AE in the Irish Theosophist Part 10

"Ah, see!" said Aileen sighing, With a bend of her saddened head Where a mighty hero was lying, He looked like one who was dead.

"He will wake," said their guide, "'tis but seeming, And, oh, what his eyes shall see I will know of only in dreaming Till I lie there still as he."

They chanted the song of waking, They breathed on him with fire, Till the hero-spirit outbreaking, Shot radiant above the choir.

Like a pillar of opal glory Lit through with many a gem-- "Why, look at him now," said Rory, "He has turned to a faery like them!"

The elfin kings ascending Leaped up from the thrones of might, And one with another blending They vanished in air and light.

The rill to its bed came splas.h.i.+ng With rocks on the top of that: The children awoke with a flas.h.i.+ng Of wonder, "What were we at?"

They groped through the reeds and clover-- "What funny old markings: look here, They have scrawled the rocks all over: It's just where the door was: how queer!"

--September 15, 1896

The Voice of the Wise

They sat with hearts untroubled, The clear sky sparkled above, And an ancient wisdom bubbled From the lips of a youthful love.

They read in a coloured history Of Egypt and of the Nile, And half it seemed a mystery, Familiar, half, the while.

Till living out of the story Grew old Egyptian men, And a shadow looked forth Rory And said, "We meet again!"

And over Aileen a maiden Looked back through the ages dim: She laughed, and her eyes were laden With an old-time love for him.

In a mist came temples thronging With sphinxes seen in a row, And the rest of the day was a longing For their homes of long ago.

"We'd go there if they'd let us,"

They said with wounded pride: "They never think when they pet us We are old like that inside."

There was some one round them straying The whole of the long day through, Who seemed to say, "I am playing At hide-and-seek with you."

And one thing after another Was whispered out of the air, How G.o.d was a big kind brother Whose home was in everywhere.

His light like a smile come glancing From the cool, cool winds as they pa.s.s; From the flowers in heaven dancing And the stars that s.h.i.+ne in the gra.s.s,

And the clouds in deep blue wreathing, And most from the mountains tall, But G.o.d like a wind goes breathing A heart-light of gold in all.

It grows like a tree and pushes Its way through the inner gloom, And flowers in quick little rushes Of love to a magic bloom.

And no one need sigh now or sorrow Whenever the heart-light flies, For it comes again on some morrow And n.o.body ever dies.

The heart of the Wise was beating In the children's heart that day, And many a thought came fleeting, And fancies solemn and gay.

They were grave in a way divining How childhood was taking wings, And the wonder world was s.h.i.+ning With vast eternal things.

The solemn twilight fluttered Like the plumes of seraphim, And they felt what things were uttered In the sunset voice of Him.

They lingered long, for dearer Than home were the mountain places Where G.o.d from the stars dropt nearer Their pale, dreamy faces.

Their very hearts from beating They stilled in awed delight.

For Spirit and children were meeting In the purple, ample night.

Dusk its ash-grey blossoms sheds on violet skies Over twilight mountains where the heart-songs rise, Rise and fall and fade again from earth to air: Earth renews the music sweeter. Oh, come there.

Come, ma cushla, come, as in ancient times Rings aloud and the underland with faery chimes.

Down the unseen ways as strays each tinkling fleece Winding ever onward to a fold of peace, So my dreams go straying in a land more fair; Half I tread the dew-wet gra.s.ses, half wander there.

Fade your glimmering eyes in a world grown cold: Come, ma cushla, with me to the mountain's fold, Where the bright ones call us waving to and fro: Come, my children, with me to the Ancient go.

--October 15, 1896

A Dawn Song

While the earth is dark and grey How I laugh within: I know In my breast what ardours gay From the morning overflow.

Though the cheek be white and wet In my heart no fear may fall: There my chieftain leads, and yet Ancient battle-trumpets call.

Bend on me no hasty frown If my spirit slight your cares: Sunlike still my joy looks down Changing tears to beamy airs.

Think me not of fickle heart If with joy my bosom swells Though your ways from mine depart: In the true are no farewells.

What I love in you I find Everywhere. A friend I greet In each flower and tree and wind-- Oh, but life is sweet, is sweet.

What to you are bolts and bars Are to me the hands that guide To the freedom of the stars Where my golden kinsmen bide.

From my mountain top I view: Twilight's purple flower is gone, And I send my song to you On the level light of dawn.

--November 15, 1896

--An Ancient Eden

Our legends tell of aery fountains upspringing in Eri, and how the people of long ago saw them not but only the Tuatha de Danaan.

Some deem it was the natural outflow of water at these places which was held to be sacred; but above fountain, rill and river rose up the enchanted froth and foam of invisible rills and rivers breaking forth from Tir-na-noge, the soul of the island, and glittering in the sunlight of its mystic day. What we see here is imaged forth from that invisible soul and is a path thereto. In the heroic Epic of Cuculain Standish O'Grady writes of such a fountain, and prefixes his chapter with the verse from Genesis, "And four rivers went forth from Eden to water the garden," and what follows in reference thereto.