 | Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious |  |
72
THE CONSECRATION OF THE PARTHENON.
“Time is a child at play.”
Heraclitus.
Heraclitus.
The Parthenon, Athena's pride and crown,
Was finished; every hammer's sound was hushed,
The marble's splintery dust was cleared away,
And all was ready for the joyful rite
Of consecration; when, before the crowd
Began to gather, an Athenian came
Whose intellect was nurtured in the schools
Of ancient song and high philosophy;
He came for one long satisfying gaze
Upon the perfect work; and, as he mused,
His thoughts found words, and with himself he spake:
Was finished; every hammer's sound was hushed,
The marble's splintery dust was cleared away,
And all was ready for the joyful rite
Of consecration; when, before the crowd
Began to gather, an Athenian came
Whose intellect was nurtured in the schools
Of ancient song and high philosophy;
He came for one long satisfying gaze
Upon the perfect work; and, as he mused,
His thoughts found words, and with himself he spake:
“What toil of slaves has built these walls!
What wealth of dimly burning gold,
And lustrous marble, pure and cold,
Is gathered in these sacred halls!
What wealth of dimly burning gold,
And lustrous marble, pure and cold,
Is gathered in these sacred halls!
“But far more precious than the hand
Of slave, is that high intellect
Which gave the free-souled architect
O'er matter his sublime command;
Of slave, is that high intellect
Which gave the free-souled architect
O'er matter his sublime command;
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“And far more precious than the gold
And marble of this holy shrine,
The sculptured images divine
Their glorious beauty here unfold.
And marble of this holy shrine,
The sculptured images divine
Their glorious beauty here unfold.
“To this—to beauty's perfect height—
All being evermore ascends.
Whate'er has force and motion tends
To life, and harmony, and light;
All being evermore ascends.
Whate'er has force and motion tends
To life, and harmony, and light;
“But when the eternal spirit rolls
Blindly no more through life and death;
When now it lives in human breath,
And thinks and feels in human souls;
Blindly no more through life and death;
When now it lives in human breath,
And thinks and feels in human souls;
“Then perfect beauty first has birth,
The product of the artist's thought;
Then sculptured forms like these are wrought,
More beautiful than aught of earth.
The product of the artist's thought;
Then sculptured forms like these are wrought,
More beautiful than aught of earth.
“So let us now rejoice, that we
Have lived to build this glorious fane,
And given it beauty to remain
In earthly immortality.”
Have lived to build this glorious fane,
And given it beauty to remain
In earthly immortality.”
He ceased, and mingled with the festive throng,
And joined in every gorgeous gladsome rite
As gaily as the gayest there, till even
Sent home the crowds, all weary of their joys,
And down he lay to rest, but could not sleep;
So to the Parthenon he wandered back,
And gazed upon the moonbeams as they fell
Full on the colonnades. All earth and heaven
Were hushed. And then, like stars that hide from day
But shine at night, far other thoughts arose
Upon his spirit, and again he spake:
And joined in every gorgeous gladsome rite
As gaily as the gayest there, till even
Sent home the crowds, all weary of their joys,
And down he lay to rest, but could not sleep;
So to the Parthenon he wandered back,
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Full on the colonnades. All earth and heaven
Were hushed. And then, like stars that hide from day
But shine at night, far other thoughts arose
Upon his spirit, and again he spake:
“Oh, what is art to those who groan?
And what is glory to the dead?
When mightier Death has bowed his head,
The hero knows not Victory's tone;
And what is glory to the dead?
When mightier Death has bowed his head,
The hero knows not Victory's tone;
“And all those myriads who to deeds
Of fame and glory are not born,
Whose life no beauteous arts adorn,
Are they no more than wasted seeds?
Of fame and glory are not born,
Whose life no beauteous arts adorn,
Are they no more than wasted seeds?
“Oh, can we hope for, after this,
Another, a diviner life,
Free from the taint of wrong and strife,
And all that is at war with bliss?
Another, a diviner life,
Free from the taint of wrong and strife,
And all that is at war with bliss?
“Is there a world beyond the grave,
Where justice reigns;—where deathless shame
Awaits triumphant wrong, and fame
Shall crown the unsuccessful brave?
Where justice reigns;—where deathless shame
Awaits triumphant wrong, and fame
Shall crown the unsuccessful brave?
“Is there a better, kindlier land,
Where those we deemed but wasted seeds,
Because they wrought no worthy deeds,
May into flower and fruit expand?
Where those we deemed but wasted seeds,
Because they wrought no worthy deeds,
May into flower and fruit expand?
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“I fear the Ephesian sage is right;
That nought endures but only change.
What's now familiar once was strange;
And day is swallowed up of night.
That nought endures but only change.
What's now familiar once was strange;
And day is swallowed up of night.
“From earth we come, to earth return;
All that has ever lived must die.
Perhaps the stars that burn on high
To ashes in their time may burn;
All that has ever lived must die.
Perhaps the stars that burn on high
To ashes in their time may burn;
“And this our temple, which we call
Eternal in its strength and grace,
Barbarian armies may deface,
Or earthquakes shatter to its fall.
Eternal in its strength and grace,
Barbarian armies may deface,
Or earthquakes shatter to its fall.
“For time is as a child at play,
Creating and destroying still.
Alike to him are good and ill;
Together both are swept away.
Creating and destroying still.
Alike to him are good and ill;
Together both are swept away.
“Then what in boundless space are we?
And what in endless time am I?
Mere clouds upon the eternal sky,
Mere foam upon the eternal sea!
And what in endless time am I?
Mere clouds upon the eternal sky,
Mere foam upon the eternal sea!
“Yet surely there is hope to find
Wherever there is power to seek;
And we could never think or speak
Of light, had we from birth been blind.
Wherever there is power to seek;
And we could never think or speak
Of light, had we from birth been blind.
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“Is he but like a breaking wave
Who gazed on beauty with delight,
Who longed for knowledge, strove for right,
And died, his fatherland to save?
Who gazed on beauty with delight,
Who longed for knowledge, strove for right,
And died, his fatherland to save?
“There comes no answer. From the shore
We watch the billows, while the sea
Before us lies,—a mystery
Whose depths we never can explore.
We watch the billows, while the sea
Before us lies,—a mystery
Whose depths we never can explore.
“Oh, could some power divine illume
This life of ours, its sorrows cheer,
Its gladness purify, and clear
The awful mystery of the tomb!
This life of ours, its sorrows cheer,
Its gladness purify, and clear
The awful mystery of the tomb!
“Or could the universal Mind
Which through all being ever rolls,
And kindles into life our souls,
Reveal itself to humankind!
Which through all being ever rolls,
And kindles into life our souls,
Reveal itself to humankind!
“O mighty Mind, Thou art supreme!
O Nature, thou art infinite!
Our ignorance is densest night;
Our knowledge, but a taper's gleam.”
O Nature, thou art infinite!
Our ignorance is densest night;
Our knowledge, but a taper's gleam.”
| Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious | |