The Year of the World A Philosophical Poem on "Redemption from The Fall". By William B. Scott |
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 | The Year of the World |  |
49
II.
So he passed on:
Westward or northward, which I may not say,
Or southward, for not one Lyremmos now
But many seem to travel: some in gloom,
Some fierce as maniacs; one, the stateliest form,
Passes to Egypt, yet how changed is he!
His step hath lost the buoyancy of hope,—
He seems to doubt the firmness of the earth;—
Uncertainty his quick eye hath subdued,—
Disgust and apathy have swollen his lips;—
Fierceness and tenderness extreme have blent
Around him,—and he goes forth yet to bear,
And search, and suffer, and enjoy, and weep,
And laugh, and slumber evermore, between
The gusts of his midsummer-day of life.
His hair alone remains unchanged and bright,
Like clouds through which the sun sheds red and gold.
Heavy upon his shoulders bent and browned
It falls, as by the Euphrates and Nile
Those whispering demons cluster round his path,
Feeding his dizzy ear with fabulous lore.
Westward or northward, which I may not say,
Or southward, for not one Lyremmos now
But many seem to travel: some in gloom,
Some fierce as maniacs; one, the stateliest form,
Passes to Egypt, yet how changed is he!
His step hath lost the buoyancy of hope,—
He seems to doubt the firmness of the earth;—
Uncertainty his quick eye hath subdued,—
Disgust and apathy have swollen his lips;—
Fierceness and tenderness extreme have blent
Around him,—and he goes forth yet to bear,
And search, and suffer, and enjoy, and weep,
And laugh, and slumber evermore, between
The gusts of his midsummer-day of life.
His hair alone remains unchanged and bright,
Like clouds through which the sun sheds red and gold.
Heavy upon his shoulders bent and browned
It falls, as by the Euphrates and Nile
Those whispering demons cluster round his path,
Feeding his dizzy ear with fabulous lore.
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1.
“We hold the wondrous records that embalmThis youngling world. Sprang it not forth, a birth
Of rending flames and sunless waves, that rolled
Without a shore? We sing of Gods—of God—
Of that time when the triple-spirit woke,
A time beyond time, spirit beyond Gods.
The eye of the great snake, is it not seen
By the enlightened? The primordial shell
Of the slow mover, bears it not the small-eyed,
Upon whose head this crowning world doth rest?”
2.
“We have with mystic chisel in the depthsOf hollow mountains symbolled truths on stone,
Revealed by Crishna and the darkest Hermes,
Ere Typhon made men slaves of sin. Behold!
Ten thousand steps go down to these great caves,
Steps unseen, save by those whose hand we hold.
Descend to wisdom and forgotten lore!
The iron gates, the brazen and the golden,
Open we now. The hieroglyphs reveal we
When the great oath and curse have been imposed.
Our hands have formed—shall we not understand
The horned and the hundred-handed, bright
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Processions infinite, and death-boats filled
By nether species, and winged runners armed
With lion's claws, those statues multiform,
Whose eyelids have not closed upon the dark,
Nor their ears slumbered in the silentness,
Throughout a thousand years of chance and change
In the sun's light, whom Spring hath not approached,
Save as a drop from the incumbent world
Of vegetation oozing. Are not all
Instinct with fire, with vital truth replete?
And wilt thou not explore?”
3.
“We are the guides!With rings, and cups, and potions that revive
The everlasting in the weak and dark,
Breaking the grave-sleep; to our ears, through force
Of terrible ordeals made to hear,—
Minister gods and spirits, by sweet fires,
Circles, and charms, evoked. Now firmly hold
This key red-heated, this green serpent bind
Around thy temples—hear ye not the sounds
Of voices everywhere, all beasts, all trees,
Streams, hills, declaring unto thee?”
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4.
“We hear!We will instruct! Look upward, and not down:
Passions disperse and visible things despise:
The multitudes of hands of laboring castes
Obedient, make a way into the clouds.
We shall ascend to stars, and on the path
Imperial of the zodiac be no more
Controlled, but the controllers strong become.
Ether's recesses entering by our fire,
With zonéd deities o'er the corporal heaven
Consorting, and beholding the great Sire.
For all live by one fire, and by one light
All see, although the father, having formed
The Earth, consigned it to the second mind,
Which men, mistaken, call the soul and First.”
5.
“Come with us—we are the elected ones,And we will lead thee: raise the altar, slay
The spotless beast, pour out the oils, and wave
In aromatic smoke the sacrifice.
Is there not magic, and oracular cries
Of demons—natural magic, to drive back
Pestilence, blight; theurgic to command
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The infinite secret. Come with us alone,
Is not the truth in nature, and the curse
Is it not in the bone;—for science can
Exorcise Death with arcane rites, and knowledge
Of constellated planets. Joyful are we!
For knowledge doth exempt us from all toils.
Yet are the laborers and the princes ours
As instruments of civilizing might:
Nailing strong boughs to stem the unknown seas;
Penetrating into the northern ice,
Conquering every force by land or sea,
Traversing every wilderness, exploring
Cavern, snowy peak, and forest endless,
Where live chimeras on the verge of chaos.
Do we not know, and is not knowledge life—
Shall we not fashion temples for new gods.
Gods of our own whose thrones Lyremmos reared
In his hard strife with mundance obstacles.
And adding to ourselves new luxuries,
Make rainbow-light with art upon the walls,
And odorous airs obey us, we shall live
In melody and song and mirth disrobed,
And an accumulated luxury,
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Laurel, nepenthé, and the clouds of incense,
Couched on the golden and gemmed height, shall power
Stretch out his sceptre, and the trembling slave
Stand between him and pain, care, toil, or age,
For are not kings the sons of gods—themselves
Beloved by Gods and by the priests revered?”
| The Year of the World | |