 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
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Book 3: The Radious Rocks
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Still urged on our swift course;
Through inéxtricable Underworlds hundred paths:
Toucht hardly to hollow floor of Radious Rocks,
Our light removing feet. Our hearts misgave us;
Lest were we all-suddenly dasht, on some derne cliff.
Through inéxtricable Underworlds hundred paths:
Toucht hardly to hollow floor of Radious Rocks,
Our light removing feet. Our hearts misgave us;
Lest were we all-suddenly dasht, on some derne cliff.
When first we might withhold our flitting steps;
We shadowed view, in living World above;
Whiles darkly we behold, in Merlins glass;
Great mountain mass, shrouded with snowy fleece.
We shadowed view, in living World above;
Whiles darkly we behold, in Merlins glass;
Great mountain mass, shrouded with snowy fleece.
That vast sky-shouldering battlement passed beneath,
Tyned immane ranks, and Winter-World above;
We forests view, and mighty Land beyond;
Hills, plains and river-floods neath Sun, that shines
O'er cities rife, of many-peopled Hind.
Tyned immane ranks, and Winter-World above;
We forests view, and mighty Land beyond;
Hills, plains and river-floods neath Sun, that shines
O'er cities rife, of many-peopled Hind.
In certain plot, whereon our glance did light,
We looked; and sheltering saw from noontide heat,
The Enlightened One, of cheerful countenance;
As soul which blessing hath of inward feast.
Tranquil, mild-eyed, as who sequestered lead,
Their few days' life, in pious abstinence.
Thus sojourning ín his path, the Teacher sate;
Under wide bo-trees bowering hermitage:
Pavilion, whích renewed her leafy locks;
Sith that thrice-blesséd seceded from the Earth;
Hath thóusand times, vénerable tradition sayeth.
We looked; and sheltering saw from noontide heat,
The Enlightened One, of cheerful countenance;
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Tranquil, mild-eyed, as who sequestered lead,
Their few days' life, in pious abstinence.
Thus sojourning ín his path, the Teacher sate;
Under wide bo-trees bowering hermitage:
Pavilion, whích renewed her leafy locks;
Sith that thrice-blesséd seceded from the Earth;
Hath thóusand times, vénerable tradition sayeth.
Assembled thither, many unto him are:
Young men the most, whose souls an-hungered seek;
Of the saints lips, their spiritual meat.
With whom be found some few of riper years:
That rénounced Worlds desires, their former selves
Forsake, for their souls' health; and elders, which
All else forget, to live of world's lean almes;
Following the Master's steps, whereso he goeth;
Preaching in field, and street, Mans perfect life;
From place to place.
Young men the most, whose souls an-hungered seek;
Of the saints lips, their spiritual meat.
With whom be found some few of riper years:
That rénounced Worlds desires, their former selves
Forsake, for their souls' health; and elders, which
All else forget, to live of world's lean almes;
Following the Master's steps, whereso he goeth;
Preaching in field, and street, Mans perfect life;
From place to place.
The same wide-spread green boughs,
A little company of wife-folk shrouds apart:
Which disenamoured óf Worlds cares, embrace;
A life, from every fleshly taint released:
Widows be those most part. Following far off;
They daily Instruction seek of thé Saints lips.
A little company of wife-folk shrouds apart:
Which disenamoured óf Worlds cares, embrace;
A life, from every fleshly taint released:
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They daily Instruction seek of thé Saints lips.
Is one of them that gentle bride, time was;
Whom he, in days of hís ingenuous youth,
Espoused, with bliss of heart, as custom was.
And dured that joy, betwixt them both, till day;
Whenas him thought, him called, Celestial Voice;
And dívine ray him beckoned from the Sky.
Whom he, in days of hís ingenuous youth,
Espoused, with bliss of heart, as custom was.
And dured that joy, betwixt them both, till day;
Whenas him thought, him called, Celestial Voice;
And dívine ray him beckoned from the Sky.
Whereto not disobedient, his rapt spirit,
Contending long in anguish with himself:
Fleeing the joy tumultous ánd loud Voice.
Of pipes and timpans, ín his fathers court:
He, her new delivered, the same night forsook.
Dim were his eyes, whiles he gazed on them both;
Mother and babe, in her sweet bosom, sleeping.
Contending long in anguish with himself:
Fleeing the joy tumultous ánd loud Voice.
Of pipes and timpans, ín his fathers court:
He, her new delivered, the same night forsook.
Dim were his eyes, whiles he gazed on them both;
Mother and babe, in her sweet bosom, sleeping.
Lifting then the door-curtain to part forth;
He loving, sighed. He, a man; áh! would have taken,
Their new-born, in his fathers arms. Nathless;
Though wrought his heart with force, not looking back;
He issued tó cold clear night-stars, those eyes
Of Gods; (confused, he wist not what he would!)
To wander, as one outcast, in wilful want;
Forgetful of his good and father's house:
Thirsting, in agony óf his inward spirit;
If haply he might not hear, in field or forest;
Yet once that heavenly Voice, to his souls rest;
And see that ray, in Worlds default of Light.
Hath many a dying year brought forth her like.
