 | Narcissus and Other Poems |  |
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THE VEILED ISIS, OR THE NATURE WORSHIPPER.
Εγω ειμι παν το γεγονος και ον κα εσομενον και
τον εμον πεπλον ουδεις πω θνητος απεκαλυψε.
Now know I that the white-winged hours of heaven
'Twixt me and thee in endless retinue,
Each after each, shall pass; nor ever pause
To lift the least light corner of thy veil,
Or grant thine eyes to mine. O hidden One,
Supreme-set Mother of all mystery,
And myriad-named of men, now know I well
Thou dost endure us but a moment's span
Upon thy heaving bosom, to behold
The wonder of thy movement, at thy grace
To fall and worship ay, we know not what!
And then, or ever thou hast heard, to fall
And pass, remembering ourselves and thee
No more. O strange, O unassailable,
Thou that with myriad bright play of eyes
Provokest our desire, thy seamless robe,
Set close about for our bewilderment,
Folds thee in perfect proof. For I have toiled
And tarried long by thy familiar ways,
Have known thee going out and coming in,
And watched thy daily wont; have felt the flame
Flash from thy face almost to scathe mine eyes,
And heard at night thy breath about my ears
Beat, and pass quickly by; yea, I have tracked
Thy fingers in and out through woven clouds,
And passionless ebb and flow of waves and streams,
And rockings of the air, only to know
The weft is woven without any flaw
From flight of stars to atoms: rent is none,
No gap, no visionary gleam, and Thou
Art hid for ever.
'Twixt me and thee in endless retinue,
Each after each, shall pass; nor ever pause
To lift the least light corner of thy veil,
Or grant thine eyes to mine. O hidden One,
Supreme-set Mother of all mystery,
And myriad-named of men, now know I well
Thou dost endure us but a moment's span
Upon thy heaving bosom, to behold
133
To fall and worship ay, we know not what!
And then, or ever thou hast heard, to fall
And pass, remembering ourselves and thee
No more. O strange, O unassailable,
Thou that with myriad bright play of eyes
Provokest our desire, thy seamless robe,
Set close about for our bewilderment,
Folds thee in perfect proof. For I have toiled
And tarried long by thy familiar ways,
Have known thee going out and coming in,
And watched thy daily wont; have felt the flame
Flash from thy face almost to scathe mine eyes,
And heard at night thy breath about my ears
Beat, and pass quickly by; yea, I have tracked
Thy fingers in and out through woven clouds,
And passionless ebb and flow of waves and streams,
And rockings of the air, only to know
The weft is woven without any flaw
From flight of stars to atoms: rent is none,
No gap, no visionary gleam, and Thou
Art hid for ever.
Therefore now, once more,
I see the Spring descend upon the Earth—
The new life quivering upwards into light;
I see the plaited green on plant and tree
Slide from the soil and break the knotted bark;
The grey elm quickens with a strange delight;
The golden chestnut-buds against the blue
Gleam like a thousand lamps; and melody
Thrills through the woodland air. O now once more
The primal splendour of the sun returns
With a most welcome triumph. Thorn and may
Stand white with bridal blossom unto him;
The ground is cloven, and the sleeping flowers
Have heard and known their lord: Through wood and dell
Yellow primroses leap and peer to heaven—
He rideth by begirt with azure wings—
And bloom and beauty multitudinous
Break on his path. The violet stands by
Glad in her grassy covert. In the meads
Like angel hosts white daisies wave their wings,
And as he passes bend like one and rise,
And, while he fires with light the Western lands,
Close their bright eyes and blush for very joy.
Once more o'er vale and mountain do I hear
The voice of Spring's sweet trouble: nightingales
And thrushes in the thicket numberless
Tremble to utter on the quiet air
The mystery of eve; where all night Earth,
Orbed in her dreams of star-related life,
Floats in a flood of moonlight and of dew.
Once more I see it all, and, seeing, know
The infinite of beauty—how thy world
Is charactered with wisdom: each winged sense
Faints with the weight of wonder, till I walk
Like one enchanted to a magic sound,
A king whose eyes are feasted with a play
Of endless scenic change, a child to whom
Earth has no bounds for joy.
I see the Spring descend upon the Earth—
134
I see the plaited green on plant and tree
Slide from the soil and break the knotted bark;
The grey elm quickens with a strange delight;
The golden chestnut-buds against the blue
Gleam like a thousand lamps; and melody
Thrills through the woodland air. O now once more
The primal splendour of the sun returns
With a most welcome triumph. Thorn and may
Stand white with bridal blossom unto him;
The ground is cloven, and the sleeping flowers
Have heard and known their lord: Through wood and dell
Yellow primroses leap and peer to heaven—
He rideth by begirt with azure wings—
And bloom and beauty multitudinous
Break on his path. The violet stands by
Glad in her grassy covert. In the meads
Like angel hosts white daisies wave their wings,
And as he passes bend like one and rise,
And, while he fires with light the Western lands,
Close their bright eyes and blush for very joy.
Once more o'er vale and mountain do I hear
The voice of Spring's sweet trouble: nightingales
135
Tremble to utter on the quiet air
The mystery of eve; where all night Earth,
Orbed in her dreams of star-related life,
Floats in a flood of moonlight and of dew.
Once more I see it all, and, seeing, know
The infinite of beauty—how thy world
Is charactered with wisdom: each winged sense
Faints with the weight of wonder, till I walk
Like one enchanted to a magic sound,
A king whose eyes are feasted with a play
Of endless scenic change, a child to whom
Earth has no bounds for joy.
And yet, ah! yet,
Deeper than all, and deeper than my joy,
Thou whom I know, nor yet can ever see,
Thou, mother Isis, mother over all,
Thou radiant Life and one Reality,
Vanishest for ever: like the Northern beam
Decking the far-off mountains, all untouched,
Unheard, inviolable, Thou movest on
In the great silence of our hearts, through leaf
And bud and fairy bloom fleeting for aye
Wherever we are not. And though our spirits
Burst through their woven chambers till the heart
Ache for the stress of passion; though our dreams
Be girt about with one dull cloud of death.
For hope that cannot pierce; yea, though our eyes
For gazing vainly on thy vanishings
Waste away in their orbits; yet at last
We fall, our arms stretched outward on the earth
And features folded in the clay-cold ground,
Nor e'er behold thee face to face at all.
Deeper than all, and deeper than my joy,
Thou whom I know, nor yet can ever see,
Thou, mother Isis, mother over all,
Thou radiant Life and one Reality,
Vanishest for ever: like the Northern beam
Decking the far-off mountains, all untouched,
Unheard, inviolable, Thou movest on
In the great silence of our hearts, through leaf
And bud and fairy bloom fleeting for aye
Wherever we are not. And though our spirits
136
Ache for the stress of passion; though our dreams
Be girt about with one dull cloud of death.
For hope that cannot pierce; yea, though our eyes
For gazing vainly on thy vanishings
Waste away in their orbits; yet at last
We fall, our arms stretched outward on the earth
And features folded in the clay-cold ground,
Nor e'er behold thee face to face at all.
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