returned from evil doing
Unto ways of truth and knowledge.
And of Sero let me tell you.
He was keeper of the passes
Leading to the land of Wisdom--
Wisdom, clothed in radiant glory;
And unto the lands of Darkness--
Darkness, clothed in every horror.
With bewailing he was girded,
To that band a key suspended;
He was girded with rejoicing,
To that band a key suspended.
These were keys wherewith he opened,
Opened he therewith the wickets,
To allow the people entrance
As the passport they presented.
Just between the wickets sat he,
Wide his dusky pinions spreading,
One upon each entrance holding;
And above him waved a banner,
In its colors dull and dismal;
Deep and solemn was the motto,
Was the warning written on it;
Thus it was in bold description--
"Woe is for the evildoer;
For the upright, joy and gladness."
And a voice beside him echoed,
In sonorous sounds and loudly,
Tones of gladness, tones of sadness,
"Hark ye, hark ye, all who wander,
Woe is for the evildoer;
For the upright, joy and gladness."
In his right hand Sero wielded,--
Brandished a terrific weapon,
And it was a sword of terror;
For the evil, but beholding,
Trembled as an aspen leaflet,
Shuddered as the ruined shudder.
Wonder moved all the people
While they listened to the sayings,
To the wonders he unfolded
Of the regions which he guarded.
Thus he made his mystic sayings:
"Through this wicket on my right hand
Is a vale of noble grandeur,
Placid and surpassing lovely,
Which the pilgrim, as he enters,
Hails with overflowing gladness.
Seraphs from the holy regions--
Oh, so sweet, and so inviting!--
Meet him as he enters therein;
Through the pleasant passes guide him,
By the banks of streamlets gliding,
With a constant music laden;
Mellow light-beams on them dancing,
Waltzing to the streamlet's music;
Music soft and so melodious
Rising from the groves around them;
Groves of myrtle and of woodbine
Full of odors rich and soothing,
Rising from the flowery vials;
Flowers which clothe the banks, adorning,
Till the breezes hail their essence;
Zephyrs soft, and fair, and gentle,
Take these balmy odors with them,
Throughout all the holy regions.
Thus he wanders onward, onward,
With his angel guides advancing,
Wrapt in wonder and adorement,
Raptured with the matchless beauty,
Till a softer music cometh,
Sweeter than the notes around him,
On the distance flowing sweetly.
Soon the strains come nearer, clearer,
And he wonders why t