But their prime glory was insane debauch,
To inflict and bear excruciating tortures;
The unshrinking victim, while the flesh was rent
From his live limbs, and eaten in his presence,
Still in his death-pangs taunted his tormentors
With tales of cruelty more diabolic,

Wreak'd by himself upon the friends of those
Who now their impotence of vengeance wasted
On him, and drop by drop his life extorted
With thorns and briers of the wilderness,
Or the slow violence of untouching fire.

Vanity too, Pride's mannikin, here play'd
Satanic tricks to ape her master-fiend.

The leopard's beauteous spoils, the lion's mane,
Engirt the loins, and waved upon the shoulders
Of those whose wiles or arms had won such trophies:
Rude-punctured figures of all loathsome things,
Toads, scorpions, asps, snakes' eyes and double tongues,
In fragrant colors on their tattooed limbs,
Gave proof of intellect, not dead but sleeping,
And in its trance enacting strange vagaries.
Bracelets of human teeth, fangs of wild beasts,
The jaws of sharks, and beaks of ravenous birds,
Glitter'd and tinkled round their arms and ankles;
While skulls of slaughter'd enemies, in chains
Of natural elf-locks, dangled from the necks
Of those, whose own bare skulls and cannibal teeth
Ere long must deck more puissant fiends than they.

On ocean, too, they exercised dominion;Of hollow trees composing slight canoes, They paddled o'er the reefs, cut through the breakers, And rode the untamed billows far from shore; Amphibious from their infancy, and fearing Nought in the deepest waters save the shark: Even him, well arm'd, they gloried to encounter, And when he turn'd to ope those gates of death, That led into the Hades of his gorge, Smote with such stern decision to his vitals, And vanish'd through the blood-beclouded waves, That, blind and desperate in his agony, Headlong he plunged, and perish'd in the abyss.

Woman was here the powerless slave of man; Thus fallen Adam tramples fallen Eve, Through all the generations of his sons, In whose barbarian veins the old serpent's venom Turns pure affection into hideous lust, And wrests the might of his superior arm (Given to defend and bless his meek companion) Into the very yoke and scourge of bondage; Till limbs by beauty moulded, eyes of gladness, And the full bosom of confiding truth, Made to delight and comfort him in toil, And change Care's den into a halcyon's nest,

-Are broke with drudgery, quench'd with stagnant

tears,

Or wrung with lonely unimparted woe.
Man is beside himself, not less than fall'n
Below his dignity, who owns not woman
As nearer to his heart than when she grew
A rib within him,-as his heart's own heart.

He slew the game with his unerring arrow, But left it in the bush for her to drag Home, with her feeble hands, already burthened

With a young infant clinging to her shoulders.
Here she fell down in travail by the way,
Her piteous groans unheard, or heard unanswer'd;
There, with her convoy, she-mother, and child,
And slaughter'd deer-became some wild beast's prey;
Though spoils so rich not one could long enjoy,-
Soon the woods echoed with the huge uproar
Of savage throats contending for the bodies,
Till not a bone was left for farther quarrel.
-He chose the spot; she piled the wood, she wove
The supple withes, and bound the thatch that form'd
The ground-built cabin or the tree-swung nest.
-He brain'd the drowsy panther in his den,
At noon o'ercome by heat, and with closed lids
Fearing assaults from none but vexing flies,
Which with his ring-streak'd tail he switch'd away:
The citadel thus storm'd, the monster slain,
By the dread prowess of his daring arm,
She roll'd the stones, and planted the stockade,
To fortify the garrison for him,

Who scornfully look'd on, at ease reclined,
Or only rose to beat her to the task.

Yet, 'midst the gall and wormwood of her lot,
She tasted joys which none but woman knows,
-The hopes, fears, feelings, raptures of a mother,
Well-nigh compensating for his unkindness,
Whom yet with all her fervent soul she loved.
Dearer to her than all the universe,

The looks, the cries, the embraces of her babes;
In each of whom she lived a separate life,
And felt the fountain, whence their veins were fill'd,
Flow in perpetual union with the streams,
That swell'd their pulses, and throbb'd back through
hers.

