poor mortals to learn. 
 
 " Pray sirs," said the shepherd, " what is it invites 
 Your strenuous labor ? is gold buried there ? " 
 " Not gold " said the elder, but knowledge we seek, — 
 " Fair science, that treasure more precious and rare, 
 " Illuming the soul, as the light doth the eye." 
 
 " Are you," said the shepherd, " so destitute then, 
 Of knowledge and light, that you dig for it here ? 
 Or is it a kind of great value, or use ? " 
 
122 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " Oh no," said the other, " the knowledge we seek, 
 
 Is but speculative ; but still, it unfolds 
 
 The scheme of creation, foi- ages before, 
 
 Yea thousands of ages or millions, perchance, 
 
 Ere man was created." The shepherd replied, 
 
 *' If such be the knowledge you gain, you might find 
 
 A better assort in the Record of truth ; 
 
 Which teaches all knowledge, most needful and true." 
 
 The other replied with a shrug and a sneer, 
 " The book which Ave read is much older than yours, 
 Its leaves are these strata, all letter'd with facts. 
 Not signs of mere thought but the relics themselves. 
 Laid here in primeval succession ; they mark 
 Gradative creation, ascending to man," 
 He added, " Each age had its organized life, 
 Distinct from the others, huge monsters once lived, 
 Or reptile, or dragon of hideous shape. 
 That crept, swam, or flew in the embryo earth, 
 Devouring each other, for age upon age 
 Ere juvenile man had a domicile here." 
 
 The shepherd replied, with a smile for the sneer : — 
 " O Sun, hide thy beams ! we have light in the earth, 
 *' And need not thy radiance ! light in a hole ! 
 " Dug open by science with pickaxe and spade ! 
 "I sure now discover the truth of my Book : 
 " The world, by its wisdom, can never know God. 
 " The rock-book, you read, you begin at the end ; 
 "Decipher one line, and assume all the rest, 
 " And what do you gain by your pains and research? — 
 " A knowledge uncertain, distracting, and vain, 
 
5th day.] zethak. 123 
 
 " Your system discovers a hell in the past ; 
 "Wherein, for long ages, all hideous forms, 
 " All wild monstrous births, misbegotten of hate ; 
 " Unclean, all-devouring and odious, had home'; 
 "An objectless, hateful, and dreary abyss. 
 
 " Judge we a Designer by that which he plans ? 
 '•The Good, "Wise, and beautiful, sure if He work, 
 " The work shall the trait of its author betray; 
 " Geologists, sure, have no God they can love ; 
 " Dull savans ! with eyes at the back of their head, 
 " And retrograde motion, once fabled of crabs; 
 " And grant this conceit of the ancients were true, 
 " Who dreams that the reptile could keep in the path ? 
 " Nor yet can its prototype, scrawling about ; 
 "He trenches on each sister science in turn, 
 " But most on the realm of religion and faith, — 
 "Sole stay, and sole refuge, of virtue and hope." 
 
 He added, with manly and courteous grace, 
 " Let not my true ardor give pain or offence." 
 With friendly reply, here the colloquy ceas'd. 
 And straight on their journey the pilgrims proceed. 
 Away o'er the sea to the world of the West. 
 
 New facts to the cherub, new queries suggest, 
 And after long musing, to Ucal he said, 
 " The theme of these mortals has opened new field 
 Of thought most perplexing, awaken'd new doubts ; 
 For if these explorers are right in their facts, 
 The shepherd seems equally sound in his plea. 
 And thus rests a stain on the work of our God ; 
 Of which, (if you may,) holy teacher ex^laiu.*' 
 
124 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The seraph replied, "We should never deny 
 The facts, that e'en human philosophy claims, 
 But rather object that its facts are so few ; 
 On partial researches men's systems are built, 
 Which farther discov'ries might quickly o'erthrow ; 
 They puncture the earth at a few distant points, 
 And straight a fine scheme of philosophy frame, — 
 As frail as a snow-wreath, blown up by the storm ; 
 And yet, were all facts plac'd at once in their reach, 
 These facts of the physical world should be read 
 Subordinate e'er to the moral ; and hence 
 The shepherd is right, in the main, though untaught ; 
 His stand-point is faith, which he never deserts. 
 Their partisan search shuts their mind to one view ; 
 His general view of a complicate whole 
 Afibrds a more sound and conclusive result." 
 
 Said Zethar, " But whence came these relics malign ? " 
 Said Ucal, " I taught thee while yet on our way, 
 Apostacy did not begin in the earth ; 
 The angels first fell, and infected the spheres. 
 In part, while the rest their allegiance maintain'd ; 
 Restorative process, with judgment, proceeds ; 
 Some spheres are destroy'd, and the others reclaim'd. 
 The earth of itself is in course of reform 
 From spheres once apostate, where demons held sway, 
 And chang'd from benign, the original work, 
 To hateful and selfish, alike to themselves ; 
 These relics are wrecks of their vengeful perverts ; 
 The earth as it is, is ' in-transitu ' now, 
 From an era of hate to an epoch benign, 
 
5th day.] zethar. 125 
 
 And heaven, aye and hell, have their duplicates here." 
 While Ucal thus spoke, they were pois'd o'er the sea, 
 
 The restless Atlantic ; ere long, to their view 
 
 Its bosom a Avild transformation disclos'd, 
 
 And spread the dim prospect Geology sees 
 
 An aqueous hell, with its horrible life ; 
 
 While long-weary ages incessantly roll'd, 
 
 It faded ; and now, in the distance, they saw 
 
 The rock-broken coast of the Occident world. 
 
 Great dreams have been had of its destinies high, 
 
 Mere dreams, not the soil is at fault, but the plant ; 
 Degenerate plant of a mongrel strange vine, 
 
 Is man, — as his history ever betrays. 
 
 Ye blatant philosophers ; hopeful, but vain, 
 In confidence waiting a good coming time, 
 Learn this from the ch)wn who produces your bread ; 
 East, West, hill or valley, whatever the soil, 
 Sow tares, and foiever ye harvest but tares. 
 The angels now traverse Columbia's soil ; 
 But now, the fifth day hasten'd on to its close, 
 And night overtook them afar from the vale ; 
 Meanwhile, as they talk'd, they had travell'd amain, 
 And reach'd a fair city of order and thrift ; 
 Along the dim streets, in the twilight they pass'd, 
 And linger'd awhile in a corner recess, — 
 A niche left by traffic 'twixt marble and stone 
 Whereby flow'd, incessant, the human life-tide ; 
 The bleak winds of evening blew fitful and chill, 
 And stirr'd in short circles the stubble and straw, 
 A storm was impending, the night gather'd on, 
 And hasted each passenger by to his home ; 
 
126 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 (How poor is the outcast, who hath not a home ? ) 
 As each pass'd along, in an instant of time 
 The clierub not only could see, but discern 
 With prescient glance, — comprehending at once 
 The character, circumstance, burdens of each. 
 
 The first Avas an artisan, pallid and poor, — 
 Though young, old with care and assiduous toil ; 
 He hasted, with nostrums to save a sick wife, 
 The maid of his choice ; but his idol shall fade, 
 He follow heart-broken, — one grave for the twain. 
 
 Next pass'd in his cabriole,* rolling in ease, 
 An opulent merchant, his traffic, and turns, 
 Each, all had succeeded, and now in his pride, 
 Self-pleas'd, he ascribes his success to his tact, 
 Good fortune, alas ! is a treacherous nurse ; 
 Man's heart grows awry in prosperity's sun. 
 Grows insensate, and deaf to the cry of distress, 
 And bloats the poor pigmy too big for his shroud. 
 
 Next, follow'd a newsboy, as light as a bird, 
 And jovial, and free, though his wardrobe was poor ; 
 His threadbare apparel was never too good, 
 And now never worse, but he car'd not for that, 
 He had chaffer'd his wares with success, and his purse 
 Was heavy with pennies ; he hastes to his home. 
 Where a poor widow'd mother awaits his return, 
 Proud only of him ; he will make a good man. 
 Not great, careless list'ner : alas, for the world ! 
 Too many are great, but the good are too few ; 
 
 * Cabriolet. 
 
5th day.] zethar. 127 
 
 Eat he will be good, he will pity the poor, 
 Have solace and help for the children of grief ; 
 The world will be dark with regret, when he dies. 
 
 Next follow'd a poor haggard woman, forlorn, 
 In mean, scant apparel, with wavering steps ; 
 Heart-bankrupt was she, for the sun of her hope 
 Long since had gone down in the shadows of life; 
 Yet once she was beautiful, once was belov'd. 
 And joyous the promise of life's early morn, — 
 Vain promise ! she fell, and, abandon'd and poor, 
 Fell deeper and deeper ; and now from the dust 
 One only faint thought, at the core of her heart. 
 Has claim on a heart that was pierc'd long ago. 
 She sinks, but her heartless seducer ascends 
 The social gradation, and figures the judge. 
 
 The next passer-by, is the judge in a coach ; 
 He has been to a feast at the public expense ; 
 Oblivious is he, from the wine and the cheer ; 
 The follies of youth never troubled him less ; 
 The world treats him well, he does well for himself; 
 If God might forget, it might always be well ; 
 ! how superficial the scheme of our faith ! 
 We help a poor soul to perdition, then deem 
 A cursory penitence, added Avith tears. 
 And faith in some dogmas, make ample amends ; 
 Not thus is the rule by which God shall adjudge: — 
 Raise up the poor waif, thou hast plung'd in the ditch, 
 And share all the shame thine own crimes have induc'd ; 
 Do this, and perhaps even Grod may forgive. 
 
 The next is a bridegroom, he goes to the bath, 
 
128 ZETHAE. [Book IL 
 
 And then to his toilet ; he marries to-night ; 
 So young, and so happy, ah, who would disperse 
 Youth's day-dream of joy? not the bard, to be sure ; 
 Let's draw no dark cloud o'er one short honey-moon ; 
 Enough for Love's day is the evil thereof. 
 
 Next, passes on horseback a model young man, 
 In birth, education, and fortune alike, 
 A nice, unexceptional, specimen he ; 
 His plans all work smooth, he will marry to match ; 
 A beautiful cypher is he in the world. 
 
