These are let loose alternate: down they rush,
Swift and tempestuous, from th' eternal throne,
With irresistible commission arm'd,
The world in vain corrected, to destroy,
And ease creation of the shocking scene.
Seest thou, Lorenzo! what depends on man?
The fate of Nature, as for man her birth.
Earth's actors change earth's transitory scenes,
And make creation groan with human guilt.
How must it groan, in a new deluge whelm'd.
But not of waters! At the destin'd hour,
By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge,
See all the formidable sons of fire,
Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play
Their various engines; all at once disgorge
Their blazing magazines, and take, by storm,
This poor terrestrial citadel of man.
Amazing period, when each mountain-height
Outburns Vesuvius; rocks eternal pour
Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd;
Stars rush, and final Ruin fiercely drives
Her ploughshare o'er creation!-while aloft,
More than astonishment! if more can be!
Far other firmament than e'er was seen,
Than e'er was thought by man
Stars animate, that govern these of fire;
Far other sun!-a sun, O how unlike
The babe at Bethle'm! how unlike the man
That groan'd on Calvary !—yet he it is;
That man of sorrows! O how chang'd! what pomp!
In grandeur terrible all heaven descends!
And gods ambitious triumph in his train.
A swift archangel, with his golden wing,
As blots and clouds that darken and disgrace
The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside.
And now, all dross remov'd, heaven's own pure day,
Full on the confines of our ether flames.
While (dreadful contrast) far, how far beneath!
Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas,
And storms sulphureous, her voracious jaws
Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey.
Lorenzo! welcome to this scene, the last
In Nature's course, the first in Wisdom's thought.
This strikes, if ought can strike thee; this awakes
The most supine; this snatches man from death.
Rouse, rouse, Lorenzo! then, and follow me,
Where truth, the most momentous man can hear,
Loud calls my soul, and ardour wings her flight.
I find my inspiration in my theme:
The grandeur of my subject is my muse.
At midnight, when mankind is wrapp'd in peace, And worldly Fancy feeds on golden dreams, To give more dread to man's most dreadful hour; At midnight, 'tis presum'd, this pomp will burst
From tenfold darkness, sudden as the spark
From smitten steel; from nitrous grain the blaze.
Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more!
The day is broke which never more shall close!
Above, around, beneath, amazement all!
Terror and glory join'd in their extremes!
Our God in grandeur, and our world on fire!
All nature struggling in the pangs of death!
Dost thou not hear her? dost thou not deplore
Her strong convulsions, and her final groan?
Where are we now? Ah me! the ground is gone
On which we stood. Lorenzo! while thou may'st
Provide more firm support, or sink for ever!
Where? how? from whence? Vain hope! it is too
late!
Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly,
When consternation turns the good man pale?
Great day! for which all other days were made; For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth, And an eternity, the date of gods,
Descended on poor earth-created man!
Great day of dread, decision, and despair!
At thought of thee each sublunary wish
Lets go its eager grasp, and drops the world,
And catches at each reed of hope in heaven.
At thought of thee!--and art thou absent then?
Lorenzo no; 'tis here; it is begun :-
Aleady is begun the grand assize,
In thee, in all: deputed Conscience scales
The dread tribunal, and forestals our doom;
Forestals, and, by forestalling, proves it sure.
Why on himself should man void judgment pass?
Is idle Nature laughing at her sons?
Who Conscience sent her sentence will support,
And God above assert that god in man.
Thrice happy they! that enter now the court
Heav'n opens in their bosoms: but how rare,
Ah me! that magnanimity, how rare!
What hero like the man who stands himself,
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone,
Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings,
Resolv'd to silence future murmurs there?
The coward flies and, flying, is undone.
(Art thou a coward? no :) the coward flies;
Thinks, but thinks slightly; asks, but fears to know:
Asks "What is truth?" with Pilate, and retires;
Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng:
Asylum sad! from reason, hope, and heav'n!
Shall all but man look out with ardent eye
For that great day which was ordain'd for man?
O day of consummation! mark supreme
(If men are wise) of human thought! nor least
Or in the sight of angels or their King!
Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height,
Order o'er order, rising, blaze o'er blaze,
As in a theatre, surround this scene,
Intent on man, and anxious for his fate.
Angels look out for thee; for thee their Lord,
To vindicate his glory; and for thee
Creation universal calls aloud
To disinvolve the moral world, and give
To Nature's renovation brighter charms.
Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate,
Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought?
I think of nothing else; I see! I feel it!
All Nature, like an earthquake, trembling round!
All Deities, like summer's swarms, on wing!
All basking in the full meridian blaze!
I see the Judge enthron'd! the flaming guard!
The volume open'd! open'd ev'ry heart!
A sunbeam pointing out each secret thought!
No patron intercessor none! now past
The sweet, the clement, mediatorial hour!
For guilt no plea! to pain no pause! no bound!
Inexorable all! and all extreme!
Nor man alone; the foe of God and man, From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd, Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. All vengeance past, now, seems abundant grace. Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll
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