The Demon of Destiny And Other Poems. By John Galt |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. | BOOK V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
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| 2. |
| 3. |
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 | The Demon of Destiny |  |
BOOK V.
A blameless pastor in that dwelling, saw
But Heaven's beneficence, and his discourse
Was all of Nature's universal feast.
But Heaven's beneficence, and his discourse
Was all of Nature's universal feast.
“Think, think, Oh! think,” to sad Salome, he said,
“If man would but the good and beautiful
Still seek to find, how much of both remains
Amid the penalties that he is heir to?
But ne'er content, in fancy man, a God,
Would, in his folly, mend what God hath made.
Yes; all the harshnesses of Life and Time,
Spring from the efforts of his arrogance,
As if a part could e'er the whole constrain.”
“If man would but the good and beautiful
Still seek to find, how much of both remains
Amid the penalties that he is heir to?
But ne'er content, in fancy man, a God,
Would, in his folly, mend what God hath made.
Yes; all the harshnesses of Life and Time,
Spring from the efforts of his arrogance,
As if a part could e'er the whole constrain.”
The lurking demon heard him, and awoke
Ambition that lay slumbering in Salome,
With vague desires, to know how it might best
Marshal the efforts, that unfold to Fame;
For only hopes to build himself renown
On noble deeds, he knew, would move Salome.
Ambition that lay slumbering in Salome,
With vague desires, to know how it might best
Marshal the efforts, that unfold to Fame;
For only hopes to build himself renown
On noble deeds, he knew, would move Salome.
But lo! the watchfulness that is on high!
In its own way, mysterious Providence
Discern'd the movements of the errant's mind,
And thus inspir'd the pastor to relate
The wayward shiftings of an ancient tale,
To sooth Salome, as if his bosom-gloom
Fell from the cloud of human discontent.
In its own way, mysterious Providence
Discern'd the movements of the errant's mind,
And thus inspir'd the pastor to relate
The wayward shiftings of an ancient tale,
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Fell from the cloud of human discontent.
“Bright to the occident,” said the old man,
“Had roll'd in royalty the monarch sun,
And all the hierophants of Belus stood
Before his altar in proud Babylon,
Waiting the time, when by his oracle
He would the fortunes of the throng disclose
Then in the temple, anxious for the time.
Nor stood they long, till, as a clanging gong
Through all the echoings of the aisles around,
A signal sounded that the day was done.
“Had roll'd in royalty the monarch sun,
And all the hierophants of Belus stood
Before his altar in proud Babylon,
Waiting the time, when by his oracle
He would the fortunes of the throng disclose
Then in the temple, anxious for the time.
Nor stood they long, till, as a clanging gong
Through all the echoings of the aisles around,
A signal sounded that the day was done.
“The priest Adzaar at the altar served;
And stepping forward said, with solemn voice,
To Paturis—a humble artizan,
Who came the fortunes of his child to know:—
And stepping forward said, with solemn voice,
To Paturis—a humble artizan,
Who came the fortunes of his child to know:—
“‘Speak to the Deity, by offerings speak;
Man from himself, by hope or fear, may hide
The dire fore-knowledge of predestin'd woe,
But only truth will awful Belus see.’
Man from himself, by hope or fear, may hide
The dire fore-knowledge of predestin'd woe,
But only truth will awful Belus see.’
“‘I am a father,’ Paturis replied:
To me last night an only son was born;
As beautiful as the celestial stars
His infant graces shine. If the endowments
Of his supernal incorporeal part
Equal his form, he has been sent to earth
To raise and purify the race of man.’
To me last night an only son was born;
As beautiful as the celestial stars
His infant graces shine. If the endowments
Of his supernal incorporeal part
Equal his form, he has been sent to earth
To raise and purify the race of man.’
“‘You speak with hope,’ the pontiff then replied:
‘Remember votary, that but to one quest
Of hope or fear, will the dread God attend.
Which do you choose?’ ‘Ill comes to all too soon,
And I would learn but good.’—the father answer'd.
‘Remember votary, that but to one quest
Of hope or fear, will the dread God attend.
Which do you choose?’ ‘Ill comes to all too soon,
And I would learn but good.’—the father answer'd.
