Part 3

How often have I said, "We may not grieve for the immortal dead." And now, poor blenched heart. Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart. Why be with fate at strife Because one passes on from death to life, Who may no more delay Rapt from our strange and pitiful dream away By One with ancient claim Who robes her with the spirit like a flame. Not lost this high belief-- Oh, passionate heart, what is thy cause for grief? Is this thy sorrow now, She in eternal beauty may not bow Thy troubles to efface As in old time a head with gentle grace All tenderly laid by thine Taught thee the nearness of the love divine. Her joys no more for thee Than the impartial laughter of the sea, Her beauty no more fair For thee alone, but starry, everywhere. Her pity dropped for you No more than heaven above with healing dew Favours one home of men-- Ah! grieve not; she becomes herself again, And passed beyond thy sight She roams along the thought-swept fields of light, Moving in dreams until She finds again the root of ancient will, The old heroic love That emptied once the heavenly courts above. The angels heard from earth A mournful cry which shattered all their mirth, Raised by a senseless rout Warring in chaos with discordant shout, And that the pain might cease They grew rebellious in the Master's peace; And falling downward then The angelic lights were crucified in men; Leaving so radiant spheres For earth's dim twilight ever wet with tears That through those shadows dim Might breathe the lovely music brought from Him. And now my grief I see Was but that ancient shadow part of me, Not yet attuned to good, Still blind and senseless in its warring mood, I turn from it and climb To the heroic spirit of the prime, The light that well foreknew All the dark ways that it must journey through. Yet seeing still again, A distant glory o'er the hills of pain, Through all that chaos wild A breath as gentle as a little child, Through earth transformed, divine, The Christ-soul of the universe to shine.

AGE AND YOUTH

We have left our youth behind: Earth is in its baby years: Void of wisdom cries the wind, And the sunlight knows no tears.

When shall twilight feel the awe, All the rapt thought of the sage, And the lips of wind give law Drawn from out their lore of age?

When shall earth begin to burn With such love as thrills my breast? When shall we together turn To our long, long home for rest?

Child and father, we grow old While you laugh and play with flowers; And life's tale for us is told Holding only empty hours.

Giant child, on you await All the hopes and fears of men. In thy fulness is our fate-- What till then, oh, what till then?

THE JOY OF EARTH

Oh, the sudden wings arising from the ploughed fields brown Showered aloft in spray of song the wildbird twitter floats O'er the unseen fount awhile, and then comes dropping down Nigh the cool brown earth to hush enraptured notes.

Far within a dome of trembling opal throbs the fire, Mistily its rain of diamond lances shed below Touches eyes and brows and faces lit with wild desire For the burning silence whither we would go.

Heart, O heart, once more it is the ancient joy of earth Breathes in thee and flings the wild wings sunward to the dome To the light where all the Children of the Fire had birth Though our hearts and footsteps wander far from home.

RECONCILIATION

I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord; I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of rest Of the Earth, of the Mother, my heart with her heart in accord, As I lie 'mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breast I begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.

By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the King For a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far, And his infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bring Me in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star. On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.

_The sweetest song was ever sung May soothe you but a little while: The gayest music ever rung Shall yield you but a fleeting smile._

_The well I digged you soon shall pass. You may but rest with me an hour: Yet drink, I offer you the glass, A moment of sustaining power,_

_And give to you, if it be gain, Whether in pleasure or annoy, To see one elemental pain, One light of everlasting joy._

NOTE

As the mythological references made in a few poems may partially obscure the meaning for those unacquainted with Celtic tradition, I have appended here a brief commentary on the names mentioned.

_Angus_, the Celtic Eros. In the bardic stories he is described as a tall, golden-haired youth playing on a harp and surrounded by singing birds. The kisses of these birds created love and also brought death.

_Balor_, the prince of the dark powers. His eye turned every living thing it rested on into stone. He was killed at the battle of Moytura by Lugh the Sun-god.

_Dana_, the Hibernian mother of the gods who were named from her Tuatha De Danaan, or the Tribes of the goddess Dana. They are also sometimes called the Sidhe.

_Etain_, a Celtic goddess who is the subject of a famous story, "The Wooing of Etain." She left the heaven world and became the wife of an ancient Irish king.

_Lir_, the Oceanus of Celtic mythology. Probably the Great Deep or original divinity from whom all sprang. His son Mananan MacLir was the most spiritual divinity known to the ancient Gael. Lir is more familiar as the father of the children who were changed into swans by magic, and who lived for long ages on the waters around the Irish coast. The story of the fate of the children of Lir was probably in its earliest form a mythological account of the descent of the spirit from the Heaven-world to the Earth and its final redemption.

_Lugh_, the great god of light who led the De Danaans at the battle of Moytura, and who slew Balor of the Evil Eye by a cast from his sling. He is a Celtic Hermes or Apollo.

_Fomor_, the dark powers who were opposed to the hosts of light, the Tuatha De Danaan. They enslaved the latter for a time until the De Danaans rose, led by Lugh the Sun-god, and defeated the Fomors in the battle of Moytura.

_Silver Hand_. Nuada, one of the Danaan divinities, is called Nuada of the Silver Hand.

_Hound of Ulla_. Cuculain, the great champion of the Red Branch cycle of tales.

_Sacred Hazel_, the Celtic tree of life. It grew over Connla's Well, and the fruit which fell from it were the Nuts of Knowledge which give wisdom and inspiration. Connla's Well is a Celtic equivalent of the First Fountain of mysticism. As an old story states, "The folk of many arts have all drunk from that fountain."

"_The three great waves_" are "the wave of Toth, the wave of Rury, and the long, slow, white-foaming wave of Cluna." In the bardic stories these three mystical waves shout round the coast of Ireland in recognition of great kings and heroes.

"_The Feast of Age_," the druidic form of the mysteries. It was instituted by Mananan MacLir, and whoever partook of the feast became immortal.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Divine Vision and Other Poems, by A.E.