One morning during the present autumn, I made an early excursion
through the fields. The sky was unclouded, and the eastern horizon
was in a glow with those saffron hues that usher in the day. The
stream before me, unruffled by a breath of air, gave back the shape
and colour of the landscape as distinctly as in a mirror. A few
chirping insects, and now and then a warble, sometimes half heard
from a distant grove, and sometimes bursting full upon the ear,
were all that broke the silence.
Captivated and riveted by the scene, I sat down under a favourite
beech-tree, to enjoy it at my leisure. In such situations, the mind
naturally falls into that train of musing which is most habitual;
and I was soon lost in meditations upon the inexhaustible beauty
and magnificence of Nature, and those lessons of deep philosophy
which are to be learned in its school. From one thought I passed to
another, till insensibly I fell into the following revery.
Methought that beside me was a hill, whose rocky sides seemed
almost inaccessible. The ascent was somewhat easier near the top,
which glowed as if it were on fire. Before the hill was a fertile
and beautiful plain, which was terminated by a barren heath, and
that, by the waters of a vast lake. A path, the beginning of which
I could not discover, seemed to wind round the foot of the hill,
till it came to where there was somewhat of an opening in rocks, and
divided. One part took the direction of the plain, and was soon lost
in innumerable avenues. The other ascended the hill, in nearly a
straight direction to the summit.
Where the path divided, there were stationed two beings of a
celestial appearance. One of them, who guarded the ascent to the
hill, was a youth of severe but manly beauty.
A female stood at the entrance to the plain. She was elegantly
though loosely dressed; her head was crowned with a chaplet of
flowers, and her whole contour was that of perfect beauty--yet there
was a certain boldness and forwardness in her mien, that however
it might captivate some, rather checked the advances of those whose
self-command was not disarmed by her beauty.
I perceived a crowd of persons advancing along the great road,
towards these beings; and when they came to where it forked, they
seemed urged forward by an irresistible impulse, yet doubtful which
path to pursue. Many attempted to ascend the hill, allured no doubt
by the splendour of its summit. Yet I observed that the greater part
of these, after toiling a little way up the ascent, turned back,
after many a wistful look at the valley which lay behind them. The
greater part of the travellers, however, chose the direction of the
valley. Some were allured by the sight of verdant banks and shady
groves, and by the strains of exquisite melody ever and anon wafted
to their ears.
Many were enticed by the Portress of the Plain, who assured them
that there was a much easier and pleasanter way to the summit of the
hill through her dominions. When they had once entered, it seemed
like a region of enchantment. The main path, as I have mentioned,
speedily lost itself in innumerable branches.--Many of these seemed
to wind along the foot of the hill, so that the travellers easily
persuaded themselves that they would soon find the road which the
Genius had promised, and pitied the ascetic toil of those who were
scaling the mountain.
The inducements to repose, and the pleasures by the wayside, were,
however, innumerable. Here a flower of uncommon beauty solicited
their admiration, while umbrageous retreats and cooling fountains,
presented themselves at every turn. Beings of celestial beauty were
loitering in the shade--willing to be caressed, and ever ready
to beguile the way with music and song. At one time they would
invite the pilgrims to taste the golden fruits, which hung from the
branches; or to listen to the melody of some songster of the grove.
At another they would join in the wanton dance, "to the warbling of
the lascivious lute," and lull their senses into oblivion with music
like that of Circe. Every sense was gratified; the sky was serene
and brilliant, the landscape in its summer beauty, and the breeze
was loaded with fragrance and melody.
By degrees the paths lost their former direction, and all tended
towards the end of the plain. I could see that the sirens, who so
fatally beguiled the way, kept aloof from this part of the valley,
and lingered among the cool and shady retreats at the entrance.
Yet the travellers seemed, as before, urged on by an irresistible
impulse; although, as they advanced, the way became less pleasant,
the groves and the flowers less frequent and luxuriant, and the
melody of the birds less enchanting. The sun now shone with
intolerable ardour, and the plain ended in a burning sandy desert,
trackless and unwatered. The few sirens who still accompanied them,
and who were before so irresistibly charming, lost by degrees their
youth and beauty. A few withered hags were all that now remained.
The lute and the myrtle wreath were exchanged for a whip of snakes
and a dagger. With these they chased the band of miserable bloated
wretches, urging them farther and farther from the last vestige of
delight. I could see a number of winged boys, flying about, and
armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows. They discharged their
weapons at random, among the deluded travellers on the plain.--Their
shafts most frequently fell blunted to the ground. But whomsoever
they pierced, seemed roused as from a dream. The flowers, for them,
lost their fragrancy, the song of the grove its music, and the banks
their verdure. The sun burnt with tenfold rage, and they gazed on
themselves and their companions with horror. Many of them turned
and fled, and though they were pursued by the taunts and hisses of
those around them, seldom stopped until they had gained the foot
of the mountain. But the greater number tore the darts wildly from
their bosoms, and pressed on more desperately than before. The
wound, for a time, would appear to be healed. But whenever they
were struck with the lashes of their pursuers, it opened again--a
rankling and incurable sore. At every step their torment increased.
