fair to look upon) towards earth, to allure men beneath her baneful shadow; and the other direful face towards the infernal abyss, to torture all therein for ages without end.  She is greater than the earth in its entirety, and still continuously increases; she is a hundredfold more hideous than all Hell which she herself created and which she peoples.  If Hell were rid of her, the vasty deep would be a Paradise; if she were driven from the earth, the little world would become a heaven; and if she ascended into Heaven, she would make an uttermost hell of that blissful realm.  There is nought in all the worlds which God has not created, save her alone.  She is the mother of the four deadly enchantresses; she is the mother of Death and of all evil and misery, and her terrible grasp is upon every living being.  Her name is Sin.  Blessed, ever blessed be he who escapes from her clutches,” said the Angel.  Thereupon he departed, and I could hear the distant echo of his voice saying; “Write down what thou hast seen; and whosoever readeth it thoughtfully will never repent.”

WITH HEAVY HEART.

   With heavy heart I sought th’ infernal coast
   And saw the vale of everlasting woes,
   The awful home of fiends and of the lost
   Where torments rage and never grant repose —
   A lake of fire whence horrid flames arose
   And whither tended every wayward path
   Its prey to lead ’midst cruel dragon-foes;
   Yet, though I wandered through withouten scath,
A world I’d spurn, to view again that scene of wrath.

   With heavy heart oft I recall to mind
   How many a loving friend unwarned fell
   To bottomless perdition, there to find
   A dread abode where he for aye must dwell;
   Who erst were men are now like hounds of Hell
   And with unceasing energy entice
   To dire combustion all with wily spell,
   And to themselves have ta’en the devils’ guise,
Their power and skill all ill to do in every wise.

   With heavy heart I roamed the dismal land
   That is ordained the sinner’s end to be;
   What mighty waves surge wild on every hand! 
   What gloomy shadows haunt its canopy! 
   What horrors fall on high and mean degree! 
   How hideous is the mien of its fell lords,
   What shrieks rise from that boundless glowing sea,
   How fierce the curses of the damned hordes,
No mortal ken can e’er conceive or paint in words.

   With heavy heart we mourn true friends or kin
   And grieve the loss of home, of liberty,
   Of that good name which all aspire to win
   Or health and ease and sweet tranquility;
   When dim, dark clouds enshroud our memory
   And pass ’tween us and heaven’s gracious smiles,
   ’Tis sadder far to wake to misery
   And feel that Pleasure now no more beguiles,
That sin has left nought but the wounds of its base wiles.