Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 53, No. 328, February, 1843

THE WORDS OF BELIEF

Three Words will I name thee—around and about, From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee; But they had not their birth in the being without, And the heart, not the lip, must their oracle be! And all worth in the man shall for ever be o'er When in those Three Words he believes no more. Man is made FREE!—Man, by birthright, is free, Though the tyrant may deem him but born for his tool. Whatever the shout of the rabble may be— Whatever the ranting misuse of the fool— Still fear not the Slave, when he breaks from his chain, For the Man made a Freeman grows safe in his gain. And VIRTUE is more than a shade or a sound, And Man may her voice, in this being, obey; And though ever he slip on the stony ground, Yet ever again to the godlike way. Though her wisdom our wisdom may not perceive, Yet the childlike spirit can still believe. And a GOD there is!—over Space, over Time, While the Human Will rocks, like a reed, to and fro, Lives the Will of the Holy—A Purpose Sublime, A Thought woven over creation below; Changing and shifting the All we inherit, But changeless through all One Immutable Spirit! Hold fast the Three Words of Belief—though about From the lip to the lip, full of meaning they flee; Yet they take not their birth from the being without— But a voice from within must their oracle be; And never all worth in the Man can be o'er, Till in those Three Words he believes no more.

THE MIGHT OF SONG

A rain-flood from the mountain-riven, It leaps, in thunder, forth to Day, Before its rush the crags are driven— The oaks uprooted, whirl'd away— Aw'd, yet in awe all wildly glad'ning, The startled wanderer halts below; He hears the rock-born waters mad'ning, Nor wits the source from whence they go,— So, from their high, mysterious Founts along, Stream on the silenc'd world the Waves of Song! Knit with the threads of life, for ever, By those dread Powers that weave the woof,— Whose art the singer's spell can sever? Whose breast has mail to music proof? Lo, to the Bard, a wand of wonder The Herald8 of the Gods has given: He sinks the soul the death-realm under, Or lifts it breathless up to heaven— Half sport, half earnest, rocking its devotion Upon the tremulous ladder of emotion. As, when the halls of Mirth are crowded, Portentous, on the wanton scene— Some Fate, before from wisdom shrouded, Awakes and awes the souls of Men— Before that Stranger from ANOTHER, Behold how THIS world's great ones bow— Mean joys their idle clamour smother, The mask is vanish'd from the brow— And from Truth's sudden, solemn flag unfurl'd, Fly all the craven Falsehoods of the World! So, rapt from every care and folly, When spreads abroad the lofty lay, The Human kindles to the Holy, And into Spirit soars the Clay! One with the Gods the Bard: before him All things unclean and earthly fly— Hush'd are all meaner powers, and o'er him The dark fate swoops unharming by; And while the Soother's magic measures flow, Smooth'd every wrinkle on the brows of Woe! Even as a child that, after pining For the sweet absent mother—hears Her voice—and, round her neck entwining Young arms, vents all his soul in tears;— So, by harsh custom far estranged, Along the glad and guileless track, To childhood's happy home, unchanged, The swift song wafts the wanderer back— Snatch'd from the coldness of unloving Art To Nature's mother arms—to Nature's glowing heart!

HONOUR TO WOMAN

Honour to Woman! To her it is given To garden the earth with the roses of Heaven! All blessed, she linketh the Loves in their choir— In the veil of the Graces her beauty concealing, She tends on each altar that's hallow'd to Feeling, And keeps ever-living the fire! From the bounds of Truth careering, Man's strong spirit wildly sweeps, With each hasty impulse veering, Down to Passion's troubled deeps. And his heart, contented never, Greeds to grapple with the Far, Chasing his own dream for ever, On through many a distant Star! But Woman with looks that can charm and enchain, Lureth back at her beck the wild truant again, By the spell of her presence beguil'd— In the home of the Mother her modest abode, And modest the manners by Nature bestow'd On Nature's most exquisite child! Bruised and worn, but fiercely breasting, Foe to foe, the angry strife; Man the Wild One, never resting, Roams along the troubled life; What he planneth, still pursuing; Vainly as the Hydra bleeds, Crest the sever'd crest renewing— Wish to wither'd wish succeeds. But Woman at peace with all being, reposes, And seeks from the Moment to gather the roses— Whose sweets to her culture belong. Ah! richer than he, though his soul reigneth o'er The mighty dominion of Genius and Lore, And the infinite Circle of Song. Strong, and proud, and self-depending, Man's cold bosom beats alone; Heart with heart divinely blending, In the love that Gods have known, Souls' sweet interchange of feeling, Melting tears—he never knows, Each hard sense the hard one steeling, Arms against a world of foes. Alive, as the wind-harp, how lightly soever If woo'd by the Zephyr, to music will quiver, Is Woman to Hope and to Fear; Ah, tender one! still at the shadow of grieving, How quiver the chords—how thy bosom is heaving—

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

1

"Taille and the Gabelle." Sully thus describes these fertile sources of crime and misery:—"Taille, source principale d'abus et de vexations de toute espèce, sans sa repartition et sa perception. Il est bien à souhaiter, mais pas à espérer, qu'on change un jour en entier le fond de cette partie des revenus. Je mets la Gabelle de niveau avec la Taille. Je n'ai jamais rien trouvé de si bizarrement tyrannique que de faire acheter à un particulier, plus de sel qu'il n'en veut et n'en peut consommer, et de lui défendre encore de revendre ce qu'il a de trop."

2

Ulysses.

3

Need we say to the general reader, that Oileus here alludes to the strife between Ajax and Ulysses, which has furnished a subject to the Greek tragic poet, who has depicted, more strikingly than any historian, that intense emulation for glory, and that mortal agony in defeat, which made the main secret of the prodigious energy of the Greek character? The poet, in taking his hero from the Homeric age, endowed him with the feelings of the Athenian republicans he addressed.

4

Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles.

5

Cassandra.

6

Literally, "A judge (ein richter) was again upon the earth." The word substituted in the translation, is introduced in order to recall to the reader the sublime name given, not without justice, to Rudolf of Hapsburg, viz., "THE LIVING LAW."

7

This simile is nobly conceived, but expressed somewhat obscurely. As Hercules contended in vain against Antæus, the Son of Earth,—so long as the Earth gave her giant offspring new strength in every fall,—so the soul contends in vain with evil—the natural earth-born enemy, while the very contact of the earth invigorates the enemy for the struggle. And as Antæus was slain at last, when Hercules lifted him from the earth and strangled him while raised aloft, so can the soul slay the enemy, (the desire, the passion, the evil, the earth's offspring,) when bearing it from earth itself, and stifling it in the higher air.

8

Hermes.