Chapter 8

"Yea, my King," I began--"thou dost well in rejecting mere comforts that spring From the mere mortal life held in common by man and by 150 brute: In our flesh grows the branch of this life, in our soul it bears fruit. Thou hast marked the slow rise of the tree--how its stem trembled first Till it passed the kid's lip, the stag's antler; then safely outburst The fan-branches all round; and thou mindest when these too, in turn Broke a-bloom and the palm-tree seemed perfect; yet more was 155 to learn, E'en the good that comes in with the palm-fruit. Our dates shall we slight, When their juice brings a cure for all sorrow? or care for the plight Of the palm's self whose slow growth produced them? Not so! stem and branch Shall decay, nor be known in their place, while the palm-wine shall stanch Every wound of man's spirit in winter. I pour thee such 160 wine. Leave the flesh to the fate it was fit for! the spirit be thine! By the spirit, when age shall o'ercome thee, thou still shalt enjoy More indeed, than at first when inconscious, the life of a boy. Crush that life, and behold its wine running! Each deed thou hast done Dies, revives, goes to work in the world; until e'en as the 165 sun Looking down on the earth, though clouds spoil him, though tempests efface, Can find nothing his own deed produced not, must everywhere trace The results of his past summer-prime--so, each ray of thy will, Every flash of thy passion and prowess, long over, shall thrill Thy whole people, the countless, with ardor, till they too 170 give forth A like cheer to their sons, who in turn, fill the South and the North With the radiance thy deed was the germ of. Carouse in the past! But the license of age has its limit; thou diest at last; As the lion when age dims his eyeball, the rose at her height, So with man--so his power and his beauty forever take 175 flight. No! Again a long draft of my soul-wine! Look forth o'er the years! Thou hast done now with eyes for the actual; begin with the seer's! Is Saul dead? In the depth of the vale make his tomb--bid arise A gray mountain of marble heaped four-square, till, built to the skies, Let it mark where the great First King slumbers; whose fame 180 would ye know? Up above see the rock's naked face, where the record shall go In great characters cut by the scribe--Such was Saul, so he did; With the sages directing the work, by the populace chid-- For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! Which fault to amend, In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, whereon they 185 shall spend (See, in tablets 'tis level before them) their praise, and record With the gold of the graver, Saul's story--the statesman's great word Side by side with the poet's sweet comment. The river's a-wave With smooth paper-reeds grazing each other when prophet-winds rave: So the pen gives unborn generations their due and their part 190 In thy being! Then, first of the mighty, thank God that thou art!"

XIV

And behold while I sang ... but O Thou who didst grant me that day, And before it not seldom hast granted thy help to essay, Carry on and complete an adventure--my shield and my sword In that act where my soul was thy servant, thy word was my 195 word-- Still be with me, who then at the summit of human endeavor And scaling the highest, man's thought could, gazed hopeless as ever On the new stretch of heaven above me--till, mighty to save, Just one lift of thy hand cleared that distance--God's throne from man's grave! Let me tell out my tale to its evening--my voice to my heart 200 Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels last night I took part, As this morning I gather the fragments, alone with my sheep, And still fear lest the terrible glory evanish like sleep! For I wake in the gray dewy covert, while Hebron upheaves The dawn struggling with night on his shoulder, and Kidron 205 retrieves Slow the damage of yesterday's sunshine.

XV

I say then--my song While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and ever more strong Made a proffer of good to console him--he slowly resumed His old motions and habitudes kingly. The right hand replumed His black locks to their wonted composure, adjusted the 210 swathes Of his turban, and see--the huge sweat that his countenance bathes, He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now his loins as of yore, And feels slow for the armlets of price, with the clasp set before. He is Saul, ye remember in glory--ere error had bent The broad brow from the daily communion; and still, though 215 much spent Be the life and the bearing that front you, the same, God did choose To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, never quite lose. So sank he along by the tent-prop till, stayed by the pile Of his armor and war-cloak and garments, he leaned there awhile, And sat out my singing--one arm round the tent-prop, to 220 raise His bent head, and the other hung slack--till I touched on the praise I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there; And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak-roots 225 which please To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to know If the best I could do had brought solace; he spoke not, but slow Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he laid it with care Soft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my brow; through my hair The large fingers were pushed, and he bent back my head, 230 with kind power-- All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men do a flower. Thus held he me there with his great eyes that scrutinized mine--And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but where was the sign? I yearned--"Could I help thee, my father, inventing a bliss, I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and 235 this; I would give thee new life altogether, as good, ages hence, As this moment--had love but the warrant, love's heart to dispense!"

