The Ascent of Man

A SYMBOL

Hurrying for ever in their restless flightThe generations of earth's teeming wombRise into being and lapse into the tombLike transient bubbles sparkling in the light;They sink in quick succession out of sightInto the thick insuperable gloomOur futile lives in flashing by illume —Lightning which mocks the darkness of the night.Nay – but consider, though we change and die,If men must pass shall Man not still remain?As the unnumbered drops of summer rainWhose changing particles unchanged on high,Fixed, in perpetual motion, yet maintainThe mystic bow emblazoned on the sky.

TIME'S SHADOW

Thy life, O Man, in this brief moment lies:Time's narrow bridge whereon we darkling stand,With an infinitude on either handReceding luminously from our eyes.Lo, there thy Past's forsaken ParadiseSubsideth like some visionary strand,While glimmering faint, the Future's promised land,Illusive from the abyss, seems fain to rise.This hour alone Hope's broken pledges mar,And Joy now gleams before, now in our rear,Like mirage mocking in some waste afar,Dissolving into air as we draw near.Beyond our steps the path is sunny-clear,The shadow lying only where we are.

PART II

"Love is for ever poor, and so far from being delicate and beautiful, as mankind imagined, he is squalid and withered … homeless and unsandalled; he sleeps without covering before the doors, and in the unsheltered streets." – Plato.

THE PILGRIM SOUL

Through the winding mazes of windy streetsBlindly I hurried I knew not whither,Through the dim-lit ways of the brain thus fleetsA fluttering dream driven hither and thither. —The fitful flare of the moon fled fast,Like a sickly smile now seeming to wither,Now dark like a scowl in the hurrying blastAs ominous shadows swept over the roofsWhere white as a ghost the scared moonlight had passed.Curses came mingled with wails and reproofs,With doors banging to and the crashing of glass,With the baying of dogs and the clatter of hoofs,With the rush of the river as, huddling its massOf weltering water towards the deep ocean,'Neath many-arched bridges its eddies did pass.A hubbub of voices in savage commotionWas mixed with the storm in a chaos of sound,And thrilled as with ague in shuddering emotionI fled as the hunted hare flees from the hound.Past churches whose bells were tumultuously ringingThe year in, and clashing in concord around;Past the deaf walls of dungeons whose curses seemed clingingTo the tempest that shivered and shrieked in amazement;Past brightly lit mansions whence music and singingCame borne like a scent through the close-curtained casement,To vaults in whose shadow wild outcasts were hidingTheir misery deep in the gloom of the basement.By vociferous taverns where women were bidingWith features all withered, distorted, aghast;Some sullenly silent, some brutally chiding,Some reeling away into gloom as I passedOn, on, through lamp-lighted and fountain-filled places,Where throned in rich temples, resplendent and vast,The Lord of the City is deafened with praisesAs worshipping multitudes kneel as of old;Nor care for the crowds of cadaverous faces,The men that are marred and the maids that are sold —Inarticulate masses promiscuously jumbledAnd crushed 'neath their Juggernaut idol of gold.Lost lives of great cities bespattered and tumbled,Black rags the rain soaks, the wind whips like a knout,Were crouched in the streets there, and o'er them nigh stumbledA swarm of light maids as they tripped to some rout.The silk of their raiment voluptuously hissesAnd flaps o'er the flags as loud laughing they floutThe wine-maddened men they ne'er satiate with kissesFor the pearls and the diamonds that make them more fair,For the flash of large jewels that fire them with blisses,For the glitter of gold in the gold of their hair.They smiled and they cozened, their bold eyes shone brightlyAnd lightened with laughter, as, lit by the flareOf the wind-fretted gas-lamps, they footed it lightly,Or, closely enlacing and bowered in gloom,With mouth pressed to hot mouth, their parched lips drain nightlyThe wine-cup of pleasure red-sealing their doom.Brief lives like bright rockets which, aridly glowing,Fall burnt out to ashes and reel to the tomb.On, on, loud and louder the rough night was blowing,Shrill singing was mixed with strange cries of despair;And high overhead the black sky, redly glowing,Loomed over the city one ominous glare,As dark yawning funnels from foul throats for everBelched smoke grimly flaming, which outraged the air.On, on, by long quays where the lamps in the riverWere writhing like serpents that hiss ere they drown,And poplars with palsy seemed coldly to shiver,On, on, to the bare desert end of the town.When lo! the wind stopped like a heart that's ceased beating,And nought but the waters, white foaming and brown,Were heard as to seaward their currents went fleeting.But hark! o'er the lull breaks a desolate moan,Like a little lost lamb's that is timidly bleatingWhen, strayed from the shepherd, it staggers aloneBy tracks which the mountain streams shake with their thunder,Where death seems to gape from each boulder and stone.I turned to the murmur: the clouds swept asunderAnd wheeled like white sea-gulls around the white moon;And the moon, like a white maid, looked down in mute wonderOn a boy whose wan eyelids were closed as in swoon.Half nude on the ground he lay, wasted and chilly,And torn as with thorns and sharp brambles of June;His hair, like a flame which at twilight burns stilly,In a halo of light round his temples was blown,And his tears fell like rain on a storm-stricken lilyWhere he lay on the cold ground, abandoned, alone.With heart moved towards him in wondering pity,I tenderly seized his thin hand with my own:Crying, "Child, say how cam'st thou so far from the city?How cam'st thou alone in such pitiful plight,All blood-stained thy feet, with rags squalid and gritty,A waif by the wayside, unhoused in the night?"Then rose he and lifted the bright locks, storm driven,Which flamed round his forehead and clouded his sight,And mournful as meres on a moorland at evenHis blue eyes flashed wildly through tears as they fell.Strange eyes full of horror, yet fuller of heaven,Like eyes that from heaven have looked upon hell.The eyes of an angel whose depths show where, burningAnd lost in the pit, toss the angels that fell."Ah," wailed he in tones full of agonized yearning,Like the plaintive lament of a sickening doveOn a surf-beaten shore, whence it sees past returningThe wings of the wild flock fast fading above,As they melt on the sky-line like