Classic Poem

Hast thou e'er seen how, on some Alpine height,
Enfolded in thick mist, thou didst perceive
No more than doth a mole, the sunny light?
And when the vapours moist and dense, that weave
A veil around thee, 'gin to melt away,
Weakly the pallid sunbeams they receive.
This image feebly may to thee convey
The manner in which now I saw at last
The orb that near its couch of slumber lay.
Still closely in my Master's steps I pass'd
Forth from the dimness to the light, which now
Only on the far summits had its rest.
O Fancy, by whose power full oft we go
Wrapp'd in our thoughts from every outward thing,
Unheeding, did a thousand trumpets blow,
Whence is thy hidden and unsensual spring?
I ween, thou art impell'd by purer light,
Or self-existent or which Heaven doth bring.
Now was reveal'd unto my inward sight,
She who, for guilt, was doom'd the form to wear
Of the sweet bird whose song doth most delight.
And thus my thoughts were so restricted here
In their own depths, that to my mental eye
Nought from without might enter nor appear.
Then in my trance I saw, uplifted high,
A gallows; and thereon, in scornful mood,
Hung one who did without repentance die.
Around, the great Ahasuerus stood,
Esther his wife, and righteous Mordecai,
Who in both deeds and words alike was good.
And as the pictured fancy pass'd away,
Even like a bubble bursting, when doth fail
The wat'ry film beneath which erst it lay,
Before me a fair maiden seem'd to wail,
With many tears. And thus she spake: “O queen,
Why in thy wrath didst thou thyself assail,
From fear to lose Lavinia? Now, I ween,
For ever thou hast lost me; more I sigh,
My mother, for the grief which thee hath slain,
Than for aught else.” As, when in sleep we lie,
The closëd lids are lit by sudden gleam,
And slumber trembles ere it wholly die,
Thus fled the imagery of my dream,
Soon as the radiance on my forehead lay,
More bright than ye on this dark earth may deem.
I turn'd to see whence came the dazzling ray,
And heard a voice which said: “Now here ascend;”
And then all other thoughts I put away,
And did my heart and will so wholly bend,
That I for him who spoke to me might seek,
I rested not till I this knowledge gain'd.
As, when upon our sight the sunbeams break,
So bright, their splendours o'er our sense prevail;
Even thus, to bear that vision I was weak.
“Behold a heavenly One, who will not fail,
Unask'd, to guide our steps unto the skies;
Around him his own glory weaves a veil.
He acts toward us in the self-same wise
As we do with ourselves; he doth despite
Unto the prayer, who waits till it arise.
Obey we now the voice that doth invite;
Strive to ascend ere comes the twilight dim;
For, else, we may not till the dawning light
Return.” Thus spake my guide; and I with him
To the steep pathway strove my steps to bring.
And when I to the earliest grade had come,
Methought the floating of an angel's wing
A moment fann'd my forehead, as he sped,
And “Blessëd are the peaceful” seem'd to sing;
And now above our heads the light is fled
Of the last sunbeam fading into night,
And o'er the heavens the starry hosts are led.
“Why feel I such diminish'd strength and might?”
I said within myself; because all power
I lost, it seem'd, to guide my footsteps right.
We now had come to where the stair no more
Ascends; and firmly fix'd we did appear,
Even as a ship when it hath touch'd the shore.
I listen'd, all intent, that I might hear
Some word or sound, this new abode within;
And then I turn'd me to my Master dear,
And spake: “My gentle father, say, what sin
Is cleansëd here? Although our feet be stay'd,
Stay not thy words.” Then thus did he begin:
“The love of virtue, which by sloth was made
Too weak to reach its aim, ye here renew;
And here ye ply the oar too long delay'd.
But that more clearly this may greet thy view,
Turn thou thy thoughts to me; and thou shalt find
Of this our sojourn some good fruit ensue.
Ne'er was Creator or created mind,”
Thus he went on, “my son, without some love,
Thou know'st, by Nature or the soul assign'd.
And never Nature may to error move;
But if the soul on evil object light,
Or if too small or great the force it prove,
Then doth it wander from the path of right.
First, love the best; then, be in measure worn
The second: and thou'lt seek no ill delight.
But if thou stray to evil, or dost burn
Too much, or with too little zeal for good,
Against the Maker his own works ye turn.
Hence, it may well by thee be understood,
Love is the seed of virtue and each deed
That ye bewail beyond the evil flood.
And, because love must evermore give heed
To its belovëd's welfare, it must be
That from their proper hate all things are freed.
Since no created being can ye see,
Or self-existent, or from God apart,
The finite may not hate Infinity.
Thus it remains, if well I know this art,
Your neighbour's hurt ye love; and, in three ways,
This love is born within your earthly heart.
There are who hope that they themselves may raise,
Upon their neighbour's downfall; and they claim
For this, that he be sunk to lower place.
There are who glory, honour, power, and fame
Would fear to lose, if others upward rise;
And thus, in heart, they love their neighbour's blame.
There are who, injured, would in wrathful guise
Desire to gloat o'er the avenging blow,
And thus their neighbour's hurt do they devise.
This threefold love, within the zones below,
Is wept; I would the other thou shouldst learn,
Which unto good doth in ill measure go.
Each one confus'dly tow'rd some good doth turn,
On which his spirit rests with strong desire;
And to attain it every heart doth burn.
Those who too slowly, upon earth, acquire
The love of virtue (if but they repent)
Purged in this circle, heavenward may aspire.
And there are joys which cannot give content;
True happiness they are not, nor the root
And essence of the true and excellent.
The love which too much feeds on earthly fruit,
Above us in a triple zone they mourn:
But of its threefold parting am I mute,
For thou thyself must go to seek it in that bourne.