Fables in Song By Robert Lord Lytton |
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 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. | XV.
A LEGEND. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
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| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| II. |
 | Fables in Song |  |
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XV. A LEGEND.
“Die Tugend erwartet ihren Lohn in jener Welt; die Klugheit hofft ihn in dieser; das Genie weder in dieser noch in jener: es ist sein eigner Lohn.” —Schopenhauer, ii. 260.
It was the eve of the day
Which for the sake of St Peter
Christendom honours: and he,
Being the Porter of Heaven,
Pray'd St Thomas to take
Charge of Heaven's gate for awhile;
Since on the morrow himself
Needs must be present in Rome,
There to receive, and reward,
Christendom's praise and its pence.
Which for the sake of St Peter
Christendom honours: and he,
Being the Porter of Heaven,
Pray'd St Thomas to take
Charge of Heaven's gate for awhile;
Since on the morrow himself
Needs must be present in Rome,
There to receive, and reward,
Christendom's praise and its pence.
Prudent St Thomas, however,
Is the most scrupulous, most
Conscientious of saints.
Conscientious, because
He, the Celestial Empiric,
Even in high metaphysics
Follows the physical method,
Experimental, exact;
Judging of things for himself,
Never dismissing a doubt
Till he hath probed it and proved.
Is the most scrupulous, most
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Conscientious, because
He, the Celestial Empiric,
Even in high metaphysics
Follows the physical method,
Experimental, exact;
Judging of things for himself,
Never dismissing a doubt
Till he hath probed it and proved.
Therefore St Thomas refused,
Firmly refused, to take charge
Of the Celestial Gate,
(Lest he should thereby incur
Charge, too, of error—the Church
Holds for a damnable sin)
Save on condition that first
Peter should point to him out
Whom, without risk of himself
Being thereby taken in,
He into Heaven might take.
Firmly refused, to take charge
Of the Celestial Gate,
(Lest he should thereby incur
Charge, too, of error—the Church
Holds for a damnable sin)
Save on condition that first
Peter should point to him out
Whom, without risk of himself
Being thereby taken in,
He into Heaven might take.
Peter, tho' firm as a rock,
Knows that a point may be gain'd
Best by not arguing it.
“What!” he replied, “only that?
Good! since you will, be it so!
Brother, between you and me,
'Tis but a sinecure. Still,
Better prevention than cure.
Put on your hat. We have time.”
Knows that a point may be gain'd
Best by not arguing it.
“What!” he replied, “only that?
Good! since you will, be it so!
Brother, between you and me,
'Tis but a sinecure. Still,
Better prevention than cure.
Put on your hat. We have time.”
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Safe, then, he fasten'd the Gate,
Popp'd in his pocket the keys,
Hail'd the first cloud that came by,
Into it jump'd with St Thomas,
And in a trice the Apostles
Travell'd together to town.
Popp'd in his pocket the keys,
Hail'd the first cloud that came by,
Into it jump'd with St Thomas,
And in a trice the Apostles
Travell'd together to town.
“Now,” said St Peter, “observe!
Over their heads who must die
Ere the night's done, you'll perceive
Trembling a little blue star.”
“Ay,” said the other, and lo!
Everywhere round him he saw
Hanging o'er hundreds of heads
Tremulous little blue stars.
Over their heads who must die
Ere the night's done, you'll perceive
Trembling a little blue star.”
“Ay,” said the other, and lo!
Everywhere round him he saw
Hanging o'er hundreds of heads
Tremulous little blue stars.
Heeding not any of these,
Peter, however, went on.
Thomas was fain to ask why.
“Oh,” said the Porter of Heaven,
“These are no cattle of ours.
Look at them closer, you'll see!”
Peter, however, went on.
Thomas was fain to ask why.
“Oh,” said the Porter of Heaven,
“These are no cattle of ours.
Look at them closer, you'll see!”
Then did St Thomas perceive
Station'd in charge of them all
Pert little sentinel imps
Clad in the colours of Hell.
Station'd in charge of them all
Pert little sentinel imps
Clad in the colours of Hell.
Groaning, he made with his staff
Many a sign of the cross;
Which by those sentries satanic
Was, with a deference mock,
Duly saluted, as on
Through the iniquitous town
Pass'd the two Saints with a sigh.
Many a sign of the cross;
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Was, with a deference mock,
Duly saluted, as on
Through the iniquitous town
Pass'd the two Saints with a sigh.
Reaching the suburb, where sin,
Wedded to misery, tastes
Something of hell upon earth,
There in a hovel they saw,
Stretch'd on a sack of foul rags
Feebly, an old poor man.
Over the old man's head
Trembled a little blue star.