He loving, sighed. He, a man; áh! would have taken,
Their new-born, in his fathers arms. Nathless;
Though wrought his heart with force, not looking back;
He issued tó cold clear night-stars, those eyes
Of Gods; (confused, he wist not what he would!)
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Forgetful of his good and father's house:
Thirsting, in agony óf his inward spirit;
If haply he might not hear, in field or forest;
Yet once that heavenly Voice, to his souls rest;
And see that ray, in Worlds default of Light.
Is he to-day the Teacher, the soul-blessed.
And she, the cherished of his blameless youth:
Grey-headed now, a lowly meek recluse;
(Seceded from the World, to him unwist;)
Follows mongst them, that seek souls' Highest Good.
All gather tó the Buddha, wíth mild looks;
Preaching, beside Hinds paths, the blameless life.
Bare be they, even ás he, thé-Illumined, is;
Of áll Worlds good: they exchánge thereof have made,
For fragrant poverty, and ábstinence that he taught;
For freedom, fróm contagion of birth-flesh.
Of hundred generations of the East;
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But not subdued.
Naught hath he tó his mouth:
Save daily pittance óf lean rice, that cast
Unwilling worldly wights, in his almes dish:
And rusty weed, which laps his clayling corse;
Hewed éven as we do see Earths foster-dust,
Beneath our feet; stitcht ónly of dísused clouts.
And ín his hand, that which his feeble pace
Upholds, a staff.
Constrains so a pity the heart,
Of Hinds blind folk, which beats in Buddhas breast:
That eachwhere, albeit full-wéary he cómeth, he teacheth
All who will hear, with words of light and peace:
How may, through steadfast vertue, a man raze out;
Souls stains, ingenerate ín his mortal breast.
We stood anon, to listen tó his sooth;
And radiant beams, as of a well-of-light;
Saw issue, fróm the Buddhas sinless breast:
And shone his sérene countenance, whiles he spake:
When finally, O beloved, shall be quenched,
All malice, within your faithful hearts, rejoice .
And radiant beams, as of a well-of-light;
Saw issue, fróm the Buddhas sinless breast:
And shone his sérene countenance, whiles he spake:
When finally, O beloved, shall be quenched,
All malice, within your faithful hearts, rejoice .
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Feeling the saint, the hour of his decease,
Approach, he spake again; Faint not your hearts,
Which weaned were from the World. This saying, soulglad,
But languishing now his venerable flesh,
He paused. Lo, and droopeth upon that sacred breast,
The Buddhas head, and sinks his feeble corse!
His spirit from that frail tenement of Worlds life,
Is parted forth.
Approach, he spake again; Faint not your hearts,
Which weaned were from the World. This saying, soulglad,
But languishing now his venerable flesh,
He paused. Lo, and droopeth upon that sacred breast,
The Buddhas head, and sinks his feeble corse!
His spirit from that frail tenement of Worlds life,
Is parted forth.
Fowls plained, mongst the green boughs,
Shrill chiding in their several kinds. Field beasts
Deep-lowing mourned, with sons of men, that wept:
Winds wailed aloft; trees shed their crowns of leaves:
Wide-shadowing clouds, cast darkness ón low Earth.
Shrill chiding in their several kinds. Field beasts
Deep-lowing mourned, with sons of men, that wept:
Winds wailed aloft; trees shed their crowns of leaves:
Wide-shadowing clouds, cast darkness ón low Earth.
Mother of Soul-religions, Asia, whence
Glad dawn, when night is passed, reverts to us.
'T is Thy Large Foster-Bosom, which at first,
Lent Spiritual Light, to Worlds West Parts.
Glad dawn, when night is passed, reverts to us.
'T is Thy Large Foster-Bosom, which at first,
Lent Spiritual Light, to Worlds West Parts.
Diviners, ín whom dwelleth an heavenly Breath,
Above the Wisdom of this World; (whereas,
Their lives'-long, wont mens feet in mire stick fast:)
Thy Seers, spake óf a Time-to-Come, unborn;
And witness bare of Heavens hid purposes;
Albe they oft prophecíed to thé Winds ears.
Above the Wisdom of this World; (whereas,
Their lives'-long, wont mens feet in mire stick fast:)
Thy Seers, spake óf a Time-to-Come, unborn;
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Albe they oft prophecíed to thé Winds ears.
Words of their mouths, were like to raindrops falling:
Drops, full of golden light, on a waste sand;
Which issue again as well-springs, hemmed around,
With healing herbs; whereof whoso doth taste,
Shall be refreshed.
Drops, full of golden light, on a waste sand;
Which issue again as well-springs, hemmed around,
With healing herbs; whereof whoso doth taste,
Shall be refreshed.
And therethrough many hearts,
In many diverse lands, be offered up
Unto heavenly Throne, and thé Great Power thereon:
Like those wild tears of sacred terebinths;
Which gather men adventurous, ín occúlt
Far-off Worlds solitudes and beyond all paths;
Stark mountain steeps, where Sun unhymned mounts forth:
Which fume sith, ón all altars of round Earth.
But in our Vision, ever hurried forth;
In many diverse lands, be offered up
Unto heavenly Throne, and thé Great Power thereon:
Like those wild tears of sacred terebinths;
Which gather men adventurous, ín occúlt
Far-off Worlds solitudes and beyond all paths;
Stark mountain steeps, where Sun unhymned mounts forth:
Which fume sith, ón all altars of round Earth.
