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THE

COURSE OF TIME.

ROBERT POLLOK, A.M.

WITH

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON THE

GENIUS AND WRITINGS OF THE POET,

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES,

AND

NOTES, CRITICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE,

JAMES R. BOYD,

EDITOR OF MILTON, THOMSON, COWPER, AND YOUNG,
■WITH NOTES, ETC.

NEAV YORK:
PUBLISHED BY A. S. BARNES & CO.,

No. 51 JOHN-STKEET.
1854.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854,

By A. S. BARNES & CO.,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern

District of New York.

INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.

Concerning the poetical excellence of the work be-
fore us, critics have expressed diverse, and even quite
opposite opinions : some, rather unwisely, both for them-
selves and for the gifted author, have ranked it with
" Paradise Lost" — the production of one of the maturest,
most classical, and most opulent of modern minds ; while
others, no less unwisely and unfairly, have seemed to
take a strange satisfaction in depreciating it, perhaps on
this very account, far below its just rank in the literary
scale. All admit, however, that it abounds in passages
of uncommon excellence, both of matter and style, suffi-
cient to commend the work, in its entireness, to continued
popular favor and esteem.

That it has enjoyed, from its first' publication to the
present day, a most remarkable popularity, will be de-
nied by none ; that it deserves to retain it on account of
its intrinsic worth — for the value of its thoughts, for the
grandeur and comprehensiveness of its range of topics,
and for the numberless poetic beauties which adorn its
pages — we fully believe ; and to render it, if possible,
somewhat more attractive and useful to the popular and
youthful mind, it is now first published with the impor-
tant accompaniment of Critical Observations, selected
from respectable Reviews, and also with explanatory

4 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.

and illustrative Notes, in which are introduced some of
the most interesting incidents in the life of the author,
and in the history of the composition of this celebrated
Poem, which is given more at length at the end of the
volume. The " Critical Observations" are derived from
Gilfillan's Literary Miscellany, Blackwood's (Edinburgh)
Magazine, and the Spirit of the Pilgrims, while among
the notes will be found some of the most important and
judicious of the criticisms, relating to this poem, in the
jSTorth American Review. In selecting these Critical
Observations, I have not culled out only such as were
favorable, but have introduced all those of an opposite
character that seemed to have been made with even a
moderate share of candor and fairness. A concise, but
quite satisfactory sketch of the author's life, taken from
the Christian Review, gives additional interest and value
to this edition.

In view of the fact that the poem has been extensively
nsed in common-schools and in higher seminaries, as a
text-book for parsing, an endeavor "has now been made
to prepare the poem, in its present form, to answer much
higher purposes in a course of education. As a great
convenience, whether used as a text-book, or for individ-
ual perusal, the poem has been divided into paragraphs
of moderate length, which are supplied with running
titles, indicating the principal subjects of each, and thus
affording a ready key to every part of the work. The
full Index, at the close of the volume, is another prop-
erty peculiar to this edition.

To some readers, the poem would be more attractive,
if in some of its parts it were less theological and didac-
tic — less solemn in its tone, and less severe upon human
character and conduct ; but it may justly be observed

INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 5

that every lover of truth, and especially of Bible truth,
must regard this poem with especial interest for the at-
tractive manner in which the infallible statements of the
sacred writers, concerning man's character, history, and
destiny, are herein set forth. On this account, it seems
to be a book most desirable to be read and studied by
the young. Like the Bible itself, it is highly pleasing
to the youthful mind, not yet contaminated by the poi-
son of a corrupt and skeptical literature. The high ana
varied character of the subjects which it introduces —
the scenes of thrilling interest, and surpassing grandeur,
which it depicts with masterly skill — its faithful por-
traiture of vice and of virtue, with their appropriate
retributions — its profound thoughtfulness, and nice dis-
criminations—all these, and other peculiarities, are emi-
nently suited to enlarge the mind, inform the conscience,
regulate the passions, and rightly shape the moral edu-
cation of the youthful student of the " Course of Time,"
which might, with more appropriateness, have been de-
nominated " The moral and religious History of Man."

A recent author, James Scott, D. D., who has pub-
lished an agreeable and instructive biography of Pollok,
and well characterized the poem as a Christian Canticle,
observes,that " the Reformation of the sixteenth century
had reconstructed the creed of the primitive Church ;
the truths of the Gospel had become axioms ; nay, were
clothed in household words, and uttered through the
boundaries of the Protestant Church ; but it required
the magic of song to give them the rich tints which
please the intellect, and the associations which excite
tumult among the feelings. Heathenism had produced
the Iliad, Odyssey, and ^Eneid ; the first, the oldest epic
poem in the world : Popery, the Divina Comedia and

6 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.

the Gerasalemme Liberata : Protestantism, the Paradise
Lost, rich not only with the jewelry of ancient lore, but
massy with the precious stones of Christianity. The
Greek and Roman poems are systems of Paganism : the
Paradise of Dante is the Scholastic Theology of the dark
ages : Milton's great work is a dissertation on the terrible
Expulsion from Eden, with its causes and consequences ;
while Pollok's ' Course of Time' is a poem about Re-
demption, and is so constructed as to give a befitting
history of time to an angel. A heathen could learn the
way of salvation by reading it. There is unction in it
to a broken heart, and a barbed arrow to the man of
pleasure. It stands alone among the poems of time ....
The poet sought not, like Virgil, to immortalize princes ;
nor, like Sir Walter Scott, to rescue from oblivion na-
tional legends of love and prowess ; nor, like Words-
worth, to weave a lay to philosophy; but, rather, to
garner up in a song the Bible history of Redemption."

It seems to be an act of simple justice, and of plain
obligation, here to guard the reader against a gross mis-
representation of the poem, which is brought forward in
the Philadelphia edition of the " British Poets." The
writer of the critical notice undertakes to say that Pol-
lok " arrays religion in dark robes, and considers it un-
necessary to portray her features as both gentle and
beautiful. ' Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all
her paths are peace.' The poet, however, exerts himself
to show how ragged he can render the one, and how
gloomy he can make the other. His volume, from be-
ginning to end, is an awful picture of wrath and ven-
geance : it contains little to cheer and nothing to gladden ;
and would tempt the reader to imagine that man was
created only to be tormented."

INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. i

It is surprising that any respectable critic should ven-
ture statements so glaringly false, and so easy to be
refuted by a reference to the poem itself. It is not reli-
gion, but irreligion — not virtue, but vice, — which the
poet " arrays in dark robes." His volume, so far from
being " from beginning to end an awful picture of wrath
and vengeance," is furnished with many fine pictures of
joy, and gladness, and beauty ; and so far from author-
izing the charge, that he leads the reader " to imagine
that man was created only to be tormented," he exhib-
its, in the most eloquent manner, the amazing operations
of Divine Mercy, to save fallen man from the torments
to which Justice might consign him. To illustrate, for
example, the last point ; — he thus speaks of the Bible :

" The Book — this holy Book, on every line
Mark'd with the seal of high divinity ;
On every leaf bedew'd with drops of love
Divine, and with the eternal heraldry
And signature of God Almighty, stampt
From first to last — this ray of sacred light,
This lamp, from off the everlasting throne,
Mercy took down, and, in the night of Time
Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow ;
And evermore beseeching men, with tears
And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live ;
And many to her voice gave ear, and read,
Believed, obey'd ; and now, as the Amen,
True, faithful Witness swore, with snowy robes
And branchy palms surround the fount of life,
And drink the streams of immortality,
Forever happy, and forever young." Bk. II. 36*7-383.

In illustration of another ground of defence, we might
emote from Book Y. a great number of passages, which
cannot be mistaken for " pictures of wrath and ven-
geance."

" Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair
Was seen beneath the sun ; but nought was aeen

8 INTRODUCTORY" OBSERVATIONS.

More beautiful, or excellent, or fair

Thau face of faithful friend ; fairest when seen

In darkest day. And many sounds were sweet,

Most ravishing and pleasant to the ear ;

But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend ;

Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm.

Some I remember," &c. 299-334.

' And there were too — harp ! lift thy voice on high
And run in rapid numbers o'er the face
Of Nature's scenery — and there were day
And night ; and rising suns, and setting suns ;
And clouds, that seem'd like chariots of saints,
By fiery coursers drawn," <fec., <fcc.

" And there were seasons coming evermore,
And going still, all fair, and always new,
"With bloom, and fruit, and fields of hoary grain.
And there were hills of flock, and groves of song;
And flowery streams, and garden walks embower' d,
Where side by side the rose and lily bloom'd.
N And sacred founts," &c, &c. 435-470.

' And there were childish sports, and school-boy feats,
And school-boy spots, and earnest vows of love,
Utter'd when passion's boisterous tide ran high,
Sincerely utter'd, though but seldom kept :
And there were angel looks ; and sacred hours
Of rapture ; hours that in a moment pass'd,
And yet were wish'd to last for evermore.
And venturous exploits," &c, &c. 518-545.

" Loves, friendships, hopes, and dear remembrances ;
The kind embracings of the heart — and hours
Of happy thought — and smiles coming to tears —
And glories of the heaven and starry cope
Above, and glories of the earth beneath:
These were the rays that wander'd through the gloom
Of mortal life — wells of the wilderness ;
Redeemintr features in the face of Time." 723-730.

INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 9

And further, if it be necessary to vindicate the au-
thor against the first charge alleged by the critic, let it
suffice, simply, to call the attention of the reader to the
commencement of the Ninth Book, where Religion is
apostrophized in the following manner :

" Fairest of those that left the calm of heaven,
And ventured down to man, with words of peace,
Daughter of Grace ! known by whatever name,
Religion, Virtue, Piety, or Love
Of Holiness ! the day of thy reward
"Was come. Ah ! thou wast long despised : despised
By those thou wooedst from death to endless life.
Modest, and meek, in garments white as those
That seraphs wear, and countenance as mild
As Mercy looking on Repentance' tear,
With eye of purity, now darted up
To God's eternal throne, now humbly bent
Upon thyself, and weeping down thy cheek
That glow'd with universal love immense,
A tear, pure as the dews that fall in heaven ;
In thy left hand, the olive branch, and in
Thy right, the crown of immortality —
With noiseless foot thou walkedst the vales of earth,
Beseeching men from age to age to turn
From utter death — to turn from woe to bliss ;
Beseeching evermore, and evermore
Despised — not evermore despised, not now,
Not at the day of doom : most lovely then,
Most honorable thou appear'dst, and most
To be desired." 1-25.

One more illustration of the characteristic manner in
which the author represents religion, is taken from an-
other portion of the same book (ix. 845-863) :

" Beneath a crown of rosy light, — like that
Which once in Goshen, on the flocks and herds,
And dwellings, smiled, of Jacob, while the land
Of Nile was dark ; or like the pillar bright
Of sacred fire, that stood above the sons

10 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.

Of Israel, when they camp'd at midnight by

The foot of Horeb, or the desert side

Of Sinai, — now the righteous took their place ;

All took their place, who ever wish'd to go

To heaven, for heaven's own sake ; not one remain'd

Among the accursed, that e'er desired with all

The heart to be redeem'd ; that ever sought

Submissively to do the will of God,

Howe'er it cross'd his own : or to escape

Hell, for aught other than its penal fires.

All took their place rejoicing, and beheld

In centre of the crown of golden beams

That canopied them o'er, these gracious words,

Blushing with tints of love — ' Fear not, my saints.' "

With this brief vindication of the poet, and this en-
deavor to place him in a just position, that his admirable,
though by no means faultless, poem may be read with-
out prejudice, be the more fully appreciated, and thus
rendered the more useful, the present edition of it is now
sent forth, as an humble companion of the Milton, Young,
Thomson, and Cowper, prepared on the same general
plan, to meet the wants, not of the critical and learned,
but of the general reader, and of schools. It has been
thought, also, that in the families where Pollok has been
regarded with favor, the present edition, with its critical
observations upon the poet's genius and style, its full
elucidation of striking or difficult passages in the poem,
and the history that is given, chiefly in the Notes, of the
author himself, and of the circumstances affecting the
composition of his poem, will secure to it a much more
welcome reception.

J. K. B.

Geneva, N. Y, March 1, 1854.

BRIEF MEMOIR OF ROBERT POLLOK.

[From the Christian Review.]

The Rev. Robert Pollok was born at Muirhouse (Moor-
house), parish of Eagleshara, North Britain, October 19, 1798.
His father still occupies (1828) the same farm, and is esteemed
by his neighbors as a very worthy and intelligent person. Rob-
ert was the youngest of the family ; and his early days were
spent on the farm with bis father in such labors as the seasons
called for. He was always fond of reading ; and the winter's
evenings were employed in this manner, when his companions
were, perhaps, engaged in some trifling amusement. He is not
known to have made any attempts at poetry when very young.
At seventeen years of age he commenced the study of the Latin
language ; and a few months after this he produced the first
poem which he is known to have committed to paper. In No-
vember, 181V, when nineteen years of age, he entered the Uni-
versity of Glasgow, where he studied five years ; at the end of
which time he obtained the degree of Master of Arts. While at
college, he was a very diligent and exemplary student, and dis-
tinguished himself so far as to have several prizes awarded him
by the suffrage of his fellows. Besides the regular exercises he
composed a number for his own pleasure and improvement, and
several of these were poetical. Before he had finished his curric-
ulum, his health was considerably impaired.

In the autumn of 1822 he entered the United Secession Di-
vinity Hall, under the care of Dr. Dick. Here his discourses
attracted considerable notice, and called forth some severe criti-

12 BRIEF MEMOIR OF ROBERT POLLOK.

cisms from his fellow-students. A mind like his could not sub-
mit to the trammels of common divisions : the form of an essay
suited better the impetuosity of his genius, and he occasionally
indulged in lofty descriptions, both of character and external
nature. In May, 1827, he received license to preach, from the
United Secession Presbytery of Edinburgh. During his previous
trials, he was employed superintending the printing of his poem.
His first public discourse is said to have produced a powerful
sensation in the audience. The text was, " How long halt ye
between two opinions ? If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if
Baal, then follow him." Some descriptive parts, respecting those
who serve Baal rather than God, are said to have been awfully
grand. He preached only three other times, when he was
obliged (through failure of health) to retire from public service.
His labors had been too great for his constitution, in which the
seeds of consumption had long before been sown.

By some medical gentlemen of eminence in Edinburgh, he was
advised to try the effects of a warmer climate. Italy was his
intended retreat ; and, after providing himself with letters of in-
troduction to some learned men on the Continent, he set out,
accompanied by a sister. He had got as far as the neighbor-
hood of Southampton, when, overpowered with the fatigues of
travelling, he was compelled to desist. He here fevered, and
after a few days expired, far from the scenes of his birth and his
studies. It is comforting to learn that Mr. Pollok's death was
that of a true saint ; his last moments being characterized by
patience, resignation, and faith.

Mr. Pollok's mind was certainly of a very superior order. Of
this there need no other proof be given than the encomiums
which his " Course of Time" has called forth — encomiums, many
of them penned before his death was known, but which did not
appear till after he had gone beyond the reach of earthly ap-
plause. His habits Avere those of a close student; his reading
was extensive ; he could converse on almost every subject ; he had
great facility in composition; in confirmation of which he is said

BRIEF MEMOIR OF ROBERT POLLOK. 13

to have written nearly a thousand lines weekly of the four last
books of the " Course of Time." The poem, as a whole, was,
however, no hasty performance : it had engaged his attention
long. His college acquaintances could perceive that his mind
was not wholly devoted to the business of the classes: he was
constantly writing or reading on other subjects. It was his cusr
torn to commit to the flames, every now and then, a great num-
ber of papers. He had projected a prose work of some magni-
tude — a review of literature in all ages — designed to show that
literature must stand or fall in proportion as it harmonizes with
Scripture Revelation. [See an account of this proposed work at
the end of this volume.] But death has put an end to this, as
to many other projects ; and all that we can now look for is a
posthumous volume, for which we are glad to understand there
are ample materials in the poems, essays, and sermons found
among his papers.

The following additional particulars are selected from
the life of Pollok, by his brother, who was a fellow-stu-
dent at the University and Divinity Hall :

A few months after the death of the poet, arrangements were
made for erecting a monument over his grave, the expenses of
which were to be defrayed out of the funds which had been
raised (by literary friends) for enabling him to visit Italy for the
restoration of his health. It is an obelisk of Peterhead granite ;
and bears, with the dates of his birth and death, the following
inscription, written by the Eev. Dr. John Brown, Edinburgh :

THE GRAVE OF

ROBERT POLLOK, A. M.,

AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME;"

HIS IMMORTAL POEM

IS HIS

Monument,

ERECTED BY ADMIRERS OF HIS GENIUS.

14 BRIEF MEMOIR OF ROBERT POLLOK.

Such was the life of Robert Pollok, short, active, and memo-
rable ; begun in obscurity, and closed in renown. His burial in
England has been regarded by many in Scotland as a subject of
national regret. " Why," it is asked, "should the author of the
' Course of Time,' who was born and bred in Scotland, and who
lived and wrote, and almost died there, have been buried on an-
other shore ? and why are his remains suffered to lie there ?"

This is characteristic, national, patriotic ; and no doubt it
would be inexpressibly interesting to have his grave in his native
country ; yet there are two things which almost reconcile us to
his lying where he is laid — his finishing his earthly course there,
and the delightfulness of the place where his ashes repose — the
purity and softness of its air, the openness and freeness of the
situation — its distance from any town, and its proximity to the
sea. Although we cannot but wish that he lay among his na-
tive mountains, we cannot help feeling how appropriate is the
spot where he rests, for the grave of the author of " The Course
of Time !"

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS

UPON" "THE COURSE OF TIME."
[From Gllfillan's Literary Miscellany, with occasional strictures.]

In accounting for the popularity of the poem, Mr. Gilfillan
first adverts to the youthfulness of the author, and remarks : —
" The fact that a youth so impressed, by one effort of his mind,
many — who were not straightway deemed insane — as to draw
forth the daring of equalling him with Milton, and his work with
Paradise Lost, speaks much in its favor."

'In the second place, he adds : " It was a religious poem, and

this at once awakened a wide and warm interest in its favor

It was, besides, a poem by a dissenter ; and between the gentle
but timid genius of Michael Bruce, and the far more energetic
song of Pollok, no poetry deserving the name had been produced
among them. It was natural, therefore, that when, at length, a
brilliant star broke forth in their firmament, they should salute
its arrival with lawful and general pride. A few, indeed, of the
more malignant of those who found themselves eclipsed, felt ha-
tred, and pretended to feel contempt for the poem."

He proceeds to say : " But the principal cause of its popular-
ity, was the premature death of the poet. This lent, instantly,
a consecrating magic to its every line, — passed over it like a pity-
ing hand, — hiding its bulky faults, — caused the poisoned arrows
of many an intended critic to fall powerless from his grasp,
aroused a tide of universal sympathy, and sympathy is akin to
applause ; put, in a word, the capstone on its triumph. Still the
book had much merit of its own."

16 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

In the first place, he remarks : " It was, on the whole, an ori-
ginal production. There were, it is true, as in all youthful works,
traces of resemblance, and even imitations of favorite authors.
Here, Milton's majestic tones and awful sanctity were emulated.
There, a shadow of a shade of Dante's terrible gloom was caught.
In another place, the epigrammatic turns of Young were less suc-
cessfully mimicked. Many passages resembled Blair's ' Grave' in
their rough vigor of style, and unsparing anatomy of human
feelings and foibles. Cowper's sarcasm and strong simplicity
had also been studied to some purpose. Nor had the author
feared to sharpen his holy weapons at the forge of Byron — that
Philistine, who had come forth to defv the armies of the living;
God. Of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Shelley, he seemed to
know little ; else, perhaps, his tone had been more ethereal, and
his verse more harmonious. And yet, notwithstanding such re-
semblances, and conscious or unconscious imitations, you felt,
from the first, that you had to do with a man who thought, and
looked, and wrote for himself. A strong and searching intellect
looked out on you from the whole poem. And, scattered through-
out, in nooks and corners of its scathed surface, were gleams of
genuine genius — touches of natural pathos — strange and wild
imaginings — rays of terrible truthfulness aud moral sentiment —
which, even more than its long and labored passages, ' gave the
world assurance of a man.' "

With respect to the imitations which this writer thinks he has
discovered, it is but fair to take the author's own testimony on
this point, in a letter addressed to his father, July 16, 1827.
>4 With this you will receive a London 'Review,' containing a
critique on my poem. The gentleman who wrote it, whosoever
he may be, is deficient in one or two of the great powers of
mind; but, upon the whole, the review is a good one — I mean
as reviews go now-a-days, since the death of Dr. Samuel John-
son, who was the only reviewer that ever appeared in this coun-
try with powers equal to the great authors whom he reviewed,
and who, on that very account, was the only man that could do

CEITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 17

his subject justice. The critic accuses me several times of bor-
rowing. This is absolute nonsense. I am conscious that I did
not borrow a thought from any poet, dead or alive, in the whole
of the ' Course of Time.' Likenesses, here and there, occur among
all poets ; and when it so happens, the critic always charges the
author with imitation. This is one of the evils of authorship,
which we know before w T e publish ; and we submit to it with
cheerfulness. Soon after Milton published his immortal work, a
critic wrote a long book, in which he undertook to prove that
every fine passage in Milton was borrowed."

We proceed with Gilfillan's observations : " Another striking
quality of the poem was its truth. ' It was no sham, but reality.'
Here was an honest, earnest man, talking to you, in solemn tones,
of the most solemn things, and believing every word which he
uttered. The awful truths of our faith had made, early, a pro-
found impression upon his mind. The doctrine of future punish-
ment, especially, had seized hold on his imagination as with iron
talons ; and had found a fit commentary in the wild and desolate
scenery where his infancy was nurtured."

" The book, again, is remarkable for its lofty and daring tone."
" Perhaps, indeed, this is a blemish rather than a beauty. Mil-
ton was lofty, because he could not help it. Sublimity is the
shadow of his soul. . . . Dante's daring is that of a wounded and
desperate spirit, treading upon terrible thoughts as upon burning
ploughshares ; with frightful accuracy and minuteness, writing

the diary, and becoming the Defoe, of Perdition About Pol-

lok's loftiness there lies an air of effort ; and about his darino- a
slight taint of presumption. A youth, though of ' great religious
soul, retired in voluntary loneliness, and dipping oft his pen to
write immortal things,' may not be permitted the privileges of
an old demi-god of song. . . . Still, if over-daring, he is original
iu his aspirings."

" Pollok's book, too, is remarkable, in general, for its clearness,
and simplicity of thought and style ; so much so, that we almost
long for a little more of that fine German mysticism, without

18 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

■which it is, perhaps, after all, impossible to speak of the deepest
and the loftiest — of eternity, space, night, infinitude. This ele-
ment is too rare for Pollok's wing. . . . His is a thoroughly Scot-
tish soul ; clear even in its extravagances — common sense even in
its wildness."

" We notice, too, the awful holiness of the spirit of this poem.
There are few books in the language over whose frontispiece the
inscription is so legibly written, ' Off, ye profane,' if not the more
solemn motto, ' Holiness to the Lord.' We feel treading on
ground consecrated by the shadow of the great Tribunal."

" Akin to this the poem is distinguished by its tone of intel-
lectual and spiritual assurance. In respect of a sort of divine
dogmatism, it more resembles Milton's great work than in any
thing else. There is no doubt, nor shadow of doubt, upon his
mind ; first, as to every part of his creed, and next, as to his in-
dividual capacity for expounding the same. . . . He addresses him-
self with unfaltering confidence to greatest things. He has no
momentary misgivings of his own fitness. Like Milton, he is
intensely conscious of his dignity and size. And it is not his
fault that his port is less princely, his panoply less terrible, his
afflatus less powerful, and his stature less gigantic."

The above observations seem, in the main, to be just and can-
did ; but the writer has added others of a far different character,
which a proper regard to the cause of just criticism and to the
literary reputation of the talented and jnous bard, forbids a place
in this volume. Indeed, they, as well as some other criticisms I
have seen upon our author, serve to remind one of the portrait
of the critics of Earth, which the poet has himself, with a wise
forecast, drawn in the latter part of the Eighth Book :

" The critics — some, but few,
"Were worthy men ; and earn'd renown which had
Immortal roots ; but most were weak and vile ;
And as a cloudy swarm of summer flies,
With angry hum and slender lance, beset
The sides of some huge animal ; so did
They buzz about the illustrious man, and fain

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 19

With his immortal honor, down the stream

Of fame would have descended ; but alas !

The hand of Time drove them away : they were,

Indeed, a simple race of men, who had

One only art, which taught them still to say —

Whate'er was done, might have been better done :

And with this art, not ill to learn, they made

A shift to live ; but sometimes too, beneath

The dust they raised was worth a while obscured."

Gilfillan yet acknowledges that the " Course of Time" is a
powerful production, full of " things which the world will not
let die," and which may long preserve the memory of the ambi-
tious and resolute spirit whence they emanated. He then adds :
" Class it with the highest productions of the human mind — with
the Iliad, the Prometheus Vinctus, the Lear, and the Paradise
Lost, we may not, as long as the moon may not be ranked with
the sun, nor Ceres with Sirius. Place it even in the second file
of poetical master-pieces, — with the Manfred, the Cenci, the Par-
adise Regained, and the Excursion, we dare not, so long as

'Jove's satellites are less than Jove.'

But let it have its praise as belonging to the order which we may
call ' third among the sons of light,' and its place on a sloping
shelf, at the top of which shines, in its starry lustre, the ' Night
Thoughts,' perched

' Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with a thousand eyes.' "

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

[From Blackwood's (Edinburgh) Magazine.]

The distinctive character of poetry, it has been said and cred-
ited, almost universally, is to please. . . . Pleasure is no more the
end of poetry than it is the end of knowledge, or of virtue, or of
religion, or of this world. The end of poetry is pleasure, delight,
instruction, expansion, elevation, honor, glory, happiness here and
hereafter, or it is nothing. Is the end of Paradise Lost — to
please ? Is the end of Dante's Divine Comedy — to please ? Is
the end of the Psalms of David — to please ? Or of the songs of
Isaiah ?

This poor idea infests modern criticism — perhaps ancient. . . .
It is probable that poetry, even true poetry, has often been in-
jured or vitiated, by having been written in the spirit of this
creed. ... Its tendency has been to degrade, not only in the esti-
mation of the world, but in the works of men of genius them-
selves, the Divine art of poetry. Writers and readers have
written and read according to a low standard.

"We suspect that this doctrine has especially borne hard on all
sacred poetry — disinclined poets to devote their genius to it —
and consigned, if not to oblivion, to neglect, much, almost all, of
what is great in that magnificent walk. For if the masters of
the holy harp are to strike it but to please — if their high inspira-
tions are to be deadened and dragged down by the prevalent
power of such a mean and unworthy aim, they will either be con-
tented to awaken a few touching tones of " those strains that
once did sweet in Sion glide," unwilling to prolong and deepen

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 21

them into the diapason of praise — or they will deposit their lyre
within the gloom of the sanctuary, and leave unawakened

"The soul of music sleeping in its strings."

We are aware, at the same time, that many objections have
been urged against sacred poetry ; but they all resolve themselves
into this — that it is difficult or impossible ; but therein lies its
power and its glory. Next to Isaiah the Prophet, stands Milton
the Poet. But as there are the lesser inspired prophets, so are
there the lesser poets — they, too, in another sense, inspired, and
the effusions of their spirits, likewise, humanly speaking, divine.
How many sublime hymns have been breathed by genius ele-
vated by piety " above the smoke and din of this dim spot that
men call earth !" With what holy and devout affection are they
treasured in pious souls, when men have been poverty-stricken
within their very being by this world's afflictions — have had their
affections and passions distracted or torn up by the very roots —
and then felt that the wilderness could be made to blossom like
the rose under the dews of Hermon !

How beautiful is genius when combined

"With holiness ! oh ! how divinely sweet

The tones of earthly harp, whose cords are touch'd

By the soft hand of piety, and hang

Upon religion's shrine, there vibrating

With solemn music in the ear of God.

And must the bard from sacred themes refrain ?

Sweet were the hymns in patriarchal days,

That, kneeling in the silence of his tent,

Or on some moonlight hill, the shepherd pour'd

Unto his Heavenly Father! Strains survive

More touching far than poet ever breathed

Amid the Grecian isles, or later times

Have heard in Albion, land of every lay.

Why therefore are ye silent, ye who know
The trance of adoration, and behold
Upon your bended knees the Throne of Heaven,
And Him, who sits thereon ? Believe it not,
That Poetry in former days the nurse,
Yea, parent oft of blissful piety

22 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Should silent keep from service of her God.
Nor with her summons, loud, hut silver-tongued,
Sturtle the guilty dreamer from his sleep,
Bidding him gaze with rapture or with dread
On regions where the sky forever lies
Bright as the sun himself, and trembling still
With ravishing music, or where darkness broods
O'er ghastly shapes, and sounds not to be borne.

It is, then, with delight, and not without a feeling of self-
dignity, that, from time to time, we leave the giddy fervor and
loose rhymes of more modern poetry, to repose on the firm yet
impassioned majesty of such writers as Milton ; but we rather
think that this reverence, a little prescriptive, is more apt to make
us unjust to the claims of a present competitor, than forward to
hail any who aspires to compass the same walk. Is it from this
alone that we are slow to predict for the author before us a fel-
low-memory with the time-honored shades of Dante and Milton ?
Independent of comparative award, this poem, " The Course of
Time," is certainly of deep and hallowed impress, full of noble
thoughts and graphic conceptions — the production of a mind
alive to the great relations of being, and the sublime simplicity
of our religion ; not without distinct poetry, but more character-
ized by a strong and searching intellect.

In its simple beauties, it strikes us as the work of a man who
has kept himself shy from literature for a first and great attempt;
and still more so in its cumbrous faults, which a little self-denial,
and a slight notion of comparative excellence, best attained from
early trials of strength, would have prevented. The enormous
fault of this poem, is an elaborate redundancy in the making up
of moral pictures, very much in the style of those of Blair's
Grave, to which poem it certainly bears a generic resemblance.
Even in those parts of his work- where, according to our author's
proposed object, the interest should be deepest, the haughtiness
of the epic dignity is fearlessly compromised, that his cabinet of
portraitures may have enlargement both of number and space ;
and the worst part of his (literary) sin is, that he dilates upon

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 23

the same subject more than once ; not sparing, that all may be
complete, lines of interjectional emphasis, which at best, in any
work, are but beggarly elements — a life-in-death sort of power —
the startling throes of a mere galvanic existence, and quite un-
worthy of a mind that has vis enough to set forth direct propo-
sitions.

The plan of this poem is simple and well-conceived — the
whole race of man has been long gathered unto the years of
eternity, and the things of time are seen far remote, according to
the author's own graphic simile —

" as country which has left

The traveller's speedy step, retiring back
From morn till even" —

when a being, confirmed in good, arrives in heaven from some re-
mote world. He is welcomed by two of the heavenly dwellers,
of whom he inquires the meaning of hell and its woes, which a
stray-flight in his passage heaven-ward (somewhat unaccountably
ascribed to mere curiosity, rather than the direct leading of God)
has permitted him to see. Arrived themselves but lately at the
celestial kingdom, they are unable to satisfy his inquiries ; but
they take him to an ancient bard, once of our earth, who, accord-
ing to the questions of the newly-arrived, in reference particularly
to the Lamb of God and the resurrection-morn, which he heard
blasphemed in hell, goes over the chief characteristics of man's
world, up to the great day of judgment, which marks, according
to our author's high argument,

"Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damn'd
And God's eternal government approved."

On first view we are struck with the plan, as worthy of the
finest arrangement of parts ; but it is soon evident that the best
interest must lie in these parts themselves, less in reference to
the making up of a unique whole, than to their individual worth.
And why ? The consummation which this poem records is in-

24 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

deed overwhelming, and one in which we are awfully interested ;
but it stands before us as a great religious truth, long known;
and our prescriptive reverence, or our prescriptive callousness,
makes us less attentive to any thing like a religious detail, after
the original of the Bible. Yet what reader is not alive, with the
deepest anxiety, to the process of Eve's seduction as given by
Milton, though already the issue is equally known to him from
the Scriptures. The same principle on which depends a deep
interest in the latter case, explains chiefly why, in the former, it
cannot be easily awakened. There were possibilities in the power
of Eve, of escape and defence, — the strife of knowledge against
knowledge, of innocence against guilt : we attend anxiously, in
the hope of seeing her means of resistance exerted ; and there is
a deep under-current in the soul of the reader ; an anxious calcu-
lation — the most awful process in the human heart — to feel from
what slight check an unspeakable calamity might have been
prevented. In the general fate of mankind, as given in Mr. Pol-
lok's poem, there is no doubtful conflict ; there can be no strife
of equal interests. Possibilities there may be in the power of
man ; it may be his own folly that he escapes not the final con-
demnation ; but this implies little strife of action, and no power
in man to keep up the struggle against the sentence ; and there-
fore the poem which connects the life of man with the retribution
of the judgment-day, considered as a mere human composition,
is not, to human sympathies, essentially epic, or progressive in
interest.

In Paradise Lost, our souls are knit to two living individuals,
full of beauty and innocence, and we wait with yearning fear for
the sad falling off that is to dash their light, and their love, and
their glorious Eden; in the poem before us, we know not real
and moving individuals of earth; we are made acquainted, in-
deed, with the qualities of individual minds ; but these are no
better than the abstract beings of an allegory, and the final fate
with which they are respectively visited strikes us but as the vic-
tory of God over sin in general, over the wicked follies of men

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 25

and devils. Our reverence, again, for his grand decision, further
masters simple feelings, and is a thing far above the usual sym-
pathies of sorrow or joy. But allow that these qualities, in ref-
erence to judgment, must impress every man with the fate of
living beings (and surely our own share in the brotherhood of
man is entitled to make the slightest hint of the Last Sentence,
to our distinct conception, a scene rife with responsibilities), then
there is a new difficulty in the way of our author, to make good
the latter clause*of his final argument, — the approval, by human
sympathies, of God's eternal awards. Let his victory be put as
over individual sinners, then, living as we are in this world, and
full of weak and human charities, and not knowing- our own
eternal destiny, we cannot have, and God never meant us here to
have, such a joy in contemplating the final overthrow of the
wicked, as, in the counterpart of the feeling,*shall vindicate tho-
roughly to our hearts the severe justice of retribution. Here we
cannot even conceive how the eternal separation of two brothers,
and the condemnation of the one, shall not dash the full and
celestial joys of the other.

In any view of the subject — because in any there can be no
adequate struggle, on the part of man, against the executive of
God's mighty kingdom — a main action is wanting, and progres-
sive interest for the work before us, considered merely in the light
of an ordinary composition.

The general spirit of the above remarks may have a very good
particular illustration. This want of a main interest may be
accounted for on the same principle which, in a great measure,
explains why Mr. Pollok fails to raise our conceptions of horror
by his descriptions of the final hell, which his words, not a little
magniloquent, led us to believe he meant as the very climax of
his poem. In the hell of Milton, the great interest lies in the
awakening of the fallen Cherubim from their fiery lethargy.
Our sympathies are instantly and directly in the midst of them,
remembering with them their past glory, and planning their out-
breaking from their burning prison. The horrors of their situa-

26 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

tion, though largely described by Milton, are thus in principle
incidental, and are insensibly admitted as aggregates of interest
by our already excited sympathies. We are taken captive at
once, and there is no room for the nil admirari, which is cer-
tainly against the poet, whom we see laboring to gird up his loins
to do something great. It is the highest praise of the epic gran-
deur, and it belongs to Milton in the above instance, when it can
gather and take along with its unstayed march, a host of col-
lateral circumstances.

In Dante's hell, though the conception cannot be so highly
praised, the execution is wondrous ; and one unique spirit, through
all its attributes of terror and punishment, is never done with
knocking at the human heart of his reader. It is not peopled
with abstract beings : it is overrun with human affections. We
see men in the act of being punished according to the very spirit
of their faults ; and the pathetic yearning of all over a human
visitor in their descending circles of wrath, — their desire still to
know of man's doings on the green earth, and to be remembered
in the haunts of their former kindred, — all breathing the very
spirit of Dante's own exile, — take a strong hold upon the hearts
of his readers. His stories are all of this upper world, and our
sympathies go down again, as it were, alive to the misery of the
damned, who relate them in the ears of the poet, with sad and
interjection al references to the circumstances that now environ
their being. Our sympathy is as strong, and has the same play,
as when, with all our living consciousness about us, we conceive
of our situation pent up in the corded stiffness of death, and en-
cumbered with the foul dishonors of the grave, where

" Even in our ashes live their wonted fires."

The heavy press of woe upon the unhappy narrators gives a fine
verisimilitude to the briefness of their details in Dante's poem.
The muscular anatomy of harsh feelings, and the quick and in-
stinctive shadings of tenderness are fixed before us like statuary.
The fino touches of softer poetry that occur here and there, like

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 27

difficult knots of flowers on wild and storm-visited rocks, draw
us more strongly to the strange work of this mighty master by
giving: relief to its black and terrible edcjes.

In the punishment of sinners as described by Mr. Pollok in his
last book, their hell and woe are final, and far away. We are
aware of their being driven into eternal perdition ; but we are
not acquainted with them, as individuals beforehand: we see
them not in their lost condition, in reference to any conflict, strug-
gling, yet overwhelmed; we hear no more of them as living
beings ; and therefore our spirits never enter into their place of
torment. Pangs and wrath are prepared beforehand, and then
we are told that the wicked are made to enter upon their sor-
rowful inheritance ; but this moves us not like the agony of
Dante's Inferno, where we behold human feelings sporting like
trembling rays through the thick presence of a night of woe.

Upon the whole, we believe, that the powers of the poet, not
even excepting the great names we have -had occasion to mention
above, are inadequate, by a description of the most dread array
of physical terrors, to fix the mind to a full conception, either of
the bliss or destruction of a single spirit. No man at any given
time can call up, and fix before his soul the overwhelming idea.
It passes sometimes involuntarily through his heart, but its per-
manent expression is beyond the control, and color of words.
We would therefore say, that Mr. Pollok has so far been unfor-
tunate in the choice of his subject ; and is not altogether to be
blamed, if he hath not approved to human sympathies the final
justice of God ; or, in the other clause of his argument, to set
forth to our conceptions, the full importance of

" Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damn'd."

On the above criticism, Mr. Blackwood, the publisher,
thus writes to Mrs. Bell, of London, under date of Au-
gust 20, 1827.

" Mr. Pollok is the author of a very remarkable poem, ' The

28 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Course of Time,' which I regret now I did not send you. I sent a
copy to Mr. M. ; and you will see a review of it in the June num-
ber of my Magazine. The critic, it is generally thought, has not
done the author sufficient justice ; but the extracts speak for
themselves. My venerable friend, Mr. Henry Mackenzie, and a
number of our first literary men here, have taken the greatest
interest in Mr. Pollok on account of their high admiration of his
poem."

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

[From the Spirit of the Pilgrims.]

Several religious poems have appeared within a few years ;
but the one taking the widest range, and with a subject requiring
the very highest powers to master it, is the " Course of Time."
It opens in eternity, long after the judgment. The creation of
the world and of man is related to a spirit from some distant
sphere. The narrator describes the fall of man, the consequences
of it, and the great scheme of redemption. The various ways
in which the effects of the fall discover themselves in our per-
verted feelings and modes of reasoning, are set forth with great
truth, particularly where the gospel is brought to bear upon
them. The end of the world, the resurrection, and the judg-
ment, follow in succession and close the scene. How all this is
filled up, and how relieved, we have no intention of stating : we
have answered our object, if we have laid enough before the
reader to enable him to perceive that, to fill up such a plan as it
should be filled, requires not only a man earnest in his religious
views, but one of profound thought, and of almost unmatched
poetic powers.

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 29

The first two qualifications we believe we may grant in full to
our author ; but we cannot, in sincerity, say so much for him in
the last requisite. We cloubt whether the mere poetic excellen-
cies of the work are such as to make it deeply interesting to any
but truly religious minds ; and to render its sound evangelical
sentiment palatable with the world at large, would require in its
poetry all the magnificence and beauty of Milton himself. It is
a pity that any, in their zeal for religion, should have compared
our author with him, the sublime character of whose mind has
not been equalled since the days of the prophets. Simply as a
poet, Mr. Pollok is neither a Cowper nor a Young. Still he is a
poet, and must be allowed to take rank after a few of his con-
temporaries, such as Byron, Wordsworth, Crabbe, and one or
two more. Nor would we so far dishonor him as to put him
down with the Glovers and Haleys, who made a noise in their
day. There are also living male and female poets of some celeb-
rity, who must be content to take their places after him. He
does not, like some of them — to use a homely but applicable
expression — lose himself in a smother of words. His diction is
plain ; he never writes without thought ; and when you lay his
work by, it is with a definite notion of what you have been read-
ing : which is a great deal more than Mrs. Hemans admiring
readers can say of her.

Wordy indefiniteness is the vice of the age ; and people read
on, page after page, vaguely pleased with a certain flicker and
show of things, without having seen one simple and clear image,
or having thought one simple and clear thought. Mr. Pollok is
a thinker ; and though this may prove a cause of unpopularity
with the diligent readers of books which have taught them not
to think, yet it has led those who do think, but have not been
careful in this instance to carry along with them the great essen-
tials of poetry, to over-estimate him as a whole

Poetry is essentially more than this. A man must have some-
thing besides a taste for poetry, and a power of putting just and
strong thoughts into fair verse. He must have a poet's temper-

30 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

ament — that in which, all coming from him is first fused, and
then, running into the mould of the imagination, is turned out
a perfect form. It must not be a cold, lifeless form, however, but
alive and glowing with the spiritual fire out of which it has come.

Passion must utter for itself its own vehement

and broken language, and sentiment and sorrow must pour forth
their own soft and melancholy sounds like a fountain. Passions
and thoughts should not so much be described ; nor should they
be so many abstractions ; but rather be, as it were, living, sen-
tient, speaking, active beings

We do not say that our author is destitute of the great and
distinctive qualities of poetry, but that it cannot be said that
they are characteristic of his poem. He appears to us to think
out what he has written: it does not affect us as if poured
through the mind from those deep and living springs within the
soul, of which we have spoken. The brain furnished the mate-
rial, and wrought it out by itself. His description of hell, in the
first book, strikes us as the result of this process ; as ingenious
rather than imaginative, and frightful rather than poetical.

Mr. Pollok aimed at producing his effect by multiplying cir-
cumstances. But circumstances, however well fitted to move us
when taken singly, by being over-multiplied lose their power, and

serve only to distract us Besides, Mr. Pollok's

particulars, when taken singly, too often fail of the intended ef-
fect, from want of peculiarity, that which gives individuality.
Take as a favorable specimen of our author, his character of Lord
Byron. Surely, no thoughtful man can ever read it without
being made more thoughtful. It contains many exceptions to
our remarks, and many fine reflections, yet before getting through
it we catch ourselves casting our eve forward to see where it will
end : while reading it we wish it was not quite so long : we leave
it with self-dissatisfaction that we were not more affected by what
we cannot but allow to be good, and wish we could admire it
more than we do. The truth is, that with all there is to praise
in it, it lacks the absorbing power.

CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS. 31

Mr. Pollok's style is not poetic. We do not mean that it is
not sufficiently ornamented. Ornamental terms are well-nigh
used up ; and the poet, now-a-days, must trust almost solely to

the happy combination of the simplest words

We have acquitted our author of a certain kind of fashionable
wordiness ; but we cannot of another kind. He abounds in epi-
thets, and these too often of a character so general, that they
might almost as well be applied to any other object, as to that
with which they are connected. Tbis remark belongs in a de-
gree, and as far as can be, consistently with an intelligible expres-
sion of strong thought, to his style generally. Select any of
Shakspeare's better passages, and try to take out tbe smallest
word from one of them. So closely is his work joined together,
so exactly proportioned and fitted is each part to each, and each
to the whole, that should you attempt to remove one timber, the
building would come tumbling down upon your heads. There
is in Mr. Pollok's style a diffuseness — a want of terseness.
He may be called a strong man ; but his bulkiness gives him a
somewhat heavy movement.

Mr. Pollok cannot be so easily excused in another particular —
a fault which is hard to be accounted for in a man of his good
sense and independent thinking — we mean in his imitations. In
the first two books we meet with so much of Milton's structure
of sentences, and so many of his favorite terms of expression,
that we had no expectation of finding Mr. Pollok so manly and
profound a thinker as he turns out to be. He works himself
pretty free of this fault, as he gets used to his labor ; though
occasional imitations occur, and these so close, that you cannot
but smile now and then, even in the most serious passages.

He sometimes affects certain words : these, however, are few,
such as the word busk. We have "eldest hell," " eldest energy,"
" eldest skill," and often the old word " whiles." The sentences
frequently end with an adjective, brought fully in to fill up the
measure. Violence is sometimes mistaken for strength ; and
where he attempts sarcasm, after the manner of Cowper, unlike

32 CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Cowper, he not seldom misses his aim. In Young's bad taste,
he occasionally introduces conceits into the more serious passages,
and we find him aiming at impression by repeating an emphatic
word, which is little better than a trick in oratory, and very bad
in poetry.

Having seen Mr. Pollok most extravagantly and indiscrimi-
nately praised, we have dwelt the longer upon his faults and
deficiencies ; being aware that nothing so endangers a man's just
reputation as excessive commendation. Our author has already
reaped some of the natural consequences of this conduct in his
admirers ; and we know of no surer way to secure to him his
fair deserts, than by giving up freely all which we are not satis-
fied he is entitled to Had a more dramatic form

been given to the poem, qualities might, perhaps, have been* de-
veloped, in which we have all along supposed the author to be
wanting, and more vividness, energy, and closeness have been

imparted to his whole work There, is much of

loose writing and illogical use of terms, in the tales of the great
novelist of the day (Sir Walter Scott), but these will be found
out of his dialogue, and never in it.

Mr. Pollok also chose blank verse. This tasks a man more
than any other form of writing, and least of all endures
difi'usen ess.

Taking these difficulties into consideration, and recollecting
that a man never can put forth all his strength when he has a
misgiving at heart that what he is undertaking may be beyond
his strength, no one can say how much greater poetic power Mr.
Pollok might have shown, had he undertaken a work requiring
less. lb' appears to have been a truly religious man; and it
may he that the very awfulness of his subject, subdued rather
than aroused all his energies; that he felt himself a mere mortal,
jetting his foot upon holy ground.

His mind was in a striking degree meditative. He must have
devoted to wise and enlarged meditation, no small portion of
those early years, which are spent by others in little else than

CKITICA.L OBSERVATIONS. 33

acquiring knowledge. His work is not a mixture of youthful
crudities and clever thoughts, but is remarkably characterized by
maturity of thinking. He writes like an old observer of men
one who had looked long enough upon the world to have seen
just what all its glosses are worth. He was not to be deceived
into a false estimate of human nature, either by the pride of his
own heart, or by short and disconnected views of the hearts of
others. He not only had penetration sufficient to perceive where
lay the errors of the philosophy of former times, but he had
independence and clear-sightedness enough to look quite through
the fallacies of his own day, and to see, moreover, that most of
the boasted discoveries in what is styled the philosophy of reli-
gion, were little better than old errors in new dresses ; that many
of the schemes, so vaunted of for their originality, were but mod-
ified forms of those which moved in the twilight, when the old
revelation was set upon nigh all the world, and the Sun of
Riil'hteousness was not risen to bless it — schemes which floated
in that light to darken it when it did at length arise, and which
would overshadow it now, were not God more than man.

There are men who have a certain acuteness at detecting a
fallacy, and an activity and clearness of intellect, which work
very well within a particular sphere ; but who want a largeness
of thought to enable them to follow out the many and far-reach •
ing relations of a great scheme, and to comprehend it as a wdiole.
Mr. Pollok had such a comprehensive mind, and he brought the
exercise of it to the greatest of all subjects — the relation of man
to his God, and to a future state. He appears to have wrought
with it clear of the perversion of human vanity, and with a most
sincere and humble reliance on his Maker for aid. We believe
his prayer, in the last book, came from a fervent heart, and that
it was one which often went up from him during his labor :

" Jehovah ! breathe upon my soul ; my heart
Enlarge ; my faith increase ; increase my hope ;
My thoughts exalt; my fancy sanctify,
And all my passions, that I near thy throne
May venture, unreproved."

34: CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS.

Our demands upon a poet are higher, perhaps, than would be
those of many of our readers. We have spoken of the evil
done to Mr. Pollok's just fame by indiscriminate praise. In the
fear lest we should fall into the same mistake with others, and let
our zeal for the true faith for which he wrote lead us to over-esti-
mate his poetic merit, it is possible that we may not have done

him entire justice We cannot leave this poem

without recommending it as a help to the meditations of the
serious, and without expressing the wish that those inclined to
think full well of human nature and their own hearts, and care-
lessly of what God requires of them, would read it also. There
is an alarming and an increasing propensity in society to both of
these errors; indeed, they are necessarily coupled. We know of
few works better calculated than the one we are noticing, to put
an end to the vain, the worse than vain fancies, of a pre-eminently
vain age.

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK I.

BOOK r.

ANALYSIS.

The author invokes the Eternal Spirit to inspire his song, that he may-
sing " the Course of Time," " the second birth, and final doom of man,''
"the essential truth — time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked
damned, and Providence approved."

Long after time had ceased and Eternity had rolled on its periods, num-
bered only by God alone, a stranger spirit arrives "high on the hills
of immortality," and is there met by two other spirits, "youthful sons
of Paradise," who greet him with " Well clone, thou good and faithful
servant," and invite him to ascend to the throne of God.

The stranger informs them, that, when he left his native world, on his
way towards Heaven, he came to a realm of darkness, where he saw
beings of " all shapes, all forms, all modes of wretchedness," in a place
of torment, " burning continually," and dying perpetually, and heard
cursing and blasphemies : the meaning of which he requests them to
unfold to him ; but they being unable, introduce him to an ancient
bard of the Earth, and all three request him to explain to them the
wonders of the place of torments, and prison of the damned.

The bard informs them, that " the place the stranger saw was Hell ;"
the groans he heard, the wailings of the damned, and that he wiil have
his asking, and that "wondering doubt shall learn to answer," while
he gives them in brief the history of Man.

&fo torn ill §i\\u.

BOOK I.

Eternal Spirit ! God of truth ! to whom
All things seem as they are ; Thou who of old
The prophet's eye unsealed, that nightly saw,
While heavy sleep fell down on other men,
In holy vision tranced, the future pass 5

Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned
Burdens which made the pagan mountains shake
And Zion's cedars bow — inspire my song ;
My eye unscale ; me what is substance teach,
And shadow what, while I of things to come, 10

As past, rehearsing, sing the Course of Time,
The second Birtb, and final Doom of man.

7. Burdens : Reference is made to the Hebrew prophet Isaiah, who
thus denominates his predictions of evil, as in chap. xiii. 1 : "The burden
of Babylon," <fec. See also Isaiah xv. 1 ; xvii. 1 ; xix. 1 ; xxiii. 1. The
reading of these and other chapters of this sublime and energetic prophet
will be necessary in order to appreciate the force of Pollok's language —

" Burdens which made the pagan mountains shake
And Zion's cedars bow."

11. The Course of Time : When the author began to write, he proposed'
to himself to write upon the Resurrection, a subject which was suggested
to him on reading Byron's lines on "Darkness." Having recalled the
names of authors who had treated on the subject of the Resurrection, he
remembered none that had treated it in a manner satisfactory to his own

38 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The muse, that soft and sickly wooes the eai
Of love, or chanting loud in windy rhyme
Of fabled hero, raves through gaudy tale 15

mind. He began to meditate upon it with a view to produce some uew
ideas, or to present old ideas in a more impressive manner than had yet
been accomplished. A plan having occurred to him, he seized a pen, and
as his brother informs us, began to write what now forms the second par-
agraph of the seventh book of the poem, beginning

" In 'custom'd glory bright, that rnom the sua
Kose,"

and proceeded till he had composed upwards of a thousand lines, intend-
ing the Resurrection to be the subject of his poem.

In a letter to his brother about this time, the poet writes : " The sub-
ject of the poem in which I am engaged is the Resurrection — a glorious
argument ; and if that Divine Spirit, who giveth all thought and all ut-
terance, be not offended with my prayers, it shall not be ingloriously
managed. It affords me, besides giving great room to the imagination, a
plan for the rigid depictment of the characters of men at that time when
all but character shall leave them."

His brother proceeds to say: "Soon after completing what was then
intended to be the first book, but what is now the seventh of ' The
Course of Time,' he removed from Glasgow to Moorhouse, to be beside
liia mother, who was then on her death-bed ; but he still prosecuted the
writing of the poem. As he went on, he began at intervals to select and
arrange materials ; and, in doing this, he saw many things that he would
like to bring in, that would not come in naturally under the subject of
the Resurrection. lie determined, however, to make use of these, and
either to extend the plan, or form a new one altogether. In the mean
time thoughts and words poured in on him from all quarters; and he
went on writing and selecting. One night, by and by, when he was sit-
ting alone in Moorhouse old room, letting his mind wander back and for-
ward over things at large, in a moment, as if by an immediate inspira-
tion, the idea of the poem struck him, and the plan of it, as it now stands,
stretched out before him ; so that, at one glance, he saw through it from
i ml to end like an avenue, with the Resurrection as only part of the scene.
He never felt, he said, as he did then ; and he shook from head to foot,
overpowered with feeling; knowing that 'to pursue the subject was to
have no middle way between great success and great failure.' From
this time, in selecting and arranging materials, he saw through the plan
so well, that he knew to what book, as he expressed it, ' the thoughts
belonged whenever they set up their heads.' lint the poem wanted a
name; and it was not till after it was written that he called it 'The
Course of Time." "

13. Hie Man-', itc. : It was customary for Greek and Roman poets to

BOOK FIRST. 39

Not overfraught with sense, I ask not ; such
A strain befits not argument so high.
Me thought, and phrase, severely sifting out
The whole idea, grant — uttering as 'tis
The essential truth — Time gone, the righteous saved, 20
The wicked damn'd, and Providence approved.
Hold my right hand, Almighty ! and me teach

invoke the aid of an imaginary goddess, to inspire their minds for writing
verse ; hut our author very properly scorns such aid as entirely inade-
quate (even were it real), for such a work as he was undertaking. He
invokes no fictitious heing, hut the great and eternal Source of intelli-
gence, truth, and virtue.

20. The poet here and in (11, 12) announces the subject of his poem,
which is one, indeed, of sublime and solemn import, — a review of man's
history in this life and his destiny in the next, in regard to which the
righteousness of Divine Providence is vindicated and established.

Many critics object to this poem, that it is too gloomy and severe in its
theological teachings, and not sufficiently accommodated to popular
tastes. The same critics are doubtless no better pleased with the history
and destiny of man as portrayed by the unerring pencil of Divine Inspi-
ration. Pollok's aim was altogether different from that of most other
poets : it was not so much to please a worldly taste, as to convey truth
— truth as he had learned it from a devout study of his Bible. He com-
mences his poem with the earnest prayer,

"Me thought, and phrase, severely sifting out
The whole idea, grant — uttering as 'tis
The essential truth.'''

After such an introduction, no one has a right to expect that the fashion
of this poem will be conformed to that which prevails generally in poetic
writings, designed merely to please the fancy and the taste ; but we
ought to prepare ourselves for much that is not only grand, but serious
and awful.

It is unreasonable to expect that a poem professedly religious as this
is, should contain nothing unpalatable to a depraved heart. But the
general popularity it has attained, notwithstanding its high religious tone,
is proof that it embodies no small amount of matter exceedingly agree-
able to any intelligent mind.

22-28. Hold my right hand, <fec. : No other poet has adventured upon
a theme so vast. The design of Milton extended only to the fall of man.
That of this writer embraces his whole history and final doom. It is,
therefore, with the utmost propriety that he invokes Almighty aid, be-
fore commencing his daring flight. We wish the last two lines had been

40 THE COUIISE OF TIME.

To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes
Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure

As those by sainted bards and angels sung, 25

Which wake the echoes of eternity —
That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise
Instructed listen, of ages yet to come.

THE FOEM COMMENCES FROM A DISTANT PERIOD IN THE FUTURE.

Long was the day, so long expected, past
Of the eternal doom, that gave to each 30

omitted. They have no congruity with those which precede, or witli the
occasion, and sound too much like preaching. We mention this, because
it is one of many instances in which the poet has greatly injured the
effect of an otherwise striking passage, by the introduction of a common
phrase or a merely prosaic idea. In this particular, even more perhaps
than any other, the reader perceives his vast inferiority to Milton, with
whom it is his special infelicity that his subject continually exposes him
to be compared. With an imagination of uncommon resource, he cannot
be said to unite a very delicate perception of poetic beauty, or a nicely
discriminating ear for the harmony of verse. In the " Course of Time"
there are single passages of beauty and power not often equalled ; but it
is not uniformly well sustained. There are moments when the poet's in-
spiration seems to have forsaken him, and when the full forfeit is paid of
his boldness in the choice of such a theme. But criticism is in a measure
disarmed, by the consideration that the poet himself might have correct-
ed all instances of this sort, had opportunity been granted him. — iV. A.
Review.

23. The Lyre (or harp), the most ancient stringed instrument of music,
and being commonly used as an accompaniment to poetry, it is often
(as here) identified with the latter. From Genesis iv. 21, we learn that
it was an antediluvian instrument, but the classical legend is, that the
invention is to be attributed " to the accident of finding on the banks of
the Kile a tortoise, whose flesh was entirely decomposed, but whose ten-
don?, having been dried and stretched by the sun's rays, were capable, on
being struck, of yielding musical sounds. Hermes, the finder of this tor-
toise, having made an instrument in imitation of it, is supposed thus to
be the inventor of the lyre."

24. Morning stars: An allusion to Job xxxviii. 7 — "When the morn-
ing stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." The
angels of heaven are intended.

BOOK FIRST.

Of all the human race his due reward.

The sun — earth's sun, and moon, and stars, had ceased

To number seasons, days, and months, and years

To mortal man : hope was forgotten, and fear ;

And Time, with all its chance and change, and smiles, 35

And frequent tears, and deeds of villany,

Or righteousness — once talk'd of much, as things

Of great renown, was now but ill remember'd ;

In dim and shadowy vision of the past,

Seen far remote, as country which has left 40

The traveller's speedy step, retiring back

From morn till even ; and long Eternity

Had roll'd his mighty years, and with his years

Men had grown old : the saints, all home return'd

From pilgrimage, and war, and weeping, long 45

Had rested in the bowers of peace, that skirt

The stream of life ; and long — alas, how long

To them it seem'd ! — the wicked who refused

To be redeem'd, had wander'd in the dark

Of hell's despair, and drunk the burning cup 50

Their sins had fill'd with everlasting woe.

Thus far the years had roll'd, which none but God
Doth number, when two sons, two youthful sons ,
Of Paradise, in conversation sweet

(For thus the heavenly muse instructs me, woo'd 55

At midnight hour with offering sincere
Of all the heart, pour'd out in holy prayer),
High on the hills of immortality,
Whence goodliest prospect looks beyond the walls
Of heaven, walk'd, casting oft their eye far through 60

The pure serene, observant, if return'd

55. Heavenly Muse : The Eternal Spirit — to whom only by a strong
poetic license, and in conformity to established classical usage, can such
a designation be applied. Milton has applied it in the introduction to
Paradise Lost.

42 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

From errand duly finish'd, cany came,

Or any, first in virtue now complete,

From other worlds arrived, confirmed in good.

A VISITOR APPROACHES HEAVEN.

Thus viewing, one they saw, on hasty wing 65

Directing towards heaven his course ; and now,
His flight ascending near the battlements
And lofty hills on which they walk'd, approach'd.
For round and round, in spacious circuit wide,
Mountains of tallest stature circumscribe 70

The plains of Paradise, whose tops, array'd
In uncreated radiance, seem so pure,
That naught but angel's foot, or saint's, elect
Of God, may venture there to walk ; here oft
The sons of bliss take morn or evening pastime, 15

Delighted to behold ten thousand worlds
Around their suns revolving in the vast
External space, or listen the harmonies
That each to other in its motion sings.
And hence, in middle heaven remote, is seen 80

The mount of God in awful glory bright.
Within, no orb create of moon, or star,
Or sun gives light ; for God's own countenance,
Beaming eternally, gives light to all ;
But farther than these sacred hills his will 85

64. The opinion is implied here, that Heaven is the abode of spirits
" confirmed in good" from other worlds besiJes our Earth, and, of course,
that tin; inhabitants of those as well as of the earth are in a state of moral
probation. This opinion may have some faint analogy to support it, but
has no direct foundation from any account of Heaven given us in the
Bible.

65. One tln<j saw, Ac : This stranger (as will be seen hereafter) is not
from earth, but from some other world.

82. No orb, Ac. : Rev. xxi. 23 ; xxii. 5.

BOOK FIKST. 43

Forbids its flow — too bright for eyes beyond.

This is the last ascent of Virtue ; here

All trial ends, and hope ; here perfect joy,

With perfect righteousness, which to these heignu

Alone can rise, begins, above all fall. — 90

And now, on wing of holy ardor strong,
Hither ascends the stranger, borne upright ;
For stranger he did seem, with curious eye
Of nice inspection round surveying all,
And at the feet alights of those that stood 95

His coming, who the hand of welcome gave,
And the embrace sincere of holy love ;
And thus, with comely greeting kind, began.

THE WELCOME TO HEAVEN.

Hail, brother ! hail, thou son of happiness !
Thou son beloved of God ! welcome to heaven ! 100

To bliss that never fades ! thy day is past
Of trial, and of fear to all. Well done,
Thou good and faithful servant ; enter now
Into the joy eternal of thy Lord.

Come with us, and behold far higher sight 105

Than e'er thy heart desired, or hope conceived.
See, yonder is the glorious hill of God,
'Bove angel's gaze in brightness rising high.
Come, join our wing, and we will guide thy flight
To mysteries of everlasting bliss ; — 110

88. Ends and hope : Hope then ends because the object of it has been
attained, and the joy of complete fruition takes advantageously the place
of hope. Nor is there any fear of losing the attainment, for the period of
trial, or probation, has come to an end ; so that the state of the saved
man is rendered u permanent one, according to God"s gracious arrange-
ment.

95. Stood: Used here in a peculiar and uncommon sense for awaited.

44 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The tree and fount of life, the eternal throne,

And presence-chamber of the King of kings.

But what concern hangs on thy countenance,

Unwont within this place ? perhaps thou deem'st

Thyself unworthy to be brought before 115

The always Ancient One ? so are we too

Unworthy ; but our God is all in all,

And gives us boldness to approach his throne.

THE STRANGER'S RESPONSE.

Sons of the Highest ! citizens of heaven !
Began the new arrived, right have ye judged : 120

Unworthy, most unworthy is your servant,
To stand in presence of the King, or hold
Most distant and most humble place in this
Abode of excellent glory unreveal'd.

But, God Almighty be forever praised, 125

Who, of his fulness, fills me with all grace
And ornament, to make me in his sight
Well pleasing, and accepted in his court.
But, if your leisure waits, short narrative
Will tell, why strange concern thus overhangs 130

My face, ill seeming here ; and haply, too,
Your elder knowledge can instruct my youth,
Of what seems dark and doubtful unexplain'd.

Our leisure waits thee : speak ; and what we can —
Delighted most to give delight — we will ; 135

Though much of mystery yet to us remains.

Virtue — I need not tell, when proved, and full
Matured — inclines us up to God, and heaven,
By law of sweet compulsion strong and sure ;
As gravitation to the larger orb 140

The less attracts, through matter's whole domain.
Virtue in me was ripe — I speak not this

BO©K FIRST. 45

Iii boast, for what I am to God I owe,

Entirely owe, and of myself am naught.

Equipp'd, and bent for heaven, I left yon world, 145

My native seat, which scarce your eye can reach,

Rolling around her central sun, far out

On utmost verge of light. But first to see

What lay beyond the visible creation

Strong curiosity my flight impell'd. 150

THE FLIGHT TO THE WORLD OF WOE.

Long was my way, and strange. I pass'd the bounds

Which God doth set to light, and life, and love ;

Where darkness meets with day, where order meets

Disorder, dreadful, waste, and wild ; and down

The dark, eternal, uncreated night 155

Ventured alone. Long, long, on rapid wing,

I saiPd through empty, nameless regions vast,

Where utter Nothing dwells, unform'd and void.

There neither eye, nor ear, nor any sense

Of being most acute, finds object; there 1G0

For aught external still you search in vain.

Try touch, or sight, or smell ; try what you will,

You strangely find naught but yourself alone.

But why should I in words attempt to tell

What that is like which is — and yet — is not ? 165

150. Strong curiosity, &e. : The motive here assigned for wandering off
into the regions of darkness does not seem a natural one, in the circum-
stances of the traveller. Heaven being the place of his destination, the
feelings which fitted him to become a resident of that abode would seem
rather to have prompted him to shape his course directly thither. And
yet it subserves directly the purpose of the poem to give the stranger the
opportunity of making the observations which he did, leading to inquiry,
oti his arrival at heaven, of the import of what he saw and heard within
the regions of torment. The response to his inquiries constitutes the
matter of the poem.

46 THE COURSE OF TIME.

This pass'd, my path, descending, still me led

O'er unclaim'd continents of desert gloom

Immense, where gravitation, shifting, turns

The other way ; and to some dread, unknown,

Infernal centre downward weighs ; and now, 170

Far travell'd from the edge of darkness, far

As from that o-lorious mount of God to light's

Remotest limb — dire sights I saw, dire sounds

I heard ; and suddenly befure my eye

A wall of fiery adamant sprung up — 175

Wall mountainous, tremendous, flaming high

Above all flight of hope.

THE UNDYING WORM.

I paused and look'd ;
And saw, where'er I look'd upon that mound,
Sad fio-m-es traced in fire — not motionless,
But imitatino; life. One I remark'd 180

16S-70. Where gravitation, &c. : This conception of the universe (Gil-
fillan remarks), as possessed of two centres — the one drawing up its sub-
ject orbs in the direction of heaven, and the other sucking down the
objects and slaves of concupiscence to where " attraction turns the other
way, and all things to some infernal centre tend" — is compounded of two
images or theories, one occurring in Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope,"
where the creation is represented revolving round the throne of God, and
the other in Scott's "Christian Life'' (a book much in favor with Pollok),
where all things evil and abhorred are described as "pressing down, by a
necessity of their own nature," in search of some hidden magnet. How
many efforts has the human mind made to figure to itself that vastitude
of material existence which is above, and below, and around it ! and how
few even approach to the grandeur of the subject!

173. Dire sights I sau; &c: The fiery adamantine wall, the worm that
never dies, eternal death, the incessant dashing of the infernal waves, the
loud and ceaseless wailings of the damned, all these are conceived and
expressed with a force, which even Dante, drawing from a fancy which
was a magazine of horrors, may be thought to have scarcely surpassed —
JV. A. Review.

BOOK FIKST. 47

Attentively; but how shall I describe

What naught resembles else my eye hath seen ?

Of worm or serpent kind it something look'd,

But monstrous, with a thousand snaky heads,

Eyed each with double orbs of glaring wrath ; 185

And with as many tails, that twisted out

In horrid revolution, tipp'd with stings ;

And all its mouths, that wide and darkly gaped,

And breathed most poisonous breath, had each a sting

Fork'd, and long, and venomous, and sharp ; 1 90

And, in its writhings infinite, it grasp'd

Malignantly what seem'd a heart, swollen, black,

And quivering with torture most intense ;

And still the heart, with anguish throbbing high,

Made effort to escape, but could not ; for 195

Howe'er it turn'd, and oft it vainly turn'd,

These complicated foldings held it fast.

And still the monstrous beast with sting of head

Or tail transpierced it, bleeding evermore.

What this could image, much I search'd to know : 200

And while I stood, and gazed, and wonder'd long,

A voice, from whence I knew not, for no one

I saw, distinctly whisper'd in my ear

These words — This is the Worm that never dies.

184. But monstrous, &c: The book (says Gilfillan) is remarkable for

its lofty and daring tone Still, if over-daring, he is original in his

aspirings. His hell is not Milton's hell, nor Quevedo's, nor Dante's, nor
Bunyan's. It is Pollok's own; and came to him in the night visions of his
own spirit. We envy not his property in the two terrible figures on the

wall of the place How far inferior to that one inscription in

Dante, "'Who enters here leaves hope behind !"

4S THE COURSE OF TIME.

ETERNAL DEATH.

Fast by the side of this unsightly thing 205

Another was portray'd, more hideous still :
Who sees it once shall wish to see 't no more.
Forever undescribed let it remain !
Only this much I may or can unfold —
Far out it thrust a dart that might have made 210

The knees of terror quake, and on it hung,
Within the triple barbs, a being pierced
Through soul and body both : of heavenly make
Original the being seem'd, but fallen,

And worn and wasted with enormous woe. 215

And still around the everlasting lance
It writhed convulsed, and utter'd mimic groans ;
And tried and wish'd, and ever tried and wish'd
To die ; but could not die. — Oh, horrid sight !
I trembling gazed, and listen'd, and heard this voice 220
Approach my ear — This is Eternal Death.

A VIEW OF THE LOST, IN HELL.

Nor these alone. — Upon that burning wall,
In horrible emblazonry, were limn'd

205-21. Fast by, etc.: The imagery of this passage and of that which
goes before, is exceedingly vivid and appalling. How Milton represents
Death, may be seen from the following quotation :

The other shape,
If shape it might be called that shape bad none,
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb,
Or substance might be called tbal Bhadow Beem'd,
For each seem'd either; black it Btoodas Niu r ht,_
I' . rce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell,
And shook a dreadful dart : whai seem'd his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.— Par. Loat, II. 600-73.

Milton gives no description of the undying worm, which by our Saviour
is employed as a striking emblem of endless punishment. Mark ix. 44, 48.

BOOK FIRST. 49

All shapes, all forms, all modes of wretchedness,

And agony, and grief, and desperate woe. 225

And prominent in characters of fire,

Where'er the eye could light, these words you read :

" Who comes this way — behold, and fear to sin !"

Amazed I stood ; and thought such imagery

Foretoken'd, within, a dangerous abode. 230

But yet to see the worst a wish arose :

For virtue, by the holy seal of God

Accredited and stamp'd, immortal all,

And all invulnerable, fears no hurt.

As easy as my wish, as rapidly 235

I through the horrid rampart pass'd, unscath'd

And unopposed ; and, poised on steady wing,

I hovering gazed. Eternal Justice ! Sons

Of God ! tell me, if ye can tell, what then

I saw, what then I heard. — Wide was the place, 240

And deep as wide, and ruinous as deep.

Beneath I saw a lake of burning fire,

With tempest tost perpetually, and still

The waves of fiery darkness 'gainst the rocks

Of dark damnation broke, and music made 245

Of melancholy sort ; and overhead,

And all around, wind warr'd with wind, storm howl'd

To storm, and lightning, forked lightning, cross'd,

And thunder answer'd thunder, muttering sounds

Of sullen wrath ; and far as sight could pierce, 250

Or down descend in caves of hopeless depth,

Through all that dungeon of unfading fire,

242. I saw a lake, &c. : The imagery of this passage is suggested by
Rev. xx. 10, 15: "And the devil that deceived them was cast into the
lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are,
and shall be tormented day and night, forever and ever. And whoso-
ever was not found written in the book of life, was cast into the lake of
fire."

50 the coup.se of time.

I saw most miserable beings walk,

Burning continually, yet unconsumed ;

Forever wasting, yet enduring still ; 255

Dying perpetually, yet never dead.

Some wander' d lonely in the desert flames,

And some in fell encounter fiercely met,

With curses loud, and blasphemies, that made

The cheek of darkness pale; and as they fought, 260

And cursed, and gnash'd their teeth, and wish'd to die,

Their hollow eyes did utter streams of woe.

And there were groans that ended not, and sighs

That always sigh'd, and tears that ever wept,

And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight. 265

And Sorrow, and Repentance, and Despair,

Among them walk'd, and to their thirsty lips

Presented frequent cups of burning gall.

And as I listen'd, I heard these beings curse

Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse 270

The Earth, the Resurrection morn, and seek,

And ever vainly seek, for utter death.

And to their everlasting anguish still,

The thunders from above responding spoke

These words, which, through the caverns of perdition 275

Forlornly echoing, fell on every ear :

" Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."

And back again recoil'd a deeper groan.

A deeper groan ! Oh, what a groan was that !

I waited not, but swift on speediest wing, 280

With unaccustom'd thoughts conversing, back

259. With curses, &c : Rev. xvi. 9, 10, 11.

261. Wished to die : " In those days shall men seek death, and shall not
find it ; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from Ihem." Rev. ix. G.

266. Repentance: Not true and appropriate repentance, such as the
Bible requires, but remorse, such as Judas displayed after the betrayal
of bis Divine Master.