Oh! 't was benign relief when my vex'd eye
Could turn from man, the sordid, selfish savage,
And gaze on woman in her self-denial,
To him and to their offspring all alive,
Dead only to herself,-save when she won
His unexpected smile; then, she look'd
A thousand times more beautiful, to meet
A glance of aught like tenderness from him;
And sent the sunshine of her happy heart
So warm into the charnel-house of his,
That Nature's genuine sympathies awoke,
And he almost forgot himself in her.
O man! lost man! amidst the desolation
Of goodness in thy soul, there yet remains
One spark of Deity,-that spark is love.

CANTO VII.

AGES again, with silent revolution, Brought morn and even, noon and night, with all The old vicissitudes of Nature's aspect: Rains in their season fertilized the ground, Winds sow'd the seeds of every kind of plant On its peculiar soil; while sons matured What winds had sown, and rains in season water'd, Providing nourishment for all that lived: Man's generations came and went like these, -The grass and flowers that wither where they spring, -The brutes that perish wholly where they fall.

Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" I trembled while I spake. I could not bear The doubt, fear, horror, that o'erhung the fate Of millions, millions, millions,-living, dying, Without a hope to hang a hope upon,

That of the whole it might not be affirm'd,
-T were better that they never had been born."
I turn'd away, and look'd for consolation

Of those small fingers, and the soft, soft lips
Soliciting the sweet nutrition thence,
While yearning sympathy crept round her heart
She felt her spirit yielding to the charm.
That wakes the parent in the fellest bosom,
And binds her to her little one for ever,

If once completed;-but she broke, she broke it
For she was brooding o'er her sex's wrongs,

Or imprecated curses, in her wrath,
Even on the fallen creatures of my race,

O'er whose mysterious doom my heart was breaking.

I saw an idiot with long haggard visage, And eye of vacancy, trolling his tongue From cheek to cheek; then muttering syllables, Which all the learn'd on earth could not interpret; Yet were they sounds of gladness, tones of pleasure, Ineffable tranquillity expressing,

Or

pure and buoyant animal delight;

That stung remorse to frenzy-forth she sprang,
And with collected might a moment stood,
Mercy and misery struggling in her thoughts,
Yet both impelling her to one dire purpose.
There was a little grave already made,
But two spans long, in the turf-floor beside her,
By him who was the father of that child:
Thence he had sallied, when the work was done,
To hunt, to fish, or ramble on the hills,

Till all was peace again within that dwelling,
-His haunt, his den, his anything but home!

Play'd in the floating shadow of the palm,

Where he lay rolling in voluptuous sloth:
And he had fed deliciously on fruit,
That fell into his lap, and virgin honey,
That melted from the hollow of the rock,

Whither the hum and stir of bees had drawn him.

He knew no bliss beside, save sleep when weary, Or reveries like this, when broad awake.

Like wildfires flitting o'er the rank morass,
Snares to the night-bewilder'd traveller!
Gently he raised his head, and peep'd around,
As if he hoped to see some pleasant object,
-The wingless squirrel jet from tree to tree,
-The monkey pilfering a parrot's nest,
But, ere he bore the precious spoil away,
Surprised behind by beaks, and wings, and claws,
That made him scamper gibbering away:
-The sly opossum dangle by her tail,

To snap the silly birds that perch'd too near;
Or in the thicket, with her young at play,
Start when the rustling grass announced a snake,
And secrete them within her second womb,
Then stand alert to give the intruder battle,
Who rear'd his crest, and hiss'd, and glid away:-
-These with the transport of a child he view'd,
Then laugh'd aloud, and crack'd his fingers, smote
His palms, and clasp'd his knees, convulsed with glee;
A sad, sad spectacle of merriment!
Yet he was happy; happy in this life;

And could I doubt, that death to him would bring
Intelligence, which he had ne'er abused,
A soul, which he had never lost by sin?

