A Hidden Life and Other Poems Part 28

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Thou art before me, and I see no more Pilate or soldiers, but the purple flung Around the naked form the scourge had wrung, To naked Truth thus witnessing, before The False and trembling True. As on the sh.o.r.e Of infinite Love and Truth, I kneel among Thy footprints on that pavement; and my tongue Would, but for reverence, cry: "If Thou set'st store By feeble homage, Witness to the Truth, Thou art the King, crowned by thy witnessing!"

I die in soul, and fall down wors.h.i.+pping.

Art glories vanish, vapours of the morn.

Never but Thee was there a man in sooth, Never a true crown but thy crown of thorn.

DEATH AND BIRTH.

A Symbol.

[Sidenote: _He looks from his window on the midnight town._]

'Tis the midnight hour; I heard The city clocks give out the word.

Seldom are the lamp-rays shed On the quick foot-farer's head, As I sit at my window old, Looking out into the cold, Down along the narrowing street Stretching out below my feet, From base of this primeval block, My old home's foundation rock.

[Sidenote: _He renounces Beauty the body for Truth the soul_.]

How her windows are uplighted!

G.o.d in heaven! for this I slighted, Star-profound immensity Brooding ever in the sky!

What an earthly constellation Fills those chambers with vibration!

Fleeting, gliding, weaving, parting; Light of jewels! flash of eyes!

Meeting, changing, wreathing, darting, In a cloud of rainbow-dyes.

Soul of light, her eyes are floating Hither, thither, through the cloud, Wandering planets, seeking, noting Chosen stars amid the crowd.

Who, as centre-source of motion Draws those dark orbs' spirit-ocean?

All the orbs on which they turn Sudden with shooting radiance burn; Mine I felt grow dim with sheen, Sending tribute to their queen: Queen of all the slaves of show-- Queen of Truth's free n.o.bles--no.

She my wandering eyes might chain, Fill my throbbing burning brain: Beauty lacking Truth within Spirit-homage cannot win.

Will is strong, though feeling waver Like the sea to its enslaver-- Strong as hills that bar the sea With the word of the decree.

[Sidenote: _The Resentment of Genius at the thumbscrews of worldly talent._]

That pa.s.sing shadow in the street!

Well I know it, as is meet!

Did he not, before her face, Seek to brand me with disgrace?

From the chiselled lips of wit Let the fire-flakes lightly flit, Scorching as the snow that fell On the d.a.m.ned in Dante's h.e.l.l?

With keen-worded opposition, playful, merciless precision, Mocking the romance of Youth, Standing on the sphere of Truth, He on worldly wisdom's plane Rolled it to and fro amain.-- Doubtless there it could not lie, Or walk an orbit but the sky.-- I, who glowed in every limb, Knowing, could not answer him; But I longed yet more to be What I saw he could not see.

So I thank him, for he taught What his wisdom never sought.

It were sweet to make him burn With his poverty in turn, Shaming him in those bright eyes, Which to him are more than skies!

Whither? whither? Heart, thou knowest Side by side with him thou goest, If thou lend thyself to aught But forgiving, saving thought.

[Sidenote: _Repentance._]

[Sidenote: _The recess of the window a niche, wherein he beholds all the world of his former walk as the picture of a vain slave._]

Ah! come in; I need your aid.

Bring-your tools, as then I said.-- There, my friend, build up that niche.

"Pardon me, my lord, but which?"

That, in which I stood this minute; That one with the picture in it.-- "The window, do you mean, my lord?

Such, few mansions can afford!

Picture is it? 'Tis a show Picture seldom can bestow!

City palaces and towers, Forest depths of floating pines, Sloping gardens, shadowed bowers; Use with beauty here combines."

True, my friend, seen with your eyes: But in mine 'tis other quite: In that niche the dead world lies, Shadowed over with the night.

In that tomb I'll wall it out; Where, with silence all about, Startled only by decay As the ancient bonds give way, Sepulchred in all its charms, Circled in Death's nursing arms, Mouldering without a cross, It may feed itself on loss.

[Sidenote: _The Devil Contempt whistling through the mouth of the Saint Renunciation._]

Now go on, lay stone on stone, I will neither sigh nor moan.-- Whither, whither, Heart of good?