BOOK FIRST. 51

Retraced my venturous path from dark to light :

Then up ascending, long ascending up,

I hasted on ; though whiles the chiming spheres,

By God's own finger touch'd to harmony, 28."

Held me delaying — till I here arrived,

Drawn upward by the eternal love of God,

Of wonder full and strange astonishment,

At what in yonder den of darkness dwells,

Which now your higher knowledge will unfold. 2tf

VISIT TO AX ANCIENT BARD IN HEAVEN.

They answering said : to ask and to bestow
Knowledge, is much of heaven's deligh'. ; and now

284. Chiming spheres : The planets and other heavenly bodies move in
such regularity and beauty, and harmony with each other, that they are
conceived as producing by their movements a spacies of music. As every
moving object produces some vibration of the air, some ancient philoso-
phers, Plato among the rest, were led to suppose that the heavenly bodies
could not move, as they do, without giving forch audible sounds, though
the human ear is too dull to appreciate or catch them.

No one, perhaps, has so beautifully employed this ancient poetic idea
as Shakespeare. Jessica is led into a grove by Lorenzo, who, after order-
ing music to be brought, thus addresses her;

" Soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harir.ony.
Sit, Jessica: look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold.
There's not the smallest orb that thou beuold'st,
But in his motion like an angel Dings,
Still quiring to the young-eyod cherubim.
Such harmony is in irumort?! souls ;
But, while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it."

There is a beautiful passage in Euripides, in which the Divine Being is
thus addressed: "Thee I invoke, thou self-created Being, who gave birth
to Nature, and whom light and darkness, and the whole train of globes
and planets, encircle with eternal music."

291-2. To ask, &c. : " Now I know in part ; but then shall I know even
as I am known." 1 Cor. xiii. 12.

52 TIIE COURSE OF TIME.

Most joyfully what thou requirest we would ;

For much of new, and unaccountable,

Thou bring'st: something indeed we heard before, 295

In passing conversation slightly touch'd,

Of such a place ; yet, rather to be taught,

Than teaching, answer what thy marvel asks,

We need ; for we ourselves, though here, are but

Of yesterday — creation's younger sons. 300

But there is one, an ancient bard of Earth,

Who, by the stream of life, sitting in bliss,

Has oft beheld the eternal years complete

The mio-htv circle round the throne of God ;

Great in all learning, in all wisdom great, 305

And great in song ; whose harp in lofty strain

Tells frequently of what thy wonder craves,

While round him, gathering, stand the youth of Heaven,

With truth and melody delighted both ;

To him this path directs, an easy path, 310

And easy flight will bring us to his seat.

So saying, they link'd hand in hand, spread out
Their golden wings, by living breezes fann'd,
And over heaven's broad champaign sail'd serene.
O'er hill and valley, clothed with verdure green 315

That never fades ; and tree, and herb, and flower,
That never fades ; and many a river, rich
With nectar, winding pleasantly, they pass'd ;
And mansion of celestial mould, and work
Divine. And oft delicious music, sung 320

By saint and angel bands that walk'd the vales,

301. But there is one, <kc. : The picture here given of the ancient bard
and of his listeners, and of the heavenly region which he occupies, is one
that reflects great credit on the taste and genius of our author.

312. So saying, <fec. : There is not a great richness in this description,
but it breathes a transparent purity redolent of heaven's delicious air.
The first book, upon the whole, is finished with true epic dignity. — <
Blackwood.

BOOK FIRST. 53

Or mountain tops, and harp'd upon their harps,

Their ear inclined and held by sweet constraint

Their wing ; not long, for strong desire awaked

Of knowledge that to holy use might turn, 325

Still press'd them on to leave what rather seem'd

Pleasure, due only when all duty's done.

And now beneath them lay the wish'd for spot,
The sacred bower of that renowned bard ;
That ancient bard, ancient in days and song; 330

But in immortal vigor young, and young
In rosy health — to pensive solitude
Retiring oft, as was his wont on earth.

Fit was the place, most fit for holy musing.
Upon a little mount, that gently rose, 335

He sat, clothed in white robes ; and o'er his head
A laurel tree, of lustiest, eldest growth,
Stately and tall, and shadowing far and wide —
Not fruitless, as on earth, but bloom'd, and rich
With frequent clusters, ripe to heavenly taste — 340

Spread its eternal boughs, and in its arms
A myrtle of unfading leaf embraced ;
The rose and lily, fresh with fragrant dew,
And every flower of fairest cheek, around
Him, smiling, flock'd ; beneath his feet, fast by, 345

And round his sacred hill, a streamlet walk'd,
Warbling the holy melodies of heaven ;
The hallow'd zephyrs brought him incense sweet ;

327. Pleasure, due only, &c. : I have always regarded this as an origi-
nal and most weighty remark, attention to which would guard us against
all unprofitable and hurtful indulgences. It intimates that the call of
duty is to be regarded in preference to that of self-indulgence ; that
when duty has no claim upon our immediate labor, then only we may
give ourselves to recreation. Duty, and not pleasure, is to be the busi-
ness and aim of life. Nor will our highest happiness thus suffer any
abatement, for God has made it to depend upon a uniform and vigorous
attention to duty.

54 THE COUIiSE OF TIME.

And out before liim open'd, in prospect long,

The river of life, in many a winding maze 350

Descending from the lofty throne of God,

That with excessive glory closed the scene.

Of Adam's race he was, and lonely sat,
By chance that day, in meditation deep,
Reflecting much of Time, and Earth, and Man : 355

And now to pensive, now to cheerful notes,
He touch'd a harp of wondrous melody :
A golden harp it was, a precious gift,
Which, at the day of judgment, with the crown
Of life, he had received from God's own hand, 360

Reward due to his service done on earth.

He sees their coming ; and with greeting kind,
And welcome, not of hollow forged smiles,
And ceremonious compliment of phrase,
But of the heart sincere, into his bower 365

Invites. Like greeting they return'd ; not bent
In low obeisancy, from creature most
Unfit to creature ; but with manly form
Upright, they enter'd in ; though high his rank,
His wisdom high, and mighty his renown. 3*70

And thus, deferring all apology,
The two their new companion introduced.

Ancient in knowledge ! — bard of Adam's race !
We bring thee one, of us inquiring what
We need to learn, and with him wish to learn. 3*? 5

His asking will direct thy answer best.

Most ancient bard ! began the new arrived,
Few words will set my wonder forth, and guide
Thy wisdom's light to what in me is dark.

Equipp'd for heaven, I left my native place ; 380

350. River of life : " And he showed me a pure river of water of life,
clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."
Rev. xxii. 1.

BOOK FIRST. 00

But first beyond the realms of light I bent

My course ; and there, in utter darkness, far

Remote, I beings saw forlorn in woe,

Burning continually, yet unconsumed.

And there were groans that ended not, and sighs 385

That always sigh'd, and tears that ever wept

And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight ;

And still I heard these wretched beings curse

Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse

The Earth, the Resurrection morn, and seek, 390

And ever vainly seek, for utter death :

And from above, the thunders answer'd still,

" Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."

And everywhere throughout that horrid den,

I saw a form of excellence, a form 395

Of beauty without spot, that naught could see

And not admire — admire, and not adore.

And from its own essential beams it gave

Light to itself, that made the gloom more dark ;

And eveiy eye in that infernal pit 400

Beheld it still ; and from its face — how fair !

Oh how exceeding fair ! — forever sought,

But ever vainly sought, to turn away.

That image, as I guess, was Virtue ; for

Naught else hath God given countenance so fair. 405

But why in such a place it should abide ?

What place it is ? what beings there lament ?

Whence came they ? and for what their endless groan ?

Why curse they God ? why seek they utter death ?

And chief, what means the Resurrection morn ? 410

My youth expects thy reverend age to tell.

S93. Ye knew your duty, &c. : This is the fearful but unanswerable
reply to all complaints against the justice of their punishment, and against
its continuance. The violation of duty, in this life, is the procuring cause,
and embitterer of the miseries of future existence. How important now,
therefore, is immediate and constant attention to the claims of duty !

56 TIIE COURSE OF TIME.

THE OMNIPRESENCE OF VIRTUE, A GREAT SOURCE OF TORMENT

TO THE LOST.

Thou rightly deem'st, fair youth, began the bard ;
The form thou saw'st was Virtue, ever fair.
Virtue, like God, whose excellent majesty,
Whose glory virtue is, is omnipresent. 415

No being, once created rational,
Accountable, endow'd with moral sense,
With sapience of right and wrong endow'd,
And charged, however fallen, debased, destroy'd ;
However lost, forlorn, and miserable ; 420

In guilt's dark shrouding wrapt, however thick ;
However drunk, delirious, and mad,
With sin's full cup ; and with whatever damn'd,
Unnatural diligence it work and toil,

Can banish virtue from its sight, or once 425

Forget that she is fair. Hides it in night,
In central night ; takes it the lightning's wing,
And flies forever on, beyond the bounds
Of all ; drinks it the maddest cup of sin ;
Dives it beneath the ocean of despair ; 430

It dives, it drinks, it flies, it hides in vain :
For still the eternal beauty, image fair,
Once stampt upon the soul, before the eye
All lovely stands, nor will depart ; so God
Ordains : and lovely to the worst she .seems, 435

And ever seems ; and as they look, and still
Must ever look upon her loveliness,
Eemembrance dire of what they were, of what
They might have been, and bitter sense of what
They are, polluted, ruin'd, hopeless, lost, 440

426. Hides it : The use of the neuter instead of the personal pronoun,
in this and the following lines, is not to be approved; since it refers to a
rational being (410) as its antecedent

BOOK FIRST. 57

With most repenting torment rend their hearts.

So God ordains — their punishment severe,

Eternally inflicted by themselves.

'Tis this — this Virtue hovering evermore

Before the vision of the damn'd, and in 445

Upon their monstrous moral nakedness

Casting unwelcome light, that makes their woe,

That makes the essence of the endless flame :

Where this is, there is Hell — darker than aught

That he, the bard three-vision'd, darkest saw. 450

443. Eternally inflicted by themselves : The comprehensive view which
our author takes of the Divine government adds to this work a double
value in these days of bold assumptions, grounded on careless and im-
perfect notions of the nature of sin, and partial and half-way reasonings
upon the character and providence of God — days of daring doubt, too,
as to the fearful woes pronounced against sin, because, forsooth, they sort
not with our notions of benevolence. Would that he, who thus specu-
lates, could remember the words of Baxter, that " self-discovery is not
the least part of illumination ;" then might his eyes be opened to what
he is, and what he should have been ; then might he " perceive, that it is
not possible for the best of men, much less for the wicked, to be compe-
tent judges of the desert of sin ;" then might he understand that benev-
olence itself may require what had before so shocked his perverted rea-
son, and be ready to say to himself, in the language of the same beautiful
writer, " Alas, we are all both blind and partial. You can never know
fully the desert of sin, till you fully know the evil of sin ; and you can
never fully know the evil of sin, till you fully know the excellency of the
soul which it deformeth, and the excellency of the holiness which it doth
obliterate, and the reason and excellency of the glory which it violateth,
and the excellency of the glory which it doth despise, and the excellency
of the office of reason which it treadeth down ; no, nor till you know the
infinite excellency, almightiness, and holiness of that God against whom
it is committed. When you fully know all these, you shall fully know
the desert of sin." Believe the word, then, and be humble in thy pres-
ent ignorance :

" Be content ;
It will seem clearer to thine immortality."

Spirit of the Pilgrims.

444. This virtue, &c. : This conception (more fully expressed in 395-
405) claims our admiration, as illustrative of the conscious obligation to
be virtuous, even in the most depraved mind, and also of the torment cre-
ated by the sense of such obligation violated.

58 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The place thou saw'st was Hell — the groans thou heard'st
The wailinffs of the damn'd — of those who would
Not be redeem'd — and at the judgment-day,
Long past, for unrepented sins were damn'd.
The seven loud thunders which thou heard'st, declare 455
The eternal wrath of the Almighty God.
But whence, or why they came to dwell in woe,
"Why they curse God, what means the glorious morn
Of Resurrection — these a longer tale

Demand, and lead the mournful lyre far back 460

Through memory of sin, and mortal man.
Yet haply not rewardless we shall trace
The dark disastrous years of finish'd Time.
Sorrows remember'd sweeten present joy.
Nor yet shall all be sad ; for God gave peace, 4G5

Much peace on earth, to all who fear'd his name.

THE DISCOURSE OF HEAVEN.

But first it needs to say, that other style,
And other language than thy ear is wont,
Thou must expect to hear — the dialect
Of man : for each in heaven a relish holds 470

Of former speech, that points to wdience he came.

450. The bard three-visioned : Dante, the great Italian poet — Dante
and Petrarch have been called the morning stars of our modern litera-
ture. The former was born at Florence in 1265, and was author of the
Divina Comedia, " an allegorical pilgrimage through Heaven, Hell, and
Paradise, which the poet has peopled with human shapes, human pas-
sions, and crimes." The epithet threc-visioned is probably derived from
the three localities of the poet's vision. " The imagination," as Professor
Moir remarks, " is singularly roused by the scenes of torture and bliss
through which we are led, the burning tombs, and cities alive with flame,
and valleys of the shadow of death, where serpents torture their victims,
and the ever-deepening descent through the circles of hell, contrasted
with the cheering light which begins to break upon us in the ascending
circles of purgatory, and the refulgence of the visions which greet the
wanderer on his entrance into Paradise."

BOOK FIEST. 59

But whether I of person speak, or place,

Event or action, moral or divine;

Or things unknown compare to things unknown ;

Allude, imply, suggest, apostrophize ; 475

Or touch, when wandering through the past, on moods

Of mind thou never felt'st ; the meaning still,

With easy apprehension, thou shalt take ;

So perfect here is knowledge, and the strings

Of sympathy so tuned, that every word 480

That each to other speaks, though never heard

Before, at once is fully understood,

And every feeling utter'd, fully felt.

So shalt thou find, as from my various song,
That backward rolls o'er many a tide of years, 485

Directly or inferr'd, thy asking, thou,
And wondering doubt, shalt learn to answer, while
I sketch in brief the history of Man.

484-487. These lines are well adapted to puzzle and confound any one
who shall eudeavor to educe from them a clear and intelligible meaning,
according to grammatical rules.

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK II.

BOOK II

ANALYSIS.

A description of the earth -when first created; and the formation of man,
a reasonable free agent, upright and immortal. The command given
was a test of filial love, loyalty, obedience, and faith. The tempta-
tion, sin, and fall of man, and redemption from death by the death of
Christ. Many ■would not accept the free offer of life and salvation, and
in consequence, incurred the punishment of the second death and hell
— That they acted thus, and thus perversely chose, "well assured of the
consequence, by the information contained and given them in the
Bible; which was a code of laws, containing the will of Heaven, and
defined the bounds of vice and virtue, and of life and death. Mankind
■were required to read, believe, and obey; and although many did so
believe, and were saved, yet many turned the truth of God into a lie,
transforming the meaning of the text to suit their own vile and wicked
purposes, " deceiving and deceived." That the voice of God, against
which nothing could "bribe to sleep" the truths of "Judgment, and a
Judge," caused the wicked to be " ill at ease :" on which account many
ran into impious idolatry, and worshipped ten thousand deities, "im-
agined worse than he who craved their peace."

The magistrate often turned religion into a trick of 6tate, despising the
truth, and forcing the consciences of men ; while the enslaved, " mim-
icking the follies of the great, despised her too." The other influences
which led to error, are mentioned ; short-sighted reason, vanity, indo-
lence, and finally " Pride, self-adoring pride, was primal cause of all
sin past, all pain, all woe to come."

t fanum j! §>imt.

BOOK II.

This said, he waked the golden harp, and thus,
"While on him inspiration breathed, began.

THE CREATION OF THE EARTH.

As from yon everlasting hills, that gird
Heaven northward, I thy course espied, I judge
Thou from the arctic regions came ? Perhaps 5

Thou noticed on thy way a little orb,
Attended by one moon — her lamp by night ;
With her fair sisterhood of planets seven,
Revolving round their central sun — she third
In place, in magnitude the fourth — that orb, 10

New made, new named, inhabited anew

3. As from, &c: In this book, the "ancient bard," complying with
the request of the stranger, commences the history of man, which occu-
pies the remainder of the poem ; so that the poet no longer speaks in his
own person. This arrangement is intended to give a unity to all that
follows. As the narrative is designed for the information of one who
had never heard of the origin or destiny of man, many circumstances are
properly introduced, which might otherwise appear trite or unnecessary.
— N. A. Review.

11. New made, <fec. : He refers to the change which the earth had un-
dergone upon ceasing to be the abode of man, in fulfilment of the proph-
ecy in 2 Pet. iii. 10, 12, 13.

64 THE COURSE OF TIME.

(Though whiles we sons of Adam visit still
Our native place ; not changed so far but we
Can trace our ancient walks — the scenery
Of childhood, youth, and prime, and hoary age — 15

But scenery most of suffering and woe),
* That little orb, in days remote of old,

When angels yet were young, was made for man,

And titled Earth — her primal virgin name :

Created first so lovely, so adorn'd 2C

With hill, and dale, and lawn, and winding val j :

Woodland and stream, and lake, and rolling so <s ;

Green mead, and fruitful tree, and fertile grain,

And herb and flower : so lovely, so adorn'd

With numerous beasts of every kind, with fowl 2

Of every wing and every tuneful note ;

And with all fish that in the multitude

Of waters swam : so lovely, so adorn'd,

So fit a dwelling-place for man, that, as

She rose, complete, at the creating word, 30

The morning stars — the sons of God, aloud

Shouted for joy ; and God beholding, saw

The fair design, that from eternity

His mind conceived, accomplish'd ; and well pleased,

His six days' finish'd work most good pronovinced, 35

And man declared the sovereign prince of alL

THE CREATION OF MAN.

All else was prone, irrational, and mute,
And unaccountable, by instinct led :
But man he made of angel form erect,

12. Whiles: Occasionally.

89. But man he made, <fec. : The bard begins with an account of our first
parents in their state of innocence, and then describes their fall and its
consequences. This leads him to dwell at some length upon leading doc-

BOOK SECOND. 65

To hold communion with the heavens above, 40

And on his soul impress'd His image fair,

His own similitude of holiness,

Of virtue, truth, and love ; with reason high

To balance right and wrong, and conscience quick

To choose or to reject ; with knowledge great, 45

Prudence and wisdom, vigilance and strength,

To guard all force or guile ; and last of all,

The highest gift of God's abundant grace,

With perfect, free, unbiass'd will. — Thus man

Was made upright, immortal made, and crown'd 50

The king of all ; to eat, to drink, to do

Freely and sovereignly his will entire :

By one command alone restrain'd, to prove,

As was most just, his filial love sincere,

His loyalty, obedience due, and faith. 55

And thus the prohibition ran, express'd,

As God is wont, in terms of plainest truth.

man's virtue put to a simple test, gives way.

Of every tree that in the garden grows
Thou mayest freely eat ; but of the tree
That knowledge hath of good and ill, eat not, 60

trines of theology, especially on original sin, native depravity, and atone-
ment. The metaphysical and controversial character of the second book,
prevents it from possessing so general an interest as most of the others,
yet there are detached passages, the power of which all must feel. — N
A. Review.

44. Conscience quick: The author here unguardedly ascribes to con-
science what belongs properly to the will ; but he must be understood as
using the words choose and reject in the sense of approve and condemn.

51. To eat: Before this phrase must be understood the word allowed,
or some equivalent one.

60. Hath : This word seems to ascribe impropei ly to the tree what it
did not possess. The word gives would conform better to the fact re-

66 THE COURSE OF TIME. s

Nor touch ; for in the day thou eatest, thou
Shalt die. Go, and this one command obey :
Adam, live and be happy, and, with thy Eve.
Fit consort, multiply and fill the earth.

Thus they, the representatives of man, 65

Were placed in Eden — choicest spot on earth ;
With royal honor, and with glory crown'd,
Adam, the lord of all, majestic walk'd,
\^ ith godlike countenance sublime, and form
Of lofty towering strength ; and by his side TO

Eve, fair as morning star, with modesty
Array'd, with virtue, grace, and perfect love :
In holy marriage wed, and eloquent
Of thought and comely words to worship God
And sing his praise — the giver of all good. 15

Glad, in each other glad, and glad in hope ;
Rejoicing in their future happy race.

lovely, happy, blest, immortal pair !
Pleased with the present, full of glorious hope.
But short, alas, the song that sings their bliss : 80

Henceforth the history of man grows dark :
Shade after shade of deepening gloom descends,
And Innocence laments her robes defiled.
Who farther sings, must change the pleasant lyre
To heavy notes of woe. Why ? — dost thou ask, 85

Surprised ? The answer will surprise thee more.
Man sinn'd : tempted, he ate the guarded tree ;
Tempted of whom thou afterwards shalt hear :
Audacious, unbelieving, proud, ungrateful,
He ate the interdicted fruit, and fell ; 90

corded. The tree was simply the occasion of the knowledge of good
or evil.

90. He ate, &c. : The almost boundless compass intended to be em-
braced in the " Course of Time," made it necessary for the poet to touch
but slightly upon the Creation and Fall, the two great topics upon which

BOOK SECOND.

And in his fall, his universal race ;
For they in him by delegation were,
In him to stand or fall — to live or die.

Man most ingrate ! so full of grace ! to sin —
Here interposed the new arrived — so full 95

Of bliss — to sin against the Gracious One !
The holy, just, and good ! the Eternal Love !
Unseen, unheard, unthought of wickedness !
Why slumber'd vengeance ? No, it slumber'd not.
The ever just and righteous God would let 100

His fury loose, and satisfy his threat.

That had been just, replied the reverend bard :
But done, fair youth, thou ne'er hadst met me here :
I ne'er had seen yon glorious throne in peace.

Milton concentrated the whole force of his genius. In this respect Pollok
has imitated the solemn brevity of the sacred historian, never substitu-
ting the light of his own invention, where the silence of Moses has left
us in darkness. Perhaps he may have thought that the subject was too
awful for fiction ; for it is to be observed that in all cases where he de-
scribes as past what is yet to come, he fixes a most rigid curb upon his
fancy, and ventures no further than the prophetic intimations of Scripture
seem to him to warrant. To this remark, the whole poem does not fur-
nish an exception ; and we regard this folding up of the wings of inven-
tion, where flight would have been so hazardous, as an exercise of the
soundest discretion. Milton, we know, is generally thought to have
furthest exceeded all other poets in the power and grasp of imagination,
when he dared to supply from his own invention the momentous ellipses
found in our world's first history. Nor do we dissent from this opinion.
Still we may be permitted to regret one evil consequence that has fol
lowed from these interpolations, sublime as they unquestionably are.
"We sincerely believe that a majority of the readers of Milton, make no
distinction between what he has himself invented and what he has ta-
ken from the oracles of truth ; and that, if called upon to state what they
know respecting the Creation and the Fall, they would unconsciously
state more upon the authority of Milton than of Moses ; so indelible are
the impressions left upon the mind by that inimitable work. — 2V. A.
Review.

G8 THE COURSE OF TIME.

THE WONDERFUL METHOD OF Man's REDEMPTION.

Thy powers are great, originally great, 105

And purified even at the fount of light.
Exert them now; call all their vigor out;
Take room, think vastly ; meditate intensely ;
Reason profoundly ; send conjecture forth ;
Let fancy fly; stoop down ; ascend; all length, 110

All breadth explore ; all moral, all divine ;
Ask prudence, justice, mercy ask, and might;
Weigh good with evil, balance right with wrong ;
With virtue vice compare — hatred with love ;
God's holiness, God's justice, and God's truth 115

Deliberately and cautiously compare
With sinful, wicked, vile, rebellious man,
And see if thou canst punish sin, and let
Mankind go free. Thou fail'st — be not surprised :
I bade thee search in vain. Eternal love— 120

(Harp, lift thy voice on high !) — Eternal love,
Eternal, sovereign love, and sovereign grace,
Wisdom, and power, and mercy infinite,
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God,
Devised the wondrous plan — devised, achieved; 125

And in achieving made the marvel more.
Attend, ye heavens ! ye heaven of heavens, attend !
Attend, and wonder ! wonder evermore !
When man had fallen, rebell'd, insulted God ;
Was most polluted, yet most madly proud ; 130

Indebted infinitely, yet most poor;
Captive to sin, yet willing to be bound ;
To God's incensed justice, and hot wrath
Exposed; due victim of eternal death

And utter woe — Harp, lift thy voice on high ! 135

Ye everlasting hills! — ye angels, bow !
Bow, ye redeem 'd of men ! — God was made flesh,

BOOK SECOND. 60

And dwelt with man on earth ! the Son of God,

Only begotten, and well beloved, between

Men and his Father's justice interposed ; 140

Put human nature on ; his wrath sustain'd ;

And in their name suffer'd, obey'd, and died,

Making bis soul an offering for sin ;

Just for unjust, and innocence for guilt.

By doing, suffering, dying Unconstrain'd, 145

Save by omnipotence of boundless grace,

Complete atonement made to God appeased ;

Made honorable his insulted law,

Turning the wrath aside from pardon'd man.

Thus Truth with Mercy met, and Righteousness, 150

Stooping from highest heaven, embraced fair Peace,

That walk'd the earth in fellowship with Love.

O love divine ! O mercy infinite !
The audience here in glowing rapture broke —
love, all height above, all depth below, 155

Surpassing far all knowledge, all desire,
All thought, the Holy One for sinners dies !
The Lord of life for guilty rebels bleeds —
Quenches eternal fire with blood divine.
Abundant mercy ! overflowing grace ! 160

There whence I came, I something heard of men ;
Their name had reach'd us, and report did speak
Of some abominable, horrid thing,
Of desperate offence they had committed ;
And something too of wondrous grace we heard ; 165

And oft of our celestial visitants
What man, what God had done, inquired : but they
Forbid, our asking never met directly,

150-53. Thus Truth, &c: "Mercy and truth are met together ; right-
eousness and peace, have kissed each other." Psalm Ixxxv. 10.
154. The audience, &c. : Chiefly the stranger just arrived (161).
168. Forbid: Forbidden.

70 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

Exhorting still to persevere upright,

And we should hear in heaven, though greatly blest 1>0

Ourselves, new wonders of God's wondrous love.

This hinting, keener appetite to know

Awaked ; and as we talk'd, and much admired

What new we there should learn, we hasted each

To nourish virtue to perfection up, 1^5

That we might have our wondering resolved,

And leave of louder praise, to greater deeds

Of loving kindness due. Mysterious love !

God was made flesh, and dwelt with men on earth !

Blood holy, blood divine for sinners shed ! 180

My asking ends — but makes my wonder more.

Saviour of men ! henceforth be thou my theme ;

Redeeming love, my study day and night.

Mankind were lost, all lost, and all redeem'd !

Thou err'st again — but innocently err'st; 185

Not knowing sin's depravity, nor man's
Sincere and persevering wickedness.

185-7. Thou err'st again, <fcc. : The writer last quoted (N. A. R.) has
not done justice to those parts of the poem which aim to illustrate the
depravity of man, as vindicating the severities of the final doom of the
wicked. He should first have proved that the poet has represented the
future destiny of such in terms more horrific and severe than the sacred
writers have employed, before he ventured to write the following para-
graph : " Pollok was in a measure forced, by the plan he had chosen to mark
out for himself, to exhibit human nature under a dark and repulsive aspect.
He had conceived, for the punishment of men, a bell replete with all imagi-
nable horror. How creatures could deserve such torments, was the question
which perplexed the stranger, for whose information this account of man
was given. To resolve this doubt, men must be represented as altogether
bad. As in the case of the torturing bed of Procrustes, the victims must
be fitted to their place of torture; and this required no moderate share
of moral turpitude. If men were a shade less vile than this poem paints
tbem, they would deserve a milder hell than it has furnished for them.
The only way, therefore, in which, with a due regard to consistency,
mankind could have been represented in a more amiable light, would
have been to make their place of punishment less hideous."

BOOK SECOND. 71

All were redeem'd ? Not all — or thou hadst heard

No human voice in hell. Many refused,

Although beseech'd, refused to be redeem'd, 190

Redeem'd from death to life, from woe to bliss !

Canst thou believe my song when thus I sing ?
When man had fallen, was ruin'd, hopeless, lost —
Ye choral harps ! ye angels that excel
In strength ! and loudest, ye redeem'd of men! 195

To God — to Him that sits upon the throne
On high, and to the Lamb, sing honor, sing
Dominion, glory, blessing sing, and praise ! —
When man had fallen, was ruin'd, hopeless, lost,
Messiah, Prince of Peace, Eternal King, 200

Died, that the dead might live, the lost be saved.
Wonder, O heavens ! and be astonish'd, earth !
Thou ancient, thou forgotten earth ! Ye worlds admire !
Admire and be confounded ! and thou, Hell !
Deepen thy eternal groan ! — men would not be 205

Redeem'd — I speak of many, not of all —
Would not be saved for lost, have life for death !

WHY THK PLACE OF TORMENT WAS BUILT, AND WHO ARE
CONSIGNED TO IT.

Mysterious song ! the new arrived exclaim'd ;
Mysterious mercy ! most mysterious hate !
To disobey was mad ; this madder far, 210

Incurable insanity of will.
What now but wrath could guilty men expect ?
What more could love, what more could mercy do ?

No more, resumed the bard, no more they could.
Thou hast seen hell — the wicked there lament ; 215

And why ? — for love and mercy twice despised.

207. For lost : Instead of being lost — or, would not be saved, as lost
persons.

72 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The husbandman, who sluggishly forgot
In spring to plough and sow, could censure none,
Though winter clamor'd round his empty barns.
But he who having thus neglected, did 220

Refuse, when autumn came and famine threaten'd,
To reap the golden field that charity
Bestowed — nay, more obdurate, proud, and blind,
And stupid still, refused, though much beseech'd,
And long entreated, even with Mercy's tears, 225

To eat what to his very lips was held,
Cook'd temptingly — he certainly, at least
Deserved to die of hunger, unbemoan'd.
So did the wicked spurn the grace of God ;
And so were punish'd with the second death. 230

The first, no doubt, punition less severe
Intended, death belike of all entire ;
But this incurred, by God discharged, and life
Freely presented, and again despised —
Despised, though bought with Mercy's proper blood — 235
'Twas this dug hell and kindled all its bounds
With wrath and inextinguishable fire.
Free was the offer, free to all, of life
And of salvation ; but the proud of heart,
Because 'twas free, would not accept, and still 240

To merit wish'd : and choosing, thus unshipp'd,
Uncompass'd, unprovision'd, and bestorm'd,
To swim a sea of breadth immeasurable,
They scorn'd the goodly bark whose wings the breath
Of God's eternal Spirit filled for heaven, 245

That stopp'd to take them in ! and so were lost.

231. Tlte first (death).

232. Belike: In like manner — indiscriminately.

233. But thin, <tc. : "But this" (the second death) when incurred, hav-
ing been atoned for by God, in the person, and by the sacrifice, of Ida
Son, " and life," &c.

BOOK SECOND. 73

CREATURES, BEFORE GOD, DESTITUTE OF MERIT.

What wonders dost thou tell ? to merit, how ?
Of creature meriting in sight of God,
As right of service done, I never heard
Till now. We never fell ; in virtue stood 250

Upright, and persevered in holiness ;
But stood by grace, by grace we persevered ;
Ourselves, our deeds, our holiest, highest deeds
Unworthy aught — grace worthy endless praise.
If we fly swift, obedient to his will, 255

He gives us wings to fly ; if we resist
Temptation, and ne'er fall, it is his shield
Omnipotent that wards it off ; if we, *"

With love unquenchable, before him burn,
'Tis he that lights and keeps alive the flame. 260

Men surely lost their reason in their fall,
And did not understand the offer made.

THE BIBLE — ITS DIVINE ORIGIN AND FUNDAMENTAL DOCTRINES.

They might have understood, the bard replied.
They had the Bible. Hast thou ever heard
Of such a booh ? The author, God himself; 265

263, &c. The author, in one of his letters to his brother, dated Glasgow
March 3,1826, thus writes concerning the paragraph that follows: "I
have copied you a few verses concerning the Bible. The young spirit,
who meets the old bard in heaven, after diverse conversation about man,
concludes that the -wicked could never have done so foolishly if they had
known their duty. Upon this, the old bard takes occasion to tell him
they knew their duty perfectly, and in doing this gives a view of the Bi-
ble. The verses I have sent you are not the best specimens of poetry I
could have sent you, but I have chosen them that you may see in how
short a space I have attempted to delineate the essentials of religion ; and
that I may have your opinion of this very important part of my poem —
important, both as it concerns myself, the world at large, and theological
critics, who will, no doubt, quarrel much at this place. I have not been
conscious of supporting any sect."

74 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The subject, God and man ; salvation, life,

And death — eternal life, eternal death —

Dread words ! whose meaning has no end, no bounds —

Most wondrous book ! bright candle of the Lord !

Star of eternity ! the only star 270

By which the bark of man could navigate

The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss

Securely ; only star which rose on Time,

And, on its dark and troubled billows, still,

As generation, drifting swiftly by, 275

Succeeded generation, threw a ray

Of heaven's own light, and to the hills of God,

The everlasting hills, pointed the sinner's eye :

By prophets, seers, and priests, and sacred bards,

Evangelists, apostles, men inspired, 280

And by the Holy Ghost anointed, set

Apart, and consecrated to declare

To earth the counsels of the Eternal One,

This book, this holiest, this sublimest book,

284. This book, &c. There are detached passages in this book, the
power of which all must feel. One of these is in praise of the Bible ; a
theme which it is high honor to have made an approach towards treating
well, since to do it justice the strongest language must needs be found
inadequate. That which is inferior may be elevated by being compared
with that 'which is superior, and hence bold imagery may dignify what
is in itself humble. But that which is of all things most excellent and
precious may lose, and certainly can never gain, by being compared with
any other thing. There are objects which impress us most forcibly, when
set before us in their simple, unadorned majesty; and when the poet en-
deavors to heighten their effect by lofty phraseology and rhetorical em-
bellishment, he is in danger of making every addition a burden instead
of a support to the idea. It is as if the proud titles that do honor to
men should be applied to that Being, whose shortest name expresses
more than man can comprehend. We accordingly believe that the sub-
lime truths of revelation, as well as the volume which contains them, are
never to be approached by the poet but with fear and trembling. All
he can hope to do is to rise up to them, never to go beyond them, or lift
them up with him With regard to the peculiar doctrines and ten-
ets wrought into this poem, we consider them as having no connection

BOOK SECOND. 75

Was sent. — Heaven's will, Heaven's code of laws entire 285

To man, this book contain'd ; defined the bounds

Of vice and virtue, and of life and death ;

And what was shadow, what was substance taught.

Much it reveal'd ; important all ; the least

Worth more than what else seem'd of highest worth : £90

But this of plainest, most essential truth —

That God is one, eternal, holy, just,

Omnipotent, omniscient, infinite ;

Most wise, most good, most merciful and true ;

In all perfection most unchangeable : 295

That man — that every man of every clime

And hue, of every age, and every rank,

Was bad — by nature and by practice bad ;

In understanding blind, in will perverse,

In heart corrupt ; in every thought, and word, 300

Imagination, passion, and desire,

Most utterly depraved throughout, and ill

In sight of Heaven, though less in sight of man ;

At enmity with God his maker born,

And by his very life an heir of death : 305

That man — that every man was, farther, most

Unable to redeem himself, or pay

One mite of his vast debt to God — nay, more,

Was most reluctant and averse to be

Eedeem'd, and sin's most voluntary slave : 310

That Jesus, Son of God, of Mary born

In Bethlehem, and by Pilate crucified

On Calvary for man thus fallen and lost,

Died ; and, by death, life and salvation bought,

And perfect righteousness, for all who should 315

with its merits. "Whether the reader embrace them or not, he must re-
spect the sincere and deep convictions of the poet, and unite with him
in his supreme abhorrence of sin, and his fervent love of virtue and
truth." — A T . A. Review.

76 THE COURSE OF TIME.

In his great name believe : that He, the third

In the eternal Essence, to the prayer

Sincere should come, should come as soon as ask VI,

Proceeding from the Father and the Son,

To give faith and repentance, such as God 320

Accepts — to open the intellectual eyes,

Blinded by sin ; to bend the stubborn will,

Perversely to the side of wrong inclined,

To God and his commandments, just and good ;

The wild rebellious passions to subdue, 325

And bring them back to harmony with heaven ;

To purify the conscience, and to lead

The mind into all truth, and to adorn

With every holy ornament of grace,

And sanctify the whole renewed soul, 330

Which henceforth might no more fall totally,

But persevere, though erring oft, amidst

The mists of time, in piety to God,

And sacred works of charity to men :

That he, who thus believed, and practised thus, 335

Should have his sins forgiven, however vile ;

Should be sustain'd at mid-day, mom, and even,

By God's omnipotent, eternal grace ;

And in the evil hour of sore disease,

Temptation, persecution, war, and death — 340

For temporal death, although unsting'd, remain'd —

Beneath the shadow of the Almighty's wings

Should sit unhurt, and at the judgment-day

Should share the resurrection of the just,

And reign with Christ in bliss for evermore : 345

That all, however named, however great,

Who would not thus believe, nor practice thus,

But in their sins impenitent remain'd,

Should in perpetual fear and terror live ;

Should die unpardon'd, unredeem'd, unsaved ; 350

BOOK SECOND. 77

And at the hour of doom, should he cast out
To utter darkness in the night of hell,
By mercy and by God abandon'd, there
To reap the harvests of eternal woe.

This did that book declare in obvious phrase, 355

In most sincere and honest words, by God
Himself selected and arranged ; so clear,
So plain, so perfectly distinct, that none
Who read with humble wish to understand,
And ask'd the Spirit, given to all who ask'd, 360

Could miss their meaning, blazed in heavenly light. ■

THE BIBLE ITS VARIOUS RECEPTION.

The book — this holy book, on every line
Mark'd with the seal of high divinity,
On every leaf bedew'd with drops of love
Divine, and with the eternal heraldry 365

And signature of God Almighty stampt
From first to last — this ray of sacred light,
This lamp, from ofT the everlasting throne,
Mercy took down, and, in the night of time
Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow ; 370

And evermore beseeching men, with tears
And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live :
And many to her voice gave ear, and read,
Believed, obey'd ; and now, as the Amen,
True, faithful Witness swore, with snowy robes 375

362-372. The book, <fec. : " The greater part of Book II. is occupied with
the early history and lapse of man, and the gracious providence of God
still working in his behalf for instruction and happiness, which are well
and succinctly detailed. The following figure of Mercy, in reference to
the revelation of the Bible, is very fine." — Blackwood.

374-75. " The Amen, true and faithful Witness :" So does Jesus Christ
style himself in the Apocalypse, i. 5.

78 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And branchy palms surround the fount of life,
And drink the streams of immortality,
Forever happy, and forever young.

Many believed ; but more the truth of God
Turn'd to a lie, deceiving and deceived ; — 380

Each, with the accursed sorcery of sin,
To his own wish and vile propensity
Transforming still the meaning of the text.

VARIOUS PERVERSIONS OF THE BIBLE.

Ilear, while I briefly tell what mortals proved, 385

By effort vast of ingenuity,
Most wondrous, though perverse and damnable ;

379. In the remaining part of Book II., and in Books III. and IV., the
follies and vain pursuits of worldly men are severely characterized.
There was ample room here for rich and picturesque grouping, in the rise
of nation after nation in "The Course of Time," with the strange pictures
of their idolatries, and other general characteristics, in the same style
as, in Paradise Lost, the angel gave Adam to see from the Mount of Vis-
ion the future history of his race. Mr. Pollok has, in a great measure,
confined himself to individuals. Some of his moral delineations are ad-
mirably given ; but necessary limits have obliged him generally to touch
only upon broader features. The disadvantage in this is, that they stand
not forth with a very distinct application against the consciences of his
readers : they are more easily put by. It is, indeed, no easy task to give
thorough effect to this sort of discipline. The fine moral indignation of
Cowper, his minute and pointed severity, trimmed with graphic illustra-
tions of the finest poetry, are perhaps the most successful specimens of
severe Christian satire. Mr. Pollok could not certainly allow himself an
cijvial minuteness, but he might have been more sparing in heaping to-
gether general pictures of vice, and the balance of space would have ad-
mitted him to give more graphic sketches, in instances where they are
too broad and indiscriminate to be very useful. — Blackwood.

379-80. Tamed the trull,, &c : 2 Thess. ii. 10-12.

384—151. Within these lines is found an admirable, though concise,
delineation of the radical errors which the perverse ingenuity of men has
attempted to derive from the sacred Scriptures, or to support by an ap-
peal to them. The Btudy of this passage cannot fail to subserve th«
cause of truth and human happiness

BOOK SECOND. 79

Proved from the Bible, which, as thou hast heard,

So plainly spoke that all could understand.

First, and not least in number, argued some,

From out this book itself, it was a lie, 390

A fable framed by crafty men to cheat

The simple herd, and make them bow the knee

To kings and priests. These, in their wisdom, left

Tbe light reveai'd, and turn'd to fancies wild ;

Maintaining loud, that ruin'd, helpless man, 395

Needed no Saviour. Others proved that men

Might live and die in sin, and yet be saved,

For so it was decreed ; binding the will,

By God left free, to unconditional,

Unreasonable fate. Others believed 400

That he who was most criminal, debased,

Condemn'd, and dead, unaided might ascend

The heights of Virtue ; to a perfect law

Giving a lame, half-way obedience, which

By useless effort only served to show 405

The impotence of him who vainly strove

With finite arm to measure infinite ;

Most useless effort ! when to justify

In sight of God it meant, as proof of faith

Most acceptable, and worthy of all praise. 410

Another held, and from the Bible held,

He was infallible, — most fallen by such

Pretence — that none the Scriptures, open to all,

And most to humble-hearted, ought to read,

But priests ; that all who ventured to disclaim 415

His forged authority, incurred the wrath

Of Heaven ; and he who, in the blood of such,

Though father, mother, daughter, wife, or son,

Imbrued his hands, did most religious work,

Well pleasing to the heart of the Most High. 420

Others, in outward rite, devotion placed ;

80 THE COURSE OF TIME.

In meats, in drinks ; in robe of certain shape —
In bodily abasements, bended knees ;
Days, numbers, places, vestments, words, and names —
Absurdly in their hearts imagining, 425

That God, like men, was pleased with outward show.
Another, stranger and more wicked still,
With dark and dolorous labor, ill applied,
With many a gripe of conscience, and with most
Unhealthy and abortive reasoning, 430

That brought his sanity to serious doubt,
'Along wise and honest men, maintain'd that lie,
First Wisdom, Great Messiah, Prince of Peace,
The second of the uncreated Three,

Was naught but man — of earthly origin ; 435

Thus making void the sacrifice Divine,
And leaving guilty men, God's holy law
Still unatoned, to work them endless death.
These are a part ; but to relate them all,
The monstrous, unbaptized phantasies, 440

Imaginations fearfully absurd,
Hobgoblin rites, and moon-struck reveries,
Distracted creeds, and visionary dreams,
More bodiless and hideously misshapen
Than ever fancy, at the noon of night, 445

Playing at will, framed in the madman's brain,
That from this book of simple truth were proved,
Were proved as foolish men were wont to prove,
Would bring my word in doubt, and thy belief
Stagger, though here I sit and sing, within 450

The pale of truth, where falsehood never came.

PAGANISM.

The rest, who lost the heavenly light reveal'd,
Not wishing to retain God in their minds,
In darkness wander'd on ; yet could they not,

BOOK SECOND. 81

Though moral night around them drew her pall 455

Of blackness, rest in utter unbelief.

The voice within, the voice of God, that naught

Could bribe to sleep, though steep'd in sorceries

Of Hell, and much abused by whisperings

Of evil spirits in the dark, announced 460

A day of judgment, and a judge — a day

Of misery, or bliss ; — and, being ill

At ease, for gods they chose them stocks and stones,

Reptiles, and weeds, and beasts, and creeping things,

And spirits accursed — ten thousand deities ! 465

(Imagined worse than he who craved their peace),

And, bowing, worshipp'd these as best beseem'd,

"With midnight revelry, obscene and loud,

With dark, infernal, devilish ceremonies,

And horrid sacrifice of human flesh, 470

That made the fair heavens blush. So bad was sin !

So lost, so ruin'd, so depraved was man !

Created first in God's own irnao-e fair !

APOSTROPHE TO SIN.

Oh, cursed, cursed Sin ! traitor to God,
And ruiner of man ! mother of Woe, 475

And Death, and Hell, — wretched, yet seeking worse :

452. The rest : Those who are destitute of the light of divine revela-
tion. See Romans, i. 18-32 ; ii. 12-16.

475-70. Mother of woe, dte. : Milton has expended great power of im-
agination in the pictures he has given us of Sin, Satan, and Death. —
Par. Lost, Book II. 648-814.

Sin is truly described by Pollok, as treachery to God, ruin to man —
the cause of Death, and the occasion of all the punishment endured in
Hell. He well describes also the tendency of sin to augment or multiply
itself, and to add to the wretchedness of its subject —

Depth ever deepening, darkness darkening still.

His account of its future miseries is suited to appall the transgressor, and
to show him the present importance of Repentance and Pardon.

82 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Polluted most, yet wallowing in the mire ;

Most mad, yet drinking Phrensy's giddy cup ;

Depth ever deepening', darkness darkening stili ;

Folly for wisdom, guilt for innocence; 480

Anguish for rapture, and for hope despair ;

Destroy'd, destroying ; in tormenting paiu'd ;

Unaw'd hy wrath ; by mercy unreclaim'd ;

Thing most unsightly, most forlorn, most sad —

Thy time on earth is past, thy war with God 485

And holiness : but who, oh who shall toll,

Thy unrepentable and ruinous thoughts ?

Thy sighs, thy groans ? Who reckon thy burning tears,

And damned looks of everlasting grief,

Where now, with those who took their part with thee, 490

Thou sitt'st in Hell, gnaw'd by the eternal Worm —

To hurt no more on all the holy hills ?

That those, deserting once the lamp of truth,
Should wander ever on, from worse to worse
Erroneously, thy wonder needs not ask : 495

But that enlighten'd, reasonable men,
Knowing themselves accountable, to whom
God spoke from heaven, and by his servants warn'd,
Both day and night, with earnest, pleading voice,
Of retribution equal to their works, 500

Should persevere in evil, and be lost —
This strangeness, this unpardonable guilt,
Demands an answer, which my song unfolds,
In part directly ; but hereafter more,

To satisfy thy wonder, thou shalt learn, 505

Inferring much from what is yet to sing.

RELIGION DEBASED BY CIVIL RULERS MADE SUBSERVIENT

TO THE STATE.

Know then, of men who sat in highest place
Exalted, and for sin by others done

BOOK SECOND. 83

Were chargeable, the Mug and priest were chief.

Many were faithful, holy, just, upright, 510

Faithful to God and man — reigning renown'd

In righteousness, and, to the people, loud

And fearless, speaking all the words of life.

These at the judgment-day, as thou shalt hear,

Abundant harvest reap'd : but many, too, 515

Alas, how many ! famous now in hell,

Were wicked, cruel, tyrannous, and vile :

Ambitious of themselves, abandon'd, mad ;

And still from servants hasting to be gods,

Such gods as now they serve in Erebus. 520

I pass their lewd example by, that led

So many wrong, for courtly fashion lost,

And prove them guilty of one crime alone.

Of every wicked ruler, prince supreme,

Or magistrate below, the one intent, 525

Purpose, desire, and struggle day and night,

Was evermore to wrest the crown from off

Messiah's head, and put it on his own ;

And in His place give spiritual laws to men ;

To bind religion — free by birth, by God 530

And nature free, and made accountable

To none but God — behind the wheels of state ;

To make the holy altar, where the Prince

Of life, incarnate, bled to ransom man,

A footstool to the throne. For this they met, 535

Assembled, counsell'd, meditated, plann'd :

Devised in open and secret ; and for this

Enacted creeds of wondrous texture, creeds

The Bible never own'd, unsanction'd, too,

And reprobate in heaven ; but by the power 540

That made (exerted now in gentler form,

Monopolizing rights and privileges,

Equal to all, and waving now the sword

84 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of persecution fierce, teniper'd in hell),

Forced on the conscience of inferior men : 545

The conscience, that sole monarchy in man,

Owing allegiance to no earthly prince ;

Made by the edict of creation free ;

Made sacred, made above all human laws ;

I [ol< ling of heaven alone; of most divine 550
And indefeasible authority ;

An individual sovereignty, that none

Created might, unpunish'd, bind or touch ;

Unbound, save by the eternal laws of God,

And unamenable to all bel.uv. 555

Thus did the uncircumcised potentates
Of earth debase religion in the sight
Of those they ruled — who, looking up, beheld
The fair celestial gift despised, enslaved;
And, mimicking the folly of the great, 500

"With prompt docility despised her too.

RELIGION DEBASED BY A CORRUPT AND AMBITIOUS PRIESTHOOD.
THE CRIME AND BAD INFLUENCE OF SUCH.

The prince or magistrate, however named
Or praised, who, knowing better, acted thus,
Was wicked, and received, as he deserved,

I I nnnation. But the unfaithful priest, what tongue 505
Enough shall execrate? Eis doctrine may

Be pass'd, though mix'd with most unhallow'd leaven,
That proved to those who foolishly partook,
rnal bitterness : — but this was still

540-555. The conscience, A-c. : A noble statement and defence of the
rights of couscience, which all despots, whether political or ecclesiastical,
should read and digest, and, in their future practice, regard.

656. Uncircumcised: Osed in the Bible sense, for corrupt, irreligious,
unprincipled.

BOOK SECOND. 85

His sin — beneath what cloak soever veiFd, 570

His ever growing and perpetual sin,

First, last, and middle thought, whence every wish,

Whence every action rose, and ended both —

To mount to place, and power of worldly sort ;

To ape the gaudy pomp and equipage 575

Of earthly state, and on his mitred brow

To place a royal crown : for this he sold

The sacred truth to him who most would give

Of titles, benefices, honors, names :

For this betray'd his Master; and for this 580

Made merchandise of the immortal souls

Committed to his care — this was his sin.

Of all who office held unfairly, none
Could plead excuse ; he least, and last of all.
By solemn, awful ceremony, he 585

Was set apart to speak the truth entire,
By action, and by word ; and round him stood
The people, from his lips expecting knowledge ;
One day in seven, the Holy Sabbath term'd,
They stood ; for he had sworn in face of God 590

And man, to deal sincerely with their souls ;
To preach the gospel for the gospel's sake ;
Had sworn to hate and put away all pride,
All vanity, all love of earthly pomp ;

To seek all mercy, meekness, truth, and grace ; 595

And being so endow'd himself, and taught,
In them like works of holiness to move ;
Dividing faithfully the word of life.
And oft indeed the word of life he taught ;
But practising, as thou hast heard, who could 600

Believe ? Thus was religion wounded sore
At her own altars, and among her friends.
The people went away, and, like the priest,
Fulfilling what the prophet spoke before,

86 THE COURSE OF TIME.

For honor strove, and wealth, and place, as if 605

The preacher had rehearsed an idle tale.

The enemies of God rejoiced, and loud

The unbeliever laugh'd, boasting a life

Of fairer character than his, who own'd,

For king and guide, the undefiled One. 610

Most guilty, villanous, dishonest man !
Wolf in the clothing of the gentle lamb !
Dark traitor in Messiah's holy camp !
Leper in saintly garb ! — assassin mask'd
In Virtue's robe! vile hypocrite accursed ! 615

I strive in vain to set his evil forth.
The words that should sufficiently accurse
And execrate such reprobate, had need
Come glowing from the lips of eldest hell.
Among the saddest in the den of woe, 620

Thou savv'st him saddest, 'mong the damn'd most damn'd.

£ACH MAN RESPONSIBLE FOR HIMSELF, THOUGH LED ASTRAY.

But why should I with indignation burn,
Not with beseeming here, and long forgot ?
Or why one censure for another's sin ?
Each had his conscience, each his reason, will, 625

And understanding, for himself to search,
To choose, reject, believe, consider, act :
And God proclaim'd from heaven, and by an oath
Confirm'd, that each should answer for himself;
And as his own peculiar work should be, 630

Done by his proper self, should live or die.
But sin, deceitful and deceiving still,
Had gain'd the heart, and reason led astray.

BOOK SECOND. 87

HOW MULTITUDES WERE LED TO PERDITION.

A strange belief, that lean'd its idiot back
On folly's topmost twig — belief that God, 635

Most wise, had made a world, had creatures made,
Beneath his care to govern and protect, —
Devour'd its thousands. Reason, not the true,
Learn'd deep, sober, comprehensive, sound ;
But bigoted, one-eyed, short-sighted Reason, 640

Most zealous, and sometimes, no doubt, sincere —
Devour'd its thousands. Vanity to be
Renown'd for creed eccentrical — devour'd
Its thousands ; but a lazy, corpulent,

And over-credulous faith, that lean'd on all 645

It met, nor ask'd if 'twas a reed or oak ;
Stepp'd on, but never earnestly inquired
Whether to heaven or hell the journey led —
Devour'd its tens of thousands, and its hands
Made reddest in the precious blood of souls. 650

ALL CLASSES OF MEN ACTIVE IN THE PURSUITS OF TIME :
NEGLIGENT IN THE PURSUIT OF RELIGION.

In Time's pursuits men ran till out of breath.
The astronomer soar'd up, and counted stars,
And gazed, and gazed upon the Heaven's bright face,
Till he dropp'd down dim-eyed into the grave :
The numerist in calculations deep 655

Grew gray : the merchant at his desk expired :
The statesman hunted for another place,
Till death o'ertook him, and made him his prey :
The miser spent his eldest energy,

In grasping for another mite : the scribe 660

Rubb'd pensively his old and wither'd brow,
Devising new impediments to hold

8S . THE COURSE OF TIME.

In doubt the suit that tlireaten'd to end too soon :

The priest collected tithes, and pleaded rights

Of decimation to the very last. 665

In science, learning, all philosophy,

Men labor'd all their days, and labor'd hard,

And dying, sigh'd how little they had done :

But in religion they at once grew wise.

A creed in print, though never understood ; 670

A theologic system on the shelf,

Was spiritual lore enough, and served their turn ;

But served it ill. They sinn'd, and never knew ;

For what the Bible said of good and bad,

Of holiness and sin, they never ask'd. 675

REDEMPTION, THE SCIENCE AND THE SONG OF ETERNITY.

Absurd— prodigiously absurd, to think
That man's minute and feeble faculties,
Even in the very childhood of his being,
With mortal shadows dimm'd, and wrapt around,
Could comprehend at once the mighty scheme, 680

Where roll'd the ocean of eternal love ;
Where wisdom infinite its master stroke
Display'd ; and where omnipotence, oppress'd,
Did travel in the greatness of its strength ;
And everlasting justice lifted up 685

The sword to smite the guiltless Son of God ;
And mercy, smiling, bade the sinner go !
Redemption is the science, and the song
Of all eternity : archangels day

And night into its glories look : the saints, 690

The elders round the throne, old in the years

«89-90. Archangels, Ac. : " Which things the angels desire to look into "
1 Pet. i. 1 2.

C90-1. The saints, 4c. : Rev. v. 11-14.

BOOK SECOND.

Of heaven, examine it perpetually ;

And every Lour get clearer, ampler views

Of right and wrong — see virtue's beauty more ;

See vice more utterly depraved, and vile ; 695 .

And this with a more perfect hatred hate ;

That daily love with a more perfect love.

PRIDE THE GUILTIEST CAUSE OF HUMAN SIN AND WOE. ITS

EVIL PROGENY.

But whether I for man's perdition blame
Office administer'd amiss ; pursuit

Of pleasure false ; perverted reason blind ; 700

Or indolence that ne'er inquired — I blame
Effect and consequence ; the branch, the leaf.
Who finds the fount and bitter root, the first
And guiltiest cause whence sprung this endless woe,
Must deep descend into the human heart, 705

And find it there. Dread passion ! making men
On earth, and even in hell, if Mercy yet
Would stoop so low, unwilling to be saved,
If saved by grace of God. — Hear then, in brief,
What peopled hell, what holds its prisoners there. 710

Pride, self-adoring pride, was criminal cause
Of all sin past, all pain, all woe to come.
Unconquerable pride ! first, eldest sin ;
Great fountain-head of evil ; highest source,
Whence flow'd rebellion 'gainst the Omnipotent, 715

Whence hate of man to man, and all else ill.
Pride at the bottom of the human heart
Lay, and gave root and nourishment to all
That grew above. Great ancestor of vice !
Hate, unbelief, and blasphemy of God ; 720

Envy and slander ; malice and revenge ;
And murder, and deceit, and every birth

90 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of damned sort, was progeny of pride.

It was the ever-moving, acting force l

The constant aim, and the most thirsty wish 725

Of every sinner unrenew'd, to be

A god : — in purple or in rags, to have

Himself adored : whatever shape or form

His actions took : whatever phrase he threw

About his thoughts, or mantle o'er his life, 730

To be tbe highest, was the inward cause

Of all — the purpose of the heart to be

Set up, admired, obey'd. But who would bow

The knee to one who served and was dependent ?

Hence man's perpetual struggle, night and day, 735

To prove he was his own proprietor,

And independent of his God ; that what

He had might be esteem'd his own, and praised

As such. — He labor'd still, and tried to stand

Alone unpropp'd — to be obliged to none ; 740

And in the madness of his pride he bade

His God farewell, and turn'd away to be

A god himself; resolving to rely,

Whatever came, upon his own right hand.

THE INFATUATION AND ABSURDITY OF A FROUD STATE OF HEART.

O desperate phrensy ! madness of the will ! 745

And drunkenness of the heart ! that naught could quench
But floods of woe pour'd from the sea of wrath,
Behind which mercy set. To think to turn
The back on life original, and live —

The creature to set up a rival throne 750

In the Creator's realm — to deify
A worm — and in the sight of God be proud —
To lift an arm of lh'.-Ji against the shafts

749. Life original : First cause of life.

BOOK SECOND. 91

Of the Omnipotent, and midst his wrath

To seek for happiness — insanity 755

Most mad ! guilt most complete ! Seest thou those worlds

That roll at various distance round the throne

Of God, innumerous, and fill the calm

Of heaven with sweetest harmony, when saints

And angels sleep — as one of these, from love 760

Centripetal withdrawing, and from light,

And heat, and nourishment cut off, should rush

Abandon'd o'er the line that runs between

Create and increate ; from ruin driven

To ruin still, through the abortive waste ; 765

So pride from God drew off the bad ; and so

Forsaken of him, he lets them ever try

Their single arm against the second death ;

Amidst vindictive thunders lets them try

The stoutness of their hearts ; and lets them try 770

To quench their thirst amidst the unfading fire ;

And to reap joy where he has sown despair ;

To walk alone, unguided, unbemoan'd,

"Where Evil dwells, and Death, and moral Night ;

In utter emptiness to find enough ; 775

In utter dark find light ; and find repose

Where God with tempest plagues for evermore :

For so they wish'd it, so did pride desire.

Such was the cause that turn'd so many off
Rebelliously from God, and led them on 780

From vain to vainer still, in endless chase.
And such the cause that made so many cheeks
Pale, and so many knees to shake, when men
Rose from the grave ; as thou shalt hear anon.

760. As : As if. The term love in this line, is poetically used for the
attractive force called gravitation. The illustration here used is remark-
ably pertinent.

764. Create and increate : Created and uncreated.

92 THE COURSE OF TIME.

184. As thou shah hear anon: In a letter addressed to Mr. Black-
wood, his publisher, accompanying the manuscript, the author expresses
some of his own sentiments respecting the poem, and particularly with
regard to the second hook, which seem entitled to a place here. "It is a
poem in ten books, embracing a great variety of subjects. You will
judge of the manner in which these are handled, and, as I hope the poem
will explain itself, I deem it unnecessary to say any thing of the plan.
It is, so far as I know, new : the sentiments which I have expressed of
religion, which is especially treated of in the second book, are such as
seemed to me agreeable to the word of God ; and in few instances, I
believe, will they be found differing from the approved creed of our
country. In the language I have intentionally avoided a pompous and
swelling phraseology, and have aimed mainly at strength and perspi-
cuity. If the work take at all, it must take extensively, as all mankind
are alike interested in the subject of it."

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK III.

ANALYSIS.

In this book the bard shows that, however man disobeyed the command
to love God, truth, and virtue, they still strove to gain happiness; but
which could only be gained by obedience to the command ; for the
attainment of which men pursued many strange and crooked paths, in
none of which could it be found ; as happiness was indissolubly
united to virtue. Yet men pursued the phantom Hope, which danced
before them in every path, and ever mocked their grasp, " till the
earth, beneath them, broke, and wrapt them in the grave."

Many sought for happiness in the enjoyment of pleasures, but it ever
proved vain, in hope or in possession. Many sought for happiness in
the attainment of riches. This also mostly ended in bitterness and
woe. Many pursued the phantom Fame, that fame which rose not
in the resurrection morn, "Earthly fame," — but all in vain. — Many
sought happiness in dissipation, in inebriation ; " deliberately resolv-
ing to be mad ;" some in hawking and hunting, some in the search after
curiosities, and some even in hopeless skepticism sought happiness.

And thus mankind followed vanities in despite of wisdom's warning
voice; in despite of the teaching of all animated and unanimated na-
ture; in despite of the offers of mercy continually held out to them:
in spite, even, of the threatenings of death, "to made repentance vain,"
" men rushed on, determined, to ruin, and shut their ears to all advice,
to all reproof," till death, " the great teacher," convinced each, too late,
that " Eternity is all."

&fo tarn' «f $im**

BOOK III.

Behold'st thou yonder, on the crystal sea,
Beneath the throne of God, an image fair,
And in its hand a mirror large and bright ?
'Tis truth, immutable, eternal truth,

In figure emblematical express'd. 5

Before it Virtue stands, and smiling sees,
Well pleased, in her reflected soul, no spot.
The sons of heaven, archangel, seraph, saint,
There daily read their own essential worth ;
And, as they read, take place among the just, 10

Or high, or low, each as his value seems.
There each his certain interest learns, his true
Capacity ; and going thence, pursues
Unerringly through all the tracts of thought,
As God ordains, best ends by wisest means. 15

THE BIBLE, THE MIRROR OF TRUTH.

The Bible held this mirror's place on earth :
But, few would read, or, reading, saw themselves.
The chase was after shadows, phantoms strange,

1, 2. Crystal sea, &c. : Rev. iv. 6. "And before the throne there was
a sea of glass like unto crystal."

9G THE COURSE OF TIME.

That in the twilight walk'd of Time, and mock'J

The eager hunt, escaping evermore ; 20

Yet with so many promises and looks

Of gentle sort, that he whose arms returnM

Empty a thousand times, still stretch'd them out,

And, grasping, brought them back again unfill'd.

In rapid outline thou hast heard of man ; 25

His death ; his offer'd life ; that life by most
Despised ; the Star of God — the Bible, scorn'd,
That else to happiness and heaven had led,
And saved my lyre from narrative of woe.
Hear now more largely of the ways of Time ; 30

The fond pursuits and vanities of men.

THE CONDITIONS OF TRUE HAPPINESS.

" Love God, love truth, love virtue, and be happy :" —
These were the words first utter'd in the ear
Of every being rational made, and made
For thought, or word, or deed accountable. 35

Most men the first forgot, the second none.
AVhatever path they took, by hill or vale,
I3y night or day, the universal wish,
The aim, and sole intent, was happiness :
But, erring from the heaven-appointed path, 40

Strange tracks indeed they took through barren wastes,
And up the sandy mountain climbing toil'd,
Which, pining, lay beneath the curse of God,
And naught produced ; yet did the traveller look,
And point his eye before him greedily, • 45

As if he saw some verdant spot, where grew
The heavenly flower, where sprung the well of life,

36. The first : The precept3 respecting the love of God, of truth, and
of virtue. The secoyxd: The injunction to be happy.

BOOK THIRD.

Where undisturb'd felicity reposed ;

Though Wisdom's eye no vestige could discern,

That happiness had ever pass'd that way. 50

Wisdom was right : for still the terms remain'd
Unchanged, unchangeable ; the terms on which
True peace was given to man ; unchanged as God,
Who, in his own essential nature, binds
Eternally to virtue happiness, 55

Nor lets them part through all his Universe.

THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY FALL SHORT.

Philosophy, as thou shalt hear, when she
Shall have her praise — her praise and censure too,
Did much, refining and exalting man ;
But could not nurse a single plant that bore 60

True happiness. — From age to age she toil'd ;
Shed from her eyes the mist that dimm'd them still,
Look'd forth on man ; explored the wild and tame,
The savage and polite, the sea and land,
The starry heavens ; and then retired far back 65

To meditation's silent shady seat ;
And there sat pale, and thoughtfully, and weigh'd
With wary, most exact, and scrupulous care,
Man's nature, passions, hopes, propensities,
Relations, and pursuits, in reason's scale ; 70

And search'd and weigh'd, and weigh'd and search'd again,
And many a fair and goodly volume wrote,
That seem'd well worded too, wherein were found
Uncountable receipts, pretending each,
If carefully attended to, to cure 75

Mankind of folly ; — to root out the briers,
And thorns, and weeds that choked the growth of joy ; —
And showing too, in plain and decent phrase,
Which sounded much like wisdom's, how to plant,

9S TIJK COURSE OF TIME.

To shelter, water, culture, prune, and rear 8©

The tree of happiness ; and oft their plans

Were tried ; hut still the fruit was green and sour.

J UK TREE OF HOLINESS ITS DELIGHTFUL FRUIT.

Of all the trees that in Earth's vineyard grew,
And with their clusters tempted man to pull
And eat, — one tree, one tree alone, the true 85

Celestial manna bore, which fill'd the soul —
The tree of Holiness — of heavenly seed ;
A native of the skies ; though stunted much,
And dwarf 'd, by Time's cold, damp, ungenial soil,
And chilling winds, yet yielding fruit so pure, 90

So nourishing and sweet, as, on his way,
Eefresh'd the pilgrim ; and begot desire
Unquenchable to climb the arduous path
To where her sister plants, in their own clime,
Around the fount, and by the stream of life, 95

Blooming beneath the Sun that never sets, —
Bear fruit of perfect relish, fully ripe.

To plant this tree, uprooted by the fall,
To earth the Son of God descended, shed
His precious blood ; and on it evermore, 100

From off his living wings, the Spirit shook
The dews of heaven, to nurse and hasten its growth.
Nor was this care, this infinite expense,
Not needed to secure the holy plant.

To root it out, and wither it from earth, 105

Hell strove with all its strength, and blew with all
Its blasts; and Sin, with cold, consumptive breath,
Involved it still in clouds of mortal damp.
Yet did it grow, thus kept, protected thus ;
And bear the only fruit of true delight ; 110

The only fruit worth plucking under heaven.

BOOK TniRD. 99

HOW THE TREE OF HOLINESS- MUST BE APPROACHED, AND* ITS

FRUIT GATHERED.

But few, alas ! the holy plant could see,
For heavy mists that Sin around it threw
Perpetually ; and few the sacrifice

Would make by which alone its clusters stoop'd, 115

And came within the reach of mortal man.
For this, of him who would approach and eat,
Was rigorously exacted to the full : —
To tread and bruise beneath the foot, the world
Entire ; its prides, ambitions, hopes, desires ; 120

Its gold, and all its broider'd equipage ;
To loose its loves and friendships from the heart,
And cast them oft' ; to shut the ear against
Its praise, and all its flatteries abhor ;

And having thus behind him thrown what seem'd 125

So good and fair, then must he lowly kneel,
And with sincerity, in which the Eye
That slumbers not, nor sleeps, could see no lack,
This prayer pray : " Lord God ! thy will be done ;
Thy holy will, howe'er it cross my own." 130

MEN TURN AWAY FROM THE TREE OF HOLINESS, AND PURSUE
THE PHANTOM HOPE.

Hard labor this for flesh and blood ! too hard

For most it seem'd : so, turning, they the tree

Derided, as mere bramble, that could bear

No fruit of special taste ; and so set out

Upon ten thousand different routes to seek 135

What they had left behind ; to seek what they

Had lost — for still as something once possess'd,

And lost, true happiness appear'd: all thought

They once were happy ; and even while they smoked

100 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And panted in the chase, believed themselves 140

More miserable to-day than yesterday —

To-morrow than to-day. When youth complain'd,

The ancient sinner shook his hoary head,

As if he meant to say : Stop till you come

My length, and then you may have cause to sigh. 145

At twenty, cried the boy, who now had seen

Some blemish in his joys : How happily

Plays yonder child, that busks the mimic babe,

And gathers gently flowers, and never sighs !

At forty in the fervor of pursuit, 150

Far on in disappointment's dreary vale,

The grave and sage-like man look'd back upon

The stripling youth of plump unseared hope,

Who gallop'd gay and briskly up behind —

And, moaning, wish'd himself eighteen again. 155

And he of threescore years and ten, in whose

Chill'd eye, fatigued with gaping after hope,

Earth's freshest verdure seem'd but blasted leaves, —

Praised childhood, youth, and manhood, and denounced

Old age alone as barren of all joy. 160

Decisive proof that men had left behind

The happiness they sought, and taken a most

Erroneous path ; since every step they took

Was deeper mire. Yet did they onward run,

Pursuing Hope that danced before them still, 1G5

And beckon'd them to proceed ; and with their hands,

That shook and trembled piteously with age,

Grasp'd at the lying Shade, even till the earth

Beneath them broke, and wrapp'd them in the grave.

118. Husks: A Scottish word, meaning to dress.

BOOK THIRD. 101

WISDOM LEADS SOME BACK TO THE TREE OF HOLINESS.

Sometimes, indeed, when wisdom in their ear 170

Whisper'd, and with its disenchanting wand
Effectually touch'd the sorcery of their eyes,
Directly pointing to the holy tree,

"Where grew the food they sought, they turn'd, surprised
That they had miss'd so long what now they found. 175
As one upon whose mind some new and rare
Idea glances, and retires as quick,
Ere memory have time to write it down,
Stung with the loss, into a thoughtful cast
He throws his face, and rubs his vexed brow ; 180

Searches each nook and corner of his soul
W T ith frequent care ; reflects, and re-reflects,
And tries to touch relations that may start
The fugitive again ; and oft is foil'd ;

Till something like a seeming chance, or flight 185

Of random fancy, when expected least,
Calls back the wanderer thought — long sought in vain.
Then does uncommon joy fill all his mind ;
And still he wonders, as he holds it fast,
AVhat lay so near he could not sooner find : 190

So did the man rejoice, when from his eye
The film of folly fell, and what he day
And night, and far and near, had idly search'd,
Sprung up before him suddenly display'd ;
So wonder 'd why he miss'd the tree so long. 195

FEW HEED THE VOICE OF WISDOM, AND RETURN FROM THE

CHASE OF FOLLY.

But, few return'd from folly's giddy chase.
Few heard the voice of wisdom, or obey'd.
Keen was the search, and various, and wide ;

102 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Without, within, along the flowery vale,
And ii]) the rugged cliff, and on the top 200

Of mountains high, and on the ocean wave.
Keen was the search, and various, and wide,
And ever and anon a shout was heard :
Ho ! here's the tree of life ; come, eat, and live !
And round the new discoverer quick they flock'd 205

In multitudes, and pluck'd, and with great haste
Devour'd ; and sometimes in the lips 'twas sweet,
And promised well ; hut in the belly, gall.
Yet after him that cried again : Ho ! here's
The tree of life ; again they run, and pull'd, 210

And chew'd again, and found it bitter still.
From disappointment on to disappointment,
Year after year, age after age pursued :
The child, the youth, the hoary-headed man
Alike pursued, and ne'er grew wise : for it 215

Was folly's most peculiar attribute,
And native act, to make experience void.
But hastily, as pleasures tasted turn'd
To loathing and disgust, they needed not
Even such experiment to prove them vain. 220

In hope or in possession, Fear, alike,
Boding disaster, stood. Over the flower
Of fairest sort, that bloom'd beneath the sun,
Protected most, and shelter'd from the storm,
The Spectre, like a dark and thunderous cloud 225

Hung dismally, and threaten'd, before the hand
Of him that wish'd could pull it to descend,
And o'er the desert drive its wither'd leaves ;
Or, being pull'd, to blast it unenjoy'd,

207-8. " And I took the little book out of the angel's hand, and ate
it up ; and it was in my mouth sweet as houey ; and as soon as I had
eaten it, my belly was bitter." Rev. x. 10.

BOOK THIRD. 103

While yet he gazed upon its loveliness, 230

And just began to drink its fragrance up.

THE GOLD-HUNTER.