foam-flakes in motion:So sadly he wailed, "I am Love! I am Love!"Behold me cast out as weed spurned of the ocean,Half nude on the bare ground, and covered with scarsI perish of cold here;" and, choked with emotion,Gave a sob: at the low sob a shower of starsBroke shuddering from heaven, pale flaming, and fellWhere the mid-city roared as with rumours of wars."Be these God's tears?" I cried, as my tears 'gan to well."Ah, Love, I have sought thee in temples and towers,In shrines where men pray, and in marts where they sell;"In tapestried chambers made tropic with flowers,Where amber-haired women, soft breathing of spice,Lay languidly lapped in the gold-dropping showers"Which gladdened and maddened their amorous eyes.I have looked for thee vainly in churches where beamingThe Saints glowed embalmed in a prism of dyes,"Where wave over wave the rapt music went streamingWith breakers of sound in full anthems elate.I have asked, but none knew thee, or knew but thy seeming;"A mask in thy likeness on high seats of state;And they bound it with gold, and they crowned it with glory,This thing they called love, which was bond slave to hate."And they bowed down before it with brown heads and hoary,They worshipped it nightly, loud hymning its praise,While out in the cold blast, none heeding its story,"Love staggers, an outcast, with lust in its place."Love shivered and sighed like a reed that is shaken,And lifting his hunger-nipped face to my face:"Nay, if of the world I must needs die forsaken,Say thou wilt not leave me to dearth and despair.To thy heart, to thy home, let the exile be taken,"And feed me and shelter – " "Where, outcast, ah, where?Like thee I am homeless and spurned of all mortals;The House of my fathers yawns wide to the air."Stalks desolation across the void portals,Hope lies aghast on the ruinous floor,The halls that were thronged once with star-browed immortals,"With gods statue-still o'er the world-whirr and roar,With fauns of the forest and nymphs of the river,Are cleft as if lightning had struck to their core."The luminous ceilings, where soaring for everDim hosts of plumed angels smoked up to the sky,With God-litten faces that yearned to the giver"As vapours of morning the sun draws on high,Now ravaged with rain hear the hollow winds whistleThrough rifts in the rafters which echo their cry."Blest walls that were vowed to the Virgin now bristleWith weeds of sick scarlet and plague-spotted moss,And stained on the ground, choked with thorn and rank thistle,"Rots a worm-eaten Christ on a mouldering Cross.From the House of my fathers, distraught, broken-hearted,With a pang of immense, irredeemable loss,"On my wearying pilgrimage blindly I startedTo seek thee, oh Love, in high places and low,And instead of the glories for ever departed,"To warm my starved life in thy mightier glow.For I deemed thee a Presence ringed round with all splendour,With a sceptre in hand and a crown on thy brow;"And, behold, thou art helpless – most helpless to tenderThy service to others, who needest their care.Yea, now that I find thee a weak child and slender,"Exposed to the blast of the merciless air,Like a lamb that is shorn, like a leaf that is shaken,What, Love, now is left but to die in despair?"For Death is the mother of all the forsaken,The grave a strait bed where she rocks them to rest,And sleep, from whose silence they never shall waken,"The balm of oblivion she sheds on their breast."Then I seized him and led to the brink of the river,Where two storm-beaten seagulls were fluttering west,And the lamplight in drowning seemed coldly to shiver,And clasping Love close for the leap from on high,Said – "Let us go hence, Love; go home, Love, for ever;"For life casts us forth, and Man dooms us to die."As if stung by a snake the Child shuddered and started,And clung to me close with a passionate cry:"Stay with me, stay with me, poor, broken-hearted;Pain, if not pleasure, we two will divide;Though with the sins of the world I have smarted,"Though with the shame of the world thou art dyed,Weak as I am, on thy breast I'll recover,Worn as thou art, thou shalt bloom as my bride:"Bloom as the flower of the World for the loverWhom thou hast found in a lost little Child."And as he kissed my lips over and over —Child now, or Man, was it who thus beguiled? —Even as I looked on him, Love, waxing slowly,Grew as a little cloud, floating enisled,Which spreads out aloft in the blue sky till solelyIt fills the deep ether tremendous in height,With far-flashing snow-peaks and pinnacles whollyInvisible, vanishing light within light.So changing waxed Love – till he towered before me,Outgrowing my lost gods in stature and might.As he grew, as he drew me, a great awe came o'er me,And stammering, I shook as I questioned his name;But gently bowed o'er me, he soothèd and bore me,Yea, bore once again to the haunts whence I came,By dark ways and dreary, by rough roads and gritty,To the penfolds of sin, to the purlieus of shame.And lo, as we went through the woe-clouded city,Where women bring forth and men labour in vain,Weak Love grew so great in his passion of pityThat all who beheld him were born once again.

SAVING LOVE

Would we but love what will not pass away!The sun that on each morning shines as clearAs when it rose first on the world's first year;The fresh green leaves that rustle on the spray.The sun will shine, the leaves will be as gayWhen graves are full of all our hearts held dear,When not a soul of those who loved us here,Not one, is left us – creatures of decay.Yea, love the Abiding in the UniverseWhich was before, and will be after us.Nor yet for ever hanker and vainly cryFor human love – the beings that change or die;Die – change – forget: to care so is a curse,Yet cursed we'll be rather than not care thus.

NIRVANA

Divest thyself, O Soul, of vain desire!Bid hope farewell, dismiss all coward fears;Take leave of empty laughter, emptier tears,And quench, for ever quench, the wasting fireWherein this heart, as in a funeral pyre,Aye burns, yet is consumed not. Years on yearsMoaning with memories in thy maddened ears —Let at thy word, like refluent waves, retire.Enter thy soul's vast realm as Sovereign Lord,And, like that angel with the flaming sword,Wave off life's clinging hands. Then chains will fallFrom the poor slave of self's hard tyranny —And Thou, a ripple rounded by the sea,In rapture lost be lapped within the All.

MOTHERHOOD

From out the font of being, undefiled,A life hath been upheaved with struggle and pain;Safe in her arms a mother holds againThat dearest miracle – a new-born child.To moans of anguish terrible and wild —As shrieks the night-wind through an ill-shut pane —Pure heaven succeeds; and after fiery strainVictorious woman smiles serenely mild.Yea, shall she not rejoice, shall not her frameThrill with a mystic rapture! At this birth,The soul now kindled by her vital flameMay it not prove a gift of priceless worth?Some saviour of his kind whose starry fameShall bring a brightness to the darkened earth.

PART III

"Our spirits have climbed highBy reason of the passion of our grief, —And from the top of sense, looked over senseTo the significance and heart of thingsRather than things themselves."E. B. BROWNING.

THE LEADING OF SORROW

Through a twilight land, a moaning region,Thick with sighs that shook the trembling air,Land of shadows whose dim crew was legion,Lost I hurried, hunted by despair.Quailed my heart like an expiring splendour,Fitful flicker of a faltering fire,Smitten chords which tempest-stricken renderRhythms of anguish from a breaking lyre.Love had left me in a land of shadows,Lonely on the ruins of delight,And I grieved with tearless grief of widows,Moaned as orphans homeless in the night.Love had left me knocking at Death's portal —Shone his star and vanished from my sky —And I cried: "Since Love, even Love, is mortal,Take, unmake, and break me; let me die."Then, the twilight's grisly veils dividing,Phantom-like there stole one o'er the plain,Wavering mists for ever round it glidingHid the face I strove to scan in vain.Spake the veiled one: "Solitary weeper,'Mid the myriad mourners thou'rt but one:Come, and thou shalt see the awful reaper,Evil, reaping all beneath the sun."On my hand the clay-cold hand did fastenAs it murmured – "Up and follow me;O'er the thickly peopled earth we'll hasten,Yet more thickly packed with misery."And I followed: ever in the shadowOf that looming form I fared along;Now o'er mountains, now through wood and meadow,Or through cities with their surging throng.With none other for a friend or fellowThose relentless footsteps were my guideTo the sea-caves echoing with the hollowImmemorial moaning of the tide.Laughed the sunlight on the living ocean,Danced and rocked itself upon the spray,And its shivered beams in twinkling motionGleamed like star-motes in the Milky Way.Lo, beneath those waters surging, flowing,I beheld the Deep's fantastic bowers;Shapes which seemed alive and yet were growingOn their stalks like animated flowers.Sentient flowers which seemed to glow and glimmerSoft as ocean blush of Indian shells,White as foam-drift in the moony shimmerOf those sea-lit, wave-pavilioned dells.Yet even here, as in the fire-eyed panther,In disguise the eternal hunger lay,For each feathery, velvet-tufted antherLay in ambush waiting for its prey.Tiniest jewelled fish that flashed like lightning,Blindly drawn, came darting through the wave,When, a stifling sack above them tightening,Closed the ocean-blossom's living grave.Now we fared through forest glooms primevalThrough whose leaves the light but rarely shone,Where the buttressed tree-trunks looked coevalWith the time-worn, ocean-fretted stone;Where, from stem to stem their tendrils looping,Coiled the lithe lianas fold on fold,Or, in cataracts of verdure drooping,From on high their billowy leafage rolled.Where beneath the dusky woodland cover,While the noon-hush holds all living things,Butterflies of tropic splendour hoverIn a maze of rainbow-coloured wings:Some like stars light up their own green heavenSome are spangled like a golden toy,Or like flowers from their foliage drivenIn the fiery ecstasy of joy.But, the forest slumber rudely breaking,Through the silence rings a piercing yell;At the cry unnumbered beasts, awaking,With their howls the loud confusion swell.'Tis the cry of some frail creature pantingIn the tiger's lacerating grip;In its flesh carnivorous teeth implanting,While the blood smokes round his wrinkled lip.'Tis the scream some bird in terror utters,With its wings weighed down by leaden fears,As from bough to downward bough it fluttersWhere the snake its glistening crest uprears:Eyes of sluggish greed through rank weeds stealing,Breath whose venomous fumes mount through the air,Till benumbed the helpless victim, reeling,Drops convulsed into the reptile snare.Now we fared o'er sweltering wastes whose steamingClouds of tawny sand the wanderer blind.Herds of horses with their long manes streamingSnorted thirstily against the wind;O'er the waste they scoured in shadowy numbers,Gasped for springs their raging thirst to cool,And, like sick men mocked in fevered slumbers,Stoop to drink – and find a phantom pool.What of antelopes crunched by the leopard?What if hounds run down the timid hare?What though sheep, strayed from the faithful shepherd,Perish helpless in the lion's lair?The all-seeing sun shines on unheeding,In the night shines the unruffled moon,Though on earth brute myriads, preying, bleeding,Put creation harshly out of tune.Cried I, turning to the shrouded figure —"Oh, in mercy veil this cruel strife!Sanguinary orgies which disfigureThe green ways of labyrinthine life.From the needs and greeds of primal passion,From the serpent's track and lion's den,To the world our human hands did fashion,Lead me to the kindly haunts of men."And through fields of corn we passed together,Orange golden in the brooding heat,Where brown reapers in the harvest weatherCut ripe swathes of downward rustling wheat.In the orchards dangling red and yellow,Clustered fruit weighed down the bending sprays;On a hundred hills the vines grew mellowIn the warmth of fostering autumn days.Through the air the shrilly twittering swallowsFlashed their nimble shadows on the leas;Red-flecked cows were glassed in golden shallows,Purple clover hummed with restless bees.Herdsmen drove the cattle from the mountain,To the fold the shepherd drove his flocks,Village girls drew water from the fountain,Village yokels piled the full-eared shocks.From the white town dozing in the valley,Round its vast Cathedral's solemn shade,Citizens strolled down the walnut alleyWhere youth courted and glad childhood played."Peace on earth," I murmured; "let us linger —Here the wage of life seems good at least:"As I spake the veiled One raised a fingerWhere the moon broke flowering in the east.Faintly muttering from deep mountain ranges,Muffled sounds rose hoarsely on the night,As the crash of foundering avalanchesWakes hoarse echoes in each Alpine height.Near and nearer sounds the roaring – thunder,Mortal thunder, crashes through the vale;Lightning flash of muskets breaks from underGroves once haunted by the nightingale.Men clutch madly at each weapon – women,Children crouch in cellars, under roofs,For the town is circled by their foemen —Shakes the ground with clang of trampling hoofs.Shot on shot the volleys hiss and rattle,Shrilly whistling fly the murderous balls,Fiercely roars the