# Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge)/The Destiny of Nations

THE DESTINY OF NATIONS.
A VISION.
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song, Ere we the deep preluding strain have poured To the Great Father, only rightful King, Eternal Father! King Omnipotent! Beneath whose shadowy banners, wide unfurl'd, Justice leads forth her Tyrant-quelling Hosts.
Such symphony requires best instrument. Seize, then, my soul! from Freedom's trophied dome The Harp which hangeth high between the Shields Of Brutus and Leonidas! With that Strong music, that soliciting spell, force back Earth's free and stirring spirit that lies entranced.
For what is Freedom, but the unfetter'd use Of all the powers which God for use had given? But chiefly this, him First, him Last to view
Through meaner powers and secondary things Effulgent, as through clouds that veil his blaze. For all that meets the bodily sense I deem Symbolical, one mighty alphabet For infant minds; and we in this low world Placed with our backs to bright Reality, That we may learn with young unwounded ken The substance from its shadow. Infinite Love,
Whose Latence is the plenitude of All,
Thou with retracted Beams, and Self-eclipse
Veiling revealest thy eternal Sun.)
But some there are who deem themselves most free When they within this gross and visible sphere Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent Proud in their meanness: and themselves they cheat With noisy emptiness of learned phrase, Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences, Self-working tools, uncaused effects, and all Those blind Omniscients, those Almighty Slaves, Untenanting creation of its God.
But properties are God: the naked mass (If mass there be, fantastic Guess or Ghost) Acts only by its inactivity. Here we pause humbly. Others boldlier think That as one body seems the aggregate
Of Atoms numberless, each organized; So by a strange and dim similitude Infinite myriads of self-conscious minds Are one all-conscious Spirit, which informs With absolute ubiquity of thought (His one eternal self-affirming Act!) All his involved Monads, that yet seem With various province and apt agency Each to pursue its own self-centering end. Some nurse the infant diamond in the mine; Some roll the genial juices through the oak; Some drive the mutinous clouds to clash in air, And rushing on the storm with whirlwind speed, Yoke the red lightning to their vollying car. Thus these pursue their never-varying course, No eddy in their stream. Others, more wild, With complex interests weaving human fates, Duteous or proud, alike obedient all, Evolve the process of eternal good.
And what if some rebellious, o'er dark realms Arrogate power? yet these train up to God, And on the rude eye, unconfirmed for day, Flash meteor-lights better than total gloom. As ere from Lieule-Oaive's vapoury head The Laplander beholds the far-off Sun
Dart his slant beam on unobeying snows, While yet the stern and solitary Night Brooks no alternate sway, the Boreal Morn With mimic lustre substitutes its gleam, Guiding his course or by Niemi lake Or Balda-Zhiok, or the mossy stone Of Solfar-Kapper, while the snowy blast Drifts arrowy by, or eddies round his sledge, Making the poor babe at its mother's back
Scream in its scanty cradle: he the while Wins gentle solace as with upward eye He marks the streamy banners of the North, Thinking himself those happy spirits shall join Who there in floating robes of rosy light Dance sportively. For Fancy is the Power That first unsensualizes the dark mind, Giving it new delights; and bids it swell With wild activity; and peopling air, By obscure fears of Beings invisible, Emancipates it from the grosser thrall Of the present impulse, teaching Self-controul, Till Superstition with unconscious hand Seat Reason on her throne. Wherefore not vain, Nor yet without permitted power impress'd, I deem those legends terrible, with which The polar ancient thrills his uncouth throng: Whether of pitying Spirits that make their moan O'er slaughter'd infants, or that Giant Bird Vuokho, of whose rushing wings the noise Is Tempest, when the unutterable shape Speeds from the mother of Death, and utters once That shriek, which never Murderer heard, and lived.
Or if the Greenland Wizard in strange trance
Pierces the untravelled realms of Ocean's bed
(Where live the innocent as far from cares
As from the storms and overwhelming waves
Dark tumbling on the surface of the deep),
Over the abysm, even to that uttermost cave
By mis-shaped prodigies beleaguered, such
As Earth ne'er bred, nor Air, nor the upper Sea.
