Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson Part 10

'I ask no bauble miniature, Nor ringlets dead Shorn from her comely head, Now that morning not disdains Mountains and the misty plains Her colossal portraiture; They her heralds be, Steeped in her quality, And singers of her fame Who is their Muse and dame.

'Higher, dear swallows! mind not what I say.

Ah! heedless how the weak are strong, Say, was it just, In thee to frame, in me to trust, Thou to the Syrian couldst belong?

'I am of a lineage That each for each doth fast engage; In old Ba.s.sora's schools, I seemed Hermit vowed to books and gloom,-- Ill-bestead for gay bridegroom.

I was by thy touch redeemed; When thy meteor glances came, We talked at large of worldly fate, And drew truly every trait.

'Once I dwelt apart, Now I live with all; As shepherd's lamp on far hill-side Seems, by the traveller espied, A door into the mountain heart, So didst thou quarry and unlock Highways for me through the rock.

'Now, deceived, thou wanderest In strange lands unblest; And my kindred come to soothe me.

Southwind is my next of blood; He is come through fragrant wood, Drugged with spice from climates warm, And in every twinkling glade, And twilight nook, Unveils thy form.

Out of the forest way Forth paced it yesterday; And when I sat by the watercourse, Watching the daylight fade, It throbbed up from the brook.

'River and rose and crag and bird, Frost and sun and eldest night, To me their aid preferred, To me their comfort plight;-- "Courage! we are thine allies, And with this hint be wise,-- The chains of kind The distant bind; Deed thou doest she must do, Above her will, be true; And, in her strict resort To winds and waterfalls And autumn's sunlit festivals, To music, and to music's thought, Inextricably bound, She shall find thee, and be found.

Follow not her flying feet; Come to us herself to meet."'

INITIAL, DAEMONIC AND CELESTIAL LOVE

I. THE INITIAL LOVE

Venus, when her son was lost, Cried him up and down the coast, In hamlets, palaces and parks, And told the truant by his marks,-- Golden curls, and quiver and bow.

This befell how long ago!

Time and tide are strangely changed, Men and manners much deranged: None will now find Cupid latent By this foolish antique patent.

He came late along the waste, Shod like a traveller for haste; With malice dared me to proclaim him, That the maids and boys might name him.

Boy no more, he wears all coats, Frocks and blouses, capes, capotes; He bears no bow, or quiver, or wand, Nor chaplet on his head or hand.

Leave his weeds and heed his eyes,-- All the rest he can disguise.

In the pit of his eye's a spark Would bring back day if it were dark; And, if I tell you all my thought, Though I comprehend it not, In those unfathomable orbs Every function he absorbs; Doth eat, and drink, and fish, and shoot, And write, and reason, and compute, And ride, and run, and have, and hold, And whine, and flatter, and regret, And kiss, and couple, and beget, By those roving eyeb.a.l.l.s bold.

Undaunted are their courages, Right Cossacks in their forages; Fleeter they than any creature,-- They are his steeds, and not his feature; Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting, Restless, predatory, hasting; And they pounce on other eyes As lions on their prey; And round their circles is writ, Plainer than the day, Underneath, within, above,-- Love--love--love--love.

He lives in his eyes; There doth digest, and work, and spin, And buy, and sell, and lose, and win; He rolls them with delighted motion, Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean.

Yet holds he them with tautest rein, That they may seize and entertain The glance that to their glance opposes, Like fiery honey sucked from roses.

He palmistry can understand, Imbibing virtue by his hand As if it were a living root; The pulse of hands will make him mute; With all his force he gathers balms Into those wise, thrilling palms.

Cupid is a casuist, A mystic and a cabalist,-- Can your lurking thought surprise, And interpret your device.

He is versed in occult science, In magic and in clairvoyance, Oft he keeps his fine ear strained, And Reason on her tiptoe pained For aery intelligence, And for strange coincidence.

But it touches his quick heart When Fate by omens takes his part, And chance-dropped hints from Nature's sphere Deeply soothe his anxious ear.

Heralds high before him run; He has ushers many a one; He spreads his welcome where he goes, And touches all things with his rose.

All things wait for and divine him,-- How shall I dare to malign him, Or accuse the G.o.d of sport?

I must end my true report, Painting him from head to foot, In as far as I took note, Trusting well the matchless power Of this young-eyed emperor Will clear his fame from every cloud With the bards and with the crowd.

He is wilful, mutable, Shy, untamed, inscrutable, Swifter-fas.h.i.+oned than the fairies.

Substance mixed of pure contraries; His vice some elder virtue's token, And his good is evil-spoken.

Failing sometimes of his own, He is headstrong and alone; He affects the wood and wild, Like a flower-hunting child; Buries himself in summer waves, In trees, with beasts, in mines and caves, Loves nature like a horned cow, Bird, or deer, or caribou.

Shun him, nymphs, on the fleet horses!

He has a total world of wit; O how wise are his discourses!

But he is the arch-hypocrite, And, through all science and all art, Seeks alone his counterpart.

He is a Pundit of the East, He is an augur and a priest, And his soul will melt in prayer, But word and wisdom is a snare; Corrupted by the present toy He follows joy, and only joy.

There is no mask but he will wear; He invented oaths to swear; He paints, he carves, he chants, he prays, And holds all stars in his embrace.

He takes a sovran privilege Not allowed to any liege; For Cupid goes behind all law, And right into himself does draw; For he is sovereignly allied,-- Heaven's oldest blood flows in his side,-- And interchangeably at one With every king on every throne, That no G.o.d dare say him nay, Or see the fault, or seen betray; He has the Muses by the heart, And the stern Parcae on his part.

His many signs cannot be told; He has not one mode, but manifold, Many fas.h.i.+ons and addresses, Piques, reproaches, hurts, caresses.

He will preach like a friar, And jump like Harlequin; He will read like a crier, And fight like a Paladin.

Boundless is his memory; Plans immense his term prolong; He is not of counted age, Meaning always to be young.

And his wish is intimacy, Intimater intimacy, And a stricter privacy; The impossible shall yet be done, And, being two, shall still be one.

As the wave breaks to foam on shelves, Then runs into a wave again, So lovers melt their sundered selves, Yet melted would be twain.

II. THE DAEMONIC LOVE

Man was made of social earth, Child and brother from his birth, Tethered by a liquid cord Of blood through veins of kindred poured.

Next his heart the fireside band Of mother, father, sister, stand; Names from awful childhood heard Throbs of a wild religion stirred;-- Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice; Till dangerous Beauty came, at last, Till Beauty came to snap all ties; The maid, abolis.h.i.+ng the past, With lotus wine obliterates Dear memory's stone-incarved traits, And, by herself, supplants alone Friends year by year more inly known.

When her calm eyes opened bright, All else grew foreign in their light.

It was ever the self-same tale, The first experience will not fail; Only two in the garden walked, And with snake and seraph talked.

Close, close to men, Like undulating layer of air, Right above their heads, The potent plain of Daemons spreads.

Stands to each human soul its own, For watch and ward and furtherance, In the snares of Nature's dance; And the l.u.s.tre and the grace To fascinate each youthful heart, Beaming from its counterpart, Translucent through the mortal covers, Is the Daemon's form and face.

To and fro the Genius hies,-- A gleam which plays and hovers Over the maiden's head, And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes.

Unknown, albeit lying near, To men, the path to the Daemon sphere; And they that swiftly come and go Leave no track on the heavenly snow.

Sometimes the airy synod bends, And the mighty choir descends, And the brains of men thenceforth, In crowded and in still resorts, Teem with unwonted thoughts: As, when a shower of meteors Cross the orbit of the earth, And, lit by fringent air, Blaze near and far, Mortals deem the planets bright Have slipped their sacred bars, And the lone seaman all the night Sails, astonished, amid stars.

Beauty of a richer vein, Graces of a subtler strain, Unto men these moonmen lend, And our shrinking sky extend.

So is man's narrow path By strength and terror skirted; Also (from the song the wrath Of the Genii be averted!

The Muse the truth uncolored speaking) The Daemons are self-seeking: Their fierce and limitary will Draws men to their likeness still.

The erring painter made Love blind,-- Highest Love who s.h.i.+nes on all; Him, radiant, sharpest-sighted G.o.d, None can bewilder; Whose eyes pierce The universe, Path-finder, road-builder, Mediator, royal giver; Rightly seeing, rightly seen, Of joyful and transparent mien.

'T is a sparkle pa.s.sing From each to each, from thee to me, To and fro perpetually; Sharing all, daring all, Levelling, displacing Each obstruction, it unites Equals remote, and seeming opposites.

And ever and forever Love Delights to build a road: Unheeded Danger near him strides, Love laughs, and on a lion rides.

But Cupid wears another face, Born into Daemons less divine: His roses bleach apace, His nectar smacks of wine.

The Daemon ever builds a wall, Himself encloses and includes, Solitude in solitudes: In like sort his love doth fall.

He doth elect The beautiful and fortunate, And the sons of intellect, And the souls of ample fate, Who the Future's gates unbar,-- Minions of the Morning Star.

In his prowess he exults, And the mult.i.tude insults.

His impatient looks devour Oft the humble and the poor; And, seeing his eye glare, They drop their few pale flowers, Gathered with hope to please, Along the mountain towers,-- Lose courage, and despair.

He will never be gainsaid,-- Pitiless, will not be stayed; His hot tyranny Burns up every other tie.

Therefore comes an hour from Jove Which his ruthless will defies, And the dogs of Fate unties.

s.h.i.+ver the palaces of gla.s.s; Shrivel the rainbow-colored walls, Where in bright Art each G.o.d and sibyl dwelt Secure as in the zodiac's belt; And the galleries and halls, Wherein every siren sung, Like a meteor pa.s.s.

For this fortune wanted root In the core of G.o.d's abysm,-- Was a weed of self and schism; And ever the Daemonic Love Is the ancestor of wars And the parent of remorse.

III. THE CELESTIAL LOVE

But G.o.d said, 'I will have a purer gift; There is smoke in the flame; New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift, And love without a name.

Fond children, ye desire To please each other well; Another round, a higher, Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair, And selfish preference forbear; And in right deserving, And without a swerving Each from your proper state, Weave roses for your mate.