tumult of the battleRound the hard-contested, dear-bought walls.Horror, horror! The fair town is burning,Flames burst forth, wild sparks and ashes fly;With her children's blood the green earth's turningBlood-red – blood-red, too, the cloud-winged sky.Crackling flare the streets: from the lone steepleThe great clock booms forth its ancient chime,And its dolorous quarters warn the peopleOf the conquering troops that march with time.Fallen lies the fair old town, its housesCharred and ruined gape in smoking heaps;Here with shouts a ruffian band carouses,There an outraged woman vainly weeps.In the fields where the ripe corn lies mangled,Where the wounded groan beneath the dead,Friend and foe, now helplessly entangled,Stain red poppies with a guiltier red.There the dog howls o'er his perished master,There the crow comes circling from afar;All vile things that batten on disasterFollow feasting in the wake of war.Famine follows – what they ploughed and plantedThe unhappy peasants shall not reap;Sickening of strange meats and fever haunted,To their graves they prematurely creep."Hence" – I cried in unavailing pity —"Let us flee these scenes of monstrous strife,Seek the pale of some imperial cityWhere the law rules starlike o'er man's life."Straightway floating o'er blue sea and river,We were plunged into a roaring cloud,Wherethrough lamps in ague fits did shiverO'er the surging multitudinous crowd.Piles of stone, their cliff-like walls uprearing,Flashed in luminous lines along the night;Jets of flame, spasmodically flaring,Splashed black pavements with a sickly light;Fabulous gems shone here, and glowing coral,Shimmering stuffs from many an Eastern loom,And vast piles of tropic fruits and floralMarvels seemed to mock November's gloom.But what prowls near princely mart and dwelling,Whence through many a thundering thoroughfareRich folk roll on cushions softly swellingTo the week-day feast and Sunday prayer?Yea, who prowl there, hunger-nipped and pallid,Breathing nightmares limned upon the gloom?'Tis but human rubbish, gaunt and squalid,Whom their country spurns for lack of room.In their devious track we mutely follow,Mutely climb dim flights of oozy stairs,Where through gap-toothed, mizzling roof the yellowPestilent fog blends with the fetid air.Through the unhinged door's discordant slammingRing the gruesome sounds of savage strife —Howls of babes, the drunken father's damning,Counter-cursing of the shrill-tongued wife.Children feebly crying on their motherIn a wailful chorus – "Give us food!"Man and woman glaring at each otherLike two gaunt wolves with a famished brood.Till he snatched a stick, and, madly staring,Struck her blow on blow upon the head;And she, reeling back, gasped, hardly caring —"Ah, you've done it now, Jim" – and was dead.Dead – dead – dead – the miserable creature —Never to feel hunger's cruel fangWring the bowels of rebellious natureThat her infants might be spared the pang."Dead! Good luck to her!" The man's teeth chattered,Stone-still stared he with blank eyes and hard,Then, his frame with one big sob nigh shattered,Fled – and cut his throat down in the yard.Dark the night – the children wail forsaken,Crane their wrinkled necks and cry for food,Drop off into fitful sleep, or wakenTrembling like a sparrow's ravished brood.Dark the night – the rain falls on the ashes,Feebly hissing on the feeble heat,Filters through the ceiling, drops in splashesOn the little children's naked feet.Dark the night – the children wail forsaken —Is there none, ah, none, to heed their moan?Yea, at dawn one little one is taken,Four poor souls are left, but one is gone.Gone – escaped – flown from the shame and sorrowWaiting for them at life's sombre gate,But the hand of merciless to-morrowDrags the others shuddering to their fate.But one came – a girlish thing – a creatureFlung by wanton hands 'mid lust and crime —A poor outcast, yet by right of natureSweet as odour of the upland thyme.Scapegoat of a people's sins, and hunted,Howled at, hooted to the wilderness,To that wilderness of deaf hearts, bluntedTo the depths of woman's dumb distress.Jetsam, flotsam of the monster city,Spurned, defiled, reviled, that outcast cameTo those babes that whined for love and pity,Gave them bread bought with the wage of shame.Gave them bread, and gave them warm, maternalKisses not on sale for any price:Yea, a spark, a flash of some eternalSympathy shone through those haunted eyes.Ah, perchance through her dark life's confusion,Through the haste and taste of fevered hours,Gusts of memory on her youth's pollutionBlew forgotten scents of faded flowers.And she saw the cottage near the wild wood,With its lichened roof and latticed panes,Strayed once more through golden fields of childhood,Hyacinth dells and hawthorn-scented lanes.Heard once more the song of nesting thrushesAnd the blackbird's long mellifluous note,Felt once more the glow of maiden blushesBurn through rosy cheek and milkwhite throatIn that orchard where the apple blossomLightly shaken fluttered on her hair,As the heart was fluttering in her bosomWhen her sweetheart came and kissed her there.Often came he in the lilac-ladenMoonlit twilight, often pledged his word;But she was a simple country-maiden,He the offspring of a noble lord.Fading lilacs May's farewell betoken,Fledglings fly and soon forget the nest;Lightly may a young man's vows be broken,And the heart break in a woman's breast.Gathered like a sprig of summer rosesIn the dewy morn and flung away,To the girl the father's door now closes,Let her shelter henceforth how she may.Who will house the miserable motherWith her child, a helpless castaway!"I, am I the keeper of my brother?"Asks smug virtue as it turns to pray!Lovely are the earliest Lenten lilies,Primrose pleiads, hyacinthine sheets;Stripped and rifled from their pastoral valleys,See them sold now in the public streets!Other flowers are sold there besides posies —Eyes may have the hyacinth's glowing blue,Rounded cheeks the velvet bloom of roses,Taper necks the rain-washed lily's hue.But a rustic blossom! Love and dutyBound up in a child whom hunger slays!Ah! but one thing still is left her – beautyFresh, untarnished yet – and beauty pays.Beauty keeps her child alive a