XVI

Then the truth came upon me. No harp more--no song more! outbroke--

XVII

"I have gone the whole round of creation; I saw and I spoke; I, a work of God's hand for that purpose, received in my 240 brain And pronounced on the rest of his handwork--returned him again His creation's approval or censure; I spoke as I saw; I report, as a man may of God's work--all's love, yet all's law. Now I lay down the judgeship he lent me. Each faculty tasked To perceive him, has gained an abyss, where a dewdrop was 245 asked. Have I knowledge? confounded it shrivels at Wisdom laid bare. Have I forethought? how purblind, how blank, to the Infinite Care! Do I task any faculty highest, to image success? I but open my eyes--and perfection, no more and no less, In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and God is seen God 250 In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod. And thus looking within and around me, I ever renew (With that stoop of the soul which in bending upraises it too) The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all-complete, As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to his feet. 255 Yet with all this abounding experience, this deity known, I shall dare to discover some province, some gift of my own. There's a faculty pleasant to exercise, hard to hoodwink, I am fain to keep still in abeyance (I laugh as I think), Lest, insisting to claim and parade in it, wot ye, I worst 260 E'en the Giver in one gift.--Behold, I could love if I durst! But I sink the pretension as fearing a man may o'ertake God's own speed in the one way of love; I abstain for love's sake. --What, my soul? see thus far and no farther? when doors great and small, Nine-and-ninety flew ope at our touch, should the hundredth 265 appall? In the least things have faith, yet distrust in the greatest of all? Do I find love so full in my nature, God's ultimate gift, That I doubt his own love can compete with it? Here, the parts shift? Here, the creature surpass the Creator--the end what Began? Would I fain in my impotent yearning do all for this man, 270 And dare doubt he alone shall not help him, who yet alone can? Would it ever have entered my mind, the bare will, much less power, To bestow on this Saul what I sang of, the marvelous dower Of the life he was gifted and filled with? to make such a soul, Such a body, and then such an earth for insphering the 275 whole? And doth it not enter my mind (as my warm tears attest) These good things being given, to go on, and give one more, the best? Aye, to save and redeem and restore him, maintain at the height This perfection--succeed with life's day-spring, death's minute of night? Interpose at the difficult minute, snatch Saul the mistake, 280 Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now--and bid him awake From the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set Clear and safe in new light and new life--a new harmony yet To be run, and continued, and ended--who knows?--or endure! The man taught enough, by life's dream, of the rest to make 285 sure; By the pain-throb, triumphantly winning intensified bliss, And the next world's reward and repose, by the struggles in this.

XVIII

"I believe it! 'Tis thou, God, that givest, 'tis I who receive: In the first is the last, in thy will is my power to believe. All's one gift; thou canst grant it moreover, as prompt to 290 my prayer As I breathe out this breath, as I open these arms to the air. From thy will, stream the worlds, life and nature, thy dread Sabaoth: _I_ will?--the mere atoms despise me! Why am I not loath To look that, even that in the face too? Why is it I dare Think but lightly of such impuissance? What stops my 295 despair? This;--'tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man Would do! See the King--I would help him but cannot, the wishes fall through. Could I wrestle to raise him from sorrow, grow poor to enrich, To fill up his life, starve my own out, I would--knowing which, I know that my service is perfect. Oh, speak through me now! 300 Would I suffer for him that I love? So wouldst thou--so wilt thou! So shall crown thee the topmost, ineffablest, uttermost crown-- And thy love fill infinitude wholly, nor leave up nor down One spot for the creature to stand in! It is by no breath, Turn of eye, wave of hand, that salvation joins issue with 305 death! As thy Love is discovered almighty, almighty be proved Thy power, that exists with and for it, of being Beloved! He who did most, shall bear most; the strongest shall stand the most weak. 'Tis the weakness in strength, that I cry for! my flesh, that I seek In the Godhead! I seek and I find it. O Saul, it shall be 310 A Face like my face that receives thee; a Man like to me, Thou shalt love and be loved by, forever: a Hand like this hand Shall throw open the gates of new life to thee! See the Christ stand!"

