After Paradise or Legends of Exile With Other Poems: By Robert, Earl of Lytton (Owen Meredith) |
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| FIRST SERIES.
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 | After Paradise or Legends of Exile |  |
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FIRST SERIES.
MAN AND WOMAN.
“Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels.”
Psalm viii.
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I. THE LEGEND OF POETRY.
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Adam and Eve, cast out of Paradise,
Wander'd along the wilderness forlorn,
Till all its unfamiliar sands and skies
Were one dim solitude without a bourne.
Then Eve, outwearied, sank upon the ground;
And, where she fell, motionless she remain'd.
Adam had climb'd a little barren mound
A few steps farther. There he stood, and strain'd
His backward gaze to the forbidden bound
Of Eden. Still their banisht lord could see,
Though faint in fading light, the happy bowers
Where nevermore his fallen mate and he
Might roam or rest, renewing griefless hours;
And Adam groan'd.
Wander'd along the wilderness forlorn,
Till all its unfamiliar sands and skies
Were one dim solitude without a bourne.
Then Eve, outwearied, sank upon the ground;
And, where she fell, motionless she remain'd.
Adam had climb'd a little barren mound
A few steps farther. There he stood, and strain'd
His backward gaze to the forbidden bound
Of Eden. Still their banisht lord could see,
Though faint in fading light, the happy bowers
Where nevermore his fallen mate and he
Might roam or rest, renewing griefless hours;
And Adam groan'd.
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Meanwhile, unheard, unview'd,
Jehovah's arm'd Archangel, from the gate
He had shut forever, adown the solitude
And darkness of that world all desolate
The footsteps of the fugitives pursued.
Jehovah's arm'd Archangel, from the gate
He had shut forever, adown the solitude
And darkness of that world all desolate
The footsteps of the fugitives pursued.
Sudden he stood by Adam's side, and said,
“Man, thou hast far to go. It is not good
To look behind thee. Forward turn thy head!
Thither thy way lies.” And the man replied
“I cannot.” “What thou canst thou knowest not,”
The Archangel answer'd, “for thou hast not tried.
But trial is henceforth Man's earthly lot,
And what he must he can do.” Adam cried
“What must I?” “Thou hast set aside God's word,
But canst not,” said the Angel, “set aside
Necessity; whose bidding, tho' abhorr'd,
Obey thou must.” And Adam ask'd in awe
“Is then Necessity another Lord?”
The Angel answer'd “'Tis another Law.”
“Another Law! But me thy sweeping sword
Hath left not,” Adam mutter'd, “hap what may,
Another Paradise to forfeit still.
What if that other Law I disobey?”
“Thou canst not,” sigh'd the Seraph, “for thy will
Hath lost its freedom, which was yesterday
A part of Paradise. For good or ill
Necessity controls it. Wretch, thou art
Weary already, and thou fain wouldst sleep,
Yet sleep thou dost not, tho' thine eyelids smart
With the unwilling vigil they must keep;
'Tis thy necessity to think and wake.
To-morrow, thou wouldst wake and think. In vain!
Slumber unwill'd thy thoughts shall overtake,
And sleep thou shalt, tho' sleep thou wouldst not. Pain
Thou wouldst avoid, yet pain shall be thy lot.
Thou wouldst go forth—Necessity forbids,
Chains fast thy weakness to one hated spot,
And on thy shut wish locks her iron lids.
Thou wouldst know one thing, yet shalt know it not.
Thou wouldst be ignorant of another thing,
Yet canst not choose but know it. Unforgot
To thy reluctant memory shall cling
What thou wouldst fain forget, forgotten fleet
From foil'd remembrance on evasive wing
What thou wouldst fain remember. Change or cheat
Necessity, thou canst not.”
“Man, thou hast far to go. It is not good
To look behind thee. Forward turn thy head!
Thither thy way lies.” And the man replied
“I cannot.” “What thou canst thou knowest not,”
The Archangel answer'd, “for thou hast not tried.
But trial is henceforth Man's earthly lot,
And what he must he can do.” Adam cried
“What must I?” “Thou hast set aside God's word,
But canst not,” said the Angel, “set aside
Necessity; whose bidding, tho' abhorr'd,
Obey thou must.” And Adam ask'd in awe
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The Angel answer'd “'Tis another Law.”
“Another Law! But me thy sweeping sword
Hath left not,” Adam mutter'd, “hap what may,
Another Paradise to forfeit still.
What if that other Law I disobey?”
“Thou canst not,” sigh'd the Seraph, “for thy will
Hath lost its freedom, which was yesterday
A part of Paradise. For good or ill
Necessity controls it. Wretch, thou art
Weary already, and thou fain wouldst sleep,
Yet sleep thou dost not, tho' thine eyelids smart
With the unwilling vigil they must keep;
'Tis thy necessity to think and wake.
To-morrow, thou wouldst wake and think. In vain!
Slumber unwill'd thy thoughts shall overtake,
And sleep thou shalt, tho' sleep thou wouldst not. Pain
Thou wouldst avoid, yet pain shall be thy lot.
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Chains fast thy weakness to one hated spot,
And on thy shut wish locks her iron lids.
Thou wouldst know one thing, yet shalt know it not.
Thou wouldst be ignorant of another thing,
Yet canst not choose but know it. Unforgot
To thy reluctant memory shall cling
What thou wouldst fain forget, forgotten fleet
From foil'd remembrance on evasive wing
What thou wouldst fain remember. Change or cheat
Necessity, thou canst not.”
Shuddering
Adam crouch'd low at the Archangel's feet,
And cried “Whate'er I must be, and whate'er
I can be, aid, O aid me, to forget
What I no longer may be! Even this bare
Inhospitable wilderness might yet
To unremembering eyes seem all as fair
As Eden's self, nor should I more repine
Were I once more unable to compare.”
“Poor wretch,” the Angel said, “wouldst thou resign
All that remains to thee of Paradise?”
“Of Paradise is anything still mine?”
Sigh'd Adam, and the Angel answer'd “Yes,
The memory of it.” “Thence, ”he groan'd, “arise
My sharpest torments. I should suffer less
If I could cease to miss what I survive.”
“Wouldst thou the gift, then, of forgetfulness?”
The Seraph ask'd. And Adam cried, “Give! give!”
Adam crouch'd low at the Archangel's feet,
And cried “Whate'er I must be, and whate'er
I can be, aid, O aid me, to forget
What I no longer may be! Even this bare
Inhospitable wilderness might yet
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As Eden's self, nor should I more repine
Were I once more unable to compare.”
“Poor wretch,” the Angel said, “wouldst thou resign
All that remains to thee of Paradise?”
“Of Paradise is anything still mine?”
Sigh'd Adam, and the Angel answer'd “Yes,
The memory of it.” “Thence, ”he groan'd, “arise
My sharpest torments. I should suffer less
If I could cease to miss what I survive.”
“Wouldst thou the gift, then, of forgetfulness?”
The Seraph ask'd. And Adam cried, “Give! give!”
With looks uplift, that search'd the deeps of heaven,
Silent the Angel stood, till, as it were,
In response from the source of glory given
To that seraphic gaze, which was a prayer,
Reörient thro' the rifted dark, and high
O'er Eden, rose the dawn of such a day
As nevermore man's mourning eyes shall bless
With beauty that hath wither'd from his way,
And gladness that is gone beyond his guess.
The panting Paradise beneath it lay
Beatified in the divine caress
Of its effulgence; and, with fervid sigh,
All Eden's folded labyrinths open'd wide
Abysm within abysm of loveliness.
Thither the Archangel pointed, and replied:
“Adam, once more look yonder! Fix thine eye
Upon the guarded happiness denied
To the denial of its guardian law.
Contèmplate thy lost Eden—the last time!”
Silent the Angel stood, till, as it were,
In response from the source of glory given
To that seraphic gaze, which was a prayer,
Reörient thro' the rifted dark, and high
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As nevermore man's mourning eyes shall bless
With beauty that hath wither'd from his way,
And gladness that is gone beyond his guess.
The panting Paradise beneath it lay
Beatified in the divine caress
Of its effulgence; and, with fervid sigh,
All Eden's folded labyrinths open'd wide
Abysm within abysm of loveliness.
Thither the Archangel pointed, and replied:
“Adam, once more look yonder! Fix thine eye
Upon the guarded happiness denied
To the denial of its guardian law.
Contèmplate thy lost Eden—the last time!”
And Adam lifted up his face, and saw
Far off the bowery lawns and blissful streams
Of Eden, fair as in his sinless prime,
And fairer than to love forbidden seems
The long'd-for face whose lips in dreams requite
Adoring sighs that, save in passionate dreams,
Are disallow'd idolatries. Dark night
Elsewhere above the lifeless waste was spread,
As o'er a dead face the blindfolding pall.
“Seest thou thy sinless past?” the Angel said.
And Adam moan'd, “All, all! I see it all,
And know it mine no more!”
Far off the bowery lawns and blissful streams
Of Eden, fair as in his sinless prime,
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The long'd-for face whose lips in dreams requite
Adoring sighs that, save in passionate dreams,
Are disallow'd idolatries. Dark night
Elsewhere above the lifeless waste was spread,
As o'er a dead face the blindfolding pall.
“Seest thou thy sinless past?” the Angel said.
And Adam moan'd, “All, all! I see it all,
And know it mine no more!”
His helmèd head,
As in obedience to some high command
Deliver'd to him by no audible word,
The Archangel bow'd. Then, with decisive hand,
He seized and drew his formidable sword.
Thro' night's black bosom burn'd the plunging brand;
Two-edgèd fires, the lightnings of the Lord,
Flasht from its fervid blade, below, above,
And, where their brilliance thro' the darkness broke,
Clear from the zenith to the nadir clove
Man's sunder'd universe. At one dread stroke
The Archangelic sword had hewn in twain
The substance of Eternity.
As in obedience to some high command
Deliver'd to him by no audible word,
The Archangel bow'd. Then, with decisive hand,
He seized and drew his formidable sword.
Thro' night's black bosom burn'd the plunging brand;
Two-edgèd fires, the lightnings of the Lord,
Flasht from its fervid blade, below, above,
And, where their brilliance thro' the darkness broke,
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Man's sunder'd universe. At one dread stroke
The Archangelic sword had hewn in twain
The substance of Eternity.
There ran
The pang and shudder of a fierce surprise
Thro' Adam's soul; and then he slept again
As he had slept before, when he (likewise
In twain divided—Man and Woman) began
His double being.
The pang and shudder of a fierce surprise
Thro' Adam's soul; and then he slept again
As he had slept before, when he (likewise
In twain divided—Man and Woman) began
His double being.
Upon the night-bound plain,
In two vast fragments, each a dim surmise,
Eternity had fallen—one part toward man,
The other part toward man's lost Paradise.
The light of Eden by its fall was crost,
And in its shadow vanisht—save one gleam
Of faintly-lingering glory that was lost
In Adam's slumber, and became—A Dream.
In two vast fragments, each a dim surmise,
Eternity had fallen—one part toward man,
The other part toward man's lost Paradise.
The light of Eden by its fall was crost,
And in its shadow vanisht—save one gleam
Of faintly-lingering glory that was lost
In Adam's slumber, and became—A Dream.
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Of that celestial sword's transfixing flame,
And so forgot his dream when he awoke.
Yet did its unremember'd secret claim
Release from dull oblivion's daily yoke
In moments rare. He knew not whence they came,
Nor was it in his power to reinvoke
Their coming: but at times thro' all his frame
He felt them, like an inward voice that spoke
Of things which have on earth no utter'd name;
And sometimes like a sudden light they broke
Upon his darkest hours, and put to shame
His dull despondency, his fierce unrest,
His sordid toil, and miserable strife.
These rare brief moments Adam deem'd his best,
And call'd them all The Poetry of Life.
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II. THE LEGEND OF MUSIC.
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In that dread instant when Eternity
Was by the Angel's sword asunder riven,
There sounded from the starry deep a cry
That shook the constellated poles of heaven:
Was by the Angel's sword asunder riven,
There sounded from the starry deep a cry
That shook the constellated poles of heaven:
“Elohim! Elohim! what hast thou done,
Whose sword hath hewn Eternity in twain?
