Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature By Charles Mackay |
 |
THE PRAYER OF THE PRIEST OF ISIS. |
 |
|
 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
87
THE PRAYER OF THE PRIEST OF ISIS.
“All that hath been, is, or ever shall be. No
mortal hath ever lifted my veil.”—
Inscription
over the Temple of Isis.
Merciful Mother Isis! take me back into thy bosom!
Take me back! oh take me back! I have wandered from thee long;
I have strayed in doubt and sorrow through a wilderness of darkness,
Ever searching for the right, but for ever going wrong.
Take me back! oh take me back! repentant and heart-humbled,
To the high embattled fortress of thy love that may not fail,
For I'm weary, very weary, and I long to rest my spirit
In the shadow of the glory of thy never-lifted veil.
Take me back! oh take me back! I have wandered from thee long;
I have strayed in doubt and sorrow through a wilderness of darkness,
Ever searching for the right, but for ever going wrong.
Take me back! oh take me back! repentant and heart-humbled,
To the high embattled fortress of thy love that may not fail,
88
In the shadow of the glory of thy never-lifted veil.
“All that hath been; all that is; or ever shall be.”
The words conveyed no meaning to a soul so rash as mine,
That would pierce to the forbidden and soar to the Eternal,
And ravish all the treasures that are locked within the shrine.
I have erred; and I have suffered! Take me back, O gracious Isis!
Me humbled, me remorseful, me conscious of my sin,
To slumber free of heart in the gardens of thy Temple,
But never more to tempt the blinding Light within.
I longed, I pined for knowledge, as the Desert pines for moisture:
It came, but only brought me a harvest of despair,
To find I was a captive in the dungeons of the Senses,
And could not pierce beyond them to the fresh, rejoicing air.
I saw the skies above me—with all their cloud and glory—
Long, long my spirit fretted at the thraldom and the pain;
Like the sad imprisoned eagle, that beholds the purple mountain,
But may not hope to reach it for the torture of the chain.
The words conveyed no meaning to a soul so rash as mine,
That would pierce to the forbidden and soar to the Eternal,
And ravish all the treasures that are locked within the shrine.
I have erred; and I have suffered! Take me back, O gracious Isis!
Me humbled, me remorseful, me conscious of my sin,
To slumber free of heart in the gardens of thy Temple,
But never more to tempt the blinding Light within.
89
It came, but only brought me a harvest of despair,
To find I was a captive in the dungeons of the Senses,
And could not pierce beyond them to the fresh, rejoicing air.
I saw the skies above me—with all their cloud and glory—
Long, long my spirit fretted at the thraldom and the pain;
Like the sad imprisoned eagle, that beholds the purple mountain,
But may not hope to reach it for the torture of the chain.
Mankind—their joys and sorrows, their dreams and aspirations—
Grew little in my sight as the grasses of the lea,
Little as the rain-drops that plash into the river,
Little as the pebble in the deep Eternal Sea!
I thought I was immortal, and when I strove to prove it,
I found all reason useless to show that Life or Death
Was aught but change of fashion, or that my soul was other
Than a rustling 'mid the branches, or a drawing of the breath;—
Grew little in my sight as the grasses of the lea,
Little as the rain-drops that plash into the river,
Little as the pebble in the deep Eternal Sea!
90
I found all reason useless to show that Life or Death
Was aught but change of fashion, or that my soul was other
Than a rustling 'mid the branches, or a drawing of the breath;—
To show that Life immortal, to human pride so precious,
Was not alike the essence of all that live and move,
And all that live and move not:—of the bluebell in the meadow,
Of the flame that is extinguished, of the green leaf in the grove,
Of the dog that licks my hand and is happy in my presence,
Of the earth on which I tread, of the waves that rush and roll,
Or that matter, spirit, light, are not alike eternal,
The vesture of the Almighty! the body of the soul!
My heart—my brain—my spirit grew weary of inquiry,
And words deprived of value prefigured things no more:
Evil and Good were fused: there was nor Great nor Little,
Nor any Up nor Down, nor Future nor Before,
Nor any Past or Present—nor Anything but Nothing—
One calm eternal circle, in which the shard-born fly,
That sports amid the sunshine from dawning to the twilight,
Was quite as good and lovely and God-esteemed as I.
Was not alike the essence of all that live and move,
And all that live and move not:—of the bluebell in the meadow,
Of the flame that is extinguished, of the green leaf in the grove,
Of the dog that licks my hand and is happy in my presence,
Of the earth on which I tread, of the waves that rush and roll,
Or that matter, spirit, light, are not alike eternal,
The vesture of the Almighty! the body of the soul!
91
And words deprived of value prefigured things no more:
Evil and Good were fused: there was nor Great nor Little,
Nor any Up nor Down, nor Future nor Before,
Nor any Past or Present—nor Anything but Nothing—
One calm eternal circle, in which the shard-born fly,
That sports amid the sunshine from dawning to the twilight,
Was quite as good and lovely and God-esteemed as I.
If I had plan and passion—so had the bee and beaver;
If I lived out my life—so lived the midge its term;
If I could see before me as far as sense could lead me—
So also could the maggot, the emmet, and the worm.
If these were held in bondage, and could not over-pass it—
What better or what nobler, except in my degree,
Was I, a little insect upon the Earth's great forehead,
That wandered in the furrows, and thought that it was free?
If I lived out my life—so lived the midge its term;
If I could see before me as far as sense could lead me—
So also could the maggot, the emmet, and the worm.
92
What better or what nobler, except in my degree,
Was I, a little insect upon the Earth's great forehead,
That wandered in the furrows, and thought that it was free?
And now, all gracious Isis! lest madness overtake me,
Receive me back a truant, repentant that he strayed;
Who learned in sin and sorrow that Knowledge, at its noblest,
Is Ignorance extended—the gleaming of a shade.
Take me back! oh take me back!—undeceived—with childish wisdom;
And in the Peace of Faith let me sink into my rest,
As happy at thy footstool, adoring and confiding,
As a ripple in the sunshine, or an infant at the breast.
Receive me back a truant, repentant that he strayed;
Who learned in sin and sorrow that Knowledge, at its noblest,
Is Ignorance extended—the gleaming of a shade.
Take me back! oh take me back!—undeceived—with childish wisdom;
And in the Peace of Faith let me sink into my rest,
As happy at thy footstool, adoring and confiding,
As a ripple in the sunshine, or an infant at the breast.
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |