Cornell University Library PR 4262.B7 The book of Orm; a prelude to the Epic. 3 1924 013 445 568 B Cornell University B Library The original of tliis bool< is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013445568 THE BOOK OF ORM " TMs also we humbly beg, — that Human things may not prejudice such as are Divine, neither that from the unlocking of the Gates of Sense, and the kindling of a greater Natural Light, anything of incredulity or intellectual ' night may arise in our minds towards Divine Mysteries." — Student's Prayer, Bacon. 7j8vv 5e ^101' fxvfrr[}(n irpta^aive. — Orpheus. THE BOOK OF ORM / §. ^xzhie to tlw (Epic By ROBERT BUCHANAN STRAHAN & CO., PUBLISHERS S6 LUDGATE HILL, LONDON 1870 LONDON : PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO., CITY ROAD. CONTENTS. — * — PAGE, Inscription to F. W. C ix THE BOOK OF ORM. " The Book of the Visions seen by Orin the Celt " . . 3 I. First Song of the Veil S 1. The Veil Woven 7 2. Earth the Mother 12 3. Children of Earth 15 4. The Wise Men 19 II. The Man and the Shadow .... 23 1. The Shadow 25 2. The Rainbow . . ■ 45 III. Songs of Corruption SS 1. Phantasy • S7 2. The Dream of the World without Death . . 62 3. Soul and Flesh 75 IV. The Soul and the Dwelling . . . .77 V. Songs of Seeking . . . . . -93 1. "O Thou whose Ears incline unto my Singing" . 95 2. Quest 97 VI CONTENTS. PAGE. 3. The Happy Earth ... 99 4. O unseen One ! loi 5. 'World's Mystery -103 6. The Cities . .' 104 7. The Priests . . . ■ 105 8. The Lamb of God ...... 107 9. Boom . . Ill 10. God's Dream .112 11. Flower of the "World 114 12. O Spirit! 116 VT. The Lifting of the Veil . . . -117 1. Orm's Vision 119 2. The Face and the World 122 3. Orm's Awakening 140 VII. CoRuiSKEN Sonnets . . ... 143 1 . Lord, is it Thou ? 145 2. We are Fatherless ... . . 146 3. We are Children 147 4. When we are aU Asleep 148 5. But the HiUs wiU bear Witness . . . -149 6. Desolate! ijo 7. Lord, art Thou here ? . . . . . . 151 8. God is beautiful i j2 9. The Motion of the Mists 1^3 10. Cofuisk . . . . . . '. . iji 11. But whither .' 155 12. God is pitiless . - 1^6 13. Yea, pitiless icy 14. Could God be judged ! . . . 158 15. The Hills on their Thrones 159 CONTENTS. Vll 1 6. King Blaabhein . 17. Blaabhein in the Mists . 18. The fiery Birth of the Hills 19. The Changeless Hills . 20. O Mountain Peak of a God 21. God the Image 22. The Footprints 23. We are Deathless 24. A Voice in t)ie Whirlwind 25. Cry of the little Brook . 26. The Happy Hearts of Earth 27. Father, forgive Thy Child 28. God's Loneliness . 29. The Cup of Tears 30. The Light of the World 31. Earth's Eldest Born 32. What Spirit cometh ? . 33. Stay, O Spirit ! . 34. Quiet Waters PAGE. 160 161 162 . 163 164 16s 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 17s 176 177 178 Vin. The Cordisken Vision; or, The Legend of THE Book 179 IX. The Devil's Mystics . I . The Inscription without . 207 . 209 2. The Tree of Life . . 210 3. The Seeds 214 4. Fire and Water ; or, A Voice of the Flesh . . 220 5. Sanitas 222 6. The Philosophers 225 7. Prayer from the Deeps .... 227 8. Homunculus ; or, The Song of Deicides . .'228 vm CONTENTS. PAGE. g. Roses 234 10. Hermaphroditus 237 11. After 239 12. His Prayer 242 X. The Vision of the Man Accurst . . '. 243 *#* Continued ill health compels the omission of two poems — " A Rune found in the Starlight," and "The Song of Heaven " — which, although written, cannot at present be rendered perfect for prtsss. ' Section IX., top, is incomplete, wanting, the all-important "Devil's Dirge," which, however, will be added in a future edition.— R. B. INSCRIPTION. To F. W. C. Flowers pluckt upon a grave by moonlight, pale And suffering, from the spiritual light They grew in : these, with all the love and blessing That prayers can gain of God, I send to thee ! If one of these poor flowers be worthy thee, The sweetest Soul that I have Icnown on earth, The tenderest Soul that I can hope to know. Hold that one flower, and kneel, and pray for me. Pray for me, Comrade ! Close to thee I creep. Touching thy raiment : thy good eyes are calm ; But see ! the fitful fever in mine eyes — Pray for me ! — bid all good men pray for me ! If Love will serve, lo ! how I love my Friend — If Reverence, lo ! how I reverence him — If Faith be asked in something beautiful, Lo ! what a splendour is my faith in him ! Now, as thou risest gently from thy knees. Must we go different ways ? — thou followest Thy path, I mine ;— but all go westering. And all wUl meet among the Hills of God ! INSCRIPTION. Thy ace sails TOth me on a darker path, And smiles me onward ! For a time, farewell ; Wear in thy breast a few of these poor flowers, And let their scent remind my Friend of me ! Flowers of a grave, — yet deathless ! Be my love For thee as deathless ! I am beckon'd on ; — But meantime, these, with all the love and blessing That prayers can gain of God, I give to thee ! ROBERT BUCHANAN. Coruisk, 1870. THE BOOK OF ORM Read these fatni runes of Mystery^ Celi^ ai home and o^er the sea ; The bond is loosed — ihe poor are f re 1 'he worlds great future rests with thee i Till the soil — hid cities rise — Be strong, O Celt-^he rich, be •mise — But still, with those divine grave eyes Respect the realm of Mysteries. THE BOOK OF THE VISIONS SEEN BY ORM THE CELT. There is a mortal, and his name is Onn, Bom in the evening of the world, and looking Back from the sunset to the gates of morning. ' And he is aged early, in a time When all are aged early, — he was born In twilight times, and in his soul is twilight. O brother, hold me by the hand, and hearken. For these things I shall phrase are thine and mine, And all men's, — all are seeking for a sign. Thou wert bom yesterday, but thou art old. Weary to-day, to-morrow thou wilt sleep — Take these for lasses on thy closing eyelids. I. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. H(yw God in the beginning drew Over his face the Veilofblue^ Wherefore no soul of mortal race Hath ever looked upon the Face ; Children of earth whose spirits fail Heark to the First Song of the Veil. I. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. I. THE VEIL WOVEN. In the beginning, Ere Man grew, The Veil was woven Bright and blue ; Soft mists and vapours Gather'd and mingled Over the black world Stretched below, While winds of heaven Blew frorn all places, Shining luminous, A starry snow. Blindly, dumbly. THE BOOK OF ORM. Darken'd under Ocean and river, Mountain and dale, While over his features. Wondrous, terrible, The beautiful Master Drew the Veil : Then starry, luminous. Rolled the Veil of azure O'er the first dwellings Of mortal race ; — And since the beginning No mortal vision, Pure or sinning, Hath seen the Face ! Yet mark me closely ! Strongly I swear. Seen or seen not, The Face is there : FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. When the Veil is clearest And sunniest, Closest and nearest The Face is prest ; But when, grown weary With long downlooking. The Face withdrawing For a time is gone. The great Veil darkens. And ye see full clearly Glittering numberless The gems thereon. For the lamp of his features t)ivinely burning, Shines, and suffuses The Veil with light, And the Face, drawn backward With that deep sighing Ye hear in the gloaming. Leaves ye the Night. THE BOOK OF ORM. Thus it befell to men Graveward they journeyed, From walking to sleeping, In doubt and in fear. Evermore hoping, Evermore seeking. Nevermore guessing The Master so near : Making strange idols. Rearing fair Temples, Crying, denying, ' Questioning, dreaming. Nevermore certain Of God and his grace, — Evermore craving To look on a token, To gaze on the Face. Now an evangel. Whom God loved deep, FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. II Said, " See ! the mortals, How they weep ! They grope in darkness, They blunder onward From race to race, Were it not better, Once and for ever. To unveil the Face ? " God smiled. ' He said — " Not yet ! Much is to remember. Much to forget ; Be thou of comfort ! How should the token Silence their wail ? " And, with eyes tear-clouded. He gazed thro' the luminous. Star-inwrought, beautiful, Folds of the Veil. 2 TllE BOOK OF ORM. II. EARTH THE MOTHER. Beautiful, beautiful, she lay below, The mighty Mother of humanity, Turning her sightless eyeballs to the glow Of light she could not see, Feeling the happy warmth, and breathing slow As if her thoughts were shining tranquilly. Beautiful, beautiful the Mother lay, Crowned wifh silver spray, The greenness gathering hushfully around The peace of her great heart, while on her breast The wayward Waters, with a weeping sound, Were sobbing into rest. For all day long her face shone merrily. And at its smile the waves leapt mad and free : But at the darkening of the Veil, she drew The wild things to herself, and husht their cries — FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL.. 13 Then, stiller, dumber, search'd the deepening blue With passionate blind eyes ; And went the old life over in her thought, Dreamily praying as her memory wrought The dimly guessed at, never utter'd tale. While, over her dreaming, Deepen'd the luminous, ' Star-inwrought, beautiful, Folds of the wondrous Veil. For more than any of her children of clay The beautiful Mother knows — She is so old ! Ye would go wild to hearken, if this day Her dumb lips should unclose. And the talle be told : Such unfathomable things. Such mystic vanishings. She knoweth about God — she is so old. 14 THE BOOK OF ORM. For oft, in the beginning, long ago. Without a Veil looked down the Face ye know, And Earth, an infant happy-eyed and bright, Look'd smiling up, and gladden'd in its sight. But later, when the Man-Flower from her womb Burst into brightening bloom. In her glad eyes a golden dust was blown Out of the void, and she was blind as stone. And since that day She hath not seen, nor spoken, — lest her say Should be a sorrow and fear to mortal race, And doth not know the Lord hath hid away. But turneth up blind orbs — to feel the Face. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 1 5 III. CHILDREN OF EARTH. So dumbly, blindly, So cheerly, sweetly, The beautiful Mother Of mortals smiled ; Her children marvell'd And looked upon her — Her patient features Were bright and mild ; And on her eyeballs Night and day, A sweet light gUmmer'd From far away. Her children gather'd With sobs and cries, To see the sweetness Of sightless eyes ; 1 6 THE BOOK OF ORM. But tho' she held them So dear, so dear, She could not answer. She could not hear. She felt them flutter Around her knee. She felt their weeping, Yet knew not wherefore- She could not see. " O Mother ! Mother. Of mortal race ! Is there a Father ? Is there a Face ? " She felt their sorrow Against her cheek, — She could not hearken. She could not speak ; With thin lips fluttering, With blind eyes tearfiil, . And features pale. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 17 She clasp'd her children, And looked in silence Upon the Veil. Her hair grew silvern, The swift days fled. Her lap was heavy With children dead ; To her heart she held them, But could not warm them — The life within them Was gone like dew. Whiter, stiller, The Mother grew. ■ The World grew hoary, The World was weary, The children cried at ,The empty air : " Father of mortals ! " 1 8 THE BOOK OF ORM. The children murmured, "Father! father! Art thou there?" Then the Master answer'd From the thundeij-cloud : " I am God the Maker ! I am God the Master ! I am God the Father ! " He cried aloud. Further, the Master Made sign on sign — Footprints of his spirits, - Voices divine ; His breath was a water, His cry was a wind. But the people h^ard not, The people saw not, — Earth and her children Were deaf and blind. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 19 IV. THE WISE MEN. " Call the great philosophers ! Call them all hither, — The good, tlie wise ! " Their r6bes were snowy. Their hearts were holy, They had cold still eyes. To the mountain-summits Wearily they wander'd. Reaching the desolate Regions of Snow, Looming there lonely. They search'd the Veil wonderful With tubes fire-fashion'd ' In caverns below . . . God withdrew backward, THE BOOK OF ORM. And darker, dimmer, Deepen'd the day : O'er the philosophers Looming there lonely Night gather'd gray.- Then the wise men gazing ^ Saw the lights above them Thicken and thicken. And all went pale — Ah ! the lamps numberless, The mystical jewels of God, The luminous, wonderful. Beautiful Lights of the Veil ! Alas for the Wise Men ! The snows of the mountain Drifted a,bout them, And the wind cried round them. As the lights of wonder Multiplied ! FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 21 The breath of the mountain Froze them into stillness,' — They sighed and died. Still in the desolate Heights overhead, Stand their shapes frozen, Frozen and dead. But a weary few, Weary and dull and cold, Crept faintly down again. Looking very old ; And when the people Gather'd around them. The heart went sickly At their dull blank stare — '" O Wise Men answer ! Is there a Father? Is there a beautiful Face up there ? " The Wise Men answer'd and said : THE BOOK OF ORM. " Bury us deep when dead — We have travelled a weary road, We have seen no more than ye. 'Twere better not to be— 7 There is no God ! " And the people, hearkening. Saw the Veil above them, And the darkness deepen'd. And the lights gleamed pale. Ah! the lamps numberless, The ihystical jewels of God, The luminous, wonderful, Beautiful lights of the Veil ! II. THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. On the high path where few men fare, Orm meeieih one with hoary hair, Andsp6akethj solemn and afraid, Of that which haunteth him. — a Shade. Slowly, with weary feet and weak, They wander to a mountain feak ; And to the man with hoary hair A Bridge of Spirits risethfair, W'hereon his Soul with gentle moan Passeth unto the Land Unknown. II. THE MAN Ai^D THE SHADOW. • I. THE SHADOW. AGED Man who,- clad in pilgrim's garb, With staff of thorn and wallet lying near, Sittest among the weeds of the wayside, Gazing with hollow eyeballs in a dream On that which sleeps. — a Shadow — at thy feet ! Hearest thou' ? By the fluttering of thy lips, 1 know thou hearest ; yet, with downcast eyes, Thou broodest moveless, letting yonder sun Make thee a Dial, worn and venerable, To show the passing hour. All things around 26 ' THE BOOK OF ORM. Share stillness with thee ; for behold they keep The gloaming of the, year. To russet brown The heather fadeth ; on the treeless hills, • O'er rusted with the slow-decaying bracken, The sheep crawl slow with damp and red-stain'd woolj Keen cutting winds from the Cold Clime begin To frost the edges of the cloud — the sun Upriseth slow and silvern — many rainbows People the desolate. air with flowers that fade Thro' pallor ijnto tears ; and tho' these flash Ever around thee, here thou sittest alone, — Best Dial of them all, old, moveless, dumb. Ineffably serene with aged eyes, Still as a stone, — ^yet with some secret spell Pertaining to the human, some faint touch Of mystery in that worn face, to show Thy wither'd flesh is scented with a Soul. Nay, then, with how serene and sad a light THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 27 Thy face, strange gleams of spiKtual pain Fading there, turneth up to mine ! Yea, smile ! Tender as sunlight on the autumn hills, Cometh that kindly lustre ! Aye, thy hand — Something mysterious streameth from thy palm — , Spirit greets spirit — scent is mixed with scent — Sweet is the touch of hands. Behold me, — Orm, Thy brother ! Brother, we are surely bound On the same journey,— and our eyes alike Turn up and onward : wherefore, now thou risest. Lean upon me, and let us for a space Pursue the path together. Ah, 'tis much. In this so weary pilgrimage, to meet A royal face like thine — to touch the hand Of such a soul-fellow— to feel the want. The upward-crying hunger, the desire, The common hope and pathos, justified By knowledge and gray hairs. Come on ! come on ! 28 THE BOOK OF ORM. Up yonder ! Slowly, leaning on my strength, And I will surely pick my steps with thine,— While at oiir backs the secret Shadows preep, And imitate our motions wiHi no aoun^. Dost thou remember rtiore than I ? My Soul Rememberetk no beginning. "TJiJsttUl day,i I saw the hills around me, and beheld The hills had shadows, — ^for beyond their rim The fiery sun was setting ; — then I saw My ghost upon the ground, and as I ran Eastward, the melancholy semblance ran Before my footsteps ; and I felt afraid. Could I have shaken off this grievous thing. Much had been spared me. Since that day I ran, And saw it run before me in the sun. It hath been with me in the day and night, THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 29 The sunlight and the starlight — at the board H^ath joined me, darkening the festal cup- Hath risen black against the whitening wall On lonely midnights, when by the wind's shriek Startled from terrible visions seen in dream, Rising upon my couch, and with quick breath Lighting the lamp, I hearkened — it hath track'd My footsteps into pastoral churchyards. And suddenly, when I was very calm, Look'd darkly up out of the gentle graves. So that I clench'd my teeth, or should have scream'd ; And still behind me — see ! — it creeps and creeps. Dim in the dimness of the autumn day. Higher ! yet higher ! Tho' the path is steep. And all around the withering bracken rusts, . Up yonder on the crag a mossy spring, Frosted with silver, glistens, and around Grasses as green as hedgerows in the May Cushion the lichen'd stones. 