One part of it is now the Past, and one
The Future (phantoms both, exempt from pain
By lifeless unreality alone!)
And the pang'd Present, like an open wound,
Between them gapes, lest aught should close again
What thou hast cloven.”
Whose sword hath hewn Eternity in twain?
One part of it is now the Past, and one
The Future (phantoms both, exempt from pain
By lifeless unreality alone!)
And the pang'd Present, like an open wound,
Between them gapes, lest aught should close again
What thou hast cloven.”
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To this poignant sound
The Seraph, leaning on his sword down-slanted,
Listen'd, and in compassion or disdain
Smiled gravely, as he murmur'd “It is well.
The Reign of Time begins, man's prayer is granted.”
The Seraph, leaning on his sword down-slanted,
Listen'd, and in compassion or disdain
Smiled gravely, as he murmur'd “It is well.
The Reign of Time begins, man's prayer is granted.”
Then loud he call'd to the Abyss of Hell,
“Stunn'd rebels, rouse your swooning hosts, and rise,
Tho' thunder-smitten, from the Penal Pit!
Time's ravageable realm wide open lies
For your invasion, and the spoils of it
To you no more Eternity denies.
Find in its painful fields your pasture fit,
Be every pulse of consciousness your prey,
And chase the panting moment as it flies!”
Hell to the invocation answer'd “Yea!”
And, pour'd in surge on surge of flame-pulsed cries,
The fervid rush of her Infernal Powers
Sounded like roaring fire, tho' sightless they
As midnight storms.
“Stunn'd rebels, rouse your swooning hosts, and rise,
Tho' thunder-smitten, from the Penal Pit!
Time's ravageable realm wide open lies
For your invasion, and the spoils of it
To you no more Eternity denies.
Find in its painful fields your pasture fit,
Be every pulse of consciousness your prey,
And chase the panting moment as it flies!”
Hell to the invocation answer'd “Yea!”
And, pour'd in surge on surge of flame-pulsed cries,
The fervid rush of her Infernal Powers
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As midnight storms.
“Eternity is dead!
And Time, the quivering corpse of it, is ours!
And from Eternity's death-wound,” they said,
“Fast, fast, the life-drops fall—days, minutes, hours,
Drop after drop, with world on world, away—
Into the final nothingness at last!
To-day sinks swooning into yesterday,
The future disappears into the past.
Eternity lies lost in what hath been
And is no more, or in what is not yet;
For all the rest is but a sigh between
A hovering fear and a forlorn regret.
And every moment but begins in vain
A world that is with every moment ended;
For broken is Eternity in twain,
And never shall Eternity be mended.”
This sullen pœan waked, where'er it went
Around the rolling world, responsive sounds
Of wrath and pain; as if all passions pent
In some titanic soul had burst the bounds
Of individuality, and blent
Their personal essence with the mindless might
Of universal forces. First, there came
Ominous suspirations, tremours slight
Of sleepy terror, from the shuddering pores
And joints and sockets of earth's giant frame;
Anon, Behemoth, bellowing, with fierce roars
Shook all his chains. The mountains, rack'd and pang'd
By earthquake, thunder'd from their fiery cores;
From smitten crag to crag the cataracts clang'd;
The sharp rain hiss'd; the ocean howl'd; the shores
Shriek'd; and the woods tumultuously twang'd
Their wailing harps. But what was felt and heard
Thro' all that uproar's dissonant hurricane
Was not the inarticulate noise alone
Of winds and waves and woods and mountains stirr'd
To screaming storm; there was a mystic strain
Of spiritual agony, a tone
Of conscious torment, mingled with the train
Of those unconscious sounds,—the personal moan
Of some invisible being's passionate pain.
And Time, the quivering corpse of it, is ours!
And from Eternity's death-wound,” they said,
“Fast, fast, the life-drops fall—days, minutes, hours,
Drop after drop, with world on world, away—
Into the final nothingness at last!
To-day sinks swooning into yesterday,
The future disappears into the past.
Eternity lies lost in what hath been
And is no more, or in what is not yet;
For all the rest is but a sigh between
A hovering fear and a forlorn regret.
And every moment but begins in vain
A world that is with every moment ended;
For broken is Eternity in twain,
And never shall Eternity be mended.”
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Around the rolling world, responsive sounds
Of wrath and pain; as if all passions pent
In some titanic soul had burst the bounds
Of individuality, and blent
Their personal essence with the mindless might
Of universal forces. First, there came
Ominous suspirations, tremours slight
Of sleepy terror, from the shuddering pores
And joints and sockets of earth's giant frame;
Anon, Behemoth, bellowing, with fierce roars
Shook all his chains. The mountains, rack'd and pang'd
By earthquake, thunder'd from their fiery cores;
From smitten crag to crag the cataracts clang'd;
The sharp rain hiss'd; the ocean howl'd; the shores
Shriek'd; and the woods tumultuously twang'd
Their wailing harps. But what was felt and heard
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Was not the inarticulate noise alone
Of winds and waves and woods and mountains stirr'd
To screaming storm; there was a mystic strain
Of spiritual agony, a tone
Of conscious torment, mingled with the train
Of those unconscious sounds,—the personal moan
Of some invisible being's passionate pain.
Wild as the roar of an uprooted world
Wrench'd from its orbit, round the Dream of Man
This swarm of demon discords roll'd and swirl'd.
Thro' Adam's slumber, as it hurtled by,
Its sounds were scatter'd; and his dream began
Dimly to shape beneath his sleep-shut eye
Weird wavering images that were, or seem'd,
The echoes of those sounds made visible.
So that to Adam's soul the dream he dream'd
Was even as if on some vast curtain fell
Troops of stupendous shadows in the glare
Shed o'er it from a mighty furnace, lit
Behind the back of one who, to his chair
Fast chain'd, with wistful eyes peruses it,
Wondering what sort of unseen beings are those
Whose phantoms thro' the glory come and go:
For of them nothing more the watcher knows
Than the huge shadows they, in passing, throw
Athwart the lurid curtain; nor whence flows
The light those shadows darken, doth he know.