There dwells the Fury Form, whose unheard name
With eager eye, pale cheek, suspended breath,
And lips half-opening with the dread of sound,
Unsleeping Silence guards, worn out with fear
Lest haply escaping on some treacherous blast
The fateful word let slip the Elements
And frenzy Nature. Yet the wizard her,
Armed withTorngarsuck's power, the Spirit of Good,
Forces to unchain the foodful progeny
Of the Ocean stream.—Wild phantasies! yet wise, On the victorious goodness of high God Teaching Reliance, and medicinal Hope, Till from Bethabra northward, heavenly Truth With gradual steps winning her difficult way, Transfer their rude Faith perfected and pure.
If there be Beings of higher class than Man, I deem no nobler province they possess, Than by disposal of apt circumstance To rear up Kingdoms: and the deeds they prompt, Distinguishing from mortal agency, They chuse their human ministers from such states As still the Epic Song half fears to name, Repelled from all the Minstrelsies that strike The Palace-Roof and sooth the Monarch's pride.
And such, perhaps, the Spirit, who (if words Witnessed by answering deeds may claim our Faith) Held commune with that warrior-maid of France Who scourg'd the Invader.—From her infant days. With Wisdom, Mother of retired Thoughts, Her soul had dwelt; and she was quick to mark The good and evil thing, in human lore Undisciplin'd. For lowly was her Birth,
And Heaven had doom'd her early years to Toil That pure from Tyranny's least deed, herself Unfear'd by Fellow-natures, she might wait On the poor Lab'ring man with kindly looks, And minister refreshment to the tir'd Way-wanderer, when along the rough-hewn Bench The sweltry man had stretch'd him, and aloft Vacantly watch'd the rudely pictured board Which on the Mulberry-bough with welcome creek Swung to the pleasant breeze. Here, too, the Maid Learnt more than Schools could teach: Man's shifting mind, His Vices and his Sorrows! And full oft At Tales of cruel Wrong and strange Distress Had wept and shiver'd. To the tottering Eld Still as a Daughter would she run: she plac'd His cold Limbs at the sunny Door, and lov'd To hear him story, in his garrulous sort, Of his eventful years, all come and gone.
So twenty seasons past. The Virgin's Form, Active and tall, nor Sloth nor Luxury Had shrunk or paled. Her front sublime and broad, Her flexile eye-brows wildly hair'd and low, And her full eye, now bright, now unillum'd,
Spake more than Woman's Thought: and all her fact Was moulded to such Features, as declared, That Pity there had oft and strongly work'd, And sometimes Indignation. Bold her mien, And like an haughty Huntress of the woods She mov'd: yet sure she was a gentle maid! And in each motion her most innocent soul Beam'd forth so brightly, that who saw would say, Guilt was a thing impossible in her! Nor idly would have said, for she had liv'd In this bad World, as in a place of Tombs And touch'd not the pollutions of the Dead.
'Twas the cold season when the Rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints And clouds slow-varying their huge imagery; When now, as she was wont, the healthful Maid Had left her pallet ere one beam of day Slanted the fog-smoke. She went forth alone, Urged by the indwelling angel-guide, that oft, With dim inexplicable sympathies Disquieting the Heart, shapes out Man's course To the predoomed adventure. Now the ascent She climbs of that steep upland, on whose top
The Pilgrim-Man, who long since eve had watch'd The alien shine of unconcerning Stars, Shouts to himself, there first the Abbey-lights Seen in Neufchatel's vale; now slopes adown The winding sheep-track valeward: when, behold In the first entrance of the level road An unattended Team! The foremost horse Lay with stretch'd limbs; the others, yet alive But stiff and cold, stood motionless, their manes Hoar with the frozen night-dews. Dismally The dark-red dawn new glimmer'd; but its gleams Disclosed no face of man. The maiden paused, Then hail'd who might be near. No voice replied. From the thwart wain at length there reach'd her ear A sound so feeble that it almost seem'd Distant—and feebly, with slow effort push'd, A miserable man crept forth: his limbs The silent frost had eat, scathing like fire. Faint on the shafts he rested. She, mean time, Saw crowded close beneath the coverture A mother and her children—lifeless all, Yet lovely! not a lineament was marr'd— Death had put on so slumber-like a form! It was a piteous sight; and one, a babe, The crisp milk frozen on its innocent lips,
Lay on the woman's arm, its little hand Stretch'd on her bosom.
