ROBERT POLLOK was born in the parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, in 1799. His father was a farmer. He was educated at Glasgow University, studied five years in the Divinity Hall of the secession church, and in 1827 was licensed to preach. Meanwhile he had been writing "The Course of Time," and had confined himself so closely to the task as to ruin his health, writing sometimes a thousand lines
a week. The poem was published in Edinburgh in 1827, and in August of that year he set out for Italy, but died on the way, near Southampton, September 17th. Pollok published also, anonymously, two prose stories. His memoir, by his brother, was published in 1843. "The Course of Time" has enjoyed a wide popularity, which is now rapidly decreasing everywhere, except perhaps in Scotland.
ETERNAL SPIRIT! God of truth! to whom All things seem as they are: Thou who of old The prophet's eye unscaled, that nightly saw, While heavy sleep fell down on other men, In holy vision tranced, the future pass Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned Burdens which made the pagan mountains shake And Zion's cedars bow-inspire my song; My eye unscale; me what is substance teach, And shadow what, while I of things to come, As past, rehearsing, sing the Course of Time, The second birth, and final doom of man.
The muse, that soft and sickly wooes the ear Of love, or chanting loud in windy rhyme Of fabled hero, raves through gaudy tale Not overfraught with sense, I ask not; such A strain befits not argument so high. Me thought, and phrase, severely sifting out The whole idea, grant-uttering as 'tis The essential truth-Time gone, the righteous saved,
The wicked damned, and Providence approved.
Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure As those by sainted bards and angels sung, Which wake the echoes of eternityThat fools may hear and tremble, and the wise Instructed listen, of ages yet to come.
Long was the day, so long expected, past Of the eternal doom, that gave to each Of all the human race his due reward. The sun-earth's sun, and moon, and stars, had ceased
To number seasons, days, and months, and years
To mortal man: hope was forgotten, and fear;
And Time, with all its chance and change, and
smiles,
And frequent tears, and deeds of villany,
Or righteousness-once talked of much, as things
Of great renown, was now but ill remembered;
In dim and shadowy vision of the past,
Seen far remote, as country, which has left
The traveller's speedy step, retiring back
From morn till even; and long Eternity
Had rolled his mighty years, and with his years
Men had grown old; the saints all home returned
From pilgrimage, and war, and weeping, long
Had rested in the bowers of peace, that skirt
The stream of life; and long-alas, how long!—
To them it seemed; the wicked who refused
To be redeemed, had wandered in the dark
Of hell's despair, and drunk the burning cup
Their sins had filled with everlasting woe.
Thus far the years had rolled, which none but
God
Doth number, when two sons, two youthful song
Of Paradise, in conversation sweet,
(For thus the heavenly muse instructs me, wooed
At midnight hour with offering sincere
Of all the heart, poured out in holy prayer,)
High on the hills of immortality,
Whence goodliest prospect looks beyond the walls
Of heaven, walked, casting oft their eye far thro'
The pure serene, observant, if returned
From errand duly finished, any came,
Or any, first in virtue now complete,
From other worlds arrived, confirmed in good.
Thus viewing, one they saw, on hasty wing
Directing toward heaven his course; and
now,
His flight ascending near the battlements
And lofty hills on which they walked, approached.
For round and round, in spacious circuit wide,
Mountains of tallest stature circumscribe
The plains of Paradise, whose tops, arrayed
In uncreated radiance, seem so pure,
That naught but angel's foot, or saint's, elect
Of God, may venture there to walk; here oft
The sons of bliss take morn or evening pastime,
Delighted to behold ten thousand worlds
Around their suns revolving in the vast
External space, or listen the harmonies
That each to other in its motion sings.
And hence, in middle heaven remote, is seen
The mount of God in awful glory bright.
Within, no orb create of moon, or star,
Or sun gives light; for God's own countenance,
Beaming eternally, gives light to all;
But farther than these sacred hills his will
Forbids its flow-too bright for eyes beyond.
This is the last ascent of Virtue; here
All trial ends, and hope; here perfect joy,
With perfect righteousness, which to these heights
Alone can rise, begins, above all fall.-
And now, on wing of holy ardour strong,
Hither ascends the stranger, borne upright;
For stranger he did seem, with curious eye
Of nice inspection round surveying all,
And at the feet alights of those that stood
His coming, who the hand of welcome gave,
And the embrace sincere of holy love;
And thus, with comely greeting kind, began.
Hail, brother! hail, thou son of happiness!
Thou son beloved of God! welcome to heaven!
To bliss that never fades! thy day is past
Of trial, and of fear to fall. Well done,
Thou good and faithful servant; enter now
Into the joy eternal of thy Lord.
Come with us, and behold far higher sight
Than e'er thy heart desired, or hope conceived.
See, yonder is the glorious hill of God,
'Bove angel's gaze in brightness rising high.
Come, join our wing, and we will guide thy flight
To mysteries of everlasting bliss ;-
The tree, and fount of life, the eternal throne,
And presence chamber of the King of kings.
But what concern hangs on thy countenance,
Unwont within this place? perhaps thou deem'st
Thyself unworthy to be brought before
The always Ancient One? so are we too
Unworthy; but our God is all in all,
And gives us boldness to approach his throne.
Sons of the Highest! citizens of heaven! Began the new arrived, right have ye judged: Unworthy, most unworthy is your servant, To stand in presence of the King, or hold Most distant and most humble place in this Abode of excellent glory unrevealed. But, God Almighty be for ever praised, Who, of his fulness, fills me with all grace And ornament, to make me in his sight Well pleasing, and accepted in his court. But, if your leisure waits, short narrative Will tell, why strange concern thus overhangs My face, ill seeming here; and haply, too, Your elder knowledge can instruct my youth, Of what seems dark and doubtful unexplained.
Our leisure waits thee: speak; and what we canDelighted most to give delight-we will; Though much of mystery yet to us remains.
Virtue-I need not tell, when proved, and full
Matured-inclines us up to God, and heaven,
By law of sweet compulsion strong and sure;
As gravitation to the larger orb
The less attracts, through matter's whole domain.
Virtue in me was ripe-I speak not this
In boast, for what I am to God I owe,
Entirely owe, and of myself am nought.
Equipped, and bent for heaven, I left yon world,
My native seat, which scarce your eye can reach,
Rolling around her central sun, far out,
On utmost verge of light. But first to see
What lay beyond the visible creation
Strong curiosity my flight impelled.
Long was my way, and strange. I passed the bounds
Which God doth set to light, and life, and love; Where darkness meets with day, where ordet
Disorder, dreadful, waste, and wild; and down
The dark, eternal, uncreated night
Ventured alone. Long, long, on rapid wing,
I sailed through empty, nameless regions vast,
Where utter Nothing dwells, unformed and void
There neither eye, nor ear, nor any sense
Of being most acute, finds object; there
For aught external still you search in vain.
Try touch, or sight, or smell; try what you will,
You strangely find nought but yourself alone.
But why should I in words attempt to tell
What that is like which is-and yet is not?
This past, my path, descending, still me led
O'er unclaimed continents of desert gloom
Immense, where gravitation, shifting, turns
The other way; and to some dread, unknown,
Infernal centre downward weighs: and now,
Far travelled from the edge of darkness, far
Remotest limb-dire sights I saw, dire sounds
As from that glorious mount of God to light's
I heard; and suddenly before my eye
A wall of fiery adamant sprung up-
Wall mountainous, tremendous, flaming high
Above all flight of hope. I paused, and looked;
And saw, where'er I looked upon that mound,
Sad figures traced in fire-not motionless,
But imitating life. One I remarked
Attentively; but how shall I describe
What nought resembles else my eye hath seen?
Of worm or serpent kind it something looked,
But monstrous, with a thousand snaky heads,
Eyed each with double orbs of glaring wrath;
And with as many tails, that twisted out
In horrid revolution, tipped with stings;
And all its mouths, that wide and darkly gaped,
And breathed most poisonous breath, had each a
sting
Forked, and long, and venomous, and sharp;
And, in its writhings infinite, it grasped
Malignantly what seemed a heart, swollen, black,
And quivering with torture most intense;
And still the heart, with anguish throbbing high,
Made effort to escape, but could not; for
Howe'er it turned, and oft it vainly turned,
These complicated foldings held it fast.
And still the monstrous beast with sting of head
Or tail transpierced it, bleeding evermore.
What this could image, much I searched to know:
And while I stood, and gazed, and wondered long
A voice, from whence I knew not, for no one
I saw, distinctly whispered in my ear
These words-This is the Worm that never dies
Fast by the side of this unsightly thing Another was portrayed, more hideous still: Who sees it once shall wish to see 't no more. For ever undescribed let it remain ! Only this much I may or can unfoldFar out it thrust a dart that might have made The knees of terror quake, and on it hung, Within the triple barbs, a being pierced Through soul and body both: of heavenly make Original the being seemed, but fallen,
And worn and wasted with enormous woe.
And still around the everlasting lance
It writhed convulsed, and uttered mimic groans;
And tried and wished, and ever tried and wished
To die; but could not die.-Oh, horrid sight!