Wrench'd from its orbit, round the Dream of Man
This swarm of demon discords roll'd and swirl'd.
Thro' Adam's slumber, as it hurtled by,
Its sounds were scatter'd; and his dream began
Dimly to shape beneath his sleep-shut eye
Weird wavering images that were, or seem'd,
The echoes of those sounds made visible.
So that to Adam's soul the dream he dream'd
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Troops of stupendous shadows in the glare
Shed o'er it from a mighty furnace, lit
Behind the back of one who, to his chair
Fast chain'd, with wistful eyes peruses it,
Wondering what sort of unseen beings are those
Whose phantoms thro' the glory come and go:
For of them nothing more the watcher knows
Than the huge shadows they, in passing, throw
Athwart the lurid curtain; nor whence flows
The light those shadows darken, doth he know.
Still smiled the Seraph. Slow, in circuit wide,
Around the sphere of Adam's dream he drew
The solemn splendours of his sword, and cried
“Thus far, no farther!” The Infernal Crew
In vain to storm that aëry circle tried,
And round it hoarse their grovelling hubbub grew,
Reluctantly beginning to subside
In sullen howls and stifled bellowings.
Around the sphere of Adam's dream he drew
The solemn splendours of his sword, and cried
“Thus far, no farther!” The Infernal Crew
In vain to storm that aëry circle tried,
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Reluctantly beginning to subside
In sullen howls and stifled bellowings.
Then cried the Angel, “Waken, also, you
That slumber in the silence of sweet things,
Voices of Consolation! and pursue
From hour to hour with your fond welcomings
That promise fair the fleeting hours renew!
Come hither from the hidden heavens that are
Your homes on earth! Come, with the south winds, hither
From rosy kingdoms of the Vesper Star!
Come, with the sunrise, from the golden ether!
Come with the cushat's goodnight coo, from bowers
Bathed in the tender dews of eventide,
Or with the hymn that to the matin hours
The laverock sings in glory unespied!
Ripple light music of the restless breeze
Thro' murmurous haunts of sylvan oracles,
And loose the secrets lisp'd by summer seas
Into the husht pink ears of blushing shells!
Come, with remember'd sounds of warbling stream,
And whispering bough, from woodland cloisters! Come,
Consolers! Enter here, and let the Dream
That Man is dreaming be henceforth your home!”
That slumber in the silence of sweet things,
Voices of Consolation! and pursue
From hour to hour with your fond welcomings
That promise fair the fleeting hours renew!
Come hither from the hidden heavens that are
Your homes on earth! Come, with the south winds, hither
From rosy kingdoms of the Vesper Star!
Come, with the sunrise, from the golden ether!
Come with the cushat's goodnight coo, from bowers
Bathed in the tender dews of eventide,
Or with the hymn that to the matin hours
The laverock sings in glory unespied!
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Thro' murmurous haunts of sylvan oracles,
And loose the secrets lisp'd by summer seas
Into the husht pink ears of blushing shells!
Come, with remember'd sounds of warbling stream,
And whispering bough, from woodland cloisters! Come,
Consolers! Enter here, and let the Dream
That Man is dreaming be henceforth your home!”
To this appeal the answer linger'd long,
And not a sound upon the darkness stirr'd
Save the faint moanings of the Demon Throng.
But a strange note, not theirs, at length was heard,
A single timorous note of distant song,
Like the first chirrup of a callow bird.
Then, one by one, from here and there, arose
Clear in the far-off stillness of the night
(As from the bosom of the twilight grows
Star after star) a multitude of light
But thrilling tones, a choral harmony
Of silvery voices in symphonious scale;
Whose heavenward anthem peal'd from sky to sky,
As “Hail!” they sang, “Benignant Elohim, hail!
The living soul of dead Eternity
Thy rescuing sword hath free'd. From its dark prison
Released at last, on pinions glorious
Behold, that radiant Spirit is now arisen!
And hark, how sweet the song it sings to us!
How sweet the song, how fair the face! for fled
The hovering frown erewhile its aspect wore,
And lo, the frigid features of the dead
Are flusht with spiritual life! No more
Those eyes are cold, no more those lips are dumb,
And ‘Fear no more,’ they sing, ‘to gaze on me!
Ye call'd me Fate when I was frozen numb
In the cold silence of Eternity,
And then ye fear'd me: but my living home
Henceforth is in the hearts of all who live.
Fear me no more, then, for to you I come
With an eternal gift that shall survive
Fate's despot rule o'er Time's brief horoscope:
Eternity is still the gift I give
To all who trust me, and my name is Hope.’”
And not a sound upon the darkness stirr'd
Save the faint moanings of the Demon Throng.
But a strange note, not theirs, at length was heard,
A single timorous note of distant song,
Like the first chirrup of a callow bird.
Then, one by one, from here and there, arose
Clear in the far-off stillness of the night
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Star after star) a multitude of light
But thrilling tones, a choral harmony
Of silvery voices in symphonious scale;
Whose heavenward anthem peal'd from sky to sky,
As “Hail!” they sang, “Benignant Elohim, hail!
The living soul of dead Eternity
Thy rescuing sword hath free'd. From its dark prison
Released at last, on pinions glorious
Behold, that radiant Spirit is now arisen!
And hark, how sweet the song it sings to us!
How sweet the song, how fair the face! for fled
The hovering frown erewhile its aspect wore,
And lo, the frigid features of the dead
Are flusht with spiritual life! No more
Those eyes are cold, no more those lips are dumb,
And ‘Fear no more,’ they sing, ‘to gaze on me!
Ye call'd me Fate when I was frozen numb
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And then ye fear'd me: but my living home
Henceforth is in the hearts of all who live.
Fear me no more, then, for to you I come
With an eternal gift that shall survive
Fate's despot rule o'er Time's brief horoscope:
Eternity is still the gift I give
To all who trust me, and my name is Hope.’”
And “Ave! ave!” sang the Voices. “Thee
We welcome, holy Hope, that from afar
Dost bring the promise of sweet things to be,
Forever sweeter than all things that are!
Born flying, thy fair flight thou canst not stop,
But into the sad hearts it leaves behind
Thou dost, in passing, from thy pinions drop
One spotless plume that, cherisht, keeps in mind
The dear remembrance of its passage. We,
What can we give thee in return for this?
Take at their best, to save them, take with thee
Our sweetest joys, our holiest hours; whose bliss,
To thy far kingdom borne away, shall be
Better and brighter, holier still, and higher!
Take also, Spirit of Eternity,
What Time made ours, to make it thine—Desire!”
We welcome, holy Hope, that from afar
Dost bring the promise of sweet things to be,
Forever sweeter than all things that are!
Born flying, thy fair flight thou canst not stop,
But into the sad hearts it leaves behind
Thou dost, in passing, from thy pinions drop
One spotless plume that, cherisht, keeps in mind
The dear remembrance of its passage. We,
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Take at their best, to save them, take with thee
Our sweetest joys, our holiest hours; whose bliss,
To thy far kingdom borne away, shall be
Better and brighter, holier still, and higher!
Take also, Spirit of Eternity,
What Time made ours, to make it thine—Desire!”
Closer and clearer the sweet Voices grew,
Borne floating on their own song's rhythmic stream,
Flutter'd round Adam's slumber, downward flew,
And settled in the bosom of his dream.
“Rest there, Consolers!” the Archangel said,
“And you, Disturbers, strive as you have striven,
And thou—dream on, poor Dreamer!”
Borne floating on their own song's rhythmic stream,
Flutter'd round Adam's slumber, downward flew,
And settled in the bosom of his dream.
“Rest there, Consolers!” the Archangel said,
“And you, Disturbers, strive as you have striven,
And thou—dream on, poor Dreamer!”
Then he spread
His spacious pinions, and return'd to heaven.
Out of the depths of Adam's dream, and clear
All round it, those Consoling Voices pour'd
Pure strains of silver sound, that fill'd the sphere
Traced by the circuit of the Angel's sword.
The Demon Powers, resentful, roused again
Their turbulent cohorts to the overthrow
Of this melodious bulwark, but in vain;
For there Hell's surges broke, and hoarse below
Roll'd in tumultuary undertones
Their weltering waves of passion and of pain,
Goaded and groaning, as the smit sea groans
When the storm's lash is on its livid mane.
His spacious pinions, and return'd to heaven.
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All round it, those Consoling Voices pour'd
Pure strains of silver sound, that fill'd the sphere
Traced by the circuit of the Angel's sword.
The Demon Powers, resentful, roused again
Their turbulent cohorts to the overthrow
Of this melodious bulwark, but in vain;
For there Hell's surges broke, and hoarse below
Roll'd in tumultuary undertones
Their weltering waves of passion and of pain,
Goaded and groaning, as the smit sea groans
When the storm's lash is on its livid mane.
Those sounds were heard in Heaven; and, down the light
Of all the listening stars, celestial streams
Of song flow'd, mingling with the troubled flight
Of their fierce tones—as, while the torrent screams,
The calm moon, shining thro' a cloudless night,
Belts his tost bosom with her tranquil beams.
Of all the listening stars, celestial streams
Of song flow'd, mingling with the troubled flight
Of their fierce tones—as, while the torrent screams,
41
Belts his tost bosom with her tranquil beams.
And all these Voices, with the sounds that were
Their instrumental slaves,—the Voices sweet
Of Man's Consolers, hymning praise and prayer,
The Voices of the Passions of the Pit,
Earth's dread disturbers, clarions of despair,
And the pure Voices of the Stars—contending
With one another, pour'd the importunate tide
Of their sonorous strife, in strains ascending
Beyond the visible spheres, to where it sigh'd
About the elemental boundary wall
Which never, to the other unseen side,
The swarming senses that man's soul enthral
May overpass. For shrouded there, serene
And irresponsive to the strife of all
The worlds of passion and of sense—unseen,
Unheard—He dwells, Who is, and wills, and knows.
And there, its clamour calm'd, its vehement play
Of contradictions quench'd in the repose
Of a sublime accord whose spacious sway
Husht its wild course to an harmonious close,
Slowly the sounding tumult died away.
Their instrumental slaves,—the Voices sweet
Of Man's Consolers, hymning praise and prayer,
The Voices of the Passions of the Pit,
Earth's dread disturbers, clarions of despair,
And the pure Voices of the Stars—contending
With one another, pour'd the importunate tide
Of their sonorous strife, in strains ascending
Beyond the visible spheres, to where it sigh'd
About the elemental boundary wall
Which never, to the other unseen side,
The swarming senses that man's soul enthral
May overpass. For shrouded there, serene
And irresponsive to the strife of all
The worlds of passion and of sense—unseen,
42
And there, its clamour calm'd, its vehement play
Of contradictions quench'd in the repose
Of a sublime accord whose spacious sway
Husht its wild course to an harmonious close,
Slowly the sounding tumult died away.
So, when all storms are spent, and Ocean's sleep
Leviathan's loud voice invades no more,
The wearied winds into the silent deep
Drop the last echoes of his dying roar,
And fold their heavy wings, and faintly creep
To rest on some lone island's desert shore;
Where the huge billows in low waves subside,
And the low waves in rippling shallows cease,
While the lull'd halcyon on the slumbrous tide
Broods, and the breathing stillness whispers “Peace!”
Leviathan's loud voice invades no more,
The wearied winds into the silent deep
Drop the last echoes of his dying roar,
And fold their heavy wings, and faintly creep
To rest on some lone island's desert shore;
Where the huge billows in low waves subside,
And the low waves in rippling shallows cease,
While the lull'd halcyon on the slumbrous tide
Broods, and the breathing stillness whispers “Peace!”
43
When Adam waked, the sounds that in his dream
Dream-woven forms had worn still haunted him.
Not only to have heard them did he seem,
But even to have seen them, in a dim
Indefinite world that of life's earthly scheme
The phantom protoplast appear'd. For there
Some bliss beyond possession was the prize
Relentless wrestlers strove to seize or share;
And o'er a battle-field of boundless size
Hope and Desire with Terror and Despair,
And Love and Faith with Hate and Doubt, contended;
Importunately rolling to and fro,
In restless contradiction never ended,
A Yes reverberated by a No.
