Poems by Walter Richard Cassels Part 6

THE MORNING STAR.

Night's heavy hand is lifted up at last, And my freed heart beats evenly again, Unpress'd by that dull heavy weight of pain Cast backward from the unforgotten Past; Darkness no longer m.u.f.fles Time's slow tread, Till my own pulse-beat mark the moment fled.

Over the speeding shadows, calm and clear, Rises the Star of Morn upon the Earth, Eternal Prophet of the Sun-G.o.d's birth, s.h.i.+ning serenely from its silver sphere Mute mystic meanings on the strengthen'd soul, Till all its night-bred vapours backward roll.

Oh, bright-eyed Angel of the undimm'd Light, Standing upon Heaven's pinnacle, thy glance Pierces like two-edged sword through many a trance, Dividing Truth from Dreaming in its might, Scourging Doubt's myriads from Day's temple-gate, Leaving Life's wors.h.i.+p pure, its heart elate.

No herald thou of Night, like Hesper fair, Pale with the dreaded Future's shapeless gloom, Leading the spirit to an unknown doom, Through clouds and darkness heavy fraught with care, Hesper the beautiful alone our guide, Beset by blinding fears on every side.

Groping through Night's dim chambers wearily, Longing to leave its cold sepulchral aisles, Comest thou with thy calm a.s.suring smiles, Like Nemesis to lead us tenderly Through all the dangers of the murky way, Unto the golden portals of the Day.

Yea! Night and Death shall pa.s.s away, and we, By resurrection sweet, arise new-born Like thee in glory, bright one, Sons of Morn, Without a shade on our felicity, Eyeing the fleeting vapours of the Past, As thou dost now Night's mists dissolving fast.

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS.

How light and pleasant is the way Across this quiet valley, whose soft mead Springs lightly as the air that angels tread, Beneath our footsteps weariless all day!

This crystal river flowing by our side, One stream of suns.h.i.+ne, still has seem'd a guide From Heaven in pure angelical array.

These purple mountains now are nigh, That all the valley through have fill'd our eyes With day-dreams of the distant Paradise, Their sun-surrounded summits can descry-- We mount them now upon Hope's bounding wing, That makes each short swift footstep long to spring Suddenly upward to the shadeless sky.

The air methinks is lighter here-- And the breast heaves with full untrammell'd ease, Drinking the life-draught of the fragrant breeze, That wafts its soul-sighs to another sphere.

Earth groweth little in our eyes, but fair, Fair as though sin had never enter'd there-- Earth groweth little as Heaven draweth near.

This rock--and then at last we stand Upon the silent summit--scarce I dare Gaze outward, through the clear and azure air, Towards the radiance of the Promised Land: I am so weak and fallen, friend, I fear Mine eyes will dazzle, and the light appear Darkness, so that I shall not see the Promised Land.

Look thou afar, and tell me true What thou discernest!--Oh! my eyes grow dim, And floods of golden glories seem to swim, Wave upon wave, through all the cloudless blue, Blinding me with their sunny splendors quite, So that, amid the pure excess of light, But vaguest visions faintly glimmer through.

Yet now, methinks, I seem to see One spot of burning brightness, beaming clear Through all the floating glory, like a sphere Quenching light with its own intensity.

Yes! yes! it is the Holy City I behold, With G.o.d's sun, from its towers of burnish'd gold, Reflected broadly through immensity!

I must gaze out, although I die: Ah! yes, I see it through my longing tears-- A great clear glow of glory there appears, Like a light-fountain in the eastern sky, That as I gaze pours forth its living light, Flooding Creation, till the dazzled sight Sees Heaven in all things that around it lie.

So shall it ever henceforth be-- Who, that discerneth once G.o.d's dwelling-place, Can blot from vision the refulgent trace!

Ay! henceforth all things shall be Heaven to me-- And as I journey on shall brightly rise Divinest semblances of Paradise-- Heaven mine in Time and in Eternity.

THE DARK RIVER.

Across the mountains and the hills, Across the valleys and the swelling seas, By lakes and rivers whose deep murmur fills Earth's dreams with sweet prophetic melodies, Together have we come unto this place, And here we say farewell a little s.p.a.ce:

You, backward turning through the land, To tarry 'mid its beauty yet awhile-- I, o'er the River, to another strand With cheerful heart, so part we with a smile.

Shall s.p.a.ce have any power o'er G.o.d-like souls?

Love shall bridge o'er the stream that 'twixt us rolls!

Together wend we to the tide, And as the first wave wets my foot, we part;-- E'en now methinks I see the other side; And, though the stream be swift, a steady heart And stalwart arm shall quell its cold dark waves.

Faith falters not e'en when the tempest raves.

Dark stream flowing so blackly on, Thy turbid billows roll o'er golden sands; Beneath the surface all thy fear is gone, And precious gems fill full the diver's hands.

Yet how the heart lists breathless for the roar Of billows plas.h.i.+ng on the other sh.o.r.e!

_The other sh.o.r.e!_--Oh thou dim Land!

Hid by faint mists from the spent swimmer's eyes, Until upon the sloping bank he stand, Mute in the light of Eden-mysteries; Thou golden Ophir of Youth's spirit-dream, Shall I then reach thee through this turbid stream?

Friend! quail not! This same gloomy tide Rolling its fearful breakers to the sh.o.r.e, Shall be transform'd, upon the other side, Into the crystal Life-stream, shaded o'er By Paradisal groves, whose mellow fruit Shall heal the sorrows of the dest.i.tute.

These ghostly vapours, brooding low, Shall melt to sunny glories o'er my head, And through them shall the golden city glow, Whither I hasten singing, angel-led; Friend! there is but a cloud-veil 'twixt us and the light, One step beyond, and Heaven is in our sight.

Now the stream laps my vesture hem; Back thou from my sad bosom to the world, Leaving me here this current cold to stem; Soon from thy sight shall I be swiftly whirl'd Into the mystic darkness--never fear!

G.o.d's hand shall guide me unto vision clear.

Already thou art growing dim, And distant on the fast receding sh.o.r.e; The tide is strong, but still I trust in Him, And know that I shall safely struggle o'er, For now the plash on yonder sh.o.r.e I hear, Amid sweet angel voices calm and clear.

WYTHAM WOODS.

'Mid the waving Woods of Wytham, Now so far, so far from me, Where the grand old beeches be, And the deer-herds feeding by them: 'Mid the mossy Woods of Wytham, Oft I roam in memory;

Down the grand wide-arching alleys, Marged by plumy ferns and flowers, Whence all through the noontide hours Many a fearless leveret sallies; For amid those gra.s.sy alleys Never hound nor huntsman scours.

Still I see, through leafy cas.e.m.e.nts, Wytham Hall so quaint and old, Remnant of the age of gold, Gabled o'er from roof to bas.e.m.e.nt In most fanciful enlacement, Looking far o'er wood and wold;

With the mere outspread before it; Whitest swans upon its tide, That in mystic beauty glide; And the wild fowl flapping o'er it, To the reeds that broadly sh.o.r.e it, Spear-like, on the sunny side.

Through the waving Woods of Wytham, Now so far, so far from me, Where I roam in memory; 'Mid the leaves, or flas.h.i.+ng by them, Like suns.h.i.+ne to glorify them, On my sunless heart gleams she.

Falling like the dreams of summer, Making holy all the place, Visions of that sweet pale face, Sweeter than all dreams of summer, Dearer than all dreams of summer, Still in bower and glade I trace!

Still her eyes come deeply glowing Through the leafy lattices; And the rustle of the trees, 'Neath the west wind softly blowing, Only emulates the flowing Of her love-toned melodies.

Oh! those waving Woods of Wytham-- Ceased she thus to hover near Radiant from her happy sphere, Like suns.h.i.+ne to glorify them, Never would I wander nigh them-- Madly weeping should I fly them, Till their memory e'en grew sere.