 With oath, song, and ribald, and boisterous mirth 
 Three youths swagger by, the contempt of the wise, 
 The grief of their friends, and the shame of the place ; 
 They squander the wealth that, with miserly hand. 
 Their parents acquir'd, thus redoub'ling the curse, — 
 A curse in the gather, a curse in the spend. 
 The cherub, with prescient eye, saw their fates : 
 One dies in his cups, and another in jail ; 
 The third, warn'd betimes, will survive and reform. 
 
 Now comes a young woman, with confident step, 
 And enters, unask'd, the angelic recess, 
 To wait till the noise of carousal retires ; 
 (Fear not loving child, for the angels are there ! ) 
 Not beautiful she, in her face ; but her heart 
 Was fair as a seraph's, and peaceful as fair. 
 Belov'd of her parents, whose limited means 
 Her constant, sweet charities only restrain, 
 The poor know her step on their rickety stairs, 
 Her voice at the bedside of sickness and woe. 
 
 Then follow'd, in rapid succession along, 
 
5th day.] zethab. 129 
 
 A preacher and deacon, returning from prayer ; 
 
 A dark-hearted man full of treacherous schemes ; 
 
 A poor cancer-patient, supported by friends, 
 
 Drooping homeward, death sentenc'd by medical skill ; 
 
 A shameless procuress with beauty and tact ; 
 
 A lawyer and client, in earnest discourse ; 
 
 A father, — bereft of his beautiful boy, 
 
 Returning disconsolate now to his home, — 
 
 From the grave of his child to the grave of his joy. 
 
 Thus pass'd for some hours, in angelic review, 
 The varied and changeful procession along. 
 Revealing in turn, to the cherub, each phase 
 And taint of the real substrata of life. 
 He saw, and saw all, as the angels can see ; 
 Appreciating, only to wonder and sigh. 
 Meanwhile as the evening wan'd into the night, 
 The footfalls grew fewer, and fainter ; at last 
 The slow measur'd tread of the watchman alone 
 Was heard, and the city in silence repos'd, 
 With all its vague multitude garner'd in sleep. 
 The sleep of the living, how solemn ! how strange ! 
 How like to the sleep of the numberless dead ! 
 
 The angels now pass'd through the silent, dim streets, 
 As silent themselves, and the cherub as dim ; 
 (He could not unravel life's mysteries deep ;) 
 And Ucal still left him to labor in doubt. 
 Until the due time for solution should come. 
 
 The points we acquire by the travail of thought^, 
 And weary heart-tossings, are far more secure. 
 More practical, real, in use and effect, 
 9 
 
130 ZETHAR. [Book n. 
 
 For soul-confirmation, than lessons that fall 
 So cheap on the ear from the lips of the wise. 
 
 The silence, angelic, at length is disturb'd ; 
 A single, faint cry in the distance they heard, 
 A cry of alarm ; all is silent again ; 
 Like the howl of a wolf in the forest afar, 
 Ere yet the whole pack hems the travellers heels ; 
 Again the alarm, and the sensitive air. 
 So still but just now, stirs as if without cause : 
 Anon other voices unite in the cry, 
 And then a red light, over chimnies and roofs, 
 Reveals the new danger, — a dwelling on fire ! 
 Though tardy, the distant alarum comes on ; 
 One after another, the open-mouth'd bells 
 Swing out their deep tones from their airy retreat ; 
 The hoarse, earnest voices, of earnest, strong men 
 Are heard o'er the rattle of iron-bound wheels ; 
 And soon all the late quiet streets are astir 
 With motion and noise of a crowd on the way, 
 Excited and wild, to the scene of alarm. 
 
 A house wrapt in flames ! with its hearth-stone within ! 
 The home of one's birth, early childhood, and joy ; 
 The home where a mother or sister had died, 
 The home of one's nuptials ! each rude finished beam, 
 Sly corner, recess, and the closet of prayer ; 
 Each, all, lent their memories, and sanctified home ; 
 That home now in flames, and no longer to be ! 
 
 But here, was a sevenfold horror reveal'd ; 
 The parents stand palsied in sudden dismay, 
 And blanch'd as the marble ; a child in the house ! 
 
5th day.] zethak. 131 
 
 Save her, ye strong men ! but no mortal can save ! 
 
 She strives at the window : the cherub exclaims, 
 
 " O God ! 'tis the angel of charity dies ! 
 
 Save her ! — I will save ! " — and he hastes with the Avord ; 
 
 But Ucal restrains, and the smoke and the flame, 
 
 O'ercome, and the lov'd one is lost to their view ! 
 
 Strong men work the engines, and water and fire 
 
 Maintain a fierce conflict, but water prevails ; 
 
 And, forth from the ruins, they tenderly bear 
 
 The crisp and charr'd form of the juvenile saint, — 
 
 A fearful, appalling, unspeakable sight. 
 
 Sad muse, cease thy plaint, nor essay to recite 
 The grief of those parents, whose locks in their prime, 
 Grew white in that hour of unspeakable woe ; 
 Nor yet to describe all his conflict of thought, 
 As Zethar bent over the mournful remains, 
 In silent and tearful abstraction and grief. 
 At last his pent soul found an out-vent in Avords ; 
 " Why was this fair mortal thus stricken in death ? 
 And death in such fearful and terrible form, 
 While live the three profligate pests in their lusts ? " 
 Said Ucal, " God's providence opens a book 
 Of earth's fearful history, fitful and strange, 
 Whose every page not e'en angels can. read. 
 Thou knowest I taught thee, while yet in Idele, 
 That earth's choicest beauty was doom'd to decay. 
 That change and vicissitude lurk'd in her bowers, 
 And blear' ey'd uncertainty shadow'd her joy. 
 All these are concomitant evils, that haunt 
 A state of probation mid peril and sin ; 
 
132 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The light of a just restitution, at last 
 Alone can resolve these enigmas aright. 
 
 A smouldering ruin was all that remain'd, 
 Of that pleasant home, when the morning appear'd. 
 Grief- wreck'd, the two parents and coffin'd remains 
 Were borne, by kind friendship's commiserate hand, 
 To thresholds in generous sympathy free. 
 
6th day.] zethar. 133 
 
 SIXTH DAY. 
 
 The morn of the sixth of the visitant days 
 Rose on the two watchers, again on their way ; 
 With weariless footsteps, now over the plain 
 They journey'd, and then by a river that flow'd 
 So quietly on in the vale, that it seem'd 
 The river that waters the city of God ; 
 (On whose placid bosom no galley with oars, 
 Or armament hostile, shall ever intrude ;) 
 The river's calm flow is a type of true peace, 
 As gentle, as fruitful, incessant, unspent : 
 So flows holy peace to the soul that reclines, 
 Submiss, in the arms of Omnipotent Love. 
 
 Dear River !* that lavest my threshold and path, 
 My Jordan ! where first, in the ardor of youth, 
 I pledg'd, in thy wave,t my young heart to my Lord 5 
 I sing thy calm beauty, more choice to my soul 
 Than all the great streams made immortal in song. 
 Nor wholly unsung are thy beautifnl scenes, 
 By bardst who have dwelt at parnassian springs, 
 
 * Merrimac. t Baptism. $ Whittier and Misa QouW, &c. 
 
134 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 And hallo w'd thy stream with the music of song. 
 
 Roll on, fair)' river ! and bear to the sea 
 
 Thy waters, that earn* their repose in its depths. 
 
 The visitants' path lay amid pleasant fields, 
 And then by a cottage whose wide open door 
 Invited the angels : they enter'd, unseen, 
 And breath'd holy benison over the place. 
 From tents of old Mesech and Kedar exil'd, 
 Peace brought her own welcome and domicil'd here ; 
 The parents, a son and a daughter of peace, 
 Infus'd by example this grace in their seed. 
 The morning repast was out-spread ; first of all 
 In reverent devotion the group all unite, 
 Then take their repast with reciprocal zest ; 
 And then, Avith strong hearts, to life's burdens they go. 
 
 O ! blest is the household that fears, loves, and serves 
 Jehovah of Hosts ! Though deprest, and o'erlook'd 
 By earth blinded mortals, His blessing is their's, 
 And destinies royal their footfalls await ; 
 And over their tents, as of old, is the cloud, — 
 The pillar of cloud though it be, or of fire : 
 'Tis the signal divine, and God's Israel is safe. 
 
 Refresh'd by such heavenly oasis in earth, 
 The strangers went forth on their wonderful tour 
 In search of new lessons : new lessons await : 
 They enter'd a village ; there stood by a well, 
 Two women discoursing ; the speaker and theme 
 A poor hypochondriac doleing with sighs 
 
 * Referring to manufactories, &c., on the stream and its 
 triljutaries. 
 
6th day.] zethar, 135 
 
 A dream, that afflicted her slumbers an hour. 
 
 The visitants tarried, and listen'd the while : 
 
 " Methought," said the dreamer, " the bell in yon tower 
 
 Rung twelve as I woke and beheld at my side 
 
 A singular visitor, sombre, and stern, 
 
 Who bade me arise with imperious sign. 
 
 A mirror of ample dimensions he bore, 
 
 And mystical power, on the which, at his beck, 
 
 I look'd, and it seem'd as a lattice superb, 
 
 That ope'd to a hall in a mansion of wealth, 
 
 Where splendor, joy, beauty, festivity reign'd. 
 
 A wedding the company celebrate there ; 
 
 The bride ! how fair, and allied to a youth 
 
 Long loved, and well worthy, and equal in life ; 
 
 O ! this, to that group, was an hour of great joy. 
 
 " The spectre delay'd not, arranging the glass 
 In haste ; I now look'd, in a chamber of pain 
 A husband and father lay, languishing there ; 
 And now, in deep conclave, physicians conferr'd, 
 And gave the dread verdict that father must die ; 
 
 God ! to that mother and innocent group, 
 Hov*' awful and crushing the grief of the hour ! 
 
 " Again, at his signal, I saw by the copse, 
 By moonlight, two young ardent lovers exchange 
 Their first early vows, and to each 'twas the hour 
 Of soul-witching pleasure to know ' I'm beloved.' 
 
