Classic and Contemporary Poetry
NIMROD: 2, by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH Poet's Biography First Line: And nimrod looked on babel and beheld Last Line: Being greatly wroth, hated him for his speech. Subject(s): Nimrod (bible) | ||||||||
And Nimrod looked on Babel and beheld How beautiful it was, and how it glowed, A rose of splendor, burning on the plain. And in his heart the king conspired to build Sweeter and lovelier spires, more smiling fanes Than ever yet had been upon the earth And such vast arches as not yet had been, But that with mortal beauty should persuade The immortal angels, wondering, to explore Those beauteous vaults of glimmering marble made, Hollowed of whiteness like the sphered moon, Roofed terribly with arched and blazing wings; Walls like the bosoms of the Cherubim; And milk-white pavements, clear and richly pale Like alabaster, but of starrier stone, Swimming with many a floating sweetness, shed From many a violet-colored robe and green, Or rosy foot, or viol shaped of gold. There should be laughter heard -- angelic guests At pastime with the queen -- and they should play, With plumed wings and innocent grave smiles And silvery footfalls in the chastened groves; And with God's smile upon them, they should speak To men His secret Wisdom from the Book. Oh, it should be like Paradise new made And God himself should walk with them at eve. And it was builded and there moved the Queen. But if the angels in celestial games Down those calm alleys wandering, around The rosy pillars swept their golden plumes, No pale reflection of their dancing feet With starry sweetness pleased the placid stone. But still the polished, pale, white pavement shone Like smoothed water tranced with many a moon, And if they came they tarried there unseen. Then, in the streets of Babel, Nimrod made A feast before the Lord, and Bathsheba Led forth the women; and with shawms blown loud, With trumpet and with cymbal, they declared The greatness of Jehovah; but Nimrod went, And sought the Lord on a high mountain peak, And standing with uplifted arms, he raised, In great and fearful cries, his voice to God. And Nimrod cried aloud, "Lord, I am he That crouched alone in the desert. Among rocks I herded with the wolves. Then did I seek To build unto my people a strong town, With bulwarks of firm rock. Then did I heave My shoulder to the stone. Lord, I have set My citadel upon the plain; and lest My people go astray, I have inscribed Upon my brassy walls bright characters Uttering knowledge. With a thousand tongues My walls proclaim Thee. But that Wisdom, Lord, That burns forever on the midmost page, Of thy great Book the awful hieroglyph -- I have not seen nor spoken. Send from Heaven Thy angel to us and I will learn from him Thy sacred Word; and when upon that feast My spirit has grown wise, lo, I will turn My people's hearts to wisdom and we shall be Beautiful nations bourgeoning the plain, And I and all my sons shall be as kings." And he was silent. But upon the town No voice shook like thunder, and from the sky No angel, sweeping earthward, in mid air, Held up God's burning Word. And he was wroth, And in his sullen heart defied Jehovah. But God sent forth a pale and spectral host Of war horse and of rider. From the steeps And citadels of cloud on the horizon, They mightily plunged upon the embattled plain Encircled round great Babel. Blazing scouts Skirmished the valley; shadowy stallions reared, Driven by vast archangels, whose fierce spears Whirling aloft, they stabbed upon the town. A thousand gusty shapes rushed forth to war. And there were chariots of dust that drove Windily down the plain. Bright meteors lit Upon them screaming. Built among the clouds Were domes and turrets; and blazing with pale lights Acropolis towered above acropolis. Then Nimrod, throned upon his peak, looked down To where the blazing cohorts of the Lord Threatened the town with vengeance; and he rose, Obscured with wrath as is the sun with cloud. And like an engine of dread war he set His shoulder to the mountain side and heaved Its giant bowlders forth till from the cliff With sudden scream, as if some savage chief Would drive his angry cohorts into war, They leaped with sound of grating wheels and plunged Down the precipitous slope at God's encampment. But Nimrod, leaping to the mightiest stone, Then bounding to another as they plunged, With arms outstretched and darkly beetling breast, With angry locks, with great and godlike eye, With furious shouts of battle and laughter huge, And challenges to Heaven, scourged with cries His screaming stallions maned with whistling wind Goaded the vengeance of His flinty wheels That bright with many a whirling fire appeared Bestrid with eyes -- yes -- like the lightning perched Upon the gale, he swept upon God's hosts His monstrous cavalcades. Then, driving down His thousand thundering chariots of stone, Enraged, enraptured, pale, with bow upraised, Great Nimrod shot his arrow at the gods. And lo, the heavenly onslaught flamed away. God's dark encampment lifted from the plain. Then there were rushings heard in the deep air And all the spectral host paled from the sky. Then Nimrod unto Babel cried aloud. "Lo, I have shot in Heaven God's great white horse! With neighings and fearful tramplings he went down! And his affrighted angel drifts pale wings Across his bosom, lest he take from me The anguish of mine arrow in mid air. Am I not Nimrod?" And he cried aloud, "Am I not Nimrod?" Then spoke he to his soul: "Lo, such dark cities smoulder in my brain As light the air with terror. I will achieve A great and mighty town such as not yet Has mortal plotted and no angel dreamed. With my strong ramparts I will storm the sky -- Yes -- cleave it with my turrets. I will lift My fortress straight against God's citadels. And having with my frontage besieged the pale Frontiers of Heavenly air, then will I lift My slow invasion to the immortal plains. And there, defying all His hosts, will drive His bright fleeced whirlwinds; hurricanes with eyes; His golden-bellied lightnings; shaggy thunders; His meteors that dart like screaming birds Among tumultuous forests of black night; All strange unhuman monsters that frequent, Angelic, brutish, the