The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning Volume I Part 27

A harmony sublime and plain, Which cleft (as flying swan, the rain,-- Throwing the drops off with a strain

Of her white wing) those undertones Of perplext chords, and soared at once And struck out from the starry thrones

Their several silver octaves as It pa.s.sed to G.o.d. The music was Of divine stature; strong to pa.s.s:

And those who heard it, understood Something of life in spirit and blood, Something of nature's fair and good:

And while it sounded, those great souls Did thrill as racers at the goals And burn in all their aureoles;

But she the lady, as vapour-bound, Stood calmly in the joy of sound, Like Nature with the showers around:

And when it ceased, the blood which fell Again, alone grew audible, Tolling the silence as a bell.

The sovran angel lifted high His hand, and spake out sovranly: "Tried poets, hearken and reply!

"Give me true answers. If we grant That not to suffer, is to want The conscience of the jubilant,--

"If ignorance of anguish is _But_ ignorance, and mortals miss Far prospects, by a level bliss,--

"If, as two colours must be viewed In a visible image, mortals should Need good and evil, to see good,--

"If to speak n.o.bly, comprehends To feel profoundly,--if the ends Of power and suffering, Nature blends,--

"If poets on the tripod must Writhe like the Pythian to make just Their oracles and merit trust,--

"If every vatic word that sweeps To change the world must pale their lips And leave their own souls in eclipse,--

"If to search deep the universe Must pierce the searcher with the curse, Because that bolt (in man's reverse)

"Was shot to the heart o' the wood and lies Wedged deepest in the best,--if eyes That look for visions and surprise

"From influent angels, must shut down Their eyelids first to sun and moon, The head asleep upon a stone,--

"If ONE who did redeem you back, By His own loss, from final wrack, Did consecrate by touch and track

"Those temporal sorrows till the taste Of brackish waters of the waste Is salt with tears He dropt too fast,--

"If all the crowns of earth must wound With p.r.i.c.kings of the thorns He found,-- If saddest sighs swell sweetest sound,--

"What say ye unto this?--refuse This baptism in salt water?--choose Calm b.r.e.a.s.t.s, mute lips, and labour loose?

"Or, O ye gifted givers! ye Who give your liberal hearts to me To make the world this harmony,

"Are ye resigned that they be spent To such world's help?"

The Spirits bent Their awful brows and said "Content."

Content! it sounded like _Amen_ Said by a choir of mourning men; An affirmation full of pain

And patience,--ay, of glorying And adoration, as a king Might seal an oath for governing.

Then said the angel--and his face Lightened abroad until the place Grew larger for a moment's s.p.a.ce,--

The long aisles flas.h.i.+ng out in light, And nave and transept, columns white And arches crossed, being clear to sight

As if the roof were off and all Stood in the noon-sun,--"Lo, I call To other hearts as liberal.

"This pedal strikes out in the air: My instrument has room to bear Still fuller strains and perfecter.

"Herein is room, and shall be room While Time lasts, for new hearts to come Consummating while they consume.

"What living man will bring a gift Of his own heart and help to lift The tune?--The race is to the swift."

So asked the angel. Straight the while, A company came up the aisle With measured step and sorted smile;

Cleaving the incense-clouds that rise, With winking unaccustomed eyes And love-locks smelling sweet of spice.

One bore his head above the rest As if the world were dispossessed, And one did pillow chin on breast,

Right languid, an as he should faint; One shook his curls across his paint And moralized on worldly taint;

One, slanting up his face, did wink The salt rheum to the eyelid's brink, To think--O G.o.ds! or--not to think.

Some trod out stealthily and slow, As if the sun would fall in snow If they walked to instead of fro;

And some, with conscious ambling free, Did shake their bells right daintily On hand and foot, for harmony;

And some, composing sudden sighs In att.i.tudes of point-device, Rehea.r.s.ed impromptu agonies.

And when this company drew near The spirits crowned, it might appear Submitted to a ghastly fear;

As a sane eye in master-pa.s.sion Constrains a maniac to the fas.h.i.+on Of hideous maniac imitation

In the least geste--the dropping low O' the lid, the wrinkling of the brow, Exaggerate with mock and mow,--

So mastered was that company By the crowned vision utterly, Swayed to a maniac mockery.

One dulled his eyeb.a.l.l.s, as they ached With Homer's forehead, though he lacked An inch of any; and one racked

His lower lip with restless tooth, As Pindar's rus.h.i.+ng words forsooth Were pent behind it; one his smooth

Pink cheeks did rumple pa.s.sionate Like aeschylus, and tried to prate On trolling tongue of fate and fate;

One set her eyes like Sappho's--or Any light woman's; one forbore Like Dante, or any man as poor

In mirth, to let a smile undo His hard-shut lips; and one that drew Sour humours from his mother, blew

His sunken cheeks out to the size Of most unnatural jollities, Because Anacreon looked jest-wise;

So with the rest: it was a sight A great world-laughter would requite, Or great world-wrath, with equal right