 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
EPILOGUE.
THE CONFESSION OF SAINT PATRICK.
ARGUMENT
Before his death, Saint Patrick makes confession to his brethren concerning his life; of his love for that land which had been his House of Bondage; of his ceaseless prayer in youth: of his sojourn at Tours, where St. Martin had made abode, at Auxerres with St. Germanus, and at Lerins with the Contemplatives: of that mystic mountain where the Redeemer Himself lodged the Crosier Staff in his hand; of Pope Celestine who gave him his Mission; of his Visions; of his Labours. His last charge to the sons of Erin is that they should walk in Truth; that they should put from them the spirit of Revenge; and that they should hold fast to the Faith of Christ.
At Saul then, by the inland-spreading sea,
There where began my labour, comes the end:
I, blind and witless, willed it otherwise:
God willed it thus. When prescience came of death
I said, ‘My Resurrection place I choose’—
O fool, for ne'er since boyhood choice was mine
Save choice to subject will of mine to God—
‘At great Ardmacha.’ Thitherward I turned;
But in my pathway, with forbidding hand,
Victor, God's angel stood. ‘Not so,’ he said,
‘For in Ardmacha stands thy princedom fixed,
Age after age, thy teaching, and thy law,
But not thy grave. Return thou to that shore
Thy place of small beginnings, and thereon
Lessen in body and mind, and grow in spirit:
Then sing to God thy little hymn and die.’
There where began my labour, comes the end:
I, blind and witless, willed it otherwise:
God willed it thus. When prescience came of death
I said, ‘My Resurrection place I choose’—
O fool, for ne'er since boyhood choice was mine
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‘At great Ardmacha.’ Thitherward I turned;
But in my pathway, with forbidding hand,
Victor, God's angel stood. ‘Not so,’ he said,
‘For in Ardmacha stands thy princedom fixed,
Age after age, thy teaching, and thy law,
But not thy grave. Return thou to that shore
Thy place of small beginnings, and thereon
Lessen in body and mind, and grow in spirit:
Then sing to God thy little hymn and die.’
Yea, Lord, my mouth would praise Thee ere I die,
The Father, and the Son, and Holy Spirit
Who knittest in His Church the just to Christ:
Help me, my sons—mine orphans soon to be—
Help me to praise Him; ye that round me sit
On those grey rocks; ye that have faithful been,
Honouring, despite dishonour of my sins,
His servant: I would praise Him yet once more,
Though mine the stammerer's voice, or as a child's;
For it is written, ‘Stammerers shall speak plain
Sounding Thy Gospel.’ ‘They whom Christ hath sent
Are Christ's Epistle, borne to ends of earth,
Writ by His Spirit, and plain to souls elect:’
Lord, am not I of Thine Apostolate?
The Father, and the Son, and Holy Spirit
Who knittest in His Church the just to Christ:
Help me, my sons—mine orphans soon to be—
Help me to praise Him; ye that round me sit
On those grey rocks; ye that have faithful been,
Honouring, despite dishonour of my sins,
His servant: I would praise Him yet once more,
Though mine the stammerer's voice, or as a child's;
For it is written, ‘Stammerers shall speak plain
Sounding Thy Gospel.’ ‘They whom Christ hath sent
Are Christ's Epistle, borne to ends of earth,
Writ by His Spirit, and plain to souls elect:’
Lord, am not I of Thine Apostolate?
Yea, by abjection Thine, by suffering Thine!
Till I was humbled I was as a stone
In deep mire sunk. Then, stretched from heaven, Thy hand
Slid under me in might, and lifted me,
And fixed me in Thy Temple where Thou wouldst.
Wonder, ye great ones, wonder, ye the wise!
On me, the last and least, this charge was laid
This crown, that I in humbleness and truth
Should walk this nation's Servant till I die.
Till I was humbled I was as a stone
In deep mire sunk. Then, stretched from heaven, Thy hand
Slid under me in might, and lifted me,
And fixed me in Thy Temple where Thou wouldst.
Wonder, ye great ones, wonder, ye the wise!
On me, the last and least, this charge was laid
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Should walk this nation's Servant till I die.
Therefore, a youth of sixteen years, or less,
With others of my land by pirates seized
I stood on Erin's shore. Our bonds were just;
Our God we had forsaken, and His Law,
And mocked His priests. Tending a stern man's swine
I trod those Dalaraida hills that face
Eastward to Alba. Six long years went by;
But—sent from God—Memory, and Faith, and Fear
Moved on my spirit as winds upon the sea,
And the Spirit of Prayer came down. Full many a day
Climbing the mountain tops, one hundred times
I flung upon the storm my cry to God.
Nor frost, nor rain might harm me, for His love
Burned in my heart. Through love I made my fast;
And in my fasts one night I heard this voice,
‘Thou fastest well: soon shalt thou see thy Land.’
Later, once more thus spake it: ‘Southward fly,
Thy ship awaits thee.’ Many a day I fled,
And found the black ship dropping down the tide,
And entered with those Gentiles by Thy grace
Vanquished, though first they spurned me, and was free.
With others of my land by pirates seized
I stood on Erin's shore. Our bonds were just;
Our God we had forsaken, and His Law,
And mocked His priests. Tending a stern man's swine
I trod those Dalaraida hills that face
Eastward to Alba. Six long years went by;
But—sent from God—Memory, and Faith, and Fear
Moved on my spirit as winds upon the sea,
And the Spirit of Prayer came down. Full many a day
Climbing the mountain tops, one hundred times
I flung upon the storm my cry to God.
Nor frost, nor rain might harm me, for His love
Burned in my heart. Through love I made my fast;
And in my fasts one night I heard this voice,
‘Thou fastest well: soon shalt thou see thy Land.’
