 | St. Augustine's Holiday and Other Poems |  |
196
THE DEATH OF JACOB.
Ατινα εστιν αλληγοροϝ/μενα.
I read how Israel, after life's long lent,
Enter'd the quiet Easter-Eve of Faith.
We do thee grievous wrong, O eloquent,
And just and mighty Death!
Enter'd the quiet Easter-Eve of Faith.
We do thee grievous wrong, O eloquent,
And just and mighty Death!
Life is a cave,
where shadows gleam and glide
Between our dim eyes and a distant light;
Faint breaks the booming of the outer tide,
Faint falls its line of white.
Between our dim eyes and a distant light;
Faint breaks the booming of the outer tide,
Faint falls its line of white.
When in the cave our spirits darkling stand,
Where the light strangely flickers on the floor,
Comes death, and softly leads us by the hand
Unto the cavern door.
Where the light strangely flickers on the floor,
Comes death, and softly leads us by the hand
Unto the cavern door.
I saw the Syrian sunset's meteor crown
Hang over Bethel for a little space;
I saw a gentle wanderer lie down
With tears upon his face.
Hang over Bethel for a little space;
I saw a gentle wanderer lie down
With tears upon his face.
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Sheer up the fathomless, transparent blue,
Rose jasper battlement, and crystal wall;
Rung all the night air, piercèd through and through
With songs angelical.
Rose jasper battlement, and crystal wall;
Rung all the night air, piercèd through and through
With songs angelical.
And a great ladder was set up the while
From earth to heaven, with angels on each round,
Barks that bore precious freight to earth's far isle,
Or sail'd back homeward bound.
From earth to heaven, with angels on each round,
Barks that bore precious freight to earth's far isle,
Or sail'd back homeward bound.
Ah! many a time we look, on starlit nights,
Up to the sky as Jacob did of old,
Look longing up to the eternal lights
To spell their lines of gold;
Up to the sky as Jacob did of old,
Look longing up to the eternal lights
To spell their lines of gold;
But nevermore, as to the Hebrew lone,
Each on his way the angels walk abroad;
And nevermore we hear with audible tone
The awful voice of God.
Each on his way the angels walk abroad;
And nevermore we hear with audible tone
The awful voice of God.
Yet, to pure eyes, the ladder still is set,
And angel visitants still come and go;
Many bright messengers are moving yet
From this dark world below.
And angel visitants still come and go;
Many bright messengers are moving yet
From this dark world below.
Thoughts, that are surely Faith's outspreading wings;
Prayers of the Church, aye keeping time and tryst;
Heart-wishes, making bee-like murmurings,
Their flower the Eucharist;
Prayers of the Church, aye keeping time and tryst;
Heart-wishes, making bee-like murmurings,
Their flower the Eucharist;
Spirits elect, through suffering render'd meet
For those high mansions; from the nursery door,
Bright babes that climb up with their clay-cold feet
Unto the golden floor;—
For those high mansions; from the nursery door,
Bright babes that climb up with their clay-cold feet
Unto the golden floor;—
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These are the messengers, for ever wending
From earth to Heaven, that faith alone may scan;
These are the angels of our God, ascending
Upon the Son of Man.
From earth to Heaven, that faith alone may scan;
These are the angels of our God, ascending
Upon the Son of Man.
I saw a tent beside the lotos river;
I saw an old man bow'd upon his bed;
Methought the river sang, “I roll for ever,
But he will soon be dead.
I saw an old man bow'd upon his bed;
Methought the river sang, “I roll for ever,
But he will soon be dead.
“Long since, his grandsire walk'd beside my stream;
His wife, a lily, lit my lilied meadows:
Long since they glided, like a magic dream,
Into the old world shadows.
His wife, a lily, lit my lilied meadows:
Long since they glided, like a magic dream,
Into the old world shadows.
“Up where his grandsire rests the mummy goes,
Up to the shrivell'd lily's mask of clay,—
But on my rolling music grandly flows,
And it shall flow for aye!”
