University of Virginia Library


281

I. PART I
FACES TOWARDS JERUSALEM


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He sits exalted in his crown's pure light,
Amongst his kindred seraphs, hid from men—
Withdrawn in burning nimbus. What remains?
This weeping world we lode for lode of him
To lift by lode of him to him we lode.


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I
IN CIVITATE DEI MAGNA

The city is dusty, the streets are long,
And the sky overhead looks dim;
But, ah! it is fill'd with a thought of thee,
As the church with the chanted bymn.
It is fill'd with the memories bright of thee,
As the spirit with grace divine;
If a sunbeam fall upon path or wall
I know 'tis a smile of thine.
Comes there a pause in the whirl around,
Thy heartstrings there I hear;
Sounds there a voice that is sweet and low,
I know thy voice is near;
Gleams there a face that is fair to see,
Wherever thy form may dwell,
I know it is thou by the white, white brow,
Thou spirit of Israfel!
O, I shall stand in a moment more
Where oft thy feet have trod,
Which now go over the steep incline
That leads to the Mount of God!
As ever they press on their forward way
There falls on the pilgrim's face
A beam more bright of the wond'rous light
That shines in the Holy Place.

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II
EIDOLON

No eye but mine is on the shifting waste,
As poised upon this steep cliff's utmost rim
I watch the world of waters. Many times
Have I thank'd God for that most perfect line
Wherewith the still sky rings the restless deep—
For passing ships; for tides which come and go;
For cultivated fields—with ample curves
Sloping and sweeping shoreward; for the glare
Day long on rough white chalk; for silent caves;
For shelter'd coves and shallows known to few;
For waste and lonely places unenclosed,
Which ocean peoples with a thousand voices.
But now my soul is moved by deeper thoughts:
One face transmuted in a light of mind
Is o'er the shadow'd prospects of my life
Exalted sacredly, like Dian's horn,
When—out of mists, from mead and marsh escaping—
She soars and finds the zenith.
Israfel,
That face is thine. I stand and think of thee,
Till thought evokes thine image: it is poised
In glory above these waters. To the sky
Thy face is turn'd, thy holy hands are clasp'd,
The light wind gently lifts and floats thy hair.
White vestures also by the wind are trail'd
A yard behind thee; subtle haze of light
Surrounds thy body; and its waist is girdled
With white and fragrant lilies ... I have clothed
A human form in dreams with angel-hood,
And evermore a spirit in my heart
It dwells. Transfigur'd, thou hast pass'd from earth

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Into a world of emblems, and therein
The stature of immortal life is thine.
Exempt from passion, weakness, pain and change,
Dost thou live ever a reserved, remote,
Translated life. And having lifted thee
Above this world's modalities, meseems
That this most blessed vision—beyond all thought
By my dream fashion'd—is most truly thou.
It was thy human nature prompted it:
The meekness, modesty and grace thereof
Have nourish'd and enhanced it. Thou alone
Didst prompt the vision, and all light thereof
Is shrined in thee. That manifested life,
Before earth-eyes presented, has reveal'd
An inner self which more than fleshly form
Is thine, is thou.
Thou art not yet perchance
In full fruition of that nobler part,
For in these daily ways the man divine
Holds chiefly from the lesser self aloof;
Some beams shine o'er it and in warmth does love
Descend thereon, to link the flesh therewith;
But perfect union of the twain on earth
Is compass'd rarely. When the heart is cleansed,
The heart draws toward it; when mere life of sense
Sinks down subdued and unimpeded mind
In conquest towers, then mind and vesture both
Abide transfigured in the light thereof,
For flesh when order'd well can also shine.
Thou in such light art dwelling, and thy face
Has—like a mirror—to my inward eyes
Reveal'd the nobler self: I see thy god.
I see thee stately, stedfast, pure of heart,
While earth-born natures—with the meaner man
And mundane things contented—have so far
From true self lapsed that no ray enters in
To beautify the temple's outer courts,

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Which never therefore to pellucid sight
Reveal the brilliant spectrum of that high,
Undying part.
I stand beside the sea:
Waves swell, wind rises, falls an autumn night;
And as that moon doth, when the darkness deepens,
Her own face brighten more, thy face grows fairer
Amidst the inward darkness of the world.
Thy nature alters, towards the self supreme
Ascending daily; and mine own shines also—
With thy great love suffused, by a most strong,
Immortal love of thee suffused, transform'd.
I look to see thee, in the world beyond,
With God made one for ever in thy soul:
May I with God be one by love for thee;
May this wide sea denote what fills with strength,
The orb'd moon witness that which cheers and leads,
Descending night portray the veils that hide
All paths henceforth but those which lead to heights
Untravell'd! May it hide all tarnish'd love,
To perfect state exalting love for thee!
May that my spirit sanctify and seal,
And—for thy love—may I the world itself
By mine own labours seal and sanctify,
Then make the guerdon of that sacred task
One new star shining in thy crown of life—
My saint, my light, my symbol, Israfel!

III
TOWARDS PERFECT DAY

I saw thy forehead touch'd with lunar beams:
Pax tecum, Sponsa Christi, Christ and God
Encompass, Bright One, and abide in thee;

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In outward life God's Temple be thy wall
And priestly vigils keep thee free from fall!
God knows, my saint, I might have held with thee
The human intercourse of friend and friend;
Speech might have pass'd between us, our warm hands
Have clasp'd at greeting and at parting time.
Seas roll their tides between us: dost thou watch
Heaven's fair queen rising? Are thine eyes and mine
Both fix'd thereon? Does thy heart also swell?
Soars all thy nature upward, gazing there—
Pure soul, high soul? O gracious communings,
Strong love of friend and friend, by me renounced,
That in a mirror of the mind preserved
Thy sacred semblance should be free from stain!
My true reward is with me here and now,
For, like a spirit from the sea's white spume
At eve ascending, lo, thy Symbol rose
And draws me on for ever, Moon of Faith,
Vision of Christ unseen! The potent sign—
Such spells evoked—pours down its light on thee:
This is no dream; it draws thy human self;
It takes thee starward. Thou art daily raised,
Till, like a cold and shifting sea, far down
Thine eyes behold the flux of mortal things—
A restless waste below thee—toss perturb'd.
Still on the sacred height thy glorious moon
Of spirit—manifest in lambent flame—
Shall glow for ever before the veil of God.
Poise, happy moon, for ever; in the cold
And starry spaces poise thy shining shield!
Behold, as shadows on the road, are cast
Our meaner selves behind us. Earth and sea
Are in thy light transfigured; vistas bright
And paths that end not tempt us sweetly forth;
A thousand lofty hopes inspire the heart

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Which from a lonely zenith of the soul
Thou pourest downward, as the moon her beams,
O Mystic Moon, enthroned in heaven of mind!

IV
TO OTHER ENDS

He glides before us with the torch of Christ,
Lux Christi crying in this night of time:
On his God-haunted face the grace of God
Dwells visibly; so, chaste and passionless,
His beauty utters its apocalypse,
Or lifts its glass of vision. In such depths
I read man's life anew; a soul-born glow
Has fallen on its pages; all the words
Of that close-written volume take a fresh,
Unlook'd for meaning. Evermore betwixt
The lines of its enigmas shall I read
His gracious message and the peace thereof,
His creed of hope.
I hear it even now,
Though this be dream. The opal twilight falls,
And in the silentness of mere and mead
A church-bell summons to the vesper-hymn.
Is that thy voice which bids me also forth?
Is that the music of thy heart most pure
Which in the pauses of the whirl of thought
Sends forth its summons like a bell to me?
I will not stay to take up staff and scrip,
To count the things I leave or bid farewells.
Behold, I come! Mine empty hands can bear
Whatever burdens may seem well to thee.

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And now my soul uplifted views afar
The heights of life, desired and sought so long;
But faintly limn'd against the furthest sky
Are altitudes beyond them. Thence thy voice
Is calling, nothing I behold of thee—
A voice alone upon the mountain-tops
Which calls and calls. The road is steep and wild?
I come no less: I will not faint nor pause.
Ascend, bright spirit, with the speech of God:
My heart is strong to follow and achieve;
But when those vision'd peaks of life I win,
Return into some greater height above
And lead me thus for ever—still remote,
A voice alone on the eternal hills
Which calls and calls.