Later, once more thus spake it: ‘Southward fly,
Thy ship awaits thee.’ Many a day I fled,
And found the black ship dropping down the tide,
And entered with those Gentiles by Thy grace
Vanquished, though first they spurned me, and was free.
It was Thy leading, Lord; the Hand was Thine!
For now when, perils past, I walked secure,
Kind greetings round me, and the Christian Rite,
There rose a clamorous yearning in my heart,
And memories of that land so far, so fair,
And lost in such a gloom. And through that gloom
The eyes of little children shone on me,
So ready to believe! Such children oft
Ran by me naked in and out the waves,
Or danced in circles upon Erin's shores,
Like creatures never fallen! Thought of such
Passed into thought of others. From my youth
Both men and women, maidens most, to me
As children seemed; and O the pity then
To mark how oft they wept, how seldom knew
Whence came the wound that galled them! As I walked,
Each wind that passed me whispered, ‘Lo, that race
Which trod thee down! Requite with good their ill!
Thou know'st their tongue; old man to thee, and youth,
For counsel came, and lambs would lick thy foot;
And now the whole land is a sheep astray
That bleats to God.’
For now when, perils past, I walked secure,
Kind greetings round me, and the Christian Rite,
There rose a clamorous yearning in my heart,
And memories of that land so far, so fair,
And lost in such a gloom. And through that gloom
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So ready to believe! Such children oft
Ran by me naked in and out the waves,
Or danced in circles upon Erin's shores,
Like creatures never fallen! Thought of such
Passed into thought of others. From my youth
Both men and women, maidens most, to me
As children seemed; and O the pity then
To mark how oft they wept, how seldom knew
Whence came the wound that galled them! As I walked,
Each wind that passed me whispered, ‘Lo, that race
Which trod thee down! Requite with good their ill!
Thou know'st their tongue; old man to thee, and youth,
For counsel came, and lambs would lick thy foot;
And now the whole land is a sheep astray
That bleats to God.’
Alone one night I mused,
Burthened with thought of that vocation vast.
O'er-spent I sank asleep. In visions then,
Satan my soul plagued with temptation dire.
Methought, beneath a cliff I lay, and lo!
Thick-legioned demons o'er me dragged a rock,
That falling, seemed a mountain. Near, more near,
O'er me it blackened. Sudden from my heart
This thought leaped forth: ‘Elias! Him invoke!’
That name invoked, vanished the rock; and I,
On mountains stood watching the rising sun,
As stood Elias once on Carmel's crest,
Gazing on heaven unbarred, and that white cloud,
A thirsting land's salvation.
Burthened with thought of that vocation vast.
O'er-spent I sank asleep. In visions then,
Satan my soul plagued with temptation dire.
Methought, beneath a cliff I lay, and lo!
Thick-legioned demons o'er me dragged a rock,
That falling, seemed a mountain. Near, more near,
O'er me it blackened. Sudden from my heart
This thought leaped forth: ‘Elias! Him invoke!’
That name invoked, vanished the rock; and I,
On mountains stood watching the rising sun,
As stood Elias once on Carmel's crest,
Gazing on heaven unbarred, and that white cloud,
A thirsting land's salvation.
Might Divine!
Thou taught'st me thus my weakness; and I vowed
To seek Thy strength. I turned my face to Tours,
There where in years gone by Thy soldier-priest
Martin had ruled, my kinsman in the flesh.
Dead was the lion; but his lair was warm:
In it I laid me, and a conquering glow
Rushed up into my heart. I heard discourse
Of Martin still, his valour in the Lord,
His rugged warrior zeal, his passionate love
For Hilary, his vigils, and his fasts,
And all his pitiless warfare on the Powers
Of darkness; and one day, in secrecy,
With Ninian, missioned then to Alba's shore,
I peered into his branch-enwoven cell,
Half-way between the river and the rocks,
From Tours a mile and more.
Thou taught'st me thus my weakness; and I vowed
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There where in years gone by Thy soldier-priest
Martin had ruled, my kinsman in the flesh.
Dead was the lion; but his lair was warm:
In it I laid me, and a conquering glow
Rushed up into my heart. I heard discourse
Of Martin still, his valour in the Lord,
His rugged warrior zeal, his passionate love
For Hilary, his vigils, and his fasts,
And all his pitiless warfare on the Powers
Of darkness; and one day, in secrecy,
With Ninian, missioned then to Alba's shore,
I peered into his branch-enwoven cell,
Half-way between the river and the rocks,
From Tours a mile and more.
So passed eight years
Till strengthened was my heart by discipline:
Then spake a priest, ‘Brother, thy will is good,
Yet rude thou art of learning as a beast;
Fare thee to great Germanus of Auxerres,
Who lightens half the West!’ I heard, and went,
And to that Saint was subject fourteen years.
He from my mind removed the veil; ‘Lift up,’
He said, ‘thine eyes!’ and like a mountain land
The Queenly Science stood before me plain,
From rocky buttress up to peak of snow:
The great Commandments first, Edicts, and Laws
That bastion up man's life:—then high o'er these
The forest huge of Doctrine, one, yet many,
Forth stretching in innumerable aisles,
At the end of each, the self-same glittering star:—
Lastly, the Life God-hidden. Day by day,
With him for guide, that first and second realm
I tracked, and learned to shun the abyss flower-veiled,
And scale heaven-threatening heights. This, too, he taught,
Himself long time a ruler and a prince,
The regimen of States from chaos won
To order, and to Christ. Prudence I learned,
And sageness in the government of men,
By me sore needed soon. O stately man,
In all things great, in action and in thought,
And plain as great! To Britain called, the Saint
Trod down that great Pelagian Blasphemy,
Chief portent of the age. But better far
He loved his cell. There sat he vigil-worn,
In cowl and dusky tunic hued like earth
Whence issued man and unto which returns;
I marvelled at his wrinkled brows, and hands
Still tracing, enter or depart who would,
From morn to night his parchments.
