University of Virginia Library

A MYSTERY.

I. [Part I].

They played of old within a garden

They played of old within a garden; the beautiful child and her companion, who was nobler and more beloved than she.

I know not of her race or lineage, but He was the son of a mighty King.

His, too, were the strength and the wisdom, therefore he owed her the more tender love,

For she was framed to listen to, and to be lured by all things. She would eat of the wild, harsh berry, and sport with the glittering snake.

And when she ran, she would often stumble; yet her fall was among grass and flowers, and the earth whereon she fell lightly, itself helped her to rise.

It loved her, for she belonged to it: a happy child! the nursling of earth's warm bosom, beloved by the Chosen of Heaven.

How came it that she was lured from the blissful garden? Is there other love beside that which is of Heaven and of Earth?

A love which is dark and secret, which preys upon that which it cannot win?

Or was their love but hatred for him who loved her? Him, who dwelt with one whom no foe can reach;

So that when they sharpened their keenest arrow they could only wound him through her breast;

And he, beneath the cedar's thick pavilion, knew that his beloved dwelt among a fierce and outcast tribe;

And from afar he saw her grinding at their mills, and from afar he saw her lead their midnight dance.

She was now their toiling drudge: now was she their minion and their queen; she was always their thrall and bond-slave.

She wandered with them over many lands; they gave her to eat of a sweet and maddening root.

They taught her the secret of their spells and death-snares, until, being weaker, she became more vile than they:

The interpretress of their dreams of evil; and the earth, because it loved her, helped her and clave unto her still.

And to her the fierce whoop of battle, the wild dance upon the withered heath,

The warm dusk gloom of the wigwam, the powwow's drowsy chant, seemed more sweet than had been to her the garden. She said, “I will return to it no more.”

Yet sometimes in the night's deep silence, when the wind brought on it the odour of the cedar, a thrill would pass across her darkened heart.

Then would she answer her brother softly, and her songs were only less sweet than his own.

II. Part II.

The forest was dark at noon-day; the wild beasts came forth from their lairs;

But not as they come forth at midnight, when the wood wakes to life and tumult; all was silent as the grave;

Only from the distance was a crash heard, as of a giant tree that fell.

And in the heart of the gloomy forest, where the pine-boughs cast their thickest shade,

A red light shone and flickered, like the gleaming of a cruel eye;

Where the fires of death were kindled, dark forms flitted round an open space.

In the midst of it was a captive bound to a stake; the young braves taunted him in their songs.

I know not if he saw their fierce gestures, or heard their loud insulting cries.

He had been, like them, a warrior; yet he was silent: it was not of them he thought.

And through the dull clangour of the tombés, the fierce roll and beat of the drums,

He stood, without word or movement. The Fleka dance begun.

Swift and stealthy were the movements of the dancers, like the weaving of a muttered charm:

It wove round him in mazy circles, that drew ever more close and close;

Like the winding coil of a serpent, that tightens before it strikes.

And she who led it was a woman, strangely and richly clad.

The air was dark with arrows, when suddenly one flashed forth,

That was buried in the captive's breast. I know not from whose hand it came.

And at that moment his eye met her's; long sought for, and found at last.

In his look was no rebuke nor question: it left her not while life remained;

Nor did it change in its steadfast meaning; it had but one word to say:

“Thou,” it said to her, and “thou” she answered. She, too, had no other word to speak.

She thought not of the cruel arrow; she remembered not that she stood among his foes.

Her gaze was, like his, unshrinking. How shall I speak of what their look told?

None like it hath been exchanged between earth and heaven. It was recognition, and therefore love.

III. Part III.

“Oh, that I might look on Him whom I have pierced! that I might see his face once more!

For when the arrow sank into the heart of my beloved, then did it cleave through my own.

And when he died, I knew that I loved him. I knew myself worthy of his love.

Now will I arise and look upon his face; he will not remember mine.

For days have passed over me, and years and ages. I have dwelt in a wild and desert place.

It is long since we played within the happy garden, long since he looked upon me from the cruel stake.

Long, too, since he hath sent me any word of greeting; yet I know that my brother is yet alive.”

Then she arose up with the earliest morning; it was autumn, and the woods were still;

But as she passed along the green forest tracks swiftly, a single leaf fell,

A crimson leaf, that dropped upon her bosom lightly. I saw not from what tree it came.

And from the bough one only bird sang sweetly, a bird whose breast has been marked by fire;

The bird who forsakes not, nor is forsaken; who stays when the rest have flown.

And as the day drew onwards to the evening, she came forth upon a boundless plain,

Whereof had been reaped a mighty harvest; the ground was trodden and bare;

Yet I heard no shouting of the reapers, nor saw gleaners carrying home their sheaves;

But from afar a sound broke upon the stillness, the clashing of spear and shield;

The tramp of a countless multitude, as of men who march in order and array of battle.

And when she drew near the happy garden, the garden where she had played of old,

She found herself in a place she knew not, in a place that knew her no more.

For adown its cool moss-grown walks, and beneath its dark fragrant cedars,

Moved ranks and ranks of angels, in exercise for glorious war.

All mailed were they in shining armour, terrible to the eye and heart;

And at their head was one who was their prince and leader; terrible, though not clothed in mail,

Him to whom she had been minded to send a secret message. But while she mused thereon in thought,

And lingered beneath the shadow of the cedar, a sudden light sprung forth,

That searched through and through the garden like a keen insatiate arrow.

Light fell within the rose's heart from the red flushing of the evening sky.

It bloomed blood-red against the darkening cedarbough; the lilies stood up in flame;

Even the marygold looked no longer friendly; it was orbed and rayed with fire.

From the weapons and the armour of the angels flashed lines of intolerable light.

She found no place to flee unto; no place save her brother's heart.

She fled onwards swiftly to meet him; swiftly he came forward unto her.

He spake to her no word of greeting, but folded her to his kingly breast.

She clasped her wasted arms about him so closely that his wound brake forth,

And his blood was sprinkled on her raiment; it became shining even like his own.

Like his, too, became her mien and aspect. I know that they will part no more.