Emblems Of Love Part 26

_A Citizen_.

But is it naught that we, the folk of G.o.d, Are safe by thee?

_Judith_.

G.o.d hath his own devices.

But I would be G.o.d's helper! I would be Known as the woman whom his strength had chosen To ruin the a.s.syrians!--O my G.o.d, How dreadfully thou punishest small sins!

If it is thou who punishest; but rather It is that, when we slacken in perceiving The world's intent towards us, and fatally, Enticed out of suspicion by fair signs, Go from ignoring its proposals, down To parley,--thou our weakness dost permit.

In all my days I from the greed of the world Virginal have kept my spirit's dwelling,-- Till now; yea, all my being I have maintained Sacredly my own possession; for love But made more beautiful and more divine My spirit's owners.h.i.+p. And yet no warning, When I infatuate went down to be Procuress of myself to the world's desire, Did G.o.d blaze on my blindness, no rebuke.

Therefore I am no more my virgin own, But hatefully, unspeakably, the world's.

To these now I belong; they took me and used me.

I have no pride to live for; and why else Should one stay living, if not joyfully proud?

For I have yielded now; mercilessly What is makes foolish nothing of what was.

To know the world, for all its grasping hands, For all its heat to utter its pent nature Into the souls that must go faring through it, Availing nothing against purity, Made always like rebellion trodden under,-- By this was life a n.o.ble labour. Now I have been persuaded into the world's pleasure: And now at last I will all certainly Contrive for myself the death of Holofernes.

[OZIAS _comes behind her and catches the lifted falchion_.

_Judith_.

It was well done, Ozias.

_Ozias_.

I have watcht Thy anguish growing, and I lookt for this.

_Judith_.

Thou knowest me better than I know myself.

What moves in me is strange and uncontrolled, That once I thought was ruled: thou knew'st me better.-- Indeed thou must forgive me; what was I To take so bitterly thy suit? What right Had I to give thee anger, when thou wouldst Brighten thy hopeless death with me enjoyed, I, even from that anger, going to be Holofernes' pleasure?--Thou knewest me better, And therefore shalt forgive me. Ay, no doubt My spirit answered thee so fiercely then Because it felt thee reading me aright, How a mere bragging was my purity.

But now to pardon askt, I must add thanks.-- I had forgot Mana.s.ses! Even love Was driven forth of me by these loud mouths!

Whether in death he waits for me, I know not; But it had been an unforgivable thing To have made this the end; not to have gone To death as unto spousals, leaving life As one sets down a work faithfully done, And knows oneself by service justified, Worthy of love, whether love be or not.

But, soiled with detestation, to have thrown Fiercely aside the garment of this light; Proved at the last impatient, death desiring Like a mere doffing of foul drenched clothes; Release from the wicked hindering mire of sorrow; A comfortable darkness hiding me Out of the glowing world myself have made An insult, domineering me with splendour;-- O such a death had turned, past all forgiving, My insult to Mana.s.ses, and searcht him out, Even where he is quiet, with the blaze, Ranging like din, of this contempt, this triumph.

Not crying out such hateful news should I Flee hunted into death, unto my love.

From this, Ozias, thou hast saved me. Now I am to learn my shame, that not amazed, But practised in my burden, I at last, When my time comes, may all in gladness fare The road made sacred by Mana.s.ses' feet.

[JUDITH _goes into her house_.

_Ozias (addressing the citizens)_.

You do well to be stricken silent here.

Terrible Holofernes slain by a woman Was something wonderful, to be noised aloud; But this is a wonder past applauding thought, This grief darkening Judith, in the midst Of the new s.h.i.+ning glory she herself Has brought to conquer in our skies the storm.

You do well to be dumb: for you have seen Virginity. That spirit you have seen, Seen made wrathfully plain that secret spirit, Whereby is man's frail scabbard filled with steel.

This, c.u.mbered in the earthen kind of man, Which ceaseless waters would be wearing down, Alone giveth him stubborn substance, holds him Upright and hard against impious fate.

All things within it would the world possess, And have them in the tide of its desire: Man hath his nature of the vehement world; He is a torrent like the stars and beasts Flowing to answer the fierce world's desire.

But like a giant wading in the sea Stands in the rapture, and refusing it, And looking upward out of it to find Who knows what sign?--spirit, virginity; A power caught by the power of the world; The spirit in whose unknown hope doth man Deny the mastery of his fortune here; Virginity, whose pride, impa.s.sion'd only To be as she herself would be, nor thence To loosen for the world's endeavouring, And, though all give the rash obedience, stand Her own possession,--this virginity, This pride of the spirit, asking no reward But to be pride unthrown, this is the force Whereby man hath his courage in the strange Fearful turmoil of being conscious man.

Yea, wors.h.i.+pping this spirit, he will at last Grow into high divine imagination, Wherein the envious wildness of the world Yieldeth its striving up to him, and takes His mind, building the endless stars like stone To house his towering joy of self-possessing.

This made you dumb; ignorant knowledge of this, Blind vision of virginity's mightiness, Did chide the exclamation in your hearts.

And think not you have seen, in Judith's grief, Virginity drown'd in the pouring world.

For what is done is naught; what is, is all: And Judith is virginity's appointed.

Even by her injury she showeth us, As fire by violence may be revealed, How sovereign is virginity.-- But let us now consult what way her grief, Which is not to be understood by us, May spend itself, with naught to urge its power.

Let us within our walls keep close this tale, Close as the famine and the thirst were kept Devouring us by the a.s.syrians.

Let there be no news going through the land Out of Bethulia but this: that we At Judith's hands had our deliverance, But she from Holofernes and his crew Unwilling and astonisht reverence, As they were men with minds opprest by G.o.d.

THE ETERNAL WEDDING

_He_.

Even as a wind that hasteth round the world From out cold hours fill'd with shadow of earth, To pour alight against the risen sun; So unto thee adoring, out of its shadow Floweth my spirit, into the light of thee Which Beauty is, and Joy. From my own fate, From out the darkness wherein long I fared Wors.h.i.+pping stars and morsels of the light, Through doors of golden morning now I pa.s.s Into the great whole light and perfect day Of s.h.i.+ning Beauty, open to me at last.

Yea, into thee now do I pa.s.s, beloved: Beauty and thou are mine!

_She_.

And I am thine!

I am desirable to my desire: Thence am I clean as immortality With Beauty and Joy, the fiery power of Beauty.

_He_.

And by my spirit made marvellous here by thee, Poured out all clear into the gold of thee, Not myself only do I know; I have Golden within me the whole fate of man: That every flesh and soul belongs to one Continual joyward ravishment, whose end Is here, in this perfection. Now I know-- For all my speculation soareth up, A bird taking eternity for air,-- Now being mixt with thee, in the burning midst Of Beauty for my sense and mind and soul,-- That life hath highest gone which hath most joy.

For like great wings forcefully smiting air And driving it along in rus.h.i.+ng rivers, Desire of joy beats mightily pulsing forward The world's one nature, and all the loose lives therein, Carried and greatly streaming on a gale Of craving, swept fiercely along in beauty;-- Like a great weather of wind and s.h.i.+ning sun, When the airs pick up whole huge waves of sea, Crumble them in their grasp and high aloft Sow them glittering, a white watery dust, To company with light: so we are driven Onward and upward in a wind of beauty, Until man's race be wielded by its joy Into some high incomparable day, Where perfectly delight may know itself,-- No longer need a strife to know itself, Only by its prevailing over pain.

_She_.

Beloved, but no pain may strive with us.

_He_.

No, for we are flown far ahead of life: The feet of our Spirit have wonderfully trod The dangers of the rus.h.i.+ng fate of life, As summer-searching birds tread with their wings Mountainous surges in the air. But many, Not strongly fledge to ride the world's great rapture, Must break, down fallen into steep confusion, Where we climb easily and tower with joy.

Nevertheless doth life foretell in us How it shall all make seizure at the last Upon this height of ecstasy, this fort Life like an army storms: Captains we are In the great a.s.sault; and where we stand alone Within these hours, built like establisht flames Round us, at long last all man's life shall stand At peace with joy, wearing delighted sense As meadows wear their golden pleasure of flowers.

Certain my heart dwells in these builded hours, That there is no more beauty beyond thee.

Thou art my utter beauty; and--behold The marvel, G.o.d in Heaven!--I am thine.

Therefore we know, in this height-guarded place Whereto the speed of our desire hath brought us; Here in this safety crowning, like a fort Built upon topmost peaks, the height of beauty,-- We know to be glad of life as we were G.o.ds Timelessly glad of deity; yea, to enjoy Fleshly, spiritual Being till the swift Torrent of glee (as hurled star-dust can change Dim earthly weather to a moment like the sun,) Doth startle life to self-adoring G.o.dhead,-- Divine body of Power and divine Burning soul of Light and self-desire.

And having given ourselves all to amazement, We are made like a prophesying song Of life all joy, a bride in the arms of G.o.d.-- Yea, G.o.d shall marry his people at the last; And every man and woman who has sworn That only joy can make this Being sacred, Weaves at the wedding-garment.

_She_.

Ah, my beloved, Feelest thou too that out of earth and time We are transgressing into Heavenly hours?

Or, threading the dark worldly mult.i.tude And making lightning of its path, there comes A zeal from G.o.d posting along our lives.

_He_.

For some eternal pulse hath chosen us, Some divine anger beats within our hearts.

_She_.

Anger? But how far off is love from anger!

_He_.

Nay, both belong to joy; joy's kind is twain.

And close as in the pouring of sun-flame Are mingled glory of light and fury of heat, Joy utters its twin radiance, love and anger; If joy be not indeed all sacred wrath With circ.u.mstance; indignant memory Of what hath been, when the new l.u.s.ts of G.o.d Exulted unimaginably, before Rigours of law fastened like creeping habit Upon their measureless wont, and forced them drive Their ranging music of delighted being Through the fixt beating tune of a circling world.-- Is not love so? Amazement of an anger Against created shape and narrowness?

The bound rage of the uncreated Spirit Whose striving doth impa.s.sion us and the world?

A wrath that thou and I are not one being?

_She_.

Yes, and not only words that thou and I Out of our s.e.xes with a flame's escape Are fas.h.i.+oned into one. The Spirit in us Hath, like imagination in a prison, Kindled itself free of all boundary, So that it hath no room but its own joy, Ample as at the first, before it fell Into this burthenous habit of a world.

What have we now to do with the world? We are Made one unworldly thing; we are past the world; Yea, and unmade: we are immortality.

_He_.

And only fools abominably crazed, Those who will set imagination down As less in truth than their dim sensual wit, Dare doubt that, while these dreams of ours, these bodies, Still quiver in the world each with its own Delight, the great divine wrath of our love Hath stricken off from us the place of the world!