Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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THE OIL OF MERCY. |
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THE OIL OF MERCY.
The traditions of a relation between the Tree of Life which was set in Paradise, and the Cross on which hung the Saviour of the world, are almost infinite; or, rather, the one deep idea of their identity has clothed itself in innumerable forms. They constitute one of the richest portions of what may perhaps, without offence, be termed the mythology of the Christian Church. That which I have followed here is given in the Evangelium Nicodemi, c. 19 (Thilo, Codex Apocryphus, vol. i. p. 684). They have been twice wrought up into sublime dramatic poems by Calderon; once in his Auto, El Arbol del mejor Fruto; and again in that which is indeed only the same poem in a later and more perfect form, La Sibila del Oriente. We have the same tradition of Seth going to the gates of Paradise in the fine old Cornish Mystery, The Creation of the World, and references to it are frequent in the popular literature of the Middle Ages; see, for instance, Goethe's recension of the Reineke Fuchs, the tenth book; and Mandeville's Travels. Rückert (see p. 24) gives the tradition in somewhat a different shape. This poem, which owes much to Calderon, is written in Spanish assonants, in which words are considered to rhyme which have the same vowel-sounds, though the consonants are different; thus angel and raiment, having the same vowel-sounds, a—e, are perfect assonant rhymes. As in the Persian Ghazel, one rhyme runs through the whole poem, in which all the alternate lines, beginning with the second, terminate: and of course the rhythmical effect must be judged, not by any half-dozen lines apart, but by the total impression which the poem continuously read leaves on the ear.
Still may keep; but brighter, fairer,
Did that long-lost Eden show
Than the loveliest that remaineth:
So what marvel, when our Sire
Was from thence expelled, he waited
Lingering with a fond regret
Round those holy happy places
Once his own, while innocence
Was his bright sufficient raiment?
Long he lingered there, and saw
Up from dark abysmal spaces
Four strong rivers rushing ever:
Saw the mighty wall exalted
High as heaven, and on its heights
Glimpses of the fiery Angel.
Long he lingered near, with hope
Which had never quite abated,
That one day the righteous sentence,
Dooming him to stern disgraces,
Should be disannulled, and he
In his first bliss reinstated.
By an unseen foe assailëd,
Called him to his side, and faintly
Him addressed—‘My son, thou knowest
Of what sufferings partaker,
Of what weariness and toil,
Of what sickness, pain and danger
I have been, since that stern hour
Which from Eden's precincts drave me.
But thou dost not know that God,
When to exile forth I farëd,
Homeless wanderer through the world,
Thus with gracious speech bespake me:
—“Though thou mayst not here continue,
In these blessëd happy places,
As before from pain exempt,
Suffering, toil, and mortal ailment,
Think not thou shalt therefore be
Of my loving care forsaken:
Rather shall that Tree of Life,
In the middle garden planted,
Once a precious balm distil,
Which to thee applied, thine ailments
Shall be all removed, and thou
Made of endless life partaker.”—
With these words He cheered me then,
Words that have remained engraven
On my bosom's tablets since.
Go then, dear my son, oh hasten
Unto Eden's guarded gate,
Tell thine errand to the Angel;
And that fiery sentinel
To the Tree will guide thee safely,
Where it stands, aloft, alone,
In the garden's middle spaces:
Ere my lamp of life be wasted.’
Seth had heard, at once he hastened,
Hoping to bring back that oil,
Ere the light had wholly faded
From his father's eyes, the lamp
Of his life had wholly wasted.
O'er the plain besprent with flowers,
With ten thousand colours painted
In that spring time of the year,
By Thelassar on he hastened,
Made no pause, till Eden's wall
Rose an ever-verdant barrier,
High as heaven's great roof, that shines
As with bright carbuncles paven.
There the son of Adam paused,
For above him hung the Angel
In the middle air suspense,
With his swift sword glancing naked.
Down upon his face he fell,
By that sun-bright vision dazëd.
‘Child of man’—these words he heard,
‘Rise, and say what thing thou cravest.’
All his father's need he told,
And how now his father waited,
In his mighty agony
For that medicine yearning greatly.
‘But thou seekest’—(this reply
Then he heard) ‘thou seekest vainly
For that oil of mercy yet,
Nor will tears nor prayers avail thee.
Go then quickly back, and bring
Parent of the race of men.
He and they in faith and patience
Must abide, long years must roll
Ere the precious fruit be gathered,
Ere the Oil of Mercy flow
From the blessëd Tree and sacred,
In the Paradise of God:
Nor till then will be obtainëd
The strong medicine of life,
Healing every mortal ailment;
Nor thy sire till then be made
Of immortal life a sharer.
Fear not that his heart will sink
When these tidings back thou bearest,
Rather thou shalt straightway see
All his fears and pangs abated,
And by faith allayed to meekness
Every wish and thought impatient;
Hasten back then—thy return,
Strongly yearning, he awaiteth:
Hasten back then.’
To his father back he hastened,
Found him waiting his return
In his agony, his latest:
Told him of what grace to come,
Of what sure hope he was bearer:
And beheld him on that word,
Every fear and pang assuagëd,
And by faith allayed to meekness
Every wish and thought impatient,
Like a child resign himself
Unto sweet sleep, calm and painless.
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