 | Passion-Flowers |  |
131
MY LECTURE.
A STUDY OF LIFE.
Might I define the pleasure of existence,
'Twere threefold—effort, yielding, and resistance;
In each soft spasm of the thrilling nerves,
In impulse, which for wide-spread action serves,
I read, as Sages in the far Divine,
At every point of life, a mystic trine.
'Twere threefold—effort, yielding, and resistance;
In each soft spasm of the thrilling nerves,
In impulse, which for wide-spread action serves,
I read, as Sages in the far Divine,
At every point of life, a mystic trine.
Hence joy of building up, and casting down,
That fells a forest, fashions out a town;
Hence Music's twofold joy, in power that wrings
Softest agreement from discordant strings,
And in the gift to feel, through dead'ning years,
Its heaven-lent passage to the source of tears.
That fells a forest, fashions out a town;
Hence Music's twofold joy, in power that wrings
Softest agreement from discordant strings,
And in the gift to feel, through dead'ning years,
Its heaven-lent passage to the source of tears.
Hence joy of Sight, that pilgrim, wandering far
To ask of Æther its remotest star;
That turns from plains whose flowery growths invite,
To rifle mountain-tops of new-fallen light;
Nor can accept the bounty of the sun,
But it untwists to seven his web of one.
To ask of Æther its remotest star;
132
To rifle mountain-tops of new-fallen light;
Nor can accept the bounty of the sun,
But it untwists to seven his web of one.
Hence joy of conquest, brutal in the rude,
By gentler souls to gracious ends pursued.
As savage creatures rush upon their prey,
Men seize and hurl a brother man to clay.
Could the same strength of will and arm avail
To reconvulse with thought those features pale,
Full many a murderer, past the heat of strife,
Would, with his own, buy back the squandered life.
Such power were rapture! but the rigid corse
Lies starkly, landmark of his wasted force.
By gentler souls to gracious ends pursued.
As savage creatures rush upon their prey,
Men seize and hurl a brother man to clay.
Could the same strength of will and arm avail
To reconvulse with thought those features pale,
Full many a murderer, past the heat of strife,
Would, with his own, buy back the squandered life.
Such power were rapture! but the rigid corse
Lies starkly, landmark of his wasted force.
This pang remembering, learns th' unfashioned heart
Justice and grace must rule the warrior's art.
Soon waves the banner for some fancied good,
And men take arms to rescue Holy Rood;
Then single saintly martyrs burn or bleed
To conquer in the conquest of their creed.
Last, we apply us, taught of Day and Night,
To emulate the victories of Light;
Imperial countries win through gifts and smiles,
Barbaric homage from unlettered isles;
The world lies girdled with our kind intent,
And Wisdom grows our conquering element.
Justice and grace must rule the warrior's art.
Soon waves the banner for some fancied good,
And men take arms to rescue Holy Rood;
Then single saintly martyrs burn or bleed
To conquer in the conquest of their creed.
Last, we apply us, taught of Day and Night,
To emulate the victories of Light;
Imperial countries win through gifts and smiles,
Barbaric homage from unlettered isles;
133
And Wisdom grows our conquering element.
This love hath subtlest forms, to such dim length
Man feels along his own projected strength,
To where, between blue air and ocean blue,
He weds the old Creation with the new.
In Science, Manners, Art, one instinct guides,
In all that glistering passes or abides;
To mould his soul in every outward thing,
And dwell, a God, where he is born a King.
Whether he weld his fetters on th' Ideal,
Or chasten to sublimity the Real,
He writes on each fair wonder he doth frame,
‘This, by Creative will, from Chaos came;’
And hangs this sentence on the Minster's door:
‘Thus I reach upward, till I learn to soar.’
Nay, ev'n in Death he bends not to his doom;
His piteous spoil feigns splendor in the tomb;
His dauntless courage bridges o'er the sky,
And darkly conquers immortality.
Man feels along his own projected strength,
To where, between blue air and ocean blue,
He weds the old Creation with the new.