30 THE BOOK OF ORM. Here let us pause : Here, where the grass gleams emerald; and the spring Upbubliling faintly seemeth as a sound, A drowsy hum, heard in the mind itself^— Here, in this stillness, let us pause and mark The many-colour'd picture. Far beneath- ■Sleepeth the glassy Ocean like a sheet Of liquid mother-o'-pearl, and on its rim A ship sle'eps, and the shadow of the ship ; Astern the reef juts darkly, edged with foam. Thro' the smooth brine : oh, hark ! how loudly sings A wild, weird ditty to a watery tune, The fisher among his nets upon the shore ; r And yonder, far away, his shouting baims Are running, dwarf 'd by distance small as mice. Along the ypUow sands. Behind us, see The immeasurable mountains, rising silent Against the fields of direamy blue, wherein The rayless crescent of the mid-day moon Lies like a reaper's sickle ; and before us THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 31 The immeasurable mountains, rising silent From bourne to bourne, from knolls of thyme and heather To leafless slopes of graiiite, from the slopes Of granite to the dim and ashen heights Where, with a silver glimmer, silently Pausing, the white cloud sheds miraculous snow On the heights untravell'd, — whither we are bound. O perishable brother, what a world ! How wondrous and hoVv fair ! Look ! look ! and think ! What magic mixed the tints of yonder west, Wherein, upon a cushion soft as moss, A heaven pink-tinted like a maiden's flesh, The dim star of the ocean lieth cool In palpitating silver, while beneath Her image, putting luminous feelers forth, Bathes liquid, like a living thing o' the, sea. What magic ? What magician ? O my brother. What strange Magician, mixing up those tints, 32 THE BOOK OF ORM. Pouring the water dowo, and sending forth The crystal air like breath, snowing the heavens With luminous jewels of the day and night, Look'd down and saw thee lie a lifeless clod, And lifted thee, and moulded thee to shape, Colour'd thee with the sunlight till thy blood Ran ruby, poured the chemic tints o' tli§^ir Thro' eyes that kindled into azure, stole The flesh-tints of the lily and the rose , , To make thee wondrous fair unto thyself. Knitted thy limbs with ruby bands, and blew Into thy hollow heart until it stirred, — Then, to the inner chamber of his heaven Withdrawing, left in midst of such a world The living apparition of a Man, — A mystery amid the mysteries, — A lonely semblance, with a wild appeal. To which no form that lives, however dear. Hath given a tearless answer,— a Shape, a Soul, Projecting ever as it ageth on A Shade which is a silence and a sleep. THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 33 Yet not companionless, within this waste Of splendour, dwellest thou — ^here by thy side I linger, girdled for the road like thee, With pilgrim's staff and scrip, and thro' the vales Below, a storm of people like to thee Drifts with thee westward darkly, cloud on cloud. Uttering a common moan, and to our eyes Casting one common shadow ; yet each soul Therein now seeketh, with a want like thine. The inevitable bourne. Nor those alone, Thy perishable brethren, share thy want, And wander haunted thro' the world ; but beasts, With that dumb hunger in their eyes, project Their darkness — by the yeanling lambkin's side Its shade plays, and the basking lizard hath Its image on the flat stone in the sun, — And these, the greater and the less, like thee Shall perish in their season : in the mere The slender water-lily sees her shape. And sheddeth softly on the summer air 34 THE BOOK OF ORM. Her last chill breathing, and the forest tree That, standing glorious for a hundred years, Lengthens its shadow daily from the sun, FulfiUeth its own prophecy at last. And falleth, falleth. Art thou comforted? Nay, then, — ^behold the shadows of the Hills, Attesting these are perishable too. And cry no more thou art companionless. How, like a melancholy bell, thy voice Echoes the word ! " Companionless ! " Thine eyes Suffer with light and tears, and wearily Thou searchest all the picture beautiful For vanished faces. Still, " companionless ! " O brother, let me hold thy hand again — Spirit greets spirit — scent is mixed with scent — Sweet is the touch of hands. Look on me ! Orm ! Thy brother ! And no nearer ? O 'tis sad That here, like dumb beasts, yearning with blank eyes, THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 35 Wringing each other's hands, pale, passionate, Full of immortal likeness, wild with thirst To mingle, yet we here must stand asunder. Two human shapes, two mansions built apart. Two pale men, — and two ghosts upon the ground ! Tread back my footsteps with me in thy mind : I have wander'd long and far, and O I have seen Strange visions ; for my soul resembles not The miserable souls of common men — Mere lamps to guide the body to the board And lustful bed-^say, rather, 'tis a Wind Prison'd in flesh, and shrieking to be free To blow on the high places of the Lord ! Hither and hither hath its pent-up struggle Compelled my footsteps — o'er the snowy steeps, Thro' the green valleys — into huts of hinds And palaces of princes. It hath raved Loud as the wind among' the pines for rest, Answered by all the winds of all the world 36 THE BOOK OF ORM. Gather'd like howling wolves beneath the moon ; And it hath lain still as the air that broods On meres Coruisken on dead days offfost, In supreme moments of unearthly bliss \ Feeling the pathos and exceeding peactr f Of thoughts as delicate and far removed As starlight. But in stormy times and palm^ In pain or pleasure, came the Shadow too, Meeting the Soul in its superbest hour, And making it afraid. These twain have dwelt Together, haunting one another's bliss, — The Wind, that would be on the extremest peaks. And the strange Shadow of the prison-house Wherein 'tis pent so very cunningly. Nay, how they mock each other ! " Shade accursed," The Wind moans, " yet a little while, and thou Shalt perish with the poor and mean abode That casts thee — follow and admonish f/ia/, — THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 37 To me thine admonition promiseth The crumbHng of the ruin chain'd wherein I cry for perfect freedom." Then methinks The wild Shade waves its arms grotesque and says In dumb show, " Peace, thou unsubstantial Wind ! Bred of the peevish humour of the flesh. Born in the body and the cells o' the brain ; With these things shalt thou perish, — foul as gas Thou senseless shalt dissolve upon the air, And none shall know that thou hast ever been." Thus have they mock'd each other mom and mirk In speech not human. When I lay at night,' Drunk with the ichor of the form I clasp'd. How hath the sad Soul, mocking the brute bliss, The radiant glistening play o' the sense, withdrawn Unto the innermost chamber of the brain, And moan'd in shame ; while in the taper light. The Shades, with clasping arms and waving hair, Seem'd saying, " Gather roses while thou mayst,. 38 THE BOOK OF ORM. royal purple Body doom'd to die. ! And hush, Wind, for thou shalt perish too ! " 1 saw a hind at sunrise — dumb he stood, And saw the Dawn press with her rosy feet The dewy sweetness from the fields of hay, Felt the world brighten — leaves and flowers and grass Grow luminous — yet beside the pool he stood, Wherein, in the gray vapour of the marsh, His mottled oxen stood with large blank eyes And steaming nostrils : and his eyes like theirs Were empty, and he humm'd a surly song Out of a hollow heart akin to beast's : Yea, sun nor star had little joy for him. Nor tree nor flower, ^ — to him the world was all Mere matter for a ploughshare. On the hill Above him, with loose jerkin backward blown By winds of morning, and his white brow bare Like marble, stood a singer — one of those Who write in heart's-blood what is blotted out THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 39 With ox-gall ; and his soul was in his eyes To see the coming of the beautiful Day, His lips hung heavy with beauty, and he looked Down on the surly clod among the kine. And sent his Soul unto him thro' his eyes. Transfiguring him with beauty and with praise Into the common pathos. Of such stuffs Is mankind shapen, both, like thee and me. Wear westward, to the melancholy realm Where all the gather'd shades of all the world Lie as a cloud around the feet of God. This darkens all my seeking. O my friend ! If the whole world had royal eyes like thine, I were much holpen ; but to look upon Eyes like the ox-herd's, blank as very beast's. Shoots sorrow to the very roots of life. Aye ! there were liope indeed if each man seemed A spirit's habitation, — ^but the world Is curst with these blank faces, still as stone, 40 THE BOOK OF ORM. And darkening inward. Have these dumb things Souls? If they be tenantless, dare thou and I Christen by so sublime a name the Wind Bred in the wasting body ? Yestermom, In yonder city that afar away Staineth the peaceful blue with its foul breath, I passed into a dimly-lighted hall, And heard a lanthom-jaw'd Philosopher, Clawing his strawJike bunch of yellow hair. With skeletonian periods and a voice Shrill as the grating of two bones. " O Soul," Quoth he, " O beauteousness we name the Soul, Thou art the Flower of all the life o' the Worid, And not in every clod of flesh shoots forth The perfect apparition of thy tints Immortal ! Flower and scented bloom of things, Thou growest on no dunghill in the sun ! " A flower, a flower immortal ? How I laugh'd ! THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 4I Clip me the lily from its secret roots, And farewell all the wonder of the flower ! That self-same day, in that same city of souls, I saw the King, a man of flesh and blood, In gorgeous raiment. O the little eyes Glimmering underneath the golden crown, While sitting on a throne in open court. Fountains of perfume sprinkling him with spray. He heard the gray men of his kingdom speak Of mighty public matters solemnly. And nodding grave approval, all the while Crack'd filberts like a monkey j yet at times His shadow, and the shadow of his throne. Falling against a grand sarcophagus That filled one corner of the fountain'd court, Awoke a nameless trouble, and the more The sun shone, deeper on the tomb close by The double shadow linger'd. Then methought I was transported to a marvellous land, 42 THE BOOK OF ORM. A mighty forest of prim£eval,growth Brooding in its own darkness — underwood Breast-deep, and swarming thick with monstrous .shapes; And from a bough above me, by_ his tail A man-beast swung and glimmer'd down at me With Uttle eyes and shining ivory teeth. Laugh with me ! Brute-beast and the small-eyed King , \ Seem'd brethren — face, eyes, mouth, and lips the same — Only the brute-beast was the happier. Since never nameless trouble filled his eyes. Because his ghost upon the glimmering grass Beneath him quivered, while he poised above With philosophic swing by claws and tail. " O Soul the Flower of all the life o' the World, O perfect Flower and scented bloom of things ! " O birth betoken'd in that windy hour. When, sloughing off the brute, we stand and groan. THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 43 First frighten'd by the Shadow that has chased Our changes up through all the grooves of Time ! Lift up thine eyes, old man, and look on me : Like thee, a dark point in the scheme of things, Where the dumb Spirit that pervadeth all — Grass, trees, beasts, man — and lives and grows in all — Pauses upon itself, and a^Ye-struck feels The, shadow of the next and imminent Transfiguration. So, a living Man ! That entity within whose brooding brain Knowledge begins and ends — that point in time When time becomes the shadow of a Dial, — That dreadful living and corporeal Hour, Who, wafted by an unseen Hand apart From the wild rush of temporal things that gass, Pauses and listens, — listening sees his face Glassed in still waters of eternity, — Gazes in awe at his own loveliness. And fears it, — glanceth with affrighted eyes 44 THE BOOK OF ORM. Backward and forwg.rd, and beholds all dark, Alike the place whence he unconscious came, And that to which he conscious drifteth on, — Yet seeth before him, wheresoe'er he turn, The Shadow of himself, presaging doom. THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 45 II. THE RAINBOW. The Old Man speaks. Mine eyes are dim. Where am I ? Is this Snow Falling in the cold air? All darkeneth, — As if between me and the light there stood Some shape that lived. My God, is this the end ? Orm. Not yet ! not yet ! Look up ! Thou livest yet ! 'Tis but a little faintness, and will pass ! Old Man. Pass? All things pass. The light, the morning dew, The power that plotted and the foot that clomb ; And delicate bloom of life upon the flesh Fading like peach-bloom 'neath a finger-press. O God, to blossom like a flowet in a day. 46 THE BOOK OF ORM. Then wear a winter in slow withering. . . . Why not with sun-flash, Lord, or bolt of fire ? . . . ^Vhere am I ? Orm. On the lonely heights of Earth ; Beneath thee lies the Ocean, and above thee The hills stand silent in the setting sun. Old Man. What forms are these that come and change and go ? Orm. Desolate shadows of the gathering Rain. Old Man. What sound is that I hear ? Orm. The homeless Wind Shivering behind the shadows as they glide, And moaning. the man and the shadow. 47 Old Man. Ah! Orm. Some phantom of the brain Appalleth thee ! Cling to me ! Courage ! Old Man. Hark! Dost thou not hear ? Orm. What? Old Man. Voices of the shapes That yonder, with their silvern robes wind-blown, All faint and shadowless against the light Beckon me ! Hush ! They sing a lullaby ! They are the spirits that so long ago Sung round my cradle, — and they sing the same, — 48 THE BO^H^ OF ORM. Though I am grown the ghosV of ibji fair time. No, faces ! These are faces I remembbr ! A fair face that, sweet in its golden hair-r— And lower, see ! a little pale-faced child's, Sad as a star. " Father ! " A voice cried " Father ! ' Lift me up ! Look ! How they are gatheHng ! All sing ! All beckon ! Orm. . . . 'Tis the end indeed. Within his breast the life-blood of the heart Swells like a breaking wave, as, clinging round me. He yearneth, fascinated yet afraid, With wild dim eyes that look on vacancy ! Old Man. What gleameth yonder in the brightening air ? Orm. The Spirit of the Rainbow hovering faint Amid the wind-blown shadows of the Rain. the man and the shadow. 49 Old Man. Shadows ! I see them — all the Shadows — see ! Uprising from the wild green sea of graves That beats forlorn about the shores of earth. Shadows— behold them! — how they gather and gather, More and yet more, darker and darker yet ; Drifting with a low moan of mystery Upward, still upward, till they almost touch The bright dim edge of the Bow, but there they pause, Struggling in vain against a breath from heaver. And blacken. Hark ! their sound is like a Sea ! Above them, with how dim a light divine, Bumeth the Bow, — and lo ! it is a Bridge, Dim, many-colour'd, strangely brightening. Whereon all faint and fair and shadowless Spirits like those, with faces I remember. With a low sound like the soft rain in spring, With a faint echo di the cradle song, 50 THE BOOK OF ORM. Coming and going, beckon me ! I come ! Who holds me ? Touch me not. O help ! I am called ! Ah ! [Dies. Orm. Gone ! Dead ! Something very cold past by And touched my cheek like breath ; even then, O God, My comrade heard Thy summons, and behold ! Here lieth, void and cold and tenantless. His feeble habitation. Poor gray hairs Thin with long blowing in the windy cold. At last ye sadden ruin ! poor sweet lips. Ye are dewless, ye are silent ! poor worn heart. No more shalt thou, like to a worn-out watch. Tick feebly out the time ! O Shadow sad. Monitor, haunter, waiter till the end. Brother of that which darkeneth at my feet, Hast thou too fled, and dost thou follow still THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 51 The Spirit's quest divine. Nay, thou dark ghost ! Thy work is done for ever— thou art doom'd — A breath from heaven holds thee to the ground, And here unto the ruin thou art chained, Moveless, and dark, no more the ghost of life, But dead, the shadow of a thing of stone. Thus far, no further. Shadow ! — but O brother, O Spirit, where art thou 1 From what far height Up yonder, pausing for a moment's space, Lookest thou back thy blessing ? Art thou free? Dost thou still hunger upward seeking rest. Because some new horizon strange as ours Shuts out the prospect of the place of peace ? Art thou a wave that, having broken once, Gatherest up a glorious crest once more, And glimmerest onward, — ^but to break again ; Or dost thou smooth thyself to perfect peace In tranquil sight of some Eternal Shore ? 