Wedded to misery, tastes
Something of hell upon earth,
There in a hovel they saw,
Stretch'd on a sack of foul rags
Feebly, an old poor man.
Over the old man's head
Trembled a little blue star.
“Brother bear him in mind.
He is,” sigh'd Peter, “alas,
The only one of them all
Whom, ere the morrow, in Heaven
Thou shalt receive to his rest.
All that was not in our gift
He upon earth has refused,
Trusting to us for his all.
All we can give him, we owe.
He is,” sigh'd Peter, “alas,
The only one of them all
Whom, ere the morrow, in Heaven
Thou shalt receive to his rest.
All that was not in our gift
He upon earth has refused,
Trusting to us for his all.
All we can give him, we owe.
“Therefore the soul of this man,
When it to Heaven returns
Pure as from Heaven it came,
Bear thou, asleep on thy bosom,
Into the meadow of God,
Sweet with the innocent breath
Breathed by the children who died
Pure in the moment of birth.
When it to Heaven returns
Pure as from Heaven it came,
Bear thou, asleep on thy bosom,
Into the meadow of God,
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Breathed by the children who died
Pure in the moment of birth.
“Threescore and ten are the years
God to the life of this man
Gave: and to him they have given
Poverty only, and pain.
Now, in the moment of death,
Nothing of him do they leave
Which is not innocent, sweet,
Simple, and pure as the soul
Breathed by the Giver of Life
Into the babe that is born.
Truly he hath his reward.
Now let us go.”
God to the life of this man
Gave: and to him they have given
Poverty only, and pain.
Now, in the moment of death,
Nothing of him do they leave
Which is not innocent, sweet,
Simple, and pure as the soul
Breathed by the Giver of Life
Into the babe that is born.
Truly he hath his reward.
Now let us go.”
But “O stay!”
“Still,” said St Thomas, “I see
Two men yonder, and lo!
Hovering over their heads
Tremble two little blue stars.
Yet can I nowhere perceive
Sentry satanic or guard
Set for the souls of those men.
Surely for them there is hope?
“Still,” said St Thomas, “I see
Two men yonder, and lo!
Hovering over their heads
Tremble two little blue stars.
Yet can I nowhere perceive
Sentry satanic or guard
Set for the souls of those men.
Surely for them there is hope?
“Yonder magnificent mansion!
Is he the lord of it, he
Who, while the death-star unheeded
Brightens his serious forehead,
Seems to be pondering, planning,
And counting the chances of life?
Life, for the will and the purpose,
Ay, and the lion-like power,
Pent in the brain that makes broad
That man's mountainous brow,
Such life, sure, hath a value
Not to be lost in the tomb?”
Is he the lord of it, he
Who, while the death-star unheeded
Brightens his serious forehead,
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And counting the chances of life?
Life, for the will and the purpose,
Ay, and the lion-like power,
Pent in the brain that makes broad
That man's mountainous brow,
Such life, sure, hath a value
Not to be lost in the tomb?”
“He?” with contemptuous accent,
Shrugging his shoulders, the old
Much-experienced Apostle
Mutter'd in answer, “he
Knows how to shift for himself.
Let him. His wits are his own.
All that on earth was to get
This man hath ask'd for and gotten.
Nothing owe we to this man.
Shrugging his shoulders, the old
Much-experienced Apostle
Mutter'd in answer, “he
Knows how to shift for himself.
Let him. His wits are his own.
All that on earth was to get
This man hath ask'd for and gotten.
Nothing owe we to this man.
“Ay, 'tis a notable head!
What will he do with it? Brother,
That is not Heaven's affair.
Tell him as much when he comes
Knocking to-night at the Gate.
What will he do with it? Brother,
That is not Heaven's affair.
Tell him as much when he comes
Knocking to-night at the Gate.
“Oh, he will come, never doubt!
Come where there's aught to be got.
Eagerly ask for it too.
Such is the way with them all.
Well, let him get what he can,
So as he gets it himself.
Tell him we owe it him not.
Doubtless he hath his reward.”
Come where there's aught to be got.
Eagerly ask for it too.
Such is the way with them all.
Well, let him get what he can,
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Tell him we owe it him not.
Doubtless he hath his reward.”
“Good!” said St Thomas, “but wait!
What of the other? Behold,
There is he, standing alone
High on the brow of the hill,
Wrapt in a glory that streams
Over his form and his face
Fair from the fall of the sun.
What of the other? Behold,
There is he, standing alone
High on the brow of the hill,
Wrapt in a glory that streams
Over his form and his face
Fair from the fall of the sun.
