And have I not already said That these things are, that they are quick with life,-- Such life as disembodied spirits have,-- That they are deathless? Thou need'st not inquire Of me whence they are come, for thou hast seen One of their number on its journey hither. The period may not be far remote When thine own planet, starting from its sphere, Shall fright the dwellers of the stars that skirt Its destined pathway to these silent realms!
Thou'st seen the comet rushing through the sky, And, gazing on the glowing track which it Had branded on the azure breast of space, Thinking thy words were wisdom, thou hast said, "When its full term of years has been fulfilled, It shall return again." Not knowing that The light thou sawest was reflected from That sacred fire, which, in the end, shall purge The spirit essence which pervades creation, From the dull dust with which a wayward fate Has clogged its being! Question me no more-- Remember what I said--I dare not tell The secrets of Eternity. Look on And learn whate'er thou canst.
Werner.
There is one thing which I at last have learned,-- To feel that with the increase of our knowledge Our sorrows must increase. I oft have heard, But never before have felt the truth of this. To know that were it not for this clay mask, I even now might pierce the shadowy veil That wraps in mystery the things I see, And comprehend their secret principle, Will make life doubly hard to bear, and tempt Me much to shake it prematurely off, And snatch wings for my spirit ere its time. A total ignorance were better than The flash which from its slumber wakes the mind, And then, departing, leaves it to itself, In the wide maze of error, darkly groping. Wisdom is not the medicine to heal A discontented mind. I now know more Than when I left the earth, but feel that I Have bought my knowledge with increase of sorrow.
Spirit.
Did I not tell thee that its path were steep, And hard to climb, and thick beset with thorns,-- And that its tempting, longed-for fruit, tho' bought With a great price, is full of bitterness? If though art satisfied, let us retrace Our way to earth again; wert thou to go Yet farther on, thou might'st regret the more Our coming hither.
Werner.
What! is there aught still more remote than these From the great centre of the universe,-- The fair domain of life and living things?
Spirit.
There is,-- A kingdom tenanted with such dark shapes, That angelsshudder when they look on them! Thou surely dost not wish to visit it.
Werner.
Why not? There is within my mind a void Whose vacant weight is harder to be borne Than the keen stingings of more active pangs; When it has traced the mystic chain of being To its last link, it may perchance shake off The misery of restless discontent,-- Its fulness then may sink it into rest.
Spirit.
I have no power to disobey thy word; If thou wilt on, I must proceed with thee, Even though in looking on I share the pangs Of those who suffer.
Werner.
Come, then, I too must see them, tho' it cost Me years of pain to gaze but for a moment.
Spirit.
'Twere harder now to find Eve's' buried dust, Than to declare who has inherited The largest portion of her prying spirit.
(Sings.)
Where Pain keepeth vigil With Sorrow and Care, And Horror sits watching By dull-eyed Despair,-- Where the Spirit accurst Maketh moan in its wo, Thy wishes direct us, And thither we go.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
Scene I. Near the place of the damned. Enter Werner and Spirit. Werner.
What piercing, stunning sounds assail my ear! Wild shrieks and wrathful curses, groans and prayers, A chaos of all cries! making the space Through which they penetrate to flutter like The heart of a trapped hare,-- are revelling round us. Unlike the gloomy realm we just have quitted, Silent and solemn, all is restless here, All wears the ashy hue of agony. Above us bends a black and starless vault, Which ever echoes back thefearful voices That rise from the abodes of wo beneath. Around us grim- browed desolation broods, While, far below, a sea of pale gray clouds, Like to an ocean tempest beaten, boils. Whither shall we direct our journey now?
Spirit.
Right down through yon abyss of boiling clouds, If though hast courage to attempt the plunge, Our pathless way must be. A moment more And we shall stand where angels seldom stand, And devils almost pity when they stand,-- Behold!
Werner.
Eternal God! Whose being, is of love, whose band is pow'r, Whose breath is life, whose noblest attribute,-- The one most worthy of thyself~- is mercy! Were these of thine immortal will conceived? Has thy hand shaped them out the forms they wear? Has thy breath made them quick with, breathing life? And is thy mercy to their wailings deaf? Poor creatures! I bad deemed that in my breast Grief had congealed the hidden fount of tears, But ye have drawn them from their frozen source And I do weep for you!
Spirit.
What moves thee thus? I thought thy heart so steeled in hardihood Of universal hate, and pride, and scorn, That even were the woes, which thou dost here Behold endured by others, heaped on thee, Thy haughty soul unmoved would feel them all; Accounting its development of strength To bear the worst decrees of ruthless fate, Sufficient recompense!
Werner.
Misdeem me not, If I have wept involuntary tears O'er pangs beyond my pow'r to mitigate, Believe me, 'twas in pity, not in fear. But tell me, Spirit! is all hope extinct In those who here sojourn, or do they look Yet forward to some blest millennial day, Which shall redeem them from this horrid place.
Spirit.
Best ask your theologians that question. Some say that there are places purgatorial, Where Error pays the price of her transgressions In sufferingsthat efface the effects of sin. And other some declare that when the soul And clay are parted, heaven seals the doom Of both, beyond repeal. Let thy own mind Sit arbiter 'twixt these, and choose the truth. Mark what approaches us, and mark it well.
Werner.