Mutely questioning, The Maid gazed wildly at the living wretch. He, his head feebly turning, on the group Look'd with a vacant stare, and his eye spoke The drowsy calm that steals on worn-out anguish. She shudder'd: but, each vainer pang subdued, Quick disentangling from the foremost horse The rustic bands, with difficulty and toil The stiff, crampt team forced homeward. There arrived Anxiously tends him she with healing herbs, And weeps and prays—but the numb power of Death Spreads o'er his limbs; and ere the noon-tide hour, The hov'ring spirits of his Wife and Babes Hail him immortal! Yet amid his pangs, With interruptions long from ghastly throes, His voice had falter'd out this simple tale.
The Village, where he dwelt an Husbandman, By sudden inroad had been seiz'd and fired Late on the yester-evening. With his wife And little ones he hurried his escape.
They saw the neighbouring Hamlets flame, they heard Uproar and shrieks! and terror-struck drove on Through unfrequented roads, a weary way! But saw nor house nor cottage. All had quench'd Their evening hearth-fire: for the alarm had spread. The air clipt keen, the night was fang'd with frost, And they provisionless! The weeping wife Ill-hush'd her children's moans; and still they moan'd, Till Fright and Cold and Hunger drank their life. They closed their eyes in sleep, nor knew 'twas Death. He only, lashing his o'er-wearied team, Gained a sad respite, till beside the base Of the high hill his foremost horse dropt dead. Then hopeless, strengthless, sick for lack of food, He crept beneath the coverture, entranced, Till waken'd by the maiden.—Such his tale.
Ah! suffering to the height of what was suffered, Stung with too keen a sympathy, the Maid Brooded with moving lips, mute, startful, dark! And now her flush'd tumultuous features shot Such strange vivacity, as fires the eye Of misery Fancy-craz'd! and now once more Naked, and void, and fix'd, and all, within, The unquiet silence of confused thought
And shapeless feelings. For a mighty hand Was strong upon her, till in the heat of soul To the high hill-top tracing back her steps, Aside the beacon, up whose smoulder'd stones The tender ivy-trails crept thinly, there, Unconscious of the driving element, Yea, swallow'd up in the ominous dream, she sate, Ghastly as broad-eyed Slumber! a dim anguish Breath'd from her look! and still with pant and sob Inly she toil'd to flee, and still subdued Felt an inevitable Presence near.
Thus as she toil'd in troublous extacy, An horror of great darkness wrapt her round, And a voice uttered forth unearthly tones, Calming her soul,—"O Thou of the Most High Chosen, whom all the perfected in Heaven Behold expectant———
[The following fragments were intended to form part of the Poem when finished.]
"Maid belov'd of Heaven! (To her the tutelary Power exclaimed) Of Chaos the adventurous progeny
Thou seest; foul missionaries of foul sire, Fierce to regain the losses of that hour When love rose glittering, and his gorgeous wings Over the abyss flutter'd with such glad noise, As what time after long and pestful calms, With slimy shapes and miscreated life Poisoning the vast Pacific, the fresh breeze Wakens the merchant-sail uprising. Night An heavy unimaginable moan Sent forth, when she the Protoplast beheld Stand beauteous on Confusion's charmed wave. Moaning she fled, and entered the Profound That leads with downward windings to the Cave Of Darkness palpable, Desart of Death Sunk deep beneath Gehenna's massy roots. There many a dateless age the Beldame lurk'd And trembled; till engender'd by fierce Hate, Fierce Hate and gloomy Hope, a Dream arose, Shap'd like a black cloud mark'd with streaks of fire. It rous'd the Hell-Hag: she the dew-damp wiped From off her brow, and thro' the uncouth maze Retraced her steps; but ere she reach'd the mouth Of that drear labyrinth, shuddering she paused, Nor dared re-enter the diminish'd Gulph. As thro' the dark vaults of some moulder'd Tower
(Which, fearful to approach, the evening Hind Circles at distance in his homeward way) The winds breathe hollow, deem'd the plaining groan Of prison'd spirits; with such fearful voice Night murmur'd, and the sound thro' Chaos went. Leapt at her call her hideous-fronted brood! A dark behest they heard, and rush'd on earth, Since that sad hour, in Camps and Courts adored, Rebels from God, and Monarchs o'er Mankind!"
From his obscure haunt Shriek'd Fear, of Cruelty the ghastly Dam, Fev'rish yet freezing, eager-paced yet slow, As she that creeps from forth her swampy reeds, Ague, the biform Hag! when early Spring Beams on the marsh-bred vapours.
