THE BOOK OF ORM
" This also we humbly beg, that Human things may not
prejudice such as are Divine, neither that from the unlocking of
the Gates of Sense, and the kindling of a greater Natural*Light,
anything of incredulity or intellectual night may arise in our
minds towards DIVINE MYSTERIES." STUDENT'S PRAYER, BACON.
r)Svv Se (Scov jauorjjcn Trpiajtaivs. ORPHKTS.
THE BOOK OF ORM
2V ftrclnbc to the (Epic
BY ROBERT BUCHANAN
\o, \
STRAHAN & CO., PUBLISHERS
56 LUDGATE HILL, LONDON
1870
LONDON I
PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO.;
CITY ROAD.
/87
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
INSCRIPTION TO F. W. C ix
THE BOOK OF ORM.
" The Book of the Visions seen by Orm the Celt " . . 3
I. FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL 5
1. The Veil Woven 7
2. Earth the Mother 12
3. Children of Earth . . . . . .15
4. The Wise Men 19
II. THE MAN AND THE SHADOW .... 23
1. The Shadow 25
2. The Rainbow 45
III. SONGS OF CORRUPTION 55
1. Phantasy 57
2. The Dream of the World without Death . . 62
3. Soul and Flesh 75
IV. THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING .' . . . 77
V. SONGS OF SEEKING 93
1. "O Thou whose Ears incline unto my Singing" . 95
2. Quest 97
VI CONTENTS.
PAGE.
3. The Happy Earth 99
4. O unseen One! 101
5. World's Mystery 103
6. The Cities 104
7. The Priests 105
8. The Lamb of God 107
9. Doom in
10. God's Dream . . . . . . .112
11. Flower of the World 114
*I2. O Spirit! 116
VI. THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL 117
1. Orm's Vision 119
2. The Face and the World 122
3. Orm's Awakening 140
VII. CORUISKEN SONNETS 143
1. Lord, is it Thou ? 145
2. We are Fatherless ...... 146
3. We are Children 147
4. When we are all Asleep 148
5. But the Hills will bear Witness . . . .149
6. Desolate! 150
7. Lord, art Thou here ? 151
8. God is beautiful 152
9. The Motion of the Mists 153
10. Coruisk 154
11. But whither? 155
12. God is pitiless 156
13. Yea, pitiless 157
14. Could God be judged ! 158
15. The Hills on their Thrones 159
CONTENTS. Vll
PAGE.
1 6. King Blaabhein 160
17. Blaabhein in the Mists 161
1 8". The fiery Birth of the Hills 162
19. The Changeless Hills 163
20. O Mountain Peak of a God 164
21. God the Image . . . . . . .165
22. The Footprints . . . . . . .166
23. We are Deathless 167
24. A Voice in the Whirlwind . . . .168
25. Cry of the little Brook 169
26. The Happy Hearts of Earth . . . . 1 70
27. Father, forgive Thy Child 171
28. God's Loneliness 1/2
29. The Cup of Tears ..'.... 173
30. The Light of the World 174
31. Earth's Eldest Born 175
32. What Spirit cometh ? 176
33. Stay, O Spirit ! 177
34. Quiet Waters 178
VIII. THE CORUISKEN VISION; OR, THE LEGEND OF
THE BOOK 179
IX. THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS 207
r. The Inscription without 209
2. The Tree of Life 210
3. The Seeds . . . . . . . .214
4. Fire and Water ; or, A Voice of the Flesh . . 220
5. Sanitas 222
6. The Philosophers . . . . . 225
". Prayer from the Deeps 227
8. Homunculus ; or, The Song of Deicides . . 228
Vlll
CONTENTS.
9. Roses
10. Hermaphroditus ....
11. After
12. His Prayer
X. THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST
PAGE.
234
237
239
242
243
*** Continued ill health compels the omission of two poems " A Rune
found in the Starlight," and " The Song of Heaven " v\hich, although
written, cannot at present be rendered perfect for press. Section IX.,
too, is incomplete, wanting .the all-important "Devil's Dirge," which,
however, will be added in a future edition. R. B.
INSCRIPTION.
To F. W. C.
FLOWERS pluckt upon a grave by moonlight, pale
And suffering, from the spiritual light
They grew in : these, with all the love and blessing
That prayers can gain of God, I send to thee !
If one of these poor flowers be worthy thee,
The sweetest Soul that I have known on earth,
The tenderest Soul that I can hope to know,
Hold that one flower, and kneel, and pray for me.
Pray for me, Comrade ! Close to thee I creep,
Touching thy raiment : thy good eyes are calm ;
But see ! the fitful fever in mine eyes
Pray for me ! bid all good men pray for me !
If Love will serve, lo ! how I love my Friend
If Reverence, lo ! how I reverence him
If Faith be asked in something beautiful,
Lo ! what a splendour is my faith in him !
Now, as thou risest gently from thy knees,
Must we go different ways ? thou followest
' Thy path, I mine ; but all go westering,
, And all will meet among the Hills of God !
INSCRIPTION.
Thy -ace sails with me on a darker path,
And smiles me onward ! For a time, farewell ;
Wear in thy breast a few of these poor flowers,
And let their scent remind my Friend of me !
Flowers of a grave, yet deathless ! Be my love
For thee as deathless ! I am beckon'd on ;
But meantime, these, with all the love and blessing
That prayers can gain of God, I give to thee !
ROBERT BUCHANAN.
Coruisk, 1870.
THE BOOK OF ORM.
Read these faint runes of Mystery,
Celt, at home and o'er the sea ;
The bond is loosed the poor are free
1 'he world* s great future rests -with thee !
Till the soil bid cities rise
Be strong, O Celt be rich, be wise
But still, ^vith those divine grave eyes,
Respect the realm of Mysteries.
THE BOOK OF THE VISIONS SEEN BY ORM
THE CELT.
THERE is a mortal, and his name is Orm,
Bom in the evening of the world, and looking
Back from the sunset to the gates of morning.
And he is aged early, in a time
When all are aged early, he was born
In twilight times, and in his soul is twilight.
O brother, hold me by the hand, and hearken,
For these things I shall phrase are thine and mine,
And all men's, all are seeking for a sign.
Thou wert born yesterday, but thou art old,
Weary to-day, to-morrow thou wilt sleep
Take these for kisses on thy closing eyelids.
I.
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL.
How God in the beginning drew
Over his face the Veil of blue,
Wherefore no soul of mortal race
Hath ever looked upon the Face ;
Children of earth whose spirits fail
Hearh to the First Song of the Veil.
I.
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL,
i.
THE VEIL WOVEN.
IN the beginning,
Ere Man grew,
The Veil was woven
Bright and blue ;
Soft mists and vapours
Gather'd and mingled
Over the black world
Stretched below,
While winds of heaven
Blew from all places,
Shining luminous,
A starry snow.
Blindly, dumbly,
THE BOOK OF ORM.
Darken'd under
Ocean and river,
Mountain and dale,
While over his features,
Wondrous, terrible,
The beautiful Master
Drew the Veil :
Then starry, luminous,
Rolled the Veil of azure
O'er the first dwellings
Of mortal race ;
And since the beginning
No mortal vision,
Pure or sinning,
Hath seen the Face !
Yet mark me closely !
Strongly I swear,
Seen or seen not,
The Face is there :
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL.
When the Veil is clearest
And sunniest,
Closest and nearest
The Face is prest ;
But when, grown weary
With long downlooking,
The Face withdrawing
For a time is gone,
The great Veil darkens,
And ye see full clearly
Glittering numberless
The gems thereon.
For the lamp of his features
Divinely burning,
Shines, and suffuses
The Veil with light,
And the Face, drawn backward
With that deep sighing
Ye hear in the gloaming,
Leaves ye the Night.
10 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Thus it befell to men
Graveward they journeyed,
From waking to sleeping,
In doubt and in fear,
Evermore hoping,
Evermore seeking,
Nevermore guessing
The Master so near :
Making strange idols,
Rearing fair Temples,
Crying, denying,
Questioning, dreaming,
Nevermore certain
Of God and his grace,
Evermore craving
To look on a token,
To gaze on the Face.
Now an evangel,
Whom God loved deep,
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. II
Said, " See ! the mortals,
How they weep !
They grope in darkness,
They blunder onward
From race to race,
Were it not better,
Once and for ever,
To unveil the Face ? "
God smiled.
He said " Not yet !
Much is to remember,
Much to forget ;
Be thou of comfort !
How should the token
Silence their wail ? "
And, with eyes tear-clouded,
He gazed thro' the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the Veil.
12
THE BOOK OF ORM.
II.
EARTH THE MOTHER.
Beautiful, beautiful, she lay below,
The mighty Mother of humanity,
Turning her sightless eyeballs to the glow
Of light she could not see,
Feeling the happy warmth, and breathing slow
As if her thoughts were shining tranquilly.
Beautiful, beautiful the Mother lay,
Crowned with silver spray,
The greenness gathering hushfully around
The peace of her great heart, while on her breast
The wayward Waters, with a weeping sound,
Were sobbing into rest.
For all day long her face shone merrily,
And at its smile the waves leapt mad and free :
But at the darkening of the Veil, she drew
The wild things to herself, and husht their cries
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 13
Then, stiller, dumber, search'd the deepening
blue
With passionate blind eyes ;
And went the old life over in her thought,
Dreamily praying as her memory wrought
The dimly guessed at, never utter'd tale,
While, over her dreaming,
Deepen'd the luminous,
Star-inwrought, beautiful,
Folds of the wondrous Veil.
For more than any of her children of clay
The beautiful Mother knows
She is so old !
Ye would go wild to hearken, if this day
Her dumb lips should unclose,
And the tale be told :
Such unfathomable things,
Such mystic vanishings,
She knoweth about God she is so old.
14 THE BOOK OF ORM.
For oft, in the beginning, long ago,
Without a Veil looked down the Face ye know,
And Earth, an infant happy-eyed and bright,
Look'd smiling up, and gladden'd in its sight.
But later, when the Man-Flower from her womb
Burst into brightening bloom,
In her glad eyes a golden dust was blown
Out of the void, and she was blind as stone.
And since that day
She hath not seen, nor spoken, lest her say
Should be a sorrow and fear to mortal race,
And doth not know the Lord hath hid away,
But turneth up blind orbs to feel the Face.
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 15
III,
CHILDREN OF EARTH.
So dumbly, blindly,
So cheerly, sweetly,
The beautiful Mother
Of mortals smiled ;
Her children marvell'd
And looked upon her
Her patient features
Were bright and mild ;
And on her eyeballs
Night and day,
A sweet light glimmer'd
From far away.
Her children gather'd
With sobs and cries,
To see the sweetness
Of sightless eyes ;
1 6 THE BOOK OF ORM.
But tho' she held them
So dear, so dear,
She could not answer,
She could not hear.
She felt them flutter
Around her knee,
, She felt their weeping,
Yet knew not wherefore-
She could not see.
" O Mother ! Mother
Of mortal race !
Is there a Father ?
Is there a Face ? "
She felt their sorrow
Against her cheek,
She could not hearken,
She could not speak ;
With thin lips fluttering,
With blind eyes tearful,
And features pale,
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 17
.She clasp'd her children,
And looked in silence
Upon the Veil.
Her hair grew silvern,
The swift days fled,
Her lap was heavy
With children dead ;
To her heart she held them,
But could not warm them
The life within them
Was gone like dew.
Whiter, stiller,
The Mother grew.
The World grew hoary,
The World was weary,
The children cried at
The empty air :
" Father of mortals ! "
c
1 8 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The children murmured,
"Father! father!
Art thou there ? "
Then the Master answer'd
From the thunder-cloud
" I am God the Maker !
I am God the Master !
I am God the Father ! "
He cried aloud.
Further, the Master
Made sign on sign
Footprints of his spirits,
Voices divine ;
His breath was a water,
His cry was a wind.
But the people heard not,
The people saw not,
Earth and her children
Were deaf and blind.
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 1 9
IV.
THE WISE MEN.
" Call the great philosophers !
Call them all hither,
The good, the wise ! "
Their robes were snowy,
Their hearts were holy,
They had cold still eyes.
To the mountain-summits
Wearily they wander'd,
Reaching the desolate
Regions of snow,
Looming there lonely,
They search'd the Veil wonderful
With tubes fire-fashion'd
In caverns below . . .
God withdrew backward,
20 THE BOOK OF ORM.
. And darker, dimmer,
Deepen'd the day :
O'er the philosophers
Looming there lonely
Night gather'd gray.
Then the wise men gazing
Saw the lights above them
Thicken and thicken,
And all went pale
Ah ! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful Lights of the Veil !
Alas for the Wise Men !
The snows of the mountain
Drifted about them,
And the wind cried round them,
As the lights of wonder
Multiplied !
FIRST SONG OF THE VEIL. 21
The breath of the mountain
Froze them into stillness,
They sighed and died.
Still in the desolate
Heights overhead,
Stand their shapes frozen,
Frozen and dead.
But a weary few,
Weary and dull and cold,
Crept faintly down again,
Looking very old ;
And when the people
Gather'd around them,
The heart went sickly
At their dull blank stare
" O Wise Men answer !
Is there a Father?
Is there a beautiful
Face up there ? "
The Wise Men answer'd and said :
THE BOOK OF ORM.
" Bury us deep when dead
We have travelled a weary road,
We have seen no more than ye.
'Twere better not to be
There is no God ! "
And the people, hearkening,
Saw the Veil above them,
And the darkness deepen'd,
And the lights gleamed pale.
Ah! the lamps numberless,
The mystical jewels of God,
The luminous, wonderful,
Beautiful lights of the Veil !
II.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW.
On the high path -where few men fare,
Orm meeteth one with hoary hair,
And speaketh, solemn and afraid,
Of that which haunteth him a Shade.
Slowly, with weary feet and weak,
They wander to a mountain peak ;
And to the man with hoary hair
A Bridge of Spirits risethfair,
Whereon his Soul with gentle moan
Passeth unto the Land Unknown.
II.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW,
i.
THE SHADOW.
AGED MAN who, clad in pilgrim's garb,
With staff of thorn and wallet lying near,
Sittest among the weeds of the wayside,
Gazing with hollow eyeballs in a dream
On that which sleeps a Shadow at thy feet !
Hearest thou ?
By the fluttering of thy lips,
1 know thou hearest ; yet, with downcast eyes,
Thou broodest moveless, letting yonder sun
Make thee a Dial, worn and venerable,
To show the passing hour. All things around
26 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Share stillness with thee ; for behold they keep
The gloaming of the year. To russet brown
The heather fadeth ; on the treeless hills,
O'er rusted with the slow-decaying bracken,
The sheep crawl slow with damp and red-stain'd
wool;
Keen cutting winds from the Cold Clime begin
To frost the edges of the cloud the sun
Upriseth slow and silvern many rainbows
People the desolate air with flowers that fade
Thro' pallor unto tears ; and tho' these flash
Ever around thee, here thou sittest alone,
Best Dial of them all, old, moveless, dumb,
Ineffably serene with aged eyes,
Still as a stone, yet with some secret spell
Pertaining to the human, some faint touch
Of mystery in that worn face, to show
Thy wither'd flesh is scented with a Soul.
Nay, then, with how serene and sad a light
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 27
Thy face, strange gleams of spiritual pain
Fading there, turneth up to mine ! Yea, smile !
Tender as sunlight on the autumn hills,
Cometh that kindly lustre ! Aye, thy hand
Something mysterious streameth from thy palm
Spirit greets spirit scent is mixed with scent
Sweet is the touch of hands. Behold me, Orm,
Thy brother !
Brother, we are surely bound
On the same journey, and our eyes alike
Turn up and onward : wherefore, now thou risest,
Lean upon me, and let us for a space
Pursue the path together. Ah, 'tis much,
In this so weary pilgrimage, to meet
A royal face like thine to touch the hand
Of such a soul-fellow to feel the want,
The upward-crying hunger, the desire,
The common hope and pathos, justified
By knowledge and gray hairs. Come on ! come on 1
5 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Up yonder ! Slowly, leaning on my strength,
And I will surely pick my steps with thine,
While at our backs the secret Shadows creep,
And imitate our motions with no sound.
Dost thou remember more than I ? My Soul
Remembereth no beginning.
One still day,
I saw the hills around me, and beheld
The hills had shadows, for beyond their rim
The fiery sun was setting ; then I saw
My ghost upon the ground, and as I ran
Eastward, the melancholy semblance ran
Before my footsteps ; and I felt afraid.
Could I have shaken off this grievous thing,
Much had been spared me. Since that day I ran,
And saw it run before me in the sun,
It hath been with me in the day and night,
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 29
The sunlight and the starlight at the board
Hath joined me, darkening the festal cup
Hath risen black against the whitening wall
On lonely midnights, when by the wind's shriek
Startled from terrible visions seen in dream,
Rising upon my couch, and with quick breath
Lighting the lamp, I hearkened it hath track'd
My footsteps into pastoral churchyards,
And suddenly, when I was very calm,
Look'd darkly up out of the gentle graves,
So that I clench'd my teeth, or should have scream'd ;
And still behind me see ! it creeps and creeps,
Dim in the dimness of the autumn day.
Higher ! yet higher ! Tho' the path is steep,
And all around the withering bracken rusts,
Up yonder on the crag a mossy spring,
Frosted with silver, glistens, and around
Grasses as green as hedgerows in the May
Cushion the lichen'd stones.
30 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Here let us pause :
Here, where the grass gleams emerald, and the spring
Upbubbling faintly seemeth as a sound,
A drowsy hum, heard in the mind itself
Here, in this stillness, let us pause and mark
The many-colour'd picture. Far beneath
Sleepeth the glassy Ocean like a sheet
Of liquid mother-o'-pearl, and on its rim
A ship sleeps, and the shadow of the ship ;
Astern the reef juts darkly, edged with foam,
Thro' the smooth brine : oh, hark ! how loudly sings
A wild, weird ditty to a watery tune,
The fisher among his nets upon the shore ;
And yonder, far away, his shouting bairns
Are running, dwarf'd by distance small as mice,
Along the yellow sands. Behind us, see
The immeasurable mountains, rising silent
Against the fields of dreamy blue, wherein
The rayless crescent of the mid-day moon
Lies like a reaper's sickle ; and before us
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 31
The immeasurable mountains, rising silent
From bourne to bourne, from knolls of thyme and
heather
To leafless slopes of granite, from the slopes
Of granite to the dim and ashen heights
Where, with a silver glimmer, silently
Pausing, the white cloud sheds miraculous snow
h
On the heights untravell'd, whither we are bound.
O perishable brother, what a world !
How wondrous and how fair ! Look ! look ! and think !
What magic mixed the tints of yonder west,
Wherein, upon a cushion soft as moss,
A heaven pink-tinted like a maiden's flesh,
The dim star of the ocean lieth cool
In palpitating silver, while beneath
Her image, putting luminous feelers forth,
Bathes liquid, like a living thing o' the sea.
What magic ? What magician ? O my brother,
What strange Magician, mixing up those tints,
32 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Pouring the water down, and sending forth
The crystal air like breath, snowing the heavens
With luminous jewels of the day and night,
Look'd down and saw thee lie a lifeless clod,
And lifted thee, and moulded thee to shape,
Colour'd thee with the sunlight till thy blood
Ran ruby, poured the chemic tints o' the air
Thro' eyes that kindled into azure, stole
The flesh-tints of the lily and the rose
To make thee wondrous fair unto thyself,
Knitted thy limbs with ruby bands, and blew
Into thy hollow heart until it stirred,
Then to the inner chamber of his heaven
Withdrawing, left in midst of such a world
The living apparition of a Man,
A mystery amid the mysteries,
A lonely semblance, with a wild appeal
To which no form that lives, however dear,
Hath given a tearless answer, a Shape, a Soul,
Projecting ever as it ageth on
A Shade which is a silence and a sleep.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 33
Yet not companionless, within this waste
Of splendour, dwellest thou here by thy side
I linger, girdled for the road like thee,
With pilgrim's staff and scrip, and thro' the vales
Below, a storm of people like to thee
Drifts with thee westward darkly, cloud on cloud,
Uttering a common moan, and to our eyes
Casting one common shadow ; yet each soul
Therein now seeketh, with a want like thine,
The inevitable bourne. Nor those alone,
Thy perishable brethren, share thy want,
And wander haunted thro' the world ; but beasts,
With that dumb hunger in their eyes, project
Their darkness by the yeanling lambkin's side
Its shade plays, and the basking lizard hath
Its image on the flat stone in the sun,
And these, the greater and the less, like thee
Shall perish in their season : in the mere
The slender water-lily sees her shape,
And sheddeth softly on the summer air
34 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Her last chill breathing, and the forest tree
That, standing glorious for a hundred years,
Lengthens its shadow daily from the sun,
Fulfilleth its own prophecy at last,
And falleth, falleth. Art thou comforted ?
Nay, then, behold the shadows of the Hills,
Attesting these are perishable too,
And cry no more thou art companionless.
How, like a melancholy bell, thy voice
Echoes the word ! " Companionless ! " Thine eyes
Suffer with light and tears, and wearily
Thou searches! all the picture beautiful
For vanished faces. Still, " companionless ! "
O brother, let me hold thy hand again
Spirit greets spirit scent is mixed with scent
Sweet is the touch of hands. Look on me ! Orm !
Thy brother !
And no nearer ? O 'tis sad
That here, like dumb beasts, yearning with blank eyes,
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 35
Wringing each other's hands, pale, passionate,
Full of immortal likeness, wild with thirst
To mingle, yet we here must stand asunder,
Two human shapes, two mansions built apart,
Two pale men, and two ghosts upon the ground !
Tread back my footsteps with me in thy mind :
I have wander'd long and far, and O I have seen
Strange visions ; for my soul resembles not
The miserable souls of common men
Mere lamps to guide the body to the board
And lustful bed say, rather, 'tis a Wind
Prison'd in flesh, and shrieking to be free
To blow on the high places of the Lord !
Hither and hither hath its pent-up struggle
Compelled my footsteps o'er the snowy steeps,
Thro' the green valleys into huts of hinds
And palaces of princes. It hath raved
Loud as the wind among the pines for rest,
Answered by all the winds of all the world
36 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Gather'd like howling wolves beneath the moon ;
And it hath lain still as the air that broods
On meres Coruisken on dead days of frost,
In supreme moments of unearthly bliss
Feeling the pathos and exceeding peace
Of thoughts as delicate and far removed
As starlight. But in stormy times and calm,
In pain or pleasure, came the Shadow too,
Meeting the Soul in its superbest hour,
And making it afraid.
These twain have dwelt
Together, haunting one another's bliss,
The Wind, that would be on the extremest peaks,
And the strange Shadow of the prison-house
Wherein 'tis pent so very cunningly.
Nay, how they mock each other ! " Shade accursed,"
The Wind moans, " yet a little while, and thou
Shalt perish with the poor and mean abode
That casts thee follow and admonish that,
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 37
To me thine admonition promiseth
The crumbling of the ruin chain'd wherein
I cry for perfect freedom." Then methinks
The wild Shade waves its arms grotesque and says
In dumb show, " Peace, thou unsubstantial Wind !
Bred of the peevish humour of the flesh,
Born in the body and the cells o' the brain ;
With these things shalt thou perish, foul as gas
Thou senseless shalt dissolve upon the air,
And none shall know that thou hast ever been."
Thus have they mock'd each other morn and
mirk
In speech not human. When I lay at night,
Drunk with the ichor of the form I clasp'd,
How hath the sad Soul, mocking the brute bliss,
The radiant glistening play o' the sense, withdrawn
Unto the innermost chamber of the brain,
And moan'd in shame ; while in the taper light,
The Shades, with clasping arms and waving hair,
Seem'd saying, " Gather roses while thou mayst,
38 THE fcOOK OF ORM.
royal purple Body doom'd to die !
And hush, O Wind, for tfiou shalt perish too ! "
1 saw a hind at sunrise dumb he stood,
And saw the Dawn press with her rosy feet
The dewy sweetness from the fields of hay,
Felt the world brighten leaves and flowers and grass
Grow luminous yet beside the pool he stood,
Wherein, in the gray vapour of the marsh,
His mottled oxen stood with large blank eyes
And steaming nostrils : and his eyes like theirs
Were empty, and he humm'd a surly song
Out of a hollow heart akin to beast's :
Yea, sun nor star had little joy for him,
Nor tree nor flower, to him the world was all
Mere matter for a ploughshare. On the hill
Above him, with loose jerkin backward blown
By winds of morning, and his white brow bare
Like marble, stood a singer one of those
Who write in heart's-blood what is blotted out
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 39
With ox-gall ; and his soul was in his eyes
To see the coming of the beautiful Day,
His lips hung heavy with beauty, and he looked
Down on the surly clod among the kine,
And sent his Soul unto him thro' his eyes,
Transfiguring him with beauty and with praise
Into the common pathos. Of such stuffs
Is mankind shapen, both, like thee and me,
Wear westward, to the melancholy realm
Where all the gather'd shades of all the world
Lie as a cloud around the feet of God.
This darkens all my seeking. O my friend!
If the whole world had royal eyes like thine,
I were much holpen ; but to look upon
Eyes like the ox-herd's, blank as very beast's,
Shoots sorrow to the very roots of life.
Aye ! there were hope indeed if each man seemed
A spirit's habitation, but the world
Is curst with these blank faces, still. as stone,
40 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And darkening inward. Have these dumb things Souls?
If they be tenantless, dare thou and I
Christen by so sublime a name the Wind
Bred in the wasting body ?
Yestermorn,
In yonder city that afar away
Staineth the peaceful blue with its foul breath,
I passed into a dimly-lighted hall,
And heard a lanthorn-jaw'd Philosopher,
Clawing his straw-like bunch of yellow hair,
With skeletonian periods and a voice
Shrill as the grating of two bones. " O Soul,"
Quoth he, " O beauteousness we name the Soul,
Thou art the Flower of all the life o' the World,
And not in every clod of flesh shoots forth
The perfect apparition of thy tints
Immortal ! Flower and scented bloom of things,
Thou growest on no dunghill in the sun ! "
A flower, a flower immortal ? How I laugh'd !
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 41
Clip me the lily from its secret roots,
And farewell all the wonder of the flower !
That self-same day, in that same city of souls,
I saw the King, a man of flesh and blood,
In gorgeous raiment. O the little eyes
Glimmering underneath the golden crown,
While sitting on a throne in open court,
Fountains of perfume sprinkling him with spray,
He heard the gray men of his kingdom speak
Of mighty public matters solemnly,
And nodding grave approval, all the while
Crack'd filberts like a monkey ; yet at times
His shadow, and the shadow of his throne,
Falling against a grand sarcophagus
That filled one corner of the fountain'd court,
Awoke a nameless trouble, and the more
The sun shone, deeper on the tomb close by
The double shadow linger'd. Then methought
I was transported to a marvellous land,
42 THE BOOK OF ORM.
A mighty forest of primaeval growth
Brooding in its own darkness underwood
Breast-deep, and swarming thick with monstrous
shapes ;
And from a bough above me, by his tail
A man-beast swung and glimmer'd down at me
With little eyes and shining ivory teeth.
Laugh with me ! Brute-beast and the small-eyed
King
Seem'd brethren face, eyes, mouth, and lips the
same
Only the brute-beast was the happier,
Since never nameless trouble filled his eyes,
Because his ghost upon the glimmering grass
Beneath him quivered, while he poised above
With philosophic swing by claws and tail.
" O Soul the Flower of all the life o' the World,
O perfect Flower and scented bloom of things ! "
birth betoken'd in that windy hour,
When, sloughing off the brute, we stand and groan,
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 43
First frighten'd by the Shadow that has chased
Our changes up through all the grooves of Time !
Lift up thine eyes, old man, and look on me :
Like thee, a dark point in the scheme of things,
Where the dumb Spirit that pervadeth all
Grass, trees, beasts, man and lives and grows in all
Pauses upon itself, and awe-struck feels
The shadow of the next and imminent
Transfiguration. So, a living Man !
That entity within whose brooding brain
Knowledge begins and ends that point in time
When time becomes the shadow of a Dial,
That dreadful living and corporeal Hour,
Who, wafted by an unseen Hand apart
From the wild rush of temporal things that pass,
Pauses and listens, listening sees his face
Glassed in still waters of eternity,
Gazes in awe at his own loveliness,
And fears it, glanceth with affrighted eyes
44 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Backward and forward, and beholds all dark,
Alike the place whence he unconscious came,
And that to which he conscious drifteth on,
Yet seeth before him, wheresoe'er he turn,
The Shadow of himself, presaging doom.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 45
II.
THE RAINBOW.
THE OLD MAN SPEAKS.
Mine eyes are dim. Where am I ? Is this Snow
Falling in the cold air ? All darkeneth,
As if between me and the light there stood
Some shape that lived. My God, is this the end ?
ORM.
Not yet ! not yet ! Look up ! Thou livest yet !
'Tis but a little faintness, and will pass !
OLD MAN.
Pass ? All things pass. The light, the morning dew,
The power that plotted and the foot that clomb ;
And delicate bloom of life upon the flesh
Fading like peach-bloom 'neath a finger-press.
O God, to blossom like a flower in a day,
46 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Then wear a winter in slow withering. . . .
Why not with sun-flash, Lord, or bolt of fire ? . . .
Where am I ?
ORM.
On the lonely heights of Earth ;
Beneath thee lies the Ocean, and above thee
The hills stand silent in the setting sun.
OLD MAN.
What forms are these that come and change and go ?
ORM.
Desolate shadows of the gathering Rain.
OLD MAN.
What sound is that I hear ?
ORM.
The homeless Wind
Shivering behind the shadows as they glide,
And moaning.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 47
OLD MAN.
Ah!
ORM.
Some phantom of the brain
Appalleth thee ! Cling to me ! Courage !
OLD MAN.
Hark!
Dost thou not hear ?
ORM.
What?
OLD MAN.
Voices of the shapes
That yonder, with their silvern robes wind-blown,
All faint and shadowless against the light
Beckon me ! Hush ! They sing a lullaby !
They are the spirits that so long ago
Sung round my cradle, and they sing the same,
40 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Though I am grown the ghost of that fair time.
No, faces ! These are faces I remember !
A fair face that, sweet in its golden hair
And lower, see ! a little pale-faced child's,
Sad as a star. " Father ! " A voice cried " Father ! "
Lift me up ! Look ! How they are gathering !
All sing ! All beckon !
ORM.
. . . Tis the end indeed.
Within his breast the life-blood of the heart
Swells like a breaking wave, as, clinging round me,
He yearneth, fascinated yet afraid,
With wild dim eyes that look on vacancy !
OLD MAN.
What gleameth yonder in the brightening air ?
ORM.
The Spirit of the Rainbow hovering faint
Amid the wind-blown shadows of the Rain.
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 49
OLD MAN.
Shadows ! I see them all the Shadows see !
Uprising from the wild green sea of graves
That beats forlorn about the shores of earth.
Shadows behold them ! how they gather and
gather,
More and yet more, darker and darker yet ;
Drifting with a low moan of mystery
Upward, still upward, till they almost touch
The bright dim edge of the Bow, but there they pause,
Struggling in vain against a breath from heaven,
And blacken. Hark ! their sound is like a Sea !
Above them, with how dim a light divine,
Burneth the Bow, and lo ! it is a Bridge,
Dim, many-colour'd, strangely brightening,
Whereon all faint and fair and shadowless
Spirits like those, with faces I remember,
With a low sound like the soft rain in spring,
With a faint echo of the cradle song,
5O THE BOOK OF ORM.
Coming and going, beckon me ! I come !
Who holds me ? Touch me not. O help ! I am
called !
Ah ! [Dies.
ORM.
Gone ! Dead ! Something very cold past by
And touched my cheek like breath ; even then, O God,
My comrade heard Thy summons, and behold !
Here lieth, void and cold and tenantless,
His feeble habitation. Poor gray hairs
Thin with long blowing in the windy cold,
At last ye sadden ruin ! poor sweet lips,
Ye are dewless, ye are silent ! poor worn heart,
No more shalt thou, like to a worn-out watch,
Tick feebly out the time !
O Shadow sad,
Monitor, haunter, waiter till the end,
Brother of that which darkeneth at my feet,
Hast thou too fled, and dost thou follow still
THE MAX AND THE SHADOW. 51
The Spirit's quest divine. Nay, thou dark ghost !
Thy work is done for ever thou art doom'd
A breath from heaven holds thee to the ground,
And here unto the ruin thou art chained,
Moveless, and dark, no more the ghost of life,
But dead, the shadow of a thing of stone.
Thus far, no further, Shadow ! but O brother,
O Spirit, where art thou ? From what far height
Up yonder, pausing for a moment's space,
Lookest thou back thy blessing? Art thou
free?
Dost thou still hunger upward seeking rest,
Because some new horizon strange as ours
Shuts out the prospect of the place of peace ?
Art thou a wave that, having broken once,
Gatherest up a glorious crest once more,
And glimmerest onward, but to break again ;
Or dost thou smooth thyself to perfect peace
In tranquil sight of some Eternal Shore ?
52 THE BOOK OF ORM.
From the still region whither thou hast fled
No answer cometh ; but with dewy wings
Brightening before it dieth, how divine
Burneth the Rainbow, at its earthliest edge
Now fading like a flower ! Is it indeed
A Bridge whereon fair spirits come and go ?
O Brother, didst thou glide to peace that way ?
Silent all silent dimmer, dimmer yet,
Hue by hue dying, creeping back to heaven
O let me too pass by it up to God !
Too late it fadeth, faint and far away !
The Shadows gather round me from the ground
My dark familiar looketh silently.
O Shadows, be at peace, for ye shall rest,
Yea, surely ye shall cease ; for now, as ever,
Out of your cloudy being springs serene
The Bow of Mystery that spans the globe !
The beautiful Bow of thoughts ineffable,
THE MAN AND THE SHADOW. 53
Last consequence of this fair cloud of flesh !
The dim miraculous Iris of sweet Dream !
Rainbow of promise ! Colour, Light, and Soul !
That comes, dies, comes again, and ever draws
Its strangest source from tears that lives, that dies
That is, is not now here, now faded wholly
Ever assuring, ever blessing us,
Ever eluding, ever beckoning,
Born of our essence, yet more strange than we,
As human, yet more beautiful tenfold,
Rising in earth out of our cloudy being,
Touching forlornest places with its tints,
Strewing the sea with opal, scattering roses
Across the hollow pathways of the wind,
Fringing the clouds with flowers of crimson fire,
And melting, melting (whither our wild eyes
Follow imploring, whither our weak feet
Totter for ever), melting far away,
Yonder ! upon the dimmest peak of Heaven !
III.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION.
Song-s of Corruption, woven thus,
With tender thoughts and tremulous,
Sitting with a solemn face
In an island burying-place,
While weary waves broke sad and slow
O'er -weedy wastes of sand below,
And stretch 'd on every side of me
The rainy grief of the gray Sea.
III.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION,
i.
PHANTASY.
IF thou art an Angel,
Who hath sent thee,
O Phantasy, brooding
Over my pale wife's sleeping ?
In the darkness
I am listening
For the rustle of thy robe ;
Would I might feel thee breathing,
Would I might hear thee speaking,
Would I might only touch thee
By the hand !
$8 THE BOOK OF ORM.
She is very cold,
My wife is very cold,
Her eyes are withered,
Her breath is dried like dew ;
The sound of my weeping
Disturbeth her not ;
Thy shadow, O Phantasy,
Lieth like moonlight
Upon her features,
And the lines of her mouth
Are very sweet.
In the night
I heard my pale wife moaning,
Yet did not know
What made her afraid.
My pale wife said,
" I am very cold,"
And shrank away from thee,
Though I saw thee not ;
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 59
And she kissed me and went to sleep,
And gave a little start upon my arm
When on her living lips
Thy freezing finger was laid.
What art thou
Art thou God's Angel ?
Or art thou only
The chilly night-wind,
Stealing downward
From the regions where the sun
Dwelleth alone with his shadow
On a waste of snow ?
Art thou the water or earth ?
Or art thou the fatal air ?
Or art thou only
An apparition
Made by the mist
Of mine own eyes weeping ?
60 THE BOOK OF ORM.
She is very cold,
My wife is very cold !
I will kiss her,
And the silver-haired mother will kiss her,
And the little children will kiss her ;
And then we will wrap her warm,
And hide her in a hollow space ;
And the house will be empty
Of thee, O Phantasy,
Cast on the unhappy household
By the strange white clay.
Much I marvel, O Phantasy,
That one so gentle,
So sweet, when living,
Should cast a shadow as vast as thine ;
For, lo ! thou loomest
Upward and heavenward,
Hiding the sunlight,
Blackening the snow,
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 6 1
And the pointing of thy finger
Fadeth far away
On the sunset-tinged edges,
Where Man's company ends,
And God's loneliness begins.
62 THE BOOK OF ORM.
II.
THE DREAM OF THE WORLD WITHOUT DEATH.
Now, sitting by her side, worn out with weeping,
Behold, I fell to sleep, and had a vision,
Wherein I heard a wondrous voice intoning :
Crying aloud, " The Master on His throne
Openeth now the seventh seal of wonder,
And beckoneth back the angel men name Death.
And at His feet the mighty Angel kneeleth,
Breathing not ; and the Lord doth look upon him,
Saying, " Thy wanderings on earth are ended."
And lo ! the mighty Shadow sitteth idle
Even at the silver gates of heaven,
Drowsily looking in on quiet waters,
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 63
And puts his silence among men no longer.
*
The world was very quiet. Men in traffic
Cast looks over their shoulders ; pallid seamen
Shiver'd to walk upon the decks alone ;
And women barred their doors with bars of iron,
In the silence of the night ; and at the sunrise
Trembled behind the husbandmen afield.
I could not see a kirkyard near or far ;
I thirsted for a green grave, and my vision
Was weary for the white gleam of a tombstone.
But hearkening dumbly, ever and anon
I heard a cry out of a human dwelling,
And felt the cold wind of a lost one's going.
One struck a brother fiercely, and he fell,
And faded in a darkness ; and that other
Tore his hair, and was afraid, and could not perish.
64 THE BOOK OF ORM.
One struck his aged mother on the mouth,
And she vanished with a gray grief from his hearth-
stone.
One melted from her bairn, and on the ground
With sweet unconscious eyes the bairn lay smiling.
And many made a weeping among mountains,
And hid themselves in caverns, and were drunken.
I heard a voice from out the beauteous earth,
Whose side rolled up from winter into summer,
Crying, " I am grievous for my children."
I heard a voice from out the hoary ocean,
Crying, " Burial in the breast of me were better,
Yea, burial in the salt flags and green crystals."
I heard a voice from out the hollow ether,
Saying, " The thing ye cursed hath been abolished
Corruption, and decay, and dissolution ! "
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 65
And the world shrieked, and the summer-time was
bitter,
And men and women feared the air behind them ;
And for lack of its green graves the world was hateful.
Now at the bottom of a snowy mountain
I came upon a woman thin with sorrow,
Whose voice was like the crying of a sea-gull,
Saying, " O Angel of the Lord, come hither,
And bring me him I seek for on thy bosom,
That I may close his eyelids and embrace him.
" I curse thee that I cannot look upon him !
I curse thee that I know not he is sleeping !
Yet know that he has vanished upon God !
" I laid my little girl upon a wood-bier,
And very sweet she seemed, and near unto me ;
And slipping flowers into her shroud was comfort.
66 THE BOOK OF ORM.
" I put my silver mother in the darkness,
And kissed her, and was solaced by her kisses,
And set a stone, to mark the place, above her.
" And green, green were their quiet sleeping-places,
So green that it was pleasant to remember
That I and my tall man would sleep beside them.
" The closing of dead eyelids is not dreadful,
For comfort comes upon us when we close them,
And tears fall, and our sorrow grows familiar ;
" And we can sit above them where they slumber,
And spin a dreamy pain into a sweetness,
And know indeed that we are very near them.
" But to reach out empty arms is surely dreadful,
And to feel the hollow empty world is awful,
And bitter grow the silence and the distance.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 67
" There is no space for grieving or for weeping ;
No touch, no cold, no agony to strive with,
And nothing but a horror and a blankness ! "
Now behold I saw a woman in a mud-hut
Raking the white spent embers with her ringers,
And fouling her bright hair with the white ashes.
Her mouth was very bitter with the ashes ;
Her eyes with dust were blinded ; and her sorrow
Sobbed in the throat of her like gurgling water.
And all around the voiceless hills were hoary,
But red light scorched their edges ; and above her
There was a soundless trouble of the vapours.
" Whither, and O whither," said the woman,
" O Spirit of the Lord, hast thou conveyed them,
My little ones, my little son and daughter?
68 THE BOOK OF ORM.
" For, lo ! we wandered forth at early morning,
And winds were blowing round us, and their mouths
Blew rose-buds to the rose-buds, and their eyes
" Looked violets at the violets, and their hair
Made sunshine in the sunshine, and their passing
Left a pleasure in the dewy leaves behind them ;
" And suddenly my little son looked upward,
And his eyes were dried like dew-drops ; and his going
Was like a blow of fire upon my face.
" And my little son was gone. My little daughter
Looked round me for him, clinging to my vesture ;
But the Lord had drawn him from me, and I knew it
" By the sign He gives the stricken, that the lost one
Lingers nowhere on the earth, on hill or valley,
Neither underneath the grasses nor the tree-roots.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 69
" And my shriek was like the splitting of an ice-reef,
And I sank among my hair, and all my palm
Was moist and warm where the little hand had filled it.
"Then I fled and sought him wildly, hither and
thither
Though I knew that he was stricken from me wholly
By the token that the Spirit gives the stricken.
" I sought him in the sunlight and the starlight,
I sought him in great forests, and in waters
Where I saw mine own pale image looking at me.
" And I forgot my little bright-haired daughter,
Though her voice was like a wild-bird's far behind me,.
Till the voice ceased, and the universe was silent.
" And stilly, in the starlight, came I backward
To the forest where I missed him ; and no voices
Brake the stillness as I stooped down in the starlight,
70 THE BOOK OF ORM.
\
" And saw two little shoes filled up with dew,
And no mark of little footsteps any farther,
And knew my little daughter had gone also."
But beasts died : yea, the cattle in the yoke,
The milk -cow in the meadow, and the sheep,
And the dog upon the door-step ; and men envied.
And birds died ; yea, the eagle at the sun-gate,
The swan upon the waters, and the farm-fowl,
And the swallows on the housetops ; and men envied.
And reptiles ; yea, the toad upon the roadside,
The slimy, speckled snake among the grass,
The lizard on the ruin ; and men envied.
The dog in lonely places cried not over
The body of his master ; but it missed him,
And whined into the air, and died, and rotted.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 71
The traveller's horse lay swollen in the pathway,
And the blue fly fed upon it ; but no traveller
Was there ; nay, not his footprint on the ground.
The cat mewed in the midnight, and the blind
Gave a rustle, and the lamp burnt blue and faint,
And the father's bed was empty in the morning.
The mother fell to sleep beside the cradle,
Rocking it, while she slumbered, with her foot,
And wakened, and the cradle there was empty.
I saw a two-year's child, and he was playing ;
And he found a dead white bird upon the doorway,
And laughed, and ran to show it to his mother.
The mother moaned, and clutched him, and was
bitter,
And flung the dead white bird across the threshold ;
And another white bird flitted round and round it,
72 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And uttered a sharp cry, and twittered and twittered,
And lit beside its dead mate, and grew busy,
Strewing it over with green leaves and yellow.
So far, so far to seek for were the limits
Of affliction ; and men's terror grew a homeless
Terror, yea, and a fatal sense of blankness.
There was no little token of distraction,
There was no visible presence of bereavement,
Such as the mourner easeth out his heart on.
There was no comfort in the slow farewell,
Nor gentle shutting of beloved eyes,
Nor beautiful broodings over sleeping features.
