Elias Part 2

Lone, looming, hermit of the hills, apart From where thy banded mates in union dwell!

A master lyrist seemingly thou art, Chief harper of a host that round thee swell; And thine the Orphean boon[4], what could withstand thy spell?

E'en now it whispers from the graven rock, Scribed with the lightning's pen, in sculpture bold, Defying time and tide and tempest shock, Frowning where seas and centuries have rolled. 280 "Oh were my words[5] thus writ!" That sage of old, Knew he not well, ye mighty tomes of clay, How firm the trust your flinty page might hold?

Have ye not scorned the fiats of decay?

Are ye not standing now where nations pa.s.sed away?

Thrice wondrous things, once thine to wisely scan, Fast as thy frozen snow-crown, still in store, Hadst thou the melting gift[6]--of sovereign man The sunlike glory--mightest thou restore, Till learning's tide o'erwhelmed the s.h.i.+ning sh.o.r.e, 290 With rich revealings of lost realms that rose And fell like frost-hewn flowers thy face before; Blightings which brought them an untimely close-- Perchance, of spirit lore, some mystic mine disclose.

But like the laboring brain that burns to speak Mind's inmost thought, in deepest dungeon pent; Or liker still to inward boiling peak Of fires volcanic, vainly seeking vent Where adamantine bolts and bars prevent;-- Thou'rt doomed to utter stillness, and shalt keep 300 The burden of thy bearing till is rent Yon heavenly veil, and earth and air and deep Tell secrets that shall rouse the dead from solemn sleep.

And must I be as mute, O silent mount!

Muse of all Melody, shall I not sing?-- Burst these dumb bars, when e'en yon babbling fount May find in every breeze a wafting wing, Afar its lightest murmured word to fling?

Where art thou, ancient Soul of Solemn Song?

Asleep? Then wake! Wherefore art slumbering? 310 The world hath need of thee, and waiteth long.

Strike, strike again thy harp, and thrill the listening throng!

Thus musing, lone upon a beetling brow, Quaffing from unseen fount, those wilds among, The spirit of the sun-kissed torrent flow, Methought some lofty, caverned cliff had rung With echoings of a more than mortal tongue; Though softly clear the mournful cadence broke, As notes from off the weird-toned viol flung.

Or was it yon lone cloud that muttering spoke, 320 Heralding the storm king's wrathful shout and s.h.i.+vering stroke?

Amazed I listened. Did I more than dream?

Had random word aroused unhoped reply?

Or was it sound whose import did but seem?

Hark!--for again it rolls along the sky: "Then question hast thou none? Or none wouldst ply, Save to thy soul in meditative strain, Or heedless winds that wander idly by?

So be it; still to me thy purpose plain, Thy hidden wish revealed, nor thus revealed in vain." 330

While freshening waves of woodland-scented air Widened the spell of that immortal tone; While, as on threshold of a lion's lair, Speechless I stood, as stricken into stone; Methought the sun with lessening splendor shone, As if that wandering cloud obscured his gaze.

Then burst the glory from his midday throne!

Turning, mine eye beheld, in rapt amaze, What memory ne'er would lose were life of endless days.

A stately form, of giant stature tall; 340 Of h.o.a.ry aspect, venerable and grave; Whose curling locks and beard of copious fall Vied the white foam of ocean's storm-whipt wave.

The firm-fixt eye flashed lightnings from its cave; Far-darting penetration's gaze combined With wisdom's milder light. Of study gave Deep evidence that brow by learning lined, Thought's towering throne, where ruled his realm a monarch mind.

The spirit's garb--for spirit so he seemed-- 350 Fell radiant in many a flowing fold; A robe antique, by modern limners deemed Befitting monk or eremite of old.

Head, hands, and feet were bare; the presence bold With majesty, e'en as a G.o.d might wear, While condescending to a mortal mould.

He spake--the voice no longer thrilled with fear; Like some vast organ swell, it charmed, enchained, the ear.

"Long have I watched and waited, but no sound Broke the wild stillness of this stern abode, 360 Save thunder's fiery foot-print smote the ground, Or far beneath some torrent's fury flowed; Anon the screaming eagle past me rode; The seeker after gold, with toilsome stride, And eager eye to fix the s.h.i.+ning lode, Hath paused and panted on the hill's steep side; But none, for greater things, till now have hither hied.

"And thou, O pensive crier in the waste, Invoker of the Voice now visible!

Prepared art thou a mystery to taste, 370 Whose fruit is joy or woe ineffable?

Pluck not of wisdom's branches bending full, Drink not of that divine philosophy, Save thou canst bravely suffer wrong's misrule, Thy best intent thought ill; save thou canst be What men deem "fool," real fools despising, pitying thee.

"Not all my ministry to lift the gloom Yet hovering o'er this mystic hemisphere.

List while I tell, for I am one by whom Future and past as present shall appear. 380 In me behold Messiah's Minister, Ancient of time and of eternity, Spirit of song that moved the Hebrew seer, Voice of the stars[7] ere earth's nativity; Exile, for ages gone, of mortal minstrelsy.

"See now my sacred heritage, the prey Of ribald rhymesters, sensuous, half obscene; Of gloating censors, glad o'er my decay, And deeming all but best I ne'er had been!

The body's bard[8] throned, sceptering the scene, 390 A groveling wors.h.i.+per of earth and time.

Arise! and with thy soul's celestial sheen, Shame these false meteors, change the ruling chime; My minstrel, I thy muse, sing thou the song sublime!

"Sing, poet, sing! but not of new--of old, Of old and new--eternal truth thy theme, That holdeth past and future in her fold, That maketh present but a pa.s.sing dream, While time and earth and man as trifles seem; That knoweth not of new, or old, or strange; 400 Whose everduring, all-redemptive scheme, Fixt and immutable 'mid worlds of change, On, on, from universe to universe doth range.

"Faint not, nor fear, for all shall fare thy way-- My way, His way, the Master's, evermore.

East shall seem West, rethrown the rising ray, s.h.i.+ning afar from this most ancient sh.o.r.e[9], And man shall rise[10] e'en where man fell before.

Fools may deride, may jeer at destiny; They mock to mourn, oblivion earths them o'er; 410 While they that champion truth, by truth shall be Exalted, e'en in time, to live eternally."

The ancient paused, and, unperceived till then, A wondrous harp his bosom swung before, Such harp as played the shepherd psalmist[11] when A maddening rage his monarch seized and tore, And music's magic quelled satanic power.

Seated, his form against the crag reclined, He waved me to his feet, and forth did pour, As pours Niagara on the plaintive wind, 420 Floods of majestic song, falling from mind to mind.

Full tale of wonders told, I may not tell, Though mind be heir to all of mystery; With milk of truth the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of wisdom swell, Sufficing past and present infancy.

But matching all the modern eye may see With marvels promised to the future sight, 'Twas as the shrub unto the sheltering tree, The floating swan unto the eagle's flight, The hillock to the snow-crowned summit, lost in light. 430

Silent he towered above me, harp in hand,-- Was it a dream? Could dream so vivid be?-- And with his mantle's fold my forehead fanned.

Then leapt to life the flame of poesy!

Was it a vision of my destiny?

Upon the mount, as erst, I stood alone, And naught was there of muse or minstrelsy; Save that afar still trembled that strange tone, And something said within: "That harp is now thine own."

CANTO THREE

Elect of Elohim[1]

Sing I a song of aeons gone, 440 Of life from mystery sprung, Ere sun, or moon, or rolling stars Their radiance earthward flung; Ere spirit-winged intelligence Forsook those s.h.i.+ning spheres.

Exceeding glory there to gain Through mortal toil and tears.

A song they learn whose lives eterne Transcend yon twinkling night, Pale Olea's silver beam[2] outsoar, 450 s.h.i.+nea's golden flight; Pa.s.sing the angel sentries by, Mounting o'er stars and suns, To where the orbs that govern burn, Royal and regnant ones.

Declare, O Muse of mightier wing, Of loftier lore, than mine!

Why G.o.d is G.o.d, and man may be Both human and divine; Why Sons of G.o.d, 'mid sons of men, 460 Unrecognized may dwell, So masked in dense mortality That none their truth can tell.

From worlds afar, from heavenmost star, Heard I, or seemed to hear, A sweet refrain, as summer rain, A cadence soft and clear.

A voice, a harp,--Was it the same?-- Harping those harps among, Leading the lyric universe, 470 On those high hills of song?

In solemn council sat the G.o.ds; From Kolob's height supreme, Celestial light blazed forth afar O'er countless kokaubeam; And faintest tinge, the fiery fringe Of that resplendent day, 'Lumined the dark abysmal realm Where earth in chaos lay.

Silence. That awful hour was one 480 When thought doth most avail; Of worlds unborn the destiny Hung trembling in the scale.

Silence self-spelled, and there arose, Those kings and priests among, A power sublime, than whom appeared None n.o.bler 'mid the throng.

A stature mingling strength with grace, Of meek though G.o.dlike mien; The glory of whose countenance 490 Outshone the noonday sheen.

Whiter his hair than ocean spray, Or frost of alpine hill.

He spake;--attention grew more grave, The stillness e'en more still.

"Father!" the voice like music fell, Clear as the murmuring flow Of mountain streamlet trickling down From heights of virgin snow.

"Father," it said, "since one must die, 500 Thy children to redeem From spheres all formless now and void, Where pulsing life shall teem;

"And mighty Michael[3] foremost fall, That mortal man may be; And chosen saviour Thou must send, Lo, here am I--send me!

I ask, I seek no recompense, Save that which then were mine; Mine be the willing sacrifice, 510 The endless glory Thine!