52 THE BOOK OF 0|?.M. From the still region whither thou hast fled No answer cometh; but with dewy wings Brightening before it dieth, how divine Bumeth the Rainbow, at its earthliest edge Now fading like a flower ! Is it indeed A Bridge whereon fair spirits come and go ? O Brother, didst thou glide to peace that way ? Silent — all silent — ^dimmer, dimmer yet, Hue by hue d3dng, creeping .back td heaven — O let me too pass by it up to God ! Too latent fadeth^ faint and far away ! The Shadows gather round me — from the ground My dark familiar looketh silently. O Shadows, be at peace, for ye shall rest, Yea, surely ye shall cease ; for now, as ever, Out of yolir cloudy being springs serene The Bow of Mystery that spans the globe ! The beautiful Bow of thoughts ifleffable, THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 53 Last consequence of this fair clqud of flesh ! The dim miraculous Iris of swe6t Dream ! Rainbow of promise ! Colour, Light, and Soul ! That comes, dies^ coriies again, and ever draws Its strangest source from tears — that lives, that dies — That is, is not— now here, now faded wholly — Ever assuring, ever blessing us, Ever eluding, ever beckoning, ' Born of our essence, yet more strange than we, As human, yet more beautiful tenfold, — Rising in earth out of our cloudy being, Touching forlomest places with its tints. Strewing the sea with opal, scattering roses Across the hollow pathways of the wind, Fringing the clouds with flowers of crimson fire, And melting, melting (whither our wild eyes Follow imploring, whither our weak feet Totter for ever), melting far away. Yonder ! upon the dimmest peak of Heaven 1 III. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. Songs of Corruption, woven thus. With tender thoughts and tremulous. Sitting with a solemn face In an island burying-place. While weary waves broke sad and slow O^er weedy wastes of sand below. And stretched on every side of me The rainy grief of the gray Sea. III. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. I. PHANTASY. If thou art an Angel, Who hath sent thee, O Phantasy, brooding Over my pale wife's sleeping ? In the darkness I am listening For the rustle of thy robe ; Would I might feel thee breathing, Would I might hear thee speaking, Would I might only touch thee By the hand ! 58 THE BOOK OF ORM. She is vei5^S6ld» My wife is very dt^ Her eyes are withered, Her breath is dried hke deTse^;— The sound of my weeping Disturbeth her not ; Thy shadow, O Phantasy, Lieth like moonhght Upon her features. And the lines of her mouth Are very sweet. In the night I heard my pale wife moaning, Yet did not know What made her afraid. My pale wife said, " I am very cold," And shrank away from thee, Though I saw thee not ; SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 59 And she kissed me and went to sleep, And gave a little start upon my arm When on her living lips Thy freezing finger was laid. What art thou — Art thou God's Angel ? Or art thou only The chilly night-wind, Stealing downward From the regions where the sun Dwelleth alone with his shadow On a waste of snow ? Art thou the water or earth? Or art thou the fatal air ? Or art thou only An apparition Made by the mist Of mine own eyes weeping ? 6p THE BOOK OF ORM. She is very cold. My wife is very cold ! I will kiss her, And the silver-haired mother will kiss her, And the little children will kiss her ; And then we Avill wrap her warm, And hide her in a hollow space ; And the house will be empty Of thee, O Phantasy, Cast on the unhappy household By the strange white clay. Much I marvel, O Phantasy, That one so gentle, So sweet, when living. Should cast a shadow as vast as thine ; For, lo ! thou loomest Upjrard and heavenward, Hiding the sunlight. Blackening the snow, SONGS OF COI^RUPTION. 6l And the pointing of thy finger Fadeth far away On the sunset-tinged-edges, Where Man's company ends, And God's loneliness begins. 62 THE BOOK OF ORM. II. THE DREAM OF THE WORLD WITHOUT DEATH. Now, sitting by her side, worn out with weeping, Behold, I fell to sleep, and had a vision, Wherein I heard a wondrous voice intoning : Crying aloud, " The Master on His throne Openeth now the seventh seal of wonder. And beckoneth back the angel men name Death. And at His feet the mighty Angel kneeleth, Breathing not ; and the Lord doth look upon, him, Saying, " Thy wanderings on earth are ended." And lo ! the mighty Shadow sitteth idle Even at the silver gates of heaven, Drowsily looking in on quiet waters, SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 63 And puts his silence among men no longer. * The world was very quiet. Men in traffic Cast looks over their shoulders ; pallid seamen Shiver'd to walk upon the decks alone ; And women barred their doors with bars of iron, In the silence of the night ; and at the sunrise Trembled behind the husbandmen afield. I could not see a kirkya,rd near or far ; I thirsted for a green grave, and my vision Was weary for the white gleam of a tombstone. But hearkening dumbly, ever and anon I heard a cry out of a human dwelling, And felt the cold wind of a lost pne's going. One struck a brother fiercely, and he fell. And faded in a darkness ; and that other Tore his hair, and was afraid, and could not perish. 64 THE BOOK OF ORM. One struck his aged mother on the mouth, And she vanished with a gray grief from his hearth- stone. One melted from her bairn, and on the ground With sweet unconscious eyes the bairn lay smiling. And many made a weeping among mountains, And hid themselves in caverns, and were drunken. r heard a voice from out the beauteous earth, Whose side rolled up from winter into summer, Crying, " I am grievous for my children." I heard a voice from out the hoary ocean. Crying, " Burial in the breast of me were better. Yea, burial in the salt flags and green crystals." I heard a voice from out the hollow ether. Saying, " The thing ye cursed hath been abohshed— Corruption, and decay, and dissolution ! " SONGS OF CORRUPTION. Sj And the world shrieked, and the summer-time was bitter, And men and women feared the air behind them ; And for lack of its green graves the world was hateful. Now at the bottom of a snowy mountain I came upon a woman thin with sorrow, Whose voice was hke the crying of a sea-gull, Saying, " O Angel of the Lord, come hither, And bring me him I seek for on thy bosom. That I may close his eyelids and embrace him. " I curse thee that I cannot look upon him ! I curse thee that I know not he is sleeping ! Yet know that he has vanished upon God ! " I laid my little girl upon a wood-bier. And very sweet she seemed, and near unto me ; And slipping flowers into her shroud was comfort. 66 THE BOOK OF ORM. " I put my silver mother in the darkness, And kissed her, aift was solaced by her kisses. And set a stone, to mark the place, above her. " And green, green were their quiet sleeping-places, So green that it was pleasant to remember That I and my tall man would sleep beside them. " The closing of dead eyelids is not dreadful, For comfort comes upon us when we close them. And tears fall, and our sorrow grows familiar ; " And we can sit above them where they slumber. And spin a dreamy pain into a sweetness. And know indeed that we are very near them. " But to reach out empty arms is surely dreadful, And to feel the hollow empty world is awful, And bitter grow the silence and the distance. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 67 " There is no space for grieving or for weeping ; No touch, no cold, no agony to strive with, And nothing but a horror and a blankness ! " Now behold I saw a woman in a mud-hut Raking the white spent embers with her fingers, And fouling her bright hair with the white ashes. Her mouth was very bitter with the ashes ; Her eyes with dust were blinded ; and her sorrow Sobbed in the throat of her like gurgling water. And all around the voiceless hills were hoary. But red light scorched their edges ; and above her There was a soundless trouble of the vapours. " 'WTiither, and O whither," said the woman, " O Spirit of the Lord, hast thou conveyed them, My little ones, my little son and daughter? 68 THE BOOK OF ORM. "' For, lo ! we wandered forth at early morning, And winds were blowing round us, and their mouths Blew rose-buds to the rose-buds, and their eyes " Looked violets at the violets, and their hair Made sunshine in the sunshine, and their passing Left a pleasure in the dewy leaves behind them ; " And suddenly my little son looked upward. And his eyes were dried like dew-drops ; and his going Was like a blow of fire upon my face. " And my little son was gone. My little daughter Looked round me for him, clinging to my vesture j But the Lord had drawn him from me, and I knew it' " By the sign He gives the stricken, that the lost one Lingers nowhere on the earth, on, hill or valley. Neither underneath the grasses nor the tree-roots. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 69 " And my shriejc was like the splitting of an ice-reef, And I sank among my hair, and all my palm Was moist and warm where the little hand had filled it. "Then I fled and sought him wildly, hither and thither— Though I knew that he was stricken from me wholly By the token that the Spirit gives the stricken. " I sought him in the sunlight and the starlight, I. sought him in great forests, and in waters Where I saw mine own pale image looking at me. " And 1 forgot my little bright-haired daughter. Though her voice was like a wild-bird's far behind mCj Till the voice ceased, and the universe was silent. " And stilly, in the starlight, came I backward To the forest where I missed him ; and no voices Brake the stillness as I stooped down in the starlight, 70 THE BOOK OF ORM. " And saw two little shoes filled up with dew, And no mark of little footsteps any farther, And knew my little daughter had gone also." But beasts died : yea, the cattle in the yoke, The milk-cow in the meadow, and the sheep, And the dog upon the door-step ; and men envied. And birds died ; yea, the eagle at the sun-gate, The swan upon the waters, and the farm-fowl. And the swallows 'On the housetops ; and men envied. And reptiles ; yea, the toad upon the roadside, The slimy, speckled snake among the grass, The lizard on the ruin ; and men envied. The dog in lonely places cried not over The body of his master j but it missed him, And whined into the air, and died, and rotted. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 71 The traveller's horse lay swollen in the pathway, And the blue fly fed upon it ; but no traveller Was there ; nay, not his footprint on the ground. The cat mewed in the midnight, and the blind Gave a rustle, and the lamp burnt blue and faint, And the father's bed was empty in the morning. The mother fell to sleep beside the cradle. Rocking it, while she slumbered, with her foot, And wakened, — and the cradle there was empty. I saw a two-year's child, and he was playing ; And he found a dead white bird upon the doorway. And laughed, and ran to show it to his mother. The mother moaned, and clutched him, and was bitter. And flung the dead white bird across the threshold ; And another white bird flitted round and round it. 72 THE BOOK OF ORM. And uttered a sharp cry, and twittered and twittered, And lit beside its dead mate, and grew busy, Strewing it t)ver with green leaves and yellow. So far, so far to seek for were the limits Of affliction ; and men's terror grew a homeless Terror, yea, and a fatal sense of blankness. There was no little token of distraction, There was no visible presence of bereavement. Such as the mourner easetii out his heart on. There was no comfort in the slow farewell, Nor gentle shutting of beloved eyes. Nor beautiful broodings over sleeping features. There were no kisses on familiar faces. No weaving of white grave-clothes, no last pondering Over the still wax cheeks and folded fingers. SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 73 There was no putting tokens under pillows, There was no dreadful beauty slowly fading, Fading like moonlight softly into darkness. There were no churchyard paths to walk on, thinking How near the well-beloved ones are lying. There were no sweet green graves to sit and muse on. Till grief should grow a summer meditation, The shadow of the passing of an angel. And sleeping should seem easy, and not cruel. Nothing but wondrous parting and a blankness. But I woke. And, lo ! the burthen was uplifted, And I prayed within the chamber where she slumbered, And my tears flowed fast and free, but were not bitter. 74 THE BOOK OF ORM. I eased my heart three days by watching near her, And made her pillow sweet with scent and flowers, And could bear at last to put her in the darkness. And I heard the kirk-bells ringing very slowly, And the priests were in their vestments, and the earth Dripped awful on the hard wood, yet I bore it. And I cried, " O unseen Sender of Corruption, I bless Thee for the wonder of Thy mercy, Which softeneth the mystery and the parting. " I bless Thee for the change and for the comfort, The bloomless face, shut eyes, and waxen fingers,— For Sleeping, and for Silence, and Corruption." SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 75 III. SOUL AND FLESH. My Soul, thou art wed To a perishable thing, But death from thy strange mate Shall sever thee full soon. If thou wilt reap wings Take all the Flesh can give : The touch of the smelling dead. The kiss of the maiden's mouth, The sorrow, the hope, the fear, That floweth along the veins : Take all, nor be afraid ; Cling close to thy mortal mate ! So shalt thou duly wring Out of thy long embrace ■76 THE BOOK OF ORM. The hunger and thirst whereof The Master maketh thee wings, — The beautiful, wondrous yearning, The mighty thirst to endure. Be npt afraid, my Soul, To leave thy mate at last. Though ye shall learn in time To love each other well ; But put her gently down In the earth beneath thy feet. And dry thine eyes and hasten To the imperishable springs ; And it shall be well for thee In the beautiful Master's sight, If it be found in the end Thou hast used her tenderly. IV. THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. A Hottse miraculotis of breath I'he royal Soul inkahiieih. Alone therein for evermore ^ li^eehs in vain io pass ihedoori Bui through the windows of the eyne Signalleth to its kin divine, . . . This is a song Orm sang of old To Oona with the loqks of gold. IV. THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. Come to me ! clasp me ! Spirit to spirit ! Bosom to bosom ! Tenderly, clingingly, Mingle to one t . . . Now, from my kisses Withdrawing, and blushing, Why dost thou gaze on me ? Why dost thou weep ? Why dost thou ding to me. Imploring, adoring? jWhat are those meanings That flash from thine eyes ? 8o THE BOOK OF ORM. Pitiful ! pitiful ! Now I conceive thee ! — Yea, it were easier Striking two swords, To weld tliem together, Than spirit with spirit To mingle, tho' rapture Be perfect as this. Shut in a tremulous Prison, each spirit Hungers and yearns — Never, ah never, Beloved, beloved. Have these eyes look'd on " The face of thy Soul. Ours are two dwellings, Wondrously beautiful, Made in the darkness Of soft-tinted flesh : THE SOUL AND THE' DWELLING. 8l In the one dwelling, Prison'd I dwell, And lo ! from the other Thou beckonest me ! I am a Soul !' Thou art a Soul ! These are our dwellings ! O to be free ! Beauteous, beloved. Is thy dear dwelling ; All o'er it blowing The roses of dawn — Bright is the portal, TJie dwelling is scented Within and without ) Strange are the windows, So clouded with azure. The faces are hidden That look from within. G 82 THE BOOK OF ORM. Now I approach thee, Sweetness and odour Tremble upon me — Wild is the rapture ! Thick is the perfume ! Sweet bursts of music Thrill from within ! ' Closer, yet closer ! Bosom to bosom ! Tenderly, clingingly. Mingle to one. . . . Ah ! but what faces Are those that look forth ! . . . Faces? What faces? As I speak they die, And all my gaze is empty as of old. O love ! the world was fair, and everywhere Rose wondrous human dwellings like mine own, And many of these were foul and dark with dust, Haunted by things obscene, not beautiful, THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 83 But most were very royal, meet to serve Angels for habitation. All alone Brooded my Soul by a mysterious fire Dim-burning, never-dying, from the first Lit in the place by God ; the winds and rains Struck on the abode and spared it ; day and night Above it came and went ; and in the night My Soul gazed from the threshold silently, And saw the congregated lamps that swung Above it in the dark and dreamy blue ; And in the day my Soul gazed on the earth, And sought the dwelHngs there for signs, and lo ! None answer'd ; for the Souls inhabitant Drew coldly back and darken'd ; and I said, " In all the habitations I behold, Some old, some young, some fair, and some not fair, There dwells no Soul I know." But as I spake, I saw beside me in a dreamy light Thy habitation, so serene and fair, So stately in a rosy dawn of day. 84 THE BOOK OF ORM. That all my Soul look'd forth and cried, " Behold, The sweetest dwelling in the whole wide world ! " And thought not of the inmate, but gazed on, Lingeringly, hushfully ; for as I gazed Something came glistening up into thine eyes, And beckon'd, and a murmur from the portal, A murmur and a perfume, floated hither, Thrill'd thro' my dwelling, making every chamjjer Tremble with mystical. Dazzling desire ! . . Come to me! close to me ! Bosom to bosom ! Tenderly, clingingly, Mingle to one ! Wildly within me Some eager inmate ■ Rushes and trembles, Peers from the eyes And calls in the ears, THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 85 Yearns to thee, cries to thee ! Claiming old kinship In lives far removed ! . . Yainly, ah vainly ! Pent in its prison Must each miraculous Spirit remain, — Yet inarticulate. Striving to language. Music and memory, , Rapture and dream ! Rapture and dream ! Beloved one, in vain My spirit seeks for utterance. Alas, Not yet shall there be speech. Not yet, not yet. One dweller in a mortal tenement Can know what secret faces hide away Within the neighbouring dwelling. Ah beloved. The mystery, the mystery ! We cry For God's face, who have never looked upon 86 THE BOOK OF ORM. The poorest Soul's face in the wonderful Soul-haunted world. A spirit once there dwelt Beside me, close as thou — two wedded souls, We mingled — ^flesh was mixed with flesh — we knew All joys, all unreserves of mingled life — Yea, not a sunbeam filled the house of one But touched the other's threshold. Hear me swear I never knew that Soul ! All touch, all sound, All light was insufficient. The Soul, pent In its strange chambers, cried to mine in vain — We saw each other not : but oftentimes When I was glad, the windows of my neighbour Were dark and drawn, as for a funeral ; And sometimes, when, most weary of the world. My Soul was looking forth at dead of night, I saw the neighbouring dwelling brightly lit. The happy windows flooded full of light, As if a feast was being held within. Yet were there passing flashes, random gleams. Low sounds, from the inhabitant divine THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 87 I knew not ; and I shrunk from some of these In a mysterious pain. At last, Beloved, The frail fair mansion where that spirit dwelt Totter'd and trembled, thro' the wondrous flesh A dim sick glimmer from the fire within Grew fainter, fainter. " I am going away," The Spirit seemed to cry; and as it cried. Stood still and dim and very beautiful Up in the windows of the eyes — there linger'd, First seen, last seen, a moment, silently — So different, more beautiful tenfold Than all that I had dreamed — I sobbed aloud " Stay ! stay ! " but at the one despairing wor(i The spirit faded, — from the hearth within The; dim fire died with one last quivering gleam — The house became a ruin ; and I moaned " God help me ! 