Being hidden fróm our sight the shipmans star:
We wiss not, under what Worlds coasts we are.
When first we might contain our flitting steps:
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Of cold and darkness, daughters of bleak Night.
Land trodden down of hoofs, cart-villages;
Of Tatar hordes, milk-nourished of their mares.
Which passed, upleaning in a calm divine;
We unknówn enránged vast mountains underran.
They, our glass shows, confine ón and compass in,
Great land-breadths green. And lo! much-peopled Region;
Which Seres our sires named, of aspect strange:
Full of fields' tilth, rife villages ánd great towns.
Much toilful husband-folk, regarding wide,
Bent under burdens, like to beasts of charge;
Men clothed in silk, we see go ín large glebe.
And presently hím, whom mirrored we have sought;
By great good hap, we eyed, in a field path;
Kung the wise-hearted, loitering nót far off:
As was his custom, on a country-side;
Mongst the Lands commons, ancient of mild mood.
With comely gravity on, from State to State:
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Conformably with what précepts he sets forth;
Of virtue, ingénerate in all human breasts.
Who him súe, wait on Kungs sayings, observe his looks;
Whose gaze demiss, is fastened on the ground.
And oft as Kung wends pensive, he recites,
Some Old World lays, and sáyings of antique sages.
And like as child seeks tó his fathers arms;
They of Kung, in each new hap, as aught befalls;
Enquire some new Instruction, fór their lives;
In reverent wise.
Nor seld that Wise-sayer toucheth,
The tuneful lute, he alway bare in hand.
When, ón those dreaming strings, Kung softly plays:
Them seemeth they hear, celestial harmonies.
Whereúnto should a man attúne his being.
Kung, ín his progress, stays; he on us gazed!
And, Strangers, quoth, of other Land than ours;
What seek ye? And how, not yet disbodied spirits;
Found ye éntry ínto our Mid-Kingdom here?
Mansoul.
Long-time we sought, in living World, Truth-Sayer,
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To Ages of the Earth, laid up beneath:
Wisdom and saving Knowledge, ín right paths;
We of thém likewise enquire.
Kung.
I enter not,
In things too hígh for me. Mán was born upríght.
Obey heavens hests, which written are on all hearts.
Whoso hath purged his ówn and burnished bright,
Shall read them there. Eschew all crooked paths.
In whátso Land thou comest; observe thou there
Mens customs, and obey that Countrys Laws;
Which shadows be óf things heavenly on the Earth;
And testimony of the Gods.
In things too hígh for me. Mán was born upríght.
Obey heavens hests, which written are on all hearts.
Whoso hath purged his ówn and burnished bright,
Shall read them there. Eschew all crooked paths.
In whátso Land thou comest; observe thou there
Mens customs, and obey that Countrys Laws;
Which shadows be óf things heavenly on the Earth;
And testimony of the Gods.
Watch furthermore,
To bridle all blind affections of gross flesh;
Not kill, for then the human World must cease,
Two selves war in Mans being: the high Intent;
That walketh in Truth; this sue, souls comeliness:
And that suppress, the Beast beneath the breast.
Harbour ne'er in thy spirit a baneful thought.
Measure, benevolence, grace and harmony:
These be the fruits, the wares, the ornaments;
Where Reason rules of every righteous breast.
To bridle all blind affections of gross flesh;
Not kill, for then the human World must cease,
Two selves war in Mans being: the high Intent;
That walketh in Truth; this sue, souls comeliness:
And that suppress, the Beast beneath the breast.
Harbour ne'er in thy spirit a baneful thought.
Measure, benevolence, grace and harmony:
These be the fruits, the wares, the ornaments;
Where Reason rules of every righteous breast.
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Tempered: and tó his waked strings' áccords, quoth;
(Words partly heard, whiles wé drew further forth:)
Crumble the hills, each master-beam shall break:
And who seek after Wisdom; ás a plant,
Must likewise perish.
We, whom Herthas Voice,
Hath hithertó unnumbered leagues conveyed;
Nigh spent our spirits, wayfáre now long last stage.
Ends then, in vast blind Cirque, our outward course:
Wherein those devious paths, we lately trode;
Returning ón themselves, in spires, ascend.
Great Asias shores, Earths triple-Continent,
We view in Merlins glass; and fróm the plot
Where stand our feet, how stoops an only path;
Gallery, óf great breadth and height, neath Oceans Flood.
That hundred leagues'-way leads, quoth Herthas Voice;
Towards Island Kingdom, Pride of Earths Still Seas;
Which over-against this Mighty Mainland lies:
Green gracious Isles; whereas from ancient days,
(Long únknown tó West Nations,) a great-souled
Sequestered, úrbane, valorous People dwell:
In Arts of Peace and War, of passing skill.
We view in Merlins glass; and fróm the plot
Where stand our feet, how stoops an only path;
Gallery, óf great breadth and height, neath Oceans Flood.
That hundred leagues'-way leads, quoth Herthas Voice;
Towards Island Kingdom, Pride of Earths Still Seas;
Which over-against this Mighty Mainland lies:
Green gracious Isles; whereas from ancient days,
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Sequestered, úrbane, valorous People dwell:
In Arts of Peace and War, of passing skill.