“Adzaar then replied, ‘Speak not, but do;
Take in thy hand, and to that veiled priest
The sacred symbols of thy wishes give,
And as to Heaven, in pyramids of flame,
The fragrant emblems of unutter'd thought
Ascending rise, upon the wall behold
In hieroglyphics, Belus voice display'd!’
Take in thy hand, and to that veiled priest
The sacred symbols of thy wishes give,
And as to Heaven, in pyramids of flame,
The fragrant emblems of unutter'd thought
Ascending rise, upon the wall behold
In hieroglyphics, Belus voice display'd!’
“Then Paturis, from off the golden censor
Took herbs and flowers, and with a trembling hand
Gave them to the mysterious. Anon,
Bright on the wall, flame characters appear'd.
Took herbs and flowers, and with a trembling hand
Gave them to the mysterious. Anon,
Bright on the wall, flame characters appear'd.
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“‘Courage and honour with your son shall be,
And wealth, or wisdom's great inheritance,
Belus declares,’ said the interpreter.
And wealth, or wisdom's great inheritance,
Belus declares,’ said the interpreter.
“‘What! till he die,’ exclaimed glad Paturis.
‘Thou hast forgot thy silence,’ cried the priest,
‘Tremendous Belus will no more be question'd.’
‘Thou hast forgot thy silence,’ cried the priest,
‘Tremendous Belus will no more be question'd.’
“Meanwhile, without, upon a terrace stood,
Zadig and Ober, kin of Paturis,
Contemplating the cloudless setting sun,
Which on the gorgeous towers and golden domes
Of Babylon, as glory blaz'd; and thus
Admiring, Zadig to his brother said:—
Zadig and Ober, kin of Paturis,
Contemplating the cloudless setting sun,
Which on the gorgeous towers and golden domes
Of Babylon, as glory blaz'd; and thus
Admiring, Zadig to his brother said:—
“‘On every spire and gilded pinnacle
Kindles a star; pillars and porticoes
Unfold around, as if the God of light,
Enthron'd in his magnificence supreme,
Sat showering, measureless and prodigal,
Spangles and sparkling gems. Lo! see you that!
Towering to Heaven, engarmented in flame?
Something less short-lived than the lightning's flash,
And yet as bright, now Belus' temple clears.
What could the blazing prodigy portend?’
‘Old Paturis,’ sedater Ober answer'd,
‘Did this day purpose to consult the God,
Of his son's fortunes; and yon tower of fire
Might have affinity to what he sought.’
Kindles a star; pillars and porticoes
Unfold around, as if the God of light,
Enthron'd in his magnificence supreme,
Sat showering, measureless and prodigal,
Spangles and sparkling gems. Lo! see you that!
Towering to Heaven, engarmented in flame?
Something less short-lived than the lightning's flash,
And yet as bright, now Belus' temple clears.
What could the blazing prodigy portend?’
‘Old Paturis,’ sedater Ober answer'd,
‘Did this day purpose to consult the God,
Of his son's fortunes; and yon tower of fire
Might have affinity to what he sought.’
“While as they wonder'd at the sudden blaze,
Esetorah and Irzah thus discours'd—
Two hierophants of Belus;—Irzah said,
‘Why did you fire the train? since I have been
From marvelling boyhood sacred to the God,
That flaming vision never has so glar'd.’
Esetorah and Irzah thus discours'd—
Two hierophants of Belus;—Irzah said,
‘Why did you fire the train? since I have been
From marvelling boyhood sacred to the God,
That flaming vision never has so glar'd.’
“‘The son of Paturis,’ was the reply,
‘In the same hour was with the princess born,
The cherub daughter of great Aldrozar.
These are coincidences we should note,
That if hereafter aught occur by either,
It may be then remember'd how our God
Seem'd to foretell the chance, and bring to mind
That, at the casting of their horoscopes,
Shone marvels manifest, and honour thence
Will come by us, to all-discerning Belus.
Your heedful task is to assist in this,—
Find fitting persons to be join'd with you,—
One as her shadow, to attend the Princess,
The other, on her gifted synchronist,
And bring them hither to be taught by me.’
‘In the same hour was with the princess born,
The cherub daughter of great Aldrozar.
These are coincidences we should note,
That if hereafter aught occur by either,
It may be then remember'd how our God
Seem'd to foretell the chance, and bring to mind
That, at the casting of their horoscopes,
Shone marvels manifest, and honour thence
Will come by us, to all-discerning Belus.