'twas herself that look'd at me ! First seen ! I never knew her face before ! . . Too late ! too late ! too late ! " 88 THE BOOK OF ORM. . . . Yea, from my forehead Kiss the dark fantasy ! Tenderly, clingingly, Mingle to one ! Is not this language ? Music and memory. Rapture and dream ? — O in the dewy-bright Day-dawn of love, Is it not wondrous, Blush-red with roses. The beautiful, mystical House of the Soul ! Lo in mine innermost Chambers is floating Soft perfume and music That tremble from thee. . . Ah, but what faces Are these, that look forth ? THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 89 ... Sit Still, Beloved, while I search thy looks For memories. O thou art beautiful ! Crowned with silken gold, — soft amber tints Coming and going on thy peach-hued flesh, — Thy breath a perfume,— thy blue' eyes twain stars — Thy lips like dewy rosebuds to the eye, Tho' living to the touch. O royal abode. Flooded with music, light, and precious scent. Curtained soft with subtle mystery ! Nay, stir not, but gaze on, still and serene, Possessing me with thy superb still sweep Of eyes ineffable — sit still, my queen, And let me, clinging on thee, court the ways Wherein I know thee. Nay, even now. Beloved, When all the world like some vast tidal wave Withdraws and leaves us on a golden shore Alone together — when thou most art mine— - When the winds blow for us, and the soft stars Are shining for us, where we dream apart, — Now our two dwellings in a dizzy hour THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. Do I possess thee ? Sight and scent and touch Are insufficient. Open ! let me in To the strange chambers I have iiever seen ! Heart of the rose, unopen ! or I die ! V. SONGS OF SEEKING. Songs of Seeking^ day by day Sung while wearying on ike inay, — Feeble cries of one who knows Nor whence he comes, nor whither goeSy Yet of his own free will doih wear The bloody Cross of those who fare Upward and in sad accord^ — The footsore Seekers of the Lord. V. SONGS OF SEEKING. I. THOU, whose ears incline unto my singing, Woman or man, thou surely bearest thy burden, And I who sing, and all men, bear their burdens. Even as a meteor-stone from suns afar, 1 fell unto the ways of Ufe and breathed, Wherefore to much on earth I feel a stranger. I found myself in a green norland valley, A place of gleaming waters and gray heavens. And weirdly woven colours in the air. A basin round whose margin rose the mountains Green-Based, snow-crown'd, and windy saeters midway, And the thin line of a spire against the mountains. 96 THE BOOK OF ORM. Around were homes of peasants rude and holy, Who look'd upon the mountains and the forests, On the waters, on the vapours, without wonder ; Who, happy in their labours six days weekly. Were happy on their knees upon the seventh. But I wonder" d, being strange, and was not happy. For I cried : "O Thou Unseen, how shall I praise Thee— How shall I name Thee glorious whom I know not — If Thou art as these say, I scarce conceive thee. " Unfold to me the image of Thy features, Come down upon my heart, that I may know Thee ;" — And I made a song of seeking, on a mountain. SONGS OF SEEKING. 97 II. QUEST. As in the snowy stillness, Where the stars shine greenly In a mirror of ice, The Reindeer abideth alone, And speedeth swiftly From her following shadow In the moon,— I speed for ever From the mystic shape That my life projects, And my soul perceives ; And I loom for ever Through desolate regions Of wondrous thought. And I fear the thing That follows me, And cannot escape it Night or day. 98 , THE BOOK OF ORM. Doth Thy winged lightning Strike, O Master ! The timid Reindeer Flying her shade ? Will Thy wrath pursue me, Because I cannot Escape the shadow Of the thing I am ? ( I have pried and pondered, I have agonized, I have sought to find Thee, Yet still must roam, Affrighted, fleeing Thee, Chased by the shadow Of the thing I am. Through desolate regions Of wondrous thought ! SONGS OF SEEKING. 99 III. THE HAPPY EARTH. Sweet, sweet it was to sit in leafy Forests, In a green darkness, ajid to hear the stirring Of strange breaths hither and thither in the branches ; And sweet it was to sail on crystal Waters, Between the dome above and the dome under. The Hills above me, and the Hills beneath me ; And sweet it was to watch the wondrous Lightning Spring flashing at the earth, and slowly perish Under the falling of the summer Raiiji. I loved all grand and gentle and strange things, — The wind-flower at the tree-root, and the white cloud. The strength of Mountains, and the power of Waters. And unto me all seasons utter'd pleasure : Spring, standing startled, listening to the skylark. The Avild flowers from her lap unheeded falling ; lOO THE BOOK OF ORM. And Summer, in her gorgeous loose apparel ; And Autumn, with her dreamy silver eyebrows ; And Winter, with his white hair blown about him. Yea, everywhere there stirred a deathless beauty, A gleaming and a flashing into change. An under-stream of sober consecration. Yet nought endured, but all the glory faded. And power and sweet and sorrow were interwoven ; There was no single presence of the Spirit. SONGS OF SEEKING. 1 01 IV. O UNSEEN ONE ! Because Thou art beautiful, Because Thou art mysterious, Because Thou art strong, Or because Thou art pitiless, Shall my soul worship Thee, O thou Unseen One ? As men bow to monarchs, As slaves to their owners. Shall I bow to Thee ? As one that is fearful, As one that is insolent, Shall I pray to Thee ? Wert Thou a demigod, Wert Thou an angel, Lip-worship might serve ; THE BOOK OF/ORM. To Thee, most beautiful, Won^jxSus, mysterious, /^ow shall it avail ? Thou art not a demigod. Thou art not a monarch, — AVhy should I bow to Thee ? I am not fearful, I am not insolent, — Why should I pray to Thee ? Spirit of mountains ! Strong Master of Waters ! Strange Shaper of clouds ! When these things worship Thee, 1 too will worship Thee, O Maker of Men ! SONGS OF SEEKING. 103 V. world's mystery. The World was wondrous round me — God's green World— A world of gleaming waters and green places, And weirdly woven colours in the air. ' Yet evermore a trouble did pursue me — A hunger for the wherefore of my being, A wonder from what regions I had fallen. I gladdened in the glad things of the World, Yet crying always, " Wherefore, and oh, wherefore ? What am I? Wherefore doth the world seem happy ? " I saddened in the sad things of the World, Yet crying, " Wherefore are men bruised and beaten ? Whence do I grieve and gladden to no end ? " 104 THE BOOK OF ORM. VI. THE CITIES. I took my staff and wandered o'er the mountains And came among the heaps of gold and silver, The gorgeous desolation of the Cities. My trouble grew tenfold when I beheld The agony and burden of my fellows, The pains of sick men and the groans of hungry. I saw the good man tear liis hair and weep ; I saw the bad man tread on human necks Prospering and blaspheming ; and I wondered. The silken-natured woman was a bond-slave ; The gross man foul'd her likeness in high places; The innocent were heart-wrung ; and I wondered The gifts of earth are given to the base ; The monster of the Cities spumed the martyr ; The martyr died, denying ; and I wondered. SONGS OF SEEKING. T05 VII. THE PRIESTS. Three Priests in divers vestments passed and whispered : " Worship the one God, stranger, or thou diest ; Yea, worship, or thy tortures shall be endless." I cried, " Which God, O wise ones, ' must I worship ? " And neither answer'd, but one showed a Picture, A fair Man dying on a Cross of wood. And this one said, " The others err, O stranger ! Repent, and love thy brother, — 'tis enough ! The Doom of Dooms is only for the wicked." I turned and cried unto him, " Who is wicked ? " He vanish'd, and within a house beside me I heard a hard man bless his little children. I06 THE BOOK OF ORM. My heart was full of comfort for the wicked, Mine eyes were cleared with love, and ever)rwhere The wicked wore a piteousness like starlight. I felt my spirit foul with misconceivings, I thought of old transgressions and was humble, I cried: " O God, whose doom is on the wicked ! " Thou art not He for whom my Ijeing hungers ! The Spirit of the grand things and the gentle, The strength of mountains and the power of waters ! " And lo ! that very night I had a Vision. SONGS OF SEEKING. 107 VIII, THE LAMB OF GOD. I. I saw in a vision of the night The Lamb of God, and it was white ; White as snow it wander'd thro' Silent fields of harebell-blue, Still it wandering fed, and sweet Flower'd the stars around its feet. 2. I heard in vision a strange voice Cry aloud, " Rejoice ! rejoice ! Dead men rise and come away, Now it is the Judgment Day ! " And I heard the host intone Round the footstool of the Throne. 3- f Then the vision pained my sight, All I saw became so bright — I08 THE BOOK OF ORM. - All the Souls of men were there. All the Angels of the air ; God was smiling on His seat, And the Lamb was at His feet. 4- Then I heard a voice — " 'Tis done ! Blest be those whom God hath won ! " And the loud hosannah grew,^ And the golden trumpets blew, And around the place of rest Rose the bright mist of the Blest. 5- Then suddenly I saw again, Bleating like a thing in pain. The Lamb of God ; — and all in fear Gazed and cried as it came near, For on its robe of holy white Crimson blood-stains glimmer'd bright. SONGS OF SEEKING. 1 09 6. O the vision of the night ! The Lamb of God ! the blood-stains bright ! In quiet waters of the skies It bathed itself with piteous eyes — Vainly on its raiment fell Cleansing dews ineffable ! 7- All the while it cried for pain, It could not wash away the stain — All the gentle blissful sky Felt the trouble of its cry — All the streams of silver sheen Sought it vain to make it clean. Where'er it went along the skies The Happy- turned away their eyes ; THE BOOK OF ORM. Where'er it past from shore to shore All wept for those whose blood, it bore — Its piteous cry filled all the air, Till the dream was more than I could bear. 9- And in the darkness of my bed Weeping I awakened — In the silence of the night, Dying softly from my sight. Melted that pale Dream of pain Like a snow-flake from my brain. SONGS OF SEEKING. IX. DOOM. Master, if there be Doom, All men are bereaven ! If, in the universe, One Spirit receive the curse, Alas for Heaven ! If there be Doom for one. Thou, Master, art undone. Were I a Soul in heaven. Afar from pain. Yea, on Thy breast of snow, At the scream of one below I should scream again. Art Thou less piteous than The conception of a Mar ? THE BOOK OF ORM. X. god's dream. I hear a voice, " How should God pardon sin ? How should He save the sinner with the sin- less? That would be ill : the Lord my God is just." Further I hear, " How should God pardon lust ? How should He comfort the adulteress ? That would be foul : the Lord my God is pure." Further I hear, " How should God pardon blood ? How should the murtherer have a place in heaven Beside the. innocent life he took away? " And God is on His throne ; and in a dream Sees mortals making figures out of clay, Shapen like men, and calling- them God's angels. SONGS OF SEEKING. II3 And sees the shapes look up into His eyes, Exclaiming, " Thou dost ill to save this man; Damn Thou this woman, and curse this cut-throat, Lord!" God dreams this, and His dreaming is the ,world ; And thou and I are dreams within His dream ; And nothing dieth God hath dreamt or thought. II<4 THE BOOK OF ORM. XI. FLOWKR OF THE WORLD. Wherever men sinned and wept, I wandered in my quest ; At last in a Garden of God I saw the Flower of the World. This Flower had human eyes, Its breath was the breath of the mouth ; Sunlight and starlight came. And the Flower drank bliss from both. Whatever was base and unclean. Whatever was sad and strange, Was piled around its roots ; It drew its strength from the same. Whatever was formless and base Pass'd into fineness and form ; SONGS OF SEEKING. 1x5 Whatever was lifeless and mean Grew into beautiful bloom. Then I thought, " O Flower of the World ! Miraculous Blossom of things, Light as a faint wreath of snow Thou tremblest to fall in the wind. "O beautiful Flower of the World, Fall not nor wither away ; He is coming — He cannot be far — The Lord of the Flow'rs and the Stars. And I cried, " O Spirit divine ! That walkest the Garden unseen, Come hither, and bless, ere it dies. The beautiful Flower of the- World." Il6 THE BOOK OF ORM. XII. O SPIRIT ! Weary with seeking, weary with long waiting, I fell upon my knees, and wept, exclaiming, " O Spirit of the grand things and the gentle ! "Thou hidest from our seeking — Thou art crafty — Thou wilt not let our hearts admit Thee wholly — Biit believing hath a core of unbelieving — " A coward dare not look upon Thy features, But museth in a cloud of misconceiving ; , The bravest man's conception is a coward's. "Wherefore, O wherefore, art Thou veil'd and hidden ? The world were well, and wickedness were over. If Thou upon Thy throne were one thing certain.'" And lo ! that very night I had a Vision. VI. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. T^ou who the Face Divine wouldsi see, Think, — couldsi thou bear the sight, and be ? O waves of life and thought and dream. Darkening in one mysterious Stream^ Flow on, flow loudly; nor become A glassy Mirror sad and dumb, Whereon for evermore might shine The dread Peace of the Face Divine I— Children of earth whose spirits fail, ' Revere the Face, but bless ike Veil / VI. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. I. orm's vision. My Soul had a vision, And in my Soul's vision The Veil was lifted, And the Face was there ! There was no portent Of fire or thunder. The wind was sleeping, And above and under All things lookt fair. And the change came softly Unaware : THE BOOK OF ORM. On a golden morrow The Veil was lifted, And yea ! the ineffable Face was the My Soul saw the vision From a silent scot — THE tIFTING OF THE VEIL. Tho' the world stood still, aii(iazed ; But the Eyes within it, Like the eyes of a painted picture, Met and followed The eyes of each that gazed. 122 THE BOOK OF ORM. II. THE FACE AND THE WORLD. Then my Soul heard a voice Crying—" Wander forth O'er hill and valley, O'er the earth — Behold the mortals liow they fare — Now the great Father Grants their prayer ; Now every spirit Of mortal race, Since the Veil is lifted. Beholds the Face ! I awoke my body. And up the mountains, THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 23 With the sweet sun shining, I wander' d free — And the hills were pleasant, Knee-deep in heather. And the yellow eagle Wheel'd over me — . And the streams were flowing, And the lambs were leaping Merrily ! But on the hill-tops The shepherds gather'd, Up-gazing dreamily Into the silent air. And close beside them The eagle butcher'd The crying lambkin, But they did not see, nor care. I saw the white flocks of the shepherds, 124 THE BOOK OF ORM. Like snow wind-lifted and driven, Blow by, blowDy> And the terrible wolvesofehind them, As wild as the winds, pursuing With a rush and a tramp a^^d a cry ! I passedjlie^jii gices Of ice and snow. And I saw a Hunter Ljdng frozen, — His eyes were sealed-^ He did not know ; Drinking his heart's-blood, Not looking upward^ Sat the soot-black raven And the corby crow* Then I knew they linger'd, Tho' the Veil was lifted-, Death and Decay, THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 25 And my Spirit was heavy As I turned away ; But my Spirit was brighter As I saw below me The glassy Ocean Glimmering, AVith a white sail dipping Against the azure Like a sea-bird!s wing — And all look'd pleasant, On sea and land, The white cloud brooding, And the white sail dipping. And the village sitting On the yellow sand. And beside the waters My Soul saw the fishers Staring upward, With dumb desire. 