"Even so (the exulting Maiden said) The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell, And thus they witness'd God! But now the clouds Treading, and storms beneath their feet, they soar
Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing Loud songs of Triumph! O ye spirits of God, Hover around my mortal agonies!" She spake, and instantly faint melody Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow, Such measures, as at calmest midnight heard By aged Hermit in his holy dream, Foretell and solace death; and now they rise Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice Thewhite-robed multitude of slaughter'd saints At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant Receive some martyr'd Patriot. The harmony Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense Brief slumber seized, and confused extacy.
At length awakening slow, she gazed around: And thro' a Mist, the relict of that trance, Still thinning as she gaz'd, an Isle appear'd, Its high, o'er-hanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs Glass'd on the subject ocean. A vast plain Stretch'd opposite, where ever and anon
The Plough-man following sad his meagre team Turn'd up fresh sculls unstartled, and the bones Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there All mingled lay beneath the common earth, Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the Fields Stept a fair form, repairing all she might, Her temples olive-wreath'd; and where she trod, Fresh flowrets rose, and many a foodful herb. But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure, And anxious pleasure beam'd in her faint eye, As she had newly left a couch of pain, Pale Convalescent! (Yet some time to rule With power exclusive o'er the willing world, That blest prophetic mandate then fulfill'd, Peace be on Earth!) An happy while, but brief, She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet, And heal'd the recent harm of chill and blight, And nurs'd each plant that fair and virtuous grew.
But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow: Black rose the clouds, and now, (as in a dream) Their reddening shapes, transform'd to Warrior-hosts, Cours'd o'er the Sky, and battled in mid-air. Nor did not t'he large blood-drops fall from Heaven Portentous! while aloft were seen to float,
Like hideous features looming on the mist, Wan Stains of ominous Light! Resign'd, yet sad, The fair Form bow'd her olive-crowned Brow: Then o'er the plain with oft reverted eye Fled till a Place of Tombs she reach'd, and there Within a ruin'd Sepulchre obscure Found Hiding-place.
The delegated Maid Gaz'd thro' her tears, then in sad tones exclaim'd, Thou mild-ey'd Form! wherefore, ah! wherefore fled? "The power of Justice, like a name all Light, Shone from thy brow; but all they, who unblam'd Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness. Ah! why, uninjured and unprofited, Should multitudes against their brethren rush? Why sow they guilt, still reaping Misery? Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace! are sweet, As after showers the perfumed gale of eve, That flings the cool drops on a feverous cheek: And gay thy grassy altar pil'd with fruits. But boasts the shrine of Dæmon War one charm, Save that with many an orgie strange and foul, Dancing around with interwoven arms, The Maniac Suicide and Giant Murder
Exult in their fierce union! I am sad, And know not why the simple Peasants crowd Beneath the Chieftains' standard!" Thus the Maid,
To her the tutelary Spirit replied: "When Luxury and Lust's exhausted stores No more can rouse the appetites of Kings; When the low flattery of their reptile Lords Falls flat and heavy on the accustom'd ear; When Eunuchs sing, and Fools buffoonery make, And Dancers writhe their harlot-limbs in vain: Then War and all its dread vicissitudes Pleasingly agitate their stagnant Hearts; Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats, Insipid Royalty's keen condiment! Therefore, uninjur'd and unprofited, (Victims at once and Executioners) The congregated Husbandmen lay waste The Vineyard and the Harvest. As along The Bothnic coast, or southward of the Line, Though hush'd the Winds and cloudless the Noon, Yet if Leviathan, weary of ease, In sports unwieldy toss his Island-bulk, Ocean behind him billows, and before
A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand. And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark, Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War, And War, his strained sinews knit anew, Still violate th' unfinish'd works of Peace. But yonder look! for more demands thy view!" He said: and straightway from the opposite Isle A Vapor sail'd, as when a cloud, exhaled From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence, Travels the sky for many a trackless league, 'Till o'er some Death-doom'd land, distant in vain, It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the Plain, Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose, And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went.
The Maiden paus'd, musing what this might mean. But long time pass'd not, ere that brighter Cloud Returned more bright: along the Plain it swept; And soon from forth its bursting sides emerg'd A dazzling Form, broad-bosom'd, bold of eye, And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound. Not more majestic stood the healing God, When from his brow the arrow sped that slew Huge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng, And with them hiss'd the Locust-fiends that crawl'd
And glitter'd in Corruption's slimy track. Great was their wrath, for short they knew their reign: And such commotion made they, and uproar, As when the mad Tornado bellows through The guilty islands of the western main, What time departing from their native shores, Eboe, orKoromantyn's plain of Palms,
The infuriate spirits of the Murdered make Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of Heaven. Warm'd with new influence, the unwholesome Plain Sent up its foulest fogs to meet the Morn: The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in Blood!
