The Penitent

Sorrowful, weak, dejected, and in fear, Most Merciful, I fall before thy throne! The world through wickedness is dark and drear, Peace and content are found in Heaven alone.

A retrospect of sin behind me lies, A peccant youth all spent at Belial’s shrine! The meek Judæan beckoned from the skies; I heeded not, seduced by powers malign.

The scales are fallen from my darkened sight, A potent euphrasy is poured therein; I look around with terror and affright, Behold the world is vanity and sin!

With labor infinite, the race of men Their ruined mansion struggle to restore; By their own might they think to make again The Earth a happy Eden as of yore.

This task no mortal skill can execute, All Archimedean subtleties are vain; Invention, sciences, and minds astute, Are baulked, like those of old on Shinar’s plain.

Though unto us the elements become Obsequious helots to our wills subdued; Though, Ariel-like, the glittering lightning run, To do our errands over land and flood;

All is in vain—a doom—a deadly blight Is on us, and our space-embosomed home; Our fallen natures can be made upright By meek contrition and by faith alone.

Ocean, thou art disenchanted! And the mariner no more Anchors under islands haunted, Off a silver-sanded shore;

Where he sees some Fairy’s palace Glitter through the boscage green; Hears the glancing of her shuttle, And the wizard chant between.

Once the galley steering westward, Toward the throne of Saturn sailed, Toward the Islands of the Happy, Where the summer never failed;

Where along the beach elysian, Heroes born in better days Wandered, fanned by winds eternal, Blowing inland from the bays.

Ocean, thou art disenchanted! And the mariner no more Sees the sunken city glimmer, Leagues away from any shore.

Where are Helice and Buris? Leaning o’er the galley’s side, Once the voyager saw them waver With the motions of the tide.

Argosies condemned to wander Havenless from clime to clime, With ensanguined ingots laden,— All have faded from the brine!

And the Triton’s shell no longer Over yesty waves is blown; And Poseidon’s burnished axle Drifts a wreck upon the foam.

These are gone—but still thy surges Kiss and girdle isles of balm, Clasping beaches beryl-paven, Latitudes of endless calm!