Till strengthened was my heart by discipline:
Then spake a priest, ‘Brother, thy will is good,
Yet rude thou art of learning as a beast;
Fare thee to great Germanus of Auxerres,
Who lightens half the West!’ I heard, and went,
And to that Saint was subject fourteen years.
He from my mind removed the veil; ‘Lift up,’
He said, ‘thine eyes!’ and like a mountain land
The Queenly Science stood before me plain,
From rocky buttress up to peak of snow:
The great Commandments first, Edicts, and Laws
That bastion up man's life:—then high o'er these
The forest huge of Doctrine, one, yet many,
Forth stretching in innumerable aisles,
At the end of each, the self-same glittering star:—
Lastly, the Life God-hidden. Day by day,
With him for guide, that first and second realm
I tracked, and learned to shun the abyss flower-veiled,
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Himself long time a ruler and a prince,
The regimen of States from chaos won
To order, and to Christ. Prudence I learned,
And sageness in the government of men,
By me sore needed soon. O stately man,
In all things great, in action and in thought,
And plain as great! To Britain called, the Saint
Trod down that great Pelagian Blasphemy,
Chief portent of the age. But better far
He loved his cell. There sat he vigil-worn,
In cowl and dusky tunic hued like earth
Whence issued man and unto which returns;
I marvelled at his wrinkled brows, and hands
Still tracing, enter or depart who would,
From morn to night his parchments.
There, once more,
O God, Thine eye was on me, or my hand
Once more had missed the prize. Temptation now
Whispered in softness, ‘Wisdom's home is here:
Here bide untroubled.’ Almost I had fallen;
But, by my side, in visions of the night,
God's angel, Victor, stood as one that hastes,
On travel sped. Unnumbered missives lay
Clasped in his hands. One stretched he forth, inscribed
‘The wail of Erin's Children.’ As I read
The cry of babes, from Erin's western coast
And Fochlut's forest, and the wintry sea,
Shrilled o'er me, clamouring, ‘Holy youth, return!
Walk thou among us!’ I could read no more.
O God, Thine eye was on me, or my hand
Once more had missed the prize. Temptation now
Whispered in softness, ‘Wisdom's home is here:
Here bide untroubled.’ Almost I had fallen;
But, by my side, in visions of the night,
God's angel, Victor, stood as one that hastes,
On travel sped. Unnumbered missives lay
Clasped in his hands. One stretched he forth, inscribed
‘The wail of Erin's Children.’ As I read
The cry of babes, from Erin's western coast
And Fochlut's forest, and the wintry sea,
Shrilled o'er me, clamouring, ‘Holy youth, return!
Walk thou among us!’ I could read no more.
Thenceforth rose up renewed mine old desire:
My kinsfolk mocked me. ‘What! past woes too scant!
Slave of four masters, and the best a churl!
Thy Gospel they will trample under foot,
And rend thee! Late to them Palladius preached:
They drave him as a leper from their shores.’
I stood in agony of staggering mind
And warring wills. Then, lo! at dead of night
I heard a mystic voice, till then unheard,
I knew not if within me or close by,
That swelled in passionate pleading; nor the words
Grasped I, so great they seemed and wonderful,
Till sank that tempest to a whisper:—‘He
Who died for thee is He that in thee groans.’
Then fell, methought, scales from mine inner eyes:
Then saw I—terrible that sight, yet sweet—
Within me saw a Man that in me prayed
With groans unutterable. That Man was girt
For mission far. My heart recalled that word,
‘The Spirit helpeth our infirmities;
That which we lack we know not, but the Spirit
Himself for us doth intercession make
With groanings which may never be revealed.’
That hour my vow was vowed; and he approved,
My master and my guide. ‘But go,’ he said,
‘First to that island in the Tyrrhene Sea,
Where live the high Contemplatives to God:
There learn perfection; there that Inner Life
Win thou, God's strength amid the world's loud storm:
Nor fear lest God should frown on such delay,
For Heavenly Wisdom is compassionate:
Slowly before man's weakness moves it on;
Softly: so moved of old the Wise Men's Star,
Which curbed its lightning ardours and forbore
Honouring the pensive tread of hoary Eld,
Honouring the burthened slave, the camel line
Long-linked, with level head and foot that fell
As though in sleep, printing the silent sands.’
Thus, smiling, spake Germanus, large in lore.
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Slave of four masters, and the best a churl!
Thy Gospel they will trample under foot,
And rend thee! Late to them Palladius preached:
They drave him as a leper from their shores.’
I stood in agony of staggering mind
And warring wills. Then, lo! at dead of night
I heard a mystic voice, till then unheard,
I knew not if within me or close by,
That swelled in passionate pleading; nor the words
Grasped I, so great they seemed and wonderful,
Till sank that tempest to a whisper:—‘He
Who died for thee is He that in thee groans.’
Then fell, methought, scales from mine inner eyes:
Then saw I—terrible that sight, yet sweet—
Within me saw a Man that in me prayed
With groans unutterable. That Man was girt
For mission far. My heart recalled that word,
‘The Spirit helpeth our infirmities;
That which we lack we know not, but the Spirit
Himself for us doth intercession make
With groanings which may never be revealed.’
That hour my vow was vowed; and he approved,
My master and my guide. ‘But go,’ he said,
‘First to that island in the Tyrrhene Sea,
Where live the high Contemplatives to God:
There learn perfection; there that Inner Life
Win thou, God's strength amid the world's loud storm:
Nor fear lest God should frown on such delay,
For Heavenly Wisdom is compassionate:
Slowly before man's weakness moves it on;
Softly: so moved of old the Wise Men's Star,
Which curbed its lightning ardours and forbore
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Honouring the burthened slave, the camel line
Long-linked, with level head and foot that fell
As though in sleep, printing the silent sands.’
Thus, smiling, spake Germanus, large in lore.