 " My restless attendant the mirror rechang'd; 
 
 1 saw ; 'tAvas the hour when a true loving heart 
 By jealousy's sharp venom-fang, was impal'd ; 
 
 And thosB who have lov'd from the depths of their soul, 
 
136 ZETHAE. [Book II. 
 
 Well know what that fang and its venom import. 
 
 " Still hasting, the mirror again he renew'd ; 
 I next saw a merchant at home with his books, — 
 The ledgers and journals ; to him 'twas the time 
 When, mid seeming wealth, he first knew he was poor ; 
 And that drooping home-group, so tenderly train'd, 
 No longer could count e'en the threshold their own. 
 
 " Again, when I look'd, I beheld in his cell 
 A pris'ner, condem'd and awaiting his fate ; 
 To him, this one hour was the last of his hours ; 
 And, ah ! to the guilty how awful the hour ! 
 
 " Again, in the mirror I look'd on the sea ! 
 A mariner hung on a sharp broken reef, 
 O'er-wash'd by incessant and merciless waves, 
 Scarce-held, yet benumb'd and in weakness he hung 
 The hour ere the skiff to his rescue arriv'd. 
 
 " The spectre next show'd me a true loving wife, 
 Expecting a long absent husband's return ; 
 By calumny sever'd, though ardently lov'd ; 
 Exculpated now by the truth, she awaits 
 In pensive solicitude, pleasure, and fear ; — • 
 This hour was the time of his promis'd return. 
 
 " Obeying the signal, again I look'd in ; 
 Chill evening had curtain' d a battle-field dire ; 
 A fair, gentle youth, languish'd there 'mongst the slain, 
 A turf for his pillow, a wound in his side, 
 Cold, thirsty and bleeding, he linger'd in pain ; 
 At the close of the hour when the ambulance came 
 The body was there, but the spirit had fled. 
 
 " Thus stood the iayeterate spectre, and chang'd 
 
6th day.] zkthar. 137 
 
 Incessant, unweary, and rapid the scenes, 
 
 All strangely diversified, joyful or sad, 
 
 " True pictures of life, till the bell in the tower 
 
 Struck one, when the elf through the window escap'd. 
 
 I woke, and the bell-tone was still in my ear. 
 
 I had slept, and behold I had dream'd just an hour ! 
 
 Ah me ! the vicissitudes strange of an hour ! " 
 
 Now leaving the dreamer a palace they sought. 
 From whence came the accents of sorrow intense ; 
 Here youth, wealth, and honor, with friendship and 
 
 grace, 
 Conjoin'd to enhance the possessor's estate, — 
 Too many good things, to remain long unscath'd i 
 Death flies on all wings, sorrow visits all homes, 
 But death might have spar'd that belov'd first-born 
 Ere yet the young parents were nurtur'd to grief. 
 
 The grief of the young, gentle mother, how great ! 
 So great, reason tottex-'d and reel'd on its throne ; 
 With faint, aimless footsteps, she pac'd the rich halls, 
 And fill'd all the mansion with wailing and sighs ; 
 A hovel, with flag stones or straw for a floor, 
 To her frantic sorrow a palace would be, 
 Could she but receive her dead child, back to life. 
 
 Said Ucal, " My brother, thou comest afar 
 On mission of ministrant mercy, essay 
 And minister solace to this stricken heart." 
 The cherub, with willing and generous zeal 
 Essay'd, but in vain, to allay her distress. 
 " How can I ? " said he : " There is no common ground 
 On which our two natures, can meet and commune ; 
 
138 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 She a child of earth's grief, I an angel of God ! 
 Just then, there is heard a low tap at the door ; 
 And then, without waiting a welcome or word, 
 A meek, fragile woman, came quietly in 
 And took a low seat by the mourner bereft. 
 Poor, feeble, and lowly was she, and long time 
 Care, labor, and sorrow had burden'd her life ; 
 Not much could she do, but she did what she could, 
 And hence she had come, with reciprocal tears 
 And tale of her sorrow, to comfort her friend. 
 
 The hand of the mourner she press'd, and, while tears 
 Fell fast, meekly gaz'd in the woe-begone face ; 
 And then, in a gentle commiserate tone. 
 Recited her own touching story of grief; 
 " How well she was loved of her husband now dead, 
 " HoAV dear to their hearts were the children God gave, 
 " How long with stern poverty bravely they strove, 
 " How God took their lov'd, one by one, from their side ; 
 " And then took the father, and left her alone ; 
 " How fearful, and crushing the quintuple woe ; 
 " How grace from the Crucified led her to peace, 
 " And hope of a Rest in the Promise reserved." 
 She pointed the mourner to all the rich gifts. 
 Still spar'd to enliven the journey of life ; 
 For life was at best but a pathway of tears : 
 And then God's kind purpose ; who, when he afflicts, 
 Seeks only our welfare and chastens in love. 
 To wean us from earth and entice us to heaven. 
 The tears, and the tale of collateral grief, 
 And pleas were effective ; at sympathy's power 
 
6th day.] zethar. 139 
 
 The flood-gates burst open, that pent in the heart 
 Huge sorrows and cheeriless vacant despair ; 
 And tears, late denied, came out-gushing and warm ; 
 And dove-wing'd submission came quietly down, 
 And shadow' d that heart with its heavenly peace. 
 
 Ye angels ! who stand in the presence of God, 
 And glow and rejoice in the glory divine, 
 Say, would ye not part with that joy for awhile, 
 If ye could thus minister solace in grief, 
 And buoy a poor heart o'er the gulf of despair ? 
 So thought the two visitants, when they resum'd 
 Their journey and left the two mourners in peace. 
 
 Now onward, by vale, forest, stream they proceed. 
 And pause at the sight of a ruin'd old house, 
 That rear'd its torn angles and rickety sides, 
 In beggar-relief 'gainst the fair summer sky. 
 'Twas noon-tide, the seraph would sit in the shade 
 Of low drooping elms that environ'd the place. 
 Where sweet musing silence siesta enjoin'd, 
 Soft-lull'd by the low, distant hum of the town. 
 
 With wistful strange interest, the cherub survey'd 
 The weird-like old. ruin, — the wreck of a home ; 
 Its low rotten threshold, its panelless door, — 
 Its warp'd moss-grown roof, — its untenanted rooms, — 
 Where ruin sat owl-like by day and by night, 
 And whined in the zephyr or howl'd in the blast. 
 
 Perchanc* when the night-storm redoubles the shades, 
 Some traveller starts in the woods at that sound, 
 Then musters new courage and jogs on his way. 
 When sudden — the flash of the tempest lights up 
 
140 ZETHAE. [Book II. 
 
 The fearful old ruin where fancy portrays 
 A ghost at each window, a fiend at the door, 
 That gibber and shriek in his terrified ears. 
 
 Fear-chill'd, with hair bristling, and eye-balls distent, 
 He urges his gaunt, jaded beast to the full, 
 Thro' thicket, o'er hummock, rock, stubble, or ditch ; 
 Nor deems himself safe till he reaches the inn. 
 
 The visitant gazes, and slowly the wreck 
 Recedes, and the primal grey forest is seen ; 
 Then rough vision-men Avith their implements come. 
 And fell the old forest ; ere long 'neath their toil 
 A new pleasant domicile smiles in the sun, 
 Where come the young owners and make it a home. 
 Sly-footed, soft-wing'd then the years steal away, 
 Babes prattle, boys clamor, and gentle-eyed maids, 
 Are woo'd, won, and wedded, by turns in that home. 
 Then death with his sombre procession appears, 
 The hearse, pall and mourners are seen at the door, 
 The solace, pride, joy of that home isremov'd, — 
 The father — now old, — then the mother in turn, 
 Death claims as his portion, life scatters the rest ; 
 One turns to the city, and one to the wave. 
 One tills a new soil in a region remote. 
 And one keeps the homestead, — a serious youth, 
 Who takes to his heart and his home a fair maid, 
 Of consonant nature, whose heart is with God. 
 They rear a new altar, where morning and eve, 
 Prayers, whisper'd in tears, are repeated in heaven ; 
 And there, oft at night-fall in social conserve 
 The humble and pious assemble for prayer. 
 
6th day.] zkthar. 141 
 
 A new generation the cherub beholds 
 Spring up as before to be scatter'd in turn ; 
 One dies full of peace in the morning of life, 
 And one from his home by conscription is torn, 
 (The work of the cruel war-maker accurst,) 
 And one as before calls the homestead his own : 
 Anon, the good couple are garner'd in peace, 
 A new generation appears and departs. 
 
 Sly-footed, soft-wing'd still the years ghde away, 
 Prayers murmur no longer, for piety now 
 Gives place to the jovial song and the dance. 
 And gay dissipation with pleasure beguiles, 
 One son and the sire fill the grave of the sot, 
 The others are thriftless and lose the old home : 
 Now time writes decay on the casements and door. 
 While tardy repair lends but partial restraint ; 
 Strange feet press the threshold, — around the old hearth 
 The voice of uncouth foreign accent is heard. 
 And riot with sloth, hasten on the decay 
 Of what, was erewhile, a delectable Home : 
 And now, the poor tenement, tenantless long. 
 Stands leaning, and lonely in sunlight and storm. 
 Siesta is o'er and the angels depart. 
 
 They travers'd the land where the puritans pray'd 
 And where, now, the sons reap the answers to prayer, — 
 Ungrateful, unmindful of all that they owe 
 To God, and those fathers whose virtues they scout. 
 Alas ! even here, how the leaven of sin 
 Infects ! Pride, profaneuess, fraud, falsehood abound. 
 Lust has her resorts both in city and town ; 
 
142 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 And perjury sleeps in tlie temples of Law ; 
 But Sodom, long-doom'd, had a Lot, and e'en here 
 Many Lots lift in secret their sanative prayers, 
 And mercy stands under " the swords of the Lord." 
 
 The visitants saw the great councils of state 
 In snail-like debate, but well-paid for their pains. 
 They mark'd too the progress of science and art, 
 And all the appliances art has secur'd 
 The great social needs of the race to supply. 
 
