Poems (Welby)/On Entering the Mammoth Cave

Poems
by Amelia Welby
On Entering the Mammoth Cave
4491124Poems — On Entering the Mammoth CaveAmelia Welby
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.
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.
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!
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!
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!
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!
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.
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!
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!
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?
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.
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?
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!
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!