jungles of fierce air; His Silences, that crouch amid the waste To slay who heareth them beneath the stars Awakened out of sleep; His awful Noise, Whose mane is like a thousand lions' deep, And that with fires doth bristle; His Circumstance, His Peradventure, His Go To -- all beasts Furious with dreadful beauty that He keeps To rage with splendor up and down this earth; His Wars that move with such velocity They shine as sweet as simple doves; His Feignings Wherewith he shaketh man; His Abominations That howl at night, and His deep Desolation That seizeth them rejoicing at noon day; His Furies -- Retributions -- that do scream From pinnacles of air and plunging down Snatch up the guilty conscience, so they keep Upon its living flesh perpetual feast; Yes, all His angelic beasts that ravage with wrath The deep invisible air, these will I slay. Hear then! On His own cohorts will I turn, And many a starry breast shall bleed that night And many a snow-white sweet immortal shape That cannot ever die shall writhe and bend, Blown up and down as windy fires would burn. And there shall be great tramplings, whinnyings Of winged steeds astonished. Archangels pale Shall rend their blazing splendors off and wrapped In panic only, seek escape in night, To hide them in the vastness. The Cherubim Shall swell their gorgeous eyes with dread. So then, Having dismayed His host, I will besiege The splendor of His deep acropolis, And thence will drive those inner ones that move In garments sweet of pale serenities; The great, mild-eyed, most docile, loveliest, Whose soft meek bodies sing like great white birds Beneath the golden forest of their deep wings, Whereof the sound is like a noonday gale, That causeth dropping of fruit mild and strange; Whereof the sound is like a silver fountain That springeth in a golden basin; Whose placid bodies are like chastened pillars, Simple transparencies to the Lord, by which A great and arched roof is lifted up, That is the embracing splendor of their pinions; Whose bodies are strong as alabaster, shapen Of pale translucent brightness, limpid stillness, Like shining water wreathed with many a star. Oh, as a star deep sunken under water, Their bodies are sleeked like ivory set in amber. Large, peaceful, bounteous, their dreamy bodies are. These, hastening them along their happy halls Reared of supreme delight, through corridors With music paven, till their ruffled wings Ache with my violence, I will drive forth Over the high roads of high noon to where My earthly citadel shines on the plain. So leading in before my people's eyes My triumph unbelievable -- all these Shall pass, meek-looted, wondering, before Her That is my Love, my Queen -- and they shall go Into her chambers and with chastened touch Shall lay their hands upon my brazen walls And marvel at them, and shall turn mild eyes Of deep astonishment when they behold Our human beauty, how the pride of man Has waxed like cedars where the stars of God Walk forth for pleasure and His wind lies down. And I will drive them, if I will, as slaves To build me huger temples, more awful fanes, A terrible citadel from which to heave My flaming battle axe at God's own breast! Then will I plunge into His secret place And snatch from out His page that Hieroglyph. So will I scourge to labors beyond thought The bare immortal sweetness of their shapes, Beating with whips their pale astonished wings, Or if it please me, I will comfort them -- Feed them with mortal fruit and with my hand Smooth to obedience their trembling plumes, Till their discordant feathers sweetly sing. Then when among themselves they speak and cry, And say to one another, 'Brothers, behold! Who is this man that has so driven us From our dear placid courts! that with his thought Can scourge us till we cry or run to do The whispered bidding of his sleep! whose wish, Being raised against us, fearfully doth blind With terror all the century seeing eyes That live among our wings; but, being inclined Can soothe our grief! Brothers, who is this man That hath defeated God and mastered us, His great soft snow-white children?' -- Then indeed Shall I to my great chamber lead them in, Hollowed of splendor, like the sphered moon, Roofed over as with fierce and blood-red wings. Here, in this chamber, on a polished stone As evidence that man shall pass away But he whose name endureth on that stone Shall be remembered; from its surface springing Two brazen wings of aspect terrible, Spreading their steadfast breadth as if to lift The name inscribed thereon to Heaven; shall flame A monstrous syllable, a symbol strange, To be a sign and evidence of him Who built great Babel in the empty plain, The corner-stone and column of its greatness, Its roof, its strong foundation, and its wall, Its rose in a deep garden, its sweet water That is a wellspring in the rock; Lo, now, I will go in and write thereon my name, That my enslaved great powers shall see and cry, ' Behold the man that snatched God's Word from Heaven, Great Nimrod! And he built upon the plain A mightier city; and he raised on high Sheer peaks of bronze and armaments of domes That bright with sullen splendor spread their shields Against God's anger. But the eternal sky Preserved its shape in silence and the sun With all its hosts of light sped on its way, Bright, unappeasable. And God came down, Invisible, in radiance panoplied, And spoke with Nimrod. But Nimrod, in his heart, Being greatly wroth, hated Him for His speech. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIMROD: 1 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NIMROD: 3 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NIMROD: 4 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NIMROD: 5 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NIMROD: 6 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH NIMROD: 7 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE PRIDE OF NIMROD by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 2. HER HANDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 3. HER WORDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE MONK IN THE KITCHEN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |
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