Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
The Demon-Lover
By James Abraham Hillhouse (1789–1841)The terraced roof of A
T
Unknown to Moses.
H
I’ve been a traveller in various climes;
Trod Ethiopia’s scorching sands, and scaled
The snow-clad mountains; trusted to the deep;
Traversed the fragrant islands of the sea,
And with the Wise conversed of many nations.
T
H
The greatest, wisest, and most wonderful,
Is that dread sage, the Ancient of the Mountain.
T
H
Are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
Beam with the wisdom of collected ages.
In green, unbroken years, he sees, ’tis said,
The generations pass, like autumn fruits,
Garnered, consumed, and springing fresh to life,
Again to perish, while he views the sun,
The seasons roll, in rapt serenity,
And high communion with celestial powers.
Some say ’tis Shem, our father, some say Enoch,
And some Melchizedek.
T
Like this, but ne’er believed it.
H
Through perils dire, dangers most imminent,
Seven days and nights ’midst rocks and wildernesses,
And boreal snows, and never-thawing ice,
Where not a bird, a beast, a living thing,
Save the far-soaring vulture comes, I dared
My desperate way, resolved to know, or perish.
T
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Of stormy Caucasus, there blooms a spot
On which perpetual sunbeams play, where flowers
And verdure never die; and there he dwells.
T
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Such awful majesty: his reverend locks
Hung like a silver mantle to his feet,
His raiment glistered saintly white, his brow
Rose like the gate of Paradise, his mouth
Was musical as its bright guardians’ songs.
T
From lips so hallowed?
H
The Tetragrammaton,—the powerful Name
Inscribed on Moses’ rod, by which he wrought
Unheard of wonders, which constrains the Heavens
To part with blessings, shakes the earth, and rules
The strongest Spirits; or if God hath given
A delegated power, I cannot tell.
But ’twas from him I learned their fate, their fall,
Who, erewhile, wore resplendent crowns in Heaven;
Now, scattered through the earth, the air, the sea.
Them he compels to answer, and from them
Has drawn what Moses, nor no mortal ear,
Has ever heard.
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For with a dreadful oath he sealed my lips.
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So much, if I must hear no more?
H
Explain my words, almost reproached me, sweet,
For what by accident escaped me.
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A little—something tell me,—sure, not all
Were words inhibited.
H
Never to utter of this conference
A breath to mortal.
T
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With all the marvels he related.
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I’m breathless.—Tell me how they sinned, how fell.
H
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Drew such dire punishment?
H
As the All-Perfect.
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Peculiar to his Maker!——awful crime!
But what their doom? their place of punishment?
H
Their habitations various as their minds,
Employments, and desires.
T
In penal chains and darkness?
H
And so your holy books infer. What saith
Your Prophet? what the Prince of Uz?
T
Lest some dark Minister be near us now.
H
Robbed of some native splendor, and cast down,
’Tis true, from Heaven; but not deformed, and foul,
Revengeful, malice-working Fiends, as fools
Suppose. They dwell, like Princes, in the clouds;
Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;
Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,
With stones inestimable studded so,
That sun or stars were useless there.
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H
Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken,
Naked, and wild, as if creation’s ruins
Were heaped in one immeasurable chain
Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms
Of everlasting winter. But within
Are glorious palaces, and domes of light,
Irradiate halls, and crystal colonnades,
Blazing with lustre past the noontide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
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And wander; Beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky;
Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.
So in the sparry chambers of the Sea
And Air-Pavilions, upper Tabernacles,
They study Nature’s secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.
T
And powerful far beyond the human race?
H
The Sage described them, fiery eloquence
Broke from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes
Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme,
Like one who feels a deity within.
T
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But oft with woman.
T
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Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft,
And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves.
They have been known to love her with a passion
Stronger than human.
T
You yet have told me.
H
And Moses, darkly.
T
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By beatific dreams, or more distinct
And glorious apparition.—They have stooped
To animate a human form, and love
Like mortals.
T
Frightful! who could endure the horrid thought?
H
So glorious, if he haply deigned?—
T
My Maker! love a Demon!
H
My thoughts but wandered—Oft, alas! they wander.
T
Thine eyes are fixed again upon Arcturus.
Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star. Hath it the power
To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?——[He appears lost in thought.]
Tell me,—ascrib’st thou influence to the stars?
H
T
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Woman! The stars are living, glorious,
Amazing, infinite!——
T
I know them numberless, resplendent, set
As symbols of the countless, countless years
That make eternity.
H
O, had ye proved—like those Great Sufferers,—
Shot, once for all, the gulf,—felt myriad ages
Only the prelude,—could ye scan the void
With eyes as searching as its torments,——
Then—then—mightst thou pronounce it feelingly!
T
H
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’Tis late. I cannot, must not linger.—[Breaks from him, and exit.]
H
In the illimitable space, in what
Profound of untried misery, when all
His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill
With life and beauty yonder infinite,
Their radiant journey run, forever set,
Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning?[Exit.]