The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume I Part 33

SCENE XXIII.--LILY _lying dead. JULIAN bending over her_.

_Julian_.

The light of setting suns be on thee, child!

Nay, nay, my child, the light of rising suns Is on thee! Joy is with thee--G.o.d is Joy; Peace to himself, and unto us deep joy; Joy to himself, in the reflex of our joy.

Love be with thee! yea G.o.d, for he is Love.

Thou wilt need love, even G.o.d's, to give thee joy.

Children, they say, are born into a world Where grief is their first portion: thou, I think, Never hadst much of grief--thy second birth Into the spirit-world has taught thee grief, If, orphaned now, thou know'st thy mother's story, And know'st thy father's hardness. O my G.o.d, Let not my Lily turn away from me.

Now I am free to follow and find her.

Thy truer Father took thee home to him, That he might grant my prayer, and save my wife.

I thank him for his gift of thee; for all That thou hast taught me, blessed little child.

I love thee, dear, with an eternal love.

And now farewell!

[Kissing her.]

--no, not farewell; I come.

Years hold not back, they lead me on to thee.

Yes, they will also lead me on to her.

_Enter a Jew_.

_Jew_.

What is your pleasure with me? Here I am, sir.

_Julian_.

Walk into the next room; then look at this, And tell me what you'll give for everything.

[Jew goes.]

My darling's death has made me almost happy.

Now, now I follow, follow. I'm young again.

When I have laid my little one to rest Among the flowers in that same sunny spot, Straight from her grave I'll take my pilgrim-way; And, calling up all old forgotten skill, Lapsed social claims, and knowledge of mankind, I'll be a man once more in the loud world.

Revived experience in its winding ways, Senses and wits made sharp by sleepless love, If all the world were sworn to secrecy, Will guide me to her, sure as questing Death.

I'll follow my wife, follow until I die.

How shall I face the Shepherd of the sheep, Without the one ewe-lamb he gave to me?

How find her in great Hades, if not here In this poor little round O of a world?

I'll follow my wife, follow until I find.

_Re-enter_ Jew.

Well, how much? Name your sum. Be liberal.

_Jew_.

Let me see this room, too. The things are all Old-fas.h.i.+oned and ill-kept. They're worth but little.

_Julian_.

Say what you will--only make haste and go.

_Jew_.

Say twenty pounds?

_Julian_.

Well, fetch the money at once, And take possession. But make haste, I pray.

SCENE XXIV.--_The country-churchyard_. JULIAN _standing by_ LILY'S _new-filled grave. He looks very worn and ill_.

_Julian_.

Now I can leave thee safely to thy sleep; Thou wilt not wake and miss me, my fair child!

Nor will they, for she's fair, steal this ewe-lamb Out of this fold, while I am gone to seek And find the wandering mother of my lamb.

I cannot weep; I know thee with me still.

Thou dost not find it very dark down there?

Would I could go to thee; I long to go; My limbs are tired; my eyes are sleepy too; And fain my heart would cease this beat, beat, beat.

O gladly would I come to thee, my child, And lay my head upon thy little heart, And sleep in the divine munificence Of thy great love! But my night has not come; She is not rescued yet. Good-bye, little one.

[_He turns, but sinks on the grave. Recovering and rising_.]

Now for the world--that's Italy, and her!

SCENE XXV.--_The empty room, formerly Lilia's_.

_Enter_ JULIAN.

_Julian_.

How am I here? Alas! I do not know.

I should have been at sea.--Ah, now I know!

I have come here to die.

[_Lies down on the floor_.]

Where's Lilia?

I cannot find her. She is here, I know.

But oh these endless pa.s.sages and stairs, And dreadful shafts of darkness! Lilia!

Lilia! wait for me, child; I'm coming fast, But something holds me. Let me go, devil!

My Lilia, have faith; they cannot hurt you.

You are G.o.d's child--they dare not touch you, wife.

O pardon me, my beautiful, my own!

[_Sings_.]

Wind, wind, thou blowest many a drifting thing From sheltering cove, down to the unsheltered sea; Thou blowest to the sea ray blue sail's wing-- Us to a new, love-lit futurity: Out to the ocean fleet and float-- Blow, blow my little leaf-like boat.

[_While he sings, enter_ LORD SEAFORD, _pale and haggard_.]