The Land of Promise: a Fable
I.
A pilgrim folk, o'er leagues of pathless sand
Long journeying patiently from far away,
Lured by the promise of a fairer land,
Reach'd ere the close of one eventful day
The craggy shore of a capacious stream:
And lo! the Promised Land before them lay
All in a golden sunset, whose last gleam
Reveal'd between the rovers and their rest
No barrier save that river's bridgeless breast.
II.
Each sufferer, sick and footsore from the waste,
Hail'd with reviving hope the blissful sight.
About the river-beach they pitch'd in haste
Their evening tents, and roam'd in dreams all night
The Land of Promise. At the dawn, however,
The signal trumpet sounded, summoning
The tribe to council. For that rock-bound river
Was broad, and deep, and rapid. The first thing
On which their pilgrim parliament decided
Was to preserve intact, to a community
Whose best opinions might be much divided,
The necessary strength of social unity.
And so it ruled that they should all agree
To recognize as final the authority
Of whatsoever plan might chance to be
Adopted by the vote of the majority.
III.
Scarce was this salutary rule laid down,
Ere one brisk leader of the emigration
(Whose dauntless spirit was to all well known)
Sprang forward with a shout of exultation;
And, from the shoulder of the stony shore
Pointing where every gaze instinctive turn'd,
"Brothers," he cried, "procrastinate no more!
The Promised Land, long arduously earn'd,
Before us lies. Why linger, then, the brave?
What need of projects and of plans? To me
Nature hard muscles and a man's heart gave,
Nor need I more to grasp the good I see.
Forward! Who follows? Fate befriends the bold!"
Without a pause he plunged into the wave
That 'twixt the wanderers and their wishes roll'd;
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Bulwer-Lytton from Littell's Living Age, Volume 157, Issue 2028
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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