But to ús was not it given, so far to pass:
Nor tó that later-found New Continent;
So great already in multitude of mankind;
In enterprises ánd all civil arts:
Ánd to be greater still, in Worlds to come.
So an aching langour háth possessed each sense.
Wherefore now Herthas Voice impósed; must this
Be Eastfórth, our wáy-bruised feets' last halting-place.
From whence, by other paths of Worlds beneath;
Should we return upon our homeward voyage.
Nor tó that later-found New Continent;
So great already in multitude of mankind;
In enterprises ánd all civil arts:
Ánd to be greater still, in Worlds to come.
So an aching langour háth possessed each sense.
Wherefore now Herthas Voice impósed; must this
Be Eastfórth, our wáy-bruised feets' last halting-place.
From whence, by other paths of Worlds beneath;
Should we return upon our homeward voyage.
I leaned, long lacking sleep, to a lúminous cliff;
With throbbing heart, and trembling évery limb:
All thought suspended, happy seemed their case;
That sleep, that rest, just spirits, in Underworlds Dark.
Their lives' pains ceased, their fleshly sojourn past.
With throbbing heart, and trembling évery limb:
All thought suspended, happy seemed their case;
That sleep, that rest, just spirits, in Underworlds Dark.
Their lives' pains ceased, their fleshly sojourn past.
Till called me tó rememberance Herthas Voice:
Bidding me rouse, be óf good cheer; and taste,
To souls refreshing, of the Muses cup;
Wherein should spring ambrosia, of itself.
I bare this in a wallet, with Merlins glass.
Bidding me rouse, be óf good cheer; and taste,
To souls refreshing, of the Muses cup;
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I bare this in a wallet, with Merlins glass.
With aspiration then, to Stars of heaven;
I took it forth. When óf that sprinkling sap;
Ghostly not earthly, as blood is of the grape,
I had tasted: I perceived new vital warmth,
To come again, and díffuse through my being:
And faded from my limbs, their stony frost.
Sith with that chrism, anointed my bruised feet:
They too were healed, of long way-weariness.
So that when bade the Voice us to remove,
I also ready was.
I took it forth. When óf that sprinkling sap;
Ghostly not earthly, as blood is of the grape,
I had tasted: I perceived new vital warmth,
To come again, and díffuse through my being:
And faded from my limbs, their stony frost.
Sith with that chrism, anointed my bruised feet:
They too were healed, of long way-weariness.
So that when bade the Voice us to remove,
I also ready was.
With troubled hearts:
In óuter Circuit of those Radious Rocks,
Which there less luminous, néw ways now we pass.
And gleaming saw, strewed adamants, under-foot.
Tears were they of souls, that wept in ages past,
For Righteousness, which líght lent to our steps.
In óuter Circuit of those Radious Rocks,
Which there less luminous, néw ways now we pass.
And gleaming saw, strewed adamants, under-foot.
Tears were they of souls, that wept in ages past,
For Righteousness, which líght lent to our steps.
Yet further forth, (now Westing tends our course;)
We reached dim luminous Mansion, óf just spirits:
Cliffs' vast Recess. Where entering-in our steps,
We paused; for sounded, Daughter of the rock,
Strange manifold Echo, fróm before our pace.
We reached dim luminous Mansion, óf just spirits:
Cliffs' vast Recess. Where entering-in our steps,
We paused; for sounded, Daughter of the rock,
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Not unlike tó those latomies, ís that grot;
We sometimes find remained, in Súmmer Lands:
Whence Greeks and Romans hewed great Temple-stones;
To Eternity vowed, which even our days admire.
Moreo'er seemed vocal, thóse craggéd walls and floor;
When haply I smote thereto the Muses' staff.
Then Mansoul spake; Upholder of our steps,
Was not, Oh Voice divine, herein, the Fates;
Hanged tables of Déstiny? Ah, might, (Thou aiding us!)
We find and read the Legend therein writ!
THE VOICEWe sometimes find remained, in Súmmer Lands:
Whence Greeks and Romans hewed great Temple-stones;
To Eternity vowed, which even our days admire.
Moreo'er seemed vocal, thóse craggéd walls and floor;
When haply I smote thereto the Muses' staff.
Then Mansoul spake; Upholder of our steps,
Was not, Oh Voice divine, herein, the Fates;
Hanged tables of Déstiny? Ah, might, (Thou aiding us!)
We find and read the Legend therein writ!
What should those prófit Mans disbódied spirits?
Mans destiny is veiled, with an eternal cloud.
The Fates' decrees, nót visible are to sight.
That occult knowledge tó themselves reserve,
Aye-living Gods.
Mans destiny is veiled, with an eternal cloud.
The Fates' decrees, nót visible are to sight.
That occult knowledge tó themselves reserve,
Aye-living Gods.
Mansoul fell in discourse;
With certain spirits, whom men deemed Friends-of-God:
Shepherds of souls, unto whóm committed was,
Of Heaven, to feed and fold the human flocks.
Likewise with some philosophers he discoursed,
Of hidden causes; ánd with poets old;
Which, in their days, with child went of great thoughts:
Men of prowd parts; whom the Ionic rocks
Brought forth, to solace óf mens travaillous breasts.
