Mazelli, and Other Poems [9]
agony,
No soul, excluded from the sky,
Whom unrelenting justice hath
Condemned to bear the second death,
E'er breathed upon the troubled gale
A wilder or a sadder wail;--
It rose, all other sounds above,
The dirge of peace, and hope, and love!
VII.
And day on weary day went by,
And like the drooping autumn leaf,
She faded slow and silently,
In her deep, uncomplaining grief;
For, sick of life's vacuity,
She neither sought nor wished relief.
And daily from her cheek, the glow
Departed, and her virgin brow
Was curtained with a mournful gloom,--
A shade prophetic, of the tomb;
And her clear eyes, so blue and bright,
Shot forth a keen, unearthly light,
As if the soul that in them lay,
Were weary of its garb of clay,
And prayed to pass from earth away;
Nor was that prayer vain, for ere
The frozen monarch of the year,
Had blighted, with his icy breath,
A single bud in summer's wreath,
They shrouded her, and made her grave,
And laid her down at Lodolph's side;
And by the wide Potomac's wave,
Repose the bridegroom and the bride.
'Tis said, that, oft at summer midnight, there,
When all is hushed and voiceless, and the air,
Sweet, soothing minstrel of the viewless hand,
Swells rippling through the aged trees, that stand
With their broad boughs above the wave depending,
With the low gurgle of the waters blending
The rustle of their foliage, a light boat,
Bearing two shadowy forms, is seen to float
Adown the stream, without or oar or sail,
To break the wave, or catch the driving gale;
Smoothly and steadily its course is steered,
Until the shadow of yon cliff is neared,
And then, as if some barrier, hid below
The river's breast, had caught its gliding prow,
Awhile, uncertain, o'er its watery bed,
It hangs, then vanishes, and in its stead,
A wan, pale light burns dimly o'er the, wave
That rolls and ripples by Mazelli's grave.
Notes To Mazelli
Note 1.
"And how its long and rocky chain
Was parted suddenly in twain,
Where through a chasm, wide and deep,
Potomac's rapid waters sweep,
While rocks that press the mountain's brow
Nod O'er his waves far, far below."
"The passage of the Potomac, through the Blue Ridge, is perhaps,
one of the most stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very
high point of land. On your right comes up the Shenandoah, having
ranged along the foot of the mountain a hundred miles to seek a
vent. On your left approaches the Potomac, seeking a vent also.
In the moment of their junction, they rush together against the
mountain, rend it asunder, and pass off to the sea.
"The first glance at this scene hurries our senses into the opinion
that this earth has been created in time; that the mountains were
formed first; that the rivers began to flow afterwards; that, in
this place particularly, they have been dammed up by the Blue Ridge
Mountains, and have formed an ocean which filled the whole valley;
that, continuing to rise, they have at length broken over at this
spot, and have torn the mountain down from its summit to its base.
"The piles of reckon each hand, but particularly on the Shenandoah,
the evident marks of their disrupture and avulsion from their beds
by the most powerful agents of nature, corroborate the impression.
But the distant finishing which nature has given to this picture,
is of a very different character. It is a true contrast to the
foreground. It is as Placid and delightful as that is wild and
tremendous.
"For, the mountain being cloven asunder, she presents to the eye,
through the cleft, a small catch of smooth blue horizon, at an
infinite distance in the plain country, inviting you, as it were,
from the riot and tumult roaring around, to pass through the breach,
and participate of the calm below."--Jefferson's Notes on Virginia.
Note 2.
"Save the plaintive song of the whip-poor-will."
That the Indian mind and language are not devoid of poetry,
the names they have given to this bird (the whip-poor-will)
sufficiently evidence. Some call it the "Muckawis," others
the
No soul, excluded from the sky,
Whom unrelenting justice hath
Condemned to bear the second death,
E'er breathed upon the troubled gale
A wilder or a sadder wail;--
It rose, all other sounds above,
The dirge of peace, and hope, and love!
VII.
And day on weary day went by,
And like the drooping autumn leaf,
She faded slow and silently,
In her deep, uncomplaining grief;
For, sick of life's vacuity,
She neither sought nor wished relief.
And daily from her cheek, the glow
Departed, and her virgin brow
Was curtained with a mournful gloom,--
A shade prophetic, of the tomb;
And her clear eyes, so blue and bright,
Shot forth a keen, unearthly light,
As if the soul that in them lay,
Were weary of its garb of clay,
And prayed to pass from earth away;
Nor was that prayer vain, for ere
The frozen monarch of the year,
Had blighted, with his icy breath,
A single bud in summer's wreath,
They shrouded her, and made her grave,
And laid her down at Lodolph's side;
And by the wide Potomac's wave,
Repose the bridegroom and the bride.
'Tis said, that, oft at summer midnight, there,
When all is hushed and voiceless, and the air,
Sweet, soothing minstrel of the viewless hand,
Swells rippling through the aged trees, that stand
With their broad boughs above the wave depending,
With the low gurgle of the waters blending
The rustle of their foliage, a light boat,
Bearing two shadowy forms, is seen to float
Adown the stream, without or oar or sail,
To break the wave, or catch the driving gale;
Smoothly and steadily its course is steered,
Until the shadow of yon cliff is neared,
And then, as if some barrier, hid below
The river's breast, had caught its gliding prow,
Awhile, uncertain, o'er its watery bed,
It hangs, then vanishes, and in its stead,
A wan, pale light burns dimly o'er the, wave
That rolls and ripples by Mazelli's grave.
Notes To Mazelli
Note 1.
"And how its long and rocky chain
Was parted suddenly in twain,
Where through a chasm, wide and deep,
Potomac's rapid waters sweep,
While rocks that press the mountain's brow
Nod O'er his waves far, far below."
"The passage of the Potomac, through the Blue Ridge, is perhaps,
one of the most stupendous scenes in nature. You stand on a very
high point of land. On your right comes up the Shenandoah, having
ranged along the foot of the mountain a hundred miles to seek a
vent. On your left approaches the Potomac, seeking a vent also.
In the moment of their junction, they rush together against the
mountain, rend it asunder, and pass off to the sea.
"The first glance at this scene hurries our senses into the opinion
that this earth has been created in time; that the mountains were
formed first; that the rivers began to flow afterwards; that, in
this place particularly, they have been dammed up by the Blue Ridge
Mountains, and have formed an ocean which filled the whole valley;
that, continuing to rise, they have at length broken over at this
spot, and have torn the mountain down from its summit to its base.
"The piles of reckon each hand, but particularly on the Shenandoah,
the evident marks of their disrupture and avulsion from their beds
by the most powerful agents of nature, corroborate the impression.
But the distant finishing which nature has given to this picture,
is of a very different character. It is a true contrast to the
foreground. It is as Placid and delightful as that is wild and
tremendous.
"For, the mountain being cloven asunder, she presents to the eye,
through the cleft, a small catch of smooth blue horizon, at an
infinite distance in the plain country, inviting you, as it were,
from the riot and tumult roaring around, to pass through the breach,
and participate of the calm below."--Jefferson's Notes on Virginia.
Note 2.
"Save the plaintive song of the whip-poor-will."
That the Indian mind and language are not devoid of poetry,
the names they have given to this bird (the whip-poor-will)
sufficiently evidence. Some call it the "Muckawis," others
the