Classic Poem

A scroll antique, with weeds behung,
Writ in a mystic pagan tongue,
Wash'd to Orm's feet by the wan Main
After long nights of wind and rain:
Translating this at dead of night,
The Celt beholds with dazzled sight
Strange gods stalk past, and in their train,
Supreme, the King of Sin and Pain.

I.

The I NSCRIPTION W ITHOUT .

The Moral Law: all Evil is Defect;
The limb deform'd for common use of life
Defect, — but haply in the line of growth.

II.

The T REE OF L IFE .

The Master said:
" I have planted the Seed of a Tree,
It shall be strangely fed
With white dew and with red,
And the Gardeners shall be three —
Regret, Hope, Memory!"

The Master smiled:
For the Seed thaThe had set
Broke presently through the mould,
With a glimmer of green and gold,
And the Angels' eyes were wet —
Hope, Memory, Regret.

The Master cried:
" It liveth — breatheth — see!
Its soft lips open wide —
It looks from side to side —
How strange they gleam on me,
The little dim eyes of the Tree!"

The Master said:
" After a million years,
The Seed I set and fed
To itself hath gatherid
All the world's smiles and tears —
How mighty it appears!"

The Master said:
" At last, at last, I see
A Blossom, a Blossom o' red
From the heart of the Tree is shed.
Fairer it seems to be
Than the Tree, or the leaves o' the Tree."

The Master cried:
" O Angels, that guard the Tree,
A Blossom, a Blossom divine
Grows on this greenwood of mine:
What may this Blossom be?
Name this Blossom to me!"

The Master smiled;
For the Angels answered thus:
" Our tears have nourish'd the same,
We have given it a name
That seemeth fit to us —
We have called it Spiritus ."

The Master said:
" This Flower no Seed shall bear
But hither on a day
My beautiful Child shall stray,
And shall snatch it unaware,
And wreath it in his hair."

The Master smiled:
" The Tree shall never bear —
Seedless shall perish the Tree,
But the Flower my Child's shall be;
He will pluck the Flower and wear,
Till it withers in his hair!"

III.

The S EEDS .

When all that puzzles sense was planned,
When the first seeds of being fell,
In reverence bent, I stood at hand,
And heard a part of the spell:
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen into power and pain!"
Shoots of the seed, I saw them grow,
Green blades of vegetable sheen,
They darken'd as with wind, and so
The Earth's black ball grew green —
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
Then starry-bright out of the ground
The firstling flowers sprang dewy-wet;
I pluckt one, and it felt no wound —
There was no pain as yet.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
Next in His Hand He lifted thus
Bright bubbling water from the spring —
And in that crystal tremulous
Quicken'd a living thing.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
And suddenly! ere I was 'ware,
(So fast the dreadful spell was tried),
O'er Earth's green bosom everywhere
Crawl'd living things, and cried.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
On every grass-blade glittering bright
A shining Insect leapt and played,
By every sea, on every height,
A Monster cast its shade —
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
The most was lingering in the least,
The least became the most anon;
From plant to fish, from fish to beast,
The Essence deepen'd on.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
And deeper still in subtle worth
The Essence grew, from gain to gain,
And subtler grew, with each new birth,
The creature's power of pain.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
Paler I saw the Master grow,
Faint and more faint His breathing fell,
And strangely, lower and more low,
He mutter'd o'er the spell:
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
Now the deep murmur of the Earth
Was mingled with a painful cry,
The yeanling young leapt up in mirth,
But the old lay down to die.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
When standing in the perfect light
I saw the first-born Mortal rise —
The flower of things he stood his height
With melancholy eyes.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
From all the resThe drew apart,
And stood erect on the green sod,
Holding his hand upon his heart,
And looking up at God!
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
He stood so terrible, so dread,
With right hand lifted pale and proud,
God feared the thing He fashionid,
And fled into a cloud.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
And since that day He hid away
Man hath not seen the Face that fled,
And the wild question of that day
Hath not been answerid.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
And since that day, with cloudy face,
Of His own handiwork afraid,
God from His heavenly hiding-place
Peers on the thing He made.
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"
O Crown of things, O good and wise,
O mortal Soul that would'st be free,
I weep to look into thine eyes —
Thou art so like to me!
" Grow, Seed! blossom, Brain!
Deepen, deepen, into pain!"

IV.

F IRE AND W ATER; OR, A V OICE OF THE F LESH .

" Two white arms, a moss pillow,
A curtain o' green;
Come love me, love me,
Come clasp me unseen!"
As red as a rose is,
I saw her arise,
Fresh waked from reposes,
With wild dreamy eyes.
I sprang to her, clasp'd her
I trembled, I prest,
I drank her warm kisses,
I kiss'd her white breast.
With a ripple of laughter,
A dazzle of spray,
She melted, she melted,
And glimmer'd away!
Down my breast runs the water,
In my heart burns the fire,
My face is like crimson
With shame and desire!

V.

S ANITAS .

D REAMILY , on her milk-white Ass,
Rideth the maiden Sanitas —
With zone of gold her waist is bound,
Her brows are with immortelles crown'd;
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening —
Lower, lower, sinks the sun,
The white stars glimmer, one by one!
Who sitteth musing at his door?
Silas, the Leper, gaunt and hoar;
Though he is curst in every limb,
Full whitely Time hath snowed on him —
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening —
The Leper, drinking in the air,
Sits like a beast, with idiot stare.
How pale! how wondrous! doth she pass,
The heavenly maiden Sanitas;
She looketh, and she shuddereth,
She passeth on with bated breath —
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening —
His mind is like a stagnant pool,
She passeth o'er it, beautiful!
Brighter, whiter, in the skies,
Open innumerable eyes;
The Leper looketh up and sees,
His aching heart is soothed by these —
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening —
He looketh up with heart astir,
And every Star hath eyes like her!
Onward on her milk-white Ass
Rideth the maiden Sanitas.
The boughs are green, the grain is pearl'd,
But 'tis a miserable world —
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening —
All o'er the blue above her, she
Beholds bright spots of Leprosy.

VI.

The P HILOSOPHERS .

W E are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
Lo! we sit apart,
Each right hand is uplifted,
Each left hand holds a heart;
At our feet rolls by the tumult,
O'er our heads the still stars gleam —
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
We drink and dream!
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
We are worn and old,
Each hath the sad forehead,
Each the cup of gold.
In our eyes the awe-struck Nations
Look, and name us wise, and go —
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
We drink and know!
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
Silent, kingly, pure;
Who is wise if we be foolish?
Who, if we die, shall endure?
The Bacchanals with dripping vine-leaves,
Blushing meet our eyes, and haste —
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
Bitter to taste!
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
Spirits pure as snow;
White star-frost is on our foreheads —
We are weary, we would go.
Hark! the world fades with its voices,
Fades the tumult and the cry —
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock!
We drink and die!

VII.

The D EVIL'S P RAYER .

Father which art in Heaven, — noThere below;
Be Thy name hallowid, in that place of worth;
And till Thy Kingdom cometh, and we know,
Be Thy will done more tenderly on Earth;
Since we must live — give us this day our bread;
Forgive our stumblings — since Thou mad'st us blind;
If we offend Thee, Sire, at least forgive
As tenderly as we forgive our kind; —
Spare us temptation, — human or divine;
Deliver us from evil, now and then;
The Kingdom, Power, and Glory all are Thine
For ever and for evermore. Amen.

VIII.

H OMUNCULUS; OR, THE S ONG OF D EICIDES .

1.

Now all the mystic Lamps that shed
Light on the living world are fled;
Now the swart digger rinses gold,
Under a starless heaven and cold;
Now every God, save one, is dead,
Now that last. God is almost sped;
Cold falls the dew, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides.

2.

Homunculus! Homunculus!
Not ever shalt thou conquer us!
Zeus, Astaroth, Brahm, and Menu,
With all the gods, white, black, and blue,
Are fallen, and while I murmur thus,
Strong, and more strong, Homunculus
Upon a Teuton Jackass rides,
Singing the Song of Deicides.

3.

It seems but yesterday the dim
And solitary germ of him
Glimmer'd most strangely on my sense,
While, with my microscope intense,
I search'd a Beast's brain-cavern dark: —
A germ — a gleam — a cell — a spark —
Grown to Homunculus, who rides
To my sad Song of Deicides.

4.

Oh had I then so far foreseen,
This day of doom had never been,
For with a drop of fire from Hell
I would have killed the feeble Cell.
Too late! too late! for slow and strange
He has passed the darker sphere of change,
Lo! he emerges — shouts — derides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!

5.

Black is his raiment, top to toe,
His flesh is white and warm below,
All through his silent veins flow flee
Hunger, and Thirst, and Venery;
But in his eye a still small flame,
Like the first Cell from which he came,
Burns round and luminous, — as he rides
To my still Song of Deicides!

6.

With Obic Circle he began,
Swift through the Phallic rites he ran,
He watch'd until his head went round
The Memphian Sphinx's stare profound;
All these by turn he overcast,
And suck'd the Orphic Egg at last;
Now laughing low he westward strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!

7.

He drives the Gods o' the north to death —
The Sanctus Spiritus is breath —
He plucks down Thammuz from his joy,
And kneads him to a huswife's toy;
He stares to shame the Afric spheres;
He strikes — he overturns — he sneers —
Oven the fallen Titans strides,
And squeaks the Song of Deicides!

8.

Homunculus! Homunculus
Wretched, degenerate, impious!
He will not stay, he will not speak —
Another blow! another shriek!
Lo! where he hacketh suddenly
At the red Cross of Calvary!
All darkens — faintly moan the tides —
Sing low the Song of Deicides!

9.

Gigantic, in a dark mist, see!
Loometh the Cross of Calvary;
With rayless eyes the Skeleton
Quivers through all its bones thereon.
Deep grows the mist, faint falls the wind,
The bloodshot sun setteth behind ...
A crash! a fall — The Cross he strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides!