Infinite longing, infinite resistance,
Infinite turmoil! gaining now, now losing,
And then again with passionate persistance
Speeding the clamorous chase thro' vast, confusing,
Inextricable mazes; but still ever,
Beyond the strife of discords and the cry
Of conflict, with inveterate endeavour,
Tending towards a far off harmony.
Dream-woven forms had worn still haunted him.
Not only to have heard them did he seem,
But even to have seen them, in a dim
Indefinite world that of life's earthly scheme
The phantom protoplast appear'd. For there
Some bliss beyond possession was the prize
Relentless wrestlers strove to seize or share;
And o'er a battle-field of boundless size
Hope and Desire with Terror and Despair,
And Love and Faith with Hate and Doubt, contended;
Importunately rolling to and fro,
In restless contradiction never ended,
A Yes reverberated by a No.
Infinite longing, infinite resistance,
Infinite turmoil! gaining now, now losing,
And then again with passionate persistance
Speeding the clamorous chase thro' vast, confusing,
44
Beyond the strife of discords and the cry
Of conflict, with inveterate endeavour,
Tending towards a far off harmony.
And MUSIC was the name the dreamer gave
To that dream-world's mysterious sounds. In vain,
However, for long years did Adam crave
To hear, in this world, that world's sounds again.
And everywhere on earth he sought to find
Or fashion images that might express
The echoes of them lingering in his mind,
But nought resembled their mysteriousness.
To that dream-world's mysterious sounds. In vain,
However, for long years did Adam crave
To hear, in this world, that world's sounds again.
And everywhere on earth he sought to find
Or fashion images that might express
The echoes of them lingering in his mind,
But nought resembled their mysteriousness.
His sons grew up. Memorial words they wrote
On sun-dried river-reeds in cunning rhymes,
Or graved them on the rocks, that men might note
Who went before them in the after times.
He praised their scripture, but he shook his head.
“The higher language still lies out of reach,
And sweet your rhymes, my sons; but, ah!” he said
“They are not music, only sweeter speech.”
His sons took clay, and kneaded it with skill
Into the images of beasts, and men,
And gods. But “Music,” Adam murmur'd still
“In form alone I find not.” Colour then
To form they added—colour squeezed and ground
From herbs and earths—and pictures rich they wrought
Of man, his doings, and the world around.
But not in these was found what Adam sought.
“Things seen and known,” he said, “they mimic well,
But all things known and seen are, I surmise,
Themselves but pictures of invisible,
Or echoes of unheard, infinities.
Definite are words, forms, and colours, each:
Music alone is infinite.”
On sun-dried river-reeds in cunning rhymes,
Or graved them on the rocks, that men might note
Who went before them in the after times.
45
“The higher language still lies out of reach,
And sweet your rhymes, my sons; but, ah!” he said
“They are not music, only sweeter speech.”
His sons took clay, and kneaded it with skill
Into the images of beasts, and men,
And gods. But “Music,” Adam murmur'd still
“In form alone I find not.” Colour then
To form they added—colour squeezed and ground
From herbs and earths—and pictures rich they wrought
Of man, his doings, and the world around.
But not in these was found what Adam sought.
“Things seen and known,” he said, “they mimic well,
But all things known and seen are, I surmise,
Themselves but pictures of invisible,
Or echoes of unheard, infinities.
Definite are words, forms, and colours, each:
Music alone is infinite.”
46
And none
Of Adam's offspring understood that speech,
Save Jubal only. Jubal was the son
Of Lamech, whose progenitor was Cain.
His life's ancestral consciousness of death
Stretch'd each sensation to a finer strain;
Into his listening ear earth's lightest breath
An infinite mystery breath'd; in every sound
That mystery sent a message to his soul;
Nor could he rest till definite means he found
Its messengers to summon and control.
And what he sought by wistful ways unnumber'd,
Searching, at last he found in things where long
Had Music on the breast of Silence slumber'd,
Waiting his summons to awake and throng
The bronzen tubes he wrought with stops and vents,
Or shells with silver lute-strings overlaid.
When Jubal play'd upon these instruments
A visionary transport, as he play'd,
Rose in each listener and reveal'd to him
The beauty and the bliss of Paradise,
The songs and splendours of the Seraphim.
Of Adam's offspring understood that speech,
Save Jubal only. Jubal was the son
Of Lamech, whose progenitor was Cain.
His life's ancestral consciousness of death
Stretch'd each sensation to a finer strain;
Into his listening ear earth's lightest breath
An infinite mystery breath'd; in every sound
That mystery sent a message to his soul;
Nor could he rest till definite means he found
Its messengers to summon and control.
And what he sought by wistful ways unnumber'd,
Searching, at last he found in things where long
Had Music on the breast of Silence slumber'd,
Waiting his summons to awake and throng
The bronzen tubes he wrought with stops and vents,
Or shells with silver lute-strings overlaid.
47
A visionary transport, as he play'd,
Rose in each listener and reveal'd to him
The beauty and the bliss of Paradise,
The songs and splendours of the Seraphim.
Albeit these transports from a mere device
Of wind-blown pipes in order ranged arose,
Or strings that, smitten, render'd response sharp.
Of wind-blown pipes in order ranged arose,
Or strings that, smitten, render'd response sharp.
And Jubal was the father of all those
Whose hand is on the organ and the harp.
Whose hand is on the organ and the harp.
49
III. THE LEGEND OF LOVE.
51
Eve had heard all, but nothing had she seen:
For, ere the Archangel's sword was drawn, dividing
The oneness of Eternity, between
The gates of Eden fraudulently gliding,
Athwart the wilderness the Snake slid near.
And, where beneath the weight of one day's ill
Fallen she lay, into the woman's ear
He whisper'd, “Look not! utter not! lie still!”
Eve heard, and at his bidding still she lay,
Nor look'd, nor utter'd.
For, ere the Archangel's sword was drawn, dividing
The oneness of Eternity, between
The gates of Eden fraudulently gliding,
Athwart the wilderness the Snake slid near.
And, where beneath the weight of one day's ill
Fallen she lay, into the woman's ear
He whisper'd, “Look not! utter not! lie still!”