[Sidenote: _Repentance._]

Art thou not, in this thy mood, One of evil, priestly band, With dark robes and lifted hand, Square-faced, stony-visaged men, In a narrow vaulted den, Watching, by the cresset dun, A wild-eyed, pale-faced, staring nun, Who beholds, as, row by row, Grows her niche's choking wall, The blood-red tide of h.e.l.l below Surge in billowy rise and fall?

[Sidenote: Dying unto sin]

Yet build on; for it is I To the world would gladly die; To the hopes and fears it gave me, To the love that would enslave me, To the voice of blame it raises, To the music of its praises, To its judgments and its favours, To its cares and its endeavours, To the traitor-self that opes Secret gates to cunning hopes;-- Dying unto all this need, I shall live a life indeed; Dying unto thee, O Death, Is to live by G.o.d's own breath.

Therefore thus I close my eyes, Thus I die unto the world; Thus to me the same world dies, Laid aside, a map upfurled.

Keep me, G.o.d, from poor disdain: When to light I rise again, With a new exultant life Born in sorrow and in strife, Born of Truth and words divine, I will see thee yet again, Dwell in thee, old world of mine, Aid the life within thy men, Helping them to die to thee, And walk with white feet, radiant, free; Live in thee, not on thy love, Breathing air from heaven above.

[Sidenote: _Regret at the memory of Beauty, and Appreciation, and Praise_.]

Lo! the death-wall grows amain; And in me triumphant pain To and fro and outward goes As I feel my coffin close.-- Ah, alas, some beauties vanis.h.!.+

Ah, alas, some strength I banis.h.!.+

Maidens listening with a smile In confiding eyes, the while Truths they loved so well to hear Left my lips. Lo, they draw near!

Lo! I see my forehead crowned With a coronal of faces, Where the gleam of living graces Each to other keeps them bound; Leaning forward in a throng, I the centre of their eyes, Voices mute, that erst in song Stilled the heart from all but sighs-- Now in thirsty draughts they take At open eyes and ears, the Truth Spoken for their love and youth-- Hot, alas! for bare Truth's sake!

There were youths that held by me, Youths with slightly furrowed brows, Bent for thought like bended bows; Youths with souls of high degree Said that I alone could teach them, I, one of themselves, could reach them; I alone had insight nurst, Cared for Truth and not for Form, Would not call a man a worm, Saw G.o.d's image in the worst.

And they said my words were strong, Made their inward longings rise; Even, of mine, a little song, Lark-like, rose into the skies.

Here, alas! the self-same folly; 'Twas not for the Truth's sake wholly, Not for sight of the thing seen, But for Insight's sake I ween.

Now I die unto all this; Kiss me, G.o.d, with thy cold kiss.

[Sidenote: _"I dreamed that Allah kissed me, and his kiss was cold."_]

All self-seeking I forsake; In my soul a silence make.

There was joy to feel I _could_, That I had some power of good, That I was not vainly tost: Now I'm empty, empty quite; Fill me, G.o.d, or I am lost; In my spirit s.h.i.+nes no light; All the outer world's wild press Crushes in my emptiness.

Am I giving all away?

Will the sky be always grey?

Never more this heart of mine Beat like heart refreshed with wine?

I shall die of misery, If Thou, G.o.d, come not to me.

[Sidenote: _Dead indeed unto Sin_.]

Now 'tis finished. So depart All untruth from out my heart; All false ways of speaking, thinking; All false ways of looking, linking; All that is not true and real, Tending not to G.o.d's Ideal: Help me--how shall human breath Word _Thy_ meaning in this death!

[Sidenote: _How is no matter, so that he wake to Life and Sight._]

Now come hither. Bring that tool.

Its name I know not; but its use Written on its shape in full Tells me it is no abuse If I strike a hole withal Through this thick opposed wall.

The rainbow-pavement! Never heed it-- What is that, where light is needed?

Where? I care not; quickest best.

What kind of window would I choose?

A Hidden Life and Other Poems Part 28

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A Hidden Life and Other Poems Part 28 summary

You're reading A Hidden Life and Other Poems Part 28. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: George MacDonald already has 595 views.

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