wander, Woe is for the evildoer; For the upright, joy and gladness.” In his right hand Sero wielded,— p. 28Brandished 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 movéd 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 p. 29Full 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 the music. ‘Whence these songs of mirth and gladness?’ Asketh thus his angel escort. ‘Where and whence these sounds melodious? Whose are all these festive voices? What the cause of such rejoicing?’ And the spirits answer thuswise: ‘These are bands of angels singing In the happy land of Blessing, In the lofty halls of gladness. Seraphs from their golden harps draw p. 30Notes to swell the songs of gladness. These are songs of glad rejoicings For another pilgrim nearing,— One escaped the land of bondage. This the source of these rejoicings.’ Ere this answer hath been spoken, Lo! before them rise the portals Of the holy land of Blessing. This the city he hath heard of In such sweet and wondrous stories, Whence he longed in patient waiting To arrive at, now before him. How enraptured he beholdeth All its dazzling brightness spreading, As he nearer comes and nearer To the haven of his journey, Thousand times ten thousands grander Than his brightest fancies thought of. Sparkling, bounding in its brightness, Comes the soft and cheering fair light, Rolling o’er the diamond bulwarks, Flowing through the golden portals, Like ten thousand fairy sunbeams. All the bulwarks are of diamond, And of purest gold the portals; Paved of brightest gems the courts are; p. 31Blended in a noble grandeur, Sapphire blocks 

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