Eve heard, and at his bidding still she lay,
Nor look'd, nor utter'd.
In the woman's eyes
Thus linger'd a reflection of what they
Last look'd on ere she closed them—Paradise.
For all the Archangel's weapon shore away
From Man's perception was what lay before
The gaze of Adam when that sword's sharp ray
(Rending his cloven consciousness in twain)
Parted the Present from the Past. But o'er
The loveliness that in their looks had lain
When last on Eden from afar she gazed,
The lids of Eve were fallen ere (for bane
Or blessing) Adam's granted prayer erased
For ever from the records of his brain
Each memory of Paradise.
Thus linger'd a reflection of what they
52
For all the Archangel's weapon shore away
From Man's perception was what lay before
The gaze of Adam when that sword's sharp ray
(Rending his cloven consciousness in twain)
Parted the Present from the Past. But o'er
The loveliness that in their looks had lain
When last on Eden from afar she gazed,
The lids of Eve were fallen ere (for bane
Or blessing) Adam's granted prayer erased
For ever from the records of his brain
Each memory of Paradise.
And there,
In Eve's shut eyes whate'er on earth is left
Of Eden—faint reflections of it, fair
Fallacious phantoms of a bliss bereft
Of all reality—escaped the stroke
That from remembrance all the rest dispell'd.
So Adam in Eve's eyes, when he awoke,
Vague semblances of Paradise beheld;
And that lost gleam of Eden's light that still
Dreamlike and dim in his own being dwelt
Responded to them with a mystic thrill,
Tho' Adam understood not what he felt.
In Eve's shut eyes whate'er on earth is left
Of Eden—faint reflections of it, fair
Fallacious phantoms of a bliss bereft
Of all reality—escaped the stroke
53
So Adam in Eve's eyes, when he awoke,
Vague semblances of Paradise beheld;
And that lost gleam of Eden's light that still
Dreamlike and dim in his own being dwelt
Responded to them with a mystic thrill,
Tho' Adam understood not what he felt.
And still Eve's daughters in their looks retain
Those mirror'd mockeries their mother's eyes
Bequeath'd them, tho' the Paradise they feign
Is now a long-forbidden Paradise.
Reveal'd in Woman's gaze Man seems to see
The wisht-for Eden he hath lost. He deems
That Eden still in Woman's self must be,
And he would fain re-enter it. His dreams
Are kindled, by the mystic light that lies
In these sweet looks, to fervid wishfulness;
And, missing what he ne'er hath known, he sighs
For what, itself, is but a sigh—the bliss
Which there he seeks, and there is lost again.
Those mirror'd mockeries their mother's eyes
Bequeath'd them, tho' the Paradise they feign
Is now a long-forbidden Paradise.
Reveal'd in Woman's gaze Man seems to see
The wisht-for Eden he hath lost. He deems
That Eden still in Woman's self must be,
And he would fain re-enter it. His dreams
Are kindled, by the mystic light that lies
In these sweet looks, to fervid wishfulness;
54
For what, itself, is but a sigh—the bliss
Which there he seeks, and there is lost again.
No more, O nevermore, those steps of his,
Whose progress is but a progressive pain,
The Paradise they seek may reach and rove!
Yet still the search is sweet, albeit in vain;
It lasts for ever, and men call it Love.
Whose progress is but a progressive pain,
The Paradise they seek may reach and rove!
Yet still the search is sweet, albeit in vain;
It lasts for ever, and men call it Love.
55
IV. THE LEGEND OF THE IDEAL.
57
When, at the archangelic bidding (blest
With one brief vision of his happy past
In all the lost delights of Eden drest)
Adam on Paradise had look'd his last,
There every form of loveliness beloved
Whose beauty, dear to his adoring eye,
Had breathed delight thro' all the haunts of yore,
And clothed in gladness all the days gone by,
The man beheld, save one.
With one brief vision of his happy past
In all the lost delights of Eden drest)
Adam on Paradise had look'd his last,
There every form of loveliness beloved
Whose beauty, dear to his adoring eye,
Had breathed delight thro' all the haunts of yore,
And clothed in gladness all the days gone by,
The man beheld, save one.
For Eve no more
Among the abandon'd bowers of Eden moved.
Eden was Eveless.
Among the abandon'd bowers of Eden moved.
Eden was Eveless.
58
Thus, Man's memory
Of Woman as in Paradise she was
The archangelic sword had not transfixt.
This memory made in Adam's mind, alas,
A visionary image, vaguely mixt
With that stray glimpse of Eden's light that fell
Into his slumber, and became a dream,
The dream of Adam's life. And there, too well
Remember'd, with her beauty's phantom gleam
Mocking him, moved the Eve of Paradise;
Immeasurably fairer than the Eve
That walk'd by Adam's side with sullen sighs
And faded cheek—condemn'd, like him, to grieve
And to grow old; like him, to brave the bleakness
Of life's long desert; and, with him, to share
The weight of many a burden, borne in meekness
Or borne in bitterness, still hard to bear;
An earthly woman, with a woman's weakness,
A woman's faults.
Of Woman as in Paradise she was
The archangelic sword had not transfixt.
This memory made in Adam's mind, alas,
A visionary image, vaguely mixt
With that stray glimpse of Eden's light that fell
Into his slumber, and became a dream,
The dream of Adam's life. And there, too well
Remember'd, with her beauty's phantom gleam
Mocking him, moved the Eve of Paradise;
Immeasurably fairer than the Eve
That walk'd by Adam's side with sullen sighs
And faded cheek—condemn'd, like him, to grieve
And to grow old; like him, to brave the bleakness
Of life's long desert; and, with him, to share
The weight of many a burden, borne in meekness
Or borne in bitterness, still hard to bear;
59
A woman's faults.
That phantom, faultless fair,
(The unforgotten Eve of Paradise,
Beautiful as he first beheld her there,
Ere any tear had dimm'd her glorious eyes)
Long after Paradise itself had been
By him forgotten, haunted Adam's gaze.
And Adam made comparison between
The faithful partner of his faultful days,
Who stray'd, and sinn'd, and suffer'd by his side,
And that imagined woman. With a sigh,
Her unattainable beauty, when he died,
Adam bequeath'd to his posterity,
Who call'd it The Ideal.