(But of their utterance, ás nights dream that fades:
I few words only, may recall to mind.)
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Shepherds of souls, unto whóm committed was,
Of Heaven, to feed and fold the human flocks.
Likewise with some philosophers he discoursed,
Of hidden causes; ánd with poets old;
Which, in their days, with child went of great thoughts:
Men of prowd parts; whom the Ionic rocks
Brought forth, to solace óf mens travaillous breasts.
(But of their utterance, ás nights dream that fades:
I few words only, may recall to mind.)
Mansoul.
And is there ány, amongst the sons of men;
To whose Téstimony áll Humanity might trust?
Were not they, as we be, gropers ín thick Murk!
Nor may those wéll be reconciled, mongst themselves:
Whom Mankind deemed, were Heralds of the Gods.
Voices.
Is not the World all guile? Born in Worlds wood,
Where life preys upon life; mens homicide hearts,
Dissemble sooth, to máintain their own parts.
Where life preys upon life; mens homicide hearts,
Dissemble sooth, to máintain their own parts.
Some dreameth, his yesternights begotten wit;
Unfolding tardily, ás Spring leaves' bud doth:
Third part of whóse life-days, night-dotage is,
Of dreams; and childhoods weakness hardly less:
Sufficeth to sound illimitable Universe!
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Third part of whóse life-days, night-dotage is,
Of dreams; and childhoods weakness hardly less:
Sufficeth to sound illimitable Universe!
Other Voices.
The lips of many have spoken words of Life.
In this, at least, the best agree in one:
That ín well-dóing and righteous human life;
Sure pathway lies untó immortal Gods.
In this, at least, the best agree in one:
That ín well-dóing and righteous human life;
Sure pathway lies untó immortal Gods.
In áll the haps and changes of the Time
And of their World, which those have sought to purge:
Mans Reason is his lamp and only guide.
Nor uniform is that Reason of a man;
But warped, with every variance of the World;
His time, place, partiálity ánd bríef years.
And of their World, which those have sought to purge:
Mans Reason is his lamp and only guide.
Nor uniform is that Reason of a man;
But warped, with every variance of the World;
His time, place, partiálity ánd bríef years.
We sought, advance to that recesses end;
And shining monuments of forgotten dead;
If we some name might read; on whose grave-stone;
Sing little birds loves hymns, in living World;
And Summer-blossoms strews some kindly wind,
Breathed gently from above; their green earthmounds.
And shining monuments of forgotten dead;
If we some name might read; on whose grave-stone;
Sing little birds loves hymns, in living World;
And Summer-blossoms strews some kindly wind,
Breathed gently from above; their green earthmounds.
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But us forbade to tarry Herthas Voice,
Which companied with us. Reverent only might
We sálute them from far; sighing, Rest in Peace!
Hundred and hundred léagues' way, after this,
Which companied with us. Reverent only might
We sálute them from far; sighing, Rest in Peace!
We glide, we speed; much líke those hobbling leaves.
Which blustering March hurls forth: seemed our flit feet,
More rathe than swallows' flight. In headlong race;
Seemed memory daze, and swoon our feeble sense.
Whiles still, as steel to loadstone drawn, we haste.
Rise up, to meet our breasts, and neath us pass;
One after other, seemed Hels hundred paths.
Wherein no more we wot than this, That lies;
Henceforth before our steps, long homeward course.
We felt our steps restrained, where rose above us,
An upland Plain and desolate wilderness;
Far from the paths of men, in Merlins glass.
One of the great waste places of the Earth.
In Winter chill, in Summer the Suns Hearth.
Whereon there falléth seld a life-giving rain:
An upland Plain and desolate wilderness;
Far from the paths of men, in Merlins glass.
One of the great waste places of the Earth.
In Winter chill, in Summer the Suns Hearth.
Whereon there falléth seld a life-giving rain:
A weary ground, which seldom shadowed is,
Of any cloud; which stiffened lies as bronze:
A glowing grit, únder Suns fervent gaze;
Or scalding sand. The lean Inheritánce;
Of men that dwell, disherited of the World,
In wandring Tribes: sith World began, remained
Unsown; wherein the locust is brought forth.
Of any cloud; which stiffened lies as bronze:
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Or scalding sand. The lean Inheritánce;
Of men that dwell, disherited of the World,
In wandring Tribes: sith World began, remained
Unsown; wherein the locust is brought forth.
Void silent sólitude: Líke unto a Strand,
By day and thé clear starry night alíke;
Of the éverlasting Gulf of Heavens Height.
A dewless Coast, whereas few rusty ribs;
Craigs of wild goats be seen, of shapeless rocks.
We view there, tented Children-of-the-East;
By day and thé clear starry night alíke;
Of the éverlasting Gulf of Heavens Height.
A dewless Coast, whereas few rusty ribs;
Craigs of wild goats be seen, of shapeless rocks.
Keepers of a few camels and lean flocks;
Which all their Worldly good; and for whose need
Of pasture, they continually must remove.
Lo, as we gaze; a camp of their black booths
Is being taken up; and they dislodge.
Towards sóme well-pit, is set those tribesmens face:
Where after journeying, they anew will pitch;
Homes of a day, in empty wilderness.