In Science, Manners, Art, one instinct guides,
In all that glistering passes or abides;
To mould his soul in every outward thing,
And dwell, a God, where he is born a King.
Whether he weld his fetters on th' Ideal,
Or chasten to sublimity the Real,
He writes on each fair wonder he doth frame,
‘This, by Creative will, from Chaos came;’
And hangs this sentence on the Minster's door:
‘Thus I reach upward, till I learn to soar.’
Nay, ev'n in Death he bends not to his doom;
His piteous spoil feigns splendor in the tomb;
His dauntless courage bridges o'er the sky,
And darkly conquers immortality.
Pass we to joy of contrast, the combined
Kaleidoscopic working of the mind,
Whose law lies deeper than our thoughts assume;
Since Fancy, sitting at her tireless loom
To weave soul-raiment of the thread of Fate,
By Nature reads to pattern and to mate,
And blends her bright and dark so cunningly,
That one without the other could not be.
Nature, that ministers to this delight,
And consecrates our pleasure to a right,
True to her teaching, queenly souls will smile
To mask themselves in beggar weeds awhile,
While starving sinners Lazarus might deride
Hug purple rags, and feed themselves on Pride.
Kaleidoscopic working of the mind,
Whose law lies deeper than our thoughts assume;
Since Fancy, sitting at her tireless loom
134
By Nature reads to pattern and to mate,
And blends her bright and dark so cunningly,
That one without the other could not be.
Nature, that ministers to this delight,
And consecrates our pleasure to a right,
True to her teaching, queenly souls will smile
To mask themselves in beggar weeds awhile,
While starving sinners Lazarus might deride
Hug purple rags, and feed themselves on Pride.
The eagle's wing outstrips the car of Morn;
The lark laughs back the eagle's flight to scorn.
‘Soarest thou sunward? here I poise and sing,
And set the heart of heaven a-fluttering.’
The lark laughs back the eagle's flight to scorn.
‘Soarest thou sunward? here I poise and sing,
And set the heart of heaven a-fluttering.’
As the dull mirror, leaden, shallow, cold,
Must flush and teem with life it cannot hold;
As Echo utters, with unchanging cheek,
Love's tenderest vow, or Passion's wildest shriek;
So minds, by trivial impulses controlled,
Catch stern contagion from the nobler souled;
So heroes shudder, in high-hearted rest,
To feel the Syren thrilling through their breast.
Must flush and teem with life it cannot hold;
As Echo utters, with unchanging cheek,
Love's tenderest vow, or Passion's wildest shriek;
So minds, by trivial impulses controlled,
Catch stern contagion from the nobler souled;
So heroes shudder, in high-hearted rest,
To feel the Syren thrilling through their breast.
Mark the wild flashes gloomy natures show,
That heap Life's fuel for a moment's glow;
Mark ev'n the sage's armor soothly hit
By the chance arrow of an Idiot's wit.
That heap Life's fuel for a moment's glow;
135
By the chance arrow of an Idiot's wit.
Delights to kindred pangs their sharpness owe,
Dews to the desert, evergreens to snow.
When wasted Life grows valueless and vain,
Men needs must suffer to enjoy again.
The rapture of a moment's rest, in pain;
The bitter pelting of the outside storm,
That makes the heart of home so bright and warm;
The wounds of slanderous tongues, whose poison finds
Such heavenly balm in sympathetic minds;
The strange intensity that buried loves
Give to a friendship that yet lives and moves;
Youth grasping Age—Age clinging back to Youth;
'Tis thus we span th' opposing shores of truth,
And Samson's riddles to all time belong:
‘Meat from the eater, sweetness from the strong.’
Dews to the desert, evergreens to snow.
When wasted Life grows valueless and vain,
Men needs must suffer to enjoy again.