Your heedful task is to assist in this,—
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One as her shadow, to attend the Princess,
The other, on her gifted synchronist,
And bring them hither to be taught by me.’
“By such devices, old Theocracy
Maintain'd of yore its awful domination.
Maintain'd of yore its awful domination.
“Irzah fit agents found, and they were taught,
To watch, but not affect, what time display'd.
To watch, but not affect, what time display'd.
“When years had pass'd, with beauty bloom'd mature
The tended synchronists. The fairest rose
That ever blush'd in Babylon was she;
And he an eagle that would dare the sun:
But still unknown, they to each other liv'd.
Nature, triumphant with what she had made,
Seem'd to declare them destin'd for each other;
But Fate stood by, remorselessly she stood,
As ever gamester watch'd a dicer's throw,
When riches, or when ruin, were the stake:
But those in adverse states, by Nature form'd
To be as one, are never join'd below
Without some forfeiture or penalty.
The tended synchronists. The fairest rose
That ever blush'd in Babylon was she;
And he an eagle that would dare the sun:
But still unknown, they to each other liv'd.
Nature, triumphant with what she had made,
Seem'd to declare them destin'd for each other;
But Fate stood by, remorselessly she stood,
As ever gamester watch'd a dicer's throw,
When riches, or when ruin, were the stake:
But those in adverse states, by Nature form'd
To be as one, are never join'd below
Without some forfeiture or penalty.
“At last arose, resounding from afar,
The blast of nuptial trumpets, and the shouts
Of all the multitudes of Babylon;
While beauteous Mauris from the palace came,
The bride of Nizam, aged King of Ind.
Carring magnificent amidst the joy,
She saw, as sages see, some glorious star
Amidst the darkness of tumultuous clouds,
Oram the gifted son of Paturis,
And on the splendour of her beauty fall
Sadness, while he the influence partook,
And from the glory of her beams withdrew.
The blast of nuptial trumpets, and the shouts
Of all the multitudes of Babylon;
While beauteous Mauris from the palace came,
The bride of Nizam, aged King of Ind.
Carring magnificent amidst the joy,
She saw, as sages see, some glorious star
Amidst the darkness of tumultuous clouds,
Oram the gifted son of Paturis,
And on the splendour of her beauty fall
Sadness, while he the influence partook,
And from the glory of her beams withdrew.
“‘The stars may be the eyes of Heaven,’ he cried;
‘Dews glance like Gods, and the confiding smile
Of heedless, harmless Innocence, delighting
In those it most should dread, are beautiful,
But cannot shed such blessings on the heart,
As yon bright vision which hath pass'd away.
Born on the self-same day, in the same hour,
I could not but desire, with all the town,
To see the Princess from her bridal pass.
Darkly I stood unseen, high and around
Came forth the shining orbicles of light;
But till she blaz'd, I thought the dazzl'd sun
Had all the beauty that the Gods could give!
But now I feel th' incompetence of man
To think the thought of what they can perform.
Oh! born to drudge, I may not see unblam'd
With beating heart, how Fortune's minions shine.—
Why is it so? is it so will'd by Nature,
Or comes it from the polity of man?
For high and low are states of his contrivance.
I was born lowly—wherefore was I so?
Great Nature marshall'd me as she does heroes,
And but for man made chaos, laws and orders,
I had been as the Babylonian King.
Yet not of righteous Nature I complain—
For all she does is fated with progression;
The bud reveals the leaf and then the bloom,
And the long year, with slow developments,
Rolls to maturity—the child to man.’
‘Dews glance like Gods, and the confiding smile
Of heedless, harmless Innocence, delighting
In those it most should dread, are beautiful,
But cannot shed such blessings on the heart,
As yon bright vision which hath pass'd away.
Born on the self-same day, in the same hour,
I could not but desire, with all the town,
To see the Princess from her bridal pass.
Darkly I stood unseen, high and around
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But till she blaz'd, I thought the dazzl'd sun
Had all the beauty that the Gods could give!
But now I feel th' incompetence of man
To think the thought of what they can perform.
Oh! born to drudge, I may not see unblam'd
With beating heart, how Fortune's minions shine.—
Why is it so? is it so will'd by Nature,
Or comes it from the polity of man?