126 THE BOOK OF ORM. ' Tho' a mile to seaward, With the gulls pursuing, Shot past the herring With a trail like fire ; Tho' the mighty Sea-snake With her young was stranded In the fatal shallows Of the shingly bay — Tho' their bellies hunger'd, — What cared they ? Hard by I noted Little children, Toddling and playing In a field o' hay — The Face was looking. But they were gazing At one another, And what cared they ?' But one I noted. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 27 A little Maiden, Look'd up o' sudden And ceased her play, And she dropt her garland And stood upgazing, With hair like sunlight, And face like clay. All was most quiet In the air, Save the children's voices And the cry of dumb beasts, — 'Twas a weary Sabbath Everywhere — Each soul an eyeball. Each face a stare ; — And I left the place. And I wander'd free, And the Eyes of the Face Still followed me ! 128 THE BOOK OF ORM. At the good Priest's cottage The gray-hair'd grandsire Lay stiff in the garden — For his Soul had fled — And I cried in passing, " Oh ye within there, Come forth in sorrow And bury your- dead." With his flock around him Praying bareheaded. The pale Priest, kneeling All gaunt and gray, Answer'd, " Look upward ! Leave the dead to heaven ! God is yonder ! Behold, and pray ! " I was sick at heart To hear and see, THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 29. And to feel the Face Still following me. And all seemed darkening, And my heart sank down, — As I saw afar off A mighty Town — When with no warnihg. Slowly and softly The beautiful Face withdrew. And the, whole world darken'd, And the silence deepen'd, And the Veil fell downward With a silver glimmer of dew. , And I was calmer As, slowly and sweetly, Gather'd above me Mysterious Light on Light, — And weary with watching I ;lay and slumber'd K 130 THE> BOOK OF ORM. In the mellow stillness Of the blessed night. . . When my Soul awaken'd In the lonely place, The Veil was lifted, And, behold ! the Face — And sick, heart-weary. Onward I ran, Thro' fields of harvest Where the wheat hung wither'd, Uru:ea|)t by man ; And a ragged Idiot Went gibbering gaily Among the wheat, In moist palms rubbing The ears together; And he laugh'd, and beckon'd That I should eat. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. I3I At the city gateway The Sentinels gather'd, Fearful and drunken With eyes like glass — Look up they dared not, Lest, to their terror. Some luminous Angel Of awe should pass; And my Soul passed swiftly With a prayer. And entered the City : — Still and awful Were street and square, 'Twas a piteous Sabbath Everywhere — Each soul an eyeball, Each face a stare. In pale groups gather'd The Citizens^ 132 THE BOOK OF ORM. The rich arid poor men, The lords, the lepers From their loathsome dens. There was no traffic, The heart of the City Stood silently ; How could they barter. How could they traffic, With the terrible Eyes to see. Nay ! each man brooded On the Face alone. Each Soul was an eyeball. Each Shape was a stone ; And I saw the faces, And some were glad. And some were pensive, And some were mad ; 3ut.in all places. Hall, street, and lane, — THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 33 'Twas a frozen pleasure, A frozen pain. I parsed the bearers Of a sable bier, They had dropt their burthen To gaze in fear ; From under the trappings Of the death-cloth grand, . With a ring on the finger, Glimmer'd the corpse's Decaying hand. I passed the bridal. Clad bright and gay, Frozen to marble Upon its way. Freely I wandered Everywhere — J 34 THE BOOK OF ORM. No mortal heedgd' The passing footstep, Palace and hovel Were free as the mountain W. Aye ! softly I enter'd The carven court of stone, And the fountains were sp3SS And the pale King sitting Upon his jewell'd throne — And before him gather'd The Frail and Sickly, ThePoor and Old ; And he open'd great coffers. And gave thence freely Fine gear and gold, — Saying, " 'Tis written. Who giveth freely Shall in sooth be blessed Twenty-fold!" But he look'd not upward, THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 35 And seem'd unconscious Of the strange Eyes watching O'er sea and land ; Yet his eyelids quiver'd, And his eyes looked sidelong, And he hid in his bosom A blood-stained hand ; But the beggar people Let the gold and raiment Lie all unheeded ; While with no speech, Upward they lifted Their wild pale features, For the Face was mirror'd In the eyes of each. With the Face pursuing I wandered onward. Heart-sick, heart-sore, Arid entered the fretted 136 THE BOOK OF ORM. Cathedral door; And I found the people Huddled together, Hiding their faces In shame and sin, For thro' the painted Cathedral windows The Eyes of Wonder Were looking in ! And on the Altar The wild Priest, startled. Was gazing round him With sickly stare, And his limbs were palsied. And he moaned for mercy — More wonder-stricken Than any there. Then I fell at the Altar, And wept, and murmur'd, THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 137 " My Soul, how fares it, This day, with theel — Art thou contented To live and see. Or were it better Not to be ? " And my pale Soul whisper'd : " Like a band that holdeth And keepeth from growing A goodly tree, — A terror hath me — I feel not, stir not — "Twere surely better Not to be ! " Then a rush of visions Went wildly by — My Soul beheld the marble World, And the luminous Face on high. 138 THE BOOK OF ORM. And methought, af&ighted, That the mortal race Build cover'd cities To hide the Face ; And gather'd their treasures Of silver and gold, And sat amid them In caverns cold ; And ever nightly, When the Face of Wonder Withdrew from man, Many started. And hideous revel Of the dark began. And men no longer Knew the common sorrow, The coipmon yearning, The common love. But each man's features Were turn'd to marble. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. Changelessly watching The Face above — A nameless trouble Was in the air — The heart of the World Had no pulsation — 'Twas a piteous Sabbath Everywhere ! THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 41 And the shepherds shouted, ' And a trumpet blew, And the misty Ocean Caught silver tremors. With the brown-sail'd fish-boats Glimmering thro' — And the City murmur'd As I ran unto it, And my heart was merry. And my fears were few ; And singing gaily The lark rose upward. Its brown wings gleaming With the morning dew ! VII. coruiSken sonnets. Late in the gloaming of the year, Orm haunts the melancholy Mere, A phaniom ke, where phantoms brood. In that soul-searching' solitude. To the cold Spirit far away He prayeth, all an autumn day. VII. CORUISKEN SONNETS. I. LORD, IS IT THOU? Lord, is it Thou ? God, do I touch indeed Thy raiment hem, that melts Hke vapour dark ? O homeless Spirit, that fleest us in our need. Pause ! answer ! while I kneel, remain and mark. . Father ! . . Ere back they bear me, cold and stark, Across Thy darken'd threshold,— ere I plead For love no longer, pity me, and heark ! Surviving the long tale of craft and cfeed. The gaunt Hills gather round me, dumb and grey, — The Waters utter their monotonous moan, — The immemorial Heavens, with no groan. Bent sweet eyes down, as on their natal day : ,Cold are all these as clay, and still as stone ; But / have found a voice, and I will pray. 146 THE BOOK OF ORM. II. WE ARE FATHERLESS. I found Thee not by the starved widow's bed, Nor in the sick-rooms where my dear ones died ; In Cities vast I hearken'd for Thy tread, And heard a thousand call Thee, wretched-eyed, Worn out, and bitter. But the Heavejis denied Their melancholy Maker. From the Dead Assurance came, nor answer. Then I fled Into these wastes, and raised my hands, and cried : " The seasons pass — the sky is as a pall — Thin wasted hands on withering hearts we press — There is no God — in vain we plead and call. In vain with weary eyes we search and guess — Like children in an empty house sit all. Cast-away children, lorn and fatherless." CORUISKEN SONNETS. 147 III. WE ARE CHILDREN. Children indeed are we — children that wait Within a wondrous dwelling, while on high Stretch the sad vapours and the homeless sky; The House is fair, yet all is desolate Because our Father comes not ; clouds of fate Sadden above us — shivering we hear The passing rain, the wind that shakes the gate, And cry to one another " He is near !" At early morning, with a shining Face, He left us innocent and lily-crown'd ; And now 'tis late — night cometh on apace — We hold each other's haiids and look around. Frighted at our own shades ! Heaven send us grace ! When He returns, all will be sleeping sound. 148 THE BOOK OT ORM. IV. WHEN WE ARE ALL ASLEEP. When He returns, and finds all sleeping here — Some old, some young, some fair, and some not fair, Will He stoop down and whisper in each ear " Awaken ! " or for pity's sake forbear, — Saying, " How shall I meet their frozen stare Of wonder, and their eyes so woebegone ? How shall I comfort them in their despair. If they cry out ' too late ! let us sleep on ?' " Perchance He will not wake us up, but when He sees us look so happy in our rest, Will murmur, " Poor dead women and dead men ! Dire was their doom, and vjreary was their quest. Wherefore awake them unto life again ? Let them sleep on untroubled — it is best." CORUISKEN SONNETS. 1 49 V. BUT THE HILLS WILL BEAR WITNESS. ^ But ye,— ye Hills that gather round this day, Ye Mountains, and ye Vapours, and ye Waves, Ye will attest the wrongs of men of clay, When, in a World all hush'd, sits on our graves The melancholy Maker. Fropi your caves Strange echoes of our old lost life shall come ; With still eyes fixed on your vast architraves. Nature shall speak, tho' mortal lips be dumb. Then God will cry : " Sadly the Waters fall. Sadly the Mountains keep their snowy state. The Clouds pass on, the Winds and Echoes call. The World is sweet, yet wearily I wait. Tho' all is fair, and I am Lord of all. Without my Children I am desolate." 150 THE BOOK OF ORM. VI. DESOLATE ! Desolate ! How the Peaks of ashen grey, The smoky Mists that drift from hill to hill, The Waters dark, anticipate this day That sullen desolation. O how still The shadows come and vanish, with no will ! How still the melancholy Waters lie ' How still the vapours of the under-sky Mirror'd below, drift onward, and fulfil Thy mandate as they mingle ! — Not a sound. Save that deep murmur of a torrent near. Deepening silence. Hush ! the dark profound Groans, as some grey crag loosens and falls sheer To the abyss. Wildly I look around. O Spirit of the Human, art Thou here ? CORUISKEN SONNETI 151 VII, LORD, ART THOU HERE? Lord, art Thou here ? far from the busy crowd, Brooding in melancholy solitude ; Darkening Thy visage with a thunder-cloud, Holding Thy breath, if mortal foot intrude. Father, how shall I meet Thee in this mood ? How shall I ask Thee why Thou dwell'st with stones. While far away the world, like Lazarus, groans, Sick for Thy healing. Father, if Thou be'st good, And wise, and gentle, O come down, come down ! Come like an Angel with a human face. Pass thro' the gates into the hungry Town, Comfort the weary, send the afflicted grace. Shine brighter on the Graves where we lay down Our dear ones, cheer them in the narrow place ! 152 THE BOOK OF ORM. VIII. GOD IS BEAUTIFUL. O Thou art beautiful ! and Thou dost bestow Thy beauty on this stillness — still as sheep The Hills he under Thee ; the Waters deep Murmur for joy of Thee ; the voids below Mirror Thy strange fair Vapours as they flow ; And now, afar upon the ashen height, Thou sendest down a radiant look of light, So that the still Peaks glisten, and a glow Rose-colour'd tints the Httle snowy cloud That poises on the highest peak of all. O Thou art beautiful ! — the Hills are bowed Beneath Thee; on Thy name the soft Winds call- The monstrous Ocean trumpets it aloud, The Rains and Snows intone it as they fall. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 1 53 IX. THE MOTION OF THE MISTS. Here by the sunless Lake there is no air, Yet with how ceaseless motion, with how strange Flowing and fading, do the high Mists range The gloomy gorges of the Mountains bare. Some weary breathing never ceases there, — The ashen peaks can feel it hour by hour ; The purple depths are darken'd by its power ; A soundless breath, a trouble all things sliare That feel it come and go. See ! onward swim The ghostly Mists, from silent land to land, From gulf to gulf; now the whole air grows dim — Like living men, darkling a space,' tl^ey stand. But lo ! a Sunbeam, Hke a Cherubim, Scatters them onward with a flaming brand. 154 THE BOOK OF ORM. X. CORUISK. I think this is the very stillest place On all God's earth, and yet no rest is here. The Vapours mirror'd in the black loch's face Drift on like frantic shapes and disappear; A never-ceasing murmur in mine ear Tells me of Waters wild that flow and flow. There is no rest at all afar or near, Only a sense of things that moan and go. And lo ! the still small life these limbs contain I feel, flows on like those, restless and proud; Before that breathing nought within my brain Pauses,' but all drifts on like mist and cloud ; Only the bald Peaks and the Stones remain. Frozen before Thee, desolate and bowed. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 155 XI. BUT WHITHER? And whither, O ye Vapours ! do ye wend ? Stirred by that, weary breathing, whither away ? And whither, O ye Dreams ! that night and day Drift o'er the troublous Hfe, tremble, and blend To broken lineaments of that far Friend, Whose strange breath's come and go ye feel so deep ? O Soul ! that hast no rest and seekest sleep, Whither? and will thy wanderings ever end? All things that be are full of a quick pain ; Onward we fleet, swift as the running rill, — The vapours drift, the mists within the brain Float on obscuringly and have no will. Only the bare Peaks and the Stones remain ; These only, — and a God sublime and still. 156 THE BOOK OF ORM. XII. GOD IS PITILESS. O Thou art pitiless ! They call Thee Light, 'Law, Justice, Love ; 'but Thou art pitiless. What thing of earth is precious in Thy.mi.gl*te|k>.k_i^ But weary waiting on and soul's distress ? When dost Thou come with glorious hands to bless The good man that dies cold for lack of Thee ? When bring'st Thou garlands for our happiness ? , Whom dost Thou send but Death to set us free ? Blood runs like wine- — foul spirits sit and rule — The weak are crushed in every street and lane — He who is generous becomes the fool Of all the world, and gives his life in vain. Wert Thou as good as Thou art beautiful, Thou couldst not bear to look upon such pain. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 157 xni. YEA, PITILESS. Yea, Thou art pitiless — Thou dost permit The Priest to use Thee as a hangman's cord — Thou proppest up the Layman's shallow wit, Driving the Beggar from the laden board, Thou art the easy text of those who hoard Their gifts in sectet chests for Death to see. " Mighty and strong and glorious is the Lord ! " The Prophet cries, gone mad for lack of Thee ; While good men dying deem thy grace a dream, While sick men' wail for Thee and mad blaspheme, A thousand forms of Thee the foohsh preach' — Fair stretch Thy temples over all the lands, In each of these some barbarous Image stands, And men grow atheists in the shrine of each. IS8 THE BOOK OF ORM. XIV. COULD GOD BE JUDGED ! Can I be calm, beholding everywhere Disease and Anguish busy, early and late ? Can I be silent, nor compassionate The evils that both Soul and Body bear ? O what have sickly Children done, to share Thy cup of sorrows ? yet their dull, skd pain Makes the earth awful ; — on the tomb's dark stair Moan Idiots, with no glimmer in the brain. No shrill Priest with his hangman's cord can beat Thy mercy into these — ah nay, ah nay ! The Angels Thou hast sent to haunt the street Are Hunger and Distortion and Decay. Lord ! that mad'st Man, and send'st him foes so fleet. Who shall judge TAee upon Thy judgment-day ? CORUISKEN SONNETS. 1 59 XV. THE HILLS Q}i THEIR THRONES. Ghostly and livid, robed with shadow, see ! Each mighty Mountain silent on its throne, From foot to scalp one stretch of livid stone, Without one gleam of grass or greenery. Silent they take the immutable decree — Darkness or sunlight come, — they do not stir j Each bare brow lifted desolately free, Keepeth the silence of a death-chamber. Silent they watch each other until doom ; They see each other's phantoms come and go, Yet stir not. Now the stormy hour brings gloom. Now all things grow confused and black below, Specific through the cloudy Drift they loom, And each accepts his individual woe. l6o THE BOOK OF ORM. ■xvr. !IG BLAABHEIN. KKTO BLj Monarch of these is Blaabheu5>--iDn his height The lightning and the snow sleep side fey, side, Like snake and lamb ; he broodeth in a white And wintry consecration. AH his pride Is husht this dimly-gleaming autumn day — He thinketh of the things he hath beheldj— Beneath his feet the Rains crawl-etift-sHla grey, Like phantoms of the mighty men of eld ; A quiet awe the dreadful heights doth fill, The high clouds pause and brood above their King ; The torrent murmurs gently as a rill ; Softly and low the winds are murmuring ; A small black speck above the snow, how still Hovers the Eagle, with no stir of wing ! CORUISKEN BONNETS. l6l XVII. BLAABHEIN IN THE MISTS. Watch but a moment — all is changed ! A moan Breaketh the beauty of tliat noonday dream ; The hoary Titan darkens on his thronfe, And with an indistinct and senile scream Gazes at the wild Rains as past they stream, Thro' vaporous air wild-blowing on his brow ; All black, from scalp to base there is no gleam. Even his silent snows are faded- now. Watch yet ! — and yet ! — Behold, and all is done — 'Twas but the shallow shapes that come and go, Troubling the mimic picture in the eye. Still and untroubled sits the kingly one. Yonder the Eagle floats — there sleeps the Snow Against the pale green of the cloudless sky. M THE BOOK OF ORM. XVIII. THE FIERY BIRTH OF THE HILLS. O hoary Hills, the' ye look aged, ye Are but the children of a latter time — Methinks I see ye in that hour sublime When from the hissing cauldron of the Sea Ye were upheaven, while so terribly The Clouds boiled, and the Lightning scorched ye bare. Wild, new-born, blind, Titans in agony. Ye glared at heaven through folds of fiery hair ! . . Then, in an instant, while ye trembled thus A Hand from heaven, white and luminous, Pass'd o'er your brows, and husht your fiery breath. Lo ! one by one the still Stars gather' d round. The great Deep glass'd itself, and with no sound A cold Snow glimmering fell, and all was still as death. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 1 63 XIX. THE CHANGELESS HILLS. All power, all virtue, is repression — ^ye Are stationary, and God keeps ye great ; Around your heads the fretful winds play free ; Ve change not — ye are calm and desolate. What seems to us a trouble and a fate, Is but the loose fog streaming from your feet And drifting onward — early ye sit and late. While unseen Winds waft past the things that fleet. So sit for ever, still and passionless As He that made ye — thought and soul's distress Ye know not, though ye contemplate the strife ; Better to share the Spirit's bitterest aches — Better to be the weakest Wave that breaks On a wild Ocean of mysterious Life. 164 THE BOOK OF ORM. XX. MOUNTAIN PEAK OF A GOD. Father, if Thou imperturbable art, Passive as these, lords of a lonely land — If, having laboured. Thou must sit apart — If having once open'd the void, and planned This tragedy, Thou must impassive stand Spectator of the scenic flow of things. Then I — a drop of dew, a grain of sand — Pity Thy lot, poor palsied King of Kings. Better to faU and fail, to shriek and shriek, Better to break, like any Wave, and go, — Impotent godhead, let Thy slave 'be weak ! — Yea, do not freeze my Soul, but let it flow — O wherefore call to Thee, a mountain Peak Impassive, beautiful, serene with snow ? CORUISKEN SONNETS. 165 XXI. GOD THE IMAGE. Impassive, beautiful, and desolate, Is this the Lord my God, whom I entreat? Powerless to stay the ravages, of fate — Jove with his right hand palsied, Jove effete, Fetter'd by frost upon a stony seat — O dreadful apparition ! Can this be ? Yonder He looms, where never a heart doth beat, In the cold ether of theology. Come down ! come down ! O Souls that wander there ! Cold are the snows, chill is the dreadful air — Come down ! come down into the Valleys deep ; Leave the wild Image to the stars, that rise Around about it with affrighted eyes ; Come to green under-glooms, and sink, and sleep. 1 66 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXII. THE FOOTPRINTS. Come to green under-glooms, — and in your hair Weave nightshade, foxglove red, and rank wolfsbane, And slumber and forget Him ; if in vain Ye try to slumber off your sorrow there, Arise once more and openly repair To busy haunts where men and women sigh, And if all things but echo back your care. Cry out aloud, " There is no God ! " and die. But if upon a day when all is dark. Thou, stooping in the public ways, shalt mark Strange luminous footprints as of feet that shine — Follow them ! follow them ! O soul bereaven ! God had a Son — He hath pass'd that way to heaven ; Follow, and look upqn the Face divine ! CORUISKEN SONNETS. 167 XXIII. WE ARE DEATHLESS. Yet hear me, Mountains ! echo me, O Sea ! Murmur an answer. Winds, from out your caves ; Cry loudly, Torrents, Mountains, Winds, and Waves — Hark to my crying all, and echo me — All things that live are deathless — I and ye. The Father could not slay us if he would ; The elements in all their multitude Will rise against their Master terribly. If but one hair upon a human head Should perish ! . . . Darkness grows on crag and Steep, A hollow thunder fills the torrent's bed ; The wild Mists moan and threaten as they creep ; And hush ! now, when all other cries are fled, The warning murmur of the white-hair'd Deep. 1 68 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXIV. A VOICE IN THE WHIRLWIND. I heard a Whirlwind on the mountain peak Pause for a space its furious flight and cry — " There is no Death ! " loudly it seemed to shriek ; " Nothing that is, beneath the sun, shall die.'' The frail sick Vapours echoed, drifting by — " There is no Death, but change early and late ; Powerless were God's right Hand full arm'd with fate. To slay the meanest thing beneath the sky." Yea, even as tremulous foam-bells on the sea, Coming and going, are all things of breath ; But evermore, deathless, and bright, and free, We re-emerge, in spite of Change or Death. Hearken, O Mountains ! Waters, echo me ! wild Wind, echo what the Man- Wind saith ! CORUISKEN SONNETS. 1 69 XXV. CRY OF THE LITTLE BROOK. , Christ help me ! whither would my dark thoughts run ! I look around me, trembling fearfully ; The dreadful silence of the Silent One Freezes my lips, and all is sad to see. Hark ! hark ! what small -voice murmurs " God made me ! " It is the Brooklet, singing all alone. Sparkling with pleasure that is all its own. And running, self-contented, sweet, and free. O Brooklet, born where never grass is green, Finding the stony -hill and flowing fleet, , Thou comest as a Messenger serene. With shining wings and silver-sandal'd feet ; Faint falls thy music on a Soul pnclean. And, in a moment, all the World looks sweet ! 170 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXVI. THE HAPPY HEARTS OF EARTH. Whence thou hast come, thou knowest not, little Brook, Nor whither thou art bound. Yet wild and gay. Pleased in thyself, and pleasing all that look, Thou wendest, all the seasons, on thy way ; The lonely glen grows gladsome with thy play, Thou glidest lamb-like thro' the ghostly shade ; To think of solemn things thou wast not made. But to sing on, for pleasure, night and day. Such happy hearts are wandering, crystal clear. In the great world where men and women dwell ; Earth's mighty shows they neither love nor fear. They are content to be, while I rebel. Out of their own delight dispensing cheer. And ever softly whispering, " All is well !" CORUISKEN SONNETS. 171 xxvri. FATHER, FORGIVE THY CHILD. O sing, clear Brook, sing on, while in a dream I feel the sweetness of the years go by ! The crags and peaks are softened now, and seem Gently to sleep against the gentle sky ; Old scenes and faces glimmer up and die. With outlines of sweet thought obscured too long ; Like boys that shout at play far voices cry ; sing ! for I am weeping at the song. 1 know not what I am, but only know I have had glimpses tongue may never speak ; No more I balance human joy and woe, But think of my transgressions, and am meek. Father ! forgive the child who fretted so, — His proud heart yields, — the tears are on his cheek ! 172 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXVIII. god's loneliness. When, in my strong affection, I have sought To play at Providence with men of clay. How hath my good come constantly to nought, How hath my light and love been cast away, — How hath my light been light to lead astray. How hath my love become of sorry worth. How feeble hath been all my soul's essay To aid one single man on all God's earth ! Father in Heaven, when I think these things. Helpless Thou seemest to redeem our plight — Thy lamp shines on shut eyes — ^each Spirit springs To its own stature still in Thy despite — While haggard Nature round Thy footstool clings, Pale, powerless, sitt'st Thou, in a Lonely Light. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 173 XXIX. THE CUP OF TEARS. My God ! my God ! with passionate appeal, Pardon I crave for these mad moods of mine, — Can I remember, with no htert to feel. The gift of Thy dear Son, the Man Divine— My God ! what agonies of love were Thine, Sitting alone, forgotten, on Thy height, Pale, powerless, awful in that Lonely Light, While 'neath Thy feet the cloudy hyaline Rain'd blood upon the darkness, — where Thine Own Held the black Cup of all earth's tears, and cried ! Ev'n then, tho' Thou wert conscious of his groan. Pale in that Lonely Light Thou didst abide, Nor dared, even then, tho' shaken on Thy' throne. To reach Thy hand and dash the Cup aside. 174 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXX. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. ^ On the dark waters of man's thought still gleams Softly and silvemly, from night to night, That starlike Legend, whose fair substance seems Consuming in the melancholy light It sheddeth. Father, do I see aright ? Is it a truth or most divine of dreams ? That He, Thy Child, walk'd once in raiment white With mortal men, and mused by Syrian streams? O Life that puts our noblest life to shame, Was it a Star, or light to lead astray ? Thought's waves grow husht beneath that silvern flame, Our hopes pursue it and our doubts obey ; And whether truth or phantom, it became The sweetest sphere that lights the World's black way. CORUISKEN SONNETS. 175 XXXI. earth's eldest born. But He, the only One of mortal birth Who raised the Veil a:nd saw the Face behind, While yet He wander'd footsore on the earth. Beheld His Father's Eyes, — that they were kind ; Here in the dark I grope, confused, purblind, I have not seen the glory and the peace, But on the darken'd mirror of the mind Strange glimmers fall, and shake me till they cease — Then, wondering, dazzled, on Thy name I call. And, like a child, reach empty hands and moan, And broken accents from my wild lips fall. And I implore Thee in this human tone ; — If such as I can follow Him at all Into Thy, presence, 'tis by love alone. 176 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXXII. WHAT SPIRIT COMETH? Who cometh wandering hither in my need ? What gentle Ghost from Heaven cometh now? — Oh, I am broken to the rod indeed — ■ Father, my earthly father, is it thou ? The stooping shape with piteous human brow, The dear quaint gesture and the feeble pace, The weary-eyed, world-worn, beloved face, Ev'n as they wildly faded, meet me now. A gentle voice flows sofdy, saying plain : " From death comes light, from pain beatitude ; Chide not at loss, for out of loss comes gain ; Chide not at grief, for 'tis the Soul's best food — Out of my death-chamber, out of wrong and pain, Cometh a life and odour. God is good." CORUISKEN SONNETS. I 77 xxxin. STAY, O spirit! Father, my earthly father, stay, O stay ! I know thou wert a man as others be ; Sore were thy feet upon the World's cold clay, And thou didst stumble oft, and on thy knee Knelt little ; but thy gentle heart gleamed free In cloud and shadow, giving its best cheer ; Thou had'st an open hand, and laugh'd for glee When happy men or creatures dumb played near ; But in thy latter years God's scourge was sore Upon thee — weary were thy wrongs and dire, — Yet blessings on thee'— until all was o'er, Cheery thou wert beside a cheerless fire — Till one red dawn the mark was on the door, And thou wert dead to all the world's desire. 178 THE BOOK OF ORM. XXXIV. QUIET WATERS. O' Rainbow, Rainbow, on the livid height, Softening its ashen outlines into dream, Dewy yet brilliant, delicately bright As pink wild-roses' leaves, why dost thou gleam So beckoningly ? Whom dost thou invite Still higher upward on the bitter quest ? What dost thou promise to the weary sight In that strange region whence thou issuest ? Speakest thou of pensive runlets by whose side Our dear ones wander sweet and gentle-eyed, In the soft dawn of a diviner Day ? Art thou a promise ? Come those hues and dyes From heavenly Meads, near which thou dost arise, Iris'd from Quiet Waters, far away-1 VIIL THE CORUISKEN VISION ; Or, the ^ZQCvch txt t\xz §ook. A phantom, still, where phantoms brood. In tJiai soul-searching solitude, Or?n read and pondered, line by line. The Legend of the Book Divine. — Like to a tree above a brook, His Spirit bent above the Book, And shapes and faces ih the stream, Went drifting by him, dark with dream. — Bui ever as they blackened by Came m-irrored gleams of the blue sky . . . Till, soothed to sleep by sound and sight, Orm. had a vision of the night, Wherein, with wild eyes upward bent. The Book's dark Spirit cam.e and went. VIII. THE CORUISKEN VISION; t, tlw SiatttJi at tlw S»»k. 7%e sAore of the Lake of Coruisk. A starry night. Orm. Calm sleeps the lonely Water of the Waste, The gentle going of a windy day Hath left it quiet, and the dim-eyed Moon, Whose phantom ploughs the silent gulfs beneath, Misteth its sable mirror, where the Stars Float moistly, fitfully, like drops of dew. O Book Divine ! I close thy leaves this night, And having drunken deep a blessed draught, Thirst still as ere I drank. Blank is the page ; 02 THE BOOK OF ORM. The meaning, like a melancholy echo, Ever eluding him who seeks to hear, — Only from leaf to leaf, from tale to tale, One DarkTace passeth with a sense of tears. And here I rest, not dead to such a scene As makes the heart beat low, and fills the mind With silence sweeter than divinest sound, — Not dead to thee, pale haunting face in Heaven, — Not dead to ye, too beautiful Stars, — not dead To this mild breathing of the slumbering Earth, My mother ! I am fearfully at peace With all the world. Still silent ! save the moan Of the black waves upon the whispering sand. And the dull murmur of the wandering wind • Afar in the grey region of the Rain. At peace with Death ! at peace with Earth and dust! And with that shadow-region over Earth ! But even in the pathos of this hour THE CORUISKEN VISION. 1 83 I am at war with dreadful Mystery ! The Angel of the Human heavenward wings, And gazes on me with a thousand eyes Insufferable, from yonder starry dome : Thou Spirit of my Spirit, what am / ? A Voice. The modem Orm : a shadow in the track Of Him who walked along the thorny ways With bloodless robe and pallid smile divine. Orm. Who spoke ? It seemed a voice did echo me With mine own thought. Spirit of Sorrow. 'Twas mine, thou creeping thing ! Orm. Thine ? Shadows grow upon me as I he — I see a figure in a priestly dress — 184 THE BOOK OF ORM. Of Stature, huger than a mortal's. Speak ! Art thou a spirit or a man ? Spirit. I am The Shadow of the Spirit of the Book, — The Angel of all Evil. Orm. Fly me not ! If thou be that, let me contemplate thee. How does the white smile of the ghostly Moon Silver thy wrinkled cheeks and solemn beard ! There is a sweetness as of solemn thoughts In. thy calm face, and in thine eyes the peace Which passeth understanding. Spirit. Look again ! the coruisken vision. 185 Orm. Thy thin brow shrivels to the scalp ! Thy cheek Shrinks like an adder's skin, and leaves thine eyes Two spots -of flaming emerald ! Thy hair Melts off like snow ! Thy spotted flesh curls round The forked tongue that shoots from slimy lips ! Aye, now I know thee, yet I fear thee not ! Calm as a stone, I on mine elbow lean And look at thee with such a scorn as thou, In the remote abysms of the past, Turned on the heel that bruised thee ! Spirit. Yet again 1 Orm. O speak ! Thy face grows glorious with the ray Of some old prophecy ; thy form dilates ; Around thee is a motion as of wings ; Thy lifted arm points at the Stars which dim 1 8 6. THE BOOK OF ORM. Bright orbs upon thee, — Heaven with all her eyes Watching her eldest bom ! Spirit. Almighty God ! Father ! How long, how long ? . . Nay, He is dumb Upon His throne. He answers not, but mocks me With the mild motion of those ministries That work His nightly law. But thou hast heard ; Thou knowest me now. Orm. I know thee ! Spirit. And thy cheek Blanches not? Orm. Nay, by pride, and by despair. I fear thee not — we are too much akin. THE CORUISKEN VISION. 187 I would hear more o:^ thee, — and much of those Who ate and perished. Spirit. That which men call knowing Shall speedily be heapen on thine head ; Nor scorn me, if to-night I dwarf the truth Into a picture for thy little eye. — Hither, ye wandering Spirits, and attend ! , Voices. Down where the moonlight lies On beds of sable sand. We come and we go at thy bidding ! Never, never more . , Foot hath trod this, darkness. Never, never more Mortal hath descended ! S» THE BOOK OF ORM. The secret of Time, yea the Book of the World, Under the waters abideth ; The thin wave creeps chill thro' its brazen leaves, That stir with a moaning pulsation ! Spirit. , Ye hear me, homeless voices of the Dead ! Upbuild ! and be the Temple broad and high ! Voices. Rocks from the mammoth world, Spars from the sifted sands, Bones that whiten decaying, — With the blood of man These we mould together ; Fire with slippery hands Clings around the columns : Thrones for the Wise who have sought for the Book That under the waters abideth, The red fire of Hell to illumine the whole, And the Temple is biiilt at thy bidding ! THE CORUISKEli VISION. 