Digged were their wells, of óld time: seld delve them
Now their young men of pith; in hope to find
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Than their staves only and hollow of their hands twain.
This Arab-folk, sith thousands of Suns years;
Áfter the custom of their fathers, dwell
In herdsmens tents: yond four-square flitting-booths;
Whose walls be home-spun curtains, of hair-cloth;
The women weave, of their beasts' hoarded fleece.
Áfter the custom of their fathers, dwell
In herdsmens tents: yond four-square flitting-booths;
Whose walls be home-spun curtains, of hair-cloth;
The women weave, of their beasts' hoarded fleece.
Stand goodly open, those black tents of theirs,
Pitcht in ínhospitáble high wílderness.
Whose poor indwellers wont is, to receive;
To shelter and surety, guestship, fellowship;
As they too ben GODS guests, HIS fugitive:
And thé forwandered wáyfarer, in théir wild paths;
HE sends, to their scant hearths, to prove their hearts.
Pitcht in ínhospitáble high wílderness.
Whose poor indwellers wont is, to receive;
To shelter and surety, guestship, fellowship;
As they too ben GODS guests, HIS fugitive:
And thé forwandered wáyfarer, in théir wild paths;
HE sends, to their scant hearths, to prove their hearts.
Wherefore, beseech THEE, ALL-FATHER for this sake;
Remember them for good: and fill their mouths,
For Want their portion is, from year to year;
With daily bread!
Remember them for good: and fill their mouths,
For Want their portion is, from year to year;
With daily bread!
Óne in each nomad camp,
By right of his descent, is the Tribes Sire:
Who his tribesfolk leads, upon the desert side.
First, in their common Council, mild and wise;
He rules, but none in wilderness compels.
By right of his descent, is the Tribes Sire:
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First, in their common Council, mild and wise;
He rules, but none in wilderness compels.
Hinds drive the camels in, and gather herds
Their flocks: for now his tent, 'tis seen, is struck.
Housewives cast their tent-curtains and pluck up
The cords in haste. Each loads her household stuff;
And girds on her couched beast.
Their flocks: for now his tent, 'tis seen, is struck.
Housewives cast their tent-curtains and pluck up
The cords in haste. Each loads her household stuff;
And girds on her couched beast.
Be trooping out,
Now all those slow-paced scattered camel-folk.
Well-faring wíghts' wives ríde in saddle crates;
With leathern tongues and bravery of fluttering clouts,
Bedight.
Now all those slow-paced scattered camel-folk.
Well-faring wíghts' wives ríde in saddle crates;
With leathern tongues and bravery of fluttering clouts,
Bedight.
Fleet dromedaries few possess:
Those hastily mount them; and are riding forth.
Bearing at shoulder their long wavering spears.
Some póssess besides mares: and those they lead,
'Long-side them, by a cord. Ready on their backs
To leap: were haply in thís their circuit seen,
Landlopers, cattle-thieves, in large desert-plain.
Those hastily mount them; and are riding forth.
Bearing at shoulder their long wavering spears.
Some póssess besides mares: and those they lead,
'Long-side them, by a cord. Ready on their backs
To leap: were haply in thís their circuit seen,
Landlopers, cattle-thieves, in large desert-plain.
Slow-stálking camels, ín this wilderness-march,
Bearing all burdens; wreathe down their long necks,
To crop the sere herb or each wilderness bush,
As they breast forth.
Bearing all burdens; wreathe down their long necks,
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As they breast forth.
The foremost now arrive:
They couch them stiffly, ón a sun-baked grit.
Gaunt knees push out, to settle their huge bulks;
And so remáin. House-wives dismount, unload;
And busy them, to build anew their booths.
Each one her tent-cloth spreads; beats in the pegs,
With some wild stone; stakes undersets; and stayed
With worsted cords, her new homestead uprears.
They couch them stiffly, ón a sun-baked grit.
Gaunt knees push out, to settle their huge bulks;
And so remáin. House-wives dismount, unload;
And busy them, to build anew their booths.
Each one her tent-cloth spreads; beats in the pegs,
With some wild stone; stakes undersets; and stayed
With worsted cords, her new homestead uprears.
To-day this wandering herdfolks sojourning place;
Is by a square-mouthed well, unwonted great;
Men digged of yore, upbuilt of dry stone-work;
And scored by generations' twisted ropes.
Is by a square-mouthed well, unwonted great;
Men digged of yore, upbuilt of dry stone-work;
And scored by generations' twisted ropes.
Camels stand thereby, stámping ín the sludge,
Their great pad-feet, for flies. Be gathered soon,
Young men girt, wíth their tackle, tó thís task.
They busily draw now, sweating in the Sun;
From the four brinks: And that, with hardy foot,
As where no curb-stone is, hide-buckets up:
Keeping the while loud chant of manly throats;
They vary at their list.
Their great pad-feet, for flies. Be gathered soon,
Young men girt, wíth their tackle, tó thís task.
They busily draw now, sweating in the Sun;
From the four brinks: And that, with hardy foot,
As where no curb-stone is, hide-buckets up:
Keeping the while loud chant of manly throats;
They vary at their list.
The hour gainst Noon:
Now the more tardy sheep-flocks be led in.