There were no kisses on familiar faces,
No weaving of white grave-clothes, no last pondering
Over the still wax cheeks and folded fingers.
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 73
There was no putting tokens under pillows,
There was no dreadful beauty slowly fading,
Fading like moonlight softly into darkness.
There were no churchyard paths to walk on, thinking
How near the well-beloved ones are lying.
There were no sweet green graves to sit and muse on,
Till grief should grow a summer meditation,
The shadow of the passing of an angel,
And sleeping should seem easy, and not cruel.
Nothing but wondrous parting and a blankness.
But I woke.
And, lo ! the burthen was uplifted,
And I prayed within the chamber where she
slumbered,
And my tears flowed fast and free, but were not bitter.
74 THE BOOK OF ORM.
I eased my heart three days by watching near her,
And made her pillow sweet with scent and flowers,
And could bear at last to put her in the darkness.
And I heard the kirk-bells ringing very slowly,
And the priests were in their vestments, and the earth
Dripped awful on the hard wood, yet I bore it.
And I cried, " O unseen Sender of Corruption,
I bless Thee for the wonder of Thy mercy,
Which softeneth the mystery and the parting.
" I bless Thee for the change and for the comfort,
The bloomless face, shut eyes, and waxen fingers,
For Sleeping, and for Silence, and Corruption."
SONGS OF CORRUPTION. 75
III.
SOUL AND FLESH.
My Soul, thou art wed
To a perishable thing,
But death from thy strange mate
Shall sever thee full soon,
If thou wilt reap wings
Take all the Flesh can give :
The touch of the smelling dead,
The kiss of the maiden's mouth,
The sorrow, the hope, the fear,
That floweth along the veins :
Take all, nor be afraid ;
Cling close to thy mortal mate !
So shalt thou duly wring
Out of thy long embrace
7 6 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The hunger and thirst whereof
The Master maketh thee wings,
The beautiful, wondrous yearning,
The mighty thirst to endure.
Be not afraid, my Soul,
To leave thy mate at last,
Though ye shall learn in time
To love each other well ;
But put her gently down
In the earth beneath thy feet.
And dry thine eyes and hasten
To the imperishable springs ;
And it shall be well for thee
In the beautiful Master's sight,
If it be found in the end
Thou hast used her tenderly.
IV.
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING.
A House miraculous of breath
The royal Soul inhabiteth.
Alone therein for evermore,
It seeks in vain to pass the door ;
But through the windows of the eyne
Signalleth to its kin divine. . . .
This is a song Orm sang of old
To Oona -with the locks of gold.
IV.
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING.
COME to me ! clasp me !
Spirit to spirit !
Bosom to bosom !
Tenderly, clingingly,
Mingle to one ! . . .
Now, from my kisses
Withdrawing, and blushing,
Why dost thou gaze on me ?
Why dost thou weep ?
Why dost thou cling to me,
Imploring, adoring?
What are those meanings
That flash from thine eyes ?
8o THE BOOK OF ORM.
Pitiful ! pitiful !
Now I conceive thee !
Yea, it were easier
Striking two swords,
To weld them together,
Than spirit with spirit
To mingle, tho' rapture
Be perfect as this.
Shut in a tremulous
Prison, each spirit
Hungers and yearns
Never, ah never,
Beloved, beloved,
Have these eyes look'd on
The face of thy Soul.
Ours are two dwellings,
Wondrously beautiful,
Made in the darkness
Of soft-tinted flesh :
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 8l
In the one dwelling,
Prison'd I dwell,
And lo ! from the other
Thou beckonest me !
I am a Soul !
Thou art a Soul!
These are our dwellings !
O to be free !
Beauteous, beloved,
Is thy dear dwelling ;
All o'er it blowing
The roses of dawn
Bright is the portal,
The dwelling is scented
Within and without ;
Strange are the windows,
So clouded with azure,
The faces are hidden
That look from within.
82 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Now I approach thee,
Sweetness and odour
Tremble upon me
Wild is the rapture !
Thick is the perfume !
Sweet bursts of music
Thrill from within !
Closer, yet closer !
Bosom to bosom !
Tenderly, clingingly,
Mingle to one. . . .
Ah ! but what faces
Are those that look forth ! . . .
Faces? What faces? As I speak they die,
And all my gaze is empty as of old.
O love ! the world was fair, and everywhere
Rose wondrous human dwellings like mine own,
And many of these were foul and dark with dust,
Haunted by things obscene, not beautiful,
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 83
But most were very royal, meet to serve
Angels for habitation. All alone
Brooded my Soul by a mysterious fire
Dim-burning, never-dying, from the first
Lit in the place by God ; the winds and rains
Struck on the abode and spared it ; day and night
Above it came and went ; and in the night
My Soul gazed from the threshold silently,
And saw the congregated lamps that swung
Above it in the dark and dreamy blue ;
And in the day my Soul gazed on the earth,
And sought the dwellings there for signs, and lo !
None answer'd ; for the Souls inhabitant
Drew coldly back and darken'd ; and I said,
" In all the habitations I behold,
Some old, some young, some fair, and some not fair,
There dwells no Soul I know." But as I spake,
I saw beside me in a dreamy light
Thy habitation, so serene and fair,
So stately in a rosy dawn of day,
84 THE BOOK OF ORM.
That all my Soul look'd forth and cried, " Behold,
The sweetest dwelling in the whole wide world ! "
And thought not of the inmate, but gazed on,
Lingeringly, hushfully ; for as I gazed
Something came glistening up into thine eyes,
And beckon'd, and a murmur from the portal,
A murmur and a perfume, floated hither,
Thrill'd thro' my dwelling, making every chamber
Tremble with mystical,
Dazzling desire !
. . Come to me ! close to me !
Bosom to bosom !
Tenderly, clingingly,
Mingle to one !
Wildly within me
Some eager inmate
Rushes and trembles,
Peers from the eyes
And calls in the ears,
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 85
Yearns to thee, cries to thee !
Claiming old kinship
In lives far removed ! . .
Vainly, ah vainly !
Pent in its prison
Must each miraculous
Spirit remain,
Yet inarticulate,
Striving to language,
Music and memory,
Rapture and dream !
Rapture and dream ! Beloved one, in vain
My spirit seeks for utterance. Alas,
Not yet shall there be speech. Not yet, not yet,
One dweller in a mortal tenement
Can know what secret faces hide away
Within the neighbouring dwelling. Ah beloved,
The mystery, the mystery ! We cry
For God's face, who have never looked upon
86 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The poorest Soul's face in the wonderful
Soul-haunted world. A spirit once there dwelt
Beside me, close as thou two wedded souls,
We mingled flesh was mixed with flesh we knew
All joys, all unreserves of mingled life
Yea, not a sunbeam filled the house of one
But touched the other's threshold. Hear me swear
I never knew that Soul ! All touch, all sound,
All light was insufficient. The Soul, pent
In its strange chambers, cried to mine in vain
We saw each other not : but oftentimes
When I was glad, the windows of my neighbour
Were dark and drawn, as for a funeral ;
And sometimes, when, most weary of the world,
My Soul was looking forth at dead of night,
I saw the neighbouring dwelling brightly lit,
The happy windows flooded full of light,
As if a feast was being held within.
Yet were there passing flashes, random gleams,
Low sounds, from the inhabitant divine
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 87
I knew not ; and I shrunk from some of these
In a mysterious pain. At last, Beloved,
The frail fair mansion where that spirit dwelt
Totter'd and trembled, thro' the wondrous flesh
A dim sick glimmer from the fire within
Grew fainter, fainter. " I am going away,"
The Spirit seemed to cry ; and as it cried,
Stood still and dim and very beautiful
Up in the windows of the eyes there lingeiM,
First seen, last seen, a moment, silently
So different, more beautiful tenfold
Than all that I had dreamed I sobbed aloud
" Stay ! stay ! " but at the one despairing word
The spirit faded, from the hearth within
The dim fire died with one last quivering
gleam
The house became a ruin ; and I moaned
" God help me ! 'twas herself that look'd at me !
First seen ! I never knew her face before ! . .
Too late ! too late ! too late ! "
THE BOOK OF ORM.
. . . Yea, from my forehead
Kiss the dark fantasy !
Tenderly, clingingly,
Mingle to one !
Is not this language ?
Music and memory,
Rapture and dream ?
O in the dewy-bright
Day-dawn of love,
Is it not wondrous,
Blush-red with roses,
The beautiful, mystical
House of the Soul !
Lo in mine innermost
Chambers is floating
Soft perfume and music
That tremble from thee. . .
Ah, but what faces
Are these, that look forth ?
THE SOUL AND THE DWELLING. 89
... Sit still, Beloved, while I search thy looks
For memories. O thou art beautiful !
Crowned with silken gold, soft amber tints
Coming and going on thy peach-hued flesh,
Thy breath a perfume, thy blue eyes twain stars
Thy lips like dewy rosebuds to the eye,
Tho' living to the touch. O royal abode,
Flooded with music, light, and precious scent,
Curtained soft with subtle mystery !
Nay, stir not, but gaze on, still and serene,
Possessing me with thy superb still sweep
Of eyes ineffable sit still, my queen,
And let me, clinging on thee, court the ways
Wherein I know thee. Nay, even now, Beloved,
When all the world like some vast tidal wave
Withdraws and leaves us on a golden shore
Alone together when thou most art mine
When the winds blow for us, and the soft stars
Are shining for us, where we dream apart,
Now our two dwellings in a dizzy hour
90 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Have mingled their foundations, clinging thus
And hungering round thee in mine ecstasy,
Beloved, do I know thee ? Hath my Soul
Spoken to thine the imperial speech of Souls,
Perfect in meaning and in melody ?
Tell me, Beloved, while thou sittest so,
Mine own, my queen, my palace of delights,
What lights are these that pass and come again
Within thee ? Is the Spirit looking forth,
Or is it but the glittering gleams of time
Playing on vacant windows ? Can I swear
Thou thinkest of me now at all ? Behold
Now all thy beauty is suffused with brightness
Thou blushest and thou smilest. Tell me true,
Thou then wast far within, and with that cry
I woke thee out of dream. O speak to me !
Soul's speech, Beloved ! Do not smile that way-
A flood of brightness issues from thy door,
But mine is scarcely bright. Lovest thou me,
Beloved, my beloved ? Soul beloved,
THE SOUL AND' THE DWELLING. 9 1
Do I possess thee ? Sight and scent and touch
Are insufficient. Open ! let me in
To the strange chambers I have never seen !
Heart of the rose, unopen ! or I die !
V.
SONGS OF SEEKING.
Songs of Seeking, day by day
Sung while -wearying on the way,
Feeble cries of one -who knows
Nor whence he comes, nor whither goes,
Yet of his own free will doth wear
The bloody Cross of those who fare
Upward and in sad accord,
The footsore Seekers of the Lord.
V.
SONGS OF SEEKING.
i.
THOU whose ears incline unto my singing,
Woman or man, thou surely bearest thy burden,
And I who sing, and all men, bear their burdens.
Even as a meteor-stone from suns afar,
1 fell unto the ways of life and breathed,
Wherefore to much on earth I feel a stranger.
I found myself in a green norland valley,
A place of gleaming waters and gray heavens,
And weirdly woven colours in the air.
A basin round whose margin rose the mountains
Green-based, snow-crown'd, and windy saeters midway,
And the thin line of a spire against the mountains.
96 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Around were homes of peasants rude and holy,
Who look'd upon the mountains and the forests,
On the waters, on the vapours, without wonder ;
Who, happy in their labours six days weekly,
Were happy on their knees upon the seventh.
But I wonder'd, being strange, and was not happy.
For I cried : " O Thou Unseen, how shall I praise
Thee
How shall I name Thee glorious whom I know not
If Thou art as these say, I scarce conceive thee.
" Unfold to me the image of Thy features,
Come down upon my heart, that I may know Thee ;"
And I made a song of seeking, on a mountain.
SONGS OF SEEKING. 97
II.
QUEST.
As in the snowy stillness,
Where the stars shine greenly
In a mirror of ice,
i
The Reindeer abideth alone,
And speedeth swiftly
From her following shadow
In the moon,
I speed for ever
From the mystic shape
That my life projects,
And my soul perceives ;
And I loom for ever
Through desolate regions
Of wondrous thought,
And I fear the thing
That follows me,
And cannot escape it
Night or day.
98 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Doth Thy winged lightning
Strike, O Master !
The timid Reindeer ,
Flying her shade ?
Will Thy wrath pursue me,
Because I cannot
Escape the shadow
Of the thing I am ?
I have pried and pondered,
I have agonized,
I have sought to find Thee,
Yet still must roam,
Affrighted, fleeing Thee,
Chased by the shadow
Of the thing I am,
Through desolate regions
Of wondrous thought !
SONGS OF SEEKING. 99
III.
THE HAPPY EARTH.
Sweet, sweet it was to sit in leafy Forests,
In a green darkness, and to hear the stirring
Of strange breaths hither and thither in the branches ;
And sweet it was to sail on crystal Waters,
Between the dome above and the dome under,
The Hills above me, and the Hills beneath me ;
And sweet it was to watch the wondrous Lightning
Spring flashing at the earth, and slowly perish
Under the falling of the summer Rain.
I loved all grand and gentle and strange things,
The wind-flower at the tree-root, and the white cloud,
^The strength of Mountains, and the power of Waters.
And unto me all seasons utter'd pleasure :
Spring, standing startled, listening to the skylark,
The wild flowers from her lap unheeded falling ;
100 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And Summer, in her gorgeous loose apparel ;
And Autumn, with her dreamy silver eyebrows ;
And Winter, with his white hair blown about him.
Yea, everywhere there stirred a deathless beauty,
A gleaming and a flashing into change,
An under-stream of sober consecration.
Yet nought endured, but all the glory faded,
And power and sweet and sorrow were interwoven ;
There was no single presence of the Spirit.
SONGS OF SEEKING.
IV.
O UNSEEN ONE !
Because Thou art beautiful,
Because Thou art mysterious,
Because Thou art strong,
Or because Thou art pitiless,
Shall my soul worship Thee,
O thou Unseen One ?
As men bow to monarchs,
As slaves to their owners,
Shall I bow to Thee ?
As one that is fearful,
As one that is insolent,
Shall I pray to Thee ?
Wert Thou a demigod,
Wert Thou an angel,
Lip-worship might serve ;
102 THE BOOK OF ORM.
To Thee, most beautiful,
Wondrous, mysterious,
How shall it avail ?
Thou art not a demigod,
Thou art not a monarch,
Why should I bow to Thee ?
I am not fearful,
I am not insolent,
Why should I pray to Thee ?
t
Spirit of mountains !
Strong Master of Waters !
Strange Shaper of clouds !
When these things worship Thee,
1 too will worship Thee,
O Maker of Men !
SONGS OF SEEKING. 103
V.
WORLD'S MYSTERY.
The World was wondrous round me God's green
World
A world of gleaming waters and green places,
And weirdly woven colours in the air.
Yet evermore a trouble did pursue me
A hunger for the wherefore of my being,
A wonder from what regions I had fallen.
I gladdened in the glad things of the World,
Yet crying always, " Wherefore, and oh, wherefore ?
What am I? Wherefore doth the world seem
happy ? "
I saddened in the sad things of the World,
Yet crying, " Wherefore are men bruised and beaten ?
Whence do I grieve and gladden to no end ? "
104 THE BOOK OF ORM.
VI.
THE CITIES.
I took my staff and wandered o'er the mountains,
And came among the heaps of gold and silver,
The gorgeous desolation of the Cities.
My trouble grew tenfold when I beheld
The agony and burden of my fellows,
The pains of sick men and the groans of hungry.
I saw the good man tear his hair and weep ;
I saw the bad man tread on human necks
Prospering and blaspheming ; and I wondered.
The silken-natured woman was a bond-slave ;
The gross man foul'd her likeness in high places ;
The innocent were heart-wrung ; and I wondered.
The gifts of earth are given to the base ;
The monster of the Cities spurned the martyr ;
The martyr died, denying ; and I wondered.
SONGS OF SEEKING. 105
VII.
THE PRIESTS.
Three Priests in divers vestments passed and
whispered :
" Worship the one God, stranger, or thou diest ;
Yea, worship, or thy tortures shall be endless."
I cried, "Which God, O wise ones, must I
worship ? "
And neither answer'd, but one showed a Picture,
A fair Man dying on a Cross of wood.
And this one said, " The others err, O stranger !
Repent, and love thy brother, 'tis enough !
The Doom of Dooms is only for the wicked."
I turned and cried unto him, " Who is wicked ? "
He vanish'd, and within a house beside me
I heard a hard man bless his little children.
106 THE BOOK OF ORM.
My heart was full of comfort for the wicked,
Mine eyes were cleared with love, and everywhere
The wicked wore a piteousness like starlight.
I felt my spirit foul with misconceivings,
I thought of old transgressions and was humble,
I cried : " O God, whose doom is on the wicked !
" Thou art not He for whom my being hungers !
The Spirit of the grand things and the gentle,
The strength of mountains and the power of waters ! "
And lo ! that very night I had a Vision.
SONGS OF SEEKING. 107
VIII.
THE LAMB OF GOD.
I.
I saw in a vision of the night
The Lamb of God, and it was white ;
White as snow it wander'd thro'
Silent fields of harebell-blue,
Still it wandering fed, and sweet
Flower'd the stars around its feet.
2.
I heard in vision a strange voice
Cry aloud, " Rejoice ! rejoice !
Dead men rise and come away,
Now it is the Judgment Day ! "
And I heard the host intone
Round the footstool of the Throne.
3-
Then the vision pained my sight,
All I saw became so bright
I08 THE BOOK OF ORM.
All the Souls of men were there,
All the Angels of the air ;
God was smiling on His seat,
And the Lamb was at His feet.
4-
Then I heard a voice " 'Tis done !
Blest be those whom God hath won ! "
And the loud hosannah grew,
And the golden trumpets blew,
And around the place of rest
Rose the bright mist of the Blest.
5-
Then suddenly I saw again,
Bleating like a thing in pain,
The Lamb of God ; and all in fear
Gazed and cried as it came near,
For on its robe of holy white
Crimson blood-stains glimmer'd bright.
SONGS OF SEEKING. 1 09
6.
O the vision of the night !
The Lamb of God ! the blood-stains bright !
In quiet waters of the skies
It bathed itself with piteous eyes
Vainly on its raiment fell
Cleansing dews ineffable !
7- v
All the while it cried for pain,
It could not wash away the stain
All the gentle blissful sky
Felt the trouble of its cry
All the streams of silver sheen
Sought it vain to make it clean.
Where'er it went along the skies
The Happy turned away their eyes ;
110 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Where'er it past from shore to shore
All wept for those whose blood it bore
Its piteous cry filled all the air,
Till the dream was more than I could bear.
9-
And in the darkness of my bed
Weeping I awakened
In the silence of the night,
Dying softly from my sight,
Melted that pale Dream of pain
Like a snow-flake from my brain.
SONGS OF SEEKING. Ill
IX.
DOOM.
Master, if there be Doom,
All men are bereaven !
If, in the universe,
One Spirit receive the curse,
Alas for Heaven !
If there be Doom for one,
Thou, Master, art undone.
Were I a Soul in heaven,
Afar from pain,
Yea, on Thy breast of snow,
At the scream of one below
I should scream again.
Art Thou less piteous than
The conception of a Man ?
THE BOOK OF ORM.
X.
GOD'S DREAM.
I hear a voice, " How should God pardon sin ?
How should He save the sinner with the sin-
less?
That would be ill : the Lord my God is just."
Further I hear, " How should God pardon lust ?
How should He comfort the adulteress ?
That would be foul : the Lord my God is pure."
Further I hear, " How should God pardon blood ?
How should the murtherer have a place in heaven
Beside the innocent life he took away ? "
And God is on His throne ; and in a dream
Sees mortals making figures out of clay,
Shapen like men, and calling them God's angels.
SONGS OF SEEKING. 113
And sees the shapes look up into His eyes,
Exclaiming, " Thou dost ill to save this man;
Damn Thou this woman, and curse this cut-throat,
Lord ! "
God dreams this, and His dreaming is the world ;
And thou and I are dreams within His dream ;
And nothing dieth God hath dreamt or thought.
114 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XI.
FLOWER OF THE WORLD.
Wherever men sinned and wept,
I wandered in my quest ;
At last in a Garden of God
I saw the Flower of the World.
This Flower had human eyes,
Its breath was the breath of the mouth ;
Sunlight and starlight came,
And the Flower drank bliss from both.
Whatever was base and unclean,
Whatever was sad and strange,
Was piled around its roots ;
It drew its strength from the same.
Whatever was formless and base
Pass'd into fineness and form ;
SONGS OF SEEKING. 115
Whatever was lifeless and mean
Grew into beautiful bloom.
Then I thought, " O Flower of the World !
Miraculous Blossom of things,
Light as a faint wreath of snow
Thou tremblest to fall in the wind.
" O beautiful Flower of the World,
Fall not nor wither away ;
He is coming He cannot be far
The Lord of the Flow'rs and the Stars.
And I cried, " O Spirit divine !
That walkest the Garden unseen,
Come hither, and bless, ere it dies,
The beautiful Flower of the World."
Il6 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XII.
O SPIRIT !
Weary with seeking, weary with long waiting,
I fell upon my knees, and wept, exclaiming,
" O Spirit of the grand things and the gentle !
" Thou hidest from our seeking Thou art crafty
Thou wilt not let our hearts admit Thee wholly
But believing hath a core of unbelieving
" A coward dare not look upon Thy features,
But museth in a cloud of misconceiving ;
The bravest man's conception is a coward's.
"Wherefore, O wherefore, art Thou veil'd and hidden ?
The world were well, and wickedness were over,
If Thou upon Thy throne were one thing certain."
And lo ! that very night I had a Vision.
VI.
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL.
Thou who the Face Divine wouldst see,
Think, couldst thou bear the sight, and be I
O waves of life and thought and dream,
Darkening in one mysterious Stream,
Flow on, flow loudly ; nor become
A glassy Mirror sad and dumb,
Whereon for evermore might shine
The dread peace of the Face Divine !