The rapture of a moment's rest, in pain;
The bitter pelting of the outside storm,
That makes the heart of home so bright and warm;
The wounds of slanderous tongues, whose poison finds
Such heavenly balm in sympathetic minds;
The strange intensity that buried loves
Give to a friendship that yet lives and moves;
Youth grasping Age—Age clinging back to Youth;
'Tis thus we span th' opposing shores of truth,
And Samson's riddles to all time belong:
‘Meat from the eater, sweetness from the strong.’
Woe, were these fostering hindrances removed!
With all we hated, gone were all we loved;
Vanished were Virtue, with the power to sin;
Will with necessity, that pent it in.
Could the volcanic spirit burst aside
Its crust of circumstance, and, rushing wide,
Stoop o'er Creation with untrammelled right
To conquer to its bounds of appetite,
A moment's power the effort's self would lend
To rage with whitening fury, fuse and blend;
Then, conquered by the calm Infinity,
It would disperse, diffuse, and cease to be.
With all we hated, gone were all we loved;
Vanished were Virtue, with the power to sin;
Will with necessity, that pent it in.
Could the volcanic spirit burst aside
Its crust of circumstance, and, rushing wide,
Stoop o'er Creation with untrammelled right
To conquer to its bounds of appetite,
136
To rage with whitening fury, fuse and blend;
Then, conquered by the calm Infinity,
It would disperse, diffuse, and cease to be.
Too little in us the Creative rules;
Wildly we war with precepts and with schools
That help us to high wants, but put aside
Wishes that feed our solitary pride.
The greatest labor for their master, Man;
Their loftiest deeds content him as they can.
The few solve problems for the many's doubt;
The many bind the few to work them out.
Best thoughts should rule in kingdom as in breast;
And God's compulsive working aids the best.
Wildly we war with precepts and with schools
That help us to high wants, but put aside
Wishes that feed our solitary pride.
The greatest labor for their master, Man;
Their loftiest deeds content him as they can.
The few solve problems for the many's doubt;
The many bind the few to work them out.
Best thoughts should rule in kingdom as in breast;
And God's compulsive working aids the best.
'Tis thus we keep our fragile house of clay,
Where, let some slightest pressure fall away,
The elemental powers make entrance straight,
Rude victors now where they were slaves but late;
Ravage the mould and hue of heavenly art,
Ev'n to the sacred chambers of the heart,
And hold their revel in the veilèd state
Where Life's high sacrament was consecrate.
Skilled to divide, as beasts to wound and tear,
Each with true instinct singles out his share;
Assimilative Nature claims the whole,
And flashes back to God th' electric soul.
Where, let some slightest pressure fall away,
The elemental powers make entrance straight,
Rude victors now where they were slaves but late;
Ravage the mould and hue of heavenly art,
Ev'n to the sacred chambers of the heart,
And hold their revel in the veilèd state
Where Life's high sacrament was consecrate.
Skilled to divide, as beasts to wound and tear,
Each with true instinct singles out his share;
137
And flashes back to God th' electric soul.
Here end we seemingly—if one would look
Into our Fate's apocalyptic book,
Read earnest Wisdom through Hope's orient glow,
And construe that we wish by that we know,
Let him give rapt attendance on the dream
Of One who builded by Earth's master-scheme
New heavens, building out of soul, not sense,
Not for the vulgar deed and recompense,
But judging spirit-destinies by laws,
Faultless as God, of tendency and cause;
If spirits live, then with close straining eyes
Probing conviction through all mysteries.
To have and hold the truth that underlies
Man's claim of life transcending life, he brings,
From deep analogy of human things,
The inner marvel he had thought to find,
Th' imperishable features of the mind;
Discerns a subtler current in the vein,
A more transparent tissue in the brain,
Till he can trace, a plan within a plan,
The deep inherence of th' immortal Man,
Maturing from the coarser element
Until God's holy seal of life be rent,
When the rude matrix crumbles from the ore,
And Soul may know what Sense had dreamed before.