"Maiden belov'd, and Delegate of Heaven!" (To her the tutelary Spirit said) "Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day, The stormy Morning into cloudless Noon. Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand— But this be thy best Omen—Save thy Country!" Thus saying, from the answering Maid he pass'd, And with him disappear'd the Heavenly Vision."
"Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven! All conscious Presence of the Universe! Nature's vast Ever-acting Energy! In Will, in Deed, Impulse of All to All! Whether thy Love with unrefracted Ray
Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if Diseasing Realms the Enthusiast, wild of Thought, Scatter new Frenzies on the infected Throng, Thou Both inspiring and predooming Both, Fit Instruments and best, of perfect End: Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven!"
And first a Landscape rose, More wild, and waste, and desolate, than where The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous rage And savage agony.
FINIS.
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* ↑ Balda Zhiok: i.e. mons altudinis, the highest mountain in Lapland.
* ↑ Solfar-Kapper: capitium Solfar, hic locus omnium, quotquot veterum Lapponum superstitio sacrificiis religiosoque cultui dedicavit, celebratissimus erat, in parte sinus australis situs, semimilliaris spatio a marl distans. Ipse locus, quern curiositatis gratia aliquando me invisisse memini, duabus prealtis lapidibus, sibi invicem oppositis, quorum alter musco circumdatus erat, constabat. Leemius De Lapponibus.
* ↑ The Lapland women carry their infants at their back in a piece of excavated wood, which serves them for a cradle. Opposite to the infant's mouth there is a hole for it to breathe through.—Mirandum prorsus est et vix credibile nisi cui vidisse contigit. Lappones hyeme iter facientes per vastos montes, perque horrida et invia tesqua, eo presertim tempore quo omnia perpetuis nivibus obtecta sunt et nives ventis agitantur et in gyros aguntur, viam ad destinata loca absque errore invenire posse, lactantem autem infantem, si quem habeat, ipsa mater in dorso bajulat, in excavato ligno (Gieed'k ipsi vocant) quod pro cunis utuntur: in hoc infans pannis et pellibus convolutus colligatus jacet. Leemius De Lapponibus.
* ↑ Jaibme Aibmo.
* ↑ They call the Good Spirit, Torngarsuck. The other great but malignant spirit is a nameless Female; she dwells under the sea in a great house, where she can detain in captivity all the animals of the ocean by her magic power. When a dearth befalls the Greenlanders, an Angekok or magician must undertake a journey thither: he passes through the kingdom of souls, over an horrible abyss into the Palace of this phantom, and by his enchantments causes the captive creatures to ascend directly to the surface of the ocean. See Crantz' Hist. of Greenland, vol. i. 206.
* ↑ Revel, vi. 9, 11. And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held. And white robes were given unto every one of them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellow-servants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled.
* ↑ The Slaves in the West-Indies consider death as a passport to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of which the ideas are better than the language in which they are conveyed. Ω σκοτον πυλας, Θανατε, προλειπων Ες γενος σπευδοις υποζευχθεν Ατᾳ. Ου ξενισθησῃ γενυων σπαραγμοις Ουδ' ολολυγμω, Αλλα και κυκλοισι χοροιτυποισι Κ'ασματων χαρᾳ· φοβερος μεν εσσι, Αλλ' ομως Ελευθεριᾳ συνοικεῖς, Στυγνε Τυραννε! Δασκιοις επει πτερυγεσσι σησι Α! θαλασσιον καθορωντες οιδμα Αιθεροπλαγτοις υπο ποσσ' ανεισι Πατριδ' επ' αιαν. Ενθα μαν Εραςαι Ερῳμενησιν Αμφι πηγησιν κιτρινων υπ' αλσων, Οσσ' υπο βροτοις επαθον βροτοι, τα Δεινα λεγοντι. LITERAL TRANSLATION. Leaving the Gates of Darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a Race yoked with Misery! Thou wilt not be received with lacerations of cheeks, nor with funereal ululation—but with circling dances, and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed, yet thou dwelleth with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy dark pinions over the swelling of Ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath Citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, being Men, they had endured from Men.
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Errata
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