To wait their turn, they in dry bed, lie down
Of seldom-falling rains' brief winter-stream,
Worn in that desert sand.
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To wait their turn, they in dry bed, lie down
Of seldom-falling rains' brief winter-stream,
Worn in that desert sand.
A maiden nighs,
Leading barefoot in, her lambs' little troop:
For poor she is, though of regardful House.
Shaped by the Hand Divine, her stature is like
A palm-stem by the waters; as she stays;
One comeliest, mongst the daughters of her Tribe;
Like to the desert roes, of gentle mould.
Leading barefoot in, her lambs' little troop:
For poor she is, though of regardful House.
Shaped by the Hand Divine, her stature is like
A palm-stem by the waters; as she stays;
One comeliest, mongst the daughters of her Tribe;
Like to the desert roes, of gentle mould.
She looketh forth maídenly, confident, blithe of mood.
For this is She, that ín dark day of strife,
In wíldernéss, wíth her Tribes enemies;
In all mens', aye, and in their foemens' sight!
Stout-hearted maid, an Ornament is of Grace.
For this is She, that ín dark day of strife,
In wíldernéss, wíth her Tribes enemies;
In all mens', aye, and in their foemens' sight!
Stout-hearted maid, an Ornament is of Grace.
Her Tribefolks Banner; ín deckt camel-crate;
'Tis She, that prowdly seated thus on height;
Warbles shrill battle-note, éntering ínto fight;
Kindling, this hour of trial, of her Tribes
Bold sons, (her brethrén,) every manly heart;
To leap, midst flame of spears, in her loved sight;
To worthy deeds, deeds even to thé black death.
'Tis She, that prowdly seated thus on height;
Warbles shrill battle-note, éntering ínto fight;
Kindling, this hour of trial, of her Tribes
Bold sons, (her brethrén,) every manly heart;
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To worthy deeds, deeds even to thé black death.
In idle hour, as this, (a day of Peace;
Which seld-while long endures in wilderness;
Full of alárms, blood feuds, old enmities.)
In yonder booths, where tribesmen now resort;
That light down from their beasts, in the Remove;
To some chief tent, shelter from the Suns blaze;
(That beats upon all heads!) to daily chat;
And counsel take, óf the Tribes common cares:
That Daughters haply uttered name, shall wreathe;
Not only young lips, but move old stout hearts!
Which seld-while long endures in wilderness;
Full of alárms, blood feuds, old enmities.)
In yonder booths, where tribesmen now resort;
That light down from their beasts, in the Remove;
To some chief tent, shelter from the Suns blaze;
(That beats upon all heads!) to daily chat;
And counsel take, óf the Tribes common cares:
That Daughters haply uttered name, shall wreathe;
Not only young lips, but move old stout hearts!
Housewives already are sallying from the tents;
Bearing spent water-skins, ín a land of thirst:
To fill them at the pit. How goodly is that
Full, thick, strong-sounding, in the nomads' ears;
Of poured-out water, in their leathern troughs!
Bearing spent water-skins, ín a land of thirst:
To fill them at the pit. How goodly is that
Full, thick, strong-sounding, in the nomads' ears;
Of poured-out water, in their leathern troughs!
A new Impulsion our forwandered feet
Bears fórth. Esáus hills wé and sandy region,
Soon pass beneath: then under Midians cliffs,
Behold a Valley of Tombs, hewn in sand-rock.
Were those the eternal sumptuous sepulchres;
Of old forgotten tradeful merchant-wights;
That gold and frank-incense fetched, from far South parts:
Dwellers themselves, in víllages óf clay walls;
Which sliding Time now utterly hath díssolved.
Bears fórth. Esáus hills wé and sandy region,
Soon pass beneath: then under Midians cliffs,
Behold a Valley of Tombs, hewn in sand-rock.
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Of old forgotten tradeful merchant-wights;
That gold and frank-incense fetched, from far South parts:
Dwellers themselves, in víllages óf clay walls;
Which sliding Time now utterly hath díssolved.
Those their eternal mansions, stand defaced,
In ruinous ranks, in rémote solitude;
Where passeth none ány more of hís free-choice.
Their rotten carcasses, lóng ago have poured out;
Seekers of treasures. Wild men of the waste;
Their cere-cloths rent, with laughter, on blown sand.
Loathe foul hyenas, which there lope by night;
Their strewed now pithless bones, and them defile.
In ruinous ranks, in rémote solitude;
Where passeth none ány more of hís free-choice.
Their rotten carcasses, lóng ago have poured out;
Seekers of treasures. Wild men of the waste;
Their cere-cloths rent, with laughter, on blown sand.
Loathe foul hyenas, which there lope by night;
Their strewed now pithless bones, and them defile.
Soon, neath new éxtreme region, shows our glass,
Have reached our steps. What horror of bergs aloft!
Inhúman sílent solitude of sharp dust:
Wind-burnished stones and rocks! Eternal drought
Here reigns; and granite Horeb towers to heaven.
Gladly it we forsake, and further pass.
Have reached our steps. What horror of bergs aloft!
Inhúman sílent solitude of sharp dust:
Wind-burnished stones and rocks! Eternal drought
Here reigns; and granite Horeb towers to heaven.
Gladly it we forsake, and further pass.