I trembling gazed, and listened, and heard this voice
Approach my ear-This is Eternal Death.
Nor these alone.-Upon that burning wall,
In horrible emblazonry, were limned
All shapes, all forms, all modes of wretchedness,
And agony, and grief, and desperate woe.
And prominent in characters of fire,
Where'er the eye could light, these words you
read:
"Who comes this way-behold, and fear to sin!"
Amazed I stood; and thought such imagery
Foretokened, within, a dangerous abode.
But yet to see the worst a wish arose:
For virtue, by the holy seal of God
Accredited and stamped, immortal all,
And all invulnerable, fears no hurt.
As easy as my wish, as rapidly
I through the horrid rampart passed, unscathed
And unopposed; and, poised on steady wing,
í hovering gazed. Eternal Justice! Sons
Of God! tell me, if ye can tell, what then
I saw, what then I heard.-Wide was the place,
And deep as wide, and ruinous as deep.
Beneath, I saw a lake of burning fire,
With tempest tost perpetually, and still
The waves of fiery darkness, 'gainst the rocks
Of dark damnation broke, and music made
Of melancholy sort; and over head,
And back again recoiled a deeper groan.
A deeper groan! Oh, what a groan was that!
I waited not, but swift on speediest wing,
With unaccustomed thoughts conversing, back
Retraced my venturous path from dark to light:
Then up ascending, long ascending up,
I hasted on; though whiles the chiming spheres,
By God's own finger touched to harmony,
Held me delaying-till I here arrived,
Drawn upward by the eternal love of God,
Of wonder full and strange astonishment,
At what in yonder den of darkness dwells,
Which now your higher knowledge will unfold.
They answering said: to ask and to bestow
Knowledge, is much of heaven's delight; and now
Most joyfully what thou requir'st we would;
For much of new, and unaccountable,
Thou bring'st: something indeed we heard
before,
In passing conversation slightly touched,
Of such a place; yet, rather to be taught,
Than teaching, answer what thy marvel asks,
We need; for we ourselves, though here, are but
Of yesterday-creation's younger sons.
But there is one, an ancient bard of Earth,
Who, by the stream of life, sitting in bliss,
Has oft beheld the eternal years complete
The mighty circle round the throne of God;
Great in all learning, in all wisdom great,
And great in song; whose harp in lofty strain
Tells frequently of what thy wonder craves,
While round him, gathering, stand the youth of
Heaven,
And all around, wind warred with wind, storm With truth and melody delighted both;
To storm, and lightning, forked lightning, crossed,
And thunder answered thunder, muttering sounds
Of sullen wrath; and far as sight could pierce,
Or down descend in caves of hopeless depth,
Through all that dungeon of unfading fire,
I saw most miserable beings walk,
Burning continually, yet unconsumed;
For ever wasting, yet enduring still;
Dying perpetually, yet never dead.
Some wandered lonely in the desert flames,
And some in fell encounter fiercely met,
With curses loud, and blasphemies, that made
The cheek of darkness pale; and as they fought,
And cursed, and gnashed their teeth, and wished
to die,
Their hollow eyes did utter streams of woe.
And there were groans that ended not, and sighs
That always sighed, and tears that ever wept,
And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight.
And Sorrow, and Repentance, and Despair,
Among them walked, and to their thirsty lips
Presented frequent cups of burning gall.
And as I listened, I heard these beings curse
Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse
The Earth, the Resurrection morn, and seek
And ever vainly seek, for utter death.
And to their everlasting anguish still.
The thunders from above responding spoke
These words, which, through the caverns of per-
dition
Forlornly echoing. fell on every ear:
"Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."
VOL. III.-7
To him this path directs, an easy path,
And easy flight will bring us to his seat.
So saying, they linked hand in hand, spread out
Their golden wings, by living breezes fanned,
And over heaven's broad champaign sailed serene.
O'er hill and valley, clothed with verdure green
That never fades; and tree, and herb, and flower,
That never fades; and many a river, rich
With nectar, winding pleasantly, they passed;
And mansion of celestial mould, and work
Divine. And oft delicious music, sung
By saint and angel bands that walked the vales,
Or mountain tops, and harped upon their harps,
Their ear inclined, and held by sweet constraint
Their wing; not long, for strong desire awaked
Of knowledge that to holy use might turn,
Still pressed them on to leave what rather seemed
Pleasure, due only when all duty's done.
And now beneath them lay the wished for spot,
The sacred bower of that renowned bard;
That ancient bard, ancient in days and song;
But in immortal vigour young, and young
In rosy health-to pensive solitude
Retiring oft, as was his wont on earth.
Fit was the place, most fit, for holy musing.
Upon a little mount, that gently rose,
He sat, clothed in white robes; and o'er his head
A laurel tree, of lustiest, eldest growth
Stately and tall, and shadowing far and wide-
Not fruitless, as on earth, but bloomed, and rich
With frequent clusters, ripe to heavenly taste-
Spread its eternal boughs, and in its arms
A myrtle of unfading leaf embraced;
The rose and lily, fresh with fragrant dew,
And every flower of fairest cheek, around
Him, smiling, flocked; beneath his feet, fast by,
And round his sacred hill, a streamlet walked,
Warbling the holy melodies of heaven;
The hallowed zephyrs brought him incense sweet;
And out before him opened, in prospect long,
The river of life, in many a winding maze
Descending from the lofty throne of God,
That with excessive glory closed the scene.
Of Adam's race he was, and lonely sat,
By chance that day, in meditation deep,
Reflecting much of Time, and Earth, and Man:
And now to pensive, now to cheerful notes,
He touched a harp of wondrous melody;
A golden harp it was, a precious gift,
Which, at the day of judgment, with the crown
Of life, he had received from God's own hand,
Reward due to his service done on earth.
He sees their coming; and with greeting kind,
And welcome, not of hollow forged smiles,
And ceremonious compliment of phrase,
But of the heart sincere, into his bower
Invites. Like greeting they returned; not bent
In low obeisancy, from creature most
Unfit to creature; but with manly form
Upright, they entered in; though high his rank,
His wisdom high, and mighty his renown.
And thus, deferring all apology,
The two their new companion introduced.
But ever vainly sought, to turn away.
That image, as I guess, was Virtue; for
Nought else hath God given countenance so fair.
But why in such a place it should abide ?
What place it is? what beings there lament?
Whence came they? and for what their endless
groan?
Why curse they God? why seek they utter death?
And chief, what means the Resurrection morn?
My youth expects thy reverend age to tell.
The rightly deem'st, fair youth, began the
bard;
The form thou saw'st was Virtue, ever fair.
Virtue, like God, whose excellent majesty,
Whose glory virtue is, is omnipresent.
No being, once created rational,
Accountable, endowed with moral sense,
With sapience of right and wrong endowed,
And charged, however fallen, debased, destroyed
However lost, forlorn, and miserable;
In guilt's dark shrouding wrapt, however thick
However drunk, delirious, and mad,
With sin's full cup; and with whatever damned,
Unnatural diligence it work and toil,
Can banish virtue from its sight, or once
Forget that she is fair. Hides it in night,
In central night; takes it the lightning's wing,
And flies for ever on, beyond the bounds
Of all; drinks it the maddest cup of sin;
Dives it beneath the ocean of despair;
It dives, it drinks, it flies, it hides in vain:
For still the eternal beauty, image fair,
Once stampt upon the soul, before the eye
All lovely stands, nor will depart; so God
Ordains and lovely to the worst she seems,
Ancient in knowledge !-bard of Adam's race! And ever seems; and as they look, and still
We bring thee one, of us inquiring what
We need to learn, and with him wish to learn.
His asking will direct thy answer best.
Most ancient bard! began the new arrived, Few words will set my wonder forth, and guide Thy wisdom's light to what in me is dark.
Equipped for heaven, I left my native place;
But first beyond the realms of light I bent
My course; and there, in utter darkness, far
Remote, I beings saw forlorn in woe,
Burning continually, yet unconsumed.
And there were groans that ended not, and sighs
That always sighed, and tears that ever wept
And ever fell, but not in Mercy's sight;
And still I heard these wretched beings curse
Almighty God, and curse the Lamb, and curse
The Earth, the Resurrection morn, and seck,
And ever vainly seek, for utter death:
And from above, the thunders answered still,
"Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not."
And every where throughout that horrid den,
I saw a form of excellence, a form
Of beauty without spot, that nought could see
And not admire-admire, and not adore.
And from its own essential beams it gave
Light to itself, that made the gloom more dark;
And every eye in that infernal pit
Feheld it still; and from its face-how fair!
O how exceeding fair!-for ever sought.
Must ever look upon her loveliness
Remembrance dire of what they were, of what
They might have been, and bitter sense of what
They are, polluted, ruined, hopeless, lost,
With most repenting torment rend their hearts.
So God ordains-their punishment severe,
Eternally inflicted by themselves.
'Tis this-this Virtue hovering evermore
Before the vision of the damned, and in
Upon their monstrous moral nakedness
Casting unwelcome light, that makes their woe,
That makes the essence of the endless flame:
Where this is, there is Hell-darker than aught
That he, the bard three-visioned, darkest saw.
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