The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough With a selection from his letters and a memoir: Edited by his wife: In two volumes: With a portrait |
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 | The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough |  |
Scene II.
Adam, alone.Adam.
Misery, oh my misery! O God, God!
How could I ever, ever, could I do it?
Whither am I come? where am I? O me, miserable!
My God, my God, that I were back with Thee!
O fool! O fool! O irretrievable act!
How could I ever, ever, could I do it?
Whither am I come? where am I? O me, miserable!
My God, my God, that I were back with Thee!
O fool! O fool! O irretrievable act!
Irretrievable what, I should like to know?
What act, I wonder? What is it I mean?
What act, I wonder? What is it I mean?
O heaven! the spirit holds me; I must yield;
Up in the air he lifts me, casts me down;
I writhe in vain, with limbs convulsed, in the void.
Up in the air he lifts me, casts me down;
I writhe in vain, with limbs convulsed, in the void.
Well, well! go idle words, babble your will;
I think the fit will leave me ere I die.
I think the fit will leave me ere I die.
48
Fool, fool! where am I? O my God! Fool, fool!
Why did we do 't? Eve, Eve! where are you? quick!
His tread is in the garden! hither it comes!
Hide us, O bushes! and ye thick trees, hide!
He comes, on, on. Alack, and all these leaves,
These petty, quivering and illusive blinds,
Avail us nought: the light comes in and in;
Displays us to ourselves; displays—ah, shame—
Unto the inquisitive day our nakedness.
He comes; He calls. The large eye of His truth,
His full, severe, all-comprehending view,
Fixes itself upon our guiltiness.
O God, O God! what are we? what shall we be?
Why did we do 't? Eve, Eve! where are you? quick!
His tread is in the garden! hither it comes!
Hide us, O bushes! and ye thick trees, hide!
He comes, on, on. Alack, and all these leaves,
These petty, quivering and illusive blinds,
Avail us nought: the light comes in and in;
Displays us to ourselves; displays—ah, shame—
Unto the inquisitive day our nakedness.
He comes; He calls. The large eye of His truth,
His full, severe, all-comprehending view,
Fixes itself upon our guiltiness.
O God, O God! what are we? what shall we be?
What is all this about, I wonder now?
Yet I am better, too. I think it will pass.
Yet I am better, too. I think it will pass.
'Tis going now, unless it comes again.
A terrible possession while it lasts.
Terrible, surely; and yet indeed 'tis true.
E'en in my utmost impotence I find
A fount of strange persistence in my soul;
Also, and that perchance is stronger still,
A wakeful, changeless touchstone in my brain,
Receiving, noting, testing all the while
These passing, curious, new phenomena—
Painful, and yet not painful unto it.
Though tortured in the crucible I lie,
Myself my own experiment, yet still
I, or a something that is I indeed,
A living, central, and more inmost I,
Within the scales of mere exterior me's,
I,—seem eternal, O thou God, as Thou;
Have knowledge of the evil and the good,
Superior in a higher good to both.
A terrible possession while it lasts.
Terrible, surely; and yet indeed 'tis true.
E'en in my utmost impotence I find
A fount of strange persistence in my soul;
Also, and that perchance is stronger still,
A wakeful, changeless touchstone in my brain,
Receiving, noting, testing all the while
These passing, curious, new phenomena—
Painful, and yet not painful unto it.
Though tortured in the crucible I lie,
Myself my own experiment, yet still
I, or a something that is I indeed,
A living, central, and more inmost I,
Within the scales of mere exterior me's,
I,—seem eternal, O thou God, as Thou;
Have knowledge of the evil and the good,
Superior in a higher good to both.
49
Well, well, well! it has gone from me, though still
Its images remain upon me whole;
And undisplaced upon my mind I view
The reflex of the total seizure past.
Really now, had I only time and space,
And were not troubled with this wife of mine,
And the necessity of meat and drink—
I really do believe,
With time and space and proper quietude,
I could resolve the problem in my brain.
But, no; I scarce can stay one moment more
To watch the curious seething process out.
If I could only dare to let Eve see
These operations, it is like enough
Between us two we two could make it out.
But she would be so frightened—think it proof
Of all her own imaginings. 'Twill not do;
So as it is
I must e'en put a cheery face on it,
Suppress the whole, rub off the unfinished thoughts,
For fear she read them. O, 'tis pity indeed,
But confidence is the one and main thing now:
Who loses confidence, he loses all.
A demi-grain of cowardice in me
Avowed, were poison to the whole mankind;
When men are plentier, 'twill be time to try;
At present, no.
No;
Shake it all up and go.
That is the word, and that must be obeyed.
I must be off. But yet again some day
Again will I resume it; if not I,
I in some child of late posterity.
Yes, yes, I feel it; it is here the seed,
Here in my head; but, O thou Power unseen,
In whom we live and move and have our being,
Let it not perish; grant, unlost, unhurt,
In long transmission, this rich atom some day,
In some posterity of distant years—
How many thou intendest to have I know not—
In some matured and procreant human brain,
May germinate, burst, and rise into a tree.
No; I shall not tell Eve.
Its images remain upon me whole;
And undisplaced upon my mind I view
The reflex of the total seizure past.
Really now, had I only time and space,
And were not troubled with this wife of mine,
And the necessity of meat and drink—
I really do believe,
With time and space and proper quietude,
I could resolve the problem in my brain.
But, no; I scarce can stay one moment more
To watch the curious seething process out.
If I could only dare to let Eve see
These operations, it is like enough
Between us two we two could make it out.
But she would be so frightened—think it proof
Of all her own imaginings. 'Twill not do;
So as it is
I must e'en put a cheery face on it,
Suppress the whole, rub off the unfinished thoughts,
For fear she read them. O, 'tis pity indeed,
But confidence is the one and main thing now:
Who loses confidence, he loses all.
A demi-grain of cowardice in me
Avowed, were poison to the whole mankind;
When men are plentier, 'twill be time to try;
At present, no.
No;
Shake it all up and go.
That is the word, and that must be obeyed.
I must be off. But yet again some day
Again will I resume it; if not I,
I in some child of late posterity.
Yes, yes, I feel it; it is here the seed,
50
In whom we live and move and have our being,
Let it not perish; grant, unlost, unhurt,
In long transmission, this rich atom some day,
In some posterity of distant years—
How many thou intendest to have I know not—
In some matured and procreant human brain,
May germinate, burst, and rise into a tree.
No; I shall not tell Eve.
| The poems and prose remains of Arthur Hugh Clough | |