1 89 Orm. The air is nighted with an Edifice That whirls on serpent columns heavenward, Growing and growing, like a living thing At its own will, with rustling as of wings. Both lake and sky are hidden — all is dark ! The fabric pauses in its upward growth ; And lo ! before me swings a fiery Gate, Upon whose threshold sits a little Child, Turning the dim leaves of a brazen Book With fingers light as are a rose's leaves, And smiling on the things it s'ees therein. Spirit. Ye who have eaten and perish'd, at your thrones ! Voices within the Temple. Out of our dust a Flower Hath grown' vith sap of blood. And the little one plucks it freely ; 19° THE BOOK OF ORM. In a young bride's hair Is it brightly glowing ! Upon dying lips Doth it mildly blossom ! While upon our thrones, Not by hands upbuilded, We, the Kings of Thought, Sit in meditation. , Spirit. Pass in ! Orm. How sweetly sits the little Child, Making a radiance round him with his smile, So that the dark Book sparkles under him ; One sweet white blossom of the lily gleams In the deep golden of his hair. His name ? Who is he ? Spirit. Beal. Born, but not of woman, He ages not, but solves all mysteries THE CORUISKEN VISION. 191 By the sweet light which, burning like a lamp, His vestal Soul gives forth thro' eyes divine But comprehends not. Orm. Is immortal? Spirit. Yea! Because he hath not eaten of the Tree Of Sorrow. He was sitting on Eve's shoulder, Babbling fine fancies with his baby-lips. And breathing, balm into her rosy ear, When the Temptation found her. . . . Enter in ! [T/iey enter. Orm. It is a sight to wither up the heart, And burst the straining eyeball of the soul. — Shadows, they sit T^dthin a shadow-realm, Below their feet a gulf, and overhead The fretted roof glitters with stars that light not 192 THE BOOK OF ORM. The air around them, the' self-luminous. Up to the roofs the quivering Columns writhe Snake-like ; and in the interstice of gloom The Shadows reign, white-hair'd and hollow-eyed, Each crowned and sceptred, each with gaze bent inward, So that they look not on the frozen woe Of one another's faces, nor perceive All is so black around about their seats. What shapes are these ? ' Spirit. The Kings of Thought. , Orm. The Kings Of Thought . . . and I conceive them not ! Spirit. They are. And are not, what they seem ; for Thought is twofold : THE CORUISKEN VISION. 1 93 The flower that bends above its shape in water, Conception and its shadow. . These are false, Yet are they all projected by the truth ; Without the truth they are not. Orm. Kings of Thought ? Things that have eaten the fruit and perished ? These surely should be those that know, — can speak Of this unrest which flames my Spirit on ! Spirit. These are their shades ; their spirits dwell afar, Drinking the dew of a serener air. In aspiration and in glorious dream, They learnt too well that all is vanity. Orm. Thought is immortal — is a winged thing ! A homeless ecstasy that cannot die ! Or be confined, or wholly pass away ! 194 the book of orm. Spirit. Thought, tho' immortal, if it beat the air With insolent wing, must fail, as these have done. He made His earth and heavens, His clear air, His elements. His seasons, all things fair Or terrible, all wondrous elements That flash and fade around man's prison-house, To hk a testimony unto Him ; Many have failed and perished at that point Where testimony so amazes mind. That it obscures the glory testified. Orm. . What shape is that ? — ^he with the sombre robe Hideously blazoned ? Spirit. The son of Brahm, Menu, a mighty mortal of the East, Who grew so wise they took him for a god. And fixed him just beneath their Trinity. the coruisken vision. ^95 Orm. He, further down the gloom, with glorious face Gleaming like daybreak, snakes around his neck. And stars amid his hair? Spirit. 'Tis Orpheus : Who, with deep-gleaming eyes and singing lips, From mystic circle unto circle swept That lessen inward to the Soul of All, And, having swept each circle's course divine. Naming the wondrous habitants therein, Whirl'd, like a moth around an Altar Lamp, A moment round that inmost Flame of All, Then fluttering fell to Lesbos, blind with light. Close to his side the long-hair'd Samian sits, First Shepherd of the gentle and the wise. Drinking sad day from the still lustrous gaze Of his surpassing neighbour. . . . And that other. He with the subtle smile and thin white hair. 196 THE BOOK OF ORM. Holding the goblet up to lips of ice, Is Socrates, a Greek of homelier growth ; Who nearer earth tasted forbidden fruit, And ended meekly with a hemlock cup : Yet, tasting thus the bitterness of wisdom, Smiled gloriously, and so passed up to God, Wise in his dying. At his feet behold, With small eyes glimmering thro' hair unkempt, -. Diogenes, who stole the wondrous fruit, And munched it in the mud, and scowled oh all Because it tasted sourly. He who towers Amid a mystic circle of the Wise, Who turn unto him great eyes dim with dream, — He with the beautiful great brow, and hair Where gleams of gold still linger in the grey — Plato — of all who ever lived and died, The one who loved the quest for its own sake. Because it led him into paths so fair ; Married his days and nights to. thought, and left Broods of angelic dreams attesting all THE CORUISKEN VISION. 197 That by the unassisted mind of man Could be conceived of immortality ; Saw Truth in open daylight face to face, And would have loved and understood her too, Had he not thought Knowledge so beautiful. Orm. These are but heathen prophets ! Spirit. Even so — Pass on. Mark yonder Figure standing crowned, A sword upon his thigh, and near his breast A harp of burning gold. His dexter hand Clutches the sword, and the impetuous blood Seems black'ning to the nails ; but his blue eyes Look downward on a phantom in the gulf — A pale Youth swinging by the hair of gold To the black branches of a forest tree. 198 the book of orm. Orm. 'Tis the lost King of Israel ! Spirit. Speak to him ! Thy voice will stir him, tho' he sees thee not. Orm. Speak, Shade of Israel ! . . . Across his face There flits a gleam like starlight upon snow : He stirs, and flings his arms around his harp. Spirit of David. I was a burning and a shining Light, Yet I projected darkness wheresoe'er I wandered crown'd. I slew, and sla)dng prayed. Like to a storm of music I swept on, Sounding the trumpet of an angry Lord ; But lastly, in the darkness knelt I down, THE CORUISKEN VISION. 199 And wept above my gold-haired Absalom, And touched my harp, and sighing fell to sleep, With downward drooping head and ruinous hair, And fingers feehng blindly for the sword ; But swooning, smote the harp-strings unaware. And like a strain of peaceful sound, my Soul Slipt thro' my fingers out upon the strings, There linger'd faintly many nights and days, And in sad cadence glided up to God. Orm. Enough ! I sicken when I gaze upon him — He darken'd that he sought, the Light Divine. No further. Yonder in their dark array I see the black-brow'd builders of the Law ; At whose dark footstools, moveless in the gloom, The pallid Prophets crouch with fiery eyes. A Voice. God spake a Word that pass'd along Hke wind, Through the abysses and the gulfs of Time, — 200 THE BOOK OF ORM. A voice of lamentation mix'd with hope, And a deep under-huin of mystery : One prophet darkening as a thunder-cloud, Utter'd this promise in a lightning flash ! Another murmur'd it to his own heart, ' Till the wild thing grew mild and musical ! Age after age, in crime and loss and woe, This Word hath echoed like a wondrous voice, Coming on peaceful men among their flocks. Startling the warrior, while, in battle-field, He, listening, looks upon his bloody hands ! Voices. Out of our dust a Flower Hath grown with sap of blood, And the little one plucks it freely ! Vainly the mind of man Sits in meditation, Vainly the mighty seek, Thought is weak to fathom : THE CORUISKEN VISION. 20 The Secret of Time, yea the Book of the World, Under the waters abijieth. We search'd for the same' from birth to the grave. And wearily westering perished ! Orm. O see ! before us sits the radiant Child We passed upon the threshold. Still he smiles, Turning the dim leaves of the brazen Book, And shining on the things he sees therein. Spirit. Peep over his shoulder. See to what the small White hand is "pointing. Orm. " Verily I say, Except a man be horn again, he shall not Enter the kingdom of God! " \ 202 THE BOOK'ISF ORM. How quietly The Little One looks in my fa :e and smiles, And while I gaze upon him, o i my Soul Truths drop like flakes of sno\ , melting away Ere thought can seize them. Speak, O Radiant One ! Spirit] He only clasps his little hand? and smiles ; ' Bend to him thus : yea, he^ho seeks to find Wisdom in little ones must stt»op to them. Is silent ! but he shuts tme brazen Book, And puts his rosy arms around my neck. ■ miCES. The smile ji a little Child Disturbs us where we sit On our thronesn^the Wise and the Mighty ! Never heretofore Have our Thrones been shaken, Never heretofore Did we know and wonder ! THE CORUISKEN VISION. 203 We are, and we are not j we know, and we know not ; We come and we go at thy bidding ; We have followed each other from birth to the grave, And wearily westering perish'd. [T/ie Child kisses Satan. The Temple vanishes. Orm. . . . Gone ! melted like a vapour ! and again The cold white starlight on the lonely Mere ! A dream ; yet still the radiant Infant's kiss Burns on thy forehead as a seal of fire ! Almighty God ! Master ! Spirit. What dost thou see ? Orm. The gathering clouds above assume strange shapes, And struggle onward to the sunken sun. Piloted by a swift and audible wind ; The waters glass themselves below, and mirror The phantasm as it passes ; and the moon 204 THE BOOK OF ORM. Burns inward thro' blue ether, whirling round, Rolling her round white eye on all, and casting Wild shafts of silver on the lake. Black forms. Gigantic up, above; human below. Swim on with waving arms and flashing faces. Up, up, as if they climb a hill and pass : Lo, one on horseback pointeth with his sword And urgeth on. Men, women, children follow : The light illumes the golden hair of a chUd Held in its mother's arms ; and now,- O God ! Hide me I Spirit. Behold ! Orm. The shadow of a Cross Looms huge and forked in the lake : 'tis borne By One with stooping shoulders, waving hair ; Behind Him foUoweth a motley crowd ; He pauseth underneath His load — He halts — THE CORUISKEN VISION. 205 His face is silvered by the plunging moon — Almighty Lord, it is the Nazarene ! O God ! two silent Faces, each the Christ's, One from the heaven, one from the black lake, Gaze on me, and the wild Moon gleams on both ! Look up, look up ! Spirit. Orm. Oh, I am blind ! Spirit. Thou fearest To look upon the thing thou hast denied. Orm. Is it a fable ? Spirit. Yea ; — if men and women. And all they think, and all they feel and see. 206 THE BOOK OF ORM. Are fables. 'Twas the shadow of thy thought Crossing the luminous silence of His stars, Darkening His air, blanching His fiery moon, Using His water for a mirror. Rise ! The thing hath faded from His elements Into the subtle chambers of thy brain, Where all live mingled. Let it work therein ! Yonder the dim Day dawns — the tremulous feet Of sad ghosts fade upon the brightening hills. Farewell ! and when thou prayest, pr3,y for me ! Pray for the outcast Spirit ! Pray for all Strong Spirits that are outcast ! , \S^irii vanishes. The day breaks. Orm. Father! God! Forgive thy child ! behold him on his knee ! Evil is evil, Father, Good is Good, Darkness is dreadful, and the Light divine ! IX. THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. A Scroll Antique^ all weed-behung. Writ in a curious Southern tongue, Wask*d to Orrn^sfeei by the wild main, After fierce nights of wind and rain ; Many a midnight, wearily, Over the parchment pondered he, Now moved with sympathy intense. Now vaguely grasping at the sense, Till, in the end, he fashioned it Into the Songs thai here are writ. IX. THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. • I. THE INSCRIPTIOtJ WITHOUT. The Moral Law : all Evil is Defect ; The limb deform'd for common use of life Defect, — but haply in the line of growth. THE BOOK OF ORM. II. THE TREE OF LIFE. 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 that He had set Broke presently thro' 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 ! THE devil's mystics. 211 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 gathered 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. 'Tis fairer certainly Than the Tree, or the leaves o' the Tree " The Master cried : " O Angels, that guard the Tree, THE BOOK OF ORM. 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 Son shall stray, And shall snatch it unaware. And wreath it in his hair." The Master smiled : " The Tree shall never bear — THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 213 Seedless shall perish the Tree, But the Flower my Son's shall be ; He will pluck the Flower and wear, Till it withers in his hair !" 214 THE BOOK OF ORM. III. THE SEEDS. When all that puzzles sense was planned, When the first seeds of being fell, In reverence bent, / 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 ; THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 215 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 water bubbling 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 aware, (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, 2l6 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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, firom gain to gain, And subtler grew, with each new birth, The creatures' powers of pain. " Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain ! Deepen, deepen, into pain ! " Paler I saw the Master grow. Faint and more faint His breathing fell, THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 21 7 And strangely, lower and more low, He mutter'd over 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-bom Mortal rise — The flower of things he stood his height With melancholy eyes. " Grow, Seed ! blossom. Brain ! Deepen, deepen, into pain ! " • From all the rest he drew apart, And stood erect on the green sod, 2l8 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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 fashioned, 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 answered. "Grow, Seed! blossorti, Brain! Deepen, deepen, into pain ! " And since that day, with cloudy face. Of His own handiwork afraid. THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 219 God from His heavenly hiding-place Peers on the thing He made. " Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain ! Deepen, deepen, into pain ! " Crown of things, O good and wise, O mortal Soul that would'st be free, 1 weep to look into thy eyes — Thou art so Hke to me ! " Grow, Seed ! blossom. Brain ! Deepen, deepen, into pain ! " THE BOOK OF ORM. IV. FIRE AND WATER j OR, A VOICE OF THE FLESH. " 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. THE devil's mystics. 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 bums the fire. My face is like crimson With shame and desire ! THE BOOK OF ORM. V. Sanitas. Dreamily, 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? SUas, the Leper, gaunt and hoar ; Tho' he is curst in every limb, Full whitely Time hath snowed on him— Dews are falHng, song-birds sing. It is a Christian evenings- THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 223 The Leper, drinking in the air, Sits like a beast, with idiot stare. How pale ! how wondrous ! she doth 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 ! 224 THE BOOK OF ORM. Onward on her milk-white Ass Rideth the maiden Sanitas. The boughs are green, the grain js 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 ! THE devil's mystics. 225 VI. THE PHILOSOPHERS. We are the Drinkers of Hemlock ! Lo ! we sit apart, Each right tand 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 Hemlpck ! We drink and know ! Q 226 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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 ! THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 227 VII. PRAYER FROM THE DEEPS. Father which art in heaven, — not here below ; Be Thy name hallowed, 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 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. 2 28 THE BOOK OF ORM. VIII. HOMUNCULUS'; OR, THE SONG OF DEICIDES. I. Now all the ?nystic Lamps that shed Light on the living world are fled ; Now the swart digger rinses gold, Unless 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 Menii, ■^ith all the gods, white, black, and blue. THE DEVIL S MYSTICS. Are fallen, and while I murmur thus, Strong, and niore 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- had I then so far foreseen. This day of doom had never been. For with a drop of fire from Hell 1 would have killed the feeble Cell. 230 THE BOOK OF ORM. Too late ! too late ! for slow and strange He has passed the darker spheres 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 thro' his silent veins flow free Hunger, and Thirst, and Venery ; But in his eye a still small flame, Like the first Cell from which he came. Bums round and luminous, — as he rides To my still Song of Deicides ! 