Children of earth whose spirits fail,
Revere the Face, but bless the Veil !
VI.
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL.
i.
ORM'S VISION.
MY Soul had a vision,
And in my Soul's vision
The Veil was lifted,
And the Face was there !
There was no portent
Of fire or thunder,
The wind was sleeping,
And above and under
All things lookt fair.
And the change came softly
Unaware :
120 THE BOOK OF ORM.
On a golden morrow
The Veil was lifted,
And yea ! the ineffable Face was then
My Soul saw the vision
From a silent spot
Nay, of its likeness
Ask me not
How should my Soul fathom
The formless features ?
Gaze at the Master
How should it dare ?
Only I flutter'd
To my knees and mutter'd
A moan, a prayer
Silent, ineffable,
Gazing downward,
The Face was there !
This let me whisper :
It stirred not, changed not
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 121
Tho' the world stood still, amazed ;
But the Eyes within it,
Like the eyes of a painted picture,
Met and followed
The eyes of each that gazed.
122 THE BOOK OF ORM.
II.
THE FACE AND THE WORLD.
Then my Soul heard a voice
Crying" Wander forth
O'er hill and valley,
O'er the earth
Behold the mortals
How they fare
Now the great Father
Grants their prayer j
Now every spirit
Of mortal race,
Since the Veil is lifted,
Beholds the Face !
I awoke my body,
And up the mountains,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 123
With the sweet sun shining,
I wander'd free
And the hills were pleasant,
Knee-deep in heather,
And the yellow eagle
Wheel'd over me
And the streams were flowing,
And the lambs were leaping
Merrily !
But on the hill-tops
The shepherds gather'd,
Up-gazing dreamily
Into the silent air,
And close beside them
The eagle butcher'd
The crying lambkin,
But they did not see, nor care.
I saw the white flocks of the shepherds,
124 T HE BOOK OF ORM.
Like snow wind-lifted and driven,
Blow by, blow by !
And the terrible wolves behind them,
As wild as the winds, pursuing
With a rush and a tramp and a cry
I passed the places
Of ice and snow,
And I saw a Hunter
Lying frozen,
His eyes were sealed
He did not know ;
Drinking his heart's-blood,
Not looking upward,
Sat the soot-black raven
And the corby crow.
Then I knew they linger'd,
Tho' the Veil was lifted,
Death and Decay,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 125
And my Spirit was heavy
As I turned away ;
But my Spirit was brighter
As I saw below me
The glassy Ocean
Glimmering,
With a white sail dipping
Against the azure
Like a sea-bird's wing
And all look'd pleasant,
On sea and land,
The white cloud brooding,
And the white sail dipping,
And the village sitting
On the yellow sand.
And beside the waters
My Soul saw the fishers
Staring upward,
With dumb desire,
126 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Tho' a mile to seaward,
With the gulls pursuing,
Shot past the herring
With a trail like fire ;
Tho' the mighty Sea-snake
With her young was stranded
In the fatal shallows
Of the shingly bay
Tho' their bellies hunger'd,
What cared they ?
Hard by I noted
Little children,
Toddling and playing
In a field o' hay
The Face was looking,
But they were gazing
At one another,
And what cared they ?
But one I noted,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 127
A little Maiden,
Look'd up o' sudden
And ceased her play,
And she dropt her garland
And stood upgazing,
With hair like sunlight,
And face like clay.
All was rcost quiet
In the air,
Save the children's voices
And the cry of dumb beasts,
'Twas a weary Sabbath
Everywhere
Each soul an eyeball,
Each face a stare ;
And I left the place,
And I wander'd free,
And the Eyes of the Face
Still followed me !
128 THE BOOK OF ORM.
At the good Priest's cottage
The gray-hair'd grandsire
Lay stiff in the garden
For his Soul had fled
And I cried in passing,
" Oh ye within there,
Come forth in sorrow
And bury your dead."
With his flock around him
Praying bareheaded,
The pale Priest, kneeling
All gaunt and gray,
Answer'd, " Look upward !
Leave the dead to heaven !
God is yonder !
Behold, and pray ! "
I was sick at heart
To hear and see,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 1 29
And to feel the Face
Still following me.
And all seemed darkening,
And my heart sank down,
As I saw afar off
A mighty Town
When with no warning,
Slowly and softly
The beautiful Face withdrew,
And the whole world darken'd,
And the silence deepen'd,
And the Veil fell downward
With a silver glimmer of dew.
And I was calmer
As, slowly and sweetly,
Gather'd above me
Mysterious Light on Light,
And weary with watching
I lay and slumber'd
130 THE BOOK OF ORM.
In the mellow stillness
Of the blessed night.
. . When my Soul awaken'd
In the lonely place,
The Veil was lifted,
And, behold ! the Face
And sick, heart-weary,
Onward I ran,
Thro' fields of harvest
Where the wheat hung wither'd,
Unreapt by man ;
And a ragged Idiot
Went gibbering gaily
Among the wheat,
In moist palms rubbing
The ears together ;
And he laugh'd, and beckon'd
That I should eat.
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 131
At the city gateway
The Sentinels gather'd,
Fearful and drunken
With eyes like glass
Look up they dared not,
Lest, to their terror,
Some luminous Angel
Of awe should pass;
And my Soul passed swiftly
With a prayer,
And entered the City :
Still and awful
Were street and square.
'Twas a piteous Sabbath
Everywhere
Each soul an eyeball,
Each face a stare.
In pale groups gather'd
The Citizens,
132 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The rich and poor men,
The lords, the lepers
From their loathsome dens.
There was no traffic,
The heart of the City
Stood silently ;
How could they barter,
How could they traffic,
With the terrible Eyes to see.
Nay ! each man brooded
On the Face alone,
Each Soul was an eyeball,
Each Shape was a stone ;
And I saw the faces,
And some were glad,
And some were pensive,
And some were mad ;
But in all places,
Hall, street, and lane,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 133
'Twas a frozen pleasure,
A frozen pain.
I passed the bearers
Of a sable bier,
They had dropt their burthen
To gaze in fear ;
From under the trappings
Of the death-cloth grand,
With a ring on the finger,
Glimmer'd the corpse's
Decaying hand.
I passed the bridal,
Clad bright and gay,
Frozen to marble
Upon its way.
Freely I wandered
Everywhere
134 THE BOOK OF ORM.
No mortal heeded
The passing footstep,
Palace and hovel
Were free as the mountain air.
Aye ! softly I enter'd
The carven court of stone,
And the fountains were splashing,
And the pale King sitting
Upon his jewell'd throne
And before him gather'd
The Frail and Sickly,
The Poor and Old ;
And he open'd great coffers,
And gave thence freely
Fine gear and gold,
Saying, " Tis written,
Who giveth freely
Shall in sooth be blessed
Twenty-fold !"
But he look'd not upward,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 135
And seem'd unconscious
Of the strange Eyes watching
O'er sea and land ;
Yet his eyelids quiver'd,
And his eyes looked sidelong,
And he hid in his bosom
A blood-stained hand ;
But the beggar people
Let the gold and raiment
Lie all unheeded ;
While with no speech,
Upward they lifted
Their wild pale features,
For the Face was mirror'd
In the eyes of each.
With the Face pursuing
I wandered onward,
Heart-sick, heart-sore,
And entered the fretted
136 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Cathedral door ;
And I found the people
Huddled together,
Hiding their faces
In shame and sin,
For thro' the painted
Cathedral windows
The Eyes of Wonder
Were looking in !
And on the Altar
The wild Priest, startled,
Was gazing round him
With sickly stare,
And his limbs were palsied,
And he moaned for mercy
More wonder-stricken
Than any there.
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 137
" My Soul, how fares it,
This day, with thee?
Art thou contented
To live and see,
Or were it better
Not to be ? "
And my pale Soul whisper'd :
" Like a band that holdeth
And keepeth from growing
A goodly tree,
A terror hath me
I feel not, stir not
'Twere surely better
Not to be ! "
Then a rush of visions
Went wildly by
My Soul beheld the marble World,
And the luminous Face on high.
138 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And methought, affrighted,
That the mortal race
Build cover'd cities
To hide the Face ;
And gather'd their treasures
Of silver and gold,
And sat amid them
In caverns cold ;
And ever nightly,
When the Face of Wonder
Withdrew from man,
Many started,
And hideous revel
Of the dark began.
And men no longer
Knew the common sorrow,
The common yearning,
The common love,
But each man's features
Were turn'd to marble,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL. 139
Changelessly watching
The Face above
A nameless trouble
Was in the air
The heart of the World
Had no pulsation
'Twas a piteous Sabbath
Evervwhere !
140 THE BOOK OF ORM.
III.
ORM'S AWAKENING.
/ awoke.
And rising,
My Soul look'd forth
'Twas the dewy darkness,
And the Veil was glittering
Over the earth \
But afar off eastward
The Dawn was glimmering,
All silver pale,
And slowly fading
With a mystic tremor,
The Lights gleam'd beautiful
In the wondrous Veil.
Yea, Dawn came cheerly,
And the hill-tops brighten'd,
THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL.
And the shepherds shouted,
And a trumpet blew,
And the misty Ocean
Caught silver tremors,
With the brown-sail'd fish-boats
Glimmering thro'
And the City murmur'd
As I ran unto it,
And my heart was merry,
And my fears were few ;
And singing gaily
The lark rose upward,
Its brown wings gleaming
With the morning dew !
VII.
CORUISKEN SONNETS.
Late in the gloaming of the year,
Ornt haunts the melancholy Mere,
A phantom he, ivhere phantoms brood,
In that soul-searching solitude.
To the cold Spirit far away
He prayeth, ail an autumn day.
VII.
CORUISKEN SONNETS.
i.
LORD, IS IT THOU?
LORD, is it Thou ? God, do I touch indeed
Thy raiment hem, that melts like vapour dark ?
O homeless Spirit, that fleest us in our need,
Pause ! answer ! while I kneel, remain and mark. . .
Father .' . . Ere back they bear me, cold and stark,
Across Thy darken'd threshold, ere I plead
For love no longer, pity me, and heark !
Surviving the long tale of craft and creed,
The gaunt Hills gather round me, dumb and grey,
The Waters utter their monotonous moan,
The immemorial Heavens, with no groan,
Bent sweet eyes down, as on their natal day :
Cold are all these as clay, and still as stone ;
But 7 have found a voice, and I will pray.
146 THE BOOK OF ORM.
II.
WE ARE FATHERLESS.
I found Thee not by the starved widow's bed,
Nor in the sick-rooms where my dear ones died ;
In Cities vast I hearken'd for Thy tread,
And heard a thousand call Thee, wretched-eyed,
Worn out, and bitter. But the Heavens denied
Their melancholy Maker. From the Dead
Assurance came, nor answer. Then I fled
Into these wastes, and raised my hands, and cried :
" The seasons pass the sky is as a pall
Thin wasted hands on withering hearts we press
There is no God in vain we plead and call,
In vain with weary eyes we search and guess
Like children in an empty house sit all,
Cast-away children, lorn and fatherless."
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 147
III.
WE ARE CHILDREN.
Children indeed are we children that wait
Within a wondrous dwelling, while on high
Stretch the sad vapours and the homeless sky ;
The House is fair, yet all is desolate
Because our Father comes not ; clouds of fate
Sadden above us shivering we hear
The passing rain, the wind that shakes the gate,
And cry to one another " He is near !"
At early morning, with a shining Face,
He left us innocent and lily-crown'd ;
And now 'tis late night cometh on apace
We hold each other's hands and look around,
Frighted at our own shades ! Heaven send us grace !
When He returns, all will be sleeping sound.
148 THE BOOK OF ORM.
X IV.
WHEN WE ARE ALL ASLEEP.
When He returns, and finds all sleeping here
Some old, some young, some fair, and some not fair,
Will He stoop down and whisper in each ear
" Awaken ! " or for pity's sake forbear,
Saying, " How shall I meet their frozen stare
Of wonder, and their eyes so woebegone ?
How shall I comfort them in their despair,
If they cry out ' too late ! let us sleep on ?' "
Perchance He will not wake us up, but when
He sees us look so happy in our rest,
Will murmur, " Poor dead women and dead men !
Dire was their doom, and weary was their quest.
Wherefore awake them unto life again ?
Let them sleep on untroubled it is best."
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 149
V.
BUT THE HILLS WILL BEAR WITNESS.
But ye, ye Hills that gather round this day,
Ye Mountains, and ye Vapours, and ye Waves,
Ye will attest the wrongs of men of clay,
When, in a World all hush'd, sits on our graves
The melancholy Maker. From your caves
Strange echoes of our old lost life shall come ;
With still eyes fixed on your vast architraves,
Xature shall speak, tho' mortal lips be dumb.
Then God will cry : " Sadly the Waters fall,
Sadly the Mountains keep their snowy state,
The Clouds pass on, the Winds and Echoes call,
The World is sweet, yet wearily I wait.
Tho' all is fair, and I am Lord of all,
Without my Children I am desolate."
150 THE BOOK OF ORM.
VI.
DESOLATE !
Desolate ! How the Peaks of ashen grey,
The smoky Mists that drift from hill to hill,
The Waters dark, anticipate this day
That sullen desolation. O how still
The shadows come and vanish, with no will !
How still the melancholy Waters lie
How still the vapours of the under-sky
/
Mirror'd below, drift onward, and fulfil
Thy mandate as they mingle ! Not a sound,
Save that deep murmur of a torrent near,
Deepening silence. Hush ! the dark profound
Groans, as some grey crag loosens and falls sheer
To the abyss. Wildly I look around.
O Spirit of the Human, art Thou here ?
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 151
VII.
LORD, ART THOU HERE ?
Lord, art Thou here ? far from the busy crowd,
Brooding in melancholy solitude ;
Darkening Thy visage with a thunder-cloud,
Holding Thy breath, if mortal foot intrude.
Father, how shall I 'meet Thee in this mood ?
How shall I ask Thee why Thou dwell'st with stones,
While far away the world, like Lazarus, groans,
Sick for Thy healing. Father, if Thou be'st good,
And wise, and gentle, O come down, come down !
Come like an Angel with a human face,
Pass thro' the gates into the hungry Town,
Comfort the weary, send the afflicted grace,
Shine brighter on the Graves where we lay down
Our dear ones, cheer them in the narrow place !
152 THE BOOK OF ORM.
VIII. ^
GOD IS BEAUTIFUL.
O Thou art beautiful ! and Thou dost bestow
Thy beauty on this stillness still as sheep
The Hills lie under Thee ; the Waters deep
Murmur for joy of Thee ; the voids below
Mirror Thy strange fair Vapours as they flow ;
And now, afar upon the ashen height,
Thou sendest down a radiant look of light,
So that the still Peaks glisten, and a glow
Rose-colour'd tints the little snowy cloud
That poises on the highest peak of all.
O Thou art beautiful ! the Hills are bowed
Beneath Thee; on Thy name the soft Winds call-
The monstrous Ocean trumpets it aloud,
The Rains and Snows intone it as they fall.
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 153
IX.
THE MOTION OF THE MISTS.
.Here by the sunless Lake there is no air,
Yet with how ceaseless motion, with how strange
Flowing and fading, do the high Mists range
The gloomy gorges of the Mountains bare.
Some weary breathing never ceases there,
The ashen peaks can feel it hour by hour ;
The purple depths are darken'd by its power ;
A soundless breath, a trouble all things share
That feel it come and go. See ! onward swim
The ghostly Mists, from silent land to land,
From gulf to gulf; now the whole air grows dim
Like living men, darkling a space, they stand.
But lo ! a Sunbeam, like a Cherubim,
Scatters them onward with a flaming brand.
154 THE BOOK OF ORM.
X.
CORUISK.
I think this is the very stillest place
On all God's earth, and yet no rest is here.
The Vapours mirror' d in the black loch's face
Drift on like frantic shapes and disappear;
A never-ceasing murmur in mine ear
Tells me of Waters wild that flow and flow.
There is no rest at all afar or near,
Only a sense of things that moan and go.
And lo ! the still small life these limbs contain
I feel flows on like those, restless and proud ;
Before that breathing nought within my brain
Pauses, but all drifts on like mist and cloud ;
Only the bald Peaks and the Stones remain,
Frozen before Thee, desolate and bowed.
CORUISKEX SONNETS. 155
XI.
BUT WHITHER?
And whither, O ye Vapours ! do ye wend ?
Stirred by that weary breathing, whither away ?
And whither, O ye Dreams ! that night and day
Drift o'er the troublous life, tremble, and blend
To broken lineaments of that far Friend,
Whose strange breath's come and go ye feel so deep ?
O Soul ! that hast no rest and seekest sleep,
Whither ? and will thy wanderings ever end ?
All things that be are full of a quick pain ;
Onward we fleet, swift as the running rill,
The vapours drift, the mists within the brain
Float on obscuringly and have no will.
Only the bare Peaks and the Stones remain ;
These only, and a God sublime and still.
156 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XII.
GOD IS PITILESS.
O Thou art pitiless ! They call Thee Light,
Law, Justice, Love ; but Thou art pitiless.
What thing of earth is precious in Thy sight,
But weary waiting on and soul's distress ?
When dost Thou come with glorious hands to bless
The good man that dies cold for lack of Thee ?
When bring'st Thou garlands for our happiness ?
Whom dost Thou send but Death to set us free ?
Blood runs like wine foul spirits sit and rule
The weak are crushed in every street and lane
He who is generous becomes the fool
Of all the world, and gives his life in vain.
Wert Thou as good as Thou art beautiful,
Thou couldst not bear to look upon such pain.
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 157
XIII.
YEA, PITILESS.
Yea, Thou art pitiless Thou dost permit
The Priest to use Thee as a hangman's cord
Thou proppest up the Layman's shallow wit,
Driving the Beggar from the laden board,
Thou art the easy text of those who hoard
Their gifts in secret chests for Death to see.
" Mighty and strong and glorious is the Lord ! "
The Prophet cries, gone mad for lack of Thee ;
While good men dying deem thy grace a dream,
While sick men wail for Thee and mad blaspheme,
A thousand forms of Thee the foolish preach
Fair stretch Thy temples over all the lands,
In each of these some barbarous Image stands,
And men grow atheists in the shrine of each.
158 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XIV.
COULD GOD BE JUDGED !
Can I be calm, beholding everywhere
Disease and Anguish busy, early and late ?
Can I be silent, nor compassionate
The evils that both Soul and Body bear ?
O what have sickly Children done, to share
Thy cup of sorrows ? yet their dull, sad pain
Makes the earth awful ; on the tomb's dark stair
Moan Idiots, with no glimmer in the brain.
No shrill Priest with his hangman's cord can beat
Thy mercy into these ah nay, ah nay !
The Angels Thou hast sent to haunt the street
Are Hunger and Distortion and Decay.
Lord ! that mad'st Man, and send'st him foes so fleet,
Who shall judge Thee upon Thy judgment-day ?
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 159
XV.
THE HILLS ON THEIR THRONES.
Ghostly and livid, robed with shadow, see !
Each mighty Mountain silent on its throne,
From foot to scalp one stretch of livid stone,
Without one gleam of grass or greenery.
Silent they take the immutable decree
Darkness or sunlight come, they do not stir ;
Each bare brow lifted desolately free,
Keepeth the silence of a death-chamber.
Silent they watch each other until doom ;
They see each other's phantoms come and go,
Yet stir not. Now the stormy hour brings gloom,
Now all things grow confused and black below,
Specific through the cloudy Drift they loom,
And each accepts his individual woe.
l6o THE BOOK OF QRM.
XVI. ^
KING BLAABHEIN.
Monarch of these is Blaabhein. On his height
The lightning and the snow sleep side by side,
Like snake and lamb \ he broodeth in a white
And wintry consecration. All his pride
Is husht this dimly-gleaming autumn day
He thinketh of the things he hath beheld
Beneath his feet the Rains crawl still and grey,
Like phantoms of the mighty men of eld ;
A quiet awe the dreadful heights doth fill,
The high clouds pause and brood above their King ;
The torrent murmurs gently as a rill ;
Softly and low the winds are murmuring ;
A small black speck above the snow, how still
Hovers the Eagle, with no stir of wing !
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 161
XVII.
BLAABHEIN IN THE MISTS.
Watch but a moment all is changed ! A moan
Breaketh the beauty of that noonday dream ;
The hoary Titan darkens on his throne,
And with an indistinct and senile scream
Gazes at the wild Rains as past they stream,
Thro' vaporous air wild-blowing on his brow ;
All black, from scalp to base there is no gleam,
Even his silent snows are faded now.
Watch yet ! and yet ! Behold, and all is done
'Twas but the shallow shapes that come and go.
Troubling the mimic picture in the eye.
Still and untroubled sits the kingly one.
Yonder the Eagle floats there sleeps the Snow
Against the pale green of the cloudless sky.
M
162 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XVIII.
THE FIERY BIRTH OF THE HILLS.
O hoary Hills, tho' ye look aged, ye
Are but the children of a latter time
Methinks I see ye in that hour sublime
When from the hissing cauldron of the Sea
Ye were upheaven, while so terribly
The Clouds boiled, and the Lightning scorched ye
bare.
Wild, new-born, blind, Titans in agony,
Ye glared at heaven through folds of fiery hair ! . .
Then, in an instant, while ye trembled thus
A Hand from heaven, white and luminous,
Pass'd o'er your brows, and husht your fiery breath.
Lo ! one by one the still Stars gather'd round,
The great Deep glass'd itself, and with no sound
A cold Snow glimmering fell, and all was still as
death.
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 163
XIX.
THE CHANGELESS HILLS.
'
All power, all virtue, is repression ye
Are stationary, and God keeps ye great ;
Around your heads the fretful winds play free ;
Ye change not ye are calm and desolate.
What seems to us a trouble and a fate,
Is but the loose fog streaming from your feet
And drifting onward early ye sit and late,
While unseen Winds waft past the things that fleet.
So sit for ever, still and passionless
As He that made ye thought and soul's distress
Ye know not, though ye contemplate the strife ;
Better to share the Spirit's bitterest aches
Better to be the weakest Wave that breaks
On a wild Ocean of mysterious Life.
164 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XX.
O MOUNTAIN PEAK OF A GOD.
Father, if Thou imperturbable art,
Passive as these, lords of a lonely land
If, having laboured, Thou must sit apart
If having once open'd the void, and planned
This tragedy, Thou must impassive stand
Spectator of the scenic flow of things,
Then I a drop of dew, a grain of sand
Pity Thy lot, poor palsied King of Kings.
Better to fail and fail, to shriek and shriek,
Better to break, like any Wave, and go,
Impotent godhead, let Thy slave be weak !
Yea, do not freeze my Soul, but let it flow
O wherefore call to Thee, a mountain Peak
Impassive, beautiful, serene with snow ?
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 165
XXI.
GOD THE IMAGE.
Impassive, beautiful, and desolate,
Is this the Lord my God, whom I entreat ?
Powerless to stay the ravages of fate
Jove with his right hand palsied, Jove effete,
Fetter'd by frost upon a stony seat
O dreadful apparition ! Can this be ?
Yonder He looms, where never a heart doth beat,
In the cold ether of theology.
Come down ! come down ! O Souls that wander there !
Cold are the snows, chill is the dreadful air
Come down ! come down into the Valleys deep ;
Leave the wild Image to the stars, that rise
Around about it with affrighted eyes ;
Come to gre,en under-glooms, and sink, and sleep.
I 66 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXII.
THE FOOTPRINTS.
Come to green tinder-glooms, and in your hair
Weave nightshade, foxglove red, and rank wolfsbane,
And slumber and forget Him ; if in vain
Ye try to slumber off your sorrow there,
Arise once more and openly repair
To busy haunts where men and women sigh,
And if all things but echo back your care,
Cry out aloud, " There is no God ! " and die.
But if upon a day when all is dark,
Thou, stooping in the public ways, shalt mark
Strange luminous footprints as of feet that shine
Follow them ! follow them ! O soul bereaven !
God had a Son He hath pass'd that way to heaven ;
Follow, and look upon the Face divine !
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 167
XXIII.
WE ARE DEATHLESS.
Yet hear me, Mountains ! echo me, O Sea !
Murmur an answer, Winds, from out your caves ;
Cry loudly, Torrents, Mountains, Winds, and
Waves
Hark to my crying "all, and echo me
All things that live are deathless I and ye.
The Father could not slay us if he would ;
The elements in all their multitude
Will rise against their Master terribly,
If but one hair upon a human head
Should perish ! . . . Darkness grows on crag and
steep,
A hollow thunder fills the torrent's bed ;
The wild Mists moan and threaten as they creep ;
And hush ! now, when all other cries are fled,
The warning murmur of the white-hair'd Deep.
1 68 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXIV.
A VOICE IN THE WHIRLWIND.
I heard a Whirlwind on the mountain peak
Pause for a space its furious flight and cry
" There is no Death !" loudly it seemed to shriek ;
" Nothing that is, beneath the sun, shall die."
The frail sick Vapours echoed, drifting by
" There is no Death, but change early and late ;
Powerless were God's right Hand full arm'dwith fate,
To slay the meanest thing beneath the sky."
Yea, even as tremulous foam-bells on the sea,
Coming and going, are all things of breath ;
But evermore, deathless, and bright, and free,
We re-emerge, in spite of Change or Death.
Hearken, O Mountains ! Waters, echo me !
O wild Wind, echo what the Man-Wind saith !
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 169
XXV. *
CRY OF THE LITTLE BROOK.
Christ help me ! whither would my dark thoughts run !
I look around me, trembling fearfully ;
The dreadful silence of the Silent One
Freezes my lips, and all is sad to see.
Hark ! hark ! what small voice murmurs " God
made me I "
It is the Brooklet, singing all alone,
Sparkling with pleasure that is all its own,
And running, self-contented, sweet, and free.
O Brooklet, born where never grass is green,
Finding the stony hill and flowing fleet,
Thou comest as a Messenger serene,
With shining wings and silver-sandal'd feet ;
Faint falls thy music on a Soul unclean,
And, in a moment, all the World looks sweet !
1 70 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXVI. X
THE HAPPY HEARTS OF EARTH.
Whence thou hast come, thou knowest not, little
Brook,
Nor whither thou art bound. Yet wild and gay,
Pleased in thyself, and pleasing all that look,
Thou wendest, all the seasons, on thy way ;
The lonely glen grows gladsome with thy play,
Thou glidest lamb-like thro' the ghostly shade ;
To think of solemn things thou wast not made,
But to sing on, for pleasure, night and day.
Such happy hearts are wandering, crystal clear,
In the great world where men and women dwell ;
Earth's mighty shows they neither love nor fear,
They are content to be, while I rebel,
Out of their own delight dispensing cheer,
And ever softly whispering, " All is well ! "
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 171
XXVII.
FATHER, FORGIVE THY CHILD.
O sing, clear Brook, sing on, while in a dream
I feel the sweetness of the years go by !
The crags and peaks are softened now, and seem
Gently to sleep against the gentle sky ;
Old scenes and faces glimmer up and die,
With outlines of sweet thought obscured too long ;
Like boys that shout at play far voices cry
O sing ! for I am weeping at the song.
J know not what I am, but only know
I have had glimpses tongue may never speak ;
No more I balance human joy and woe,
But think of my transgressions, and am meek.
Father ! forgive the child who fretted so,
His proud heart yields, the tears are on his cheek !
172 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXVIII.
GOD'S LONELINESS.
When, in my strong affection, I have sought
To play at Providence with men of clay,
How hath my good come constantly to nought,
How hath my light and love been cast away,
How hath my light been light to lead astray,
How hath my love become of sorry worth,
How feeble hath been all my soul's essay
To aid one single man on all God's earth !
Father in Heaven, when I think these things,
Helpless Thou seemest to redeem our plight
Thy lamp shines on shut eyes each Spirit springs
To its own stature still in Thy despite
While haggard Nature round Thy footstool clings,
Pale, powerless, sitt'st Thou, in a Lonely Light.
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 173
XXIX.
THE CUP OF TEARS.
My God ! my God ! with passionate appeal,
Pardon I crave for these mad moods of mine,
Can I remember, with no heart to feel,
The gift of Thy dear Son, the Man Divine
My God ! what agonies of love were Thine,
Sitting alone, forgotten, on Thy height,
Pale, powerless, awful in that Lonely Light.
While 'neath Thy feet the cloudy hyaline
Rain'd blood upon the darkness, where Thine Own
Held the black Cup of all earth's tears, and cried !
Ev'n then, tho' Thou wert conscious of his groan,
Pale in that Lonely Light Thou didst abide,
Nor dared, even then, tho' shaken on Thy throne,
To reach Thy hand and dash the Cup aside.
174 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXX.
THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
On the dark waters of man's thought still gleams
Softly and silvernly, from night to night,
That starlike Legen(J, whose fair substance seems
Consuming in the melancholy light
It sheddeth. Father, do I see arigfit ?
Is it a truth or most divine of dreams ?
That He, Thy Child, walk'd once in raiment white
With mortal men, and mused by Syrian streams ?
O Life that puts our noblest life to shame,
Was it a Star, or light to lead astray ?
Thought's waves grow husht beneath that silvern flame,
Our hopes pursue it and our doubts obey ;
And whether truth or phantom, it became
The sweetest sphere that lights the World's black
way.
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 175
XXXI.
EARTH'S ELDEST BORN.
But He, the only One of mortal birth
Who raised the Veil and saw the Face behind,
While yet He wander'd footsore on the earth,
Beheld His Father's Eyes, that they were kind ;
Here in the dark I grope, confused, purblind,
I have not seen the glory and the peace,
But on the darken'd mirror of the mind
Strange glimmers fall, and shake me till they cease
Then, wondering, dazzled, on Thy name I call,
And, like a child, reach empty hands and moan,
And broken accents from my wild lips fall,
And I implore Thee in this human tone ;
If such as I can follow Him at all
Into Thy presence, 'tis by love alone.
176 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXXII.
WHAT SPIRIT COMETH ?
Who cometh wandering hither in my need ?
What gentle Ghost from Heaven cometh now ?
Oh, I am broken to the rod indeed
Father, my earthly father, is it thou ?
The stooping shape with piteous human brow,
The dear quaint gesture and the feeble pace,
The weary-eyed, world-worn, beloved face,
Ev'n as they wildly faded, meet me now.
A gentle voice flows softly, saying plain :
" From death comes light, from pain beatitude ;
Chide not at loss, for out of loss comes gain ;
Chide not at grief, for 'tis the Soul's best food
Out of my death-chamber, out of wrong and pain,
Cometh a life and odour. God is good."
CORUISKEN SONNETS. 177
XXXIII.
STAY, O SPIRIT !
Father, my earthly father, stay, O stay !
I know them wert a man as others be ;
Sore were thy feet upon the World's cold clay,
And thou didst stumble oft, and on thy knee
Knelt little ; but thy gentle heart gleamed free
In cloud and shadow, giving its best cheer j
Thou had'st an open hand, and laugh'd for glee
When happy men or creatures dumb played near ;
But in thy latter years God's scourge was sore
Upon thee weary were thy wrongs and dire,
Yet blessings on thee until all was o'er,
Cheery thou wert beside a cheerless fire
Till one red dawn the mark was on the door,
And thou wert dead to all the world's desire.
178 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XXXIV.
QUIET WATERS.
O Rainbow, Rainbow, on the livid height,
Softening its ashen outlines into dream,
Dewy yet brilliant, delicately bright
As pink wild-roses' leaves, why dost thou gleam
So beckoningly ? Whom dost thou invite
Still higher upward on the bitter quest?
What dost thou promise to the weary sight
In that strange region whence thou issuest ?
Speakest thou of pensive runlets by whose side
Our dear ones wander sweet and gentle-eyed,
In the soft dawn of a diviner Day ?
Art thou a promise ? Come those hues and dyes
From heavenly Meads, near which thou dost arise,
Iris'd from Quiet Waters, far away !
VIII.
THE CORUISKEN VISION;
r, the Jejjfitb of the
A phantom still, -where phantoms brood,
In that soul-searching solitude,
Orm read and pondered, line by line,
The Legend of the Book Divine.
Like to a tree above a brook,
His Spirit bent above the Book,
And shapes and faces in the stream
Went drifting by him dark -with dream
But ever as they blacken 1 d by
Came mirrored gleams of the blue sky . . .
Till, sooth? d to sleep by sound and sight,
Orm had a vision of the night,
Wherein, -with wild eyes upward bent,
The Book's dark Spirit came and went.
VIII.
THE CORUISKEN VISION;
fflr, the ^Ccgenl) at the ook.
The shore of the Lake of Coruisk. A starry night,
ORM.
CALM sleeps the lonely Water of the Waste,
The gentle going of a windy day
Hath left it quiet, and the dim-eyed Moon,
Whose phantom ploughs the silent gulfs beneath,
Misteth its sable mirror, where the Stars
Float moistly, fitfully, like drops of dew.
O Book Divine ! I close thy leaves this night,
And having drunken deep a blessed draught,
Thirst still as ere I drank. Blank is the page ;
1 82 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The meaning, like a melancholy echo,
Ever eluding him who seeks to hear,
Only from leaf to leaf, from tale to tale,
One Dark Face passeth with a sense of tears.
And here I rest, not dead to such a scene
As makes the heart beat low, and fills the mind
With silence sweeter than divinest sound,
Not dead to thee, pale haunting face in Heaven,
Not dead to ye, too beautiful Stars, not dead
To this mild breathing of the slumbering Earth,
My mother ! I am fearfully at peace
With all the world. Still silent ! save the moan
Of the black waves upon the whispering sand,
And the dull murmur of the wandering wind
Afar in the grey region of the Rain.
At peace with Death ! at peace with Earth and dust !
And with that shadow-region over Earth !
But even in the pathos of this hour
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 183
I am at war with dreadful Mystery !
The Angel of the Human heavenward wings,
And gazes on me with a thousand eyes
Insufferable, from yonder starry dome :
Thou Spirit of my Spirit, what am / ?
A VOICE.
The modem Orm : a shadow in the track
Of Him who walked along the thorny ways
With bloodless robe and pallid smile divine.
ORM.
Who spoke ? It seemed a voice did echo me
With mine own thought.
SPIRIT OF SORROW.
'Twas mine, thou creeping thing !
ORM.
Thine ? Shadows grow upon me as I lie
I see a figure in a priestly dress
184 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Of stature huger than a mortal's. Speak !
Art them a spirit or a man ?
SPIRIT.
I am
The Shadow of the Spirit of the Book,
The Angel of all Evil.
ORM.
Fly me not !
If thou be that, let me contemplate thee.
How does the white smile of the ghostly Moon
Silver thy wrinkled cheeks and solemn beard !
There is a sweetness as of solemn thoughts
In thy calm face, and in thine eyes the peace
Which passeth understanding.
SPIRIT.
Look again !
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 185
ORM.
Thy thin brow shrivels to the scalp ! Thy cheek
Shrinks like an adder's skin, and leaves thine eyes
Two spots of flaming emerald ! Thy hair
Melts off like snow ! Thy spotted flesh curls round
The forked tongue that shoots from slimy lips !
Aye, now I know thee, yet I fear thee not !
Calm as a stone, I on mine elbow lean
And look at thee with such a scorn as thou,
In the remote abysms of the past,
Turned on the heel that bruised thee !
SPIRIT.
Yet again !
ORM.
O speak ! Thy face grows glorious with the ray
Of some old prophecy ; thy form dilates ;
Around thee is a motion as of wings ;
Thy lifted arm points at the Stars which dim
1 86 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Bright orbs upon thee, Heaven with all her eyes
Watching her eldest born !
SPIRIT.
Almighty God !
Father ! How long, how long ? . . Nay, He is dumb
Upon His throne. He answers not, but mocks me
With the mild motion of those ministries
That work His nightly law. But thou hast heard ;
Thou knowest me now.
ORM.
I know thee !
SPIRIT.
And thy cheek
Blanches not ?
ORM.
Nay, by pride, and by despair.
I fear thee not we are too much akin.
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 187
I would hear more of thee, and much of those
Who ate and perished.
SPIRIT.
That which men call knowing
Shall speedily be heapen on thine head ;
Nor scorn me, if to-night I dwarf the truth
Into a picture for thy little eye.
Hither, ye wandering Spirits, and attend !
VOICES.
Down where the moonlight lies
On beds of sable sand,
We come and we go at thy bidding !
Never, never more
Foot hath trod this darkness,
Never, never more
Mortal hath descended !
1 88 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The secret of Time, yea the Book of the World,
Under the waters abideth ;
The thin wave creeps chill thro' its brazen leaves,
That stir with a moaning pulsation !
SPIRIT.
Ye hear me, homeless voices of the Dead !
Upbuild ! and be the Temple broad and high !
VOICES.
Rocks from the mammoth world,
Spars from the sifted sands,
Bones that whiten decaying,
With the blood of man
These we mould together ;
Fire with slippery hands
Clings around the columns :
Thrones for the Wise who have sought for the Book
That under the waters abideth,
The red fire of Hell to illumine the whole,
And the Temple is built at thy bidding !
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 189
ORM.
The air is nighted with an Edifice
That whirls on serpent columns heavenward,
Growing and growing, like a living thing
At its own will, with rustling as of wings.
Both lake and sky are hidden all is dark !
The fabric pauses in its upward growth ;
And lo ! before me swings a fiery Gate,
Upon whose threshold sits a little Child,
Turning the dim leaves of a brazen Book
With fingers light as are a rose's leaves,
And smiling on the things it sees therein.
SPIRIT.
Ye who have eaten and perish'd, at your thrones !
VOICES WITHIN THE TEMPLE.
Out of our dust a Flower
Hath grown with sap of blood,
And the little one plucks it freely ;
1 90 THE BOOK OF ORM.
In a young bride's hair
Is it brightly glowing !
Upon dying lips
Doth it mildly blossom '.
While upon our thrones,
Not by hands upbuilded,
We, the Kings of Thought,
Sit in meditation.
SPIRIT.
Pass in !
ORM.
How sweetly sits the little Child,
Making a radiance round him with his smile,
So that the dark Book sparkles under him ;
One sweet white blossom of the lily gleams
In the deep golden of his hair. His name ?
Who is he ?
SPIRIT.
Beal. Born, but not of woman,
He ages not, but solves all mysteries
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 191
By the sweet light which, burning like a lamp,
His vestal Soul gives forth thro' eyes divine
But comprehends not.
ORM.
Is immortal ?
SPIRIT.
Yea!
Because he hath not eaten of the Tree
Of Sorrow. He was sitting on Eve's shoulder,
Babbling fine fancies with his baby-lips,
And breathing balm into her rosy ear,
When the Temptation found her. . . . Enter in !
\They enter.
ORM.
It is a sight to wither up the heart,
And burst the straining eyeball of the soul.
Shadows, they sit within a shadow-realm,
Below their feet a gulf, and overhead
The fretted roof glitters with stars that light not
192 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The air around them, tho' self-luminous.
Up to the roofs the quivering columns writhe
Snake-like ; and in the interstice of gloom
The Shadows reign, white-hair'd and hollow-eyed,
Each crowned and sceptred, each with gaze bent
inward,
So that they look not on the frozen woe
Of one another's faces, nor perceive
All is so black around about their seats.
What shapes are these ?
SPIRIT.
The Kings of Thought.
ORM.
The Kings
Of Thought . . . and I conceive them not !
SPIRIT.
They are,
And are not, what they seem ; for Thought is twofold :
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 193
The flower that bends above its shape in water,
Conception and its shadow. These are false,
Yet are they all projected by the truth ;
Without the truth they are not.
ORiM.
Kings of Thought ?
Things that have eaten the fruit and perished ?
These surely should be those that know, can speak
Of this unrest which flames ray Spirit on !
SPIRIT.
These are their shades ; their spirits dwell afar,
Drinking the dew of a serener air.
In aspiration and in glorious dream,
They learnt too well that all is vanity.
ORM.
Thought is immortal is a winged thing !
A homeless ecstasy that cannot die !
Or be confined, or wholly pass away !
194 THE BOOK OF ORM.
SPIRIT.
Thought, tho' immortal, if it beat the air
With insolent wing, must fail, as these have done.
He made His earth and heavens, His clear air,
His elements, His seasons, all things fair
Or terrible, all wondrous elements
That flash and fade around man's prison-house,
To be a testimony unto Him ;
Many have failed and perished at that point
Where testimony so amazes mind,
That it obscures the glory testified.
ORM.
What shape is that ? he with the sombre robe
Hideously blazoned ?
SPIRIT.
The son of Brahm,
Menu, a mighty mortal of the East,
Who grew so wise they took him for a god,
And fixed him just beneath their Trinity.
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 195
ORM.
He, further down the gloom, with glorious face
Gleaming like daybreak, snakes around his neck,
And stars amid his hair ?
SPIRIT.
Tis Orpheus :
Who, with deep-gleaming eyes and singing lips,
From mystic circle unto circle swept
That lessen inward to the Soul of All,
And, having swept each circle's course divine,
Naming the wondrous habitants therein,
Whirl' d, like a moth around an Altar Lamp,
A moment round that inmost Flame of All,
Then fluttering fell to Lesbos, blind with light.
Close to his side the long-hair'd Samian sits,
First Shepherd of the gentle and the wise,
Drinking sad day from the still lustrous gaze
Of his surpassing neighbour. . . . And that other,
He with the subtle smile and thin white hair,
196 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Holding the goblet up to lips of ice,
Is Socrates, a Greek of homelier growth ;
Who nearer earth tasted forbidden fruit,
And ended meekly with a hemlock cup :
Yet, tasting thus the bitterness of wisdom,
Smiled gloriously, and so passed up to God,
Wise in his dying. At his feet behold,
With small eyes glimmering thro' hair unkempt,
Diogenes, who stole the wondrous fruit,
And munched it in the mud, and scowled on all
Because it tasted sourly. He who towers
Amid a mystic circle of the Wise,
Who turn unto him great eyes dim with dream,
He with the beautiful great brow, and hair
Where gleams of gold still linger in the grey
Plato of all who ever lived and died,
The one who loved the quest for its own sake,
Because it led him into paths so fair ;
Married his days and nights to thought, and left
Broods of angelic dreams attesting all
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 197
That by the unassisted mind of man
Could be conceived of immortality ;
Saw Truth in open daylight face to face,
And would have loved and understood her too,
Had he not thought Knowledge so beautiful.
ORM.
These are but heathen prophets !
SPIRIT.
Even so
Pass on. Mark yonder Figure standing crowned,
A sword upon his thigh, and near his breast
A harp of burning gold. His dexter hand
Clutches the sword, and the impetuous blood
Seems black' ning to the nails ; but his blue eyes
Look downward on a phantom in the gulf
A pale Youth swinging by the hair of gold
To the black branches of a forest tree.
198 THE BOOK OF ORM.
ORM.
Tis the lost King of Israel !
SPIRIT.
Speak to him !
Thy voice will stir him, _tho' he sees thee not.
ORM.
Speak, Shade of Israel ! . . .
Across his face
There flits a gleam like starlight upon snow :
He stirs, and flings his arms around his harp.
SPIRIT OF DAVID.
I was a burning and a shining Light,
Yet I projected darkness wheresoe'er
I wandered crown'd. I slew, and slaying prayed.
Like to a storm of music I swept on,
Sounding the trumpet of an angry Lord ;
But lastly, in the darkness knelt I down,
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 199
And wept above my gold-haired Absalom,
And touched my harp, and sighing fell to sleep,
With downward drooping head and ruinous hair,
And fingers feeling blindly for the sword
But swooning, smote the harp-strings unaware,
And like a strain of peaceful sound, my Soul
Slipt thro' my fingers out upon the strings,
There linger'd faintly many nights and days,
And in sad cadence glided up to God.
ORM.
Enough ! I sicken when I gaze upon him
He darken'd that he sought, the Light Divine.
No further. Yonder in their dark array
I see the black-brow'd builders of the Law ;
At whose dark footstools, moveless in the gloom,
The pallid Prophets crouch with fiery eyes.
A VOICE.
God spake a Word that pass'd along like wind,
Through the abysses and the gulfs of Time,
200 THE BOOK OF ORM.
A voice of lamentation mix'd with hope,
And a deep under-hum of mystery :
One prophet darkening as a thunder-cloud,
Utter'd this promise in a lightning flash !
Another murmur'd it to his own heart,
Till the wild thing grew mild and musical !
Age after age, in crime and loss and woe,
This Word hath echoed like a wondrous voice,
Coming on peaceful men among their flocks,
Startling the warrior, while, in battle-field,
He, listening, looks upon his bloody hands !
VOICES.
Out of our dust a Flower
Hath grown with sap of blood,
And the little one plucks it freely !
Vainly the mind of man
Sits in meditation,
Vainly the mighty seek,
Thought is weak to fathom :
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 2OI
The Secret of Time, yea the Book of the World,
Under the waters abideth,
We search'd for the same from birth to the grave,
And wearily westering perished !
ORM.
O see ! before us sits the radiant Child
We passed upon the threshold. Still he smiles,
Turning the dim leaves of the brazen Book,
And shining on the things he sees therein.
SPIRIT.
Peep over his shoulder. See to what the small
White hand is pointing.
ORM.
" Verily I say,
Except a man be born again, he shall not
Enter the kingdom of God 7"
202 THE BOOK OF ORM.
How quietly
The Little One looks in my face and smiles,
And while I gaze upon him, on my Soul
Truths drop like flakes of snow, melting away
Ere thought can seize them. Speak, O Radiant One !
SPIRIT.
He only clasps his little hands and smiles ;
Bend to him thus : yea, he who seeks to find
Wisdom in little ones must stoop to them.
Is silent ! but he shuts the brazen Book,
And puts his rosy arms around my neck.
VOICES.
The smile of a little Child
Disturbs us where we sit
On our thrones the Wise and the Mighty !
Never heretofore
Have our Thrones been shaken,
Never heretofore
Did we know and wonder !
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 203
We are, and we are not ; we know, and we know not ;
We come and we go at thy bidding ;
We have followed each other from birth to the grave,
And wearily westering perish'd.
\TJie Child kisses Satan. The Temple vanishes.
ORM.
. . . Gone ! melted like a vapour ! and again
The cold white starlight on the lonely Mere !
A dream ; yet still the radiant Infant's kiss
Burns on thy forehead as a seal of fire !
Almighty God ! Master !
SPIRIT.
What dost thou see ?
ORM.
The gathering clouds above assume strange shapes,
And struggle onward to the sunken sun,
Piloted by a swift and audible wind ;
The waters glass themselves below, and mirror
The phantasm as it passes ; and the moon
204 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Burns inward thro' blue ether, whirling round,
Rolling her round white eye on all, and casting
Wild shafts of silver on the lake. Black forms,
-Gigantic up above, human below,
Swim on with waving arms and flashing faces,
Up, up, as if they climb a hill and pass :
Lo, one on horseback pointeth with his sword
And urgeth on. Men, women, children follow :
The light illumes the golden hair of a child
Held in its mother's arms ; and now, O God !
Hide me !
SPIRIT.
Behold !
ORM.
The shadow of a Cross
Looms huge and forked in the lake : 'tis borne
By One with stooping shoulders, waving hair j
Behind Him followeth a motley crowd ;
He pauseth underneath His load He halts
THE CORUISKEN VISION. 205
His face is silvered by the plunging moon
Almighty Lord, it is the Nazarene !
O God ! two silent Faces, each the Christ's,
One from the heaven, one from the black lake,
Gaze on me, and the wild Moon gleams on both !
SPIRIT.
Look up, look up !
ORM.
Oh, I am blind !
SPIRIT.
Thou fearest
To look upon the thing thou hast denied.
ORM.
Is it a fable ?
SPIRIT.
Yea ; if men and women,
And all they think, and all they feel and see,
206 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Are fables. 'Twas the shadow of thy thought
Crossing the luminous silence of His stars,
Darkening His air, blanching His fiery moon,
Using His water for a mirror. Rise !
The thing hath faded from His elements
Into the subtle chambers of thy brain,
Where all live mingled. Let it work therein !
Yonder the dim Day dawns the tremulous feet
Of sad ghosts fade upon the brightening hills.
Farewell ! and when thou prayest, pray for me !
Pray for the outcast Spirit ! Pray for all
Strong Spirits that are outcast !
[Spirit vanishes. The day breaks.
ORM.
Father! God!
Forgive thy child ! behold him on his knee !
Evil is evil, Father, Good is Good,
Darkness is dreadful, and the Light divine !
IX.
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS.
A Scroll Antique, all vjeed-behung,
Writ in a curious Southern tongue,
Washed to Onii's feet by the -wild main,
After fierce nights of -wind and rain ;
Many a midnight, wearily,
Over the parchment pondered he,
Now moved with sympathy intense,
Now vaguely grasping at the sense,
Till, in the end, he fashion' d it
Into the Songs that here are -writ.
IX.
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS.
i.
THE INSCRIPTION WITHOUT.
THE Moral Law : all Evil is Defect ;
The limb deform'd for common use of life
Defect, but haply in the line of growth.
THE BOOK OF ORM.
II.
THE TREE OF LIFE.
The Master said :
" I have planted the Seed of a Tree,
It shall be strangely fed
With white dew and with red,
And tne Gardeners shall be three
Regret, Hope, Memory ! "
The Master smiled :
For the Seed that He had set
Broke presently thro' the mould,
With a glimmer of green and gold,
And the Angels' eyes were wet
Hope, Memory, Regret.
The Master cried :
" It liveth breatheth see !
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 211
Its soft lips open wide
It looks from side to side
How strange they gleam on me,
The little dim eyes of the Tree ! "
The Master said :
" After a million years,
The Seed I set and fed
To itself hath gathered
All the world's smiles and tears
How mighty it appears !"
The Master said :
" At last, at last, I see
A Blossom, a Blossom o' red
From the heart of the Tree is shed.
'Tis fairer certainly
Than the Tree, or the leaves o' the Tree "
The Master cried :
" O Angels, that guard the Tree,
212 THE BOOK OF ORM.
A Blossom, a Blossom divine
Grows on this greenwood of mine :
What may this Blossom be ?
Name this Blossom to me !"
The Master smiled ;
For the Angels answered thus :
" Our tears have nourish'd the same,
We have given it a name
That seemeth fit to us
We have called it Spiritus?
The Master said :
" This Flower no Seed shall bear j
But hither on a day
My beautiful Son shall stray,
And shall snatch it unaware,
And wreath it in his hair."
The Master smiled :
" The Tree shall never bear
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 213
Seedless shall perish the Tree,
But the Flower my Son's shall be ;
He will pluck the Flower and wear,
Till it withers in his hair !"
214 THE BOOK OF ORM.
III.
THE SEEDS.
When all that puzzles sense was planned,
When the first seeds of being fell,
In reverence bent, / stood at hand,
And heard a part of the spell :
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen into power and pain !"
Shoots of the seed, I saw them grow,
Green blades of vegetable sheen,
They darken'd as with wind, and so
The Earth's black ball grew green
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain !"
Then starry-bright out of the ground
The firstling flowers sprang dewy-wet ;
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 215
I pluckt one, and it felt no wound
There was no pain as yet.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
Next in His Hand He lifted thus
Bright water bubbling from the spring-
And in that crystal tremulous
Quicken'd a living thing.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
And suddenly ! ere I was aware,
(So fast the dreadful spell was tried),
O'er Earth's green bosom everywhere
Crawl'd living things, and cried.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
On every grass-blade glittering bright
A shining Insect leapt and played,
2l6 THE BOOK OF ORM.
By every sea, on every height,
A Monster cast its shade
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
The most was lingering in the least,
The least became the most anon ;
From plant to fish, from fish to beast,
The Essence deepen'd on.
' Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
And deeper still in subtle worth
The Essence grew, from gain to gain,
And subtler grew, with each new birth,
The creatures' powers of pain.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
Paler I saw the Master grow,
Faint and more faint His breathing fell,
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 217
And strangely, lower and more low,
He mutter'd over the spell :
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
Now the deep murmur of the Earth
Was mingled with a painful cry,
The yeanling young leapt up in mirth,
But the old lay down to die.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
When standing in the perfect light
I saw the first-born Mortal rise
The flower of things he stood his height
With melancholy eyes.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
From all the rest he drew apart,
And stood erect on the green sod,
2l8 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Holding his hand upon his heart,
And looking up at God !
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
He stood so terrible, so dread,
With right hand lifted pale and proud,
God feared the thing he fashioned,
And fled into a cloud.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
And since that day He hid away
Man hath not seen the Face that fled,
And the wild question of that day
Hath not been answered.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
And since that day, with cloudy face,
Of His own handiwork afraid,
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 2IQ
God from His heavenly hiding-place
Peers on the thing He made.
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
Crown of things, O good and wise,
O mortal Soul that would'st be free,
1 weep to look into thy eyes
Thou art so like to me!
\
" Grow, Seed ! blossom, Brain !
Deepen, deepen, into pain ! "
22O THE BOOK OF ORM.
IV.
FIRE AND WATER; OR, A VOICE OF THE FLESH.
" Two white arms, a moss pillow,
A curtain o' green ;
Come love me, love me,
Come clasp me unseen ! "
As red as a rose is,
I saw her arise,
Fresh waked from reposes,
With wild dreamy eyes.
I sprang to her, clasp'd her,
I trembled, I prest,
I drank her warm kisses,
I kiss'd her white breast.
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 221
\Yith a ripple of laughter,
A dazzle of spray,
She melted, she melted,
And glimmer'd away!
Down my breast runs the water,
In my heart burns the fire,
My face is like crimson
With shame and desire !
222 THE BOOK OF ORM.
V.
SANITAS.
Dreamily, on her milk-white Ass,
Rideth the maiden Sanitas
With zone of gold her waist is bound,
Her brows are with immortelles crown'd ;
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening
Lower, lower, sinks the sun,
The white stars glimmer, one by one !
Who sitteth musing at his door?
Silas, the Leper, gaunt and hoar ;
Tho' he is curst in every limb,
Full whitely Time hath snowed on him
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 223
The Leper, drinking in the air,
Sits like a beast, with idiot stare.
How pale ! how wondrous ! she doth pass,
The heavenly maiden Sanitas ;
She looketh, and she shuddereth,
She passeth on with bated breath
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening
His mind is like a stagnant pool,
She passeth o'er it, beautiful !
Brighter, whiter, in the skies,
Open innumerable eyes ;
The Leper looketh up and sees,
His aching heart is soothed by these
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening
He looketh up with heart astir,
And every Star hath eyes like her !
224 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Onward on her milk-white Ass
Rideth the maiden Sanitas.
The boughs are green, the grain is pearl'd,
But 'tis a miserable world
Dews are falling, song-birds sing,
It is a Christian evening
All o'er the blue above her, she
Beholds bright spots of Leprosy !
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 225
VI.
THE PHILOSOPHERS.
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
Lo ! we sit apart,
Each right hand is uplifted,
Each left hand holds a heart ;
At our feet rolls by the tumult,
O'er our heads the still stars gleam
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
We drink and dream !
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
We are worn and old,
Each hath the sad forehead,
Each the cup of gold.
In our eyes the awe-struck Nations
Look, and name us wise, and go
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
We drink and know !
Q
226 THE BOOK OF ORM.
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
Silent, kingly, pure ;
Who is wise if we be foolish?
Who, if we die, shall endure ?
The Bacchanals with dripping vine-leaves,
Blushing meet our eyes, and haste
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
Bitter to taste !
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
Spirits pure as snow ;
White star-frost is on our foreheads
We are weary, we would go.
Hark ! the world fades with its voices,
Fades the tumult and the cry
We are the Drinkers of Hemlock !
We drink and die !
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 227
VII.
PRAYER FROM THE DEEPS.
Father which art in heaven, not here below ;
Be Thy name hallowed, in that place of worth ;
And till Thy Kingdom cometh, and we know,
Be Thy will done more tenderly on Earth ;
Since we must live, give us this day our bread ;
Forgive our stumblings, since Thou mad'st
blind ;
If we offend Thee, Sire, at least forgive
As tenderly as we forgive our kind ;
Spare, us temptation, human or divine ;
Deliver us from evil, now and then ;
The Kingdom, Power, and Glory all are Thine
For ever and for evermore. Amen.
228 THE BOOK OF ORM.
VIII.
HOMUNCULUS; OR, THE SONG OF DEICIDES.
I.
Now all the mystic Lamps that shed
Light on the living world are fled ;
Now the swart digger rinses gold,
Unless a starless heaven and cold ;
Now every God, save one, is dead,
Now that last God is almost sped ;
Cold falls the dew, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides.
2.
Homunculus ! Homunculus !
Not ever shalt thou conquer us !
Zeus, Astaroth, Brahm, and Menu,
With all the gods, white, black, and blue,
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 229
Are fallen, and while I murmur thus,
Strong, and more strong, Homunculus
Upon a Teuton Jackass rides,
Singing the Song of Deicides.
3-
It seems but yesterday the dim
And solitary germ of him
Glimmer'd most strangely on my sense,
While, with my microscope intense,
I search'd a Beast's brain-cavern dark :
A germ a gleam a cell a spark
Grown to Homunculus, who rides
To my sad Song of Deicides.
4-
had I then so far foreseen,
This day of doom had never been,
For with a drop of fire from Hell
1 would have killed the feeble Cell.
230 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Too late ! too late ! for slow and strange
He has passed the darker spheres of change,
Lo ! he emerges shouts derides,
Singing the Song of Deicides !
5-
Black is his raiment, top to toe,
His flesh is white and warm below,
All thro' his silent veins flow free
' Hunger, and Thirst, and Venery ;
But in his eye a still small flame,
Like the first Cell from which he came,
Burns round and luminous, as he rides
To my still Song of Deicides !
6.
With Obic Circle he began,
Swift thro' the Phallic rites he ran,
He watch'd until his head went round
The Memphian Sphinx's stare profound ;
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 231
All these by turn he overcast,
And suck'd the Orphic Egg at last ;
Now laughing low he westward strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides !
7-
He drives the Gods o' the North to death
The Sanctus Spiritus is breath
He plucks down Thammuz from his joy,
And kneads him to a huswife's toy ;
He stares to shame the Afric spheres ;
He strikes he overturns he sneers
Over the fallen Titans strides,
And squeaks the Song of Deicides !
8.
Homunculus ! Homunculus !
Wretched, degenerate, impious !
He will not stay, he will not speak
Another blow ! another shriek !
232 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Lo ! where he hacketh suddenly
At the red Cross of Calvary !
All darkens faintly moan the tides
Sing low the Song of Deicides !
9-
Gigantic, in a dark mist, see !
Loometh the Cross of Calvary ;
With rayless eyes the Skeleton
Quivers through all its bones thereon.
Deep grows the mist, faint falls the wind,
The bloodshot sun setteth behind
A crash ! a fall ! The Cross he strides,
Singing the Song of Deicides !
10.
Now he hath conquered godhead thus,
Whither will turn Homunculus ?
I am the only God let be
All but the fiends believe in me ;
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 233
(Tho' all the Angels deem me prince,
My kith and kin I can't convince.)
Christ help me now ! Hither he rides,
Singing my Song of Deicides !
ii.
Silent I wait (how stand the odds ?)
I am the Serpent of the Gods,
Wait ! draw the forked tongue in slow,
Hoard up my venom for the blow,
Crouch in my cave of all the host
I know he feareth me the most
Then strike and crush that thing accurst
I should have stifled at the first ! . . ,
All Earth awaits ! Hither he rides !
Cold fall the dews, chill rise the tides,
To this still Song of Deicides !
234 THE BOOK OF ORM.
IX.
ROSES.
" Sad, and sweet, and wise,
Here a child reposes,
Dust is on his eyes,
Quietly he lies,
Satan, strew Roses ! "
Weeping low, creeping slow,
Came the Weary-winged ;
Roses red over the dead
Quietly he flinged.
" I am old," he thought,
" And the world's day closes ;
Pale and fever-fraught,
Sadly have I brought
These blood-red Roses."
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 235
By his side the mother came
Shudderingly creeping ;
The Devil's and the woman's heart
Bitterly were weeping.
" Swift he came and swift he flew,
Hopeless he reposes ;
Waiting on is weary too,
Wherefore on his grave we strew
Bitter, withering Roses."
The Devil gripped the woman's heart,
With gall he staunched its bleeding ;
Far away, beyond the day,
The Lord heard interceding.
" Lord God, One in Three !
Sure Thy anger closes ;
Yesterday I died, and see
The Weary- winged over me
Bitterly streweth Roses."
236 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The voice cried out, " Rejoice ! rejoice !
There shall be sleep for evil !"
And all the sweetness of God's voice
Passed strangely through the Devil.
THE DEVILS MYSTICS. 237
X.
HERMAPHRODITUS.
This is a section of a Singer's Brain
How delicately run the granular lines !
By what strange chemic could I touch this thing,
That it again might quicken and dissolve,
Changing and blooming, into glittering gleams
Of fancy ; or what chemic could so quicken
The soft soil backward that it might put forth
Green vegetable shoots, as long ago ?
O on what headland did it blow of old
And ripen hitherward ! Surely 'twas a place
Flowery and starry !
Cast it back to the grave !
Look down no more, but raise thine eyes and see
Who standeth glorious in the brightening Dawn !
238 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Behold him, on the apex of the cone,
The perfect blossom of miraculous life,
Hermaphroditus. With how subtle shade
Male into female beauty mingleth thews
Of iron coated o'er with skin of silk ;
There, on the crown he stands, the perfect one,
Witching the world with sterile loveliness,
Beyond him, darkness and the unknown change,
The next uncurtain'd and still higher scene
That is to follow. Are those pinions, peeping
Under the delicate-flesh'd white shoulder-blades ?
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 239
XI.
AFTER.
I see, as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Death sitting at his narrow Gate,
While all around, disconsolate,
The wretched weep, the weary wait.
God pity us who weep and wait !
But, better still, if sadder, I
From this dark corner can descry
What is well-veil'd from human view :
Beyond the Gate I can pursue
The flight of those who have passed thro'.
God pity us who have passed thrtf!
In at the portal, one by one,
They creep, they crawl, with shivering moan-
240 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Nobles and beggars, priests and kings ;
Out at the thither gate each springs
A Spirit, with a pair of wings !
God pity us now we have wings.
All round the starry systems stir,
Each silent as a death-chamber
There is no sound of melody,
Only deep space and mystery ;
And each hath wings to wander free.
God pity iis who wander free !
Some cannot use their wings at all ;
Some try a feeble flight and fall ;
A few, like larks in earthly skies,
With measured beat of wings uprise,
And make their way to Paradise.
God help us on to Paradise !
If ever in their flight thro' space
They chance to reach that resting-place,
THE DEVIL'S MYSTICS. 241
I do not think these creatures dim
Will find the Lord of Cherubim
Exactly what they picture Him.
May God be what we picture Him !
Out of the fiery Sun is thrown
To other worlds the meteor-stone ;
Back to the Sun, in season right,
The meteor-stone doth take its flight.
Lost in that melancholy light.
We fade in melancholy light.
I see, as plain as eyes can see,
From this dark point of mystery,
Those fledgling Spirits everywhere ;
They sing, they lessen up the air ;
They go to God Christ help them there !
We go to God Christ help us there.
242 THE BOOK OF ORM.
XII.
HIS PRAYER.
In the time of transfiguration,
Melt me, Master, like snow ;
Melt me, dissolve me, inhale me
Into Thy wool-white cloud ;
With a warm wind blow me upward
Over the hills and the seas,
And upon a summer morning
Poise me over the valley
Of Thy mellow, mellow realm ;
Then, for a wondrous moment,
Watch me from infinite space
With Thy round red Eyeball of sunlight,
And melt and dissolve me downward
In the beautiful silver Rain
That drippeth musically,
With a gleam like Starlight and Moonlight,
On the footstool of Thy Throne.
X.
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST.
How in the end the Judgment dread
Shall by the Lord be uttered
While brightly in a City of Rest
Shall flash the fountains of the Blest,
And gladdening around the Throne
All mortal men shall smile, save one. . . .
Children of Earth, hear last rehearst
The Vision of the Man Accurst.
X.
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST.
JUDGMENT was over ; all the world redeem'd
Save one Man, who had sinned all sins, whose soul
Was blackness and foul odour. Last of all,
When all was lamb-white, thro' the summer Sea
Of ministering Spirits he was drifted
On to the white sands ; there he lay and writhed,
Worm-like, black, venomous, with eyes accurst
Looking defiance, dazzled by the light
That gleam'd upon his clench'd and blood-stain'd
hands ;
While, with a voice low as a funeral bell,
The Seraph, sickening, read the sable scroll,
And as he read the Spirits ministrant
Darken'd and murmur'd, " Cast him forth, O Lord !"
246 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And, from the Shrine where unbeheld He broods,
The Lord said, " 'Tis the basest mortal born
Cast him beyond the Gate !"
The wild thing laugh'd
Defiant, as from wave to wave of light
He drifted, till he swept beyond the Gate,
Past the pale Seraph with the silvern eyes ;
And there the wild Wind, that for ever beats
About the edge of brightness, caught him up,
And like a straw whirl'd round and lifted him,
And on a dark shore in the Underworld
Cast him, alone and shivering ; for the Clime
Was sunless, and the ice was like a sheet
Of glistening tin, and the faint glimmering peaks.
Were twisted to fantastic forms of frost,
And everywhere the frozen moonlight steam'd
Foggy and blue, save where the abysses loom'd
Sepulchral shadow. But the Man arose,
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 247
With teeth gnashed beast-like, waved wild feeble hands
At the white Gate (that glimmer'd far away,
Like to the round ball of the Sun beheld
Through interstices in a wood of pine),
Cast a shrill curse at the pale Judge withir?
Then groaning, beast-like crouch'd.
Like golden waves
That break on a green island of the south,
Amid the flash of many plumaged wings,
Passed the fair days in Heaven. By the side
Of quiet waters perfect Spirits walked,
Low singing, in the star-dew, full of joy
In their own thoughts and pictures of those thoughts
In looking eyes that loved them ; while beside them,
After exceeding storm, the Waters of Life
With soft sea-sound subsided. Then God said,
" Tis finished all is well !" But as He spake
A voice, from out the lonely Deep beneath,
Mock'd !
248 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Then to the Seraph at the Gate,
Who looketh on the Deep with steadfast eyes
For ever, God cried, "What is he that mocks?"
The Seraph answered, " 'Tis the Man accurst !"
And, with a voice of most exceeding peace,
God ask'd, "What doth the Man ?"
The Seraph said :
" Upon a desolate peak, with hoar-frost hung,
Amid the steaming vapours of the Moon,
He sitteth on a throne, and hideously
Playeth at judgment ; at his feet, with eyes
Slimy and luminous, squats a monstrous Toad ;
Above his head pale phantoms of the Stars
Fulfil cold ministrations of the void,
And in their dim and melancholy lustre
His shadow, and the shadow of the Toad
Beneath him, linger. Sceptred, thron'd, and crown'd,
The foul judge th the foul, and sitting grim,
Laughs!"
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 249
With a voice of most exceeding peace
The Lord said, " Look no more !"
The Waters of Life
Broke with a gentle sea-sound gladdening
God turn'd and blest them as He blest the same,
A voice, from out the lonely void beneath,
Shriek'd !
Then to the Seraph at the Gate,
Who looketh on the Deep with steadfast eyes
For ever, God cried, "What is he that shrieks?"
The Seraph answered, " 'Tis the Man accurst !"
And, with a voice of most exceeding peace,
God ask'd, "What doth the Man?"
The Seraph said :
" Around him the wild phantoms of the fog
Moan in the rheumy hoar-frost and cold steam.
Long time, crown'd, sceptred, on his throne he sits
250 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Playing at judgment ; then with shrill voice cries
"Tis finished, thou art judged !' and laughing fierce
He thrusteth down an iron heel to crush
The foul Toad, that with dim and luminous eyes
So stareth at his soul. Thrice doth he lift
His foot up fiercely lo ! he shrinks and cowers
Then, with a wild glare at the far-off Gate,
Rushes away, and, rushing thro' the dark,
Shrieks !"
With a voice of most exceeding peace
The Lord said, " Look no more !"
The Waters of Life,
The living spiritual Waters, broke,
Fountain-like, up against the Master's Breast,
Giving and taking blessing. Overhead
Gather'd the shining legions of the Stars,
Led by the ethereal Moon, with dewy eyes
Of lustre : these have been baptized in fire,
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 251
Their raiment is of molten diamond,
And 'tis their office, as they circling move
In their blue orbits, evermore to turn
Their faces heavenward, drinking peace and strength
From that great Flame which, in the core of Heaven,
Like to the white heart of a violet burns,
Diffusing rays and odour. Blessing all,
God sought their beauteous orbits, and behold !
The Eyes innumerably glistening
Were turn'd away from Heaven, and with sick stare,
Like the blue gleam of salt dissolved in fire,
They searched the Void, as human faces look
On horror.
To the Seraph at the Gate,
Who looketh on the Deep with steadfast eyes,
God cried, " What is this thing whereon they gaze?"
The Seraph answered, " On the Man accurst."
And, with a voice of most exceeding peace,
God ask'd, " What doth the Man ?"
252 THE BOOK OF ORM.
The Seraph said :
" O Master ! send Thou forth a tongue of fire
To wither up this worm ! Serene and cold,
Flooded with moon-dew, lies the World, and there
The Man roams ; and the image of the Man
In the wan waters of the frosty sphere
Falleth gigantic. Up and down he drifts,
Worm-like, black, venomous, with eyes accursed,
Waving his bloody hands in fierce appeal,
So that the gracious faces of Thy Stars
Are troubled, and the stainless tides of light
Shadow pollution. With wild, ape-like eyes,
The wild thing whining peers thro' horrent air,
And rusheth up and down, seeking to find
A face to look upon, a hand to touch,
A heart that beats ; but all the World is void
And beauteous. All alone in the Cold Clime,
Alone within the lonely universe,
Crawleth the Man accurst ! "
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 253
Then said the Lord,
" Doth he repent ? " And the fair Seraph said,
Nay he blasphemeth ! Send Thou forth thy fire ! "
But \vith a voice of most exceeding peace,
Out of the Shrine where unbeheld He broods,
God said, "What I have made, a living Soul,
Cannot be unmade, but endures for ever."
Then added, " Call the Man ! "
The Seraph heard,
And in a low voice named the lost one's name ;
The wild Wind that for ever beats the Gate
Caught up the word, and fled thro' the cold void.
'Twas murmur'd on, as a lorn echo fading,
From peak to peak. Swift as a wolf the Man
Was rushing o'er a waste, with shadow streaming
Backward against a frosty gleaming wind,
When like a fearful whisper in his ear
'Twas wafted ; then his blanch'd lips shook like leaves
In that chill wind, his hair was lifted up,
254 THE BOOK OF ORM.
He paused, his shadow paused, like stone and shadow,
And shivering, glaring round him, the Man moaned,
" Who calls ?" and in a moment he was 'ware
Of the white light streaming from the far Gate,
And looming, blotted black against the light,
The Seraph, with uplifted forefinger,
Naming his name !
And ere the Man could fly,
The wild Wind in its circuit swept upon him
And like a straw whirled him and lifted him,
And cast him at the Gate, a bloody thing
Wild, moaning, horrible, obscene, unclean ;
A body swollen and stained, like the wool
Of sheep that in the rainy season crawl
About the hills, and sleep on foul damp beds
Of bracken rusting red. There, breathing hard,
Glaring with fiery eyes, panted the Man,
With scorch'd lips drooping, thirsting as he heard
The flowing of the Fountains far within.
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 255
Then said the Lord, "Is the Man there?" and "Yea,"
Answered the Seraph pale. Then said the Lord,
" What doth the Man ?" The Seraph, frowning, said :
" O Master, in the belly of him is fire,
He thirsteth, fiercely thrusting out his hands,
And threateneth, seeking water ! " Then the Lord
Said, " Give him water let him drink ! "
The Seraph,
Stooping above him, with forefinger bright
Touch'd the gold kerbstone of the Gate, and lo !
Water gush'd forth and gleamed ; and lying prone
The Man crawl'd thither, dipt his fever'd face,
Drank long and deeply ; then, his thirst appeased,
Thrust in his bloody hands unto the wrist,
And let the gleaming Fountain play upon them,
And looking up out of his dripping hair,
Grinned mockery at the giver.
Then the Lord
Said low, " How doth the Man ?" The Seraph said :
256 THE BOOK OF ORM.
" It is a snake ! He mocketh all Thy gifts,
And, in a snake's voice half-articulate,
Blasphemeth!" Then the Lord : " Doth the Man crave
To enter in ? " " Not so," the Seraph said,
" He saith " " What saith he?" " That his Soul
is filled
With hate of Thee and of Thy ways ; he loathes
Pure pathways where the fruitage of the Stars
Hangeth resplendent, and he spitteth hate
On all Thy Children. Send Thou forth Thy fire !
In no wise is he better than the beasts,
The gentle beasts, that come like morning dew
And vanish. Let him die ! " Then said the Lord :
" What I have made endures ; but 'tis not meet
This thing should cross my perfect work for ever.
Let him begone ! " Then cried the Seraph pale :
" O Master ! at the frozen Clime he glares
In awe, shrieking on Thee ! " " What doth he crave ?"
" Neither Thy Heaven nor Thy holy ways.
He murmureth out he is content to dwell
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 257
In the Cold Clime for ever, so Thou sendest
A face to look upon, a heart that beats,
A hand to touch albeit like himself,
Black, venomous, unblest, exiled, and base :
Give him this thing, he will be very still,
Nor trouble Thee again."
The Lord mused.
Still,
Scarce audible, trembled the Waters of Life
Over all Heaven the Snow of the same Thought
Which rose within the Spirit of the Lord
Fell hushedly ; the innumerable Eyes
Swam in a lustrous dream.
Then said the Lord :
" In all the waste of worlds there dwelleth not
Another like himself behold he is
The basest Mortal born. Yet 'tis not meet
His cruel cry, for ever piteous,
s
258 ^ THE BOOK OF ORM.
Should trouble my eternal Sabbath-day.
Is there a Spirit here, a human thing,
Will pass this day from the Gate Beautiful
To share the exile of this Man accurst,
That he may cease the shrill pain of his cry,
And I have peace ? "
Hushedly, hushedly,
Snow'd down the Thought Divine the living Waters
Murmured and darkened. But like mournful mist
That hovers o'er an autumn pool, two Shapes,
Beautiful, human, glided to the Gate
And waited.
" What art thou ?" in a stern voice
The Seraph said, with dreadful forefinger
Pointing to one. A gentle voice replied,
" I will go forth with him whom ye call curst !
He grew within my womb my milk was white
Upon his lips. I will go forth with him ! "
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 259
" And thou ? " the Seraph said. The second Shape
Answer'd, " I also will go forth with him ;
I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast,
I bare him children, and I closed his eyes ;
I will go forth with him ! "
Then said the Lord,
" What Shapes are these who speak ? " The Seraph
answer'd :
" The woman who bore him and the wife he wed
The one he slew in anger the other he stript,
With ravenous claws, of raiment and of food."
Then said the Lord, " Doth the Man hear ?" " He
hears,"
Answer'd the Seraph ; " like a wolf he lies,
Venomous, bloody, dark, a thing accurst,
And hearkeneth, with no sign ! " Then said the
Lord :
" Show them the Man," and the pale Seraph cried,
" Behold ! "
260 THE BOOK OF ORM.
Hushedly, hushedly, hushedly,
In heaven fell the Snow of Thought Divine,
Gleaming upon the Waters of Life beneath,
And melting, as with slow and lingering pace,
The Shapes stole forth into the windy cold,
And saw the thing that lay and throbbed and lived,
And stooped above him. Then one reach'd a hand
And touch'd him, and the fierce thing shrank and
moaned,
Hiding his face.
" Have they beheld the Man ? "
The Lord said ; and the Seraph answer'd, " Yea ;"
And the Lord said again, " What doth the Man ? "
" He lieth like a log in the wild blast,
And as he lieth, lo ! one sitting takes
His head into her lap, and moans his name,
And smoothes his matted hair from off his brow,
And croons in a low voice a cradle song ;
THE VISION OF THE MAN ACCURST. 261
And lo ! the other kneeleth at his side,
Half-shrinking in the old habit of her fear,
Yet hungering with her eyes, and passionately
Kissing his bloody hands."
Then said the Lord,
" Will they go forth with him ? " A voice replied,
" He grew within my womb my milk was white
Upon his lips. I will go forth with him ! "
And a voice cried, " I will go forth with him ;
I have kist his lips, I have lain upon his breast,
I bare him children, and I closed his eyes ;
I will go forth with him ! "
Still hushedly
Snow'd down the Thought Divine, the Waters of Life
/
Flow'd softly, sadly ; for an alien sound,
A piteous human cry, a sob forlorn
Thrill'd to the heart of Heaven.
The Man wept.
262 THE BOOK OF ORM.
And in a voice of most exceeding peace
The Lord said (while against the Breast Divine
The Waters of Life leapt, 'gleaming, gladdening)
" The Man is saved ; let the Man enter in."
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND co., CITY ROAD.
3 the Author of " ^EIu ook of <Drm."
In preparation,
AN EPIC POEM,
BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
Come, Faith, with eyes of melancholy gaze !
Come, Hope, with feet that bleed from thorny ways !
And, in the midst, leading those twain to me,
Come, latest born of Time, white Charity !
Bring Music, too, whose voices trouble so
Our breath and footfalls, as we westering go ;
Dim-eyed and gentle, let her walk behind,
The sweeter soul'd because her eyes are blind.
Not to Parnassus, nor the fabled Fount,
Nor to the shade of that diviner Mount
Whereon our Milton kneeling sang so deep,
But hither, to this City, stretch'd asleep
In silence ! Here we gather, here we grow,
Here we have built our pleasure and our woe,
Here, O ye gentle Muses new, alight,
And scattering holy radiance walk by night,
Sounding the solemn prelude of the song,
Come, Silence, City, sleep ! and, Muses, make me strong !
STRAHAX i CO., 56, LUDGATE HILL.
t) the ^.ttthxrr of " 'Che gook of <Dnn."
In the press,
BALLADS OF LIFE,
ETC.
iY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
In preparation, Cheap Edition,
MEG BLANE,
AND OTHER STORIES IN VERSE.
BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.
** This Volume will consist, for the most part, of the Poems published
some years ago in an Illustrated Volume (" North Coast," &c., price
One Guinea).
's otlwr 8glorks.
LONDON POEMS. Small 8vo, 6s.
UNDERTONES. Small 8vo, 6s.
INVERBURN. Small 8vo, 6s.
STRAHAN & CO., 56, LUDGATE HILL.
56 Ludgate Hill,
May, 1870.
STRAHAN AND CO.'S
BOOK LIST
ABLE TO SA VE ; or, Encouragement to Patient Waiting. By
the Author of " The Pathway of Promise." Small 8vo, 23. 6d.
AESOP'S FABLES. With 100 Illustrations, by Wolf, Zwecker,
and Dalziel. Square 3zmo, cloth gilt extra, as. 6d.
ALFORD'S (DEAN) The New Testament. Authorised Version
Revised. Long Primer Edition, crown 8vo, 6s. ; Brevier Edition, fcap.
8vo, 35. 6d. ; Nonpareil Edition, small 8vo, is. 6d.
Essays and Addresses, chiefly on Church Subjects.
Demy 8vo, 73. 6d.
The Year of Prayer ; being Family Prayers for the
Christian Year. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d. ; small 8vo, is. 6d.
The Week of Prayer. An Abridgment of " The Year
of Prayer ;" intended for use in schools. Neat cloth, gd.
The Year of Praise : being Hymns, with Tunes, for
the Sunda5's and Holidays of the Year. Large type, with music,
35. 6d. ; without music, is. Small type, with music, is. 6d. ; without
music, 6d. Tonic Sol-fa Edition, crown 8vo, is. 6d.
How to Study the New Testament. Part I. The
Gospels and the Acts. II. The Epistles (first section). III. The
Epistles (second section) and the Revelation. Small 8vo, 35. 6d. each.
Eastertide Sermons. Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Queen's English : Stray Notes on Speaking and
Spelling. Small 8vo, 53.
Meditations : Advent, Creation, and Providence.
Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
Letters from Abroad. Crown 8vo, 75. 6d.
Poetical Works. New and Enlarged Edition. Crown
8vo, 53.
ANDERSEN'S (HANS CHRISTIAN) The Will-o'-the- Wisps are
in Town ; and other New Tales. With Illustrations. Square 32010,
cloth, is. 6d. ; boards, is.
ANDREWS' (REV. S. J.) The Bible-Student's Life of Our Lord.
New Edition. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
Strahan and Co.'s
ARGYLL'S (THE DUKE OF) The Reign of Law. New Edition,
with Additions. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Primeval Man. An Examination of some Recent
Speculations. Crown 8vo, 45. 6d.
BARTLETTS (W. H.) Walks about the City and Environs of
Jerusalem. With 25 Steel Engravings and numerous Woodcut Illus-
trations. Royal 8vo, cloth gilt extra, los. 6d.
BASKET OF FLOWERS ; or, Piety and Truth Triumphant.
A Tale for the Young. By G. T. Bedell, D.D. 32mo, is.
BA YNE'S (PETER) Life and Letters of Hugh Miller.
[/ the Press,
BAUERMAN'S (H., F.G.S.) A Treatise on the Metallurgy of
Iron. Post 8vo, izs.
BEACH'S (CHARLES) Now or Never ; or, the Trials and Perilous
Adventures of Frederick Lonsdale. Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
BEVERLEY'S (MAY) Romantic Tales from English History.
New Edition, with 21 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 33. fid.
BJORNSON'S (BJORNSTJERNE) Arae ; a Sketch of Norwegian
Peasant Life. Translated by Augusta Plesner and Susan Rugeley-
Powers. Crown 8vo, 55.
BLAIKIE'S (W. G., D.D.) Better Days for Working People.
Crown 8vo, boards, is. fid.
Counsel and Cheer for the Battle of Life. Crown
8vo, boards, is. fid.
Heads and Hands in the World of Labour. Crown
8vo, 35. fid.
The Head of the House. Sewed, 2d.
BOARDMAN'S (REV. W. E.) The Higher Christian Life.
New and cheaper Edition. Small 8vo, gd.
BOOTH'S (E. CARTON) Another England. Victoria. Post 8vo,
ys. fid.
Homes away from Home and the Men who make them
in Victoria. Demy 8vo, fid.
BRADY'S (W. MAZIERE, D.D.) Essays on the English State
Church in Ireland. Demy 8vo, I2S.
BRITISH SPORTS AND PASTIMES. Edited by Anthony
Trollope. Post 8vo, IDS. fid.
BROWN'S (JOHN, M.D.) Plain Words on Health. Lay Sermons
to Working People. Sewed, fid.
BROWN'S (J. E. A.) Lights through a Lattice. Small 8vo, 35.6 1.
Palm Leaves. From the German of Karl Gerok.
Cloth antique, 6s.
BROWNE'S (MATTHEW) Views and Opinions. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BUCHANAN'S (ROBERT) Idyls and Legends of Inverburn.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
London Poems. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Undertones. Small 8vo, 6s.
The Book of Orm. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Book List. 3
BUCHSEUS (REV. DR.) My Ministerial Experiences. Crown
8vo, 35. 6d.
BULLOCICS (REV. CHARLES) The Way Home ; or, the Gospel
in the Parable. Small 8vo, is. 6d.
BUSHNELUS (HORACE, D.D.) Moral Uses of Dark Things.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Christ and His Salvation, in Sermons variously
related thereto. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Christian Nurture ; or, the Godly Upbringing of
Children. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Nature and the Supernatural, as Together consti-
tuting the One System of God. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Character of Jesus. Limp cloth, 6d.
The New Life. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Vicarious Sacrifice, grounded on Principles of
Universal Obligation. Crown 8vo, 75. 6d.
Work and Play. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
CAIRNS' 1 (JOHN, D.D.) Romanism and Rationalism, as opposed
to Pure Christianity. Sewed, is.
CARLILE'S (REV. J., D.D.) Manual of the Anatomy and Physi-
ology of the Human Mind. Second Edition, revised. Crown 8vo, 45.
CARTWRIGHT (PETER, the Backwoods Preacher), Autobio-
graphy of. Edited by W. P. Strickland. New Edition. Crown 8vo, zs.
CECVS RECOLLECTIONS. A Book for Girls. Crown 8vo, 53.
CHAPTERS IN SCIENCE FOR BOYS. Crown 8vo.
[/ preparation.
CHILD WORLD. By the Authors of, and uniform with,
" Poems written for a Child." With Illustrations. Square 32mo,
cloth gilt extra, 35. 6d.
CHILD NA TURE. By one of the Authors of, and uniform with,
" Child World." With Illustrations. Square 32mo, cloth, giltextra,
3s. 6d.
CHRISTIAN COMPANIONSHIP FOR RETIRED HOURS.
Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
CHURCH LIFE : Its Grounds and Obligations. By the Author
of " Ecclesia Dei." Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
COX'S (REV. SAMUEL) The Resurrection. Crown 8vo, 55.
The Private Letters of St. Paul and St. John. Crown 8vo,
3s.
The Quest of the Chief Good. Expository Lectures on the
Book Ecclesiastes, with a New Translation. Small 4to, 75. 6d.
CRAIG'S (ISA) Duchess Agnes, and other Poems. Small 8vo, 55.
CRITICAL ENGLISH TESTAMENT (THE) : Being an Adap-
tation of Bengel's Gnomon, with numerous Notes, showing the Precise
Results of Modern Criticism and Exegesis. Edited by Rev. W. L.
Blackley, M.A., and Rev. James Hawes, M.A. Complete in Three
Volumes, averaging 750 pages. Crown 8vo, 6s. each.
Strahan and Co.'s
CONTEMPORARY REVIEW (THE): Theological, Literary,
and Social. 2s. 6d. monthly.
Vols. I. XIII., already published, IDS. 6d. each.
DAILY DEVOTIONS FOR CHILDREN. 321110, is. 6d.
DAILY MEDITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. 321110, is. 6d.
DALE'S (R. W.) Week-Day Sermons. New Edition. Crown
8vo, 35. 6d.
DALTON'S (Wn.) Adventures in the Wilds of Abyssinia; or,
the Tiger Prince. With Eight Illustrations. Post 8vo, 35. 6d.
DA VIES' (EMILY) The Higher Education of Women. Small
8vo, 35. 6d.
DE BUR Y'S (BARONESS BLAZE) All for Greed. Popular Edi-
tion. Crown 8vo. [Nearly Ready.
DE GASPARIN'S (COUNTESS) Human Sadness. Small 8vo, 55.
The Near and the Heavenly Horizons. Crown
8vo, 35. 6d.
DE LIEFDE'S (JOHN) Six Months among the Charities of
Europe. With Illustrations. Two Vols., post 8vo, 22S.
The Postman's Bag. A Story Book for Boys and
Girls. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Romance of Charity. With Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, 55.
Truth in Tales. Crown 8vo. [In preparation.
DE WITT'S (MADAME, nee GUIZOT) A French Country Family.
Translated by the Author of "John Halifax." With Illustrations.
DENISON'S (E. B., LL.B., Q.C., F.R.A.S., &c.) Clocks,
Watches, and Bells. Fifth Edition, revised, izmo, 35. 6d.
Life of Bishop Lonsdale. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
DICKSEE'S (J. R.) School Perspective. A Progressive Course
of Instruction in Linear Perspective. 8vo, 55.
