Calvary: or the death of Christ. A poem, in eight books. By Richard Cumberland.

Table of contents

- [halftitle]

- [titlepage]

- 1

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK I. THE ASSEMBLING OF THE DEVILS.

- 2

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK II. THE LAST SUPPER.

- 3

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK III. THE TREASON OF JUDAS.

- 4

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK IV. THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

- 5

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK V. THE CONDEMNATION OF CHRIST.

- 6

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK VI. THE CRUCIFIXION.

- 7

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK VII. THE DESCENT INTO HELL.

- 8

- [halftitle]

- THE ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

- CALVARY. BOOK VIII. THE RESURRECTION FROM THE DEAD.

END OF THE POEM.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST. A POEM, IN EIGHT BOOKS.

BY RICHARD CUMBERLAND.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR C. DILLY, IN THE POULTRY. M.DCC.XCII.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK I.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK.

After a short introduction, which states the miraculous acts of Christ, and serves to mark the period at which the Poem commences, Satan goes forth by night into the wilderness, and finds himself in the very spot, where he had in vain practised his temptations upon Christ: Here he falls into meditation upon that unsuccessful interview, and vents himself in soliloquy: Indignant under disappointment and impatient to repair his defeat, he ascends to the summit of the mountain, from whence he had exhibited the kingdoms of the earth, and calls the Devils from all parts of the Heathen world: The whole host of Infernals assemble at his summons: The chief leaders are enumerated, their persons and attributes described: Satan addresses them, and proposes the subject matter for their consultation, namely, By what means to counteract the power of Christ upon earth: Baal delivers his sentiments by stating difficulties and objections without any decided opinion unless for seduction in the general: Moloch angrily resents what he considers as pointed at himself, and speaks disdainfully against the proposal of seduction, as not only desperate but disgraceful: Belial replies, and after much circumlocution suggests a temptation to be set on foot by Mammon: He is interrupted by Satan, who reproves him for certain digressions in his speech, but adopts his hint of employing Mammon, and calls upon that evil Spirit to attempt the fidelity of Judas Iscariot, whom he points out to him as the only one of the Disciples open to seduction: Mammon at first affects to excuse himself from the undertaking, but in conclusion accepts it, and taking wing in presence of the whole applauding host sets out upon his embassy, directing his course to the city of Jerusalem.

CALVARY. BOOK I. THE ASSEMBLING OF THE DEVILS.

HAIL, awful CALVARY! forsaking now

Aonian haunts and the unhallow'd Nine,

I visit thy sad mount, and thence invite

The mournful echoes to my deep-ton'd harp,

Hymning the whilst in solemn numbers praise

To God for mercies purchas'd by the death

Of that mysterious Being, virgin-born,

Savior of lost mankind, who on the cross,

Lord though he be of life and one with God,

In mortal pangs expir'd; there to atone

For a degenerate world, by his pure blood

To wash original corruption out,

And rising victor from the grave dispel

Sin and it's offspring Death, with all the train

Of idol gods, usurping earth and heav'n.

Now had the wond'rous acts by JESUS wrought

Spread wide his fame thro' all Judaea's realm;

The leper cleans'd, the blind to sight restor'd,

The sick to health and ev'n the dead to life,

Tho' warn'd to silence, for his modest ear

Sought not the praise of men, so much the more

Publish'd his mercies; Daemons at his call

With horrid shrieks, that testified his power,

Came forth from men possest and fled; his voice

Rebuk'd the seas and winds; vast was the throng

That follow'd where he led, and thousands found

In the waste wilderness mirac'lous food:

They saw, they marvel'd, and of force confest

Messias in his power, not so in form;

For there no comeliness, no outward grace,

No princely state appear'd: Slow to renounce

Illusions long indulg'd, their wavering minds

'Twixt two opinions halted, while in place

Of these bright visions they beheld a man

Lowly and meek, a houseless wanderer,

That had not where on earth to lay his head:—

Such can our Israel's great Restorer be,

Such our Messias?—Thus their troubled thoughts

Like meeting currents clash'd; when as he spake

Truth flow'd resistless from his lips, his eyes

Beam'd mercy, and his Father's glory shone

Effulgent in his face; then every tongue

Was hush'd to silence, every doubt dispell'd,

And every heart confess'd him Lord and Christ.

'Twas night, when SATAN, prince of darkness call'd,

And fitly call'd, for evil hates the day,

Walk'd forth on hellish meditation bent,

Prowling the wilderness: Where'er he trode,

Earth quak'd beneath his foot; before him roll'd

Thick cloud and vapour, making night's dark shade

More black and terrible; the beasts of prey,

Every wild thing that roams the savage waste

And howling to the moon demands it's food,

Fled his approach; the lion and the pard

Scented the blast and slunk into their dens;

For whilst his breast with raging passions boil'd,

Hatred, revenge and blasphemous despight,

The sighs he vented from the hell within

Breath'd death into the air; his haggard eyes,

Which still in speechless agonies he roll'd,

Out-glar'd the hyaena's; other fires than their's

To light his dismal path he needed none.

Now, having stretch'd athwart the sandy wild

Clear to its rocky verge, the Arch-fiend paus'd

And upward cast his eye, if haply there

Darkling he might discern what saucy mound

Dar'd to arrest his course; for yet there dwelt

Such vigor in his wing, nor depth, nor heighth,

Mountains nor seas might check his bold career,

Were he so purpos'd; neither would he deign

To ask one charitable star for light,

Thoughtful of former glory, when he soar'd

Son of the morning far above their spheres.

Whereat he 'gan put forth his plumed vans

From either shoulder stretcht for flight, when soon

The fuel'd clouds to fierce encounter rush'd,

Loud thunders bellow'd, and the lightning's flash

Smote on the craggy cliff; at sight whereof

Conscious that now he press'd the fatal spot,

Where late he commun'd with the Son of God,

Who for the space of forty days and nights

Foil'd ev'ry vain device, with shame abash'd

And pondering in his mind his foul defeat,

Down, down at once his flagging pinions fell

Close cow'ring to his ribs: As some proud ship

Between the tropics o'er th' Atlantic wave

Speeding amain to reach her destin'd port,

If chance th' experienc'd mariner espies

The gathering hurricane, no stay, no stop,

Quick to the yard each swelling sail is furl'd,

The curl'd waves whitening as the torrent drives,

And soon her taunt and lofty topmast lower'd

Strikes to the gale; so he his towering heighth,

That to angelic stature now had swell'd,

Shrunk into human size, nor other seem'd

Than pilgrim squalid and with years and toil

Bending decrepit, when from his full heart

Words intermixt with groans thus forc'd their way.

Yes, hateful wilderness, detested rocks,

Whom I would curse, had Nature left one blade

On your bare ribs, which cursing I might blast,

Full well I know you; deep, too deep engrav'd

On memory's tablet your rude horrors live.

And you, officious lightnings, hide your fires!

Come, Night, again; let central darkness shrowd

Scenes, whose tormenting recollection stabs

My unavenged soul. Can I forget

This Son of Joseph? Son of God henceforth

Of force I must confess him, for what less

Than god-like constancy could have withstood

Temptations great and terrible as mine?

Something which man is not he needs must be,

Virtue, that angels boast not, he must have,

Else had my snares enclos'd him, else the world,

Which then was mine to give, had been a bribe

Too glorious not to dazzle every eye

But his, who made those glories what they are.

Still I must doubt the Father's love sincere,

Tho' loudly vouch'd by his own voice from heav'n:

Is this a father's love, is this his care,

Here to expose him to this desart wild

Forty long sleepless nights and fasting days,

No Angel guard about him, lost, forlorn,

Abandon'd to the elements, to beasts

More fierce than this loud storm; nay, fiercer still,

To me than all more terrible, to me,

Foe of his life inveterate and avow'd?

Rare sample of God's love! If here his CHRIST

Encounter'd aught of danger; and if none,

What else could prompt him to this vain display

Of voluntary penance, but the love

Of flattery and a despicable wish

To hear himself applauded? In this spot,

Beneath the jutting roof of this rude cliff,

I first surpriz'd this wand'ring Son of God,

This Savior of the world: Fainting he seem'd

With thirst and hunger, pale as death his cheek,

His hollow eyes deep sunk, and from his brow

Big drops of sweat distill'd, as one o'erspent

And sinking to the earth there to expire:

A ready tale he had for pity's ear,

A melancholy list of wants and woes;

He had not tasted food, and fairly own'd

That Nature's cravings were intense; when I,

Glad at the heart to find him thus besieg'd

With appetite so eager, stooping down,

From the dissever'd fragments, that here lie

About the base of this storm-beaten rock,

Chose out a few smooth stones, and tempting said,

If thou art hungry, eat; convert these stones,

If thou art God's own Son, to bread, and eat!

But he not so beguil'd spurn'd them away,

And silenc'd me with text of holy writ:

A nobler appetite I next assail'd,

Ambition; to the mountain's top we soar'd;

I spread the kingdoms of the earth in sight,

Fit sight to whet the hunger of the mind;

But mind and body he alike would starve,

Nor thank nor homage render back for food

Of my providing: One last hope remain'd;

Methought there was a godly pride about him,

Which with right holy flattery I might win:

Upon the temple's topmost pinnacle

I plac'd this scorner of an earthly crown,

And bade him be a God; Cast thyself down;

Behold, quoth I, the Angels are on wing

To bear thee up unhurt: With stern rebuke,

Get thee behind me SATAN! he replied;

Some power unseen control'd me, down I fell,

Down from the giddy eminence I plung'd,

And left him to his Angels, whilst their hymns

And halelujahs echo'd through the air

His triumphs and my second fall from heav'n.

And now if dark despair shall reach this heart,

Which of hell's tetrarchs can arraign their king,

Or fix on me his share of public loss

And overthrow sustain'd in this attack?

None, for none dare. If I, till now supreme,

Great idol of the Gentile world, for whom

So many groves, so many altars blaze;

If I, to whom by various names ador'd

Thousands of temples rife, whilst one alone,

One solitary pile on Sion's hill

Echoes the praise of God, neglected else

Of all; if I, if SATAN must submit

To CHRIST, revenge to patience, war to peace,

And men must learn new maxims of forgiveness,

Maxims I neither practise nor instil,

Heroes and kings and conquerors, farewell!

Greater is he who serves than he who reigns:

To suffer, to submit, to turn the cheek

To the proud smiter, these are virtues now;

Hence with such virtues! If these rules obtain,

If this tame doctrine shall unman the world,

Altars and groves and temples all must sink;

Olympus and its synod, every Grace

And every Muse, all that the chissel wrought

In Greece or Rome, shall moulder into dust,

And CHRIST and Reason shall usurp the world.

He ceas'd, and now his swelling bosom heav'd

With indignation like the labouring earth,

Which subterranean vapors undermine,

Pent in it's sulph'rous entrails: Up he sprung

To that high mountain top whence he review'd

The kingdoms of the earth, whilst at his side

CHRIST's humble virtue stood, on other realms,

Realms of immortal happiness, intent:

Here, as a vulture, on the craggy peak

Of Caucasus or Haemus left to watch,

Screams out his shrill alarm, at sound whereof

The carrion troop, upon the wing for prey,

Come flocking to the signal, SATAN thus

Stood eminent, and call'd his dark compeers;

So loud he call'd, that to the farthest bounds

Of Pagan isle or continent was heard

His voice re-echoing thro' the vault of heav'n.

Heroes and demi-gods, Olympian powers,

Infernal princes of hell's dark abyss,

Heav'n's exiles, spirits of air, water, fire,

Or whatsoever element confines

Your incorporeal effences, Oh hear!

Hear and assemble! 'tis your leader calls;

It is your champion's voice, in happier hours

Heard and obey'd, now in extremest need

Be present and assist our great divan.

No more, for soon was heard the distant sound

Of wings that beat the air; from every point

Of the four winds the gathering swarm came on;

From Grete, from Cyprus and the Ionian coast,

From Egypt, Afric and the Ausonian shores,

Gods of all names, dimensions and degrees.

Great was their sovereign's triumph to behold

This prompt obedience to his high command;

For now descending on the desart heath

To martial music, the infernal host

In bands and columns, by their chiefs arrang'd,

Stood firm; if ever gleam of joy might reach

Heart so accurs'd, the Arch-fiend had felt it here,

As with a monarch's eye he now review'd

His armies, covering all the swarthy plain.

Come, Muse, and to your suppliant's eyes impart

One ray of that pure light, which late you pour'd

On the dark orbs of your immortal Bard

Eclips'd by drop serene: Conduct me now,

Me from my better days of bold emprize

Far in decline, and with the hoary hand

Of Time hard stricken, yet adventuring forth

O'er Nature's limits into worlds unseen,

Peopled with shadowy forms and phantoms dire:

Oh! bear me on your pinions in this void,

Where weary foot ne'er rested; and behold!

All hell bursts forth: Support me, or I sink.

Now glimm'ring twilight streak'd the Eastern sky,

For he, that on his forehead brings the morn,

Star-crowned PHOSPHORUS had heard the call,

And with the foremost stood. Beside him one

Of towering stature and majestic port,

Himself a host; his black and curling locks

Down his herculean shoulders copious flow'd;

In glittering brass upon his shield he bore

A kingly eagle, ensign of command,

BAAL his name, second to none in state

Save only his great chieftain; worshipp'd long

In Babylon, till Daniel drove him thence

With all his gluttonous priests; exalted since

High above all the idol gods of Greece,

Thron'd on Olympus, and his impious hand

Arm'd with the thunder; yet he ru'd the zeal

Of furious Jehu, and that mournful day,

When he beheld his altars stream with blood,

His prophets and his priests by hundreds slain

Upon Mount Carmel. MOLOCH in the van,

Mail'd at all points for war, with spear and helm

And plumed crest and garments roll'd in blood,

Flam'd like a meteor: Him with horrid joy

SATAN awhile survey'd, then sighing cried,

Oh! worthy of command, had all like thee

So bravely fought, heav'n never had been lost.

Thence as he glanc'd his eye, far other form

And much unfit for war he next espied,

CHEMOS, the sin of Moab; power obscene,

Emasculate and soft, in loose attire

A sensual deity; his glory 'twas

In arts of base seduction to excel,

And leagu'd with harlots to have turn'd the heart

Of that wise king, and drawn him from his God

To bend his aged knees at idol shrines.

Close at his side stood one, in whose soft eyes

Ensnaring smiles and beauteous ruin lurk'd;

Oh! that such grace should be allied to sin;

Zidonian goddess, ASHTORETH her name;

Heav'n would not quite destroy so fair a work,

But wantonness usurp'd an angel face,

And with her innocence had chang'd her sex:

Yet let that sex beware, for in their souls,

When once she enters, peace no longer dwells;

Witness that Magdalen, whose frantic breast,

Till by CHRIST's mercy heal'd, sev'n daemons rent,

All sin-begotten, all her brood accurst.

BUT SATAN, whose stern heart, stranger to love,

All weakness tho' in shape of sin disdain'd,

And only priz'd spirits more like himself,

Indignant turn'd aside, and bent his eye

Where DAGON, giant god, amidst the ranks,

Like Teneriff or Aetna, proudly tower'd:

DAGON of Gath and Askalon the boast

In that sad flight, when on Gilboa's mount

The shield of Saul was vilely thrown away,

And Israel's beauty perish'd: Him awhile

With scowling eye the infernal king survey'd,

Then taunting cried, O DAGON, vast in size,

In soul diminutive, had that huge mass

Valour proportionate, heav'n had been our's;

But fitter thou, dull spirit, to people hell

Than re-assault God's throne: Where was thy pride,

When overthrown in Gaza by the strength

Of that uxorious Danite? Humbled now

I know thy nightly haunts, and how thou driv'st

Wretches possest to hide themselves in tombs,

Whence I beheld thee 'midst the herd unclean

Scour down the steep and plunge into the sea.

But now a fairer form arrests the eye

Of hell's despotic lord; his radiant vest

Of Tyrian purple, studded thick with gems,

Flow'd graceful; He for courts was form'd, for feasts,

For ladies chambers and for amorous sports;

He lov'd not camps nor the rude toils of war;

BELIAL his name; around his temples twin'd

A wreath of roses, and, where'er he pass'd,

His garments fann'd a breeze of rich perfume:

No ear had he for the shrill-toned trump,

Him the soft warble of the Lydian flute

Delighted rather, the love-soothing harp,

Sappho's loose song and the Aonian Maids

And zoneless Graces floating in the dance;

Yet from his lips sweet eloquence distill'd,

As honey from the bee, but still his voice

Ne'er counsell'd aught but cunning and deceit,

Mean truce and base capitulating terms;

Therefore by SATAN held in slight account,

For devils affect a dignity in sin.

Last in the field, and from the rest apart,

Was MAMMON; cautious was his step and slow,

His eye still watchful to prevent surprize,

Squalid his vesture and his locks uncomb'd;

For gain and usury engross'd his soul,

Nor other care had he but to amass

Wealth unenjoy'd, and gloat upon his hoard:

Had there been only happiness in heav'n

And gold in hell, MAMMON had spurn'd the bliss,

And hugg'd the treasure cheaply earn'd with pain.

His princes thus review'd, from the hill top

SATAN swift-glancing flew, and in the midst

Rose like a meteor; whereat all the host

Sent up a general shout: he with his hand

Gave sign, and wheel'd the Stygian phalanx round,

Horrible sight! A theatre of fiends,

And each the foe of man; idols and imps,

Wizzards, familiars, sprites, phantasmas, dreams,

Sorrows and pains and deaths in every shape

Cover'd the blasted heath: Th' infernal king,

Tho' in his heart, by mutinous passions torn,

Thought clash'd with thought, and all was anarchy,

Yet with assum'd composure beck'ning forth

His princes, whilst th' inferior throng stood off,

And mute attention reign'd, in few thus spake:

Friends and confederates, welcome! for this proof

Of your affiance, thanks! On every call,

Whether we need your counsel or your arms,

Joyful I see your ready zeal displays

Virtues, which hell itself cannot corrupt.

I mean not to declame: The occasion told

Speaks its own import, and the time's dispatch

All waste of words forbids. God's Son on earth,

CHRIST, the reveal'd Messias, how to oppose

Is now the question; by what force, or power—

Temptations have been tried, I name not them—

Or dark conspiracy, we may pull down

This sun of righteousness from his bright sphere

Declare, who can: I pause for a reply.

Silence ensu'd, whilst every eye was turn'd

Instinctively on BAAL; he of all

Hell's magi fill'd the seat of wisdom chief:

Experienc'd long in craft, and nothing apt

To give strait counsel, slow of speech he was;

To hint, propound, dilate, and so entice

Other opinions forth, them to refute,

And thereon build his own, was all his art.

After long pause and hesitation feign'd,

Stale trick of orators, he thus began:

Why thus on me, as I were worthy, me,

Lost being like yourselves, as I alone

Cou'd compass this high argument, on me,

Least in your sapient conclave, why you point

These scrutinizing looks, I muse; and aw'd

By this your expectation fain wou'd shrink

From the great task to silence, had you not

O'er these poor faculties such full controul,

As to put by all pleas, and call them forth

In heav'n or earth, or hell's profound abyss,

Your's in all uses, present at all hours.

Our kingly chief hath told us we are met

To combat CHRIST on earth: Be't so! We yet

May try our fortune in another field;

Worse fortune than in heav'n befell our arms,

Worse downfall than to hell, we cannot prove.

But with the scene our action too must change:

How? to what warfare? Circumvention, fraud,

Seduction; these are earthly weapons, these

As man to man opposes, so must we

To CHRIST incarnate. There be some, who cry,

Hence with such dastard arts! War, open war!

I honor such bold counsellors, and yield

All that I can, my praise; till one be found,

One that may rival God's own Son in power,

And miracle to miracle oppose,

More than my praise I cannot, my assent

I will not give; 'twere madness: And how war

With God? what arms may we employ 'gainst him,

Whose very prophets can call down heaven's fires

Upon our priests and altars? For myself,

What powers I had I shall not soon forget;

What I have left I know, and for your use

Shall husband as I may, not vainly risque

Where they must surely fail. The Jews pretend

That CHRIST colludes with Belzebub; the Jews

As far mistake my nature as my name:

The fallacy, O peers, confutes itself,

Forg'd to disparage CHRIST, not honor me:

Oh! that I had his wonder-working powers;

I'm not that fool to turn them on myself:

No, my brave friends, I've yet too much to lose;

Though Babylon's proud shrines are laid in dust,

Rome's capitol survives, and thro' the world

Where'er her eagles fly, upon their wings

They bear my thunder and they spread my fame:

Therefore no more of Belzebub and CHRIST;

No league, no compact can we hold together.

What then ensues? Despair? Perish the thought!

The brave renounce it, and the wise prevent;

You are both wise and brave. Our leader says

Temptations have been tried, and tried in vain,

Himself the tempter. Who will tread that ground,

Where he was foil'd? For Adam a mere toy,

An apple serv'd; CHRIST is not brib'd by worlds:

So much the second Man exceeds the first

In strength and glory. But tho' CHRIST himself

Will not be tempted, those who hear him may:

Jews may be urg'd to envy, to revenge,

To murder; a rebellious race of old,

To kill a prophet or betray his God

What Jew was ever found to need the spur?

Wist ye not what a train this preacher hath,

What followers, what disciples? These are men,

Mere men, frail sons of Adam, born in sin.

Here is our hope. I leave it to your thoughts.

He ceas'd, but neither murmur nor applause

Follow'd his speech, for MOLOCH, whose fell heart

Ill stomach'd this tame counsel, least of all

Taunts thinly cover'd under mask of praise,

Sprung forth impetuous, and with scowling brow

And accent acrimonious thus replied:

My thoughts it seems are known before I speak;

War, open war is all my note: I rise

To thank the prophet, who thus reads my heart,

Where honesty shou'd wear it, in my face;

That face from danger I did never hide,

How then from him? Nor am I by his praise

More honor'd than by his dissenting voice:

For whilst he counsels circumvention, fraud,

Seduction,—if my memory wrongs his words

I yield it to correction,—we stand off

Wide as the poles apart. Much I had hop'd

When the great Tempter fail'd and in your ears

Sung his own honor's dirge, we had heard the last

Of plots and mean temptations; mean I call them,

For great names cannot sanctify mean deeds:

SATAN himself knows I oppos'd the attempt,

Appeal'd, protested; my thrice-honor'd chief

Knows it full well and blushes for th' event.

And are we now caballing how to outwit

A few poor harmless fishermen, for such

Are CHRIST's disciples; how to gull and cheat

Their simple hearts of honesty? Oh peers,

For shame, if not for pity, leave them that,

That beggar's virtue: And is this the theme,

The mighty theme, which now employs the thoughts

Of your immortal synod? Shame, Oh shame!

Princes, Dominions, Arch-angelic Thrones,

Imperial Lords! these were your titles once,

By these names ye were known above the stars,

Shame not your antient dignities, nor sink

Beneath the vilest of the sons of men,

Whisperers, informers, spies. If CHRIST be God,

Fight, as becometh you to fight, with God:

If man, and sure his birth bespeaks no more,

Why all this preparation, this consult,

These mighty machinations and cabals?

Off with your foe at once, dismiss him hence

Where all his brother prophets have been sent;

Where his precursor John is gone before,

Whose voice still echoes thro' this wilderness:—

"Repent ye, for God's kingdom is at hand!

"Prepare ye the Lord's way!"—It is prepar'd;

It leads to death, it marshals him the road

To that oblivious bourne, whence none return:

Herod yet lives; another royal feast,

Another wanton dance, and he, for whom

So many innocents were slain, shall fall.

Once vanquish'd, are we therefore to despair?

In heav'n unequal battle we provok'd;

Tho' vast our host, the million was with God:

On earth enquire of all the nations round

Whom they will serve, with one voice they reply,

We are their gods; they feed us with their blood,

Their sons and daughters they make pass through fire

To do us grace; if their own flesh they give,

Shall they with-hold to sacrifice a foe?

Twelve tribes were all Jehovah had on earth,

And ten are lost; of this small remnant few

And wretched are the friends that league with Heav'n.

And where is now CHRIST's promis'd reign on earth?

When God's own servants rise against his Son,

And those, to whom the promises were giv'n,

Revolt from their Messias, can we wish

Greater revenge? What need have we to tempt

Them, who have hearts rebellious as our own,

As prompt to malice, no less prone to vex

God's righteous spirit? And let come what may,

It comes not to our loss, rather our gain.

Let God arise to vengeance; let him pour

Destruction on his temple, whose proud heighth

Our chief can witness, measur'd by his fall:

Let him not leave one stone upon another,

As his rash Son hath menac'd; let his wrath

Thro' all the inhospitable earth disperse

His scatter'd tribes; such ever be the fate

Of all his worshippers! May scorn, contempt,

Derision be their lot, and may their God

Never recall his curse! Are we, O peers,

To mourn for his Jerusalem? Our joy

Springs from confusion; enmity 'twixt God

And man is our best triumph: For myself,

War is my harvest, then my altars blaze

Brightest, when human victims feed the flame.

Breathless he paus'd, so rapid was the pulse

Of his high-beating heart he stood as one

Choak'd and convuls'd with rage; when as he ceas'd,

He smote his mailed habergeon so loud,

Hell's armed legions heard, and shook their spears

Betok'ning war: Frowning he look'd around,

Whilst from his fiery eyes such terror glanc'd,

It seem'd as if his pride meant to abash

And silence all opposers: Yet not long

His triumph, for now BELIAL from the ranks

Graceful advanc'd, and as he put aside

His purple robe in act to speak, the throng,

Such was the dazzling beauty of his form,

Fell back a space; then stood all eyes and ears

In expectation mute as death: Though hell

Own'd not a spirit more false, sensual and base,

Yet ever as he spake such action grac'd

His words, so musically soft they flow'd,

Who most despis'd the pleader prais'd the speech:

When thus with mild insinuating looks,

Masking his rancorous heart, the Fiend began.

After so many peaceful ages past

Since first emerging from hell's dark abyss,

Rous'd by our Arch-angelic Chief, we sprung

Up to this middle region, and here seiz'd

On this terrestrial globe, created first

For man, our vassal now, where at full ease,

Lords of the elements and gods ador'd,

We reign and revel undisturb'd of Heav'n,

If God, whose jealousy be sure ill brooks

That this fair world should be so long possess'd

Of us his exil'd angels, and his name

Pent up in Palestine, should now arouse

His slumb'ring wrath, and his best strength put forth

To wrestle for lost empire, and our earth,

As we in evil hour his heav'n, assail,

Who of this mighty synod but must own

The provocation warrants the retort?

If then the Maker of mankind hath cause

To meditate their rescue, we no less

Have cause to oppose th' attempt, and hold them fast

To their allegiance in despite of Heav'n.

Much then we owe to our great Leader's care,

Which, ever watchful o'er the public weal,

Calls us to this full council, here to meet

In grave consult how best we may repair

Past disappointments, and repel the spite

Of this new Champion, levell'd at our shrines.

Great is the trouble of my thoughts, O peers,

And much perplex'd am I with doubts, what name,

Nature and office to ascribe to CHRIST;

In form the lowliest of the sons of men,

In miracles omnipotent as God;

Whose voice controuls the stoutest of our host,

Bids the graves open and their dead come forth;

Whose very touch is health; who with a glance

Pervades each heart, absolves it or condemns;

Whose virgin birth credulity scarce owns,

And Nature disavows. Prais'd to all time,

Immortal as himself be the renown

Of that wise spirit, who shall devise the means

By force or fraud to overthrow the power

Of this mysterious foe, what shall I say?—

Priest, Prophet, King, Messias, Son of God.

Yet how God's unity, which well we know

Endures no second, should adopt a Son

And essence indivisible divide,

Baffles my weak conjecture: Let that pass!

To such hard doctrines I subscribe no faith:

I'll call him man inspir'd, and wait till death

Gives sentence of mortality upon him.

Meanwhile let circumspection on our part

Fill all the anxious interim; alarm

Rome's jealousy, stir up the captious spleen

Of the proud Pharisee, beset him round

With snares to catch him, urge the envious priests,

For envy still beneath the altar lurks,

And note the man he trusts. MAMMON could tell,

Though MAMMON boasts not of his own success,

How few of human mould have yet withstood

His glittering, golden lures. The sword can kill

Man's body, gold destroys his very soul:

Yet mark me well, I counsel not to tempt

The Master; poverty can do no more

Than his own mortifying penance does,

Hunger and thirst and obstinately starve,

When his mere wish could make the rock a spring

And its hard fragments bread: Yet sure I am

All are not CHRIST's in heart, who with their lips

Confess him; these are men, and therefore frail,

Frail and corruptible: And let none say,

Fear prompts this counsel; I disclaim all fear

But for the general cause: In every heart

Nature hath built my altar; every sect,

Nation and language with one voice confess

Pleasure the sovereign good: The Stoic churl,

The dogged Cynic snarling in his tub,

And all the ragged moralizing crew

Are hypocrites; philosophy itself

Is but my votary beneath a cloak:

It harms not me, though every idol God

Were tumbled from his base; alike I scorn

Sampson's strong nerve and Daniel's flaming zeal:

And let CHRIST preach his mortifying rules,

Let him go forth through all the Gentile world,

And on the ruin of our fanes erect

His church triumphant o'er the gates of hell,

Still, still man's heart will draw the secret sigh

For pleasures unenjoy'd; the gloomy cell

And melancholy fast, the midnight prayer

And pale contrition weeping o'er her lamp

Are penances, from which the sense revolts,

Fines, that compounding superstition pays

For pleasures past, or bribes for more to come.

Enough of this vain boast, here SATAN cried;

More than enough of these voluptuous strains,

Which, tho' they lull the ear, disarm the soul

Of its best attribute: Not gaudy flowers

Are cull'd for med'cine, but the humble weed;

True wisdom, ever frugal of her speech,

Gives sage advice in plain and homely words.

The sum of all our reasoning ends in this,

That nothing but the death of CHRIST can solve

The mystery of his nature; till he falls

Scarce can I say we stand: All voices then,

Though varying in the means, conspire his death;

Some cautiously as BAAL; some with zeal

Precipitate as MOLOCH, whose swift thought

Vaults over all impediments to seize

The goal of his ambition. But, O peers,

Our's is no trivial care; direct your sight

Along the ranks of that redeemed host;

On us hangs all their safety: Night and day

My anxious thoughts are labouring in their cause,

And whilst CHRIST walks the earth I take no rest,

A watchful spy for ever at his side,

Noting each word and deed; sometimes I mix

With the selected Twelve that page his steps;

Of these, though some have waver'd, none is false

Save one alone, ISCARIOT he by name;

The taint of avarice hath touch'd his heart;

I've mark'd him for my own. Hear, princes, hear!

This night the priests and elders will convene

Their secret conclave: I am in their hearts;

Burning with envy, malice and revenge,

Their only thought is how to tangle CHRIST,

In whom of force I own no guile is found,

But gentleness instead and perfect truth,

A lamb in nature without spot and pure,

Fit victim therefore for their Paschal rites,

Which now are near at hand; apt is the hour,

Apt are the instruments. What now remains

But to send forth a tempter to persuade

ISCARIOT to betray his Master's life,

And damn himself for gold? Speak, is there one,

One in this patriot circle, whom all eyes

Point out for this emprize? Most sure there is;

BELIAL hath well predicted of our choice:

MAMMON, stand forth! On thee th' election lights.

He spake, and all approv'd, for choice so fit

None could oppose; when MAMMON thus replied.

Prince of this world! To whom these armies owe,

Lost but for thee in everlasting night,

The glorious prospect of yon rising sun,

'Tis not to evade the labor, but prevent

The failure of your hopes, that I beseech

Your wisdom to correct it's choice, and lodge

This arduous embassy in abler hands:

Nathless if such your will, and my compeers

Adjudge me to this service, I submit:

In me is no repugnance, no delay;

For ever what these toiling hands could do,

Or patient thoughts devise, that I have done;

Whether in heav'n ordain'd to undermine

God's adamantine throne, or doom'd to dig

The solid sulphur of hell's burning soil,

Fearless I wrought, and, were there no tongues else

To vouch my services, these scars would speak.

How many daintier spirits do I see

Fair as in heav'n and in fresh bloom of youth,

Whilst I, with shrivel'd sinews cramp'd and scorch'd

'Midst pestilential damps and fiery blasts,

Drag as you see a miserable load,

Age-struck without the last resource of death:

This for myself, no more. You're not to know

The snares which I employ are golden snares;

These are my arts, and like the crafty slave,

Who in Rome's Circus hurls the fatal net

Over his fierce pursuer, so oft times

Have I entangled the proud hearts of men,

And made their courage stoop to shameful bribes,

Paid for dishonest deeds, perjuries and plots,

That draw them off from God, who else had fill'd

His courts ere now with guests and peopled heav'n.

These weapons and these hands you still command;

So dear I hold the general cause at heart,

So disciplin'd am I in duty's school,

That reckless of all hazard I present

Myself your servant, or, if so fate wills,

Your sacrifice; for though from mortal man

Discomfiture I dread not, yet if CHRIST,

Whom the great Tempter foil'd not, shall stand forth

The champion of his follower, witness for me,

You my brave peers and this angelic host,

I sought not this bold heighth, whence if I fall,

I do but fall where SATAN could not stand.

Go then, exclaim'd th' Arch-Enemy of man,

Go, brave adventurer, go where glory calls:

Auspicious thoughts engender in my breast,

And now prophetic visions burst upon me:

I see the traitor JUDAS with a band

Of midnight ruffians seize his peaceful Lord:

They drag him to the bar, accuse, condemn;

He bleeds, he dies! Darkness involves the rest.

Ascend the air, brave spirit, and 'midst the shout.

Of grateful myriads wing thy course to fame.

He said, and pointing to the sacred towers

Of God's high temple, wav'd his sceptred hand,

Whereat the infernal armies gave a shout

That shook the rocky desart to its base:

Meanwhile the fiend, ambassador of hell,

Exulting heard his high election crown'd

With these applauding voices, and the call

Of his great Chieftain echo'd to the skies:

Pride swell'd his conscious breast; no longer now

Crouching with age and pain, but nerv'd anew,

As with a spell transform'd, erect he stood

With towering stature tallest of the throng,

And looks of high supremacy and state.

And now from either shoulder he unfurl'd

His wide-stretch'd pinions, and uprising swift

Tower'd in mid-air; the host with loud acclaim

Hail'd his ascent; he on the well-pois'd wing

Hoverd awhile, till from his cloudy heighth

Sweeping the wide horizon he descried

Far in the west the holy city, of God,

His destin'd port, then to the orient sun

Turn'd his broad vans, and plied their utmost speed.

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK II.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

Mammon, alighting on the Holy Mount, assumes the form and character of a Levite, and under that appearance goes in search of Judas Iscariot. He meets that disciple most opportunely for his purpose in a solitary place, and entering into conversation with him, pretends a commission from the priests and elders for engaging him in their service with the promise of a reward, and urges many insidious arguments for detaching him from his Master: They separate with a promise on the part of Judas to report his final answer to the priests that evening. Christ is now brought to view sitting in the midst of his disciples at his Last Supper: He addresses them in those solemn and affecting terms recorded in the Gospel of Saint John, washes their feet, foretells his death, and points out to them his betrayer in the person of Judas then present: The traitor, perceiving himself discovered, hastily departs. Christ, pitying the affliction of his disciples, tenderly consoles them with the promise of his support under their future tribulations, and concludes with an aweful invocation to the Father in their behalf: whereupon, warning them that his hour is come, he goes forth to the garden. A reflection, naturally springing from the subject, addressed to unbelievers, closes the book.

CALVARY. BOOK II. THE LAST SUPPER.

NOW on the consecrated Mount of God

MAMMON, invisible to mortal eye,

Stooping the wing from his aerial heighth

With feet unhallow'd lands; a direful pest,

Farthest from heav'n of all that outcast crew,

Who fell from bliss; fit messenger was he,

And fatal was their choice, who sent him forth

To work corruption's purpose in man's heart;

For in his pow'r excelling he can take

The semblance of each virtue, shift each form,

And turn and turn new faces on the world,

Till he hath snar'd a soul; then he appears

In nature as he is, loathsome, obscene,

Rapacious as those filthy monsters feign'd

By fabling poets of amphibious breed,

Harpies, of earth and ocean the foul spawn,

Half brute, half human, with cadaverous face

Horribly pale, and hollow hungry eye,

Glaring aghast, with wings outstretch'd to chace

And talons crook'd to pounce their mangled prey.

And now by dev'lish spell transform'd he seems

A reverend Levite, bearded to the waist;

Hypocrisy ne'er wore a graver mask:

And still with wolf-like watch he prowls around,

If haply in those haunts he might surprize

Occasion to put forth his damning arts,

And from the flock of their good Shepherd cull

One tainted straggler, one, whose sordid soul

Avarice might tempt to take the price of blood,

And sacrifice the Son of God for gold:

Of CHRIST no care had he, but to elude

His vigilance, which still was all his dread;

Nor of the Twelve, save JUDAS, was there one

Whom to assail; on him alone, on him,

Son of perdition, rested all the hopes

Of SATAN and his legions. Now the fiend

With ineffectual search had coasted all

The sacred region round, and in the shade

Beneath the temple porch awhile repos'd,

List'ning the converse of the idle crowd,

The sun then high at noon; and much they talk'd

Of CHRIST and his great miracles, of some

Elias deem'd, of some the Baptist John

Ris'n from the dead, but by all tongues confest

A prophet mighty both in word and deed:

Silent the whilst in secret musings wrapt

The wizard spirit stood, when all at once

Loud voices strike his ear, and strait comes one

Leaping and bounding 'midst the shouting throng,

A cripple new restor'd; the very bed,

Which from his birth the palsied wretch had press'd,

Now in it's turn was carried, and to all

Triumphantly expos'd: Behold, he cried,

The token of my cure; I am the man

Whom ye all knew, and this the doleful bed,

On which, fast bound in misery and pain,

Helpless before your charitable gates

I laid and begg'd for pity and relief:

Lo! I am free! Mark how these new-found limbs

Nimbly the health-restoring voice obey!

CHRIST gave the word; he spake and I am whole.

This whilst he heard, conviction smote the fiend;

His conscious heart a sudden tremor seiz'd

And off he slunk abash'd: A winding path

Led down the mount, and here as he pursued

In gloomy thought his solitary way,

Behold by happy chance the man he sought,

ISCARIOT and alone: Joy flush'd the cheek

Of the incarnate daemon, thus to find

His labour in auspicious moment crown'd.

Hail, son of Simon! peace be to thee, friend!

Fairly encounter'd art thou in good hour,

The priest-like Tempter cried; thy worth is known

To all our Levites, from whose tribe I come

With friendly greeting charg'd: This night they meet

In special conclave; our chief pontiff there

Will in the holy convocation move

Points of high import to our antient law,

Questions it much importeth thee to hear,

And well accepted shalt thou be of all,

Who with large recompence and honors due

Will greet thee so complying: I have said.

Grave Sir, I know thee not, JUDAS replied;

Yet for thy greeting thanks, and peace for peace,

As holy men becomes. To him the fiend.

Unknown I well may be, who night and day

Serving God's altar rarely stir abroad,

And little commerce hold with this great world;

But thee I know one of that Teacher's train,

Who walks at large, nor shuns the haunts impure

Of sinners and of publicans: Alas!

That one of thy wise bearing should be seen

In such base fellowship, paging his steps,

Calling him Lord and Master, whom the world

In mere derision suffers to grow up

To full-blown vanity, at once to crush.

But good report is pregnant with thy name,

As one exempted from the general scorn;

And sure I am thou wilt not so abase

And lower thy nobler thoughts to one so mean,

Vile and mechanic; to the driv'ling crew

Of children and of women leave that task,

To Peter and his brethren of the net:

Fine reas'ning we shall have, and well be school'd,

When fishermen turn preachers and instill

Doctrines and laws, which Moses never taught.

Woe to our scribes! Rare mockery of the world

And the world's wisdom, if these simple folk,

Lur'd from their daily drudgery, should set up

Fishers of men; the synagogue, to them

A barren element, will never yield

Such gainful earnings as the sea affords.

And what is CHRIST, that JUDAS so should court

His starving service? What so tempting lure

Hath this deceiver to beguile thy hopes?

Not of this world my kingdom, he hath said;

Yet of this world are we, in this alone

We live and move, here only we expect

Or pain or pleasure, all that lies beyond

In the unknown abyss is dark as death.

And wherefore carriest thou that bag about?

A beggar needs no treasurer, and thy Lord

Feeds but by miracle: Alas for him,

Who serves a master, that keeps Sabbath fasts

Forty long days in the bare wilderness,

Makes poverty his passport into heav'n,

And bids us throw away life's present means

For doubtful chance of interest after life!

And art thou of all reason so bereft

As to account prosperity a crime,

Or think none blest but him, whose every step

Through misery's thorny path is mark'd with blood?

O son of Simon, take thy last resolve;

Either resign thy body to the worm,

And die with CHRIST, or him renounce, and live

Rich, honor'd, prosperous, and enjoy the world.

The Fiend now paus'd, well pleas'd that he had gain'd

Audience so large; when JUDAS, in whose soul

The pois'nous instillation 'gan to work,

Thus to corruption's advocate replied.

That CHRIST, rejected and despis'd of men,

Hath in this world no part I freely grant;

Therefore if we his followers, who renounce

Things present, build our hopes upon a dream

Of what shall never come, we are of all

Most miserable; if we, who bid farewel

To all that Nature holds most dear to share

Sorrows and pains and poverty with CHRIST,

Find not those blissful mansions in the heav'n

Which he hath promis'd; if, when all is past

And this sad scene concludes, no reck'ning comes,

No grateful compensation after death,

Hard is our fate, and much hath he abus'd

Our weak credulity; but still these hopes

Of an expected glory, though with doubt

And darkness clouded, faint yet not extinct,

Yield not to words; words made them what they are,

CHRIST's words, and surely man ne'er spake like him;

Wherefore if these your doctors of the law

Invite me to their conclave but to hear

A railing accusation, I hold off

From their assembly, and to CHRIST adhere,

As to the better reas'ner; and though poor

The servant, equal is the Master's lot,

Poor as the poorest, houseless and forlorn,

A man of sorrows; nor can we complain,

Whilst he of all we suffer still partakes,

First in all labours, penances and pains.

You ask, and bid me take my last resolve,

If I will give this body to the worm

And die with CHRIST: To die is Nature's dread;

Instinctively she loaths the gloomy grave,

And turns a longing eye to light and life;

But fortune gives to all things their degrees;

To them, who bask in sunshine thro' the day,

Night comes with double sadness, whilst to me,

Who toil from morn to noon, from noon to eve,

Yet nothing but a dim horizon see

Low'ring in clouds, darkness is nothing strange,

Nor death a terror: Wealth presents no dower

To wed me to the world; no pleasures cling

Around my heart; no soft affections woo

My longer stay on earth, there to prefer

Brief joys possess'd to hope of future bliss.

Thus whilst he 'plain'd the subtle Tempter's ear

Caught the soft murmur that betrays the soul,

The sigh capitulating virtue breathes,

When from her last defences she retreats;

Whereat a bolder tone he now assum'd,

And thus the wav'ring false disciple plied.

All joys that gold can purchase wait your choice;

Rich to your heart's ambition you shall be,

Nor only rich, but rescued from a doom

So dreadful, had you all the wealth in store,

Which the sea covers or the earth contains,

'Twere well bestow'd to purchase your redemption.

With CHRIST impending death, with me you meet

Life with encircling pleasures. Throw aside

That beggar's purse, your starving office spurn;

Serve God's high priest, whose treasury is full;

Cast those few mites away, the scanty dole

Of some contaminating leper's hand,

For which you bid God heal him and pass on;

Whilst he, good cred'lous soul, cries out amain,

As powerful fancy works, Lo! I am clean;

Behold a miracle! But gold performs

Greater and happier miracles than this:

Gold with a touch can heal the mind's disease,

Quicken the slow-pac'd blood, and make it dance

In tides of rapture through each thrilling vein;

Cast out that worst of daemons, poverty,

And with a spell exorcise the sad heart,

Haunted with spectres of despair and spleen.

If then this prize can tempt thee, if thy soul

Still thirsts for life, for riches, for repose,

If in thy breast there dwells that manly scorn,

Which slighted merit feels, when envious pride

Thrusts it aside to build th' unworthy up,

Now, now assert it; from a Master turn,

Who turns from thee, who before thee exalts

Thy meaner brethren, Peter, James and John:

On them his partial smile for ever beams,

They have his love, his confidence, his heart;

Of them revolting he might well complain,

Of thee he cannot; thine were just revenge:

He is no traitor, who resents a wrong;

Who shares no confidence, can break no trust.

Bid conscience then be still, let no weak qualms

Damp thy reviving spirit; but when night

Wraps her dark curtain round this busy world,

Come thou to CAIAPHAS; there will be found

Our priests and scribes in council to attaint

And bring to judgment this presumptuous man,

Who boasts himself Messias Son of God.

If thou, to whom his midnight haunts are known,

His secret incantations and his spells,

By which he does those feats that cheat our sight,

Wilt to those guilty haunts conduct our guard,

And render up his person to the law,

Much praise and large reward shalt thou receive;

If thou wilt not—But wherefore should I doubt?

I would persuade, not threaten: Know withal

It is not thou, 'tis justice gives the blow;

The law will have its victim. Thinkest thou

That we, to whom the custody is given

Of God's prophetic oracles, ordain'd

To guard his worship and expound his laws,

Will let this innovating Teacher spurn

Our holy order, mock our ancient rites,

Prophane our Sabbaths, and himself exalt

Co-equal with Jehovah, to confound

His unity, and claim divided power?

No, let death arbitrate 'twixt him and us;

If he be very CHRIST, death shall not dare

To aim his dart at immortality;

His incorruption shall defy the grave:

If man, blaspheming man, he justly dies.

Living or dying thus his fate dispells

All mystery; truth starts of force to light,

And God is glorified in either case.

He ceas'd, and on the Traitor fix'd a look,

Which, like the serpent's fascinating eye,

Gaz'd motion's power away; sullen he stood,

As with a spell entranc'd; the aweful sense

Of his great Master's virtue and the dread

Of an hereafter terrible to thought,

No longer serv'd to hold the wizard fiend

And his fell arts at bay: The word of truth,

Sown on the surface of his stony heart,

Had perish'd without root; religion's lamp,

Faint and more faint as MAMMON's crafty breath

Blew up the storm of passion, now expir'd

In his benighted soul; there rankling pride,

Malicious envy, avarice and revenge,

Leagu'd with hell's minister and uncontroul'd

Their impious orgies held. At length the wretch,

To calm deliberate treachery resign'd,

With all th' unrighteous Mammon in his heart

And vile prevarication on his lips,

Thus with consent in dubious phrase implied

The grand seducer of mankind dismiss'd.

Great is the peril of the attempt you urge,

For great the power of him you would destroy:

Therefore if I demand some pause for thought,

Deem it not much. Your offers shall be weigh'd;

But now no more: Occasions call me hence;

This night the Master hath convok'd the Twelve

To keep the sacred feast, ordain'd of God

With bread unleaven'd and the Paschal lamb:

Thither, tho' last and in his favor leaft,

I go, a cited guest: There whilst I sit

Unnotic'd at his table's lowest foot,

My meditations shall recall your words,

And ponder them apart. Say to your priests,

Those conservators of our ancient law,

This night they may expect my last resolve.

And now behold the length'ning shadow marks

The ev'ning hour, that warns me hence: Farewell!

This said, their conf'rence ended, they embrace

As friends, who plight their faith: Upon the touch,

So quick th' infection ran, so dire the blight,

The pois'nous ferment on the instant reach'd

ISCARIOT'S tainted heart, and now he burnt

With the fell lust of gold. Joy seiz'd the Fiend;

For well he knew how mortal to the soul

That deadly aconite, the growth of hell.

Oh! wretch for ever lost, for ever curst,

Whom Mammon thus embraces! Who shall wake

Thy conscience from its lethargy? Who now

Shall stop the courses of that baneful drug,

And stem the swift destruction? 'Tis too late:

Better for thee hadst thou ne'er seen the light,

Or lost it ere this fatal hour had birth.

Thy doom is seal'd; hell hath its hour of joy,

Thou, traitor, an eternity of woe:

The meditation of thy heart shall hurl

Thee to perdition and thy Lord to death.

Now JUDAS down the mountain turn'd his steps;

Not so the Tempter; he from the high rock,

Exalted where he stood, his impious eye

Glanc'd o'er the city' of God full in his view

From East to West in moony crescent stretch'd.

Here yet JEHOVAH was ador'd, here reign'd;

All else to SATAN and his idol gods

Thro' earth's wide range belong'd; to their dire names

Each temple echo'd, every knee was bow'd:

How oft, ev'n here upon his holy hill,

Did Judah's kings with their polluted groves

Affront God's house, and pagan altars raise

To Chemos, Milcom, Ashtaroth and all

The host of heav'n within his sacred courts!

Witness that impious king, who pass'd his son

Through fire to Moloch, homicidal God,

Which rous'd th' Almighty's vengeance, and entail'd

Mournful captivity on all his race.

Hither, as to the delug'd world of old,

In promis'd time the dove of peace was sent;

Upon this Ararat, his sacred mount,

He rested; hence salvation dawn'd on man:

Him to destroy the Tempter now aspir'd,

Secure of his new convert firmly leagu'd

In his dire plot and to perdition seal'd:

Nor rested on that mount the darkling Fiend,

Nor further need had he of priestly garb,

Than till he saw ISCARIOT join the train

Of CHRIST and his disciples; then at once

To his own airy properties dissolv'd

A spi'rit invisible, with eager speed

To hell's assembled chiefs he wing'd his flight.

The sun had sunk beneath the Western hills,

And now at ev'ning hour the Jews prepare

To celebrate their Passover, ordain'd

T' eternize their deliv'rance, when God's wrath

Smote ev'ry first-born male in Mizraim's coast,

Save where the blood of lamb piacular,

Sprinkling the consecrated door, was found

Of the destroying angel: To this feast,

Prelusive of his own pure sacrifice

And type of his blood-shedding, JESUS came:

The guests were present and the table spread;

With loins begirt, as men upon the march,

And staff in hand, they snatch a hasty meal:

This done, in pensive meditation rapt,

The Savior, conscious of impending death,

Sate in the midst; to his all-present mind

The treason and the traitor stood confest.

Low'ring, abash'd and from the rest apart,

ISCARIOT at the table's lowest foot

Took post, where best he might escape that glance,

From whose intelligence no heart could hide

Its guilty meditations: All eyes else

Were center'd on the Savior's face divine,

Which with the brightness of the Godhead mix'd

Traces of human sorrow, and display'd

The workings of a mind, where mercy seem'd

Struggling to reconcile some mortal wrong

To pardon and forbearance: Such a look

Made silence sacred, every tongue was mute;

Ev'n PETER's zeal forbore the vent of words,

Or spent itself in murmurs half supprest.

At length the meek REDEEMER rais'd his eyes,

Where gentle resignation, tempering grief,

Beam'd grace ineffable on all around,

And with these words the awful silence broke.

Muse not if I am sad, nor stand aghast

As doubtful of my constancy; these pangs

And more which I must suffer were foreseen;

The hour now coming comes not by surprize,

It is the consummation of my charge,

And fills the measure of atonement up.

Shall I then say, Father, avert this hour,

And save me from these agonies? Not so.

With heart prepar'd to suffer and submit

I meet my doom forewarn'd: Yet ere we part

Take this last office from your Master's hands;

And when you see me stoop to wash your feet,

As soon as you shall, remember 'tis your Lord,

Your dying Lord this legacy bequeaths,

And edify by his humility.

This said, his seamless mantle he threw off,

And girt his tunic close about his waist;

And now with mute amazement they beheld

The Son of God in servant-like attire

Prepar'd to execute his menial task.

All gaz'd, all wonder'd, but no voice oppos'd;

None dar'd to pray forbearance of the deed,

Till he, whose heart was ever on his lips,

PETER, in warm expostulation cried:

Lord, dost thou wash my feet, thy servant's feet,

Mean as the dust he treads on? Never, Lord,

Never shalt thou do that for one so vile,

So all-unworthy: That be far from thee!

Such homage ill beseemeth thee to pay,

Me to receive.—To him the Lord replied:

PETER, as yet thou know'st not what I do,

Hereafter thou shalt know; therefore no more:

Cease to oppose, for if I wash thee not,

With me thou hast no part.—Struck to the soul

With horror at the thought, his eager words,

Wing'd with the flame of rhapsody, burst forth:

Oh! not my feet alone, my hands, my head,

Wash me all o'er, and sanctify each part.

There needs not this, the meek REDEEMER cried,

Enough is done; thus wash'd, though but in part,

Thou shalt be clean throughout: Yet I'll not say

Ye are all clean: Spite of the Shepherd's care

The taint hath touch'd his flock. Alas! for him

On whom the foul contamination lights;

Woe to that wretch that ever he was born!

And do ye need a comment to expound

This lesson of humility and lore?

Ye call me Lord and Master; well ye say,

For such in truth I am; if then your Lord

Be meek and lowly, will not ye renounce

Pride and contention? If the Master stoops

To wash his feet who serves, shall ye do less

To these your equal brethren? Learn of me,

And each with other deal, as I with you:

Write on your hearts my words; the time draws nigh

When I shall speak no more with you on earth:

Ye have all heard; how blest if ye obey!

I speak not of you all: Whilst here ye sit

In seeming fellowship around my board,

Sharing this social meal, my last on earth,

Doubt not but I can search into your breasts,

And see whose hearts are loyal, whose is false;

And mark me well, I fall not by man's wiles,

Not unpredicted is the trait'rous act,

And well I know the wretch, whose faithless hand

Dips with me in the dish, shall soon be dy'd

With my devoted blood. Betray'd I am,

Deceiv'd I cannot be.——This when they heard,

Each with the other interchang'd a look

Of question and suspect; speechless they star'd,

Confounded and aghast: As men drawn forth

For decimation tremble to unfold

The lot of life or death, so these in doubt

On whom the word of prophecy might light,

Curious yet fearful to enquire of CHRIST,

Search'd their own hearts in silence. All perceiv'd

Omniscience, which to God alone belongs,

Familiar with their thoughts, and every soul,

Save that dire wretch whom conscience inly smote,

Trembled lest unpremeditated guilt

Might be denounc'd upon him, or the sin

Of one man, as of Korah, move the Lord

With the whole congregation to be wroth.

But PETER, in whose ever-anxious mind

These terrors undispell'd long could not dwell,

To the belov'd Disciple, on the breast

Of CHRIST reclining, now gave sign to ask

The fearful question, in what traitor's heart

Plot so accurs'd could harbour. Thus besought,

Though much his humble nature fear'd offence,

In accent soft, with supplicating eye

Turn'd on the Master, the meek suitor said:

Lord, shew thy true and faithful servants grace,

And let us know the traitor.—He it is,

JESUS replied, on whom I shall bestow

This sop, when I have dipp'd it in my cup.

He said, and as he plung'd the morsel in,

All eyes were fix'd upon the fatal work,

Wond'ring on whom he would bestow the spell;

And soon with silent horror they beheld

The saturated sop to JUDAS giv'n,

Pledge of perdition; he with greedy haste

Devour'd it, by the fiend within him urg'd;

For MAMMON to the dark divan had told

The joyful tidings, and had posted back

Swift as the magic whirlwind conjur'd up

By all hell's wizard imps could drive him on,

And now sate nestling in the traitor's heart,

Brooding his filthy spawn: Great was the joy

Of the infernal tempter, thus to find

That guardian Pow'r, whose providence he fear'd,

By these symbolic elements withdrawn,

And his apostate victim now cast out

From the Lord's Supper, alien from God's grace,

And soul-surrender'd to hell's gloomy realm.

Now, as the spell within him 'gan to work,

The traitor's visage, like the troubled sea

Uptorn and furrow'd with tempestuous winds,

Shifted it's hues, now deadly pale, aghast

And horror-struck, now fiery red, deform'd

With hellish rage, and from man's semblance chang'd

To very daemon, terrible to sight.

Oh! what a fall from heav'n to deeper hell

Than thought can fathom, horrors worse than heart

Of man, unless abandon'd of his God,

Can suffer or conceive! Words do but fail

To paint that unreveal'd abyss, those depths

Of the immeasu'rable profound, where groans,

Wailings and woes and tossings amidst fires

Unquenchable await the wretch condemn'd!

Meanwhile in cloudless majesty and mild

The Savior's face divine on all around

Effulgent beam'd; about his temples shone

A radiant glory: This when JUDAS saw,

Whom now the spi'rit of darkness had possess'd,

And none such in the sphere of that pure light

Long could abide, he started from his couch

Prepar'd for flight, when thus in few the Lord—

Go then! and what thou hast in hand to do,

Do quickly; so depart!—The word of power,

Though gentle yet commanding, JUDAS heard,

And instantly the spirit took him thence;

Nor could he not obey, for so rebuk'd

The prince of hell, SATAN himself, had fled.

The faithful remnant sate in mute suspense,

Pondering what this dismission might import.

The Master with a glance discern'd their thoughts;

He saw them in profound conjecture lost,

Humbled in heart and sad, their honor stain'd

By base defection, and their faith convuls'd:

When thus, at once to strengthen and console

Their wav'ring minds, these healing words he spake.

Let not your heart be troubled: Ye believe

In God, believe also in me his Son.

Doubt not but in the compass of the heav'ns

My Father will provide for all his Saints

Mansions of peace, seats of eternal bliss,

Where spi'rits made perfect after death shall dwell,

And rest from earthly toils: Thither I go

To seal your sure election, and prepare

For you my faithful servants an abode;

That, as in sorrow here, so there in bliss

With me your Lord, now dying for your sakes,

Ye may surmount the grave, and ever live

In heavenly communion undisturb'd.

Lament not therefore if I now depart,

Your provident precursor, for ye know

Whither I go, and also know the way.

Lord, we are ignorant and dim-sighted men,

THOMAS replied, we see not what thou see'st;

And as it stands not in our reach to guess

Whither thou go'st, how should we know the way?

I am the way, th' inspired Teacher cried,

I am the Truth, the Life: None can approach

The Father but by me; me had ye known,

This blindness had been done away, and now

Behold Him present!—Where? still doubting cried

One of th' astonish'd number; Oh! impart

That intellectual vision to discern

And see the Father; set Him in our view

In form demonstrative; we ask no more.

Say'st thou? resum'd the Lord, and have I been

So long familiar yet so little known?

Will not the works, O PHILIP, I have done,

Done in thy sight, instruct thee whence I am,

And what my power? Doth there need light for this?

'Midst the broad blaze of proofs that shines about thee

Can'st thou not see God's presence in his power?

Of this mortality which ye behold,

This fleshly self, I speak not; 'tis the Spirit,

The virtue of my Father, which is in me,

In act how visible, in voice how strong,

Clear and express! And can you see and hear

And yet withhold belief? Oh, slow of faith!

If words cannot persuade, let works convince:

If miracles, which only God can do,

Are done before your eyes, how say you then,

Shew us the Father? Sanctify your hearts

From fear and terror; though the hour comes on,

When to the silent mansions of the dead

From this impeni'tent world I must withdraw,

Mourn not, but let your grief be turn'd to joy;

For as in me the Father, so in Him

I live and move; my Spirit, though unseen

Still present, shall protect and hover o'er you.

I will not leave you comfortless; my name

Shall be your tower of refuge; with my peace

Now dying I endow you; of that peace

The powers of this world never shall despoil you,

And in my Name whatever ye shall ask

Believing, ye shall have: By faith in me

Ye shall command the elements, uplift

The everlasting mountains by their roots,

And whelm them in the centre of the sea:

This in my Name potential ye shall do,

And greater works than this: By faith in me▪

Ye shall confront th' oppressor; 'midst the shock

Of tribulations and the angry scorn

Of a malignant world, abhorr'd, despis'd,

Thrust from their synagogues, ye shall possess

Your souls in patience, glorying to endure

Like tribulation with your martyr'd Lord.

Despair nor therefore, for before that day

A Comforter shall come, whom I will send,

And he shall teach you all things. When ye stand

Before the judgment seat of impious men

Friendless, accus'd, environ'd with a throng

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Of perjur'd witnesses athirst for blood,

Your Guardian Spirit shall provide a voice,

Action and eloquence, and prompt your lips

With untaught languages to sound my Name

With tongue miraculous through all the world.

Wars then and rumors and portentous signs,

Famine and earthquakes and disastrous plagues

Shall vex the nations; prophets shall arise

With lying divinations to confound

The weak, pervert the wavering and perplex

The very Saints themselves. Await the time;

These are but harbingers of mightier woes;

The day of terror is but in it's dawn:

The powers of earth and heav'n must undergo

Direful convulsion; this majestic pile,

This temple, shall become so mere a wreck,

That not one stone shall rest upon another:

Then shall your hour of tribulation come;

Then to confess my Name shall be your crime

By torture and by death to be aton'd:

The tyrants of the world shall then let loose

Their persecuting rage, and great shall be

The falling-off of many; rocks and caves

Shall be your hiding-places, yet from thence

Your sound shall echo to the farthest ends

Of the redeemed earth; from those dark cells

The beams of revelation shall break forth,

Maugre the pow'rs of hell; and blest is he,

Whose faith unshaken shall abide the time,

Till the great end and consummation comes

My peace and my salvation to ensure.

Few are the moments now and passing swift,

Which thus conversing we have yet in hand.

Servants no more, henceforth I call you friends;

Therefore, as friends and children, let your love

Each to the other knit your hearts together

In brotherly communion; this command,

New to the world, I give you: Let good will,

And peace and concord harmonize your souls,

And mark you as the followers of him,

Whose every act was charity, whose life

Was spent and clos'd expiring for your sakes:

And stronger proof of love what man can give,

Than to yield up his body to the grave,

And die, as shortly I shall, for his friends?

Time was that I have shadow'd out my speech

In proverbs and allusions; time now is

To cast obscurity aside and shew

Th' unveiled glories of the Father to you.

Henceforward ye shall ask of Him and have;

My Name for your petitions shall suffice;

My prayers ye need not, for the Father's love

Without an intercessor shall protect

Mine, as you love me, and prevent your wants.

From Him I came into this world, to Him,

This world now leaving, I again return.

This said, conviction smote their glowing hearts

With faith, and hope's bright image new inspir'd,

And scenes of future glory beaming on them:

When thus with voices join'd in loud acclaim

CHRIST in the Godhead manifest they hail'd.

Now, Lord, we hear and understand thy words,

Plain words and not in parables involv'd:

Now are we sure all knowledge is reveal'd,

All pow'r committed to thee from above,

And without further question we believe

And henceforth know thou camest forth from God.

Do ye at length believe? the Master cried;

Behold, the hour comes on, yea now is come,

When your strong faith shall stagger at the scene

Of these impending horrors, and shrink back

Confounded and appall'd; to the four winds,

Wide as your fears can spread you, all shall fly,

And leave me struggling with a storm of woes

Unfriended and alone; what did I say?

Alone I cannot be, for in me dwells

The Father ever present: Let this thought

Arm you with constancy to meet the shock

Of tribulation, and withstand the powers

Of this brief world; for to your comfort know,

I have o'ercome the world. This said, he paus'd,

And sate, whilst all were hush'd, as one entranc'd,

So fast the heav'nly vision pour'd upon him:

Then with uplifted eyes and heaving breast,

Full of his God, this solemn pray'r breath'd forth.

O Father! give thy glory to the Son,

As he hath glorified thy Name on earth,

And these, whom thou hast giv'n him, taught to know

Thee, the true God alone, and JESUS CHRIST

Thy messenger and advocate with thee

For lost mankind. Father! To me restore

That glory, which was mine before all time,

Or e'er the world was made and man fell off

From his obedience, now at length redeem'd

From sin by my atonement, and made heir

Of life eternal, purchas'd with my blood.

The act of mediation is complete;

Thy work is finish'd and thy Name gone forth

To these of thine election: Thine they were,

To me thou gav'st them, and they have receiv'd

And kept as faithful witnesses thy Word.

For them I pray: The world, which now I leave,

Hath no more part in me; for them alone,

Not for the world, I pray; they must abide,

I shall depart and be at peace with Thee.

O holy Father! keep them in thy Name

Whole and entire, link'd in the bond of faith,

Firm as I hold them. One alone is lost,

Son of perdition; him the prophets saw

In their prospective visions, and foretold

That so thy Son should suffer; but for these,

They are unstain'd, they stand not in the guilt

And condemnation of that wretch accurst.

I pray thee not to take them from the world,

Through which I send them forth as shining lights

To draw men's eyes and hearts, and guide their search

To the bright source, whence thy salvation beams.

These are my ministers, as I am thine:

Oh! sanctify them through thy truth! For them,

And all through them converted to thy word,

Father! I pray. Translate them in thy time

From this unquiet world to that high state

Of heav'nly bliss, where they may dwell with me

And see my glory: So shall they receive

Thy love, through me transfus'd into their hearts,

And rest from all their sorrows in thy peace.

So spake the Lord, and with these gracious words

His faithful remnant cheer'd, for soft they fell

As heav'n's blest dew upon the thirsty hills,

And sweet the healing balm, which they distill'd

On sorrow-wounded souls.—Now treach'rous eve

Crept silent on, and threw her dusky veil

O'er Nature's face, masking the deeds of men:

The Savior rose, for in his conscious breast

A warning voice had whisper'd, Up, arise,

Go forth to death! One solemn act remains,

One sacrifice; 'tis now God's wrath demands

Atonement, a whole world's redemption now

Hangs on the minute's point. Behold him then,

A voluntary victim, leading forth

His sad disciples to the fatal spot,

Where treason lurk'd in ambush for his life,

Where stood the prince of darkness and his pow'rs

Arm'd with commission'd terrors to assail

Him single, him forsaken, him oppos'd

To myriads, whilst Heav'n's angels soar'd aloof

Trembling spectators of th' unequal strife.

Who now so comfortless as God's own Son?

His soul in woes unutterable whelm'd,

All commerce with its native heav'n denied,

Press'd down to earth; nor other strength had he,

Than in his human nature might be found,

To combat more than human agonies,

Accumulated pangs, which all the sins

Of all the world, from loss of Paradise

By man's first fall to the last damning page

Of heav'n's black register, had pil'd upon him,

The mass of ages. Oh! what tongue can speak

The love of our REDEEMER? And yet man,

Ingrateful impious man, hourly reviles

His Benefactor's name, affects the style

Of sophistry and metaphysic pride

To quibble with salvation, and renounce

Those guides, that lead us by the hand to heav'n.

This they call reason, this man's natural right

To question his Creator, and in pride

Of independant dignity reject

Salvation, rather than consent to own

God's privilege to save him by such means

As to God's wisdom best and meetest seem'd.

Such monsters doth this teeming earth produce:

Impious audacity! which dares to say—

I need no Mediator, I disclaim

CHRIST and his offer'd peace; 'twixt God and me

I want no advocate to plead my cause,

By my own rectitude I stand or fall:

The Evangelic Volumes I regard

As fabricated tales of juggling tricks,

Witness'd by none but partners in the craft:

Deep read in pagan story I confront

The sacred records with the silent page

Of those, who register no strange eclipse,

No noon-day darkness, not one friendly groan

Of sympathising Nature to attest

CHRIST's dying hour.—Shut, shut the Book of Life

Go to the Jews, the Pagans, for thy creed,

Go to the dust, blasphemer! In the ear

Of Death whisper thy doubts, and learn of him

Thy folly's confutation and thy doom

In those sad realms, to which he shall conduct

Thy trembling soul, when the Arch-angel's trump

Hath summon'd thee to judgment, and set ope

The grave, thy rashness deem'd for ever clos'd.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK III.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK.

Iscariot, having separated himself from Christ, wanders through the streets of the city in a disconsolate manner, and at length arrives at the brook Cedron without the gates. Here he breaks forth into soliloquy, in which, after reviewing his past situation, he affects to justify his present motives for betraying his Master to the priests. Christ and his disciples, proceeding to the Mount of Olives, are discovered by him as they are passing the brook in their way thither, and Judas resolves upon availing himself of the opportunity for delivering Christ into the hands of his enemies. In the mean time the priests and elders assemble in the palace of Caiaphas, and there hold a council upon the measures to be pursued for the apprehension of Christ: The high priest harangues the assembly to this immediate purport: In the interim Judas is announced, and being admitted makes his proposal to the council; this produces some observations on the part of Caiaphas, and is objected to by Nicodemus, who after delivering his opinion quits the assembly. Caiaphas then takes up the matter afresh, controverts the sentiments of Nicodemus, and with the approbation of all present closes with the proposals of Judas, and sends out a company with that traiterous disciple to the Mount of Olives, there to apprehend the person of Christ. The assembly breaks up, and the hall is no sooner evacuated by the priests and elders, than their seats are filled by Satan and his infernal spirits. Satan addresses to them a congratulatory speech on the success of Mammon's temptation, on whom he bestows many high encomiums; an ovation takes place in honor of that daemon, when Chemos appears wounded by the spear of Gabriel, whom he had encountered on the Mount of Olives, where he had been posted as a spy upon the motions of Christ and his disciples. Satan, enraged at the account, sallies forth with a resolution to revenge the attack by punishing the temerity of Gabriel, arms himself for the occasion, and after much proud vaunting of his superior prowess disappears, and the infernal spirits disperse.

CALVARY. BOOK III. THE TREASON OF JUDAS.

DARK came the ev'ning on, and the pale moon,

Now faintly glimm'ring through a wint'ry cloud,

Shed her dim horrors o'er the shadowy earth;

Whilst through the silent streets with step disturb'd,

And heart by hellish meditations rent,

The Outcast of the Lord pursued his way,

ISCARIOT, name for evermore accurst.

Onward he went unquestion'd, unobserv'd,

For all upon this solemn night kept house,

Nor stopp'd till forth the city gates he came

To Cedron's brook, whose bubbling current laves

The olive-crowned Mount, favor'd of CHRIST

For its umbrageous groves and silent haunts,

For pray'r and contemplation fit retreat.

Here first, as one awaken'd to new thoughts,

Starting he check'd his step, and with a groan,

That rent his lab'ring bosom, thus broke forth.

Oh, my torn heart! Oh, soul-tormenting scenes!

Can I forget the blissful hours I've pass'd

Beneath your shades lift'ning the Master's words?

When as he spake of heav'n and heav'nly joys,

Of righteousness and the blest Spi'rits with God,

Such life in his description glow'd, methought

All Paradise was present to my view

And courted me to enter. Heav'n and earth!