10.

Now he hath conquered godhead thus,
Whither will turn Homunculus?
I am the only God let be —
All but my fiends believe in me;
(Though all the Angels deem me prince,
My kith and kin I can't convince.)
ChrisThelp me now! Hither he rides,
Singing my song of Deicides!

11.

Silent I wait — (how stand the odds?)
I am the Serpent of the Gods, —
Wait! — draw the forkid tongue in slow,
Hoard up my venom for the blow.
Crouch in my cave — of all the host
I know he feareth me the most —
Then strike and crush that thing accurst
I should have stifled at the first! ...
All Earth awaits! Hither he rides!
Cold fall the dews, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides!

IX.

R OSES .

" Sad, and sweet, and wise,
Here a child reposes,
Dust is on his eyes,
Quietly he lies, —
Satan, strew Roses!"
Weeping low, creeping slow,
Came the Weary-wingid!
Roses red over the dead
Quietly he flingid.
" I am old," he thought,
" And the world's day closes;
Pale and fever-fraught,
Sadly have I brought
These blood-red Roses."
By his side the mother came
Shudderingly creeping;
The Devil's and the woman's heart
Bitterly were weeping.
" SwifThe came and swifThe flew,
Waiting on is weary too, —
Wherefore on his grave we strew
Bitter, withering Roses."
The Devil gripped the woman's heart,
With gall he staunched its bleeding;
Far away, beyond the day,
The Lord heard interceding.
" Lord God, One in Three!
Sure Thy anger closes;
Yesterday I died, and see
The Weary-wingid over me
Bitterly streweth Roses."
The voice cried out, " Rejoice! rejoice!
There shall be sleep for evil!"
And all the sweetness of God's voice
Passed strangely through the Devil.

X.

H ERMAPHRODITUS .

This is a section of a Singer's Brain —
How delicately run the granular lines!
By what strange chemic could I touch this thing,
That it again might quicken and dissolve,
Changing and blooming, into glittering gleams
Of fancy; or what chemic could so quicken
The soft soil backward that it might put forth
Green vegetable shoots, — as long ago?
Upon whaTheadland did it blow of old
And ripen hitherward! Surely 'twas a place
Flowery and starry!
Cast it back to the grave!
Look down no more, but raise thine eyes and see
Who standeth glorious in the brightening Dawn!
Behold him, on the apex of the cone,
The perfect blossom of miraculous life,
Hermaphroditus. With how subtle shade
Male into female beauty mingleth — thews
Of iron coated o'er with skin of silk; —
There, on the crown he stands, the perfect one,
Witching the world with sterile loveliness, —
Beyond him, darkness and the unknown change,
The next uncurtain'd and still higher scene
That is to follow. Are those pinions, — peeping
Under the delicate-flesh'd white shoulder-blades?

XI.

After .

I SEE , as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Death sitting at his narrow Gate, —
While all around, disconsolate,
The wretched weep, the weary wait.
God pity us who weep and wait!
But, better still, if sadder, I
From this dark corner can descry
What is well-veil'd from human view:
Beyond the Gate I can pursue
The flight of those who have passed thro'.
God pity us who have passed thro'!
In at the portal, one by one,
They creep, they crawl, with shivering moan —
Nobles and Beggars, Priests and Kings;
Out at the further gate each springs
A Spirit, — with a pair of wings!
God pity us now we have wings!
All round the starry systems stir,
Each silent as a death-chamber;
There is no sound of melody,
Only deep space and mystery;
And each hath wings to wander free.
God pity us who wander free!
Some cannot use their wings at all;
Some try a feeble flight and fall;
A few, like larks in earthly skies,
With measured beat of wings uprise,
And make their way to Paradise.
God help us on to Paradise!
If ever in their flight through space
They chance to reach that resting-place,
I do not think these creatures dim
Will find the Lord of Cherubim
Exactly what they picture Him.
May God be what we picture Him!
Out of the fiery Sun is thrown
To other worlds the meteor-stone;
Back to the Sun, in season right,
The meteor-stone doth take its flight.
Lost in that melancholy light.
We fade in melancholy light.
I see, as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Those fledgling Spirits everywhere;
They sing, they lessen, up the air;
The go to God — ChrisThelp them there!
We go to God — ChrisThelp us there!

XII.

H IS P RAYER .

I N the time of transfiguration,
Melt me, Master, like snow;
Melt me, dissolve me, inhale me
Into Thy wool-white cloud;
With a warm wind blow me upward
Over the hills and the seas,
And upon a summer morning
Poise me over the valley
Of Thy mellow, mellow realm;
Then, for a wondrous moment,
Watch me from infinite space
With Thy round red Eyeball of sunlight,
And melt and dissolve me downward
In the beautiful silver Rain
That drippeth musically,
With a gleam like Starlight and Moonlight,
On the footstool of Thy Throne.