Into our Fate's apocalyptic book,
Read earnest Wisdom through Hope's orient glow,
And construe that we wish by that we know,
Let him give rapt attendance on the dream
Of One who builded by Earth's master-scheme
New heavens, building out of soul, not sense,
Not for the vulgar deed and recompense,
But judging spirit-destinies by laws,
Faultless as God, of tendency and cause;
If spirits live, then with close straining eyes
Probing conviction through all mysteries.
To have and hold the truth that underlies
Man's claim of life transcending life, he brings,
From deep analogy of human things,
The inner marvel he had thought to find,
Th' imperishable features of the mind;
Discerns a subtler current in the vein,
A more transparent tissue in the brain,
Till he can trace, a plan within a plan,
The deep inherence of th' immortal Man,
138
Until God's holy seal of life be rent,
When the rude matrix crumbles from the ore,
And Soul may know what Sense had dreamed before.
Oh! dream of ages, promise of the morn,
Solace of patient grief and tears forborne;
Oh! sacred right of hope that Nature gave
When Earth's first darling fainted to the grave;
By thee the soul, from height of ecstasy,
Projects its glory on Infinity.
Thou hast thy promise in all things that are;
In gifts and powers for life too full and far;
In the winged Psyche of the chrysalid,
That shows the angel in the human hid;
In odors and delights of Eastern skies,
That well might deepen to soul-paradise;
But though all else may bode thee and reveal,
Take from the Christ thy sanction and thy seal.
Solace of patient grief and tears forborne;
Oh! sacred right of hope that Nature gave
When Earth's first darling fainted to the grave;
By thee the soul, from height of ecstasy,
Projects its glory on Infinity.
Thou hast thy promise in all things that are;
In gifts and powers for life too full and far;
In the winged Psyche of the chrysalid,
That shows the angel in the human hid;
In odors and delights of Eastern skies,
That well might deepen to soul-paradise;
But though all else may bode thee and reveal,
Take from the Christ thy sanction and thy seal.
His incense-balm of being and of breath
Does but condense and concentrate in Death;
His holy grace of Nature still survives
All mortal doom, to quicken holiest lives.
Unchanged in form and countenance he moves,
Full of the patience of his human loves;
Tempers the fervent, animates the dull,
Fosters with bosom-warmth the beautiful;
Upon the thoughtless, soft as angel wings,
Lays his light hand, and deeper musing brings;
Stands in the path of Sorrow, till erewhile
She must look up, and smile him back his smile.
Earth's martyrs, rapturous, seek the ways he trod;
And lonely virgins, loving him, love God.
Ev'n this, our mighty hope, too wide, too dim
For creed or dogma, takes its shape in Him.
(Thus speaks he from the endless morning dew:)
‘Behold me now, even as I walked with you.
This presence, earnest, truthful, meek, august,
Was that ye loved, not that ye laid in dust.
Doubt not, nor faint as at a phantom strange;
The death ye see is but the spasm of change—
All forms are shadows, shadow-like pass by;
The love that is our Being cannot die.’
Does but condense and concentrate in Death;
His holy grace of Nature still survives
All mortal doom, to quicken holiest lives.
Unchanged in form and countenance he moves,
Full of the patience of his human loves;
139
Fosters with bosom-warmth the beautiful;
Upon the thoughtless, soft as angel wings,
Lays his light hand, and deeper musing brings;
Stands in the path of Sorrow, till erewhile
She must look up, and smile him back his smile.
Earth's martyrs, rapturous, seek the ways he trod;
And lonely virgins, loving him, love God.
Ev'n this, our mighty hope, too wide, too dim
For creed or dogma, takes its shape in Him.
(Thus speaks he from the endless morning dew:)
‘Behold me now, even as I walked with you.
This presence, earnest, truthful, meek, august,
Was that ye loved, not that ye laid in dust.
Doubt not, nor faint as at a phantom strange;
The death ye see is but the spasm of change—
All forms are shadows, shadow-like pass by;
The love that is our Being cannot die.’
| Passion-Flowers | |