Must I remember? Never man like him

Could with such magic eloquence entrance

The senses of his hearers, lift the soul

To heav'nly contemplations and transport

To thoughts beyond itself; thence to look down

Upon this lower world and all it's cares,

It's pains, it's persecutions with contempt:

Sometimes envelop'd in mysterious schemes

And parables he couch'd the moral truth,

Which painted on the memory left it's tints

Indelible: But when with tongue inspir'd

The fall of nations he foretold, and drew

The curtain of futurity aside;

When in the pomp of numbers he describ'd

Jerusalem beleaguer'd with a host

Of Gentile foes and trodden down to dust,

Her matrons and her virgins whelm'd in blood,

Or dragg'd to violation, shame and bondage

By ruffian spoilers; when his soaring flight,

Spurning the world's wide compass, scal'd the skies,

And there amidst the empyrean fields,

As in his proper region, shook the spheres

Of sun, moon, stars, as with a master's hand,

And shew'd them falling in prophetic awe

Of his own glorious coming in a cloud

With pow'r and state supernal, then our hearts

With sympathetic raptures burnt within us,

And we vain mortals saw, or thought we saw,

Our own vile bodies glorified to share

In his triumphant entry, and ourselves

To dignities and thrones and starry spheres

Exalted, loftiest in the realms of light.

But now these bright illusions are no more;

Vanish'd these glitt'ring scenes, my claims on heav'n

All cancell'd, and my hopes a bankrupt's dream,

Mocking the haunted fancy with a pile

Of visionary wealth. Behold me sham'd,

Banish'd his board, detected, and my thoughts

Turn'd outward to provoke my brethren's scorn,

And blazon forth his prescience: Let that pass!

Traitor pronounc'd, a traitor I will be;

That prophecy at least shall be fulfill'd.

Though master of my will I could refute

And dash his bold prediction, yet my heart

Ponders revenge more suited to it's wrongs,

Greater than such slight triumph can bestow,

And not less terrible than death itself.

This night, the last that he shall walk at large,

This night shall be his triumph or his fall.

If these grave elders, who conspire his death,

These reverend priests revolt not from the deed,

That casts on them, their function and their tribe

The peril of his blood, why should my heart

Shrink from it's purpose? What have I to fear

In act subordinate, in cause supreme,

Traitor prejudg'd, of uncommitted crimes

Arraign'd, and thrown upon the world condemn'd?

More he had said, but, like a serpent coil'd,

With sudden start he shrunk into himself,

And list'ning held his breath to catch the sound.

Of steps, that echoing o'er the flinty soil

Bespoke a company in near approach:

With these the Master's well-known voice he heard;

Whereat, like murd'rous Cain when call'd of God,

The cow'ring conscious outcast slunk aside,

And wrapp'd his russet cloak about his head,

Then darkling stood; the holy troop meanwhile

Forded the shallow brook and held their way

Strait to the Olive Mount, their wonted haunt.

Forth sprung the lurking caitiff from his watch:

The greedy Mammon rush'd upon his heart,

Glorying that now he held them in his net,

Darkness conspiring with occasions apt

Of hour and place to make his vengeance sure.

Remorse was dead within him, every sense

Of virtue lost, yet in his coward breast

Such languor, dread and cold repugnance dwelt,

Scarce could the breath of hell's worst fiend suffice

To blow it into flame: Now sudden rage

Impell'd him onward, now with palsied fear

Struck back, he reel'd and shook in ev'ry joint.

This SATAN saw, and evermore at hand

To drive the wav'ring sinner to his doom,

Breath'd all his spi'rit upon him; direr blast

Cocytus never vented, the full tide

Of aconite engender'd with his blood,

His brain, set ev'ry fev'rish nerve in play,

And screw'd his heated fancy to the pitch

Of daring and defiance; yet the wretch,

Not less a traitor to himself than CHRIST,

Or e'er the acting of the dreadful deed

Thus strove by sophistry to gloss it o'er.

Why do I doubt? What horrors shake my mind?

Why should not my affronted honor stir

Me to betray, as their insulted law

Provokes our elders to destroy their foe?

For Moses they, I for myself oppose;

And where's the wrong, if he, who knows my heart

And all it's meditations, will not deign

To turn it from it's purpose, and divert

The danger he foreknows; nay rather helps

To lure the embryo treason into birth?

Either his own free will makes death it's choice,

And so becomes accomplice in the deed,

Or else, foredoom'd to die, he knows his hour,

And thus, not acting of ourselves but rul'd

By strong necessity, we stand absolv'd,

Mere guiltless tools and instruments of fate.

What then? Why let the Scriptures be fulfill'd,

Let prophecies, which are the voice of God,

Sound out his knell; we fight not against Heav'n.

Let CHRIST, if glory waits him in the grave,

Descend into the dust and seek it there:

If his soul covets to make league with death,

And dwell in consort with corruption's worm,

What time more apt for death than this dark hour,

Image of death itself? And who so fit

As God's high-priest, the temple's minister,

To put life's intervening veil aside,

And usher him to glory? I meanwhile,

His humble harbinger, will go before

T' announce his coming, and make clear the road

That leads to death, the goal of his ambition.

Yet how if all this tame indifference

Be but a feint to draw the world about him,

And then amaze them with some grand display

Of wonder-working power? And who can tell

How far his hand miraculous may stretch,

Who from the tomb pluck'd forth the fest'ring corpse

Of shrowded Lazarus, three days in earth,

And bade him live again? Stupendous act!

This we beheld and hail'd him Lord of Life;

But still the unconverted Jews stood off,

And deem'd us witnesses of slight account,

Weak cred'lous men, first dup'd and thence become

Associates in imposture. What remains

But instantly to put my thoughts in act,

And yield him up to those, who in th' attempt

Succeeding vindicate their disbelief,

Failing abide the shame of their defeat?

In this or that opinion there must be

A dangerous error; to persist were fatal:

This night dispells all doubt: If he be CHRIST,

He lives confest and triumphs over death;

If man, he falls unpitied and abjur'd.

Thus for foul deeds pretending fair excuse,

The caitiff wretch on trait'rous errand bent,

Back through the city gates pursu'd his way,

And to his nightly assignation hied

Perch'd on the summit of the sacred Mount,

Should'ring God's temple, a proud palace stood:

There dwelt the sovereign pontiff, and this night

Held solemn convocation and consult,

Not for God's glory, other cares had they,

Cares nearer to their selfish hearts, concerns

Heav'n had no part in, impious dire cabals

How to prevent the day-spring from on high,

Now by CHRIST's revelation and his acts

Miraculous just dawning on the world,

Aforetime wrapt in darkness black as death,

Best veil for their hypocrisy and craft.

In their great hall of council, there in ranks,

Precedencies and dignities dispos'd,

Doctors and long-rob'd pharisees and scribes

And bearded elders met; senate, to whom

For machinations, plots and secret wiles

Rome's purple conclave stoops. High over all

On throne pontifical in robes of state,

With sacred ephod girt of various hues,

And breast-plate glitt'ring bright with mystic gems,

Mitre-crown'd CAIAPHAS, the temple's chief,

Exalted sate: The sanhedrim was full.

All came, whom lust of power, or bigot zeal,

Or enmity to CHRIST rous'd to the call;

Mouth-worshippers of God, agents of hell

In heart, and hypocrites abhorr'd of CHRIST,

To public scorn held up and pictur'd out

As rebel husbandmen, who basely slew

Their Lord's commission'd Son. Scarce was there one,

Whose galled conscience had not felt the sting

Of some keen truth extorted from the lips

Of the else-humble JESUS, meek to all

But the proud Pharisee or cavi'lling Scribe,

To knaves, who thought by cunning to outwit

Wisdom itself, and snare him in his talk;

To hypocrites, who fasted oft with sad

And woe-worn faces to be seen of men,

Or such as made long pray'rs for a display

Of righteousness, and vaunted their good deeds,

Mocking their conscience and insulting Heav'n:

To these in all the majesty of truth

Frowning he spake, nor spar'd he for rebuke

Severe, indignant; many a time and oft

To their whole sect he had denounced woe,

Woe trebled on their heads: What wonder then,

If thus combin'd by interest to oppose

His spreading glories, their envenom'd hearts

Rankled with envy, hatred and revenge?

Nor were there wanting to their great divan

Those, who can work unseen within the heart,

Dark ministers, who know to touch the springs

And cords, whose movements can convulse the soul

With furious passions, bursting from their mine,

Like sulph'rous fires that tear the quaking earth:

SATAN himself was there, for at this hour

He and his host had furlough upon earth,

Daemons of blood, ambition, envy, strife

Rang'd the vex'd world at large: Loud were their tongues,

And fiery hot their zeal against the Lord,

Whose miracles, resounding through the land,

Rung in their ears the downfall of their pow'r,

Ill-omen'd knell.—Brethren! 'tis time to rouse,

Cried CAIAPHAS, and started from his throne

Furious as Korah, when at his tent door

With his rebellious company he stood,

And waving high his censer call'd aloud

To mutiny 'gainst Moses: So now call'd

With voice as loud, and deeper plung'd in crime

Than these who sunk outright, this second priest,

This worse revolter against God himself

In his own Son reflected; from his state,

High o'er their heads exalted, he look'd down

On all beneath; then with uplifted eyes

And hands extended, as in act to rend

His robes pontifical—Yes, sacred seers,

Again he cried, yes, venerable priests,

Elders, and reverend sages of our law,

'Tis more than time to call your vengeance up;

Awake! ye sleep too long: For me, your slave,

Servant of servants, me, by how much more

In place exalted so much more in heart

Abas'd, as meritless of such high state,

I were content to cast these robes aside,

Pluck off this beard, and on this mitred head,

Unworthy of such honors, scatter dust

And ashes, might such penitence avert

The shame, that for my sins is falling on you,

And quell the mad'ning faction now afloat,

Since this bold Bethlemite hath started up

To mock the church of God. Shall it be said,

That for my punishment these evils light

On you the righteous? that in my day rose

This innovator to conspire your fall,

To broach new doctrines and unhinge the faith

Of the still wavering multitude? If I,

If I am in the crime, if in your thoughts

My negligence hath foster'd this revolt,

Make me your sacrifice, thrust me from hence,

For this high place unfit; set up your cross,

And there exalt me: But if I am clear,

And this your looks encourage me to hope,

If CHRIST not CAIAPHAS deserves the death,

Why do ye pause? What terror holds you back?

Time-honor'd rabbi, elders, sages, guides

And masters of our Israel! ye, by whom

Our synagogues are taught, of God's own law

Interpreters ordain'd, which of your grave

And reverend council will at once unfold

To my yet faithless ears the mighty spell

By which this JESUS works? Who will expound

This prodigy, that sets the crowd agape,

This more than man, of whom the people bruit

These more than human doings? You are dumb;

None offers a reply; for none will say

This wisdom and these mighty works accord

With one so mean of birth, with Joseph's son,

A base mechanic: Fitter task for him

To use his father craft, and humbly ply

The workman's tools, than in the temple sit

Disputing with our doctors; or withdrawn,

As late the Baptist, to some desart mount,

There sit in sullen dignity enthron'd,

And from his rocky theatre declaim

To list'ning thousands. Here be some have heard

His doctrines, many have endur'd his taunts,

And though in wise and well-pois'd minds like your's

Such meteors breed no terror, yet they draw

The gazing vulgar, and so rank a taint

Runs through th' infected fold, that much I doubt

If half the flock of Israel be not touch'd;

So diligent is he to spread the plague,

So careless we to stem it. If his word

Be suffer'd thus to overturn our law,

The monument of ages, then alas!

We've seen the last of these solemnities:

Before this night returns there'll not be found

Or lamb to sacrifice, or priest to slay,

Or temple to receive our Paschal rites;

Rome, whose ambition grasps the conquer'd world,

Shall plant her eagles on our holy mount,

And Jupiter usurp JEHOVAH's shrine.

He paus'd, yet stood as one in act to speak,

Struggling for words, which furious passion choak'd

And stifled on his tongue; a stormy cloud

Hung on his brow, his visage ghastly pale,

Mad'ning with rage he stampt and shook his robe:

As when the Delphic prophetess, convuls'd

And foaming on her tripod, sets aghast

The scar"d enthusiasts, who believe her fill'd

And fighting with the God oracular;

So through the hall of council silence reign'd,

Whilst expectation turn'd all eyes and ears

On their rapt prophet; till the word being giv'n,

That one of CHRIST's disciples stood without

And instant audience crav'd, that awful name

Their spell-bound faculties at once set free;

Instant loud murmurs fill'd the vaulted roof,

Like the deep roar of subterranean tides,

Whose eddies undermine the cavern'd shores

Of sea-girt Mona or Bermuda's isle:

This past, the senate's chief resum'd his throne;

Whence from his state inclining he gave sign

For silence and commanded to admit

Their unexpected suitor; at the word

Wide flew the doors apart, and there behold

With cloak to' the knee tuck'd up and staff in hand

ISCARIOT, caitiff viler than the worst

That e'er wore pilgrim's sanctimonious garb

In after-times, when fierce crusading zeal

Sent forth it's wand'ring eremites to put

The murd'rous sword in meek Religion's hand,

The cross, on which our patient Lord expir'd,

Their badge of victory, and signal made

For their destroying armies, lur'd to war

With pardons earnt in fields of carnage, fought

For God's pretended glory', as if, dire hope!

Rivers of blood could waft their souls to heav'n.

Founder of these, and prototype of all,

Who dy'd the cross with blood, ISCARIOT stood

Full of the fiend, and cast around on all

His haggard eyes, that augur'd vengeful ire

And fraud deep brooding in his treach'rous heart:

When after pause now summon'd to expound

His purpose, whether by his Master sent,

Or self-impell'd, thus MAMMON's convert spake.

Fathers of Israel, patrons of our law,

And chiefly thou, great priest, vicar of God,

And faithful shepherd of the remnant sav'd

From Abraham's scatter'd flock! I muse not, lords,

That you are cast in wonder to behold

Me standing in this place, me, to your cause

Unfriendly deem'd, and, which to all is known

Nor on my part denied, one of the Twelve,

And follower of JESUS. But, grave sirs,

I do adjure you by your love to truth,

No longer wear this jealous eye upon me,

Than to your patient ears I shall unfold,

Why hither I am come, not as a thief

To steal into your councils, spy them out

And after blazon them, but in fair faith

And plain sincerity with no double heart

To make confession sure, and give my life

A pledge into your hands. Stand not amaz'd,

As if it were a thing impossible

That CHRIST's disciple should not be his friend.

Mine hath been toilsome husbandry, my lords,

And none but bitter fruits have I reap'd from it,

Fruits of repentance: Weary days and nights

I've minister'd to him without reward,

And weary miles full many travel'd o'er,

Fainting and pinch'd with hunger; then at night,

When the wild creatures of the earth find rest

And covert in their holes, houseless have watch'd

Amidst the shock of elements, and brav'd

Storms, which the mail'd rhinoceros did not dare

Unshelter'd to abide: Sometimes on sea

Lash'd by the surging waves I've toil'd for life,

Whilst he sate sleeping, reckless of the gale:

Rescu'd from these, for I of force confess

His pow'r is absolute, and safe on shore,

My labors ceas'd not with the scene; new toils,

New tasks succeeded: Now to rocks and caves,

To sandy wilds, or wheresoever else

The Spirit led and desolation reign'd,

His wand'ring steps I follow'd, yes, his steps,

But at what distance from his heart he held me,

Bear witness, mem'ry! Others had his heart,

Peter and James and John, to them he breath'd

The secrets of his soul, on them he shower'd

His promises; of these he made no thrift,

These he abounded in; to me he gave

What he had least in store, a barren purse,

And bade me bear it; no hard task I own,

For it was light as beggary could make it,

But office most ignoble. Here perchance

Your wisdom would demand of me a cause,

Why I endur'd these slights year after year,

And still toil'd on in such a thankless service;

What fascination and what spell, you'll ask,

Doth this man work with, so to charm the mind

And lure it on through mortifying toils,

Sorrows and pains, and, worse than these, contempts,

Yet hold it still enchain'd slave to his will?

Most equal judges, I must here submit

My weakness to your censure, and refer

My cause to mercy, or in self-defence

Conjure you for a moment to descend

From your high state, and to my humble place

And peasant thoughts accord your own great minds:

My lords, I neither mean to varnish o'er

My own too feeble nature, nor to smooth

The rough sincerity of truth through fear

Or flattery of those, 'fore whom I speak:

If JESUS works by spells, I know them not;

Pray'rs but not incantations I have heard;

If these be charms, they are no charms for devils,

Yet such he's charg'd withal: Neither by league

With Beelzebub, as some have gravely urg'd,

Nor art Samaritan, nor else by imp

Or genius, as the heathen loudly vouch

Of their fam'd Socrates, do I believe

His miracles are wrought: Alas, alas!

Which of hell's ministers will be suborn'd

To work his own confusion? No, they shriek,

They tremble, at his bidding they come forth

From men possest, they vanish to the winds,

They sink into the pit from whence they sprung.

I am a man, my lords, not over-prone

To rash credulity, nor apt to veer

With ev'ry breath of doctrine, and I've heard

A voice, that sways the elements, commands

The springs of health, making maim'd nature whole,

Nay, life itself return into the trunk

Which it had left, and give a second pulse

To the cold heart of death: This to have seen,

And not to stand in reverence of the pow'r

That wrought these miracles, were a degree

Of apathy above my nature's reach.

No more! cried CAIAPHAS, no more of this!

You much abuse our patience with this talk.

Here is no place to sound CHRIST's praises forth;

We are not met to recognize his pow'r

And back his daring claims, but to chastise

Imposture, to assert our sacred law,

And vindicate the majesty of Heav'n.

You tell us you are wearied with the tasks

Of a hard Master; quit him then and earn

A better service, earn a rich reward

By yielding him to justice. You well know

His haunts, his privacies, his darkling hours,

When without hazard of a public brawl

We may make lawful seizure for the state

Of his attainted person: On this point,

So you will order your discourse aright,

You may speak freely; of his praise no more.

To him th' Apostate: If from my forc'd lips,

Unwilling witnesses although they be,

Truth wrings this praise, the last which they will utter,

Suffer thus far in candor, and let pass

These words in justice to a Master's fame,

Whom I renounce and with an oath devote

To wrath, to punishment, to death itself,

If death you doom. But oh! most reverend lords,

It is not as a false and juggling cheat,

A dealer with familiars I present him

To your just judgment: Wretches vile as these

Would but disgrace your wrath and my revenge.

But take him as a victim from my hands

Richer than hecatombs of vulgar blood,

A sacrifice for God's high priest to make,

Whilst all earth's scepter'd monarchs stood around

To gaze upon the work. Be not deceiv'd:

I know the jeopardy in which I stand,

Yet I will on; in me is no delay:

This night, this hour, this instant I am your's

To trace him to his haunts, to be your guide

And marshal you to vengeance. But beware!

Let them be chosen men you send, approv'd

And constant, though the heav'ns shall rain down fire,

And the earth rock beneath them: He, who call'd

The dead anatomy to life, can well

Make corpses of the living.—Here the voice

Of one, who nearest to the throne had place,

Cut short the traitor's speech: Of high renown

Was he now rising, NICODEMUS, known

To after-ages as the nightly guest

Of JESUS, and his converse with our Lord

In holy writ recorded: Grave he was,

A Pharisee and ruler of the Jews,

Yet not of soul vindictive like the rest,

Nor aspect arrogant; when thus he spake.

I call the time mispent, that is bestow'd

On loud-tongu'd orators, whose art it is

To launch their hearers upon passion's tide,

And drive them on by gusts of windy words

A giddy desperate course to rocks and shoals,

Which steer'd by sage experience they had shunn'd.

Such shipwreck of our wisdom we might make,

Should we our better senses now permit

To take improv'ident counsel of our ears,

By this high-ton'd declaimer thus assail'd.

I pray you, therefore, carry back your thoughts

To times foregone, when prophets have arose

And boasted mighty works, which, being done

Of man's device and cunning, came to nought:

So will it be with JESUS, if his spirit

Be not of God; time will o'ertake deceit,

If time be let to run; but cut it short

By death's rash stroke, you cover him with glory,

And from his ashes raise a mightier name,

Than living he had reach'd with all the aids

Of artifice to back him. Give me, Heav'n!

That tolerating policy, which shews

No bitterness in speculative points:

Disdaining from my heart what this man says,

A traitor says, who comes to sell his Master,

My sentence never shall affect the life

Of this or any other man accus'd

On vague presumptions, nor will I say, Die!

Till I have that in proof, which merits death:

For if this JESUS vaunts himself to be

What he is not, God will confute his pride;

But if with pow'r divine he acts and speaks,

Commission'd to some awful unseen end,

Shall man contend with God? Vain strife! shall we

Fall off from our great origin, the faith

Of our blest father Abraham? Shall we,

Sore smitten for our trespasses, cut short

And wasted to a remnant, we, on whom

The guiltless blood of all the prophets rests,

Send this man up to heav'n to cry against us,

And to a burthen heavier than enough

Add more and weightier guilt than all the rest?

Heav'n's grace forefend! You have my conscience, lords;

I leave it to your thoughts: I stand absolv'd.

He said, and conscious that his words were lost

Upon obdurate hearts, departed thence,

So warn'd of God, and from the gulph escap'd

Of that night's dire perdition, wherein all

Save him alone were lost. So in the wreck

Of some great admiral, full fraught for war,

When his tall vessel splits, and the bold crew

Plunge quick into th' abyss, Heav'n sometimes deigns

By wond'rous providence to snatch one life

From the devouring waves, and waft him home

A solitary relick, there to tell

God's mercies and his sad companions' fate.

Him thus departing the proud pontiff ey'd

With look malign, and to these taunts gave vent.

Weak is that cause, whose advocate flies from it:

I pause to see if any here will follow.

None moves, none speaks, none seconds his appeal:

'Tis well! One only convert to our foe,

One patron of his cause this senate held,

And holds no longer: Vanish'd, flown, escap'd!

One heart, one mind, one voice now rules the whole.

For me, I nor opinion shift nor place,

Faithful I shrink from neither. You have heard

What this wise elder counsels; he hath left

His conscience as a legacy behind him:

Let him, who loves the giver, take the gift;

I, for such part as to my share may fall,

Scorn to engraft that scyon on my heart,

Which, if admitted, might impart the seeds

Of treason and apostacy like his.

Till cold and hot agree, till selfish fear

And temporising maxims coalesce

With patriot zeal for Israel and firm faith

In God's reveal'd decrees, his thoughts and mine

Will never mix, and the attempt to join

Their jarring elements could only serve

To make this breast a field of mental war.

Mark, brethren, mark how this man contravenes

Your antient just retaliating law.

Moses said—Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth!

So is revenge a virtue: By this rule

JESUS must die; for who puts out the law,

Puts out the light of Israel, stabs the life,

And life for life is justice upon record.

This ordinance our absent elder spurns;

He holds at nought our antient equity,

And sets new doctrines forth; tells us forsooth,

That we must wait the time, wait till the light

Of Israel be extinct, and leave redress

For those, who without eyes can spy it out:

Such councils would make cowards of us all,

Rebels to God, deserters from the faith,

Traitors to Israel. Can I wear these robes,

And wear a heart within so vile, so base?

Tear them away, uncover me to shame,

Make me the scorn of men, if, thus array'd

And trickt in outside honors, I am found

False to that King, whose standard I support.

No, venerable sages, if your rule

Were short to teach us what our duty is,

The very heathen would inform us of it:

The Roman soldier, who deserts his post,

Or sleeping suffers a surprize, shall die;

But we, with God's own armies in our charge,

We, whose commander is the Lord of Hosts,

Should we be found thus criminal, what death,

What doom, more terrible than death itself,

Can recompense such treason? Forth then, lords!

Draw out an armed band and send them forth.

Behold a ready leader! Time yet serves;

This night no stir, no stragglers in our streets

To shake the city's peace: JESUS secur'd

And hither brought, a largess I decree

To all concern'd; to JUDAS a reward

Befitting us to give, him to receive.

No more; loud acclamations shook the hall:

Th' assembly rose, the traitor bow'd assent,

A band of ruffians arm'd with swords and staves

Forth issued with ISCARIOT at their head,

And to the Olive Mountain bent their course.

Oh, hour accurst! Oh, all ye stars of heav'n!

And thou pale waining moon, etherial lights,

First-born of Nature, look not, ye chaste fires,

Upon this monster-breeding earth, but quench

Your conscious lamps and whelm this murd'rous crew

In darkness black as their own damning plot.

And thou, conductor of this Stygian band,

Vile hypocrite, what fiend inspir'd the thought

To hail thy Master with the kiss of peace,

And so betray him? Wretch, the time will come,

When rack'd with horror, and to all hope lost,

Thine agonizing soul shall rue this deed,

Curse its birth-hour, and whilst thy Master soars

To heav'n, triumphant over death and sin,

Thou shalt sink howling to the depths of hell.

Now break your synod up, ye envious priests,

Elders and scribes! prepare your harden'd hearts

To judge the Lord of Life, convene your spies

To forge false witness, and make smooth the way

To man's redemption by the blood of CHRIST,

The very Paschal Lamb, whom by the type

Of this night's sacrifice ye shadow'd forth,

Blind unbelieving prophets as ye are.

Fit hour ye chose, ye murd'rers, to embrue

Your cursed hands in that pure Victim's blood,

Peace-offering for the sins of lost mankind.

Hence to your homes! there meditate new plots;

The fiends shall be your helpers, to your thoughts

Present, though not to sight, they swarm around,

Now here, now there, now hovering over head,

Where, as your enmity to CHRIST breaks forth,

And your blaspheming voices fill the roof,

Like steaming vapors from sulphureous lakes,

Joyous they catch the welcome sounds, and fan

With clapping wings the pestilential air,

Applauding as they soar. Now clear the hall;

Yield up your seats, ye substituted fiends;

Hence, minor daemons! give your masters place!

And hark! the King of Terrors speaks the word,

He calls his shadowy princes, they start forth,

Expand themselves to sight and throng the hall,

A synod of infernals: Forms more dire

Imagination shapes not, when the wretch,

Whom conscience haunts, in the dead hour of night,

Whilst all is dark and silent round his bed,

Sees hideous phantoms in his fev'rish dream,

That stare him into madness with fix'd eyes

And threat'ning faces floating in his brain.

The ghostly monarch mounts the vacant throne;

Gives sign for order, the superiors sit,

Each as his stellar attribute gives rank

And place peculiar, the untitled stand

Circling their LUCIFER, their fallen sun:

He of his state more jealous, as in heart

Conscious of faded glory, in the midst

Now rising, after many a hard essay

To wreathe his war-worn face into a smile,

Semblance at least of joy, at length with voice

Screw'd to the pitch of triumph vaunting cries.

Pow'rs and Dominions, Lords by victory's right

Of earth and man, now from his Maker won

By overthrow of Heav'n's last champion giv'n

In God's own city, battle fairly gain'd

On hostile ground, his Sion's sacred mount,

Warriors, your king applauds you: Thanks, brave friends;

Now shall your temples with loud paeans ring,

Your vindicated altars and your groves

Exhale rich clouds of incense, steaming forth

From od'rous gums; your statues gaily crown'd

With garlands, every trophy, that the art

Of painting or of sculpture can bestow,

Shall be hung round to decorate your shrines;

Your oracles henceforth shall find a voice,

Which future CHRISTS shall never put to silence,

And nations from your lips shall ask their fate:

This day to all posterity shall be

Sacred to games, processions, triumphs, feasts,

And laurel-crowned bards shall hymn your praise.

But sure no spirit of etherial mould,

For such of right ye are, will so forget

His native dignity as to repine,

Or gloat with envy, if I now demand

Your tribute of especial praise to him,

Whom your joint suffrages deputed first

To this important embassy; a spirit

Our subterranean empire cannot mate

For high authority and potent sway

O'er man's subjected heart: MAMMON, stand forth!

Stand forth, thou prosp'rous, rich, persuasive pow'r,

Worshipp'd of all, great idol of the world;

May fortune on thy patient labors smile,

Thou persevering deity! Pursue

Thy darling metal through earth's central veins,

Ransack her womb for mines, send forth thy slaves

To undiscover'd realms and bid them sap

Potosi's glittering mountains for their ore;

Pull down her golden temples, strip her kings,

Rack them with tortures, wring their secrets out

By slow-consuming fires, lay Nature waste,

Let nothing mortal breathe upon the soil

That covers gold: All hell applauds thy zeal,

And all hell's engines shall assist thy search.

He said, and lo! from either side the throne

Upon the signal a seraphic choir

In equal bands came forth; the minstrels strike

Their golden harps; swift o'er the sounding strings

Their flying fingers sweep, whilst to the strain

Melodious voices, though to heav'nly airs

Attun'd no longer, still in sweet accord

Echo the festive song, now full combin'd

Pouring the choral torrent on the ear,

In parts responsive now warbling by turns

Their sprightly quick divisions, swelling now

Through all the compass of their tuneful throats

Their varying cadences, as fancy prompts.

Whereat the Stygian herd, like them of old

Lull'd by the Theban minstrel, stood at gaze

Mute and appeas'd, for music hath a voice,

Which ev'n the devils obey, and for a while

Sweet sounds shall lay their turbid hearts asleep,

Charm'd into sweet oblivion and repose.

The praise of MAMMON the rapt seraphs sung

And Gold's almighty pow'r; free flow'd the verse;

No need to call the Muse, for all were there,

Apollo and the Heliconian Maids,

And all that pagan poet e'er invok'd

Were present to the song. Above the flight

Of bold Alcaeus, Tisias bard divine,

Or Pindar's strain Olympic, high it soar'd

In dithyrambic majesty sublime.

At the right hand of hell's terrific Lord

MAMMON exalted sate, and as the choir

Chanted their hymn, his swelling bosom throbb'd

In concert with the strain; pride flush'd his cheek

Furrow'd with care and toil, his eyes, now rais'd

From earth, their proper center, sparkling gleam'd

Malicious triumph, whilst ovations loud

And thund'ring plaudits shook the trembling roof.

The song was clos'd, and, order now resum'd,

MAMMON stood forth to speak; when ere the words

From his slow lips found way, the infernal King,

With eager action starting from his throne,

Gave sign for silence and thus interpos'd.

Pause, worthy spi'rit, awhile! my mind forebodes

Cares more immediate, for amid the throng

I spy our faithful CHEMOS; well I know

'Tis not on slight occasion he hath left

The post assign'd him; and behold! his looks

Augur important tidings. Fall back, friends,

And give our gallant centinel access.

Obedient to the word the opening files

Fell back and let him pass; he to the throne

Low rev'rence made, and thus his chief address'd.

Imperial Lord of this seraphic host,

As I kept station on the faithless Mount,

Where once my altar blaz'd, revolted now

From it's allegiance and with olive crown'd

In token of God's peace, I thence descried

By glimpse of the pale moon a vagrant train,

With JESUS at their head, fording the brook,

As thither bound: I couch'd upon the watch,

So bidd'n, and to their talk gave heedful ear.

A melancholy theme the Master chose:

Sadly he warns them of his own death's hour

Now near impending, and how all shall fly,

Like scatter'd sheep, and their lone Shepherd leave

Forlorn, abandon'd: This the fiery zeal

Of PETER, to our chief well known, disclaims,

Who boldly vouches, though all else should swerve,

His own unshaken constancy; when CHRIST,

Severe though not with railing, him reproves,

And solemnly denounces triple breach

Of this vain boast, and instant, for this night,

Or e'er the cock's shrill trumpet twice shall sound,

So CHRIST predicts, he shall be thrice denied

Of this self-vaunting man: All this I heard,

And held it for my duty to report;

What more ensu'd imperfectly I learn;

For now the Master taketh three apart,

And much disturb'd in soul and sore amaz'd

Wills them stand off and watch, whilst he retires

And vents his grief in pray'r: I saw him fall

Prostrate to earth, and vent such heart-felt groans,

That were I other than I am, less wrong'd,

Less hostile to the tyranny of Heaven,

Whence I am exil'd, I had then let fall

Weak pity's tear and been my nature's fool.

But, lords, I cannot so forget your cause,

Or my own wrongs, nor would I wear a heart

Made of such melting stuff. With noiseless tread

The kneeling Suppliant I approach'd, and mark'd

His agony of soul, whilst from his brow

I saw large drops and gouttes of bloody sweat

Incarnardine the dust, on which they fell.

Bear witness, my revenge, 'twas there, ev'n there,

The very spot, on which he knelt and pray'd,

Where now his blood, wrung out by agony

As in atonement, dropt, on which my shrine,

Rear'd by the wives of the uxorious king,

Deck'd out with blazing tapers proudly shone,

And front to front of God's own temple stood,

Till Asa's parricidal hand pluck'd up

Maacha's groves and burnt my shrine to dust.

Now hear the sequel: As I stood at gaze,

Noting his pray'r, one of the heav'nly band

And of the highest, GABRIEL, with his spear

Couch'd as for combat, started forth to view,

And frowning bade me take my flight with speed,

Nor trouble that just person: Valiant peers!

I am not one to back at his proud bidding,

Nor ever did I turn my face to flight

Save in our army's universal rout,

When all from heav'n fell headlong to the gulph:

Such weapon as I had, this trenchant sword

Of adamantine proof, forthwith I drew;

But ere my arm could wield it, swift as thought

I felt his spear's sharp point with forceful thrust

Deep plung'd into my side: Staggering, amaz'd,

I gave back so compell'd; he still advanc'd

Arm'd for a second onset, when my strength

Foil'd, though immortal, and my sight grown dim,

My wound the whilst sore rankling, I took wing

And hither came on painful pinions borne,

Your faithful servant, whether to attempt

Fresh battle, or my present loss repair.

This said, he put his azure tunic by,

And bar'd his wounded side, where GABRIEL's spear

Had lodg'd it's massy fluke, a ghastly-chasm

Trench'd by the force of arch-angelic arm,

And to aught else than deathless spirit death.

Fir'd at the sight with eyes that sparkling blaz'd

SATAN uprose, and thus infuriate spake.

GABRIEL in arms! Hah! warriors, we are brav'd:

CHRIST hath his guard about him and defies us.

If this immortal spirit could not stand,

What shall ISCARIOT do? Myself will forth;

We shall then see who wields the stronger lance,

SATAN or GABRIEL: In the fields of heaven,

In the mid-air, on earth, in deepest hell

He knows my might superior, and shall rue

His dastardly assault. Why not with me,

The sender rather than the sent, this strife?

So might he boast the contest, though subdued.

The scars by this sharp sword in battle dealt

Are the best honors GABRIEL hath to vaunt;

The brightest laurels on his brow are those

I planted when in equal fight I deign'd

To measure spears with such inferior foe.

Doth GABRIEL think God's favour can reverse

Immutable pre-eminence, and raise

His menial sphere to that, in which I shone

Son of the morning? Doth he vainly hope

Exil'd from heav'n we left our courage there,

Or lost it in our fall, or that hell's fires

Have parch'd and wither'd our shrunk sinews up?

