University of Virginia Library

THE SEVEN SPELLS.

SEVEN spells have puissance o'er us who here
Below go halting 'twixt earth and Heaven:
Love first and Laughter, then Faith and Fear,
Greed, Dreaming, six are; and Sleep is seven.
For Love and Laughter and Fear and Faith,
With one or other each man is bitten;
On each man's forehead, the Prophet saith,
The rune that ruleth his life is written.
Love's spell compelling who follow must
Himself still soweth and nothing reapeth;
For Love is only the mask of Lust,
The world-illusion agate that keepeth.
If God to laughter a mortal give,
He must hold aloof from his laughless brothers;
For none at follies may laugh and live
That mould the minds of a million others.

90

Whoever's thrall to the thrill of Fear,
In all Life's corners for God or Demon
Who looks, is buffeted far and near
Of the waves of Will, like a helmless seaman.
If one fall under the spell of Faith,
From Right and Reason he needs must sever
And ill, at a priest's word, work and scaith,
For the sake of a good that cometh never.
Another glamour there is, of Greed,
With gold and silver for souls that angles,
That makes men battle for more than need
And brawl like apes in the banyan-tangles.
For him who's curst with the lust of gain,
Life's one vast sand-waste, o'er which the glitter
Of vanishing gold leads on in vain
And death, for leaving, makes yet more bitter.
But worst of all is the spirit-bond,
Past Greed, Love, Laughter, past Faith and Fearing,
That binds men's thought to the things beyond,
That are not for human sight or hearing.
Some under this spell, the spell of Dreams,
Are born, that forces them fare, unresting,
And miscontented with that which seems,
Forever for that which is go questing.
Whoever of this, the deadliest one
Of all spells fated to man, is taken,
No place possesses beneath the sun;
He lives deserted and dies forsaken.

91

His wings, though weakling, his feet withhold
From any grip on our common mother;
He cannot breathe in our world-air cold
And cannot climb up to any other.
Though off Earth's fetters he cannot strike,
He still would soar to the Planets Seven;
And so he hovers for ever, like
Mohammed's coffin, 'twixt Earth and Heaven.
His flesh forbids him to scale the skies;
And as for the earth, he must forgo it.
He fares unfriended through life and dies
The death of a dog or a praiseless poet.
He only's happy who owns the spell
Of Sleep, who's born 'neath the sign of slumber,
Who delves not under the earth for hell
Nor soars for Heaven past Place and Number;
Who lets life lapse with the hourglass-sand,
Uncareful its How or Why to ponder,
Upon the Present who takes his stand
Nor frets his flesh for the unknown Yonder;
Who strains not his sorry passing breath
For what was never of Time begotten,
Of Life but easance and so of Death
For sleep asks only and strife forgotten.
Through life, unseeing, through life, unhearing
Save that which the senses tell, he goeth
And sated, lies down to die, unfearing
The Future of which he nothing knoweth.

92

He only's happy, for nought, in fine,
But that which the cattle seek, who yearneth,
Like them who liveth and when Life's wine
Is drained, to nothing, like them, returneth.