The Cup of Comus Part 13

And that thou point the path Above Earth's hate and wrath, And Madness, stalking with his torch aglow Amid the ruins of the Nations slow Crumbling to ashes with Old Empire there In Europe's tiger lair.

III

A temple may'st thou be, A temple by the everlasting sea, For the high G.o.ddess, Ideality, Set like a star, Above the peaks of dark reality: s.h.i.+ning afar Above the deeds of War, Within the shrine of Love, whose face men mar With Militarism, That is the prism Through which they gaze with eyes obscured of Greed, At the white light of G.o.d's Eternity, The comfort of the world, the soul's great need, That beacons Earth indeed, Breaking its light intense With turmoil and suspense And failing human Sense.

IV

From thee a higher Creed Shall be evolved.

The broken lights resolved Into one light again, of glorious light, Between us and the Everlasting, that is G.o.d.-- The all-confusing fragments, that are night, Lift up thy rod Of knowledge and from Truth's eyeb.a.l.l.s strip The darkness, and in armor of the Right, Bear high the standard of imperishable light!

Cry out, "Awake!--I slept awhile!--Awake!

Again I take My burden up of Truth for Jesus' sake, And stand for what he stood for, Peace and Thought, And all that's Beauty-wrought Through doubt and dread and ache, By which the world to good at last is brought!"

V

No more with silence burdened, when the Land Was stricken by the hand Of war, she rises, and a.s.sumes her stand For the Enduring; setting firm her feet On what is blind and brute: Still holding fast With honor to the past, Speaking a trumpet word, Which shall be heard As an authority, no longer mute.

VI

Again, yea, she shall stand For what Truth means to Man For science and for Art and all that can Make life superior to the things that weight The soul down, things of hate Instead of love, for which the world was planned; May she demand Faith and inspire it; Song to lead her way Above the crags of Wrong Into the broader day; And may she stand For poets still; poets that now the Land Needs as it never needed; such an one As he, large Nature's Son Lanier, who with firm hand Held up her magic wand Directing deep in music such as none Has ever heard Such music as a bird Gives of its soul, when dying, And unconscious if it's heard.

VII

So let her rise, mother of greatness still, Above all temporal ill; Invested with all old n.o.bility, Teaching the South decision, self control And strength of mind and soul; Achieving ends that shall embrace the whole Through deeds of heart and mind; And thereby bind Its effort to an end And reach its goal.

VIII

So shall she win A wrestler with sin, Supremely to a place above the years, And help men rise To what is wise And true beyond their mortal finite scan-- The purblind gaze of man; Aiding with introspective eyes His soul to see a higher plan Of life beyond this life; above the gyves Of circ.u.mstance that bind him in his place Of doubt and keep away his face From what alone survives; And what a.s.sures Immortal life to that within, that gives Of its own self, And through its giving, lives, And evermore endures.

_A POET'S EPITAPH_

Life was unkind to him; All things went wrong: Fortune a.s.signed to him Merely a song.

Ever a mystery Here to his heart; In his life's history Love played no part.

Carve on the granite, There at the end, Where all may scan it, _Death was his friend_.

_Giving him all he missed Here upon Earth-- Love and the call he missed All that was worth._