ASIA'S rock-hollowed Fanes, first-born of Time, In sculpture's prime, Wrought by the ceaseless toil of many a race, Whom none may trace, Have crumbled back to wastes of ragged stone, And formless caverns, desolate and lone; -- Egypt's stern Temples, whose colossal mound, Sphinx-guarded, frowned From brows of Granite challenges to Fate, And human hate, Are giant ruins in a desert land, Or sunk to sculptured quarries in the sand. The marble miracles of Greece and Rome, Temple and Dome, Art's masterpieces, awful in the excess Of loveliness, Hallowed by statued Gods which might be thought To be themselves by the Celestials wrought, -- Where are they now? -- their majesty august Grovels in dust. Time on their altars prone their ruins flings As offerings, Forming a lair whence ominous bird and brute Their wailful @3Misereres@1 howl and hoot. Down from its height the Druid's sacred stone In sport is thrown, And many a Christian Fane have change and hate Made desolate, Prostrating saint, apostle, statue, bust, With Pagan deities to mingle dust. On these dear sepulchres of buried days How sad to gaze! Yet, since their substances were perishable, And hands unstable Upreared their piles, no wonder that decay Both man and monument should sweep away. Ah me! how much more saddened is my mood, How heart-subdued, The ruins and the wrecks when I behold By time unrolled, Of all the Faiths that man has ever known, World-worshipped once -- now spurned and overthrown! Religions -- from the soul deriving breath, Should know no death; Yet do they perish, mingling their remains With fallen fanes; Creeds, canons, dogmas, councils, are the wrecked And mouldering Masonry of intellect. -- Apis, Osiris, paramount of yore On Egypt's shore, Woden and Thor, through the wide North adored, With blood outpoured; Jove, and the multiform Divinities, To whom the Pagan nations bowed their knees -- Lo! they are cast aside, dethroned, forlorn, Defaced, out-worn, Like the world's childish dolls, which but insult Its age adult, Or prostrate scarecrows, on whose rags we tread, With scorn proportioned to our former dread. Alas for human reason! all is change Ceaseless and strange; All ages form new systems, leaving heirs To cancel theirs: The future can but imitate the past, And instability alone will last. -- Is there no compass left, by which to steer This erring sphere? No tie that may indissolubly bind To God, mankind? No code that may defy time's sharpest tooth? No fixed, immutable, unerring truth? There is! there is! -- one primitive and sure Religion pure, Unchanged in spirit, though its forms and codes Wear myriad modes, Contains all creeds within its mighty span -- THE LOVE OF GOD, DISPLAYED IN LOVE OF MAN. -- This is the Christian's faith, when rightly read; -- Oh! may it spread Till Earth, redeemed from every hateful leaven, Makes peace with heaven: Below -- one blessed brotherhood of love; One Father -- worshipped with one voice -- above! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DESERT FLOWERS by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS TOM DEADLIGHT by HERMAN MELVILLE THE QUAKER WIDOW by BAYARD TAYLOR SONG OF THE ENGINE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE RECRUITING SERGEANT; A MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT: AIR by ISAAC BICKERSTAFFE A MEMORY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE REINCARNATION by J. R. I. BROOKE |