Delusive hope! the warrior's nerve is strung

By exercise, by pain, by glorious toil:

The torrid clime of hell, it's burning rock,

It's gulph of liquid flames, in which we roll'd,

Have calcin'd our strong hearts, breath'd their own fires

Into our veins, and forg'd those nerves to steel,

Which heav'n's calm aether, her voluptuous skies

And frequent adorations well nigh smooth'd

To the soft flexibility of slaves,

Till bold rebellion shook it's fetters off,

And with their clangor rais'd so brave a storm,

That God's eternal throne rock'd to it's base.

Now break we up this council: Each disperse

Or to his post, his pleasure or pursuit;

Sufficeth for this task my single arm:

CHEMOS shall be reveng'd; the public zeal

Of MAMMON still shall be our theme of praise;

Nor shall ISCARIOT's nightly plot be foil'd

By intervening angels, nor these priests,

Whose seats we fill and whose allies we are,

Fail of their victim, or find us remiss

To second them in this our common league

And joint emprize against the pow'rs of Heav'n.

'Twas said, the princes of th' assembly rose

In reverence to his will; the legion round

Smote on their shields the signal of assent.

Tow'ring he stood, the Majesty of Hell,

Dark o'er his brows thick clouds of vengeance roll'd,

Thunder was in his voice, his eye shot fire,

And loud he call'd for buckler and for spear;

These bold AZAZEL bore, enormous weight,

For Atlantean spirit proper charge:

With eager grasp he seiz'd the towering mast,

And shook it like a twig; then with a frown,

That aw'd the stoutest heart, gave sign for all

Strait to disperse, and vanish'd from their sight.

END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK IV.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

A general review of Christ's agony in the garden: His disciples, who are ordered to watch, fall asleep; Christ prays apart; he wakens them, and warns them to watch left they enter into temptation. Satan arrives, and takes post near the spot where Christ is praying in his agony: He is discovered by Gabriel, the supporting angel; their interview described: Christ approaches, and reproving Satan, by the word of power casts him to the ground disabled and in torments. Judas now advances with an armed company; betrays his Master with a kiss; Christ is seized and carried away to the palace of the high priest. Satan, unable to rise, laments over his disconsolate condition: He is discovered by Mammon, who consoles him and assists in raising him from the ground: Satan testifies to the power and divinity of Christ, feels a presentiment of his impending doom, and having delivered his last injunctions to Mammon, is lifted from the earth by a stormy gust and carried through the air out fight of that evil spirit, who terrified by the fate of his chief turns to flight and escapes.

CALVARY. BOOK IV. THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

O MOUNT of Agony! water'd with tears

From my Redeemer's eyes, and by his knees,

Pressing thy turf, made sacred as the ground,

Where ev'n the Chosen Shepherd might not stand

But with unsandal'd feet, Ah! where is now

That purifying Angel me to cleanse

From this vile world, that so I may approach,

Though but in thought, with a right spi'rit renew'd,

Thy hallow'd solitude? Lo! where the Lord

Sorrowing retires apart: Where are the Three

Station'd to guard his sacred privacy?

Stand they aloof, as their forefathers stood,

When from the midst of darkness, cloud and fire,

JEHOVAH thunder'd out of Sinai's mount?

Ah, no! within that olive grove they lie

Stretch'd on the ground, a drowsy slumb'ring guard.

And could ye not, ye sleepers, watch one hour

For such a Master? Oh! what heart could taste

Of rest or peace, whilst his was rack'd with pain?

Was it the sighs his suffering virtue breath'd

Into the air of sad Gethsemane,

That so entranc'd your senses? Or was he,

The strength'ning Angel, sent from Heav'n to shield

The Savior's anguish from all human eyes,

And veil the mystery of that awful hour?

Then was that angry cup, full mix'd and red

From God's right hand, presented to his lips:

The bitter essence of origi'nal sin,

With every life-destroying extract, drawn

From man's corruption since, were there infus'd,

Compounded and resolved into that draught,

Mix'd by the hand of Death and drugg'd in hell.

The coward, shrinking under fortune's blows,

With desperate lip hath oft-times drank and died;

'Tis refuge, 'tis desertion from a post

He dare defend no longer, 'tis the hope,

False fruitless hope, of a perpetual sleep,

When he hath bottom'd that Lethaean cup:

But our Redeemer's potion was not such;

Horrors and heart-dissolving woes and pangs,

That mock imagination's scope, and stretch

The heart's strong cordage, till it bursts asunder

And leaves the mind a wreck, these were the drugs,

That brew'd that cup of agony, which God

Now tender'd as the wrath-atoning draught

For a revolted world! Mysterious act!

The Father sacrifice the Son belov'd!

The just to spare the unjust lay the rod

Upon the guiltless head! Shall all offend,

And One atone for all? One Victim bear

The accumulated load of punishment,

The mass of vengeance, that amazing whole,

Which each particu'lar sin had pil'd in store,

And that devoted sacrifice a Lamb

Pure, without spot or blemish? O my soul!

Beware, nor to that tabernacle press,

Where clouds and darkness canopy thy God.

Lo! where the Savior kneels; he looks around

For some to succour, to support, some friend,

Whose sympathising eye might beam upon him,

And with a moment's glance of pity chear

His desolated spirit. All around

Is vacant horror, solitary, dark;

The partners of his heart, the chosen few,

The friends, who should have watch'd, are wrapt in sleep,

Insensible, supine, oblivious sleep;

Woes multiplied by woe, and that the worst,

Ingratitude, the sharpest fang that gnaws

Man's bleeding bosom. In this sad extreme,

His soul revolting from the noisome draught,

With eyes to Heav'n uplifted, and a sigh,

Which shew'd that human weakness then o'erpower'd

His soul's diviner part—Abba! he cries,

Father, all things are possible to Thee,

Remove this cup!—Then bows his patient head

And qualifies the pray'r—Yet not my will,

But Thine be done!—No voice from Heav'n replies:

All Nature sleeps in silence still as death,

As if the planets in their spheres had paus'd

To watch the trembling balance, on whose point

The fortunes of this globe suspended hung,

It's ruin or redemption, death or life.

'Twas then the strength'ning Angel dealt the blow,

That put the hovering spy of hell to flight,

Seen of our Lord in ambush where he lay.

And now the Mourner rises from the earth,

On which he knelt, and a few paces moves

Pensive and slow to find his station'd friends:

He finds them not as friends upon the watch,

Not as God's faithful soldiers should be found,

But at their length stretch'd out in lazy sleep

With folded arms supine. Rous'd by his voice

They stare, they start confounded and amaz'd.

Could ye not watch one hour? the Sufferer cries:

Watch, for the foe of man is near at hand;

Pray, lest ye fall into the Tempter's snare:

The spi'rit is ready, but the flesh is weak.

So warn'd, he leaves them with this mild rebuke:

A second time he seeks the dismal dell,

Again he prays remission of his woe,

And deprecates the agonizing cup:

Meanwhile his drowsy centinels perceive

A languor, which their senses must obey,

And down they sink, their leaden eye-balls clos'd

As in a death-like trance. Again he comes,

Again he calls, a second warning gives,

And so departs.—Now SATAN on the wing

Swift as a fiery meteor rides the air,

With shield and spear arm'd at all points for war:

Then down at once with huge Titanian bulk,

Plumb down he lights upon the solid soil,

Hard by th' angelic post: Earth felt the shock,

And trembling to her center inly groan'd.

Nor did his haughty courage deign to crouch,

Or lurk with lion watch, but firm of foot

Erect and confident in arms he stood,

As one, whose prowess all advantage scorn'd.

And mean surprize of an unguarded foe:

Such arts to weaker spirits he resign'd;

He of his former self felt no decay,

Or feeling scorn'd confession, for his pride

Still deem'd that heav'n, though lost, contain'd no peer

To mate with him in hardihood and proof,

Save only the Almighty; to such heighth

Of arrogance had pow'r long time usurp'd

Over the Gentile nations, and the sight

Of God's own Son, now, as he falsely deem'd,

Vanquish'd and prostrate, swell'd his impious heart.

Our blessed Lord meanwhile having preferr'd

For the last time his interceding prayer,

Summon'd his strength, and conscious that the hour

Was come, which finish'd or revok'd the task

Of man's redemption from the powers of hell,

Whose representative hard by at hand

Stood eager to arrest the forfeit prize,

Put forth his hand, and as he took the cup,

SATAN, who stood spectator of the deed,

Started aghast; cold tremor shook his joints,

His threat'ning spear now droop'd, and his broad shield,

So proudly borne aloft, weigh'd down his arm

Slack and unnerv'd; confusion seiz'd his heart,

And his high courage quail'd. This GABRIEL saw,

Yet left he not his post till CHRIST had drain'd

The cup mysterious; to its lowest dregs

He drank it; now convulsion shook the fiend,

Death shriek'd amain and through his hollow ribs

Drove his own ebon dart with desp'rate rage.

Bitter the draught and hateful to the taste,

But Immortality had crown'd the cup,

And Light and Life on phoenix wings sprung forth

From the foul dregs in new-born glories bright.

GABRIEL, who knew that by this solemn act

Thus happily perform'd his charge expir'd,

Now turn'd away in search of that fierce spi'rit,

Whom thro' the darkling covert he had seen,

Whilst by the side of God's afflicted Son

Minist'ring he stood: Right well he knew the form

And towering port of hell's terrific King;

Nor had the dire confusion and dismay

Of that fell daemon scap'd th' angelic glance.

Him now within a gloomy dell retir'd

To further distance, wrapt as it should seem

In pensive thought, the Guardian Seraph spied.

In the same moment SATAN's ghastly eye

Glanc'd on his foe: bright in caerulean arms

Heav'n's champion shone, high o'er his crested helm

The arch-angelic plume triformed wav'd,

Ensign of throned state and high command.

The grifly monarch gnash'd his teeth with spite

To find himself encounter'd at such odds;

His foe fresh blooming in immortal youth,

Vigorous, in heav'nly-temper'd armor brac'd;

Himself at this ill hour surpriz'd, his strength

As by enchantment blasted, and that voice,

Which in the ears of all hell's princes vouch'd

Such bold achievements, shrunk from it's high pitch

To feeble murmurs and weak whining sighs.

So when on Zama's plain the rival chiefs,

Rome's consul and the Punic captain, met

To parley in mid-way 'twixt either camp,

The war-worn veteran, blighted and defac'd

By wint'ry marches over noisome fens

And snows on mountains pil'd, with envious eye,

Sole relick of his toil, survey'd the form

And blooming features of his youthful foe;

Then to his mind recalling glories past,

When his proud menace aw'd immortal Rome,

Sigh'd to reflect how far in the decline

From that bright morn his evening sun had sunk;

Then ey'd the youth again, and in his face,

Shadow'd by fate, saw Carthage doom'd to fall,

And his own glories to a foe transferr'd

Less than his equal once, his conqu'ror now.

But 'twas not long that SATAN so endur'd,

For now the conscious sense of former deeds

Bold, though unblest, and high innate disdain

Of mean capitulation and demur

Rous'd his proud heart, like a hot courser spurr'd,

To chase and lash his languid courage up:

Red'ning he swell'd, and gnaw'd his nether lip

For vengeance that it would not give him words

To hurl defiance on th' advancing foe:

When GABRIEL, noting his disorder'd mien

And haggard aspect, strait bespoke the fiend.

Thus ever may the foe of CHRIST be found

Speechless, abash'd, struck down of Heav'n and quell'd!

How long, malicious Spi'rit, wilt thou persist

To trouble this vex'd earth? How long to haunt

This righteous person, whole strong virtue mocks

Thy faint attempts? Warn'd by this shame, avaunt!

Hence, baffled Tempter! roaming thus at large,

Thou dost but shew by melancholy proof,

That a tormented conscience never rests.

As the fierce panther, through the ribs transfix'd,

Writhes round the bloody weapon in his side,

And tugs it to and fro with foamy teeth,

Mad'ning with pain and gnashing at his wound;

So 'gainst himself and foe alike enrag'd,

Hell's gloomy Lord, by this deserved taunt

Cut to the heart, with many a hard essay

Struggled for voice; at length collecting breath,

These words disdainful, though of their full tone

And energy abated, found their way.

GABRIEL, the brave in danger earn renown;

True valor spares the weak, but thou, more wise

Than valiant, studiest well the safer hour,

When to come forth and wage inglorious war

'Gainst unprovided foes; if CHEMOS then,

Or some slight Cherub, cross thy wary path,

Woe to the straggler! if thy barbed spear

Can make safe tilt at his unweapon'd side.

But I, who day and night have pac'd this globe,

Found in all quarters, I, who never shun'd,

Rather have sought, thy walk, am left to roam

Free and of thee unquestion'd from the hour,

When on the confines of this new-made world

We parlied under Eden's shady fence,

To th' instant now, when faint and ill at ease,

Unwarlike Angel, thou hast found me here

Nerveless, and little more than match for thee.

To whom th' indignant Virtue thus reply'd:

If SATAN here is found in evil plight,

He's found of me unsought. Thine own dark wiles,

Degen'rate Spi'rit, and Heav'n's all-ruling hand

Have cast thee in my way. Must I turn off

From duty's road direct because forsooth

A wounded adder hisses in my path?

Why didst thou press into this place of prayer,

This hallow'd solitude, where CHRIST hath breath'd

A charm, that withers up thy blasted strength?

Could'st thou not learn, by late experience taught,

There is a sphere about the Son of God,

In which no spi'rit like thee accurst can draw

His breath blaspheming? At a word begone!

Though with my foot I could have spurn'd thee hence,

I tread not on the fall'n; nor do I vaunt

Conquest of thee; that to a mightier arm,

Rebel to God, to God's own Son thou ow'st,

To CHRIST, not GABRIEL: Nor shalt thou alone

Stoop to his name, but every idol God,

And ev'ry pow'r of darkness with their prince,

And Sin hell-born, and thy soul offspring Death.

Whereto, by these prophetic words appall'd,

SATAN with taunting argument replied.

Since this angelic form, from death exempt,

Sometimes shall yield to aches and transient pains

And natural ailments for awhile endur'd,

What wonder, if etherial spi'rit like me,

Pent in this atmosphere and fain to breathe

The lazy fogs of this unwholesome earth,

Pine for his native clime? What, if he droop,

Worn out with care and toil! Wert thou as I

Driv'n to and fro, and by God's thunder hurl'd

From Heav'n's high ramparts, would that silken form

Abide the tossing on hell's fiery lake?

Hadst thou like me travers'd the vast profound

Of antient Night, and beat the weary wing

Through stormy Chaos, voyage rude as this

Wou'd ruffle those fine plumes. I've kept my course

Through hurricanes, the least of which let loose

On this firm globe would winnow it to dust,

Snap like a weaver's thread the mighty chain,

That links it to heav'n's adamantine floor,

And whirl it through the Infinite of Space.

And what hast thou, soft Cherub, done the whilst?

What are thy labors? What hast thou atchiev'd?

Heav'n knows no winter, there no tempests howl;

To breathe perpetual spring, to sleep supine

On flowery beds of amaranth and rose,

Voluptuous slavery, was GABRIEL's choice:

His bosom never drew th' indignant sigh,

That rent my heart, when call'd to morning hymn

I paid compulsive homage at God's throne,

Warbling feign'd hallelujahs to his praise.

Spirits of abject mould, and such art thou,

May call this easy service, for they love

Ignoble ease; to me the fulsome task

Was bitterest slavery, and though I fell,

I fell opposing; exil'd both from heav'n

Freedom and I shar'd the same glorious fall.

Go back then to thy drudgery of praise,

Practise new canticles and tune thy throat

To flattery's fawning pitch; leave me my groans,

Leave me to teach these echoes how to curse;

Here let me lie and make this rugged stone

My couch, my canopy this stormy cloud,

That rolls stern winter o'er my fenceless head;

'Tis freedom's privilege, nor tribute owes,

Nor tribute pays to Heav'n's despotic King.

Thus whilst he spake, the Savior of mankind,

New ris'n from pray'r, drew nigh; whereat the fiend,

Or e'er the awful presence met his eye,

Shivering, as one by sudden fever seiz'd,

Turn'd deadly pale; then fell to earth convuls'd.

Dire were the yells he vented, fierce the throes

That writh'd his toitur'd frame, whilst through the seams

And chinks, that in his jointed armour gap'd,

Blue sulph'rous flames in livid flashes burst,

So hot the hell within his fuel'd heart,

Which like a furnace sev'n times heated rag'd.

Meanwhile the winged Messenger of Heaven,

GABRIEL, with horror and amazement fix'd,

Stood motionless behind his orbed shield:

Not so the Savior; he with look compos'd

And stedfast noting the disastrous plight

Of that tormented fiend, these words address'd.

SATAN, thou see'st the serpent's primal curse

At length falls heavy on thy bruised head;

When man lost Paradise, by thee betray'd,

This was thy doom, Deceiver; and although

Ages have roll'd on ages since, yet God,

Who from eternal to eternal lives

Blessed for evermore, computes not time

As thou, whose mis'ry makes short years seem long.

Yet was the interim thine, and thou, who first

Brought'st sin into the world, hast reign'd in sin:

Thou hadst the power of death, but I through death

Am destin'd to destroy that power and thee.

And now my hour is come, I go to death,

That all through me may live; therefore begone!

Get thee behind me! Thou hast now no part

On earth, thy dwelling is prepar'd in hell:

There when we meet, expect to meet thy doom.

This said, the fiend replied not but with groans,

Nor staid the Angel longer than to turn

One last sad look upon his prostrate foe,

Then flew to heav'n. The Savior bent his steps

In search of his disciples; them he found

Wrapt as before in sleep.—Sleep on, he cried,

And henceforth take your rest: It is enough:

The hour is come. Behold! the Son of man

Into the hands of sinners is betray'd:

Rise, let us go! The traitor is at hand.

And lo! while yet he spake a mingled crew

Arm'd and unarm'd approach; before them all

JUDAS advancing thus bespeaks the throng:

Whom I shall kiss is He, the CHRIST; Him seize

And in safe keeping hold.—Upon the word

He gives the trait'rous greeting, and exclaims,

Hail, Master!—When at once the swarming crowd

Rush in a space, then stand in circle round,

Like blood-hounds held at bay, their eager eyes

Fix'd on his face, which to behold they rear

Their flaming torches, whilst the prospect round

Glares with the ruddy blaze; a ghastly troop,

Like that dread chorus, which the tragic bard

Pour'd on the scene, when the Athenian wives

Dropt their abortive burthens with affright,

To see their snaky locks and fiery brands

Kindled in Phlegethon's sulphureous waves:

So glares that haggard crew; in front they see

JESUS in conscious majesty unmov'd,

Behind him to some little space withdrawn

PETER and JAMES and JOHN, the chosen Three,

Small band, but in their Leader's power a host

Invincible, 'gainst whom whole armies leagu'd

Were but as chaff before the whirlwind's blast,

Had he so will'd; but now with accent firm,

Whom seek ye? he demands: They answer make,

JESUS of Nazareth.—I am the man,

JESUS replies; He, whom ye seek, is found.

His air, his utterance and that voice divine,

Which could have arm'd Heav'n's legions in his cause,

Or gulph'd them to the center at a word,

Swift as the vollied thunder smote their hearts,

And hurl'd them to the ground: Headlong they fell

With hideous crash, nor ever thence had ris'n,

Had not his gracious purpose so decreed

For man's redemption: Up they rise from earth,

And in like manner to the same demand

A second time make answer; he repeats—

I told you, and ye heard, that I am He:

If therefore me ye seek, let these depart.

Then burst the chidden zeal of PETER forth,

Arm'd with a sword he rush'd upon the throng

And at the foremost aim'd a random blow,

That gash'd the caitiff's head, but miss'd the life.

Put up thy sword, rash man! the Savior cries,

Did I want rescue, would I ask of thee,

With all my Father's Angels at command?

No! let me do His will and drink His cup:

And you, that here encompass me about,

As 'twere a felon ye came out to take,

With swords and staves, suffer thus far, behold!

The wound his weapon makes my touch shall heal:

'Tis done! Know all, that they, who take the sword,

Shall perish by the sword. What needs this stir,

This midnight plotting and this traitor's kiss,

These staves, these torches and this arm'd array

To make one harmless peaceful man your prize?

You saw me daily in my public walks,

Freely we commun'd, for you harm'd me not;

You heard me in the Temple; for I taught

In very zeal the simple way of truth,

Lab'ring full hard to turn your hearts to God:

If this were my offence, why not arrest

Your Preacher in the act, and drag to death

Him, who would fain have train'd you in the road

To life eternal? Never on the poor

Turn'd I my back; I courted not the rich;

Were this my fault, in the broad face of day

Ye might have smitten me and earn'd the praise

Of the proud Pharisee and braggart Scribe:

I fed the hungry and I heal'd your sick,

I succour'd the tormented and possest;

Are these the heinous acts for which I die?

In field, in city, in frequented ways

The wretched flock'd around, if these be crimes,

Why is their punishment so long reserv'd

To this dark hour of night? The sun himself

Witness'd my doings, so might he my death.

But see! my followers are dispers'd and fled,

And I stand in your peril here alone:

No need to fear him, who makes no defence;

Conduct me to my doom: God's will be done!

This said, their sacrilegious hands they laid

Upon his sacred person: He in' the midst

With meek composure and submitted look

March'd slowly onward, as they led the way

To the proud dome of CAIAPHAS, high-priest

Of MOLOCH than of God more fitly call'd.

Oh! ye hard hearts, was this the Paschal Lamb,

Ye worse than pagan butchers, whom ye cull'd

Pure and unspotted for your bloody feast?

Well did your lawgiver decree this day

A record and memorial to be kept

Throughout your generations to all time;

A memorable day, a noted feast

Your stubborn incredulity hath made it.

To you a day of darkness and disgrace;

To us Salvation's glorious dawn, to us

By our great Captain led, the Lord of Life,

Who through the darksome avenue of death

And depths mysterious of the mazy grave,

Holding the clue of prophecy in hand,

Unravell'd all the ways of Providence

And to our view set ope the golden gates

Of Paradise regain'd, whence light and life

And bliss eternal beam on all mankind;

For all, who with their lips confess the Lord,

And in their hearts believe that from the dead

God in his pow'r hath rais'd him, shall be sav'd.

Meanwhile the prince of hell, whom CHRIST had left

Rolling in torments on the stony rock,

Mad as leviathan, when tempest-wreck'd

Flound'ring he lies upon the shoaly beach,

Now to one last and desperate effort driv'n,

Straining each nerve with many a dolorous groan

Half his huge length had rear'd. His right hand grasp'd

His spear, the other on his buckler propp'd

Pillow'd his head, raging with pain and thoughts

Black as the night around him: To arise

And stand surpass'd his power; in vain he spread

His feathery vans to raise him in the air;

About him all the ground with azure plumes

Beat from his shatter'd pinions was bestrewn:

Despair now seiz'd him, now too late he rued

His blasphemies and bold rebellious taunts

'Gainst Heav'n's Omnipotent, his Judge incens'd:

Hopeless of mercy now he curs'd his doom

Of immortality, and as he roll'd

His haggard eyes in night, hell's flaming gulph,

Terrific vision, seem'd to burst upon him

With treble horrors charg'd; then with a sigh,

That strain'd his heaving cors'let, he breath'd forth

In murmuring lamentations these sad words.

Ah! who will lift me from this iron bed,

On which Prometheus-like for ever link'd

And rivetted by dire necessity

I'm doom'd to lie, and wail the cruel boon

Of immortality, my baneful fate?

O earth, earth, earth! Cannot my groans pervade

Thy stony heart to' embowel me alive

Under this rock, before to-morrow's sun

Find me here weltering in the sordid dust,

A spectacle of scorn to all my host,

Wont to behold in me their kingly chief?

Will not some pitying earthquake gulph me down

To where the everlasting fountains sleep,

That in those wat'ry caverns I might slake

These fires, that shrivel my parch'd sinews up?

Ah! whither shall I turn? who will unbrace

This scalding mail, that burns my tortur'd breast

Worse than the shirt of Nessus? Oh! for pity,

Grant me a moment's interval of ease,

Avenging, angry Deity! Draw back

Thy red right hand, that with the light'ning arm'd

Thrust to my heart makes all my boiling blood

Hiss in my veins; or if thou wilt destroy

Whom thou hast vanquish'd, terminate these feuds

'Twixt good and evil, thee and me, reduce

This incorruptible to mould'ring dust,

Make Death a parricide, and so conclude

Me and my sufferings and my sins at once.

But 'twill not be. Happy I might have been,

Immortal I must be: God can create

Nothing but bliss; I made the pains I feel:

Sorrow had no existence, Death no name

'Till I lost heav'n; to be was to be blest,

And beings blest could never cease to be.

This earth and man its habitant were good,

Till envy, pride, rebellion, in my heart

Engend'ring, marr'd God's perfect work with sin;

And but for sin the universe were heav'n:

So am I author of the hell within me,

And these tormenting fires God cannot quench;

For that would be to turn from what he is,

Parent of good, and to become like me

Patron and friend of evil. Reas'ning thus

I must renounce all hope of future peace,

And wage eternal enmity with God,

Whom longer to oppose I now despair,

And under whose strong hand weigh'd down to earth

Prostrate, confounded, I can rise no more.

Must I be ever thus? Must these fierce pangs,

Or worse, if worse can be, torment me ever?

Are there no means to make a truce with Heav'n?

Submission, penitence, atonement, pray'rs

And intercessions—Oh! fallacious, vain,

Impracticable terms! Can pride shed tears,

Falsehood keep faith, or perjury pass it's oath

Upon that Judge, to whom all hearts are known?

It cannot be. Ages of sin have roll'd

'Twixt me and pardon, gulph impassable.

Man's loss of Paradise, a delug'd world,

Sin paramount on earth, the nations turn'd

From God to idols, scarce a remnant left

Of this his chosen race, corruption spread

Ev'n to' the heart of Judah', and from this Mount,

Sad witness of my overthrow and shame,

Scene of my triumphs once, his standard torn

And hell's proud banners flanting in it's place;

These and a countless multitude of wrongs

Cry in the catalogue so loud against me,

That should the thunder of God's vengeance sleep,

Mercy herself would seize th' uplifted bolt

And speed the ling'ring blow. What is my hope,

If such the task to purchase peace for man,

Man so subordinate in sin to me,

The spring and fountain-head of that soul stream,

Which he at distance drank? If CHRIST must die

For man, if nothing less than God's own Son

Can stand betwixt the Father's wrath and man,

What mediator can be found for me?

None, and no wonder if his wrath, withdrawn

From man now pardon'd, fall with worse recoil

On my devoted head: Ev'n now it falls.

Me like an eagle in my tow'ring flight,

From the proud zenith of the sun's bright sphere

Headlong he hurls to earth with shatter'd wing

And plumes dishevell'd grov'ling in the dust:

Me, the sole mover of man's foul revolt,

He marks for tenfold vengeance; for if CHRIST,

The patient meek Redeemer, groans in pain,

What shall the Tempter feel? If on the rack

Of agony his guiltless brow sweats blood,

Well may this body' of sin burst out in flames,

A conflagration horrible to sight,

And blazing beacon to th' astonish'd world.

And what is this vile JUDAS, who seduc'd

By wily MAMMON sells his Master's life?

What PETER's self, whom, had not JESUS pray'd,

I'd sifted into chaff? These purblind priests,

Who with their half-shut eyes askance behold

Their own Messias in his wond'rous acts,

Yet give those wonders to the powers of hell,

And trembling for their craft complot his death,

What are they? Whence but from myself their lyes?

'Tis I in them, and not they of themselves,

That kill the Prince of Peace; his guiltless blood

Sprinkles their hands, but in a flood-gate tide

Redder than scarlet whelms my sinking soul.

He ceas'd, and in his mantle hid his face

For shame and sorrow to be thus surpriz'd;

For MAMMON, ever on the foot by night,

Had spied him through the gloom, and thus began.

What ails thee, Prince of air, that here thou liest

On the dull earth, not resting it should seem

From victory, but vanquish'd and o'erthrown?

Vanquish'd, alas! and in the dust o'erthrown

By God's all-pow'rful Son, SATAN replied,

Too sure I am; and how it wrings this heart

So to be found of thee words cannot speak.

Yet thou of all the spirits heav'n hath lost

Art he, of whom my pride hath least to fear;

For thou wilt not as others gall my spleen

With scorn and taunting: Thou, a friendly chief,

Hast pity for the sorrows of a friend;

To thee my valor and deserts are known,

For thou wert ever nearest where I fought

In front of danger on the battle's edge;

Thou know'st the hazard and the chance of war,

And with what malice fortune thwarts our best,

Our bravest efforts: Scarr'd thyself with wounds,

Thou from the wounded wilt not turn aside;

Therefore, O MAMMON, as my hand to thee

Were present, didst thou need it, so to me,

Thy sovereign in distress, reach forth thine hand,

And, if thou canst, upraise me from this fall;

If thou canst not, let not my armies know

Their leader's fate, be mindful of my fame,

And bury this sad secret in thy breast.

He said, nor need had he of further suit,

For MAMMON now had put forth all his strength

To raise him from the ground; in his strong grasp

He seiz'd his giant limbs in armour clad

Of adamant and gold, a ponderous wreck:

Earth trembled with the shock; dire were the groans

Hell's Monarch vented, horrible the pains,

That rack'd his stiffen'd joints; yet on he toil'd

Till by Heav'n's sufferance rather than by aid

Of arm angelic once again he rear'd

His huge Titanian stature to the skies,

And stood; yet not as late with look erect

And lofty mien: Ruin was in his face;

Sordid and soil'd with ignominious dust

His robe imperial, and his azure wings

And glossy locks, that o'er his shoulders curl'd,

Dishevell'd now, and in like tatter'd trim

With vessel tempest-torn or by the force

Of engines weigh'd from bottom of the deep,

Founder'd in creek or harbor, where she lay

Gulph'd in the slimy ooze; when MAMMON thus.

Joy to our gallant Leader! Once again

With firm foot planted on the subject earth

We stand as spi'rits by our own strength redeem'd

Erect and dauntless. Wherefore droops that eye,

As it would root itself into the soil,

From which with vigor new restor'd you rise

Antaeus-like indignant of defeat?

Oft, when in search of gold or silver ore

In earth's metallic veins, I've labor'd long

And hard, in damp and darksome caverns pent,

Mining the solid rock, at length to light

And the free air emerg'd, I've found my limbs

Stiffen'd with cramps, or with cold ague numb'd:

Yet never did my patient courage droop

Or slack it's gainful toil. I am not apt,

When wealth or glory can be bought with pain,

To stagger at the terms; and if it please

Heav'n's Monarch in his vengeance to attach

To this eternal be'ing eternal pain,

Good hope, as poisons may be sheath'd by use,

So long familiarity with pain

May draw it's sting, and habitude convert

It's hostile property to friendly ease.

But thy great heart perhaps is rent with grief,

Of pain disdainful as of lesser ill:

And wherefore grieve? Our joys were lost with heaven,

Our passions all revers'd, our natures chang'd,

Virtues to vices, amity to hate;

Deeds, that in heav'n had been our shame, in hell

Become our glory'; and whilst the world endures,

Whilst evil is to good oppos'd, we keep

The fight at doubtful issue, oft-times win

The glorious field and triumph over God.

Why did I tempt ISCARIOT to betray

His guiltless Master? 'Twas not that I lov'd

The traitor, no, the treason was my joy;

I laugh at fools in their own folly caught:

The wretch I tempted, him I shall destroy,

And like a worn-out weapon cast him by;

He shall not live to see his Master's fall,

And for the sorry purchase of his sin

He shall but touch the adder's sting and die:

So much for JUDAS! Thus at once I slay

Two victims and refine upon revenge.

To whom with clouded brow and nothing cheer'd

By this discourse hell's gloomy Power replied.

MAMMON, you well describe the rueful change

Wrought in us by our overthrow from heav'n,

And for such solace as in thought you find

Pondering the sad eternity of pain,

My argument shall never be employ'd

To make that little less; but when you vaunt

ISCARIOT's treason and th' impending fall

Of that just Person, now before the bar

Of envious judges, who shall doom his death,

You vaunt a deed, which, though the' elect of hell

Jointly with me advis'd, brings on us all

Ruin with loss of empire, and all hope

So quenches, nought can stand us now in stead

But patience and your reconciling rules

To wont our natures to eternal pain.

My potency you know, and can you think

Less than the hand of God could hurl me down

To misery like this? It must be God,

Who speaks in CHRIST, the Father in the Son:

Though meek, Almighty he controuls the world

And me the world's late master; he destroys

Sin my begotten and Sin's offspring Death.

Oh! that I never had approach'd him more,

Foil'd in my first temptation. Now, ev'n now,

I feel a nature in me, not mine own,

That is my master and against my will

Enforces truths prophetic from my tongue,

Making me rev'rence whom in heart I hate:

I feel that now, though lifted from the ground,

I stand or move or speak but as he wills,

By influence not by freedom: I perceive

These exhalations, that the night breathes on me,

Are loaded with the vaporous steams of hell;

I scent them in the air, and well I know

The angel of destruction is abroad.

I cannot fly from fate; the man foredoom'd

To bruise my head is CHRIST, the time is come,

The prophecy is full; exil'd from hence,

As first from heav'n, my reign on earth is o'er,

And my last care is for those hapless friends,

The partners of my fall, when I am gone

Left like a headless trunk. Warn them to fly

Impending ruin; sure I am, when CHRIST

Breathes forth his sacred spi'rit into the air,

His dying gasp shall blow them like a spell

To the four winds of heav'n: Let them be gone

In time and ply the wing; there's shelter yet

In this wide world for them: Though I must hence,

They may abide, and though their names be lost,

Their altars levell'd and their idols maim'd,

Yet shall their arts and offices endure,

Their influences still shall draw the hearts

Of many; sin shall not at once secede

From earth, nor darkness wholly yield to light.

To thee, auspicious spi'rit, whose potent arm

Hath rais'd me from the ground, I can assure

A longer term of residence and power:

Thy empire in earth's inmost centre roots,

Thy influence circulates through all her veins;

Nor earth alone, but ocean wafts to thee

Continual tribute; commerce hails thy name;

In thee war triumphs, thee fair peace adores

And gilds the feathers of her dove with gold

To dedicate to thee her worldly god,

Thee, the last foe whom CHRIST shall chase from earth.

So spake the parting fiend in his last hour

Prophetic, father though he were of lyes:

To him the inferior daemon answer none

Attempted, but in ghastly silence stood

Gazing with horror on his chieftain's face,

That chang'd all hues by fits, as when the north,

With nitrous vapors charg'd, convulsive shoots

It's fiery darts athwart the trembling pole,

Making heav'n's vault a canopy of blood;

So o'er the visage of the exorcis'd fiend

Alternate gleams like meteors came and went;

And ever and anon he beat his breast,

That quick and short with lab'ring pulses heav'd.

One piteous look he upward turn'd, one sigh

From his sad heart he fain had sent to heav'n,

But ere the hopeless messenger could leave

His quiv'ring lips, by sudden impulse seiz'd

He finds himself uplifted from the earth;

His azure wings, to sooty black now chang'd,

In wide expanse from either shoulder stretch

For flight involuntary: Up he springs

Whirl'd in a fiery vortex round and round;

As when the Lybian wilderness caught up

In sandy pillar by the eddying winds

Moves horrible, the grave of man and beast;

Him thus ascending the fork'd light'ning smites

With sidelong volley, whilst loud thunders rock

Heav'n's echoing vault, when all at once, behold!