V
AND SO FORWARD

O wondrous lustre of the mountain snow,
By sacred morning's light of gold inform'd,
By golden morning's blessed light illumed,
By magian light on all the airless crests—
Whatever storms may vex the world below,
Whatever clouds may darken earth and sea—
On those proud peaks, through all and all illumed!
O saffron light of morning, on such hills
The weeping angels watch with straining eyes,
While Christ still tarries in the House of Death!
Break, Rose of Morning, break in bright array:
Thy fragrance fills the spaces of the air,
Thy blush uplights the future! And, meseems,

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It floods my house of life for evermore—
A glory of holy soul!
The start is made:
Light, beauty, lead; and lead, thou hand of God;
Call earth and sky; calls mystic sea profound;
Life calls and death. The shining Crown of Life
And thine uplifted nature's secret heights
My strengthen'd spirit to achieve sets out,
Saint Israfel!

VI
HOW NATURE HELPS

I see this eve—o'er these familiar fields—
The sky grow blue: thy transient opal shines:
I see thine amethyst and opal deep,
Thou sky of God, and all thy West aflame!
Ensanguined clouds across that gleaming vault
Sail in the wind of sunset. Splendours bright,
Your tinctures perish while I watch, but one
Shines in achievement, in lone beauty shines.
The world unfolds in front, now cloud-involved:
Is that the early moon within the mist
Which I see southward, like a phantom light,
Hang in a rainy sky? Chirps one weak bird:
From wold and woodland, as in dream, the day—
A pallid death withdraws. The bleak wind stirs
Complaining trees. Far winds the path I take:
It is one voice invites, one star which leads,
One hope which shines through all . . .
The wide meads stretch:
Lo, all the West behind me suddenly

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Glows newly: how the blue sky clears o'erhead!
It is not night, nor seems it evening yet;
A spring sun shines, and like a tocsin beats
The heart of youth through all the smiling land.
Sing on, thou lark! O'er all these open fields
The long grass glitters in the light and wind.
Thou wind, sing on; thou clear, discoursing stream,
Make gladsome music! Neither storm nor gloom
Are round me now. Fair winds the path I take;
Spring buds of bushes upon both its banks
Are bursting forth . . .
And I shall see thy face—
Because the dream supports me, I shall see
Thy face once more. Thou wilt not fail me, nay,
The quest shall finish as it starts perchance:
This sun descending—now with vapours veil'd—
Spreads light on miles of mead and marsh, immersed
In April floods. The hedges and the trees—
Which out of waters rise—cast lengthening shades
Along the gleaming surface; all around
I hear the gentle lapse of little brooks,
While not more cool than fragrant turns awhile
The South's soft air.

VII
MASTER-BUILDING

Green earth is round thee and blue-gleaming sea
Spreads far before—so full, so bright, so fair
Its silver surface: on the beach it lies,
As a child breathing on the breast asleep.
There is no limit to the golden hopes
Which light, like lamps, the future's floral paths.
There is no path too long, no goal too far,

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No height beyond thee: thou art strong for all
And all in turn renouncest—land and sea,
Youth's kingship, youth's inheritance therein,
And towards the perfect, hidden life in God
Directest only thy desiring eyes:
May thy high soul be throned o'er space and time;
Be thine the Secret Name, the Morning Star!
Like Michael soaring from celestial strife,
I watch thee rise; through surging mists of sense
Thy strong right arm put forth, thy shapely head—
With striving face upturn'd and streaming hair—
All light itself, into the light ascends.
The rainbow-splendour of unspotted mind
Invests thee now; so sinks the flesh subdued:
Thine earnest lips the grace of soul invoke,
The secret eye which sees and searches all,
The word of spirit in the soul itself
Declared. . . .
But now, with modest eyelids droop'd,
With even pulse, with cool and indrawn mien,
I see thee stand, still in thy white array'd.
Thou speakest not: this is thy victory,
Who hast, triumphant by the strength of will,
Compass'd thine end. Henceforth the voice of God
Teaches within, the spirit of Christ inspires.
So dost thou issue from thy house of thought,
With hands uplifted: thou art priest and king.
What dost thou seek among thy weaker kind?
The priestly sacredness of thine own self
For man to offer in the name of God—
A cause divine. . . . What angel dwells on earth?
Nay, ask what earnest man of mien erect,
In whose eyes shines the troth of other worlds,
Reveals a perfect law, the Food Divine