 Now westward they turn in their visitant tour : 
 Anon, in a village they enter'd a house 
 Adjoining the grave-yard, a company there 
 Had gather'd, awaiting in silence demure. 
 As though some disclosure, important or new, 
 Demanded their careful attention and thought. 
 " What seek these ? " said Zethar. The seraph replied, 
 " They seek for new light, like the men at the rock,* 
 But not from their sources ; these knock at the tomb : 
 The living seek light of the souls of the dead ! " 
 Said Zethar, "Why seek from such differing founts 
 The knowledge they covet ? " and Ucal rejoin'd. 
 Because they are groping in self-chosen shades. 
 Not choosing the knowledge of God to retain : 
 These varied and futile resorts of the race, 
 For knowledge and light are a manifest proof. 
 And tacit confession of blindness innate." 
 
 They waited not long for the light which they sought ; 
 A teacher soon came and presented his theme ; 
 And leagu'd with the Devil, the dead, or with knaves, 
 
 * Geologists. 
 
6th day.] zethab. 143 
 
 Tipp'd tables, rapp'd nonsense, -wrote sentences stale, 
 And dron'd dismal airs from the viol or flute, 
 Dwelt sagely on that which can never be known, — 
 More sagely on that which can never be true. 
 The thirst for the mavellous, thus, was allay'd ; 
 The appetite morbid, that loath'd wholesome truth, 
 "Was serv'd with stale meats, from the coffin distrain' d, 
 And fed with chimeras and puerile dreams. 
 But God ever blessed ! was not in this scheme 
 Nor needed (it seem'd) to illumine or bless. j 
 
 One sat in the party, a lunatic deem'd, 
 With sense, (all but common,) and shrewdness, and wit, 
 And humor, and pathos ; he heard with the rest, 
 And, when the sage speaker his seat had resum'd. 
 He rose, cross'd the threshold with ominous air. 
 And threw wide the lattice that look'd o'er the tombs 
 The slender, white tombstones that studded the shade 
 Like ghosts of the dead, seem'd to stir at his call, 
 As, with voice impressive and earnest, he cried : 
 
 "Lie still, ye deceas'd ! if indeed 'tis your work, 
 " Inducing such antics in tables and fools ; 
 '' Consider, while here ye were never too wise, 
 " And much of your folly eutail'd for our use ; 
 " No thanks for the boon, there's enough of our own, 
 " To mar our scant joy, if not damn us at last ; 
 " Besides, if we judge from your pranks and your lore, 
 " (Shame not the poor friends ye have left in the flesh,) 
 *' If you keep all your wisdom, it has not improv'd." 
 
 Then, turning about to the circle within 
 He added, with tremulous accent and tears, 
 
144 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " But no ! the foul slander we cannot indorse, 
 
 " These are not tliose minds which through tear-jewell'd 
 
 eyes 
 " Once wept at our sorrow, and smiled in our joy, 
 " Who mourn'd their own faults and for holiness strove, 
 "Whose emaciated forms at the pillow of death 
 "We watch'd, all heart-broken and bath'd in our tears, 
 " And treasur'd the last scarce-articulate word, — 
 " So fraught with affection, and wisdom and truth. 
 " What ! come from the bosom of mekcy to sport ! 
 , " Rap grandmothers' ages, or play the guitar ! 
 " Away with the false and preposterous thought ! 
 " These are tricks of base demons ; God loosens their 
 
 chain 
 " In these later ages, their work to fulfill." 
 The meeting dissolv'd with this touching rebuke, 
 And Ucal and Zethar went forth on their way. 
 " O ! sad, helpless race ! lost to virtue, and truth '' 
 And peace ! " cried the cherub — The seraph rejoin'd, 
 " 'Tis well thou should' st pity these children of night; 
 Yet deem not their scheme rests on fancy alone ; 
 If science hath facts, superstition hath more. 
 These men have their facts, like the men at the rock, 
 And make the same error philosophers make : 
 The facts are too few to establish their scheme ; 
 More light would their system as quickly dissolve, 
 As morn the grey goblin one sees in the glade. 
 To find God by searching, man labors and tasks 
 Philosophy, fancy, and reason in vain. " 
 
 While thus they convers'd by the place of the dead, 
 
6th day.] zethar. 145 
 
 A mournful procession come slowly along ; 
 And enter'd the sacred enclosure ; they bore 
 The form of a kind gentle mother and wife, 
 Cut down in life's noon, with the manifold ties, 
 Connubial, — maternal, — that tenderly bind 
 A woman to life, rudely sever'd by death ; 
 The visitant saw the disconsolate train, 
 With tokens of deep irrepressible grief, 
 Trail round the drear op'ning that yawn'd for the dead, 
 And pass from the grave to their now lonely home ; 
 He turn'd for one look at the grave and its dead, 
 When lo ! a dim vision was spreading around ; 
 From tombs and low mounds reappearing, he saw 
 The person, life, character, fate of each one 
 That slept in that eharnel ; — the preacher devout. 
 Who once taught the sleepers that lie by his side ; 
 The hero of battles, the squire, and the smith ; 
 The artisan, yeoman, — and, even a bard, 
 Who lived, mus'd, and died, in the village long since ; * 
 Away in yon corner, reposes his dust, 
 Not even a stone marks the place of his rest.* 
 The scene now disperses ; another succeeds : 
 
 * The poet is fossil : he flits in life's ray. 
 A dun-colored insect, unnotic'd unknown, 
 Then dies, is inhum'd, unregretted, unmiss'd; 
 And time rolls the world and its destinies on ; 
 Exhura'd, by some chance in a subsequent age, 
 The precious remains are examined, admired ; 
 Some dolt grows immortal on what he has found, 
 And the world goes agape at the specimen rare. 
 10 
 
146 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The grave of the wife now enlarges, and yawns 
 
 Still wider and deeper ; anon he discerns 
 
 Another procession, but bearing no dead ; 
 
 Two youths lead the column, which deepens and spreads 
 
 To thousands, yea millions — of every kind. 
 
 Arrived at the brink, of the terrible gulf. 
 
 The elder precipitates, into its depths. 
 
 His brother,* and, following slow and remote, 
 
 One after another, the numberless throng 
 
 Proceed, and fall into the hungry abyss ; 
 
 Accelerate now the procession advanc'd, 
 
 Grew denser, and wider, and swiftly fell in 
 
 By thousands, the grave found a place for the throng. 
 
 The cherub, amaz'd, at the scene, and appall'd, 
 Averted his eyes, the dread vision to hide ; 
 Ere-while, when he ventur'd again to look round, 
 The white moveless tombstones, and sexton at work, 
 Were all that remain'd where the vision had been. 
 
 The pilgrims proceed on their journey anew, 
 And view the new phases of life in the west, 
 Adown the great father of waters,t and through 
 The corn and the cotton fields, till'd by those slaves 
 They saw torn away from their African homes ; — 
 The price of whose toil, unrequited, and blood, 
 A sacrilege ! Oft, on God's altar is laid. 
 
 Oh muse, of the sacred and visitant wing ! 
 Betray not thy trust, or thy plight to the truth. 
 Say, what hast thou seen in thy flight with the twain, 
 In these favor'd regions of Freedom and light ? 
 
 * Abel. t Mississippi river. 
 
6th day.] zethar, 147 
 
 No fetters for virtue ? no lash for the poor ? 
 
 No pride or injustice, no rancor or fraud? 
 
 Heardst thou not the cry that oppression extorts ? 
 
 A sigh on the zephyr, a moan on the gale ? 
 
 Alas, for the worlds of the East and the West ! 
 
 Though names and modes differ, and creeds disagree. 
 
 These christian, — 'those heathen, the crimes are the 
 
 Lust, cruelty, treachery, perjury, wrong. [same, — 
 
 Yet here, legislation a surfeit becomes ; 
 
 For lawgivers swarm, like the locusts of old, 
 
 An annual crop, who eschew their own laws, 
 
 (Not fram'd for themselves, but for others to keep !) 
 
 And statutes are patch'd like a mendicant's coat. 
 
 The angels continue their course, and survey 
 The Isles,* and Guiana, Brazil, and its plains ; 
 The mountains that freeze, and yet burn in mid heaven, 
 And streamsf that roll seaward on ocean-like wave. 
 Thence, North by Peru, and the coast of the West. 
 The Isles Polynesian ; thence North, to the straits ;J 
 And thus they completed the circuit of earth. 
 Thence Northward they turn'd to th^ mystical pole ;— 
 A wintry, waste region, unsolac'd with spring, 
 And came in their route to a point where they hear 
 Strange mustering echoes, discordant, diverse : 
 As voices of tempest, loud roaring afar 
 Down steep mountain gorges through tall forest trees, 
 Or — ocean's hoarse murmur from sand-bank and rock, 
 Just rous'd from repose by the incoming storm ; 
 So seem'd in the ears of the listening twain, 
 
 * West Indies. f Amazon. J Bhering Straits. 
 
148 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The babel-like hubbub : from every side 
 The wild reinforcements came mustering in, 
 A tempest of sound ; while the cherub, in vain, 
 Look'd up and around to discover the source. 
 
 As onward they move, to articulate sounds 
 The discord seem'd wreath'd, and anon into words — 
 Intense, multitudinous, passionate words ! 
 Their import ? What ear, — less than God's could divide, 
 From countless recitals, the burden of each ? 
 There, sure, was a song, but with sighs interspers'd ; 
 A prayer, and a wail ; but, out-voicing all else, 
 Were fierce imprecations, and blasphemies dire ; 
 In short, if Alcyone hath a vast ear, 
 The earth hath a voice ; and her utterance, vast, 
 Is heard in the far distant regions of joy : 
 And more, — awful thought ! by the Infinite One. 
 
 What deem you, ye rancorous, blasphemous men ? 
 Whose mouths are with cursing and bitterness fiU'd, 
 And hands stain'd with fraud, or with innocent blood ? 
 Deem ye that Jehovah, who formed man's ear 
 And teacheth him knowledge, hears not nor can know ? 
 O, earth hath a voice ! and it speaketh afar, — 
 Betraying man's guilt to the listening spheres. 
 Aye, when on the field the young conscript expires, 
 Or bitter oppressors exact to the life. 
 Or manacled slaves to the ocean are whelm'd, 
 Their death-rattle sighs in the ear of the Lord, 
 And stem retribution awaits this degree. 
 