Caught in the stream of an impetuous gust

High in mid-air, swift on the level wing

Northward he shoots and like a comet leaves

Long fiery track behind, speeding his course

Strait to the realms of Chaos and old Night,

Hell-bound and to Tartarean darkness doom'd.

His sad associate, left on earth, look'd up

And with like conscious terror ey'd his flight,

As when the merchant trembling for his freight

Looks seaward from some promontory's top,

And thence descries his gallant bark a wreck

Driving at mercy of the winds and waves

Full on the rocky shoal, her certain grave;

Then having bid farewell to all his hope

In this one bottom stor'd, now lost to sight,

Turns with a sigh aside, and o'er the strand

With heavy heart takes homeward his slow way.

So sigh'd the fiend, and for his own sad fate

Trembling yet fearful to attempt the wing,

Slunk cow'ring off veil'd in the shades of night.

END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK V.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

This Book, proposing to treat of the trial and condemnation of Christ, opens with an invocation to the Evangelists, the sacred historians of that event.—Christ, brought before the priests and elders in council, accused by the witnesses, interrogated by Caiaphas, persists in keeping silence, till being solemnly called upon to declare himself, he answers by an affirmation of the truth. Instantly all voices are let loose upon him, accusing him of blasphemy and pronouncing him worthy of death: He is delivered over to mockery and insult. The Jews resolve to arraign him before Pilate on the following morning. He turns and looks upon Peter, who according to prediction had three several times denied him. The sorrow and contrition of that Disciple is described; he retires apart to bewail his crime and supplicate forgiveness. His prayer and confession in the temple-porch. The council of the Jews resort to Pilate next morning and appeal against Christ. He informs them that by the Roman law no judgment can be given till the accused is confronted with his accusers, and heard in his defence. Now commences the trial of Christ before Pilate, who, finding nothing worthy of death in that just person, refers him to Herod as belonging to his jurisdiction. Herod, after mocking him, arrays him in a gorgeous robe, and in that apparel sends him back to Pilate. He again appears in the judgment hall before Pilate, who after many fruitless efforts to save him, the Jews still urging him by their clamorous importunity to crucify him, finding no other way to prevent a tumult of the people, after declaring himself innocent of the blood of Jesus by the ceremony of washing his hands before the multitude, delivers him to be crucified.

CALVARY. BOOK V. THE CONDEMNATION OF CHRIST.

YE sacred Guides, whose plain unvarnish'd page,

Penn'd by the hand of Truth, records the scene,

Where CHRIST before the bar of impious men,

Patient of all their scorn, arraign'd, betray'd

And of his own abandon'd, silent stands,

You I invoke; so from the same pure source,

Whence my faith flows, shall also flow my song,

Not idly babbling, like that shallow rill

Trickling at foot of the Parnassian Mount,

But deep, serene, to hallow'd airs attun'd:

Aid me from Heav'n, where now before God's throne

In evangelic attributes ye stand

Six-wing'd and thick bespangled o'er with eyes,

Ranging all points before you and behind,

Seraphic minstrels, chanting day and night

Your ceaseless hallelujahs to the name

Of Him, who was and is and is to come.

Led by your hand with trembling step I press

The sacred ground, which my Redeemer trode,

Now like a lamb to slaughter led, and now

Pendent, Oh horror! on the bloody tree;

And whilst to tell his sacrifice of love,

His soul-dissolving agonies I strive,

My heart melts into sorrows deep as those,

When the sad daughters of Jerusalem

Water'd his passage to the cross with tears.

Musing my pious theme, as fits a bard

Far onward in the wint'ry track of age,

I shun the Muses haunts, nor dalliance hold

With fancy by the way, but travel on

My mournful road, a pilgrim grey with years;

One that finds little favor with the world,

Yet thankful for it's least benevolence

And patient of it's taunts; for never yet

Lur'd I the popu'lar ear with gibing tales,

Or sacrific'd the modesty of song,

Harping lewd madrigals at drunken feasts

To make the vulgar sport and win their shout.

Me rather the still voice delights, the praise

Whisper'd, not publish'd by fame's braying trump:

Be thou my herald, Nature! Let me please

The sacred few, let my remembrance live

Embosom'd by the virtuous and the wise;

Make me, O Heav'n! by those, who love thee, lov'd:

So when the widow's and the children's tears

Shall sprinkle the cold dust, in which I sleep

Pompless and from a scornful world withdrawn,

The laurel, which it's malice rent, shall shoot

So water'd into life, and mantling throw

It's verdant honors o'er my grassy tomb.

Here in mid-way of my unfinish'd course,

Doubtful of future time whilst now I pause

To fetch new breath and trim my waining lamp,

Fountain of Life, if I have still ador'd

Thy mercy and remember'd Thee with awe

Ev'n in my mirth, in the gay prime of youth—

So conscience witnesses, the mental scribe,

That registers my errors, quits me here—

Propitious Pow'r, support me! and if death,

Near at the farthest, meditates the blow

To cut me short in my prevented task,

Spare me a little, and put by the stroke,

Till I recount his overthrow and hail

Thy Son victorious rising from the grave.

Now to that dismal scene return, my thoughts!

Where CHRIST in midst of an irreverent crew,

Usher'd by torches through the darkling streets,

And now at summit of the holy Mount

Arriv'd, before the pontiff's lofty gate,

Waiting the call of impious pride, attends.

The halls and lobbies vomit forth a swarm

Of saucy servitors with ideot stare

Gazing the wond'rous Man, and venting loud

Their coward mockeries: He stands unmov'd.

Great is the stir within, and on the post

Through all the palace runs the buzzing news

Of this great Prophet's capture, circling round

With ever new enlargement of strange sights

And fearful doings in the garden seen

Of those who took him. CAIAPHAS meanwhile

Summons the Temple-chiefs, elders and scribes,

A hasty Sanhedrim: No longer now

With stately step in measur'd pace they march;

Huddled together by their fears they flock,

They cluster in a throng, safest so deem'd,

And fill the council seats. In speech abrupt

And brief their hierarch the cause expounds

Of their so sudden meeting—CHRIST is seiz'd,

The Prophet, whom they dreaded, is in hold,

Th'Enchanter, who by league with Belzebub

Scar'd them with magic spells, is at their door;

Now is the time to put his art to proof,

Now is the moment to decide if thus

Their unreveal'd Messias shall appear

After long promise in this abject state

A shackled pris'ner, or a conquering king.

Admit him! with faint voice some two or three

Of the least timorous cry.—Behold, he comes!

The rabble throng rush in, and at the bar

Of the immur'd divan present him bound

With cords, his raiment soil'd with hands profane,

His head uncover'd and his sacred locks

By the rude winds and ruder men despoil'd

Of their propriety, dishevell'd, spread

Like shatter'd fragments on the branching top

Of piny Lebanon after a storm.

Silence now reign'd, the roar of tongues was hush'd,

And expectation with suspended breath

Sate watchful when some sign or word of power

Should in a miracle break forth upon them.

None such that patient Sufferer vouchsaf'd,

Nor menace nor complaint his eye bespake,

But meek serene composure. Noting this,

As cowards out of danger loudest vaunt,

The council now took heart: Then soon were heard

The lying tongues of witnesses suborn'd

Various and loud; but these no order kept;

Falshood with falshood clash'd, and each to each

Irreconcileable, as all to truth:

Shame held the council mute, for vilest hearts,

Cloak'd in the robes of judgment, will affect

Some outward shew of what they ought to be,

Then most malicious when most seeming just.

Confusion now ensu'd and perjury

In it's own labyrinth had lost itself,

When some of graver note within the pale

Of justice seated, but far thence remov'd

In conscience and in heart, started new charge,

Averring they had heard the Pris'ner say—

I will destroy this temple made with hands,

And within three days will another build

Made without hands.—The charge was gravely urg'd,

And, colour'd to the semblance of a plot,

Breath'd sacrilegious menace to God's house,

Fit matter for descant pontifical:

When CAIAPHAS, as foremost in degree

So first to sound forth danger and affix

Solemnity to malice, from his state

With magisterial dignity arose,

And sternly fixing on the face divine

His eye inquisitorial, thus began.

Hear'st thou what these alledge? The words in charge

Stand witness'd by these present: Face to face

Th' accusers they and thou th' accused meet:

Justice is open. What is thy defence?

Answerest thou nothing?—Nothing answer'd he,

But as a lamb before it's shearers mute

He open'd not his mouth; the mystery couch'd

Under those words, prophetic of his death

And following resurrection, to expound

To their perverted minds beseem'd not him,

Searcher of hearts and Savior of mankind:

Silent not pertinacious he endur'd

Their scorn, nor did his meek demeanour shew

More than the dignity of conscious truth,

Which knows itself prejudg'd and scorns a plea.

But CAIAPHAS, who brook'd not this repulse,

And still occasion sought from his own lips

By subtlety to' ensnare him, thus re-urg'd

Question with solemn adjuration back'd.

Hear me, thou man accus'd, and answer make

I do adjure thee by the living God

To what I now demand. Art thou the CHRIST,

The very CHRIST, Son of th' eternal God,

Or art thou not? Resolve us who thou art!

Then JESUS by this solemn adjuration urg'd,

Lifting his eyes to heav'n in mute appeal,

Whilst all his Father's virtue in his face

Effulgent beam'd, these glorious words pronounc'd;

Hear them, O heav'n, and Oh! record them, earth,

Write them, ye mortals, on your hearts—I am,

I am the CHRIST; all that you ask I am;

And ye shall see me coming in the clouds

Of heav'n, enthron'd at the right hand of Power.

As when on rapine bent a savage horde

Arab or Indian, in some sandy dell

Or by the sedgy lake in ambush lodg'd,

Upon the watch-word by their leader giv'n

Leap from their treach'rous lair with sudden yell

And bloody weapons waving to surprize

And overpower th' unguarded traveller,

Fatally trapp'd into their murderous snare;

So at the signal of their priestly chief

Uprose the dire divan with rushing sound,

Like roar of distant waters. Terror-struck,

Frantic as Bromius, with furious hands

Th' enthusiastic hierarch seiz'd his robes,

And into tatters like a cancell'd scroll

Tore them, exclaiming vehement and loud

That all might hear—What need of further proof?

Ye' have heard his blasphemy. How think ye, sirs?

What may such crime deserve?—Th' infuriate priests

Seiz'd by like phrensy with one voice pronounce—

Death be his sentence!—Death through all the hall

Rebounding echoes back th' accurs'd decree.

Horrible sentence! Murder hatch'd in hell;

Libation for the fiends! Daemons, on you

And on your generations to all time

His righteous blood shall rest. Now uproar wild

And horrid din succeeds: The scoffing crowd

Rush to the bar, so privileg'd, and there

With scurril taunts and blasphemies revile

The patient Son of God. Oh thought of horror!

The Savior of mankind revil'd by man,

The Just by th' unjust! Others more profane

Vent their vile rheum upon his sacred face,

Or smite him with their palms, then gibing cry—

Tell us who smote thee; prophesy, thou CHRIST!

Monsters, that CHRIST hath prophesied, your doom

Already by that Prophet is pronounc'd,

The lips you strike have utter'd it: Behold!

Jerusalem is fall'n, her towers are dust,

Your city smokes in ruin: Lo! what piles

Of mangled carcases; what horrid scenes

Of violated matrons: Hark! what screams

Of infants butcher'd in their mothers arms;

And look! your temple blazes to the sky;

It's beams of cedar overlaid with gold,

It's fretted roof with carvings rich emboss'd,

And all it's glorious splendor feeds the flames

Insatiate; mark how high their serpent spires

Hissing ascend: God fans them in his ire:

Thither the wild beasts of the desart hie,

There carrion owls by midnight haunt, there dwells

The dragon, and the satyrs dance: 'Tis done!

That prophecy is seal'd. There yet remains

An awful consummation unreveal'd,

Till God shall gather up your scatter'd race

Still vagrant o'er th' inhospitable earth.

Ah! wretched people, broken and dispers'd,

Did ye preserve the oracles of God

But to convict your own obduracy?

Sad nation, on whose neck the iron yoke

Of persecution hard, too hard, hath lain,

And yet lies heavy, will ye not accept

A High Priest, holy, harmless, undefil'd,

From sinners sep'rate and exalted high

Above the heavens? And do ye not perceive

The word of JESUS in yourselves fulfill'd?

Rue then the prophecy, which you provok'd,

Of faithless fathers ye still faithless sons!

Whilst shuddering I recount the impious taunts

Of that blaspheming rout: But neither taunts

Nor violence could shake the Savior's peace;

He in his own pure spi'rit collected stood,

Nor of their base revilings took account.

'Twas now that CHRIST, knowing himself denied

Three times of PETER, turn'd and look'd upon him.

He from the garden, where his Lord was seiz'd,

Following at distance JUDAS and his band,

Had kept his eye upon their moving fires,

And up the sacred mount pursued their track,

Till at the palace-door he stood and sought

Admission with the crowd; when there behold!

A damsel at the portal scans him o'er

With scrutinizing eye and strait exclaims—

Thou too wert in this Galilean's train;

Thou art of JESUS.—Sudden to his heart

The coward tremor runs and there suggests

The fear-conceived lye; before them all

With confidence to falsehood ill applied—

I know not what thou say'st—he strait avers,

And to the porch goes forth: There in his ear

The cock his first shrill warning gives and sings

The knell of constancy's predicted breach,

Of constancy, alas! too strongly vouch'd

By him in rash and over-weening zeal,

Boasting like martyrdom with CHRIST himself,

Sole sacrifice appointed for mankind.

But he, though of presumption warn'd, by fear

Still haunted and the guilty dread of death,

Strait to a second questioner replies—

I do not know the man—and to engage

Belief, binds down the falsehood with an oath.

Fatal appeal to Heav'n! insult to God

And His all-righteous ears! Is this the man,

Who with such glowing ardor self-assur'd—

Though all shall be offended, I will not—

Proudly averr'd, and for that pride reprov'd—

Though I should die with thee, dauntless rejoin'd,

Yet will I not deny thee—? Man, weak man,

Pride was not made for thee. If PETER fell

Presuming, who shall say, Behold! I stand

In my own strength nor ask support of God?

And now, as if devoted to his shame,

Curious to pry, yet fearful to be seen,

He mixes with the throng that crowd the hall;

And there once more is challeng'd for his speech,

As savo'ring of the Galilean phrase;

Then with reiterated oaths abjures

His Master the third time; when hark! again

The cock's loud signal echoes back the lye

In his convicted ear; the prophet bird

Strains his recording throat, and up to heav'n

Trumpets the trebled perjury and claps

His wings in triumph o'er presumption's fall.

Oh! fall'n how low, is this thy promis'd faith,

Favor'd of CHRIST so highly? Know'st thou not,

Disciple, thine own Lord? or know'st him only

In safety, in prosperity, in power,

For thine own selfish ends, a summer guest,

Prone to desert him in the wint'ry hour

Of tribulation, poverty and woe?

Is thy frail memory of that slippery stuff,

That a friend's sorrow washes out all trace

Of a friend's features? Look upon his eyes!

Behold, they turn on thee: Them dost thou know?

Their language canst thou read and from them draw

The conscious reminiscence thou disown'st?

Mark, is their sweetness lost? Ah! no; they beam

Celestial grace, a sanctity of soul

So melting soft with pity, such a gleam

Of love divine attemp'ring mild reproof,

Where is the man, that to obtain that eye

Of mercy on his sins would not forego

Life's dearest comforts to embrace such hope?

O death, death! where would be thy sting, or where

These awful tremblings, which thy coming stirs

In my too conscious breast, might I aspire

To hope my Judge would greet me with that look?

Vaunt not yourselves, ye scorners, nor exult

In this recital of a good man's fall,

Faithful historian of his own offence:

But rather let it physic your proud spleen

To mark how mean, prevaricating, false

And despicable a vain-glorious man.

PETER's denial, David's heinous sin,

And all the guilty lapses of man's heart,

Though summ'd together into one account,

Each spot and blemish malice can search out

To tarnish the fair lustre of a name,

Stand but as lessons of humility,

Warnings of frailty to o'er-weening man;

And if our mournful page hath now set forth

The fall of virtue, let it next record

It's glorious resurrection: We have shewn

The' offender in his shame, what now remains

But to display the penitent? Behold!

Abash'd he stands bath'd in remorseful tears:

One glance from his beloved Master's eye,

Like Nathan's parable, hath rous'd from sleep

His drowsy conscience. Mark, where he retires

To weep in solitude and purge his heart

By sorrowful repentance of it's guilt.

O PETER, could my verse fit offering make,

That verse should be bestow'd upon thy tears.

Now the assembled elders and their chief,

After short consultation had, resolve

With the next dawn of morning to arraign

Their Prisoner at the praetorian bar

Of PILATE, procurator for the state

Imperial of Rome and Caesar; he

Held judgment sovereign of life and death

In tributary Jewry, judge corrupt,

And like Rome's venal emissaries prone

To every sordid purpose; train'd in blood

And for tribunal bloody therefore fit.

Meanwhile forth issuing from the fatal hall,

Scene of his shame, the sad Disciple took

His pensive way across the temple-court

Silent and solitary, seeking where

To' unbosom his full sorrows and give up

His soul to pray'r, and pardon seek of God

For his revolt. Pale through night's curtain gleam'd

By fits the lunar intermittent ray,

That quiv'ring serv'd to light his lonely steps

To the fair gate call'd Beautiful, whose porch

High over-arch'd, on writhed columns propp'd

Of spiral brass convolv'd, was for it's shade

Of CHRIST and his Disciples much in quest.

Hither he came, and falling on his knees,

Like the' humble publican smote on his breast,

And this confession self-accusing made.

Here let me fall and in repentant tears

Weep out my soul upon these piti'less stones,

Made sacred by His steps, whose awful name

Thrice blasphem'd, thrice abjur'd, I dare not speak,

Though in my supplication. Can I say,

Spare me, O God of mercy? Can I ask

Pardon of God, unpardon'd of myself?

Oh! wretched recreant creature as I am,

What shall redeem me from this misery,

And reconcile my conscience to itself,

A perjur'd conscience? Never more can peace

Dwell in this bosom; never can my soul

Ascend out of the dust, or lift a thought

In hope tow'rds heav'n. With JUDAS let me dwell,

Colleague in treason; with his sin my sin

In the' execration of all time be link'd.

Or shall I venture to look up and say,

O God, behold a wretch, who dares not sue

For mercy but for mitigated wrath,

For punishment proportion'd to my bearing,

Protracted, not too sudden, lest it take

My senses from me and with them all power

Of meditation, penance and atonement?

Spare me a little to abhor myself;

And if the arrow, which my conscience drives

Into this guilty heart, draws not enough

Of it's vile blood to purify what's left,

Let the strong hand of justice force it home

And finish me at once. Was I not warn'd

Of my presumption, and a signal set

To number my denials, when I swore

Never to swerve but follow him to death?

Mine, like ISCARIOT's, was predicted sin:

I spar'd not him, I call'd his wilful guilt,

Obstinate malice; and can I now urge

Necessity my plea? All things are known

To CHRIST; the evil motions of my will

He saw, not over-rul'd: I might have pray'd

For grace, support, prevention; I pray'd not,

But heedless of the prophecy and blind.

Rush'd into sin prepense, self-will'd, self-lost.

What fascination seiz'd me to draw forth

The sword in rash defence of Him, whose word

Legions of Angels could have call'd from heav'n?

And what prevaricating daemon breath'd

The lye into my lips, when the same night,

Nay, the same hour, that saw me prompt to' oppose

My life to danger, saw me meanly shrink

From what I courted, and behind a lye

Three times repeated like a coward sculk?

And did I not know CHRIST whom I denied?

Did I not know the Master whom I serv'd,

Who call'd me to him, pour'd into my heart

His heav'nly doctrines, rais'd my lowly thoughts

From the mean drudgery of a fisher's trade,

And taught me in the energy of faith

To walk upon that sea, in which ere-while

I dragg'd the net and toil'd for daily bread?

O memory, once my glory, now my curse,

To what sad purpose do I call thee home,

Absent in danger, present in despair?

Is there a wonder done of CHRIST on earth

I have not witness'd? Did I not behold

Dead Lazarus revive at his command?

What shall I say to him, whom I saw die,

When living he arraigns me face to face?

What answer make to those, whom I have serv'd

From one small wallet with the bread of thousands?

The very blind, ere they receiv'd their sight,

Saw more than I, and hail'd him LORD and CHRIST.

Who shall believe when I renounce belief?

The very dev'ils own Him whom I denied.

Can I call these accurst, whose impious cry

Dooms him to death; who smite him with their palms

Blaspheming? Harder than their hands my heart.

Wretch, 'twas my false tongue train'd them on to murder;

On me, me only all their sin rebounds:

I stand condemn'd, they free. Can I forget

How oft my lips confess'd him Son of God?

Perish that tongue, which could revoke it's faith,

Disown confession and belie my heart.

Denied of me on earth, when in the clouds

Of heav'n he comes at the right hand of Pow'r,

And sends his Angels with the trumpet's sound

To gather his elect from the four winds,

When, as a shepherd culling out his flock,

To separate all nations and divide

The good from evil he proceeds, Ah! then,

Then will he not retort the fatal words

First us'd of me, I know thee not! Depart,

Thou wicked servant, into outer darkness,

There weep and gnash thy teeth in fires prepar'd

For SATAN and his outcast crew accurst?

Thus he all night with deep remorse o'erwhelm'd,

Mournfully kneeling at God's temple-gate,

Bewail'd his crime and supplication made

For pardon; and let after-times attest

How full a portion of God's spi'rit abode

In this blest Penitent, when with the sound

Of rushing mighty winds it was pour'd down

On him and on his fellows, thence install'd

Apostles, and with gifted tongues inspir'd

To speak all languages and preach the Word

Of CHRIST throughout the whole converted world.

Here in this very spot, where now he kneels

Repentant, fill'd ere long with pow'r divine,

He bade the cripple in the name of CHRIST

Rise up and walk: He at the word in sight

Of all the people rose and stood and walk'd

And in the temple gave loud praise to God.

Then let not his offence, pardon'd of God,

By man but for example's sake be nam'd,

And once more, hail, thou renovated Saint!

Made brighter by repentance: Enter thou

Into thy Master's joy once more; resume

Thine apostolic primacy, and feed,

Shepherd of CHRIST deputed, feed his flock.

Nor shall thy faith once faulter, nor thy zeal

Shrink from the test of martyrdom, reserv'd

To glorify thy Master on the cross.

Now morning from her cloudy barrier forth

Advancing crimson'd all the flecker'd East,

As blushing to lead on the guilty day.

With the first dawn the wakeful elders meet,

Short council hold, for little time suffic'd

To take their voices, whose relentless minds

In the same bloody league were banded all;

And now unanimous with their high priest

In stately grave procession forth they march

To find their heathen judge, and at his bar

Arraign the Holy One.—But check, my heart,

Thine indignation; let the verse proceed!—

Him in his seat of judgment high enthron'd,

With axes and with lictors round embay'd

In martial state, with reverence they salute,

And lowly stoop their tributary heads

To his vice-gerent majesty: With smile

Of condescending favor he accepts

Their abject greeting, and to his right hand

Their chief advances; others in their ranks

And orders he disposes; then with feign'd

Solicitude, as if to seek the cause

Of this concerted meeting, he begins.

What cause so weighty brings JEHOVAH's priest

With these wise elders and time-honor'd scribes

Thus early to seek justice at my bar?

Appeal so reverend, with such leader grac'd

And by such followers witness'd, well demands

Of Caesar's servant his most equal ear.

Whereto the' high priest, second to none in craft,

With solemn accent and demeanor grave

Masking his base collusion, thus replies.

When he, whose hand the sword of justice sways,

Her balance also holds in equal poise

Over this realm provincial, we have cause

To thank the master of our liberties,

Who by such delegation of his power

Makes light that yoke, which else would gall our necks,

Though Caesar lays it on us: Then let praise

Be giv'n to Caesar for the love we bear

To PONTIUS PILATE. Have I leave to say,

That we your servants, a peculiar race,

Pay worship to one God and hold at heart

As sacred that commandment handed down

From our forefathers, which for ever makes

His undivided Unity the creed

Of all our nation; and whoe'er blasphemes

His name and controverts our holy faith,

Dies by our law? This sentence we have pass'd,

But execution staid, so bound in duty,

Upon a certain Nazarite, by name

JESUS, obscure of birth, but of our peace

No slight disturber; for the common herd,

A monster as you know with many heads,

And every head with twice as many ears

Itching for novelties, have rais'd this man

To dang'rous eminence; and for he cheats

Their gross credulity with juggling sleights,

Which they call miracles, have blown his pride

To such a monstrous bulk, he now scales heaven,

There seats himself—Oh! where shall I find words

To speak his blasphemy?—at God's right hand,

His Son, his equal, sharer of his throne,

Judge of the world, if this be not a crime

For death to expiate we are slaves indeed,

And every statute, ordinance and law

Rome leaves inviolate, JESUS shall break

Unpunish'd: Nor is this, dread sir, the whole

Of his presumption; mark, I pray, the heighth

To which his phrensy rages, mark his threat!

He will put down this temple in three days

And in like time with hands invisible

Erect another.—Patron of our laws,

Fountain of justice! ought this man to live?

Such madness breath'd into our peoples minds

Will spur them to the deed, break every band

That ties them down to order, and turn loose

Their fury not on us alone but Rome,

Not on our temple only but perhaps

On this tribunal, which Heav'n guard! And now

Take the whole matter of our charge at once:

This JESUS hath pronounc'd himself a king,

Our king, your master's rival: You best know

If your great empe'ror abdicates his right

To our allegiance, which we fain would hold,

Where we have vow'd it, to imperial Caesar,

Not to this mean mechanic, Joseph's son.

This is our plea, O PONTIUS, why we claim

Justice against the pris'ner, who now waits

Your sentence under guard and bound, as fits

Delinquent so atrocious: I have said.

To him the Roman—Be it known to all,

The sentence, which you urge against the life

Of your now absent pris'ner, cannot pass

By practice of our law, till face to face

With his accusers he shall stand at bar,

And licence have to answer for himself

Touching the crime in charge; therefore these words,

Which you have largely spent, are spent in air,

Else might the ear of justice be forestall'd

By the empleader's charge, and so perchance

Let fall the axe upon the guiltless head.

Much knowledge of your laws I cannot boast,

Nor with these learned scribes hold argument;

For so much therefore as to them pertains

I on the part of Caesar am no judge;

His tributes, his supremacy and rights

Disputed or oppos'd I shall uphold

'Gainst all offenders. Let th' accus'd appear!

This said, behold the blessed Son of God

Dragg'd to a pagan bar! There whilst he stood

A spectacle of pity, patient, meek,

Submitted to his fate, PILATE, who knew

Him innocent and his accusers false,

Envious and cruel, ey'd him o'er and o'er,

And as he ponder'd in his mind how base

The sentence he was now requir'd to give,

Some sparks of Roman virtue, not quite dead

Though faintly felt in his degene'rate breast,

Revolted from the deed: Soft was the touch,

Though ineffectual, which sweet pity gave

To his stern heart: He wish'd, yet knew not how,

To' unfold the gates of mercy, and through them

Let pass the rescued Innocent to life;

The son of Epicurus could no more.

Upon the Sufferer's brow serene he saw

Where innocence and sanctity enthron'd

Sate visible and claim'd his just award:

He turn'd him to th' accusers and beheld

Such malice, as brought up to view a groupe

Of his own furies from their fabled hell;

Then with a frown he cries—What law is your's,

Which makes this man a culprit ere he's tried?

Unmanacle his limbs! A Roman judge

Hears no man plead in shackles; he, who speaks

In life's defence hath call for every aid

That Nature can bestow, free use of limbs,

Action and utterance to grace his cause,

And hold him up against the world's contempt:

I will not hear a man that pleads in bonds.

Cut those vile cords asunder: Set him loose!

And now our blessed Lord, his arms releas'd

From the harsh thongs, which the malignant Jews

Had bound about them, 'gan to re-compose

His decent vesture and with calm survey

To note his persecutors, those dire priests

And cruel hypocrites that bay'd him round.

In every breast transparent to his eye

Malice and craft and envy he discern'd:

In PILATE's face the shifting hues bespoke

Internal strife of passions all in arms,

Combat 'twixt good and evil: In his hand

He held a scroll, which with intentive eye

And thoughtful brow deep pondering he perus'd:

The writing well he knew, but the contents,

Thus worded, much perplex'd his wav'ring thoughts.

"O Pilate, if thy wife was ever held

"In honor, love or trust, I do adjure thee

"This once take warning from her voice inspir'd

"To snatch thee from destruction. Oh! withhold

"Thine hand from that just person, harm not him,

"That holy JESUS, who now stands before thee;

"Touch not his sacred life, or on thine head

"A fearful judgment thou shalt else pull down:

"A mighty Pow'r protects him, what I know not,

"But mightier sure than all the Gods of Rome;

"For I have seen his glory in a dream,

"And dreams descend from heav'n. Pilate, beware!"

Such was the warning scroll he now perus'd,

Ev'n on the judgment seat, by timely hand

Sent for his rescue: Happy! had he turn'd

His heart so warn'd to justice, and obey'd

The visitation of the spi'rit vouchsaf'd:

But he, like Caesar, deem'd his manhood pledg'd

To make slight 'count of a weak woman's dream:

Yet much confus'd, uncertain and perplex'd

He look'd around, and saw all eyes upon him:

The Jews impatient, JESUS at the bar

Prepar'd for trial: What shall he resolve?

Break up the court and judgment put aside

For a mere vapor, for no better plea

Than to indulge a woman's fond caprice,

And bid the law stand still and wait the time

" Till PILATE's wife shall meet with better dreams?"—

Such scorn he dar'd not to provoke, and now

Loud murmurs fill'd his ear: Compell'd to rise,

Though uncollected and in mind disturb'd,

He thus address'd the LORD.—Art thou a king,

And of this nation, who accuse thee to me,

King of the Jews?—Thou say'st it, JESUS cried:

But say'st thou of thyself this thing, or taught

Of others art thou prompted so to speak?—

Am I a Jew? the fault'ring judge replied;

Not I, but these, who if thou wert a king

Were thine own subjects, elders, priests and scribes,

These have accus'd thee. Not of them am I;

Nor in this business covet further share,

Than on the part of justice to demand,

What hast thou done? How answer'st thou their charge?

Of this world were my kingdom, said our LORD,

My servants would defend their King, and fight

To save me from my' oppressors: But I reign

Not on this earth, nor is my pow'r from hence.

Art thou a king then?—interpos'd the judge:—

Thou say'st, cried JESUS, that I am a king;

And truly to this purpose was I born,

And for this cause came I into the world,

That I should witness bear unto the Truth;

And all, that to the Truth belong, hear me.—

What is the Truth? said PILATE, but his voice

Now falter'd and his thoughts unsettled, wild

And driv'n at random like a wreck, could grasp

No helm of reason; only this he knew

There was no fault before him: This aloud

To all he publish'd and pronounc'd him clear.

Whereat with rage and disappointment stung,

Furious as wolves defrauded of their prey,

Uprose the priests appellant, and afresh

Urge o'er and o'er their aggravating charge,

Forging new falsehoods and re-forging old:

The Preacher of forbearance, peace and love

Perverter of the nation now they call,

Fomenter of sedition, spreading wide

From Galilee, the cradle of his birth,

Throughout all Jewry to the capital;

Where now assuming to himself the name,

Prerogative and state of King and CHRIST,

He stirreth up the people to revolt,

Forbidding them to pay their rightful dues

Of tribute to Rome's emperor, himself

Exalting above Caesar. This and more

In the like strain of virulence, with lips

In aspic venom steep'd they now depose;

Nor had they brought their malice to a pause,

When PILATE, hoping he had now found plea

To shift the dreaded sentence from himself,

Thus interposing check'd their clam'rous spleen.

Break off, and let your tongues take rest awhile:

It is not at this bar you must emplead

This man, a Galilean as it seems;

Whom, being such, it is not mine to hear

But HEROD's: Let his special tetrarch judge

'Twixt him and you: Thither remit your suit.

This said, he rose preventing all reply,

Whilst they, though by procrastination gall'd,

Yet of their tetrarch confident, submit:

But nor with HEROD could their malice speed

To it's main purpose: Little care had he

For all their priestly clamor; in his thoughts

Religion had no interest, truth no weight:

For prophets and for prophecies no ear

Had he, alike regardless how CHRIST preach'd,

Or they complain'd; yet much he wish'd to see

Some splendid miracle of him perform'd,

Something to strike his senses with surprize

And satisfy a wanton curiosity,

Made eager by the fame of those great works,

Whereof he much had heard and nothing seen.

But when our LORD to all his questions mute

Nor word nor sign vouchsaf'd, to wrath impell'd,

What by enticements he had fail'd to gain

By taunts he hop'd to' extort; and now his spleen

To impious scorn and mockery gave the rein:

Forthwith his Pris'ner in a gorgeous robe

Apparel'd as a king, to all his court

Held up for sport and laughter, he expos'd.

Loud was the roar of blasphemy the whilst,

And wild the revels of the scoffing throng

As the lewd orgies of the frantic god,

Or clamor of that sacrilegious rout,

When their mad rage the Thracian minstrel tore,

Whose wonder-working harp could charm the ear

Of hell and call dead nature into life.

The priests look'd on and grinn'd malicious joy;

Yet would not HEROD execution doom;

Or willing to appease the jealousy

Of PILATE, or content to mark his scorn

Of JESUS by this arrogant display

Of mercy, as not dreading whom he spar'd.

Now once again at PILATE's bar he stands,

Not as before like malefactor tied

And round begirt with cords, but overlaid

With a rich load of sumptuous mockery;

A lamb compell'd to carry the proud spoils

And guilty trappings of the ty'rannous wolf.

Again the judge with slow unwilling step

To his tribunal mounts and thus he speaks.

You still persist to bring this man to me

As a perverter of your nation's faith

And loyalty: Your witnesses I've heard,

Ponder'd their depositions and throughout

Examin'd ev'ry tittle of your charge:

Him too I've question'd in the ears of all

Here present, and no shadow of offence

Can I discern to warrant your appeal

For execution, and pass judgment on him:

No, nor yet HEROD, for to him I sent

You and your pris'ner, and behold him freed,

Nothing is done unto him worthy death:

I will chastise him therefore and release;

Yet this chastisement rather to allay

Your anger, than so merited of him,

I shall inflict. Remember this your feast

Hath the long plea of custom to be mark'd

With pardon and forbearance: To reprieve

One culprit from his sentence I am bound

No less by inclination than by rule

And usage immemorial: Make your choice!

But let it fall on innocence not guilt.

Instant all voices echo'd forth a cry—

Hence with this man! away with him to death!

Give us the murd'rer, set Barabbas free:

Let JESUS perish!—Wherefore; for what crime?

PILATE exclaim'd: What evil hath he done?

No cause of death in JESUS can I find,

Be witness for me, justice, none in him;

But for that wretch, on whom ye would bestow

Pardon misplac'd, so various are his crimes,

So black their quality, ye cannot name

A death more terrible than he deserves.

Take of the guiltless blood what stripes can draw

To satisfy your longing, but forbear

To take the life, if not for pity's sake,

In honor of yourselves, that ye may say,

There was one prophet, whom ye did not kill.