little,Then it dies – her woman's love with it —Beauty's brilliant sceptre, ah, how brittle,Drags her daily deeper down the pit.Ruin closes o'er her – hideous, nameless;Each fresh morning marks a deeper fall;Till at twenty – callous, cankered, shameless,She lies dying at the hospital.Drink, more drink, she calls for – her harsh laughterGrates upon the meekly praying nurse,Eloquent about her soul's hereafter:"Souls be blowed!" she sings out with a curse.And so dies, an unrepenting sinner —Pitched into her pauper's grave what timeThat most noble lord rides by to dinnerWho had wooed her in her innocent prime.And in after-dinner talk he preachesResignation – o'er his burgundy —Till a grateful public dubs his speechesOracles of true philanthropy.Peace ye call this? Call this justice, metedEqually to rich and poor alike?Better than this peace the battle's heatedCannon-balls that ask not whom they strike!Better than this masquerade of cultureHiding strange hyæna appetites,The frank ravening of the raw-necked vultureAs its beak the senseless carrion smites.What of men in bondage, toiling bluntedIn the roaring factory's lurid gloom?What of cradled infants starved and stunted?What of woman's nameless martyrdom?The all-seeing sun shines on unheeding,Shines by night the calm, unruffled moon,Though the human myriads, preying, bleeding,Put creation harshly out of tune."Hence, ah, hence" – I sobbed in quivering passion —"From these fearful haunts of fiendish men!Better far the plain, carnivorous fashionWhich is practised in the lion's den."And I fled – yet staggering still did followIn the footprints of my shrouded guide —To the sea-caves echoing with the hollowImmemorial moaning of the tide.Sinking, swelling roared the wintry ocean,Pitch-black chasms struck with flying blaze,As the cloud-winged storm-sky's sheer commotionShowed the blank Moon's mute Medusa faceWhite o'er wastes of water – surges crashingOver surges in the formless gloom,And a mastless hulk, with great seas washingHer scourged flanks, pitched toppling to her doom.Through the crash of wave on wave gigantic,Through the thunder of the hurricane,My wild heart in breaking shrilled with franticExultation – "Chaos come again!Yea, let earth be split and cloven asunderWith man's still accumulating curse —Life is but a momentary blunderIn the cycle of the Universe."Yea, let earth with forest-belted mountains,Hills and valleys, cataracts and plains,With her clouds and storms and fires and fountains,Pass with all her rolling sphere contains,Melt, dissolve again into the ocean,Ocean fade into a nebulous haze!"And I sank back without sense or motion'Neath the blank Moon's mute Medusa face.Moments, years, or ages passed, when, liftingFreezing lids, I felt the heavens on high,And, innumerable as the sea-sands drifting,Stars unnumbered drifted through the sky.Rhythmical in luminous rotation,In dædalian maze they reel and fly,And their rushing light is Time's pulsationIn his passage through Eternity.Constellated suns, fresh lit, declining,Were ignited now, now quenched in space,Rolling round each other, or incliningOrb to orb in multi-coloured rays.Ever showering from their flaming fountainsLight more light on each far-circling earth,Till life stirred crepuscular seas, and mountainsHeaved convulsive with the throes of birth.And the noble brotherhood of planets,Knitted each to each by links of light,Circled round their suns, nor knew a minute'sLapse or languor in their ceaseless flight.And pale moons and rings and burning splintersOf wrecked worlds swept round their parent spheres,Clothed with spring or sunk in polar wintersAs their sun draws nigh or disappears.Still new vistas of new stars – far dwindling —Through the firmament like dewdrops roll,Torches of the Cosmos which enkindlingFlash their revelation on the soul.Yea, One spake there – though nor form nor featureShown – a Voice came from the peaks of time: —"Wilt thou judge me, wilt thou curse me, CreatureWhom I raised up from the Ocean slime?"Long I waited – ages rolled o'er ages —As I crystallized in granite rocks,Struggling dumb through immemorial stages,Glacial æons, fiery earthquake shocks.In fierce throbs of flame or slow upheaval,Speck by tiny speck, I topped the seas,Leaped from earth's dark womb, and in primevalForests shot up shafts of mammoth trees."Through a myriad forms I yearned and panted,Putting forth quick shoots in endless swarms —Giant-hoofed, sharp-tusked, or finned or plantedWrithing on the reef with pinioned arms.I have climbed from reek of sanguine revelsIn Cimmerian wood and thorny wild,Slowly upwards to the dawnlit levelsWhere I bore thee, oh my youngest Child!"Oh, my heir and hope of my to-morrow,I – I draw thee on through fume and fret,Croon to thee in pain and call through sorrow,Flowers and stars take for thy alphabet.Through the eyes of animals appealing,Feel my fettered spirit yearn to thine,Who, in storm of will and clash of feeling,Shape the life that shall be – the divine."Oh, redeem me from my tiger rages,Reptile greed, and foul hyæna lust;With the hero's deeds, the thoughts of sages,Sow and fructify this passive dust;Drop in dew and healing love of womanOn the bloodstained hands of hungry strife,Till there break from passion of the HumanMorning-glory of transfigured life."I have cast my burden on thy shoulder;Unimagined potencies have givenThat from formless Chaos thou shalt mould herAnd translate gross earth to luminous heaven.Bear, oh, bear the terrible compulsion,Flinch not from the path thy fathers trod,From Man's martyrdom in slow convulsionWill be born the infinite goodness – God."Ceased the Voice: and as it ceased it driftedLike the seashell's inarticulate moan;From the Deep, on wings of flame uplifted,Rose the sun rejoicing and alone.Laughed in light upon the living ocean,Danced and rocked itself upon the spray,And its shivered beams in twinkling motionGleamed like star-motes of the Milky Way.And beside me in the golden morningI beheld my shrouded phantom-guide;But no longer sorrow-veiled and mourning —It became transfigured by my side.And I knew – as one escaped from prisonSees old things again with fresh surprise —It was Love himself, Love re-arisenWith the Eternal shining through his eyes.