 Still upward and onward, the angels now reach 
 A point where the infinite jargon seem'd class'd, 
 
6th day.] zethi.e. 149 
 
 Each kind to its kind, whether prayer, sigh, or song, — 
 Eacia class, in its turn, to one utterance blent ! 
 And, guided by Ucal, the cherub attain'd 
 A point where one voice, 'mongst the many, he heard 
 Reciting sonorous, deliberate plaint, — 
 The cry of earth's millions to Israel's God ; 
 And thus, rose the solemn appeal to the skies : 
 ^' Hear us, Jehovah ! Thou God of the poor ! 
 Their Judge, and Avenger, Thyself hast proclaim'd ! 
 We cry unto Thee ! we, the lowly of earth, 
 The weak, blind, and ignornant, children of toil ; 
 The slaves, serfs, and laenials, we cry unto Thee 
 Against our own fellows, our bone, and our flesh ! 
 'Gainst Kings, Imperators, and princes, and Lords 
 Both temporal, — spiritual, — prelates and Popes, 
 Priests, Bishops, confessors who teach in thy name, 
 'Gainst heroes and statesmen, and war-makers vile, 
 'Gainst slave-masters, judges, law-givers, and those 
 Affecting control in the church or the state ! 
 On us, on our lives, and our means they distrain. 
 Perforce, and by tax, duty, church rate, or fee 
 They bind heavy burdens themselves scorn to move. 
 They drag from our hearthstones and bosoms, our eons 
 And teach and inure them to carnage and war : 
 They scorn us for ignorance, while they withhold 
 The lamp of fair knowledge, then urge as a plea 
 For monstrous oppression, and manifold wrong. 
 That ignorance which their own measures intend : 
 By partial enactments, unequal, unjust. 
 They bar us from privilege, burden with toil, 
 
150 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Ill-paid, unrespited, reducing by law 
 
 Our persons to chattels, to bondage our lives : 
 
 "We pine in deep dungeons, unheard, uncondemn'd, 
 
 Or condemned by unjust and iniquitous laws ; 
 
 From us they withhold the true knowlege of Thee : 
 
 Thy character holy, thy mercy, thy will ; 
 
 And substitute fables and puerile forms 
 
 For righteousness, purity, penitence, faith ; 
 
 Thus waste we the hour of probation, and die 
 
 Unfit for thy heaven, (unpardon'd, unsav'd !) 
 
 " Hear us ! Jehovah ! Thou God of the Weak, 
 Their Helper, and Friend, Thou, Thyself hast pro- 
 claim'd ! " 
 
 And now, from all quarters, at onee there broke in 
 A fierce, multitudinous, chorus of grief; 
 As cry of the tortur'd, the dying, the lost : 
 All utt'rance of sorrow, oppression and pain, 
 All helpless distress, all disconsolate grief; 
 All heart-bursting agonies here had a voice 
 Expressive and ample, that fiercly rush'd forth 
 As rush the wild winds on the storm-haunted cape,* 
 And, freighted with anguish, was heard in the spheres;. 
 The angels remain'd a short season, and heard : 
 'Twas Earth's awful cry in the ear of the Judge. 
 
 And now the sixth day, and it& lessons, were clos'd. 
 And calm pensive evening re-curtain'd the Earth, 
 When back to the valley the angels retir'd. 
 As God hallow'd rest after six days employ, 
 
 * Oape Horn. 
 
Gth day.] zethar. 151 
 
 So crav'd the two pilgrims the sanctified boon, 
 
 But chiefly the cherub, unus'd to such task, 
 
 Oppress'd, and confus'd with Earth's scenes and his 
 
 thoughts, 
 He coveted rest ; but, reclining inert. 
 Unwitting he press'd where the baton was laid 
 And felt, all unconscious, its wonderful gift : 
 No loDger inert the intelligent powers. 
 But, endu'd with a strength far exceeding their own, 
 Wild Fancy had found a pegasian steed, 
 With eye darting lightning and nostril of flame ; 
 And memory, perception, and judgment, and power 
 In equal proportion alike were enlarg'd : — 
 Before his new vision, God's universe op'd 
 Magnificent, glorious, boundless and free ; 
 But round him earth's darkness and shadows were 
 
 swath'd ; — 
 As sackcloth and ashes on Nineveh's king. 
 At once, with the strength of a giant he spurn'd 
 The fetters of darkness, and mounted above. 
 Seven years, by the angels, were spent in the way 
 To earth from Idele, — though seraphic their speed, • 
 (Beside the long years in Alcyone spent,) 
 But now, — in a moment the cherub return'd 
 Through vistas of systems, — o'er sun-spangled paths. 
 And saw once again his beloved Idele ; 
 Breathed again its salubrious airs, heard the songs 
 From odorous groves, quafif'd its chalice of joy, 
 And dwelt in its friendship and peace, as of yore. 
 No battle-fields there, no alarms, no distress. 
 
162 ZETHAB. [Book II. 
 
 No treacherous men, no oppression, no fear, 
 
 No death-scene, no charnel, putrescence, nor change. 
 
 No darkness, no doubt to envelope God's throne. 
 
 But all, all was clear, holy, peaceful, and glad ! 
 
 With ease, he review'd all the way that he came, — 
 
 The report of the angel, his subsequent prayer, 
 
 The night of his travail, the latent reply. 
 
 The flight in the spheres, and Alcyone's charms 
 
 Entrancing, engrossing, the years of delay, 
 
 And then, — the approach to the Earth ; — and its thrall. 
 
 The bitter reversion he could not endure, 
 
 But, speedily from farther contact recoil'd ; 
 
 He sprang, and the charm of the wand was dissolv'd ! 
 
 The wonderful wand, and his vision, collaps'd 
 
 And left him again weary, powerless, and faint I 
 
 Yea, more ; in the measure in which he was rais'd 
 
 Above, in that measure he now was depress'd ; 
 
 More like a frail mortal, than angel of God ; 
 
 And round him, regather'd earth's darkness and thra31. 
 
 Thus, when in the East the poor votary* craves 
 The subtle narcotic, his spirits to raise, 
 Infus'd in his system the poison inspires 
 A wild exaltation, rekindles the eye 
 Late blear, and the poor ragged outcast ascends, 
 In equipage royal, and rides in mid heaven 
 In triumph, careering in sun-light, in joy, — 
 Sees earth and her palaces spread at his feet, — 
 Her treasures, and navies, and deems them his own ; 
 But soon the illusive infusion is spent. 
 And leaves him a vagabond, ragged and mean : 
 
 * Opium-eater. 
 
6th daj.] ZETHAR. 153 
 
 So seem'd to the cherub his flight and his fall ; 
 
 No longer 'mid glory and beauty he dwelt ; 
 
 But, earth and her hateful procession now pass'd 
 
 Unbidden, unwelcome, in painful review ; 
 
 The vision of death, with his sorrow and tears, | 
 
 His ominous dreams, and the cannibal feast, 
 
 The fate of the children, the dire battle-field, 
 
 The plague-stricken city, the cry of earth's wrong, 
 
 The shadows, and ills, and enigmas of life. 
 
 Yea, all he had heard, seen or felt in six days, 
 
 Roll'd back on his thoughts with an aggregate power, 
 
 And shut the great Universe out from his view. 
 
 No longer to him was the distant Idele, — 
 
 The holy Alcyone ; veil'd was God's throne ; 
 
 The past was a dream, and the future a blank ; 
 
 The hard, glaring, present, — was all that he knew, 
 
 And earth, — dreary earth, with its problems unsolv'd ; 
 
 In short, now he reason'd and felt as a man, 
 
 As man unenlighten'd, untaught from above ; 
 
 And as man he soliloquiz'd thus with himself: — 
 
 " This world, blear and changeful, whence was it, and 
 why ? 
 " Who made it at first ? and Who governs it now ? 
 " Is He good, just, almighty, omniscient, and true ? 
 " If so, whence the prevalent presence of ill ? — 
 " Of wrongs unredress'd, ceaseless grief unassuag'd, — 
 " Of falsehood, and outrage, unpunish'd so long, — 
 " Of darkness, scarce broken ? Why hides He afar 
 " From human perception and knowledge, till men 
 " His very existence can doubt or deny ? 
 " Has God then retir'd, and forsaken the earth ? — 
 
154 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 " Leaving virtue and love to the mercies of fiends ? 
 " Leaving truth foil'd by error, or, is there no God ? 
 " No Moral Dispenser of justice and right ? " 
 
 And now from earth's caverns, recesses, and rocks — 
 Those dark strata-shelves laid with vestiges dim, 
 Of rifled creations long buried and gone, 
 "Where blear-ey'd Geology gnaws the old bones, — 
 There came, sad and mournful, a groan : There's no God ! 
 From bloody idolatrous altars and shrines. 
 Pagoda's bat-haunted, from temples that fum'd 
 "With stinking oblations to monsters for gods, 
 From tomes of philosophers stupid and vain, 
 From battle-fields gory, from prisons and cells, 
 From mouldy traditions and dogmas explete. 
 From history's tangled and meaningless page, 
 From pathways of science, from countless vain creeds, 
 From haunts of old ignorance blind and debas'd. 
 From all seem'd to echo the cry : There's no God ! — 
 No Moral Dispenser of justice and right ! 
 
 To Zethar, it rung like a knell ; — on his soul 
 A fearful temptation, like mountain had fall'n, 
 And press'd him with drear, awful doubt and distress, 
 " And was there no God he could love, trust, and serve ? " 
 And earth's sullen answer repeated: No God! 
 He rose, sought his friend, but his friend had removed, 
 His guide and his patient instructor was not ; 
 To bathe his chafed thoughts, to the peaceful serene 
 He turn'd, but the heavens with grey clouds were o'er- 
 
 cast, 
 And chill, angry winds, from the mountain-peaks came, 
 
Gth day.] zethar. 155 
 
 Which moan'd through the valley, and bade him begone. 
 
 He rose, pois'd his pinions, and soaring far west, 
 O'ertook, in the heat and the speed of his flight, 
 The sun's evening ray, and alighted ere long 
 In a charming sequester'd and verdant retreat, 
 Near by a fair village, with cottage and spire. 
 'Tis sunset again ; and he saw, with surprise, 
 He had chosen a church-yard in which to recline ; 
 His seat, a new grave ; at his side were three more 
 Small graves, newly turfd, at his side he beheld. 
 