Loud as the winds that lash the raging seas

And all as deaf, redoubling now the roar,

Th' infuriate Jews rend their blaspheming throats,

Howling for blood; 'till deafen'd with the din

Of, Crucify him! crucify him! dreadful cry,

PILATE, who 'twixt their tumult and the death

Of that just Person saw no middle course,

By which t' escape, one solemn act prepar'd,

By expiatory washing of his hands

In presence of the multitude, to purge

His soul, and thereof God alone is judge,

From the pure blood of that devoted Lamb.

Behold! he cries, I pour this water forth,

And therein make ablution of my soul

From all participation in your crime,

By washing of my hands from every stain

Of this inhuman sacrifice, each spot

And sprinkling of this guiltless Victim's blood.

Rest on your heads the murder! I am clean.

This said, he turn'd and fix'd a pitying look

Upon the LORD; then sigh'd and gave the word:

Eager as hounds, when slipp'd upon their prey,

In rush the throng, and soon the hissing scourge

Whirl'd with impetuous swing aloud resounds

Gashing that sacred flesh, whose bleeding stripes

Heal'd our sin-wounded souls; upon his brow

A thorny crown they fix, whose tortu'ring spikes,

Thrust rudely in by sacrilegious hands,

Furrow his temples and with crimson streams

Cover his face divine: Him thus abus'd,

Mangled with stripes and all o'er bath'd in blood,

In purple robe they scornfully array

And drag to public view.—Behold the man!—

PILATE proclaim'd with horror in his voice

And out-stretch'd arm, that pointed to a sight,

Which had to pity mov'd their steely hearts,

Had they not been of metal forg'd by fiends

And temper'd in the sternest fires of hell.

Dry-ey'd, as rock of adamant unmov'd,

Obdurate to his sorrows they look'd on,

Nor from their crucifying clamor ceas'd,

Till PILATE, now all hope for JESUS lost,

Yielding to their tumultuous fury, cried.

Take him and do your bloody work yourselves:

Impose it not on me; I find no cause

Of death, no fault in JESUS. Take ye him

And crucify him! Of his guiltless blood

Lo! I am innocent; see ye to that!

On us and on our children be his blood!—

Then answer'd all the Jews. Tremendous words,

Tremendously fulfill'd! And now afresh

They clamor for the cross; when thus the judge—

Would you that I should crucify your king?—

We have no king but Caesar, they rejoin,

Nor art thou Caesar's friend to spare this man.—

'Twas past; to that dread name the Roman bow'd

Obedient, and from his sad heart sigh'd forth

Th' extorted doom—Death to the LORD OF LIFE!

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK VI.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

Judas Iscariot seized with remorse returns the thirty pieces of silver to the priests and departs: Mammon reassumes the habit of a Levite, and meeting Judas after he had returned the money to the priests, instigates him to destroy himself. That evil spirit now takes wing and repairs to the wilderness, convenes the daemons from all parts of Palestine, and informing them of Satan's expulsion from earth, warns them by his command to betake themselves to flight before the hour of Christ's crucifixion: This is no sooner announced than the whole infernal host breaks up in disorder and disperses to various parts of the world therein described.—The subject of the Crucifixion is now brought forward: The procession sets out for Mount Calvary; Christ bearing his cross is bewailed by the spectators as he passes: He is seen by Gabriel and the angels with him from the mount, on which they were stationed: He addresses himself to the daughters of Jerusalem: The executioners nail his hands and feet to the cross; the priests revile him and call upon him to come down; one of the malefactors crucified with him casts the same in his teeth; he is reproved by the other, whose penitence is rewarded by the promise of immediate salvation and glory: Christ from the cross recommends his mother to John the beloved disciple: Christ dies: The sun is darkened, the earth quakes, the rocks are rent, and the bodies of the saints and prophets are raised from the dead and appear upon earth: The priests and elders, alarmed by these prodigies, resort to Pilate and demand a guard of Romans to defend the sepulchre, lest the disciples should take away the body of Christ and pretend that he was risen: Pilate replies, that they have a watch; bids them see to it themselves and dismisses them.

CALVARY. BOOK VI. THE CRUCIFIXION.

"ON us and on our children be his blood!"—

Such was your imprecation, O ye Jews,

When in your sight the world's Redeemer stood

Gash'd o'er with wounds, and emptying ev'ry vein

For man's redemption; and behold! it flows,

It whelms upon you in a flood-gate tide;

Steep'd to the lips ye are in all the blood

Of all the righteous shed upon the earth,

From blood of righteous Abel to the blood

Of Zechariah, whom your fathers ston'd

Betwixt the altar and the house of God.

Ye have enough; the mark is on your race;

Ye have drawn down the judgment ye provok'd,

It rests upon you: Yet for you no rest,

No station, no abiding-place is found;

Strangers and weary wand'rers upon earth,

If in the dust of your Jerusalem

With foot proscrib'd ye dare to tread, ye die;

A savage race usurps your sacred mount,

And Jordan echoes an unhallow'd name;

Should ye but stop to shed a filial tear

Upon the soil where your forefathers sleep,

Woe to the circumcis'd that so is found!

Oh! slow of heart, when will ye understand,

That thus afflicted, scatter'd and dispers'd

Through every clime and kingdom of the world

Ye are sent forth to publish, as ye pass,

How truly CHRIST predicted of your fate;

And though your lips deny, your sufferings prove

That prophet JESUS, whom your fathers slew,

Was Savior, Christ, Messias, Son of God.

Amidst the throng that fill'd the judgment-hall

Stood JUDAS; he upon the watch to' avoid

The Master's eye with caution took his post;

Yet was his ear to all that JESUS spake

Still present, and, though few the words, yet strong

And potent of those few the' impressive truth.

There was a magic sweetness in his voice,

A note that seem'd to shiver every nerve

Entwin'd about his heart, though now corrupt,

Debas'd and harden'd. Ill could he abide,

Murderer although he were, the dying tones

Of him, whom he had murder'd: 'Twas the voice

As of a spirit in the air by night

Heard in the meditation of some crime,

Or sleep-created in the troubled ear

Of conscience, crying out, Beware! It smote

Upon the soul, for it was CHRIST who spake,

Well then might JUDAS tremble; 'twas the traitor

Listning the plea of innocence betray'd,

Well might that plea awaken his remorse.

When the perverting witnesses depos'd

To crimes, of which he knew his Master free,

The refutation quiver'd on his lips,

And hard he struggled to bring forth the words,

Yet could not, tongue-ty'd with despair and shame.

But if his hearing so alarm'd his heart,

What were his feelings, when at times his eye

Glanc'd on the sacred person of his Lord,

Bound like a felon, his defenceless hands

In manacles confin'd behind his back,

His cheeks with blows sufflated, and his face,

Oh, piteous! with blaspheming slaver stain'd;

Then stripp'd, transform'd, in purple stole array'd,

Saluted with the insolent All-hail,

King of the Jews! a spectacle of sport

And merriment to all the scoffing crowd?

Could heart of man bear this, who had beheld

His miracles, his mercies; prov'd his love,

His patience, his forbearance; shar'd his cares,

His labors and his watchings; heard his voice,

When tempest-tost, rebuke the elements,

Though silent now amidst the roar of tongues?

'Twas all that priestly malice could inflict,

But more than MAMMON's convert could support.

Yet worse had these tormentors in reserve

To agonize his soul, another scene

To shift new horrors on that bloody stage:

The torturing scourge now sounded in his ears,

The mangled flesh flew off in tatter'd stripes,

The crimson stream ran down, the pavement drank

Libation of his immolated blood:

The hall rebellow'd with the echoing cry

Of monsters, who applauded every stroke,

Wolves, vultures, Oh, for words to speak them worse!

Men turn'd to daemons. Traitor though he were,

Son of perdition, this was all too much.

Take hence, he cried, take back your bribe accurst,

Damn'd price of damning deed! Tell o'er your coin;

Count out your thirty pieces, for each piece

Is thirty thousand daggers to my heart:

Burthen'd too much already with my sins,

I should but into worse damnation sink

Under this mercenary load opprest.

I have betray'd the innocent; too late

For pardon, I am past redemption lost;

Ye may redeem the time, if ye recall

Your fatal condemnation and atone

To that just person ye have doom'd to death;

If not, ye crucify the Lord of Life.

This said, he threw the thirty pieces down

And strait departed; they to his retort

Short answer made remorseless and malign.

And now disburthen'd of his filthy bribe,

It seem'd as though his conscience would permit

A momentary pause for one short gleam

Of hope to visit his benighted soul:

'Twas something like atonement, 'twas one step

Turn'd backward from the precipice of sin

And pointed tow'rds repentance; 'twas the last

Faint effort that reluctant nature made

To struggle 'gainst self-murder; but how vain!

For MAMMON, once the tyrant of man's heart,

Ill brooks expulsion thence, from youth to age,

From age to life's extremest hour he holds

Absolute empire, nor does hell contain

Spirit so jealous of usurp'd command.

He in the bosoms of those impious priests

Held high pre-eminence, and them amidst,

Himself unseen, had noted all that pass'd;

And much indignant to be now abjur'd

Of that compunctious traitor, swift as thought,

Such was his power of motion, took the form

And habit of that Levite first assum'd,

And him close following to the outward hall,

There with these taunting words assail'd his ear.

A losing game, friend JUDAS, thou hast play'd

To set thy soul upon a desperate cast,

And after pay the stake on either side.

What folly is it to be knave by halves!

Who would strike virtue in the face, and then

Ask pardon for the blow; fall off from truth,

Enlist with falsehood and take pay for treason,

Then by a paltry plea of restitution

Think to compound one trespass by another,

Desertion by desertion? Get thee hence,

Thou shame to manhood! wring out the sad dregs

Of thy detested life in hopeless tears,

For thou hast thrown away both worlds at once;

All gain in this, all glory in the next.

And what art thou, cried JUDAS, so to gall

A wounded spirit, wounded by thy arts,

Tempter accurst? Human thou canst not be,

Else thou wouldst find some pity in thy heart

For wretch like me. Who but thyself seduc'd

My loyalty from CHRIST? Who sapp'd my faith?

Who fix'd this adder to my breast but thou?

Thou, daemon as thou art, hast hurl'd me down

From my high hope to fathomless abyss

Of misery and despair, from heav'n to hell.

Rail not on me, quoth MAMMON, but thyself

And thine own folly; there the charge were just.

Didst thou not sell thy Master for a bribe?

My part was faithfully perform'd; the price

Condition'd for was paid. What wouldst thou more?

I needed treason, and I sought out thee

As fittest for my purpose: Envious, proud,

Lustful of pelf, a villain ready-made

And ripe for mischief, such I mark'd thee down;

Nay, and yet better; for I thought thee whole

And perfect villain with no rotten part

Of penitence to mar thee; but, behold,

Thou hast deceiv'd me vilely, and hast got

A blinking vice about thee, a perverse

And retrograde depravity of soul,

That makes thee hateful to my sight: Begone!

That thou art wicked put not me to blame;

Hadst thou been constant I had made thee rich,

And riches would have sav'd thee from contempt;

Now thou art poor and loathsome. Hence; avaunt!

One remedy I'll give thee for despair,

This cord, a remnant of thy Master's bonds;

A legacy most opportunely left

To heal thy cares and recompence thy love:

Take, and apply it to it's proper use;

It tied his limbs: Let it encase thy throat.

He said, and stooping, from the pavement took

The cord there left, and hurling it with scorn

To the desponding traitor disappear'd:

Nor did that wretch the fatal gift reject,

But eager seiz'd the instrument of death,

And soon within a darksome vault beneath

The judgment-hall fit solitude he found

And beam appropriate to his desperate use;

Whereto appendent he breath'd out his soul,

Not daring to put up one prayer for peace

At his dark journey's end; but trembling, wild,

Confus'd, of reason as of hope bereft,

With heaving breast and ghastly staring eyes

There betwixt heav'n and earth, of both renounc'd,

Hung terrible to sight, a bloated corpse.

Oh! how shall rash and ignorant man presume

To judge for God, and on his narrow scale

Think to mete out by limits and degrees

Immeasurable mercy? Who can tell

How high the sorrows of man's suffering heart

Ascend tow'rds heav'n, how swift contrition flies,

What words find passage to the throne of grace,

What in mid-way are lost, dispers'd in air

And scatter'd to the winds? Oh! that my harp

Could sound that happy note, which stirs the string

Responsive, that kind Nature hath entwin'd

About the human heart, and by whose clue

Repentance, heav'nly monitress, reclaims

The youthful wanderer from his dang'rous maze

To tread her peaceful paths and seek his God:

So could my fervent my effectual verse

Avail, posterity should then engrave

That verse upon my tomb to tell the world

I did not live in vain. But heedless man,

Deaf to the music of the moral song,

By Mammon or by Belial led from sin

To sin, runs onward in his mad career,

Nor once takes warning of his better guide,

Till at the barrier of life's little span

Arriv'd, he stops: Death opens to his view

A hideous gulph; in vain he looks around

For the lost seraph Hope; beside him stands

The tyrant fiend and urges to the brink;

Behind him black despair with threat'ning frown

And gorgon shield, whose interposed orb

Bars all retreat, and with it's shade involves

Life's brighter prospects in one hideous night.

So JUDAS fell; so like him every wretch,

By the same filthy Mammon lur'd, shall fall.

Meanwhile the vengeful daemon unappeas'd,

Pond'ring the warning of his Stygian Lord

Late driv'n from earth, and mindful that the charge

And conduct of hell's host on him devolv'd

Now claim'd his wariest thought, upon the wing

Sets forth full sail to summon his compeers,

As many' as in that quarter might be found,

And them apprize of their foul loss incurr'd

By their great captain's fall, and what dispatch

Behoves them now put forth timely to 'scape

Impending danger of their chief foreseen,

If CHRIST's death-hour should unawares surprize

Them idly station'd, or with curious gaze

Hovering about his cross. So forth he goes:

But first to spy the land he wheels his flight

Athwart Mount Calvary, and there on guard

A file of heav'nly warriors he descries

Covering the sacred hill, and at their head

GABRIEL in golden panoply array'd,

Arm'd at all points, commander of the band.

The fate of SATAN and the recent sight

Of CHEMOS' ghastly wound, with guilty fears

Haunting his coward fancy, warn'd him fly

Beyond the range of that strong spear, from which

Spirit more warlike than himself had fled.

As when a pirate galley on the scout,

Roving the seas of some strong-guarded coast,

In bay or inlet moor'd under the lea

Of headland promontory' at anchor spies

A warlike fleet, whose tow'ring masts and sails

Unbent for sea bespeak their ready trim,

Down goes the helm at once, the felon crew

Bestir all hands and veer the vessel round

To seaward, then ply oars and sails for life:

So at the sight of that angelic band

The Stygian scout wheel'd round and sped his flight

Sheer to the wilderness on swiftest wing.

There on the watch AZAZEL haply found

He bade sound forth the loud Satanic trump,

Heard through all Palestine, at call whereof

Spi'rits, to whatever element affix'd,

In troops swift-posting on the charmed winds,

Came from all parts; from Sidon and from Tyre

New ris'n amidst the waves; from Gaza's coast,

Meridian limit, to the snow-capt mounts

Hermon and Libanus, and them beyond

From Epidaphne on Orontes' stream,

Fam'd for it's grove prophetic; from the banks

Of Pharphar and Abana, Rimmon's haunts;

From Byblus, where Astarte's wanton train

Howl for the death of Thammuz, yearly lost

And found as oft by the love-frantic dames.

These on the desart heath alighting stand

Obedient to the signal; all around

Expectant of their arch-angelic chief

They cast an anxious look, but look in vain:

Him in far other region they shall find

In chains fast bound amidst eternal fires,

His dismal dwelling, for them also' reserv'd

In God's appointed time. To whom the fiend.

I muse not, warriors, that ye stand amaz'd

To see yourselves in absence of our chief

Here summon'd by his arch-angelic trump,

Which other breath than his before ne'er fill'd;

But public danger urges this bold step,

In me presumptuous, had I not to plead

Your safety for my warrant, and withal

His last sad mandate earnestly bequeath'd

At parting, when sole witness I beheld

His utter loss, discomfiture and flight.

Ah, friends! how sympathetic with my soul

Is that deep general groan, which now I hear!

Full cause, immortal mourners, have we all

To groan and beat our breasts, nor I the least,

Whose melancholy task it is to pour

These heavy tidings in your grieved ears.

But let us yet remember what we are,

And be not therefore heartless, though bereft

Of him, who was the head and brain of all.

Many and mighty are the chiefs yet left,

Though he prime chief no longer shall review

This widow'd host. Of SATAN the return

Is desp'rate, such a whirlwind caught him up,

So strong a southern blast at CHRIST's command

Blew him beyond the stretch of angel ken

Right onward to the realm of antient Night

Impetuous through the empyrean void

Sheer on the level wing. Of him the fate

Is worse than doubtful; of his Victor's power

And Godhead irresistible what proof

Greater than this sad downfall can we need,

Or after such example what provoke?

Behoves us now prepare for instant flight;

This our late chief, prophetic in his fall,

With his last words enjoin'd me to propound

To these our legions scatter'd o'er the coasts

Of Palestine, whom else the coming hour

Of CHRIST's mysterious passion shall involve

In like disgrace and ruin with your prince,

Who to his latest moment upon earth

Was studious of your safety. I have now

In words unworthy of my charge, yet such

As heart o'erwhelm'd with sorrow can supply,

Surrender'd to your ears my painful trust.

But whither to repair, whom to elect

As captain and conductor of this host,

Now headless, conscious that such high command

With none but with the worthiest should be lodg'd,

I, as becomes me, to your wiser thoughts

Submit, and with the general choice shall close.

No more, for now with sudden panic seiz'd,

The Stygian host, no voice imperial heard

Nor rule nor order kept, uprose at once

Disbanded, lawless; dreadful was the yell

Of that infernal rout, a swarm as thick

As locusts, making horrid night beneath

Their wings, that with like clangor beat the air,

As of a flock of cormorants disturb'd

From some lone island on the rocky coast

Of Chili, where they haunt; so they with cry

More hideous mount, there hover for a while,

Then to all points disperse, as chance falls out,

Or short consult prescribes. Some to the South

With Isis and Osiris at their head

To Memphis, Thin and Tamis take their flight;

There with the bestial deities to herd,

Birds, serpents, reptiles, monsters of the Nile,

Gods that would half unfurnish Noah's ark:

Some with Melcartus, demi-god of Tyre,

Light short, and in his temple refuge take,

Where arm'd with massy club and lion hide

His huge athletic idol frowning stands:

Others with Rimmon eastward wing their way

To fam'd Damascus; there in bow'ring shades

By rilling fountains on the flowery turf

To doze away the soft oblivious hours,

A slumb'ring synod: Some the golden spires

Of Nineveh attract and Nisroc's fane,

Stain'd with Sennacherib's imperial blood,

There by the parricidal princes shed:

To Byblus and Belitus others speed,

Light feathery wantons by Astarte led

With loose love-ditties and soft smiles lur'd on

To page her pride and deck her amorous sports:

But of the rest far greater part repair

To high Olympus, where presides the power

Of thundering Baäl; he that station keeps

Pre-eminent o'er all the idol gods,

And in his festive hall rich nectar quaffs

With purple lips, and midnight revels holds

Luxurious, sensual, lewd, in vice immers'd:

Yet some there were and of no vulgar note,

Who, grief to tell! to the biforked mount

Flew off, and there with the Parnassian maids

Held shameful dalliance, from whose lewd embrace

Descended a whole family of bards

Corruptive, illegitimate and base;

A spurious breed of wickedness and wit;

A Muse's genius with a Daemon's heart:

MAMMON meanwhile, a solitary sprite,

Selfish, morose and ev'n by dev'ils abhorr'd,

Hied him alone, on sordid thoughts intent,

To rummage in Pactolus' sands for gold;

None join'd, nor sought he partner in his flight,

His sole ambition to engross and hoard.

Now came the awful consummation on,

The hour of promise, dimly shadow'd out

By types and prophecies, when from the womb

Of mystery, long travailing in pains

And groanings, now in ripe time should spring forth

Her full form'd revelation to dispel

Th' Obscure of antient days and usher in

Twin birth of Immortality and Life.

Now God by the' off'ring of his only Son

The type of Abraham's sacrifice fulfill'd,

Who, though unconscious of that type, by faith

Righteous, was of the promises made heir.

And now, as Moses in the wilderness

Lifted the serpent, so the Son of man

Exalted on the cross shall heal the world

Of sin, and expiate the wide-wasting plague.

Now the peace-offering of the spotless Lamb

By one conclusive Passover shall rend

The law's symbolic veil, and all absolve,

Whose consciences are sprinkled with his blood,

From punishment entail'd upon the world

By man's first disobedience. Forth He comes

From condemnation: Ye too from your tombs

Come forth, ye prophets!—Son of Amoz, thou

Prepare for resurrection: Come and see,

Not darkly' as in a glass, but face to face,

The object of thy vision; Him, the man

Of sorrows; Him, who like a lamb is brought

To slaughter: Mark the travail of his soul;

Witness how he is stricken for our sins,

Witness how we are healed by his stripes,

And by the note and comment of his death

Construe thine own predictions. Forth he comes

From condemnation under Roman guard,

Bearing his cross: Upon his bleeding brow,

Ensign alike of royalty and woe,

A thorny crown; no friendly hand is found

To wipe away the tear mingled with blood,

That hangs upon his cheek: The soldiers cry,

Room for the criminal! and rest their pikes

To keep the crowd aloof; staggering beneath

The ponderous burthen of his cross he faints

And sinks to earth o'erspent, till one is found,

A sturdy stranger of Cyrenean birth,

On whom to lay the venerable load.

Hail, SIMON! blessed above men wert thou,

If faith in Him that suffer'd on that cross

Glow'd in thy heart and furnish'd thee with zeal

To render this last service to thy Lord.

Without the city walls there was a mount

Call'd CALVARY: The common grave it was

Of malefactors; there to plant his cross

It was decreed: Long was the way to death,

And like th' ascent to glory hard to climb.

Upon the summit stood the Angel troop

Of MAMMON seen, though to man's filmed eye

Invisible: Here GABRIEL from the heighth

Noting the sad procession, had espied

The suffering Son of God amidst the throng

Dragg'd slowly on by rude and ruffian hands

To shameful execution: Horror-struck,

Pierc'd to the heart th' indignant Seraph shook

His threat'ning spear, and with the other hand

Smote on his thigh in agony of soul

For man's ingratitude; glist'ning with tears

His eyes, whence late celestial sweetness beam'd,

Now shot a fiery glance on them below,

Then, raising them to heav'n, he thus exclaim'd.

Oh! that the Everlasting would permit

His Angels to chastise these impious men,

And from their hands his holy Son redeem,

Whom in the heav'n of heav'ns we have beheld

Beloved of the Father, ever blest,

At the right hand of Pow'r in glory thron'd!

But this for purposes beyond our reach

God ever wise forbids, and who against

God's interdict shall stir? Therefore retire,

Stand off and wait the time! If CHRIST commands,

We are his ministers to do his will,

Be it to lift this mountain from it's base

And whelm it on his murderers; if not,

Patient spectators we must here abide

And let the sacrilegious work proceed;

Knowing that God hath said, I will revenge:

Vengeance belongeth to the Lord alone.

Now on the news of their great Prophet's fate

Each heart with fearfulness and trembling seiz'd,

Through all Jerusalem the tumult ran;

Native or stranger, aged or infirm,

None in the Holy City now kept house:

Where'er the Savior pass'd his presence drew

Thousands to gaze; and many' an aching heart

Heav'd silent the last tributary sigh

In memory of his mercies; zealous some

Rush'd in the grateful blessing to bestow

For health or limbs or life itself restor'd:

But these the soldiers rudely thrust aside,

And some with brutal violence they smote,

Thick'ning their files to hem their Pris'ner close,

As fearful of a rescue. Loud the cry

Of women, whose soft sex to pity prone

Melts at those scenes, which flinty-hearted man

Dry-ey'd contemplates: Mothers in their arms

Held up their infants, and with shrill acclaim

Begg'd a last blessing for those innocents,

Whose sweet simplicity so well he lov'd,

And ever as he met them laid his hands

Upon their harmless heads with gentle love

And gracious benediction, breathing heav'n

Into their hearts. Oh! happy babes, so blest!

Fenc'd in with shields and spears and compass'd round

With Roman guards the persecuting priests,

Elders and scribes follow'd their Victim's steps

Amidst the scoffs and hissings of the crowd;

And still as CHRIST approach'd the fatal spot

Loud and more loud the sad lamentings grew,

Till at the foot of the funereal mount

Arriv'd he stopt, and, turning to the group

Of mourners, these prophetic words address'd.

Daughters of Solyma, weep not for me,

Weep rather for yourselves and for your babes;

For lo! the dawn of sorrows is at hand;

The dread prediction presses to the birth,

When through Jerusalem a voice shall cry—

Give thanks, ye childless matrons, and confess

A barren bed, your worst misfortune deem'd,

Now your best blessing: Break forth into joy,

Ye, at whose breasts no infant ever hung,

For ye have none to mourn. Now to the clefts

And caverns of the mountains they shall say,

Fall on us, cover us, ye rocky vaults,

And hide us from this wrath! For if with us

Already it begins, what shall the end

Of the ungodly and the sinner be?

If the green tree cannot abide the storm,

How shall the dry escape?—And now no more:

Upon the summit of Mount CALVARY

They rear his cross; conspicuous there it stands

An ensign of salvation to the world.

Kneel, all ye Christian nations! bow your hearts

And worship your Redeemer, in whose death

Ye live, and from whose issuing wounds flows life,

By his blood purchas'd; hope's best promise flows

Of joys immortal for the just reserv'd.

The soldiers, now by their centurion form'd

In hollow orb around the cross, begin

Their horrid prelude to the murd'rous scene;

And first his vesture, their accustom'd spoil

And perquisite, they part; but for his coat

From top to bottom woven without seam,

That they rend not, but on it cast their lots

Whose it shall be entire. Upon his cross

In Hebrew, Greek and Latin they inscribe,

So PILATE will'd though by the priests oppos'd,

"JESUS OF NAZARETH, KING OF THE JEWS!"

This title, in three several tongues display'd,

Read all those crucifiers of their King

And murmur'd as they read; hard to the last,

Obdurate, unbelieving. Now began

The executioners to spread his arms

Upon the beam transverse, and through his palms,

Monsters of cruelty! and through his feet

They drove their spiked nails; whilst at the clang

Of those dire engines every feeling heart

Utter'd a groan, that with the mingled shrieks

Of mothers and of children pierc'd the air.

The priests and elders gnash'd their teeth for rage

And rancorous spite to hear him so bewail'd:

Women dropt down convuls'd and on the spot

Let fall their burthens immature for birth.

Words fail to paint the horrors of that scene:

The very soldiers paus'd and stood aghast,

Musing what these lamentings might portend;

Scarce dar'd they to pursue the dreadful work

Awe-struck and gazing on the face divine

Of the suspended Savior. He, though stretch'd

Upon the rack of agony, to heav'n

Raising his eyes—Father of mercy, cried,

Forgive them, for they know not what they do!

O ruthless murderers! could ye hear these words

And yet persist? Blasphemers! can ye read

And not adore? The people stand at gaze:

The rulers eager to provoke anew

Their quailing resolution with one voice

Cry out amain—Ah! thou, that on the cross

Now hangest, thou, that boastedst to destroy

Our temple and rebuild it in three days,

Where art thou? If thou be the very CHRIST,

The King of Israel, now come down, descend

And save thyself; this seeing, we will then

Confess thee and believe. But 'tis in vain;

He hears not, he replies not, he expires:

Others he sav'd; himself he cannot save.

Peace, peace, revilers! nor expect reply:

Think not that CHRIST, thus dying for mankind,

Will from his great commission turn aside

And stop the sacrifice and quit the cross,

On which his body offer'd up for sin

As on an altar lies. Your taunts he hears;

Yet will he not descend call'd down by you,

Nor at the door of death shrink back and leave

Short of perfection his all-glorious work.

But wait the time and greater sign than this

Ye shall behold, when rising from the dead

And incorruptible he shall return

On earth triumphant o'er the cross and death.

Yet, such is the perverseness of your hearts,

Him nor descending would ye now believe,

Nor re-ascending will ye then confess.

And now behold! on either side the cross

Of CHRIST a wretched malefactor hung

Groaning and writhing in the pangs of death:

When one of these, encourag'd by the taunts

Of the reviling priests, scornful exclaims—

Hear'st thou not what they say? If thou be CHRIST,

Why art thou in this torture? Save thyself,

And us thy fellows from this cross redeem—

This when his penitent companion heard,

New horrors smote his heart, his fault'ring voice

He rais'd and thus the blasphemy rebuk'd.

Hast thou no fear of God, expiring wretch?

Stretch'd as thou art upon the tree of death,

Hast thou no terror for the wrath to come?

And truly we the merited reward

Of our ill deeds receive, but this just Man,

What hath he done? In him no fault is found.

This said, the penitent with faith inspir'd

Upon the Savior turn'd his dying eyes,

And—Lord! he cried with supplicating voice,

When to thy heav'nly kingdom thou shalt come,

Oh then remember me!—To him the LORD—

I tell thee of a truth this very day

Thou shalt be found in Paradise with me.

Oh! words of joy, that breathe into the ear

Of the expiring penitent the pledge

Of pardon and acceptance: Words, that waft

The soul yet hovering on the lips of faith

Into the heav'n of heav'ns, with grateful heart

We hail the glorious promise, which unfolds

The gates of bliss and present entrance gives

To the repentant sinner. Now no more

Conjecture ponders on the life to come;

Our dying Savior draws aside the veil,

Through which dim reason caught a doubtful glimpse

Of shadowy realms, that stretch'd beyond the grave,

Elysian scenes in clouds and mist involv'd.

Yet with this comfort take the caution too;

For who shall say what penitence was his,

That earn'd this promise? Fatally he errs,

Whose hope fore-runs repentance, who presumes

That God will pardon when he's tir'd of sin

And like a stale companion casts it off.

Oh! arrogant, delusive, impious thought,

To meditate commodious truce with Heaven,

When death's swift arrow smites him unprepar'd,

And that protracted moment never comes,

Or comes too late: Turn then, presumptuous man,

Turn to the other sinner on the cross,

Who died reviling, there behold thy doom!

Thou too, the Virgin Mother of our Lord,

By the angelic salutation hail'd

Blest above women, thou amidst the group

Of sympathising mourners at that hour

Wast present, when th' incarnate Virtue, born

Of thine immac'ulate womb, impregn'd of Heav'n,

Hung on the cross expiring: He from thence

On thee disconsolate a dying look

Of tenderest pity cast, and at thy side

Noting the meek disciple whom he lov'd,

Thus both address'd—Woman, behold thy son;

Son, look upon thy mother!—Sacred charge,

And piously fulfill'd.—Now darkness fell

On all the region round; the shrowded sun

From the impen'itent earth withdrew his light:

I thirst!—the Savior cried, and lifting up

His eyes in agony—My God, my God!

Ah! why hast thou forsaken me?—exclaim'd.

Yet deem him not forsaken of his God:

Beware that error: 'Twas the mortal part

Of his compounded nature breathing forth

It's last sad agony, that so complain'd:

Doubt not that veil of sorrow was withdrawn,

And heav'nly comfort to his soul vouchsaf'd,

Ere thus he cried—Father! into thy hands

My spirit I commend:—Then bow'd his head

And died. Now GABRIEL and his heav'nly choir

Of minist'ring angels hov'ring o'er the cross

Receiv'd his spi'rit, at length from mortal pangs

And fleshly pris'on set free, and bore it thence

Upon their wings rejoicing. Then behold

A prodigy, that to the world announc'd

A new religion and dissolv'd the old:

The temple's sacred vail was rent in twain

From top to bottom 'midst th' attesting shocks

Of earthquake and the rending up of graves:

Now those mysterious symbols, heretofore

Curtain'd from vulgar eyes and holiest deem'd

Of holies, were display'd to public view:

The mercy-seat with its cherubic wings

O'ershadow'd and the golden ark beneath

Covering the testimony now through the rent

Of that dissever'd vail first saw the light.

A world redeem'd had now no further need

Of types and emblems, dimly shadowing forth

An angry Deity withdrawn from sight

And canopied in clouds: Him face to face

Now in full light reveal'd the dying breath

Of his dear Son appeas'd, and purchas'd peace

And reconcilement for offending man.

Thus the partition wall, by Moses built,

By CHRIST was level'd, and the Gentile world

Enter'd the breach by their great Captain led

Up to the throne of grace, opening himself

Through his own flesh a new and living way.

Then were the oracles of God made known

To all the nations, sprinkled by the blood

Of JESUS and baptiz'd into his death;

So was the birth-right of the elder-born,

Heirs of the promise, forfeited; whilst they,

Whom sin had erst in bondage held, made free

From sin and servants of the living God,

Now gain'd the gift of God, eternal life.

Soon as these signs and prodigies were seen

Of those who watch'd the cross, conviction smote

Their fear-struck hearts: The sun at noon-day dark,

The earth convulsive underneath their feet,

And the firm rocks in shiver'd fragments rent

Rous'd them at once to tremble and believe.

Then was our Lord by heathen lips confess'd,

When the centurion cried—In very truth

This righteous person was the Son of God—

The rest in heart assenting stood abash'd,

Watching in silence the tremendous scene:

The recollection of his gracious acts,

His dying pray'rs and their own impious taunts

Now rose in sad review; too late they wish'd

The deed undone and sighing smote their breasts.

Strait from God's presence went that Angel forth,

Whose trumpet shall call up the sleeping dead

At the last day, and bade the Saints arise

And come on earth to hail this promis'd hour,

The day-spring of Salvation. Forth they came

From their dark tenements, their shadowy forms

Made visible as in their fleshly state,

And through the Holy City here and there

Frequent they gleam'd, by night, by day with fear

And wonder seen of many: Holy seers,

Prophets and martyrs from the grave set free,

And the first-fruits of the redeemed dead.

They, who with CHRIST transfigur'd on the mount

Were seen of his disciples in a cloud

Of dazzling glory, now in form distinct

Mingling amidst the public haunts of men,

Struck terror to all hearts: Ezekiel there,

The captive seer, to whom on Chebar's banks

The heav'ns were open'd and the fatal roll

Held forth with dire denunciations fill'd

Of lamentation, mourning and of woe,

Now falling fast on Israel's wretched race:

He too was there, Hilkiah's holy son,

With loins close girt and glowing lips of fire

By God's own finger touch'd: There might be seen

The youthful prophet, Belteshazzar nam'd

Of the Chaldees, interpreter of dreams,

Knowledge of God bestow'd, in visions skill'd

And fair and learn'd and wise: The Baptist here

Girt in his hairy mantle frowning stalk'd,

And, pointing to his ghastly wound, exclaim'd—

Ye vipers! whom my warning could not move

Timely to flee from the impending wrath,

Now fallen on your heads; whom I indeed

With water, CHRIST hath now with fire baptiz'd:

Barren ye were of fruits, which I prescrib'd

Meet for repentance, and behold! the axe

Is laid to the unprofitable root

Of every sapless tree, hewn down, condemn'd

And cast into the fire. Lo! these are they,

These shadowy forms now floating in your sight,

These are the harbingers of antient days,

Who witness'd the Messias and announc'd

His coming upon earth. Mark with what scorn

Silent they pass you by: Them had ye heard,

Them had ye noted with a patient mind,

Ye had not crucified the LORD OF LIFE:

He of these stones to Abraham shall raise up

Children, than you more worthy of his stock;

And now his winnowing fan is in his hand,

With which he'll purge his floor, and having stor'd

The precious grain in garners, will consume

With fire unquenchable the refuse chaff.