So in that island-Eden I sojourned,
Lerins, and saw where Vincent lived, and his,
Life fountained from on high. That life was Love;
For all their mighty knowledge food became
Of Love Divine, and took, by Love absorbed,
Shape from his flame-like body. Hard their beds;
Ceaseless their prayers. They tilled a sterile soil;
Beneath their hands it blossomed like the rose:
O'er thymy hollows blew the nectared airs;
Blue ocean flashed through olives. They had fled
From praise of men; yet cities far away
Rapt those meek saints to fill the bishop's throne.
I saw the light of God on faces calm
That blended with man's meditative might
Simplicity of childhood, and, with both
The sweetness of that flower-like sex which wears
Through love's Obedience twofold crowns of Love.
O blissful time! In that bright island bloomed
The third high region on the Hills of God,
Above the rock, above the wood, the cloud:—
There laughs the luminous air, there bursts anew
Spring bud in summer on suspended lawns;
There the bell tinkles while once more the lamb
Trips by the sun-fed runnel: there green vales
Lie lost in purple heavens.
Lerins, and saw where Vincent lived, and his,
Life fountained from on high. That life was Love;
For all their mighty knowledge food became
Of Love Divine, and took, by Love absorbed,
Shape from his flame-like body. Hard their beds;
Ceaseless their prayers. They tilled a sterile soil;
Beneath their hands it blossomed like the rose:
O'er thymy hollows blew the nectared airs;
Blue ocean flashed through olives. They had fled
From praise of men; yet cities far away
Rapt those meek saints to fill the bishop's throne.
I saw the light of God on faces calm
That blended with man's meditative might
Simplicity of childhood, and, with both
The sweetness of that flower-like sex which wears
Through love's Obedience twofold crowns of Love.
O blissful time! In that bright island bloomed
The third high region on the Hills of God,
Above the rock, above the wood, the cloud:—
There laughs the luminous air, there bursts anew
Spring bud in summer on suspended lawns;
There the bell tinkles while once more the lamb
Trips by the sun-fed runnel: there green vales
Lie lost in purple heavens.
Transfigured Life!
This was thy glory, that, without a sigh,
Who loved thee yet could leave thee! Thus it fell:
One morning I was on the sea, and lo!
An isle to Lerins near, but fairer yet,
Till then unseen! A grassy vale sea-lulled
Wound inward, breathing balm, with fruited trees,
And stream through lilies gliding. By a door
There stood a man in prime, and others sat
Not far, some grey; and one, a weed of years,
Lay like a withered wreath. An old man spake:
‘See what thou seest, and scan the mystery well!
The man who stands so stately in his prime
Is of this company the eldest born.
The Saviour in His earthly sojourn, Risen,
Perchance, or ere His Passion, who can tell,
Stood up at this man's door; and this man rose,
And let Him in, and made for Him a feast;
And Jesus said, “Tarry, till I return.”
Moreover, others are there on this isle,
Both men and maids, who saw the Son of Man,
And took Him in, and shine in endless youth;
But we, the rest, in course of nature fade,
For we believe, yet saw not God, nor touched.’
Then spake I, ‘Here till death my home I make,
Where Jesus trod.’ And answered he in prime,
‘Not so; the Master hath for thee thy task.
Parting, thus spake He: “Here for Mine Elect
Abide thou. Bid him bear this crosier staff;
My blessing rests thereon: the same shall drive
The foes of God before him.”’ Answer thus
I made, ‘That crosier staff I will not touch
Until I take it from that nailed-pierced Hand.’
From these I turned, and clomb a mountain high,
Hermon by name; and there—was this, my God,
In visions of the Lord, or in the flesh?—
I spake with Him, the Lord of Life, Who died;
He from the glory stretched the Hand nail-pierced,
And placed in mine that crosier staff, and said:
‘Upon that day when they that with Me walked
Sit with Me on their everlasting Thrones,
Judging the Twelve Tribes of Mine Israel,
Thy People thou shalt judge in righteousness.’
This was thy glory, that, without a sigh,
Who loved thee yet could leave thee! Thus it fell:
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An isle to Lerins near, but fairer yet,
Till then unseen! A grassy vale sea-lulled
Wound inward, breathing balm, with fruited trees,
And stream through lilies gliding. By a door
There stood a man in prime, and others sat
Not far, some grey; and one, a weed of years,
Lay like a withered wreath. An old man spake:
‘See what thou seest, and scan the mystery well!
The man who stands so stately in his prime
Is of this company the eldest born.
The Saviour in His earthly sojourn, Risen,
Perchance, or ere His Passion, who can tell,
Stood up at this man's door; and this man rose,
And let Him in, and made for Him a feast;
And Jesus said, “Tarry, till I return.”
Moreover, others are there on this isle,
Both men and maids, who saw the Son of Man,
And took Him in, and shine in endless youth;
But we, the rest, in course of nature fade,
For we believe, yet saw not God, nor touched.’
Then spake I, ‘Here till death my home I make,
Where Jesus trod.’ And answered he in prime,
‘Not so; the Master hath for thee thy task.
Parting, thus spake He: “Here for Mine Elect
Abide thou. Bid him bear this crosier staff;
My blessing rests thereon: the same shall drive
The foes of God before him.”’ Answer thus
I made, ‘That crosier staff I will not touch
Until I take it from that nailed-pierced Hand.’
From these I turned, and clomb a mountain high,
Hermon by name; and there—was this, my God,
In visions of the Lord, or in the flesh?—
I spake with Him, the Lord of Life, Who died;
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And placed in mine that crosier staff, and said:
‘Upon that day when they that with Me walked
Sit with Me on their everlasting Thrones,
Judging the Twelve Tribes of Mine Israel,
Thy People thou shalt judge in righteousness.’