Gold many hunted — sweat and bled for gold ;
Waked all the night, and labor'd all the day.
And what was this allurement, dost thou ask ?
As dust dug from the bowels of the earth, 235

Which, being cast into the fire, came out
A shining thing that fools admired, and call'd
A god ; and in devout and humble plight
Before it kneel'd, the greater to the less ;
And on its altar sacrificed ease, peace, 240

Truth, faith, integrity ; good conscience, friends,
Love, charity, benevolence, and all
The sweet and tender sympathies of life ;
And, to complete the horrid murderous rite
And signalize their folly, offer'd up 245

Their souls, and an eternity of bliss,
To gain them — what ? an hour of dreaming joy !
A feverish hour that hasted to be done,
And ended in the bitterness of woe.

THE MISER.

Most for the luxuries it bought — the pomp, 250

The praise, the glitter, fashion, and renown —
This yellow phantom follow'd and adored.
But there was one in folly farther gone ;

245-46. Offered up, &c:

Extol not riches then, the toil of fools,

The wise man's cumbrance if not snare, more apt

To slacken virtue, and abate her edge,

Than prompt her to do ought may merit praise.

Par. Reg. Bk. II. 453-455.

104 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

With eye awry, incurable, and wild,

The laughing-stock of devils and of men, 255

Anil by his guardian angel quite given up —

The miser, who with dust inanimate

Eeld wedded intercourse. Ill-guided wretch!

Thou mightst have seen him at the midnight hour,

When good men slept, and in light winged dreams 260

Ascended up to God, — in wasteful hall,

With vigilance and fasting worn to skin

And bone, and wrapp'd in most debasing rags, —

Thou mightst have seen him bending o'er his heaps,

And holding strange communion with his gold ; 265

And as his thievish fancy seem'd to hear

The night-man's foot approach, starting alarm'd,

And in his old, decrepit, wither'd hand,

That palsy shook, grasping the yellow earth

To make it sure. Of all God made upright, 2*70

And in their nostrils breathed a living soul,

Most fallen, most prone, most earthly, most debased.

Of all that sold Eternity for Time,

None bargain'd on so easy terms with death.

Illustrious fool ! nay, most inhuman wretch ! 275

He sat among his bags, and with a look

Which hell might he ashamed of, drove the pooi

Away unalms'd ; and midst abundance died —

Sorest of evils 1 died of utter want.

PLEASURE : HER FORM HER ATTRACTIONS HER DECEPTIONS.

Before this Shadow, in the vales of earth, 280

Foob saw another glide, which seem'd of more
[ntrinsic worth. Pleasure her nam* — good nam..
Though ill applied. A thousand forms she took,
A thousand garbs she wore; in every age
And clime changing, as in her votaries changed 285

BOOK THIKD. 105

Desire ; but, inwardly, the same in all.
Her most essential lineaments we trace ;
Her general features everywhere alike.

Of comely form she was, and fair of face ;
And underneath her eyelids sat a kind 290

Of witching sorcery, that nearer drew
Whoever with unguarded look beheld ;
A dress of gaudy hue loosely attired
Her loveliness ; her air and manner frank,
And seeming free of all disguise ; her song 295

Enchanting ; and her words, which sweetly dropp'd,
As honey from the comb, most large of promise,
Still prophesying days of new delight,
And rapturous nights of undecaying joy ;
And in her hand, where'er she went, she held 300

A radiant cup that seem'd of nectar full —
And by her side danced fair delusive Hope.
The fool pursued, enamor'd ; and the wise
Experienced man who reason'd much, and thought,
Was sometimes seen laying his wisdom down, 305

And vieing with the stripling in the chase.

Nor wonder thou : for she was really fair,
Deck'd to the very taste of flesh and blood.
And many thought her sound within, and gay
And healthy at the heart ; but thought amiss ; 310

For she was full of all disease : her bones
Were rotten ; consumption lick'd her blood, and drank
Her marrow up; her breath smelled mortally;
And in her bowels plague and fever lurk'd ;
And in her very heart, and reins, and life, 315

Corruption's worm gnaw'd greedily unseen.

THE HAUNTS OF PLEASURE.

Many her haunts. Thou mightst have seen her now
With Indolence, lolling on the mid-day couch,

106 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And whispering drowsy words ; and now at dawn,

Loudly and rough, joining (he sylvan born ; 320

Or sauntering in the park, and to the tale

Of slander giving ear ; or sitting fierce.

Rude, blasphemous, malicious, raving, mad,

Where fortune to the fickle die was bound.

But chief she loved the scene of deep debauch, 325

Where revelry, and dance, and frantic song,
Disturb'd the sleep of honest men. And where
The drunkard sat, she enter'd in, well pleased,
With eye brimful of wanton mirthfulness,
And urged him still to fill another cup. 330

And at the shadowy twilight — in the dark
And gloomy night, I look'd, and saw her come
Abroad, array'd in harlot's soft attire ;
And walk without in every street, and lie
In wait at eveiy corner, full of guile : 335

And, as the unwary youth of simple heart,
And void of understanding, pass'd, she caught
And kiss'd him, and with lips of lying, said :
I have peace-offerings with me ; I have paid
My vows this day ; and therefore came I forth 340

To meet thee, and to seek thee diligently,
To seek thy face, and I have found thee here.
My bed is deck'd with robes of tapestry,
With carved work, and sheets of linen fine ;
Perfumed with aloes, myrrh, and cinnamon. 345

Sweet are stolen waters ! pleasant is the bread
In secret eaten ! the good man is from home.
Come, let us take our fill of love till morn
Awake ; let us delight ourselves with loves.
With much fair speech she caused the youth to yield ; 350
And forced him with the flattering of her tongue.

331-G6. The author has here given a poetic version of the seventh
chapter of Solomon's Book of Proverbs, commencing at the ninth verse.

BOOK THIRD. 107

I look'd, and saw him follow to her house,

As goes the ox to slaughter ; as the fool

To the correction of the stocks ; or bird

That hastes into the subtle fowler's snare, 355

And knows not, simple thing, 'tis for its life.

I saw him enter in ; and heard the door

Behind them shut ; and in the dark still night,

When God's unsleeping eye alone can see,

He went to her adulterous bed. At morn 360

I look'd, and saw him not among the youths.

I heard his father mourn, his mother weep :

For none return'd that went with her. The dead

Were in her house ; her guests in depths of hell ;

She wove the winding-sheet of souls, and laid 365

Them in the urn of everlasting death.

Such was the shadow fools pursued on earth
Under the name of pleasure, — fair outside,
Within corrupted, and corrupting still :
Ruin'd, and ruinous: her sure reward, 370

Her total recompense, was still, as he,
The bard, recorder of Earth's Seasons, sung,
" Vexation, disappointment, and remorse."
Yet at her door the young and old, and some
Who held high character among the wise, 3*75

Together stood, — and strove among themselves,
Who first should enter and be ruin'd first.

Strange competition of immortal souls !
To sweat for death ! to strive for misery !
But think not Pleasure told her end was death. 380

Even human folly then had paused at least,
And given some signs of hesitation ; nor
Arrived so hot, and out of breath at woe.
Though contradicted every day by facts,

37 2. The bard, &c. : James Thomson, author of " The Seasons."

108 THE COT BSE OF TIME.

That Bophistry itself would stumble o*er, 385

And to the very teeth a liar proved

Ten thousand times, as if unconscious still

Of inward blame, she stood, and waved her hand

And pointed to her bower, and said to all

"Who pass'd : Take yonder flowery path ; my steps 390

Attend ; I lead the smoothest way to heaven ;

This world receive as surety for the next.

And many simple men, most simple, though

Eenown'd for learning much, and wary skill,

Believed, and turn'd aside, and were undone. 395

THE PURSUIT OF EARTHLY FAME.

Another leaf of finish*d Time we turn,
And read of Fame, terrestrial Fame, which died,
And rose not at the Resurrection morn.
Not that by virtue earn'd, the true renown,
Begun on earth, and lasting in the skies, 400

Worthy the lofty wish of seraphim, —
The approbation of the Eye thai sees
The end from the beginning, sees from cause
To most remote effect : of it we read

In book of God's remembrance, in tin- book 405

Of life, from which the quick and dead were judged ;
The book that lies upon the throne, and tells
Of glorious act- by saints and angels done;
The record of the holy, just, and good.

Of all the phantoms fleeting in the mist HO

Of Time, though meager all, and ghostly thin,
Most unsubstantial, unessential shade,
Was earthly Fame. Bhe was a voice alone,
And dwelt upon the noisy tongues of men.
She never thought ; but gabbled ever on ; 415

BOOK THIRD. 109

Applauding most 'what least deserved applause ;

The motive, the result, was naught to her :

The deed alone, though dyed in human gore,

And steep'd in widows' tears, if it stood out

To prominent display, she talk'd of much, 420

And roar'd around it with a thousand tongues.

As changed the wind her organ, so she changed

Perpetually ; and whom she praised to-day,

Vexing his ear with acclamation loud,

To-morrow blamed, and hiss'd him out of sight, 425

Such was her nature, and her practice such :
But, O ! her voice was sweet to mortal ears ;
And touch'd so pleasantly the strings of pride
And vanity, which in the heart of man
Were ever strung harmonious to her note, 430

That many thought, to live without her song
Was rather death than life : to live unknown,
Unnoticed, unrenown'd ! to die unpraised !
Unepitaph'd ! to go down to the pit,

And moulder into dust among vile worms, 435

And leave no whispering of a name on earth !

416. Appluud'mg most, &c: Milton, in his Paradise Regained, Book III.,
has some admirable lines on human praise :

For what is glory, but the blaze of fame,

The people's praise, if always praise unmix"d?

And what the people but a herd confused,

A miscellaneous rabble, who extol

Things vulgar, and well Weigh'd, scarce worth the praise?

They praise, and they admire they know not what,

And know not whom, but as one leads the other;

And what delight to be by such extolVd,

To live upon their tongues and be their talk,

Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise ?

His lot who dares be singularly good.

The intelligent among them and the wise

Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised.

This is true glory and renown, when God,

Looking on the earth, with approbation marks

The just man, and divulges him through Heaven

To all his angels, who with true applause

Eecount his praises.

110 TIIE COURSE OF TIME.

Such thought was cold about the heart, and chill'd

The blood. Who could endure it i who could choose,

Without a struggle, to be swept away

From all remembrance, and have part no more 440

With living men ? Philosophy fail'd here,

And self-approving pride. Hence it became

The aim of most, and main pursuit, to win

A name — to leave some vestige as they pass'd,

That following ages might discern they once 445

Had been on earth, and acted something there.

VARIOUS KOADS TO EARTHLY FAME.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried.
The man of science to the shade retired,
And laid his head upon his hand, in mood
Of awful thoughtfulness ; and dived, and dived 450

Again — deeper and deeper still, to sound
The cause remote — resolved, before he died
To make some grand discovery, by which
He should be known to all posterity.

And in the silent vigils of the night, 455

When uninspired men reposed, the bard,
Ghastly of countenance, and from his eye
Oft streaming wild unearthly fire, sat up
And sent imagination forth ; and search'd
The far and near — heaven, earth, and gloomy hell — 460
For fiction new, for thought unthought before;
And when some curious rare idea peer'd
Upon his mind, he dipp'd his hasty pen,
And by the glimmering lamp, or moonlight beam
That through his lattice peep'd, wrote fondly down 465
What seem'd in truth imperishable song.

And sometimes too, the reverend divine,
In meditation deep of holy things,

BOOK THIRD. Ill

And vanities of Time, heard Fame's sweet voice

Approach his ear — and hung another flower, 4*70

Of earthly sort, about the sacred truth ;

And ventured whiles to mix the bitter text

With relish suited to the sinner's taste.

And ofttimes too, the simple hind, who seem'd
Ambitionless, array 'd in humble garb, 475

"While round him, spreading, fed his harmless flock,
Sitting was seen, by some wild warbling brook,
Carving his name upon his favorite staff":
Or, in ill-favor'd letters, tracing it

Upon the aged thorn ; or on the face 480

Of some conspicuous oft frequented stone,
With persevering wondrous industry ;
And hoping, as he toil'd amain, and saw
The characters take form, some other wight,
Long after he was dead, and in his grave, 485

Should loiter there at noon and read his name.

In purple some, and some in rags, stood forth
For reputation ; some display'd a limb
Well-fashion'd : some of lowlier mind, a cane
Of curious workmanship, and marvellous twist : 490

In strength some sought it, and in beauty more :
Long, long the fair one labor'd at the glass,
And, being tired, call'd in auxiliar skill,
To have her sails, before she went abroad,
Full spread, and nicely set, to catch the gale 495

Of praise. And much she caught, and much deserved,
When outward loveliness was index fair
Of purity within : but oft, alas !
The bloom was on the skin alone ; and when
She saw, sad sight ! the roses on her cheek 500

Wither, and heard the voice of fame retire

472. Whiles: Sometimes.

112 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And die away, she heaved most piteous sighs,

And wept most lamentable tears : and whiles,

In wild delirium, made rash attempt —

Unholy mimicry of Nature's work ! — 505

To re-create, with frail and mortal things,

Her wither'd face. Attempt how fond and vain !

Her frame itself soon moulder'd down to dust ;

And, in the land of deep forgetfulness,

Her beauty and her name were laid beside 510

Eternal silence, and the loathsome worm ;

Into whose darkness flattery ventured not ;

Where none had ears to hear the voice of fame.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried,
And awful, oft, the wickedness they wrought. 515

To be observed, some scrambled up to thrones,
And sat in vestures dripping wet with gore.
The warrior dipp'd his sword in blood, and wrote
His name on lands and cities desolate,

The rich bought fields, and houses built, and raised 520

The monumental piles up to the clouds,
And call'd them by their names. And, strange to tell !
Rather than be unknown, and pass away
Obscurely to the grave, some, small of soul,
That else had perish'd unobserved, acquired 525

Considerable renown by oaths profane.

518-19. The warrior, &c; Read what Milton says on this topic:

They err who count it glorious to subdue

By conquest tar and wide, in overran

Large countries, and in field great littles win,

Great cities by assault What do these worthies,

But rol> and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave

Peaceable nations, neighboring or remold.

Made captive, yet deserving freedom more

Than those their conquerors, who leave bcbin.l

Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove,

And all the flourishing works of peace ilrstroy,

Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods,

Great beni factors of mankind, deliverers,

Worahipp'd with temple, priest, and sacrifice. — rar. Reg. Book III.

BOOK THIRD. 113

By jesting boldly with all sacred things,

And uttering fearlessly whate'er occurr'd ; —

Wild, blasphemous, perditionable thoughts,

That Satan in them moved ; by wiser men 530

Suppress'd, and quickly banish'd from the mind.

THE FOLLY OF CERTAIN CLASSES.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried :
But all in vain. Who grasp'd at earthly fame,
Grasp'd wind : nay, worse, a serpent grasp'd, that through
His hand slid smoothly, and was gone ; but left 535

A sting behind Avhich wrought him endless pain :
For oft her voice was old Abaddon's lure,
By which he charm'd the foolish soul to death.
So happiness was sought in pleasure, gold,
Renown — by many sought. But should I sing 540

Of all the trifling race, my time, thy faith,
Would fail — of things erectly organized,
And having rational, articulate voice,
And claiming outward brotherhood with man :
Of him that labor'd sorely, in his sweat 545

Smoking afar, then hurried to the wine,
Deliberately resolving to be mad :
Of him who taught the ravenous bird to fly
This way or that, thereby supremely blest :
Or rode in fury with the howling pack, 550

Affrontinp- much the noble animal

537. Abaddon : This name is applied in the Apocalypse (ix. 11) to the
angel of death and of the abyss or " bottomless pit." " And they had a
king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in
the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek tongue hath his name
Apollyon," or destroyer.

Our author seems to apply the term to Satan, who is emphatically a
destroyer of human happiness, by seducing men from the path of recti-
tude and of salvation.

11 4: THE COURSE OF TIME.

He spurr'd into sucli company : of him

Who down into the bowels of the earth

Descended deeply, to bring up the wreck

Of some old earthen ware, which having stow'd 555

With every proper care, he home return'd

O'er many a sea, and many a league of land,

Triumphantly to show the marvellous prize:

And him that vex'd his brain, and theories built

Of gossamer upon the brittle winds ; 560

Perplex'd exceedingly why shells were found

Upon the mountain-tops ; but wondering not

Why shells were found at all, more wondrous still !

Of him who strange enjoyment took in tales

Of fairy folk, and sleepless ghosts, and sounds 565

Unearthly, whispering in the ear of night

Disastrous things : and him who still foretold

Calamity which never came, and lived

In terror all his days of comets rude,

That should unmannerly and lawless drive 570

Athwart the path of earth, and burn mankind :

As if the appointed hour of doom, by God

Appointed, ere its time should come : as if

Too small the number of substantial ills,

And real fears to vex the sons of men. — 575

These, — had they not possess'd immortal souls,

And been accountable, might have been past

With laughter, and forgot ; but as it was,

And is — their folly asks a serious tear.

THE SKEPTIC'S ROUTE.

Keen was the search, and various, and wide, 580

For happiness. Take one example more —
So strange that common fools look'd on amazed ;
And wise and sober men together drew,

BOOK THIRD. 115

And trembling stood ; and angels in the heavens

Grew pale, and talk'd of vengeance as at hand — 585

The skeptic's route — the unbeliever's, who,

Despising reason, revelation, God,

And kicking 'gainst the pricks of conscience, rush'd

Deliriously upon the bossy shield

Of the Omnipotent ; and in his heart 590

Purposed to deify the idol Chance.

And labor'd hard — oh, labor worse than naught !

And toil'd with dark and crooked reasoning,

To make the fair and lovely Earth, which dwelt

In sight of Heaven, a cold and fatherless, 595

Forsaken thing, that wander'd on, forlorn,

Undestined, uncompassion'd, unupheld ;

A vapor eddying in the whirl of chance,

And soon to vanish everlastingly.

He travail'd sorely, and made many a tack, 600

His sails oft shifting, to arrive — dread thought !

Arrive at utter nothingness ; and have

Being no more — no feeling, memory,

No lingering consciousness that e'er he was.

Guilt's midnight wish ! last, most abhorred thought ! 605

Most desperate effort of extremest sin !

Others, preoccupied, ne'er saw true hope ;

He, seeing, aim'd to stab her to the heart,

And with infernal chemistry to wring

The last sweet drop from sorrow's cup of gall ; 610

To quench the only ray that cheer'd the earth,

And leave mankind in night which had no star.

Others the streams of pleasure troubled ; he

Toil'd much to dry her very fountain-head.

Unpardonable man ! sold under sin ! 615

He was the devil's pioneer, who cut

The fences down of virtue, sapp'd her walls,

And open'd a smooth and easy way to death.

116 THE OOTJBSE OF TIME.

Traitor to all existence ! to all life !

Soul-suicide! determined foe of being ! 620

Intended murderer of God, Most High !

Strange road, most strange ! to seek for happiness !

Hell's mad-houses are full of such ; too fierce,

Too furiously insane, and desperate,

To rage unbound 'inong evil spirits damn'd ! C25

Fertile was earth in many things : not least
In fools, who mercy both and judgment scorn'd ;
Scorn'd love, experience scorn'd : and onward rush'd
To swift destruction, giving all reproof,
And all instruction, to the winds ; and much 630

Of both they had — and much despised of both.

THE VOICE OF WISDOM AND THE VOICE OF UNIVERSAL NATURE
DISREGARDED BY THE MASS OF MANKIND.

Wisdom took up her harp, and stood in place
Of frequent concourse — stood in every gate
By every way, and walk'd in every street ;
And, lifting up her voice, proclaim'd : Be wise, 635

Ye fools ! be of an understanding heart.
Forsake the wicked : come not near his house :
Pass by : make haste : depart, and turn away.
Me follow — me, whose ways are pleasantness,
"Whose paths are peace, whose end is perfect joy. 640

The Seasons came and went, and went and came,
To teach men gratitude ; and as they jiass'd,
x Gave warning of the lapse of time, that else

632-640. Wisdom, &c. : The poet here imitates the language of Solo-
mon, id the beginning of the Book of Proverbs.

641-6*7'.). A passage of uncommon force and beauty, in which the phe-
nomena, and objects, and scenes of Nature are shown to hold forth moral
lessons to man of great variety and value. The Seasons in their rotation
— the dews of evening — the forest trees — the ancient solitary oak — the
Hocks and herds — the birds, the stream, the breeze — the cloud and the

BOOK THIRD. 117-

Ilad stolen unheeded by : the gentle Flowers

Retired, and, stooping o'er the wilderness, C45

Talk'd of humility, and peace, and love.

The Dews came down unseen at evening-tide,

And silently their bounties shed, to teach

Mankind unostentatious charity.

With arm in arm the forest rose on high, 650

And lesson gave of brotherly regard.

And, on the rugged mountain-brow exposed,

Bearing the blast alone — the ancient oak

Stood, lifting high his mighty arm, and still

To courage in distress exhorted loud. 655

The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the breeze,

Attuned the heart to melody and love.

Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept

Essential love ; and, from her glorious bow,

Bending to kiss the earth in token of peace, 660

With her own lips, her gracious lips, which God

Of sweetest accent made, she whisper'd still,

She whisper'd to Revenge — " Forgive, forgive !"

The Sun rejoicing round the earth, announced

Daily the wisdom, power, and love of God. 665

The Moon awoke, and from her maiden face,

Shedding her cloudy locks, look'd meekly forth,

And with her virgin stars walk'd in the heavens,

Walk'd nightly there, conversing as she walk'd

Of purity, and holiness, and God. 670

In dreams and visions, Sleep instructed much.

Day utter'd speech to day, and night to night

Taught knowledge. Silence had a tongue : the grave,

The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each

rainbow — the sun, moon, and stars — sleep — day — night — silence — the
grave — darkness and the lonely waste — thunders — lightning — storm and
ocean — all these bear their message to man, as the poet beautifully seta
forth.

118 TIIE COUKSE OF TIME.

A tongue that ever said — Man ! think of God ! 675

Think of thyself! think of eternity !

Fear God, the thunders said ; fear God, the waves ;

Fear God, the lightning of the storm replied ;

Fear God, deep loudly answer'd back to deep.

OVER MERCY AND OVER JUDGMENTS MEN RUSH ON TO MISERY.

And in the temples of the Holy One — 680

Messiah's messengers, the faithful few —
Faithful 'mong many false — the Bible open'd,
And cried : Repent ! repent, ye sons of men !
Believe, be saved : and reason'd awfully
Of temperance, righteousness, and judgment soon 685

To come — of ever-during life and death.
And chosen bards from age to age awoke
The sacred lyre, and full on folly's ear,
Numbers of righteous indignation pour'd.
And God, omnipotent, when mercy fail'd, 690

Made bare his holy arm ; and with the stroke
Of vengeance smote ; the fountains of the deep
Broke up ; heaven's windows open'd, and sent on men
A flood of wrath ; sent plague and famine forth ;
With earthquake rock'd the world beneath ; with storms
Above laid cities waste, and turn'd fat lands 696

To barrenness ; and with the sword of war
In fury march'd, and gave them blood to drink.
Angels remonstrated : Mercy beseech'd :
Heaven smiled, and frown'd : Hell groan'd : Time fled :
Death shook 700

His dart, and threaten'd to make repentance vain. —
Incredible assertion ! men rush'd on
Determinedly to ruin : shut their ears,
Their eyes to all advice, to all reproof —
O'er mercy and o'er judgment downward rush'd 705

BOOK THIED. 119

To misery ; and, most incredible

Of all ! to misery rush'd along the way

Of disappointment and remorse, where still

At every step, adders, in Pleasure's form, .

Stung mortally ; and Joys, — whose bloomy cheeks 710

Seem'd glowing high with immortality,

Whose bosom prophesied superfluous bliss,

While in the arms received, and lock'd in close

And riotous embrace, turn'd pale, and cold,

And died, and smell'd of putrefaction rank : 715

Turn'd, in the very moment of delight,

A loathsome, and heavy corpse, that with the clear

And hollow eyes of Death, stared horribly.

All tribes, all generations of the earth,
Thus wantonly to ruin drove alike. 720

We heard indeed of golden and silver days ;
And of primeval innocence unstain'd —
A pagan tale ! but by baptized bards,
Philosophers, and statesmen, who were still
Held wise and cunning men, talk'd of so much, 725

, That most believed it so, and ask'd not why.

721. Golden and silver days : The ancient poets wrote of four ages.
The first, or golden age, aurea a?tas, when there was a perpetual spring,
and the earth produced her harvests spontaneously, without culture, and
man,

" Yindicenullo

Sponte sui sine lege fidem rectumque colebat,"

was coeval with the reign of Saturn on earth.

The next, or silver age, argentia atas, was marked by the change of
seasons, and the division and cultivation of lands.

The third, or brazen age, mnea cetas, is described as

" Ssevlor ingeniis, et ad horrida promptior arma ;
Nee scelerata tamen."

And then came the last, or iron age,ferrea atas, full of all sorts of
hardships and wickedness, 'which still 'continues. — (Ovidii Metamorpk. I.
89.) Brande.

723. Baptized bards : Christian bards — in name at least.

120 THE COrRSE OF TIME.

MAN S HISTORY, A DARK RECORD.

The pair, the family first made, were ill ;
And for their great peculiar sin incurr'd
The Curse, and left it due to all their race ;
And bold example gave of every crime — 730

Hate, murder, unbelief, reproach, revenge.
A time, 'tis true, there came, of which thou soon
Shalt hear, the Sabbath Day, the Jubilee
Of Earth, when righteousness and peace prevail'd.
This time except, who writes the history 735

Of men, and writes it true, must write them bad :
Who reads, must read of violence and blood.
The man who could the story of one day
Peruse, the wrongs, oppressions, cruelties,
Deceits, and perjuries, and vanities, 740

Rewarded worthlessness, rejected worth,
Assassinations, robberies, thefts, and wars,
Disastrous accidents, life thrown away,
Divinity insulted, Heaven despised,

Religion scorn'd ; — and not been sick at night, 745

And sad, had gather'd greater store of mirth,
Than ever wise man in the world could find.

121-8. The pair, &c. : Adam and Eve — whose sin was peculiarly
great, because committed in a state of innocence, of condescending fel-
lowship on the part of their Maker, of unbounded sources of innocent
enjoyment, and in the full maturity of their powers. It was committed
against a plain, positive prohibition of their Divine Benefactor, in defi-
ance of an appalling threatening. It was a direct insult to all God's
goodness hitherto displayed before them, and also to his veracity. It
was a sin that should not terminate upon themselves alone, but extend
to the race in all future ages. It was the inlet to all the sin aud to all
the woe of earth.

BOOK TLTLRD.

121

WISDOM, AS DEFINED BY GOD AND BY MEN OF THE WORLD J
OR GODLY AND WORLDLY WISDOM CONTRASTED.

One cause of folly, one especial cause,
"Was this — few knew what wisdom was, though well
Defined in God's own words, and printed large, 750

On heaven and earth in characters of light,
And sounded in the ear by every wind.

Wisdom is humble, said the voice of God.
'Tis proud, the world replied. Wisdom, said God,
Forgives, forbears, and suffers, not for fear 755

Of man, but God. Wisdom revenges, said
The world ; is quick and deadly of resentment ;
Thrusts at the very shadow of affront,
And hastes, by death, to wipe its honor clean.
Wisdom, said God, loves enemies, entreats, 760

Solicits, begs for peace. Wisdom, replied
The world, hates enemies ; will not ask peace,
Conditions spurns, and triumphs in their fall.
Wisdom mistrusts itself, and leans on heaven,
Said God. It trusts and leans upon itself, 765

The world replied. Wisdom retires, said God,
And counts it bravery to bear reproach,
And shame, and lowly poverty upright ;
And weeps with all who have just cause to weep.
Wisdom, replied the world, struts forth to gaze ; 770

Treads the broad stage of life with clamorous foot ;
Attracts all praises ; counts it bravery
Alone to wield the sword, and rush on death ;
And never weeps, but for its own disgrace.
Wisdom, said God, is highest, when it stoops 775

Lowest before the Holy Throne, throws down
Its crown abased, forgets itself, admires,
And breathes adoring praise. There wisdom stoops
Indeed, the world replied — there stoops, because

122 THE COURSE OF TIME.

It must : but stoops with dignity ; and thinks 780

And meditates the while of inward worth.

Thus did Almighty God, and thus the world,
Wisdom define. And most the world believed,
And boldly called the truth of God a lie.
Hence he that to the worldly wisdom shaped 785

His character, became the favorite
Of men — was honorable term'd ; a man
Of spirit ; noble, glorious, lofty soul !
And as he cross'd the- earth in chase of dreams,
Received prodigious shouts of warm applause. 790

Hence, who to godly wisdom framed his life,
Was counted mean, and spiritless, and vile;
And as he walk'd obscurely in the path
Which led to heaven, fools hiss'd with serpent tongue
And pour'd contempt upon his holy head ; 795

And pour'd contempt on all who praised his name.

But false as this account of wisdom was —
The world's I mean — it was its best : the creed
Of sober, grave, and philosophic men,

With much research and cogitation framed ; 800

Of men, who with the vulgar scorn'd to sit.

THE VOICE OF THE BIBLE AND OF THE MULTITUDE IN REGARD

TO WISDOM.

The popular belief seem'd rather worse,
AVhen heard replying to the voice of truth.
The wise man, said the Bible, walks with God,
Surveys, far on, the endless line of life ; 805

Values his soul; thinks of eternity;
Both worlds considers, and provides for both;
With reason's eye his passions guards ; abstains
From evil ; lives on hope, on hope, the fruit
Of faith ; looks upward ; purifies his soul ; 810

BOOK THIRD. 123

Expands his wings, and mounts into the sky ;
Passes the sun, and gains his Father's house ;
And drinks with angels from the fount of bliss.

The multitude aloud replied (replied
By practice, for they were no bookish men, 815

Nor apt to form their principles in words),
The wise man first of all eradicates,
As much as possible, from out his mind,
All thought of death, God, and Eternity ;
Admires the world, and thinks of Time alone; 820

Avoids the Bible, all reproof avoids ;
Rocks conscience, if he can, asleep ; puts out
The eye of reason ; prisons, tortures, binds
And makes her thus, by violence and force,
Give wicked evidence against herself: 825

Lets passion loose ; the substance leaves ; pursues
The shadow vehemently, but ne'er o'ertakes ;
Puts by the cup of holiness and joy ;
And drinks, carouses deeply in the bowl
Of death; grovels in dust; pollutes, destroys 830

His soul ; is miserable to acquire
More misery ; deceives to be deceived ;
Strives, labors to the last, to shun the truth ;
Strives, labors to the last, to damn himself;
Turns desperate, shudders, groans, blasphemes, and dies, 835
And sinks — where could he else ? — to endless woe,
And drinks the wine of God's eternal wrath.

GODLY AND WORLDLY WISDOM, INCAPABLE OF UNION.

The learned thus, and thus the unlearn'd world,

"Wisdom defined — in sound they disagreed ;

In substance, in effect, in end the same ; 840

And equally to God and truth opposed ;

Opposed as darkness to the light of heaven.

124 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Yet were there some that seem'd well-meaning men,

Who systems plann'd, express'd in supple words,

Which praised the man as wisest, that in one 845

United both ; pleased God, and pleased the world ;

And with the saint, and with the sinner had,

Changing his garb, unseen, a good report.

And many thought their definition best,

And in their wisdom grew exceeding wise. 850

Union abhorr'd! dissimulation vain !
Could holiness embrace the harlot sin !
Could life wed death ? could God with Mammon dwell ?
Oh, foolish men ! oh, men forever lost !
In spite of mercy lost, in spite of wrath ! 855

In spite of Disappointment and Remorse,
"Which made the way to ruin ruinous !

REMORSE AND DISAPPOINTMENT THE PROGENY OF SIN.

Ilear what they were : — the progeny of sin
Alike, and oft combined ; but differing much
In mode of giving pain. As felt the gross, 8G0

Material part, when in the furnace cast,
So felt the soul ; the victim of remorse.
It was a fire which on the verge of God's
Commandments burn'd, and on the vitals fed
Of all who pass'd. Who pass'd, there met remorse ; 865
A violent fever seized his soul ; the heavens
Above, the earth beneath, seem'd glowing brass,
Heated seven times ; he heard dread voices speak,
And mutter horrid prophecies of pain,
Severer and severer yet to come : 8"70

And as he writhed and quiver'd, scorch'd within,
The fury round his torrid temples flapp'd
Her fiery wings, and breathed upon his lips
And parched tongue, the wither'd blasts of hell.

BOOK THIRD. 125

It was the suffering begun, thou saw'st 875

In symbol of the Worm that never dies.

The other — Disappointment, rather seem'd

Negation of delight. It was a thing

Sluggish and torpid, tending towards death.

Its breath was cold, and made the sportive blood 880

Stagnant, aud dull, and heavy round the wheels

Of life ; the roots of that whereon it blew,

Decay'd, and with the genial soil no more

Held sympathy — the leaves, the branches droop'd,

And moulder' d slowly down to formless dust ; 885

Not toss'd and driven by violence of winds ;

But withering where they sprung, and rotting there.

Long disappointed, disappointed still,

The hopeless man, hopeless in his main wish,

As if returning back to nothing, felt; 890

In strange vacuity of being hung,

And roll'd and roll'd his eye on emptiness

That seem'd to grow more empty every hour.

A PASSAGE IN THE AUTHOR'S LIFE DISAPPOINTMENT TURNED

TO HIS OWN ADVANTAGE.

— One of this mood I do remember well :

We name him not — what now are earthly names ? 895

875-6. It was, &c. : See Book I. 176-204.

894. One of this mood, &c. : The description that follows seems so ap-
propriate to the poet himself, to the circumstances of his birth, and of his
struggle with various disappointments, that no hazard is incurred by re-
ferring it to him. Indeed, it is so referred by his brother, in the memoir
of the poet; and the justness of the reference is evident from the follow-
ing extracts of a letter which the poet had written to him in October,
1824. It reveals to us many interesting views of the poet's mind and
character, when he began to write in verse.

" From the first moment I turned my attention to literature, I

felt within me a strong desire, not without much confidence of success,
of doing something in that way that might benefit both my contempora-
ries, and those who should come after me. For some time desire and

126 THE COURSE OF TIME.

In humble dwelling born, retired, remote,
In rural quietude ; 'mong bills, and streams,
And melancholy deserts, where the sun
Saw, as he pass'd, a shepherd only, here

faith increased : and however much my studies might be hindered, and
my hours, now and then, saddened by the want of health and accidental
vexations, the march of my improvement was rapid, and the tenor of my
way glorious and happy. I finished whatever I undertook; and, al-
though seldom pleased with the execution, yet often satisfied. I never
envied my companions, nor even any of my contemporaries ; for I was
daily bringing my soul to the trial of those standards of excellence which
Time hath left standing behind him, and which come more into view,
and are established more firmly by every hour that passes over

them."

" l'oetry had been hitherto the darling of my soul ; and all my studies
had been conducted, and my observations on the world made, with the
design of accomplishing myself in that art, for which I thought nature
had intended me. But I could not bear the idea of writing hastily, or
of being forced to let any thing out of my hands, before 1 had made it as
perfect as I could by time and pains. Especially in that, divine art, which
I looked upon, and which I do still look upon, as the noblest employment
of the mind of man, 1 could not, for a moment, endure the thought of
making an attempt, hurried by the pressure of circumstances; or of
making anything of that sort public, that I did not think excellent at
least myself. Then first my mind began to shift its aim, and to think of
the shortest road to independence. Then first envy of the fortune of
those who are born to affluence rankled in my breast, and I began to
acknowledge the force of circumstances over the mind, and to feel how
much, indeed, genius is

' Checked by tho scoff of pride, by envy's frown,
And poverty's unconquerable bar.'

"The immediate need of realizing money, put me upon a thousand
schemings averse to my nature, which, after they had been entertained
for a little, were laid aside for others, as soon abandoned, from the same
cause. Accident, about this lime, drove me into a path which did, in-
deed, gain me something, but which was so totally different from that
track in which I had been preparing myself to move, that I neither
wished, nor could hope, to excel in it. (lie refers to the composition of
three well-written tales.) To write below one's own ideas of excellence,
to write sometimes merely to till up a certain number of pages, to write
against inclination, and habit of thought — oh, it is anguish inexpressible 1
It is worse, surely worse, than want itself. But there were many re-
spectable paths in polite literature, as well as my favorite one, in which I

BOOK TniKD.

127

And there, watching his little flock; or heard 900

The ploughman talking to his steers — his hopes,

His morning hopes, awoke before him, smiling,

Among the dews, and holy mountain airs ;

And fancy color'd them with every hue

Of heavenly loveliness ; but soon his dream 905

had some inclination to enter, and for the prosecution of which I had
some conviction of ability ; and I had a hundred times nearly resolved

to commence my career in some one of them. But"

"Becoming more wavering with every broken resolution, and more
careless what I should choose to do as the pressure of circumstances was
more severely felt, I sometimes threw an eye over those unhallowed re-
gions in which so many of the sons of genius sport themselves amidst the
smiles of fortune ; and although I knew that on them and their works
would soon come down the clouds of deep and everlasting forgetfulness —
almost regardless of the true voice of fame, which the praise of God and
nature, given to real excellence, and which is never first uttered by the
multitude — almost regardless of the voice of my Creator, speaking in my
conscience — there were moments when I thought of venturing on the
unhallowed ground, however dreadful might be the consequences. But
God did not leave me to myself. The resolution of engaging in what
should be of bad result, or even productive only of negative good, van-
ished before it was made, and my soul trembled at the recollection of it.

"While my mind was thus agitated with a multitude of hostile
thoughts, poetry, which I held too sacred to be mingled with tliem, was
shut up in the secret recesses of my heart, and I still indulged the hope
that whatever should engage me for a time, should not prevent me from
devoting to it, ere long, my chief attention. But, like the flower that
has been removed from the rays of the sun, and the breezes of health, I
saw it withering in a soil which had ceased to cherish it. The ideas
which I had collected with pleasure, and which I reckoned peculiarly
my own, were dropping away one after another. Fancy was return-
ing from her flight ; Memory giving up her trust ; what was vigorous
becoming weak; and what was cheerful and active, dull and indolent."
The ideas last expressed are more fully detailed in the poem, 962-68.
His brother adds to the quotations above : " Thus far he had proceeded
in writing; and here he has stopped, and left the account unfinished.
With what sympathetic feelings of wonder and distressful concern does
it leave us! It is the less to be regretted, however, that he has not fin-
ished it, as the subject has been resumed in a passage in his published
writings, and so far prosecuted as to form, in effect, a conclusion to the
letter. It commences with

' One of this mood I do remember well.' "

128 THE COCTRSE OF TIME.

Of childhood fled away — those rainbow dreams,

So innocent and fair, that wither 1 d age,

Even at the grave, clear'd up his dusty eye,

And, passing all between, look'd fondly back

To see them once again ere he departed. 910

These fled away — and anxious thought, that wish'd

To go, yet whither knew not well to go,

Possess'd his soul, and held it still a while.

He listen'd, and heard from far the voice of Fame —

Heard, and was charm'd ; and deep and sudden vow 915

Of resolution made to be renown'd ;

And deeper vow'd again to keep his vow.

His parents saw — his parents, whom God made

Of kindest heart — saw, and indulged his hope.

The ancient page he turn'd ; read much ; thought much ; 920

And with old bards of honorable name

Measured his soul severely ; and look'd up

To fame, ambitious of no second place.

Hope grew from inward faith, and promised fair :

And out before him open'd many a path 925

Ascending, where the laurel highest waved

Her branch of endless green. He stood admiring ;

But stood, admired, not long. The harp he seized ;

The harp he loved — loved better than his life —

The harp which utter'd deepest notes, and held 930

The ear of thought a captive to its song.

He search'd, and meditated much ; and whiles

With rapturous hand in secret touch'd the lyre,

Aiming at glorious strains — and search'd again

For theme deserving of immortal verse ; 835

Chose now, and now refused unsatisfied ;

Pleased, then displeased, and hesitating still.

Thus stood- his mind, when round him came a cloud :

Slowly and heavily it came ; a cloud

Of ills we mention not : enough to say 9-i0

BOOK THIRD. 129

'Twas cold, and dead, impenetrable gloom.

He saw its dark approach ; and saw his hopes,

One after one, put out, as nearer still

It drew his soul : but fainted not at first ;

Fainted not soon. He knew the lot of man 945

"Was trouble, and prepared to bear the worst :

Endure whate'er should come, without a sigh

Endure, and drink, even to the very dregs,

The bitterest cup that Time could measure out ;

And, having done, look up and ask for more. 950

He call'd Philosophy, and with his heart

Reason' d : he call'd Eeligion too, but call'd

Reluctantly, and therefore was not heard.

Ashamed to be o'ermatch'd by earthly woes,

He sought, and sought with eyes that dimm'd apace, 955

To find some avenue to light, some place
On which to rest a hope — but sought in vain.

Dark and darker still the darkness grew :

At length he sunk, and Disappointment stood
His only comforter, and mournfully 900

Told all was past. His interest in life,
In being, ceased : and now he seem'd to feel,
And shudder'd as he felt, his powers of mind
Decaying in the spring time of his day :
The vigorous weak became ; the clear, obscure ; 965

Memory gave up her charge ; Decision reel'd ;
And from her flight Fancy return'd, return'd
Because she found no nourishment abroad.
The blue heavens wither'd, and the moon, and sun,
And all the stars, and the green earth, and morn 9*70

And evening wither'd ; and the eyes, and smiles,
And faces of all men and women wither'd ;
Wither'd to him ; and all the universe,
Like something which had been, appear'd ; but now
Was dead and mouldering fast away. He tried 975

130 THE COURSE OF TIME.

No more to hope : wish'd to forget his vow :

"Wish'd to forget his harp ; then ceased to wish.

That was his hist. Enjoyment now was done.

He had no hope — no wish — and scarce a fear.

Of heing sensible, and sensible 980

Of loss, he as some atom seem'd, which God

J lad made superfluously, and needed not

To build creation with ; but back again

To Nothing threw, and left it in the void,

With everlasting sense that once it was. 985

Oh, who can tell what days, what nights he spent
Of tideless, waveless, sailless, shoreless woe !
And who can tell how many, glorious once,
To others and themselves of promise full,
Conducted to this pass of human thought, 990

This wilderness of intellectual death,
Wasted and pined, and vanish'd from the earth,
Leaving: no vestige of memorial there!

It was not so with him : when thus he lay
Forlorn of heart, wither'd, and desolate, 905

As leaf of Autumn, which the wolfish winds,
Selecting from its tailing sisters, ehase
Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes,
And leave it there alone, to be forgotten
Eternally — God pass'd in mercy by — I 000

His praise be ever new ! — and on him breathed
Am! bade him live; and put into his hands

1000-1008. This passage receives important illustration from a letter
which the poet addressed to his brother, dated at Glasgow, Jan. 8, 1825.
The following quotations will be read with interest:

" Before the new year I had about three weeks of glorious study
Soaring in the pure ether of eternity, and linking my thoughts to the
everlasting throne, 1 felt the healthy breezes of immortality revive my
intellectual nerves, and found a point unshaken and unthreatened by the
roekings and stormings of the world. Blank verse, the language of as-
sembled gods, the language of eternity, was the form into which my

BOOK THIRD. 131

A holy harp, into his lips a song,

That roll'd its numbers down the tide of Time.

Ambitious now but little to be praised 1005

Of men alone ; ambitious most to be

Approved of God, the Judge of all ; and have

His name recorded in the book of life.

Such things were Disappointment and Remorse ;
And oft united both, as friends severe, • 1010

To teach men wisdom : but the fool, untaught,
Was foolish still. His ear he stopp'd ; his eyes
He shut ; and blindly, deafly obstinate,
Forced desperately his waj' from woe to woe.

TEACHINGS OF THE DEATH-DED.

One place, one only place, there was on earth, 1015

Where no man ere was fool — however mad.
" Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die."
Ah ! 'twas a truth most true ; and sung in Time,
And to the sons of men, by one well known
On earth for lofty verse, and lofty sense. 1020

Much hast thou seen, fair youth ! much heard ; but thou

thoughts fell. Some of them, I trust, shall outlive me in this world ; and
nothing, I hope, shall make me ashamed to meet them in the next.
Thoughts, acquirements, appendages of any kind, that cannot be carried
with us out of time into the help and solace of our eternity, but must be
left the unredeemed and unredeemable of death, are little worth harbor-
ing about us. It is the everlastingness of a thing that gives it weight and
importance. And surely it is not impossible, even now, to have thoughts
and ideas, that may be transported over the vale of death, and not be re-
fused the stamp and signature of the Eternal King," &c.

This letter indicates that Pollok had now fouad a subject to write
upon, and had commenced his great poem in the beginning of December,
1824, when he had recently entered on his twenty-seventh year. In
February, 1825, some account is given, in a letter, of his progress in the
poem. Quotations from that letter are inserted in note 11, Book I.

1019-20. By one well known, etc. : Edward Young, author of the im-
mortal " Night Thoughts."

132 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Hast never seen a death-bed, never beard

A dying groan. Men saw it often : 'twas sad,

To all most sorrowful and sad — to gnilt

'Twas anguish, terror, darkness, without bow. 1025

But oh, it had a most convincing tongue,

A potent oratory, that secured

Most mute attention : and it spoke the truth

So boldly, plainly, perfectly distinct,

That none the meaning could mistake, or doubt ; 1030

And had withal a disenchanting power,

A most omnipotent and wondrous power,

Which in a moment broke, forever broke,

And utterly dissolved the charms, and spells,

And cunning sorceries of Earth and Hell. 1035

And thus it spoke to him who ghastly lay,

And struggled for another breath : Earth's cup

Is poison'd ; her renown, most infamous ;

Her gold, seem as it may, is really dust ;

Her titles, slanderous names ; her praise, reproach ; 1040

Her strength, an idiot's boast ; her wisdom, blind ;

Her gain, eternal loss ; her hope, a dream ;

Her love, her friendship, enmity with God ;

Her promises, a lie ; her smile, a harlot's ;

Her beauty, paint, and rotten within ; her pleasures, 1045

Deadly assassins mask'd ; her laughter, grief;

Her breasts, the sting of Death ; her total sum,

Her all, most utter vanity ; and all

Her lovers mad, insane most grievously,

And most insane, because they know it nut. 1050

Thus did the mighty reasoner, Death, declare;
And volumes more: and in one word confirm'd
The Bible whole — Eternity is all.
But few spectators, few believed of those

■

LOOK THIKD. 133

Who stay'd behind. The wisest, best of men, 1055

Believed not to the letter full ; but turn'd,

And on the world look'd forth, as if they thought

The well-trimm'd hypocrite had something still

Of inward worth : the dying man alone

Gave faithful audience, and the words of Death 1060

To the last jot believed ; believed and felt ;

But oft, alas ! believed and felt too late.

HAD EARTH NO JOTS ?

And had Earth, then, no joys ? no native sweets,
No happiness, that one who spoke the truth
Might call her own ? She had ; true, native sweets ! 1065
Indigenous delights, which up the Tree
Of holiness, embracing as the}'' grew,
Ascended and bore fruit of heavenly taste,
In pleasant memory held, and talk'd of oft,
By yonder saiuts who walk the golden streets 10*70

Of New Jerusalem, and compass round
The throne, with nearest vision blest — of these
Hereafter thou shalt hear, delighted hear,
One page of beauty in the life of man.

1074. At the close of this Book is the most fitting place for introdu-
cing some of the author's embarrassments in prosecuting the poem to
its completion. He was now destitute of means for pursuing the theolo-
gical studies in which he was engaged, and had become exceedingly de-
pressed in spirits. To extricate himself from this wretchedness, he asks
his brother's advice upon the expediency of sending the first three books
of his poem to Edinburgh, for publication.

His brother remonstrates strongly against such premature publica-
tion in the following terms : " Even the stubbornest necessity could not,
for aught I yet know, extort from me a reluctant consent to their pub-
lication alone. I would rather write the remaining books in a jail, where
many a great and good man has written, than publish such a work in
parts. Sooner would I see a first-rate man-of-war taken and launched,
plank by plank, on the merciless ocean, than to see that poem published,
book by book, to the critic and thankless world."

134 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The writer then generously proposes to the poet to exert himself to
the utmost to support him, so long as he might he occupied in the com-
position of his poem.

To this proposition the following response was given, dated Glasgow,
May 28, 182G :

" Dear Brother — You know that my desire is to finish the poem, in
which I am engaged, before intermeddling with any other concern. Hut,
you know, also, that to enable me to do this, would require a considera-
ble quantity of money. Besides, when the work is finished, its success,
at least, as far as money is concerned, is very uncertain. Now, were I
to keep back from ' holy orders,' after so long a preparation, and at the
same time be gaining nothing, what would be the cry of those who al-
ready reproach me with my indolence ? My money embarrassments, add-
ed to these ideas, make it difficult for me to pursue a work with calmness
and serenity — difficult, I say, but not impossible ; for since your letter
reached me, I have trampled many of these perplexing thoughts beneath
my feet. It is not the assistance which you meditate, for you must not
involve yourself on my account, but the spirit which it breathes. I feel
as if I had all your vigor and fortitude added to my own. My resolution
was waning, my thoughts were driving at random, and my whole mental
energies were dispersed and scattered, when your letter, like the encour-
aging voice of a well-known commander, in the hour of doubtful conflict,
in a moment collected the scattered, and confirmed the wavering; so that
I have determined, as far as my health will permit, calmly to pursue my

poem, and, in the strength of God, I hope to complete it I shall,

if God so assist me, proceed with my poem, keeping up at the same time
my theological studies, till after the Hall, when we shall take counsel of
future proceeding."

Three day3 after the date of the above letter, having finished six books
of the poem, he proceeded with uncommon energy and success to its
completion in an incredibly short period of time ; the account of which is
given in another letter to his brother, bearing date, at Moorhouse, of July
1, 1826, and a copy of which will be inserted at the end of the poem.

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK IV.

BOOK IV

ANALYSIS.

The essence of earthly liberty and independence was united with lust
for power ; " each sought to make all subject to his will," while real
liberty was the freedom from sin : he only was free " whom the truth
of God made free."

Strange conflicts exhibited by the inconsistent and opposite principles of
the Christian heart. Yet final victory was found on the side of holi-
ness, and after all bis internal struggles, the Christian was triumphant,
and lirought to the world of glory.

The Books composed in Time, together with their authors, were doomed
to oblivion under the curs*e which returns dust to dust.

The Books entitled "The Medicine of the Mind," which were written for
the help of virtue, were alone exempted from oblivion.

The inscrutable and mysterious providences of God, why deeds decreed
were accountable, the Trinity, and Incarnation, were subjects which
Theology, Philosophy, Fancy, and finite wisdom toiled in vain to com-
prehend.

The unequal distribution of worldly possessions and intellectual gifts,
plainly taught that God did not estimate men by outward circum-
stances only, or by their knowledge, but by their moral worth. Illus-
trated by the lustory of the gifted Byron.

&h v §nn$$ af &im$.

BOOK IV

The world had much of strange and wonderful :
In passion much, in action, reason, will ;
And much in Providence, which still retired
From human eye, and led philosophy,

That ill her ignorance liked to own, through dark 5

And dangerous paths of speculation wild.
Some striking features, as we pass, we mark,
In order such as memory suggests.

•

THE LUST OF POWER, UNDER VARIOUS NAMES.

One passion prominent appears — the lust
Of power, which ofttimes took the fairer name 10

Of liberty, and hung the popular flag
Of freedom out. Many, indeed, its names.
When on the throne it sat, and round the neck
Of millions riveted its iron chain,

And on the shoulders of the people laid 15

Burdens unmerciful — it title took
Of tyranny, oppression, despotism ;
And every tongue was weary cursing it.
When in the multitude it gather'd strength,
And, like an ocean bursting from its bounds, 20

Long beat in vain, went forth resistlessly,

138 THE COURSE OF TIME.

It bore the stamp and designation, then,

Of popular fury, anarchy, rebellion —

And honest men bewail'd all order void ;

All laws annull'd ; all property destroy'd : 25

The venerable, murder'd in the streets ;

The wise, despised ; streams, red with human blood;

Harvests, beneath the frantic foot trode down ;

Lands, desolate ; and famine, at the door.

These are a part ; but other names it had, 30

Innumerous as the shapes and robes it wore.
But under every name — in nature still
Invariably the same, and always bad.
We own, indeed, that oft against itself
It fought, and sceptre both and people gave 35

An equal aid, as long exemplified
In Albion's isle — Albion, queen of the seas —
And in the struggle, something like a kind
Of civil liberty grew up, the best

Of mere terrestrial root; but sickly too, 40

And living only, strange to tell ! in strife
Of factions equally contending; dead,
That very moment dead, that one prevail'd.

Conflicting cruelly against itself,
By its own hand it fell ; part slaying part. 45

And men who noticed not the suicide,
Stood wondering much, why earth from age to age,
Was still enslaved, and erring causes gave.

This was earth's liberty, its nature this,
However named, in whomsoever found — 50

:;7. Albion's isle : Tin' island of Great Britain first received this name
from Julius Caesar, its Roman invader. Tin' name was given inconse-
quence <>f the white chalky cliffs which form the distinguishing feature of
the southern coast, upon which Caesar landed. Great Britain, from her
extensive commerce ami great naval power, thus far deserves to be enti-
tled " Queen of the ^eas."

BOOK FOURTH. 139

And found it was in all of woman born —

Each man to make all subject to his will ;

To make them do, undo, eat, drink, stand, move,

Talk, think, and feel, exactly as he chose.

Hence the eternal strife of brotherhoods, 55

Of individuals, families, commonwealths.

The root from which it grew was pride — bad root !

And bad the fruit it bore. Then wonder not

That long the nations from it richly reap'd

Oppression, slavery, tyranny, and war; 60

Confusion, desolation, trouble, shame.

And, marvellous though it seem, this monster, when

It took the name of slavery, as oft

It did, had advocates to plead its cause ;

Beings that walk'd erect, and spoke like men ; 65

Of Christian parentage descended too,

And dipp'd in the baptismal font, as sign

Of dedication to the Prince who bow'd

To death, to set the sin-bound prisoner free.

Unchristian thought ! on what pretence soe'er 10

Of right inherited, or else acquired ;
Of loss, or profit, or what plea you name,
To buy and sell, to barter, whip, and hold
In chains, a being of celestial make —
Of kindred form, of kindred faculties ; 75

Of kindred feelings, passions, thoughts, desires,
Born free, and heir of an immortal hope : —
Thought villanous, absurd, detestable !
Unworthy to be harbor'd in a fiend !

And only overreach'd in wickedness 80

By that, birth too of earthly liberty,
Which aim'd to make a reasonable man
By legislation think, and by the sword
Believe. This was that liberty renown'd,
Those ecmal rights of Greece and Rome, where men, 85

140 THE COURSE OF TIME.

All, but a few, were bought, and sold, and scourged,
And kill'd, as interest or caprice enjoin'd :
In aftertimes talk'd of, written of so much,
That most, by sound and custom led away,
Believed the essence answer'd to the name. 90

Historians on this theme were long and warm.
Statesmen, drunk with the fumes of vain debate,
In lofty swelling phrase, call'd it perfection ;
Philosophers its rise, advance, and fall,
Traced carefully ; and poets kindled still 95

As memory brought it up — their lips were touch'd
With fire, and utter'd words that men adored.
Even he — true bard of Zion, holy man !
To whom the Bible taught this precious verse,
" He is the freeman whom the truth makes free," 100

By fashion, though by fashion little sway'd,
Scarce kept his harp from pagan freedom's praise.
The captive prophet, whom Jehovah gave

98. True bard of Zion, (fcc. : Cow per, who has written with matchless
power on the subject of freedom and its opposite, in the " Task," Book
IL 20-47 ; Book V. 331-378 ; 446-508 ; 733-778. A few lines, embra-
cing the one quoted (100) by our author, will here be read with interest.

"He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain
That hellish foes, confederate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he easts it off
"With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
ilis are the mountains, and i be \ allej s his,
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can I « I,
But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift in heaven an anpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say — ' My Father made them all !' "

108. The captive prophet : Daniel. The passage here referred to is
contained in the Beventh chapter of his prophecy. "After this I saw in
the nighl visions, and behold a fourth beast, dreadful and terrible, and

strong exceedingly; and it had great iron teeth; it devoured and brake

BOOK FOURTH. 141

The future years, described it best, when he

Beheld it rise in vision of the night — 105

A dreadful beast, and terrible, and strong

Exceedingly, with mighty iron teeth ;

And lo, it brake in pieces, and devour'd,

And stamp'd the residue beneath its feet !

TRUE LIBERTY FOUND ONLY IN CHRISTIAN HEARTS.

True liberty was Christian, sanctified, 110

Baptized, and found in Christian hearts alone ;
First-born of Virtue, daughter of the skies,
Nursling of truth divine ; sister of all
The graces, meekness, holiness, and love :
Giving to God, and man, and all below 115

That symptom show'd of sensible existence,
Their due unask'd ; fear to whom fear was due ;

in pieces, and stamped the residue with the feet of it : and it was diverse
from all the beasts that were before it ; and it had ten horns," «1jc. In the
course of the chapter an explanation is given of the vision. The most ju-
dicious commentators regard it as an emblem of the Roman power and
lust of dominion, Pagan and Papal, but especially the latter — particular-
ly as displayed in the rigorous persecution of multitudes of the Christian
Church, and thus illustrating the poet's, statement, 82-84.

110. True liberty, &c. : Our author gives a large extent of meaning to
this term, making it comprehensive of every virtue, and ascribing to
it the absence of every vice. Such, when completed, is the liberty which
the Son of God claims to secure to his followers, and which the apostle
Paul discourses on in Romans, chap. vi. It consists in a freedom from
habits of sin, and from its penal consequences in eternity. Cowper has
beautifully defined it (Task, Bk. VI. 579-80) as

" A clear escape from tyrannizing lust,
And full immunity from penal woe."

He speaks of it as

" A liberty, 'which persecution, fraud,
Oppression, prisons, have no power to bind;
Which whoso tastes can be enslaved no more.
'Tis liberty of heart derived from heaven,
Bought with His blood, who gave it to mankind,
And seal'd with the same token." Task, Bk. V. 53S-547.

142 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

To all respect, benevolence, and love.
Companion of religion ! where she came,
There freedom came : where dwelt, there freedom dwelt ;
Ruled where she ruled, expired where she expired. 121

" He was the freeman whom the truth made free :" —
AYho first of all, the bands of Satan broke ;
Who broke the bands of Sin ; and for his soul,
In spite of fools, consulted seriously ; 125

In spite of fashion persevered in good ;
In spite of wealth or poverty, upright ;
Who did as reason, not as fancy bade ;
"Who heard temptation sing, and yet turn'd not
Aside ; saw sin bedeck her flowery bed, 130

And yet would not go up ; felt at his heart
The sword unsheathed, yet would not sell the truth ;
Who, having power, had not the will to hurt ;
Who blush'd alike to be, or have a slave ;
Who blush'd at naught but sin, fear'd naught but God, 135
Who, finally, in strong integrity
Of soul, 'midst want of riches, or disgrace,
Uplifted calmly sat, and heard the waves
Of stormy folly breaking at his feet ;

Now shrill with praise, now hoarse with foul reproach, 140
And both despised sincerely ; seeking this
Alone — the approbation of his God,
Which still with conscience witness'd to his peace.
This, this is freedom, such as angels use,

134. Who hluslCd . ... to have a slave : "We are here reminded of that
glowing passage of Cowper's Task, Book II. 29-36.

'■ I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, or fan me while I Bleep,
And tremble « hen 1 wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought mid sold have ever earn'd.
No ; dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation prized above all price,
I had much rather be mj Belf the Blai e,
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him."

BOOK FOURTH. 143

And kindred to the liberty of God ! 145

First-born of Virtue ! daughter of the skies !
The man, the state in whom she ruled, was free ;
All else were slaves of Satan, Sin, and Death.

STRANGE CONTRASTS IN THE CHRISTIAN HEART.

Already thou hast something heard of good
And ill, of vice and virtue, perfect each : 150

Of those redeem'd, or else abandon'd quite ;
And more shalt hear, when at the judgment-day
The characters we of mankind review. —
Seems aught which thou hast heard astonishing ?
A greater wonder now thy audience asks: 155

Phenomena in all the universe ;
Of moral being most anomalous ;
Inexplicable most, and wonderful.
I'll introduce thee to a single heart ;

A human heart: we enter not the worst ; 160

But one by God's renewing Spirit touch'd ;
A Christian heart, awaked from sleep of sin.
What seest thou here ? what mark'st ? observe it well. —
Will, passion, reason ; hopes, fears; joy, distress;
Peace, turbulence ; simplicity, deceit ; 165

Good, ill ; corruption, immortality ;
A temple of the Holy Ghost, and yet
Oft lodging fiends ; the dwelling-place of all
The heavenly virtues — charity and truth,
Humility, and holiness, and love ; 170

And yet the common haunt of anger, pride,
Hatred, revenge, and passions foul with lust ;

156-58. A change in the punctuation would render these lines much

plainer :

Phenomena, in all the universe
Of moral being, most anomalous,
Inexplicable most, and wonderful.

144 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Allied to heaven, yet parleying oft with hell :

A soldier listed in Messiah's band,

Yet giving quarter to Abaddon's troops : 1*75

With seraphs drinking from the -well of life,

And yet carousing in the cup of death ;

An heir of heaven, and walking thitherward,

Yet casting back a covetous eye on earth :

Emblem of strength, and weakness ; loving now, 180

And now abhorring sin ; indulging now,

And now repenting sore; rejoicing now,

With joy unspeakable, and full of glory,

Now weeping bitterly, and clothed in dust.

A man willing to do, and doing not; 185

Doing, and willing not ; embracing what

He hates, what most be loves abandoning.

Half saint, and sinner half — half life, half death :

Commixture strange of Heaven, and Earth, and Hell !

THE SPIRITUAL BATTLE.

What seest thou here ? what mark'st ? a battle-field —
Two banners spread — two dreadful fronts of war, 191

In shock of opposition fierce engaged. —
God, angels, saw whole empires rise in arms ;
Saw kings exalted ; heard them tumbled down ;
And others raised, — and heeded not: but here, 195

God, angels, look'd ; God, angels, fought ; and Hell,
With all his legions, fought: here error fought
With truth ; with darkness, light ; and life with death :
And here not kingdoms, reputations, worlds,
Were won ; the strife was for Eternity ; 200

The victory was never-ending bliss ;
The badge a chaplet from the tree of life.

175. Abaddon's : See note in Book III. 437.

BOOK FOUETII. 145

THE OUTWARD TROUBLES AND THE SOLACE OF THE CHRISTIAN.

While thus within contending armies strove,
Without the Christian had his troubles too.
For, as by God's unalterable laws, 205

And ceremonial of the heaven of heavens,
Virtue takes place of all, and worthiest deeds
Sit highest at the feast of bliss ; on Earth
The opposite was fashion's rule polite.

Virtue the lowest place at table took, 210

Or served, or was shut out: the Christian still
Was mock'd, derided, persecuted, slain :
And Slander, worse than mockery, or sword,
Or death, stood nightly by her horrid forge,
And fabricated lies to stain his name, 215

And wound his peace — but still he had a source
Of happiness, that men could neither give
ISTor take away : the avenues that led
To immortality before him lay ;

He saw, with faith's far reaching eye, the fount 220

Of life, his Father's house, his Saviour God,
And borrow'd thence to help his present want.

THE CHRISTIAN GAINS THE HARBOR OF ETERNAL REST.

Encounter'd thus with enemies without,
Within, like bark that meets opposing winds
And floods, this way, now that, she steers athwart ; 225
Toss'd by the wave, and driven by the storm ;
But still the pilot, ancient at the helm,
The harbor keeps in eye ; and after much
Of danger past, and many a prayer rude,
He runs her safely in. — So was the man 230

Of God beset, so toss'd by adverse winds ;
And so his eye upon the land of life

146 THE COTJRSK OF TIM!

Ee kept. Virtue grew daily stronger, sin

Decay' J ; his enemies, repulsed, retired ;

Till at the stature of a perfect man 235

Tn Christ arrived, and, with the Spirit fill'd,

He gain'd the harbor of eternal rest.

CHRISTIAN VIRTUE, NOT WITHOUT IMPERFECTIONS.

But think not virtue else than dwells in God
Essentially, was perfect, without spot.

Examine yonder suns ! at distance seen, 240

How bright they burn ! how gloriously they shine,
Mantling the worlds around in beamy light !
But nearer view'd, we through their lustre see
Some dark behind : so virtue was on earth,
So is in heaven, and so shall always be. 245

Though good it seem, immaculate, and fair,
Exceedingly to saint or angel's gaze,
The uncreated Eye, that searches all,
Sees it imperfect; sees, but blames not ; sees,
Well-pleased ; and best with those who deepest dive 250
Into themselves, and know themselves the most :
Taught thence in humbler reverence to bow
Before the Holy One ; and oftener view
His excellence, that in them still may rise
And grow his likeness, growing evermore. 255

NONE ENTER HEAVEN IN THEIR OWN VIRTUE OR STRENGTH.

Nor think that any, born of Adam's race,
In his own proper virtue, enter'd heaven.
Once fallen from God and perfect holiness,
No being, unassisted, e'er could rise,

Or sanctify the sin-polluted soul. 260

Oft was the trial made ; but vainly made :

BOOK FOURTH. 147

So oft as men in earth's best livery clad,

However fair, approach'd the gates of heaven,

And stood presented to the eye of God,

Their impious pride so oft his soul abhorr'd. 265

Vain hope ! in patchwork of terrestrial grain,

To be received into the courts above :

As vain, as towards yonder suns to soar

On wings of waxen plumage melting soon.

THE PRAISE OF REDEEMING LOVE.

Look round, and view those numbers infinite, 270

That stand before the throne, and in their hands
Palms waving high, token of victory
For battles won — 'these are the sons of men
Redeem'd, the ransom'd of the Lamb of God :
All these, and millions more of kindred blood, 275

Who now are out on messages of love —
All these — their virtue, beauty, excellence,
And joy, are purchase of redeeming blood ;
Their glory, bounty of redeeming love. —
love divine ! — harp, lift thy voice on high ! 280

Shout, angels ! shout aloud, ye sons of men !
And burn, my heart, with the eternal flame !
My lyre, be eloquent with endless praise !
O love divine ! immeasurable love !

Stooping from heaven to earth, from earth to hell, 285

Without beginning, endless, boundless love !
Above all asking giving far, to those'
Who naught deserved, who naught deserved but death.

269. Wings of waxen plumage : An allusion to the fable of Dffidalus,
who, being obliged to flee from Crete, fabricated wings of feathers united
by wax, for himself and his son. They ascended into the atmosphere,
but the latter made too high an ascent, went too near the sun, thus
melted the wax, and consequently fell into the sea, and was drowned;
though his father, by making a lower flight, reached Sicily in safety.

148 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Saving the vilest ! saving me ! O love

Divine ! Saviour God ! O Lamb, once slain ! 290

At thought of thee, thy love, thy flowing blood,

All thoughts decay ; all things remember'd, fade ;

All hopes return ; all actions done by men

Or angels, disappear, absorb'd and lost :

All fly — as from the great white throne, which he, 295

The prophet, saw, in vision wrapt — the heavens,

And earth, and sun, and moon, and starry host,

Confounded fled, and found a place no more.

THE BOOKS OF TIME, MANY, BUT SHORT-LIVED.

One glance of wonder, as we pass, deserve
The books of Time. Productive was the world, 300

In many things ; but most in books : like swarms
Of locusts, which God sent to vex the land
Rebellious long, admonish'd long in vain,
Their numbers they pour'd annually on man,
From heads conceiving still : perpetual birth ! 305

Thou wonderest how the world contain'd them all !
Thy wonder stay: like men, this was their doom : —
That dust they were, and should to dust return.
And oft their fathers, childless and bereaved,
Wept o'er their graves when they themselves were green. 310
And on them fell, as fell on every age,
As on their authors fell, oblivious night,
Which o'er the past lay darkling, heavy, still
Impenetrable, motionless, and sad,

Having fads dismal leaden plumage, stirr'd 315

By no remembrancer, to show the men
Who after came what was conceal'd beneath.

295. All fly, Ac. : Rev. xx. 11. "And I saw a great white throne,
and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled
away ; and there was found no place for thorn."

BOOK FOURTH. 149

THE NOVEL.

The story-telling tribe, alone, outran
All calculation far, and left behind,

Lap-p-ino- the swiftest numbers : dreadful, even 320

To fancy, was their never-ceasing birth ;
And room had lack'd, had not their life been short.
Excepting some — their definition take
Thou thus, exprest in gentle phrase, which leaves
Some truth behind : A Novel was a book 325

Three-volumed, and once read, and oft eramm'd full
Of poisonous error, blackening every page ;
And oftener still, of trifling, second-hand
Remark, and old, diseased, putrid thought ;
And miserable incident, at Avar 330

With nature, with itself and truth at war :
Yet charming still the greedy reader on,
Till, done, he tried to recollect his thoughts,
And nothing found but dreaming emptiness.
These, like ephemera, sprung in a day, 335

a23. Excepting some : This is an important qualification to the sweep-
ins condemnation of works of fiction. It is all that saves our author
from deserving fully what the reviewer in Blackwood says of this pas-
sage : " The censure in this instance is so general, that, in truth, it is mere
dogmatism. Nay, it is worse than useless ; for if we can fortify ourselves
in despising it, as may easily be done, why, then, here is ground for want
of confidence in our author, and less attention to others of his moral les-
sons that may be excellent and incontrovertible. In this way excessive
scrupulosity comes to the same point as indifference — as two ships that
sail on the round seas, one east, one west, go far apart at first, but ere
long meet again in an extreme latitude."

335. Ephemera : The day-fly. These flies, which take their name
(from a Greek word signifying day) from the shortness of their life, are
distinguished into several species. Some live several days ; others do
not take flight till the setting of the sun, and live not to see the rising
of that luminary. Some exist but one hour, others but half that time.
..... The ephemera? of the Rhine appear in the air two hours before
eunset. These flies are hatched almost all at the same instant, in such

150 THE COURSE OF TIME.

From lean and shallow soiled brains of sand,
And in a day expired : yet while they lived,
Tremendous ot'ttimes was the popular roar ;
And cries of — Live forever ! — struck the skies.

BOOKS OF A SERIOUS, SUBSTANTIAL CHARACTER.

One kind alone remain'd, seen through the gloom 340
And sullen shadow of the past ; as lights
At intervals they shone, and brought the eye,
That backward travell'd, upward, till arrived
At him, who, on the hills of Midian, sang
The patient man of Uz ; and from the lyre 345

Of angels, learn'd the early dawn of time.
Not light and momentary labor these,
But discipline and self-denial long,
And purpose staunch, and perseverance, ask'd,
And energy that inspiration seem'd. 350

Composed of many thoughts, possessing, each,
Innate and underived vitality :
Which having fitly shaped, and well arranged
In brotherly accord, they builded up

A stately superstructure, that, nor wind, 355

Nor wave, nor shock of falling years could move ;
Majestic and indissolubly firm,
As ranks of veteran warriors in the field ;
Each, by himself alone, and singly seen —
A tower of strength ; in massy phalanx knit, 300

numbers as to darken the air. For some other curious facts concerning
this tribe of animated beings, turn to the London Cyclopedia, art.
Ephemera.

:: n. At Mm : Probably Moses-was the author (here referred to) of the
Book of Job, ns he was certainly the historian of " the early dawn of

Time."

347. These: These books, of solid, truthful material, like those of Mo-
ses, which are alluded to.

BOOK FOURTH.

151

And in embattled squadron rushing on —
A sea of valor, dread ! invincible !

Books of this sort, or sacred or profane,
Which virtue help'd, were titled not amiss,
The medicine of the mind : who read them, read 365

Wisdom, and was refresh'd ; and on his path
Of pilgrimage with healthier step advanced.

THE INSCRUTABLE AND MYSTERIOUS PROVIDENCES OF GOD.

In mind, in matter, much was difficult
To understand : but what in deepest night
Retired, inscrutable, mysterious, dark, 3*70

Was evil ; God's decrees ; and deeds decreed,
Responsible. Why God, the just, the good,
Omnipotent and wise, should suffer sin
To rise. Why man was free, accountable ;
Yet God foreseeing, overruling all. 375

Where'er the eye could turn, whatever tract
Of moral thought it took, by reason's torch
Or Scripture's led, before it still this mount
Sprung up, impervious, insurmountable,
Above the human stature rising far ; 380

Horizon of the mind — surrounding still
The vision of the soul with clouds and gloom.
Yet did they oft attempt to scale its sides,
And gain its top. Philosophy, to climb,
With all her vigor toil'd from age to age ; 385

From age to age, Theology, with all

362. A sea of valor: A bold and original metaphor, describing em-
battled squadrons dashing and foaming on in their rapid course.

37 1. Evil: Used as a noun. Evil — God's decrees — and the responsi-
bility of man for deeds decreed — are the " inscrutable" things which
" retired in deepest night," and transcended the power of the human
mind fully to comprehend and explain.

152 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Her vigor, toil'd ; and vagrant Fancy toil'd.

Not weak and foolish only, but the wise,

Patient, courageous, stout, sounddieaded man,

Of proper discipline, of excellent wind, 385

And strong of intellectual limb, toil'd hard ;

And oft above the reach of common eye

Ascended far, and seem'd well nigh the top :

But only seem'd; for still another top

Above them rose, till giddy grown, and mad 390

With gazing at these dangerous heights of God,

They tumbled down, and in their raving .-aid,

They o'er the summit saw : and some believed ;

Believed a lie ; for never man on earth,

That mountain cross'd, or saw its farther side 395

Around it lay the wreck of many a sage —

Divine — philosopher ; and many more

Fell daily, undeterr'd by millions fallen ;

Each wondering why he fail'd to comprehend

God, and with finite measure infinite.

To pass it, was no doubt desirable ;

And few of any intellectual size,

That did not sometime in their day attempt;

But all in vain ; for as the distant hill,

Which on the right, or left, the traveller's eye 405

Bounds, seems advancing as he walks, and oft

lie looks, and looks, and thinks to pass; but still

It forward moves, and mocks his baffled sight,

Till night descends and wraps the scene in gloom :

So di<l this moral height the vision mock; 410

So lifted up its dark and cloudy head.

Before the eye, and met it evermore.

And some, provoked, accused the righteous God.

Accused of what .' hear human boldness now;

Hear guilt, hear folly, madness, all extreme '. 415

400

BOOK FOURTH. 153

Accused of what? the God of truth accused

Of cruelty, injustice, wickedness !

Abundant sin ! because a mortal man,

A worm at best, of small capacity,

With scarce an atom of Jehovah's works 420

Before him, and with scarce an hour to look

Upon them, should presume to censure God —

The infinite and uncreated God !

To sifc in judgment — on Himself, his works,

His providence ! and try, accuse, condemn ! 425

If there is aught, thought or to think, absurd,

Irrational, and wicked, this is more —

This most ; the sin of devils, or of those "

To devils growing fast. Wise men and good,

Accused themselves, not God ; and put their hands 430

Upon their mouths, and in the dust adored.

MYSTERIES OF THE CHRISTIAN'S FAITH.

The Christian's faith had many mysteries too.
The uncreated holy Three in One ;
Divine incarnate ; human in divine ;

The inward call ; the Sanctifying Dew 435

Coming unseen, unseen departing thence ;
Anew creating all, and yet not heard ;
Compelling, yet not felt : — mysterious these ;
Not that Jehovah to conceal them wish'd ;
Not that religion wish'd. The Christian faith, 440

Unlike the timorous creeds of pagan priest,
Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all
To prove, examine, search, investigate,
And gave herself a light to see her by.

416. The God of Truth accused, <fcc. : The absurdity as well as the
wickedness of such an act, is admirably illustrated in the following lines.

154 TIIK COUBSE OF TIME.

Mysterious those — because too large for eye 445

Of man, too long for human arm to mete.

MYSTERIES OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH VINDICATED.

Go to yon mount, which on the north side stands

Of New Jerusalem, and lifts her head

Serene in glory bright, except the hill,

The Sacred Hill of God, whereon no foot 450

Must tread, highest of all creation's walks,

And overlooking all, in prospect vast,

From out the ethereal blue — that cliff ascend ;

Gaze thence ; around thee look ; naught now impedes

Thy view : yet still thy vision, purified 455

And strong although it be, a boundary meets.

Or rather thou wilt say, thy vision fails

To gaze throughout illimitable space,

And find the end of infinite : and so

It was with all the mysteries of faith ; 460

God sent them forth unveil'd to the full gaze

Of man, and ask'd him to investigate ;

But reason's eye, however purified,

And on whatever tall and goodly height

Of observation placed, to comprehend 405

Them fully, sought in vain. In vain seeks still ;

But wiser now, and humbler, she concludes

From what she knows already of his love,

All gracious, that she cannot understand ;

And gives him credit, reverence, praise for all. 470

fcflE UNEQ1 M. DISTRIBUTION OF WORLDLY POSSESSIONS THE

LESSONS WHICH IT TEACHES.

Another feature in the ways of God,

That wondrous aeem'd, ami made some men complain,

BOOK FOURTH. 155

Was the unequal gift of worldly things.

Great was the difference, indeed, of men

Externally, from beggar to the prince. 475

The highest take, and lowest — and conceive

The scale between. A noble of the earth,

One of its great, in splendid mansion dwelt;

Was robed in silk and gold ; and every day

Fared sumptuously ; was titled, honor'd, served. 480

Thousands his nod awaited, and his will

For kiAv received : whole provinces his march

Attended, and his chariot drew, or on

Their shoulders bore aloft the precious man.

Millions, abased, fell prostrate at his feet ; 485

And millions more thunder' d adoring praise. ,

As far as eye could reach, he call'd the land

His own, and added yearly to his fields.

Like tree that of the soil took healthy root,

He grew on every side, and tower' d on high, 490

And over half a nation shadowing wide,

He spread his ample boughs ; air, earth, and sea,

Nature entire, the brute and rational,

To please him minister'd, and vied among

Themselves, who most should his desires prevent, 495

Watching the moving of his rising thoughts

Attentively, and hasting to fulfil.

His palace rose and kiss'd the gorgeous clouds ;

Streams bent their music to his will ; trees sprung ;

The naked waste put on luxuriant robes ; 500

And plains of happy cottages cast out

Their tenants, and became a hunting-field.

Before him bow'd the distant isles, with fruits

And spices rare ; the south her treasures brought ;

The east and west sent ; and the frigid north 505

Came with her offering of glossy furs.

Musicians soothed his ears with airs select ;

156 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Beauty held out her arms ; and every man

Of cunning skill, and curious device,

And endless multitudes of liveried wiffhts, 510

His pleasure waited with obsequious look.

And when the wants of nature were supplied,

And common-place extravagances fill'd,

Beyond their asking; and caprice itself,

In all its zigzag appetites, gorged full, 515

The man new wants, and new expenses plann'd,

Nor plann'd alone : wise, learned, sober men,

Of cogitation deep, took up his case,

And plann'd for him new modes of folly wild ;

Contrived new wishes, wants, and wondrous means 520

Of spending with dispatch : yet after all,

His fields extended still, his riches grew,

And what seem'd splendor infinite, increased.

So lavishly upon a single man

Did Providence his bounties daily shower. 525

Turn now thy eye, and look on poverty !
Look on the lowest of her ragged sons !
"We find him by the way, sitting in dust;
He has no bread to eat, no tongue to ask ;
No limbs to walk ; no home, no house, no friend. 530

Observe his goblin cheek ; his wretched eye;
See how his hand, if any hand he has,
Involuntarily opens, an.! trembles forth,
As comes the traveller's foot ; and hear his groan,
His long and lamentable groan, announce 535

The want that gnaws within ; severely now,
The sun scorches and bums his old bald head;
The frost now glues him to the chilly earth ;
On him hail, rain, and tempest, rudely beat;
And all the winds of heaven, in jocular mood, 540

Sport with his wither'd rags, that, toss'd about,
Display his nakedness to passers by,

BOOK FOURTH.

157

And grievously burlesque the human form.

Observe him yet more narrowly : his limbs,

With palsy shaken, about him blasted lie ; 545

And all his flesh is full of putrid sores,

And noisome wounds, his bones of racking pains.

Strangle vesture this for an immortal soul !

Strange retinue to wait a lord of earth!

It seems as Nature, in some surly mood, 550

After debate and musing long, had tried

How vile and miserable thing her hand

Could fabricate, then made this meager man :

A sight so full of perfect misery,

That passengers their faces turn'd away, 555

And hasted to be gone ; and delicate

And tender women took another path.

This great disparity of outward things
Taught many lessons ; but this taught in chief,
Though learn'd by few : that God no value set, 560

That man should none, on goods of worldly kind ;
On transitory, frail, external things,
Of migratory, ever-changing sort.
And farther taught, that in the soul alone,
The thinking, reasonable, willing soul, 565

God placed the total excellence of man ;
And meant him evermore to seek it there.

THE UNEQUAL DISTRIBUTION OF INTELLECTUAL GIFTS THE

LESSON THUS TAUGHT.

But strano-er still the distribution seem'd
Of intellect ; though fewer here complain'd ;
Each with his share, upon the whole, content, 570

One man there was — and many such you might
Have met — who never had a dozen thoughts
In all his life, and never changed their course ;

158 THE COURSE OF TIME.

.But told them o'er, each in its 'custom'd place,

From morn till night, from youth till hoary age. 5*75

Little above the ox which grazed the field,

His reason rose : so weak his memory,

The name his mother call'd him by, he scarce

Kemember'd ; and his judgment so untaught,

That what at evening play'd along the swamp, 580

Phantastic, clad in robe of fiery hue,

lie thought the devil in disguise, and fled

With quivering heart, and winged footsteps home.

The word philosophy he never heard,

Or science ; never heard of liberty, 585

Necessity, or laws of gravitation :

And never had an unbelieving doubt.

Beyond his native vale he never look'd ;

But thought the visual line, that girt him round,

The world's extreme ; and thought the silver moon, 590

That nightly o'er him led her virgin host,

No broader than his father's shield. He lived —

Lived where his father lived — died where he died ;

Lived happy, and died happy, and was saved.

Be not surprised. He loved, and served his God. 595

There was another, large of understanding,
Of memory infinite, of judgment deep:
Who knew all learning, and all science knew ;
And all phenomena, in heaven and earth,
Traced to their causes ; traced the labyrinths 000

Of thought, association, passion, will ;
And all the subtile, nice affinities
Of matter, traced ; its virtues, motions, laws ;
And most familiarly and deeply talk'd
Of mental, moral, natural, divine. 605

Leaving the earth at will, he soar'd to heaven,
And read the glorious visions of the skies ;
And to the music of the rolling spheres

book fouktti. 159

Intelligently listen'd ; and gazed far back

Into the awful depths of Deity ; 610

Did all that mind assisted most could do ;

And yet in misery lived, in misery died,

Because he wanted holiness of heart.

A deeper lesson this to mortals taught,
And nearer cut the branches of their pride : 615

That not in mental, but in moral worth,
God excellence placed ; and only to the good,
To virtue, granted happiness alone.

THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE MANNER OF DISTRIBUTING

HIS GIFTS.

Admire the goodness of Almighty God !
He riches gave, he intellectual strength 620

To few, and therefore none commands to be
Or rich, or learn 'd ; nor promises reward
Of peace to these. On all, He moral worth
Bestow'd ; and moral tribute ask'd from all.
And who that could not pay ? who born so poor, 625

Of intellect so mean, as not to know
What seem'd the best ; and, knowing, might not do ?
As not to know what God and conscience bade ?
And what they bade, not able to obey ?
And he who acted thus fulfill'd the law 630

Eternal, and its promise reap'd of peace ;
Found peace this way alone : who sought it else,
Sought mellow grapes beneath the icy pole ;
Sought blooming roses on the cheek of death ;
Sought substance in a world of fleeting shades. 635

LORD BYRON.

Take one example — to our purpose quite.
A man of rank, and of capacious soul ;

160 THE COURSE OF TEVIE.

"Who riches had, and feme beyond desire :

An heir of flattery, to titles born,

And reputation, and luxurious life. 6-10

Yet not content with ancestorial name ;

Or to be known, because his fathers were ;

He on this height hereditary stood,

6Z&-'160. The Memoir of Pollok relates an incident which gave occa-
sion to this admirable portrait of Lord Byron, as an illustration of intel-
lectual greatness.

The poet, accompanied by three of his fellow-students, made, an ex-
cursion to Loch Lomond in the Highlands, proceeding as far as Hob Roy's
cave. On returning, in the steamboat, he proposed to his companions to
secure a retired apartment of the boat, and to pour forth their feelings
with respect to the magnificent scenery which had given them so much
delight. Each in turn delivered a speech of some considerable length and
merit, under the excitement of the occasion. The poet's chief object, in
his speech, after giving a general description of the scenery that had
delighted them, and of the feelings it had awakened, proceeded to notice
the necessity of high intellectual power and culture suitably to appre-
ciate and to portray the grand and beautiful landscape that had occupied
their attention. This led him to describe a man of intellectual great-
ness, and to sbow that with ease he should be able to exhibit high excel-
lence in any department of science. " It is not enougb," he remarked,
" that the great man [induce effect; he must produce it with ease, and
with such ease as to show that he has put forth but little of his strength.
II must never seem struggling below his subject, and laboring to reach
it ; he must always appear above .his subject, and stooping easily dowu
on it. He must not labor from the plain or the lake, up to the top of
tin- mountain, and there sit down fatigued and worn, to take a look of
what is above him. No : he must come down from a higher region ; seat
himself on earth's loftk-t summit; take a survey of all that is below
him ; stoop with ease, put forth his hand, produce at a touch the most
stupendous effect, and then retire with dignity to his native heights."

On arriving at Glasgow his brother David (the biographer of the poet)
said to him, "Keep in mind what j'ou have delivered to-night; it is the
best thing you ever did ; do not let it be lost;" and he said, " I think it
is better than any thing that lever wrote, and I shall try to preserve its
essence." And thus, the speech referred to formed the ground-work of
his description, in the abuse passage, of the mau of intellectual greatness.

Another biographer, the Rev. l>r. Scott, has beautifully shown the
process by which, probably, Lord Byron was selected, as an example of
intellectual power. "His high theme in ' The Course of Time' (he re-
marks) led him to sing of intellectual greatness. To do this effectively,

BOOK FOURTH. 161

And gazing higher, purposed in his heart

To take another step. Above him seem'd 645

Alone the mount of Song — the lofty seat

Of canonized bards ; and thitherward,

By nature taught, and inward melody,

In prime of youth, he bent his eagle eye.

lie selected a single mind. The thoughts uttered in reference to his visit
to Loch Lomond, instantly came up,

'And sought admission in his soDg;'

the wild scenery of the place naturally suggested Byron, who had been
nurtured in the vicinity of the wilder and more rugged regions of ' Loch-
nagar.' It is probable that the lines of the bard of ' Childe Harold,' con-
cerning Braemar, occurred to him :

'Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses !

In you let the minions of luxury rove ;
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,

Though still they are sacred to freedom and love :
Yet, Caledonia, heloved are thy mountains,

Around their white summits though elements war;
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-na-gar.

' Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd.'

"It requires no rigid analysis to detect every step in Mr. Pollok's train
of reflection. Ben Lomond and Lochnagar were as relative terms in his
mind. The one suggested the other ; but Lochnagar can never be thought
of without the name of Byron. Hence the facility with which he is in-
troduced into ' The Course of Time :'

' Take one example to our purpose quite,
A man of rank,' &c, &c."

Gilfillan. in a recent volume, describes a pilgrimage which he himself
made to the summit of "dark Lochnagar;" and dwells upon the fact
that it was indissolubly associated in his mind with Lord Byron. He
says : " It was the grandest moment in our lives. We had stood upon
many hills — in sunshine and in shade, in mist and in thunder — but never
had before, nor hope to have again, such a feeling of the grandeur of this
lower universe — such a sense of horrible sublimity. Nay, we epiestion
if there be a mountain in the empire, which, though seen in similar cir-
cumstances, could awaken the same emotions in our minds. It is not its
loftiness, though that be great — nor its bold outline, nor its savage lone-
liness, nor its mist-loving precipices, but the associations which crown its
crags with a ' peculiar diadem' — its identification with the image of the
poet; who, amid all his fearful errors, had perhaps more than any of the

162 THE COURSE OF TIME.

No cost was spared. What books he wish VI, he read : G50

What sage to hear, lie heard : what scenes to see,

lie saw. And first in rambling school-boy days,

Britannia's mountain-walks, and heath-girt lakes,

And story-telling glens, and founts, and brooks,

And maids, as dew-drops pure and fair, his soul 055

With grandeur fill'd, and melody, and love.

Then travel came, and took him where he wish'd.

He cities saw, and courts, and princely pomp ;

And mused alone on ancient mountain brows ;

bards of the age the power of investing all his career — yea, to every
corner which his fierce foot ever touched, or which his genius ever sung
— with profound and melancholy interest. We saw the name of Byron
written in the cloud-characters above us. "We saw his genius sadly smi-
ling in those gleams of stray sunshine which gilded the darkness they
could not dispel. We found an emblem of his passions in that flying
rack, and of his character in those lowering precipices. We seemed to
hear the wail of his restless spirit in the wild sob of the wind fainting
and struggling up under its burden of darkness. Nay, we could fancy
that this hill was designed as an eternal monument to his name, and to
image all those peculiarities which make that name forever illustrious,"

<fec, i'C.

" No poet, since Homer and Ida, has thus, everlastingly, shot his ge-
nius into the heart of one great mountain, identifying himself and his song
with it. Not Horace with Socrate— not Wordsworth with Helvellyn—
not Coleridge with Mount Blanc — not Wilson with the Black Mount— not
even Scott with the Eildons : all these are still common property ; but
Lochnagar is Byron's own — no poet will ever venture to sing it again.
His allusions to it are not numerous, but its peaks stood often before his

eye Hence the severe Dante-like, monumental, mountainous cast

of his better poetry; for we firmly believe that the scenery of one's
youth gives a permanent bias and coloring to the genius, the taste, and
Hi.' st vie ; that is, if there be an intellect to receive an impulse, or a taste

l,, catch a tone Who, in Pollok's powerful but gloomy poem, may

n,,t detect the raven hue whicha sterile moorland scenery had left upon
his mind? .... So, is it mere fancy which traces the stream of Byron's
poetry in its light and its darkness, its bitterness, and its brilliance, to
this smitten rock in the wilderness— to the cliffs of Lochnagar '."

657-609. For an ill us! rat imi. .ft bese lines, read Byron's " Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage," which is generally understood to be, in substance, an account
of his own travels and experience. It would be an agreeable task to

BOOK FOURTH. 163

And mused on battle-fields, where valor fought 660

In other days ; and mused on ruins gray

With years : and drank from old and fabulous wells ;

And pluck'd the vine that first-born prophets pluck'd ;

And mused on famous tombs ; and on the wave

Of ocean mused, and on the desert waste ; 665

The heavens and earth of eveiy country saw :

"Where'er the old inspiring Genii dwelt,

Aught that could rouse, expand, refine the soul,

Thither he went, and meditated there.

He touch'd his harp, and nations heard, entranced. 670
As some vast river of unfailing source,
Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flow'd,
And open'd new fountains in the human heart.
Where fancy halted, weary in her flight,
In other men, his, fresh as morning rose, 675

And soar'd untrodden heights, and seem'd at home
Where angels bashful look'd. Others, though great,

present some portions of that celebrated poem, which would illustrate
the statements of Pollok concerning him. But we have not space to de-
vote to them.

660. Battle-fields : The most glowing account of the. battle of Waterloo
(in the Childe Harold) is probably here chiefly referred to, beginning

with —

" There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd there
Her beauty and her chivalry," &c.

667. Genii dwelt : Greece and Turkey are probably intended. These
countries were visited by Byron in 1809 and 1810.

The genii (says Brande) are a race of beings created from fire, occupy-
ing an intermediate place between men and angels, and endowed with a
corporeal form, which they are capable of metamorphosing at pleasure.
Their present place of abode is Ginnistan, the Persian Elysium ; but
they are represented as still interesting themselves deeply in the affairs
of this earth, over which they exercise considerable influence. Every
one is aware of the important part which the genii perform in the inter-
esting stories of the East ; and indeed a more correct idea may be formed
of their origin, characteristics, and history from a perusal of the Arabian
Nights' Entertainments than can be conveyed by the most elaborate dis-
sertation.

164 TIIE COUESE OF TIME.

Beneath their argument seem'd struggling ; whiles

He from above descending, stoop'd to touch

The loftiest thought ; and proudly stoop'd, as though 680

It scarce deserved his verse. With Nature's self

He seem'd an old acquaintance, free to jest

At will with all her glorious majesty.

He laid his hand upon " the Ocean's mane,"

680. And proudly stooped, &c. : Byron has never himself described
one of his burning heroes better than Pollok, the soul which created
them. How well has he caught, especially, the self-involved aud haughty
repulsion of his spirit, "stooping to touch the loftiest thought," the edu-
cation by which his soul was nurtured into poetry, and the waste and
howling wilderness of its ultimate misery. Not so well, we think, has
be given the characteristics of his genius. Byron is not the ethereal be-
ing whom he describes. He is not at " home where angels bashful look ;"
he is at home rather where demons pale and tremble. He is not an old
acquaintance of Nature. He has not the freedom of that city of God : it
is but a city of refuge to him : he has been driven to it by disgust and
agony. — Gilfillan.

A writer in Blackivood, upon these lines, remarks that they are very
characteristic of Byron, who, in high and rapid energy, and in easy tran-
sitions, is perhaps the most eloquent of all the poets. After dashing
forth his proud strength with the evening storm of thunder among the
Alps, and over the darkened Jura, such a man proceeds —

" But' now the morn is up, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,
As if the living earth contain'd no tomb."

The revulsion from the dark eloquence of his night-scene to the soft and
pausing dance of these lines is so great, that the heart of a man is bowed
to tears. Moral justice requires aud demands the latter and dark part
of Byron's portraiture, as deeply sketched by our author.

684. " The Oceans mane :" One of the finest specimens of Byron's poet-
ry is an address to the Ocean, the last stanza of which contains the image
lure quoted —

" And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy

Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy

1 wanton'd with tby breakers— they to me

Were a delight ; aud if the freshi ning Bea

Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear,

For I a as as it w Bre a child of t bee,

\ini trusted t>> thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here."

BOOK FOURTH. 165

And play'd familiar with his hoary locks. 685

Stood on the Alps, stood on the Apennines,

And with the thunder talk'd, as friend to friend ;

And wove his garland of the lightning's wing,

In sportive twist — the lightning's fiery wing,

Which, as the footsteps of the dreadful God, 690

Marching upon the storm in vengeance, seem'd :

Then turn'd, and with the grasshopper, who sung

His evening song beneath his feet, conversed.

Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds his sisters were ;

Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, and winds, and storms, 695

His brothers — younger brothers, whom he scarce

As equals deem'd. All passions of all men —

The wild and tame — the gentle and severe ;

All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane ;

All creeds ; all seasons. Time, Eternity ; *700

All that was hated, and all that was dear ;

All that was hoped, all that was fear'd by man,

He toss'd about, as tempest-wither'd leaves,

Then, smiling, look'd upon the wreck he made.

With terror now he froze the cowering blood, 705

And now dissolved the heart in tenderness ;

Yet would not tremble, would not weep himself ;

But back into his soul retired, alone,

694-697. Suns, moons, <fce. : "Thus Byron, iu his " Childe Harold" —

" Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;

Where roll'd the ocean, thereon was his home ;

Where a blue sky and glowing clime extends,

He had the passion and the power to roam ;

The desert, forest, cavern, breakers' foam,

Were unto him companionship ; they spake

A mutual language, clearer than the tome

Of his land's language, which he would oft forsake
For nature's pages, glass'd by sunbeams on the lake.™

" Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part
Of me and of my soul, as I of them ?
Is not the love of these deep iu my heart
With a pure passion V &c.

166 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Dark, sullen, proud : gazing contemptuously

On hearts and passions prostrate at his feet. 710

So Ocean, from the plains his waves had late

To desolation swept, retired in pride,

Exulting in the glory of his might,

And seem'd to mock the ruin he had wrought.

As some fierce comet of tremendous size, 715

To which the stars did reverence, as it pass'd ;

So he through learning, and through fancy took

His flight sublime ; and on the loftiest top

Of Fame's dread mountain sat : not soiFd, and worn,

As if he from the earth had labor'd up ; 720

But as some bird of heavenly plumage fair,

He look'd, which down from higher regions came,

And perch'd it there, to see what lay beneath.

The nations gazed, and wonder'd much, and praisea :

03
709. Dark, sullen, proud, &c. :

" Bat soon he knew himself the most unfit
Of men to herd with man; with whom he held
Little in common ;" &c.

724-9. Macaulay has written most excellently concerning this remark-
able man. Among other things he Bays: "He came into the world, and
the world treated him as his mother treated him — sometimes with kind-
ness, sometimes with severity, never with justice. It indulged him with-
out discrimination, and punished him without discrimination. He was
truly a spoiled child ; not merely the spoiled child of his parents, but the
spoiled child of nature, the spoiled child of fortune, the spoiled child of
lame, tur spiled child of society. His first poems were received with
a contempt which, feeble as they were, they did not absolutely deserve.
The poem which he published on his return from his travels, was, on the
other hand, extolled far above its merits. At twenty-four he found him-
self on the highest pinnacle of literary fame, with Scott, Wordsworth,
Southey, and a crowd of other distinguished writers beneath his feet.
There is scarcely an instance in history of so sudden a rise to so dizzy an
eminence. Every thing that could stimulate, and every thing that could
gratify the strongest propensities of our nature — the gaze of a hundred
drawing-rooms, the acclamations of the whole nation, the applause of
applauded men, the love of the loveliest women — all this world, and all
the glory of it, were at once offered to a young man, to whom nature

BOOK FOUKTH.

167

Critics before him fell in humble plight ; 725

Confounded fell ; and made debasing signs

To catch his eye ; and stretch'd and swell'd themselves

To bursting nigh, to utter bulky words

Of admiration vast : and many too,

Many that aim'd to imitate his flight, 730

With weaker wing, unearthly fluttering made,

And gave abundant sport to after days.

Great man ! the nations gazed, and wonder'd much,
And praised : and many call'd his evil good.
Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness : 735

And kings to do him honor took delight.
Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame ;
Beyond desire, beyond ambition full,
He died. — He died of what ? Of wretchedness.

had given violent passions, and whom education had never taught to
control them."

" Then came the reaction. Society, capricious in its indignation

as it had been capricious in its fondness, flew into a rage with its froward
and petted darling. He had been worshipped with an irrational idola-
try : he was persecuted with an irrational fury His writings and

his character had lost the charm of novelty. He had been guilty of
the offence, which, of all offences, is punished most severely: he had
been over-praised ; he had excited too warm an interest ; and the pub-
lic, with its usual justice, chastised him for its own folly."

739-43. He died, &c: In his latter days he devoted himself to the aid
of Greece in her struggle with the Turks, and died at Messolonghi, April
18, 1824. Another extract from Macaulay's review of Moore's Life of
Byron, will complete our illustrations of this part of the poem. " To
Greece, Byron was attached by peculiar ties. He had, when young, re-
sided in that country. Much of his most splendid and popular poetry
had been inspired by its scenery and by its history. Sick of inaction,
degraded in his own eyes by his private vices, and by his literary fail-
ures, pining for untried excitement and honorable distinction, he carried
his exhausted body and his wounded spirit to the Grecian camp. His
conduct in his new situation showed so much vigor and good sense, as 1 o
justify us in believing that, if his life had been prolonged, he might have
distinguished himself as a soldier and a politician. But pleasure and
sorrow had done the work of seventy years upon his delicate frame. The
hand of death was on him : he knew it ; and the only wish which he

108 THE COl BSE OF TIME.

Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump 740

Of fame; drank early, deeply drank; drank draughts

That common millions might have quench'd — then died

Of thirst, because there was no more to drink.

His goddess, Nature, woo'd, embraced, enjoy 'd,

Fell from his arms, abhorr'd ; his passions died ; 745

Died all, but dreary, solitary pride ;

And all his sympathies in being died.

As some ill-guided bark, well built and tall,

Which angry tides cast out on desert shore,

And then retiring, left it there to rot 750

And moulder in the winds and rains of heaven :

So he, cut from the sympathies of life,

And cast ashore from pleasure's boisterous surge —

A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched thing ;

Scorch'd, and desolate, and blasted soul ; 755

A gloomy wilderness of dying thought —

Repined, and groan'd, and wither'd from the earth.

Ilis groanings fill'd the land his numbers fill'd ;

And yet he seem'd ashamed to groan. Poor man !

Ashamed to ask, and yet he needed help. 760

INFERENCE FROM THE LIFE AND DEATII OF BYRON.

Proof this, beyond all lingering of doubt,
That not with natural or mental wealth
Was God delighted, or his peace secured :
That not in natural or mental wealth
"Was human happiness or grandeur found. 7G5

uttered was, that lie mi.dit die sword in hand. This was denied to him.
Anxiety, exertion, exposure, and those fatal stimulants which had become
indispensable to him, soon stretched him on a sick-bed, in a strange land,
amidst strange faces, without one human being that he loved near him.
There, at thirty-six, the most celebrated Englishman of the nineteenth
century closed his brilliant and miserable career."

BOOK FOURTH. 169

Attempt how monstrous ! and how surely vain !
With things of earthly sort, with aught but God,
"With aught but moral excellence, truth and love,
To satisfy and fill the immortal soul !

Attempt, vain inconceivably ! attempt, WO

To satisfy the ocean with a drop ;
To marry Immortality to Death ;
And with the unsubstantial Shade of Time,
To fill the embrace of all Eternity !

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK V.

BOOK V

ANALYSIS.

Actions done in Time live in Eternity.

Men may be absolved from the consequence of sin, but the evil deed,
although not imputed, remains a dark spot on the annals of the past.

True happiness was -within the reach of all ; and that, which was joy to
one, was misery to another.

True happiness always accompanied duty.

Among the contributions to happiness were, the bliss and joys of child-
hood, of maternal affection, of youthful love, and of friendship ; the
study of nature ; recollections of the past ; anticipations of the future,
repose after labor, and even grief, afforded joys.

From whatever sources men experienced joy, the pious enjoyed the same
in the highest degree.

Of the Millennium, the thousand years of Messiah's reign, foretold by the
prophets, preceded by the conflict between Truth and Error.

&fo fanum a! ffiira**

BOOK V.

Praise God, ye servants of the Lord ! praise God,
Ye angels strong ! praise God, ye sons of men !
Praise him who made, and who redeem'd your souls ;
Who gave you hope, reflection, reason, will ;
Minds that can pierce eternity remote, 5

And live at once on future, present, past ;
Can speculate on systems yet to make,
And back recoil on ancient days of Time —
Of Time, soon past ; soon lost among the shades
Of buried vears. Not so the actions done 10

Tn Time — the deeds of reasonable men ;
As if engraven with pen of iron grain,
And laid in flinty rock, they stand unchanged,
Written on the various pages of the past:
If good, in rosy characters of love ; 15

If bad, in letters of vindictive fire.

1. Praise God, &c: A writer in Blackwood says: "We turn (from
Byron) with praise to the author of 'The Course of Time,' who seems a
pure and noble-minded man. Indeed, not less than such, and a poet,
could have written his fifth book, in which the fair and innocent delights
of our world are portrayed. The mother and her children — the inno-
cence of childhood — dreams — early friendships — the dying mother and
her babe — are among the finest."

174 THE COURSE OF TIME.

ACTIONS DONE IX TIME LIVE IX ETERNITY.

God may forgive, but cannot blot them out.
„ Systems begin, and end ; Eternity
Rolls on bis endless years ; and men absolved
By mercy from the consequence, forget 20

The evil deed ; and God imputes it not :
But neither systems ending nor begun,
Eternity that rolls his endless years,
Nor men absolved, and sanctified, and wash'd
By mercy from the consequence ; nor yet 25

Forgetfulness ; nor God imputing not,
Can wash the guilty deed once done, from out
The faithful annals of the past ; who reads,
And many read, there finds it, as it was,
And is, and shall forever be — a dark, 30

Unnatural and loathly moral spot.

THE JOYS OF TIME THOSE OF NATIVE GROWTH.

The span of Time was short indeed ; and now
Three fourths were past, the last begun, and on
Careering to its close ; which soon we sing :
But first our promise we redeem, to tell 35

The joys of Time — her joys of native growth ;
And briefly must, what longer tale deserves.

Wake, dear remembrances ! wake, childhood days !
Loves, friendships, wake ! and wake, thou morn and even !
Sun ! with thy orient locks ; night, moon and stars ! 40
And thou, celestial bow ! and all ye woods,
And hills, and vales ; first trod in dawning life !
And hours of holy musing, wake ! wake, earth,
And, smiling to remembrance, come ; and bring,
For thou canst bring, meet argument for song 45

Of heavenly harp ; meet hearing for the ear

BOOK FIFTH. 175

Of heavenly auditor, exalted high.

God gave much peace on earth, much holy joy :

Oped fountains of perennial spring, whence flow'd

Abundant happiness to all who wish'd 50

To drink : not perfect bliss ; that dwells with us,

Beneath the eyelids of the Eternal One,

And sits at his right hand alone : but such,

As well deserved the name — abundant joy.

Pleasures, on which the memory of saints 55

Of highest glory, still delights to dwell.

HAPPINESS GREATLY DEPENDENT UPON OURSELVES.

It was, we own, subject of much debate,
And worthy men stood on opposing sides,
Whether the cup of mortal life had more
Of sour or sweet. Vain question this, when ask'd 60

In general terms, and worthy to be left
Unsolved. If most was sour — the drinker, not
The cup, we blame. Each in himself the means
Possess'd to turn the bitter sweet, tbe sweet
To bitter ; hence from out the self-same fount, 65

One nectar drank ; another, draughts of gall.
Hence from the self-same quarter of the sky,
One saw ten thousand angels look, and smile ;
Another saw as many demons frown.

One discord heard, where harmony inclined 70

Another's ear. The sweet was in the taste ;
The beauty in the eye ; and in the ear
The melody ; and in the man — for God
Necessity of sinning laid on none —

To form the taste, to purify the eye, *75

And tune the ear, that all he tasted, saw,
Or heard, might be harmonious, sweet, and fair.
Who would, might groan : who would, might sing for joy.

176 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Nature lamented little; undevour'd
By spurious appetites, she found enough, 80

"Where least was found : with gleanings satisfied,
Or crumbs that from the hand of luxury fell ;
Yet seldom these she ate ; but ate the bread
Of her own industry, made sweet by toil :
And walk'd in robes that her own hand had spun : 85

And slept on down, her early rising bought.
Frugal, and diligent in business, chaste
And abstinent, she stored for helpless age ;
And keeping in reserve her spring-day health.
And dawning relishes of life, she drank 90

Her evening cup with excellent appetite ;
And saw her eldest sun decline, as fair
As rose her earliest morn, and pleased as well.

HAPriNESS NOT FOUND IN EXTERNAL NATURE ALONE.

Whether in crowds or solitudes — in streets
Or shady groves dwelt Happiness, it seems 95

In vain to ask ; her nature makes it vain :
Though poets much, and hermits, talk'd and sung
Of brooks, and crystal founts, and weeping dews,
And myrtle bowers, and solitary vales ;
And with the nymph made assignations there, 100

And woo'd her with the love-sick oaten reed ;
And sages too, although less positive,
Advised their sons to court her in the shade —
Delirious babble all ! Was happiness,

Was self-approving, God approving joy, 105

In drops of dew, however pure? in gales,
However sweet? in wells, however clear .'
Or groves, however thick with verdant shade ?

True, these were of themselves exceeding fair:
How fair at morn and even ! worthy the walk 110

BOOK FIFTH. 177

Of loftiest mind ; and gave, when all within

Was right, a feast of overflowing bliss ;

But were the occasion, not the cause of joy :

They waked the native fountains of the soul,

Which slept before ; and stirr'd the holy tides 115

Of feeling up ; giving the heart to drink,

From its own treasures, draughts of perfect sweet.

WHERE TRUE HAPPINESS IS FOUND.

The Christian faith, which better knew the heart

Of man, him thither sent for peace ; and thus

Declares : Who finds it, let him find it there : 120

Who finds it not, forever let him seek

In vain : 'tis God's most holy, changeless will.

True happiness had no localities ;
!N"o tones provincial ; no peculiar garb.
Where duty went, she went ; with justice went ; 125

And went with meekness, charity, and love.
Where'er a tear was dried ; a wounded heart
Bound up ; a bruised spirit with the dew
Of sympathy anointed ; or a pang

Of honest suffering soothed ; or injury 130

Repeated oft, as oft by love forgiven :
Where'er an evil passion was subdued,
Or Virtue's feeble embers fann'd ; where'er
A sin was heartily abjured, and left;

Where'er a pious act was done, or breathed 135

A pious prayer, or wish'd a pious wish —
There was a high and holy place, a spot
Of sacred light, a most religious fane,
Where Happiness, descending, sat and smiled.

THE JOY OF INFANCY THE MORN OF LIFE.

But these apart. In sacred memory lives 140

The morn of life ; first morn of endless days.

L78 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Most joyful morn ! nor yet for naught the joy :

A being of eternal date commenced ;

A young immortal then was born ; and who

Shall tell what strange variety of bliss 145

Burst on the infant soul, when first it look'd

Abroad on God's creation fair, and saw

The glorious earth, and glorious heaven, and face

Of man sublime ? and saw all new, and felt

All new? when thought awoke ; thought never more 145

To sleep ? when first it saw, heard, reason'd, will'd ;

And triumph'd in the warmth of conscious life ? —

Nor happy only ; but the cause of joy,

Which those who never tasted always mourn'd.

THE JOY OF A MOTHER'S TENDER HEART : THE JOV AND
BEAUTY OF CHILDHOOD.

What tongue ? — no tongue shall tell what bliss o'erflow'd 150

The mother's tender heart, while round her hung

The offspring of her love, and lisp'd her name ;

As living jewels dropt unstain'd from heaven,

That made her fairer far, and sweeter seem,

Than every ornament of costliest hue. 155

And who hath not been ravish'd as she pass'd

With all her playful band of little ones,

Like Luna, with her daughters of the sky,

151. Thy mother's tender heart, ifce. : The poet was blessed witli a highly
intelligent and pious mother, to whom he was much indebted, as we learn
from a passage in his biography. His brother writes: "It deserves to
be recorded here, that he once said to me, in speaking of the theological
doctrines in the ' Course of Time,' after it was written, ' It, has my mother's
divinity, the divinity that she taught me when I was a boy. I may have
amplified it from what I learned afterwards; but in writing the poem I
always found that hers formed the groundwork, the point from which I
set out. I always drew on hers first, and I was never at a loss. This
bIiows,' he added, with devout gratitude, ' what kind of a divine she was.'"

158. Lima: Latin word for moon.

BOOK FIFTH. 179

Walking in matron majesty and grace ?

All who had hearts, here pleasure found: and oft 160

Have I, when tired with heavy tasks, for tasks

Were heavy in the world below, relax'd

My Aveary thoughts among their guiltless sports ;

And led them by their little hands afield ;

And watch'd them run and crop the tempting flower, — 165

Which oft, unask'd, they brought me and bestow'd

With smiling face, that waited for a look

Of praise — and answer'd curious questions, put

In much simplicity, but ill to solve ;

And heard their observations strange and new, 170

And settled whiles their little quarrels, soon

Ending in peace, and soon forgot in love.

And still I look'd upon their loveliness ;

And souo-ht through nature for similitudes

Of perfect beauty, innocence, and bliss. 175

And fairest imagery round me throng'd : —

Dew-drops at day-spring on a seraph's locks ;

Roses that bathe about the well of life ;

Young loves, young hopes, dancing on Morning's cheek ;

Gems leaping in the coronet of love : 180

So beautiful, so full of life, they seem'd

As made entire of beams of angels' eyes.

Gay, guileless, sportive, lovely, little things !

Playing around the den of Sorrow, clad

In smiles ; believing in their fairy hopes ; 185

And thinking man and woman true ! all joy :

Happy all day, and happy all the night.

171. Whiles: Occasionally.

173-187. What a charming picture is here drawn by a master's hand,
of the loveliness of childhood! It shows the injustice of the charge
often brought against our poet, that his representations of human nature
are all repulsive, gloomy, dark. The poem is not, as some have charac-
terized it, all shade, but a truthful and agreeable blending, in its pictures,
of light and shade ; hence its great popularity.

ISO THE COURSE OF TIME.

JOYS OF HOLY LOVE.

Hail, holy love ! thou word that sums all bliss !
Gives and receives all bliss ; fullest when most
Thou givest. Spring-head of all felicity ! 190

Deepest when most is drawn. Emblem of God !
O'erflowing most when greatest numbers drink.
Essence that binds the uncreated Three :
Chain that unites creation to its Lord :
Centre to which all being gravitates. 195

Eternal, ever-growing, happy love !
Enduring all, hoping, forgiving all ;
Instead of law, fulfilling every law :
Entirely blest, because thou seek'st no more •
Hopes not, nor fears ; but on the present lives, 200

And holds perfection smiling in thy arms.
Mysterious, infinite, exhaustless love !
On earth mysterious, and mysterious still
In heaven ; sweet chord, that harmonizes all
The harps of Paradise ; the spring, the well, 205

That fills the bowl, and banquet of the sky.

]>ut why should I to thee of love divine ?
Who happy, and not eloquent of love ?
Who holy, and as thou art, pure, and not
A temple where her glory ever dwells, 210

Where burns her fires, and beams her perfect eye ?

THE JOYS OF YOUTHFUL LOVE.

Kindred to this, part of this holy flame,
Was youthful love — the sweetest boon of Earth.
Hail love ! first love, thou word that sums all bliss !

207. To thee (sing) of love divine?

208-9. "Who (is) happy, <tc. Who (is) holy, etc.

214. That sxims .- This is one instance of a number, in which Pollok

BOOK FIFTH. 181

The sparkling cream of all Time's blessedness : 215

The silken down of happiness complete ;

Discerner of the ripest grapes of joy,

She gather'd, and selected with her hand,

All finest relishes, all fairest sights ;

All rarest odors, all divinest sounds ; 220

All thoughts, all feelings dearest to the soul ;

And brought the holy mixture home, and fill'd

The heart with all superlatives of bliss.

But who would that expound which words transcends,

Must talk in vain. — Behold a meeting scene 225

Of earthly love, and thence infer its worth.

It was an eve of Autumn's holiest mood ;
The corn-fields, bathed in Cynthia's silver light,
Stood ready for the reaper's gathering hand ;
And all the winds slept soundly : nature seem'd 230

In silent contemplation, to adore
Its Maker : now and then the ao-ed leaf
Fell from its fellows, rustling to the ground ;
And, as it fell, bade man think on his end.
On vale and lake, on wood and mountain high, 235

With pensive wing outspread, sat heavenly Thought
Conversing with itself: Vesper look'd forth,

wrongly uses the third person of the verb, where the second is, grarniuat-
ically, demanded.

•227-292. This passage, for poetic and social feeling, and for its beauty
of language, deserves high praise, and will be read with deep interest.
The memoir of the poet shows that he was not unused to those tender
and holy feelings which are here so exquisitely portrayed.

228. Cynthia's : A classical name for the moon — the goddess of the
night.

Say, why not Cynthia, patroness of song?
As thou her crescent, she thy character
Assumes, still more a goddess by the change.

Young's Night Thoughts, III. 32-4

23*7. Vesper : One of the brightest and loveliest of the evening stars — the
planet Venus. She bears this name when seen in the west at evening;

182 THE COURSE OF TIME.

From out her western hermitage, and smiled ;

And up the east, unclouded, rode the Moon

With all her stars, gazing on earth intense, 240

As if she saw some wonder walking there.

but when seen in the east, in the morning, just before sunrise, she takes,
in poetic dialect, the name of Lucifer.

The able reviewer of Pollok (in Blackwood), upon these lines (237-41)
remarks : " In the above moonlight scene there is great breadth of repose.
"Why did the author add the succeeding passage as part of the scene?
It sacrifices utterly the fine contiguities of time and place, and confuses
the first unique picture by adding another, which, if Mr. Pollok had ever
intended continuity, as he evidently does not, should at least have
preceded what he gives as the first. Tried by the ' serene and silent art,'
no painter could bring them both upon the same canvas. The very
word Vesper means to every heart a blue, or rosy, or orange-tawny sky
in the west, with a bright shivering star. According to the high author-
ity of Milton, in a fine scene in his Paradise Lost, of which the above
reminds us, Hesperus and his starry host make a distinct picture, which
lasts only

'till the moon,

Rising in clouded majesty, at length,

Apparent queen, unveils her peerless light,

And o'er the dark, her silver mantle threw.'

If Vesper in full glow be not compatible with the moon, according to
Mr. Pollok, riding unclouded up the east, a fortiori, it belongs not aa a
part to what we call his first scene, in which the world is flooded with
moonlight.

"These last lines of Mr. Pollok belong, therefore, to what in truth is
his first scene. A poem can never be made from the jottiDgs of a com-
mon-place book, however excellent. There is as much of poetry in the
composition of parts, as in the parts themselves. The same ready and
pervading spirit must be present both at the beginning and the comple-
tion of a scene, to give it that continuity of life, which, like an invisible
but felt chain of electricity, flashes our sympathy at once through the
whole. The great power of the epic poet lies in being ever present with
the grand conception in the midst of his many episodes ; to be self-de-
nied; not to pursue his beauties too far, like an unskilful and incompre-
hensive general, who, heedless of the main breastwork of the battle,
pursues his wing of victor}' beyond limits, and leaves a cloudy defeat
v.] ion his own rear. In much of the poetry of the present day, where
there is no want of spirit, there is so much lavish embellishment, and the
general purpose is so ill-compacted, that the sympathies of the reader are
quite fatigued ; and in this spirit he has to satisfy himself, formally, that
the real beauties are indeed poetry."

BOOK FIFTH. 183

Such was the night — so lovely, still, serene ;
When, by a hermit thorn that on the hill
Had seen a hundred flowery ages pass,
A damsel kneel'd to offer up her prayer: 245

Her prayer nightly offer'd, nightly heard.
This ancient thorn had been the meeting-place
Of love, before his country's voice had call'd
The ardent youth, to fields of honor, far
Beyond the wave. And hither now repair'd, 250

Nightly, the maid ; by God's all-seeing eye
Seen only, while she sought this boon alone :
" Her lover's safety, and his quick return."
In holy, humble attitude she kneel'd :

And to her bosom, fair as moonbeam, press'd 255

One hand, the other lifted up to heaven ;
Her eye, upturn'd, bright as the star of morn,
As violet meek, excessive ardor stream'd,
Wafting away her earnest heart to God.
Her voice, scarce utter'd, soft as zephyr sighs 260

On morning lily's cheek ; though soft and low —
Yet heard in heaven, heard at the mercy-seat.
A tear-drop wander'd on her lovely face ;
It was a tear of faith, and holy fear,

Pure as the drops that hang at dawning-time, 265

On yonder willows by the stream of life.
On her the moon look'd steadfastly ; the stars,
That circle nightly round the eternal throne,
Glanced down, well pleased ; and everlasting Love
Gave gracious audience to her prayer sincere. 270

248. A hermit thorn : An expression conveying a beautiful and origi-
nal personification — more poetic than solitary thorn-tree.

252. "While (was) sought, <fcc.

257-70. What description could be more exquisite, of a lovely woman
engaged in earnest supplication for an absent friend ? The similes em-
ployed command admiration, and impart delight.

1S4: THE COURSE OF TIME.

Oh, had her lover seen her thus alone,
Thus holy, wrestling thus, and all for him !
Nor did he not ; for ofttimes Providence,
With unexpected joy the fervent prayer
Of faith surprised : — return'd from long delay 275

With glory crown'd of righteous actions won,
The sacred thorn to memory dear, first sought
The youth, and found it at the happy hour,
Just when the damsel kneel'd herself to pray.
Wrapt in devotion pleading with her God, 280

She saw him not, heard not his foot approach.
All holy images seem'd too impure
To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneel'd,
Beseeching for his ward, before the throne,
Seem'd fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought ;
But sweeter still the kind remembrance came, 286

That she was flesh and blood, form'd for himself,
The plighted partner of his future life.
And as they met, embraced, and sat embower'd
In woody chambers of the starry night, — 290

Spirits of love about them minister'd,
And God, approving, bless'd the holy joy.

THE DELIGHTFUL FRIENDSHIPS OF EARTH.

Nor unremember'd is the hour when friends
Met, friends but few on earth, and therefore dear :

273. Xor did he not (see her): That is, he did see her, thus alone, thus
holy, <fcc.

293. Nor unremembered, &c. : " Voltaire said that Homer conversed
with the warriors who returned from the siege of Troy : so Pollok had
a thorough acquaintance with his characters. lie believed his own poem,
and it contains not only his creed, but memorials of his friends. It is a
I i of friendship, a poem of home. His father, mother, Bisters, broth-
ers, frii ill , familiar scenes, all have a laurel wreath woven for them. If
he is gloomy at times in his verse, it is because of sin and its ravages.

BOOK FIFTH. 185

Sought oft, and sought almost as oft in vain : 295

Yet always sought ; so native to the heart,

So much desired, and coveted by all.

Nor wonder thou — thou wonderest not, nor need'st :

Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair

Was seen beneath the sun ; but naught was seen - 300

More beautiful, or excellent, or fair

Than face of faithful friend ; fairest when seen

In darkest day. And many sounds were sweet,

Most ravishing, and pleasant to the ear ;

But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend ; 305

Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm.

Some I remember, and will ne'er forget ;

My early friends, friends of my evil day ;

Friends in my mirth, friends in ray misery too ;

Friends given by God in mercy and in love ; 310

My counsellors, my comforters, and guides ;

My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy ;

Companions of my young desires ; in doubt

My oracles ; my wings in high pursuit.

Oh, I remember, and will ne'er forget, 315

Our meeting-spots, our chosen sacred hours ;

Our burning words, that utter'd all the soul ;

Our faces beaming with unearthly love ; —

Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope

Exulting, heart embracing heart entire. 320

As birds of social feather, helping each

His fellow's flight, we soar'd into the skies,

And cast the clouds beneath our feet, and Earth,

With all her tardy leaden-footed cares,

And talk'd the speech, and ate the food of heaven. 325

He gives always beautiful views of the mercy-seat ; and opens up,
oftentimes, vistas which look into the interior of heaven. In a word, the
poem is a gorgeous panorama of three worlds." — Scott's Life of Pollok,
p. 294.

186 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

These I remember, these selectest men ;

And would their names record — but what avails

My mention of their name ? before the throne

They stand, illustrious, 'mong the loudest harps,

And will receive thee glad, my friend and theirs. 330

For all are friends in heaven ; all faithful friends ;

And many friendships in the days of Time

Begun, are lasting here, and growing still ;

So grows ours evermore, both theirs and mine.

THE LONELY WALK, AND THOUGHTFUL STUDY OF NATURE.

Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot, 335

In the wide desert, where the view was large.
Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me
The solitude of vast extent, untouch'd

335-377. The two paragraphs embraced in these admirable lines, and
the paragraph preceding them, receive a satisfactory illustration from a
page of the author's biography by his brother, who thus writes : During
the summer, while he prosecuted, at home, the study of Latin and Greek,
he read English more than formerly, in preparation for the logic class <»f
the ensuing winter ; and produced a few verses occasionally. Having
now fairly discontinued agricultural pursuits, his leisure or recreative
hours were passed, generally, either in talking with his friends and neigh-
bors, or in walking in the fields, observing and contemplating the various
objects and appearances of nature, which he admired in all its extent and
variety. He noticed every thing, and took interest in every thing, near
and distant, above and below, little and groat, animate and inanimate,
man and beast. Whatever was worthy of God to create and preserve,
was surely, he thought, worthy of man to notice and take interest in.

His taste for the varied scenes and views around Moorbouse was not
partial, but universal, extending to all places, at all times and seasons.
From his boyhood, he frequented all the heights and hollows, springs,
lakes, and streams, for several miles around it. Scarcely was there a
spot in its whole neighborhood where his feet did not tread ; and, though
he had favorite places of resort, he admired each place in itself, and in
its relation to others. One great source of his admiration was what is
there emphatically termed the North Hills, a magnificent range of High-
land mountains, including Ben Cruachan, Ben Lomond, Benvenue, Ben

BOOK FIFTH. 187

By hand of cart; where nature sow'd, herself, 339

And reap'd her crops ; — whose garments were the clouds ;

Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars ;

Whose organ-quire, the voice of many waters ;

Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ;

Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers ;

Whose orators, the thunderbolts of God ; 345

Whose palaces, the everlasting hills ;

Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue :

And from whose rocky turrets battled high,

Prospect immense spread out on all sides round ;

Lost now between the welkin and the main — 350

Now wall'd with hills that slept above the storm.

Most fit was such a place for musing men ;
Happiest sometimes when musing without aim.
It was indeed a wondrous sort of bliss
The lonely bard enjoy'd, when forth he walk'd 355

Ledi, and Benvoirlich ; and presenting a front, as seen from Moorhouse,
unsurpassed for boldness by any thing in Scotland. These mountains,
which were afterwards designated by him,

" Scotia's northern battlement of hills,"

formed his favorite view; and often did he rise from writing at Moor-
house, and go out to a small elevation beside it, called the Head of the
Close, and admire them, in their varied appearances throughout the year.

Nothing, however, delighted him so much as walking out alone, in a
good day, without any definite purpose, into the moors that lie to the
south and southeast of Moorhouse ; wandering among them from height
to height, or from glen to glen, till, as he expressed it, " his soul was rill-
ed with their glories ;" and then returning home at his leisure. His fa-
vorite places of resort in these walks were the top of Balagich, and a great
hollow about three miles to the southeast of it towards Loudon Hill,
called the Crook of the Lainsh, where the moors may be said to be in
perfection — where they stretch out on all sides as far as the eye can
reach, and where scarcely a cultivated spot, or any trace of art, is visible.
To his walks in these moors, he referred afterwards in the well-known
passage, which combines a description of the two last-mentioned places,
and expresses his feelings and habits in visiting them, 235-265.

355. When forth he walked, &c: "The only house that he visited in
these moors," writes his brother, " was the far-known Lochgoin, which

188 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Unpurposed ; stood, and knew not why ; sat down,

And knew not where ; arose, and knew not when ;

Had eyes, and saw not ; ears, and nothing heard ;

And sought — sought neither heaven nor earth — sought

naught,
Nor meant to think; hut ran, meantime, through vast 3G0
Of visionary things, fairer than aught
That was ; and saw the distant tops of thoughts
"Which men of common stature never saw,
Greater than aught that largest words could hold,
Or give idea of, to those who read. 305

He enter'd in to Nature's holy place,
Her inner chamber, and beheld her face

is about four miles to the south of Moorhouse, in Ayrshire. It stands on
a green spot, on a commanding height, in the midst of mosses. This house
■was a haunt for the Covenanters during the persecution between 1660
and 168S ; and was twelve times searched for them, but none were ever
found in it. It contains a flag, a drum, and a pair of drumsticks, which
were used at the battle of Bothwell-bridge ; together with Capt. Paton's
sword, which he carried during eighteen years of the persecution, and
his Bible, which he gave to his wife from the scaffold, immediately be-
fore he was executed at the Grass-market of Edinburgh. It was first
built in 1178, and the same family, which came originally from France on
account of persecution, have possessed it from generation to generation,
for six hundred years. Its last possessor, John Howie, a common farmer,
with a common education, compiled within its walls the 'Scots Wor-
thies;' and collected in it a considerable library of valuable old books,
which are in the possession of his son, Thomis Howie, its present posses-
sor (1843). To this hallowed, venerated, and interesting place, Robert
instituted a yearly summer visit of all the young people in the neighbor-
hood of Moorhouse ; and it is still kept up under the name of ltobert
Pollok's Lochgoin Visit, and many come from different quarters to join
in it."

360. Through vaat,&c; That is, through a vast number and variety,
<£c. In this and a few following lines we are furnished with a charming
portrait of the workibgs <>t' the poet's own active and far-reaching mind,
when he walked out amongst the soul inspiring BCenery of his native
moors and hills. An American writer, however, thinks, that 1'ollok, in
these lines, was presenting the lofty attributes of the intellect of Cole-
ridge.

BOOK FIFTH. 189

Unveil'd ; and heard unutterable things,

And incommunicable visions saw : —

Things then unutterable, and visions then 370

Of incommunicable glory bright ;

But by the lips of after ages forrn'd

To words, or by their pencil pictured forth :

Who entering farther in beheld again,

And heard unspeakable and marvellous things, 375

Which other ages in their turn reveal'd,

And left to others, greater wonders still.

The earth abounded much in silent wastes ;
Nor yet is heaven without its solitudes,
Else incomplete in bliss, whither who will 380

May oft retire, and meditate alone,
Of God, redemption, holiness, and love :
Nor needs to fear a setting sun, or haste
Him home from rainy tempest unforeseen ;
Or, sighing, leave his thoughts for want of time. 385

ENJOYMENT DERIVED FROM THE EXERCISE OF INTELLECT.

But whatsoever was both good and fair
And highest relish of enjoyment gave,
In intellectual exercise was found ;
When, gazing through the future, present, past,
Inspired, thought link'd to thought, harmonious flow'd 390
In poetry — the loftiest mood of mind.
Or when philosophy the reason led
Deep through the outward circumstance of things,
And saw the master-wheels of Nature move ;
And travell'd far along the endless line 395

Of certain, and of probable ; and made,
At every step, some new discovery,
That gave the soul sweet sense of larger room.
High these pursuits — and sooner to be named

190 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Deserved ; at present only named : again 400

To be resumed, and praised in longer verse.

PLEASURES OF NATURAL SCIENCE.

Abundant, and diversified above
All number, were tbe sources of delight ;
As infinite as were the lips that drank :
And to tbe pure all innocent and pure ; 405

Tbe simplest still to wisest men tbe best.
One made acquaintanceship with plants and flowers,
And happy grew in telling all their names.
One class'd tbe quadrupeds ; a third tbe fowls ;
Another found in minerals his joy. 410

And I have seen a man, a wortby man,
In happy mood conversing with a fly ;
And as be through his glass, made by himself,
Beheld its wondrous eye, and plumage fine,
From leaping scarce he kept for perfect joy. 415

399. Sooner, <fcc. : Were entitled to an earlier notice.

411. And I have seen a man, ifcc. : This, probably, was Dr. James Dob-
son, of Eaglesham, an intimate friend and admirer, and a near neighbor
of the poet The Rev. Dr. Scott, in his biography of Pollok, states that
in 1828, this gentleman walked with him over the ground so beautifully
described in this Book of the poem, and when arrived at a certain huge
mass of granite rock, he said, " This rock is the poet's pulpit. Often has
Robert stood upon this stone and recited his effusions to me. Here have
I listened to him reading the most graphic portions of ' The Course of
Time.' I can never forget," he continued to remark, his eyes glistening
with excitement, " I can never forget this stone. It was here I heard
him recite the memorable description of Byron, on the evening of the
day it was composed."

With Dr. Dobson, therefore, it is probable, the poet was wont to take
innocent and healthful recreation in the way described in the following
lines.

BOOK FIFTH.

RECREATION "WITH A FRIEND.

191

And from my path, I with my friend have turn'd,
A man of excellent mind, and excellent heart,
And climb'd the neighboring hill, with arduous step,
Fetching from distant cairn, or from the earth,
Digging, with labor sore, the ponderous stone, 42G

"Which, having carried to the highest top,
"We downward roll'd ; and as it strove at first,
With obstacles that seem'd to match its force,
"With feeble crooked motion to and fro
Wavering, he look'd with interest most intense, 425

And prayer almost ; and as it gather'd strength,
And straighten'd the current of its furious flow —
Exulting in the swiftness of its course,
And, rising now with rainbow-bound immense,
Leap'd down, careering o'er the subject plain, 430

He clapp'd his hands in sign of boundless bliss ;
And laugh'd and talk'd, well paid for all his toil :

416-484. The incident here described occurred in company -with a bo-
som friend and fellow- student of the author, Mr. Marr, and is thus related
in a letter to the biographer, after the death of the poet : " Four miles
from Girvan they turned aside from their path, and ascended Ardmillan
hill, where an incident occurred which your brother has beautifully de-
scribed in the fifth book of ' The Course of Time.' It was the rolling of
stones down the hill. They afterwards descended to the bottom of the
declivity, down which the stones had rushed with impetuosity into the
eea, when they discovered a little plain beneath a small precipice, oppo-
site to which the sea had formed a smooth narrow bay ; and when your
brother saw it, he exclaimed, ' Oh, Marr ! what if two lovers had met
here " to live one day of parting love," and had fallen in this luckless
hour by thy cruel hand !' This incident made a deep impression on your
brothers mind, and never left it. It was among the first things he re-
lated to me after we met ; and when he and Mr. Marr took their last
farewell, he reminded him of what might have happened by the rolling
of stones down Ardmillan hill, and requested him never to engage in
that amusement asain."

419. Cairn : A pile of stones.

192 THE COUESE OF TIME.

And when at night the story was rehearsed,
Uncommon glory kindled in his eye.

THE FACE OF NATURE'S SCENERY.

And there were too — harp ! lift thy voice on high, 435
And run in rapid numbers o'er the face
Of nature's scenery ! — and there were day
And night ; and rising suns, and setting suns ;
And clouds that seem'd like chariots of saints,
By fiery coursers drawn — as brightly hued, 440

As if the glorious, bushy, golden locks
Of thousand cherubim had been shorn off,
And on the temples hung of morn and even.
And there were moons, and stars, and darkness streak'd
With light ; and voice of tempest heard secure. 445

And there were seasons corning evermore,
And going still, all fair, and always new,
With bloom, and fruit, and fields of hoary grain.
And there were hills of flock, and groves of song ;
And flowery streams, and garden walks embower'd, 450
Where side by side the rose and lily bloom'd ;
And sacred founts, wild harps, and moonlight glens ;
And forests vast, fair lawns, and lonely oaks ;
And little willows sipping at the brook ;
Old wizard haunts, and dancing seats of mirth ; 455

Gay festive bowers, and palaces in dust ;
Dark owlet nooks, and caves, and battled rocks ;
And winding valleys, roof 'd with pendent shade ;
And tall, and perilous cliffs, that overlook'd
The breath of ocean, sleeping on his waves. 460

Sounds, sights, smells, tastes ; the heaven and earth, profuse
In endless sweets, above all praise of song :
For not to use alone did Providence
Abound, but large example gave to man

BOOK FIFTH. 193

Of grace, and ornament, and splendor rich ; 405

Suited abundantly to every taste,

In bird, beast, fish, winged and creeping thing ;

In herb and flower ; and in the restless change,

Which on the many-color'd seasons made

The annual circuit of the fruitful earth. 470

THE POET'S RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PAST.

Nov do I aught of earthly sort remember, —
If partial feeling to my native place
Lead not my lyre astray, — of fairer view,
And comelier walk, than the blue mountain-paths,
And snowy cliffs of Albion renown'd ; 4*75

Albion, an isle long blest with gracious laws,
And gracious kings, and favor'd much of Heaven ;
Though yielding oft penurious gratitude.
Nor do I of that isle remember aught

Of prospect more sublime and beautiful, 480

Than Scotia's northern battlement of hills,
Which first I from my father's house beheld,
At dawn of life : beloved in memory still ;

480-9. Of prospect more sublime, &c, : " There are few places in Scot-
land," says Dr. Scott, "from which the prospect is more extended and
diversified than from about Moorhouse. At a short distance from it, Ba-
la«-ich hill rises and overlooks a vast expanse of most variegated and
magnificent landscape. It is the great pyramidal elevation of Renfrew-
shire. If it be taken as a central observatory, the radii from its green
top extend from forty to one hundred miles of hill, and dale, and sea.
There is not, perhaps, in the kingdom of Scotland, a tract of scenery
richer in historic and poetic lore. There is Stirlingshire, away to the
north, green with the ancient memories of its castle, and the bloody Ban-
nockburn. To the east, Edinburgh, its castle and palace of Holyrood,
each of which were the scenes of the greatest epics in Scotland's dramatic
story. Nearer to this observatory lie the shires of Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr,
YVitrton and the Western Isles — 'Scotia's battlement of hills' — all im-
mortal by the heroic deeds of successive generations. The past cornea
back on the soul, with its wonderful memories, as we gaze upon that

194 THE CO! ESE OF TIME.

And standard still of rural imagery :

What most resembles them, the fairest seems, 485

And stirs the eldest sentiments of bliss ;

And pictured on the tablet of my heart,

Their distant shapes eternally remain,

And in my dreams their cloudy tops arise.

Much of my native scenery appears, 490

And presses forward to be in my song ;

But must not now ; for much behind awaits

Of higher note. Four trees I pass not by,

Which o'er our house their evening shadow threw, —

Three ash, and one of elm : tall trees they were, 495

And old, and had been old a century

Before my day : none living could say aught

About their youth ; but they were goodly trees :

panorama. Amid the myriads of dim and misty objects, there seems to
appear the Wallace and the Bruce, the stalwart champions of civil free-
dom ; and nearer our own days, the outlines of Welsh, Peden, and Cameron,
the apostles of Scotland's religion. Here and there, too, stand up, like
everlasting monuments, Tinto, Wardlaw, Cairntable, &c : hills which are
crowned with the evergreen laurels of native poesy, that Ramsay, Burns,
Bruce, Tannahill, Scott, Hogg, and Motherwell, wove in the moments of
their inspiration. Add to all this aggregate of real beauty and imaginary
glories, the glimpses of the sea and misty lakes which the eye takes in,
with the rivers of Clyde, Forth, Calder, Ayr, ami Cart, that twine
around the hills and wind throughout the vales, like silver avenues;
whoever wishes for one vista of primeval magnificence, let him ascend
to the highest peak of Balagich, ami look east, west, north, and south.
It was amidst such scenery as this that the mind of Pollok was nurtured."
Life of Pollok, p. 41-2.

The brother of the poet, speaking of the place where he was'brought
up, judiciously remarks: "There can he no doubt, that the nature of the
Burrounding country entered largely into the formation of his character,
and the development of his mind: that it greatly contributed i<> the
boldness, energy,and variety of the one, as well as to the purity, eleva-
tion, and comprehensiveness of the other. It was impossible for a mind
like his to contemplate such a scene as that around Moorhouse, without
being deeply inspired with the spirit of freedom, and strongly impressed
with ideas of a and magnificence."

BOOK FIFTH. 195

And oft I wonder'd, as I sat and thought

Beneath their summer shade, or in the night 500

Of winter heard the spirits of the wind

Growling among their boughs, — how they had grown

So high, in such a rough tempestuous place :

And when a hapless branch, torn by the blast,

Fell down, I mourn'd as if a friend had fallen. 505

These I distinctly hold in memory still,
And all the desert scenery around.
Nor strange, that recollection there should dwell,
Where first I heard of God's redeeming love :
First felt and reason'd, loved and was beloved, 510

And first awoke the harp to holy song.
To hoar and green there was enough of joy.
Hopes, friendships, charities, and warm pursuit,
Gave comfortable flow to youthful blood.
And there were old remembrances of days, 515

509, <fcc. Where first I heard, &c. : "A pleasing feature of the poem,"
remarks Gilfillan, "is the vein of fine egotism which pervades it, and
breaks out frequently in personal allusions and pensive reminiscences-
This is one principal cause of its popularity. The poet who makes a
harp of his own heart, and strikes its ruddy chords with skilful fearless-
ness, is sure of awakening the sympathies of the public. What so affecting
in Milton as his allusions to his solitary position, ' fallen on evil days and
evil tongues ;' or the melancholy magnanimity with which he touches,
as it were, his blind orbs, and mourns over their premature eclipse ?
What finer in Cowper than his ' Castaway,' or than his description of the
'stricken deer that left the herd?' So in Pollok, there is nothing to our
mind so beautiful as his allusions to ' Scotia's northern battlement of
hills,' seen from his father's house, in the ' morn of life,' or than the brief
history of himself which occurs in the earlier part of the poem. It adds
to the effect of such passages, that the plan of the poem leads us to re-
gard them as the reminiscences of a spirit shrined in heaven, and yet
from the centre of eternal glories, looking back with a moist eye and a
full heart, to the experiences of its earthly pilgrimage."

512. To hoar and green : Not a well-chosen combination of epithets, to
denote old and young; for while the epithet hoar, or hoary, may denote
the former, from the color of the hair, the latter epithet cannot, for the
same reason, denote the young, as their hair is not of a green color.

196 THE COURSE OF TIME.

When on the glittering dews of orient life,

Shone sunshine hopes — unfail'd, unperjured then :

And there were childish sports, and school-boy feats,

And school-boy sports, and earnest vows of love,

Utter'd when passion's boisterous tide ran high — 520

Sincerely utter'd, though but seldom kept :

And there were angel looks ; and sacred hours

Of rapture — hours that in a moment pass'd,

And yet were wish'd to last forevermore ;

And venturous exploits ; and hardy deeds ; 525

And bargains shrewd, achieved in manhood's prime ;

And thousand recollections, gay and sweet,

Which, as the old and venerable man

Approach'd the grave, around him, smiling, flock'd,

And breathed new ardor through his ebbing veins ; 530

And touch 'd his lip with endless eloquence ;

And cheer'd, and much refresh'd his wither'd heart.

Indeed, each thing remember'd, all but guilt

Was pleasant, and a constant source of joy.

Nor lived the old on memory alone. 535

He in his children lived a second life ;

With them again took root ; sprang with their hopes ;

Enter'd into their schemes ; partook their fears ;

Laugh'd in their mirth ; and in their gain grew rich.

And sometimes on the eldest cheek was seen 540

A smile as hearty as on face of youth,

That saw in prospect sunny hopes invite,

Hope's pleasures — sung to harp of sweetest note ;

517. Unfailed: An instance of rather too great a freedom in the use
of languagi — for unfailireg.

535. The old (man ).

643. Hope's pleasures — sung, &c. : Allusion is made to Campbell's
"Pleasures of Hope," which, together with the other poems of that fine
writer, Pollok fjives us to understand had filled his youthful mind with
rapture, and had doubtless contributed largely to the development of his
poetic powers.

BOOK FIFTII.

19T

Harp, heard Avith rapture on Britannia's hills ;

With rapture heard by me, in morn of life. 545

JOYS OF REPOSE AFTER LABOR, AND OF THE PLAY OF FANCY.

Nor small the joy of rest to mortal men ;
Rest after labor ; sleep approaching soft,
And wrapping all the weary faculties
In sweet repose. Then Fancy, unrestrain'd
By sense or judgment, strange confusion made, 550

Of future, present, past ; combining things
Unseemly, things unsociable in nature,
In most absurd communion, laughable,
Though sometimes vexing sore the slumbering soul.
Sporting at will, she through her airy halls, 555

With moonbeams paved, and canopied with stars,
And tapestried with marvellous imagery,
And shapes of glory, infinitely fair,
Moving and mixing in most wondrous dance —
Fantastically walk'd ; but pleased so well, 560

That ill she liked the judgment's voice severe,
Which call'd her home when noisy morn awoke.
And oft she sprang beyond the bounds of Time,
On her swift pinion lifting up the souls
Of righteous men, on high, to God, and heaven, 565

Where they beheld unutterable things ;
And heard the glorious music of the blest,
Circling the throne of the Eternal Three ;
And with the spirits unincarnate, took

Celestial pastime on the hills of God, 5*70

Forgetful of the gloomy pass between.

GLOOMY DREAMS — THEIR USE.

Some dreams were useless — moved by turbid course
Of animal disorder. Not so all :

198 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Deep moral lessons some impress'd, that naught

Could afterwards deface. And oft in dreams, 5*75

The master passion of the soul display'd

His huge deformity, conceal'd by day —

Warning the sleeper to beware, awake.

And oft in dreams, the reprobate and vile,

Unpardonable sinner — as he seem'd 580

Toppling upon the perilous edge of Hell —

In dreadful apparition, saw before

His vision pass, the shadows of the damn'd ;

And saw the glare of hollow, cursed eyes,

Spring from the skirts of the infernal night ; 585

And saw the souls of wicked men, new dead,

By devils hearsed into the fiery gulf;

And heard the burning of the endless flames ;

And heard the weltering of the waves of wrath.

And sometimes, too, before his fancy pass'd 590

The Worm that never dies, writhing its folds

In hideous sort, and with eternal Death

Held horrid colloquy ; giving the wretch

Unwelcome earnest of the woe to come.

But these we leave, as unbefitting song 595

That promised happy narrative of joy.

JOY SPRINGING OUT OF WOE.

But what of all the joys of earth was most
Of native growth, most proper to the soil —
Not elsewhere known, in worlds that never fell —
Was joy that sprung from disappointed woe. GOO

The joy in grief; the pleasure after pain ;

COO. Disappointed woe : This pln-ase is rather an ambiguous one, and
quite unusual. The connection shows its meaning to be — woe that fails
of its purpose — thai is followed by a happy state of mind or by a hap-
pier condition. There is an implied personification of woe, considered

BOOK FIFTH. 199

Fears turn'd to hopes ; meetings expected not ;

Deliverances from dangerous attitudes ;

Better for worse ; and sometimes best for worst ;

And all the seeming ill, ending in good — 605

A sort of happiness composed, which none

Has had experience of, but mortal man.

Yet not to be despised. Look back, and one

Behold, who would not give her tear for all

The smiles that dance about the cheek of Mirth. 610

THE WIDOW'S VISIT TO THE GRAVE-YARD AT NOOST OF NIGHT.

