And when thou didst depart, no car of flame
To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came;
Nor visible Angels mourned with drooping plumes:
Nor didst thou mount on high
With all thine own redeemed outbursting from their
For thou didst bear away from earth
But one of human birth,
The dying felon by thy side, to be
In paradise with thee.
Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake; A little while the conscious earth did shake
At that foul deed by her fierce children done;
A few dim hours of day
The world in darkness lay;
"Then basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun:
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom;
Ere yet the white-robed Angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.
And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
With devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;
But thou didst haste to meet
Thy mother's coming feet,
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few.
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise
Into thy native skies:
Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.
FROM "THE MARTYR OF ANTIOCH."
Cease, Calanthias, cease;
And thou, Charinus. Oh, my brethren, God
Will summon those whom he hath chosen, to sit
In garments dyed with their own blood around
The Lamb in Heaven; but it becomes not man
To affect with haughty and aspiring violence
The loftiest thrones, ambitious for his own,
And not his Master's glory. Every star
Is not a sun, nor every Christian soul
Wrapt to a seraph. But for thee, Calanthias,
Thou know'st not whether even this night shall burst
The impatient vengeance of the Lord, or rest
Myriads of human years. For what are they,
What are our ages, but a few brief waves
From the vast ocean of eternity,
That break upon the shore of this our world,
And so ebb back into the immense profound,
Which He on high, even at one instant, sweeps
With his omniscient sight.
And ye, our sisters, hold we all prepared,
Like him beside whose hallowed grave we stand,
To give the last and awful testimony
To Christ our Lord. Yet tempt not to our murder
The yet unbloody hands of men.
Pale lights are gleaming through the dusky night,
And hurrying feet are trampling to and fro.
Disperse-disperse, my brethren, to your homes!-
Sweet Margarita, in the Hermitage
By clear Orontes, Where so oft we've met,
Thou'lt find me still. God's blessing wait on all !
Farewell! we meet, if not on earth, in heaven.
And yet she stands unblasted! In thy mercy Thou dost remember all my faithful vows, Hyperion! and suspend the fiery shaft That quivers on thy string. Ah, not on her, This innocent wreck thy fury! I will search, And thou wilt lend me light, although they shroud In deepest Orcus. I will pluck them forth, And set them up a mark for all thy wrath; Those that beguiled to this unholy madness My pure and blameless child. Shine forth, shine forth, Apollo, and we'll have our full revenge.
'Tis over now-and oh, I bless thee, Lord,
For making me thus desolate below;
For severing one by one the ties that bind me
To this cold world, for whither can earth's outcasts
Fly but to heaven ?
Yet is no way but this, father's lingering days
In bitterness? Thou knowest, gracious Lord
Of mercy, how he loves me, how he loved me
From the first moment that my eyes were opened
Upon the light of day and him. At least,
If thou must smite him, smite him in thy mercy,
He loves me as the life-blood of his heart
His love surpasses every love but thine:
For thou didst die for me, oh Son of God!
By thee the throbbing flesh of man was worn ;
Thy naked feet the thorns of sorrow trod;
And tempests beat thy houseless head forlorn.
Thou, that wert wont to stand
Alone, on God's right hand,
Before the ages were, the eternal, eldest born.
Thy birthright in the world was pain and grief,
Thy love's return ingratitude and hate;
The limbs thou healedst brought thee no relief,
The eyes thou openedst calmly viewed thy fate:
Thou, that wert wont to dwell
In peace, tongue cannot tell,
Nor heart conceive the bliss of thy celestial state.
They dragged thee to the Roman's solemn Hall,
Where the proud Judge in purple splendour sate;
Thou stoodst a meek and patient criminal,
Thy doom of death from human lips to wait;
Whose throne shall be the world
In final ruin hurled,
With all mankind to hear their everlasting fate.
Thou wert alone in that fierce multitude,
When "Crucify him!" yelled the general shout;
No hand to guard thee 'mid those insults rude,
Nor lip to bless in all that frantic rout;
Whose lightest whispered word
The Seraphim had heard,
And adamantine arms from all the heavens broke out.
They bound thy temples with the twisted thorn,
Thy bruised feet went languid on with pain;
The blood, from all thy flesh with scourges torn,
Deepened thy robe of mockery's crimson grain;
Whose native vesture bright
Was the unapproached light,
The sandal of whose foot the rapid hurricane.
They smote thy cheek with many a ruthless palm,
With the cold spear thy shuddering side they pierced;
The draught of bitterest gall was all the balm
They gave, t' enhance thy unslaked, burning thirst:
Thou, at whose words of peace
• Did pain and anguish cease,
And the long buried dead their bonds of slumber burst.
Low bowed the head convulsed, and, drooped in death,
Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry;
Slow struggled from thy breast the parting breath,
And every limb was wrung with agony.
That head, whose veilless blaze
Filled angels with amaze,
When at that voice sprang forth the rolling suns on high.
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