Forthwith to Rome I fled; there knelt I down
Above the bones of Peter and of Paul,
And saw the mitred embassies from far,
And saw Celestine with his head high held
As though it bore the Blessed Sacrament;
Chief Shepherd of the Saviour's flock on earth.
Tall was the man, and swift; white-haired; with eye
Starlike and voice a trumpet clear that pealed
God's Benediction o'er the city and globe;
Yea, and whene'er his palm he lifted, still
Blessing before it ran. Upon my head
He laid both hands, and ‘Win,’ he said, ‘to Christ
One realm the more!’ Moreover, to my charge
Relics he gave, unnumbered, without price;
And when those relics lost had been, and found,
And at his feet I wept, he chided not;
But, smiling, said, ‘Thy glorious task fulfilled,
House them in thy new country's stateliest church
By cresset girt of ever-burning lamps,
And never-ceasing anthems.’
Above the bones of Peter and of Paul,
And saw the mitred embassies from far,
And saw Celestine with his head high held
As though it bore the Blessed Sacrament;
Chief Shepherd of the Saviour's flock on earth.
Tall was the man, and swift; white-haired; with eye
Starlike and voice a trumpet clear that pealed
God's Benediction o'er the city and globe;
Yea, and whene'er his palm he lifted, still
Blessing before it ran. Upon my head
He laid both hands, and ‘Win,’ he said, ‘to Christ
One realm the more!’ Moreover, to my charge
Relics he gave, unnumbered, without price;
And when those relics lost had been, and found,
And at his feet I wept, he chided not;
But, smiling, said, ‘Thy glorious task fulfilled,
House them in thy new country's stateliest church
By cresset girt of ever-burning lamps,
And never-ceasing anthems.’
Northward then
Returned I, missioned. Yet once more, but once,
That old temptation proved me. When they sat,
The Elders, making inquest of my life,
Sudden a certain brother rose, and spake,
‘Shall this man be a Bishop, who hath sinned?’
My dearest friend was he. To him alone
One time had I divulged a sin by me
Through ignorance wrought when fifteen years of age;
And after thirty years, behold, once more,
That sin had found me out! He knew my mission:
When in mine absence slander sought my name,
Mine honour he had cleared. Yet now—yet now—
That hour the iron passed into my soul:
Yea, well nigh all was lost. I wept, ‘Not one,
No heart of man there is that knows my heart,
Or in its anguish shares.’
Returned I, missioned. Yet once more, but once,
That old temptation proved me. When they sat,
The Elders, making inquest of my life,
Sudden a certain brother rose, and spake,
‘Shall this man be a Bishop, who hath sinned?’
My dearest friend was he. To him alone
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Through ignorance wrought when fifteen years of age;
And after thirty years, behold, once more,
That sin had found me out! He knew my mission:
When in mine absence slander sought my name,
Mine honour he had cleared. Yet now—yet now—
That hour the iron passed into my soul:
Yea, well nigh all was lost. I wept, ‘Not one,
No heart of man there is that knows my heart,
Or in its anguish shares.’
Yet, O my God!
I blame him not: from Thee that penance came:
Not for man's love should Thine Apostle strive,
Thyself alone his great and sole reward.
Thou laid'st that hour a fiery hand of love
Upon a faithless heart; and it survived.
I blame him not: from Thee that penance came:
Not for man's love should Thine Apostle strive,
Thyself alone his great and sole reward.
Thou laid'st that hour a fiery hand of love
Upon a faithless heart; and it survived.
At dead of night a Vision gave me peace.
Slowly from out the breast of darkness shone
Strange characters, a writing unrevealed:
And slowly thence and infinitely sad,
A Voice: ‘Ill-pleased, this day have we beheld
The face of the Elect without a name.’
It said not, ‘Thou hast grieved,’ but ‘We have grieved;’
With import plain, ‘O thou of little faith!
Am I not nearer to thee than thy friends?
Am I not inlier with thee than thyself?’
Then I remembered, ‘He that touches you
Doth touch the very apple of mine eye.’
Serene I slept. At morn I rose and ran
Down to the shore, and found a boat, and sailed.
Slowly from out the breast of darkness shone
Strange characters, a writing unrevealed:
And slowly thence and infinitely sad,
A Voice: ‘Ill-pleased, this day have we beheld
The face of the Elect without a name.’
It said not, ‘Thou hast grieved,’ but ‘We have grieved;’
With import plain, ‘O thou of little faith!
Am I not nearer to thee than thy friends?
Am I not inlier with thee than thyself?’
Then I remembered, ‘He that touches you
Doth touch the very apple of mine eye.’
Serene I slept. At morn I rose and ran
Down to the shore, and found a boat, and sailed.
That hour true life's beginning was, O Lord,
Because the work Thou gav'st into my hands
Prospered between them. Yea, and from the work
The Power forth issued. Strength in me was none,
Nor insight, till the occasion: then Thy sword
Flamed in my grasp, and beams were in mine eyes
That showed the way before me, and nought else.
Thou mad'st me know Thy Will. As taper's light
Veers with a wind man feels not, o'er my heart
Hovered thenceforth some Pentecostal flame
That bent before that Will. Thy Truth, not mine,
Lightened this People's mind; Thy Love inflamed
Their hearts; Thy Hope upbore them as on wings.
Valiant that race, and simple, and to them
Not hard the godlike venture of belief:
Conscience was theirs: tortuous too oft in life
Their thoughts, when passionate most, then most were true,
Heart-true. With naked hand firmly they clasped
The naked Truth: in them Belief was Act.
A tribe from Thy far East they called themselves:
Their clans were Patriarch households, rude through war:
Old Pagan Rome had known them not; their Isle
Virgin to Christ had come. Oh how unlike
Her sons to those old Roman Senators,
Scorn of Germanus oft, who breathed the air
Fouled by dead Faiths successively blown out,
Or Grecian sophist with his world of words,
That, knowing all, knew nothing! Praise to Thee,
Lord of the night-time as the day, Who keep'st
Reserved in blind barbaric innocence,
Pure breed, when boastful lights corrupt the wise,
With healthier fruit to bless a later age.