Among the tombs she walks at noon of night,
In miserable garb of widowhood.
Observe her yonder, sickly, pale, and sad,
Bending her wasted body o'er the grave
Of him who was the husband of her youth. 615

The moonbeams trembling through these ancient yews,
That stand like ranks of mourners round the bed
Of death, fall dismally upon her face ;
Her little, hollow, wither'd face, almost
Invisible — so worn away with woe : 620

The tread of hasty foot, passing so late,
Disturbs her not ; nor yet the roar of mirth,
From neighboring revelry ascending loud.

as an enemy who fails to make us permanently wretched by any particular
infliction — "all the seeming ill, ending in good." (605.)

611. It seems strange, at first sight, that the picture of a most piteous
widowhood should be introduced in a sketch of the joys of earth ; but
the author's purpose was to show that joy was not a stranger even to
6cenes of peculiar woe. This widow's joy in visiting her husband's
grave, even at the midnight hour, was derived from the invaluable Chris-
tian doctrine of the resurrection, and of the meeting of Christian friends
in a happier world. So also, in the admirable sketch that follows, of the
dying mother and her babe, the author illustrates the joys from the birth
of a child, even though, sometimes, they were mingled with bitter grief
Qpon the premature death of the loved one who bore them.

200 THE COURSE OF TIME.

She hears, sees naught ; fears naught : one thought alone

Fills all her heart and soul ; half hoping, half 625

Remembering, sad, unutterable thought!

Utter'd by silence, and by tears alone.

Sweet tears ! the awful language, eloquent

Of infinite affection ; far too big

For words. She sheds not many now : that grass, G30

Which springs so rankly o'er the dead, has drunk

Already many showers of grief: a drop

Or two are all that now remain behind,

And from her eye, that darts strange fiery beams,

At dreary intervals, drip down her cheek, 635

Falling most mournfully from bone to bone.

But vet she wants not tears : that babe that hangs

Upon her breast, that babe that never saw

Its father — he was dead before its birth —

Helps her to weep, weeping before its time ; 640

Taught sorrow by the mother's melting voice,

Repeating oft the father's sacred name.

Be not surprised at this expense of woe !

The man she mourns was all she call'd her own ;

The music of her ear, light of her eye; 645

Desire of all her heart ; her hope, her fear ;

The element in which her passions lived —

Dead now, or dying all. Nor long shall she

Visit that place of skulls : night after night,

She wears herself away: the moonbeam now 6o0

That falls upon her unsubstantial frame,

Scarce finds obstruction ; and upon her bones,

Barren as leafless boughs in winter-time,

Her infant fastens his little hands, as oft,

Forgetful, she leaves him awhile unheld. 655

6 1 4-8. In what more fitting terms could I"- described a husband earn-
estly loved ?

BOOK FIFTH.

201

But look, she passes not away in gloom :

A light from far illumes her face ; a light

That comes beyond the moon, beyond the sun —

The light of truth divine ; the glorious hope

Of resurrection at the promised morn, 660

And meetings then which ne'er shall part again.

Indulge another note of kindred tone,
Where grief was mix'd with melancholy joy.

THE DYING MOTHER AND HER BABE.

Our sighs were numerous, and profuse our tears ;
For she was lost, was lovely, and we loved 665

Her much : fresh in our memory, as fresh
As yesterday, is yet the day she died.
It was an April day ; and blithely all
The youth of nature leap'd beneath the sun,
And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts 6*70

Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome blood,
In healthy merriment — when tidings came,
A child was born ; and tidings came again,
That she who gave it birth was sick to death.
So swift trode sorrow on the heels of joy ! 675

We gather'd round her bed, and bent our knees
In fervent supplication to the Throne

665-'722. For she was lost, <tc. : Here the reader will find a most
graphic and touching description of the death-scene of one of the poet's
sisters, Mrs. Young, who was a great favorite with him, and whose death
is said to have made a strong and lasting impression upon his youthful
mind. It occurred when he was but sixteen years of age. He was
present at her death, and nine years afterwards, from memory produced
these lines, which were subsequently incorporated into the " Course of
Time." Indeed, large portions of this work were written previous to
the composition of the poem as such, and inserted where best they fitted ;
and this circumstance will account, perhaps, for some obvious defects in
the poem — as a whole.

202 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of Mercy, and perfumed our prayers with sighs

Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks

Of self-abasement ; but we sought to stay 680

An angel on the earth ; a spirit ripe

For heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused :

Most merciful, as oft, when seeming hast!

Most gracious when she seem'd the most to frown !

The room I well remember ; and the bed 085

On which she lay ; and all the faces too,

That crowded dark and mournfully around.

Her father there, and mother bending stood,

And down their aged cheeks fell many drops

Of bitterness : her husband, too, was there, 090

And brothers ; and they wept — her sisters, too,

Did weep and sorrow comfortless ; and I,

Too, wept, though not to weeping given : and all

Within the house was dolorous and sad.

This I remember well ; but better still, 095

I do remember, and will ne'er forget,

The dying eye — that eye alone was bright,

And brighter grew, as nearer death approach'd :

As I have seen the gentle little flower

Look fairest in the silver beam, which fell V00

Reflected from the thunder-cloud that soon
' Came down, and o'er the desert scatter 1 d far

676, (fee. : We gathered round her bed, tfce. : " We do not know," says
the Rev. Dr. Seott, "of anything in the whole range of ancient and
modern poesy, which will compare in faithful delineation, pathos, and
beauty, with this description of the 'dying Mother.' It has the rich
unction of inspiration in every line, and seems to be the oracular utter-
ance of a bereaved heart. It is a Christian painting of a deathbed ; and
such a coloring of it, too, as the ministering angel of God might have
sketched. There are hundreds of families on earth, in every generation,
that will see themselves in it as in a polished mirror. It is fit to be hung
up in the gallery of heaven. It is the very embodiment and solution of
the apostolic query, ' death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is
thy victory?"

BOOK FIFTH. 203

And wide its loveliness. She made a sign

To bring her babe — 'twas brought, and by her placed.

She look'd upon its face, that neither smiled 705

Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon't, and laid

Her hand upon its little breast, and sought

For it, with look that seem'd to penetrate

The heavens — unutterable blessings — such

As God to dying parents only granted, 710

For infants left behind them in the world.

" God keep my child," we heard her say, and heard

No more : the Ansrel of the Covenant *

Was come, and, faithful to his promise, stood

Prepared to walk with her through death's dark vale. 715

And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still —

Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused

With many tears — and closed without a cloud.

They set as sets the morning star, which goes

Not down behind the darken'd west, nor hides 720

Obscured among the tempests of the sky,

But melts away into the light of heaven.

Loves, friendships, hopes, and dear remembrances ;
The kind embracings of the heart — and hours
Of happy thought — and smiles coming to tears — 725

And glories of the heaven and starry cope
Above, and glories of the earth beneath :
These were the rays that wander 'd through the gloom
Of mortal life — wells of the wilderness ;
Redeeming features in the face of Time ; 730

Sweet drops, that made the mixed cup of Earth
A palatable draught — too bitter else.

WHETHER THE RIGHTEOUS MAN OR SINNER SHARED MOST LARGELY,
AND RELISHED BEST THE JOYS OF THE WORLD.

About the joys and pleasures of the world,
This question was not seldom in debate —

204 THE COURSE OF TIME.

"Whether the righteous man, or sinner, had 735

The greatest share, and relish'd them the most?

Truth gives the answer thus, gives it distinct,

Nor needs to reason long : The righteous man.

For what was he denied of earthly growth,

Worthy the name of good ? Truth answers — Naught. 740

Had he not appetites, and sense, and will ?

Might he not eat, if Providence allow'd,

The finest of the wheat? Might he not drink

The choicest wine ? True, he was temperate ;

But, then, was temperance a foe to peace ? 745

Might he not rise, and clothe himself in gold ?

Ascend, and stand in palaces of kings ?

True, he was honest still, and charitable :

Were then these virtues foes to human peace?

Might he not do exploits and gain a name ? 750

Most true, he trod not down a fellow's right,

Nor walk'd up to a throne on skulls of men ;

Were justice, then, and mercy, foes to peace ?

Had he not friendships, loves, and smiles, and hopes ?

Sat not around his table sons and daughters ? • 755

Was not his ear with music pleased ? his eye

With light? his nostrils with perfumes ? his lips

With pleasant relishes ? grew not his herds ?

Fell not the rain upon his meadows ? reap'd

He not his harvests ? and did not his heart 760

Revel at will through all the charities

And sympathies of nature, unconfined ?

And were not these all sweeten'd, and sanctified

By dews of holiness shed from above \

Mighl he not walk through Fancy's airy halls? 765

Might he not History's ample page survey ?

Might he not, finally, explore the depths

Of mental, moral, natural, divine ?

But why enumerate thus ? One word enough.

BOOK FIFTH. 205

There was no joy in all created things, 770

No drop of sweet, that turn'd not in the end

To sour, of which the righteous man did not

Partake — partake, invited by the voice

Of God, his Father's voice — who gave him all

His heart's desire. And o'er the sinner still, 775

The Christian had this one advantage more,

That when his earthly pleasures fail'd, and tail

They always did to every soul of man,

He sent his hopes on high, look'd up, and reach'd

His sickle forth, and reap'd the fields of heaven, 780

And pluck'd the clusters from the vines of God.

THE MILLENNIAL AGE ABOUT TO BE INTRODUCED.

Nor was the general aspect of the world
Always a moral waste : a time there came,
Though few believed it e'er should come — a time
Typed by the Sabbath-day recurring once 785

In seven ; and by the year of rest indulged
Septennial to the lands on Jordan's banks :
A time foretold by Judah's bards in words
Of fire : a time, seventh part of time, and set
Before the eighth and last — the Sabbath-day 790

Of all the earth — when all had rest in peace.
Before its coming many to and fro
Ran ; ran from various cause ; by many sent
From various cause ; upright, and crooked both.
Some sent, and ran for love of souls sincere ; 795

789-791. Seventh part of time, &c. : "As the world was made in six
days, and as, according to Psalm xc. 4, ' a thousand years are as one day'
in the sight of God, so it was thought the world would continue in the
condition in which it had hitherto been for 6000 years ; and as the Sab-
bath is a day of rest, so will the seventh period of a thousand years con-
sist of this millennial kingdom, as the close of the whole earthly state." —
Kitto's Cyc.

206 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And more .-it instance of a holy name.

With godly zeal much vanity was mix'd ;

And circumstance of gaudy civil pomp ;

And speeches buying praise for praise ; and lists,

And endless scrolls, surcharged with modesl names 800

That sought the public eye ; and stories, told

In quackish phrase, that hurt their credit, even

When true — combined with wise and prudent means,

Much wheat, much chaff, much gold, and much alloy :

But God wrought with the whole— wrought most with what

To man seem'd weakest means — and brought result 806

Of cood from £ood and evil both ; and breathed

Into the wither'd nations breath and life :

The breath and life of liberty and truth,

By means of knowledge breathed into the soul. 810

THE EVIL DAY OF KINGLY AND PRIESTLY TYRANNY.

Then was the evil day of tyranny !
Of kingly and of priestly tyranny,
That bruised the nations long. As yet, no state
Beneath the heavens had tasted freedom's wine ;
Though loud of freedom was the talk of all. 815

Some groan'd more deeply, being heavier task'd ;
Some wrought with straw, and some without ; but all
Were slaves, or meant to be ; for rulers still
Had been of equal mind — excepting few —
Cruel, rapacious, tyrannous, and vile ; 820

And had with equal shoulder propp'd the Beast.

817. Some wrought with straw, «fcc. : An allusion to the hardships of

Hebrew servitude in Egypt, when the taskmasters required the full
amount of brick without furnishing, as before, the straw that was requi-
site. Exod. v. 10-19.

821. Tfw Beast : The author here refers to the Tapacy, supposed to bo
symbolized by the apostle John, under this figure in the Book of Revela-
tion, chap. xiii.

BOOK FIFTH. 207

As yet, the Church, the holy spouse of God,

In members few, had wander'd in her weeds

Of mourning, persecuted, scorn'd, reproach 'd,

And buffeted, and kill'd — in members few, 825

Though seeming many whiles ; then fewest oft,

"When seeming most. She still bad hung her harp

Upon the willow-tree, and sigh'd, and wept

From age to age. Satan began the war ;

And all his angels, and all wicked men, 830

Against her fought by wile, or fierce attack,

Six thousand years ; but fought in vain. She stood

Troubled on every side, but not distress'd :

Weeping, but yet despairing not ! cast down,

But not destroy'd : for she upon the palms 835

Of God was graven, and precious in his sight,

As apple of his eye ; and like the bush

On Midia's mountain seen, burn'd unconsumed :

But to the wilderness retiring, dwelt,

Debased in sackcloth, and forlorn in tears. 840

826. Whiles: At times, or occasionally. The author here speaks of
real, and not of professed members of the Church. For, sometimes,
Christianity, being popular, was professed by multitudes who were stran-
gers to practical piety. Persecution has often proved favorable to the
growth of eminent piety, and to the numbers exhibiting it.

827-28. She still had hung, &c. : "By the rivers of Babylon, there we
sat down ; yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our
harps upon the willows in the midst thereof." Ps. cxxxvii. 1-3.

833-35. Troubled, &c. : 2 Cor. iv. 8, 9.

835-36. For she upon the palms, <fcc. : "Behold, I have graven thee
upon the palms of my hands." Isa. xlix. 16.

837. As apple of his eye : " He kept him as the apple of his eye."
Deut. xxxii. 10. — Like the bush, &c. : Exod. iii. 2.

839. But to the wilderness, &c. : " And the woman fled into the wilder-
ness," &c. Rev. xii. 6 ; xi. 3.

20S THE COURSE OF TIME.

POPERY AND ITS PREDICTED DOWNFALL.

As yet, had sung the scarlet-color'd whore,
Who on the breast of civil power reposed
Her harlot head — the Church a harlot then,
When first she wedded civil power — and drunk
The blood of martyr'd saints; whose priests were lords ; 845

841-. Scarlet-colored whore : The Roman papacy is described under this
character by the apostle John, Rev. xvii, xviii., from -which chapters our
author derives much of the phraseology and statement of this passage.

Scarlet-colored : Says the Rev. Albert Barnes : " Those who are famil-
iar with the descriptions given of Papal Rome by travellers, and those
who have passed much time in Rome, will sec at once the propriety of
this description, on the supposition that it was intended to refer to the
Papacy. I caused this inquiry to be made of an intelligent gentleman
who had passed much time in Rome— without his knowing my design —
what would strike a stranger on visiting Rome, or what would be likely
particularly to arrest his attention as remarkable there, and he unhesita-
tingly replied, 'The scarlet color.' This is the color of the dress of the
cardinals — their hats, and cloaks, and stockings being always of this color.
It is the color of the carriages of the cardinals — the entire body of the
carriage being scarlet, and the trappings of the horses the same. On
occasion of public festivals and processions, scarlet is suspended from the
windows of the houses along which processions pass. The inner color
of the cloak of the Pope is scarlet ; his carriage is scarlet ; the carpet
on which he treads is scarlet. A large part of the dress of the body-
guard of the Pope is scarlet ; and no one can take up a picture of Rome
without seeing that this color is predominant," &c, &c.

844-45. And drunk the blood, &c. : " And I saw the woman drunk with
the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus ; and
when I saw her I wondered with great admiration." Rev. xvii. 6. This
passage (says Bishop Newton) may indeed be applied both to Pagan and
to Christian Rome, for both have in their turns cruelly persecuted the
saints and martyrs of Jesus ; but the latter is more deserving of the
character, as she hath far exceeded the former both in the degree and
duration of her persecutions. It is very true, that if Rome Pagan hath
slain her thousands of innocent Christians, Rome Christian hath slain her
ten thousands. For, not to mention other outrageous slaughters and bar-
barities, the crusades against the "Waldenses and Albigenses, the murders
committed by the Duke of Alva in the Netherlands, the massacres in
France and Ireland, will probably amount to above ten times the num-
ber of all the Christians slain in all the ten persecutions of the Roman

BOOK FIFTH. 209

Whose coffers held the gold of every land ;
Who held a cup of all pollutions full ;
Who with a double horn the people push'd ;
And raised her forehead, full of blasphemy,

emperors put together. St. John's admiration also plainly evinces that
Christian Rome was intended ; for it could be no matter of surprise to
him that a heathen city should persecute the Christians, when he him-
self had seen and suffered the persecutions under Nero ; but that a city,
professedly Christian, should wanton and riot in the blood of Christians,
was a subject of astonishment indeed ; and well might he, as it is em-
phatically expressed, wonder with great wonder.

847. Cup of all pollutions full, &c. : " Having a golden cup in her hand
full of abominations," &e. Rev. xvii. 4. That is, " of abominable things ;
of things fitted to excite abhorrence and disgust ; things unlawful and for-
bidden. The word, in the Scriptures, is commonly employed to denote
the impurities and abominations of idolatry. The meaning here is, that it
seemed to be a cup filled with wine, but it was in fact a cup full of all abom-
inable drugs, leading to all kinds of corruption. How much in accord-
ance this is with the fascinations of the Papacy, it is not necessary now
to say after the ample illustrations of the same thing already furnished
in these Notes." — Barnes' Notes on the Revelation.

848. With a double horn : " And he had two horns like a lamb, and he
spake as a dragon," <fcc. Rev. xiii. 11, 12. "It is hardly necessary to say,"
remarks Mr. Barnes, " that this is a most striking representation of the
actual manner in which the power of the papacy has always been put
forth — putting on the apparent gentleness of the Lamb; or laying claim
to great meekness and humility, even when deposing kings, and giving
away crowns, and driving thousands to the stake, or throwing them
into the dungeons of the Inquisition."

Bishop Newton remarks on this verse and others connected with it, that
the beast with ten crowned horns is the Roman empire as divided into ten
kingdoms ; the beast with two horns like a lamb is the Roman hierarchy,
or body of the clergy, regular and secular. This beast is likewise called
the false prophet, than which there cannot be a stronger or plainer argu-
ment to prove that false doctors or teachers were particularly designed.
For the false prophet no more than the beast is a single man, but a body
or succession of men propagating false doctrines, and teaching lies for

sacred truths He spake as a dragon : he had a voice of terror,

like the dragon (or Roman emperors), in usurping divine titles and hon-
ors, in commanding idolatry, <fec.

849. Full of blasphemy : The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Thessa-
lonians, speaks of the Pope (the man of sin) as opposing the truth, and
exalting himself " above all that is called God, or that is worshipped, so

210 THE ( 01 RSE OF TIME.

Above the holy God, usurping oft 850

Jehovah's incommunicable names.

The nations had been dark ; the Jews had pined,

Scatter'd without a name, beneath the curse ;

War had abounded ; Satan raged unchain'd ;

And earth had still been black with moral gloom. 855

But now the cry of men oppress'd went up

Before the Lord, and to remembrance came

The tears of all his saints — their tears, and groans.

Wise men had read the number of the name ;

The prophet-years had roll'd ; the time, and times, 8G0

And half a time, were now fulfill'd complete ;

that he, as God, sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he is
God." For a full illustration of this passage, and of the expression used
in the text by Pollok, consult Bishop Newton on Prophecy, Diss. XXII.,
or Barnes' Notes on Revelations and Thessalonians. The Pope affects
divine titles and attributes, as holiness and infallibility ; he assumes di-
vine powers and prerogatives in condemning and absolving men, in re-
taining and forgiving sins, in asserting his decrees to be of similar or supe-
rior authority to that of the word of God, and commanding them to be
received under the penalty of the same damnation. He is styled, and
pleased to be styled, " Our Lord God the Pope ;" " Another God upon
earth ;" : 'King of kings, and Lord of lords." The writers of the Romish
church, with the approbation of the Pope, have, in former da}-*, used
language like this : "The same is the dominion of God and the Pope" —
" The power of the Pope is greater than all created power, and extends
itself to things celestial, terrestrial, and infernal," <fce.

He "exalts himself" not only above all bishops and primates, but
above kings and emperors, deposing some and advancing others (so far
as be has had the power), obliging them to prostrate themselves before
him, to kiss his toe, to hold his stirrup, to wait barefoot at his gate,
treading even upon the neck, and kicking off the imperial crown with
his fool : nor only above kings, but likewise above Christ and God hiin-
Belf, making tin word of God of none effect by his traditions, forbidding
what God hath commanded, as marriage, communion of the wine as well
as bread in the Lord's Supper, the use of the Scriptures in the vulgar
tongue, and the like ; and also commanding or allowing what God hath
forbidden, as idolatry, persecution, ami works of supererogation.

860-01. The prophet-years, &c: In prophetic language a day stands
for a year. — The time, and times, and half a time [Rev. xii. 14) signify a
year, two years, and half a year; that is, furty-two months, or reckoning

BOOK FIFTH. 211

The seven fierce vials of the wrath of God,

Pour'cl by seven angels strong, were shed abroad

Upon the earth, and emptied to the dregs ;

The prophecy for confirmation stood ; 8G5

And all was ready for the sword of God.

The righteous saw, and fled without delay
Into the chambers of Omnipotence :
The wicked mock'd, and sought for erring cause.
To satisfy the dismal state of things — 870

The public credit gone ; the fear in time
Of peace ; the starving want in time of wealth ;
The insurrection muttering in the streets ;
And pallid consternation spreading wide ;
And leagues, though holy term'd, first ratified 875

In hell, on purpose made to under-prop
Iniquity, and crush the sacred truth.

Meantime a mighty angel stood in heaven,
And cried aloud — Associate now yourselves,
Ye princes ! potentates ! and men of war ! 880

And mitred heads ! associate now yourselves,

the month at thirty days, twelve hundred and sixty days ; and regarding
these as prophetic days, in which a day stands for a year, twelve hundred
and sixty years. See Barnes on Daniel vii. 25.

863. The seven fierce vials, &c. : Rev. xv. f J. The word vial, here used,
means properly " a bowl or goblet, having more breadth than depth," —
Hob. Lex. Our word vial, though derived from this, means rather a thin
long bottle of glass. The word would be better rendered by bowl or
goblet, and probably the representation here was of such bowls as were
used in the temple service. They are called in chap. xvi. 1, " vials of the
wrath of God," and here they are said to be " full of the wrath of God."
The allusion seems to be to a driuking-cup, or goblet, filled with poison,
and given to persons to drink — an allusion drawn from one of the meth-
ods of punishment in ancient times. These vials, or goblets, thus became
emblems of divine wrath to be inflicted on the beast and his image. —
Barnes on Rev.

878-901. The imagery in this and the following paragraphs is derived
from the Book of Revelation, ch. xviii., xix., and from the prophecy of
Ezekiel, ch. xxxix.

212 THE COURSE OF TEVIE.

And be dispersed : embattle, and be broken :

Gird on your armor, and be dash'd to dust :

Take counsel, and it shall be brought to naught :

Speak, and it shall not stand. — And suddenly 885

The armies of the saints, imbanner'd, stood

On Zion hill ; and with them angels stood,

to i

In squadron bright, and chariots of fire ;

And with them stood the Lord, clad like a man

Of war, and, to the sound of thunder, led 890

The battle on. Earth shook; the kingdoms shook;

The Beast, the lying Seer, dominions, fell ;

Thrones, tyrants fell, confounded in the dust,

Scatter'd and driven before the breath of God,

As chaff of summer threshing-floor before 895

The wind. Three days the battle wasting slew.

The sword was full, the arrow drunk with blood ;

And to the supper of Almighty God,

Spread in Hamonah's vale, the fowls of heaven,

And every beast, invited, came — and fed 900

On captains' flesh and drank the blood of kings.

And lo ! another angel stood in heaven,
Crying aloud with mighty voice: Fallen, fallen,
Is Babylon the Great — to rise no more !

899. Hamonah's vale : The city of Hamonah, mentioned by Ezekiel,
cli. xxxix. 16.

90-t. Babylon the Great : Another emblem of papal Rome. Rev. xviii.
1, 2, &c. ; xiv. 8. All the circumstances (says Mr. Barnes) require us to
understand this of Rome — at some period of its history — lor Rome, like
Babylon, was the seat of empire, and the head of the heathen world.
Rome was characterized by many of the same attributes as Babylon,
bein;,' arrogant, proud, oppressive. Rome, like Babylon, was distin-
guished for its conquests, and for the tad that it mad.' all other nations

subject to iis controL Rome had 1 n, like Babylon, a desolating power,

having destroyed the capital of the Holy Land, and burnt its beautiful
temple, and reduced the country to a province. Rome, like Babylon of
old, was the most formidable power with which the church had to contend.
Yet, it is not, I suppose, Rome considered as pagan that is here meant ;

BOOK FIFTH. 21

•>

Rejoice, ye prophets ! over her rejoice, 005

Apostles ! holy men, all saints, rejoice !

And glory give to God, and to the Lamb. —

And all the armies of disburden'd earth,

As voice of many waters, and as voice

Of thunderings, and voice of multitudes, 910

Answer'd, Amen. And every hill and rock,

And sea, and every beast, answer'd, Amen.

Europa answer'd, and the farthest bounds

Of woody Chili, Asia's fertile coasts,

And Afric's burning wastes, answer'd, Amen. 915

And Heaven, rejoicing, answer'd back, Amen.

Not so the wicked : they afar were heard
Lamenting ; kings who drank her cup of whoredoms,
Captains, and admirals, and mighty men,
Who lived deliciously, and merchants, rich 920

With merchandise of gold, and wine, and oil ;
And those who traded in the souls of men —
Known by their gaudy robes of priestly pomp ;
All these afar off stood, crying, Alas !

but Eome considered as the prolongation of the ancient power in the
papal form. Alike in this book (Revelation) and that of Daniel, Rome,
pagan and papal, is regarded as one power, standing in direct opposition
to the gospel of Christ ; resisting its progress in the world ; and prevent-
ing its final prevalence. When that falls, the last enemy of the church
will be destroyed, and the final triumph of the true religion will be com-
plete. See Dan. vii. 26, 27.

918. Kings who drank, &c. : By her they had been seduced from the
true God, and led into practical idolatry. The kings of the earth (says
Mr. Barnes on Rev. xviii. 9) seem to be represented as among the chief
mourners, because they had derived important aid from the power which
was now to be reduced to ruin. As a matter of fact, the kings of Europe
have owed much of their influence and power to the support which has
been derived from the papacy, and when that power shall fall, there will
fall much that has contributed to sustain oppressive and arbitrary gov-
ernments, and that has prevented the extension of popular liberty. In
fact, Europe might have been long since free, if it had not been for the
support which despotic governments have derived from the papacy.

214 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Alas! and wept, and gnash'd their teeth, and groan'd : 925
And with the owl, that on her ruins sat,
Made dolorous concert in the ear of Niffht.

And over her again the heavens rejoiced,
And earth return'd again the loud response.

THE nAPPINESS OF THE MILLENNIAL PERIOD.

Thrice happy days ! thrice blest the man who saw 930
Their dawn ! the Church and State, that long had held
Unholy intercourse, were now divorced ;
Princes were righteous men ; judges upright :
And first in general now r — for in the worst
Of times there were some honest seers — the priest 935

Sought other than the fleece among his flocks —
Best paid when God was honor' d most. And like
A cedar, nourish'd well, Jerusalem grew,
And tower'd on high, and spread, and flourish'd fair ;
And underneath her boughs the nations lodged : 940

All nations lodged, and sung the song of peace.
From the four winds, the Jews, eased of the curse,
Return'd, and dwelt with God in Jacob's land,
And drank of Sharon and of Carmel's vine.
Satan was bound; though bound, not banish'd quite; 945

945. Satan was bound: "And he laid hold on the dragon, that old
6erpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and hound him a thousand years."
Rev. xx. 2. Mr. Barnes observes : "This one great enemy lias sometimes
appeared in a form that would be best represented by a, fierce and
fiery dragon; at another in a form that would be best represented by a
cunning and subtile serpent ; now in a form to which the word devil, or
accuser would be most appropriate; and now in a form in which the
word Satan — an adversary — would he most expressive of what he has
done. When this one great enemy shall be imprisoned, all these forms
of evil will of course come to an end.*'

A thousand years — or Millennium : "There are but three ways," the
same writer remarks, "in which 'a thousand years' can be understood
here : either (1) literally ; or (2) in the prophetic use of the term, where

BOOK FIFTH.

215

But lurk'd about the timorous skirts of things,

111 lodged, and thinking whiles to leave the earth ;

And with the wicked, for some wicked were,

Held midnight meetings, as the saints were wont ;

Fearful of day, who once was as the sun, 950

And worshipp'd more. The bad, but few, became

A taunt, and hissing now, as heretofore

The good ; and, blushing, hasted out of sight.

Disease was none : the voice of war, forgot :

The sword, a share : a pruning-hook, the spear. 955

Men grew and multiplied upon the earth,

a day would stand for a year, thus making a period of three hundred and
sixty thousand years ; or (3) figuratively, supposing that it refers to a
long but indefinite period of time. It may be impossible to determine
which of these periods is intended, though the first has been generally
supposed to be the true one, and hence the common notion of the Mil-
lennium. There is nothing, however, in the use of the language here, as
there would be nothing contrary to the common use of symbols in this
book in regard to time, in the supposition that this was designed to de-
scribe the longest period here suggested, or that it is meant that the
world shall enjoy a reign of peace and righteousness during the long
period of three hundred and sixty thousand years. Indeed, there are
some things in the arrangements of nature which look as if it were con-
templated that the earth would continue under a reign of righteousness
through a vastly long period in the future."

Respecting the state of the world during this happy period, Mr.
Barnes thus writes: "It will be a condition of the world as if Satan were
bound ; that is, where his influences will be suspended, and the principles
of virtue and religion will prevail. It will be a state in which all that
has existed, and that now exists in the papacy to corrupt mankind, to
maintain error, and to prevent the prevalence of free and liberal princi-
ples, will cease ; in which all that there now is in the Mohammedan sys-
tem to fetter and enslave mankind — now controlling more than one hun-
dred and twenty millions of the race — shall have come to an end ; and
in which, in a great measure, all that occurs under the direct influence
of Satan, in causing or perpetuating slavery, war, intemperance, lust,
avarice, disorder, skepticism, atheism, will be checked and stayed. It is
proper to say, however, that this passage does not require us to suppose
that there will be a total cessation of Satanic influence in the earth
during that period," &c.

911. ]Vhiles : Occasionally.

21G THE COURSE OF TIME.

And fill'd (he city, and the waste: and Death

Stood waiting for the lapse of tardy age,

That mock'd him long. Men grew and multiplied,

But lack'd not bread ; for God his promise brought 960

To mind, and bless'd the laud with plenteous rain ;

And made it blest, for dews, and precious things

Of heaven, and blessings of the deep beneath ;

And blessings of the 9*in, and moon ; and fruits

Of day and night ; and blessings of the vale ; 965

And precious things of the eternal hills ;

And all the fulness of perpetual spring.

The prison-house, where chained felons pined,
Threw open his ponderous doors ; let in the light
Of heaven ; and grew into a church, where God 9*70

"Was worshipp'd : none were ignorant ; selfish none :
Love took the place of law ; where'er you met
A man, you met a friend, sincere and true.
Kind looks foretold as kind a heart within ;
Words as they sounded, meant; and promises 975

W r ere made to be perform'd. Thrice happy days !
Philosophy was sanctified, and saw
Perfection, which she thought a fable long.
Kevenge his dagger dropp'd, and kiss'd the hand
Of Mercy : Anger clear'd his cloudy brow, 980

And sat with Peace : Envy grew red, and smiled
On Worth : Pride stoop'd, and kiss'd Humility :
Lust w r ash'd his miry hands, and, wedded, lean'd
On chaste Desire : and Falsehood laid aside
His many-folded cloak, and bow'd to Truth: 985

And Treachery up from his mining came,
And walk'd above the ground with righteous Faith :
And Covetousness unclench'd his sinewy hand,

970-95. Here is presented a fine cluster of well-sustained personifica-
tions — Philosophy — Mercy — Anger — Peace — Envy — Worth — Pride — Hu-
mility, <fec.

BOOK FIFTH. 217

And open'd his door to Charity, the fair :

Hatred was lost in Love : and Vanity, 990

With a good conscience pleased, her feathers cropp'd :

Sloth in the morning rose with Industry :

To Wisdom, Folly turn'd : and Fashion turn'd

Deception off, in act as good as word.

The hand that held a whip was lifted up 995

To bless; slave was a word in ancient books

Met only ; every man was free : and all

Fear'd God, and served him day and night in love.

How fair the daughter of Jerusalem then !
How gloriously from Zion Hill she look'd ! 1000

Clothed with the sun ; and in her train the moon ;
And on her head a coronet of stars ;
And girding round her waist, with heavenly grace,
The bow of Mercy bright ; and in her hand,
Immanuel's cross — her sceptre, and her hope. 1005

THE PAGAN NATIONS BECOMING CHRISTIANS.

Desire of every land ! The nations came,
And worshipp'd at her feet ; all nations came,
Flocking like doves. Columba's painted tribes,
That from Magellan to the Frozen Bay,
Beneath the Arctic dwelt, and drank the tides 1.010

Of Amazona, prince of earthly streams ;
Or slept at noon beneath the giant shade
Of Andes' mount; or roving northward, heard
Niagara sing, from Erie's billow down,

1001. Clothed with the sun, &c. : The apostle John thus describes the
true Christian church (ch. xii. 1): "And there appeared a great ■wonder
in heaven — a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet,
and upon her head a crown of twelve stars."

1008. Columba's, &c: Pollok, like Milton, when it suits his verse, take3
liberties with the orthography of a proper name.

218 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

To Frontenac, and hunted thence the fur 1015

To Labrador. And Afric's dusky swarms,
That from Morocco to Angola dwelt,
And drank the Niger from his native wells,
Or roused the lion in Numidia's groves ;
The tribes that sat among the fabled cliffs 1020

Of Atlas, looking to Atlanta's wave,
With joy and melody arose and came ;
Zara awoke, and came ; and Egypt came,
Casting her idol gods into the Nile.

Black Ethiopia, that shadowless 1025

Beneath the Torrid burn'd, arose and came ;
Dauma and Medra, and the pirate tribes
Of Algeri, with incense came, and pure
Offerings, annoying now the seas no more.
The silken tribes of Asia flocking came, 1030

Innumerous ; Tshmael's wandering race, that rode
On camels o'er the spicy tract that lay
From Persia to the Red Sea coast : the king
Of broad Cathay, with numbers infinite,
Of many lettcr'd castes ; and all the tribes 1035

That dwelt from Tigris to the Ganges' wave ;
And worshipp'd fire, or Brahma, fabled god !
Cashmeres, Circassians, Banyans, tender race !
. That swept the insect from their path, and lived
On herbs and fruits; and those who peaceful dwelt 1040
Along the shady avenue that stretch'd
From Agra to Lahore : and all the hosts
That own'd the Crescent late, deluded long.
The Tartar hordes that roam'd from Oby's bank,
Ungovern'd, southward to the wondrous wall. 1045

1034. Cathay : A province of Chinese Tartary.

"To the rich

Cathalan coast."— Par. Lost, Book X. 293.

BOOK FIFTH. 219

The tribes of Europe came ; the Greek, redeern'd

From Turkish thrall ; the Spaniard came, and Gaul,

And Britain with her ships ; and on his sledge,

The Laplander, that nightly watch'd the bear

Circling the Pole ; and those who saw the flames 1050

Of Hecla burn the drifted snow : the Russ,

Long whisker'd, and equestrian Pole ; and those

Who drank the Rhine, or lost the evening sun

Behind the Alpine towers ; and she that sat

By Arno, classic stream ; Venice ; and Rome, 1055

Headquarters long of sin ! first guileless now,

And meaning as she seem'd, stretch'd forth her hands.

And all the isles of ocean rose and came,

Whether they heard the roll of banish'd tides,

Antipodes to Albion's wave ; or watch'd 1060

The moon ascending chalky Teneriffe,

And with Atlanta holding nightly love.

The Sun, the Moon, the Constellations came :

Thrice twelve and ten that watch'd the Antarctic sleep ;

Twice six that near the Ecliptic dwelt; thrice twelve 1065

And one, that with the Streamers danced, and saw

The Hyperborean ice, guarding the Pole.

The East, the West, the South, and snowy North,

Rejoicing met, and worshipp'd reverently

Before the Lord, in Zion's holy hill ; 1070

And all the places round about were blest.

1045. Wondrous wall : The great wall which separates China from
Tartary, is said to extend more than fifteen hundred miles in length, and
was originally of such thickness that six horsemen might ride abreast
upon it. This extraordinary work is carried not only through the low
lands and valleys, but over hills and mountains, the height of one of
which was computed by F. Verbiest at 1236 feet above the level of the
spot where he stood. The foundation consists of large blocks of stone
laid in mortar ; but all the rest is of brick. When carried over steep
rocks where no horse can pass, it is about fifteen or twenty feet : but
when running through a valley, or crossing a river, full thirty feet high.
The top is flat, and paved with cut stone, &c. — London Oyc.

220 the course of time.

The animals, as once in Eden, lived

In peace : the wolf dwelt with the lainb ; the bear

And leopard with the ox ; with looks of love,

The tiger, and the scaly crocodile, 10*75

Together met, at Gambia's palmy wave :

Perch'd on the eagle's wing, the bird of song,

Singing, arose, and visited the sun ;

And with the falcon sat the gentle lark.

The little child leap'd from his mother's arms, 1080

And stroked the crested snake, and roll'd unhurt

Among his speckled waves — and wish'd him home :

And sauntering school-boys, slow returning, play'd

At eve about the lion's den, and wove

Into his shaggy mane, fantastic flowers : 1085

To meet the husbandman, early abroad,

Hasted the deer, and waved its woody head ;

And round its dewy steps, the hare, unscared,

Sported, and toy'd familiar with his dog :

The flocks and herds, o'er hill and valley spread, 1090

Exulting, cropp'd the ever-budding herb :

The desert blossom'd, and the barren sung :

Justice and Mercy, Holiness and Love,

Among the people walk'd ; Messiah reign'd :

And Earth kept Jubilee a thousand years. 1095

10'72-90. The animals, &c. : The poet's authority for drawing tho
glowing portrait included in those lines, may be found in Isaiah's
prophecies, eh. xi. 6-10; xxxv.

1095. And earth, &c: Here seems a fitting place to introduce a part
of a letter of the author to his father, dated Edinburgh, Jan. 3, 1827.
II. had i^one thither to secure a publisher for his poem, and is writing
on that subject.

"You have heard me speak of Professor Wilson ; he is one of the
greatest literary men of the age, and the principal contributor to 'Black-
wood's Magazine,' one of the most powerful reviews in Britain. But,
better than this, his opinion of my work is extremely high — as high as
my own; and you know that i< liiijh enough. I had a conversation with
him to-day ; and he has no doubt that, whatever may be the reception of

book Firm. 221

the -work at first, it will ultimately take a high and lasting place among
the English poetry. He was pleased, indeed, to compliment me very
highly, and expressed great happiness that I come from Renfrewshire,
which is his native shire also. But what is of more advantage to me
than this, he has kindly offered to assist me, with all his might, in revising
and correcting the sheets as they come through the press. It will gratify
John not a little to tell him that Mr. Wilson pointed out the character
of Lord Byron as a very extraordinary piece of writing : he will remem-
ber that he thought it the best of the whole."

The biographer adds: "Mr. "Wilson told him that, in deciding on the
merits of the work, he read only the passage referred to and the descrip-
tion of the Millennium ; as he knew, he said, that these two specimens
would compare, perhaps to advantage, with any thing in British litera-
ture, and was sure that the man who wrote them would not let any
thing out of his hands that was not good."

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK VI.

BOOK Y I .

ANALYSIS.

The Bard commences to sing of the final destruction of the earth. But
checking himself, he sings of the time which followed the millennial
rest.

Impiety and ungodliness abounded. Active ambition and indolent sloth
regained a general ascendency, and sin in every form, as had existed
before the millennium, was renewed, and new forms were invented.
The universal contempt of God was wholly wilful, for the age was pol-
ished and enlightened.

"Wondrous sights and strange forebodings gave presage of the earth's ap-
proaching dissolution. " Perplexed, but not reformed," the race of men
inquired the explanation of the prodigies ; all warnings were soon for-
gotten, men continued following their guilty pleasures, and the earth
filled up the measure of her wickedness.

A pause in the narrative ; as the numerous hosts of heaven look towards
the unveiled Godhead, and join in the evening hymn of praise. The
prophet Isaiah takes the harp, and before the throne sings the holy
song. At its close, thousands of thousands, infinite, devoutly respond,
Amen.

§§t ®flur»$ «f &ira$*

BOOK VI.

Resume thy tone of woe, immortal harp !
The song of mirth is past ; the Jubilee
Is ended ; and the sun begins to fade.
Soon past ; for Happiness counts not the hours :
To her a thousand years seem as a day : 5

A day a thousand years to misery.

COURSE OF AFFAIRS JUST AFTER THE MILLENNIUM.

Satan is loose, and Violence is heard,
And Riot in the street, and Revelry
Intoxicate, and Murder and Revenge.

1. Resume thy tone of woe, &c: Book VI. opens with a call to the fair
things of earth to mourn its approaching dissolution, the symptoms of
which are already coming fast. After a passage in his worst style of
amplification, relative to the principles of human conduct, our author
goes on to describe the refinement in wickedness which follows the mil-
lennial period. More symptoms of the great coming change are then
given in a powerful style of poetry ; the sun dimming at noon-day, and

" Rousing the wolf before his time, to chaso
The shepherd and his sheep "

is a fine conception. This makes one of the noblest passages in this poem.

Meantime the cup of earth's wickedness is fast filling up ; yet men arc

callous notwithstanding awful appearances, and this is the hope and

prophecy of their hearts on the last night of the world.

" To-morrow shall

As this day be, and more abundant still."

10*

226 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Put on your armor now, ye righteous ! put 10

The helmet of salvation on, and gird

Your loins about with truth ; add righteousness,

And add the shield of faith ; and take the sword

Of God : awake ! and watch : the day is near :

Great day of God Almighty, and the Lamb. 15

THE LAST DAY OF THE EARTH, AT HAND.

The harvest of the earth is fully ripe :

Vengeance begins to tread the great wine-press

Of fierceness and of wrath ; and Mercy pleads,

Mercy that pleaded long — she pleads no more.

"Whence comes that darkness ? whence those yells of woe ?

"What thunderings are these, that shake the world ? 21

Why fall the lamps from heaven as blasted figs ?

"Why tremble righteous men ? why angels pale ?

"Why is all fear ? what has become of hope ?

God comes ! God in his car of vengeance comes ! 25

Hark ! louder on the blast, come hollow shrieks

Of dissolution ; in the fitful scowl

Of night, near and more near, angels of death

Incessant flap their deadly wings, and roar

Through all the fever'd air ; the mountains rock ; 30

The moon is sick ; and all the stars of heaven

Burn feebly ; oft and sudden gleams the fire,

Revealing awfully the brow of wrath.

The Thunder, long and loud, utters las voice,

Our author has here a fine transition from the awful fate that hangs over
earth to the evening song in heaven, led on by Isaiah, to which all the
celestial inhabitants turn from their various delightful occupations, which
are finely conceived. The greater part of the song is a list of God's in-
communicable attributes, with which no man on earth can fully sympa-
thize.

•• And those who stood upon the sea of glass,
And those who stood npon the battlemei
And Btackiaood.

BOOK SIXTH. 227

Responsive to the ocean's troubled growl. 35

Night comes, last night ; the long dark, dark, dark night,

That has no morn beyond it, and no star.

No eye of man hath seen a night like this !

Heaven's trampled justice girds itself for fight :

Earth, to thy knees, and cry for mercy ! cry 40

With earnest heart ; for thou art growing old

And hoary, unrepented, unforgiven :

And all thy glory mourns : thy vintage mourns :

Bashan and Carmel ! mourn and weep : and mourn,

Thou, Lebanon ! with all thy cedars mourn. 45

APOSTROPHE TO THE SUN AND CONSTELLATIONS.

Sun ! glorying in thy strength from age to age,

So long observant of thy hour, put on

Thy weeds of woe, and tell the moon to weep ;

Utter thy grief at mid-day, morn, and even ;

Tell all the nations, tell the clouds that sit 50

4%. Bashan and Carmel : "Well-known hills of Palestine — the former
on th-j east, the latter on the -west of the Sea of Galilee. Bashan is often
conm.ended by the sacred writers for its great fertility, its oaks, and its
cattle. Mount Carmel forms on its western side one of the chief promon-
tories of the coast of Palestine. The word Carmel signifies country of
vineyards and gardens. Mr. Carne says : " No mountain in or around Pal-
estine retains its ancient beauty so much as Carmel. Two or three vil-
lages and some scattered cottages are found on it : its groves are few
but luxuriant. It is no place for crags and precipices, or rocks for the
wild goats ; but its surface is covered with a rich and constant verdure."
An interesting account of this mountain is given in Kitto's Cyc.

45. Lebanon, or Libanus, is a name applied to a beautiful range, or
twofold range, of mountains bordering Palestine on the north. It is cel-
ebrated for its ancient cedars and fragrant plants.

46. The apostrophe to the sun, to the stars, and particular constella-
tions, is original and touching ; yet line 57 must be excepted from this
commendation, as involving an inconsistency with the language preceding
it (" set behind Eternity"), and as introducing a figure too low and famil-
iar for the subject.

228 THE COURSE OF time.

About the portals of the east and west,

And wanton with thy golden locks, to wait

Thee not to-morrow ; for no morrow comes ;

Tell men and women, tell the new-born child,

And every eye that sees, to come, and see 55

Thee set behind Eternity ; for thou

Shalt go to bed to-night, and ne'er awake.

Stars ! walking on the pavement of the sky —

Out sentinels of heaven ! watching the earth,

Cease dancing now : your lamps are growing dim ; 60

Your graves are dug among the dismal clouds ;

And angels are assembling round your bier.

Orion ! mourn : and Mazzaroth : and thou,

Arcturus ! mourn, with all thy northern sons.

Daughters of Pleiades ! that nightly shed 65

Sweet influence : and thou, fairest of the stars !

Eye of the morning, weep — and weep at eve ;

Weep setting, now to rise no more, " and flame

On forehead of the dawn" — as sung the bard :

Great bard ! who used on earth a seraph's lyre, 70

"Whose numbers wander'd through eternity,

67. Eye of the morning, &a. : A most exquisite expression to indicate
Venus, tlie brightest of the morning and evening stars.

70. Great bard, &c: Milton is probably here referred to. The author's
estimation of this sublime poet may be gathered from a passage in his
biography. The most memorable event of his visit at an uncle's was finding
a copy of " Paradise Lost" among some old and neglected honks. " Though
he had never seen Paradise Lost before, lie had often heard of it, and he
began to read it immediately. He was captivated with it at. the very
first; and after that, as long as he stayed at Horsehill, he took it up
■whenever he had the least opportunity, and read with great eagerness.
When he was leaving the place, his uncle, seeing him so fond of the book,
gave it to him, and from thai time Milton became his favorite author,
and, I may say, next to the Bible, his chief companion. Henceforward,
he read more or less in him almost every day, and used often to repeat
aloud, in bed, immediately before rising in the morning, what was his
favorite passage in Paradise Lost — (he apostrophe to Light, in the begin
ning of the Third Book.''

BOOK SIXTH. 229

And gave sweet foretaste of the heavenly harps.

Minstrel of sorrow ! native of the dark !

Shrub-loving- Philomel ! that woo'd the dews

At midnight from their starry beds, and, charm'd, 75

Held them around thy song till dawn awoke —

Sad bird ! pour through the gloom thy weeping song :

Pour all thy dying melody of grief,

And with the turtle spread the wave of woe —

Spare not thy reed, for thou shalt sing no more. 80

Ye holy bards ! if yet a holy bard
Remain, what chord shall serve you now ? what harp !
What harp shall sing the dying sun asleep,
And mourn behind the funeral of the moon !
What harp of boundless, deep, exhaustless woe, 85

Shall utter forth the groanings of the damn'd ;
And sing the obsequies of wicked souls ;
And wail their plunge in the eternal fire !
Hold, hold your hands ; hold, angels ; God laments,
And draws a cloud of mourninp; round his throne; 90

The Organ of eternity is mute ;
And there is silence in the heaven of heavens !
Daughters of beauty ! choice of beings made !
Much praised, much blamed, much loved ; but fairer far
Than aught beheld ; than aught imagined else 95

73. Native of the dark: How affectingly has Milton, in his "Samson
Agonistes." illustrated this expression, so descriptive of his own blind-
ness !

" I, dark in light, exposed

To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,

Within doors or without, still as a fool,

In power of others, never in my own :

Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half,

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,

Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse,

Without all hope of day."

93. Daughters of beauty, &c. : A splendid eulogium on the fair sex,
whose aid is here invoked to pour forth their most plaintive lamenta-
tions on the world's approaching overthrow.

230 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Fairest ; and dearer than all else most dear ;

Light of the darksome wilderness ! to Time

As stars to night — whose eyes were spells that held

The passenger forgetful of his way ;

Whose steps were majesty ; whose words were song ; 100

Whose smiles were hope ; whose actions, perfect grace ;

Whose love the solace, glory, and delight

Of man, his boast, his riches, his renown :

When found, sufficient bliss ; when lost, despair :

Stars of creation ! imao-es of love ! 105

Break up the fountains of your tears ; your tears

More eloquent than learned tongue, or lyre

Of purest note ; your sunny raiment stain ;

Put dust upon your heads ; lament and weep ;

And utter all your minstrelsy of woe. 110

NATURE CALLED UPON TO WEEP HER APPROACHING RUIN.

Go to, ye wicked, weep and howl ; for all
That God hath written against you is at hand.
The cry of violence hath reach'd his ear;
Hell is prepared ; and Justice whets his sword.
Weep, all of every name : begin the w^oe, 115

Ye woods, and tell it to the doleful winds;
And, doleful winds, wail to the howling hills ;
And, howling hills, mourn to the dismal vales ;
And, dismal vales, sigh to the sorrowing brooks ;
And, sorrowing brooks, weep to the weeping stream ; 120
And, weeping stream, awake the groaning deep ;
And let the instrument take up the song,
Responsive to the voice — harmonious woe !
Ye heavens, great archway of the universe !
Put sackcloth on ; and, Ocean, clothe thyself 125

In garb of widowhood, and gather all
Thy waves into a groan, and utter it —

BOOK SIXTH. 231

Long, loud, deep, piercing, dolorous, immense :

The occasion asks it ; Nature dies ; and God,

And angels, come to lay her in the grave ! 130

THE YEARS THAT FOLLOWED THE MILLENNIAL REST.

But we have overleap'd our theme : behind,
A little season waits a verse or two :
The years that follow'd the millennial rest.
Bad years they were ; and first, as signal sure,
That at the core religion was diseased ; 135

The sons of Levi strove again for place,
And eminence, and names of swelling pomp ;
Setting their feet upon the people's neck,
And slumbering in the lap of civil power ;
Of civil power again tyrannical. 140

And second sign, sure sign, whenever seen,
That holiness was dying in a land,
The Sabbath was profaned, and set at naught :
The honest seer, who spoke the truth of God
Plainly, was left with empty walls ; and round 145

The frothy orator, who busk'd his tales
In quackish pomp of noisy words, the ear
Tickling, but leaving still the heart unprobed,
The judgment uninform'd, — numbers immense
Flock'd, gaping wide, with passions high inflamed ; 150
And on the way returning, heated, home,
Of eloquence, and not of truth, conversed —
Mean eloquence that wanted sacred truth.

146. Busked his tales : Dressed up, &c.

232 the course of tihe.
sloth and amdition antagonistic principles of human

NATURE.

Two principles from the beginning strove
In human nature, still dividing man — 155

Sloth and activity, the lust of praise,
And indolence, that rather wisk'd to sleep.
And not unfrequently in- the same mind,
They dubious contest held ; one gaining now,
And now the other crown'd, and both again ICO

Keeping the field, with equal combat fought.
Much different was their voice : Ambition call'd
To action ; Sloth invited to repose.
Ambition early rose, and, being up,

Toil'd ardently, and late retired to rest ; 105

Sloth lay till mid-day turning on his couch,
Like ponderous door upon its weary hinge,
And having roll'd him out with much ado,
And many a dismal sigh, and vain attempt,
He saunter'd out accoutred carelessly — 1*70

"With half-oped, misty, unobservant eye,
Somniferous, that weigh'd the object down
On which its burden fell — an hour or two,
Then with a groan retired to rest again.
The one, whatever deed had been achieved, 1*75

Thought it too little, and too small the praise :
The other tried to think — for thinking so
Answer'd his purpose best — that what of great
Mankind could do, had been already done ;
And therefore laid him calmly down to sleep. 180

VANITY AND PRIDE, MAIN-SPRINGS OF ACTION IN THE WORLD.

Different in mode — destructive both alike ;
Destructive always indolence ; and love

BOOK SIXTH. 233

Of fame destructive always too, if less

Than praise of God it sought — content with less ;

Even then not current, if it sought his praise 185

From other motive than resistless love :

Though hase, main -spring of action in the world ;

And under name of vanity and pride

Was greatly practised on by cunning men.

It open'd the niggard's purse ; clothed nakedness ; 190

Gave beggars food ; and threw the Pharisee

Upon his knees, and kept him long in act

Of prayer ; it spread the lace upon the fop,

His language trimm'd, and plann'd his curious gait ;

It stuck the feather on the gay coquette, 195

And on her finger laid the heavy load

Of jewelry ; it did — what did it not ?

The gospel preach'd, the gospel paid, and sent

The gospel ; conquer' d nations ; cities built ;

Measured the furrow of the field with nice 200

Directed share ; shaped bulls, and cows, and rams :

And threw the ponderous stone ; and pitiful,

Indeed, and much against the grain, it dragg'd

The stagnant, dull, predestinated fool

Through learning's halls, and made him labor much 205

Abortively ; though sometimes not unpraised

He left the sage's chair, and home return'd,

Making his simple mother think that she

Had borne a man. In schools, design'd to root

Sin up, and plant the seeds of holiness 210

In youthful minds, it held a signal place.

The little infant man, by nature proud,

Was taught the Scriptures by the love of praise,

And grew religious as he grew in fame.

And thus the principle, which out of heaven 215

The devil threw, and threw him down to hell,

And keeps him there, was made an instrument,

234 THE COURSE OF TIME.

To moralize, and sanctify mankind ;
And in their hearts beget humility :
With what success it needs not now to say. 220

DESTRUCTIVE TENDENCY OF SLOTH EXEMPLIFIED IN LITERARY MEN.

Destructive both we said, activity
And sloth — behold the last exemplified,
In literary man. Not all at once,
He yielded to the soothing voice of sleep ;
But having seen a bough of laurel wave, 225

He effort made to climb ; and friends, and even
Himself, talk'd of his greatness, as at hand,
And prophesying drew his future life.
Vain prophecy ! his fancy, taught by sloth,
Saw in the very threshold of pursuit 230

A thousand obstacles ; he halted first,
And while he halted, saw his burning hopes
Grow dim and dimmer still : ambition's self,
The advocate of loudest tongue, decay'd;
His purposes, made daily, daily broken, 235

Like plant uprooted oft, and set again,
More sickly grew, and daily waver'd more :
Till at the last, decision, quite worn out,
Decision, fulcrum of the mental powers,
Resign'd the blasted soul to staggering chance ; 240

Sleep gather'd fast, and weigh'd him downward still ;
His eye fell heavy from the mount of fame ;
His young resolves to benefit the world,
Perish'd, and were forgotten ; he shut his ear
Against the painful news of rising worth, 245

And drank with desperate thirst the poppy's juice ;
A deep and mortal slumber settled down
Upon his weary faculties oppress'd;
He roll'd from side to side, and roll'd agaiu ;

BOOK SIXTH. 235

And snored, and groan'd, and wither'd, and expired, 250
And rotted on the spot, leaving no name.

UNSANCTIFIED TOIL EXEMPLIFIED IN THE HERO.

The hero best example gives of toil
Unsanctified. One word his history writes :
He was a murderer above the laws,

And greatly praised for doing murderous deeds : 255

And now he grew, and reach'd his perfect growth.
And also now the sluggard soundly slept,
And by him lay the uninterred corpse.

UNPRECEDENTED FORMS AND DEGREES OF WICKEDNESS.

Of every order, sin and wickedness,
Deliberate, cool, malicious villany, 260

This age attain'd maturity unknown
Before : and seem'd in travail to bring: forth
Some last, enormous, monstrous deed of guilt —
Original, unprecedented guilt,

That might obliterate the memory 265

Of what had hitherto been done most vile.
Inventive men were paid, at public cost,
To plan new modes of sin : the holy word
Of God was burn'd, with acclamations loud ;
New tortures were invented for the good : 2V0

For still some good remain'd, as whiles through sky
Of thickest clouds, a wandering star appear'd :
New oaths of blasphemy were framed and sworn :
And men in reputation grew, as grew

The stature of their crimes ; Faith was not found ; 275

Truth was not found ; truth always scarce ; so scarce
That half the misery which groan'd on earth,
In ordinary times, was progeny

236 THE COURSE OF time.

Of disappointment daily coming forth

From broken promises, that might have ne'er 280

Been made, or being made, might have been kept.

Justice and mercy too were rare, obscured

In cottage garb : before the palace door,

The beggar rotted, starving in his rags :

And on the threshold of luxurious domes, 285

The orphan child laid down his head, and died ;

Nor unamusing was his piteous cry

To women, who had now laid tenderness

Aside, best pleased with sights of cruelty ;

Flocking, when fouler lusts would give tbem time, 290

To horrid spectacles of blood : where men,

Or guiltless beasts, that seem'd to look to heaven,

With eye imploring vengeance on the earth,

Were tortured for the merriment of kings.

The advocate for him who offer'd most 295

Pleaded ; the scribe, according to the hire,

Worded the lie, adding for every piece,

An oath of confirmation; judges raised

One hand to intimate the sentence, death,

Imprisonment, or fine, or loss of goods, 300

And in the other held a lusty bribe,

Which they had taken to give the sentence wrong ;

So managing the scale of justice still,

That he was wanting found who poorest seem'd.

LAYMEN OUTDONE IN WICKEDNESS BY THE PRIESTS OF THAT

PERIOD.

Bui laymen, moat renown'd for devilish deeds, 30i

Labor'd at distance still behind the priest :
He Bhore his sheep, and having pack'd the wool,
Sent them unguarded to the hill of wolves ;
And to the bowl deliberately sat down,

BOOK SIXTH. 237

And with his mistress mock'd at sacred things. 310

The theatre was from the very first

The favorite haunt of sin ; though honest men,

Some very honest, wise, and worthy men,

Maintain'd it might be turn'd to good account ;

And so perhaps it might ; but never was. 315

From first to last it was an evil place :

And now such things were acted there, as made

The devils blush : and from the neighborhood,

Angels and holy men, trembling, retired.

And what with dreadful aggravation crown'd 320

This dreary time, was sin against the light ;

All men knew God, and knowing, disobey'd ;

And gloried to insult him to his f.:ce.

Another feature only we shall mark. —
It was withal a highly polish'd age, 325

And scrupulous in ceremonious rite.
When stranger stranger met upon the way,
First each to each bow'd most respectfully,
And large profession made of humble service,
And then the stronger took the other's purse. 330

And he that stabb'd his neighbor to the heart,
Stabb'd him politely, and return'd the blade
Reeking into its sheath, with graceful air.

STRANGE FOREBODINGS AND SIGNS OF THE EARTH'S APPROACH-
ING DISSOLUTION.

Meantime the earth gave symptoms of her end ;
And all the scenery above proclaim'd, 335

That the great last catastrophe was near.
The sun at rising stagger'd and fell back,
As one too early up, after a night
Of late debauch : then rose, and shone again,
Brighter than wont ; and sicken'd again, and paused 340

238 THE COURSE OF time.

In zenith altitude, as one fatigued ;
*^ind shed a feeble twilight ray at noon,
Rousing the wolf before his time, to chase
The shepherd and his sheep, that sought for light, 345

And darkness found, astonish'd, terrified ;
Then out of course roll'd furious down the west,
As chariot reiu'd by awkward charioteer,
And waiting at the gate, he on the earth
Gazed, as he thought he ne'er might see't again. 350

The bow of mercy, heretofore so fair,
Ribb'd with the native hues of heavenly love,
Disastrous colors show'd, unseen till now ;
Changing upon the watery gulf, from pale
To fiery red, and back again to pale : 355

And o'er it hover'd wings of wrath. The moon
Swagger'd in midst of heaven, grew black and dark,
Unclouded, uneclipsed. The stars fell down ;
Tumbling from off their towers like drunken men ;
Or seem'd to fall — and glimmer'd now ; and now 360

Sprang out in sudden blaze ; and dimm'd again ;
As lamp of foolish virgin lacking oil ;
The heavens this moment look'd serene ; the next
Glow'd like an oven with God's displeasure hot.

Nor less below was intimation given 3C5

Of some disaster great and ultimate.
The tree that bloom'd or hung with clustering fruit,
Untouch'd by visible calamity
Of frost or tempest, died and came again ;
The flower, and herb, fell down as sick ; then rose 370

And fell again : the fowls of every hue,
Crowding together, sail'd on weary wing,
And hovering, oft they seem'd about to light ;
Then soar'd, as if they thought the earth unsafe :
The cattle look'd with meaning face on man : 375

Dogs howl'd, and seem'd to see more than their masters ;

BOOK SIXTH. 239

And there were sights that none had seen before ;

And hollow, strange, unprecedented sounds ;

And earnest whisperings ran along the hills

At dead of night ; and long, deep, endless sigbs, 380

Came from the dreary vale ; and from the waste

Came horrid shrieks, and fierce unearthly groans,

The wail of evil spirits, that now felt

The hour of utter vengeance near at hand.

The winds from every quarter blew at once 385

"With desperate violence, and whirling, took

The traveller up, and threw him down again

At distance from his path, confounded, pale.

And shapes, strange shapes ! in winding-sheets were seen,

Gliding through night, and singing funeral songs, 390

And imitating sad sepulchral rites :

And voices talk'd among the clouds ; and still

The words that men could catch were spoken of them,

And seem'd to be the words of wonder great,

And expectation of some vast event. 395

Earth shook, and swam, and reel'd, and ope'd her jaws,

By earthquake toss'd, and tumbled to and fro :

And louder than the ear of man had heard,

The thunder bellow'd, and the ocean groan'd.

THE EFFECT OF THESE PRODIGIES UPON THE MINDS OF MEN.

The race of men, perplex'd, but not reform'd, 400

Flocking together, stood in earnest crowds,
Conversing of the awful state of things.
Some curious explanations gave, unlearn'd ;
Some tried affectedly to laugh ; and some
Gazed stupidly ; but all were sad and pale, 405

And wish'd the comment of the wise. Nor less
These prodigies, occurring night and day,
Perplex'd philosophy : the magi tried —

24:0 THE COUBSB OF TIME.

Magi, a name not seldom given to fools,

In the vocabulary of earthly speech — 410

They tried to trace them still to second cause ;

But scarcely satisfied themselves ; though round

Their deep deliberations crowding came,

And wondering at their wisdom, went away,

Much quieted, and very much deceived, 415

The people, always glad to be deceived.

WON THE CEASING OF THESE PRODIGIES, WICKED MEN RETURNED
MORE EAGERLY TO THEIR SINS.

These warnings pass'd — they unregarded pass'd;
And all in wonted order calmly moved.
The pulse of Nature regularly beat,

And on her cheek the bloom of perfect health 420

Again appear'd. Deceitful pulse ! and bloom
Deceitful ! and deceitful calm ! The Earth
Was old and worn within ; but, like the man,
Who noticed not his mid-day strength decline,
Sliding so gently round the curvature
Of life from youth to age — she knew it not.
The calm was like the calm, which oft the man
Dying, experienced before his death ;
The bloom was but a hectic flush, before
The eternal paleness : but all these were taken, 430

By this last race of men, for tokens of good ;
And blustering public News aloud proclaim'd —
News always gabbling, ere they well had thought —
Prosperity, and joy, and peace ; and mock'd
The man who, kneeling, pray'd, and trembled still. 435

And all in earnest to their sins return'd.

425

book sixth. 241

THE EXCITEMENT AND PREPARATIONS IN HEAVEN IN ANTICIPA-
TION OF THE END OP TIME.

It was not so in heaven — the elders round
The throne conversed about the state of man,
Conjecturing, for none of certain knew,
That Time was at an end. They gazed intense 440

Upon the Dial's face, which yonder stands
In gold, before the Sun of Righteousness,
Jehovah ; and computes times, seasons, years,
And destinies ; and slowly numbers o'er
The mighty cycles of eternity ; 445

By God alone completely understood ;
But read by all, revealing much to all.
And now to saints of eldest skill, the ray,
Which on the gnomon fell of time, seem'd sent
From level west, and hasting quickly down. 450

The holy Virtues, watching, saw besides,
Great preparation going on in heaven,
Betokening great event ; greater than aught
That first created seraphim had seen.

The faithful messengers, who have for wing 455

The lightning, waiting day and night, on God,
Before his face — beyond their usual speed,
On pinion of celestial light, were seen,
Coming and going, and their road was still
From heaven to earth, and back again to heaven. 460

The angel of Mercy, bent before the throne,

451. The holy virtues: The celestial angels — whom Milton often desig-
nates by this epithet :

" Flear, all ye angels, progeny of light,
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtue*, Powers,
Hear my decree,'' &c.—Par. Lost, Bk. V. 600-1.

" Ahout his chariot numberless were pour'd
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones,
And Virtues, wing'd spirits," &c— lb. Bk. VII. 19S-9,

242 THE COURSE OF TIME.

By earnest pleading, seem'd to hold the hand

Of Vengeance back, and win a moment more

Of late repentance for some sinful world

In jeopardy. And now the hill of God, 465

The mountain of his majesty, roll'd flames

Of fire; now smiled with momentary love ;

And now again with fiery fierceness burn'd :

And from behind the darkness of his throne,

Through which created vision never saw, 470

The living thunders, in their native caves,

Mutter'd the terrors of Omnipotence,

And ready seem'd, impatient to fulfil

Some errand of exterminating wrath.

THE CUP OF HUMAN WICKEDNESS ABOUT FULL.

Meanwhile the Earth increased in wickedness, 475

And hasted daily to fill up her cup.
Satan raged loose ; Sin had her will ; and Death
Enough : blood trode Upon the heels of blood ;
Revenge, in desperate mood, at midnight met
Revenge; war bray 'd to Avar ; deceit deceived 480

Deceit ; lie cheated lie ; and treachery
Mined under treachery ; and perjury
Swore back on perjury ; and blasphemy
Arose with hideous blasphemy ; and curse
Loud answer'd curse ; and drunkard stumbling fell 485

O'er drunkard fallen ; and husband husband met
Returning each from other's bed defiled ;
Thief stole from thief; and robber on the way
Knock'd robber down; and lewdness, violence,
And hate, met lewdness, violence, and hate. 490

475. Meanwhile, &c. : One of the most energetic passages of the poem,
and one of the darkest pictures of human wickedness, here begins.

BOOK SIXTH. 243

Oh Earth ! thy hour was come ; the last elect

Was born ; complete the number of the good ;

And the last sand fell from the glass of Time.

The cup of guilt was full up to the brim ;

And Mercy, weary with beseeching, had 495

Retired behind tbe sword of Justice, red

With ultimate and unrepenting wrath :

But man knew not : he o'er his bowl lauo-h'd loud ;

And prophesying, said : To-morrow shall

As this day be, and more abundant still — 500

As thou shalt hear.

THE EVENING SONG OF HEAVEN.

But hark ! the trumpet sounds,
And calls to evening song ; for, though with hymn
Eternal, course succeeding course, extol
In presence of the incarnate, holy God,
And celebrate his never-ending praise, — 505

Duly at morn, and night, the multitudes
Of men redeem'd, and angels, all the hosts
Of glory, join in universal song ;
And pour celestial harmony, from harps
Above all number, eloquent and sweet 510

Above all thought of melody conceived.
And now behold the fair inhabitants,
Delightful sight ! from numerous business turn,
And round and round through all the extent of bliss,
Towards the temple of Jehovah bow, 515

And worship reverently before his face !

THE VARIOUS TURSUITS OF HEAVEN.

Pursuits are various here : suiting all tastes :
Though holy all, and glorifying God.

244 THE CO DESK OF TIME.

Observe yon band pursue the sylvan stream !

Mounting among the cliffs — they pull the flower, 520

Springing as soon as pull'd ; and marvelling, pry

Into its veins, and circulating blood,

And wondrous mimicry of higher life ;

Admire its colors, fragrance, gentle shape ;

And thence admire the God who made it so — 525

So simple, complex, and so beautiful.

Behold yon other band, in airy robes
Of bliss — tbey weave the sacred bower of rose
And myrtle shade, and shadowy verdant bay,
And laurel towering high ; and round their song, 530

The pink and lily bring, and amaranth ;
Narcissus sweet, and jessamine ; and bring
The clustering vine, stooping with flower and fruit;
The peach and orange, and the sparkling stream,
Warbling with nectar to their lips unask'd ; 535

And talk the while of everlasting love.

On yonder hill, behold another band,
Of piercing, steady, intellectual eye,
And spacious forehead, of sublimest thought —
They reason deep of present, future, past ; 540

And trace effect to cause ; and meditate
On the eternal laws of God, which bind
Circumference to centre ; and survey
With optic tubes, that fetch remotest stars
Near them, the systems circling round immense, 545

Innumerous. See how — as he, the sage,

531. Amaranth: A plant, the flower of which, when removed, does
not wither. One variety of this plant bears leaves of three different
colors — green, yellow, and red.

535. Nectar: A fluid much celebrated in ancient classical writings, as
the drink of the pagan deities ; their solid food was called ambrosia.

54G. He, the sage, dec.: Sir Isaac Newton — one of the most distin-
guished mathematicians the world has seen. lie was born in 1042, was
chosen professor of mathematics in the University of Cambridge in 10G9.

BOOK SIXTH. 245

Among* the most renown'd in days of Time,

Renown'd for large, capacious, holy soul —

Demonstrates clearly, motion, gravity,

Attraction, and repulsions, still opposed ; 550

And dips into the deep, original,

Unknown, mysterious elements of things —

See how the face of every auditor

Expands with admiration of the skill,

Omnipotence, and boundless love of God ! 555

These other, sitting near the tree of life,
In robes of linen, flowing, white, and clean,
Of holiest aspect, of divinest soul,
Angels and men — into the glory look

Of the Redeeming Love, and turn the leaves 560

Of man's redemption o'er ; the secret leaves,
Which none on earth were found worthy to open :
And as they read the mysteries divine,
The endless mysteries of salvation wrought
By God's incarnate Son, they humbler bow 565

Before the Lamb, and glow with warmer love.

His discoveries in mathematics and astronomy have rendered him im-
mortal. He was also a sincere and humble Christian. His life, extend-
ing to eighty-five years, was most industriously devoted to scientific and
biblical studies and writings. Hume observes: "In Newton this island
may boast of having produced the greatest and rarest genius that ever
arose for the ornament and instruction of the species in philosophical,
astronomical, and mathematical knowledge ; cautious in admitting no
principles but such as were founded on experiment, but resolute to adopt
every such principle, however new or unusual ; from modesty, ignorant
of his superiority above the rest of mankind, and thence less careful to
accommodate his reasonings to common apprehensions ; more anxious to
merit than to acquire fame ; — he was, from these causes, long unknown
to the world; but his reputation at last broke out with a lustre which
scarcely any writer before his time ever attained. While Newton seemed
to draw off the veil from the mysteries of nature, he showed at the
same time the imperfections of the mechanical philosophy, and thereby
restored her ultimate secrets from that obscurity in which they had lain,
and in which, without his assistance, they would probably ever have
remained."

246 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

These other, there relax'd beneatli the shade

Of yon embowering palms, with friendship smile,

And talk of ancient days, and young pursuits,

Of dangers past, of godly triumphs won; 570

And sing the legends of their native land —

Less pleasing far than this their Father's house.

Behold that other band, half lifted up
Between the hill and dale, reclined beneatli
The shadow of impending rocks; 'mong streams, 5*75

And thundering waterfalls, and waving boughs,
That band of countenance sublime and sweet,
Whose eye with piercing intellectual ray,
Now beams severe, or now bewilder'd seems ;
Left rolling wild, or fix'd in idle gaze, 580

While Fancy, and the soul, are far from home —
These bold the pencil — art divine ! and throw
Before the eye remember'd scenes of love :
Each picturing to each the hills, and skies,
And treasured stories of the world he left ; 585

Or, gazing on the scenery of heaven,
They dip their hand in color's native well,
And, on the everlasting canvas, dash
Figures of glory, imagery divine,
With grace and grandeur in perfection knit. 590

But whatsoe'er these spirits blest pursue,
Where'er they go, whatever sights they see
Of glory and bliss through all the tracts of heaven,
The centre still, the figure eminent,

Whither they ever turn, on whom all eyes 595

Repose with infinite delight — is God,
And his incarnate Son, the Lamb, once slain
On Calvary, to ransom ruin'd men.

None idle here: look where thou wilt, they all
Are active, all engaged in meet pursuit ; GOO

Not happy else. Hence is it that the song

BOOK SIXTH. 247

Of heaven is ever new ; for daily thus,

And nightly, new discoveries are made,

Of God's unbounded wisdom, power, and love,

Which give the understanding larger room, 605

And swell the hymn with ever-growing praise.

Behold they cease ! and every face to God
Turns ; and we pause, from high poetic theme,
Not worthy least of being sung in heaven,
And on unveiled Godhead look from this, 610

Our oft frequented hill. He takes the harp,
Nor needs to seek befitting phrase ; unsought,
Numbers harmonious roll along the lyre ;
As river in its native bed, they flow

Spontaneous, flowing with the tide of thought. 615

He takes the harp — a bard of Judah leads
This night the boundless song : the bard that once,
When Israel's king was sad and sick to death,
A message brought of fifteen added years.
Before the throne he stands sublime, in robes 620

Of glory : and now his fingers wake the chords
To praise, which we, and all in heaven repeat.

ISAIAH'S GRAND SONG- OF PRAISE, IN HEAVEN, TO JEHOVAH.

Harps of eternity ! begin the song,
Redeem'd and angel harps ! begin to God,
Begin the anthem ever sweet and new, 625

While I extol Him holy, just, and good.
Life, beauty, light, intelligence, and love !

616. A bard of Judah : The eloquent and inspired Isaiah. Themes-
sage referred to is contained in ch. xxxviii. of his prophecies.

624. Redeemed harps: The harps of sinners redeemed by the

blood of Christ. The poet here ascribes to Isaiah a most devout and
sublime song of adoring praise to the God of heaven and earth. Or
rather, the harp of Isaiah accompanies the song, in which join the angelic
and redeemed hosts before the throne.

248 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Eternal, uncreated, infinite !

Unsearchable Jehovah ! God of truth !

Maker, upholder, governor of all : 630

Thyself unmade, ungovern'd, unupheld.

Omnipotent, unchangeable, Great God !

Exhaustless fulness ! giving unimpair'd !

Bounding immensity, unspread, unbound !

Highest and best! beginning, middle, end. G35

All-seeing Eye ! all-seeing, and unseen!

Hearing, unheard ! all knowing, and unknown !

Above all praise ! above all height of thought !

Proprietor of immortality !

Glory ineffable ! Bliss underived ! 640

Of old thou built'st thy throne on righteousness,

Before the morning Stars their sono- began,

Or Silence heard the voice of praise. Thou laid'st

Eternity's foundation stone, and saw'st

Life and existence out of Thee begin. 645

Mysterious more, the more displav'd, where still

Upon thy glorious Throne thou sitt'st alone ;

Hast sat alone ; and shalt forever sit

Alone ; invisible, immortal One !

Behind essential brightness unbeheld. 650

Incomprehensible ! what weight shall weigh,

What measure measure Thee ? what know we more

Of Thee, what need to know, than Thou hast taught,

And bidd'st us still repeat, at morn and even —

God ! everlasting Father ! holy One ! 655

Our God, our Father, our Eternal All.

Source whence we came : and whither we return ;

Who made our spirits, who our bodies made,

Who made the heaven, who made the flowery land;

Who made all made; who orders, governs all; 660

Who walks iij. mi the wind; who holds the wave

In hollow of thy hand ; whom thunders wait ;

BOOK SIXTH.

2 ±9

Whom tempests serve ; whom flaming fires obey :

Who guides the circuit of the endless years :

And sitt'st on high, and mak'st creation's top 665

Thy footstool : and behold'st below Thee, all —

All naught, all less than naught, and vanity.

Like transient dust that hovers on the scale,

Ten thousand worlds are scatter'd in thy breath.

Thou sitt'st on high, and measur'st destinies, 670

And days, and months, and wide revolving years :

And dost according to thy holy will ;

And none can stay thy hand ; and none withhold

Thy glory ; for in judgment, Thou, as well

As mercy, art exalted day and night ;. 675

Past, present, future, magnify thy name.

Thy works all praise thee : all thy angels praise :

Thy saints adore, and on thy altars burn

The fragrant incense of perpetual love.

They praise Thee now : their hearts, their voices praise,

And swell the rapture of the glorious song. 681

Harp ! lift thy voice on high — shout, angels, shout !

And loudest, ye redeem'd ! glory to God,

And to the Lamb, who bought us with his blood

From every kindred, nation, people, tongue ; 685

And wash'd, and sanctified, and saved our souls ;

And gave us robes of linen pure, and crowns

Of life, and made us kings and priests to God.

Shout back to ancient Time ! Sing loud, and wave

Your palms of triumph ! sing, Where is thy sting, 690

660. Who made all made : All that is made. It is no small blemish in
our author's writing, that he uses indiscriminately the second and third
persons of the verb, in addresses to God. This passage abounds in ex-
amples. From the commencement of this address to line 658, the second
person is used ; from that to line 665, the third ; and beyond that, the
second person again is used. Such a usage is not only ungrammatical,
but creates in the mind of the reader a disagreeable confusion.

11*

250 TIIE COURSE OF TIM!

O Death ? where is thy victory, O Grave i

Thanks be to God, eternal thanks, who gave

Us victory through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Harp, lift thy voice on high ! shout, angels, shout,

And loudest, ye redeem'd ! glory to God, 695

And to the Lamb — all glory and all praise ;

All glory and all praise, at morn and even,

That come and go eternally ; and find

Us happy still, and Thee forever blest.

Glory to God, and to the Lamb. Amen. 700

Forever, and for evermore. Amen.

And those who stood upon the sea of glass ;
And those who stood upon the battlements,
And lofty towers of New Jerusalem ;

And those who circling stood, bowing afar ; 705

Exalted on the everlasting hills,
Thousands of thousands — thousands infinite —
With voice of boundless love, answered : Amen.
And through eternity, near, and remote,
The worlds adoring, echoed back : Amen. 710

And God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost —
The One Eternal ! smiled superior bliss.
And every eye, and every face in heaven,
Reflecting, and reflected, beam'd with love.

Nor did he not — the Virtue new arrived, 715

From Godhead gain an individual smile,
Of high acceptance, and of welcome high,
And confirmation evermore in good.
Meantime the landscape glow'd with holy joy,
Zephyr, with wing dipp'd from the well of life, 720

Sporting through Paradise, shed living dews:

'lib. Nor did he not (gain, <£c.) : A double negative, having the force
<>t ii strong affirmative. The newly-arrived Virtue, or holy being, who ia
first introduced to us in Book I., 65, receives a most condescending and
distinguishing notice from the Godhead.

iiOOK SIXTH. 251

The flowers, the spicy shrubs, the lawns refresh 'd,

Breathed their selectest balm ; breathed odors, such

As angels love : and all the 4rees of heaven,

The cedar, pine, and everlasting oak, 725

Rejoicing on the mountains, clapp'd their hands.

*726. Clapped their hands: A bold but expressive figure, derived from
one of Isaiah's sublime compositions (ch. lv.) : "The mountains and the
hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the
field shall clap their hands."

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK VII.

ANALYSIS.

After the Hymn the relation is resumed. The transformation of the
living, the resurrection of the dead, and the destruction of the Earth.

On the morn of the final day all the appearances of nature were as usual,
at mid-day universal darkness prevailed, and all action, all motion
ceased : and an angel from heaven proclaimed, " Time should be no
more." And another angel sounded the Trump of God, when the dead
awoke, and the living were changed.

A description of the circumstances connected with the momentous scene ;
the living were changed in the midst of their several numerous avoca-
tions ; in labor, study, pleasure, or crimes. The dead of every age
and place raised to life ; in the cultivated field, in the wilderness, in
populf «.« cities, in the midst of ancient ruins, and from the great ocean.

&|« torn a! &im**

BOOK VII

As one who meditates at evening tide,
Wandering alone by voiceless solitudes,
And flies in fancy, far beyond the bounds
Of visible and vulgar things, and things
Discover'd hitherto, pursuing tracts 5

As yet untravell'd, and unknown, through vast
Of new and sweet irnao-inino:s ; if chance
Some airy harp, waked by the gentle sprites
Of twilight, or light touch of sylvan maid,
In soft succession fall upon his ear, 10

1-20. As one, &c. : Book VII. opens with this delicate shading of re-
mote yet true feeling :

" As one, &c

song."

This, and many other passages of our author are quite in the style of
Dante, who draws most of his illustrations from the living expression of
mental affections. We cannot resist the passage immediately following :

" In 'enstom'd glory, &c

way. 1 '

The last change should now be told according to our prepared atten-
tion ; but we must yet be served unnecessarily with a renewed individ-
ual detail of man's heedlessness. At last there is darkness, and the angel
who swore that " time should be no more ;" and the angel of the trumpet ;
and the dead are rising ; and the creatures of the earth die, and the beau-
ties of the fair earth. — Blackwood.

256 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And fill the desert with its heavenly tones,

He listens intense, and pleased exceedingly,

And wishes it may never stop ; yet when

It stops, grieves not; hut to his former thoughts

With fondest haste returns : so did the Seer, 15

So did his audience, after worship past,

And praise in heaven, return to sing, to hear

Of man ; not worthy less the sacred lyre,

Or the attentive ear : and thus the hard,

Not unbesought, again resumed his song. 20

THE MORNING- OF THE FINAL DAY OF EARTH.

In custom'd glory bright, that morn the sun
Rose, visiting the earth with light, and heat,

21. In customed glory, &c. : Though an account has been already given,
in a previous note, of the circumstances that suggested this great poem,
the Rev. Dr. Scott, in his glowing biography of Pollok, has offered some
interesting observations, -which throw light upon this portion of the Sev-
enth Book, and upon the style of the poem, as a whole. After alluding
to facts which suggested the great poems of Dante, Tasso, Milton, and
Cowper, and also D'Aubigue's great epic history of the " Reformation, 10
he remarks : " Now, like these and other great canticles and histories,
' The Course of Time' had an origin, one too apparently accidental to the
poet, — not so, however, to Deity, — for it was as truly an ordained incip-
iency, as that of the acorn which the winds shake from the tree, and in
the course of centuries becomes an umbrageous oak. One night, in De-
cember, 1824, in the city of Glasgow, Robert Pollok lifted a book from
his table, which happened to be 'Hartley's Oratory,' a collection of pieces
in prose and verse. In turning the leaves over, his eye fell on Byron's
piece, entitled ' Darkness,' and, while reading it, the idea of the Resur-
rection was suggested to him. On laying the book down, the plan of a
poem on the Resurrection succeeded this first idea, when he suddenly
seized a pen, and wrote a portion of what is the Seventh Book of ' The
Course of Time,' beginning with this line,

' In custom'd glory bright,' &c.

" At intervals, during several successive weeks, he revolved his plan ;
and had written at least one thousand lines, when it was thought expe-
dient for him to remove to Moorhouse, to be near his mother, who was

BOOK SEVENTH.

257

And joy ; and seem'd as full of youth, and strong

To mount the steep of heaven, as when the Stars

Of morning sung to his first dawn, and night 25

Fled from his face : the spacious sky received

Him, blushing as a bride, when on her look'd

The bridegroom ; and, spread out beneath his eye,

Earth smiled. Up to his warm embrace the dews,

That all night long had wept his absence, flew : 30

The herbs and flowers their fragrant stores unlock'd,

And gave the wanton breeze, that, newly woke,

Reveli'd in sweets, and from its wings shook health,

dying of consumption. One night, shortly after his return there, -while
sitting alone, cogitating at midnight, the present plan of the poem sud-
denly burst upon his mind ; a continent of thought arose and stood before
him," Ac.

" When Pollok seized his pen, after reading the lines on ' Darkness,' to
utter his thoughts about the Resurrection, which they had suggested, he
felt as a Christian. He could not write as an Atheist. Light is changed
and affected by the medium through which it passes ; so is thought by
the mind where it lodges. Every page of the Seventh Book of ' The
Course of Time,' which is a canticle founded on the same scene as that
of ' Darkness,' is illuminated by the light of Revelation. He could not
essay in song the burial of the earth, without the imagery of Scripture.
See lines 123-129.

"Byron sung —

1 The bright sun was extinguish 'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Eayless and pathless.'

" On the other hand, Pollok—

'The sun
Was wrapp'd in darkness, and his beams return'd
Up to the throne of God.'

" The Christian poet saw every thing in the light of the Gospel. The
Bible cast its celestial radiance on every scene within the horizon of his
intellect. ' Darkness' suggested the topic ; but religion enabled him to
portray it in the rich and variegated colors of immortality. As the
crimson glory of the setting sun is refracted, and rendered more immac-
ulate by the evening cloud, so is song heightened and made more beau-
ful by passing through a sanctified and spiritual medium."

29. Up to his warm embrace, &c : The influences of the sun-light
could not be more poetically described than in the following lines.

258 THE COURSE OF TEVIE.

A thousand grateful smells : the joyous woods

Dried in his heams their locks, wet with the drops 35

Of night : and all the sons of music sung

Their matin song ; from arbor'd bower, the thrush

Concerting with the lark that hymn'd on high :

On the green hill the flocks, and in the vale

The herds rejoiced : and, light of heart, the hind 40

Eyed amorously the milkmaid as she pass'd,

Not heedless, though she look'd another way.

NO SIGN YET OF CHANGE IN NATURE, AND NO CHANGE IN
HUMAN PURSUITS.

No sign was there of change : all nature moved
In wonted harmony : men as they met
In morning salutation, praised the day, 45

And talked of common things : the husbandman
Prepared the soil, and silver-tongued Hope
Promised another harvest : in the streets,
Each wishing to make profit of his neighbor,
Merchants, assembling, spoke of trying times, 50

Of bankruptcies, and markets glutted full :
Or crowding to the beach, where, to their ear,
The oath of foreign accent, and the noise
Uncouth of trade's rough sons, made music sweet,
Elate with certain gain, beheld the bark, 55

Expected long, enrich'd with other climes,
Into the harbor safely steer ; or saw,
Parting with many a weeping farewell sad,
And blessing utter'd rude, and sacred pledge,
The rich-laden carrack, bound to distant shore ; GO

And hopefully talk'd of her coming back

44-103. The author, in this passage, shows that he had been a close
observer of men and things, and, for a recluse student, was remarkably
well versed in human nature

BOOK SEVENTH. 259

"With richer freight : or sitting at the desk,

In calculation deep and intricate,

Of loss and profit balancing, relieved

At intervals the irksome task, with thought 65

Of future ease, retired in villa snug.

With subtle look, amid his parchments sat
The lawyer, weaving his sophistries for court
To meet at mid-day. On his weary couch
Fat luxury, sick of the night's debauch, 70

Lay groaning, fretful at the obtrusive beam,
That through his lattice peep'd derisively :
The restless miser had begun again
To count his heaps : before her toilet stood
The fair, and, as with guileful skill she deck'd 15

Her loveliness, thought of the coming ball,
New lovers, or the sweeter nuptial night.
And evil men, of desperate lawless life,
By oath of deep damnation leagued to ill
Remorselessly, fled from the face of day, 80

Against the innocent their counsel held,
Plotting unpardonable deeds of blood,
And villanies of fearful magnitude :
Despots, secured behind a thousand bolts,
The workmanship of fear, forged chains for man : 85

Senates were meeting : statesmen loudly talk'd
Of national resources, war and peace ;
And sagely balanced empires soon to end :
And faction's jaded minions, by the page
Paid for abuse, and oft-repeated lies, 90

In daily prints, the thoroughfare of news,
For party schemes made interest, under cloak
Of liberty, and right, and public weal :
In holy conclave, bishops spoke of tithes,
And of the awful wickedness of men : Q5

Intoxicate with sceptres, diadems,

260 THE COUESE OF TIME.

And universal rule, and panting hard

For fame, heroes were leading on the brave

To battle ; men, in science deeply read,

And academic theory, foretold 100

Improvements vast : and learned skeptics proved

That earth should with eternity endure ;

Concluding madly that there was no God.

THE NOON OF THE FINAL DAY OF EARTH — THE TERRORS THAT

FOLLOWED.

No sign of change appear'd ; to every man
That day seem'd as the past. From noonday path 105
The sun look'd gloriously on earth, and all
Iler scenes of giddy folly smiled secure.
'When suddenly, alas, fair Earth ! the sun
Was wrapt in darkness, and his beams return'd
Up to the throne of God ; and over all 110

The earth came night, moonless and starless night.
Nature stood still ; the seas and rivers stood,
And all the winds ; and every living thing.
The cataract, that like a giant wroth,

Rush'd clown impetuously, as seized, at once, 115

By sudden frost with all his hoary locks,
Stood still : and beasts of every kind stood still ;
A deep and dreadful silence reign'd alone !
Hope died in every breast ; and on all men
Came fear and trembling : none to his neighbor spoke ;
Husband thought not of wife; nor of her child 121

The mother ; nor friend of friend ; nor foe of foe.

120-23. How natural the representation of the effect of terror, in
these lines, and then, again, in 188—143. The entire paragraph (104-159)
is one of the most favorable specimens of Pollok's vigor of imagination
and power of language. The stroDg current of social affections is sud-
denly arrested, and each one's regard is concentrated upon himself.

BOOK SEVENTH. 201

In horrible suspense all mortals stood ;
And as they stood, and listen'd, chariots were heard
Rolling in heaven : reveal'd in flaming fire, 125

The angel of God appear'd in stature vast,
Blazing, and, lifting up his hand on high,
By Him that lives forever, swore, that Time
Should be no more. — Throughout, creation heard
And sigh'd ; all rivers, lakes, and seas, and woods, 130

Desponding waste, and cultivated vale ;
Wild cave, and ancient hill, and every rock
Sigh'd : earth, arrested in her wonted path,
• As ox struck by the lifted axe, when naught
Was fear'd, in all her entrails deeply groan'd. 135

A universal crash was heard, as if
The ribs of nature broke, and all her dark
Foundations fail'd : and deadly paleness sat
On every face of man, and every heart
Grew chill, and every knee his fellow smote. 140

None spoke, none stirr'd, none wept ; for horror held
All motionless, and fetter'd every tongue.
Again, o'er all the nations silence fell :
And, in the heavens, robed in excessive light,
That drove the thick of darkness far aside, 145

And walk'd with penetration keen through all
The abodes of men, another angel stood,
And blew the trump of God. — Awake, ye dead !
Be changed, ye living ! and put on the garb
Of immortality ! Awake! arise! 150

148-150. The apostle Paul, in language concise, simple, and sublime,
predicts the scene here described : "Behold, I show you a mystery : we
shall not all sleep (in death), but we shall all be changed, in a moment,
in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; for the trumpet shall
sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.
We which are alive, and remain unto the coming of the Lord, shall not
prevent (go before) them which are asleep (those who had died)," &c.
1 Cor. xv. ; 1 Thess. iv.

262 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The God of judgment comes. This said the voice :

And Silence, from eternity that slept

Beyond the sphere of the creating Word,

And all the noise of Time, awaken'd, heard.

Heaven heard, and earth, and farthest hell through all 155

Her regions of despair : the ear of Death

Heard, and the sleep that for so long a night

Press'd on his leaden eyelids, fled : and all

The dead awoke, and all the living changed.

THE DEAD RAISED TO LIFE THE LIVING CHANGED.

Old men, that on their staff, bending had lean'd, 160

Crazy and frail ; or sat, benumb'd with age,
In weary listlessness, ripe for the grave,
Felt through their sluggish veins, and wither'd limbs,
New vigor flow : the wrinkled face grew smooth ;
Upon the head, that time had razor'd bare, 105

Hose bushy locks ; and as his son, in prime
Of strength and youth, the aged father stood.
Changing herself, the mother saw her son
Grow up, and suddenly put on the form
Of manhood : and the wretch, that begging sat 170

Limbless, deform'd, at corner of the way,
Unmindful of his crutch, in joint and limb
Arose complete : and he that on the bed
Of mortal sickness, worn with sore distress,
Lay breathing forth his soul to death, felt now 175

The tide of life and vigor rushing back ;
And looking up beheld his weeping wife,
And daughter fond, that o'er him, bending, stoop'd
To close his eyes : the frantic madman too,

160-201. This paragraph presents to us an original and highly curious
illustration of the " change" that shall take place in those who shall bo
alive at the last day of the earth's existence in its pre i1 condition.

BOOK SEVENTn. 263

In whose confused brain, reason had lost 180

Her way, long driven at random to and fro,

Grew sober, and his manacles fell off.

The newly sheeted corpse arose, and stared

On those who dress'd it : and the coffin'd dead,

That men were bearing to the tomb, awoke, 185

And mingled with their friends : and armies, which

The trump surprised, met in the furious shock

Of battle, saw the bleeding ranks, new fallen,

Rise up at once, and to their ghastly cheeks

Return the stream of life in healthy flow. 190

And as the anatomist, with all his band

Of rude disciples, o'er the subject hung,

And impolitely hew'd his way through bones

And muscles of the sacred human form,

Exposing barbarously to wanton gaze, 195

The mysteries of nature — joint embraced

His kindred joint, the wounded flesh grew up,

And suddenly the injured man awoke,

Among their hands, and stood array'd complete

In immortality — forgiving scarce 200

The insult offer'd to his clay in death.

That was the hour, long wish'd for by the good,
Of universal Jubilee to all

The sons of bondage ; from the oppressor's hand
The scourge of violence fell ; and from his back, 205

Heal'd of its stripes, the burden of the slave.

The vouth of great religious soul — who sat
Retired in voluntary loneliness,
In revery extravagant now wrapt,
Or poring now on book of ancient date, 210

207-226. I cannot forbear expressing the opinion that the poet, in this
passage, was consciously drawing a portrait of his own mind, and writing
his own intellectual history. The application of it to him is warranted
by his Biography.

204 THE COURSE OE TIMK.

With filial awe ; and dipping oft his pen

To write immortal things ; to pleasure doaf,

And joys of common men ; working his way

With mighty energy, not uninspired,

Through all the mines of thought ; reckless of pain, 215

And weariness, and wasted health ; the scoff

Of pride, or growl of Envy's hellish brood ;

While Fancy, voyaged far beyond the bounds

Of years reveal'd, heard many a future age,

With commendation loud, repeat his name — 220

False prophetess ! the day of change was come —

Behind the shadow of eternity,

lie saw his visions set of earthly fame ;

Forever set : nor sisrh'd, while through his veins

In lighter current ran immortal life ; 225

His form renew'd to undecaying health ;

To undecaying health his soul, erewhile

Not tuned amiss to God's eternal praise.

All men in field and city ; by the way ;
On land or sea ; lolling in gorgeous hall, 230

Or plying at the oar ; crawling in rags
Obscure, or dazzling in embroider'd gold ;
Alone, in companies, at home, abroad ;
In wanton merriment surprised and taken ;
Or kneeling reverently in act of prayer ; 235

Or cursing recklessly, or uttering lies ;
Or lapping greedily from slander's cup
The blood of reputation ; or between
Friendships and brotherhoods devising strife;
Or plotting to defile a neighbor's bed ; 240

In duel met with dagger of revenge;
Or casting on the widow's heritage
The eye of covetousness ; or with full hand
On mercy's noiseless errands, unobserved,
Administering; or meditating fraud 245

BOOK SEVENTIT. 205

And deeds of horrid barbarous intent ;

In full pursuit of unexperienced hope,

Fluttering along the flowery path of youth ;

Or steep'd in disappointment's bitterness —

The fever'd cup that guilt must ever drink, 250

When parch 'd and fainting on the road of ill ;

Beggar and king, the clown and haughty lord ;

The venerable sage, and empty fop ;

The ancient matron, and the rosy bride ;

The virgin chaste, and shrivell'd harlot vile ; 255

The savage fierce, and man of science mild :

The good and evil, in a moment, all

Were changed, corruptible to incorrupt,

And mortal to immortal, ne'er to change.

THE KIGHTEOUS FROM HEAVEN, THE WICKED PROM HELL,
COME TO PUT ON THEIR BODIES.

And now, descending from the bowers of heaven, 260
Soft airs o'er all the earth, spreading were heard,
And Hallelujahs sweet, the harmony
Of righteous souls that came to repossess
Their long-neglected bodies : and anon
Upon the ear fell horribly the sound 265

Of cursing, and the yells of damn'd despair,
Utter'd by felon spirits that the trump
Had summon'd from the burning glooms of hell,
To put their bodies on — reserved for woe.

THE RESURRECTION.

Now starting up among the living, changed, 270

Appear'd innumerous the risen dead.
Each particle of dust was claim'd : the turf,
For ages trod beneath the careless foot

266 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of men, rose organized in human form;

The monumental stones were roll'J away ; 2*75

The doors of death were open'd ; and in the dark

And loathsome vault, and silent charnel house,

Moving, were heard the moulder'd bones that sought

Their proper place. Instinctive every soul

Flew to its clayey part : from grass-grown mould 280

The nameless spirit took its ashes up,

Reanimate : and, merging from beneath

The fiatter'd marble, undistinguish'd rose

The great — nor heeded once the lavish rhyme,

And costly pomp of sculptured garnish vain. 285

The Memphian mummy, that from age to age

Descending, bought and sold a thousand times,

In hall of curious antiquary stow'd,

Wrapt in mysterious weeds, the wondrous theme

Of many an erring tale, shook off its rags, 290

And the brown son of Egypt stood beside

The European, his last purchaser.

283. The flatter 1 d marble: It should be the flattering marble. There
are too many instances in the poem, where, to the injury of the sense,
the past is used for the present participle.

286. The Memphian mummy : It is evidence of the deep and patient
research of our author's mind, that the antique mummy is not over-
looked, in the history of the great day of the resurrection. Egypt
stands pre-eminent in the art of embalming dead bodies, and from the
neighborhood of Memphis, in Egypt, the greatest number of mummies
have been taken.

"The art of embalming," says Brando, "owes its origin to the extreme
veneration with which the ancient Egyptians regarded the corpses of
their relations, and was practised with such success, that, at the lapse of
three thousand years, the mummies found in the numerous catacombs of
Egypt, are still objects of admiration. But it was not to the dead bodies
of the human species alone that the ancient Egyptians restricted their
reverence: they practised embalming also on all the animals which their
religion held Bacred, and of these upwards of fifty different species have
been found embalmed.

"The British Museum is said to contain two of the most perfect speci-
mens of the human mummy now in Europe."

BOOK SEVENTH. 267

In vale remote the hermit rose, surprised
At crowds that rose around him, where he thought
His slumbers had been single : and the bard, 295

Who fondly covenanted with his friend
To lay his bones beneath the sighing bough
Of some old lonely tree, rising, was press'd
By multitudes, that claim'd their proper dust
From the same spot : and he that, richly hearsed 300

With gloomy garniture of purchased woe,
Embalm'd, in princely sepulchre was laid,
Apart from vulgar men, built nicely round
And round by the proud heir, who blush'd to think
His father's lordly clay should ever mix 305

With peasant dust — saw by his side awake
The clown, that long had slumber'd in his arms.
The family tomb, to whose devouring mouth
Descended sire and son, age after age,

In long, unbroken, hereditary line, 310

Pour'd forth at once the ancient father rude,
And all his offspring of a thousand years.
Refresh'd from sweet repose, awoke the man
Of charitable life — awoke and sung :

And from his prison-house, slowly and sad, 315

As if unsatisfied with holding near
Communion with the earth, the miser drew

301. Purchased woe, &o. : Reference is made to a common practice in
Great Britain, among the wealthy, of hiring a greater or less number of
men, in habiliments of mourning, to swell the funeral procession, and
render it more imposing.

317. The miser, &c: The important idea is here implied, that no
change of character is acquired during the sleep of the grave. The miser
awakes with the same insatiable desire for accumulation, which he had
when he first closed his restless eye upon the hoard he was obliged to
leave behind.

As, on the other hand (324-6), the martyr saint awakes with the same
devotion which he had at death, to the cause for which he so nobly
Buffered.

268 THE COURSE OF TIME.

His carcass forth, and gnash'd his teeth, and howl'd,

Unsolaced by his gold and silver then.

From simple stone in lonely wilderness, 320

That hoary lay, o'erletter'd by the hand

Of oft-frequenting pilgrim, who had taught

The willow tree to weep at morn and even

Over the sacred spot — the martyr saint

To song of seraph harp triumphant rose, 325

"Well pleased that he had suffer'd to the death.

" The cloud capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,"

As sung the bard of Nature's hand anointed,

In whose capacious giant numbers roll 'd

The passions of old Time, fell lumbering down. 330

All cities fell, and every work of man,

And gave their portion forth of human dust,

Touch'd by the mortal finger of decay.

Tree, herb, and flower, and every fowl of heaven,

And fish, and animal, the wild and tame, 335

Forthwith dissolving, crumbled into dust.

THE AUTHOR'S TENDER LAMENT OVER THE GENERAL DECAY OF

NATURE.

Alas, ye sons of strength ! ye ancient oaks !
Ye holy pines ! ye elms ! and cedars tall !

328. As sung (he bard, &c. : William Shakspeare, unrivalled in depict-
ing " the passions" of men. Fdl, &c, nrast be referred to palaces (327)
as its subject.

The passage in Shakspeare whence the above line (327) is taken, occur3
in "The Tempest." I'rospero, the rightful duke of Milan, says to
Ferdinand :

"these our actors,

As I foretold you, -were aH and

Are melted into air, Into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-rapt tow. rgeons palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
And, like this unsubstantial pageantfaded,
Leave not a rack behind ; we are sucb stuff
As dreams are made of."

BOOK SEVENTH. 2G9

Like towers of God, far seen on C arm el mount,

Or Lebanon, that waved your boughs on high 340

And laugh'd at all the winds — your hour was come !

Ye laurels, ever green ! and bays that wont

To wreathe the patriot and the poet's brow ;

Ye myrtle bowers ! and groves of sacred shade

Where Music ever sung, and Zephyr fann'd 345

His airy wing, wet with the dews of life,

And Spring forever smiled, the fragrant haunt

Of Love, and Health, and ever-dancing Mirth —

Alas ! how suddenly your verdure died,

And ceased your minstrelsy, to sing no more ! 350

Ye flowers of beauty ! pencill'd by the hand

Of God, who annually renew'd your birth,

To gem the virgin robes of nature chaste,

Ye smiling featured daughters of the Sun !

Fairer than queenly bride, by Jordan's stream 355

Leading your gentle lives, retired, unseen ;

Or on the sainted cliffs of Zion hill,

Wandering, and holding with the heavenly dews,

In holy revelry, your nightly loves,

Watch'd by the stars, and offering every morn 360

Your incense grateful both to God and man,

Ye lovely gentle things ! alas, no spring

Shall ever wake you now ! ye wither'd all,

All in a moment droop'd, and on your roots

The grasp of everlasting winter seized. 365

33*7-87. Alas, ye sons, &c: Gilfillan made a rash remark when lie
asserted that " the poet readies his climax in the sixth book : after this,
he sinks down, struggling sore, but vainly, to break his fall." The ab-
surdity of this declaration is apparent on reading the seventh book, thus
far, and especially the exquisitely beautiful and tender lament which the
author here pours forth in view of the ruin that comes over the face of
nature. To this, a multitude of other passages, in the following books,
might be quoted in confutation of the critical opinion stated above.
There is a sweeping dogmatism iu which critics are too apt to indulge,

270 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Children of song ! ye birds that dwelt in air,

And stole your notes from angels' lyres, and first

In levee of the morn, with eulogy

Ascending, hail'd the advent of the dawn ;

Or, roosted on the pensive evening bough, 370

In melancholy numbers sung the day

To rest, your little wings, failing, dissolved

In middle air, and on your harmony

Perpetual silence fell. Nor did his wing

That sail'd in track of gods sublime, and fann'd 375

The sun, avail the eagle then ; quick smitten,

His plumage wither'd in meridian height,

And, in the valley sunk the lordly bird,

A clod of clay. Before the ploughman fell

His steers, and mid-way the furrow left : 380

The shepherd saw his flocks around him turn

To dust ; beneath his rider fell the steed

To ruins : and the lion in his den

Grew cold and stiff, or in the furious chase,

much to the injury of the ■well-earned reputation of the writings upon
which they expend it so unfeelingly and unjustly.

377-85. His plumage withered, &c. : The last part is extremely pictu-
resque — living figures arrested in difficult attitudes. The rising of the
dead admits of a thousand situations of the same kind, and this seems to
have led our author to enlarge so much on this part of his subject. Mil-
ton more wisely saw the propriety of briefness in his sketch of the Cre-
ation. The picture of the missionary rising in hinds far from his native
home, amidst the people of a strange kindred, whom lie had saved from
the darkness of sin, is certainly fine; but why dilate here upon the mer-
its of such men, praiseworthy though they are ? If the eye of man, un-
der the impending judgment dare look around, it must be only for a
moment ; therefore should the descriptions of our author have been very
brief. In room of the brief mandate of Heaven, we have the ocean
apostrophized by the poet in three pare-, before it is represented as giv-
ing up its diad. And after all— the simple conci ptiou of Death pining
to see his captives disenthralled, provokes a long detail of his triumphs
over tin" children of men. Surely ibis is " vaulting ambition which over-
leaps itself, and falls on the other side.'' — Blackwood,

BOOK SEVENTH. 271

With timid fawn, that scarcely miss'd his paws. v 385

On earth no living thing: was seen but men,
New changed, or rising from the opening tomb.

CITIES AND BATTLE-FIELDS GIVING UP THEIR DEAD.

Athens, and Rome, and Babylon, and Tyre,
And she that sat on Thames, queen of the seas !
Cities once famed on earth, convulsed through all 390

Their mighty ruins, threw their millions forth.
Palmyra's dead, where Desolation sat,
From age to age, well pleased, in solitude
And silence, save when traveller's foot, or owl
Of night, or fragment mouldering down to dust, 395

Broke faintly on his desert ear, awoke.
And Salem, holy city, where the Prince
Of Life, by death, a second life secured
To man, and with him from the grave, redeem'd,
A chosen number brought, to retinue 400

His great ascent on high, and give sure pledge
Tbat death was foil'd, — her generations now
Gave up, of kings, and priests, and Pharisees ;
Nor even the Sadducee, who fondly said
No morn of Resurrection ere should come, 405

Could sit the summons : to his ear did reach
The trumpet's voice ; and ill prepared for wbat
He oft had proved should never be, he rose
Reluctantly, and on his face began

To burn eternal shame. The cities too, 410

Of old ensepulchred beneath the flood,
Or deeply slumbering under mountains huge,
That Earthquake — servant of the wrath of God —
Had on their wicked population thrown,
And marts of busy trade, long plough'd and sown, 415

By history unrecorded, or the song

272 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of bard, yet not forgotten their wickedness

In heaven — pour'd forth their ancient multitudes,

That vainly wish'd their sleep had never broke.

From battle-fields, where men by millions met 420

To murder each his fellow, and make sport

To kings and heroes — things long since forgot —

Innumerous armies rose, unbanner'd all,

Unpanoplied, unpraised ; nor found a prince,

Or general then, to answer for their crimes. 425

The hero's slaves, and all the scarlet troops

Of antichrist, and all that fought for rule —

Many high-sounding names, familiar once

On earth, and praised exceedingly ; but now

Familiar most in hell — their dungeon fit, 430

"Where they may Avar eternally with God's

Almighty thunderbolts, and win them pangs

Of keener woe — saw, as they sprung to life,

The widow, and the orphan ready stand,

And helpless virgin, ravish'd in their sport, 435

To plead against them at the coming Doom.

The Roman legions, boasting once, how loud !

Of liberty ; and fighting bravely o'er

The torrid and the frigid zone, the sands

Of burning Egypt, and the frozen hills 440

Of snowy Albion, to make mankind

Their thralls, untaught that he who made or kept

A slave, could ne'er himself be truly free —

That morning gather'd up their dust, which lay

Wide scatter'd over half the globe : nor saw 445

122. Thingt l»>ifi x'nicc forgot: Such is the author's cont< mptuous inti-
mate of kings and heroes, who are actuated by a selfish ambition in the
havoc which they cause of human life, virtue, and happiness, lie does
not, however, indiscriminately condemn all (hoc whose energies arc ex-
erted and whose live- are perilled in the dreadful Btrife of war; as may
be learned from tie- next paragraph (468, <fec.)

BOOK SEVENTH. 273

Their eagled banners then. Sennacherib's hosts,

Embattled once against the sons of God,

With insult bold, quick as the noise of mirth

And revelry, sunk in their drunken camp,

When death's dark angel, at the dead of night, 450

Their vitals touch'd, and made each pulse stand still —

Awoke in sorrow : and the multitudes

Of Gog, and all the fated crew that warr'd

Against the chosen saints, in the last days,

At Armageddon, when the Lord came down, 455

446-53. Sennacherib's hosts, &c. : Read Isaiah, eh. xxxvii.
453. Of Gog, &c. : This word occurs, Ezek. xxxviii. 3, 14, and xxxix. 11,
as a proper name — that of a prince of Magog, a people that were to
come from the north, to invade the land of Israel, and be there defeated.
In a different sense, but corresponding with the assertions of other
Oriental authors, in whose traditions this people occupy an important
place, Gog occurs in Rev. xx. 8, as the name of a country.

The terms Gog and Magog have generally been understood as symbol-
ical expressions for the heathen nations of Asia, or more particularly for
the Scythians, a vague knowledge of whom seems to have reached the
Jews in Palestine about that period. — Kitto's Cyc.

455. At Armageddon : Rev. xvi. 16. "And he gathered them together

into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon." " The

kings of the earth and of the whole world (v. 14), to gather them to the
battle of that great day of God Almighty." The meaning of this pas-
sage, according to Mr. Barnes, is, that there will be a state of things
which would be well described by a universal gathering of forces in a
central battle-field There will be a rallying of the declining pow-
ers of Heathenism, Mohammedanism, and Romanism, as if the forces of
the earth, marshalled by kings and rulers, were assembled in some great
battle-field, where the destiny of the world was to be decided. The word
Armageddon seems to be formed from the Hebrew Har Megiddo — moun-
tain of Megiddo. Megiddo, in Palestine, was distinguished for being the
place of the decisive conflict between Deborah and Sisera, and of the
battle in which Josiah was slain by the Egyptian invaders, and hence it
became emblematic of any decisive battle-field, just as Marathon, Leuc-
tra, or "Waterloo is.

Doddridge observes that Megiddo had been a place remarkable for
slaughter (see Judges v. 19: Zech. xii. 11, &c): and, to express the cer-
tain destruction that should come upon these antichristian powers, they
are described as brought together to this mountain.

12*

274 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Mustering his hosts on Israel's holy hills,

And from the treasures of his snow and hail

Rain'd terror, and confusion rain'd, and death,

And gave to all the beasts, and fowls of heaven,

Of captains' flesh, and blood of men of Avar, 460

A feast of many days — revived, and, doom'd

To second death, stood in Hamonah's vale.

Nor yet did all that fell in battle, rise
That day to wailing : here and there were seen
The patriot bands, that from his guilty throne 465

The despot tore, unshackled nations, made
The prince respect the people's laws, drove back

The wave of proud invasion, and rebuked

The frantic fury of the multitude,

Rebell'd, and fought and fell for liberty 470

Right understood — true heroes in the speech

Of heaven, where words express the thoughts of him

Who speaks — not undistinguish'd these, though few,

That morn arose, with joy and melody.

All woke — the north ami south gave up their dead : 475

The caravan, that in mid-journey sunk,

With all its merchandise, expected long,

And long forgot, ingulfed beneath the tide

Of death, that the wild spirit of the winds

Swept, in his wrath, along the wilderness, 480

In the wide desert woke, and saw all calm

459-60. And gave, &c. : Language drawn from the Apocalypse, xix.
17, 18. "And ili.' ang 1 cried wiih a loud voice, savin;; to all the fowls
that fly in the midst, of heaven, Come and gather yourselves together
unto the Bupper of the great God, that ye may eat the flesh of kings,
and the flesh of captains, and the flesh <>f mighty men, and the flesh of
horses and of them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both free
and bond."

4*79. Wild spirit of the winds: The simoom of the desert of Africa
and adjacent countries, the inhaling of which, even in small quantities,
produces instant suffocation, or haves the sufferer oppressed with
melancholy.

BOOK SEVENTH.

275

Around, and populous with risen men :
Nor of his relics thought the pilgrim then,
Nor merchant of his silks and spiceries.

And he — far voyaging from home and friends,
Too curious, with a mortal eye to peep
Into the secrets of the Pole, forbid
By nature, whom fierce winter seized, and froze
To death, and wrapp'd in winding sheet of ice,
And sung the requiem of his shivering ghost
With the loud organ of his mighty winds,
And on his memory threw the snow of ages —
Felt the long absent warmth of life return,
And shook the frozen mountain from his bed.

All rose, of every age, of every clime :
Adam and Eve, the great progenitors
Of all mankind, fair as they seem'd that morn
When first they met in paradise, unfallen,
Uncursed — from ancient slumber broke, where once
Euphrates roll'd his stream ; and by them stood,
In stature equal, and in soul as large,
Their last posterity — though poets sung,
And sages proved them far degenerate.

485

490

495

500

THE RESURRECTION OF THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY.

Bless'd sight ! not unobserved by angels, or
Unpraised — that day 'mong men of every tribe
And hue, from those who drank of Tenglio's stream.
To those who nightly saw the hermit cross,
In utmost south retired, — rising, were seen
The fair and ruddy sons of Albion's land —
How glad ! — not those who travell'd far, and sail'd

505

510

507. Hermit cross : The Cross, or Crux, is one of the constellations of
the southern hemisphere, much observed by mariners, probably as indi-
cating, by the direction of two of its stars, the position of the South Pole.

276 THK COUKSE OF TIME.

To purchase human flesh ; or wreathe the yoke

Of vassalage on savage liberty ;

Or suck large fortune from the. sweat of slaves ;

Or with refined knavery, to cheat,

Politely villanous, untutor'd men 515

Out of their property ; or gather shells,

Intaglios rude, old pottery, and store

Of mutilated gods of stone, and snaps

Of barbarous epitaphs defaced, to be

Among the learn 'd the theme of warm debate, 520

And infinite conjecture, sagely wrong !

But those, denied to self, to earthly fame

Denied, and earthly wealth, who kindred left,

And home, and ease, and all the cultured joys,

Conveniences, and delicate delights 525

Of ripe society ; in the great cause

Of man's salvation greatly valorous,

The warriors of Messiah, messengers

Of peace, and light, and life, whose eye, unsealed,

Saw up the path of immortality, 530

Far into bliss — saw men, immortal men,

Wide wandering from the way; eclipsed in night,

Dark, moonless, moral night ; living like beasts ;

Like beasts descending to the grave, untaught

Of life to come, unsanetified, unsaved : 535

Who strong, though seeming weak ; who warlike, though

Unarm'd with bow and sword ; appearing mad,

Though sounder than the schools alone ere made

517. Intaglios: Any thing engraved, or a precious stone with :i head
or on inscription cut in or hollowed out. It is the opposite of a Cameo
— Addison.

522—538. ButtJiose, Ac: This passage, though it must be admitted to
be too extended, for the place it occupies, as diverting the attention too
long from the great Bubject of the book, is nevertheless a most glowing
and truthful representation of the moral heroism, eminent worth, and
surpassing usefulness of the faithful Christian missionary.

BOOK SEVENTH. 277

The doctor's head ; devote to God and truth,

And sworn to man's eternal weal — beyond 540

Repentance sworn, or thought of turning back ;

And casting far behind all earthly care,

All countryships, all national regards

And enmities ; all narrow bournes of state

And selfish policy ; beneath their feet 545

Treading all fear of opposition down ;

All fear of danger ; of reproach all fear,

And evil tongues ; — went forth, from Britain went,

A noiseless baud of heavenly soldiery,

From out the armory of God equipp'd, 550

Invincible, to conquer sin ; to blow

The trump of freedom in the despot's ear ;

To tell the bruted slave his manhood high,

His birthright liberty, and in his hand

To put the writ of manumission, sign'd 555

By God's own signature : to drive away

From earth the dark infernal legionry

Of superstition, ignorance, and hell :

High on the pagan hills, where Satan sat

Encamp'd, and o'er the subject kingdoms threw 560

Perpetual night, to plant Immanuel's cross,

The ensign of the Gospel, blazing round

Immortal truth ; and in the wilderness

Of human waste to sow eternal life ;

And from the rock, where sin, with horrid yell, 565

Devour'd its victims unredeem'd, to raise

The melody of "grateful hearts to Heaven ;

To falsehood, truth ; to pride, humility ;

To insult, meekness ; pardon, to revenge ;

565. From the rock, &c. : Reference is perhaps made to the rock in the
vicinity of the city of Mexico where human victims were offered to Pa-
gan deities.

568. To falsehood (opposing) truth (574).

278 TIIE COURSE OF TIME.

To stubborn prejudice, unwearied zeal ; 570

To censure, unaccusing minds ; to stripes,

Long-suffering ; to want of all tilings, hope ;

To death, assured faith of life to come,

Opposing — these, great worthies, rising, shone

Through all the tribes and nations of mankind, 575

Like JJesper, glorious once among the stars

Of twilight ; and around them, flocking, stood,

Array'd in white, the people they had saved.

ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN, CALLED TO GIVE UP HIS DEAD.

Great Ocean too, that morning, thou, the call
Of restitution heardst, and reverently 580

To the last trumpet's voice in silence listen'd !
Great Ocean ! strongest of creation's sons !
Unconquerable, unreposed, untired ;
That roll'd the wild, profound, eternal bass,
In Nature's anthem, and made music, such 585

As pleased the ear of God. Original,
Unmarr'd, unladed work of Deity ;
And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill.
From age to age enduring and unchanged :
Majestical, inimitable, vast, 590

Loud uttering satire day and night on each
Succeeding race, and little pompous work
Of man. Unfallen, religious, holy sea !
Thou bow'dst thy glorious head to none, fear'dst none,
Heardst none, to none didst honor, but to God 595

Thy maker — only worthy to receive

576. Ilesper : Venus, when seen in the west after the setting of the sun.

581. Listened: The third person wrongly used for the second. There
are many other instances of the same grammatical error, in this single
paragraph.

597. Undiscovered: " Unexplored" would have been a more appropri-
ate term.

BOOK SEVENTH. 279

Thy great obeisance. Undiscover'd sea !

Into thy dark, unknown, mysterious caves,

And secret haunts, unfathomably deep

Beneath all visible retired, none went, 600

And came again, to tell the wonders there.

Tremendous sea ! what time thou lifted up

Thy waves on high, and with thy winds and storms

Strange pastime took, and shook thy mighty sides

Indignantly — the pride of navies fell ; 605

Beyond the arm of help, unheard, unseen,

Sunk friend and foe, with all their wealth and war,

And on thy shores, men of a thousand tribes,

Polite and barbarous, trembling stood, amazed,

Confounded, terrified, and thought vast thoughts 610

Of ruin, boundlessness, omnipotence,

Infinitude, eternity ; and thought

And wonder'd still, and grasp'd, and grasp'd, and grasp'd

Again — beyond her reach exerting all

The soul to take thy great idea in, 615

To comprehend incomprehensible ;

And wonder'd more, and felt their littleness.

Self-purifying, unpolluted sea !

Lover unchangeable ! thy faithful breast

Forever heaving to the lovely moon, 620

That like a shy and holy virgin, robed

In saintly white, walk'd nightly in the heavens,

And to thy everlasting serenade

Gave gracious audience ; nor was woo'd in vaiu.

That morning, thou, that slumber'd not before, 625

Nor slept, great Ocean ! laid thy waves to rest,

And hush'd thy mighty minstrelsy. No breath

Thy deep composure stirr'd, no fin, no oar ;

619-624. Lover unchangeable: An ingenious thought is here intro-
duced — the Ocean being described as a lover of the Moon, from the cir-
cumstance that he feels her attractive influence upon his waters.

280 THE COUESE OF TIME.

Like beauty newly dead, so calm, so still,

So lovely, thou, beneath the light that fell 030

From angel-chariots sentinell'd on high,

Imposed, and listen'd, and saw thy living change,

Thy dead arise. Chary bdis listen'd, and Scylla,

And savage Euxine, on the Thracian beach,

Lay motionless : and every battle-ship 035

Stood still ; and every ship of merchandise,

And all that sail'd, of every name, stood still.

Even as the ship of war, full fledged and swift,

Like some fierce bird of prey, bore on her foe,

Opposing with as fell intent, the wind 640

Fell wither'd from her wings, that idly hung ;

The stormy bullet by the cannon thrown

Uncivilly against the heavenly face

Of men, half sped, sunk harmlessly, and all

Her loud, uncircumcised, tempestuous crew, G45

How ill prepared to meet their God ! were changed,

Unchangeable — the pilot at the helm

Waa changed, and the rough captain, while he mouthed

The huge enormous oath. The fisherman,

That in his boat expectant watch'd his lines, 050

Or mended on the shore his net, and sung,

Happy in thoughtlessness, some careless air,

Heard Time depart, and felt the sudden change.

In solitary deep, far out from land,

Or steering from the port with many a cheer, 655

Or while returning from long voyage, fraught

With lusty wealth, rejoicing to have escaped

The dangerous main and plagues of foreign climes,

The ni« reliant quaff 'd his native air, refresh'd,

And saw his native, hills in the sun's light 600

Serenely rise, and thought of meetings glad,

Aii'l many days of ease and honor spent

Among his friends — unwarned man ! even then

BOOK SEVENTH. 281

The knell of Time broke on his reverie,

And in the twinkling of an eye his hopes, 665

All earthly, perish'd all. As sudden rose,

From out their watery beds, the Ocean's dead,

Renew'd, and on the unstirring billows stood,

From pole to pole, thick covering all the sea ;

Of every nation blent, and every age. 670

Wherever slept one grain of human dust,
Essential organ of a human soul,
AYherever toss'd obedient to the call
Of God's omnipotence, it hurried on

To meet its fellow particles, revived, 675

Rebuilt, in union indestructible.
No atom of his spoils remain'd to Death.
From his strong arm by stronger arm released,
Immortal now in soul and body both,

Beyond his reach, stood all the sons of men, 680

And saw behind his valley lie unfear'd.

APOSTROPHE TO DEATH, UPON THE EVENT OF THE RESURRECTION.

Death ! with what an eye of desperate lust,
From out thy emptied vaults, thou then didst look
After the risen multitudes of all

Mankind ! Ah, thou hadst been the terror long, 685

And murderer of all of woman born.
None could escape thee ! In thy dungeon-house,
AVhere darkness dwelt, and putrid loathsomeness,
And fearful silence, villanously still,

And all of horrible and deadly name, — 690

Thou satt'st from age to age, insatiate,
And drank the blood of men, and gorged their flesh,
And with thy iron teeth didst grind their bones
To powder — treading out beneath thy feet
Their very names and memories : the blood 695

282 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of nations could not slake thy parched throat.

No bribe could buy thy favor for an hour,

Or mitigate thy ever cruel rage

For human prey. Gold, beauty, virtue, youth ;

Even helpless swaddled innocency, fail'd 700

To soften thy heart of stone : the infant's blood

Pleased well thy taste — and while the mother wept,

Bereaved by thee, lonely and waste in woe,

Thy ever-grinding jaws devour'd her too.

Each son of Adam's family beheld, 705

"Where'er he turn'd, whatever path of life
He trode, thy goblin form behind him stand,
Like trusty old assassin, in his aim
Steady and sure as eye of destiny,

With scythe, and dart, and strength invincible "710

Equipp'd, and ever menacing his life.
He turn'd aside, he drown'd himself in sleep,
In wine, in pleasure ; travell'd, voyaged, sought
Receipts for health from all he met ; betook
To business speculate ; retired, return'd 715

Again to active life ; again retired ;
Return'd ; retired again ; prepared to die ;
Talk'd of thy nothingness ; conversed of life
To come ; laugh'd at his fears ; fill'd up the cup ;
Drank deep ; refrain'd ; fill'd up; refrain'd again; 720

Plann'd ; built him round with splendor, won applause ;
Made large alliances with men and things;
Read deep in science and philosophy,
To fortify his soul; heard lectures prove
The present ill, and future good ; observed 725

nis pulse beat regular ; extended hope ;
Thought, dissipated thought, and thought again;
Indulged, abstain'd, and tried a thousand schemes,
To ward thy blow, or hide thee from his eye ;

715. Business speculate : Speculating business.

BOOK SEVENTH. 283

But still thy gloomy terrors, dipp'd in sin, 730

Before him frown'd, and wither'd all his joy.

Still, fear'd and hated thing, thy ghostly shape

Stood in his avenues of fairest hope ;

Unmannerly, and uninvited, crept

Into his haunts of most select deli«ht : 735

Still on his halls of mirth, and banqueting,

And revelry, thy shadowy hand was seen

Writing thy name of — Death. Vile worm, that gnaw'd

The root of all his happiness terrene ; the gall

Of all his sweet ; the thorn of every rose 740

Of earthly bloom ; cloud of his noon-day sky ;

Frost of his spring ; sigh of his loudest laugh ;

Dark spot on every form of loveliness ;

Rank smell amidst his rarest spiceries ;

Harsh dissonance of all his harmony ; 745

Reserve of every promise, and the if

Of all to-morrows — now beyond thy vale

Stood all the ransom'd multitude of men,

Immortal all ; and in their visions saw

Thy visage grim no more. Great payment day ! 750

Of all thou ever conquer'd, none was left

In thy unpeopled realms, so populous once.

He, at whose girdle hangs the keys of death

And life — not bought but with the blood of Him

Who wears, the eternal Son of God, that morn 755

Dispell'd the cloud that sat so long, so thick,

So heavy o'er thy vale ; oped all thy doors,

Unoped before, and set thy prisoners free.

Vain was resistance, and to follow vain.

In thy unveiled caves, and solitudes 760

739-47. The root, <fcc. : The fine series of metaphors presented in this
passage, deserves particular attention and commendation.

750. Great payment day : This expression must imply that the dead
had paid, by their long imprisonment, all they owed to Death, and hence
were now set free by the Son of God (758).

281 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Of dark and dismal emptiness, thou satt'st,

Rolling thy hollow eyes : disabled thing !

Helpless, despised, unpitied, and unfear'd,

Like some fallen tyrant, chain'd in sight of all

The people : from thee dropp'd thy pointless dart; 765

Thy terrors wither'd all ; thy ministers,

Annihilated, fell before thy face ;

And on thy maw eternal hunger seized.

Nor yet, sad monster ! wast thou left alone.
In thy dark dens some phantoms still remain'd — 770

Ambition, Vanity, and earthly Fame ;
Swollen Ostentation, meager Avarice,
Mad Superstition, smooth Hypocrisy,
And Bigotry intolerant, and Fraud,

And wilful Ignorance, and sullen Pride ; 775

Hot Controversy, and the subtile ghost
Of vain Philosophy, and worldly Hope,
And sweet-lipp'd, hollow-hearted Flattery —
All these, great personages once on earth,
And not unfollow'd, nor unpraised, were left, 780

Thy ever-unredeem'd, and with thee driven
To Erebus, through whose uncheered wastes,
Thou mayest chase them, with thy broken scythe,
Fetching vain strokes, to all eternity,

Unsatisfied, as men who, in the days 785

Of Time, their unsubstantial forms pursued.

•769-86. Nor yet, Ac: The ingenuity of this paragraph will be seen
and acknowledged.

782. Erebus: The gloomy region, among the ancients, distinguished
both from Tartarus, the place of torment, and Elysium, I he region of
bliss. According to Virgil's account, it formed the third grand division
of the invisible world beyond the Styx, and comprehended several par-
ticular districts, as the limbus infantum, or receptacle for infants; the
Iambus for those who were put to death without cause; that for these
wjho destroyed themselves; the fields of mourning, full of dark groves
and woods, inhabited by those who died for love; and, beyond these, an
open champaign country fur departed warriors. — London Cyc.

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK VIII.

BOOK Y I I I .

ANALYSIS.

Description of the world assembled for final judgment : all former
distinctions equalized; all waiting in expectation; vice and virtue,
good and bad, redeemed and unredeemed, were now the only distinc-
tions among men.

A holy radiance shone on all countenances and revealed the inward
state and feeling, the " index of the soul." On the wicked was de-
picted unutterable despair; and on the righteous, "in measure equal
to the soul's advance in virtue," it became the "lustre of the face."

Various classes of the assembly are particularized ; the man of earthly
fame, the mighty reasoner, the theorist, the recluse, the bigoted theo-
logian, the indolent, the skeptic, the follower of fashion, the duteous
wife, the lunatic, the dishonest judge, the seducer, the duellist and sui-
cide, the hypocrite, the slanderer, the false priest, the envious man.

The word of God was not properly believed by any of the wicked ; the
necessary fruit of faith being " truth, temperance, meekness, holiness,
and love."

%>fo torn a! §im.

BOOK VIII,

Reanimated now, and dress'd in robes
Of everlasting wear, in the last pause
Of expectation, stood the human-race ;
Buoyant iu air, or covering shore and sea,
From east to west, thick as the eared grain 5

In golden autumn waved, from field to field,
Profuse, by Nilus' fertile wave, while yet
Earth was, and men were in her valleys seen.

CONTRASTED ASPECTS OF THE WICKED AND OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

Still all was calm in heaven ; nor yet appear'd
The Judge : nor aught appear'd, save here and there, 10
On wing of golden plumage borne at will,
A curious angel, that from out the skies,
Now glanced a look on man, and then retired.
As calm was all on earth : the ministers
Of God's unsparing vengeance waited, still 15

Unhid : no sun, no moon, no star gave light :
A blest and holy radiance, travell'd far
From day original, fell on the face
Of men, and every countenance reveal'd ;

18. Day original: God, the author of day.

288

THE COURSE OF TIME.

Unpleasant to the bad, whose visages 20

Had lost all guise of seeming happiness,

With which on earth such pains they took to hide

Their misery in. On their grim features, now

The plain unvisor'd index of the soul,

The true untamper'd witness of the heart, 25

No smile of hope, no look of vanity

Beseeching for applause, was seen ; no scowl

Of self-important, all-despising pride,

That once upon the poor and needy fell,

Like winter on the unprotected flower, 30

Withering their very being to decay.

No jesting mirth, no wanton leer was seen;

No sullen lower of braggart fortitude

Defying pain ; nor anger, nor revenge ;

But fear instead, and terror and remorse ; 35

And chief one passion to its answering shaped

The features of the damn'd, and in itself

Summ'd all the rest — unutterable despair.

What on the righteous shone of foreign light,
Was all redundant ; day they needed not. 40

For, as by nature, Sin is dark, and loves
The dark, still hiding from itself in gloom ;
And in the darkest hell, is still itself
The darkest hell, and the severest woe,
Where all is woe : so Virtue, ever fair ! 45

Doth by a sympathy as strong as binds
Two equal hearts, well pleased in wedded love,
Forever seek the light, forever seek
All fair and lovely things, all beauteous forms,
All images of excellence and truth ; 50

And from her own essential being, pure
As flows the fount of life that spirits drink,
Doth to herself give light, nor from her beams,
As native to her as her own existence,

BOOK EIGHTH. 289

Can be divorced, nor of her glory shorn, — 55

Which now from every feature of the just,
Divinely ray'd ; yet not from all alike :
In measure equal to the soul's advance
In virtue, was the lustre of the face.

ALL OUTWARD DISTINCTIONS ABOLISHED AT THE JUDGMENT.

It was a strange assembly : none of all 60

That congregation vast could recollect
Aught like it in the history of man.
No badge of outward state was seen ; no mark
Of age, or rank, or national attire ;

Or robe professional, or air of trade. 65

Untitled stood the man that once was call'd
My Lord, unserved, unfollow'd ; and the man
Of tithes, right reverend in the dialect
Of Time address'd, ungown'd, unbeneficed,
Uncorpulent ; nor now from him, who bore, *70

With ceremonious gravity of step,
And face of borrow'd holiness o'erlaid,
The ponderous book before the awful priest,
And oped and shut the pulpit's sacred gates
In style of wonderful observancy, 7 5

And reverence excessive, in the beams
Of sacerdotal splendor lost, or if
Observed, comparison ridiculous scarce
Could save the little, pompous, humble man
From laughter of the people — not from him 80

Could be distinguish'd then the priest untithed.
None levees held, those marts where princely smiles
Were sold for flattery, and obeisance mean,
Unfit from man to man ; none came, or went ;
None wish'd to draw attention ; none was poor, 85

None rich ; none young, none old, deformed none :

290 THE COTJESE OF TIME.

None sought for place, or favor ; none had aught

To give, none could receive ; none ruled, none served ;

No king, no subject was ; unscutcheon'd all,

t 'ncrown'd, unplumed, unhelm'd, unpedigreed ; 90

Unlaced, uncoroneted, unbestarrYl.

Nor countryman was seen, nor citizen ;

Republican, nor humble advocate

Of monarchy; nor idol worshipper,

Nor beaded papist, nor Mahometan ; 95

Episcopalian none, nor presbyter ;

Nor Lutheran, nor Calvinist, nor Jew,

Nor Greek, nor sectary of any name.

Nor of those persons that loud title bore —

Most high and mighty, most magnificent ; 100

Most potent, most august, most worshipful,

Most eminent ; words of great pomp, that pleased

The ear of vanity, and made the worms

Of earth mistake themselves for gods — could one

Be seen, to claim these phrases obsolete. 105

MORAL CHARACTER, THERE, THE ONLY MARK OF DISTINCTION.

It was a congregation vast of men ;
Of unappendaged and unvarnish'd men ;
Of plain, unceremonious human beings,
Of all but moral characters bereaved.

109, «fcc. Of all but moral characters bereaved, <fcc. : Having summarily
described the origin and destiny of man, the bard proceeds to notice the
great outlines of the human character. This is a difficult undertaking,
since it requires an almost boundless exercise of the powers of general-
ization and abstraction. To paint, with distinctness and truth, the char-
acter of a single people in a single age, demands a combination of talents
and acquirements, possessed only by one in many millions. What then
shall we say of the attempt to bring together, into one contracted por-
traiture, the traits of all mankind in every age. Pollok has made this
attempt. His plan not only permitted but required him to do it; and
the picture is one, we were going to say, of mingled light and shade.

BOOK EIGHTH. 291

His vice or virtue now to each remain'd 110

Alone. All else with their grave-clothes men had
Put off, as badges worn by mortal, not
Immortal man ; alloy that could not pass

But the dark tints are so many and so deep, compared with the light
ones, that the whole may be likened to one blot. Satan, in the concep-
tion of Milton, though fallen, had still some noble qualities; he was the
" Sun shorn of his beams." But man, in the conception of Pollok, scarce-
ly possesses one bright excellence. Depravity cleaves to him in every
aspect and in all circumstances. The successive generations are born to
the inevitable heritage of corruption, and when they pass away, they
leave it to their children. This is the abstract of Pollok's history of
man. From the day when the flaming sword was planted over Para-
dise, to the day when the flaming chariot of the final Judge appeared,
evil was constantly prevailing over good, with a most fearful prepon-
derance.

Now the question arises, Is this the view for a poet to take of human
nature ? As a tenet of religion, we do not meddle with it. The poet
may believe that men are really those unlovely and polluted beings
which they are here represented to be ; but, we ask, need he call in the
aid of poetry to strengthen the impression of their utter unworthiuess ?
Should he not rather employ this divine instrument, to make them ap-
pear less odious than they are! When the sculptor throws drapery over
his statue, it is to heighten the effect of the nobler lineaments, by cou-
ceabng those which are least graceful. In like manner, why should not
the poet cover the vices of human nature under the folds of fiction, that
its virtue may appear more striking and beautiful ? Let those, whose
vocation calls them to it, uncover the human heart, and expose the base
passions and low desires that inhabit there. But the poet lies under no
such uncompromising obligation. He is not compelled to do it by his
fealty to truth, for fiction is his lawful prerogative. — JV. A. Review.

There is much plausibility, and no less sophistry, in the above reason-
ing. The question is, Shall human nature be represented by the poet in
a true or false light — to advance the cause of truth, or that of error — to
do good to men, by giving them just and scriptural views of themselves,
or to make himself popular as a writer by a perversion and sacrifice of
truth, and to the detriment of his fellow-men ? He may indeed employ
fiction — it is expected that he will ; but he may employ it to almost any
extent, and yet avoid a misrepresentation or mutilation of the truth, re-
specting human nature, or any other subject.

Besides, it must be remembered that Pollok conscientiously aimed to
do good, by portraying the true character of man : at the outset of the
poem he offered an earnest prayer to the Most High, to aid him in such

292 TIIE COUKSE OF time.

The scrutiny of Death's refining fires ;

Dust of Time's wheels, by multitudes pursued 115

Of fools that shouted — gold ! fair painted fruit,

At which the ambitious idiot jump'd, while men

Of wiser mood immortal harvests reap'd ;

Weeds of the human garden, sprung from earth's

Adulterate soil, unfit to be transplanted, 120

Though by the moral botanist too oft

For plants of heavenly seed mistaken, and nursed ;

Mere chaff, that Virtue, when she rose from earth

And waved her wings to gain her native heights,

Drove from the vero - e of beino- leaving Vice 125

No mask to hide her in ; baser-born of Time,

In which God claim'd no property, nor had

Prepared for them a place in heaven, or hell.

Yet did these vain distinctions, now forgot,

Bulk largely in the filmy eye of Time, 130

And were exceeding fair ; and lured to death

Immortal souls. But they were past ; for all

Ideal now was past ; reality

Alone remain'd ; and good and bad, redeem'd

And unredeem'd, distinguish 'd sole the sons 135

an endeavor; ami had he failed to portray the human character in those
dark shades which the pencil ot" inspiration had produced, we should
have cause to censure him.

That poetry forbids the use of dark coloring, when the subject in all
truth requires it, has not been proved. Where do we find more elevated
poetry than in the Bible? And are not some of its poetic inspirations
employed in representing human nature no less unfavorably than the
Scotch bard has done ? The conclusions, therefore, to which the review-
er, quoted above, arrives, must be regarded as an arbitrary and unwar-
ranted assumption. Truth is certainly no less deserving than error of
the aid and embellishments of poetry.

Further, if the reader will turn to the Fifth Book, lie will see that the
author has portrayed other than scenes of gloom: he will behold scenes
of surpassing light and loveliness, The critics, in this respect, have done
the author great injustice, and have originated an unhappy prejudice
against the poem.

LOOK EIGHTH. 293

Of men. Each to his proper self reduced,
And undisguised, Avas what his seeming show'd.

THE MAN OF EARTHLY FAME.

The man of earthly fame, whom common men
Made boast of having seen — who scarce could pass
The ways of Time, for eager crowds that press'd 140

To do him homage, and pursued his ear
With endless praise, for deeds unpraised above,
And yoked their brutal natures, honor'd much
To drag his chariot on — unnoticed stood,
With none to praise him, none to flatter there. 145

THE MIGHTY REASONER.

Blushing and dumb, that morning, too, was seen
The mighty reasoner ; he who deeply search'd
The origin of things, and talk'd of good
And evil much, of causes and effects,

Of mind and matter, contradicting all 150

That went before him, and himself, the while,
The laughing-stock of angels ; diving far
Below his depth, to fetch reluctant proof,
That he himself was mad and wicked too,
When, proud and ignorant man, he meant to prove, 155
That God had made the universe amiss,
And sketch'd a better plan. Ah ! foolish sage !
He could not trust the word of Heaven, nor see
The light which from the Bible blazed — that lamp
Which God threw from his palace down to earth, 160

To guide his wandering children home — yet lean'd
His cautious faith on speculations wild,
And visionary theories absurd,
Prodigiously, deliriously absurd,

294: THE COTTKSE OF TIME.

Compared with which, the most erroneous flight 165

That poet ever took when warm with wine,

Was moderate conjecturing : — he saw,

Weigh'd in the balance of eternity,

His lore how light, and wish'd, too late, that he

Had stay'd at home, and learn 'd to know himself, 170

And done, what peasants did — disputed less,

And more obey'd.

THE CURIOUS ANTIQUARIAN.

Nor less he grieved his time
Misspent, the man of curious research,
'Who travell'd far through lands of hostile clime
And dangerous inhabitant, to fix lV5

The bounds of empires past, and ascertain
The burial-place of heroes never born ;
Despising present things, and future too,
And groping in the dark unsearchable
Of finish'd years : — by dreary ruins seen, 180

And dungeons damp, and vaults of ancient waste,
With spade and mattock, delving deep to raise
Old vases and dismember'd idols rude ;
With matchless perseverance spelling out"
Words without sense. Poor man ! he clapp'd his hands
Enraptured, when he found a manuscript 186

That spoke of pagan gods ; and yet forgot
The God who made the sea and sky — alas !
Forgot that trifling was a sin ; stored much
Of dubious stuff, but laid no treasure up 190

In heaven ; on mouldering columns scratch 'd his name,
But ne'er inscribed it in the book of life.

BOOK EIGHTH. 295

THE SUPERSTITIOUS RECLUSE.

Unprofitable seeni'd, and unapproved,
That day, the sullen, self-vindictive life
Of the recluse: with crucifixes hung, 195

And spells, and rosaries, and wooden saints,
Like one of reason reft, he journey'd forth,
In show of miserable poverty,
And chose to beg, as if to live on sweat
Of other men, had promised great reward : 200

On his awn flesh inflicted cruel wounds,
With naked foot embraced the ice, by the hour
Said mass, and did most grievous penance vile :
And then retired to drink the filthy cup
Of secret wickedness, and fabricate 205

All lying wonders, by the untaught received
For revelations new. Deluded wretch !
Did he not know, that the most Holy One
Required a cheerful life and holy heart ?

THE BIGOT THEOLOGIAN".

Most disappointed in that crowd of men, 210

The man of subtle controversy stood,
The bigot theologian — in minute
Distinctions skill'd, and doctrines unreduced
To practice ; in debate how loud ! how long !
How dexterous ! in Christian love, how cold ! 215

His vain conceits were orthodox alone.
The immutable and heavenly truth, reveal'd
By God, was naught to him : he had an art,
A kind of hellish charm, that made the lips
Of truth speak falsehood : to his liking turn'd 220

The meaning of the text ; made trifles seem
The marrow of salvation ; to a word,

296 THE COURSE OF TIME.

A name, a sect, that sounded in the ear,

And to the eye so many letters sliow'd,

But did no more — gave value infinite ; 225

Proved still his reasoning best, and his belief,

Though propp'd on fancies, wild as madmen's dreams,

Most rational, most scriptural, most sound

With mortal heresy denouncing all

"Who in his arguments could see no force. 230

On points of faith too fine for human sight,

And never understood in heaven, he placed

His everlasting hope, undoubting placed,

And died ; and when he oped his ear, prepared

To hear, beyond the grave, the minstrelsy 235

Of bliss — he heard, alas ! the wail of woe.

He proved all creeds false but his own, and found,

At last, his own most false — most false, because

He spent his time to prove all others so.

LOVE-DESTROYING, CURSED BIGOTRY PERSECUTION THE

INQUISITION.

O love-destroying, cursed Bigotry ! 240

Cursed in heaven, but cursed more in hell,
Where millions curse thee, and must ever curse !
Religion's most abhorr'd ! perdition's most
Forlorn ! God's most abandon'd ! hell's most damn'd !
The infidel, who turn'd his impious war 245

Against the walls of Zion, on the rock
Of ages built, and higher than the clouds,
Sinn'd, and received his due reward; but she
Within her walls sinn'd more : of ignorance
Begot, her daughter, Persecution, walk'd 250

The earth, 1V.mii age to age, and drank the blood
Of saints, with horrid relish drank the blood
Of God's peculiar children — and was drunk ;

BOOK EIGHTH. 297

And in her drunkenness dream'd of doing good.

The supplicating hand of innocence, 255

That made the tiger mild, and in his wrath

The lion pause — the groans of suffering most

Severe, were naught to her : . she laugh'd at groans :

No music pleased her more ; and no repast

So sweet to her as blood of men redeem'd 2G0

By blood of Christ. Ambition's self, though mad,

And nursed on human gore, with her compared

Was merciful. Nor did she always rage :

She had some hours of meditation set

Apart, wherein she to her study went ; 265

The Inquisition, model most complete

Of perfect wickedness, where deeds were done —

Deeds ! let them ne'er be named, — and sat and plann'd

Deliberately, and with most musing pains,

How, to extremest thrill of agony, 2*70

The flesh, and blood, and souls of holy men,

Her victims, might be wrought ; and when she saw

New tortures of her laboring fancy born,

She leap'd for joy, and made great haste to try

Their force — well pleased to hear a deeper groan. 275

SAD DAY FOR THE POPE AND HIS VOTARIES.

