Poems (Welby)/On Entering the Mammoth Cave
ON ENTERING THE MAMMOTH CAVE.
Hush! for my heart-blood curdles as we enter
To glide in gloom these shadowy realms about;
Oh! what a scene the round globe to its centre,
To form this awful cave, seems hollowed out!
Yet pause—no mystic word hath yet been spoken
To win us entrance to this awful sphere—
A whispered prayer must be our watchword token,
And peace—like that around us—peace unbroken
The passport here.
To glide in gloom these shadowy realms about;
Oh! what a scene the round globe to its centre,
To form this awful cave, seems hollowed out!
Yet pause—no mystic word hath yet been spoken
To win us entrance to this awful sphere—
A whispered prayer must be our watchword token,
And peace—like that around us—peace unbroken
The passport here.
And now farewell, ye birds and blossoms tender,
Ye glistening leaves by morning dews empearled,
And you, ye beams that light with softened splendor,
The glimmering glories of yon outer world!
While thus we pause these silent arches under,
To you and yours a wild farewell we wave,
For oh! perhaps this awful spot may sunder
Our hearts from all we love—this world of wonder
May be our grave.
Ye glistening leaves by morning dews empearled,
And you, ye beams that light with softened splendor,
The glimmering glories of yon outer world!
While thus we pause these silent arches under,
To you and yours a wild farewell we wave,
For oh! perhaps this awful spot may sunder
Our hearts from all we love—this world of wonder
May be our grave.
And yet farewell! the faintly flickering torches
Light our lone footsteps o'er the silent sod;
And now all hail ye everlasting arches,
Ye dark dominions of an unseen God!
Who would not for this sight the bliss surrender
Of all the beauties of yon sunny sphere,
And break the sweetest ties, however tender,
To be the witness of the silent splendor
That greets us here!
Light our lone footsteps o'er the silent sod;
And now all hail ye everlasting arches,
Ye dark dominions of an unseen God!
Who would not for this sight the bliss surrender
Of all the beauties of yon sunny sphere,
And break the sweetest ties, however tender,
To be the witness of the silent splendor
That greets us here!
Ye glittering caves, ye high o'erhanging arches,
A pilgrim-band we glide amid your gloom,
With breathless lips and high uplifted torches,
All fancifully decked in cave-costume;
Far from the day's glad beams, and songs, and flowers,
We've come with spell-touched hearts, ye countless caves,
To glide enchanted, for a few brief hours,
Thro' the calm beauty of your awful bowers
And o'er your waves!
A pilgrim-band we glide amid your gloom,
With breathless lips and high uplifted torches,
All fancifully decked in cave-costume;
Far from the day's glad beams, and songs, and flowers,
We've come with spell-touched hearts, ye countless caves,
To glide enchanted, for a few brief hours,
Thro' the calm beauty of your awful bowers
And o'er your waves!
Beautiful cave! that all my soul entrances,
Known as the Wonder of the West so long,
Oh 'twere a fate beyond my wildest fancies,
Could I but shrine you now, as such in song!
But 'tis in vain—the untaught child of Nature,
I cannot vent the thoughts that through me flow,
Yet none the less is graved thine every feature
Upon the wild imaginative creature
That hails you now!
Known as the Wonder of the West so long,
Oh 'twere a fate beyond my wildest fancies,
Could I but shrine you now, as such in song!
But 'tis in vain—the untaught child of Nature,
I cannot vent the thoughts that through me flow,
Yet none the less is graved thine every feature
Upon the wild imaginative creature
That hails you now!
Palace of Nature! with a poet's fancies
I've ofttimes pictured thee in dreams of bliss,
And glorious scenes were given to my glances,
But never gazed I on a scene like this!
Compared with thine, what are the awful wonders
Of the deep, fathomless, unbounded sea?
Or the storm-cloud whose lance of lightning sunders
The solid oak?—or even thine awful thunders,
Niagara!
I've ofttimes pictured thee in dreams of bliss,
And glorious scenes were given to my glances,
But never gazed I on a scene like this!
Compared with thine, what are the awful wonders
Of the deep, fathomless, unbounded sea?
Or the storm-cloud whose lance of lightning sunders
The solid oak?—or even thine awful thunders,
Niagara!
Hark! hear ye not those echoes ringing after
Our gliding steps—my spirit faints with fear—
Those mocking tones, like subterranean laughter—
Or does the brain grow wild with wandering here!
There may be spectres wild and forms appalling
Our wandering eyes, where'er we rove, to greet—
Methinks I hear their low sad voices calling
Upon us now, and far away the falling
Of phantom feet.
Our gliding steps—my spirit faints with fear—
Those mocking tones, like subterranean laughter—
Or does the brain grow wild with wandering here!
There may be spectres wild and forms appalling
Our wandering eyes, where'er we rove, to greet—
Methinks I hear their low sad voices calling
Upon us now, and far away the falling
Of phantom feet.