Thus the terrific Vision in the ears

Of the astonish'd multitude declaim'd

With threat'ning voice, and wrung their conscious hearts;

Whilst the blaspheming priests, who in their scorn

Triumphant saw the Savior of the world

Expiring on the cross and deem'd him lost,

Now by the resurrection of the saints,

Usher'd on earth with prodigies and signs,

Confounded and amaz'd, began to doubt

If yet the sepulchre had power to keep

It's crucified Possessor safe in hold,

And with these thoughts perplex'd, masking their fears

Under pretence of caution, they repair

To PILATE and demand a Roman guard

To watch the tomb of CHRIST, and then they add—

For we remember that Deceiver said,

Whilst he was yet alive, after three days

I will again arise; therefore we pray

Command the sepulchre to be made sure

Till the third day, lest his disciples come

By night and craftily remove him thence;

So the last error shall outgo the first.

But PILATE, whose unrighteous judgment still

Sate heavy on his heart, had little care

For what might them befall, and to their suit

Briefly reply'd—Why do ye ask of me

That custody, which in yourselves ye have?

Take your own watch and to their charge commit

The safeguard of that body, which, though dead,

Keeps yet alive your fears: 'Tis your own cause,

As such I leave it with you; so begone!

He said and turn'd aside, nor did they tempt

Further discourse, but murm'ring went their way.

END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK VII.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.

This Book opens with the scene of Mount Calvary at the coming on of evening; Christ still hanging dead upon the cross, the disciples standing apart and the holy women watching, amongst whom is the Blessed Virgin supported by St. John, Christ having bequeathed her to his care: His address to her on this subject, and her reply. The soldiers come and break the legs of the two malefactors, but finding Christ already dead, they pierce his heart with a spear and blood and water issues from the wound: They take him down from the cross and lay him in the sepulchre. His spirit in the meanwhile is conveyed by the angels into the region of Death; that region described, and the distant prospect of the bottomless pit, where the souls of the wicked are in torment: Christ points out these scenes to Gabriel and instructs him as to the future objects of his descent into this gloomy region. Satan expelled from earth falls prostrate at the foot of the throne of Death: He makes suit to that power for protection: Death rejects his intercessions: The person and palace of the King of Terrors described: The triumphant entry of Christ: Satan is hurled into the bottomless pit and there bound by the strong angel; the horrors of that dreadful abode are represented: Death humbles himself before the Redeemer of mankind, and conscious that his power is overthrown, tenders his crown to Christ as to his conqueror: He lays the key at his feet, which sets free the souls of the Saints, who are destined to be partakers of the first resurrection: This key is given to Gabriel with instructions for their release: Christ in his reply to Death forewarns him of his doom, but signifies to him that the dissolution of his power will not be immediate. The approach of the Saints concludes the Book.

CALVARY. BOOK VII. THE DESCENT INTO HELL.

NOW Hesperus renew'd his evening lamp

And hung it forth amid the turbid sky

To mark the close of this portentous day:

The lab'ring sun, in his mid-course eclips'd,

Darkling at length had reach'd his western goal;

And now it seem'd as if all Nature slept

O'erspent and wearied with convulsive throes.

Upon his cross the martyr'd Savior hung;

Pale through the twilight gleam'd his breathless corpse

And silvery white, as when the moon-beam plays

On the smooth surface of the glassy lake;

His thorn-crown'd head upon his breast reclin'd;

His arms were wide out-spread, as if in act

To' embrace and welcome the converted world:

So were they late expanded, when he cried—

Come all ye heavy laden, come to me,

And I will give you rest! Death had not dar'd

To rob those features of one heav'nly grace,

Nor had the worm authority to taint

That incorruptible and hallow'd shrine,

Wherein his purity had deign'd to dwell.

The living saints here mingling with the dead

Stood round in pensive meditation rapt,

Silent spectators of the awful scene:

There his disciples in a group apart,

Like frighted sheep that cluster in a storm,

Throng'd each on other interchanging looks

Of sorrow and despair; no voice was heard,

No utterance but of sighs; though all had need

Of comfort, none had comfort to bestow.

But PETER, in whose self-accusing breast

Grief roll'd in tempests, had the whilst chos'n out

A solitary spot, where at his length

Outstretch'd with face incumbent on the ground

He lay like one, whom fortune had cast off,

Of all hope 'reft, most wretched and forlorn.

There too the holy Mother might be seen,

Like Rizpah, watching o'er her murder'd son,

Rooted in earth, a monument of woe.

Beside her, bath'd in sympathising tears,

First in his Master's love, as meek of soul,

Stood JOHN, adopted by his dying Lord

Son and supporter of that mournful Saint.

At length with reverend love he turn'd his eyes

Upon the Virgin Mother and thus spake.

Oh thou! participant with God himself

In his incarnate Offspring, if I claim

The glorious title, which my dying Lord

On me, thy servant ever, now thy son,

Gracious bequeath'd, let not my words offend.

High honor and a trust than life more dear

Hath CHRIST by this adoption deign'd to cast

On me unmeriting; yet well I heard

Those sacred words—Mother, behold thy son;

Son, look upon thy mother!—Yes, I heard,

And treasuring in my heart the rich bequest,

Bow'd and obey'd: Ev'n then my zeal had spoke

The dictates of devotion, had I dar'd

To break the awful silence of that hour,

Or sacrilegiously divert the ear

Of mute attention, whilst those lips divine,

Those living oracles, had breath to move;

Now mute, alas! for He is now no more,

Who had the words of life: Our hope is quench'd,

Our glory vanish'd. See! the deed is done:

Those murderers have kill'd the Prince of Peace,

Cold on the cross and stiff'ning in the wind

To the rude elements his corpse is left;

Nor is there found, who shall provide a grave

For the sad reliques of the Son of God.

But lo! the heav'ns, that three long hours have mourn'd

In darkness, now throw off their sable shroud:

The earth no longer quakes beneath our feet,

The shatter'd rocks subside; Nature is calm,

The sun unmasks and through disparted clouds

With ruddy twilight streaks the western sky.

And may not we, since God hath now withdrawn

His terrors and asswag'd the wrathful sky,

May not we hope, that as his light revives

At the third hour, so of his blessed Son

The promis'd resurrection to new life

At the third day shall also come to pass?

When, as the sun emerging from eclipse

Darkness dispells, so CHRIST from out the grave

Arising shall dispell our dark despair?

To him the holy Mother thus replied:

Thou meek Disciple, in thy Master's love

Pre-eminently blest, since He, whose will

Should govern, so decrees it, from this hour

Henceforth I lodge thee in a mother's heart

And hold thee as my son; for I perceive

CHRIST from his human nature is withdrawn,

And to mortality hath render'd back

All that from me a mortal he receiv'd:

His Incorruptible now lives with God,

And in that glory I no part must claim;

Flesh cannot share with spirit. Henceforth thou,

Thou art my son adopted in the place

Of that incarnate Virtue, of whose birth

Miraculous the eastern star gave sign,

And Angels witness'd him the Son of God.

And now behold! what wonders mark his death:

Whence are these prodigies? What but the hand

Of God can shake the pillars of the earth,

Seal up the sun and rend these rocks in twain,

Turn day to night, tear down the temple vail,

Break up the graves and bid the saints come forth?

Lo, where they pass as sensible to sight

As in broad day substantial man to man.

And can we ask if He be very CHRIST,

Whom stars and Angels usher'd into birth?

Can we doubt Him on whom the Spi'rit of God

Dove-like descended? Can we stop our ears

Against a voice from heav'n? Are we so blind,

Dull and insensible not to behold

That sun emergent and these moving shapes,

That to revisit earth have left their graves,

Awaken'd as from sleep? If these can rise,

If these, whose bones are moulder'd into dust,

On whom the worm hath fed for ages, men

As mortal as ourselves can re-ascend

Out of the pit, do not these signs bespeak

His second coming, who is LORD and CHRIST?

He shall, He shall return upon the earth

Victorious over death, and we, though now

Humbled in heart and for a season sad,

Yet wavering not in faith and holding fast

The anchor of our hope, shall yet again

Behold his glory, and as now his death

Turns day to night, his resurrection then

Shall into joy convert our present gloom.

But see, where PETER prostrate on the earth

Is lost in sorrow: Haste and bid him rise;

Tell him the day's at hand when he must work.

Hath he not heard the servant shall not sleep

In his Lord's absence? Strengthen thou his heart!

So spake these Saints, and each to other gave

Alternate solace; faith inspiring hope,

And hope asswaging woe. At PETER's side

Behold the meek disciple—Up! he cries,

Awake and put on strength: The Virgin Saint,

The Mother of our Lord, bids thee awake.

Unprofitable grief availeth nought,

But godly sorrow is approv'd in works

Meet for repentance. Up! for CHRIST, though dead,

Yet speaketh, and shall come again on earth:

Woe to that servant therefore, whom his Lord

Shall find thus sleeping; great shall be his wrath.

This said, he reach'd his hand and rais'd him up:

He stood and spake—Servant, of CHRIST approv'd,

Thee and thy blessed Sender I obey:

Yet doth my heart, by deep remorse subdued,

Press downward to the dust. A wretch I am,

Who hath denied his Lord: What can I do,

A miserable man? O righteous JOHN,

When thou shalt spread abroad, as sure thou wilt,

The direful doings of this fatal day,

And publish to mankind the wond'rous love

Of CHRIST thus dying for them, I conjure thee

Be faithful to the truth, screen not my crime,

Foul though it be, but let the nations know

PETER, who vaunted of himself, was false,

So shall they reap instruction from my shame,

And by despising me correct themselves.

Thus spake the contrite Saint, when now the priests,

Whose custom was upon this solemn eve

To purge their Golgotha from human blood,

Send forth their guard official to remove

CHRIST and the slaves convict before the dawn

Of that great day, too hallow'd to permit

Their bodies fest'ring on th' ill-omen'd cross.

And lo! the soldiers so encharg'd arrive,

Survey the victims and begin the work:

But first the pond'rous sledge with horrid crash

Descending breaks the knees and ankle joints

Of these two criminals; for stubborn life

Still hover'd on their lips, and now and then

Their heaving bosoms fetch'd a deep-drawn sigh,

Like the slow swell of seas without a wind.

But when the Savior's body they approach'd

And saw there needed not a second blow

To make his death secure, the word of God

Prophetic mov'd their else obdurate hearts

To break no limb; yet one, so destin'd, thrust

His spear into his side and forthwith flow'd

Water and blood from the heart-piercing wound:

So deep the stab, that to life's citadel,

Had life remain'd, the mortal point had reach'd

And there had finish'd it. Meanwhile behold!

JOSEPH arrives; a counsellor was he,

But not for death, and rich and just withal;

In Ramoth born, where Samuel first drew breath,

And as his heart in righteousness and faith

Stood firm with CHRIST whilst living, so his zeal

An honour'able interment to bestow

On his dead Master prompted him to make

Bold suit to PILATE for the lifeless corpse,

Nor fail'd he of his suit; therefore he came,

So favor'd, to receive the precious charge

Of those dear reliques and with decent rites

Commit them to the grave: Spear'd to the heart,

And death with double diligence ensur'd,

The body they take down; the hands and feet

Pierc'd through with nails and all besmear'd with blood,

O piteous spectacle! which to behold

Bathes every angel face in heav'n with tears!

Accursed Deicides! the time comes on,

When every mark your sacrilegious hands

Have printed on that corpse shall be a seal

To testify against you, every gash

Unclos'd shall with it's living lips proclaim

CHRIST in his human attributes renew'd,

Corporeal yet immortal: Then the hand

Of him who doubts shall probe those gaping wounds,

And by the evidence of sense compel

The faithless and reluctant to believe.

And now they place the body on the bier,

Cleans'd of the blood and wrapt in seemly cloths:

Then under guard convey it to the vault

Hewn in the rock, where never corpse was laid,

And there consign it to it's dark abode,

Rolling a massy fragment to the door,

Unwieldy, vast; and having seal'd the stone,

They post their centinels, and so depart.

Meanwhile the' unhoused spirit of CHRIST, set free

From gross communion with his earthly clay,

Borne with the meteor's speed upon the wings

Of mightiest Cherubim had now approach'd

The dark confines of Death's engulph'd domain:

Here at the barrier of that vast profound

On the firm adamant, from whence uprose

The tow'ring structure of hell's ebon gate,

The heav'nly Visitant descending bade

His cherub bearers stoop their wings, on which

As in a plumey chariot he rode;

And now alighted on the dreadful brink

The Savior paus'd and downward cast his eye

O'er that immeasurable blank, the grave

Of universal Nature, founded then

And charter'd to the gloomy powers of Sin

And Death Sin-born, when the primaeval pair

Lost immortality and fell from God.

The starry lamps of heav'n here lost their light,

No sun-beam ever reach'd this dismal realm:

Yet in CHRIST's spi'rit divine that living light,

Which from the Father of creation flow'd

Before all time, inherently supplied

Self-furnish'd vision to explore the bounds

Of that oblivious pit, in whose dark womb

Myriads of unredeemed souls were plung'd;

All who of human birth had pass'd that gate

From righteous Abel, the first-fruit of death,

To him, whose heart had newly ceas'd to beat,

Were in that gulph immers'd. At farthest end

Of that Obscure a pillary cloud arose

Of sulph'rous smoke, that from hell's crater steam'd;

Whence here and there by intermittent gleams

Blue flashing fires burst forth, that sparkling blaz'd

Up to the iron roof, whose echoing vault

Resounded ever with the dolorous groans

Of the sad crew beneath: Thence might be heard

The wailing suicide's remorseful plaint;

The murd'rer's yelling scream, and the loud cry

Of tyrants in that fiery furnace hurl'd,

Vain cry▪ th' unmitigated furies urge

Their ruthless task and to the cauldron's edge

With ceaseless toil huge blocks of sulphur roll,

Pil'd mountains high to feed the greedy flames:

All these, th' accursed brood of Sin, were once

The guilty pleasures, the false joys, that lur'd

Their sensual vota'rists to th' infernal pit:

Them their fell mother, watchful o'er the work,

With eye that sleep ne'er clos'd and snaky scourge

Still waving o'er their heads, for ever plies

To keep the fiery deluge at it's heighth;

And stops her ears against the clam'rous din

Of those tormented, who for mercy call

Age after age implor'd and still denied.

These when th' all-present Spirit of CHRIST descried

At distance tossing in the sulph'rous lake,

And heard their dismal groans, the conscious sense

Of human weakness by experience earn'd

In his own mortal body now put off,

And recollection that Himself of late

In his sublunar pilgrimage had prov'd

Temptations like to their's, drew from his soul.

A sigh of nat'ral pity, as from man

To man although in merited distress:

But when his human sympathy gave place

To judgment better weigh'd and riper thoughts

Congenial with the Godhead reassum'd,

The justice of their doom, th' abhorrence due

To their vile deeds by voluntary act

Of will, left free, committed in despight

Of conscience moving them to better thoughts,

Turn'd him indignant from the loathed sight

Of these impenitents; when, after pause,

To GABRIEL, chief of the cherubic host

And late his strength'ning angel, thus he spake.

GABRIEL, or e'er from this high steep we launch

With prone descent into this gloomy vast,

This shadowy dark inane, the realm of Death,

After so swift a race through all the spheres

From earth to this hell's portal, it behoves

Thee and thy plumed cohort to recruit

The vigor of your wings; for sure I am

That in this subterranean we shall find

No breeze from heav'n's pure aether to give aid

To motion, or uphold in steady poise

Your feath'ry vans outstretch'd; nor may we look

For star or planet or one straggling ray

From circumlucent sun to guide our course

Through this obscure domain of Night and Death.

Nor less behoves thee, gentle as thou art,

Friendliest to man of all heav'n's angel host

And for each task of mercy and of love

First in the choice of God, to arm thy heart

For the sad spectacles, the dismal scenes,

Which we must needs encounter in this gulph

Of human misery, this world of woes,

Fit residence for SATAN and his crew

Of outcast angels; sad reverse to thee

Inhabitant of heav'n: And now, behold!

Where hell's infernal pit with horrid glare

Flames through the dismal gloom, there, but that God

In mercy films thine arch-angelic eye,

Such myriads in that ever-burning lake

Of souls tormented thou wouldst else discern,

As would appal thy nature; but these scenes

From thee, a spi'rit so loving to mankind,

So melting soft to pity, are with-held:

No mercy can I meditate far them

Impenitent, no embassy of peace

Have I in charge, no respite, till the trump

Of general resurrection calls them up

At the last day of judgment, then to hear

Their crimes rehears'd, their blasphemies expos'd,

Their envyings, frauds, revilings, treach'ries, plots▪

And ev'ry secret of their hearts unmask'd

By an all-righteous Judge, who shall pronounce

Their final condemnation and decree

Their present pains perpetual. We meanwhile

To other regions shall divert our course

From them and from their torments far apart,

Regions of night and silence, where the souls

Of righteous men in their oblivious caves

Sleep out the time till their Deliverer comes

To wake them from their trance, dissolve the spell

Of their enchanter Death and set them free

To range the fields of Paradise, where flows,

As from a fountain by God's presence fed,

Beatitude surpassing human thought,

Pleasures unseen, unnumber'd, unconceiv'd.

This said, from those high battlements the Dove

Of Peace upon Redemption's errand sent,

Borne on the wings of his cherubic choir,

Descended swift, and through the drowsy void

To Death's terrific palace steer'd his flight.

Here the Arch-foe of man, from earth expell'd

By man's Redeemer, newly had arriv'd,

But fear-struck and in like disastrous trim

With war-worn Sisera, when in his flight

From the victorious Naphthalite he came

To ask protection at falfe Jael's tent,

And ruin found instead. The whirlwind's blast

Had shatter'd his proud form; now scorch'd by fires,

Now driv'n to regions of perpetual frost

Beyond extremest Saturn's wint'ry sphere,

No middle course kept he, nor had his feet

From their aërial journey once found rest,

Till at the threshold of Death's gloomy throne

Down on the solid adamant he fell

Precipitate at once, and lay entranc'd

Of arch-angelic majesty the wreck.

Scar'd at the hideous crash and all aghast

Death scream'd amain, then wrapt himself in clouds,

And in his dark pavilion trembling sate

Mantled in night. And now the prostrate fiend

Rear'd his terrific head with lightnings scorch'd

And furrow'd deep with scars of livid hue;

Then stood erect and roll'd his blood-shot eyes

To find the ghastly vision of grim Death,

Who at the sudden downfal of his fire

Startled, and of his own destruction warn'd,

Had shrunk from sight, and to a misty cloud

Dissolv'd hung lowring o'er his shrouded throne.

When SATAN, whose last hope was now at stake,

Impatient for the interview exclaim'd.

Where art thou, Death? Why hide thyself from him,

Of whom thou art? Come forth, thou grisly king;

And though to suitor of immortal mould

Thy refuge be denied, yet at my call,

Thy father's call, come forth and comfort me,

Thou gaunt anatomy, with one short glimpse

Of those dry bones, in which alone is peace

And that oblivious sleep, for which I sigh.

He said, and now a deep and hollow groan,

Like roar of distant thunders, shook the hall,

And from before the cloud-envelop'd throne

The adamantine pavement burst in twain

With hideous crash self-open'd, and display'd

A subterranean chasm, whose yawning vault,

Deep as the pit of Acheron, forbade

All nearer access to the shado'wy king.

Whereat the imprison'd winds, that in it's womb

Were cavern'd, 'gan to heave their yeasty waves

In bubbling exhalations, till at once

Their eddying vapors working upwards burst

From the broad vent enfranchis'd, when, behold!

The cloud that late around the throne had pour'd

More than Egyptian darkness, now began

To lift it's fleecy skirts, till through the mist

The imperial Phantom gleam'd; monster deform'd;

Enormous, terrible, from heel to scalp

One dire anatomy; his giant bones

Star'd through the shrivell'd skin, that loosely hung

On his sepulchral carcase; round his brows

A cypress wreath tiara-like he wore

With nightshade and cold hemlock intertwin'd;

Behind him hung his quiver'd store of darts

Wing'd with the raven's plume; his fatal bow

Of deadly yew, tall as Goliah's spear,

Propp'd his unerring arm; about his throne,

If throne it might be call'd, which was compos'd

Of human bones, as in a charnel pil'd,

A hideous group of dire diseases stood,

Sorrows and pains and agonizing plagues,

His ghastly satellites, and, ev'n than these

More terrible, ambition's slaught'ring sons,

Heroes and conquerors stil'd on earth, but here

Doom'd to ignoble drudgery, employ'd

To do his errands in the loathsome vault,

And tend corruption's never-dying worm,

To haunt the catacombs and ransack graves,

Where some late popu'lous city is laid waste

By the destroying pestilence, or storm'd

By murdering Russ or Tartar blood-besmear'd

And furious in the desp'rate breach to plant

His eagle or his crescent on the piles

Of mangled multitudes and flout the sky

With his victorious banners. Now a troop

Of shrowded ghosts upon a signal given

By their terrific Monarch start to sight,

Each with a torch funereal in his grasp,

That o'er the hall diffus'd a dying light,

Than darkness' self more horrible: The walls

Of that vast cenotaph, hung round with spears,

Falchions and pole-axes and plumed helms,

Shew'd like the arm'ory of some warlike state:

There every mortal weapon might be seen,

Each implement of old or new device,

Which savage nature or inventive art

Furnish'd to arm the ruffian hand of war

And deal to man the life-destroying stroke:

And them betwixt at intervals were plac'd

The crowned skeletons of mighty kings,

Caesars and Caliphs and barbarian Chiefs,

Monsters, whose swords had made creation shrink

And frighted peace and science from the earth.

Pondering the scene in mute amazement rapt

The lost Arch-angel stood, when soon the voice

Of Death as from the tombs low-murmuring thus

Bespoke attention—What uncivil cause,

Prince of the air, provokes thee to offend

Against the peaceful charter of these realms

By voice thus rude and clamo'rous? Know'st thou not

I reign by privilege, though son not slave

Of thee heav'n-exil'd? Here no place hast thou,

For here is peace; no part in this domain

To thee and to thy rebel host belongs:

They in the flames of Tartarus, but we

Dwell with the silent worm: The pow'r we have

O'er man's corruptible and mortal part

Ends with the body; here the bones may sleep,

For these anatomies disturb us not:

But for the spark unquenchable, the soul

Immortal, which survives the fleeting breath,

Of that we take no charge; that must abide

In other regions it's appointed lot

Of misery or bliss. What then hath Death

To do with SATAN? Can the son, who drew

Existence from the father, quench that spi'rit,

Which God decreed eternal? Will those fires

Cease at my word? Hell will not hear my voice,

Nor can the howlings of th' infernal pit

Enter my ears. Ask not repose of me,

Tormented fiend: There is no grave for sin,

No sleep for SATAN; fall'n from heav'n thou art,

There thou hast no abode; fall'n now from earth,

Where is thy lodging? Where, but in those flames?

Pass on then in thy course, nor loiter here,

For hell expects thee: Wert thou here to stay,

Death in destroying thee himself destroys.

Whereto th' unwelcome visitant replied—

Inhospitable Pow'r! and is it thus

Thou greet'st a father in his extreme need

Suppliant for leave to draw a moment's breath

In thy pale presence, till this furious blast,

That follow'd me from earth, shall spend it's rage

And cease to howl through the profound of hell?

If in thy heartless trunk no mem'ory dwells

Of what I was, Oh! teach me to forget

What now I am and make my senses dull

To pain, as thine to gratitude are lost:

But if thy mind be present to record

My fall from bliss, will it not also serve

To put thee in remembrance how that fall

Bestow'd on thee a station and a name?

Had I not fall'n from heav'n man had not lost

The joys of Paradise, immortal joys

Till I destroy'd them; who then but myself,

Exil'd from God, brought Death into the world,

Gave thee the sepulchre for thy domain,

And every mortal body for thy prey?

Whose hand but SATAN's, thankless as thou art,

Plac'd that victorious wreath upon thy brow,

Arm'd thee for war and bade thee be a king?

And what doth SATAN now demand of Death?

What, but a moment's respite, the small boon

Of hospitable shelter, where to lay

My aching head and rest my weary wing?

This to the father can the son refuse?

I ask no more. If CHRIST, from whom I fly,

Pursues me to this pit, and into hell

Descending shall repass her gloomy gates

Guarded by Sin, that barrier lost, farewell

To all thy greatness! Where shall be thy sting,

O Death, and where thy victory, O Grave?

Then to have harbor'd SATAN shall not add

One feather to the balance of thy fate:

All must be lost together; I to flames

Consign'd, thou, Phantom, into air dissolv'd.

No more of this vain arguing, Death replied;

My peace and my repose I can but deal

As God decrees, and as he wills withhold:

Thus wrangling to the latest hour of time

Nothing, O SATAN, could'st thou wring from me

But the same answer and the same despair:

I with mortality alone confer,

Thou art a deathless spirit: If my pow'r

Cannot annihilate the soul of man,

How then of angel? Guilty thou hast been,

Conscious must ever be, and therefore curst.

Of me complaining thou condemn'st thyself,

The righteous ever are at peace with Death;

Thou art not of their number. Spi'rit unblest,

Author of man's revolt and all things ill,

The hell which thou hast peopled, is thine own.

Earth thou hast made a ruin, men by thee

Perverted turn to monsters, Heav'n itself,

Disturb'd by thy rebellion, for a while

Suffer'd convulsion, and her thrones besieg'd

Echo'd the din of battle; the fair bloom

Of Paradise was blasted by thy spells,

And man driv'n forth to till th' unthankful earth

And toil and sweat for a precarious meal,

Degraded from his origin, at length

To me and to corruption was consign'd.

These were thy doings, this was my descent,

And my inheritance the loathsome worm,

The throne funereal and this yawning gulph

Impassable, which I am yet to thank

For that it holds thee at a distance from me:

This is thy bounty. Look upon these bones,

Survey this dread anatomy, and say

If son so fashion'd owes his father thanks:

Proportion'd to thy goodness I accord

My gratitude by bidding thee avaunt;

Hence from my sight, intruder! Thrust from earth

As heretofore from heav'n, and tempest-torn

With bruised head and shatter'd flagging wing

Hither thou com'st a fugitive from Him,

Whom in the wilderness for forty days

Tempting thou didst annoy: Dull, doating spirit!

Blind to thine own destruction, not to see

God's pow'r in CHRIST, nor understand that He,

Who foil'd thy cunning, might defy thy strength:

But neither strength nor cunning shall prevail

To draw me forth upon a losing side,

And set this empire on a desp'rate cast:

I lack presumption to oppose that Power,

Which puts hell's monarch to inglorious flight.

What shelter can'st thou find behind a shade,

An airy phantom? Such thou say'st I am,

Such let me be! That phantom will not tempt

The furious blast of God's avenging breath,

Nor mov'd to pity by thy treacherous plaints

Tender oblivion's boon to soul accurst:

Such favor when thou wouldst extort from Death,

That phantom will be adamant to thee.

Now learn a truth: CHRIST in the flesh is dead;

Yet long I cannot hold him in the grave;

His body interdicted to the worm

For some mysterious purpose is reserv'd

From all corruption free, and sure I am

He will not leave his enemy at large

In this obscure domain, where sleep the souls

Of righteous men; fly then, whilst yet the hour

Serves thee for flight—And hark! the angel trump

Sounds his approach. Now tremble, thou accurst!

No more; encanopied beneath the wings

Of mighty Cherubim with sounding trump

And joyful chaunt the LORD OF LIFE came on—

Lift up your heads, the heav'nly chorus sung,

Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates,

And CHRIST the King of Glory shall come in—

Bright as the sun his presence; darkness fled

Down to the center; SATAN on the earth

Fell motionless; Death trembled on his throne,

And call'd his shadowy guards, they with loud shrieks

Vanish'd in air, whilst from the gulph profound

Blue lightnings flash'd and deep-mouth'd thunders roar'd;

When CHRIST with eye severe on SATAN turn'd

Bade the storm cease and thus address'd the fiend.

Well art thou found, thou serpent, on the brink

Of thy last home, this horrible abyss,

For thee and for thine impious crew prepar'd.

Man from his God by thy corruption turn'd

Is by my death receiv'd into the peace

Of his offended Maker, and if faith

Opens his way to heav'n in righteousness

And true conversion, Death cannot retain

His soul in darkness, nor thy crafty wiles

Puzzle his path and damp his glowing zeal;

But thou presumptuous, who hast had the world

To range at will, and from God's altars pluck'd

Their consecrated honors, falsely view'd

Those spoils, by sufferance yielded, as the prize

Of thine own proper victory. Behold!

These are thy triumphs; in this pit receive

Thy folly's confutation and the doom

Of woe eternal on thy sin denounc'd.

He said, nor other answer SATAN gave

Than one deep groan rent from his lab'ring breast.

The strong vindictive Angel, to whose charge

The key of that infernal pit belong'd,

Now seiz'd him in his grasp and from the ground

Lifting his pond'rous bulk, such vigor dwelt

In arm celestial, headlong down at once

Down hurl'd him to the bottom of the gulph,

Then follow'd on the wing: His yelling cries

Death heard, whilst terror shiver'd every bone:

Not so the choir cherubic; they with joy

Beheld Redemption's triumph in the fall

Of that Great Dragon, enemy of man,

That antient Serpent, now with bruised head

And sting-bereft hurl'd down into the pit:

Whereat in heav'nly concert they begin

To raise their tuneful voices and sing forth

Praise to the Lamb of God, and joyful strain

Of gratulation to the Saints redeem'd—

Now is salvation come and strength and power,

The kingdom of our God and of his CHRIST:

Now is that railing and malignant foe

Cast down into the pit, which day and night

Accus'd our righteous brethren to their God:

Now are they made victorious by the blood

Of the Redeeming Lamb, and in the word

Of Truth, their fearless witness, through the world

Go forth against the anarchy of Sin

A host of martyrs faithful unto death;

Therefore rejoice, ye heav'ns, and ye of earth

Inhabitants, awake to joy and hail

The day-spring of Salvation from on high.

SATAN meanwhile ten thousand fathoms deep

At bottom of the pit, a mangled mass

With shatter'd brain and broken limbs outspread,

Lay groaning on the adamantine rock:

Him the strong Angel with ethereal touch

Made whole in form, but not to strength restor'd,

Rather to pain and the acuter sense

Of shame and torment; hideous was the glare

Of his blood-streaming eyes and loud he yell'd

For very agony, whilst on his limbs

The massy fetters, such as hell alone

Could forge in hottest sulphur, were infix'd

And rivetted in the perpetual stone:

Upon his back he lay extended, huge,

A hideous ruin; not a word vouchsaf'd

That vengeful Angel, but with quick dispatch

Plied his commission'd task, then stretch'd the wing

And upward flew; for now th' infernal cave

Through all it's vast circumference had giv'n

The dreadful warning, and began to close

It's rocky ribs upon th' imprison'd fiend:

Fierce and more fierce as it approach'd became

The flaming concave; thus comprest, the vault

Red as metallic furnace glow'd intense

With heat, that had the hideous den been less

Than adamant it had become a flood,

Or SATAN other than he was in sin

And arch-angelic strength pre-eminent,

He neither could have suffer'd nor deserv'd:

Panting he roll'd in streams of scalding sweat,

Parch'd with intolerable thirst, one drop

Of water then to cool his raging tongue

Had been a boon worth all his golden shrines:

Vain wish! for now the pit had clos'd it's mouth,

Nor other light remain'd than what the glare

Of those reverberating fires bestow'd

Then all the dungeon round was thick beset

With horrid faces, threat'ning as they glar'd

Their haggard eyes upon him; from hell's lake

Flocking they came, whole legions of the damn'd,

His worshippers on earth, sensual, profane,

Abominable in their lives, monsters of vice,

Blood-stained murderers, apostate kings,

And crowned tyrants some, tormented now

For their past crimes and into furies turn'd,

Accusing their betrayer: Curses dire,

Hissings and tauntings now from every side

Assail'd his ear, on him, on him alone,

From Cain first murderer to ISCARIOT all,

All with loud voices charg'd on him their sins,

Their agonies, with imprecations urg'd

For treble vengeance on his head accurst,

Founder of hell, sole author of their woe,

And enemy avow'd of all mankind.

Now when the King of Terrors had perceiv'd

The pow'r of his new Visitant and saw

SATAN engulph'd and the devouring pit,

Best barrier of his throne, for ever clos'd,

Descending from his state with heart abash'd,

Conscious that pride would ill befriend him now

In presence of his Conqueror, at the feet

Of CHRIST with low obeisance he put off

The trophies of his brow, and on the knee,

Stooping his vassal head, low homage paid,

And suppliant thus his humble suit preferr'd.

Immortal King! all glorious and all good,

At whose great name befits that every knee

In heav'n or earth or in these realms beneath

Should bend adoring, let thy will prevail

Here, as wherever else! And sure I am

'Tis not my pow'r but thine own wond'rous love,

Consenting to the deed, hath brought thee here

In pity to mankind to taste the cup

Of agony and visit these sad shades,

Though deathless; thence to re-ascend, as soon

Thou shalt, victorious to the realms of light.

I know thee for the CHRIST the Son of God,

Messias of the prophets long foreseen,

Yet of the unbelieving Jews despis'd,

Rejected, for thou cam'st not in the pomp

Of tempo'ral majesty and only great

In patience, in humility, in love

And miracles of mercy. At thy feet

This head uncrown'd thus stooping, I resign

All empire; not on me let fall thy wrath

As on that bruised Serpent. What am I?

What is the sword, what is the pestilence,

And all my host of mortal ministers,

But servants of thy providence, a scourge

And rod of vengeance, wherewith to chastise

Presumptuous, guilty pride? Whose hand but mine

Strikes terror to the atheist's harden'd heart?

Who plucks the tyrant from his bloody car

And rolls him in the dust? or at a blow

Strangles the curse in the blasphemer's throat?

If on the martyr's head my axe descends,

The same hand plants a crown of glory there;

And if in my dark caves the righteous sleep,

Peaceful they sleep; I break not their repose,

For silence dwells with me and night and rest.

Behold the key inviolate that guards

Their hallow'd slumbers; never did I yield,

Though oft solicited, this sacred pledge

To SATAN or his sin-defiled crew;

Faithful I've kept it ever, faithful now

To thee their Savior I resign my charge.

This said, the golden badge of his command,

Rich and of heav'nly workmanship with gems

Of azure, green and purple thick emboss'd,

Humbly he laid at the REDEEMER's feet:

He to the zeal of GABRIEL strait consign'd

Th' enlargement of those spi'rits to bliss preferr'd,

Fit minister for office so benign:

Whereat he bade sound forth the signal trump

Of the First Resurrection, heard of none

Save of those holy Saints elect of God,

Martyrs and prophets, call'd to live with CHRIST

In antecedent glory till the day

Of general Resurrection shall awaken

And summon into judgment all mankind.

Swift hied that friendly Angel on the wing,

Swifter, for that, on gracious errand sent,

Joy urg'd him to put forth his utmost speed;

Meanwhile the heav'nly Visitant of Death

Upon that ghastly Vision turn'd his eyes,

And thus in accent mild address'd the Shade.