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Administers, and spans the breathless height
'Twixt man and God, the mystic bridge makes known—
No longer narrow as a sword's sharp edge,
For all can wall thereon.
My lord, all hail!
Thy call is coming out of realms unseen;
The work is done. Put off thy garments now,
The lapse and wash of an eternal sea
Stirs in the twilight hush. So pass therein;
The waters once above thy form will close,
But when thy head divides their surface calm
Comes light, comes warmth of the eternal day.
I ask no inspiration now from earth,
Or ocean's voice, to paint in human terms
A soul transfigured by immortal being.
I see thy former nature magnified,
While other missions lead, in worlds unknown,
Most saintly missions, of thy progress born—
Of God's deep counsels born—for evermore.
And now to Him Who gives us space to dream in
Be praise for ever from our dreams and us;
May noble acts be food for dreams still nobler;
May these, ascending in a scale divine,
The scope of action and of life enlarge,
Till life with Him be one!

VIII
THE END CROWNS

O secret symbol, seen by bad and good,
Unfold for ever! May we know thee more,
And more expanding, may thy meaning high
Reveal the perfect measures of the law!

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Pass all things dark before it, pass and die;
But on the pure, regenerated, free
Ascending mind of man, on life's new age,
Shine, mellow moon unwaning; shed thy beams
Of mildness, mercy and intelligence!
Symbolic Moon, may God light man in thee!
All earthly loves have perish'd; that remains
Wherewith we love thee and are led by thee,
And that—imperishable, peerless, strong—
By which thy spirit is to God led up,
O human nature of our emblem pure,
With whom may God remain in light and love,
In life immortal and the Crown of Life!
I set my Symbol, fill'd with meanings deep,
To shine before thee—in thy face, O man,
To shine in beauty! Take it, gentle world:
Be worthy thou; fulfil what wants in me!
So as the moon, new-born in month of May,
Shall wax each night, this lamp of thine and mine
Will amplify its purport. Should it prove
That in far years the lustrous beams matured
Shall offer light beyond the light of mind,
Remember him who set a beacon-torch
On his own heights to burn, and greaten more.
Peace fill thy heart, while I go faring forth,
My part to act. May all things great be thine:
If from an apex past all dream I cry,
Believe the news I send of realms unknown—
My friends, my lovers, and judge me worthy you!

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IX
WITH HARP AND CROWN

Sons of the Morning and Eternity,
Children of Benediction and of Light,
Daughters of angels' kisses: I have wrought
A little book of melody and love—
A book against the resurrection-day—
Song mystic of humanity divine,
Achieved in one regenerated heart—
Our bright sidereal beacon, Israfel.
I swear, my brethren, by the Orphic faith,
And by the faithful prophecies inscribed
Deep in discerning souls, that starry hosts
Lead on that spirit, and his reign is nigh.
He stands erect among frankincense clouds,
A pillar of melody; his saffron hair
Is a cloud of harpstrings; as he moves in grace
And ministers, the ground beneath his feet
Quivers in music, like a sounding-board;
The parted air about him slowly streams
Into faint flute-notes. In God's Holy Place
He wears himself the aspect of a god:
Has eyes and sees celestial hierarchies,
With companies of martyrs and of saints;
Has lips which shape man's language to divine
And voice it past the common range of sound,
To traverse God's infinity as prayer;
Has ears wherein celestial harmonies
Find passage through wide galleries of soul,
Wherein they circulate and amplify,
As in white sea-shells tinged with coral pink
All ocean's vastness hollowly resounds;

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Has hands to sanctify by service meet
Among the vessels and the mysteries;
Has feet ascending to the throne of God;
And—with a clamorous music in his throat—
Utters the watchwords of eternity.