Classic Poem

" If thou speakest truth," I answer'd,
" Much, indeed, thou hast been libel'd!
Yet thy very benedictions
Spring from Him, the first Creator.

" By the will of Him, the Father,
Thou hast wrought to cleanse thy kingdom —
From the first His eyes, all-seeing,
Knew thee as His instrument!

" If Mankind, tho' dimly, darkly,
Moveth onward to perfection,
If at last the ills of Nature
Shall be heal'd and render'd whole,

" Even there I trace the Finger
Of the Almighty slowly working,
Till the hour when thou , His servant,
Kneeling low shalt be forgiven!

" Then Humanity, made holy,
Kneeling also to the Father,
Shall accept His final blessing
And be lifted up and saved!"

Wistfully he lookt upon me,
Once again his face was clouded
With that mist of woeful pity,
While his eyes grew dim with tears ...

Then, another transformation!
Bright and radiant, tho' despairing,
Rose he to his angel's stature,
Looking up with starry orbs;

While the stars and constellations,
Fixing countless eyes upon him,
Shed upon his woe-worn features
Splendour from a million worlds,

In a voice like stars vibrating,
Answer'd by the hosts of Heaven,
Cried he, while his troubled spirit
Shook with woeful indignation:

" Cast thy thought along the Ages!
Walk the sepulchres of Nations!
Mourn, with me , the fair things perish'd!
Mark the martyrdoms of men!

" Say, can any latter blessing
Cleanse the blood-stain'd Book of Being?
Can a remnant render'd happy
Wipe out centuries of sorrow?

" Nay, one broken life outweigheth
Twenty thousand lives made perfect!
Nay, I scorn the God whose pathway
Lieth over bleeding hearts!

" From the first the cry of anguish
Hath arisen to yonder Heaven!
From the first, the ways of Nature
Have been cruel and accurst!

" Man, thou sayest, shall yet be happy?
What avails a bliss created
Out of hecatombs of evil,
Out of endless years of pain?

" Happy? Looking ever backward
On the graves of generations,
Haunted by the eyes despairing
Of the millions lost for ever?

" Even now the life he liveth
Builded is of shame and sorrow!
Even now his flesh is fashion'd
Of the creatures that surround him!

" From the sward the stench of slaughter
Riseth hourly to his nostrils!
By his will the beast doth anguish
And the wounded dove doth die!

" Dreamer! Even here thy fancy
Fails before the truths of Nature —
God, thy great all-loving Father,
By His will created Death! —

" Like the races long departed,
So the perfect race shall perish!
Like the suns burnt out and faded,
Shall thy sun be shrivell'd up!

" Juggle not with words and phrases!
Lie not with the Priests and Prophets!
Pain and Death are God's creation,
And eternal, like Himself!

" I alone, whom men call Devil,
Have allay'd the woes of Nature!
Death alone I cannot vanquish —
Death and God, perchance, are One!"