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Then far-descended Nilus, noble Flood,
From Ethiopian heights; and great sea-lakes;
Where dwell negritic tribes, of Africs midst;
Our mirror shows: Whose fruitful stréams make glad,
In their late course; twinned Mizraims ancient sand.
From Ethiopian heights; and great sea-lakes;
Where dwell negritic tribes, of Africs midst;
Our mirror shows: Whose fruitful stréams make glad,
In their late course; twinned Mizraims ancient sand.
Our marvelling eyes behold, in ríver-cliff;
Mens' carcasses, even now, whole and incorrupt;
(That River-Lánds antíque embalmers art!)
Which lived, ere thousands of Earths lightfoot years:
Laid-up, in gráve-shelves, many as martins' nests.
Exháling yet, to sense, strange noisome breath!
Of cassia and cinnamon, olibane, balsamum, pitch.
Mens' carcasses, even now, whole and incorrupt;
(That River-Lánds antíque embalmers art!)
Which lived, ere thousands of Earths lightfoot years:
Laid-up, in gráve-shelves, many as martins' nests.
Exháling yet, to sense, strange noisome breath!
Of cassia and cinnamon, olibane, balsamum, pitch.
Cited, one wakened ín his cerements;
And seemed unfold his iron-stiff wounden corse.
So made respónse, we míght perceive uneath;
A priest he sometime was, in Pharaohs House.
Whilst Pharaohs ruled, seed of their first King-Gods.
And seemed unfold his iron-stiff wounden corse.
So made respónse, we míght perceive uneath;
A priest he sometime was, in Pharaohs House.
Whilst Pharaohs ruled, seed of their first King-Gods.
What souls be ye, that óf yourselves remove,
Yet living flesh, in ghostly Underworld?
Which neither wafted were, o'er sacred flood;
Nor laid on sleep, with pompous funerals!
How demon-guarded precincts míght ye pass;
And seven strong circuits, óf swart Gods of Death?
Yet living flesh, in ghostly Underworld?
Which neither wafted were, o'er sacred flood;
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How demon-guarded precincts míght ye pass;
And seven strong circuits, óf swart Gods of Death?
What tidings bruited were, in Wórld above,
When ye descended? Shineth yet Father Sun,
And wayward Moon, from Pinnacles of high Heaven?
I do record me, whát night I slept forth:
Invading impious arms had dispossessed
Our Lord: and wás his divíne Throne, downcást;
Whereon, great Kings-of-men, had Pharaohs sate;
Through un-númbered cycles óf returníng years;
Graven ón the monuménts, of the great Sun-God.
I also at Ons high altar, fell down slain.
When ye descended? Shineth yet Father Sun,
And wayward Moon, from Pinnacles of high Heaven?
I do record me, whát night I slept forth:
Invading impious arms had dispossessed
Our Lord: and wás his divíne Throne, downcást;
Whereon, great Kings-of-men, had Pharaohs sate;
Through un-númbered cycles óf returníng years;
Graven ón the monuménts, of the great Sun-God.
I also at Ons high altar, fell down slain.
MANSOUL
In Mizraims river-lands, thy People dwell,
Secure. O'er all, the Right and Just prevail.
The harvests óf their fields more plenteous are,
Than ever ere.
Secure. O'er all, the Right and Just prevail.
The harvests óf their fields more plenteous are,
Than ever ere.
But as for us, descended;
Yét living flesh, to Pit of Worlds Great Death:
We Seekers are; if so were, might we more
Souls understanding have, of long nightmare
Of doubt; which hitherto holds suspent mens hearts:
How erst was Aught; and óf the Divine Power.
Yét living flesh, to Pit of Worlds Great Death:
We Seekers are; if so were, might we more
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Of doubt; which hitherto holds suspent mens hearts:
How erst was Aught; and óf the Divine Power.
This we óf thee require; Pronounce to us,
Those words of Life, which entering once a year
With fasting lips, Ons adyt; Pharaohs Seer
Recited; touching Riddle of the Universe.
Those words of Life, which entering once a year
With fasting lips, Ons adyt; Pharaohs Seer
Recited; touching Riddle of the Universe.
Priest.
Unborn Eternity! Souls! in your fond quest;
Is oft-while Time grown old upon Worlds Earth:
But ye be alway children, which it seek.
Is oft-while Time grown old upon Worlds Earth:
But ye be alway children, which it seek.
Shall boast itself, the water of a croc;
Gainst mighty eternal Nilus, divine flood;
Which fills sea-Deep, and waters wide the Earth.
Twixt Man and heavenly knowledge, lies vast Gulf,
Mind cannot overferry: nór which pass,
May even the lesser Gods.
Gainst mighty eternal Nilus, divine flood;
Which fills sea-Deep, and waters wide the Earth.
Twixt Man and heavenly knowledge, lies vast Gulf,
Mind cannot overferry: nór which pass,
May even the lesser Gods.
Who walketh in Truth,
And giveth almes; for the only recompense
Which cometh of Heaven: hím will Osiris save;
When tó his Hall of Judgment, he arrives.
And giveth almes; for the only recompense
Which cometh of Heaven: hím will Osiris save;
When tó his Hall of Judgment, he arrives.
Mansoul.
Is such your wisdom?
Priest.
More than this is vain.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |