University of Virginia Library

THE THREE SPIRITS.

They were three Spirits fresh from God's own hand,
And beautifuller ne'er took mortal mould.
They had worn vestures of the undefiled,
At spirit-spousals sang the nuptial song,
Sat down with Gods and Heroes, held high converse
With Milton and the mighty men of old,
Divine old Socrates and deathless sages,
The martyr'd Prophets and the warrior-saints,
Who fought as we do now, and wrestled down
Doubt's grim despairs, with pangs and quenchless faith.
Glory tiara'd their immortal brows,
Their lips were yet alive with seraph-fire,
And locks bedropt rich dews of Paradise:
They lookt a fore-taste and fore-feel of heaven.
Christ-like they came to wear old Earth's life-harness,
And yoke their fiery sun-steeds in her furrows.
They came to battle, toil in tears, and pray,
“Our Father,” with the family of Men.
'Twas midnight in the husht and moonlit land,
The heavens had on their silver robe of stars,
And earth had on her silver robe of dew,
When they first lookt like smiles of God, through eyes
Where struggling heaven-light shone half-drown'd in tears,
As rainy sunbeams strike a watery world.
They grew sweet babes, where fond hearts set Love's throne,
Heaven breathed about them, Angels sang to them,
And joy was with them in their innocence.
Their dawn of being broaden'd into day,
And they had sprung to Manhood unawares.
The lusty blood ran brave fire in their veins,
Life's surging waves, with them, were at mad-plunge,
And plough'd the passionate heart with tempest-beat.
Then high thoughts burst like battle on their souls,
Rousing and stern as in the noon of night
The clarion's clangour smites a sleeping host!
And gorgeous Visions, glory-clad, swept by.
But one went down to moil in Mammon's mine,
For love of Gold; thenceforth in his warpt heart,
The Devil at death-grips set himself to God,
And day by day worm'd out some trace divine!
Day unto day, Gold rotted out the soul.
Still he toil'd on for Gold, sweet! damning Gold!
The poor man's sweat, and tears, and blood, congeal'd;
And he waxt wealthy! all around him rose
The hoarded heaps, like trophies after battle,
Or tribute-treasure flung at Monarchs' feet.
He turn'd to what he fed on, dust to dust;
The angel-plumes once moulted, grew no more!
The God dwarft in him, and his heart was hoary
Before Time's silver mark had blancht his brow.
And one up-rear'd a fame which stood apart
In the world's gaze, as 'mid old Tadmor's ruins
Some column loometh in the eye of sunset.
He crown'd with beacon-fire the reef which wreckt
The mighty of all time. His marvellous name
Moved men's tongues regally as Euroclydon,
The storm-wind! wakes the voices of old ocean.
Leviathan of blood! what crimson seas
He spilt to revel in; his path to empire
Was wasted hearts and desolated lands.
The other trode the world's face poor as Christ,
Drank gall and wormwood; lived Gethsemane,
In many a midnight solitude of heart!
Loved, hoped, and nurst large faith in human-kind;
Wept glorious tears that telescope the soul,
And bring heaven nearer to the eyes of Faith.
The hounds of hell bay'd at him, hoary Evil
Breathed blighting influences on his heart,
To turn it to a Upas-tree, and kill
All nestling birds of love. With tears and travail
He walkt the furnace, trode Earth's stony ways,
And beat his rugged path with bleeding feet.
Yet nought bore down his heart, or blencht his faith,
And many a cloud-rift radiantly rent,
Dropt blessing dear as parted lips of Love.
From suffering he won strength to throw the world
And when the fight ran sorest, his roused spirit
Went forth a Conqueror! wrapt in victory's robes.
Amid the mirk and mire, he kept his heart
A temple for the Beautiful! all warm
And bright, with blessed light of Love, that window
Of our dim life, which ever opes on God!
He trimmed Love's lamp in poor men's hearts and homes,
And in the world's waste places his life blossom'd.
So each built up a life. Time's scaffolding
Fell from them, and they stood in God's eye bare!
Into the silent land, they pass'd the Grave,
Which Spring had made a beautiful gate of flowers;
On wings of wonder won the starry threshold
Of God, where like to like is gauged and garnered.
They stood where Paradise uprear'd its portals,
And shook down splendours, palpitated bliss,
Like a town full of triumph,—heart of love.
O in that hour how shook the rich man's soul!
He stood there beggar'd, poorest of the poor!
Gold would not purchase heaven; and if it might,
Eternity ran 'twixt him and his riches;
And he went wailing with his world of woe.
The other had gambled for a life, and lost;
Let slip his chance for an Eternity!
For fame, had barter'd an immortal birthright;
For name on Earth had sold Heaven's heritage;
And there the gates of glory on him closed.
The poor man came, and his meek tearful eyes
Grew luminous, as lit with sudden sun.
Divinity leapt up full-statured, when
His life burst its worn manacle of clay,
And wore God's splendour round it as a raiment.
Throbbing with glory like a midnight star,
All heaven was husht to hear the Lord's “Well done.”
Then shining hosts and choiring orbs sang “Welcome,”
And angels crown'd him in their Capitol.
For in his heart he kept God's image bright.
Love was his life-blood. Thro' the long work-day—
The dark and terrible night-time—aye, to death,
He nurst his love: and God himself is love.
And there be none of all the poorest poor
That walk the world, worn heart-bare, none so poor
But they may bring a little human love
To mend the world. And God himself is love.