XIX

I know not too well how I found my way home in the night. There were witnesses, cohorts about me, to left and to 315 right, Angels, powers, the unuttered, unseen, the alive, the aware; I repressed, I got through them as hardly, as strugglingly there, As a runner beset by the populace famished for news-- Life or death. The whole earth was awakened, hell loosed with her crews; And the stars of night beat with emotion, and tingled and 320 shot Out in fire the strong pain of pent knowledge; but I fainted not, For the Hand still impelled me at once and supported, suppressed All the tumult, and quenched it with quiet, and holy behest, Till the rapture was shut in itself, and the earth sank to rest. Anon at the dawn, all that trouble had withered from earth-- 325 Not so much, but I saw it die out in the day's tender birth; In the gathered intensity brought to the gray of the hills; In the shuddering forests' held breath; in the sudden wind-thrills; In the startled wild beasts that bore off, each with eye sidling still Though averted with wonder and dread; in the birds stiff and 330 chill That rose heavily, as I approached them, made stupid with awe: E'en the serpent that slid away silent--he felt the new law. The same stared in the white humid faces upturned by the flowers; The same worked in the heart of the cedar and moved the vine-bowers: And the little brooks witnessing murmured, persistent and 335 low, With their obstinate, all but hushed voices--"E'en so, it is so!"

MY STAR

All that I know Of a certain star Is, it can throw (Like the angled spar) Now a dart of red, 5 Now a dart of blue; Till my friends have said They would fain see, too, My star that dartles the red and the blue! Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled: 10 They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it. What matter to me if their star is a world? Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.

TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA

I wonder do you feel today As I have felt since, hand in hand, We sat down on the grass, to stray In spirit better through the land, This morn of Rome and May? 5

For me, I touched a thought, I know, Has tantalized me many times, (Like turns of thread the spiders throw Mocking across our path) for rhymes To catch at and let go. 10

Help me to hold it! First it left The yellowing fennel, run to seed There, branching from the brickwork's cleft, Some old tomb's ruin; yonder weed Took up the floating weft, 15

Where one small orange cup amassed Five beetles--blind and green they grope Among the honey-meal; and last, Everywhere on the grassy slope I traced it. Hold it fast! 20

The champaign with its endless fleece Of feathery grasses everywhere! Silence and passion, joy and peace, An everlasting wash of air-- Rome's ghost since her decease. 25

Such life here, through such lengths of hours, Such miracles performed in play, Such primal naked forms of flowers, Such letting nature have her way While heaven looks from its towers! 30

How say you? Let us, O my dove, Let us be unashamed of soul, As earth lies bare to heaven above! How is it under our control To love or not to love? 35

I would that you were all to me, You that are just so much, no more, Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free! Where does the fault lie? What the core O' the wound, since wound must be? 40

I would I could adopt your will, See with your eyes, and set my heart Beating by yours, and drink my fill At your soul's springs--your part my part In life, for good and ill. 45

No. I yearn upward, touch you close, Then stand away. I kiss your cheek, Catch your soul's warmth--I pluck the rose And love it more than tongue can speak-- Then the good minute goes. 50

Already how am I so far Out of that minute? Must I go Still like the thistle-ball, no bar, Onward, whenever light winds blow, Fixed by no friendly star? 55

Just when I seemed about to learn! Where is the thread now? Off again! The old trick! Only I discern-- Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn. 60

IN THREE DAYS

So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn. See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, 5 How fresh the splinters keep and fine-- Only a touch and we combine!