The glittering dome, the arch, the towering column,
Are sights that greet us now on every hand,
And all so wild—so strange—so sweetly solemn—
So like one's fancies formed of fairy land!
And these then are your works, mysterious powers!
Your spells are o'er, around us, and beneath,
These opening aisles, these crystal fruits and flowers
And glittering grots and high-arched beauteous bowers,
As still as death!
Are sights that greet us now on every hand,
And all so wild—so strange—so sweetly solemn—
So like one's fancies formed of fairy land!
And these then are your works, mysterious powers!
Your spells are o'er, around us, and beneath,
These opening aisles, these crystal fruits and flowers
And glittering grots and high-arched beauteous bowers,
As still as death!
But yet lead on! perhaps than this fair vision,
Some lovelier yet in darkling distance lies—
Some cave of beauty, like those realms elysian
That ofttimes open on poetic eyes!
Some spot, where led by fancy's sweet assistance
Our wandering feet o'er silvery sands may stray,
Where prattling waters urge with soft resistance
Their wavelets on, till lost in airy distance,
And far away!
Some lovelier yet in darkling distance lies—
Some cave of beauty, like those realms elysian
That ofttimes open on poetic eyes!
Some spot, where led by fancy's sweet assistance
Our wandering feet o'er silvery sands may stray,
Where prattling waters urge with soft resistance
Their wavelets on, till lost in airy distance,
And far away!
Oft the lone Indian o'er these low-toned waters
Has bent perhaps his swarthy brow to lave!
It seems the requiem of their dark-eyed daughters—
Those sweet wild notes that wander o'er the wave!
Hast thou no relic of their ancient glory,
No legend, lonely cavern! linked with thine?
No tale of love—no wild romantic story
Of some warm heart whose dreams were transitory
And sweet as mine?
Has bent perhaps his swarthy brow to lave!
It seems the requiem of their dark-eyed daughters—
Those sweet wild notes that wander o'er the wave!
Hast thou no relic of their ancient glory,
No legend, lonely cavern! linked with thine?
No tale of love—no wild romantic story
Of some warm heart whose dreams were transitory
And sweet as mine?
It must be so! the thought your spell enhances—
Yet why pursue this wild, romantic dream?
The heart, afloat upon its fluttering fancies,
Would lose itself in the bewildering theme!
And yet, ye waters! still I list your surging,
And ever and anon I seem to view,
In fancy's eye, some Indian maid emerging
Through the deep gloom, and o'er your waters urging
Her light canoe.
Yet why pursue this wild, romantic dream?
The heart, afloat upon its fluttering fancies,
Would lose itself in the bewildering theme!
And yet, ye waters! still I list your surging,
And ever and anon I seem to view,
In fancy's eye, some Indian maid emerging
Through the deep gloom, and o'er your waters urging
Her light canoe.
Oh silent cave! amid the elevation
Of lofty thought could I abide with thee,
My soul's sad shrine, my heart's lone habitation,
For ever and for ever thou shouldst be!
Here into song my every thought I'd render
And thou—and thou alone—shouldst be my theme,
Far from the weary world's delusive splendor,
Would not my lonely life be all one tender
Delicious dream?
Of lofty thought could I abide with thee,
My soul's sad shrine, my heart's lone habitation,
For ever and for ever thou shouldst be!
Here into song my every thought I'd render
And thou—and thou alone—shouldst be my theme,
Far from the weary world's delusive splendor,
Would not my lonely life be all one tender
Delicious dream?
Yes! though no other form save mine might hover
In these lone halls, no other whisper roll
Along those airy domes that arch me over
Save gentle Echo's, sister of my soul!
Yet, 'neath these domes whose spell of beauty weighs me,
My heart would evermore in bliss abide—
No sorrow to depress, no hope to raise me,
Here would I ever dwell—with none to praise me,
And none to chide!
In these lone halls, no other whisper roll
Along those airy domes that arch me over
Save gentle Echo's, sister of my soul!
Yet, 'neath these domes whose spell of beauty weighs me,
My heart would evermore in bliss abide—
No sorrow to depress, no hope to raise me,
Here would I ever dwell—with none to praise me,
And none to chide!
Region of caves and streams! and must I sever
My spirit from your spell? 'Twere bliss to stray
The happy rover of your realms for ever,
And yet, farewell for ever and for aye!
I leave you now, yet many a sparkling token
Within your cool recesses I have sought
To treasure up with fancies still unspoken—
Till from these quivering heart-strings, Death hath broken
The thread of thought!
My spirit from your spell? 'Twere bliss to stray
The happy rover of your realms for ever,
And yet, farewell for ever and for aye!
I leave you now, yet many a sparkling token
Within your cool recesses I have sought
To treasure up with fancies still unspoken—
Till from these quivering heart-strings, Death hath broken
The thread of thought!