Poems (Hoffman)/Alone
For works with similar titles, see Alone.
ALONE
Think'st thou the criminal in some dark retreatTo which from lowering justice he hath flown,While die the echoes of pursuing feet,Is left in peace, alone?Think'st thou that undisturbed he stops to rest,Forgetting the dark crime that lies behind?Think'st thou that naught but triumph fills his breast,That no iron bands his sense of freedom bind?Not so; for though within a lone abodeHis wicked heart of victory may boast,The fears that crush his spirit like a loadAre far more frightful than a martialed host.Stronger than chains that bind the helpless slaveAre the iron fetters of the imprisoned soul,More horrible the boughs that o'er him waveThan funeral knells that for the just man toll;Darkness more dense than that of starless nightFalls like a sable curtain o'er his mind,And o'er that darkness, dawns no morning light;Who would in such a frame a refuge find?A silence, like the stillness of the graveHangs o'er the beauty of the forest shrineAnd chills the trembling coward, where the braveWould notice but a solitude sublime.A crackling in the underbrush—he starts—'Tis but a fawn that seeks the grassy glade—A rustle—through the trees a grey squirrel darts;He jumps, and rises to his feet dismayed.Each simple sound breaks on his guilty earLike some dread omen of a coming doom,What wonder, in each rustle he can hearThe outward echo of an inward gloom;And in the guilty horror of despairFears that the day might bring his deeds to lightAnd thinks to hide the blackened robes they wear Under the sable covering of the night.And hopes in vain; for lo, before him stands,A Judge, more awful than the one he fears;The laws of justice written on his hands,Laws that shall stand unchanged to endless years,Not as a Saviour to the abandoned wretchWho sinks in terror to the speaking sod,Not with the angel Mercy's wings outstretched;But as the just, unchanged, avenging God."Jehovah," sing the stars, the hills repeat,The rocks and forest trees the chorus share,Jehovah is the awfulness complete;"Jehovah," trembles on the burdened air.Memory awakes, can Memory ever die?Long she has slept, but now her life revives,And terrified, afraid to reason: "Why?"Vainly to hush her voice the villain strives.Vainly? Ah! What a book of wasted years she holds,What records to defile the peaceful sod,What scenes, what deeds of darkness she unfolds!O man! and thou, the noblest work of God!Fallen, lost, ruined, by thine own consent,A demon crowd, thy fit companions, they,On thy destruction all their arts intent.Well mayst thou flee by night and hide by day.Alone! fain would the villain be alone,His Maker, no more trouble his abode,His memory, like the vanished moments flown,His conscience, buried with its fearful load.Ah! vain his wish, though ocean wastes be crossed,Or lie concealed within the forest's gloom,The crimes that marked the years, now worse than lost,Will haunt him too, ah! far beyond the tomb.Who would escape the presence of his God,Flee to the desert? Lo, His throne is thereWhithersoever human feet have trodThe Lord, Jehovah, reigneth everywhere. How slow the dragging moments seem to glideTo the transgressor in his living grave.Ah! words unutterable cannot describeThe dread companions of the culprit's cave!*********Think'st thou, the Christian on the lonely isle,Banished from every tie of heart or homeFar from a friendly word or loving smile,Is hopeless and alone?No; though he mourns that human love no moreMay soothe the lonely pathway he must tread,And when the weary journey shall be o'erNo loved one comes to soothe his dying bed;Yet in his soul a calm and perfect peace,Deep as the ocean, fathomless as thoughtCommands the fury of the tempest ceaseAnd bids the lonely wanderer murmur not.'Tis evening, from the Eastern star there shinesA radiance, unnoticed there before;While the blue wavelets, traced in beauteous lines,In a new grandeur break upon the shore;He listens to the breaker's ceaseless moan,They wake to being, voices of the past,Memory is there, with scenes of friends and home,Like leaves upon the eddying current cast.He fathoms the sublimity of time,He views the emblem of life's troubled sea.Breaker and crag in unity divine,Sing to his soul a sweeter melody;And as he keeps his vigil there aloneHe feels the living presence of a friend,Holier than friendship's voice that loving tone,"Lo, I am with thee, even to the end."He lifts his voice; hushed is the balmy airA benediction rests on Nature's things,Angelic beings breathe their notes of prayer,And wait in silence while the Christian sings: "Jesus, the sweetest name on mortal tongue."Listen, ye lonely rocks, ye waves rejoice,"Jesus," by countless hosts of angels sung,Awake, lone ocean isle, and lend a voice!Hark! from surrounding cliffs a chorus rises:"Jesus, to thee be praise and glory given."Angels repeat it through the vaulted skiesAnd bear the unfinished anthem on to heaven;Weary, he lays him down in peace to sleepAnd pleasant dreams his stony pillow calm,Bright guardian angels, vigil o'er him keepAnd breathe upon the air a solemn psalm.Away on other shores for him they mournFriends, who are shrouded in funereal gloomDark are the robes of sorrow for him wornAs one who sleeps within a watery tomb;But oh! the bright companions 'round him nowAre dearer than when other friends were there,Brighter the crowns upon each pearly brow,More glorified the saintly robes they wear.Ah! not alone the Christian vigil keptOn the lone isle, and faced his fears unawed;When guardian angels watched him while he sleptAnd One was with him like the Son of God.