 Anon, up the serpentine avenue, comes 
 A woman in mournful apparel, and pale 
 With sorrow and care, at his side she sinks down 
 With tears and deep sighs, — overcome with her grief ; 
 A sympathy now 'twixt two natures diverse, 
 Angelic and human, at once was induc'd ; 
 He saw, felt the weight of her woe at a glance ; 
 One month and seven days but agone, she was whole 
 In joy, and her idols were all at her home; 
 The sweet sunny lake, (who could ever suspect ?) 
 Entic'd her fair boy to his death in its depths ; 
 Next week, and two beautiful daughters in turn 
 Were stricken with fatal disease, and they died ; 
 The father, long pallid with sedulous toil. 
 The three-fold affliction not long could survive : 
 Four graves ! and fourfold was the grief at his side. 
 
 She wept, the poor mortal, — why should she not weep ? 
 He wept, — the great angel, — how could he refrain ? 
 Such minister'd once in Gethseraane's vale, 
 And so wept the Lord at the grave of the poor ; 
 
156 ZETHAB. [Book II. 
 
 The cherub thus wept, and her anguish assuag'd, — 
 Unknown to herself where the burden had fled ; 
 (We know not, — when tears seem to solace our gi'ief, 
 "What kind angel-sympathies, help the good work ;) 
 Reliev'd in a measure, she open'd a Book, 
 And read a short sentence aloud, which declar'd : 
 " I am the resurrection and the Life." 
 
 In calm, chasten'd musing awhile she remain'd ; 
 Then, reverent kneel'd in communion and prayer : 
 Before the Eternal, Immutable One, 
 The frail stricken child of but yesterday, bow'd 
 In patient submission and confident trust, 
 And pour'd her great grief in the ear of a God 
 Commiserate, Infinite, faithful and kind. 
 A halo of peace and serenity spread 
 O'er those pallid features, late haggard with grief ; 
 And meekly she turn'd to her desolate home. 
 
 The cherub, admonish'd, instructed, surpris'd, 
 Took wing with his lesson, and turn'd to the vale. 
 Return'd, — the chill winds were at rest and the moon 
 And spheres smil'd serenely, and Ucal was there ; 
 To whom he related his trial, and flight. 
 The grief and the prayer of the mourner bereft, 
 And all his surprise at his doubt and her faith ; 
 He doubted who ever had liv'd in God's light, 
 While she, a frail mortal who never had seen, 
 Believ'd and found rest in assurance of faith. 
 
 The seraph replied, " We who never have sinn'd, 
 Live ever by sight in the light of God's face ; 
 While man, fallen man if he lives, lives by faith, 
 
6th day.] zethar. 157 
 
 And only knows God from his works and his word ; 
 
 His works teach man dimly ; more clearly His word, 
 
 (A Record divine, of Himself and His will. 
 
 Of which on the morrow I farther shall speak ;) 
 
 And only by faith in that word can man know 
 
 What we, in our clear, open vision, behold. 
 
 Thy doubts, fears and trials, thy tears, griefs and dreams, 
 
 Are parts of the discipline God has ordain'd 
 
 To fit thee the better to serve and to bless 
 
 The woe-stricken race where thy service is pledg'd. 
 
 Consider the caution I gave in Idele, 
 
 Deem not wisdom's travail and discipline hard. 
 
 Since these shall not only thy service enhance, 
 
 But double thy joy, when the earth is redeem'd — 
 
 A joy of sweet charity's sympathies born." 
 
 The seraph again to the cherub resum'd : 
 " Six days have we spent in surveying the earth ; 
 To-morrow, the seventh, is the sabbath of God ; 
 In it we shall rest and review, from the first, 
 The great moral scheme and its final result, 
 Resolve in its light all thy questions and doubts, 
 And with thine instruction my mission will cease." 
 
 'Twas midnight, and now they remov'd from the vale 
 To the orient mount,* where they lighted at first ; 
 And there they betake to angelic repose. 
 
 While yet peaceful night held her court with the 
 spheres, 
 The storm-kin^ invaded her quiet domain. 
 
 ♦ Himmaleb. 
 
Ii58 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 First black, heavy clouds, from the mustering north, 
 Roll'd ominous up, imperceptible,— slow, 
 And flash'd fitful warning ; and growl'd from afar 
 The long-rolling note of the tempest to come, 
 Though slow, the aerial forces came on, 
 Accelerate came, gathering speed on their way. 
 And took up their posts to the right and the left, 
 And captur'd the moon and confederate stars, 
 And spread their dark legions all over the field. 
 While silence and blackness, portentous, surround. 
 At last the hoarse wind gave the signal for strife : 
 First, low hollow murmers 'mongst gorges and cliff's, 
 And then, the whole tempest came on in its power. 
 Uprooting the forests, the ancient ravines 
 Wide yawn in the lightning's red glare, and the roar 
 Far-echoes and sounds through each rocky abyss. 
 
 Then follow'd the surge of the terrible storm, 
 As if a wbole ocean were pois'd o'er the land. 
 And pour'd down the cliffs, to the vallies and plains, 
 With fearful disaster, and ruin, in league : 
 Roar'd the wind, rush'd the torrents, the mountains 
 
 return'd 
 The mighty uproar ; but, outvoicing all else. 
 Was heard, in majestic and awful resound. 
 The thunder above, as the voice of the Lord. 
 The scene to the pilgrims was strange, yet sublime : 
 Such tumult, the cherub ne'er witness'd before, 
 Unknown, in the beautiful, peaceful Idele. 
 
 Ere long, all the force of the teicpest was spent ; 
 
6th day.] * zethar. 159 
 
 Before the chaste morning awoke in the east 
 The moon, and the stars, reign'd serenely again, 
 (Unscath'd and undimn'd,) o'er the ruin around. 
 
160 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 SEVENTH DAY. 
 
 Thrice Hail, Holy Sabbath ! thou rest of our God ! 
 Thou type, pledge, and earnest of rest yet to come. 
 Eternal, unchangeable, perfect and pure ! 
 How sweet to the weary and grief- wasted soul 
 Thy light, e'en on Earth with infirmity drap'd 1 
 But, O ! far more sweet will the antitype prove, — 
 The Jubilee Rest of the ransom'd of God ! 
 
 The morn of the seventh, the Sabbath has come 
 All peaceful and holy ; the angels, apart. 
 First, worship in secret, and then they unite 
 In social communion, and worship with praise ; 
 This o'er, they recline on a high-jutting cliff, 
 Commanding a view of the south and the east. 
 The ken of the angels took in all the scene, 
 The plains of the Indies, the Islands afar. 
 The rivers, bays, cities, the mountains and seas ; 
 And all shone most fair in the new morning light. 
 
 Long while mus'd the angels, in silence and rest ; 
 
7th day.] zethar. 161 
 
 Each followed the train of his own holy thoughts, 
 And each found it good to commune with himself. 
 
 Sweet silence is only for wisdom's recess, 
 And not for her grave, for a tongue she must have, 
 And ears, else e'en wisdom is folly asleep. 
 
 Thus, after long silence, the seraph began 
 His promis'd review of the great moral scheme, 
 In whose countless, intricate, mazes and depths 
 The angel-sojouruer had often been tost ; 
 And thus to his list'uing inquirer he spoke : — 
 
 " 'Tis meet for this day both to teach and be taught ; 
 Yet think not, my brother, that 1 can ascend 
 *' The heights of all knowledge, or probe all its depths ; 
 The highest of all the high servants of God 
 Stands aw'd on the brink of that ocean profound, — 
 The awful Unknown, — only fathora'd of God ! 
 Thy passion for knowledge has brought thee afar, 
 And led thy new path into manifold doubt ; 
 Hence, more must thou learn for thy guidance and 
 
 peace ; 
 Such knowledge, 'tis mine to impart and unfold. 
 
 God governs each field of his universe wide, 
 The physical, mental, and moral domains, 
 By stable, congenial, appropriate laws ; 
 Which have their support in the fitness of things 
 No less than His "Will, which is ever aright. 
 The physical code to the mental subserves. 
 And both to the moral, if left to the course 
 11 
 
162 ZETHAR. [Book II, 
 
 Establisli'd by God, both in reason and right. 
 Hence ill, in its manifold forms, — must be trac'd 
 To moral defection, — its only true source/' 
 " But why did not God, by his power, interpose, 
 " Since be is almighty ! " The cheriib inquir'd, 
 " And thus at the fountain, all evil redress ?" 
 " God has iuterpos'd," said the seraph ; " else earth 
 "Had been an Aceldama, tenfold more curs'd 
 " Than now ; but his wisdom confines and subjects 
 " That interposition to laws, that control 
 " His moral creation." The cherub inquir'd : 
 " What law can conflict with a purpose benign ? " 
 Said Ucal : " One primal great law underlies 
 The moral constructure, — the freedom of choice. 
 Of will, and of action, God only restrains, 
 O'er-rules, or averts in the act and its ends. 
 Shovild God, by an arbitrant power over-rule 
 The freedom of suffrage, of action, and will — 
 The moral economy — ceases at once. 
 And love, like the toss of a tree in the wind, 
 Were but a result from superior power. 
 Unwon, unallur'd, but coerc'd and distrain'd. 
 Love ceases its function ; — no longer 'tis Love. 
 All adequate reasons and motives combine 
 To bind every heart to the service of God, 
 Two hedges the pathway of holiness bound ; — 
 God's infinite beauty and worthiness, one ; 
 The other our infinite debt to his love ; 
 And God, with the right, is the ultimate goal. 
 Such bounds to o'erleap is the essence of crime ; 
 
7th day.] zethak. 163 
 
 And some have o'erleapt , as I taught on the way,* 
 
 Apostasy did not begin in the earth ; 
 
 The angels their own habitation first left, 
 
 And spread their defection and sin to the earth ; 
 
 Other worlds sliar'd the guilt and the ruin ; their fate 
 
 Was witness'd in earth ,f — as a city on fire 
 
 Is seen by the red dismal light from afar. 
 