(The unforgotten Eve of Paradise,
Beautiful as he first beheld her there,
Ere any tear had dimm'd her glorious eyes)
Long after Paradise itself had been
By him forgotten, haunted Adam's gaze.
And Adam made comparison between
The faithful partner of his faultful days,
Who stray'd, and sinn'd, and suffer'd by his side,
And that imagined woman. With a sigh,
Her unattainable beauty, when he died,
Adam bequeath'd to his posterity,
Who call'd it The Ideal.
And Mankind
Still cherish it, and still it cheats them all.
For, with the Ideal Woman in his mind,
Fair as she was in Eden ere the Fall,
Still each doth discontentedly compare
The sad associate of his earthly lot;
And still the Earthly Woman seems less fair
Than her ideal image unforgot.
Still cherish it, and still it cheats them all.
For, with the Ideal Woman in his mind,
60
Still each doth discontentedly compare
The sad associate of his earthly lot;
And still the Earthly Woman seems less fair
Than her ideal image unforgot.
And Adam slept and dream'd and waked again
From day to day, from age to age. Apace
Time trod his self-repeating path. To Men
Man grew, and Adam became Adam's Race.
From day to day, from age to age. Apace
Time trod his self-repeating path. To Men
Man grew, and Adam became Adam's Race.
The Race of Adam, by his granted prayer
Born as it was oblivious of life's source,
Went onward, lighted only here and there
And now and then, along its eyeless course,
By visionary flashes brief and rare
Of unexplain'd remembrance, that appear'd
Vague prescience. For the goal whereto Man goes
Is his recover'd starting-point—tho', rear'd
In a profound forgetfulness, he knows
No longer whence or whither winds the track
His steps have enter'd, and so lives like those
Who, dreaming, dream not that sleep leads at last
To waking, that to wake is to come back,
And that what seems the Future is the Past.
Born as it was oblivious of life's source,
Went onward, lighted only here and there
And now and then, along its eyeless course,
By visionary flashes brief and rare
Of unexplain'd remembrance, that appear'd
61
Is his recover'd starting-point—tho', rear'd
In a profound forgetfulness, he knows
No longer whence or whither winds the track
His steps have enter'd, and so lives like those
Who, dreaming, dream not that sleep leads at last
To waking, that to wake is to come back,
And that what seems the Future is the Past.
But round that Ghost of Human Loveliness
Which over Human Life's unlovely way
Hover'd afar, evading the caress
It still invoked, the reminiscent ray
Of Eden's glory (lost in Adam's Dream
And mingled with his soul) so shone and glow'd,
That on Man's spirit the reflected gleam
Of its divine effulgence oft bestow'd
A supersensuous potency of sight,
Piercing, without an effort of his will,
The Universal Veil that dims the light
Of Universal Truth. A teeming thrill
Of recognition thro' his senses ran
From things that power reveal'd to him: and he
To Nature cried, “Behold thy missing plan!
For is not this what thou hast tried to be?”
Whereto, from all her conscious deeps, to Man
Nature responded, “Yes!”
Which over Human Life's unlovely way
Hover'd afar, evading the caress
It still invoked, the reminiscent ray
Of Eden's glory (lost in Adam's Dream
And mingled with his soul) so shone and glow'd,
That on Man's spirit the reflected gleam
Of its divine effulgence oft bestow'd
A supersensuous potency of sight,
62
The Universal Veil that dims the light
Of Universal Truth. A teeming thrill
Of recognition thro' his senses ran
From things that power reveal'd to him: and he
To Nature cried, “Behold thy missing plan!
For is not this what thou hast tried to be?”
Whereto, from all her conscious deeps, to Man
Nature responded, “Yes!”
In toil and pain
At other times, by other ways, Man's wits
Search after knowledge, but can ne'er attain
The flying point that on before him flits.
For he is as a voyager in vain
Sailing towards horizons that recede
From phantom frontier lines of sky and main,
With furtive motion measured by the speed
Of their pursuer. But wherever shines
That sudden ray of reminiscence rare,
There, and there only, the convergent lines
Of the orb'd Universe shut fast, and there
Man's knowledge rests, untravell'd, at the goal.
For, be it ne'er so trivial, ne'er so mean,
The one becomes the All, the part the Whole,
When, thro'them both, what each conceal'd is seen.
At other times, by other ways, Man's wits
Search after knowledge, but can ne'er attain
The flying point that on before him flits.
For he is as a voyager in vain
Sailing towards horizons that recede
From phantom frontier lines of sky and main,
With furtive motion measured by the speed
Of their pursuer. But wherever shines
63
There, and there only, the convergent lines
Of the orb'd Universe shut fast, and there
Man's knowledge rests, untravell'd, at the goal.
For, be it ne'er so trivial, ne'er so mean,
The one becomes the All, the part the Whole,
When, thro'them both, what each conceal'd is seen.
And age by age, man after man essaying
To fix for endless worship and delight,
In shrines of permanence for ever staying,
These gleams of truth for ever taking flight,
Men fashion'd forth new forms of Time and Space,
Idealising both. The work they wrought
In Space was Beauty, and in Time 'twas Grace.
These two ideals everywhere they sought;
But the ideal human form and face
Were still the fairest, still the loveliest.
And still thro' human action, human thought,
And most of all thro' human love, men's quest
With fondest fervour roams to find the sphere
Of that Ideal World wherein the part
Includes the Whole, the one the All. For there
Men are to Man transform'd, and life to Art.
To fix for endless worship and delight,
In shrines of permanence for ever staying,
These gleams of truth for ever taking flight,
Men fashion'd forth new forms of Time and Space,
Idealising both. The work they wrought
In Space was Beauty, and in Time 'twas Grace.
These two ideals everywhere they sought;
But the ideal human form and face
Were still the fairest, still the loveliest.
64
And most of all thro' human love, men's quest
With fondest fervour roams to find the sphere
Of that Ideal World wherein the part
Includes the Whole, the one the All. For there
Men are to Man transform'd, and life to Art.
| After Paradise or Legends of Exile | |