 | Julian The Apostate |  |
1
Julian.
Oh, ye mysterious and invisible beings
That throng this palpable darkness, and do give
These tombs of earth awful vitality!
I hear the rushing of your sightless wings
Sweep, with an unimaginable speed,
Around this mortal substance! Vault of darkness,
Thou gloomy mother of all hideous shadows,
Thy void is pregnant with a phantom life;
Thy vast receptacles are filled with breathings
Cold expirations, that stir up my hair
2
Within the portal of Eternity,
Amid death's heavy atmosphere—environed
By th' incorporeal essence of past life,
And souls that wait their advent! Awful beings!
Impetuous and incessant travellers!
Swift couriers of two worlds! Connecting stream
'Twixt corruptible man and the pure Gods!
Here I confront you—firm, yet not unmoved.
Oh ye inscrutable company, vast tide
Of spirits, in your mighty ebb and flow,
Here, in the midst of you I stand, and shrink not!
(Enter Maximus behind, in his sacerdotal vestments, and stands some time contemplating Julian.
Maximus.
Julian!
Julian
(with a start).
Who calls?
Maximus.
Julian!
3
Or man, or spirit,
I answer thee! Behold me here—behold me!
Ha! art thou there, Maximus? 'Twas startling
To hear thy sudden voice in such a place—
A voice too, such as thine, caught by the echoes
That have their dwelling 'neath these arched roofs
And long evolving chambers. I was musing
On things that are not of this world: aye, dallying
With dreams that others shrink from;—communing
With disembodied Nature, in her den
Of lonely desolation, silent and dark.
I am not sorry, Man, to see thee here;
Thou hast left me to unwelcome company,
My own poor thoughts.
Maximus.
Lord Julian, I have prayed
In thy behalf with fervour, that hath power
To reach the ear of Heaven—zeal that controlleth
The world of spirits. A deep trance came o'er me
4
I saw the Berecynthian Mother rise
Awful before me: her habiliments
As in the Phidian marble: crowned with towers,
The Lion-drawn stood in her brazen chariot.
What passed I may not tell thee. The bright veil
That shrouds those forms ineffable no hand
Of mortal mould may raise.
JULIAN.
Old Maximus,
I reverence much thy character, and gaze
Upon thy countenance and ethereal eye,
As on a page where holiest things are writ,
As on a beacon whence the light of Heaven
Looks out. I 've heard from thee, doctrine beyond
The ken of common minds, and do believe
Have hearkened with intelligence. I came
To be resolved on matters of high import,
And will not now depart unsatisfied.
Lead on!
5
Oh, worthy of thy destinies!
Canst thou with heart undaunted, brain unseared,
Peruse the mystic leaves, wherein are graven
The lessons of eternity? Canst thou behold
The presence and the glory, nor dissolve
Like Semele?
JULIAN.
My heart is firm:
There 's nought within the compass of humanity
But I would dare and do.
MAXIMUS.
Nay, pause, reflect—
I would not lead aught of mere earthly dross
Into our hidden shrine and sanctuary.
Once there, thou art no longer man. The cloak
Of human thoughts and passions must fall from thee:
Thou must decay, to be reanimate
With loftier fires. Thou must transmute
Thy baser mould to a more noble metal—
6
The light, and take the stamp of fate, and be
Her minister, albeit of good or evil;
Her delegate, to execute or die!
JULIAN.
I am resolved.
MAXIMUS.
Then follow me.
| Julian The Apostate | |