Too long, this time of year, the days! But nights, at least the nights are short. As night shows where her one moon is, 10 A hand's-breadth of pure light and bliss, So life's night gives my lady birth And my eyes hold her! What is worth The rest of heaven, the rest of earth?

O loaded curls, release your store 15 Of warmth and scent, as once before The tingling hair did, lights and darks Outbreaking into fairy sparks, When under curl and curl I pried After the warmth and scent inside, 20 Through lights and darks how manifold-- The dark inspired, the light controlled! As early Art embrowns the gold.

What great fear, should one say, "Three days That change the world might change as well 25 Your fortune; and if joy delays, Be happy that no worse befell!" What small fear, if another says, "Three days and one short night beside May throw no shadow on your ways; 30 But years must teem with change untried, With chance not easily defied, With an end somewhere undescried." No fear!--or if a fear be born This minute, it dies out in scorn. 35 Fear? I shall see her in three days And one night, now the nights are short, Then just two hours, and that is morn.

THE GUARDIAN-ANGEL

A PICTURE AT FANO

Dear and great Angel, wouldst thou only leave That child, when thou hast done with him, for me! Let me sit all the day here, that when eve Shall find performed thy special ministry, And time come for departure, thou, suspending 5 Thy flight, mayst see another child for tending, Another still, to quiet and retrieve.

Then I shall feel thee step one step, no more, From where thou standest now, to where I gaze, --And suddenly my head is covered o'er 10 With those wings, white above the child who prays Now on that tomb--and I shall feel thee guarding Me, out of all the world; for me, discarding Yon heaven thy home, that waits and opes its door.

I would not look up thither past thy head 15 Because the door opes, like that child, I know, For I should have thy gracious face instead, Thou bird of God! And wilt thou bend me low Like him, and lay, like his, my hands together, And lift them up to pray, and gently tether 20 Me, as thy lamb there, with thy garment's spread?

If this was ever granted, I would rest My head beneath thine, while thy healing hands Close-covered both my eyes beside thy breast, Pressing the brain, which too much thought expands, 25 Back to its proper size again, and smoothing Distortion down till every nerve had soothing, And all lay quiet, happy, and suppressed.

How soon all worldly wrong would be repaired! I think how I should view the earth and skies 30 And sea, when once again my brow was bared After thy healing, with such different eyes. O world, as God has made it! All is beauty: And knowing this, is love, and love is duty. What further may be sought for or declared? 35

Guercino drew this angel I saw teach (Alfred, dear friend!)--that little child to pray, Holding the little hands up, each to each Pressed gently--with his own head turned away Over the earth where so much lay before him 40 Of work to do, though heaven was opening o'er him, And he was left at Fano by the beach.

We were at Fano, and three times we went To sit and see him in his chapel there, And drink his beauty to our soul's content 45 --My angel with me too; and since I care For dear Guercino's fame (to which in power And glory comes this picture for a dower, Fraught with a pathos so magnificent)--

And since he did not work thus earnestly 50 At all times, and has else endured some wrong-- I took one thought his picture struck from me, And spread it out, translating it to song. My love is here. Where are you, dear old friend? How rolls the Wairoa at your world's far end? 55 This is Ancona, yonder is the sea.

MEMORABILIA

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems and new!

But you were living before that, 5 And also you are living after; And the memory I started at-- My starting moves your laughter!

I crossed a moor, with a name of its own And a certain use in the world no doubt, 10 Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 'Mid the blank miles round about:

For there I picked up on the heather, And there I put inside my breast A molted feather, an eagle-feather! 15 Well, I forget the rest.

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away, On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 5 Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans That soar, to earth may fall, 10 Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall"-- Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 15 Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy; You hardly could suspect-- 20 (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace 25 We've got you Ratisbon! The Marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, 30 Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans Soared up again like fire.