For high and low are states of his contrivance.
I was born lowly—wherefore was I so?
Great Nature marshall'd me as she does heroes,
And but for man made chaos, laws and orders,
I had been as the Babylonian King.
Yet not of righteous Nature I complain—
For all she does is fated with progression;
The bud reveals the leaf and then the bloom,
And the long year, with slow developments,
Rolls to maturity—the child to man.’
“Then wandering lonely to the cypress shades,
Amidst the tombs, around proud Babylon,
He thus till eve indulged in reverie.
Amidst the tombs, around proud Babylon,
He thus till eve indulged in reverie.
“‘Spirits of life, whose mystic domicile,
While on the earth, was in the human breast,
Into what regions have you now return'd?
Nor rank, nor drudgery, molest you more.
Benignant justice—universal love
Reigns over all, and mates you by endowments.
The gentle with the gentle happy join,
The lowly with the lowly, and but there
The beauteous with the beautiful are blest.’
While on the earth, was in the human breast,
Into what regions have you now return'd?
Nor rank, nor drudgery, molest you more.
Benignant justice—universal love
Reigns over all, and mates you by endowments.
The gentle with the gentle happy join,
The lowly with the lowly, and but there
The beauteous with the beautiful are blest.’
“Gleaming athwart the tombs and trees, he then
Beheld a matron glidingly approach;
And ere his awe could take the form of words,
She rais'd her veil, and thus his mother spoke:—
Beheld a matron glidingly approach;
And ere his awe could take the form of words,
She rais'd her veil, and thus his mother spoke:—
“‘Why thus, Oram, so at this twilight hour,
Shun your companions, and no longer share
Their jocund pastimes?’ ‘'Tis my mood,’ he said,
‘Here, unmolested, I may gaze on Heaven.
Methinks I see at every star on high,
A wakeful warder holding solemn watch,
As if the Gods had dread expectancy;
While vast afar, the city's ocean-voice
Orac'lous sounds, as if with prophecy.’
Shun your companions, and no longer share
Their jocund pastimes?’ ‘'Tis my mood,’ he said,
‘Here, unmolested, I may gaze on Heaven.
Methinks I see at every star on high,
A wakeful warder holding solemn watch,
As if the Gods had dread expectancy;
While vast afar, the city's ocean-voice
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“The matron smil'd, as mothers smile, and said,
‘Thou hast been ever a fantastic boy.
The undisclos'd hereafters may possess
Some mystical predominances; but Oram,
The jeering neighbours say thou art in love,—
Thy eagle thoughts, which on the sun undazzl'd
Aspiring gaz'd, must soon, I ween, come down.’
‘Thou hast been ever a fantastic boy.
The undisclos'd hereafters may possess
Some mystical predominances; but Oram,
The jeering neighbours say thou art in love,—
Thy eagle thoughts, which on the sun undazzl'd
Aspiring gaz'd, must soon, I ween, come down.’
“Delating Oram to her care replied,
‘But is not Nature fetter'd—all in bondage,
And only waits, some freeman's willing arm
To set her free from laws, the gyves of man.
Love is all sight,—It is a heavenly power,
That gives a mortal courage to perform
Those feats of enterprise which Fate requires,
When every common quality of man
Is ineffectual or inadequate.’
‘But is not Nature fetter'd—all in bondage,
And only waits, some freeman's willing arm
To set her free from laws, the gyves of man.
Love is all sight,—It is a heavenly power,
That gives a mortal courage to perform
Those feats of enterprise which Fate requires,
When every common quality of man
Is ineffectual or inadequate.’
“She heard him, smil'd, and led him to her home,
Where soon, consenting to her tender care,
He chose a maiden of his own degree;
But while with friends and joyous gossips round,
The feast of the espousal was complete,
Th' impassion'd bridegroom fled. Fast after him,
The anxious mother pray'd him to return.
Where soon, consenting to her tender care,
He chose a maiden of his own degree;
But while with friends and joyous gossips round,
The feast of the espousal was complete,
Th' impassion'd bridegroom fled. Fast after him,
The anxious mother pray'd him to return.
“‘Alas! my son,’ the sadding matron cried,
‘Is not thy bride as fair as maidens be,
In that estate in which thy lot is laid?
It is a dream which says that aught but toil
Can ever be in thy abas'd condition.’