 Estranged from the Fountain of Goodness and love, 
 Malevolent purposes, selfish and base, 
 Displac'd all the nobler and holier aims 
 And turn'd all their powers to pervert, or destroy, 
 Or mar all the beautiful work of the Lord ; 
 For beauty and goodness his works ever grace. 
 
 Hence, all thou hast seen in the earth, from the first, 
 Oppos'd in its aim to that goodness, is due 
 To demon perversion or human misdeed, — 
 The constant aggression of power on the weak. 
 The monster creations Geology sees, 
 And all the dark pages by providence read, 
 Whate'er hath impos'd on thy spiint a doubt, 
 Are all the direct or collateral fruit 
 Of moral defection from God and from right. 
 
 Why God does not farther by power interpose, 
 The weak to defend or the evil restrain, 
 Are questions that lie iu the boundless Unknown ; 
 God only can solve, and He will in His time. 
 
 But God has establish'd a system of means 
 To heal, and restore to its pristine estate, 
 
 * 1st Book. t Apparent conflagration and disappearance 
 of some stars. 
 
164 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 The Eartli and its Destinies burden'd with ill ; 
 These means are in process, as I have foreshown, 
 And all the results are assiir'd by His poAver, 
 Who worketh all things by his council and Avill." 
 
 The cherub attentively listen'd, and learn'd, 
 And found in the lesson both solace and peace, 
 But more of the scheme of redemption would know ; 
 And Ucal with pleasure the subject resum'd : 
 " Since freedom of suffrage, affection, and will, 
 " Intact must remain (as I taug-ht thee just now,) 
 " The basis of all moral action, — then God 
 " Might not, by his power, in all cases prevent 
 " Defection of choice, and its ultimate act ; 
 " (God's suff 'ranee, is not his permission of sin ;) 
 *' But when that defection a fact had become, 
 " "Twas but a prerogative due as God's right, 
 " No less than his power, to destroy or redeem : 
 " He chose in his grace, to redeem, or destroy ; 
 " And hence, sprang the scheme of redemption Divine, 
 " Whose manifold grace all the angels adore. 
 
 " Three reasons, the ministrant angels surmise, 
 " Prevail'd in the Councils Divine, to this choice ; 
 " The first, to disclose in new aspects benign, 
 " Long latent, the manifold Goodness of God ; 
 " (For goodness, to gentle-ey'd mercy, ne'er melts 
 " Till guilt and its consequent misery sighs ;) 
 " The second, to bind to his service and love, 
 " New subjects, by motives transcendent and new, — 
 " The mem'ry and savor of evil escaped — 
 " And wondrous unmerited mercy receiv'd ; 
 
7th day,] zethar. 165 
 
 " And last, to exhibit in equipoise true, 
 
 The attributes, which all his government guide ; 
 
 For, had stern-ey'd Justice demanded of Power, 
 
 On all, the infliction of punishment due, 
 
 Fear had as a motive, preponderate rul'd,— 
 
 Unqueening sw^eet love in all hearts that adher'd, 
 
 And all God's great Realm the chill motive had felt ; 
 
 But God will have hearts whose allegiance is love ; 
 
 And hence. Love devis'd the sweet system of grace, 
 
 Wherein all his attributes harmonize well ; 
 
 And yet, pensive guilt can have pardon and peace." 
 
 " But how," said the cherub, " could God interpose 
 By mercy, and pardon the guilty, — and still 
 Be true to His nature, his law, and his rule ? " 
 
 "In this," said the seraph, " The system of grace., 
 Inheres ; for no merit has guilt, but to die ; 
 Hence, all that was needful the lost to restore, 
 God's grace has provided." The cherub inqu.ir'd, 
 "What were those provisions ? " The seraph repli'd, 
 " Instruction, Atonement, Example, and Power. 
 
 Self-blinded, — the race ever wander'd from truth, 
 Hence needed Instruction. Tradition first served 
 Awhile the true knowledge of God to retain ; 
 That spent, a true Record by God was ordained. 
 Inscribed by true men, through the long lapse of years 
 Wherein men were taught of Himself and his will. 
 
 Atonement, the hinge of the system of grace, 
 Consists in a moral equivalent, deem'd 
 Sufficient of God as the basis of peace 
 And pardon ; the guilty and lost to restore 
 
166 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 To life and God's favor." The cherub inquir'd, 
 
 " Did God deem such moral equivalent due 
 
 Alone to Himself?" and the seraph rejoin'd, 
 
 " Not more to Himself than His whole moral realm,, 
 
 Whose sense of the right even He -will regard ; 
 
 Nor more to Himself than the guilty, whose sense 
 
 Of guilt own'd a moral equivalent due, 
 
 And sought by vain methods their guilt to atone. 
 
 Atonement a moral necessity meets ; 
 
 Else guilt sinks, unsaved, in eternal despair." 
 
 " What was that Atonement ? " said Zethar again, 
 
 Said Ucal, " The Primate of heavenly powers, 
 
 "Who dwelt in God's bosom, — the Son of his love. 
 
 The Head of authorities, angels, and Thrones 
 
 The Heir of all things, and the Maker of all, 
 
 Preeminent, sole, first-begotten, first-born ; 
 
 Relinquish'd the bliss and the glory of heaven ; 
 
 Made man, he partook of man's burdens, and woes. 
 
 Infirmities, sympathies, weakness, (save sin ;) 
 
 Yea, more, he demean'd himself down to the depth 
 
 Of human depression and shame, and to death 
 
 Vicarious, — all for the sin of the world ; 
 
 Then rose, the redemption to seal and ensure ; 
 
 And then in His blameless immaculate life, 
 
 Of zeal unto God and good will to the race, 
 
 A perfect Example he furnish' d to man. 
 
 But such is apostasy's baleful effect, 
 Lost man is averse to the knowledge of God ; 
 Hence this had been fruitless, and all had been vain. 
 But for the provision of adequate Power, — 
 
7th day.] zethar. 167 
 
 The Powei' of God's Spirit the work to ensue ; 
 Ilkimine, change, soften, transform, and restore 
 The alienate heart to the image Divine. 
 
 With such winsome motives and means, love essays 
 To win wandering hearts to allegiance again. 
 Who yields and submits, the Redemption shall share ; 
 The base and incorrigible, — left to their choice, 
 Shall sink to the fate of the Demons accurs'd. 
 To blackness of darkness forever reserved. 
 
 And thus the great process of mercy proceeds 
 Through age after age, till the judgment shall close 
 Earth's final probation. The moral restor'd, 
 The physical world shall at last be renew'd. 
 And Earth her lost place 'mongst the spheres shall re- 
 sume." 
 
 The seraph here ceas'd, but the cherub remain'd 
 Still listening, in attitude leaning, transfix'd, — 
 Lips parted, as jealous the ears might not hear, 
 Eyes-fix'd on the glorious seraph serene, 
 With deferent love, — all entranc'd and absorb'd 
 Alike by the charm of his language and theme. 
 
 The seraph now rose from his seat ; and the wand 
 He wav'd o'er the mountain's disconsolate peaks, 
 And slowly and solemnly pass'd in review 
 The outline events of true Histoiy's page, — 
 The innocent pair, their defection, and fall. 
 The crimes of the races, the flood, and the ark, 
 The palriai-ch-age, the confusion of tongues. 
 The rise of great cities of ancient renown. 
 The patriarch-race with the oracles true, 
 
1-68 ZETHAK. [Book li. 
 
 The empires of Belus, of Egypt, and Ind, 
 The four monster-dynasties seen in the dream 
 Of Judah's seer-captive, The advent and life 
 Of Earth's great Redeemer, His labor and death, 
 The spread of his faith, The defection from truth 
 To idolatrous forms by his followers false — 
 When shades re-envelop'd Earth's twilight again, 
 And cruelties, worse then the heathen e'er knew, 
 Were practic'd by men 'neath the Chi'istian disguise ; 
 Earth's history thus, by the wand, was disclos'd, 
 As if every page wei'c enacted anew, 
 From Eden quite down to the great day of God. 
 
 Again rose the seraph and waving his wand. 
 The globular earth scem'd a stage that revolv'd, 
 Whereon was exhibited all that transpii"'d, 
 (Consecutive seen by diurnal revolve,) 
 From the frost-girdled North, to the sea-girdled South, — 
 The pilgrims the only spectators, — appear'd ; 
 Each man was an actor, and all could be seen 
 Distinct by the angels, — whate'er the employ, 
 Whether prayer in the closet, or theft by the way ; — 
 The murderer watch'd for his victim at eve, 
 The adulterer sneak'd to the haunt of his crime. 
 The trickster was still on the watch to defraud, 
 Gaunt poverty crept to its hovel to die, 
 And sumptuous wealth dwelt in tassels and pride ; 
 Huge armies were marshall'd for desperate strife, 
 And senates debated for party or pelf, 
 And earth's various process' secm'd straiu'd to full play ; 
 When, lo ! in an instant by mortals unthought, 
 
7th day.] zethar. 169 
 
 Resounded the summons of judgment divine ! 
 
 Again, (with obesiance,) did Ucal arise 
 In reA'^erent manner, and waving the wand, 
 Behokl ! at the signal, from every side 
 A dense vapor-curtain infolding around, 
 RoU'd up to the zenith, and melted away ; 
 And, oh ! to their spirits, astonish'd, o'ei'-aw'd, 
 What a vast, indescribable scene, was reveal'd ! 
 Ah ! how shall the bard, when the figures of speech 
 Are spent in depicting far humbler display. 
 Find terms all the power of this scene to relate ? 
 Talk Ave of the fixm'd coliseum of old 
 That gather'd the pomp of Imperial Rome ! 
 Were earth an immense coliseum, Avhose sides 
 Inclosed all the grandeur her empires e'er knew, 
 'Twere but a poor ant-hill, compar'd to the scene 
 Disclos'd to the reverent vicAv of the tAA-ain ! 
 
