University of Virginia Library

II.

So ask thou not for happiness:
Waste not hope in vain:
The greater boon thy soul shall bless,—
Strength to bear thy pain;
Being thus more like to him,
Who lives withdrawn behind the veil,
Labouring and suffering
Till all his plan prevail,
And conquer the pervading curse;
For happy who could deem him well,
Who is the spirit of an univers e,
That hath within it the disease of hell?
That surely shall be cured at last:
There is no ill eternal, none;
The shadow from the morning cast
Creeps eastward from the evening sun:
It vanished wholly at the noon.
Therefore we trust that light shall be
Given to us eternally:—
That all the universe shall have this boon,
When to His zenith, never to descend,
God climbs at length in majesty;—
His labour in the dark places at an end:
Hell cleansed and closed, the prisoners all set free,
Healed of ancient malady;
Yea, and not even a scar
Will He upon His universe endure
But He will cure.
Fair was the word the prophet spake of old,
“The desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.”
A brighter vision now doth greet
The eye that pierces far,—
Hell's fiery floor a pasture cool and sweet,
Pleasant for wearied feet:
The torture chambers turned
To flowery arbours sweet;
Where devils shrieked and souls distracted mourned,
Laughter of the happy blest,
Songs of souls at rest.