‘But my condition,’ sternly cried the youth,
‘Comes of the doom'd contrivances of man,
And may by man be chang'd. How is the King
In more esteem with Nature than myself?
Do pearls, diseases that in shell fish ache,
Exempt him from the penalties of life?—
I will return no more: advis'd by you,
I took upon me man-invented vows,
Which now, too late, I rue. What is the world?—
A thing of kings and slaves which man has made!—
That I should shrink from that inheritance,
Which righteous Nature tells me is my own?’
‘Is not thy bride as fair as maidens be,
In that estate in which thy lot is laid?
It is a dream which says that aught but toil
Can ever be in thy abas'd condition.’
‘But my condition,’ sternly cried the youth,
‘Comes of the doom'd contrivances of man,
And may by man be chang'd. How is the King
In more esteem with Nature than myself?
Do pearls, diseases that in shell fish ache,
Exempt him from the penalties of life?—
I will return no more: advis'd by you,
I took upon me man-invented vows,
Which now, too late, I rue. What is the world?—
A thing of kings and slaves which man has made!—
That I should shrink from that inheritance,
Which righteous Nature tells me is my own?’
“The yearning mother said with flowing eyes,
‘To feel the right is not to rightly feel.’
But he, regardless of maternal sorrow,
Shunn'd her caress, and sullenly withdrew.
‘To feel the right is not to rightly feel.’
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Shunn'd her caress, and sullenly withdrew.
“Meantime, a startling peal at Belus' portal,
Demanded entrance for a visitor,
And presently another louder clang
Proclaim'd the stranger was of great account;
Then Aldrozar, the King of Babylon,
Came in alone, and thus himself announc'd:—
Demanded entrance for a visitor,
And presently another louder clang
Proclaim'd the stranger was of great account;
Then Aldrozar, the King of Babylon,
Came in alone, and thus himself announc'd:—
“‘Why have I waited at your lordly door?
Had I been sordid as a menial slave,
You and your God could not have been more haughty.’
Had I been sordid as a menial slave,
You and your God could not have been more haughty.’
“A priest, intrepidly made this reply:—
‘The awful Gods, Sir, know not kings nor slaves;
These are conditions of the world begotten.
They know but men, things of their own creation.’
‘The awful Gods, Sir, know not kings nor slaves;
These are conditions of the world begotten.
They know but men, things of their own creation.’
“The King rebuk'd, with humble accents said,
‘I came to know what Fate to Belus tells.
My daughter Mauris, form'd so beautiful,
Shall now endure from her predestin'd fortune;—
She has return'd: her aged lord is dead.’
‘I came to know what Fate to Belus tells.
My daughter Mauris, form'd so beautiful,
Shall now endure from her predestin'd fortune;—
She has return'd: her aged lord is dead.’
“Esetorah, unbending, thus replied,
‘But one day in the cycle of the year,
The Deity his dread responses gives
Of dooms and fortunes. This is not the day;
The God is absent now, nor will return
Before the unclaim'd hour, that floats between
The past recorded, and to morrow's promise.’
‘But one day in the cycle of the year,
The Deity his dread responses gives
Of dooms and fortunes. This is not the day;
The God is absent now, nor will return
Before the unclaim'd hour, that floats between
The past recorded, and to morrow's promise.’
“Aw'd by the hierophant, the monarch said,
‘We know that Mauris was to Nizam wedded;
On that great day, she saw amidst the throng,
A low born youth, with such endowments grac'd,
That since the sight her bosom's peace has pin'd,
As if with guilty thoughts almost possess'd.’
‘We know that Mauris was to Nizam wedded;
On that great day, she saw amidst the throng,
A low born youth, with such endowments grac'd,
That since the sight her bosom's peace has pin'd,
As if with guilty thoughts almost possess'd.’
‘Tell me not that,’ said the calm hierophant,
‘But come at midnight, and prefer your prayer,
In all your pomp as King of Babylon.
The gorgeous outside shows a humble heart,
When mankind render homage to the great.’
‘But come at midnight, and prefer your prayer,
In all your pomp as King of Babylon.
The gorgeous outside shows a humble heart,
When mankind render homage to the great.’
“Then from the portico, a cry arose,
‘Come Aldrozar, come King of Babylon!