DODD'S (G.) Dictionary of Manufactures. Post 8vo, 53.
DUPANLOUP'S (MGR., Bp. of Orleans) Studious Women.
Translated by R. M. Phillimore. Crown 8vo, 45.
DUTCHMAN'S (A) Difficulties with the English Language.
Sewed, 6d.
DYKES' (REV. J. O.) On the Written Word. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
ECCLESIA DEI: The Place and Function of the Church in the
Divine Order of the Universe, and its Relations with the World.
Demy 8vo, 73. 6d.
FAIRHOLT'S (F. W.) Dictionary of Terms in Art. With
numerous Woodcuts. New Edition. Post 8vo, 6s.
FIELD'S (GEORGE). The Rudiments of Colours and Colouring.
Revised, and in part rewritten, by Robert Mallet, M.A., F.A.S., &c.
With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 43. 6d.
FITZGERALD'S (PERCY) Proverbs and Comediettas, written for
Private Representation. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Book List. 5
FOUNDATIONS OF OUR FAITH (THE). By Professors
Auberlen, Gess, and others. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
FRANKLIN'S (Jonx) Illustrations to the Ballad of St. George
and the Dragon. Small 410, cloth gilt extra, IDS. 6d.
ERASER'S (REV. R. W., M.A.) The Seaside Naturalist : Out-
door Studies in Marine Zoology and Botany, and Maritime Geology.
With Thirty-seven illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.
FRIENDLY HANDS AND KINDLY WORDS. Stories
illustrative of the Law of Kindness, the Power of Perseverance, and
the Advantages of Little Helps. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 33. 6d.
GARRETTS (EDWARD) Occupations of a Retired Life. Popular
Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
GEIKIE'S (J. CUNNINGHAM) Life. A Book for Young Men.
New and Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
GERHARDTS (PAUL) Spiritual Songs. Translated by John
Kelly. Small square 8vo, 55.
GILBERTS (WILLIAM) De Profundis. A Tale of the Social
Deposits. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Doctor Austin's Guests. Crown 8vo, 6s.
The Magic Mirror. A Round of Tales for Old and
Young. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 53.
The Washerwoman's Foundling. With Illustrations.
Square 32mo, cloth gilt extra, 2s. 6d.
The Wizard of the Mountain. Two Vols, post 8vo,
213.
GILES'' English Parsing. Improved Edition, ismo, 2s.
GINX'S BABY, his Birth and other Misfortunes. Crown 8vo, 55.
GLADSTONE'S (THE RIGHT HON. W. E.) On " Ecce Homo."
Crown 8vo, 55.
GOOD WOODS. Edited by Norman Macleod, D.D. 6d.
monthly, Illustrated. Yearly Volumes, 1860 to 1869. Cloth gilt
extra, 73. 6d. each.
GOOD WORDS FOR THE YOUNG. Edited by George
MacDonald, LL.D. 6d. monthly, Illustrated. Yearly Volume for
1869, cloth, gilt extra, 73. 6d.
GOSSE'S (PHILIP HENRY, F.R.S.) A Year at the Shore. With
Thirty-six Illustrations, printed in Colours. Crown 8vo, 93.
GOTTHELF'S (JEREMIAH) Wealth and Welfare. Crown 8vo, 6s.
GRACE'S FORTUNE. A Novel. Three Vols., post 8vo,
313. 6d.
GREENWELUS (DORA) Essays. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Poems. Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
The Covenant of Life and Peace. Small 8vo ,
35. 6d.
The Patience of Hope. Small 8vo, 2s. 6d,
Two Friends. Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
On the Education of the Imbecile. Sewed, is
Strahan and Co.'s
GUTHRIE'S (THOMAS, D.D.) Early Piety. i8mo, is. 6d.
Man and the Gospel. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Our Father's Business. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Out of Harness. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Speaking to the Heart. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Studies of Character from the Old Testament.
Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Second Series. Crown 8vo.
[/ the Press.
The Angels' Song. i8mo, is. 6d.
The Parables Read in the Light of the Present Day.
Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
HACK'S (MARIA) Winter Evenings; or, Tales of Travellers.
With Eight Illustrations by Gilbert and Harvey. New Edition,
small 8vo, 35. (jd. .
: Grecian Stories. With Illustrations. New Edition,
small Svo, 35. 6d. ; smaller Edition, with Illustrations by J. Gilbert,
2S. I'd.
HALL'S (MR. and MRS. S. C.) Book of the Thames, from its Rise
to its Fall. With Fourteen Photographic Illustrations and One Hun-
dred and Forty Wood Engravings. Fcap. 4to, cloth gilt extra, 2is.
HARGREAVE'S (JOHN GEORGE) The Blunders of Vice and
Folly, and their Self-acting Chastisements. Crown 8vo, 6s.
HAWTHORNE'S (NATHANIEL) English Note-Book. Edited
by Mrs. Hawthorne. [/ the Press.
HENRY HOLBEACH: Student in Life and Philosophy. A
Narrative and a Discussion. With Letters to Mr. M. Arnold, Mr.
Alexander Bain, Mr. T. Carlyle, Mr. A. Helps, Mr. G. H. Lewes,
Rev. H. L. Mansel, Rev. F. D. Maurice, Mr. J. S. Mill, and Rev. Dr.
J. H. Newman. Second Edition, with Additions. Two Vols., post
Svo, 143.
HERSCHEL'S (SiR J. F. W., BART.) Familiar Lectures on
Scientific Subjects. Crown 8vo, 6s.
HOGE'S (REV. W. J.) Blind Bartimeus and his Great Physician.
Small 8vo, is.
HOLMES' (OLIVER WENDELL) The Autocrat of the Breakfast
Table. With Illustrations. Small Svo, 33. 6d.
HOWSON'S (DEAN) The Metaphors of St. Paul. . Crown Svo,
35. 6d.
HUNT'S (REV. JOHN) History of Religious Thought in England,
from the Reformation to the End of Last Century. Vol. I., demy
Svo, i6s.
HUNTINGTON'S (F. D., D.D.) Christian Believing and Living.
Crown Svo, 35. 6d.
INGRAHAM'S (REV. J. H., LL.D.) The Pillar of Fire ; or,
Israel in Bondage. With Illustrations. New Edition, small
Svo, 35. 6d.
Book List.
INGRAHAM'S (REV. J. H., LL.D.) The Throne of David, from
the Consecration. of the Shepherd of Bethlehem to the Rebellion of
Prince Absalom. With Illustrations. New Edition, small 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Prince of the House of David ; or, Three
Years in the Holy City. With Illustrations. New Edition, crown
8vo, 35. 6d.
IRVING' S (EDWARD) Collected Writings. Five Vols., demy
8vo, 3.
Miscellanies from the Collected Writings. Post 8vo,
6s.
Prophetical Writings. Vol. I., demy 8vo, 155.
JONES (AGNES ELIZABETH) Memorials of. By her Sister, with
an Introductory Sketch by Florence Nightingale. Crown 8vo.
[/ the Press.
JONES' (ARCHDEACON) The Peace of God. Crown 8vo, 55.
JONES' (REV. HARRY, M.A.) The Regular Swiss Round.
With Illustrations. Small 8vo, 33. 6d.
KA YE'S (JOHN WILLIAM) Lives of Indian Officers, illustrative
of the History of the Civil and Military Service of India. New
Edition. Three Vols., crown 8vo, 6s. each.
KRILOF AND HIS FABLES. By W. R. S. Ralston. With
Illustrations. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, 53.
LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS OF
THE ROUND TABLE (THE). Compiled and Edited by J. T. K.
Small 8vo, sewed, is. ; cloth, is. 6d.
LEITCWS (WILLIAM, D.D.) God's Glory in the Heavens.
With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 45. 6d.
LILLIPUT LEVEE. Poems of Childhood, Child-fancy, and
Child-like Moods. With Illustrations by Millais and others. Square
32mo, cloth gilt extra, 2s. 6d.
LOCKER'S (FREDERICK) London Lyrics. Small 8vo, 6s.
LOSSING'S (BENSON J.) The Hudson from the Wilderness to
the Sea. Illustrated by 300 Engravings on Wood. Small 410, cloth
gilt extra, 2is.
LUDLOWS (J. M.) Woman's Work in the Church. Small 8vo, 53.
LUDLOW (J. M.) and LLOYD JONES' The Progress of the
Working Class from 1832 to 1867. Crown 8vo, 23. 6d.
MACDONALD'S (GEORGE) Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
The Seaboard Parish. Popular Edition. Crown
8vo., 6s.
Dealings with the Fairies. With Illustrations
by Arthur Hughes. Square 32010, cloth gilt extra, 2s. 6d.
The Disciple and other Poems. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Unspoken Sermons. New Edition. Crown 8vo,
3s6d.
MACLEOD'S (NORMAN, D.D.) Peeps at the Far East. With
Illustrations. Small 4to. [/ the press.
Strahan and Co.'s
MACLEOD'S (NORMAN, D.D.) Eastward. With Illustrations.
Popular Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Parish Papers. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Reminiscences of a Highland Parish. Crown
8vo, 6s.
Simple Truth spoken to Working People. Small
8vo, 2s. 6d.
The Earnest Student : being Memorials of John
Mackintosh. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
The Gold Thread. A Story for the Young. With
Illustrations. Square 8vo, as. 6d.
The Old Lieutenant and his Son. With Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
The Starling. With Illustrations. Popular Edition.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Wee Davie. Sewed, 6d.
HANSEL'S (DEAN) The Philosophy of the Conditioned: Sir
William Hamilton and John Stuart Mill. Post 8vo, 6s.
MARKBY'S (REV. THOMAS) Practical Essays on Education.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
MARSHMAN'S (J. C.) Story of the Lives of Carey, Marshman,
and Ward. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
M ASSET'S (GERALD) A Tale of Eternity, and other Poems.
Crown 8vo, 75.
MA URICE'S (REV. F. D.) The Working Man and the Franchise ;
being Chapters from English History on the Representation and
Education of the People. Demy 8vo, 73. 6d. ; crown 8vo, boards,
is. 6d.
MERIVALE'S (CHARLES, B.D., D.C.L.) Homer's Iliad. In
English Rhymed Verse. Two Vols, demy 8vo, 245.
MILLAIS' ILLUSTRATIONS. A Collection of Drawings on
Wood. By John Everett Millais, R.A. Demy 4to, cloth gilt
extra, i6s.
NEWMAN'S (JOHN HENRY, D.D.) Miscellanies from the Oxford
Sermons, and other Writings. Crown 8vo. 6s.
NUGENT S (E., C.E.) Optics; or, Sight and Light Theoretically
and Practically Treated. With numerous Woodcuts. Post 8vo, 55.
NURSER Y RHYMES. By the Authors of " Original Poems."
Fiftieth Thousand. i8mo, is. 6d.
NUTTALL'S (DR.) Dictionary of Scientific Terms. Post 8vo, 55.
ORME'S (BENJAMIN) Treasure Book of Devotional Reading.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 38. 6d.
PARKES-BELLOC'S (BESSIE RAYNER) Essays on Woman's
Work. Small 8vo, 45.
La Belle France. With Illustrations.
Square 8vo, 123.
Vignettes : Twelve Biographical Sketches.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
Book List.
PAUL GOSSLETTS CONFESSIONS IN LOVE, LAW,
AND THE CIVIL SERVICE. With Illustrations by Marcus
Stone. Post 8vo, as. 6d.
PHILLIMORE'S (JOHN GEORGE) History of England during
the Reign of George the Third. Vol. I., 8vo, i8s.
PLUMPTRKS (PROFESSOR) Biblical Studies. Post 8vo, ;s. 6d.
Christ and Christendom : being the Boyle Lec-
tures for 1866. Demy 8vo, 125.
Lazarus and other Poems. Crown 8vo, 55.
Master and Scholar, and other Poems. Crown
8vo, 55.
Sunday. Sewed, 6d.
The Tragedies of ^schylos. A New Translation,
with a Biographical Essay, and an Appendix of Rlymed Choruses.
Popular Edition. Two Vols., crown 8vo, I2S.
The Tragedies of Sophocles. A New Translation,
with a Biographical Essay, and an Appendix of Rhymed Choruses.
Popular Edition. Crown 8vo, 75. 6d.
Theology and Life. Sermons chiefly on Special
Occasions. Small 8vo, 6s.
POEMS WRITTEN FOR A CHILD. By Two Friends.
With Illustrations. Square 32010, cloth gilt extra, 35. 6d.
PRESENT DA Y PAPERS on Prominent Questions in Theology.
Edited by the Right Rev. Alexander Ewing, D.C.L., Bishop of Argyll
and the Isles. One Shilling Monthly.
I. THE ATONEMENT.
II. THE EUCHARIST.
III. THE RULE OF FAITH.
IV. PRESENT UNBELIEF.
V. WORDS FOR THINGS.
VI. PRAYERS AND MEDITATIONS.
VII. JUSTIFICATION BY FAJTH.
PREVAILING PRAYER. With Introduction by Norman
Macleod, D.D. Crown 8vo, is. 6d.
PRITCHARD'S (REV. CHARLES) The Testimony of Science to
the Continuity of the Divine Thought for Man. A Sermon preached
at the Meeting of the British Association for 1869. Sewed, is.
RALEIGH'S (ALEXANDER, D.D.) When our Children are About
us. Sewed, 3d.
REED (ANDREW, D.D.), Memoirs of the Life and Philanthropic
Labours of. By his Sons. With Portrait and Illustrations. Popular
Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
RHYMES FOR THE NURSERY. Illustrated by Gilbert.
i6mo, 2s. 6d.
ROBERTSON'S (JOHN, D.D.) Sermons and Expositions. Post
8vo, 75. 6d.
ROGERS' (HENRY) Essays from " Good Words." Small 8vo, 55.
SACRISTAN'S HOUSEHOLD (THE). By the Author of
" Mabel's Progress." Popular Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
SAINT PA ULS. A Monthly Magazine of Fiction, Art, Litera-
ture, and Politics. Edited by Anthony Trollopo, and Illustrated by
J. E. Millais, R.A. One Shilling monthly. Half-yearly Volumes,
73. 6d. each.
io Strahan and Co.'s
SAPHIR'S (REV. ADOLPH) Conversion, Illustrated from Examples
recorded in the Bible. Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
SAVING KNOWLEDGE. Addressed to Young Men. By
Thomas Guthrie, D.D., andW. G. Blaikie, D.D. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
SHELMERDINE'S (W.) Selection of the Psalms and other
Portions of Scripture, arranged and marked for Chanting. Small
8vo, is.
One Hundred and Eighty Chants, Ancient
and Modern. Selected from the most famous Composers, arranged
for Four Voices, with Organ and Pianoforte Accompaniment. Crown
8vo, 2s. 6d.
SHORTREDE'S (MAJOR-GEN.) Azimuth, Latitude, and Declina-
tion Tables. Demy 8vo, 75. 6d.
SIMCOX'S (G. A.) Poems and Romances. Crown 8vo, 6s.
SISTER'S BYE-HOURS (A). By the Author of " Studies for
Stories." With Illustrations. Cloth gilt extra, 55.
SMEDLEY'S (M. B.) Poems. Crown 8vo, 55.
Other Folk's Lives. Crown 8vo, 55.
SMEDLEY'S (FRANK E.) Gathered Leaves. A Collection of
the Poetical Writings of the late Frank E. Smedley. With a
Memorial Preface by Edmund Yates, Portrait, and numerous Hu-
morous Designs. Imperial i6mo, cloth gilt, 8s. 6d.
Frank Farleigh ; or, Scenes from the Life of a
Private Pupil. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d ; or, with 30 Illustrations by George
Cruikshank, 8vo, los. 6d.
Harry Coverdale's Courtship, and What Came of
it. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d. ; or, with Illustrations by H. K. Browne,
8vo, IDS. 6d.
Lewis Arundel ; or, the Railroad of Life. Crown
8vo, 33. 6d. ; or, with Illustrations by H. K. Browne, 8vo, ias. 6d.
The Fortunes of the Colville Family ; or, a Cloud
with a Silver Lining. Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
SMITH'S (ALEXANDER) Alfred Hagart's Household. Crown
8vo, 6s.
A Summer in Skye. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Dreamthorp : A Book of Essays written in the Country.
Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
SMITH'S (DAVID) Tales of Chivalry and Romance. With
Illustrations. Small 8vo, 35. 6d.
SMYTH'S (PROFESSOR C. PIAZZI) Our Inheritance in the Great
Pyramid. With Photographs and Illustrations. Square 8vo, 125.
SMYTH'S (WARINGTON W., M.A., F.R.S.) Treatise on Coal
and Coal Mining. Illustrated. Post 8vo, 73. 6d.
SPURGEON'S (REV. C. H.) The Saint and His Saviour; or,
the Progress of the Soul in the Knowledge of Jesus. Second Edition.
Crown 8vo, 33. 6d.
Book List.
STANLEY'S (DEAN) Scripture Portraits and other Miscellanies.
Crown 8vo, 6s.
STA UNTON'S (HOWARD) The Great Schools of England; an
Account of the Foundations, Endowments, and Discipline of the
chief Seminaries of Learning in England. New Edition, with
Account of all the Endowed Grammar Schools of England and
Wales. Crown 8vo, 75. 6d.
STEVENSON'S (REV. W. FLEMING) Praying and Working.
Crown 8vo, 35. 6d. ; small 8vo, 2s.
STEWART'S (MRS.) The Wave and the Battle Field: Adven-
tures by Sea and Land. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
STIER'S (RUDOLF, D.D.) The Words of the Angels. Crown
8vo, 35. 6d.
STORIES TOLD TO A CHILD. By the Author of " Studies
for Stories." With Illustrations. Square 32mo, cloth gilt extra,
35. 6d. Also in eight separate books. Neat cloth, 6d. each.
STUDIES FOR STORIES. With Illustrations by Millais and
others. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 55.
STUDIES IN FRENCH PR OSE. Specimens of the Language
from the Seventeenth Century to the Present Time. With Chrono-
logical and Critical Notices, Explanatory Notes, &c. i2mo, 35. 6d.
STUDIES IN FRENCH POETRY. Specimens of the Lan-
guage from the Seventeenth Century to the Present Time. With
Chronological and Critical Notices, Explanatory Notes, &c. izmo,
35. od.
SUNDA Y E VENING BOOK (THE). Short Papers for Family
Reading. By James Hamilton, D.D., A. P. Stanley, D.D., John
Eadie, D.D., Rev. W. M. Punshon, Rev. Thomas Binney, Rev. J. R.
Macduff, D.D. i8mo, is. 6d.
SUNDAY MAGAZINE (THE). Edited by Thomas Guthrie,
D.D. yd. Monthly, Illustrated. Yearly Volumes, 1865 to 1869, cloth
gilt extra, 8s. 6d. each.
TAITS (GILBERT) The Hymns of Denmark. Rendered into
English. Small 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 45. 6d..
TANGLED TALK: an Essayist's Holiday. Post 8vo, 73. 6d.
TENNYSON'S (ALFRED) Poems. Small 8vo, gs.
- Maud, and other Poems. Small 8vo, 53.
In Memoriam. Small 8vo, 6s.
The Princess. Small 8vo, 55.
Idylls of the King. Small 8vo, 75.
Collected. Small 8vo, 125.
Enoch Arden, etc. Small 8vo, 6s.
The Holy Grail, and other Poems. Small 8vo, 75.
Pocket-volume Edition of the above Works. 10 vols., i8mo,
in neat case, 453.
Selections. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 55. ; gilt edges, 6s.
Concordance. Crown 8vo, "s. 6d.
12 Strahan and Co.'s Book List.
THOROLD'S (REV. A. W.) The Presence of Christ. Crown 8vo,
3 s. 6d.
-- On the Loss of Friends. Sewed, 3d.
- On Being 111. Sewed, 2d.
TOUCHES OF NATURE. By Eminent Artists and Authors-
Imperial 4to, cloth gilt extra, zis.
TROLLOPS' 'S (ANTHONY) He Knew Ije was Right. With
Illustrations by Marcus Stone. Two Vols., demy 8vo, 215.
-- Phineas Finn. With Illustrations by Millais.
Two Vols., demy 8vo, 255.
- -- An Editor's Tales. [/ the press.
Lotta Schmidt, and other Stories. New Edition.
Crown 8vo. [/ the press.
TULLOCH'S (PRINCIPAL) Beginning Life. A Book for Young
Men. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
TYTLER'S (SARAH) The Songstresses of Scotland. With Illus-
trations. 2 vols., post 8vo. \_Inthepress.
Citoyenne Jacqueline. A Woman's Lot in the Great
French Revolution. Crown 8vo. cloth gilt extra, 53.
Days of Yore. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 55.
Girlhood and Womanhood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt
extra, 55.
Papers for Thoughtful Girls. With Illustrations by
Millais. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 55.
The Diamond Rose. A Life of Love and Duty.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 55.
The Huguenot Family in the English Village. With
Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
VAUGHAN'S (C. J\, D.D.) Last Words in the Parish Church of
Doncaster. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d.
Earnest Words for Earnest Men. Small 8vo, 45. 6d.
Characteristics of Christ's Teaching. Small 8vo,
2s. 6d.
Christ the Light of the World. Small 8vo, 2S. 6d.
Plain Words on Christian Living. Small 8vo,
2s. 6d.
- Voices of the Prophets on Faith, Prayer, and
Human Life. Small 8vo, 2s. 6d.
WILBERFORCE'S (BISHOP) Heroes of Hebrew History. Post
8vo, gs.
WILLIAMS' (SARAH) Twilight Hours. A Legacy of Verse.
With a Memoir by E. H. Plumptre, M.A. Crown 8vo, 55.
WORDSWORTH'S Poems for the Young. With Illustrations.
Square 8vo, cloth gilt extra, 35. 6d.
YOUNG'S (JOHN, LL.D.) The Christ of History. New and
enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
The Life and Light of Men. Post 8vo, 75. 6d.
The Creator and the Creation, how related. Crown
8vo. 6s.
/o
7
PR
4262
B6
1370
Buchanan, Robert Williams
The book of Orm
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