 Great spirit ! Avhose prophecy all hath foreshoAvn, 
 Assist thy poor pensioner, feeble and blind, 
 To draw in faint outline (but faithful) the scene ! 
 A vast ampitheatre circled them round. 
 Whose sides rose to heaven and took in all the stars, 
 And spheres Avheel'd obeisant, as sentinels there. 
 In circles around them ; beneath and above, 
 Were seated the angels, the sons of the morn. 
 As thick as the leaves of some vast mountain Avood ; 
 Tall seraphim there, and authorities higli. 
 There thrones, principalities, orders divine, 
 Dominions and poAvers of celestial domains ; 
 In numbers unnumber'd, in splendor and rank, 
 
170 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 Exceeding e'en Ucal's, the ministrant high. 
 
 When Zethar found courage and strength to survey 
 The unspeakable vision, — he lifted his eyes 
 And saw, — mid thick clouds, dark, with brightness in- 
 tense, 
 High lifted — the throne of the Infinite One ! — 
 Jehovah ! Omnipotent ! Holy ! and Good ! 
 
 One stood at the throne, like the children of men, 
 Scar-honor'd, with incense of odorous prayers ; 
 Seven spirits, omniscient, recordant, were there, 
 Who saw and made record of all that transpir'd. 
 
 If such the tribunal, what then was the stage ? 
 Look there ! puny mortal ; the earth thou dost love, 
 All reeking with blood and the filth of its crimes, 
 Thy earth, is the stage, and thyself bear'st a part 
 Enactive, and angel-spectators behold. 
 
 The cherub now saw that all eyes were inclin'd 
 Intent on that stage, and each process went on 
 Unveil'd, 'neath the gaze of the Universe pure : 
 Crime revell'd, and death, sorrow wept, and love sigh'd. 
 And zeal and true piety labor'd and pray'd : 
 And heaven saw it all, angel scribes made due note, 
 And sweet Intercession with prevalent power 
 The golden great censer effectual wav'd : 
 All this, till that hour on the dial of heaven. 
 Long noted on prophecy's hallowed page. 
 Had come, — when resounding through heaven and o'er 
 
 earth, 
 The voice of archangel and trumpet of God 
 Was heard, and the scheme of Redemption was clos'd ! 
 
7th day.] zethar. 171 
 
 The Priest at the throne laid the censer aside, 
 
 And, rob'd in the mantle of Justice, arose 
 
 As Judge to administer sentence divine ; 
 
 The scribes made return of their record, and Earth 
 
 At once was arraign'd in the Presence August, 
 
 That men might be judg'd for their manifold works. 
 
 With heartfelt composure the cherub beheld 
 The final results of probation, secur'd 
 And publish'd afar to the Universe wide, — 
 Redemption completed, the righteous all sav'd, 
 And God's holy name and his throne now reliev'd 
 From doubt and opprobrium cast on them here. 
 
 The seraph once more with obeisance arose, 
 Wav'd upward the wand, and anon, from mid heaven 
 The dense vapor-veil, that erewhile faded there, 
 Unfolding descended, and hid all the scene. 
 
 The seraph now turning to Zethar, resum'd : 
 " My Brother, God grants, for thy comfort and joy, 
 A view of Earth's great Restitution complete ; 
 (Restitution unlocks the enigmas of life ;) 
 And this shall my mission and service fulfill. 
 
 Thus said, at his motion, the wand reproduc'd, 
 The dust, and dry bones of the vision of Death, 
 O'er which, at the first, he lamented and wept. 
 Then came an old prophet, who, striking his harp, 
 Began in low musical numbers to chant, 
 The word of Jehovah ; with skilful accord, 
 He swept the wild strings of his harp as he sang ; 
 The soul-thrilling strain then the cherub recaU'd, 
 
172 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 As heard over Zion's delectable hills. 
 Then louder, more thrilling, enchanting it swell'd 
 And stirr'd into motion, the mouldering heap ; 
 Bone came to its bone, — as the strain woke anew, 
 The dry inert dust own'd omnipotent poAVer, 
 And silently wreath'd into sinew and flesh ; 
 Skin cover'd the whole, while ineiFable grace 
 Resplendent, divine, crown'd the re-create work, 
 Surpassing the charm of their beauty at first. 
 No longer beneath gnaw'd the fester of sin. 
 Nor hung its vile signal of guilt on the brow, 
 But purity, joy, immortality blent, 
 And join'd to embellish, this work of the Lord. 
 A sign from the angel the vision removed. 
 
 With waft of the wand, now, the angels uprose 
 In spirit, — and soar'd to a mountain afar ; 
 A great and high mountain, whose apex, serene, . 
 Took in the wide macrocosm ; thence they look'd forth 
 And saw the New Earth roll in beauty along 
 Its luminous orbit, God's glory its light, 
 His presence and favor its Glory and joy ; 
 The once frigid poles now with verdure were crown'd, 
 Or calm summer seas, which no tempests invade ; 
 Aud there dwelt the heirs of God's covenant grace, — ■ 
 The good and the true of all eras and climes : — 
 Saints, patriarchs, prophets, and martyrs for truth, 
 Rais'd up from the dust and defilement of death ; 
 Made equal to angels, immortal, divine, 
 And holding blest intercoui'se now with the spheres, 
 
7th day.] zethar. 17S 
 
 The ladder the patriarch saw in his dream, 
 Blest type, had a relization indeed, 
 In communication with angels restor'd, — 
 Long clos'd by apostasy's hateful misrule. 
 
 Entranc'd at the sight, the two angels long while. 
 Gazed silent ; then Ucal broke forth into song 
 Celestial, — inspir'd with blest poesy's power. 
 The wonderful wand, at his will served as lute 
 Of marvellous compass and melody rare, 
 Enunc'ing the words of the hallow'd song : 
 He sang in refrain the great themes that of yore 
 The old Hebrew bards in their prophecy sung, 
 And thus ran the mystic delectable strain : 
 
 ucal's song of prophecy. 
 
 Rejoice ! ran&om'd Earth ! Holy Zion rejoice ! 
 For God, thy own God, hath in mercy return'd, 
 To bless, and redeem, and restore thee for aye ; 
 His own royal hand hath essay'd to adorn, 
 And beautify well the abode of His rest ; 
 Oh Thou, long afflicted and tempest- tost one ! 
 Thy jewell'd foundations thy Maker shall lay 
 With stones of fair colors, with sapphires and gems ; 
 Thy Avindows of agates, thy portals of pearl, 
 And all thy adornments in beauty divine ; 
 No more shall thy foes, in thy peaceful abodes, 
 Ambitious, — relentless, assault 'or oppress; 
 And death and the curse shall infest thee no more ; 
 " No lion or ravenous beast, shall be there" 
 To hurt or destroy in this mountain of God ; 
 
174 ZETHAR. [Book II. 
 
 No more shall temptation, fear, doubt, or distress, 
 
 Embitter the cup of thy affluent joy, 
 
 Nor tears drip again in the chalice of peace ; 
 
 The grave shall no longer its victory boast ; 
 
 Though sown in dishonor, in glorious life 
 
 Renew'd and immortal the triumph is thine : 
 
 Captivity, captive the Victor hath led. 
 
 No wasting, destruction, or violence, now 
 
 Are heard in thy borders, but thou shalt inscribe. 
 
 Thy walls with Salvation, — Thy gates shall be Praise ; 
 
 In righteousness now, thou establish'd shall be, 
 
 No more to relapse, and no longer to err. 
 
 But e'er to inherit in permanent peace 
 
 The fruit of thy tears, thy temptation, and toil. 
 
 Sing heaven above ! and be joyful Oh ! Earth ! 
 Break forth into singing, ye mountains, for joy ! 
 For God, our own God, hath His people redeem'd, 
 And Earth ; — and His tented pavilion hath spread 
 'Mongst men ; and their God He forever will be ; 
 And they be His people, forever and aye ! 
 Sing heaven above ! and be joyful Oh ! Earth ! 
 For God, from the grave and the curse, hath redeem'd. 
 
 Thus sang the great Seraph ; the cherub, meanwhile, 
 Gaz'd, — listening, entranc'd with the sight and the 
 
 sound — 
 The beautiful Earth, the celestial refrain ; — 
 Gaz'd, listening, till all the choice melody ceas'd, 
 And fast flowing tears veil'd the rapturous scene ; 
 Not tears, as when first, at the vision of death. 
 He wept ; these were tears of ineflfable joy, 
 
7th day.] zethar. 175 
 
 And Ucal, represt not blest sympathy's boon, 
 But joy'd in his joy, at the prospect divine. 
 
 Meanwhile the fair Earth roll'd away from their view, 
 And then at a signal the scene disappear'd. — 
 The angels were still on the Orient Mount. 
 
 The seraph now waved seven times, with the Avand, 
 And straight the dim* shadow that circled them round 
 Dispei's'd, and the angels and demons Avere seen, 
 As erst, and the strife of the spiritual world. 
 The warfare, angelic and human, long wag'd, — 
 Enacted, euacting, till judgment shall close. 
 
 A ministrant angel to Zethar now came, 
 (With brief introduction, by Ucal,) to guide 
 And teach and assist his first efforts of love. 
 
 The seraph now girded his glorious form 
 For heavenward flight, to the city of God ; 
 And Zethar perceiving it, fell on his neck, 
 Embrac'd him, and kiss'd him in holiest love ; 
 And Ucal love's kind salutation return'd ; 
 Then spreading his broad purple pinions for flight, 
 On the last golden ray of the seventh day's sun 
 He soar'd to the city and presence of God ; 
 To serve such new mission as He should appoint. 
 
 But Zethar still ministers here in the earth, 
 And will till the judgment of God supervenes : 
 Where gi'ief, weakness, want, or infirmity sighs. 
 In hut, prison, brothel, — on battle-fields dire, 
 When night draws her vail o'er the hideous scene ; 
 
 * See First Book. 
 
176 ZETHAK. [Book II. 
 
 There Zethar attends in his service benign, 
 
 To minister solace to desperate hearts, 
 
 Or mark the aggressor for judgment and wrath. 
 
 Return, now, my brother, thy lov'd ones await ; 
 Return, and forsake not thy hearth and thy home ; 
 Thou hast listen'd in patience tlie mendicant strain, 
 The bard bids good niglit, yet the morning is near ; 
 He hies to his covert, awaiting the hour 
 Of final, eternal Redemption to come. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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