The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Could the good without the evil ever hold out for an hour
Never!—Every lady strutting in her grand silk down the street,
Full of pureness like an angel, full of beauty like a flower,
Were it not for the poor harlot would be never half so sweet.

Satan.

True, the Force that moulded all things is dramatic at the core;
Has its due sense of proportion; sets the good beside the base;
Flings the millionaire his nuggets; plants the beggar at his door;
Shapes the cripple as a contrast to the young girl full of grace.

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Philosopher.

Often, very very often, do I chuckle to myself,
Watching how the good souls struggle, thinking God is on their side.
God is far too good an artist to put evil on the shelf:
God's superbest Rembrandt-picture was when Christ was crucified.

Satan.

Yes, I watched with keenest pleasure that strange scene upon the hill.
Deeply would you have enjoyed it, could you only have been there.
Judas played his part divinely. Pontius backed him with a will.
Mary “made up” to perfection, purple robe and golden hair.

Philosopher.

People rail at crime and murder. Yet the pleasure these imply!
Christians sitting at their breakfast o'er their sausage and their toast,

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Reading in the morning paper that a murderer is to die,
Feel a thrill of keen excitement. Murders have a charm for most.

Satan.

Strange it would be if Jehovah whom the people worship here
Should be like a Spanish maiden at a bull-fight, in her place.
As she needs its wild excitement, so he needs perhaps to peer
From the windows of his palace on the death-pangs of the race.

Philosopher.

Crimes have sprung from many causes—from the love of wealth and power,
From the lust of man for woman; yet beyond conception odd
Is it that the Inquisition, of iniquities the flower,
Sprang from lust of man for heaven, and from love of man for God.

Satan.

Therefore is there need most urgent that a newer creed be taught:
That the gospel of pure reason should be preached, with all it brings:

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That mankind should be instructed that God only lives in thought
And that he himself is sovereign, the sole living king of kings.

Philosopher.

Day by day to feel more self-poised, day by day to grow more grand:
Day by day to learn new secrets of the silent starry lore:
To feel ever the brain strengthening in its power to understand;
That is worth the pain of living, though the pain of life be sore!

Satan.

All the skies are sundered for thee, all the secrets of the deep
Blue tremendous heaven are opened to thy keen and searching look.
Thou canst count the murky portals, whence the fiery thunders leap.
Thou canst enter the wild comets, name by name, within thy book.

167

Philosopher.

This is life's end, this is rapture. This is man's sufficient goal.
Far away in bygone ages the great Roman poet saw
That the secret of true godship is within the human soul,
And that all the worlds together move by never-changing law.

Satan.

Yes. Lucretius, whom I aided in his godlike labour, knew
That man's dreams of God were baseless—that the only God indeed,
Strong, eternal, self-sufficient, deathless, vast, triumphant, true,
Is the soul of man transcending every form of every creed.

Philosopher.

Prayer has ever been a weakness. Self-sufficient life is grand.
When the soul of man is strengthened, when the soul of man is free,
He will grow by law eternal, like the blossoms of the land;
He will move by changeless impulse, like the tides within the sea.

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Satan.

Through the ages I have wrestled with the dreamers of each race,
With the poets, with the thinkers, with the lords of prose and rhyme;
Teaching that the glory of manhood is for ever thus to pace,
Prayerless, faithless, creedless, godless, on the foam-swept shores of time.

Philosopher.

Once I prayed: but that is over. Once I hoped: but that is past.
It was but a moment's weakness. Now my inmost soul is strong.
I have won the perfect endless philosophic calm at last.
I have conquered in the struggle, though the strife was fierce and long.

Satan.

Teach the people thy strong secret. Teach the uselessness of prayer.
Teach that man's sufficient godship in his own soul he must find.

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Teach that faith in God is harmful; both a weakness and a snare.
To the doubting bring assurance, and bring light unto the blind.

Philosopher.

I can see—my reason shows me—that of all the faiths of man,
Faith in God is most degrading! The soul shivers at the thought.
What! an Eye has followed history since our history first began.
What! no deed in noble silence and in darkness has been wrought.

Satan.

If an Eye eternal follows, through the sunlight and the shade,
Ye are like the prisoners followed by the warder's sleepless eye.
Night and day your God observes you through the peep-holes he has made
In the heavens, flashing on you his star-lanterns from the sky.

170

Philosopher.

Yes, the thought is most degrading. If we marry, even then
Not a moment free from spying, though the darkness may be deep!
Every kiss by God is counted—fifty, twenty, thirty, ten—
For the Eye eternal watches man and woman when they sleep.

Satan.

Not one deed is wrought in private, if the Christian creed be true.
Not a man can kiss in private, not a young girl can be got.
For the Eye eternal pierces all the cloudland, flashes through;
And it fathoms every secret, and it searches every spot.

Philosopher.

Oh far nobler is the silence, as Lucretius felt and saw,
Of the boundless starlit heavens, and the silence of the sea,
And the silent sure progression of unalterable law.
Let the Christians crown their Jesus. Give the godless void to me!

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Satan.

Yes, for free from wrath and tumult may the soul of man abide
Where no gods can ever harass, where no gods can ever slay.
Unobserved save of the starlight then a man may hold his bride.
Followed only by the sunlight may a man pursue his way.

Philosopher.

Then the soul in its completeness stands for evermore alone.
Could it steer its thought-ship boldly to the farthest shores of space,
Never would its keel encounter one rock-fragment of God's throne:
Never would the darkness open and reveal the Eternal's face.

Satan.

That is strength: to steer right onward, seeking nothing from on high—
Neither guidance, love, nor counsel. Do the star-ships, when they steer

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Never failing, never foundering, through the storm-shoals of the sky,
Say “God help us!” or “God guide us!” If they said so, would God hear?

Philosopher.

No: they sail their course eternal through the darkness of the night,
And they strike not one another, though no helmsman's hand there be!
Twilight draweth back for darkness, darkness giveth place to light,
Morning brings its golden sunshine, yet no wrecks are on the sea!

Satan.

Ever o'er the airy waters will the star-ships sail secure,
For the force that leads them onward is but matter's restless hand.
If a living God convoyed them, could their pathway be more sure?
If a conscious helmsman guided, could their course be better planned?

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Philosopher.

Worse it would be, worse in all ways. For the conscious God might sleep.
Constellations might be kindled! starry clusters might consume!
If he left the helm a moment, half a million suns might leap
Down the breathless airy cliff-sides and plunge ages into gloom!

Satan.

Rest in peace. Believe and doubt not, for the truth I tell to thee.
Godless was the primal darkness, and the first waves felt no hand
Rein them when they charged with rapture o'er the green floor of the sea,
Nor was God within the sunlight when it first caressed the land.

Philosopher.

That is all I crave for—freedom from the oppressive sense of One
Ever gazing through the myriads of the stars that gem the sky,

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Ever speaking in the sea-waves, ever shining in the sun;
Just to handle my own soul's helm, and to feel that I am I.

Christ.

Not in all the pride of reason can my Father take delight;
Not in genius does he glory, not in stubborn force of will;
But he hears the sad soul praying through the silence of the night,
And he speaks in solemn sweetness to the childlike spirit still.