 | Plays and poems |  |
PROLOGUE.
Three spirits, more than angels, metBy an Arabian well-side, set
Far in the wilderness, a place
Hallowed by legendary grace.
Here the hair-girded Baptist, John,
Had thrown his wearied being down,
And dreamed the grand prophetic lore
Of what the future held in store;
And here our patient Christ had knelt,
After the baffled devil felt
The terrors of his stern reproof,
And, gazing through the rifted roof
Of palm, had childlike sobbed and prayed
His soul to calmness; here allayed
The mortal thirst which raged within,
Then turned, and all our world of sin
Uplifted on his shoulders vast,
And forth to toil, shame, death, he passed.
255
For blest communion; but the woes
Which follow sin had left a trace
Of gloom on each angelic face:—
Man's sin, the only grief which mars
The joy of heaven, and sadly jars
With its eternal harmony.
One, chief among the spirits three,
Grander than either, more sedate,
Wore yet a look of hope elate
With higher knowledge, larger trust
In the long future; and the rust
Of week-day toil with earthly things
Stained and yet glorified his wings.
“O, woe!” exclaimed the spirits twain,
“Time comes, time goes, and still the train
Of human sin keeps pace with it.
The seasons change, the shadows flit
Across the world, tides ebb and flow,
But human guilt and human woe
Are ever stirring in the blood,
Are ever fixed at their full flood.
Alas! alas! alas! even we,
Poised in our calm eternity,
Can only see new changes bring
New forms of sin. The offering
To death and hell is overstored,
Heaven's poor; and yet the patient Lord
Bears with mankind for mankind's sake.
Shall never vengeful thunders wake
Among earth's crashing hills, and bare
The horrid lightning in his lair?
256
The earthquake yawn, the rebel deep
Scour the rich valleys, till the world—
Back into early chaos hurled,
With all her pomps and grandeurs rent—
Though barren, may be innocent?”
“Never! The sign is set on high,
'Twixt sunny earth and weeping sky:
One tittle of the spoken Word
All hell can change not,” said the third.
“Patience, dear brothers: ye who ask
Quick, sweeping changes, set a task
Beyond earth's power. She slowly draws,
By due procession of her laws,
Good out of evil. In the ground,
Dark and ill-featured, seeds abound,
Trees grow and blossom, and the flower
Buds into fruit; yet, hour by hour,
No change we mark, until the fruit
Drops down full-ripened. Let us suit
Our hopes to man. The child of clay
Through his own nature wins his way;
Moving by slow and homely means
Towards the blind future, he but gleans
Behind your wide intelligence,
Leaping the stumbling bars of sense.
Full armed with bounden wealth of thought
Ye stand, and wonder at man's naught;
Scorn his poor ways and sluggish rate,
Rather than gratulate the state,
Uncramped by narrow time and space,
In which ye move. Ye face to face
257
By dim reflection; for the lees
Of earth have settled in his soul,
And made a turbid current roll
Between his mind and essence. Yet
Even earthly natures may beget
Grand ends, and common things be wrought
To holiest uses. I in thought
Have seen the capability
Which lies within yon ivory:—
This rough, black husk, charred by long age,
Unmarked by man since, in his rage,
A warring mammoth shed it. Lo!
Whiter than heaven-sifted snow,
Enclosed within its ugly mask
Lies a world's wonder; and the task
Of slow development shall be
Man's labor and man's glory. See!”
His foot-tip touched it; the rude bone
Glowed through translucent, widely shone
A morning lustre on the palm
Which arched above it. All the calm
Of the blue air was stirred again
With ecstasy, as the low strain
Of heavenly language rose once more.
“Genius of man, immortal power,
Of birth celestial, 't is thy hour!
The doors of heaven wide open swing
One moment. Hasten, ere thy wing
Be locked within the lucid wall,
And darkness for dull ages fall
On earth and man, our common care!”
While yet his accents filled the air
258
A fourth intelligence, who bore
The semblance of a flickering flame,
Steep downward from the zenith came,
Dazzling the path behind him. Still,
Waiting the greater angel's will,
He rested quivering. “Spirit, bear
This ivory to the soul that dare
Work out, through joy, and care, and pain,
The thought which lies within the grain,
Hid like a dim and clouded sun.—
Speed thee!” He spoke, and it was done.
| Plays and poems | |