155
Prospered between them. Yea, and from the work
The Power forth issued. Strength in me was none,
Nor insight, till the occasion: then Thy sword
Flamed in my grasp, and beams were in mine eyes
That showed the way before me, and nought else.
Thou mad'st me know Thy Will. As taper's light
Veers with a wind man feels not, o'er my heart
Hovered thenceforth some Pentecostal flame
That bent before that Will. Thy Truth, not mine,
Lightened this People's mind; Thy Love inflamed
Their hearts; Thy Hope upbore them as on wings.
Valiant that race, and simple, and to them
Not hard the godlike venture of belief:
Conscience was theirs: tortuous too oft in life
Their thoughts, when passionate most, then most were true,
Heart-true. With naked hand firmly they clasped
The naked Truth: in them Belief was Act.
A tribe from Thy far East they called themselves:
Their clans were Patriarch households, rude through war:
Old Pagan Rome had known them not; their Isle
Virgin to Christ had come. Oh how unlike
Her sons to those old Roman Senators,
Scorn of Germanus oft, who breathed the air
Fouled by dead Faiths successively blown out,
Or Grecian sophist with his world of words,
That, knowing all, knew nothing! Praise to Thee,
Lord of the night-time as the day, Who keep'st
Reserved in blind barbaric innocence,
Pure breed, when boastful lights corrupt the wise,
With healthier fruit to bless a later age.
156
I to that people all things made myself
For Christ's sake, building still that good they lacked
On good already theirs. In courts of kings
I stood: before mine eye their eye went down,
For Thou wert with me. Gentle with the meek,
I suffered not the proud to mock my face:
Thus by the anchors twain of Love and Fear,
Since Love, not perfected, gains strength from Fear,
I bound to Thee this nation. Parables
I spake in; parables in act I wrought
Because the people's mind was in the sense.
At Imbher Dea they scoffed Thy word: I raised
Thy staff, and smote with barrenness that flood:
Then learned they that the world was Thine, not ruled
By Sun or Moon, their famed ‘God-Elements’:
Yea, like Thy Fig-tree cursed, that river banned
Witnessed Thy Love's stern pureness. From the grass
The little three-leaved herb, I stooped and plucked,
And preached the Trinity. Thy Staff I raised,
And bade—not ravening beast—but reptiles foul
Flee to the abyss like that blind herd of old;
Then spake I: ‘Be not babes, but understand:
Thus in your spirit lift the Cross of Christ:
Banish base lusts; so God shall with you walk
As once with man in Eden.’ With like aim
Convents I reared for holy maids, then sought
The marriage feast, and cried, ‘If God thus draws
Close to Himself those virgin hearts, and yet
Blesses the bridal troth, and infant's font,
How white a thing should be the Christian home!’
Marvelling, they learned what heritage their God
Possessed in them! how wide a realm, how fair.
Lord, save in one thing only, I was weak—
I loved this people with a mother's love,
For their sake sanctified my spirit to Thee
In vigil, fast, and meditation long,
On mountain and on moor. Thus, Lord, I wrought,
Trusting that so Thy lineaments divine,
Deeplier upon my spirit graved, might pass
Thence on that hidden burthen which my heart
Still from its substance feeding, with great pangs
Strove to bring forth to Thee. O loyal race!
Me too they loved. They waited me all night
On lonely roads; and, as I preached, the day
To those high listeners seemed a little hour.
Have I not seen ten thousand brows at once
Flash in the broad light of some Truth new risen,
And felt like him, that Saint who cried, flame-girt,
‘At last do I begin to be a Christian’?
Have I not seen old foes embrace? Seen him,
That white-haired man who dashed him on the ground,
Crying aloud, ‘My buried son, forgive!
Thy sire hath touched the hand that shed thy blood’?
Fierce chiefs knelt down in penance! Lord! how oft
Shook I their tear-drop sparkles from my gown!
'Twas the forgiveness taught them all the debt,
Great-hearted penitents! How many a youth
Contemned the praise of men! How many a maid—
O not in narrowness, but Love's sweet pride
And love-born shyness—jealous for a mate
Himself not jealous—spurned terrestrial love,
Glorying in heavenly Love's fair oneness! Race
High-dowered! God's Truth seemed some remembered thing
To them; God's Kingdom smiled, their native haunt
Prophesied then their daughters and their sons:
Each man before the face of each upraised
His hand on high, and said, ‘The Lord hath risen!’
Then, like a stream from ice released, forth fled
And wafted far the tidings, flung them wide,
Shouted them loud from rocky ridge o'er bands
Marching far down to war! The sower sowed
With happier hope; the reaper bending sang,
‘Thus shall God's Angels reap the field of God
When we are ripe for heaven.’ Lovers new-wed
Drank of that water changed to wine, thenceforth
Breathing on earth heaven's sweetness. Unto such
More late, whate'er of brightness time or will
Infirm had dimmed, shone back from infant brows
By baptism lit. Each age its garland found:
Fair shone on trustful childhood faith divine:
Eld, once a weight of wrinkles now upsoared
In venerable lordship of white hairs,
Seer-like and sage. Healed was a nation's wound:
All men believed who willed not disbelief;
And sat in that oppugnancy steel-mailed:
They cried, ‘Before thy priests our bards shall bow,
And all our clans put on thy great Clan Christ!’
For Christ's sake, building still that good they lacked
On good already theirs. In courts of kings
I stood: before mine eye their eye went down,
For Thou wert with me. Gentle with the meek,
I suffered not the proud to mock my face:
Thus by the anchors twain of Love and Fear,
Since Love, not perfected, gains strength from Fear,
I bound to Thee this nation. Parables
I spake in; parables in act I wrought
Because the people's mind was in the sense.