For Oram now with all the fiery youth,
Demands in thunder, at your palace gate,
The Princess Mauris, his created bride.’
‘Come Aldrozar, come King of Babylon!
For Oram now with all the fiery youth,
Demands in thunder, at your palace gate,
The Princess Mauris, his created bride.’
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“‘Another,’ as an oracle exclaim'd:—
‘But all the high born who have social strength,
In treasure, knowledge, and the wit to give,
Without offence—from old-time honour'd means—
Aid to their fellows, now determin'd arm;
The gates are guarded, and the towers are mann'd.
The frantic rave of Oram's frantic throng,
Is all awry from that which Nature teaches;
No two things ever that by her was made,
Although most similar, were e'er alike;
The very faces of mad Oram's men
Refute his notions by their hues and forms,
And prove that there will be, as ever was,
A difference—though a similarity.
Come Aldrozar, come King of Babylon!’
‘But all the high born who have social strength,
In treasure, knowledge, and the wit to give,
Without offence—from old-time honour'd means—
Aid to their fellows, now determin'd arm;
The gates are guarded, and the towers are mann'd.
The frantic rave of Oram's frantic throng,
Is all awry from that which Nature teaches;
No two things ever that by her was made,
Although most similar, were e'er alike;
The very faces of mad Oram's men
Refute his notions by their hues and forms,
And prove that there will be, as ever was,
A difference—though a similarity.
Come Aldrozar, come King of Babylon!’
“Thus so it chanc'd; and at the midnight hour,
With all his pageantry, King Aldrozar
Attended the responses of the God,
And cried aloud, ‘I would but vengeance know!
The low born Oram, whom my daughter Mauris
Saw in the crowd upon her wedding day,
Led forth in arms the shouting multitude,
And claim'd the overthrow of all the bounds
With which society was fenc'd of old.
But now he is my captive safe in chains.’
With all his pageantry, King Aldrozar
Attended the responses of the God,
And cried aloud, ‘I would but vengeance know!
The low born Oram, whom my daughter Mauris
Saw in the crowd upon her wedding day,
Led forth in arms the shouting multitude,
And claim'd the overthrow of all the bounds
With which society was fenc'd of old.
But now he is my captive safe in chains.’
“Highly and solemnly the priest replied,
‘The emblems of the God's response in flames,
Will shine athwart—tell me now what thou seest?’
He look'd, and then with awe and reverence said,
‘A sun, and moon, and stars, in a blue sky!’
‘The emblems of the God's response in flames,
Will shine athwart—tell me now what thou seest?’
He look'd, and then with awe and reverence said,
‘A sun, and moon, and stars, in a blue sky!’
“‘There always will be sun, and moon, and stars,’
Replied the hierophant. ‘What dost thou see?’
Replied the hierophant. ‘What dost thou see?’
“King Aldrozar again said, ‘Loaded trees;
And every tree is of a different kind—
The leaves are different, different as the fruits.’
And every tree is of a different kind—
The leaves are different, different as the fruits.’
“‘That is society: there every man
Must in his season, as the branches bend,
Bring forth his fruit. What dost thou now behold?’
Must in his season, as the branches bend,
Bring forth his fruit. What dost thou now behold?’
“‘A spectre with the types of royalty;
Around, as subjects, kneel all earthly kings.’
Around, as subjects, kneel all earthly kings.’
“‘That form is Death, king over all is he,
And Belus wills the daring youth should die.
What dost thou see?’ ‘Nothing; 'tis all now blank.
And Belus wills the daring youth should die.
What dost thou see?’ ‘Nothing; 'tis all now blank.
“‘The God reveals no more,—Belus is mute.’”
An invalid is occasionally subject to strange ruminations. One day in Autumn, I was placed at the window, when soon after a violent showery squall rattled the house, “What,” said I to myself, “is the use of such a day as this, but to spoil a' the puir folks corn.” But just in the moment, an old woman appeared in the streets truggling with the blast; her shoe, or bachle rather, came off, and she stooped to put it on. The action suggested the thought, that such days, at least, helped to improve the world. Thus shoes give employment to cordwainers; these employ tanners, who deal with butchers, butchers with farmers, farmers pay rent to landlords, landlords buy books and employ artists, and authors and artists promote the edification of mankind.
| The Demon of Destiny | |