The Arthur Machen Megapack: 25 Classic Works (170 page)

But close the temple stair

And marble altars; faint not by the way

And fall not, for the fair

Queen shineth like a star

At close of day.

Press on yet faster, lest there be delay.

The maidens are not silent: what a strain

Of love and sweet desire floats along

Their clean sweet voicéd chorus: is there any song

Like to their music, pleasure and sweet pain

Are met together, mingled in a chain,

There is no failing; e’en the weak are strong.

The sweet soft scent of roses fills the air

With silent music, even as a dream

The lilies anguish and the censors stream.

Sweet sounds and scents are mingled everywhere;

Far in the clear blue distance climbs the mountain stair.

Thus with their offering of solemn song

The glad procession sweeps along the road,

With dances and with music, till afar

They see the temple: with renewed acclaim

The waves of song burst forth as each one sees

The goal of his desire.

Clear in the summer air it stands and shines

Like music carved in marble, and a song.

What can we say or sing

Of such a moment, for the swelling chords

Are broken of the old resounding harp;

Let there be silence and a solemn awe.

And as we strain across the blinding storm

Of many ages: only semitones

Half broken, half resounding, echo yet,

Heard by a few who love the former time,

And dim remembrance of the far-off years.

Now peace awhile, the night is drawing near;

Peace, and let silence fall

Upon the temple, peace and solemn fair.

THE INITIATION

The night has come, a cloud of darkness falls

Upon the temple, save a lonely torch

Lighting at intervals the silent throng,

Who still are waiting there until the time

When all its glories shall be seen by them;

And still a silence…

The heart is sick with waiting, half afraid

And half expectant, is not yet the time?

But ever silence…

. . . . .

. . . . .

Hark the trumpet sounds!

Upon the steps the holy herald stands,

And bids the worshippers prepare to see

The glory of the goddess.

How awful darkness broods, and one by one

They pass within; but what is seen by them

Within the temple; who of men shall tell,

Only dim legends handed down and told

From age to age; but no man knows the truth,

Only they tell that sudden light was seen,

And then the darkness covered all again.

Anon the thunder rolls and breaks along,

Crashing and thrilling all the halls among,

And then the silence covered all again.

. . . . .

. . . . .

Sweet and fearful sounds,

Following in alternation till the soul

Was melted all within, the heart was still

And almost life departed, then at last

The glory of the goddess was revealed.

Finis