6. With Obic Circle he began. Swift thro' the Phallic rites he ran, He watch'd until his head went round The Memphian Sphinx's stare profound ; THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 23 1 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 — Over the fallen Titans strides, And squeaks the Song of Deicides ! Homunculus! Homunculus ! • Wretched, degenerate, impious ! He will not stay, he will not speak — Another blow ! another shriek ! 232 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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 Deicidfes ! Now he hath conquered godhead thus. Whither will turn Homunculus ? I am the only God let be — All but the fiends believe in me ; THE devil's mystics. 233 (Tho' all the Angels deem me prince, My kith and kin I can't convince.) Christ help me now ! Hither he rides, Smging my Song of Deicides ! ii. Silent I wait — (how stand the odds ?) I am the Serpent of the Gods, — Wait ! — draw the forked 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 ! 234 THE BOOK OF ORM. IX. ROSES. " 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-winged ; Roses red over the dead Quietly he flinged. " I am old," he thought, " And the world's day closes ; Pale and fever-fraught, Sadly have I brought These blood-red Roses." THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 235 By his side the mother came Shudderingly creeping ; The Devil's and the woman's heart Bitterly were weeping. " Swift he came and swift he flew, Hopeless he reposes ; 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 avay, beyond the day, The Lord heard interceding. " Lord God, One in Three ! Sure Thy anger closes ; Yesterday I died, and see The Weary-winged over me Bitterly streweth Ros'es." 236 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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. THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 237 X. HERMAPHRODITUS. 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 ? O on what headland 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 ! 238 THE BOOK OF ORM. 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 ? THE devil's mystics. 239 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. Godjiiiy 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- 240 THE BOOK OF ORM. Nobles and beggars, priests and kings ; Out at the thither 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 I 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 thro' space They chance to reach that resting-place, THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 241 I do not think these creatures dim Will find the Lord of Cherubim Exactly what they picture Him. May God be mhat we picture Him I 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 ilight. Lost ill that melancholy light. We fade in melancholy light. I see, as plain as eyes can see, From this dark point of mystery, Those fledgling Spirit's everywhere ; They sing, they lessen up the air; They go' to God — Christ help them there ! We go to God — Christ help us there. 242 THE BOOK OF ORM. XII. HIS PRAYER. In 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. X. THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. H(yw in the end the judgment dread Shall hy the Lord be uttered, — While brightly in a City of Rest Shall flash the fountains of the Blest, And gladdening around the Throne All mortal men shall smile,, — save one. . . Children of Earthy hear last rehearst The Vision of ihe Man Accurst. X. THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. Judgment was over ; all the world redeem'd Save one Man, — who had sinned all sins, whose soul Was blackness and foul odour. Last of all, When all was lamb-white, thro' the summer Sea Of ministering Spirits he was drifted On to the white sands ; there he lay and writhed, Worm-like, black, venomous, with eyes accurst Looking defiance, dazzled by the light That gleam'd upon his clench'd and blood-stain'd hands ; While, with a voice low as a funeral bell, The Seraph, sickening, read the sable scroll, And as he read the Spirits ministrant Darken'd and murmur'd, " Cast him forth, O Lord !" 246 THE BOOK OF ORM. And, from the Shrine where unbeheld He broods, The Lord said, " 'Tis the basest mortal bom — Cast him beyond the Gate !" The wild thing laugh'd Defiant, as from wave to wave of light He drifted, till he swept beyond the Gate, Past the pale Seraph with the silvern eyes ; And there the wild Wind, that for ever beats About the edge of brightness, caught him up, And like a straw whirl'd round and lifted him, And on a dark shore in the Underworld Cast him, alone and shivering ; for the Clime Was sunless, and the ice was like a sheet Of glistening tin, and the faint glimmering peaks Were twisted to fantastic forms of frost, And everywhere the frozen moonlight steam'd Foggy and blue, save where the abysses loom'd Sepulchral shadow. But the Man arose, THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 247 With teeth gnashed beast-like, waved wild feeble hands At the white Gate (that glimmer'd far away, Lite to the round ball of the Sun beheld Through interstices in a wood of pine), Cast a shrill curse at the pale Judge within. Then groaning, beast-like crouch' d, Like golden waves That break on a green island of the south, Amid the flash of many plumaged wings. Passed the fair days in Heaven. By the side Of quiet waters perfect Spirits walked. Low singing, in the star-dew, full of joy In their own thoughts and pictures of those thoughts • In looking eyes that loved them ; while besidfe them, After exceeding storm, the Waters of Life With soft sea-sbund subsided. Then God said, " 'Tis finished— all is well !" But as He spake A voice, from out the lonely Deep beneath, Mock'd ! 248 THE BOOK OF ORM. Then to the Seraph 'afthte pate, Who looketh oh the Deep with steadfas^eyes For ever, God cried, " What is he that mo'cks ?" The Seraph answered, " 'Tis the Man accurst!" And, with a voice of most exce ed iyWieace. God ask'd, " Whkt doth the Man ?" The Seraph said ; " Upon a desolate peak, with hoar-frost hung, Amid the steaming vapours of the Moon, He sitteth on a throne, and hideously Playeth at judgn^ent ; at his feet, with eyes Slimy and luminous, squats a monstrous Toad ; Above his head pale phantoriis of the Stars Fulfil cold ministrations of the void, And in their dim and melancholy lustre His shadow, and the shadow of the Toad Beneath him, linger. Sceptred, thron'd, and crown'd, The foul judgeth tlae foul, and sitting grim, Laughs !" THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 249 With a voice of most exceeding peace The Lord said, " Look no more !" The Waters of Life Broke with a gentle sea-sound gladdening — God turn'd and blest them ; as He blest the same, A voice, from out the lonely void beneath, Shriek'd 1 Then to the Seraph at the Gate, Who looketh on the Deep with steadfast eyes For ever, God cried, "What is he that shrieks?" The Seraph answered, " 'Tis the Man accurst !" And, with a voice of most exceeding peace, God ask'd, "What doth the Man?" The Seraph said : " Around him- the wild phantoms of the fog Moan in the rheumy hoar-frost and cold steam. Long time, crown'd, sceptred, on his throne he sits 2SO THE BOOK OF ORM. Playing at judgment ; then with shrill voice cries — "Tis finished, thou art judged !' and laughing fierce He thrusteth down an iron heel to crush The foul Toad, that with dim and luminous eyes So stareth at his soul. Thrice doth he lift His foot up fiercely — lo ! he shrinks and cowers — Then, with a wild glare at the far-off Gate, Rushes away, and, rushing thro' the dark. Shrieks !" With a voice of most exceeding peace The Lord said, " Look no more !" -The Waters of Life, The living spiritual Waters, broke. Fountain-like, up against the Master's. Breast, Giving and taking blessing. Overhead Gather'd the shining legions of the Stars, Led by the ethereal Moon, with dewy eyes Of lustre : these have been baptized in fire, THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 25 1 Their raiment is of molten diamond, And 'tis their office, as they cirding move In their blue orbits, evermore to turn Their faces heavenward, drinking peace and strength From that great Flame which, in the core of Heaven, Like to the white heart of a violet bums, Diffusing rays and odour. Blessing all, God sought their beauteous orbits, and behold ! The Eyes innumerably gUstening Were turn'd away from Heavfen, and with sick stare. Like the blue gleam of salt dissolved in fire. They searched the Void, as human faces look On horror. To the Seraph at the Gate, Who looketh on the Deep with steadfast eyes, God cried, " What is this thing whereon they gaze?" The Seraph answered, " On the Man accurst." And, with a voice of most exceeding peace, God ask'd, " What doth the Man ?" 252 THE BOOK OF OEM. The Seraph said ; " Master ! send Thou forth a tongue of fire To wither up this worm ! Serene and cold, Flooded with moon-dew, lies the "World, and there The Man roams ; and the image of the Man In the wan waters of the frosty sphere Falleth gigantic. Up and down he drifts. Worm-like, black, venomous, with eyes accursed. Waving his bloody hands in fierce appeal. So that the gracious faces of Thy Stars Are troubled, and the stainless tides of light Shadow pollution. With wild, ape-like eyes. The wild thing whining peers thro', horrent air, And rusheth up and down, seeking to find A face to look upon, a hand to touch, A heart that beats ; but all the World is void And beauteous. All alone in the Cold Clime, Alone within the lonely universe, Crawleth the Man accurst 1 " THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 253 Then said the Lord, " Doth he repent ? " And the fair Seraph said, " Nay— he blasphemeth ! Send Thou forth thy fire ! " But with a voice of most exceeding peace, , Out of the Shrine where unbeheld He broods, God said, " What I have made, a living Soul, Cannot be unmade, but endures for ever." Then added, " Call the Man ! " The Seraph heard, And in a low voice named the lost one's name ; The wild Wind that for ever beats the Gate Caught up the word, and fled thro' the cold void. 'Twas murmufd on, as a lorn echo fading. From peak to peak. Swift as a wolf the Man Was rushing o'er a waste, with shadow streaming. Backward against a frosty gleaming wind, When like a fearful whisper in his ear 'Twas wafted ; then his blanch'd lips shook like leaves In that chill wind, his hair was lifted up, 254 THE BOOK OF ORM. He paused, his shadow paused, Uke stone and shadow", And shivering, glaring round him, the Man moaned, " Who calls ?" and in a moment he was 'ware Of the white light streaming from the far Gate, And looming, blotted black against the light, The Seraph, with uplifted forefinger, Naming his name ! And ere the Man could fly, The wild Wind in its circuit swept upon him And like a straw whirled him and lifted him. And cast him at the Gate, — a bloody thing — Wild, moaning, horrible, obscene, unclean ; A body swollen and stained, like the wool Of sheep'that in the rainy season crawl About the hills, and sleep on foul damp beds Of bracken rusting red. There, breathing hard, Glaring with fiery eyes, panted the Man, With scorch'd lips drooping, thirsting as he heard The flowing of the Fountains far within. THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 255 Then said the Lord, "Is the Man there?" and-".Yea,'' Answered the Seraph pale. Then said the Lord, "What doth the Man?" The Seraph, frowning, said : " O Master, in the belly of him is fire, ' He thirsteth, fiercely thrusting out his' hands. And threateneth, seeking water ! " Then the Lord Said, " Give him water — let him drink ! " The Seraph, Stooping above him, with forefinger bright Touch'd the gold kerbstone ol the Gate, and lo ! Water gush'd forth and gleamed ; and lying prone The Man crawl'd thither, dipt his fever'd face, Drank long and deeply ; then, his thirst appeased, Thrust in his bloody hands unto the wrist, And let the gleaming Fountain play upon them. And looking up out of his dripping hair, Grinned mockery at tiie giver. Then the Lord Said low, " How doth the Man ?" The Seraph said : 2S6 THE BOOK OF ORM. " It is a snake ! He mocketh all Thy gifts, And, in a snake's voice halfTarticulate, Blasphemeth!" Then the Lord : " Doth the Man crave To enter in ? " " Not so," the Seraph said, "Hesaith " "What saith he?" "That his Soul is filled With hate of Thee and of Thy ways ; he loathes Pure pathways where the~ fruitage of the Stars Hangeth resplendent, and he spitteth hate On all Thy Children. Send Thou forth Thy fire ! In no wise is he better than the beasts, The gentle beasts, that come like morning dew And vanish. Let him, die ! " Then said the Lord : " What I have made endures ; but 'tis not meet This thing should cross my perfect work for ever. Let him begone ! " Then cried the Seraph pale : " O Master ! at the frozen Clime he glares In awe, shrieking on Thee ! " " What doth he crave ?" " Neither Thy Heaven nor Thy holy ways. He murmureth out he is content to dwell THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 257 In the Cold Clime for ever, so Thou sendest A face to look upon, a heart that beats, A hand to touch — albeit like himself, Black, venomous, unblest, exiled, and base : Give him this thing, he will be very still, Nor trouble Thee again.'' The Lord mused. Still, Scarce audible, trembled the Waters of Life — Over all Heaven the Snow of the same Thought Which rose within the Spirit of the Lord Fell hushedly ; the innumerable Eyes Swam in a lustrous dream. Then said the Lord : " In all the waste of worlds there dwelleth not Another like himself — ^behold he is The basest Mortal bom. Yet 'tis not meet His cruel cry, for ever piteous, s 258 THE BOOK OF ORM. Should trouble my eternal Sabbath-day. Is there a Spirit here, a human thing, ' WiU pass this day from the Gate Beautiful To share the exile of this Man accurst, — That he may cease the shrill pain of his cry, And I have peacd ? " Hushedly, hushedly, Snow'd down the Thought Divine — the living Waters Murmured and darkened. But like mournful mist That hovers o'er an autumn pool, two Shapes, Beautiful, human, glided to the Gate' And waited. " What art thou ?" in a stern voice The Seraph said, with dreadful forefinger Pointing to one. A gentle voice replied, " I will go forth with him whom ye call curst ! He grew within my womb — my milk was white Upon his lips. I will go forth with him ! " THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 259 " And thou ? " the Seraph said. The second Shape Answer'd, " I also will go forth with him ; I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast, I bare him children, aiid I closed his eyes ; I will go forth with him ! " Then said the Lord, " What Shapes are these who speak ? " The Seraph answer'd : " The woman who bore him and the wife he wed — The one he slew in anger — the other he stript. With ravenous claws, of raiment and of food." Then said the Lord, " Doth the Man hear ?" " He hears," Answer'd the Seraph ; " like a wolf he lies, Venomous, bloody, dark, a thing accurst, And hearkeneth, with no sign!" Then said the Xord: " Show them the Man," and the pale Seraph cried, « Behold ! " 26o THE BOOK OF ORM. Hushedly, hushedly, hushedly, In heaven fell the Snow of Thought Divine, Gleaming upon the Waters of Life beneath, And melting, — as with slow and lingering pace, The Shapes stole forth into ihe windy cold, And saw the thing that lay and throbbed and lived, And stooped above him. Then one reach'd a hand And touch'd him, and the fierce thing shrank and moaned. Hiding his face. " Have they beheld the Man? " The Lord said ; and the Seraph answer'd, " Yea ;" And the Lord said again, " What doth the Man ? " " He lieth like a log in the wild blast. And as he lieth, lo ! one sitting takes His head into her lap, and moans his name, And smoothes his matted hair from off his brow. And croons in a low voice a cradle song ; THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 26 1 And lo ! the other kneeleth at his side, Half-shrinking in the old habit of her fear, Yet hungering' with her eyes, and passionately Kissing his bloody hands." Then said the Lord, " Will they go forth with him ? " A voice replied, " He grew within my womb — my milk was white Upon his lips. I will go forth with hiin ! " And a voice cried, " I will go forth with him ; I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast, I bare him children, and I closed his eyes ; I will go forth with him ! " Still hushedly Snow'd down the Thought Divine, the Waters of Life Flow'd softly, sadly ; for an alien sound, A piteous human cry, a sob forlorn Thrill'd to the heart of Heaven. The Man wept. 262 THE BOOK OF ORM. And in a voice of most e3|ceeding peace The Lord said (while against the Breast Divine The Waters of Life leapt, gleaming, gladdening) ; " The Man is saved ; let the Man enter in." THE, end; LONDON : PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO., CITY EGAD. $2 thz ^uthat of " i:he §aak at CDfm." In fireparation, AN EPIC POEM, By ROBERT BUCHAJSTAN. Come, Faith, with eyes of melancholy gaze ! Come, Hope, with feet that bl^ed from thorny ways ! And, in the midst, leading those twain to me, C^ome, latest born of Time, white Charity ! Bring Music, too, whose voices trb'uble so Our breath and footfalls, as we westering go ; Dim-eyed and gentle, let her walk behind. The sweeter soul'd because her eyes are blind. 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