Up to the shrivell'd lily's mask of clay,—
But on my rolling music grandly flows,
And it shall flow for aye!”
Whereto another voice kept chanting on,
“The shadows come, the shadows go, old river!
But when thy music shall be mute and gone,
He shall sing psalms for ever.”
“The shadows come, the shadows go, old river!
But when thy music shall be mute and gone,
He shall sing psalms for ever.”
And then methought, beside that pastoral tent,
The ladder rose from the green land below;
Fair spiritual creatures made descent,
And beckon'd him to go.
The ladder rose from the green land below;
Fair spiritual creatures made descent,
And beckon'd him to go.
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But up the stream of days he seem'd to float,
And twice seven years was toiling for his wife;
And all his thought lay heaving like a boat
On the long swell of life.
And twice seven years was toiling for his wife;
And all his thought lay heaving like a boat
On the long swell of life.
How statuelike that shape in shadows deep—
Like one of marble in the minster's rest,
With a pale babe—not dead, but gone to sleep
For ever on her breast.
Like one of marble in the minster's rest,
With a pale babe—not dead, but gone to sleep
For ever on her breast.
And the white mother's breast may seem to heave,
And the white babe to feel about her face;
'Tis but our restless hearts that thus deceive
The quiet of the place.
And the white babe to feel about her face;
'Tis but our restless hearts that thus deceive
The quiet of the place.
And Rachel look'd upon her Israel,—wann'd
Like a white flower with the summer rain,
So she with sweat of child-birth,—her thin hand
Laid on the counterpane.
Like a white flower with the summer rain,
So she with sweat of child-birth,—her thin hand
Laid on the counterpane.
Near Ephrath there's a pillar'd tomb apart;
It throws a shadow on her where she lies—
And she, a shadow on her husband's heart,
Of household memories.
It throws a shadow on her where she lies—
And she, a shadow on her husband's heart,
Of household memories.
Then by the death-bed two fair boys bent down—
So bend two wild flowers where the dark firs rise.
Fell first upon the younger's golden crown
Faith's blessing sunlight-wise.
So bend two wild flowers where the dark firs rise.
Fell first upon the younger's golden crown
Faith's blessing sunlight-wise.
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Gather yourselves together, hear ye well,
Your fair adventure from the lips of death!
Gather yourselves, ye sons of Israel!
Hear what in song he saith;
Your fair adventure from the lips of death!
Gather yourselves, ye sons of Israel!
Hear what in song he saith;
That so the old men, in the after times,
May find the wingèd words by memory sought;
Tracing the golden feathers of their rhymes
Through the thick leaves of thought.
May find the wingèd words by memory sought;
Tracing the golden feathers of their rhymes
Through the thick leaves of thought.
Darkly, O Reuben, doth the tower of Edar
Hang down its heavy shadow on the lea;
Dark droops the shadow of the mountain cedar;
Dark droops thy deed o'er thee.
Hang down its heavy shadow on the lea;
Dark droops the shadow of the mountain cedar;
Dark droops thy deed o'er thee.
With him, O brothers of the bloody hand!
Hard by the lustful heart dwell hearts of hate!
Be ye left lone and scatter'd in the land,
Who left love desolate.
Hard by the lustful heart dwell hearts of hate!
Be ye left lone and scatter'd in the land,
Who left love desolate.
Sweet ring the merry tabret and the pipe
On Judah's mountains all the vintage long,
From the first flower, until the grape is ripe,
Soundeth a pleasant song.
On Judah's mountains all the vintage long,
From the first flower, until the grape is ripe,
Soundeth a pleasant song.
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Whelp of the lion, thee thy brethren praise,
The weir wolf couches at thy kingly feet,
The hissing of the serpent guards thy ways
Where horse and horsemen meet.
The weir wolf couches at thy kingly feet,
The hissing of the serpent guards thy ways
Where horse and horsemen meet.
Old lion of the hills, the Heavens assign
Rule unto thee, and law, and high estate,
Till Shiloh come forth of the lion line,
On whom the nations wait.
Rule unto thee, and law, and high estate,
Till Shiloh come forth of the lion line,
On whom the nations wait.
Through all thy waters lift a battle shout,
Shout forth, O Jordan, for a warrior comes;
Dark forests, roll your stormy music out,
Like a long roll of drums.
Shout forth, O Jordan, for a warrior comes;
Dark forests, roll your stormy music out,
Like a long roll of drums.
Clash all your boughs, like shields that shock and sound,
Where, with his shield and buckler, Gad appears;
Lift your tall stems like sheaves of lances, bound
Over his plump of spears.
Where, with his shield and buckler, Gad appears;
Lift your tall stems like sheaves of lances, bound
Over his plump of spears.
From Joseph's blossom'd valleys sail abroad
The pale blue vapours born of living rills;
From his high head are seen the stars of God
Crowning the eternal hills.
The pale blue vapours born of living rills;
From his high head are seen the stars of God
Crowning the eternal hills.
And the white tents of Issachar are spread,
Couch'd in good rest the craven fears each comer;
In sooth a pleasant land of drowsy-head
Lit by the sleepy summer.
Couch'd in good rest the craven fears each comer;
In sooth a pleasant land of drowsy-head
Lit by the sleepy summer.
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Asher is grey with many an olive-tree,
And Napthali puts forth his goodly boughs.
Seen from the shore, Zebulon's silver sea
Shines round Zidonian prows.
And Napthali puts forth his goodly boughs.
Seen from the shore, Zebulon's silver sea
Shines round Zidonian prows.
Hush'd is the song, the tribesmen all are bless'd,
According to his blessing, every one;
But still the old man's spirit may not rest
Until he charge each son—
According to his blessing, every one;
But still the old man's spirit may not rest
Until he charge each son—
Not where the Pharaohs lie, with incense breath'd
Round awful galleries, grim with shapes of wrath,
Hawk-headed, vulture-pinion'd, serpent-wreath'd,
Hued like an Indian moth—
Round awful galleries, grim with shapes of wrath,
Hawk-headed, vulture-pinion'd, serpent-wreath'd,
Hued like an Indian moth—
But lay him where, from forest or green slope
To Mamre's cave, the low wind breatheth balm,
Chanteth a litany of immortal hope,
Singeth a funeral psalm.
To Mamre's cave, the low wind breatheth balm,
Chanteth a litany of immortal hope,
Singeth a funeral psalm.
Then slowly upward did the cold death creep
From foot and face with its strange lines of white,
Like foam-streaks on a river, dark and deep,
Lash'd by the winds all night.
From foot and face with its strange lines of white,
Like foam-streaks on a river, dark and deep,
Lash'd by the winds all night.
And then the feet were gather'd in the bed,
The silver stairs were all astir with wings—
Whatever lauds are sweetly sung, or said,
Or struck on plausive strings,
The silver stairs were all astir with wings—
Whatever lauds are sweetly sung, or said,
Or struck on plausive strings,
Whatever harmony conch or trumpet rolls,
From angels swell'd, address'd to entertain
With gratulation high those purgèd souls
For which the Lamb was slain.
From angels swell'd, address'd to entertain
With gratulation high those purgèd souls
For which the Lamb was slain.
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We die—but no unearthly breezes bless,
Blown from futurity, the parting soul—
Through tangled mazes of our consciousness
No prophet-sunlights roll;
Blown from futurity, the parting soul—
Through tangled mazes of our consciousness
No prophet-sunlights roll;
Yet as what time the softly floating mist
Hangs o'er the hush'd sea and the leafy land,
Nature, a passionate pale evangelist,
Takes pen and scroll in hand,
Hangs o'er the hush'd sea and the leafy land,
Nature, a passionate pale evangelist,
Takes pen and scroll in hand,
And, looking upward, writes beneath the sea
A colourless story, beautiful but dim:
So Jacob saw the Lord in mystery,
And darkly sang of Him.
A colourless story, beautiful but dim:
So Jacob saw the Lord in mystery,
And darkly sang of Him.
But unto us He comes in fuller light,
His pale and dying lips with woe foredone—
No need to seek, through many a day and night,
By starlight for the sun!
His pale and dying lips with woe foredone—
No need to seek, through many a day and night,
By starlight for the sun!
So come, O Shiloh! with the thorn-crown'd head;
Come, with the fountain flowing forth abroad;
Bring faith the sacred Eucharistic bread,
Give her the wine of God.
Come, with the fountain flowing forth abroad;
Bring faith the sacred Eucharistic bread,
Give her the wine of God.
Come, with the open'd arms for sin to see
The sacramental side for sinners riven.
Oh, in the hour of death we climb by Thee
Up to the gate of Heaven!
The sacramental side for sinners riven.
Oh, in the hour of death we climb by Thee
Up to the gate of Heaven!
Like a tall ship that beareth slow and proud
A fallen chief—for pall and plume in motion
The death-dark top-mast and the death-white shroud
Drift o'er the silver ocean.
A fallen chief—for pall and plume in motion
The death-dark top-mast and the death-white shroud
Drift o'er the silver ocean.
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Silent the helmsman stands beside the wheel,
Silent the mariners in their watches wait,
And a great music rolls before the keel
As through an abbey gate:
Silent the mariners in their watches wait,
And a great music rolls before the keel
As through an abbey gate:
Like that tall ship a grand procession comes
Up from old Father Nile to Hebron's hill;
But no dead march is beat upon the drums,
And every trump is still.
Up from old Father Nile to Hebron's hill;
But no dead march is beat upon the drums,
And every trump is still.
Heartsore, and footsore with the march of life—
Soldier of God, whose fields were foughten well—
Resteth him from the cumbrance and the strife
World-wearied Israel.
Soldier of God, whose fields were foughten well—
Resteth him from the cumbrance and the strife
World-wearied Israel.
Twelve harps of life are round that unstrung lyre,
Twelve living flowers are round that wither'd one,
Twelve clouds with his red sunset all on fire
Are round that sunken sun.
Twelve living flowers are round that wither'd one,
Twelve clouds with his red sunset all on fire
Are round that sunken sun.
Those twelve brave hearts are tolling evermore,
For every heart beats like a muffled bell,
And still they ring, “Thy march of life is o'er—
O weary soul, rest well.”
For every heart beats like a muffled bell,
And still they ring, “Thy march of life is o'er—
O weary soul, rest well.”
Still it sails onward, where the Red Sea fills
With snowy drift of shells his coral bowers,
On through the wondrous land of rose-red hills
To that of rose-red flowers:
With snowy drift of shells his coral bowers,
On through the wondrous land of rose-red hills
To that of rose-red flowers:
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The land where aye, through many a purple gap,
The wanderer sees a mountain wall upspring,
And ever in his ear the wild waves flap
Like a great eagle's wing;
The wanderer sees a mountain wall upspring,
And ever in his ear the wild waves flap
Like a great eagle's wing;
Meet battlement for the race that dwells alone,
Music to match, monotonous and grave,
The tongue, whose dark old words are all its own,
Pure as the mid-sea wave.
Music to match, monotonous and grave,
The tongue, whose dark old words are all its own,
Pure as the mid-sea wave.
Ever I walk with that funereal train—
The stars shine over it for tapers tall,
And Jordan's music is the requiem strain
Drawn out from fall to fall.
The stars shine over it for tapers tall,
And Jordan's music is the requiem strain
Drawn out from fall to fall.
Come, O thou south wind! with thy fragrance faint,
Bring from those folded forests, on thy breath,
Balm for the mummy, lying like a saint,
Upon his car of death.
Bring from those folded forests, on thy breath,
Balm for the mummy, lying like a saint,
Upon his car of death.
Bear him, ye bearers! lay him down at last
In still Machpelah, down by Leah's side—
On that pale bridegroom shimmering is cast,
Laid by that awful bride.
In still Machpelah, down by Leah's side—
On that pale bridegroom shimmering is cast,
Laid by that awful bride.
Rests he not well whose pilgrim staff and shoon
Lie in his tent—for through the golden street
They walk, and stumble not, on roads star-strewn,
With their unsandall'd feet?
Lie in his tent—for through the golden street
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With their unsandall'd feet?
Rests he not well who keepeth watch and ward,
In sweet possession of the land loved most,
Till, marshall'd by the Angel of the Lord,
Shall come the Heaven-sent host?
In sweet possession of the land loved most,
Till, marshall'd by the Angel of the Lord,
Shall come the Heaven-sent host?
Who has not felt, within some churchyard spot,
When evening's pencil shades the pale-gold sky,
“Here, at the closing of my life's calm lot,
Here would I love to lie?
When evening's pencil shades the pale-gold sky,
“Here, at the closing of my life's calm lot,
Here would I love to lie?
“Here, where the poet thrush so often pours
His requiem, hidden in green aisles of lime,
And, bloody red along the sycamores,
Creepeth the summer-time;
His requiem, hidden in green aisles of lime,
And, bloody red along the sycamores,
Creepeth the summer-time;
“Where through the ruin'd church's broken walls
Glimmers all night the vast and solemn sea,
As through our broken hopes the brightness shines,
Of our eternity.”
Glimmers all night the vast and solemn sea,
As through our broken hopes the brightness shines,
Of our eternity.”
But when we die, we rest, far, far away;
Not over us the lime-trees lift their bowers,
And the young sycamores their shadows sway
O'er graves that are not ours.
Not over us the lime-trees lift their bowers,
And the young sycamores their shadows sway
O'er graves that are not ours.
Yet he is happy, wheresoe'er he lie,
Round whom the purple calms of Eden spread; Who sees his Saviour with the heart's pure eye,
He is the happy dead!
Round whom the purple calms of Eden spread; Who sees his Saviour with the heart's pure eye,
He is the happy dead!
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By the rough brook of life no more he wrestles,
Huddling its hoarse waves until night depart;
No more the pale face of a Rachel nestles
Upon his broken heart.
Huddling its hoarse waves until night depart;
No more the pale face of a Rachel nestles
Upon his broken heart.
He is encircled by the quiet home,
From whose safe hold no little lamb is lost;
The Jegar-sahadutha of the tomb
No Laban ever crost!
From whose safe hold no little lamb is lost;
The Jegar-sahadutha of the tomb
No Laban ever crost!
I saw again. Behold! Heaven's open door;
Behold! a throne—the Seraphim stood o'er it;
The white-robed Elders fell upon the floor,
And flung their crowns before it.
Behold! a throne—the Seraphim stood o'er it;
The white-robed Elders fell upon the floor,
And flung their crowns before it.
I saw a wondrous book; an Angel strong
To heaven and earth proclaim'd his loud appeals:
But a hush pass'd across the seraph's song,
For none might loose the seals.
To heaven and earth proclaim'd his loud appeals:
But a hush pass'd across the seraph's song,
For none might loose the seals.
Then fast as rain to death-cry of the year,
Tears of St. John to that sad cry were given—
It was a wondrous thing to see a tear
Fall on the floor of Heaven.
Tears of St. John to that sad cry were given—
It was a wondrous thing to see a tear
Fall on the floor of Heaven.
And a sweet voice said, “Weep not: wherefore fails,
Eagle of God, thy heart, the high and leal?
The Lion out of Judah's tribe prevails
To loose the sevenfold seal.”
Eagle of God, thy heart, the high and leal?
The Lion out of Judah's tribe prevails
To loose the sevenfold seal.”
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'Twas Israel's voice; and straightway, up above,
Stood in the midst a wondrous Lamb, snow white,
Heart-wounded with the deep sweet wounds of love,
Eternal, Infinite.
Stood in the midst a wondrous Lamb, snow white,
Heart-wounded with the deep sweet wounds of love,
Eternal, Infinite.