At Imbher Dea they scoffed Thy word: I raised
Thy staff, and smote with barrenness that flood:
Then learned they that the world was Thine, not ruled
By Sun or Moon, their famed ‘God-Elements’:
Yea, like Thy Fig-tree cursed, that river banned
Witnessed Thy Love's stern pureness. From the grass
The little three-leaved herb, I stooped and plucked,
And preached the Trinity. Thy Staff I raised,
And bade—not ravening beast—but reptiles foul
Flee to the abyss like that blind herd of old;
Then spake I: ‘Be not babes, but understand:
Thus in your spirit lift the Cross of Christ:
Banish base lusts; so God shall with you walk
As once with man in Eden.’ With like aim
Convents I reared for holy maids, then sought
The marriage feast, and cried, ‘If God thus draws
Close to Himself those virgin hearts, and yet
Blesses the bridal troth, and infant's font,
How white a thing should be the Christian home!’
Marvelling, they learned what heritage their God
Possessed in them! how wide a realm, how fair.
157
I loved this people with a mother's love,
For their sake sanctified my spirit to Thee
In vigil, fast, and meditation long,
On mountain and on moor. Thus, Lord, I wrought,
Trusting that so Thy lineaments divine,
Deeplier upon my spirit graved, might pass
Thence on that hidden burthen which my heart
Still from its substance feeding, with great pangs
Strove to bring forth to Thee. O loyal race!
Me too they loved. They waited me all night
On lonely roads; and, as I preached, the day
To those high listeners seemed a little hour.
Have I not seen ten thousand brows at once
Flash in the broad light of some Truth new risen,
And felt like him, that Saint who cried, flame-girt,
‘At last do I begin to be a Christian’?
Have I not seen old foes embrace? Seen him,
That white-haired man who dashed him on the ground,
Crying aloud, ‘My buried son, forgive!
Thy sire hath touched the hand that shed thy blood’?
Fierce chiefs knelt down in penance! Lord! how oft
Shook I their tear-drop sparkles from my gown!
'Twas the forgiveness taught them all the debt,
Great-hearted penitents! How many a youth
Contemned the praise of men! How many a maid—
O not in narrowness, but Love's sweet pride
And love-born shyness—jealous for a mate
Himself not jealous—spurned terrestrial love,
Glorying in heavenly Love's fair oneness! Race
High-dowered! God's Truth seemed some remembered thing
To them; God's Kingdom smiled, their native haunt
Prophesied then their daughters and their sons:
158
His hand on high, and said, ‘The Lord hath risen!’
Then, like a stream from ice released, forth fled
And wafted far the tidings, flung them wide,
Shouted them loud from rocky ridge o'er bands
Marching far down to war! The sower sowed
With happier hope; the reaper bending sang,
‘Thus shall God's Angels reap the field of God
When we are ripe for heaven.’ Lovers new-wed
Drank of that water changed to wine, thenceforth
Breathing on earth heaven's sweetness. Unto such
More late, whate'er of brightness time or will
Infirm had dimmed, shone back from infant brows
By baptism lit. Each age its garland found:
Fair shone on trustful childhood faith divine:
Eld, once a weight of wrinkles now upsoared
In venerable lordship of white hairs,
Seer-like and sage. Healed was a nation's wound:
All men believed who willed not disbelief;
And sat in that oppugnancy steel-mailed:
They cried, ‘Before thy priests our bards shall bow,
And all our clans put on thy great Clan Christ!’
For your sake, O my brethren, and my sons,
These things have I recorded. Something I wrought:
Strive ye in loftier labours: strive, and win:
Your victory shall be mine: my crown are ye.
My part is ended now. I lived for Truth:
I to this people gave that truth I knew;
My witnesses ye are I grudged it not:
Freely did I receive, freely I gave;
Baptizing, or confirming, or ordaining,
I sold not things divine. Of mine own store
Ofttimes the hire of fifteen men I paid
For guard where bandits lurked. When prince or chief
Laid on God's altar ring, or torque, or gold,
I sent them back. Too fortunate, too beloved,
I said, ‘Can he Apostle be who bears
Such scanty marks of Christ's Apostolate,
Hunger, and thirst, and scorn of men?’ For this,
Those pains they spared I spared not to myself,
The body's daily death. I make not boast:
What boast have I? If God His servant raised,
He knoweth—not ye—how oft I fell: how low;
How oft in faithless longings yearned my heart
For faces of His Saints in mine own land,
Remembered fields far off. This, too, He knoweth,
How perilous is the path of great attempts,
How oft pride meets us on the storm-vexed height,
Pride, or some sting its scourge. My hope is He:
His hand, my help so long, will loose me never:
And, thanks to God, the sheltering grave is near.
These things have I recorded. Something I wrought:
Strive ye in loftier labours: strive, and win:
Your victory shall be mine: my crown are ye.
My part is ended now. I lived for Truth:
I to this people gave that truth I knew;
My witnesses ye are I grudged it not:
Freely did I receive, freely I gave;
Baptizing, or confirming, or ordaining,
I sold not things divine. Of mine own store
Ofttimes the hire of fifteen men I paid
159
Laid on God's altar ring, or torque, or gold,
I sent them back. Too fortunate, too beloved,
I said, ‘Can he Apostle be who bears
Such scanty marks of Christ's Apostolate,
Hunger, and thirst, and scorn of men?’ For this,
Those pains they spared I spared not to myself,
The body's daily death. I make not boast:
What boast have I? If God His servant raised,
He knoweth—not ye—how oft I fell: how low;
How oft in faithless longings yearned my heart
For faces of His Saints in mine own land,
Remembered fields far off. This, too, He knoweth,
How perilous is the path of great attempts,
How oft pride meets us on the storm-vexed height,
Pride, or some sting its scourge. My hope is He:
His hand, my help so long, will loose me never:
And, thanks to God, the sheltering grave is near.
How still this eve! The morn was racked with storm:
'Tis past; the skylark sings; the tide at flood
Sighs a soft joy: alone those lines of weed
Report the wrath foregone. Yon watery plain
Far shines, a mingled sea of glass and fire,
Even as that Beatific Sea outspread
Before the Throne of God. 'Tis Paschal Tide;—
O sorrowful, O blissful Paschal Tide!
Fain would I die on Holy Saturday;
For then, as now, the storm is past—the woe;
And, somewhere 'mid the shades of Olivet
Lies sealed the sacred cave of that Repose
Watched by the Holy Women. Earth, that sing'st,
Since first He made thee, thy Creator's praise,
Sing, sing thy Saviour's! Myriad-minded sea,
How that bright secret thrills thy rippling lips
Which shake, yet speak not! Thou that mad'st the worlds,
Man, too, Thou mad'st; within Thy Hands the life
Of each was shapen, and new-wov'n ran out,
New-willed each moment. What makes up that life?
Love infinite, and nothing else save love!
Help ere need came, deliverance ere defeat;
At every step an angel to sustain us,
An angel to retrieve! My years are gone:
Sweet were they with a sweetness felt but half
Till now;—not half discerned. Those blessèd years
I would re-live, deferring thus so long
The Vision of Thy Face, if thus with gaze
Cast backward I might see that guiding hand
Step after step, and kiss it.
'Tis past; the skylark sings; the tide at flood
Sighs a soft joy: alone those lines of weed
Report the wrath foregone. Yon watery plain
Far shines, a mingled sea of glass and fire,
Even as that Beatific Sea outspread
Before the Throne of God. 'Tis Paschal Tide;—
O sorrowful, O blissful Paschal Tide!
Fain would I die on Holy Saturday;
For then, as now, the storm is past—the woe;
And, somewhere 'mid the shades of Olivet
Lies sealed the sacred cave of that Repose
Watched by the Holy Women. Earth, that sing'st,
Since first He made thee, thy Creator's praise,
160
How that bright secret thrills thy rippling lips
Which shake, yet speak not! Thou that mad'st the worlds,
Man, too, Thou mad'st; within Thy Hands the life
Of each was shapen, and new-wov'n ran out,
New-willed each moment. What makes up that life?
Love infinite, and nothing else save love!
Help ere need came, deliverance ere defeat;
At every step an angel to sustain us,
An angel to retrieve! My years are gone:
Sweet were they with a sweetness felt but half
Till now;—not half discerned. Those blessèd years
I would re-live, deferring thus so long
The Vision of Thy Face, if thus with gaze
Cast backward I might see that guiding hand
Step after step, and kiss it.
Happy isle!
Be true; for God hath graved on thee His Name;
God, with a wondrous ring, hath wedded thee;
God on a throne divine hath 'stablished thee:—
Light of a darkling world! Lamp of the North!
My race, my realm, my great inheritance,
To lesser nations leave inferior crowns;
Speak ye the thing that is; be just, be kind;
Live ye God's Truth, and in its strength be free!
Be true; for God hath graved on thee His Name;
God, with a wondrous ring, hath wedded thee;
God on a throne divine hath 'stablished thee:—
Light of a darkling world! Lamp of the North!
My race, my realm, my great inheritance,
To lesser nations leave inferior crowns;
Speak ye the thing that is; be just, be kind;
Live ye God's Truth, and in its strength be free!
This day to Him, the Faithful and the True,
For Whom I toiled, my spirit I commend.
That which I am, He knoweth: I know not now:
But I shall know ere long. If I have loved Him
I seek but this for guerdon of my love,
With holier love to love Him to the end:
If I have vanquished others to His love
Would God that this might be their meed and mine
In witness for His love to pour our blood
A glad stream forth, though vultures or wild beasts
Rent our unburied bones! Thou setting sun,
That sink'st to rise, that time shall come at last
When in thy splendours thou shalt rise no more;
And, darkening with the darkening of thy face,
Who worshipped thee with thee shall cease; but those
Who worshipped Christ shall shine with Christ abroad,
Eternal beam, and Sun of Righteousness,
In endless glory. For His sake alone
I, bondsman in this land, re-sought this land.
All ye who name my name in later times,
Say to this People, since vindictive rage
Tempts them too often, that their Patriarch gave
Pattern of pardon ere in words he preached
That God who pardons. Wrongs if they endure
In after years, with fire of pardoning love
Sin-slaying, bid them crown the head that erred:
For bread denied let them give Sacraments,
For darkness light, and for the House of Bondage
The glorious freedom of the sons of God:
This is my last Confession ere I die.
For Whom I toiled, my spirit I commend.
That which I am, He knoweth: I know not now:
But I shall know ere long. If I have loved Him
I seek but this for guerdon of my love,
With holier love to love Him to the end:
If I have vanquished others to His love
161
In witness for His love to pour our blood
A glad stream forth, though vultures or wild beasts
Rent our unburied bones! Thou setting sun,
That sink'st to rise, that time shall come at last
When in thy splendours thou shalt rise no more;
And, darkening with the darkening of thy face,
Who worshipped thee with thee shall cease; but those
Who worshipped Christ shall shine with Christ abroad,
Eternal beam, and Sun of Righteousness,
In endless glory. For His sake alone
I, bondsman in this land, re-sought this land.
All ye who name my name in later times,
Say to this People, since vindictive rage
Tempts them too often, that their Patriarch gave
Pattern of pardon ere in words he preached
That God who pardons. Wrongs if they endure
In after years, with fire of pardoning love
Sin-slaying, bid them crown the head that erred:
For bread denied let them give Sacraments,
For darkness light, and for the House of Bondage
The glorious freedom of the sons of God:
This is my last Confession ere I die.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |