by William Mason.
Originally published in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine (William Blackwood) vol.21 #122 (Feb 1827).
I thought upon the horrid shapes that inhabited the sea,
And what those deadly monsters are that in its caverns be;
And then I thought a second time, upon the sons of men,
That to these caverns have repair'd, and will repair again;
I thought where the infant had laid down with the Leviathan,
Or in the dead skull of a whale was rock'd and sail'd upon;
And how the treacherous polypi, when they hear the watery breath
Of woman, man, or child, stretch forth their spreading arms beneath,
And in their watery bosom clasp the victims of their prey,
Till on their soft and spongy breast the nurslings rot away;
The father and his favourite son, together side by side,
Defile each other's sea-weed bed, the bridegroom and the bride;
Their sea-green curtain-pall does rot, and has a boney wave,
As summer's grass green robe decays, and rustles on her grave;
I thought and dream't upon all things that horrid in nature be,
Till at last I thought I had got insight into the mysteries of the sea;
And then I thought a storm arose, and then again 'twas clear,
That I could see as plainly through, as an eye-ball through a tear;
Things crowded on my fettered sight, at the first glance of my eye,
I thought it was the reflected clouds that were riding in the sky;
But when I look'd again, who could mistake the birth,
'Twas so unlike all other sights that I had seen on earth:
I saw a mighty skeleton, a form of other days,
'Twas green, as though encompassed with Ocean's laurel bays.
It kneel'd upon a moss-green rock, its feet were in the sand,
Like figure of a Monk at prayer upon a rocky strand,
When by his grass-grown hermitage he takes his kneeling stand;
Its eye-holes held two emeralds bright, and had an upward stare,
As though the eye-ball's latest flash had vanished in prayer.
It seem'd as though his sinking breath, and the sullen water's gust,
Had not prevail'd to drown his soul or blast his heavenly trust;
I could not think but that it was some spirit of the just
Made perfect, who, upon a cloud, as on pedestal a bust,
Was kneeling, and, in azure robes, ascending up on high
To our Father and to his, and that 'twas watery sky
Which now I saw, for sure the deep would reflect such a sight,
When a breeze and a sunbeam walked on the sea, and dispersed the illusion quite.
And then the scene was changed, when I turn'd again and saw
A sight that would have struck the boldest seer with awe—
It was a vessel that had sunk with all her naval crowds,
While some were clinging round the masts, and some were in the shrouds;
And to their posture still they held as when they were alive,
For death can't rend the cling to life when they together strive;
'Tis like the cling of a helpless child to its fond father's arm;
Or the fixed grasp, and clenched fist, disease's worst alarm;
Like the fixed eye of the dying man, and the unchanging face of death,
Is the firm-fixed grasp of the mariner when holding in his breath;
'Tis like the hanging of a child around its mother's vest,
When disease and death are struggling for't, and fighting on her breast.
And the beastly serpents of the sea crept up into the ship,
And twined them fast around the men, just like a scorpion-whip;
And some crept down their open mouths, and some eat out their eyes,
And mangled them until they looked just like anatomies.
Together on the bodies then did they mat and twist about,
Which seem'd as though with coats of mail they had been clad throughout;
When presently they all fell off like scales of the leprosy,
And left the white naked skeletons most horrible to see.
And, oh, it was a horrid sight to see those monsters creep
And crawl upon the watery deck, disgorging in the deep;
Yet pleasant 'twas to think, mid this carnage dire and black,
That what had been devoured to-day must one day be given back.
I look'd me at this horrid sight till I was faint to view,
When the figure of a rotting man before my vision grew;
He was impaled and lifted upon the remnants of his wreck,
And his flesh it hung in shreds and flakes to his feet down from his neck;
As with the tatter'd robe of death he had been clothed upon,
And bit by bit it dropp'd away, and melted and was gone,
And thicken'd and troubled the waters so, that I could see no more,
Like the dirty flakes of snow that fall when the wind blows from the shore,
Then next I saw two skeletons, with a white stone in their hand,
And they look'd as white as the righteous ones that shall hereafter stand
On a sea of glass, when the firmament from the roaring waves shall flee,
And the righteous Judge shall proclaim aloud—"There shall be no more sea!"
They seem'd as though when in the flesh, and now as well in bone,
They were waiting for those latter days when life and death are one;
And while I stood and gazed, it seem'd that the Spirit of the Lord
Upon the face of the waters moved, for suddenly a word
In thunder burst upon mine ears, and the ocean it stood still,
As if to hearken to the voice of its Creator's will;
And the flowing tides shrunk back with fear into the bosom of the deep,
And heaved and panted in her arms into a fearful sleep.
Cold frothy drops of sweat and foam hung from their trembling breast,
As hangs the foam and the chilly sweat on the frighted courser's chest.
Then was there heard a voice, which said, "Come forth, all ye that bide
Within the chambers of the deep, come forth to meet the Bride."
And Ocean groaned in her bed, and was in travail sore,
For that she must be deliver'd now of the charges she had bore.
And then the waves were roll'd away and gather'd in a heap;
And I saw the mouldering forms of nations all asleep.
But soon a rustling boney noise pass'd on my ear, and when
I turned, I saw an angel breathe upon these shapes of men.
And, lo, they were renew'd afresh, in spirit, flesh, and strength;
And all were crowding round about, from the sea's remotest length:
And some were calling to the depths to swallow them again;
But not a hole did ope its mouth, and silent was the main.
And some did call upon the clouds to hide them from the eye
Of Him that sitteth in the skies, but they passed heedless by.
And some did call unto the rocks, and all the mountains round,
To fall upon them, but they all returned back the sound.
And some, I thought, while yet they spake, were carried up on high,
And then, I thought, the sea and earth were roll'd up in the sky.
How long this vision had remain'd upon my wilder'd mind
I know not, but just at this time some leaves moved by the wind
Came up and woke me; and again, I could not help but think,
They were the fittest emblems of those scenes which Time shall sink
In the Ocean of Eternity, when He who gave them birth,
Shall set his right foot on the sea, and his left foot on the earth,
And dry the fountains of the deep, and crash them like a leaf,
And shake the pillars of the earth, as the wind would move a sheaf.
Then may we know that the end is come, and that Nature's death is near,
As we hear. the approach of Winter's step, in Autumn's leaves so sere.
* * * * * *
Again the balmy breath of sleep upon my spirit passed,
My thoughts were in the land of dreams, as fearful as the last.
I thought I gazed on the mighty sun, descending in the west,
To cool his hot and burning face, in the soothing ocean's breast;
He sunk beneath horizon's bar, but on the crimson clouds
I saw a band of glorious ones, arrayed in glistening shrouds.
Muffled in garments long and white,—and seated on a throne,
With crown of stars upon his brow, I saw a mighty One;
A thigh-bone sceptre in his hand, a boney foot beneath,
The scythe and hour-glass at his side, told that his name was Death.
He pass'd upon the land, and the cries of woe arose,
And nations fell like wither'd leaves, and on the spectre goes;
Until all fell before him, and then he sat him down
Upon his throne of dead men's bones, and assumed his starry crown.
And Death had conquered all; then sung the shrouded forms,
A song as wild as the howling wind, when it drives the midnight storms;
And o'er the silent wilderness the strains unearthly ring,
Proclaiming all the world destroy'd, and Death, dread Death, the King.
And lo a cry of fear and dread, and the spectre band have gone,
And he, the conqueror and king, now trembled on his throne;
A glorious light shone from the east, the clouds afar were driven,
"A watcher and a holy one were flying down from heaven!"
"Watchman, what of the night?" the glorious spirit cried.
The watcher stood upon the earth, and look'd afar and wide;
Naught do I hear, the watcher cried, save fearful sighs and groans,
Naught do I see in this sad land, save graves and dead men's bones;
But there is one in the distant west, of whom we heard them sing,
Saying the world hath pass'd away, and Death, dread Death, the king.
The Holy One is flitted by, like a shadow o'er the land,
A crown of glory on his head, and a red cross in his hand;
And on a shadowy steed, pale as the moon's wan ray,
Reft of his sceptre and his crown, dread Death is pass'd away.
I look'd into the distant sky, for a glorious radiance shone,
And I saw seven lamps of fire, that burn before the throne,
And he that sat upon the throne was crown'd with a thorny wreath,
And the glorious hierarchy sung, "Jesus hath conquer'd Death!"
He comes with healing in his wings;—to the great and bounteous Giver,
Be honour, glory, praise, and power, for ever and for ever!
* * * * * *
My dream hath pass'd like the dusky clouds, that usher in the day,
But oblivion's waters cannot wash its memory away.