“Pale is his forehead and pure,
Deep is the fathomless eye
Fixt on that source of a light
Fading away from its gaze.
Solemn and sweet is the face,
Saintly the mien of that man,
Even as one that regards
Calmly the coming of calm.”
Deep is the fathomless eye
Fixt on that source of a light
Fading away from its gaze.
Solemn and sweet is the face,
Saintly the mien of that man,
Even as one that regards
Calmly the coming of calm.”
Peter had paused. And he too
Gazed on the man, and was still.
“Well?” whisper'd Thomas, “Reply!
“Him, at the least, I admit?”
Silently shaking his head,
Peter still answer'd him not.
Gazed on the man, and was still.
“Well?” whisper'd Thomas, “Reply!
“Him, at the least, I admit?”
Silently shaking his head,
Peter still answer'd him not.
“What!” cried the questioning Saint,
“Heaven, is it grudged to a guest
Who in his soul, as I think,
Hath it already? who seems
One of the few, the elect,
Sign'd by the sigil of God?”
“Heaven, is it grudged to a guest
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Hath it already? who seems
One of the few, the elect,
Sign'd by the sigil of God?”
Still, without answering, still
Lost in his own meditations,
Silently shaking his head,
Peter vouchsafed in reply
Only a negative nod.
Lost in his own meditations,
Silently shaking his head,
Peter vouchsafed in reply
Only a negative nod.
“Speak!” cried St Thomas. “Explain!
Porter of Heaven, to him
Must I not open the Gate?”
Porter of Heaven, to him
Must I not open the Gate?”
“No.”—“What, refuse him admittance?”
“No.”—“In the name, then, of patience,
What must I do, Brother Saint?
Thomas my name is, not Job.”
“No.”—“In the name, then, of patience,
What must I do, Brother Saint?
Thomas my name is, not Job.”
Sighingly Peter replied,
“Brother, the man will not come.”
“Ah,” with a gesture of joy
Thomas exclaim'd, “he will live?”
“Brother, the man will not come.”
“Ah,” with a gesture of joy
Thomas exclaim'd, “he will live?”
“Brother, to-night he will die.
Die, when you sun shall have set,
Die, and the life he hath lived,
Beauteous and bright as the sun,
Shall, with the sun, pass away.
All hath that man in himself:
All, and he knows what he hath:
Knows it, and asks for no more.
He is himself his reward.”
Die, when you sun shall have set,
Die, and the life he hath lived,
Beauteous and bright as the sun,
Shall, with the sun, pass away.
All hath that man in himself:
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Knows it, and asks for no more.
He is himself his reward.”
“Nay, then, what is he, my Brother?
Name me that forehead, those eyes!”
Name me that forehead, those eyes!”
Then did the holy Apostle
Stretch, with a gesture fraternal,
Forth to the man on the mountain
Solemnly his right hand:
Waving a mute benediction
Whilst, in the ear of the Saint
Who to him listen'd in wonder,
Softly he whisper'd these words:
Words which all Nature receiving
Echo'd with answering thrills:
Stretch, with a gesture fraternal,
Forth to the man on the mountain
Solemnly his right hand:
Waving a mute benediction
Whilst, in the ear of the Saint
Who to him listen'd in wonder,
Softly he whisper'd these words:
Words which all Nature receiving
Echo'd with answering thrills:
“That which hath all in itself,
All without any condition,
All without any restriction,
What can it want or demand?
Having within it, and feeling,
Comprehending, enjoying
All things, nothing is left it,
Nothing, to ask or to get.
All without any condition,
All without any restriction,
What can it want or demand?
Having within it, and feeling,
Comprehending, enjoying
All things, nothing is left it,
Nothing, to ask or to get.
“Three men are call'd out of life.
One shall be welcom'd above,
One be lamented below.
One shall be welcom'd above,
One be lamented below.
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Pure was the life of the first,
Potent the life of the second.
Each was an effort rewarded:
One its reward hath in Heaven,
One its reward upon Earth.
Potent the life of the second.
Each was an effort rewarded:
One its reward hath in Heaven,
One its reward upon Earth.
“Not so the life of the third.
There is no effort in this,
Therefore for this no reward.
There is no effort in this,
Therefore for this no reward.
“Man, it was, named the creation.
What was the name of it, think you,
Ere man himself had a name?
Here is the Thought that created
Finding itself in creation,
Feeling and knowing itself,
And in that knowledge rejoicing.
Genius men call it on earth.”
What was the name of it, think you,
Ere man himself had a name?
Here is the Thought that created
Finding itself in creation,
Feeling and knowing itself,
And in that knowledge rejoicing.
Genius men call it on earth.”
| Fables in Song | |