Reverberations Revised with a chapter from my autobiography. By W. M. W. Call |
 |
| I. |
THE LADY ALVA'S WEB.
|
 | II. |
 | Reverberations |  |
70
THE LADY ALVA'S WEB.
(An Allegory.)
The Lady Alva woke with light,
And with the sun arose;
Then clad her in an amice white
As are the northern snows.
The Lady Alva knelt and prayed
In a still voice and small;
I did not hear the words she said,
And yet I know them all.
And with the sun arose;
Then clad her in an amice white
As are the northern snows.
The Lady Alva knelt and prayed
In a still voice and small;
I did not hear the words she said,
And yet I know them all.
This was originally a semi-pantheistic poem. I wish it now to be regarded as an attempt to delineate the incompre-hensible and multifarious activity of existence, by ascribing to the great mystery of Power a human-like agency,—the natura naturans conducting the marvellous transformations in the external world being represented by the spirit which in the human world exercises a corresponding magical ministration.
The Lady Alva lived alone
In isolated spot;
Her dwelling was a web of stone,
A complicated grot.
Here porphyry tendril, granite thread,
Were laced and interlaced;
Here pebble white and pebble red
Were intricately placed.
In isolated spot;
Her dwelling was a web of stone,
A complicated grot.
Here porphyry tendril, granite thread,
Were laced and interlaced;
Here pebble white and pebble red
Were intricately placed.
71
Here rock on rock and crag on crag
Were twined and intertwined,
In form of fairy, shape of hag,
Before her and behind;
And in the centre of the coil,
A web more curious far
The lady wrought with patient toil,
From rise to set of star.
Were twined and intertwined,
In form of fairy, shape of hag,
Before her and behind;
And in the centre of the coil,
A web more curious far
The lady wrought with patient toil,
From rise to set of star.
All day she wove, all day she wrought,
All day the shuttle threw,
And evermore she sang her thought,
And swift her fingers flew.
She sang and wove, nor any strife
'Twixt song and web could find;
She held that song interprets life,
As life interprets mind.
All day the shuttle threw,
And evermore she sang her thought,
And swift her fingers flew.
She sang and wove, nor any strife
'Twixt song and web could find;
She held that song interprets life,
As life interprets mind.
“The gentle Power that dwells on high,
The Soul that dwells in all,
That brightens in the starry sky
Or breathes when young winds call;
That mild and lonely Spirit weaves
His web of suns and spheres,
Of winds and waves, and flowers and leaves,
Of days and months and years.
The Soul that dwells in all,
That brightens in the starry sky
Or breathes when young winds call;
That mild and lonely Spirit weaves
His web of suns and spheres,
Of winds and waves, and flowers and leaves,
Of days and months and years.
“In peace, in war, in hate and love,
In pleasure and in pain,
“The gentle Power, below, above,
Asserts his endless reign.
He weaves his web, and I weave mine,
And ever as I weave,
Through weal and woe, through shade and shine,
I sing and never grieve.
In pleasure and in pain,
72
Asserts his endless reign.
He weaves his web, and I weave mine,
And ever as I weave,
Through weal and woe, through shade and shine,
I sing and never grieve.
“My web dilates, my shuttle flies,
My threads are thickly crossed;
The work is strong, and rich its dyes,
No lovely hue is lost.
So action spreads; so noble deeds
With noble deeds conspire;
So life from life to life proceeds,
In circles ever higher.
My threads are thickly crossed;
The work is strong, and rich its dyes,
No lovely hue is lost.
So action spreads; so noble deeds
With noble deeds conspire;
So life from life to life proceeds,
In circles ever higher.
“On warp and woof the colours glow,
Like hues of sunset skies,
And intermix and interflow
Dyes matched with kindred dyes.
So graceful act, melodious speech,
To noble purpose tend;
Wise aims unite, and each with each
The hues of kindness blend.
Like hues of sunset skies,
And intermix and interflow
Dyes matched with kindred dyes.
So graceful act, melodious speech,
To noble purpose tend;
Wise aims unite, and each with each
The hues of kindness blend.
“So weave I still, so sing I still,
So weaves and sings in me
The lord of good, the lord of ill,
The lord of all that be:
The lord of lights and colours rare,
That gleam in Nature's loom,
In rainbow cloud, in rosy air,
In blade and bud and bloom.
So weaves and sings in me
The lord of good, the lord of ill,
The lord of all that be:
73
That gleam in Nature's loom,
In rainbow cloud, in rosy air,
In blade and bud and bloom.
“He weaves and sings; whate'er may be,
That Spirit is not sad:
His name is Beautiful, and he
Is neither good nor bad.
Above all ill, above all good,
He harmonises all;
He smiles on the vast brotherhood,
He loves both great and small.
That Spirit is not sad:
His name is Beautiful, and he
Is neither good nor bad.
Above all ill, above all good,
He harmonises all;
He smiles on the vast brotherhood,
He loves both great and small.
“He weaves his web, and still will weave,
He works from age to age,
In silence sweet of morn and eve,
Or tempest's kingly rage.
He weaves his web. But mine is wrought,
Here ends my mystic lay;
One colour more completes my thought,
One sunbeam more the day.”
He works from age to age,
In silence sweet of morn and eve,
Or tempest's kingly rage.
He weaves his web. But mine is wrought,
Here ends my mystic lay;
One colour more completes my thought,
One sunbeam more the day.”
So sang she there, so wove she there,
And through the tissue led,
With shuttle swift and finger fair,
The consummating thread;
Nor maiden-white, nor loyal blue,
Nor red, nor green there lack,
And glides through all the solemn hue,
The dread and fatal black.
And through the tissue led,
With shuttle swift and finger fair,
The consummating thread;
Nor maiden-white, nor loyal blue,
Nor red, nor green there lack,
And glides through all the solemn hue,
The dread and fatal black.
74
She sings no more, she weaves no more,
Her task and song are done;
The shadows fall, the day is o'er,
Down goes the glorious sun.
The Lady Alva rose with light,
And must with light retire;
There can no work be done at night,
No workman take his hire.
Her task and song are done;
The shadows fall, the day is o'er,
Down goes the glorious sun.
The Lady Alva rose with light,
And must with light retire;
There can no work be done at night,
No workman take his hire.
O fear! O wonder! can it be
No mystic web is there?
I look, but I no longer see
The magic lady fair.
Yet doubt I not the tale is true,
But silent and alone
I look within, and weave anew
The Lady's web of stone.
No mystic web is there?
I look, but I no longer see
The magic lady fair.
Yet doubt I not the tale is true,
But silent and alone
I look within, and weave anew
The Lady's web of stone.
| Reverberations | |