I saw a woman, panting from her throes,
Stretch'd in a lonely cabin on the ground,
Pale with the anguish of her bitter hour,
Whose sorrow she forgat not in the joy,
Which mothers feel when a man-child is born;
Hers was an infant of her own scorn'd sex:
It lay upon her breast;—she laid it there,
By the same instinct, which taught it to find
The milky fountain, fill'd to meet its wants
Even at the gate of life,-to drink and live.
Awhile she lay all-passive to the touch

Soon as she felt it touch the ground, she started.
Hurried the damp earth over it; then fell
Flat on the heaving heap, and crush'd it down
With the whole burthen of her grief; exclaiming.
"O that my mother had done so to me!'
Then in a swoon forgot, a little while,
Her child, her sex, her tyrant, and herself.

Amazement wither'd up all human feeling:
I wonder'd how I could look on so calmly,
As though I were but animated stone,
And not kneel down upon the spot, and pray
That earth might open to devour that mother,
Or heaven shoot lightning to avenge that daughter
But horror soon gave way to hope and pity,
-Hope for the dead, and pity for the living.
Thenceforth when I beheld troops of wild children
Frolicking around the tents of wickedness,
Though my heart danced within me to the music
Of their loud voices and unruly mirth,
The blithe exuberance of beginning life!

I could not weep when they went out, like sparks
That glitter, creep, and dwindle out, on tinder
Happy, thrice happy were they thus to die,
Rather than grow into such men and women,
-Such fiends incarnate as that felon-sire,
Who dug its grave before his child was born;
Such miserable wretches as that mother,
Whose tender mercies were so deadly cruel!

I saw their infant's spirit rise to heaven, Caught from its birth up to the throne of God, There, thousands, and ten thousands, I beheld, Of innocents like this, that died untimely, By violence of their unnatural kin, Or by the mercy of that gracious Power,

Who gave them being, taking what He gave
Ere they could sin or suffer like their parents.
I saw them in white raiment, crown'd with flowers,
On the fair banks of that resplendent river,
Whose streams make glad the city of our God;
-Water of life, as clear as crystal, welling
Forth from the throne itself, and visiting
Fields of a Paradise that ne'er was lost;
Where yet the tree of life immortal grows,
And bears its monthly fruits, twelve kinds of fruit,
Each in its season, food of saints and angels;
Whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.
Beneath the shadow of its blessed boughs,
I mark'd those rescued infants, in their schools,
By spirits of just men made perfect, taught
'The glorious lessons of almighty love,
Which brought them thither by the readiest path
From the world's wilderness of dire temptations,
Securing thus their everlasting weal.

Yea, in the rapture of that hour, though songs
Of cherubim to golden lyres and trumpets,
And the redeem'd upon the sea of glass,
With voices like the sound of many waters,
Came on mine ear, whose secret cells were open'd
To entertain celestial harmonies,

-The small, sweet accents of those little children,
Pouring out all the gladness of their souls,
In love, joy, gratitude, and praise to Him,
-Him, who had loved and wash'd them in his blood;
These were to me the most transporting strains,
Amidst the hallelujahs of all Heaven.-
Though lost awhile in that amazing chorus
Around the throne, at happy intervals,
The shrill hosannas of the infant choir,
Singing in that eternal temple, brought
Tears to mine eye, which seraphs had been glad
To weep, could they have felt the sympathy
That melted all my soul, when I beheld
How condescending Deity thus deign'd,
Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings here,
To perfect his high praise the harp of Heaven
Had lack'd its least but not its meanest string,
Had children not been taught to play upon it,
And sing, from feelings all their own, what men
Nor angels can conceive of creatures, born
Under the curse, yet from the curse redeem'd,
And placed at once beyond the power to fall,
-Safety which men nor angels ever knew,
Till ranks of these and all of those had fallen.

CANTO VIII.

"T WAS but the vision of an eye-glance; gone Ere thought could fix upon it, gone like lightning At midnight, when the expansive flash reveals Alps, Apennines, and Pyrenees, in one Glorious horizon, suddenly lit up,Rocks, rivers, forests,-quench'd as suddenly: A glimpse that fill'd the mind with images, Which years cannot obliterate; but stamp'd With instantaneous everlasting force On memory's more than adamantine tabletA glimpse of that which eye hath never seen,

Was it thus outlaw'd? No: God left himself
Not without witness of his presence there;
He gave them rain from heaven and fruitful seasons,
Filling unthankful hearts with food and gladness.
He gave them kind affections which they strangled,
Turning his grace into lasciviousness.

He gave them powers of intellect, to scale
Heaven's height; to name and number all the stars;
To penetrate earth's depths for hidden riches,
Or clothe its surface with fertility;
Amidst the haunts of dragons, dens of satyrs,
To call up hamlets, villages, and towns,
The abode of peace and industry; to build
Cities and palaces amid waste places;
To sound the ocean, combat with the winds,
Travel the waves, and compass every shore,
On voyages of commerce or adventure;
To shine in civil and refining arts,
With tranquil science elevate the soul;
To explore the universe of mind; to trace
The Nile of thinking to its secret source,
And thence pursue its infinite meanders,
Not lost amidst the labyrinths of Time,
But o'er the cataract of Death down-rolling,
To flow for ever and for ever and for ever
Where time nor space can limit its expansion.

He gave the ideal, too, of truth and beauty;
To look on Nature with a poet's eye,
And live, amidst the daylight of this world,
In regions of enchantment;-with the force
Of song, as with a spirit, to possess

The souls of those that hearken, till they feel
But what the minstrel feels, and do but that
Which his strange inspiration makes them do;
Thus with his breath to kindle war, and bring
The array of battle to electric issue;
Or, while opposing legions, front to front,
Wait the dread signal for the work of havoc,
Step in between, and with the healing voice
Of harmony and concord win them so,
That hurling down their weapons of destruction,
They rush into each other's arms, with shouts
And tears of transport; till inveterate foes
Are friends and brethren, feasting on the field,
Where vultures else had feasted, and gorged wolves

Howl'd in convulsive slumber o'er their corses.

Such powers to these were given, but given in vain; They knew them not, or, as they learn'd to know, Perverted them to more pernicious evil Than ignorance had skill to perpetrate. Yet the great Father gave a richer portion To these, the most impoverish'd of his children; He sent the light that lighteth every man

That comes into the world,-the light of truth:
But Satan turn'd that light to darkness; turn'd
God's truth into a lie, and they believed
His lie, who led them captive at his will,
Usurp'd the throne of Deity on earth,
And claim'd allegiance, in all hideous forms,
-The abominable emblems of himself,
The legion-fiend, who takes whatever shape
Man's crazed imagination can devise
To body forth his notion of a God,

And prove how low immortal minds can fall,
When from the living God they fall, to serve
Dumb idols. Thus they worshipp'd stocks and stones,
Which hands unapt for sculpture executed,
In their egregious folly, like themselves,
Though not more like, even in barbarian eyes,
Than antic clouds resemble animals.

To these they offer'd flowers and fruits; to those,
Reptiles; to others, birds, and beasts, and fishes;
To some they sacrificed their enemies,

To more their children, and themselves to all.

So had the god of this apostate world Blinded their eyes. But the true God had placed Yet further witness of his grace among them, When all remembrance of himself was lost: -Knowledge of good and evil, right and wrong. But knowledge was confounded, till they call'd Good evil, evil good; refused the right,

And chose and loved the wrong for its own sake.
One witness more, his own ambassador

On earth, the Almighty left to be their prophet,
Whom Satan could not utterly beguile,

Nor always hold with his ten thousand fetters,
Lock'd in the dungeon of the obdurate breast,
And trampled down by all its atheist inmates;
-Conscience, tremendous conscience, in his fits
Of inspiration,-whensoe'er it came,-
Rose like a ghost, inflicting fear of death,

On those who fear'd not death in fiercest battle,
And mock'd him in their martyrdoms of torments :
That secret, swift, and silent messenger
Broke on them in their lonely hours,-in sleep,
In sickness; haunting them with dire suspicions
Of something in themselves that would not die,-
Of an existence elsewhere, and hereafter,
Of which tradition was not wholly silent,
Yet spake not out; its dreary oracles
Confounded superstition to conceive,
And baffled scepticism to reject:

-What fear of death is like the fear beyond it?

But pangs like these were lucid intervals
In the delirium of the life they led,
And all unwelcome as returning reason,
Which through the chaos of a maniac's brain
Shoots gleams of light more terrible than darkness.
These sad misgivings of the smitten heart,
Wounded unseen by conscience from its ambush;
These voices from eternity, that spake
To an eternity of soul within,-
Were quickly lull'd by riotous enjoyment,
Or lost in hurricanes of headlong passion.
'They knew no higher, songht no happier state;
Had no fine instinct of superior joys

Than those of sense; no taste for sense refined
Above the gross necessities of nature,

Or outraged Nature's most unnatural cravings.
Why should they toil to make the earth bring forth,
When without toil she gave them all they wanted?
The bread-fruit ripen'd, while they lay beneath
Its shadow in luxurious indolence;

The cocoa fill'd its nuts with milk and kernels, While they were sauntering on the shores and moun tains;

And while they slumber'd from their heavy meals,
In dead forgetfulness of life itself,

The fish were spawning in unsounded depths,
The birds were breeding in adjacent trees,
The game was fattening in delicious pastures,
Unplanted roots were thriving under ground,
To spread the tables of their future banquets!

Thus what the sires had been the sons became,
And generations rose, continued, went,
Without memorial,-like the Pelicans
On that lone island, where they built their nests,
Nourish'd their young, and then lay down to die ·
Hence through a thousand and a thousand years,
Man's history, in that region of oblivion,
Might be recorded in a page as small
As the brief legend of those Pelicans,
With one appalling, one sublime distinction,
(Sublime with horror, with despair appalling),
-That Pelicans were not transgressors;-Man,
Apostate from the womb, by blood a traitor.
Thus, while he rose by dignity of birth,
He sunk in guilt and infamy below
Creatures whose being was but lent, not given,
And, when the debt was due, reclaim'd for ever
O enviable lot of innocence!

Their bliss and woe were only of this world:
Whate'er their lives had been, though born to suffer
Not less than to enjoy, their end was peace.
Man was immortal, yet he lived and died
As though there were no life, nor death, but this:
Alas! what life or death may be hereafter,
He only knows who hath ordain'd them both;
And they shall know who prove their truth for ever

The thought was agony beyond endurance; "O thou, my brother man!" again I cried, "Would God, that I might live, might die for thee! O could I take a form to meet thine eyes, Invent a voice with words to reach thine ears; Or if my spirit might converse with thine, And pour my thoughts, fears, feelings, through thy breast,

Unknown to thee whence came the strange intrusion!
How would my soul rejoice, rejoice with trembling,
To tell thee who thou art, and bring thee home,
-Poor prodigal, here watching swine, and fain
To glut thy hunger with the husks they feed on,—
Home to our Father's house, our Father's heart!
Both, both are open to receive thee,-come;
O come! He hears not, heeds not,-O my brother'
That I might prophesy to thee,to all
The millions of dry bones that fill this valley
Of darkness and despair!-Alas! alas!
Can these bones live? Lord God, Thou knowest..
Come

From the four winds of heaven, almighty breath,
Blow on these slain, and they shall live."

I spake