Frantic and blaspheming, they hurried on towards the end of the
desert, where a grove of blasted cedars seemed to promise shade,
and the sound of waters, refreshment. But scarcely had they gained
the bank, when the billows rolled over them, and closed for ever.
The howling of the winds, the dashing of the waves, and the shrieks
of the dying, sent horror to my soul.--I turned with pain from the
prospect to observe those who were ascending the mountain. They
seemed at first to advance with difficulty, for the ascent of the
hill was steep and rocky. There was but one path to its summit, and
this kept nearly a direct course, and seldom bent itself to the
inequalities of the way. The travellers often stumbled over the
stones that obstructed the passage, or tore themselves with the
briars that trailed along the way. Sometimes they would unexpectedly
find themselves at the foot of a rock that hid the prospect before
them, and seemed to bar up the passage.--But an attentive observer
might discover along its side a steep and hazardous, yet accessible
path. Here all their vigour and caution was requisite; and when they
had gained the top, it was often only to discover new difficulties.
Such were the obstacles, that many became disheartened, and sighed
after and sought the voluptuous delights of the plain. The air on
the mountain was cool and damp, and often overcast with clouds. Yet
the thunder seldom rolled but at a distance, and the lightnings
played innoxiously away. The ground was stony and barren, and seemed
like a rude and desolate rock. Yet clusters of wild thyme, and
chamomile, and rosemary, grew among the crevices of the stones; and
shed around their sweet, though wholesome and refreshing perfumes.
I observed several beings of a mild and majestic appearance, who
went about removing and lessening the obstructions of the way. They
raised and strengthened those who had fallen, and encouraged the
laggard and the slothful. They cheered their labours with the tale
of mighty men of old, or bade them mark the beauties before them,
and the dazzling brilliancy of the summit. Whether it was from the
invigorating effects of the climate, or the zeal and confidence with
which such discourse inspired them, the travellers seemed to gather
fresh strength as they proceeded. Their countenances beamed with
cheerfulness and hope, and they bounded over the obstacles in the
path with alacrity and vigour. A transient gloom would sometimes
cloud their features, and they would sometimes complain of the
asperities of the way. But a glance at the radiance above, or a
smile from the good Genii who accompanied them, would always restore
their wonted cheerfulness.
As they approached the summit, the road became more smooth and
pleasant; the rude unsightly rock was exchanged for groves and
fields of verdure. The air was purer, and more transparent. The
landscape around was Nature in her sweetest robe: arrayed not in
the unripened beauties of spring, or the gorgeous magnificence of
summer, it breathed the tempered lustre, the full maturity, the
mild undazzling serenity of autumn. The thrush, the robin, and the
turtle-dove, were heard from the recesses of the grove; and the
sky-lark sent down his melody from on high. Violets, jessamines,
and honey-suckles, were scattered along the green, and wasted their
sweets abroad. The radiance from the summit diffused a genial warmth
around, and the travellers seemed already to enjoy the fruition
of their labours,--But as if conscious that greater felicity
was in view, they still pressed forward till I could scarcely
distinguish them through the splendour that enveloped the top of the
mountain.--As I was attentively gazing on their progress, methought
I could discover a magnificent temple amidst the blaze of glory. The
dome, the walls, and the pillars, shone like diamond through the
mountain crystal. In the midst of the hall I could faintly trace an
altar smoking with incense. The porticos and the area of the temple
were crowded with beings of celestial beauty. Their robes were purer
than the driven snow, and their locks were interwoven with gold and
amaranth. Some were watching the rolling incense from the altar, and
some were hymning the praises of their heavenly guide, or chanting
the deeds of heroes. Others welcomed the travellers as they arrived,
and led them rejoicing to the midst of the temple.
My sight, dazzled and overpowered, could behold them no longer.--The
shout of welcome, the song of triumph, and the holy anthem, mellowed
and softened by the distance, died sweetly away on my ear. "Happy
regions!" exclaimed I, "this is indeed the abode of felicity. A
thousand deaths, ten thousand years of anxiety and pain, would
cheaply buy an admission to your delights." The violence of my
emotion broke my slumbers; and I awoke, like Mirza, to behold, not
indeed the camels of the long valley of Bagdat, but the awakening
life and activity of the country,--the sober herd marching forth to
their frugal pasture, the rattling swain, and the busy sounds of
labour from the opposite hamlet.