But now her day of mirth was past, and come
Her day to weep ; her day of bitter groans,
And sorrow unbemoan'd ; the day of grief,
And wrath retributary pour'd in full

On all that took her part. The Man of Sin, 280

The mystery of iniquity, her friend
Sincere, who pardon'd sin, unpardon'd still,
And in the name of God blasphemed, and did
All wicked, all abominable things,

Most abject stood that day, by devils hiss'd, 285

13*

298 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And by the looks of those lie murder'd, scorch'd ;

And plagued with inward shame that on his cheek

Burn'd, while his votaries who left the earth,

Secure of bliss, around him undeceived

Stood, undeceivable till then ; and knew, 290

Too late, him fallible, themselves accursed,

And all their passports and certificates

A lie : nor disappointed more, nor more

Ashamed, the Mussulman, when he saw gnash

His teeth and wail, whom he expected Judge. 295

All these were damn'd for bigotry, were damn'd

Because they thought that they alone served God,

And served him most, when most they disobey'd.

THE INDOLENT, WHO RELIED ON A CORRUPT PRIESTHOOD TO
SECURE THEIR SALVATION.

Of those forlorn and sad, thou mightst have mark'd,
In number most innumerable stand 300

The indolent : too lazy these to make
Inquiry for themselves, they stuck their faith
To some well-fatted priest, with offerings bribed
To bring them oracles of peace, and take
Into his management all the concerns 305

Of their eternity : managed how well
They knew that day, and might have sooner known,
That the commandment w r as : Search and believe
In Me, and not in man ; who leans on him
' Leans on a broken reed that will impierce 310

The trusted side. I am the way, the truth,
The life alone, and there is none besides.

This did they read, and yet refused to search,
To search what easily was found, and found,
Of price uncountable. Most foolish, they 315

Thought God with ignorance pleased, and blinded faith,

BOOK EIGHTH. 299

That took no root in reason, purified

With holy influence of his Spirit pure.

So, on they walk'd, and stumbled in the light

Of noon, because they would not ope their eyes. S20

Effect how sad of sloth ! that made them risk

Their piloting to the eternal shore,

To one who could mistake the lurid flash

Of hell for heaven's true star, rather than bow

The knee, and by one fervent word obtain 325

His guidance sure, who calls the stars by name.

They pray'd by proxy, and at second hand

Believed, and slept, and put repentance off,

Until the knock of death awoke them, when

They saw their ignorance both, and him they paid 330

To bargain of their souls 'twixt them and God,

Fled, and began repentance without end.

How did they wish, that morning, as they stood

With blushing cover'd, they had for themselves

The Scripture search'd, had for themselves believed, 335

And made acquaintance with the Judge ere then !

THE EPICURE HIS JOTS TERMINATED.

Great day of termination to the joys

Of sin ! to joys that grew on mortal boughs —

On trees whose seed fell not from heaven, whose top

Reach'd not above the clouds. From such alone 340

The epicure took all his meals ; in choice

Of morsels for the body, nice he was,

And scrupulous, and knew all wines by smell

Or taste, and every composition knew

Of cookery ; but grossly drank, unskill'd, 845

The cup of spiritual pollution up,

That sicken'd his soul to death, while yet his eyes

Stood out with fat : his feelings were his guide ;

300 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

He ate, and drank, and slept, and took all joys,

Forbid and unforbid, as impulse urged, 350

Or appetite ; nor ask'd bis reason why.

He said be follow'd nature still, but lied ;

For sbe was temperate and cbaste, be full

Of wine and all adultery ; ber face

Was boly, most unboly bis ; ber eye 355

Was pure, bis sbot unballow'd fire ; ber lips

Sang praise to God, bis utter'd oaths profane ;

Her breath was sweet, his rank with foul debauch.

Yet pleaded he a kind and feeling heart,

Even when be left a neighbor's bed defiled. 360

Like migratory fowls that flocking sail'd

From isle to isle, steering by sense alone,

Whither the clime their liking best beseem'd ;

So he was guided ; so he moved through good

And evil, right and wrong, but all ! to fate 365

All different : they slept in dust unpain'd ;

He rose that day to suffer endless pain.

THE SKEPTIC AND THE TYRANT.

Cured of his unbelief, the skeptic stood,
Who doubted of his being while he breathed ;
Than whom, glossography itself, that spoke 370

Huge folios of nonsense every hour,
And left, surrounding every page, its marks
Of prodigal stupidity, scarce more
Of folly raved. The tyrant too, who sat
In grisly council, like a spider couch'd, 375

Willi ministers of locust countenance,
And made alliances to rob mankind,
And holy term'd — for still beneath a name

870. Glossography : The writing of commentaries or explanatory notes.

BOOK EIGHTH. 301

Of pious sound the wicked sought to veil

Their crimes — forgetful of bis right divine, 380

Trembled, and own'd oppression was of hell ;

Nor did the uncivil robber, who unpursed

The traveller on the highway and cut

His throat, anticipate severer doom.

THK RIDICULOUS DEVOTEE OF FASHION — MALE AND FEMALE.

In that assembly there was one, who, while 385

Beneath the sun, aspired to be a fool :
In different ages known by different names,
Not worth repeating here. Be this enough :
With scrupulous care exact, ho walk'd the rounds
Of fashionable duty : laugh'd when sad ; 390

When merry, wept ; deceiving, was deceived ;
And flattering, flatter'd. Fashion was his god.
Obsequiously he fell before his shrine,
In slavish plight, and trembled to offend.
If graveness suited, he was grave ; if else, 395

He travailed sorely, and made brief repose,

378. And holy termed : The author probably referred to "the league
entered into by the Emperor Alexander of Russia, the Emperor Francis
of Austria, and Frederick William, king of Prussia, after the defeat of Na-
poleon in 1815, consisting of a declaration signed by them personally,
that, in accordance with the precepts of the gospel of Jesus Chriet, the
principles of justice, charity, and peace should be the basis of the in-
ternal administration of their empires, and of their international rela-
tions, and that the happiness and religious welfare of their subjects should
be the great objects they should ever keep in view. It originated with
Alexander, who, it is said, imagined that it would introduce a new era
of Christian government; but whatever may have been the original in-
tention, it soon became in the hands of the wily Metternich, an instru-
ment for the support of tyranny and oppression, and laid the foundation
of the congressional system of politics, which, while it professes to have
for its object the support of legitimacy, is a horrid conspiracy against the
rights and privileges of the subject." — Henderson's Buck.

302 THE COUESE OF TIME.

To work the proper quantity of sin.

In all submissive to its changing shape,

Still changing, girded he his vexed frame,

And laughter made to men of sounder head, 400

Most circumspect he was of bows, and nods,

And salutations ; and most seriously

And deeply meditated he of dress ;

And in his dreams saw lace and ribands fly.

His soul was naught — he damn'd it every day 405

Unceremoniously. Oh ! fool of fools !

Pleased with a painted smile, he flutter'd on,

Like fly of gaudy plume, by fashion driven,

As faded leaves by Autumn's wind, till Death

Put forth his hand and drew him out of siofht. 410

Oh ! fool of fools ! polite to man ; to God

Most rude : yet had he many rivals, who,

Age after age, great striving made to be

Ui'liculous, and to forget they had

Immortal souls — that day remember' d well. 415

As rueful stood his other half, as wan

Of cheek : small her ambition was — but strange.

The distaff', needle, all domestic cares,

Religion, children, husband, home, were things

She could not bear the thought of; bitter drugs 420

That sicken'd her soul. The house of wanton mirth

And revelry, the mask, the dance, she loved,

And in their service soul and body spent

Most cheerfully : a little admiration,

Or true, or false, no matter which, pleased her, 425

And o'er the wreck of fortune lost, and health,

And peace, and an eternity of bliss

Lost, made her sweetly smile. She was convinced

That God had made her greatly out of taste,

And took much pains to make herself anew. 430

Bedaub'd with paint, and hung with ornaments

BOOK EIGHTH. 303

Of curious selection — gaudy toy !

A show unpaid for, paying to be seen !

As beggar by the way, most humbly asking

The alms of public gaze — she went abroad ; 435

Folly admired, and indication gave

Of envy ; cold Civility made bows,

And smoothly flatter'd ; Wisdom shook his head ;

And Laughter shaped his lip into a smile ;

Sobriety did stare ; Forethought grew pale; 440

And Modesty hung down the head and blush'd ;

And Pity wept, as on the frothy surge

Of fashion toss'd, she pass'd them by, like sail

Before some devilish blast, and got no time

To think, and never thought, till on the rock 445

She dash'd of ruin, anguish, and despair.

THE DUTEOUS WIFE AND HAPPY HUSBAND.

O how unlike this giddy thing in Time !
And at the day of judgment how unlike,
The modest, meek, retiring dame ! Her house
Was order'd well ; her children taught the way 450

Of life — who, rising up in honor, call'd
Her blest. Best pleased to be admired at home,
And hear reflected from her husband's praise,
Her own, she sought no gaze of foreign eye.
His praise alone, and faithful love, and trust 455

Reposed, was happiness enough for her.
Yet who that saw her pass, and heard the poor
With earnest benedictions on her steps
»

444. It is amazing that our severe and truly religious author, should
prefix to blast an epithet which characterizes the dialect of the profane,
and of such fashionables as he censures in this very paragraph of his
poem. The word furious, or some equivalent term, we are tempted,
strongly, to substitute in its place.

304 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Attend, could from obeisance keep his eye,

Or tongue from due applause. In virtue fair, 4 GO

Adorn'd with modesty, and matron grace

Unspeakable, and love — her face was like

The light, most welcome to the eye of man ;

Refreshing most, most honor'd, most desired

Of all he saw in the dim world below. 405

As Morning when she shed her golden locks,

And on the dewy top of Hermon walk'd,

Or Zion hill — so glorious was her path :

Old men beheld, and did her reverence,

And bade their daughters look, and take from her 470

Example of their future life ; the young

Admired, and new resolve of virtue made.

And none who was her husband ask'd ; his air

Serene, and countenance of joy, the sign

Of inward satisfaction, as he pass'd 4*75

The crowd, or sat among the elders, told.

In holiness complete, and in the robes

Of saving righteousness, array'd for heaven,

How fair, that day, among the fair, she stood !

How lovely on the eternal hills her steps ! 480

THE LUNATIC — ONE SAD EXAMPLE OF LUNACY.

Restored to reason, on that morn appear'd
The lunatic — who raved in chains, and ask'd
No mercj when he died. Of lunacy
[nnumerous were the causes : humbled pride,
Ambition disappointed, riches lost, 485

And bodily disease, and sorrow, oft
By man inflicted on his brother man ;
Sorrow that made tin' reason drunk, and yet
Lefl much untasted so the cup was fill'd:
Sorrow that like an ocean, dark, deep, rough, 490

BOOK EIGHTH. 305

And shoreless, roll'd its billows o'er the soul
Perpetually, and without hope of end.

Take one example, one of female woe.
Loved by a father, and a mother's love,
In rural peace she lived, so fair, so light 495

Of heart, so good, and young, that reason scarce
The eye could credit ; but would doubt, as she
Did stoop to pull the lily or the rose
From morning's dew, if it reality

Of flesh and blood, or holy vision, saw, 500

In imagery of perfect womanhood.
But short her bloom — her happiness was short.
One saw her loveliness, and with desire
Unhallow'd burning, to her ear address'd
Dishonest words : " Her favor was his life, 505

His heaven ; her frown his woe, his night, his death."
With turgid phrase thus wove in flattery's loom,
He on her womanish nature won, and age
Suspicionless, and ruin'd and forsook :

For he a chosen villain was at heart, 510

And capable of deeds that durst not seek
Repentance. Soon her father saw her shame ;
His heart grew stone ; he drove her forth to want
And wintry winds, and with a horrid curse
Pursued her ear, forbidding all return. 515

Upon a hoary cliff that watch'd the sea,
Her babe was found — dead : on its little cheek,
The tear that nature bade it weep, had turn'd
An ice-drop, sparkling in the morning beam ;
And to the turf its helpless hands were frozen : 520

For she — the woeful mother had gone mad,
And laid it down, regardless of its fate
And of her own. Yet had she many days
Of sorrow in the world, but never wept.
She lived on alms ; and carried in her hand 525

306 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Some wither'd stalks, she gather' d in the spring :

"When any ask'd the cause, she smiled, and said,

They were her sisters, and would come and watch

Her grave when she was dead. She never sjjoke

Of her deceiver, father, mother, home, 530

Or child, or heaven, or hell, or God ; but still

In lonely places walk'd, and ever gazed

Upon the wither'd stalks, and talk'd to them ;

Till, wasted to the shadow of her youth,

With woe too wide to see beyond — she died : 535

Not unatoned for by imputed blood,

Nor by the Spirit, that mysterious works,

Unsanctifled. Aloud her father cursed

That day his guilty pride, which would not own

A. daughter, whom the God of heaven and earth 540

Was not ashamed to call his own ; and he

Who ruiu'd her, read from her holy look,

That pierced him with perdition manifold,

His sentence, burning with vindictive fire.

THE JUDGE THAT TOOK A BRIBE, AND OTHER CLASSES OF THE
DISHONEST AND THE FALSE.

The judge that took a bribe ; he who amiss 545

Pleaded the widow's cause, and by delay
Delaying ever, made the law at night
More intricate than at the dawn, and on
The morrow farther from a close, than when
The sun last set, till he who in the suit 550

Was poorest, by his emptied coffers, proved
His cause the worst ; and he that had the bag
Of weights deceitful, and the balance false ;
And he that with a fraudful lip deceived
In buying or in selling : — these, that morn, 555

Found custom no excuse for sin, and knew

BOOK EIGIITII. 307

Plain dealing was a virtue, but too late.

And lie that was supposed to do nor good

Nor ill, surprised, could find no neutral ground ;

And learn'd, that to do nothing was to serve 560

The devil, and transgress the laws of God.

The noisy quack, that by profession lied,

And utter'd falsehoods of enormous size,

With countenance as grave as truth beseem'd ;

And he that lied for pleasure, whom a lust 565

Of being heard, and making people stare,

And a most steadfast hate of silence, drove

Far wide of sacred truth, who never took

The pains to think of what he was to say,

But still made haste to speak, with weary tongue, 5*70

Like copious stream forever flowing on —

Read clearly in the letter'd heavens what long

Before they might have read : For every word

Of folly you this day shall give account ;

And every liar shall his portion have 575

Among the cursed, without the gates of life.

THE GROANING DUELLIST AND SUICIDE.

With groans that made no pause, lamenting there
Were seen the duellist, and suicide :
This thought, but thought amiss, that of himself
He was entire proprietor ; and so, 580

When he was tired of time, with his own hand,
He oped the portals of eternity,
And sooner than the devils hoped, arrived
In hell. The other, of resentment quick,
And, for a word, a look, a gesture, deem'd 585

Not scrupulously exact in all respect,
Prompt to revenge, went to the cited field,
For double murder arm'd — his own, and his

308 THE COTJTISE OF TIME.

That as himself he was ordain'J to love.
The first in pagan-books of early times, 590

Was heroism pronounced, and greatly praised ;
In fashion's glossary of latter days,
The last was honor call'd, and spirit high.
Alas ! 'twas mortal spirit ; honor which
Forgot to wake at the last trumpet's voice, 595

Bearing the signature of time alone,
Uncurrent in eternity, and base.
"Wise men suspected this before ; for they
Could never understand what honor meant ;
• Or why that should be honor term'd which made GOO

Man murder man, and broke the laws of God
Most wantonly. Sometimes, indeed, the grave,
And those of Christian creed imagined, spoke
Admiringly of honor, lauding much

The noble youth, who, after many rounds G05

Of boxing, died ; or to the pistol-shot,
His breast exposed, his soul to endless pain.
But they who most admired, and understood
This honor best, and on its altar laid

Their lives, most obviously were fools : and what 610

Fools only, and the wicked, understood —
The wise agreed, was some delusive Shade,
That with the mist of time should disappear.

THE HYPOCRITE, WITHOUT HIS MASK.

Great day of revelation ! in the grave
The hypocrite had left his mask, and stood 615

In nuked ugliness. lie was a man
Who stole the livery of the court of heaven,

GIL Understood (as a matter of value and praise-worthiness): The
wise decided to lie merely a delusive shade, etc. The word understood
is used satirically.

BOOK EIGHTH. 309

To serve the devil in ; in virtue's guise

Devour' d the widow's house and orphan's bread ;

In holy phrase transacted villanies 620

That common sinners durst not meddle with.

At sacred feast, he sat among the saints,

And with his guilty hands touch'd holiest things.

And none of sin lamented more, or sigh'd

More deeply, or with graver countenance, 625

Or longer prayer, wept o'er the dying man,

Whose infant children, at the moment, he

Plann'd how to rob : in sermon style he bought,

And sold, and lied ; and salutations made

In scripture terms : he pray'd by quantity, 630

And with his repetitions long and loud,

All knees were weary ; with one hand he put

A penny in the urn of poverty,

And with the other took a shilling out.

On charitable lists — those trumps which told 635

The public ear who had in secret done

The poor a benefit, and half the alms

They told of, took themselves to keep them sounding —

He blazed his name, more pleased to have it there

Than in the book of life. Seest thou the man ! 640

A serpent with an angel's voice ! a grave

With flowers bestrew'd ! and yet few were deceived.

His virtues being over-done, his face

Too grave, his prayers too long, his charities

Too pompously attended, and his speech 645

619. Devoured the widows house: or property. This was the charge
brought by our Saviour agaiust the pharisaic hypocrites of his day. Matt,
xxiii. 14. They made long prayers, iu the temple and synagogues, for
widows; and thus induced the latter. to contribute to the treasury of the
temple, out of which they obtained their maintenance. Or, by outward
sanctity, they acquired an appointment as trustees to widows and guar-
dians to their children, and in this capacity practised the grossest frauds
upon those who depended on them for protection and advice.

310 TIIE COUKSE OF TIME.

Larded too frequently, and out of time

With serious phraseology — were rents

That in his garments oped in spite of him,

Through which the well-accustom'd eye could see

The rottenness of his heart. None deeper blush'd, 050

As in the all-piercing light he stood exposed,

No longer herding with the holy ones :

Yet still he tried to bring his countenance

To sanctimonious seeming ; but, meanwhile,

The shame within, now visible to all, 655

His purpose baulk'd : the righteous smiled, and even

Despair itself some signs of laughter gave,

As ineffectually he strove to wipe

His brow, that inward guiltiness defiled.

Detected wretch ! of all the reprobate, 600

None seem'd maturer for the flames of hell ;

"Where still his face, from ancient custom, wears

A holy air, which says to all that pass

Him by : I was a hypocrite on earth.

THE SLANDERER OF VIRTUE A MORAL PESTILENCE.

That was the hour which measured out to each, 665

Impartially, his share of reputation !
Correcting all mistakes, and from the name
Of the good man, all slanders wiping off.
Good name was dear to all : without it, none
Could soundly sleep even on a royal bed ; 670

Or drink with relish from a cup of gold :
And with it, on his borrow'd straw, or by
The leafless hedge, beneath the open heavens,
The weary beggar took untroubled rest.
It was a music of most heavenly tone, 675

To which the heart leap'd joyfully, and all
The spirits danced : for honest fame, men laid

BOOK EIGHTH. 311

Their heads upon the block, and while the axe

Descended, look'd and smiled. It was of price

Invaluable — riches, health, repose, 680

Whole kingdoms, life, were given for it, and he

Who got it was the winner still ; and he

Who sold it, durst not ope his ear, nor look

On human face, he knew himself so vile.

Yet it, with all its preciousness, was due 685

To virtue, and around her should have shed,

Unask'd, its savory smell ; but Vice, deform'd

Itself, and ugly, and of flavor rank,

To rob fair Virtue of so sweet an incense,

And with it to anoint and salve its own 690

Rotten ulcers, and perfume the path that led

To death, strove daily by a thousand means ;

And oft succeeded to make Virtue sour

In the world's nostrils, and its loathly self

Smell sweetly. Rumor was the messenger 695

Of defamation — and so swift, that none

Could be the first to tell an evil tale ;

And was withal so infamous for lies,

That he who of her sayings on his creed

The fewest enter'd, was deem'd wisest man. 700

The fool, and many who had credit too

For wisdom, grossly swallow'd all she said

Unsifted ; and although at every word

They heard her contradict herself, and saw

Hourly they were imposed upon, and mock'd, 705

Yet still they ran to hear her speak, and stared,

And wonder'd much, and stood aghast, and said —

It could not be ; and while they blush'd for shame

At their own faith, and seem'd to doubt — believed,

And whom they met, with many sanctions, told. 710

So did experience fail to teach ; so hard

It was to learn this simple truth, confirm 'd

312 THE COURSE OF TIME.

At every corner by a thousand proofs —
That common fame most impudently lied.

'Twas Slander fill'd her mouth with lying words ; 715
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin : the man
In whom this spirit enter'd was undone.
His tongue was set on fire of hell ; his heart
Was black as death ; his legs were faint with haste
To propagate the lie his soul had framed ; 720

His pillow was the peace of families
Destroy'd, the sigh of innocence reproach'd,
Broken friendships, and the strife of brotherhoods :
Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock
Number the midnight watches, on his bed 725

Devising mischief more : and early rose,
And made most hellish meals of good men's names.

From door to door you might have seen him speed,
Or placed amidst a group of gaping fools,
And whispering in their ears, with his foul lips. 730

Peace fled the neighborhood in which he made
His haunts : and like a moral pestilence,
Before his breath the healthy shoots, and blooms
Of social joy, and happiness, decay'd.

Fools only in his company were seen, 735

And those forsaken of God, and to themselves
Given up : the prudent shunn'd him, and his house,
As one who had a deadly moral plague.
And fain would all have shunn'd him at the day
Of judgment ; but in vain. All who gave ear 740

With greediness, or wittingly their tongues
Made herald to his lies, around him wail'd ;
While on his face, thrown back by injured men,
In characters of ever-blushing shame,
Appear'd ten thousand slanders, all his own, 745

BOOK EIGHTH. 313

THE FALSE PRIEST.

Among the accursed, who sought a hiding-place
In vain from fierceness of Jehovah's rage,
And from the hot displeasure of the Lamb,
Most wretched, most contemptible, most vile,
Stood the false priest, and in his conscience felt 750

The fellest gnaw of the undying "Worm.
And so he might, for he had on his hands
The blood of souls, that would not wipe away.
Hear what he was : He swore in sight of God,
And man, to preach his master, Jesus Christ ; 755

Yet preach'd himself: he swore that love of souls
Alone had drawn him to the church ; yet strew'd
The path that led to hell with tempting flowers,
And in the ear of sinners, as they took
The way of death, he whisper'd peace : he swore 760

Away all love of lucre, all desire
Of earthly pomp, and yet a princely seat
He liked, and to the clink of Mammon's box
Gave most rapacious ear : his prophecies,
He swore, were from the Lord ; and yet taught lies 765
For gain ; with quackish ointment heal'd the wounds
And bruises of the soul outside, but left
Within the pestilent matter, unobserved,
To sap the moral constitution quite,

And soon to burst again, incurable. 770

He with untemper'd mortar daub'd the walls
Of Zion, saying, Peace, when there was none.
The man who came with thirsty soul to hear
Of Jesus, went away unsatisfied :

For he another gospel preach'd than Paul, 775

And one that had no Saviour in't. And yet

7*71. With untemperd mortar, &c: Ezek. xiii. 11-16.

314 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

His life was worse. Faith, charity, and love,

Humility, forgiveness, holiness,

Were words well letter 'd in his sabhath creed ;

But with his life he wrote as plain — revenge, 780

Pride, tyranny, and lust of wealth and power

Inordinate, lewdness unashamed.

He was a wolf in clothing of the lamb,

That stole into the fold of God, and on

The blood of souls which he did sell to death, 785

Grew fat : and yet when any would have turn'd

Him out, he cried : — Touch not the priest of God.

And that he was anointed, fools believed :

But knew that day he was the devil's priest :

Anointed by the hands of Sin and Death, 790

And set peculiarly apart to ill, —

While on him smoked the vials of perdition

Pour'd measureless. Ah me ! what cursing then

Was heap'd upon his head by ruin'd souls,

That charged him with their murder, as he stood 795

With eye of all the unredeem'd, most sad,

Waiting the coming of the Son of Man !

But let me pause, for thou hast seen his place,

And punishment, beyond the sphere of love.

THE ENVIOUS MAN.

Much was removed that tempted onco to sin. 800

Avarice no gold, no wine the drunkard saw :

800-850. Much, <fcc: The history of the origin of these lines is thus
narrated in David Pollok's Life of the poet. "One of his class-fellows,
Mr. William Friend Durant, son of an English Congregational minister,
and a young gentleman of great talents, was taken suddenly ill, and
died. Robert composed a 'monody' on bis death, and published it anony-
mously. Soon after its publication, lie happened, one evening when lie
was in the publisher's shop, to hear a Btudent making some illiberal and
envious remarks respecting it. On this, lie came straight to his lodgings,

BOOK EIGHTH. 315

But Envy had enough, as heretofore,

To fill his heart with gall and bitterness.

What made the man of envy what he was,

Was worth in others, vileness in himself; 805

A lust of praise, with undeserving deeds,

And conscious poverty of soul : and still

It was his earnest work and daily toil,

With lying tongue, to make the noble seem

Mean as himself. On fame's high bill he saw 810

The laurel spread its everlasting green,

And wish'd to climb : but felt his knees too weak :

And stood below, unhappy, laying hands

Upon the strong, ascending gloriously

The steps of honor, bent to draw them back ; 815

Involving oft the brightness of their path

In mists his breath had raised. Whene'er he heard,

As oft he did, of joy and happiness,

And great prosperity, and rising worth,

'Twas like a wave of wormwood o'er his soul 820

Rolling its bitterness. His joy was woe :

The woe of others : when, from wealth to want,

From praises to reproach, from peace to strife,

From mirth to tears, he saw a brother fall,

Or virtue make a slip — his dreams were sweet. 825

But chief with slander, daughter of his own,

He took unhallow'd pleasure : when she talk'd,

And with her filthy lips defiled the best,

His ear drew near ; with wide attention gaped

His mouth ; his eye, well pleased, as eager gazed 830

As glutton, when the dish he most desired

and, after telling me with some warmth what he had heard, sat down to
the table, and gave vent to his feelings in writing a piece in blank verse,
'To Envy,' extending to fifty lines. From the time that he wrote these,
which he did without ever stopping the pen, he thought ' blank verse,' a3
he expressed it, 'the language of his soul.'"

316 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Was placed before him ; and a horrid mirth,
At intervals, with laughter shook his sides.

THE CRITICS.

The critic, too, who, for a bit of bread,

In book that fell aside before the ink 835

Was dry, pour'd forth excessive nonsense, gave

llim much delight. The critics — some, but few,

Were worthy men : and earn'd renown which had

Immortal roots : but most were weak and vile :

And as a cloudy swarm of summer flies, 840

With angry hum and slender lance, beset

The sides of some huge animal ; so did

They buzz about the illustrious man, and fain

With his immortal honor, down the stream

Of fame would have descended ; but alas ! 845

The hand of Time drove them away : they were,

Indeed, a simple race of men, who had

One only art, which taught them still to say —

Whate'er was done, might have been better done :

And with this art, not ill to learn, they made 850

A shift to live : but sometimes too, beneath

The dust they raised, was worth a while obscured ;

And then did Envy prophesy and laugh.

O Envy, hide thy bosom ! hide it deep :

A thousand snakes, with black envenom'd mouths 855

Nest there, and hiss, and feed through all thy heart !

Such one I saw, here interposing, said
The new arrived, in that dark den of shame,
Whom, who hath seen shall never wish to see
Again : before him, in the infernal gloom, 860

That Omnipresent shape of Virtue stood,
On which he ever threw his eye ; and like

BOOK EIGHTH. 317

A cinder that had life and feeling, seem'd

His face, with inward pining, to be what

He could not be. As beimr that had burn'd 805

Continually in slow consuming fire,

Half an eternity, and was to burn

For evermore, he look'd. Oh ! sight to be

Forgotten ! thought too horrible to think !

SUCH WOE TO COME, WAS NOT BELIEVED BY THE WICKED.

But sav, believinq- in such woe to come, 870

Such dreadful certainty of endless pain,
Could beino-s of forecasting mould, as thou
Entitlest men, deliberately walk on,
Unscared, and overleap their own belief
Into the lake of ever burning fire ? 875

Thy tone of asking seems to make rej:>ly,
And rightly seems : They did not so believe.
Not one of all thou saw'st lament and wail
In Tophet, perfectly believed the word
Of God, else none had thither gone. Absurd, 880

To think that beings made with reason, form'd
To calculate, compare, choose, and reject,
By nature taught, and self, and every sense,
To choose the good and pass the evil by,
Could, with full credence of a time to come, 885

When all the wicked should be really damn'd,

877. Hightly seems (to make reply).

879. Tophet : Originally applied to a valley near Jerusalem, in which,
for a time, children were sacrificed, by fire, to Moloch, an Ammonitish
idol. The name Tophet is derived, as some suppose, from Toph, a drum,
this instrument being used to drown the shrieke of the suffering children.
In process of time tins place (called also the Valley of Hinnom, or Ge-
henna) was regarded as an emblem of the place of the future punishment
of the wicked. So our author here uses it.

318 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And cast beyond the sphere of light and love,

Have persevered in sin ! Too foolish this

For folly in its prime. Can aught that thinks,

And -wills, choose certain evil and reject 890

Good, in his heart believing he does so ?

Could man choose pain, instead of endless joy ?

Mad supposition, though maintain'd by some

Of honest mind. Behold a man condemn'd !

Either he ne'er inquired, and therefore he 895

Could not believe ; or else he carelessly

Inquired, and something other than the word

Of God received into his cheated faith,

And therefore he did not believe, but down

To hell descended, leaning on a lie. 900

CHRISTIAN FAITH DEFINED AND ILLUSTRATED.

Faith was bewilder'd much by men who meant

To make it clear — so simple in itself;

A thought so rudimental and so plain,

That none by comment could it plainer make.

All faith was one : in object, not in kind 905

The difference lay. The faith that saved a soul,

And that which in the common truth believed,

In essence were the same. Hear then, what faith,

True, Christian faith, which brought salvation, was : —

Belief in all that God reveal'd to men : 910

Observe — in all that God reveal'd to men ;

In all he promised, threaten'd, commanded, said,

Without exception, and without a doubt.

Who thus believed, being by the Spirit touch'd,

As naturally the fruits of faith produced — 915

Truth, temperance, meekness, holiness, and love —

As human eye from darkness sought the light.

BOOK EIGHTH. 319

How could he else ? If lie who head firm faith

The morrow's sun should rise, order'd affairs

Accordingly ; if he who had firm faith 920

That spring, and summer, and autumnal days

Should pass away, and winter really come,

Prej3ared accordingly ; if he who saw

A bolt of death approaching, turn'd aside

And let it pass; as surely did the man 925

Who verily believed the word of God,

Though erring whiles, its general laws obey,

Turn back from hell, and take the way to heaven.

That faith was necessary, some alleged,
Unrein'd and uncontrollable by will. 930

Invention savoring much of hell ! Indeed,
It was the master-stroke of wickedness,
Last effort of Abaddon's council dark,
To make man think himself a slave to fate,
And worst of all, a slave to fate in faith. 935

For thus 'twas reason'd then : — From faith alone,
And from opinion, springs all action : hence,
If faith's compell'd, so is all action too :
But deeds compell'd are not accountable ;
So man is not amenable to God. 940

Arguing that brought such monstrous birth, though good
It seem'd, must have been false : most false it was,
And by the book of God condemn'd throughout.
"We freely own that truth, when set before
The mind, with perfect evidence, compell'd 945

Belief: but error lack'd such witness still.
And none, who now lament in moral night,
The word of God refused on evidence
That might not have been set aside, as false.

927. Whiles : Sometimes.

320 THE COURSE OF TIME.

To reason, try, choose and reject, was free : 950

Hence God, by faith, acquitted, or condemn'd ;

Hence righteous men, with liberty of will

Believed ; and hence thou saw'st in Erebus,

The wicked, who as freely disbelieved

What else had led them to the land of life. 955

953. Erebus : See note on 182, Book VII.

THE COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK IX.

14*

BOOK IX

ANALYSIS.

An apostrophe to Religion, Virtue, Piety, or love of Holiness.

Description of several classes of the redeemed. The faithful minister,
the true philosopher, the righteous governor, the uncorrupted states-
man, the hrave general, the man of active benevolence and charity, the
Christian bard. And the most numerous among the saved were such,
who on earth were eclipsed by lowly circumstances, many of whom
were seen "highest and first in honor."

Suddenly an inuumerous host of angels, headed by Michael and Gabriel,
descended from heaven, silently and without song, and lifting mankind
into mid air, parted the good and bad ; to the right and left, the good
to weep no more, and the bad never to smile again ; the righteous
placed " beneath a crown of rosy light," and the wicked were driven
and bound under a cloud of darkness, where stood also Satan and his
legion, awaiting the judgment and punishment due to their rebellion.

§\}t ®flum n! &ira$*

BOOK IX.

Fairest of those that left the calm of heaven
And ventured down to man, with words of peace,
Daughter of Grace ! known by whatever name,
■Religion ! Virtue ! Piety ! or Love

Of Holiness ! the day of thy reward 5

Was come. Ah ! thou wast long despised : despised
By those thou woo'dst from death to endless life.
Modest and meek, in garments white as those
That seraphs wear, and countenance as mild
As Mercy looking on Repentance' tear, 10

With eye of purity, now darted up
To God's eternal throne, now humbly bent
Upon thyself, and weeping down thy cheek,
That glow'd with universal love immense,
A tear, pure as the dews that fall in heaven ; 15

In thy left hand, the olive branch, and in
Thy right the crown of immortality —
With noiseless foot, thou walk'dst the vales of earth,

1-74. Fairest, &c. : The description given of true religion in this first
paragraph, is remarkable for its fulness, accuracy, and beauty. It is well
adapted to commend religion as an object worthy of immediate and
earnest pursuit by all. Its true nature and its future rewards are pow-
erfully delineated.

324 THE COURSE OF TEUE.

Beseeching men from age to age, to turn

From utter death — to turn from woe to bliss ; 20

Beseeching evermore, and evermore

Despised — not evermore despised, not now,

Not at the day o^doom : most lovely then,

Most honorable thou appear'd, and most

To be desired. The guilty heard the song 25

Of thy redeem'd, how loud ! and saw thy face,

How fair ! — Alas ! it was too late ! the hour

Of making friends was past ; thy favor then

Might not be sought ; but recollection, sad

And accurate, as miser counting o'er 30

And o'er again the sum he must lay out,

Distinctly in the wicked's ear rehearsed

Each opportunity despised and lost ;

"While on them gleam'd thy holy look, that like

A fiery torrent went into their souls. 35

The day of thy reward was come — the day

Of great remuneration to thy friends ;

To those, known by whatever name, who sought

In every place, in every time, to do

Unfeignedly their Maker's will, reveal'd, 40

Or gather'd else from nature's school ; well pleased

With God's applause alone, that, like a stream

Of sweetest melody, at still of night

By wanderer heard, in their most secret ear,

Forever whisper'd, Peace ; and as a string 45

Of kindred tone awoke, their inmost soul,

Responsive, answer'd, Peace ; inquiring still

And searching, night and day, to know their duty —

When known, with undisputing trust, with love

Unquenchable, with zeal, by reason's lamp 50

Inflamed — performing ; and to Him, by whose

Profound, all calculating skill alone,

Results — results even of the slightest act,

BOOK NINTH. 325

Are fully grasp'd, with unsuspicious faith,

All consequences leaving ; to abound 55

Or want alike prepared ; who knew to be

Exalted how, and how to be abased ;

How best to live, and how to die when ask'd.

Their prayers sincere, their alms in secret done,

Their fio-htinffs with themselves, their abstinence (30

From pleasure, though by mortal eye unseen,

Their hearts of resignation to the will

Of Heaven, their patient bearing of reproach

And shame, their charity, and faith, and hope,

Thou didst remember, and in full repaid. 65

!No bankrupt thou, who at the bargain'd hour

Of payment due, sent to his creditors

A tale of losses and mischances long.

Insured by God himself, and from the stores

And treasures of his wealth at will supplied, 70

Religion ! thou alone, of all that men,

On Earth, gave credit, to be reimbursed

On the other side the grave, didst keep thy word,

Thy day, and all thy promises fulfill'd.

As in the mind, rich with unborrow'd wealth, *75

Where multitudes of thoughts for utterance strive,
And all so fair, that each seems worthy first
To enter on the tongue, and from the lips
Have passage forth, — selection hesitates,
Perplex'd, and loses time ; anxious, since all 80

Cannot be taken, to take the best ; and yet
Afraid, lest what he left be worthier still ;
And grieving much, where all so goodly look,
To leave rejected one, or in the rear

Let any be obscured : so did the bard, 85

Though not unskill'd, as on that multitude
Of men, who once awoke to judgment, he
Threw back reflection, hesitating, pause.

326 THE COURSE OF TIME.

For as his harp, in tone severe, had sung

What figure the most famous sinners made, 90

When from the grave they rose unmask'd ; so did

He wish to character the good : but yet

Among so many, glorious all, all worth

Immortal fame, with whom begin, with whom

To end, was difficult to choose ; and long i)o

His auditors, upon the tiptoe raised

Of expectation, might have kept, had not

His eye — for so it is in heaven, that what

Is needed always is at hand — beheld,

That moment, on a mountain near the throne 100

Of God, the most renown'd of the redeem'd

Rejoicing ; nor who first, who most to praise,

Debated more ; but thus, with sweeter note,

Well pleased to sing, with highest eulogy,

And first, whom God applauded most, — began. 105

With patient ear, thou now hast heard — though whiles
Aside digressing, ancient feeling turn'd
My lyre, — what shame the wicked had that day ;
What wailing, what remorse : so hear in brief,
How bold the righteous stood — the men redeem'd ! 110

How fair in virtue ! and in hope how glad !
And first among the holy shone, as best
Became, the faithful minister of God.

THE FAITHFUL MINISTER.

See where he walks on yonder mount, that lifts
Its summit high, on the right hand of bliss ! 115

114, <fcc. See where he walks, &c. : The poet has devoted perhaps too
n,any lines to the portraiture of the faithful minister ; but it is one that
does great credit to his piety, discrimination, and poetic talent. Though
entirely unlike Cowper's well-known and admirable picture of the true
preacher of the gospel (Task, Bk. II. 820-349 ; 395-407), it is more com-
plete.

BOOK NINTH. 327

Sublime in glory ! talking with his peers

Of the Incarnate Saviour's love, and past

Affliction, lost in present joy ! See how

His face with heavenly ardor glows ! and how

His hand, enraptured, strikes the golden lyre ! 120

As now conversing of the Lamb once slain,

He speaks ; and now, from vines that never hear

Of winter, but in monthly harvest yield

Their fruit abundantly, he plucks the grapes

Of life ! but what he was on earth it most 125

Behooves to say : — Elect by God himself ;

Anointed by the Holy Ghost, and set

Apart to the great work of saving men ;

Instructed fully in the will divine ;

Supplied with grace in store, as need might ask ; 130

And with the stamp and signature of heaven,

Truth, mercy, patience, holiness, and love,

Accredited ; — he was a man by God,

The Lord, commission'd to make known to men,

The eternal counsels ; in his Master's name, 135

To treat with them of everlasting things ;

Of life, death, bliss, and woe ; to offer terms

Of pardon, grace, and peace, to the rebell'd ;

To teach the ignorant soul ; to cheer the sad ;

To bind, to loose with all authority ; 140

To give the feeble strength, the hopeless hope ;

To help the halting, and to lead the blind ;

To warn the careless ; heal the sick of heart ;

Arouse the indolent ; and on the proud

And obstinate offender, to denounce 145

The wrath of God. All other men, what name

Soe'er they bore, whatever office held,

If lawful held — the magistrate supreme,

Or else subordinate, were chosen by men,

Their fellows, and from men derived their power, 150

328 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

And were accountable for all they did

To men ; but he alone his office held

Immediately from God, from God received

Authority, and was to none but God

Amenable. The elders of the church, 155

Indeed, upon him laid their hands, and set

Ilim visibly apart to preach the word

Of life ; but this was merely outward rite,

And decent ceremonial, perform'd

On all alike ; and oft, as thou hast heard, 160

Perform'd on those, God never sent : his call,

His consecration, his anointing, all

Were inward ; in the conscience heard and felt.

Thus by Jehovah chosen and ordain'd,

To take into his charge the souls of men ; 165

And for his trust to answer at the day

Of judgment — great plenipotent of heaven,

And representative of God on earth —

Fearless of men and devils ; unabash'd

By sin enthroned, or mockery of a prince ; 1*70

1 cawed by armed legions ; unseduced

By offer'd bribes ; burning with love to souls

Unquenchable, and mindful still of his

Great charge and vast responsibility,

High in the temple of the living God 1*75

He stood, amidst the people, and declared

Aloud the truth, the whole revealed truth,

Ready to seal it with his blood. Divine

Resemblance most complete ! with mercy now,

And love, his face, illumed, shone gloriously ; 180

And frowning now indignantly, it seem'd

As if offended Justice, from his eye,

Stream'd forth vindictive wrath ! Men heard alarm'd :

The uncircumcis6d infidel believed ;

Light thoughted Mirth grew serious, and wept; 185

BOOK NINTH.

329

The laugh profane sunk in a sigh of deep

Repentance ; the blasphemer, kneeling, pray'd,

And, prostrate in the dust, for mercy call'd ;

And cursed old forsaken sinners gnash'd

Their teeth, as if their hour had been arrived. 100

Such were his calling, his commission such :

Yet he was humble, kind, forgiving, meek,

Easy to be entreated, gracious, mild ;

And with all patience and affection, taught,

Rebuked, persuaded, solaced, counsell'd, warn'd, 105

In fervent style and manner. Needy, poor,

And dying men, like music, heard his feet

Approach their beds ; and guilty wretches took

New hope, and in his prayers wept and smiled,

And bless'd him, as they died forgiven ; and all 200

Saw in his face contentment, in his life,

The path to glory and perpetual joy.

Deep learn'd in the philosophy of heaven,

He search'd the causes out of good and ill,

Profoundly calculating their effects 205

Far past the bounds of time ; and balancing,

In the arithmetic of future things,

The loss and profit of the soul to all

Eternity. A skilful workman he,

In God's great moral vineyard ; what to prune 210

With cautious hand, he knew ; what to uproot ;

What were mere weeds, and what celestial plants,

Which had unfading vigor in them, knew :

Nor knew alone ; but watch'd them night and clay,

And rear'd and nourish'd them, till fit to be 215

Transplanted to the Paradise above.

O ! who can speak his praise ! great, humble man !
He in the current of destruction stood,
And warn'd the sinner of his woe ; led on
Immanuel's armies in the evil day ; 220

330 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

And with the everlasting arms, embraced

Himself around, stood in the dreadful front

Of battle, high, and warr'd victoriously

With death and hell. And now was come his rest,

His triumph day : illustrious like a sun, 225

In that assembly, he, shining from far,

Most excellent in glory, stood assured,

Waiting the promised crown, the promised throne,

The welcome and approval of his Lord.

Nor one alone, but many — prophets, priests, 230

Apostles, great reformers, all that served

Messiah faithfully, like stars appear'd,

Of fairest beam ; and round them gather'd, clad

In white, the vouchers of their ministry —

The flock their care had nourish'd, fed, and saved. 235

THE TRUE PHILOSOPHER FRIEND OF TRUTH AND MAN.

Nor yet in common glory, blazing, stood
The true philosopher, decided friend
Of truth and man ; determined foe of all
Deception, — calm, collected, patient, wise,
And humble; undeceived by outward shape 240

Of things ; by fashion's revelry uncharm'd ;
By honor unbewitch'd ; — he left the chase
Of vanity, and all the quackeries
Of life, to fools and heroes, or whoe'er
Desired them ; and with reason, much despised, 245

Traduced, yet heavenly reason, to the shade
Retired — retired, but not to dream, or build
Of ghostly fancies, seen in the deep noon
Of sleep, ill-balanced theories ; retired,
But did not leave mankind ; in pity, not 250

In wrath, retired ; and still, though distant, kept
His eye on men ; at proper angle took

BOOK NINTH. 331

His stand to see them better, and beyond

The clamor which the bells of folly made,

That most had hung about them, to consult 255

With nature, how their madness might be cured,

And how their true substantial comforts miffht

Be multiplied. Religious man ! what God

By prophets, priests, evangelists, reveal'd

Of sacred truth, he thankfully received, 260

And, by its light directed, went in search

Of more : before him, darkness fled : and all

The goblin tribe, that hung upon the breasts

Of night, and haunted still the moral gloom,

With shapeless forms, and blue infernal lights, 265

And indistinct and devilish whisperings,

That the miseducated fancies vex'd

Of superstitious men, — at his approach,

Dispersed invisible. Where'er he went,

This lesson still he taught : To fear no ill 2*70

But sin, no being but Almighty God.

All-comprehending sage ! too hard alone

For him was man's salvation ; all besides,

Of use or comfort, that distinction made

Between the desperate savage, scarcely raised 2*75

Above the beast whose flesh he ate undress'd,

And the most polish'd of the human race,

Was product of his persevering search.

Religion owed him much, as from the false

She suffer'd much ; for still his main design, 280

In all his contemplations, was to trace

2*70-1. To fear no ill, &c: A lesson of the highest Christian and true
philosophy, practically to learn and exhibit which, is the great business
aud difficulty of life. The grand portrait which our author draws of the
true philosopher, will command the highest respect of the student, and
be apt to enkindle or augment a desire to realize its noble features in his
own mind, and in the character of his pursuits.

332 THE COURSE OF TIME.

The wisdom, providence, and love of God,
And to his fellows, less observant, show
Them forth. From prejudice redeem'd, with all
His passions still, above the common world, 285

Sublime in reason, and in aim sublime,
lie sat, and on the marvellous works of God,
Sedately thought ; now glancing up his eye
Intelligent, through all the starry dance ;
And penetrating now the deep remote 290

Of central causes, in the womb opake
Of matter hid ; now, with inspection nice,
Entering the mystic labyrinths of the mind,
Where thought, of notice ever shy, behind
Thought disappearing, still retired ; and still, 295

Thought meeting thought, and thought awakening thought,
And mingling still with thought, in endless maze, —
Bewilder'd observation : now with eye,
Yet more severely purged, looking far down
Into the heart, where Passion wove a web 300

Of thousand thousand threads, in grain and hue
All different ; then, upward venturing whiles,
But reverently, and in his hand, the light
BeveaPd, near the eternal throne, he gazed,
Philosophizing less than worshipping. 305

Most truly great ! his intellectual strength,
And knowledge vast, to men of lesser mind
Seem'd infinite ; yet from his high pursuits,
And reasonings most profound, he still return'd
Home, with an humbler and a warmer heart. 310

And none so lowly bow'd before his God,
• As none so well His awful majesty

-And goodness comprehended ; or so well
His own dependency and weakness knew.

How glorious now ! with vision purified 315

At the essential Trutb, entirely free

BOOK NINTH. 333

From error, he, investigating still —

For knowledge is not found, unsought, in heaven, —

From world to world at pleasure roves, on wing

Of golden ray upborne ; or, at the feet 320

Of heaven's most ancient sages, sitting, hears

New wonders of the wondrous works of God.

THE UPRIGHT RULER.

Illustrious too, that morning, stood the man
Exalted by the people, to the throne

Of government, establish'd on the base 325

Of justice, liberty, and equal right :
Who, in his countenance sublime, express'd
A nation's majesty, and yet was meek
And humble ; and in royal palace gave
Example to the meanest, of the fear 330

Of God, and all integrity of life
And manners : who, august, yet lowly ; who,
Severe, yet gracious ; in his very heart
Detesting all oppression, all intent

Of private aggrandizement ; and the first 335

In every public duty, — held the scales
Of justice, and as the law, which reign'd in him,
Commanded, gave rewards ; or with the edge
Vindictive smote, — now light, now heavily,
According to the stature of the crime. 340

Conspicuous, like an oak of healthiest bough,
Deep-rooted in his country's love, he stood
And gave his hand to Virtue, helping up
The honest man to honor and renown ;
And with the look which goodness wears in wrath, 345
Withering the very blood of Knavery,
And from Lis presence driving far, ashamed.

334 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

THE UNCORRUrTED STATESMAN.

Nor less remarkable, among the blest,
Appear'd the man, who, in the senate-house,
Watchful, unhired, unbribed, and uncorrupt, 350

And party only to the common weal,
In virtue's awful rage, pleaded for right,
With truth so clear, with argument so strong,
With action so sincere, and tone so loud
And deep, as made the despot quake behind 355

His adamantine gates, and every joint
In terror smite his fellow-joint relax'd ;
Or, marching to the field, in burnish'd steel,
While, frowning on his brow, tremendous hung
The wrath of a whole people, long provoked, — 360

Muster'd the stormy wings of war, in day
Of dreadful deeds ; and led the battle on,
When liberty, swift as the fires of heaven,
In fury rode, with all her hosts, and threw
The tyrant down ; or drove invasion back. 365

Illustrious he — illustrious all appear'd,
Who ruled supreme in righteousness ; or held
Inferior place, in steadfast rectitude
Of soul. Peculiarly severe had been

The nurture of their youth ; their knowledge great ; 370
Great was their wisdom ; great their cares, and great
Their self-denial, and their service done
To God and man ; and great was their reward
At hand, proportion'd to their worthy deeds.

THE MAN OF ENLARGED BENEVOLENCE AND LIBERALITY.

Breathe all thy minstrelsy, immortal harp ! 375

Breathe numbers warm with love, while I rehearse —
Delightful theme I resembling the songs

BOOK NINTH. 335

Which, day and night, are sung before the Lamb !

Thy praise, O Charity ! thy labors most

Divine! thy sympathy with sighs, and tears, 380

And groans ; thy great, thy godlike wish to heal

All misery, all fortune's wounds ; and make

The soul of every living thing rejoice.

Oh, thou wast needed much in days of time !

No virtue, half so much ; none half so fair ; 385

To all the rest, however fine, thou gavest

A finishing and polish, without which

No man e'er enter'd heaven. Let me record

His praise, — the man of great benevolence,

Who press'd thee closely to his glowing heart, 390

And to thy gentle bidding made his feet

Swift minister. — Of all mankind, his soul

Was most in harmony with heaven. As one

Sole family of brothers, sisters, friends ;

One in their origin, one in their rights 395

To all the common gifts of providence,

And in their hopes, their joys, and sorrows one,

He view'd the universal human race.

He needed not a law of state, to force

Grudging submission to the law of God ; 400

The law of love was in his heart, alive :

What he possess'd, he counted not his own,

But like a faithful steward, in a house

Of public alms, what freely he received,

He freely gave ; distributing to all 405

The helpless, the last mite beyond his own

Temperate support, and reckoning still the gift

But justice, clue to want ; and so it was ;

Although the world, with compliment not ill

Applied, adorn'd it with a fairer name. 410

Nor did he wait till to his door the voice

Of supplication came, but went abroad,

33G • THE COURSE OF time.

With foot as silent as the starry dews,

In search of misery that pined unseen,

And would not ask. And who can tell what sights 415

He saw ! what groans he heard in that cold world

Below ! where Sin, in league with gloomy Death,

March'd daily through the length and breadth of all

The land, wasting at will, and making earth,

Fair earth ! a lazar-house, a dungeon dark, 420

Where Disappointment fed on ruin'd Hope;

Where Guilt, worn out, lean'd on the triple edge

Of want, remorse, despair ; whore Cruelty

Reach'd forth a cup of wormwood to the lips

Of Sorrow, that to deeper Sorrow wail'd ; 425

Where Mockery, and Disease, and Poverty,

Met miserable Age, erewhile sore bent

With his own burden ; while the arrowy winds

Of winter pierced the naked orphan babe,

And chill'd the mother's heart, who had no home ; 430

And where, alas ! in mid-time of his day,

The honest man, robb'd by some villain's hand,

Or with long sickness pale, and paler yet

With want and hunger, oft drank bitter draughts

Of his own tears, and had no bread to eat. 435

Oh ! who can tell what sights he saw, what shapes

Of wretchedness ! or who describe what smiles

Of gratitude illumed the face of woe,

413. With foot as silent, <fcc : What illustration could be more beau
tiful of the unostentatious manner in which true benevolence performs
its deeds of kindness ! It seeks reward of God, not of men : it finds,
indeed, an adequate reward in the pleasure which God always associates
with the act of relieving human suffering from benevolent motives. Be-
neficence is easy to the man who feels the vital power of the interna]
law of love (401); rendered more easy by a reference to the fact that
he is nothing higher than a steward (403) of the property he holds ; and
easier still by considering that what he gives to the needy is but justice,
due to want, and scarcely worthy of being adorned with the fairer flame
(410) which it is accustomed to receive from the world.

BOOK NINTII. 337

While from his hand he gave the bounty forth !

As when the sun, to Cancer wheeling back, 440

Return 'd from Capricorn, and show'd the north,

That long had lain in cold and cheerless night,

His beamy countenance, all nature then

Rejoiced together glad ; the flower look'd up

And smiled ; the forest from his locks shook off 445 .

The hoary frosts, and clapp'd his hands ; the birds

Awoke, and, singing, rose to meet the day ;

And from his hollow den, where many months

He slumber'd sad in darkness, blithe and light

Of heart the savage sprung; and saw again 450

His mountains shine ; and with new songs of love,

Allured the virgin's ear — so did the house,

The prison-house of guilt, and all the abodes

Of unprovided hopelessness, revive,

As on them lookVl the sunny messenger 455

Of charity ; by angels tended still,

That mark'd his deeds, and wrote them in the book

Of God's remembrance ; — careless he to be

Observed of men ; or have each mite bestow'd

Recorded punctually, with name and place, 460

In every bill of news : pleased to do good,

He gave and sought no more — nor questional much,

Nor reason'd who deserved ; for well he knew

The face of need. Ah me ! who could mistake?

The shame to ask, the want that urged within, 465

Composed a look so perfectly distinct

From all else human, and withal so full

Of misery, that none could pass untouch'd

And be a Christian ; or thereafter claim,

In any form, the name or rights of man ; 470

440. As when : "Where can we look for a more apt and original com-
parison, to illustrate the animation that adorns the countenance of a child
of want, when expressive of ardent gratitude to a generous benefactor ?

338 TIIE COUKSE OF TIME.

Or, at the day of judgment, lift bis eye :

While he, in name of Christ, who gave the poor

A cup of water, or a bit of bread,

Impatient for his advent, waiting stood,

Glowing in robes of love and holiness, 475

Ileaven's fairest dress ! and round him ranged in white,

A thousand witnesses appear'd, prepared

To tell his gracious deeds before the throne.

THE CHRISTIAN BAUD.

Nor unrenown'd among the most renown'd,
Nor 'mong the fairest unadmired, that morn, 480

"When highest fame was proof of highest worth,
Distinguish'd stood the bard ; — not he, who sold
The incommunicable heavenly gift,
To Folly ; and with lyre of perfect tone,
Prepared by God himself, for honest praise — 485

Vilest of traitors ! most dishonest man ! —
Sat by the door of Ruin, and made there
A melody so sweet, and in the mouth
Of drunkenness and debauch, that else had croak'd
In natural discordance jarring harsh, 490

Put so divine a song, that many turn'd
Aside, and enter'd in undone ; and thought,
Meanwhile, it was the gate of heaven ; so like
An angel's voice the music seem'd : nor he,
Wlin, whining grievously of damsel coy, 495

Or blaming fortune, that would nothing give
For doing naught, in indolent lament,
Unprofitable, pass'd his piteous days.
Making himself the hero of his tale —
Deserving ill the poet's name. But he, 500

The bard, by God's own hand anointed, who,
To Virtue's all-delighting harmony,

BOOK NINTH.

339

His numbers tuned ; who from the fount of truth

Pour'd melody, and beauty pour'd, and love,

In holy stream, into the human heart ; 505

And from tbe height of lofty argument,

"Who justified the ways of God to man,

And sung, what still he sings — approved in heaven,

Though now with bolder note, above the damp

Terrestrial, which the pure celestial fire 510

Cool'd, and restrain'd in part his flaming wing.

PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY COMPARED.

Philosophy was deem'd of deeper thought,
And judgment more severe than Poetry ;
To fable she, and fancy more inclined.
And yet if Fancy, as was understood, 515

Was of creative nature, or of power
With self-wrought stuff to build a fabric up
To mortal vision wonderful and strange,
Philosophy, the theoretic, claim'd t

Undoubtedly the first and highest place 520

In Fancy's favor : her material souls ;
Her chance ; her atoms shaped alike ; her white
Proved black ; her universal nothing, all ;
And all her wondrous systems, how the mind
• With matter met ; how man was free, and yet 525

All preordain'd ; how evil first began ;
And chief, her speculations, soarings high,
Of the eternal uncreated Mind,
Which left all reason infinitely far

507. Who justified, &c. : Reference is made to Milton, in his " Paradise

Lost"—

" What in me is dark,
Illumine ; -what is low, raise and support ;
That to the height of this great argument
I may assert eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men." Bk. I. 22-26.

340 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Behind — surprising feat of theory ! 530

Were pure creation of her own : webs wove

Of gossamer in Fancy's lightest loom ;

And nowhere, on the list of being made

By God, recorded : but her look meanwhile

Was grave and studious ; and many thought 535

She reason'd deeply, Avhen she wildly raved.

THE TRUE BARD DESCRIBED.

The true, legitimate, anointed bard,
Whose song through ages pour'd its melody,
Was most severely thoughtful, most minute
And accurate of observation, most 540

Familiarly acquainted with all modes
And phases of existence. True, no doubt,
He had originally drunk, from out
The fount of life and love, a double draught,
That gave, whate'er he touch'd, a double life ; 545

But this was mere desire at first, and power
Devoid of means to work by ; need was still
Of persevering, quick, inspective mood
Of mind, of faithful memory, vastly stored,
From universal being's ample field, 550

With knowledge ; and a judgment sound and clear,
Well disciplined in nature's rules of taste :
Discerning to select, arrange, combine,
From infinite variety, and still

To nature true ; and guide withal, hard task, 555

The sacred living impetus divine,
Discreetly through the harmony of song.
Completed thus, the poet sung ; and age
To age, enraptured, heard his measures flow

558. Completed: Furnished, accomplished.

BOOK NINTH.

341

Enraptured, for lie pour'd the very fat 560

And marrow of existence through his verse ;

And gave the soul — that else in selfish cold,

Unwarm'd by kindred interest, had lain —

A roomy life, a glowing relish high,

A sweet expansive brotherhood of being, — 505

Joy answering joy, and sigh responding sigh,

Throuo-h all the fibres of the social heart.

Observing, sympathetic, sound of head,

Upon the ocean vast of human thought,

With passion rough and stormy, venturing out, 570

Even as the living billows roll'd, he threw

His numbers over them, seized as they were,

And to perpetual ages left them fix'd,

To each, a mirror of itself display'd ;

Despair forever lowering dark on Sin ; 5*75

And Happiness on Virtue smiling fair.

He was the minister of fame ; and gave

To whom he would renown ; nor miss'd himself,

Although despising much the idiot roar

Of popular applause, that sudden oft 580

Unnaturally turning, whom it nursed

Itself devour'd, — the lasting fame, the praise

Of God and holy men, to excellence given.

Yet less he sought his own renown, than wish'd 585

To have the eternal images of truth

And beauty, pictured in his verse, admired.

'Twas these, taking immortal shape and form

Beneath his eye, that charm'd his midnight watch,

And oft his soul with awful transports shook, 590

Of happiness, unfelt by other meu.

569-574. Upon the ocean, &c. : An original, and highly-wrought pas-
sage.

590. With awful transports, &c. : The author is here relating his own
experience, as will be seen by referring to some previous notes.

342 THE COURSE OF TIME.

This was that spell, that sorcery, which bound

The poet to the lyre, and would not let

Him go ; that hidden mystery of joy,

Which made him sing in spite of fortune's worst ; 595

And was, at once, both motive and reward.

Nor now among the choral harps, in this
The native clime of song, are those unknown,
\\ ith higher note ascending, who, below,
In holy ardor, aim'd at lofty strains. COO

True fame is never lost : many, whose names
Were honor'd much on Earth, are famous here
For poetry, and with archangel harps,
Hold no unequal rivalry in song ;

Leading the choirs of heaven, in numbers high, G05

In numbers ever sweet and ever new.

Behold them yonder, where the river pure
Flows warbling down before the throne of God,
And, shading, on each side, the tree of life
Spreads its unfading boughs ! see how they shine, G10

In garments white, quaffing deep draughts of love,
And harping on their harps, new harmonies
Preparing for the ear of God, Most High !

THE MULTITUDE OF CHRISTIANS WHO HAD NO NAME ON EARTH.

But why should I of individual worth,
Of individual glory, longer sing? G15

No true believer was that day obscure ;
No holy soul but had enough of joy ;
No pious wish without its full reward.
Who in the Father and the Son believed,
With faith that wrought by love to holy deeds, G20

And purified the heart, none trembled there,
Nor had by earthly guise his rank conceal'd :
Whether, unknown, he till'd the ground remote,

BOOK NINTH. 343

Observant of the seasons, and adored

God in the promise, yearly verified, 625

Of seed-time, harvest, summer, -winter, day
And night, returning duly at the time
Appointed ; or on the shadowy mountain side,
Worshipp'd at dewy eve, watching his flocks ;
Or, trading, saw the wonders of the deep, 630

And as the needle to the starry pole
Turn'd s constantly, so he his heart to God ;
Or else, in servitude severe, was taught
To break the bonds of sin ; or, begging, learn'd
To trust the Providence that fed the raven, 635

And clothed the lily with her annual gown.
Most numerous indeed, among the saved,
And many too, not least illustrious, shone,
The men who had no name on earth : eclipsed
By lowly circumstance, they lived unknown ; 640

Like stream that in the desert warbles clear,
Still nursing, as it goes, the herb and flower,
Though never seen ; or like the star retired
In solitudes of ether, far beyond

All sight, not of essential splendor less, 645

Though shining unobserved ; none saw their pure
Devotion, none their tears, their faith, and love
Which burn'd within them, both to God and man !
None saw but God. He, in his bottle, all
Their tears preserved, and every holy wish 650

Wrote in his book ; and not as they had done,
But as they wish'd with all their heart to do,
Array'd them now in glory, and display 'd, —
No longer hid by coarse uncourtly garb —
In lustre equal to their inward worth. 655

649. In his bottle, tfcc. : An expression taken from the saered writers.
Thus prays David : " Put thou my tears into thy bottle : are they not in
thy book ?" Psalm lvi. 8.

o44 THE COURSE OF TIME.

THE GOOD MAN FOREVER DEVOID OF FEAR THE BAD MAN

DEVOID OF HOPE.

Man's time was past, and his eternity
Begun ! no fear remain'd of change. The youth,
Who, in the glowing morn of vigorous life,
High reaching after great religious deeds,
Was suddenly cut off, with all his hopes C60

In sunny bloom, and unaccomplished left
His wither'd aims, — saw everlasting days
Before him dawning rise, in which to achieve
All glorious things, and get himself the name
That jealous Death too soon forbade on earth. 665

Old things had pass'd away, and all was new :
And vet of all the new-bemin, naught so
Prodigious difference made, in the affairs
And thoughts of every man, as certainty.
For doubt, all doubt was gone, of every kind ; 670

Doubt that erewhile, beneath the lowest base
Of moral reasonings, deepest laid, crept in,
And made the strongest, best cemented towers
Of human workmanship, so weakly shake,
And to their lofty tops so waver still, 675

That those who built them, fear'd their sudden fall.
But doubt, all doubt was past ; and in its place,
To every thought that in the heart of man
Was present, now had come an absolute,
Unquestionable certainty, which gave 680

To each decision of the mind, immense
Importance, raising to its proper height
The sequent tide of passion, whether joy
Or grief. The good man knew, in very truth,
That he was saved to all eternity, 685

And fear'd no more ; the bad had proof complete,
That he was damn'd forever ; and believed

BOOK NINTH. 345

Entirely, that on every wicked soul

Anguish should come, and wrath and utter woe.

KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM INCREASED, IN ETERNITY.

Knowledge was much increased, but wisdom more. 690
The film of Time, that still before the sight
Of mortal vision danced, and led the best
Astray, pursuing unsubstantial dreams,
Had dropp'd from every eye : men saw that they
Had vex'd themselves in vain, to understand 695

What now no hope to understand remain'd ;
That they had often counted evil good,
And good for ill ; laugh'd when they should have wept,
And wept forlorn when God intended mirth.
But what of all their follies past, surprised 700

Them most, and seem'd most totally insane
And unaccountable, was value set
On objects of a day ; was serious grief,
Or joy, for loss, or gain of mortal things ;
So utterly impossible it seem'd, "705

When men their proper interest saw, that aught
Of terminable kind, that aught which e'er
Could die, or cease to be, however named,
Should make a human soul, a legal heir
Of everlasting years, rejoice or weep "710

In earnest mood ; for nothing now seem'd worth
A thought, but had eternal bearing in't.

MUCH TRUTH, ASSENTED TO ON EARTH, NEVER TILL NOW HAD
MADE A DUE IMPRESSION ON THE HEART.

Much truth had been assented to in Time,
Which never, till this day, had made a due
Impression on the heart. Take one example : 715

15*

34f THE COUESE OF TIME.

Early from heaven it was reveal'd, and oft
Repeated in the world, from pulpits preach'd,

And penn'd and read in holy books, that God

Respected not the persons of mankind.

Had this been truly credited and felt, "720

The king, in purple robe, had own'd, indeed,

The beggar for his brother ; pride of rank

And office thaw'd into paternal love ;

Oppression fear'd the day of equal rights,

Predicted ; covetous extortion kept, 725

In mind the hour of reckoning, soon to come ;

And bribed injustice thought of being judged,

When he should stand on equal foot beside

The man he wrong'd. And surely — nay, 'tis true,

Most true, beyond all whispering of doubt, 730

That he, who lifted up the reeking scourge,

Dripping with gore from the slave's back, before

He struck again, had paused, and seriously

Of that tribunal thought, where God himself

Should look him in the face, and ask in wrath, 735

AVhy didst thou this ? Man ! was he not thy brother ?

Bone of thy bone, and flesh and blood of thine ?

But ah ! this truth, by heaven and reason taught,

Was never fully credited on earth.

The titled, fiatter'd lofty men of power, 740

Whose wealth brought verdicts of applause for deeds

Of wickedness, could ne'er believe the time

Should truly come, when judgment should proceed

Impartially against them, and they, too,

Have no good speaker at the Judge's ear, 745

No witnesses to bring them off for gold,

No power to turn the sentence from its course ;

And they of low estate, who saw themselves,

Day after day, despised, and wrong'd, and mock'd,

Without redress, could scarcely think the day 750

BOOK NINTH. 347

Should e'er arrive, when they in truth should stand

On perfect level with the potentates

And princes of the earth, and have their cause

Examined fairly, and their rights allow'd.

But now this truth was felt, believed and felt, 755

That men were really of a common stock ;

That no man ever had been more than man.

MUCH PROPHECY, NOT TILL THEN FULFILLED.

Much prophecy — reveal'd by holy bards,
Who sung the will of heaven by Judah's streams —
Much prophecy that waited long, the scoff 760

Of lips uncircumcised, was then fulfill'd ;
To the last tittle scrupulously fulfill'd.
It was foretold by those of ancient days,
A time should come, when wickedness should weep
Abash'd; when every lofty look of man 765

Should be bow'd down, and all his haughtiness
Made low ; when righteousness alone should lift
The head in glory, and rejoice at heart ;
When many, first in splendor and renown,
Should be most vile ; and many, lowest once 770

And last in poverty's obscurest nook,
Highest and first in honor should be seen,
Exalted ; and when some, when all the good,
Should rise to glory, and eternal life ;

And all the bad, lamenting, wake, condemn'd 775

To shame, contempt, and everlasting grief.

These prophecies had tarried long ; so long-
That many wagg'd the head, and, taunting, ask'd,
When shall they come ? But ask'd nor more, nor mock'd :
For the reproach of prophecy was wiped 780

Away, and every word of God found true.

And oh ! what change of state, what change of rank,

348 THE COURSE OF TIME.

In that assembly everywhere was seen !

The humble-hearted laugh'd ; the lofty mourn'd ;

And every man according to his works 785

Wrought in the body, there took character.

THE FINAL SEPARATION OF THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE WICKED

Thus stood they mix'd ! all generations stood
Of all mankind ! innumerable throng !
Great harvest of the grave ! waiting the will
Of Heaven, attentively and silent all, 790

As forest spreading out beneath the calm
Of evening skies, when even the single leaf
Is heard distinctly rustle down and fall ;
So silent they, when from above, the sound
Of rapid wheels approach 'd, and suddenly 795

In heaven appear'd a host of angels strong
With chariots and with steeds of burning fire:
Cherub, and Seraph, Thrones, Dominions, Powers,
Bright in celestial armor, dazzling, rode :
And leading in the front, illustrious shone 800

Michael and Gabriel, servants long approved
In high commission, — girt that day with power,
Which naught created, man or devil, might
Resist : nor waited gazing long ; but quick
Descending, silently and without song, 805

As servants bent to do their master's work,
To middle air they raised the human race,
Above the path long travell'd by the sun ;
And as a shepherd from the sheep divides
The goats; or husbandman, with reaping bands,
In harvest, separates the precious wheat, 810

Selected from the tares : so did they part
Mankind, — the good and bad, to right and left, —
To meet no more ; these ne'er again to smile ;

BOOK NINTH. 349

Nor those to weep : these never more to share

Society of mercy with the saints ; 815

Nor, henceforth, those to suffer with the vile.

Strange parting ! not for hours, nor days, nor months,

Nor for ten thousand times ten thousand years ;

But for a whole eternity ! though fit

And pleasant to the righteous, yet to all 820

Strange, and most strangely felt ! The sire, to right

Retiring, saw the son, sprung from his loins,

Beloved how dearly once — hut who forgot,

Too soon, in sin's intoxicating cup,

The father's warnings and the mother's tears — 825

Fall to the left among the reprobate.

And sons redeem'd, beheld the fathers, whom

They loved and honor'd once, gather'd among

The wicked : brothers, sisters, kinsmen, friends ;

Husband and wife, who ate at the same board, 830

And under the same roof, united, dwelt,

From youth to hoary age, bearing the chance

And change of time together, — parted then

For evermore. But none whose friendship grew

From virtue's pure and everlasting root, 835

Took different roads ; — these, knit in stricter bonds

Of amity, embracing, saw no more

Death with his scythe stand by, nor heard the word,

The bitter word, which closed all earthly friendships,

And finish'd every feast of love — Farewell. 840

To all, strange parting ! to the wicked, sad

And terrible ! new horror seized them while

They saw the saints withdrawing, and with them

All hope of safety, all delay of wrath.

THE PLACE OF THE KIGHTEOUS.

Beneath a crown of rosy light, — like that 845

Which once in Goshen, on the flocks, and herds,

350 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And dwellings, smiled, of Jacob, while the land

Of Nile was dark ; or, like the pillar bright

Of sacred fire, that stood above the sons

Of Israel, when they carnp'd at midnight by 850

The foot of Horeb, or the desert side

Of Sinai, — now the righteous took their place ;

All took their place, who ever wish'd to go

To heaven, for heaven's own sake ; not one remain'd

Among the accursed, that e'er desired with all 855

The heart to be redeem'd : that ever sought

Submissively to do the will of God,

Ilowe'er it cross'd his own : or to escape

Hell, for aught other than its penal fires.

All took their place rejoicing, and beheld, 860

In centre of the crown of golden beams

That canopied them o'er, these gracious words,

Blushing with tints of love : — " Fear not, my saints."

THE PLACE OF THE WICKED.

To other sight of horrible dismay,
Jehovah's ministers the wicked drove, 865

And left them bound immovable in chains
Of Justice : o'er their heads a bowless cloud
Of indignation hung : a cloud it was
Of thick and utter darkness ; rolling, like
An ocean, tides of livid, pitchy flame ; 870

With thunders charged, and lightnings ruinous,
And red with forked vengeance, such as wounds
The soul ; and full of angry shapes of wrath ;
And eddies, whirling with tumultuous fire ;
And forms of terror raving to and fro ; 875

And monsters, unimagined heretofore
By guilty men in dreams before their death,
From horrid to more horrid changing still,

BOOK NINTH. 351

In hideous movement through that stormy gulf:

And evermore the thunders, murmuring, spoke 880

From out the darkness, uttering loud these words,

Which every guilty conscience echoed back :

" Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not !"

Dread words ! that barr'd excuse, and threw the weight

Of every man's perdition on himself 885

Directly home. Dread words ! heard then, and heard

Forever through the wastes of Erebus.

" Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not !"

These were the words which glow'd upon the sword,

Whose wrath burn'd fearfully behind the cursed, 890

As they were driven away from God to Tophet.

" Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not !"

These are the words to which the harps of grief

Are strung ; and to the chorus of the damn'd,

The rocks of hell repeat them evermore ; 89 f

Loud echoed through the caverns of despair,

And pour'd in thunder on the ear of Woe.

THE PLACE OF SATAN AND HIS LEGIONS. EXPLANATION OF
THEIR APOSTACY FROM GOD.

Nor ruin'd men alone, beneath that cloud,
Trembled : there Satan and his legions stood ;
Satan the first and eldest sinner, bound 900

For judgment : he, by other name, held once
Conspicuous rank in heaven among the sons
Of happiness, rejoicing day and night :
But pride, that was ashamed to bow to God
Most high, his bosom fill'd with hate, his face 906

Made black with envy, and in his soul begot
Thoughts guilty of rebellion 'gainst the throne
Of the Eternal Father and the Son, —
From everlasting built on righteousness.

352 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

Ask not how pride, in one created pure, 910

Could grow ; or sin without example spring,
Where holiness alone was sown : esteem 't
Enough, that he, as every being made
By God, was made entirely holy, had
The will of God before him set for law 915

And regulation of his life ; and power
To do as bid ; but was, meantime, left free,
To prove his worth, his gratitude, his love ;
How proved besides ? for how could service done,
That might not else have been withheld, evince 920

The will to serve, which, rather than the deed,
God doth require, and virtue counts alone ?
To stand or fall, to do or leave undone,
Is reason's lofty privilege, denied

To all below, by instinct bound to fate, 925

Unmeritins' alike reward or blame.

8ATAN AGGRAVATES HIS GUILT BY TEMPTING MAN TO SIN.

Thus free, the Devil chose to disobey
The will of God ; and was thrown out from heaven,
And with him all his bad example stain'd :
Yet not to utter punishment decreed, 930

But left to fill the measure of his sin,
In tempting and seducing man — too soon,
Too easily seduced ! And from the day,
He first set foot on earth — of rancor full,
And pride, and hate, and malice, and revenge — 935

He set himself, with most felonious aim,
And hellish perseverance, to root out
All good, and in its place to plant all ill ;
To rub and raze, from all created things,
The fair and holy portraiture divine, 940

And on them to enstamp his features grim ;

BOOK NINTH.

353

To draw all creatures off from loyalty

To their Creator ; and to make them bow

The knee to him. Nor fail'd of great success,

As populous hell this day can testify. 945

He held indeed large empire in the world,

Contending proudly with the King of heaven.

To him temples were built, and sacrifice

Of costly blood upon his altars fiow'd ;

And, what best pleased him, for in show he seem'd 950

Then likest God, whole nations bowing fell

Before him, worshipping, and from his lips

Entreated oracles, which he, by priests —

For many were his priests in every age —

Answer 'd, though guessing but at future things, 955

And erring oft, yet still believed ; so well

His ignorance, in ambiguous phrase, he veil'd.

THE SUCCESS OF SATAN AS A TEMPTER OF ALL CLASSES
ACCOUNTED FOR.

Nor needs it wonder, that with man once fallen,
His tempting should succeed. Large was his mind 9C0

953-5T. Entreated oracles, &c. : " Oracle, among the heathen, was the
answer which the gods were supposed to give to those who consulted
them upon any affair of importance. The credit of oracles was so great,
that in all doubts and disputes their determinations were held sacred
and inviolable : whence vast numbers flocked to them for advice ; and
no business of importance was undertaken without the approbation and
adviee of some oracle. The answers were given by the priest or priestess
of the god who was consulted ; and generally expressed in such dark and
ambiguous phrases as might easily be wrested to prove the truth of the
oracle, whatever was the event." — London Encyc.

It has been a controverted question, whether the Pagan oracles should
be referred to diabolical agency, or to human ingenuity and cunning.
Most of the Christian fathers advocated the former position. Under the
light of Christianity the heathen oracles gradually fell in public estima-
tion, until, in the fourth century of the Christian era, they ceased alto-
gether to exist.

354 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And understanding ; though impair'd by sin,

Still large ; and constant practice, day and night,

In cunning, guile, and all hypocrisy,

From age to age, gave him experience vast

In sin's dark tactics, such as boyish man,

Unarm'd by strength divine, could ill withstand. 965

And well he knew his weaker side ; and still

II is lures with baits that pleased the senses busk'd ;

To his impatient passions offering terms

Of present joy, and bribing reason's eye

With earthly wealth, and honors near at hand ; 970

Nor fail'd to misadvise his future hope

And faith, by false unkernel'd promises

Of heavens of sensual gluttony and love,

That suited best their grosser appetites.

Into the sinner's heart, who lived secure, 6*75

And fear'd him least, he enter'd at his will.

But chief he chose his residence in courts,

And conclaves, stirring princes up to acts

Of blood and tyranny ; and moving priests

To barter truth, and swap the souls of men 980

For lusty benefices, and address

Of lofty sounding. Nor the saints elect,

Who walk'd with God, in virtue's path sublime,

Did he not sometimes venture to molest ;

In dreams and moments of unguarded thought, 985

Suggesting guilty doubts and fears, that God

Would disappoint their hope ; and in their way

Bestrewing pleasures, tongued so sweet, and so

In holy garb array'd, that many stoop'd,

Believing them of heavenly sort, and fell ; 990

And to their high professions, brought disgrace

And scandal ; to themselves, thereafter, long

And bitter nights of sore repentance, vex'd

With shame, unwonted sorrow, and remorse.

BOOK NINTH.

355

And more they should have fallen, and more have wept,

Had not their guardian angels, — who, by God 996

Commission'd, stood beside them in the hour

Of danger, whether craft, or fierce attack,

To Satan's deepest skill opposing skill

More deep, and to his strongest arm, an arm 1000

More strong, — upborne them in their hands, and fill'd

Their souls with all discernment, quick, to pierce

His stratagems and fairest shows of sin.

satan's agency and designs as a tempter — satan
awaiting his sentence.

Now, like a roaring lion, up and down
The world, destroying, though unseen, he raged : 1005

And now, retiring back to Tartarus,
Far back, beneath the thick of guiltiest dark,
"Where night ne'er heard of day, in council grim
He sat, with ministers whose thoughts were damn'd,
And there such plans devised, as, had not God 1010

Check'd and restrain'd, had added earth entire
To hell, and uninhabited left heaven,
Jehovah unadored. Nor unsevere,
Even then, his punishment deserved : the Worm
That never dies, coil'd in his bosom, gnaw'd 1015

Perpetually ; sin after sin, brought pang
Succeeding pang ; and now and then the bolts
Of Zion's King, vindictive, smote his soul
With fiery woe to blast his proud designs :
And gave him earnest of the wrath to come. 1020

And chief, when on the cross, Messiah said,
" 'Tis finish'd," did the edge of vengeance smite

996. Guardian angels : Heb. i. 14—" Are they not all ministering
spirits sent forth to minister to them -who shall be heirs of salvation V

356 THE COUKSE OF TIME.

Ilim through, and all his gloomy legions touch

With new despair. But yet, to be the first

In mischief, to have armies at his call, 1025

To hold dispute with God, in days of Time

J lis pride and malice fed, and bore him up

Above the worst of ruin. Still, to plan

And act great deeds, though wicked, brought at least

The recompense which nature hath attach'd 1030

To all activity, and aim pursued

"With perseverance, good, or bad : for as,

By nature's laws, immutable and just,

Enjoyment stops where indolence begins ;

And purposeless, to-morrow borrowing sloth, 1035

Itself heaps on its shoulders loads of woe,

Too heavy to be borne ; so industry, —

To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,

AVhich in itself is good — as surely brings

Eeward of good, no matter what be done. 1040

And such reward the Devil had, as long

As the decrees eternal gave him space

To work : but now, all action ceased ; his hope

Of doing evil perish'd quite ; his pride,

His courage, fail'd him ; and beneath that cloud, 1045

Which hung its central terrors o'er his head,

With all his angels, he, for sentence, stood,

And roll'd his eyes around, that utter'd guilt

And woe, in horrible perfection join'd.

As he had been the chief and leader, long, 1050

Of the apostate crew that warr'd with God

And holiness ; so now, among the bad,

Lowest, and most forlorn, and trembling most,

With all iniquity deform'd and foul,

With all perdition ruinous and dark, 1055

He stood, — example awful of the wrath

Of God ! sad mark, to which all sin must fall ! —

BOOK NINTH. 357

And made, on every side, so black a hell,

That spirits, used to night and misery,

To distance drew, and look'd another way ; 1060

And from their golden cloud, far off, the saints

Saw round him darkness grow more dark, and heard

The impatient thunderbolts, with deadliest crash,

And frequentest, break o'er his head, — the sign,

That Satan there, the vilest sinner, stood. 1065

Ah me ! what eyes were there beneath that cloud !
Eyes of despair, final and certain ! eyes
That look'd, and look'd, and saw, where'er they look'd,
Interminable darkness ! utter woe !

SAD BIGHTS ON EARTH.

'Twas pitiful to see the early flower 10 70

Nipp'd by the unfeeling frost, just when it rose,
Lovely in youth, and put its beauties on.
'Twas pitiful to see the hopes of all
The year, the yellow harvest, made a heap,
By rains of judgment; or by torrents swept, 1075

With flocks and cattle, down the raging flood,
Or scatter'd by the winnowing winds, that bore,
Upon their angry wings, the wrath of heaven.
Sad was the field, where yesterday was heard
The roar of war ; and sad the sight of maid, 1080

Of mother, widow, sister, daughter, wife,
Stooping and weeping over senseless, cold,
Defaced, and mangled lumps of breathless earth,
"Which had been husbands, fathers, brothers, sons,
And lovers, when that morning's sun arose. 1085

'Twas sad to see the wonted seat of friend
Removed by death : and sad to visit scenes,
When old, where, in the smiling morn of life,
Lived many, who both knew and loved us much,

358 TIIE COUKSE OF TIME.

And they all gone, dead, or dispersed abroad ; 1090

And stranger faces seen among their hills.

'Twas sad to see the little orphan babe

Weeping and sobbing on its mother's grave.

'Twas pitiful to see an old, forlorn,

Decrepit, wither'd wretch, unhoused, unclad, 1095

Starving to death with poverty and cold.

'Twas pitiful to see a blooming bride,

That promise gave of many a happy year,

Touch'd by decay, turn pale, and waste, and die.

'Twas pitiful to hear the murderous thrust 1100

Of ruffian's blade that sought the life entire.

'Twas sad to hear the blood come gurgling forth

From out the throat of the wild suicide.

Sad was the sight of widow'd, childless age,

Weeping. I saw it once. Wrinkled with time, 1105

And hoary with the dust of years, an old

And worthy man came to his humble roof,

Tottering and slow, and on the threshold stood.

No foot, no voice, was heard within ; none came

To meet him, where he oft had met a wife, 1110

And sons, and daughters, glad at his return ;

None came to meet him ; for that day had seen

The old man lay, within the narrow house,

The last of all his family ; and now

He stood in solitude, in solitude 1115

Wide as the world ; for all that made to him

Society, had fled beyond its bounds.

Wherever stray'd his aimless eye, there lay

The wreck of some fond hope, that touch'd his soul

With bitter thoughts, and told him all was past. 1120

His lonely cot was silent ; and he look'd

As if he could not enter ; on his staff,

Bending, he lean'd ; and from his weary eye,

Distressing sight ! a single tear-drop wept :

BOOK NINTH. 359

None follow'd, for the fount of tears was dry. 1125

Alone and last it fell from wrinkle down

To wrinkle, till it lost itself, drunk by

The wither'd cheek, on which again no smile

Should come, or drop of tenderness be seen.

This sight was very pitiful ; but one 1130

"Was sadder still, the saddest seen in Time :

A man, to-day the glory of his kind,

In reason clear, in understanding large,

In judgment sound, in fancy quick, in hope

Abundant, and in promise, like a field 1135

"Well cultured, and refreshed with dews from God ;

To-morrow, chain'd, and raving mad, and whipp'd

By servile hands ; sitting on dismal straw,

And gnashing with his teeth against the chain,

The iron chain that bound him hand and foot ; 1140

And trying whiles to send his glaring eye

Beyond the wide circumference of his woe ;

Or, humbling more, more miserable still,

Giving an idiot laugh, that served to show

The blasted scenery of his horrid face ; 1145

Calling the straw his sceptre, and the stone,

On which he pinion'd sat, his royal throne.

Poor, poor, poor man ! fallen far below the brute !

His reason strove in vain to find her way,

Lost in the stormy desert of his brain ; 1150

And being active still, she wrought all strange,

Fantastic, execrable, monstrous things.

A SADDER SIGHT THE REPROBATE.

All these were sad, and thousands more, that sleep
Forgotten beneath the funeral pall of Time ;
And bards, as well became, bewail'd them much, 1155

With doleful instruments of weeping song.

360 THE COURSE OF TIME.

But what were these ? what might be worse had in't,

However small, some grains of happiness :

And man ne'er drank a cup of earthly sort,

That might not held another drop of gall ; 1100

Or, in his deepest sorrow, laid his head

Upon a pillow, set so close with thorns,

That might not held another prickle still.

Accordingly, the saddest human look

Ilad hope in't ; faint indeed, but still 'twas hope. 1165

But why excuse the misery of earth !

Say it was dismal, cold, and dark, and deep,

Beyond the utterance of strongest words :

But say that none remember'd it, who saw

The eye of beings damn'd for evermore ! 1170

Rolling, and rolling, and rolling still in vain,

To find some ray, to see beyond the gulf

Of an unavenued, fierce, fiery, hot,

Interminable, dark Futurity !

And rolling still, and rolling still in vain ! 1175

Thus stood the reprobate beneath the shade
Of terror, and beneath the crown of love,
The good ; and there was silence in the vault
Of heaven : and as they stood and listen'd, they heard,
Afar to left, among the utter dark, 1180

Hell rolling o'er his waves of burning fire ;
And thundering through his caverns, empty then,
As if he preparation made, to act
The final vengeance of the Fiery Lamb.
And here was heard, coming from out the Pit, 1185

The hollow wailing of Eternal Death,
And horrid cry of the Undying Worm.

The wicked paler turn'd ; and scarce the good
Their color kept ; but were not long dismay 'd.

11 GO, 1163. Held; (Have) held.

BOOK NINTH. 361

That moment, in the heavens, how wondrous fair ! 1190

The angel of Mercy stood, and, on the bad,

Turning his back, over the ransom'd threw

His bow bedropp'd with imagery of love,

And promises on which their faith reclined.

Throughout, deep, breathless silence reign'd again ; 1195

And on the circuit of the upper spheres,

A glorious seraph stood, and cried aloud,

That every ear of man and devil heard :

" Him that is filthy, let be filthy still ;

Him that is holy, let be holy still." 1200

And suddenl} 7 , another squadron bright,

Of high archangel glory, stooping, brought

A marvellous bow ; one base upon the Cross,

The other, on the shoulder of the Bear,

They placed, from south to north, spanning the heavens,

And on each hand dividing good and bad, 1206

Who read on either side these burning words,

Which ran along the arch in living fire,

And wanted not to be believed in full :

" As ye have sown, so shall ye reap this day." 1210

1203-4. The Cross — the Bear : Constellations — the former in the south-
ern, the latter in the northern hemisphere.

THE COURSE OF TIME

BOOK X.

BOOK X

ANALYSIS.

The author invokes God, for acceptance, and the assistance of the Holy
Spirit ; that he may faithfully interpret the notes of the ancient Bard,
" the holy numbers" which his spirit hears, and describe the Day of
Judgment.

Suddenly Michael sounds the golden trumpet, and millions, infinite, of
the holy spirits gathered from heaven as well as from the farthest
worlds around, and met at the Eternal throne ; and from a radiant
cloud, God declares the purpose of the assembly. He states the des-
tiny of man is concluded, the day of Retribution, appointed from all
eternity, is come, and the generations of earth collected to the place
of judgment.

The Father infinite then addresses the Messiah, and assigns to him his
covenant office of Judge. The Son, taking the book of remembrance,
the seven last thunders, the crowns of life, and the Sword of Justice,
ascends the living Chariot of God, attended by numbers infinite, moves
forward in glory, becomes visible to the sons of men, and ascends the
Throne, placed between the good and bad.

In awful silence a mighty angel spread open the book of God's remem-
brance, and each one with sincere conscience attests the record true.
He arose to pronounce the sentence. No creature breathed, every
sphere and star stood still and listened, and upon the wicked first he
issued the dread decree ; and plunged the sword, which now he drew,
into the midst ; they 6ink into final misery, into utter darkness and
irremediable woe. — The fire then consumed the earth. Lastly, the
righteous receive the crowns, and a joyous approval, and ascend to
heaven with their Judge, singing glory to God and to the Lamb.

t ®flum af feints

BOOK X

God of ray fathers ! holy, just, and good !
My God ! my Father ! my unfailing Hope !
Jehovah ! let the incense of ray praise,
Accepted, burn before thy mercy-seat,
And in thy presence burn, both day and night ! 5

Maker ! Preserver ! my Redeemer ! God !
"Whom have I in the heavens but Thee alone ?
On earth, but Thee, whom should I praise, whom love ?
For thou hast brought me hitherto, upheld
By thy omnipotence ; and from thy grace — 10

Unbought, unmerited, though not unsought —
The wells of thy salvation, hast refresh'd
My spirit ; watering it, at morn and even !
And by thy Spirit, which thou freely givest
To whom thou wilt, hast led my venturous song, 15

Over the vale, and mountain tract, the light
And shade of man ; into the burning deep
Descending now, and now circling the mount,
Where highest sits Divinity enthroned ;
Rolling along the tide of fluent thought, 20

The tide of moral, natural, divine ;
Gazing on past, and present, and again,
On rapid pinion borne, outstripping Time,
In long excursion, wandering through the groves

366 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Unfading, and the endless avenues 25

That shade the landscape of eternity ;
And talking there with holy angels met,
And future men, in glorious vision seen !
Nor unrewarded have I watch'd at night,
And heard the drowsy sound of neighboring sleep. 30

New thought, new imagery, new scenes of bliss
And glory, unrehearsed by mortal tongue,
Which, unreveal'd, I, trembling, turn'd and left
Bursting at once upon my ravish'd eye,
With joy unspeakable, have fill'd my soul, 35

And made my cup run over with delight ;
Though in my face, the blasts of adverse winds,
While boldly circumnavigating man,
Winds seeming adverse, though perhaps not so,
Have beat severely — disregarded beat, 40

When I behind me heard the voice of God,
And his propitious Spirit say, — Fear not.
God of my Fathers ! ever-present God !
This offering more inspire, sustain, accept;
Highest, if numbers answer to the theme ; 45

Best answering if thy Spirit dictate most.
Jehovah ! breathe upon my soul ; my heart
Enlarge ; my faith increase ; increase my hope ;
My thoughts exalt ; my fancy sanctify,
And all my passions, that I near thy throne 50

May venture, unreproved ; and sing the day,
Which none unholy ought to name, the Day
Of Judgment ; greatest day, past or to come ;

61-2. The day which none unholy ought to nai/tr ■ A learned friend has
called my attention to a striking passage in the "Orations on Judgment
to Como" of the late celebrated Edward Irving, of London ; in which,
with just severity, this eloquent divine animadverts oh certain poetical
productions of Southey and Byron, each bearing the title of " Vision of
Judgment." The passage referred to seems worthy of being copied

BOOK TENTH. 367

Da) 7 , which — deny me what thou wilt ; deny

Me home, or friend, or honorable name — 55

Thy mercy grant, I, thoroughly prepared,

With comely garment of redeeming love,

May meet, and have my Judge for Advocate.

bere. Concerning it, my friend writes : " It appears to me that the an-
ticipation of the author was realized in the pious and gifted author of
The Course of Time,' who sung —

'The world at dawn, at mid-day, and decline ;
Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damn'd,
And God*s eternal government approved.' "

" This mighty crisis in the history of the human race, this catastrophe
of evil and consummation of good, fortunately, it is not our province to
clothe with living imagery, else our faculties should have failed in the
attempt. But if our divine poet hath, hy his mighty genius, so rendered
to conception the fallen angels beneath the sulphurous canopy of hell,
their shapes, their array, their warfare, and their high debates, as to
charm and captivate our souls by the grandeur of their sentiments, and
the splendor of their chivalry, and to cheat us into sympathy and pity,
and even admiration ; how might such another spirit (if it shall please
the Lord to yield another such) draw forth the theme of judgment from
its ambiguous light, give it form and circumstance, feeling and expression,
so that it should strike home upon the heart with the presentiment of
those very feelings which shall then be awakened in our breasts. This
task awaits some lofty and pious soul hereafter to arise, and when per-
formed will enrich the world with a ' Paradise Regained,' worthy to be
a sequel to the ' Paradise Lost,' and with an ' Inferno' that needeth no
physical torment to make it infernal ; and with a judgment antecedent
to both, embracing and embodying the complete justification of God's
ways to man.

" Instead of which mighty fruit of genius, this age (oh shocking!) hath
produced out of this theme two most nauseous and unformed abortions,
— vile, unprincipled, and unmeaning: the one, a brazen-faced piece of
political cant; the other, an abandoned parody of solemn judgment : of
which visionaries, I know not whether the self-confident tone of the one,
or the ill-placed merriment of the other, displeaseth me the more. It is
ignoble and impious to rob the sublimest of subjects of all its grandeur
and effect, in order to serve wretched interests and vulgar passions. I
have no sympathy with such wretched stuff, and I despise the age which
hath. The men are limited in their faculties ; for they, both of them
want the greatest of all faculties — to know the living God, and stand in
awe of his mighty power : with the one, blasphemy is virtue when it
makes for loyalty ; with the other, blasphemy is the food and spice of jest-

368 THE COUESE OF TIME.

Come, gracious Influence ! Breath of the Lord !
And touch me, trembling, as thou touch'd the man, 60

Greatly beloved, when he in vision saw,
By Ulai's stream, the Ancient sit ; and talk'd
With Gabriel, to his prayer swiftly sent,
At evening sacrifice. Hold my right hand,
Almighty ! hear me — for I ask through Him, 65

Whom thou hast heard, -whom thou wilt always hear,
Thy Son, our interceding Great High Priest.
Reveal the future ; let the years to come
Pass by ; and ope my ear to hear the harp ;
The prophet harp, whose wisdom I repeat, TO

Interpreting the voice of distant song, —
Which thus again resumes the lofty verse;
Loftiest, if I interpret faithfully
The holy numbers which my spirit hears.

making. Barren souls! and is the land of Shakspeare, and Spenser, and
Milton, come to this, that it can procreate nothing but such profane spawn,
and is content to exalt such blots and blemishes of manhood into orna-
ments of the age? Puny age! when religion, and virtue, and manly
freedom have ceased from the character it accounteth noble. But I thank
God, who hath given us a refuge in the great spirits of a former age, who
will yet wrest the sceptre from these mongrel Englishmen ; from whose
impieties we can betake ourselves to the 'Advent to Judgment' of Tay-
lor ; ' The Four Last Things* of Bates ; the ' Blessedness of the Righteous'
of Howe ; and the ' Saints' Rest' of Baxter ; books which breathe of the
reverend spirit of the olden time. God send to the others repentance, or
else blast the powers they have abused so terribly ; for if they repent
not, they shall harp another strain at that scene they have Bought to vul-
garize. The men have seated themselves on his throne of judgment to
vent from thence doggrel spleen and insipid flattery ; the impious men
have no more to do with the holy seat than the obscene owl hath to
nestle and bring forth in the Ark of the Covenant, which the wings of
the cherubim of glory did overshadow." pp. 207, 208.

60^(il. The mini. Ac.: Daniel, the Hebrew prophet. The incident is
recorded in the Book of Daniel, viii. 2, 16—19 ; ix. '20-23.

BOOK TENTH. 369

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT DEFINED.

Thus came the Day — the Harp again began — 75

The day that many thought should never come ;
That all the wicked wish'd should never come ;
That all the righteous had expected long ;
Day greatly fear'd, and yet too little fear'd,

75. Thus came the day, &c. : The description of man being finished, the
bard approaches the awful subject of his final doom. Here he may well
demand an angel's lyre. The day of judgment, what mortal tongue can
adequately sing ! The mind sinks under the overwhelming sublimity of
the idea. The assembling of the universe, the breaking up of nature, the
countless retinue of angels, the blazing throne of judgment, and, last of
all, the Judge himself: where is the language competent to such ideas?
Yet Pollok has fearlessly approached them ; and, it must be owned, has
combined noble elements in the description. The morning of the last day
dawned like that of other days. The sun moved upward, &c. All this part
of the description, being that of least difficulty, is executed unexception-
ably. The picture is crowded, but yet the objects are distinct and vivid.
But now comes the trial of the poet's strength. An angel in the midst
of heaven has sworn that time shall be no more. How shall the wreck
of nature be described ? The sun extinguished in his mid career ; trees
withered in their bloom ; birds struck lifeless in their flight ; rivers
6tayed in their rapid course ; the tides of the ocean stopped ; consterna-
tion seizing all the living ; and earth and ocean yielding up their unnum-
bered dead ; and then, when all the sons of men are brought together,
the consummation of all things by the irrevocable sentence ; the wicked
driven to everlasting woe, the righteous conducted to the throne of God ;
— these are the closing topics of the poem. But if the reader has ever
attempted to form to himself an image of the solemn winding up of the
human drama, we fear he will be disappointed here ; for the ideas are
too vast and lofty to be expressed by words. In the mind they rise and
swell into undefinable magnitude and sublimit}-. But to clothe them in
language would be like bounding infinitude. Strong language as this
poet has made use of, we doubt not that the images existing in his own
mind were tenfold more vivid, and the conceptions immeasurably more
grand, than they appear in his verse. And when he looked upon his
work, and saw his thoughts thus narrowed down to the limited dimen-
sions of the medium through which he must transmit them, we doubt
not that he felt a painful consciousness, how poorly and impotently they

represented what was at the moment passing before his imagination

"We rejoice that the mind is capable of thoughts, which nothing but con-

16*

370 THE COURSE OF TIME.

By him who fear'd it most ; day laugh'd at much 80

By the profane ; the trembling day of all

Who laugh'd ; day when all shadows pass'd, all dreams ;

When substance, when reality commenced.

Last day of lying, final day of all

Deceit, all knavery, all quackish phrase ; 85

Ender of all disputing, of all mirth

Ungodly, of all loud and boasting speech.

Judge of all judgments ; Judge of every judge ;

Adjuster of ah causes, rights and wrongs.

Day oft appeal'd to, and appeal'd to oft 90

By those who saw its dawn with saddest heart :

Day most magnificent in Fancy's range,

Whence she return'd, confounded, trembling, pale,

With overmuch of glory faint and blind :

Day most important held, prepared for most, 95

By every rational, wise, and holy man :

Day of eternal gain, for worldly loss :

Day of eternal loss, for worldly gain.

Great day of terror, vengeance, woe, despair !

Revealer of all secrets, thoughts, desires ! 100

Rein-trying, heart-investigating day,

Which stood between Eternity and Time,

Beview'd all past, determined all to come,

And bound all destinies for evermore.

Believing day of unbelief! Great day ! 105

Which set in proper light the affairs of earth,

And justified the government Divine.

Great day ! what can we more ? what should we more ?

Great triumph day of God's Incarnate Son !

Great day of glory to the Almighty God ! 110

Day whence the everlasting years begin

sciousness can measure. All human modes of communication must have
limits; but in the unutterable, the incommunicable emotions of the soul,
we discern glorious evidence of its immortal nature. — JV. A. Review.

BOOK TENTH. 371

Their date ! new era in eternity !

And oft referr'd to in the song of heaven !

ALL TRIBES OF INTELLIGENT BEINGS GATHERED TO WITNESS
THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE JUDGMENT.

Thus stood the apostate, thus the ransom'd stood ;
Those held by justice fast, and these by love, 115

Reading the fiery scutcheonry that blazed
On high, upon the great celestial bow : —
" As ye have sown, so shall ye reap this day."
All read, all understood, and all believed ;
Convinced of judgment, righteousness, and sin. 120

Meantime the universe throughout was still :
The cope, above and round about, was calm :
And, motionless, beneath them lay the earth,
Silent and sad, as one that sentence waits,
For flagrant crime : when suddenly was heard, 125

Behind the azure vaulting of the sk} r ,
Above, and far remote from reach of sight,
The sound of trumpets, and the sound of crowds,
And prancing steeds, and rapid chariot wheels,
That from four quarters roll'd, and seem'd in haste, 130
Assembling at some place of rendezvous :
And so they seem'd to roll, with furious speed,
As if none meant to be behind the first.
Nor seem'd alone : that day the golden trump,
Whose voice from centre to circumference 135

Of all created things, is heard distinct,
God had bid Michael sound to summon all
The hosts of bliss to presence of their King ;
And, all the morning, millions infinite,
That millions govern'd each, Dominions, Powers, 140

Thrones, Principalities, with all their hosts,
Had been arriving, near the capital,

372 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And royal city, New Jerusalem,

From heaven's remotest bounds : nor yet from heaven

Alone came they that day : the worlds around, 145

Or neighboring nearest on the verge of night,

Emptied, sent forth their whole inhabitants :

All tribes of being came, of every name,

From every coast, filling Jehovah's courts.

From morn till mid-day, in the squadrons pourM 150

Immense, along the bright celestial roads.

Swiftly they rode ; for love unspeakable

To God, and to Messiah, Prince of Peace,

Drew them, and made obedience haste to be

Approved. And now before the Eternal Throne — 155

Brighter that day than when the Son prepared

To overthrow the seraphim rebell'd —

And circling round the mount of Deity,

Upon the sea of glass, all round about,

And down the borders of the stream of life, 160

And over all the plains of Paradise,

144, &c. Nor yet from heaven alone, <fcc. : In contrasting the Iliad and
Odyssey, the yEneid, the Lady of the Lake and Marmion, which are pro-
nounced to he national and local, with the poems of Dante, Milton, and
Pollok, the Rev. Dr. Scott observes : " The map of the world is too small
for the descriptions in the latter, and the new fields of thought which
are explored : indeed, it becomes a mere centre to some mightier circle.
To carry out the image, we must hang up on each side of this map of
the world, maps of heaven and hell ; and around all, the outlines of some
prodigious universe, where there are continents into which the Creator's
voice has never penetrated. The inhabitants of these worlds are por-
trayed in these poems, and scenery introduced to which there is not any
thing like on earth. The ratio of the interest which the human mind
experiences in reading a religious poem, over one which is only earthly
and provincial, all things also being equal, will betas the limited territory
is to the three vast worlds alluded to. Refined taste prefers the reli-
gious to the profane ; indeed, intellect, to be permanently gratified, if it
seeks sober, meditative pleasure in poetry at all, must have a religious
poem. This fact alone accounts for the immediate, continued, and wide-
extended popularity of ' The Course of Time.' " — Life of Pollok, p. 297.

BOOK TENTH. 373

For many a league of heavenly measurement,

Assembled, stood the immortal multitudes.

Millions above all numbers infinite,

The nations of the blest. Distinguish'd each, 165

By chief of goodly stature blazing far,

By various garb, and flag of various hue

Streaming through heaven from standard lifted high, —

The arms and imagery of thousand worlds.

Distinguish'd each ; but all array'd complete, 1*70

In armor bright, of helmet, shield, and sword,

And mounted all in chariots of fire.

A military throng, blent, not confused ;

As soldiers on some day of great review,

Burning in splendor of refulgent gold, 175

And ornament on purpose long devised

For this expected day. Distinguish'd each,

But all accoutred as became their Lord,

And high occasion ; all in holiness,

The livery of the soldiery of God, 180

Vested ; and shining all with perfect bliss,

The wages which his faithful servants win.

JEHOVAH DECLARES TO THE VAST ASSEMBLAGE THE OCCASION

OF THEIR MEETING.

Thus stood they numberless around the mount
Of presence ; and, adoring, waited, hush'd
In deepest silence, for the voice of God. 185

That moment, all the Sacred Hill on high
Burn'd, terrible with glory, and behind
The uncreated lustre hid the Lamb
Invisible ; when, from the radiant cloud,
This voice, addressing all the hosts of heaven, 190

Proceeded ; not in words as we converse,
Each with his fellow, but in language such

374 THE COURSE OF TIME.

As God doth use, imparting, without phrase

Successive, what, in speech of creatures, seems

Long narrative, though long, yet losing much, 195

In feeble symbols, of the thought Divine.

My servants long approved, my faithful sons !
Angels of glory, Thrones, Dominions, Powers !
Well pleased, this morning, I have seen the speed
Of your obedience, gathering round my throne, 200

In order due, and well-becoming garb ;
Illustrious, as I see, beyond your wont,
As was my wish, to glorify this day :
And now what your assembling means, attend.

This day concludes the destiny of man ; 205

The hour appointed from eternity,
To judge the earth, in righteousness, is come ;
To end the war of Sin, that long has fought,
Permitted, against the sword of Holiness :
To give to men and devils, as their works, 210

Recorded in my all-remembering book,
I find ; good to the good, and great reward
Of everlasting honor, joy, and peace,
Before my presence here for evermore :
And to the evil, as their sins provoke, 215

Eternal recompense of shame and woe,
Cast out beyond the bounds of light and love.

jehovah's vindication of the proceedings about to take

PLACE.

Long have I stood, as ye, my sons, well know,
Between the cherubim, and stretch'd my arms

219. Between the cherubim : To understand this language, the reader
n>ust refer to the account given by Moses of the inner part of the taber-
nacle, Exod. xxv. 17-22. The forms of the cherubim are supposed to be
emblematic of the highest order of angels in heaven,

BOOK TENTH. 375

Of mercy out, inviting all to come 220

To me, and live ; my bowels long have moved

With great compassion ; and my justice pass'd

Transgression by, and not imputed sin.

Long here, upon my everlasting throne,

I have beheld my love and mercy scorn'd ; 225

Have seen my laws despised, my name blasphemed,

My providence accused, my gracious plans

Opposed ; and long, too long, have I beheld

The wicked triumph, and my saints reproach'd

Maliciously, while on my altars lie, 230

Unanswer'd still, their prayers and their tears,

Which seek my coming, wearied with delay :

And long, Disorder in my moral reign

Has walk'd rebellious^, disturb'd the peace

Of my eternal government, and wrought 235

Confusion, spreading far and wide, among

My works inferior, which groan to be

Released. Nor long shall groan : the hour of grace,

The final hour of grace is fully past.

The time accepted for repentance, faith, 240

And pardon, is irrevocably past ;

And Justice, unaccompanied, as wont,

With Mercy, now goes forth, to give to all

Accoz'ding to their deeds. Justice alone ;

For why should Mercy any more be join'd ? 245

What hath not mercy, mix'd with judgment, done,

That mercy, mix'd with judgment and reproof,

Could do ? Did I not revelation make,

Plainly and clearly, of my will entire ?

Before them set my holy law, and gave 250

Them knowledge, wisdom, prowess, to obey,

230-31. While on my altars, &c. : Rev. vi. 9, 10.
237. Which groan, &c. : Rom. viii. 19-22.
250. Gave : Should be give.

376 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And win, by self-wrought works, eternal life ?

Rebell'd, did I not send them terms of peace,

Which, not my justice, but my mercy ask'd ? —

Terms costly to my well-beloved Son; 255

To them gratuitous ; exacting faith

Alone for pardon, Avorks evincing faith ?

Have I not early risen, and sent my seers,

Prophets, apostles, teachers, ministers,

With signs and wonders, working in my name ? 260

Have I not still, from age to age, raised up,

As I saw needful, great, religious men,

Gifted by me with large capacity,

And by my arm omnipotent upheld,

To pour the numbers of my mercy forth, 265

And roll my judgments on the ear of man ?

And lastly, when the promised hour was come —

What more could most abundant mercy do ? —

Did I not send Immanuel fortb, my Son,

Only-begotten, to purchase, by his blood, 270

As many as believed upon his name ?

Did he not die to give repentance, such

As I accept, and pardon of all sins ?

lias he not taught, beseech'd, and shed abroad

The Spirit unconfined, and given, at times, 2*75

Example fierce of wrath and judgment, pour'd

Vindictively on nations guilty long !

What means of reformation that my Son

Has left behind untried ? what plainer words,

What arguments more strong, as yet remain ? 280

Did he not tell them with his lips of truth, —

The righteous should be saved, the wicked, damn'd ?

And has he not, awake both day and night,

Here interceded with prevailing voice,

At my right hand, pleading his precious blood 285

Which magnified my holy law, and bought,

BOOK TENTH. 377

For all who wish'd, perpetual righteousness ?

And have not you, my faithful servants, all

Been frequent forth, obedient to my will,

With messages of mercy and of love, 290

Administering my gifts to sinful man ?

And have not all my mercy, all my love,

Been seal'd and stamp'd with signature of heaven ?

By proof of wonders, miracles, and signs

Attested, and attested more by truth 295

Divine, inherent in the tidings sent ?

This day declares the consequence of all.

Some have believed, are sanctified, and saved,

Prepared for dwelling in this holy place,

In these their mansions, built before my face ; 300

And now beneath a crown of golden light,

Beyond our wall, at place of judgment, they,

Expecting, wait the promised due reward.

The others stand with Satan bound in chains :

The others, who refused to be redeem'd, — 305

They stand, unsanctified, unpardon'd, sad,

Waiting the sentence that shall fix their woe.

The others who refused to be redeem'd ;

For all had grace sufficient to believe,

All who my gospel heard ; and none who heard 310

It not, shall by its law this day be tried.

Necessity of sinning, my decrees

Imposed on none ; but rather all inclined

To holiness ; and grace was bountiful,

Abundant, overflowing with my word; 315

My word of life and peace, which to all men

Who shall or stand or fall, by law reveal'd,

Was offer'd freely, as 'twas freely sent,

Without all monev, <ind without all price.

Thus, they have all, by willing act, despised 320

Me, and my Son, and sanctifying Spirit.

378 THE COURSE OF TIME.

But now no longer shall they mock or scorn :
The day of Grace and Mercy is complete,
And Godhead from their misery absolved.

THE FATHER REQUESTS MESSIAH TO PROCEED TO EXECUTE HIS
OFFICE AS JUDGE OF MANKIND.

So saying, He, the Father infinite, 325

Turning, address'd Messiah, where he sat
Exalted gloriously, at his right hand.
This day belongs to justice, and to Thee,
Eternal Son ! thy right for service done
Abundantly fulfilling all my will ; 330

By promise thine, from all eternity,
Made in the ancient Covenant of Grace ;
And thine, as most befitting, since in thee
Divine and human meet, impartial Judge,
Consulting thus the interest of both. 335

Go then, my Son, divine similitude !
Image express of Deity unseen !
The book of my remembrance take ; and take
The golden crowns of life, due to the saints ;
And take the seven last thunders ruinous ; 340

Thy armor take ; gird on thy sword, thy sword
Of justice ultimate, reserved, till now
Unsheathed, in thy eternal armory ;
And mount the living chariot of God.

Thou goest not now, as once to Calvary, 345

To be insulted, buffeted, and slain :
Thou goest not now with battle, and the voice
Of war, as once against the rebel hosts :
Thou goest a Judge, and find'st the guilty bound :
Thou goest to prove, condemn, acquit, reward ; 350

Not unaccompanied ; all these, my saints,
Go with thee, glorious retinue ! to sing

BOOK TENTH. 379

Thy triumph, and participate thy joy ;

And I, the Omnipresent, with thee go ;

And with thee, all the glory of my throne. 355

MESSIAH ASCENDS HIS CHARIOT, AND WITH AN AUGUST PRO-
CESSION PASSES THE GATE OF HEAVEN.

Thus said the Father ; and the Son beloved,
Omnipotent, Omniscient, Fellow-God,
Arose resplendent with Divinity ;
And He the book of God's remembrance took ;
And took the seven last thunders ruinous ; 360

And took the crowns of life, due to the saints ;
His armor took ; girt on his sword, his sword
Of justice ultimate, reserved, till now
Unsheathed, in the eternal armory ;

And up the living chariot of God 365

Ascended, signifying all complete.

And now the Trump of wondrous melody,
By man or angel never heard before,
Sounded with thunder, and the march began —
Not swift, as cavalcade, on battle bent, 3 *7

But, as became procession of a judge,
Solemn, magnificent, majestic, slow :
Moving sublime with glory infinite,
And numbers infinite, and awful song.
They pass'd the gate of heaven, which many a league 375
Oped either way, to let the glory forth
Of this great march. And now the sons of men
Beheld their coming, which, before they heard ;
Beheld the glorious countenance of God !
All light was swallow'd up, all objects seen, 380

Faded ; and the Incarnate, visible
Alone, held every eye upon Him fix'd !
The wicked saw his majesty severe,

880 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And those who pierced him, saw his face with clouds

Of glory circled round, essential bright ! 38i

And to the rocks and mountains call'd in vain,

To hide them from the fierceness of his wrath :

Almighty power their flight restrain'd, and held

Them bound immovable before the bar.

The righteous, undismay'd and bold — best proof 390
This day of fortitude sincere — sustain'd
By inward faith, with acclamations loud,
Received the coming of the Son of Man ;
And, drawn by love, inclined to his approach,
Moving to meet the brightness of his face. 395

THE JUDGE ASCENDS THE GREAT WHITE THRONE, AND THE
BOOKS ARE OPENED.

Meantime, 'tween good and bad, the Judge his wheels
Stay'd, and, ascending, sat upon the great
White Throne, that morning founded there by power
Omnipotent, and built on righteousness
And truth. Behind, before, on every side, 400

In native, and reflected blaze of bright
Celestial equipage, the myriads stood,
That with his marching came ; rank above rank,
Bank above rank, with shield and flaming sword.

'Twas silence all : and quick, on right and left, 405

A mighty angel spread the book of God's
Bemembrance ; and, with conscience now sincere,
All men compared the record written there,
By finger of Omniscience, and received
Their sentence, in themselves, of joy or woe ; 410

Condemn'd or justified, while yet the Judge

384-87. And those who pierced, tfce. : Rev. i. 7 ; vi. 15-17.
397. Sat upon the great, &c. : Rev. xx. 11.
406. The book, <tc. : Rev. xx. 12.

BOOK TENTH.

381

Waited, as if to let them prove themselves.

The righteous, in the book of life display'd,

Rejoicing, read their names ; rejoicing, read

Their faith for righteousness received, and deeds 420

Of holiness, as proof of faith complete.

The wicked, in the book of endless death,

Spread out to left, bewailing read their names :

And read beneath them, Unbelief, and fruit

Of unbelief, vile, unrepented deeds, 425

Now unrepentable for evermore ;

And gave approval of the woe affix'd.

SENTENCE PRONOUNCED UPON THE WICKED.

This done, the Omnipotent, Omniscient Judge,
Rose infinite, the sentence to pronounce,
The sentence of eternal woe or bliss ! 430

All glory heretofore seen or conceived ;
All majesty, annihilated, dropp'd,
That moment, from remembrance, and was lost ;
And silence, deepest hitherto esteem'd,
Seem'd noisy to the stillness of this hour. 435

Comparisons I seek not ; nor should find,
If sought : that silence, which all being held,
When God Almighty's Son, from off the walls
Of heaven the rebel angels threw, accursed,
So still, that all creation heard their fall 440

Distinctly, in the lake of burning fire,
Was now forgotten, and every silence else.
All being rational, created then,
Around the judgment-seat, intensely listen'd :
No creature breathed : man, angel, devil, stood 445

434-449. And silence, <fcc. : This idea is expressed with admirable
power and impressiveness, and prepares the mind for the appalling scenes
that follow.

382 THE COURSE OF TIME.

And listen'd ; the spheres stood still, and every star

Stood still and listen'd; and every .particle

Remotest in the womb of matter stood,

Bending to hear, devotional and still.

And thus upon the wicked first, the Judge 450

Pronounced the sentence, written before of old ;

" Depart from me, ye cursed, into the fire

Prepared eternal in the Gulf of Hell,

Where ye shall weep and Avail for evermore ;

Reaping the harvest which your sins have sown." 455

SENTENCE UPON THE WICKED FEARFULLY "EXECUTED.

So saying, God grew dark with utter wrath ;
And drawing now the sword, undrawn before,
Which through the range of infinite, all around,
A gleam of fiery indignation threw,

He lifted up his hand omnipotent, 460

And down among the damn'd the burning edge
Plunged ; and from forth his arrowy quiver sent,
Emptied, the seven last thunders ruinous,
Which, entering, wither'd all their souls with fire.
Then first was vengeance, first was ruin seen ! 465

Red, unrestrain'd, vindictive, final, fierce !
They, howling, fled to west among the dark ;
But fled not these the terrors of the Lord :
Pursued, and driven beyond the Gulf, which frowns
Impassable, between the good and bad, 470

And downward far remote to left, oppress'd
And scorch'd with the avenging fires, begun
Burning within them, — they upon the verge
Of Erebus, a moment pausing stood,

And saw, below, the unfathomable lake, 475

Tossing with tides of dark, tempestuous wrath ;
And would have look'd behind ; but greater wrath

BOOK TENTH. 383

Behind, forbade, which now no respite gave
To final misery : God, in the grasp

Of his Almighty strength, took them upraised, 480

And threw them down, into the yawning pit
Of bottomless perdition, ruin'd, damn'd,
Fast bound in chains of darkness evermore ;
And Second Death, and the Undying Worm,
Opening their horrid jaws, with hideous yell, 485

Falling, received their everlasting prey.
A groan return'd, as down they sunk, and sunk,
And ever sunk, among the utter dark !
A groan return'd ! the righteous heard the groan ;
The groan of all the reprobate, when first 490

They felt damnation sure ! and heard Hell close !
And heard Jehovah, and his love retire !
A groan return'd ! the righteous heard the groan :
As if all misery, all sorrow, grief,

All pain, all anguish, all despair, which all 495

Have suffer'd, or shall feel, from first to last
Eternity, had gather'd to one pang,
And issued in one groan of boundless woe !
And now the wall of hell, the outer wall,
First gateless then, closed round them ; that which thou 500
Hast seen, of fiery adamant, emblazed
With hideous imagery, above all hope,
Above all flight of fancy, burning high ;
And guarded evermore by Justice, turn'd
To Wrath, that hears, unmoved, the endless groan 505

Of those wasting within ; and sees, unmoved,
The endless tear of vain repentance fall.

384 THE COURSE OF TIME.

TIIE SIN AND PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED EVER INCREASING,

AND INTERMINABLE.

Nor ask if these shall ever be redeem'd.
They never shall : not God, hut their own sin
Condemns them : what could be done, as thou hast heard,
Has been already done ; all has been tried, 511

608-530. Nor ash if these, &c. : If those, who, to rid themselves of
hard thoughts of God, are ready to give up the plain meaning of the
Bible, would but substitute the terms holiness and unholiness for happi-
ness and misery, there is a possibility that in good time they might be
able to reconcile God's goodness and the truth of his book. Let them
take along with them the principle that in the future world, mixed char-
acter and mixed happiness and suffering will be at an end ; that man,
assimilated either to his God, or to evil spirits, will be conscious of hap-
piness only as an effluence of holiness, or of misery only as an effluence
of sin ; and then they may come to the conclusion that all the incon
gruity had been in their own brains ; and each one of them be at last
ready to sa} r , with sincerity, in the language of one who scarcely acted
up to his profession, " I have no ambition to be a philosopher in opposi
tion to Paul, or to postpone Christ to Aristotle."

In expressing our approbation of this, and a similar passage in Book I.,
which have given rise to these suggestions, we cannot but regret that the
principle held in them does not discover itself more in the Tenth Book.
W"e would not have had it the sole-pervading principle ; for we read in
the Bible of God's anger against the wicked, and his direct punishment
of them hereafter. We believe these terms to have a distinct meaning
from 6elf-torture, and a fearful one too ; and suppose it the part of jus-
tice that punishment should follow on the heels of crime ; and that if a
being will go on making war, though a vain one, against an all-holy and
happy state, it is right that he should suffer evil from without for hia
rebel pride, and hate of goodness. The principle of benevolence may
be here acting along with that of justice ; and it may be one of the
means of maintaining beings of free-will steadfast in virtue, that where
crime is obdurate they should not only witness self-paining sin, but
behold also the direct displeasure of God turned against it. The fact
that he who dies in his sins will voluntarily persevere in them forerer,
under all their evil consequences, may likewise be used to the same end ;
and thus sin, which had set itself in array against God's scheme of min-
gled holiness and happiness, be brought to thwart its own evil intent,
and made to give stability to that government which it would fain over-
throw. — Spirit of the Pilgrims.

BOOK TENTH. 385

That wisdom infinite, and boundless grace,

Working together, could devise, and all

Has fail'd ; why now succeed ? Though God should stoop,

Inviting still, and send his Only Son 515

To offer grace in hell, the pride that first

Refused, would still refuse ; the unbelief,

Still unbelieving, would deride and mock ;

Nay more, refuse, deride, and mock ; for sin,

Increasing still, and growing day and night 520

Into the essence of the soul, become

All sin, makes what in time seem'd probable,

Seem'd probable, since God invited then —

Forever now impossible. Thus they,

According to the eternal laws which bind 525

All creatures, bind the Uncreated One,

Though we name not the sentence of the Judge —

Must daily grow in sin and punishment,

Made by themselves their necessary lot,

Unchangeable to all eternity. 530

What lot ! what choice ! I sing not, cannot sing.
Here, highest seraphs tremble on the lyre,
And make a sudden pause ! but thou hast seen.
And here the bard a moment held his hand,
As one who saw more of that horrid woe 535

Than words could utter ; and again resumed.

THE EARTH, NEXT SENTENCED, AND DESTROYED AND REBUILT.

Nor yet had vengeance done. The guilty Earth
Inanimate, debased, and stain'd by sin,
Seat of rebellion, of corruption, long,

And tainted with mortality throughout, 540

God sentenced next ; and sent the final fires
Of ruin forth, to burn and to destroy.

541-42. The final fires, <tc. : 2 Pet. iii. 10-13; Rev. xxi. 1.

3S6 THE COURSE OF TME.

The saints its burning saw ; and thou mayst see.

Look yonder, round the lofty golden walls

And galleries of New Jerusalem, 545

Among the imagery of wonders past ;

Look near the southern gate ; look, and behold,

On spacious canvas, touch'd with living hues, —

The Conflagration of the ancient earth,

The handiwork of high archangel, drawn 550

From memory of what he saw that day.

See how the mountains, how the valleys burn !

The Andes burn, the Alps, the Apennines ;

Taurus and Atlas, all the islands burn ;

The Ocean burns, and rolls his waves of flame. 555

See how the lightnings, barbed, red with wrath,

Sent from the quiver of Omnipotence,

Cross and recross the fiery gloom, and burn

Into the centre ! burn without, within,

And help the native fires, which God awoke, 660

And kindled with the fury of his wrath.

As inly troubled, now she seems to shake ;

The flames, dividing, now a moment fall ;

And now in one conglomerated mass,

Rising, they glow on high, prodigious blaze : 565

Then fall and sink again, as if, within,

The fuel, burnt to ashes, was consumed.

So burn'd the Earth upon that dreadful day ;

Yet not to full annihilation burn'd :

The essential particles of dust remain'd, 5*70

Purged by the final, sanctifying fires,

From all corruption ; from all stain of sin,

Done there by man or devil, purified.

The essential particles remain'd, of which

God built the world again, renew'd, improved, 5*75

With fertile vale, and wood of fertile bough ;

BOOK TENTH.

387

And streams of milk and honey, flowing song ;

And mountains cinctured with perpetual green ;

In clime and season fruitful, as at first,

When Adam woke, unfallen, in Paradise. 580

And God, from out the fount of native light,

A handful took of heams, and clad the sun

Again in glory ; and sent forth the moon

To borrow thence her wonted rays, and lead

Her stars, the virgin daughters of the sky. 585

And God revived the winds, revived the tides ;

And touching her from his Almighty hand,

With force centrifugal, she onward ran,

Coursing her wonted path, to stop no more.

Delightful scene of new inhabitants ! 590

As thou, this morn, in passing hither, saw'st.

THE RIGHTEOUS APPROVED AND HONORED. SONG OF PRAISE
TO THE REDEEMER.

This done, the glorious Judge, turning to right,
With countenance of love unspeakable,
Beheld the righteous, and approved them thus :
" Ye blessed of my Father, come ; ye just, 595

Enter the joy eternal of your Lord ;
Receive your crowns, ascend, and sit with Me,
At God's right hand, in glory evermore."

Thus said the Omnipotent, Incarnate God :
And waited not the homage of the crowns, 600

Already thrown before him ; nor the loud
Amen of universal, holy praise ;
But turn'd the living chariot of fire,
And swifter now — as joyful to declare
This day's proceedings in his Father's court, 605

And to present the number of his sons

388 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Before the throne — ascended up to heaven.

And all his saints, and all his angel bands,

As, glorious, they on high ascended, sung

Glory to God, and to the Lamb ! — they sung 610

Messiah, fairer than the sons of men,

And altogether lovely. Grace is pour'd

Into thy lips, above all measure pour'd ;

And therefore God hath bless'd thee evermore.

Gird, gird thy sword upon tby thigh, O thou 615

Most Mighty ! with thy glory ride ; with all

Thy majesty, ride prosperously, because

Of meekness, truth, and righteousness. Thy throne,

God, forever and forever stands :

The sceptre of thy kingdom still is right ; 620

Therefore hath God, thy God, anointed Thee,

With oil of gladness and perfumes of myrrh,

Out of the ivory palaces, above

Thy fellows, crown'd the Prince of endless peace.

MESSIAH AND HIS CHURCH ENTER THE GATES OP HEAVEN.

Thus sung they God, their Saviour; and themselves 625
Prepared complete to enter now with Christ,
Their living Head, into the holy Place.
Behold the daughter of the King, the bride,
All glorious within ! the bride adorn'd,
Comely in broidery of gold ! behold, 630

She comes, apparell'd royally, in robes
Of perfect righteousness ; fair as the sun ;
With all her virgins, her companions fair ;
Into the Palace of the King she comes !

611-624. The basis of this paragraph, and of the next, is the forty-fifth
Psalm.

BOOK TENTH. 389

She comes to dwell for evermore ! Awake ! 635

Eternal harps ! awake, awake, and sing !

The Lord, the Lord, our God Almighty, reigns !

Thus the Messiah, with the hosts of bliss,
Enter'd the gates of heaven — unquestion'd now —
Which closed behind them, to go out no more, 640

And stood accepted in his Father's sight ;
Before the glorious, everlasting throne,
Presenting all his saints ; not one was lost,
Of all that he in Covenant received :

And having given the kingdom up, he sat, 645

Where now he sits and reigns, on the right hand
Of glory ; and our God is all in all.

Thus have I sung beyond thy first request,

645. Having given the kingdom up, &e. : 1 Cor. xv. 24-28.

648. Thus have I sung, etc. : In a letter to his brother, dated Moor-
house, July 1, 1826, is found the following most interesting paragraph,
written at the important period of bringing to a close this long and elab-
orate poem :

" It is with much pleasure that I am now able to tell you that I have
finished my poem. Since I wrote to you last (May 28th, 1826), I have
written about three thousand five hundred verses, which is considerably
more than a hundred every successive day. This, you will see, was ex-
traordinary expedition to be continued so long ; and I neither can, nor
wish to, ascribe it to any thing but an extraordinary manifestation of
Divine goodness. Although some nights I was on the borders of fever,
I rose every morning equally fresh, without one twitch of headache ; and,
with all the impatience of a lover, hasted to my study. Towards the
end of the Tenth Book, where the subject was overwhelmingly great,
and where I, indeed, seemed to write from immediate inspiration, I felt
the body beginning to give way. But, now that I have finished, though
thin with the great heat, and the almost unintermitted mental exercise,
I am by no means languishing and feeble. Since the first of June, which
was the day I began to write last, we have had a Grecian atmosphere ;
and I find the serenity of the heavens of incalculable benefit for mental
pursuit. The serenity of mind which I have possessed is astonishing.
Exalted on my native mountains, and writing often on the top of the
very highest of them, I proceeded, from day to day, as if I had been in
a world in which there was neither sin, nor sickness, nor poverty. la

390 THE COURSE OF TIME.

Rolling my numbers o'er the track of man,
The world at dawn, at mid-day, and decline ; 650

Time gone, the righteous saved, tbe wicked damn'd,
And God's eternal government approved.

the four books last written, I have succeeded, in almost every instance,
up to my wishes ; and, in many places, I have exceeded any thing I had
conceived. This is not boasting, remember ; I only say that I have ex-
ceeded the degree of excellence which I had formerly thought of."

HISTORY OF THE COMPOSITION

OF " THE COURSE OF TIME."

Rev. David Pollok, the biographer of the poet, gives the fol-
lowing account, which will be read with interest :

" Thus he finished ' The Course of Time' in the beginning of July,
1826, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, nineteen months after
he began its execution. He was not, however, employed all the
time in writing it. It was composed, as his letters respecting it
show, at three different periods, with considerable intervals between
them ; and all the three make together only eleven months. Besides,
he once told me that he kept an account of the time, and that he
was engaged in actual writing eight months."

" "With regard to his habits in composing it, they were neither nu-
merous, nor in any wise very remarkable ; but it seems proper to give
the following short account of them, taken from his conversations :

" During the three periods of writing, he kept a small jot-book
beside him, and when any thing occurred to him which he thought
fit for any part of the work, he jotted it down. Every time that he
sat down to write, he looked over these jottings to see if there were
any materials among them for his present purpose ; and when he
had used or rejected any thing, he drew his pen through it. Gener-
ally, he composed mentally, sometimes a few verses, and sometimes
a paragraph or two, according to circumstances ; and he did this at
all times, and in all places, but chiefly in bed. He once remarked to
me, ' People say a man can do nothing, lying in bed ; but something
may be done in it. The truth is, most of " The Course of Time"
was composed in bed.' He usually wrote two or three hours at a
sitting, and then went out to take the air, or engaged with his friends
in lively conversation, to relax his mind ; and whenever he felt

392 THE COUJRSE OF TIME.

himself refreshed he resumed his study. He seldom sat later than
eleven or twelve o'clock; but he generally lay awake a good part of
the night, letting his mind wander over his subject, thinking and
composing. When he came to a new paragraph, he concentrated
his energies on it, as if it had been the only thing that he had ever
written, or that he should ever write ; so that, as he said, ' every
paragraph might stand by itself, without needing support from what
went before, or came after.' lie never stopped at a difficult place,
but took good care to pause where he knew he coukl easily go on,
so that it might always be pleasant for him to sit down to write.
When he wrote at Hoorhouse, he read at night to his brother John
what he had written in the course of the day, and heard his opinion
of it. While composing there the four books last written, though
he went every Sabbath to church, he wrote, as he expressed it,
' Sabbath and Saturday :' in going to and from church 7 in the sub-
lime regions between Moorhouse and Eaglesham, he composed, as
he thought he could not be better employed, the usual number of
verses; and on returning home, he wrote them down. During the
whole process, he read little English, as it did not sufficiently arrest
his attention, or withdraw his thoughts from himself; but he occa-
sionally read Latin and Greek for amusement or relaxation ; and he
found the most difficult that he met with a great recreation com-
pared with the writing of the poem, in which his mind, through
vigor of exertion, many a time nearly overpowered his body, lie
kept the Bible constantly beside him, and read in different places of
it, according to the nature of what he was composing; so that his
mind, it may be said, was all along regulated by the Bible. Finally,
he prayed to God daily, morning and evening, for direction and as-
sistance in the work."

GREAT PROSE WORK,

SUPPLEMENTARY TO THE " COURSE OF TIME," CONTEMPLATED BY

THE AUTHOE.

" One night (says his brother), after having corrected the last, or
nearly the last, sheet of his poem, he gave me a most interesting
account of an extensive prose work which he intended to write. It
had arisen, as he expressed it, ' from the rejected matter of the
" Course of Time," ' and was to be a survey of literature by the
light of Divine Eevelation, or a review in which the literature of all
ages would be brought to the test and standard of Christianity, lie
thought that the work would extend to five or six octavo volumes,
and that it would take him five or six years to write. The first vol-
ume of it was to be wholly introductory, showing the nature, extent,
and importance of the subject. In the progress of the work, he
meant to classify authors, and give a general view of their writings ;
select one from each class, and review him thoroughly, pointing out
his characteristics, and then bring him to the test of Christianity.
As the prince and representative of heathen poets, he intended to
select Homer; and in reviewing him. and other authors before the
Christian era, his design was to show how far they agreed with
Christianity, and how far they differed from, or were opposed to it ;
and it would be seen, he remarked, that they were opposed to it in
almost every thing. He meant, he said, ' to have a volume of splen-
did writing at the introduction of Christianity,' showing the state of
the world at that time, and the change produced by the coming of
the Saviour. ' This volume,' he said, with great enthusiasm, ' will
be, in many places, more poetical than any thing in the " Course of
Time." ' In reviewing authors who have written since the Christian
era, his intention was to inquire how much they had been influenced
by heathen literature ; ' and it would be found,' he observed, ' that
they had been much influenced by it all along, even to the present
day.'

" Among the modern poets, he meant to review Milton, Shakspeare,
and Byron ; and Milton was to bo the first poet who would stand

17*

39-i THE COURSE OF TIME.

the test. From the moralists, he had selected Addison and Johnson,
and their morality was to be carefully examined. Novels of all
kinds he was determined to condemn entirely ; and he meant to give
the novels of Sir Walter Scott a thorough scrutiny. After review-
ing published sermons, which he said could be found to be tinctured,
more or less, with heathen philosophy, he intended to examine pul-
pit oratory — ' the preaching of the present day,' which, he added,
could not altogether stand the test; ' i'or even here there will be
found a sprinkling of heathen literature.' And the work was to
conclude with the signs of the times, showing from facts anil from
the Bible what progress the world will make, and what perfection
it will attain in literature and in Christianity.

" On the writing of this work, it may be added here, his heart was
greatly set. lie contemplated it with much delight, and was eager
to commence it. The truth is, as it had arisen from the rejected
matter of the ' Course of Time,' he reckoned it so far supplemental
to it ; and, as he rested his poetical fame on the poem, so he meant
to rest his literary reputation on the prose work. But, alas! he was
not spared to undertake it."

INDEX TO SUBJECTS.

PAGE

Introductory Observations by the Editor 8

Sketch of the Author's Life (from the Christian Review) 11

Critical Observations (chiefly from Gilflllan) 15

Critical Observations (from Blackwood's [Edinburgh] Magazine) 20

Critical Observations (from the Spirit of the Pilgrims) 28

BOOK I.

The Poem commences from a distant period in the Future 40

A Visitor approaches Heaven 42

The welcome to Heaven 43

The Stranger's response 44

The flight to the world of woe 45

The Undying "Worm 46

Eternal Death 48

A view of the lost, in Hell 48

Visit to an ancient Bard in Heaven 51

The omnipresence of Virtue, a great source of torment to the lost 56

The discourse of Heaven 58

BOOK II.

The Creation of the Earth 63

The Creation of Man 64

Man's virtue, put to a simple test, gives way 65

The wonderful method of Man's Redemption 68

Why the place of torment was built, and who are consigned to it 71

Creatures, before God, destitute of merit 73

The Bible — its divine origin, and fundamental doctrines 73

The Bible — its various reception 77

Various perversions of the Bible 78

Paganism ° J

Apostrophe to Sin 81

Religion debased by Civil Rulers— made subservient to the State 82

Religion debased by a corrupt and ambitious Priesthood. The crime and bad in-
fluence of such °*

Each man responsible for himself, though led astray 86

How multitudes were led to perdition • - • 87

All classes of men active in the pursuits of Time ; negligent in the pursuit of Religion 87

Redemption, the science and the song of Eternity 88

Pride— the guiltiest cause. of human sin and woe. Its evil progeny 89

The infatuation and absurdity of a proud state of heart • • • ^

396 INDEX TO SUBJECTS.

BOOK III.

PAGE

The Bible, the mirror of Truth 95

The conditions of true happiness 96

Tho achievements of Philosophy foil short 97

The Tree of Soilness— its delightful fruit 98

How tho tree of holiness must be approached, and its fruit gathered 99

Men turn away from tbo tree of holiness, and pursue the phantom Hope 99

Wisdom leads some hack to the tree of holiness 101

Few heed the voire of Wisdom, and return from tho chase of Folly ltil

The Gold-hunter 103

The Miser 103

Pleasure : her form, her attractions, her deceptions 104

The haunts of Pleasure 105

The pursuit of earthly Fame 108

Various Eoads, to Fame 110

Tho folly of certain classes 118

The Skeptic's route 114

Tho voice of Wisdom, and the voico of universal nature, disregarded by tho mass

of mankind 110

Over mercy and over judgment men rush on to misery 118

Man"s history, a dark record 120

"Wisdom, as defined by God and men of the world : or godly and worldly wisdom

contrasted 121

The voice of the Bible and of the multitude in regard to wisdom 122

Godly and worldly wisdom, incapable of union 123

Eemorse and Disappointment — the progeny of Sin 125

A passage in the Author's life— Disappointment turned to his own advantage 125

Teachings of the Death-bed 131

Had Earth no joys? 133

BOOK IV.

The lust of Power, under various names 1S7

True Liberty found only in Christian hearts 141

Strange contrasts in the. Christian heart 143

The spiritual battle 144

The outward troubles, and the solace of the Christian 145

The Christian gains the harbor of Eternal Rest 1-15

Christian Virtue, not, without imperfections 146

None enter Heaven in their own virtue or strength 146

The praise oi Redeeming Love 147

The Books of Time, many, but short-lived 14S

The Novel 149

■ i of a serious, substantial character 150

The inscrutable and mysterious providences of God 151

Mysteries of the Christian's faith 153

Mysteries of the Christian's faith vindicated 154

The unequal distribution of worldly possessions— The Lessons which it teaches 157

The goodness Of God in the manner of distributing his gifts 159

Lord Byron .' 159

nee from the life and death of Byron 163

BOOK V.

Art ions done in Time live in Eternity 174

The Joys of Time— those of native growth 171

INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 397

PAGE

Happiness, greatly dependent on ourselves 175

Happiness, not found in external Nature alone 176

Where true happiness is found 177

The Joy of Infancy — the Morn of Life 177

The joy of a mother's tender heart : the joy and beauty of childhood 178

Joys of holy love ISO

The joys of youthful love ISO

The delightful Friendships of Earth 184

The lonely walk, and thoughtful study of Nature 1S6

Enjoyment derived from the exercise of Intellect 1S9

Pleasures of Natural Science 190

Recreation with a friend 191

The face of Nature's scenery 192

The Poet's recollections of the Past 193

Joys of Eepose after labor, and of the play of Fancy 197

Gloomy Dreams— their use 197

Joy springing out of Woe 198

The Widow's Visit to the Grave-yard at noon of night 199

The dying Mother and her Babe 201

Whether the righteous man or sinner shared most largely, and relished best, the

joys of the world 203

The Millennial Age about to be introduced 205

The evil day of kingly and priestly tyranny 206

Popery, and its predicted downfall 203

The happiness of the Millennial Period 214

The Pagan nations becoming Christian 217

BOOK VI.

Course of affairs just after the Millennium 225

The Last Day of the Earth at hand 226

Apostrophe to the Sun and Constellations 227

Nature called upon to weep her approaching ruin 230

The years that followed the Millennial Rest 231

Sloth and Ambition — antagonistic principles of human nature 232

Vanity and Pride — main-springs of action in the world 232

Destructive tendency of Sloth in literary men 234

Unsanctified toil exemplified in the Hero 235

Unprecedented forms and degrees of wickedness 235

Laymen outdone in wickedness by the priests of the period 236

Strange forebodings and signs of the Earth's approaching dissolution 23T

The effect of these prodigies upon the minds of men 239

Upon the ceasing of these prodigies wicked men returned more eagerly to their sins 240

The excitement and preparations in heaven, in anticipation of the end of Time 241

The cup of human wickedness about full 242

The Evening Song of Heaven 243

The various pursuits of Heaven 243

Isaiah's grand Song of Praise, in Heaven, to Jehovah . . .• 247

BOOK VII.

The morning of the final day of earth 256

No sign yet of change in Nature, and no change in human pursuits 25S

The noon of the final day of earth— the terrors that followed 260

The dead raised to life : The living changed 202

The righteous from heaven, the wicked from hell, come to put on their bodies 2G5

The Resurrection 2G5

39S INDEX TO SUBJECTS.

PASS

The Author's tender lament over the decay of Naturo 268

Cities and battle-fields giving up their dead 271

The insurrection of the Christian Missionary 275

Address to the Ocean, called to give up its dead 278

Apostrophe to Death, upon the event of the Kesurrection 2S1

BOOK VIII.

Contrasted aspects of the wicked and of the righteous 2->l

All outward distinctions abolished at the Judgment 289

Moral character then, the only mark of distinction 290

The man of earthly fame 293

The mighty Reascraer 293

The curious Antiquarian 294

The superstitious Eecluse 295

The bigot Theologian 295

Love-destroying, cursed Bigotry — Persecution — The Inquisition 290

Sad day for the Pope and his votaries 297

The indolent who relied on a corrupt priesthood to secure their salvation 29S

The Epicure — his joys terminated 299

The Skeptic and the Tyrant

The ridiculous Devotee of Fashion — male and female 801

The duteous Wife, and happy Husband 803

The Lunatic : one sad example of lunacy 304

The Judge that took a bribe ; and other classes of the dishonest and the false S0G

The groaning Duellist and Suicide 807

The Hypocrite without his mask 803

The Slanderer of virtue— a moral pestilence 810

The false Priest 313

The envious Man 314

The Critics 316

Such woe to come was not believed by the wicked 317

Christian Faith, defined and illustrated 818

BOOK IX.

The faithful Minister 326

The true Philosopher — friend of truth and man 330

The upright Ruler 333

The uncorrupted Statesman 334

The man of enlarged Benevolence and Philanthropy 334

The Christian Bard 23S

Philosophy and Poetry compared 839

The true Bard described 340

The multitude of Christians who have no name on earth 342

The good man forever devoid of fear — the bad man devoid of hope 34 1

Knowledge and Wisdom increased in eternity 345

Much truth, assented to on earth, never till now had made a due impression on the

heart 345

Much prophecy not till then fulfilled 847

The final separation of the righteous and the wicked 34S

The place of the righteous 349

The place of the wicked 350

The place of Satan and his legions. Explanation of their apostasy from God 851

Satan aggravates his guilt by tempting man to sin 352

The success of Satan as a tempter of all classes, accounted for 358

INDEX TO SUBJECTS. 399

PAGE

Satan's agency and designs as a Tempter. Satan awaiting his sentence 355

Sad sights on earth 857

A sadder sight— the Reprobate 359

BOOK X.

The Day of Judgment defined 309

All tribes of intelligent beings gathered to witness the proceedings of the Judgment 871

Jehovah declares to the vast assemblage the occasion of their meeting 873

Jehovah's vindication of the proceedings about to take place 374

The Father requests Messiah to proceed to execute his office as Judge of Mankind. 37S
Messiah ascends his chariot, and with an august procession passes the gate of

Heaven 879

The Judge ascends the great white Throne, and the books are opened 3S0

Sentence pronounced upon the wicked 3S1

Sentence upon the wicked fearfully executed , 3S2

The sin and punishment of the wicked ever increasing and interminable 3S-t

The Earth next sentenced, and destroyed, and rebuilt 385

The Righteous approved and honored. Song of praise to the Redeemer 3S7

Messiah and bis Church enter the .gates of Heaven 338

HiSTOKY OF THE COMPOSITION OF TI1E " COURSE OF TlME" 391

Gkeat Prose Work, supplementary to the "Course of Time," contemplated by
the Author 393

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tion, undertaken ftii , British Museum. ISy \istkn 11.

Lavaiid. M. 1*. Author of Nineveh and its IVukums. l vol. i2iin>.

" Fi>r thou ha^tjtiiiil oi' 11 iy in lie u ;ty a ruin : :. j .1 . ■ <-■ str .n„-.-r6 to bo

n. i i.- 1 1 y j u tf.-iali u v r be built." Isaiah :. 7 > : 2.

Tschudi's Travels in Pent.

On ilio coasl in the' Sierra, aci the Andes Into the

val Forests. By Dr. J. J. Win 'I'sonirui. Tntnslnted from iheGefman
by Tiiomasijja Ross. New Edition, complete in one volume, l-nio.

TSCHUDI'S PERUVIAN ANTIQUITIES.

By Mariano Edward Rivero. Dir or of the National Museiim. Lima;

and ' ling Member pf various Scienti arid

America: and Dr. JoiixJamim Von'Tsohudi, Doctor in Philosophy. Med c ne,
iiinl Surgery, &c. &c. and member of v*ario is Societies of Medicine. Natural
History, Geography, and Ag iculture. Translated into English, from the
% original Spanish, by Francis L. Hawks. I). i>„ LL.l). I vol. l-'mo.

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