Then rose the song no ear had heard before;
Then from the white-robed throng high anthem woke;
And fast as spring-tide on the sealess shore,
The Hallelujahs broke.
Then from the white-robed throng high anthem woke;
And fast as spring-tide on the sealess shore,
The Hallelujahs broke.
Who dreams of God when passionate youth is high,
When first life's weary waste his feet have trod,—
Who seeth angels' footfalls in the sky,
Working the work of God,—
When first life's weary waste his feet have trod,—
Who seeth angels' footfalls in the sky,
Working the work of God,—
His sun shall fade as gently as it rose;
Through the dark woof of death's approaching night
His faith shall shoot, at life's prophetic close,
Some threads of golden light;
Through the dark woof of death's approaching night
His faith shall shoot, at life's prophetic close,
Some threads of golden light;
For him the silver ladder shall be set—
His Saviour shall receive his latest breath.—
He walketh to a fadeless coronet,
Up through the gate of death.
His Saviour shall receive his latest breath.—
He walketh to a fadeless coronet,
Up through the gate of death.
Being the Poem to which an Accessit was awarded by the judges of the best Poem on a Sacred Subject, in the University of Oxford, June 1, 1857.
Ιδε γαρ ανθρωπους οιον εν καταγειω οικησει σπηλαιωδει . . . φως δε αϝ)τοις πυρος ανωθεν και πορρωθεν καομενον οπισθεν αυτων, κ.τ.Χ. (Plat.)
St. John i. 51. “The disciples could not but think of the ladder of Heaven at Bethel, when our Lord uttered these well-known words.” (Stier's “Words of Jesus.”) The words απ αρτι υψεσθε must be understood of the abiding continuous vision of faith, not of any momentary manifestation.
“Abraham went down to sojourn in Egypt. . . . When Abraham was come into Egypt, the Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair.” (Gen. xii. 10, 14.)
“And Israel stretched out his right hand, and laid it upon Ephraim's head, who was the younger, . . . guiding his hands wittingly.” (Gen. xlviii. 14.) “By faith Jacob, when he was a dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph.” (Heb. xi. 21.)
See Hengstenberg's answer to the objections to Jacob's prophecy arising from its poetical character, and proving that the difficulty of handing down such a composition was diminished by its metrical cast. (“Christologes,” lxviii. 70.)
Gen. xlix. 4.—“And Israel spread his tent beyond the tower of Edar; and when Israel dwelt in that land, Reuben went and lay with Bilhah his father's concubine.” (Gen. xxxv. 21, 22.)
And they slew Hamor and Shechem . . . with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of of Shechem's house.” (Gen. xxxiv. 26.)
Alluding to the geographical position of Benjamin, “ravening as a wolf,” and Dan, “a serpent by the way, biting horse's heels.”
See Lieutenant Van de Velde's account of the vapours in the vale of Shechem, which render the scenery so peculiar.
The sluggish and unwarlike character of the tribe of Issachar is amply illustrated by its subsequent history.
“And Joseph went up to bury his father, . . . and there went up with him both chariots and horsemen: and it was a very great company.” (Gen. 1. 7-9.)
Dean Stanley compares the shells of the Red Sea to bleaching bones, or white porcelain. “The mountains of the Sinaitic peninsula were described by Diodorus Siculus, as of a bright scarlet hue; viewed even in the soberest light, it gives a richness to the landscape” (p. 11). For the profusion of scarlet flowers characteristic of Palestine, see ibid., p. 138.
Capientur signa haud levia de ingreniis populorum ex linguis ipsorum. Hebræi verbis tam paucis et minimè commistis utuntur, ut plane ex lingua ipsa quis perspiciat gentem fuisse illam Nazaræam, et a reliquis gentibus separatam. (Bacon, “De Aug. Scien.,” lib. vi. ch. 1.)
“And Laban called it Jegar-sahadutha. . . . This heap be witness that I will not pass over this heap to thee for harm.” (Gen. xxxi. 47, 52.)
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