Selected Poems (Penguin Classics) (20 page)

BOOK: Selected Poems (Penguin Classics)
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‘And how shall I assure them? Can they share

– They, who have flesh, a veil of youth and strength

[200] About each spirit, that needs must bide its time,

Living and learning still as years assist

Which wear the thickness thin, and let man see –

With me who hardly am withheld at all,

But shudderingly, scarce a shred between,

Lie bare to the universal prick of light?

Is it for nothing we grow old and weak,

We whom God loves? When pain ends, gain ends too.

To me, that story – ay, that Life and Death

Of which I wrote “it was” – to me, it is;

[210] – Is, here and now: I apprehend naught else.

Is not God now i’ the world His power first made?

Is not His love at issue still with sin

Visibly when a wrong is done on earth?

Love, wrong, and pain, what see I else around?

Yea, and the Resurrection and Uprise

To the right hand of the throne – what is it beside,

When such truth, breaking bounds, o’erfloods my soul.

And, as I saw the sin and death, even so

See I the need yet transiency of both,

[220] The good and glory consummated thence?

I saw the power; I see the Love, once weak,

Resume the Power: and in this word “I see, ”

Lo, there is recognized the Spirit of both

That moving o’er the spirit of man, unblinds

His eye and bids him look. These are, I see;

But ye, the children, His beloved ones too,

Ye need, – as I should use an optic glass

I wondered at erewhile, somewhere i’ the world,

It had been given a crafty smith to make;

[230] A tube, he turned on objects brought too close,

Lying confusedly insubordinate

For the unassisted eye to master once:

Look through his tube, at distance now they lay,

Become succinct, distinct, so small, so clear!

Just thus, ye needs must apprehend what truth

I see, reduced to plain historic fact,

Diminished into clearness, proved a point

And far away: ye would withdraw your sense

From out eternity, strain it upon time,

[240] Then stand before that fact, that Life and Death,

Stay there at gaze, till it dispart, dispread,

As though a star should open out, all sides,

Grow the world on you, as it is my world.

‘For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,

And hope and fear, – believe the aged friend, –

Is just our chance o’ the prize of learning love,

How love might be, hath been indeed, and is;

And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost

Such prize despite the envy of the world,

[250] And, having gained truth, keep truth: that is all.

But see the double way wherein we are led,

How the soul learns diversely from the flesh!

With flesh, that hath so little time to stay,

And yields mere basement for the soul’s emprise,

Expect prompt teaching. Helpful was the light,

And warmth was cherishing and food was choice

To every man’s flesh, thousand years ago,

As now to yours and mine; the body sprang

At once to the height, and stayed: but the soul, – no!

[260] Since sages who, this noontide, meditate

In Rome or Athens, may descry some point

Of the eternal power, hid yestereve;

And, as thereby the power’s whole mass extends,

So much extends the aether floating o’er,

The love that tops the might, the Christ in God.

Then, as new lessons shall be learned in these

Till earth’s work stop and useless time run out,

So duly, daily, needs provision be

For keeping the soul’s prowess possible,

[270] Building new barriers as the old decay,

Saving us from evasion of life’s proof,

Putting the question ever, “Does God love,

And will ye hold that truth against the world?”

Ye know there needs no second proof with good

Gained for our flesh from any earthly source:

We might go freezing, ages, – give us fire,

Thereafter we judge fire at its full worth,

And guard it safe through every chance, ye know!

That fable of Prometheus and his theft,

[280] How mortals gained Jove’s fiery flower, grows old

(I have been used to hear the pagans own)

And out of mind; but fire, howe’er its birth,

Here is it, precious to the sophist now

Who laughs the myth of Aeschylus to scorn,

As precious to those satyrs of his play,

Who touched it in gay wonder at the thing.

While were it so with the soul, – this gift of truth

Once grasped, were this our soul’s gain safe, and sure

To prosper as the body’s gain is wont, –

[290] Why, man’s probation would conclude, his earth

Crumble; for he both reasons and decides,

Weighs first, then chooses: will he give up fire

For gold or purple once he knows its worth?

Could he give Christ up were His worth as plain?

Therefore, I say, to test man, the proofs shift,

Nor may he grasp that fact like other fact,

And straightway in his life acknowledge it,

As, say, the indubitable bliss of fire.

Sigh ye, “It had been easier once than now”?

[300] To give you answer I am left alive;

Look at me who was present from the first!

Ye know what things I saw; then came a test,

My first, befitting me who so had seen:

“Forsake the Christ thou sawest transfigured, Him

Who trod the sea and brought the dead to life?

What should wring this from thee!” – ye laugh and ask.

What wrung it? Even a torchlight and a noise,

The sudden Roman faces, violent hands,

And fear of what the Jews might do! Just that,

And it is written, “I forsook and fled”:

[310] There was my trial, and it ended thus.

Ay, but my soul had gained its truth, could grow:

Another year or two, – what little child,

What tender woman that had seen no least

Of all my sights, but barely heard them told,

Who did not clasp the cross with a light laugh,

Or wrap the burning robe round, thanking God?

Well, was truth safe for ever, then? Not so.

Already had begun the silent work

[320] Whereby truth, deadened of its absolute blaze,

Might need love’s eye to pierce the o’erstretched doubt.

Teachers were busy, whispering “All is true

As the aged ones report; but youth can reach

Where age gropes dimly, weak with stir and strain,

And the full doctrine slumbers till today.”

Thus, what the Roman’s lowered spear was found,

A bar to me who touched and handled truth,

Now proved the glozing of some new shrewd tongue,

This Ebion, this Cerinthus or their mates,

[300] Till imminent was the outcry “Save our Christ!”

Whereon I stated much of the Lord’s life

Forgotten or misdelivered, and let it work.

Such work done, as it will be, what comes next?

What do I hear say, or conceive men say,

“Was John at all, and did he say he saw?

Assure us, ere we ask what he might see!”

‘Is this indeed a burthen for late days,

And may I help to bear it with you all,

Using my weakness which becomes your strength?

[340] For if a babe were born inside this grot,

Grew to a boy here, heard us praise the sun,

Yet had but yon sole glimmer in light’s place, –

One loving him and wishful he should learn,

Would much rejoice himself was blinded first

Month by month here, so made to understand

How eyes, born darkling, apprehend amiss:

I think I could explain to such a child

There was more glow outside than gleams he caught,

Ay, nor need urge “I saw it, so believe!”

[350] It is a heavy burthen you shall bear

In latter days, new lands, or old grown strange,

Left without me, which must be very soon.

What is the doubt, my brothers? Quick with it!

I see you stand conversing, each new face,

Either in fields, of yellow summer eves,

On islets yet unnamed amid the sea;

Or pace for shelter ’neath a portico

Out of the crowd in some enormous town

Where now the larks sing in a solitude;

[360] Or muse upon blank heaps of stone and sand

Idly conjectured to be Ephesus:

And no one asks his fellow any more

“Where is the promise of His coming?” but

“Was he revealed in any of His lives,

As Power, as Love, as Influencing Soul?”

‘Quick, for time presses, tell the whole mind out,

And let us ask and answer and be saved!

My book speaks on, because it cannot pass;

One listens quietly, nor scoffs but pleads

[370] “Here is a tale of things done ages since;

What truth was ever told the second day?

Wonders, that would prove doctrine, go for naught.

Remains the doctrine, love; well, we must love,

And what we love most, power and love in one,

Let us acknowledge on the record here,

Accepting these in Christ: must Christ then be?

Has He been? Did not we ourselves make Him?

Our mind receives but what it holds, no more.

First of the love, then; we acknowledge Christ –

[380] A proof we comprehend His love, a proof

We had such love already in ourselves,

Knew first what else we should not recognize.

’Tis mere projection from man’s inmost mind,

And, what he loves, thus falls reflected back,

Becomes accounted somewhat out of him;

He throws it up in air, it drops down earth’s,

With shape, name, story added, man’s old way.

How prove you Christ came otherwise at least?

Next try the power: He made and rules the world:

[390] Certes there is a world once made, now ruled,

Unless things have been ever as we see.

Our sires declared a charioteer’s yoked steeds

Brought the sun up the east and down the west,

Which only of itself now rises, sets,

As if a hand impelled it and a will, –

Thus they long thought, they who had will and hands:

But the new question’s whisper is distinct,

Wherefore must all force needs be like ourselves?

We have the hands, the will; what made and drives

[400]
The sun is force, is law, is named, not known,

While will and love we do know; marks of these,

Eye-witnesses attest, so books declare –

As that, to punish or reward our race,

The sun at undue times arose or set

Or else stood still: what do not men affirm?

But earth requires as urgently reward

Or punishment today as years ago,

And none expects the sun will interpose:

Therefore it was mere passion and mistake,

[410] Or erring zeal for right, which changed the truth.

Go back, far, farther, to the birth of things;

Ever the will, the intelligence, the love,

Man’s! – which he gives, supposing he but finds,

As late he gave head, body, hands and feet,

To help these in what forms he called his gods.

First, Jove’s brow, Juno’s eyes were swept away,

But Jove’s wrath, Juno’s pride continued long;

As last, will, power, and love discarded these,

So law in turn discards power, love, and will.

[420] What proveth God is otherwise at least?

All else, projection from the mind of man!”

‘Nay, do not give me wine, for I am strong,

But place my gospel where I put my hands.

‘I say that man was made to grow, not stop;

That help, he needed once, and needs no more,

Having grown but an inch by, is withdrawn:

For he hath new needs, and new helps to these.

This imports solely, man should mount on each

New height in view; the help whereby he mounts,

[430] The ladder-rung his foot has left, may fall,

Since all things suffer change save God the Truth.

Man apprehends Him newly at each stage

Whereat earth’s ladder drops, its service done;

And nothing shall prove twice what once was proved.

You stick a garden-plot with ordered twigs

To show inside lie germs of herbs unborn,

And check the careless step would spoil their birth;

But when herbs wave, the guardian twigs may go,

Since should ye doubt of virtues, question kinds,

[440] It is no longer for old twigs ye look,

Which proved once underneath lay store of seed,

But to the herb’s self, by what light ye boast,

For what fruit’s signs are. This book’s fruit is plain,

Nor miracles need prove it any more.

Doth the fruit show? Then miracles bade ’ware

At first of root and stem, saved both till now

From trampling ox, rough boar and wanton goat.

What? Was man made a wheelwork to wind up,

And be discharged, and straight wound up anew?

[450] No! – grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne’er forgets:

May learn a thousand things, not twice the same.

‘This might be pagan teaching: now hear mine.

‘I say, that as the babe, you feed awhile,

Becomes a boy and fit to feed himself,

So, minds at first must be spoon-fed with truth:

When they can eat, babe’s-nurture is withdrawn.

I fed the babe whether it would or no:

I bid the boy or feed himself or starve.

I cried once, “That ye may believe in Christ,

[460] Behold this blind man shall receive his sight!”

I cry now, “Urgest thou,
for I am shrewd

And smile at stories how John’s word could cure

Repeat that miracle and take my faith?”

I say, that miracle was duly wrought

BOOK: Selected Poems (Penguin Classics)
4.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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