That I came down from heav'n and am the CHRIST,

Rightly, O Death, thou hast pronounc'd; yet here

I come not to destroy thy power at once,

But to set free the Saints thou hold'st in thrall,

And call them to my peace; but ev'n of these

Part till my second coming must abide:

Of thee and all things of corruption bred

The term is fix'd; God must be all in all:

But time, as man computes, hath yet to roll

Through numerous ages ere the final trump

Shall sound thy knell. I brought not upon earth

Peace, but the sword; the gospel I have preach'd

Man will corrupt, misconstrue and pervert;

Nor shall my Church be only drench'd with blood

Of it's own martyrs, zealots shall arise

Aliens to my humility and peace,

With more than pagan enmity enflam'd

Each against other; then shall ruthless war

And persecution and fierce civil rage

Ravage the Christian world; intole'rant pride,

Usurping pow'r infallible, shall send

It's heralds forth with cursing in their mouths

And fetters for man's conscience in their hands;

They in the battle's front shall plant the Cross

And bid the unconverted nations kneel

Under their conqu'ring standard and adopt

The creed of murderers, who, in the place

Of the pure bond of charity, present

A forged scroll blurr'd and defac'd with lies,

And impiously inscribe it with my Name.

These are religion's traitors, and from them

An ample harvest shalt thou reap, O Death;

Suffice it thee to know that for a while

Thou shalt be spar'd: And now no more; Behold!

GABRIEL leads on the congregated Saints.

Vanish, pale Phantom! Give the ransom'd place.

END OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.

CALVARY; OR THE DEATH OF CHRIST.

BOOK VIII.

THE ARGUMENT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.

Christ, having closed his interview with Death, prepares to receive the Saints of the First Resurrection now approaching under the conduct of the angel Gabriel, and having ascended a mount in the midst of the congregation appears to them in glory: They pay homage to their Redeemer in a hymn of praise and thanksgiving: He addresses them in reply, and assures them of the blessings of immortal life bestowed upon them by the Father as the reward of righteousness: The patriarch Abraham enters into conference with Christ, in the conclusion of which the Savior of the world shews him the glorious vision of the heavenly Jerusalem, the holy city, as described in the Apocalypse: When this beatific vision is passed away, Christ reascends to earth in view of the whole assembly of Saints: The angel Gabriel, who is left behind, addresses them from the mount and expounds the purposes of the Savior's resurrection from the dead and return to earth: Moses recapitulates the events of his life, instances the frequent rebellions of the Lord's unfaithful people, and laments their future impenitence and incredulity: Gabriel replies, and from the nature of man's free will explains the origin and necessity of evil, from which he deduces the benefits of Christ's death and redemption: And now the Spirit of God descending on the hearts of the righteous, inspires them with all understanding and knowledge, fitted to their happy condition: A Paradise arises within the regions of Death; Gabriel addresses them for the last time, and upon his departure the Poem concludes.

CALVARY. BOOK VIII. THE RESURRECTION FROM THE DEAD.

NOW had the Savior by the word of power

Wafted the magic Phantom into air,

And all the horrors of the scene dispell'd:

Swift as the stroke of his own winged dart,

Or flitting shadows by the moon-beam chas'd,

Death on the instant vanish'd: What had seem'd

A citadel of proud and martial port

With bastions fenc'd and tow'rs impregnable

Of adamant compos'd and lofty dome,

Covering the throne imperial, now was air;

And, far as eye could reach, a level plain,

In the intermin'able horizon lost,

Unfolded it's vast champain to the view.

Darkness twin-born with Death had fled; the rays,

That from the Savior's sun-crown'd temples beam'd,

With dazzling lustre brighten'd all the scene.

There just emerging to the distant view,

And glitt'ring white, a multitude appear'd,

Stretch'd east and west in orderly array,

Swift marching underneath the mighty wings

Of the protecting Angel, who in air

Soar'd imminent, and with the broad expanse

From flank to flank envelop'd all the host:

He with the blast of the awak'ning trump

Gave note of their advance. In the mid-plain

There was a mount; thither the Savior hied

With his cherubic guard, and there in view

Of the assembled myriads stood sublime.

The Saints in order form'd themselves around,

Orb within orb, each in his proper sphere

Instinctively arrang'd; then all at once,

As by one soul inspir'd, with bended knee

And forehead prostrate on the earth they paid

Joint homage and ador'd. Oh! who shall dare

With bold conjecture to compute the list

Of that blest multitude, or say, who first,

Who last, receiv'd the glorious All-hail,

Ye blessed of my Father? Yet perchance,

So warranted by scripture and so taught

By moral sage experience, we may doubt

If many rich, if many great or learn'd

Were of that righteous company; be sure

The lover of this world had there no place,

He barter'd it for gold, he pass'd it off

To Belial for a perishable toy,

He sold it to a wanton: There the proud

Were brought down, and the meek and lowly rais'd:

The conque'ror not of others but himself

There found pre-eminence: All joy to him,

Who rear'd the orphan, dried the widow's tears,

And sought affliction, in her secret haunts,

Not for the praise of men; and may not we,

Born in an age when mild philanthropy

Hath taught a better lesson to the heart,

May not we foster a kind hope that some

Of pagan name were call'd, who through the maze

Of dark idolatry took Reason's clue,

And found a mental avenue to God?

Here with the Father of the Faithful stood

A host of patriarchs, prophets, judges, saints:

Noah, who perfect in the time of wrath

And righteous found, was left unto the earth

A remnant, when the waters fell from heav'n,

And was in covenant with the Most High

That man no more should perish by the flood:

Moses, the faithful servant of the Lord,

Meekest, though mightiest, of the sons of men

And glorious in the sight of dreadful kings:

Joshua, th' avenger of th' Elect of God,

Whose voice upon mount Gibeon staid the sun

In the mid-heav'n, and bade the moon stand still

In Ajalon's dark vale, till Israel ceas'd

From slaughter and the conqu'ring sword was sheath'd:

Here Samuel in his linen ephod girt,

Thrice call'd of God, amid the foremost stood:

He, who with Baäl's priests contending rear'd

His rival altars and brought fire from heav'n

To vindicate his God: The Psalmist King,

And he, at whose sick pray'r the sun went back,

And he, surnam'd the Good: Daniel the feer,

And they, who in the furnace walk'd unhurt;

All in the sacred page recorded just

And faithful servants of the living God:

For who can doubt the holy word of truth

Attesting their salvation? Yet there is

One, who, by promise sacredly assur'd

Of bliss immediate, heard the glorious call,

Whilst hanging on the cross, by penitence

And faith obtain'd from the all-gracious lips

Of God's own Son expiring at his side.

Hail, holy congregation, elder-born

Of righteousness and first-fruits of the grave,

Elect unto salvation! Hail, blest Saints,

Now cloathed in white robes, as in your lives

With purity, sound forth your praise to God

And to the Lamb, in whose blood ye are wash'd;

Wave high your branches of victorious palm,

Hymning the strain, which He in Patmos heard,

What time the glorious vision was reveal'd.

Hail, First and Last! th' immortal chorus sung,

Of all things the beginning and the end;

For thou art he, who liveth and wast dead,

And lo! thou art alive for evermore,

And hold'st in hand of hell and death the keys.

Salvation to our God and to the Lamb

At his right hand, who sitteth on the throne;

Blessing and glory, wisdom, honor, power,

Might and thanksgiving evermore to God

And to his CHRIST! Father, we give thee thanks,

Lord God, which wast and art and art to come,

For this thy mighty pow'r in us fulfill'd.

Now are the kingdoms, of this world become

The kingdoms of our Lord and of his CHRIST,

And he shall reign for ever; now thy wrath

On the rebellious nations is let loose;

Now is the first call of the sleeping saints,

And all thy servants faithful unto death

Thou hast rewarded with eternal bliss.

Henceforth for ever blessed are the dead,

Thus dying in the Lord, for they shall rest

From labor, and their good works are not lost!

Their hymn perform'd, the whole redeemed host,

With hands uplifted and all eyes direct

Upon the glorious Presence, bent the knee

Silent, whilst thus the LORD OF MERCY spake.

Ye blessed of my Father, prophets, saints

And martyrs; ye of Abraham's faithful stock,

And ye, though wild by nature, grafted in

Upon the parent tree and bearing fruits

To life eternal, welcome to my peace!

Now are your watchings and your labors past,

Your tribulations, self-denials, pains

And mournings recompens'd; never again

Shall ye know thirst or hunger, nor the sun

Scorch you by day, nor yet by night the moon;

For ye shall dwell before the throne of God,

And I will feed you; I will lead you forth

To living founts and wipe away all tears.

Come, enter ye into your Master's joy,

Come, for the throne awaits you, take the crown

Of glory, take the kingdom from all time

For you prepar'd, possess your happy rights,

The earnings of your charity and love:

For I was hungred and ye gave me meat,

Thirsty I was and ye asswag'd my thirst,

I was a stranger and ye took me in,

Naked ye cloath'd me, sick ye visited,

I was in prison and ye came unto me.

When Lord, the righteous humbly interpos'd,

When were these charities by us perform'd?

How have we merited this praise of thee,

Whom in the flesh we knew not? Tell us, Lord,

When saw we thee an-hungred and gave food?

When thirsty and gave drink? a stranger when

And took thee in, naked and cloathed thee;

When saw we thee in sickness or in prison

And came unto thee? When didst thou endure

These hard necessities, or we relieve?

Whereto the LORD replied: Truly ye say

Me in the flesh ye knew not, yet in spi'rit

Ye knew me, for my law was in your hearts;

And what to these my brethren ye have done,

Or to the least of these, ye did to me,

Patron of mercy and the friend of man.

To every one, but not to all alike,

Some talent is in trust, the loan of Heav'n,

To husband as he may, and he who spares

From his imparted fund wherewith to help

His neighbor's scantier dole, improves the loan

And makes his Lord his debtor. First and last,

Ere Abraham was I am. Open your ears!

Hear, mark and understand: The world by sin

Original had fallen off from God;

Man was become corrupt, idolatrous,

Abominable; SATAN reign'd on earth.

Ye are of various ages; all have slept,

And some from earliest times or e'er the flood

Swallow'd the nations, yet with one accord

All in your several periods have bewail'd

Degenerated man: Noah can tell

How all the earth with violence was fill'd,

Or e'er the fountains of the vasty deep

Were broken up: Moses can well declare

How hard and to rebellion prone the hearts

Of those, whom he led forth: Samuel beheld

A stiff-neck'd generation spurn the yoke

And kick against their God; but vain his voice,

Vain all the prophets voices, which foretold

My coming, without whom the world were lost.

Now is salvation come; I've drank the cup

Of bitterness and died the death for man:

My peace I've left on earth; the living world,

They have the word of truth and by that word

Through faith they shall be sav'd; from them I came

To visit these dark regions and redeem

The saints who slept; behold! ye are alive:

Death hath no more dominion; SATAN, chain'd

For ages, shall abide his time to come:

Meanwhile in glory ye shall dwell with me;

By resurrection purchas'd with my blood

Ye are the first-fruits of immortal life.

Now ABRAHAM, father of the faithful band

And first in station nearest to the mount,

His eyes uplifted to the face divine

Of the effulgent Virtue, and thus spake.

Yet once more, as aforetime in the days

Of Sodom, suffer me to plead for man,

And ask of thee his Savior if these few,

Few not in numbers, yet for heav'n too few

And for heav'n's mercy, seeing there are past

So many many ages of the world,

Are all that shall be sav'd: Alas, for man!

If this be the whole remnant, all the stock

Cull'd from so many myriads for God's fold.

Where are the nations vanish'd? Where the hosts,

That sea, earth, flood and fire have swallow'd up?

Can hell contain them? Can devouring Death

Find stomach for them all? Did God make man

For death and hell, or thou endure the cross

Only for us? Are all the righteous shrunk

To this small measure? And, if these be all,

Are they not yet enough to save the rest,

If heav'nly mercy listen to our prayer?

May not our righteousness so save a world

From wrath, as once the righteousness of five

Had sav'd a guilty city from it's fate?

To him the LORD OF MERCY: I have said

Ye are the first fruits by my blood obtain'd,

The earnest of redemption: I have bruis'd,

Not crush'd, the Serpent's head; he shall arise

Out of the pit once more to vex the earth.

Death the last enemy is not destroy'd,

Yet is his sceptre shorten'd, and the key,

That opens into life, now in those hands,

Where mercy best can place it for man's good:

Thus of all pow'r though Death is not bereft,

Yet I have shook his throne, with inroad deep

Pierc'd his dark realm, and, you redeeming thence,

Made tenantless your graves, his strongest holds.

With you when from this depth I reascend,

And through heav'n's golden portal lead my host

Of Saints high-waving these victorious palms,

Your white robes glitt'ring in God's starry courts,

Great sure will be the triumph, loud th' acclaim,

When all my Father's Angels shall sound forth

Their joyful halelujahs round his throne.

Enough for victory hath been atchiev'd,

Destruction is reserv'd to that great day,

When the compelling Angel shall go forth

To gather every atom of man's dust,

Which the seas cover or the earth contains:

Then shall all souls be judg'd; if Abraham then,

When of all hearts the secrets shall be known,

Then if the Friend of God hath aught to urge

In mitigation of man's guilt, be sure,

Ere justice strike, mercy will hear the plea.

Of this no more: The seasons and the times

Are with the Father; the dread hour draws on:

But I must first revisit those on earth,

Whom I have left in sorrow; for their sakes

I must again submit me to the flesh,

And by the evidence of sense confirm

My promis'd resurrection; this perform'd

And immortality reveal'd to man,

By faith made sure, my gospel shall go forth:

My office then the Comforter will take;

The weak he shall make strong, the foolish wise,

And by the mouths of sucklings and of babes

He shall confound the wisdom of the world,

And o'er the gates of hell erect my Church.

When thus the Patriarch, glowing still with zeal

For man's salvation, further question urg'd.

Lord, will not then the faithless world believe,

When thou return'st with glory? From the dead

When they behold thee visible on earth

And thence to heav'n ascending, can they doubt?

Such revelation can their eyes resist,

Their ears such truth recorded? Shall there then

Be left a Gentile idol upon earth

To rival Israel's God? Shall there not be

One Shepherd and one fold for all mankind,

One faith, one baptism, one LORD and CHRIST?

But I perhaps too bold offend thine ear

With my rude converse; Lord, if so, command

My tongue to silence; yet not in thy wrath,

Not in thy wrath, O Lord, reprove my zeal.

Whereto the Savior mildly thus replied.

O Abraham, in whose soul compassion glows

And love, that burns with zeal for all thy sons,

Nor for thy sons alone, but the whole world,

Whose advocate thou art, think not the tongue,

That speaks for mercy, can offend my ear:

Yet what thy zeal anticipates in time

Is distant far; ages must roll betwixt

Thy hope and its completion; threat'ning clouds

Lour on the glorious prospect; seas of blood

Must first be pass'd; long pilgrimage and sad

My martyrs have to make through vallies dark,

Where ign'rance shades the sun, through frightful haunts,

Where superstition pictures out the scene

In monstrous forms, and worships what it dreads:

Painful their march and round beset with snares;

Here treach'ry lurks, there persecution flames,

Before them infidelity, behind

Reproach and slander and the roar of tongues

Contentious, urging them to turn from God

And waste their nobler zeal in vain dispute.

Thus step by step in righteousness and faith

Arm'd at all points my servants militant

Shall win their way, and what they earn enjoy.

Lowly and meek I came into the world,

And meek and lowly I shall now return,

Not with that glory rising from the grave,

Which for my second coming is reserv'd,

But in that mortal body, which they pierc'd,

Shewing my wounds, not with the proud display

Of one, who courts the voice of public fame,

But communing apart with those I left

To be my witnesses, that so through them

Men may be taught by reason to discern

Not what they must, but what they should, believe;

Not by the evidence of sense to feel,

But by the mind's conviction to perceive

Truth in it's argument, not act, and build

On reason, not necessity, their faith,

And on their faith and their good works their hope.

God will not always struggle with mankind,

Heap proof on proof till incredulity

Though blind must see, though deaf of force must hear;

He will not bring his heav'n upon the earth,

Rather will lead man's heart from earthly things

To reach at heavenly; the railing Jews,

Who fix'd me to the cross, bade me come down

And with the sign of pow'r dispel their doubts:

So had I frustrated all faith at once,

And with all faith all virtue: I was dumb,

I open'd not my mouth to their reproach,

I stirr'd not from the cross, I died the death,

Nor to my rescue brought one Angel down,

Though legions waited to obey my call:

And now none other sign will I vouchsafe

But of the prophet Jonas, for as he

From out the belly of the whale emerg'd

On the third day, so I from out the tomb

In the same body will come forth on earth

With the third morning's dawn; thus shall the word

Of prophecy by my disciples heard,

Not understood, be perfected in me,

And I will breathe my spi'rit into their hearts

To comprehend all scriptures, and to preach

Me crucified; nor shall there be a dearth

Of witnesses to publish and attest

My resurrection; hundreds shall behold

My substance in the flesh, and he that doubts

Shall touch me and believe. More to expound

There needs not; this in all your ears aloud

I now promulgate, that when I am gone

Ye may abide the interim in peace,

By terror or impatience undisturb'd:

And now not many are the days to pass,

Ere to the heav'n of heav'ns I shall ascend,

And there in blest communion with my Saints,

Made perfect after death, for ever dwell

At the right hand of Pow'r; meanwhile the seed,

Which I have sown, though of all grains the least,

Yet water'd by the Comforter shall grow

Of herbs the greatest, and become a tree,

Within whose branches all the birds of air

Shall come and lodge, so shall my kingdom rise

From mean beginning into mighty growth,

A still small current, spreading as it goes;

For in the arm of man I place no strength,

Nor in the battle's thunder can be heard

His voice that preacheth peace; to storm the ear,

Like those loud heathen orators, who shake

The forum with their eloquence, ill suits

The servants of a Master little vers'd

In this world's wisdom and not vain of speech:

In love, in calm persuasion and in peace

My gospel I have planted: Woe to them,

Who in the place of these sweet fruits provoke

The baneful growth of persecution, strife

And discord in my Church, op'ning my wounds

Unheal'd and crucifying me afresh.

To him the Patriarch: Lord, we give thee thanks

For that thou hast imparted to thy saints

These tidings of great joy, though distant far

And through such clouds of sorrow dimly seen;

And sure we are thy gospel shall prevail,

Yet much do we lament for what thy saints

And martyrs have to suffer upon earth,

Foil'd by that first Deceiver of mankind,

Who, though now bruis'd and for awhile enchain'd,

Shall yet come forth to vex thy holy Church,

To conjure up false prophets and pervert

Thy follo'wers, who are taught to live in peace

And charity with all men: But we know

God did not build this goodly frame of things

For SATAN to destroy, and he and Death

Shall have an end: Heav'n is man's natural home

And righteousness the impulse of his heart;

Nor will God fail his promise, that in me

And in my seed the whole world shall be blest:

Ah! when shall I behold that promis'd day?

When shall I see the warring world at peace?

When shall my Israel, scatter'd o'er the earth

And straggling wide, hear their good Shepherd's call

And come into his fold? Sure that blest voice,

That glorious vision would be heav'n itself.

That vision thou shalt see, the LORD replied

And smil'd all-gracious on th' enraptur'd Saint,

From this prospective mount with purged eye,

That through the length'ning tract of time discerns

Futurity remote, thou shalt behold

Th' Apocalypse, which to no living eye,

Save of my servant John, I shall disclose:

But know ere this blest period shall arrive

The elements must melt with fervent heat,

And earth and sea and heav'n must pass away,

Darkness and sin and death shall be no more,

And a new world shine forth. Ascend the mount,

And eastward turning tell me what thou see'st.

I see, the Patriarch cried, an heaven and earth,

Earth without sea and heav'n without a cloud,

All bright and glist'ning from the Maker's hands:

I see descending from the throne of God

Jerusalem the Holy City, new,

Deck'd like a bride for her celestial spouse:

Order and grace and symmetry conspire

In all her parts, and with the rich display

Of vivid gems make glorious her attire:

To the four points of heav'n in equal span

She stretches out her many-colour'd walls,

Celestial masonry, whose meanest stone,

More rare and precious than the brightest gem

Of earthly diadems, transparent flames,

From the foundations to the topmost cope

Of mural battlement one dazzling blaze

Of glorious jewelry, and them amidst

On every flank quadrangular three gates,

Each of an orient pearl, to our twelve tribes

By number and by name appropriate,

Stand open, guarded by Cherubic watch;

Through whose unfolded portals I descry

A city all of purest gold and clear

As the unclouded crystal, on whose towers

God's all-sufficient glory sheds a flood

Of radiance brighter than the borrow'd beam

Of shadowy moon or sun oft wrapt in clouds,

Making alternate night and day on earth:

But night is here unknown; day needeth not

To rest in darkness, nor the eye in sleep;

Nor temple here for worship may be found,

The ever-present Deity demands

No house of pray'r; in ev'ry heart is built

His altar, every voice records his praise,

And every saint his minister and priest.

Through the mid-street a crystal river flows

Pellucid, welling from the throne of God,

It's living source, upon whose border springs

The tree of life, bearing ambrosial fruits

Monthly renew'd and varied through the year,

Food for immortals, in whose balmy gum

And leaves medicinal a virtue dwells

So general and potential, that no pain

Or ailment but here finds it's ready cure:

No tear shall wet this consecrated soil,

Nor feud nor clamor nor unholy curse

Disturb these peaceful echoes, here the saints

In sweet harmonious brotherhood shall dwell

Serene and perfect in the sight of God.

And hark! I hear seraphic voices chaunt

To their melodious harps the bridal hymn—

Now is our God espoused to his Church,

And from their heav'nly union are gone forth

Blessing and peace and joy to all mankind:

Now shall his saints eternal Sabbath keep

From death and pain and wailing and complaint:

All is made new, the old is pass'd away,

Time draws aside the faded scene of things

And Nature in immortal freshness blooms:

Now to the waters of the fount of life,

Perpetual waters, every soul may come,

And he that is athirst may freely drink:

But fire and brimstone in the burning lake

Shall be their portion, who revolt from God;

There with the Beast in torments they shall dwell,

Seal'd in their foreheads with his mark and drink

The cup of indignation to the dregs

Wrung out in anger, whilst their ceaseless cry

Shall with the smoke of the infernal pit

Day after day for evermore ascend.

No more; for now the heav'nly vision clos'd;

Awaken'd from his trance the Patriarch turn'd

With grateful reverence to address the LORD

And giver of these new-discover'd joys,

When lo! ascending from the mount he saw

CHRIST in a cloud of glory on the wings

Of mighty Cherubim upborne in air

High-soaring, to this orb terraqueous bound,

Seen over-head diminish'd to a point

Dim and opake amid the blue serene:

His raiment, whiter than the new-born light

Struck out of chaos by the Maker's hand

In earnest of creation, sparkling blaz'd

In it's swift motion and with fiery track

Mark'd his ascent to earth; the host of Saints

With joyful loud hosannas fill'd the air:

Glory to God on high, was all their strain,

On the earth peace, good-will to all mankind!

Meanwhile th' Arch-angel GABRIEL, who yet kept

His tutelary station on the mount,

So bidd'n of CHRIST, with arm outstretch'd and voice

Commanding silence, thus the Saints bespake.

Now is your resurrection sure, your joy,

Your glory and your triumph over Death

And hell made perfect; for behold where CHRIST

Your first-fruit is aris'n, and waves on high

The ensign of redemption; now he soars

Up to yon pendent world, that darkling speck,

Which in the boundless empyrean floats

Pois'd on it's whirling axle; there he liv'd

And took your mortal body, there he died

And for your sakes endur'd the painful cross,

Giving his blood a ransom for your sins;

Thither he goes to re-assume his flesh;

There, when his angel ministers have op'd

The sealed sepulchre, he shall come forth

And shew himself resurgent from the grave

To those whom he hath sanctified and call'd

To be his witnesses in all the world,

And of his resurrection after death

Their faithful evidence to seal with blood

Of martyrs and apostles, warning men

With their last breath to be baptiz'd and live;

So shall the seed be water'd and increase,

Till all the Gentile nations shall come in

And dwell beneath it's branches evermore.

Now are the gates of everlasting life

Set open to mankind, and when the LORD,

Captain of their salvation, shall have liv'd

His promis'd term on earth, and thence to heav'n

Ascending seat himself at God's right hand,

Then shall the Holy Ghost the Comforter

Rush like a mighty wind upon the hearts

Of his inspir'd apostles; tongues of fire

And languages untaught they shall receive

To speak with boldness the revealed Word,

Enduring all things for the gospel's sake;

Troubled on ev'ry side yet not distress'd,

Perplex'd but not surrender'd to despair,

Afflicted not forsaken they shall be,

Cast down but not destroy'd, knowing that God,

Who raised the LORD JESUS from the dead,

Them also into life through him will raise,

And that the light affliction of this world,

Which is but for a moment, soon shall be

O'erpaid by a far more exceeding weight

Of glory' eternal in the life to come.

He ceas'd, and all were silent, wrapt in awe

Of the late glorious vision, yet in heart

Troubled for what the Angel had reveal'd

Of sorrows still to come and pains and deaths

To be encounter'd by the Saints on earth;

When now that Shepherd, who on Sinai's mount

Commun'd with God and heard creation's plan

Expounded by it's Architect, thus spake.

Oh thou, whom through the fiery cloud I saw

On Horeb's hill, when tending Jethro's flock,

What time I heard my name twice call'd of God

In thunder from amidst the flaming bush,

Bidding me strait go forth to loose his sheep

From Egypt's captive fold, I do perceive

That I have penn'd the Word of God aright,

And now in CHRIST behold the woman's seed

Bruising that Serpent's head, who wrought the fall

Of our first parents. Forty days and nights

On Sinai's top 'midst thund'rings, clouds and fire

Fasting I stood, and whilst the hallow'd ground

Trembled beneath my bare unsandal'd feet,

I heard an awful voice, that bade me write

The glorious record of his six days work.

Aghast, confounded, dazzled with the blaze

Of glory, still my faithful pen obey'd

The sacred dictates of an unseen God:

I wrote, and to an unbelieving world

Publish'd the wond'rous Code; age after age

Libell'd the transcript: With the rod of pow'r

I smote the seas asunder; Israel pass'd

Through wat'ry battlements; forty long years

In the waste howling wilderness I fed

Their murmuring tribes with food miraculous;

They fed but murmur'd still: I brought them laws

With God's own finger graven; I came down

Bearing Jehovah's statutes in my hand

On both sides written; impious noisy shouts,

Lewd triumphs and vile revels smote mine ear;

The people danc'd around a molten calf,

Monstrous idolatry! Raging with shame

I dash'd the stony tablets on the ground,

And shiver'd them to fragments; God was mock'd;

A stiff-neck'd and a stubborn race they were,

Who from the rock of their salvation turn'd

And sacrific'd to devils; and behold!

Their sons have crucified the LORD OF LIFE;

Therefore his resurrection, which shall be

Light and redemption to the Gentile world,

To them is darkness and the shadow' of death;

For they have slain the very Paschal Lamb;

That bloody symbol of their antient law,

Which I made sacred, they have now made void,

And cancell'd my legation: I perceive

A new commandment is gone forth; I see

The temple's vail is rent; for the old law,

A carnal shadow of things spiritual,

Suffic'd not for perfection and the pow'r

Of an eternal life: CHRIST is become

That King of Salem, that immortal Priest

Of God most high, whose ministry supreme,

Before all time from heav'n itself deriv'd

And not from right Levitical, removes

All title from that consecrated tribe,

Where I had fix'd it. God, who sending me,

Sent but his servant, now hath giv'n his Son

More worthy of his glory; without sin

And spotless He, the great High Priest, hath pass'd

Into the heav'ns victorious over Death;

But I, whose trespasses at Meribah,

Frail sinful man, provok'd the Lord to wrath,

Saw but the skirts of Dan from Pisgah's top,

Unworthy deem'd to enter that fair land,

And died upon mount Nebo. But when CHRIST,

Who hath awaken'd us from sleep, shall rise

And in his mortal flesh a second time

Visit his Saints on earth, who then shall say

There is no resurrection of the dead?

Faintly I shadow'd forth a future life;

I spake not to men's senses, as CHRIST speaks;

God gave me no commission to reveal

The secrets of the grave; corruption's worm

Spar'd not my flesh, nor came my spirit back

From Death's dark citadel to give mankind

Conviction ocular of his defeat;

I left him in his power till CHRIST should come

To break that sceptre, which had aw'd the world.

Much then it moves my wonder, much I grieve

That darkness shall not yet be drawn aside

From Israel, and that those, who would not hear

Me and the prophets, shall not yet believe

CHRIST their Messias rising from the dead.

To whom th' Arch-angel answer'd heav'nly mild:

Well may'st thou muse that reas'ning man should doubt,

And cause we have to grieve, when he neglects

So great salvation; but when CHRIST hath shewn

What is the good and true and perfect way,

Reason must do the rest: When all are free

Some must be faithless, wilful and perverse.

God could have made his creatures void of sin,

For he can put a master in their hearts,

And govern them by instinct; but to man

He gave a nobler faculty, a will,

A spark of immortality, a soul,

Reason to counsel that immortal soul,

And conscience to restrain licentious will.

Grace shall assist the humble and devout;

A proud man hath no friend in heav'n or earth,

Renounc'd of angels and by men abhorr'd:

Truth must be sought, it will not be impos'd:

What were that revelation, which should leave

No exercise to faith? All men must work

With fear and trembling their salvation out.

God does not give free will to take away

What he hath giv'n; if man will sin, he must:

Nor do we call them good, who cannot err,

Else brutes would claim a virtue. None is good

Save God alone; impute we not to God

The evil which man does, nor him arraign

For not preventing ills which he foreknows:

Angels have sinn'd and some are fall'n from bliss;

All had their days of error, their degrees

Of good and ill, else why have we degrees

Ranks and precedencies of bliss in heav'n?

Call your own lives to mind; ye have been men,

Your failings many, yet your virtues more;

Why are ye now rewarded by your God?

Why but because those virtues were your own?

Ye made them what they were, ye rear'd their growth,

Reason reform'd the wild luxuriant soil,

Pluck'd up the weeds and nurs'd the glorious fruit.

Is there amongst you one that hath to boast

Human perfection? There is none that will.

A free yet faultless creature would be more

Than man, than angel; nor can God create

An equal to himself, a rival God.

In Eden's happy groves when man was plac'd,

One interdicted baneful plant there was,

Tempting and rich in fruit; all else was good,

Fair to the eye and wholesome to the taste;

Yet of that fruit man pluck'd and eat and died;

Tempted he was, but not compell'd to take;

Warn'd to abstain, no angel stopp'd his hand,

No thundering voice deterr'd him from the deed,

For man was free; so could he not have been,

Had God's foreknowledge over-rul'd his will.

Thus Sin had origin and Death began

His occupation with the human race,

More terrible for that he came with pangs,

Horrors and doubts on sin-oppressed man,

When conscience wrung him in the parting hour:

But still the inextinguishable soul

Mock'd at Death's dart, the body was his own

From the beginning; of the earth 'twas made,

The earth it till'd and from the earth it fed;

A tenement of dust was never form'd

Fox immortality; and now, behold,

Adam the earthy man, in whom all die,

Is buried to the world; redemption brings

The day-spring of Salvation from on high,

CHRIST in his glory comes, the LORD from heav'n,

And who in him have faith, in him have life.

He ceas'd, when now th' assembly of the Saints,

Who whilst he spake stood in their orbs unmov'd

Circling the mount, 'gan feel the Spi'rit of God

Descending on their hearts, and, like a sea

By secret currents from it's bottom stirr'd,

Wav'd to and fro their undulating files

Wide and more wide, as with a mighty wind

The heav'nly inspiration on them rush'd:

This GABRIEL heard and from the mount came down,

Which quak'd beneath his feet, whilst over-head

Loud thunderings announc'd the coming God:

And now a fire, that cover'd all the mount,

Bespoke him present; all the air respir'd

Ambrosial odours, amaranth and rose,

For Nature felt her God, and every flower

And every fragrant shrub, whose honied breath

Perfumes the courts of heav'n, had burst to life

Blooming, and, in a thousand colors dy'd,

Threw their gay mantle o'er the naked heath:

Now glow'd the living landscape; hill and dale

Rose on the flat, or sunk as Nature shap'd

Her loveliest forms and swell'd her wavey line,

Leaving unrein'd variety to run

Her wild career amid the sportive scene:

Nor were there wanting trees of ev'ry growth,

Umbrageous some, making a verdant tent

Under their spreading branches, some of shaft

Majestic, tow'ring o'er the subject groves:

Blossoms and fruits and aromatic gums

Scented the breeze, that fann'd their rustling leaves;

And them betwixt a crystal river flow'd

O'er golden sands, meand'ring in it's course

Through amaranthine banks with lulling sound

Of dulcet murmurs breathing soft repose.

Thus at the sight of God spontaneous rose

A Paradise within the realm of Death,

Where that blest congregation might abide

Their LORD's return now visitant on earth:

And now th' Eternal having breath'd his joy

Into their hearts and giv'n them to discern

All knowledge, that befitted souls so blest,

Withdrew his presence from the flaming mount;

Whereat the min'istring Angel, who beheld

Salvation's work complete, thus parting spake.

God, in whose presence pleasure ever dwells,

Hath for your dear Redeemer's sake bestow'd

These joys, and now his presence is withdrawn;

Yet hath he left his spirit in your hearts

To teach you all that is and is to be:

Behold, the cloud that veil'd your mortal eyes

Is drawn aside, and what as in a glass

Darkling ye saw now face to face is seen:

Ye now discern the ways of God how just,

How true, how wise, how perfect in design,

And well ye know that man, presumptuous man,

In a vain shadow walketh; ye perceive

His boasted mind sufficient for the things,

That to his own salvation appertain;

Yet when it scans the mysteries of heaven,

How false, how weak, how daringly absurd!

Firm faith, warm charity and humble hope,

These are the Christian graces, these the guides,

That lead to life eternal; thoughts perverse,

Pert quibbling follies, publish'd in the pride

Of false philosophy, are dev'lish arts,

That damn the instrument, who thus attempts

To hide the light of revelation's beam

From weaker eyes, and turn the world from God;

These verily shall have their just reward:

And now no more; this Paradise ye see

Is but your passage to a brighter scene,

A resting-place till CHRIST shall re-ascend

To the right hand of God and call you hence

To share his glory in the heav'n of heavens.

He said, and swifter than the meteor's glance,

Sprung on the wing to seek his native sphere:

The Saints look'd up, then sung with joint acclaim—

Glory to God and praises to his CHRIST,

Judge and Redeemer of the quick and dead!

Information about this book

Title statement

Calvary: or the death of Christ. A poem, in eight books. By Richard Cumberland.

Cumberland, Richard, 1732-1811.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3813

ID [isbn10]

110600812X

ID [isbn13]

9781106008121

ID [TCP]

K029715.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3311603611

ID [ECLL]

0157202700

Availability

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Source

— Calvary: or the death of Christ. A poem, in eight books. By Richard Cumberland., Cumberland, Richard, 1732-1811.. [4],291,[1]p. ; 4⁰. London :: printed for C. Dilly,. 1792.. [With a half-title.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT19844.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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