XXIII. There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show, From the fiends' leader to the angels' prince. There also are some altar-pieces, though While thus they spake, the angelic caravan, Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde, Or Thames, or Tweed), and midst the m an old man XXIV. But bringing up the rear of this bright host, paved; His brow was like the deep when tempest-toss'd; And where he gazed, a gloom pervaded space. As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate As made St. Peter wish himself within: XXVI. The very cherubs huddled all together, A tingling to the tip of every feather, And form'd a circle like Orion's belt Around their poor old charge; who scarce knew whither His guards had led him, though they gently dealt With royal manes (for by many stories, And true, we learn the angels all are Tories). XXVII, As things were in this posture, the gate flew Of many-colour'd flame, until its tinges O'er the North Pole; the same seen, when icebound, By Captain Parry's crew, in Melville's Sound.' XXVIII. And from the gate thrown open issued beaming A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light, Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight: My poor comparisons must needs be teeming With earthly likenesses; for here the night Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving. XXIX. Twas the archangel Michael: all men know The make of angels and archangels, since I really can't say that they much evince One's inner notions of immortal spirits; But let the connoisseurs explain their merits. XXX. Michael flew forth in glory and in good. A goodly work of Him from whom all glory And good arise; the portal pass'd-he stood; Before him the young cherubs and saints hoary(I say young, begging to be understood By looks, not years, and should be very sorry To state, they were not older than St. Peter, But merely that they scem'd a little sweeter). XXXI. The cherubs and the saints bow'd down before That archangelic hierarch, the first Of essences angelical, who wore The aspect of a god: but this ne'er nursed Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst Intrude, however glorified and high; He knew him but the viceroy of the sky. XXXII. He and the sombre silent Spirit met They knew each other both for good and ill; Such was their power, that neither could forget His former friend and future foe; but still There was a high, immortal, proud regret In either's eye, as if 'twere less their will Than destiny to make the eternal years Their date of war, and their champ clos the spheres. XXXIII. But here they were in neutral space: we know From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay A heavenly visit thrice a year or so; And that 'the sons of God,' like those of clay, Must keep him company; and we might show From the same book, in how polite a way The dialogue is held between the powers Of Good and Evil-but 'twould take up hours. XXXIV. And this is not a theologic tract, To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic, If Job be allegory or a fact, But a true narrative; and thus I pick From out the whole but such and such an act, As sets aside the slightest thought of trick. 'Tis every tittle true, beyond suspicion, And accurate as any other vision. XLVII. The New World shook him off: the Old yet groans Beneath what he and his prepared, if not Completed: he leaves heirs on many thrones To all his vices, without what begot Compassion for him-his tame virtues; drones Who sleep, or despots who have now forgot A lesson which shall be retaught them, wake Upon the thrones of earth; but let them quake! XLVIII. 'Five millions of the primitive, who hold The faith which makes ye great on earth, implored A part of that vast all they held of old Freedom to worship-not alone your Lord, Michael, but you, and you, Saint Peter! Cold Must be your souls, if you have not abhorr'd The foe to Catholic participation In all the licence of a Christian nation. XLIX. True! he allowed them to pray God: but as A consequence of prayer, refused the law Which would have placed them upon the same base With those who did not hold the saints in awe.' But here Saint Peter started from his place, And cried, You may the prisoner withdraw; Ere heaven shall ope her portals to this Guelph, While I am guard, may I be damn'd myself! L. 'Sooner will I with Cerberus exchange My office (and his is no sinecure), Than see this royal Bedlam bigot range The azure fields of heaven, of that be suré l' 'Saint!' replied Satan, you do well to avenge The wrongs he made your satellites endure And if to this exchange you should be given, I'll try to coax our Cerberus up to heaven.' LI. Here Michael interposed: 'Good saint! and devil! Pray, not so fast; you both outrun discretion. Saint Peter! you were wont to be more civil: Satan! excuse this warmth of his expression, And condescension to the vulgar's level: Even saints sometimes forget themselves in session. Have you not more to say?—No,'-' If you please, I'll trouble you to call your witnesses.' LII. Then Satan turn'd and waved his swarthy hand, Roman Catholics. They are proud of this, as very well they may, Up the back stairs, or such freemasonry. When the great signal ran from heaven to hell- The fogs of London, through which, dimly beacon'd, The weathercocks are gilt some thrice a year, LVI. I say that I can tell-twas half a minute: LVII. Upon the verge of space, about the size LVIII. But take your choice); and then it grew a cloud; And so it was-a cloud of witnesses. But such a cloud! No land ere saw a crowd Of locusts numerous as the heavens saw these: They shadow'd with their myfiads space; their loud And varied cries were like those of wild geese (If nations may be liken d to a goose), And realized the phrase of 'hell broke loose.' LIX. Here crash'd a sturdy oath of stout John Bull, Who dainn'd away his eyes as heretofore: There Paddy brogued By Jasus !'-'What's your! wull ? The temperate Scot exclaim'd: the French ghost swore In certain terms I shan't translate in full, As the first coachman will; and 'midst the war, The voice of Jonathan was heard to express, Our President is going to war, I guess.' LX. Besides, there were the Spaniard, Dutch, and Dane; Of all climes and professions, years and trades, LXI. When Michael saw this host, he first grew pale, Or sunset streaming through a Gothic skylight In some old abbey, or a trout not stale, Or distant lightning on the horizon by night, Or a fresh rainbow, or a grand review Of thirty regiments in red, green, and blue. LXII. Then he address'd himself to Satan: Why, I ne'er mistake you for a personal foe: Trust that, whatever may occur below, LXIII. 'Why, my dear Lucifer, would you abuse My call for witnesses? I did not mean That you should half of earth and hell produce; 'Tis even superfluous, since two honest, clean, True testimonies are enough: we lose Our time, nay, our eternity, between The accusation and defence: if we I.XIV. Satan replied, 'To me the matter is Indifferent, in a personal point of view: I can have fifty better souls than this With far less trouble than we have gone through Already; and I merely argued his Late Majesty of Britain's case with you Upon a point of form: you may dispose Of him; I've kings enough below, God knows!' LXV. Thus spoke the Demon (late call'd 'multifaced' The rest,' quoth Michael: 'Who may be so graced As to speak first? there 's choice enough-who shall It be? Then Satan answer'd, 'There are many; But you may choose Jack Wilkes as well as any.' LXVI. A merry, cock-eyed, curious-looking sprite LXVII. The spirit look'd around upon the crowds So let's to business: why this general call? And 'tis for an election that they bawl, Behold a candidate with unturn'd coat! Saint Peter, may I count upon your vote?" LXVIII. 'Sir,' replied Michael, 'you mistake; these things LXIX. 'He is what you behold him, and his doom To lift itself against the loftiest.'-'Some, Said Wilkes, don't wait to see them laid in lead For such a liberty; and I, for one, Have told them what I thought beneath the sun.' LXX. Above the sun repeat, then, what thou hast To urge against him,' said the Archangel. 'Why,' With all his Lords and Commons: in the sky LXXI. 'Foolish, no doubt, and wicked, to oppress George III.'s Ministers. |