Rampolli by George MacDonald (epub ebook reader txt) 📕

thy life, to outweigh the transports of Death? Wears not everything that inspirits us the livery of the Night? Thy mother, it is she who brings thee forth, and to her thou owest all thy glory. Thou wouldst vanish into thyself, thou wouldst dissipate in boundless space, if she did not hold thee fast, if she swaddled thee not, so that thou grewest warm, and, flaming, gavest birth to the universe. Verily I was before thou wast; the mother sent me with my sisters to inhabit thy world, to sanctify it with love that it might be an ever present memorial, to plant it with flowers unfading. As yet they have not ripened, these thoughts divine; as yet is there small trace of our coming apocalypse. One day thy clock will point to the end of Time, and then thou shalt be as one of us, and shalt, full of ardent longing, be extinguished and die. I feel in me the close of thy activity, I taste heavenly freedom, and happy restoration. With wild pangs I recognize thy distance from our home, thy feud with the ancient lordly Heaven. Thy rage and thy raving are in vain. Inconsumable stands the cross, victory-flag of our race.

Over I pilgrim Where every pain Zest only of pleasure Shall one day remain. Yet a few moments Then free am I, And intoxicated In Love's lap lie. Life everlasting Lifts, wave-like, at me: I gaze from its summit Down after thee. Oh Sun, thou must vanish Yon hillock beneath; A shadow will bring thee Thy cooling wreath. Oh draw at my heart, love, Draw till I'm gone; That, fallen asleep, I Still may love on! I feel the flow of Death's youth-giving flood; To balsam and aether, it Changes my blood! I live all the daytime In faith and in might: In holy rapture I die every night.


V.

In ancient times an iron Fate lorded it, with dumb force, over the widespread families of men. A gloomy oppression swathed their anxious souls: the Earth was boundless, the abode of the gods and their home. From eternal ages stood its mysterious structure. Beyond the red hills of the morning, in the sacred bosom of the sea, dwelt the sun, the all-enkindling, live luminary. An aged giant upbore the happy world. Prisoned beneath mountains lay the first-born sons of mother Earth, helpless in their destroying fury against the new, glorious race of gods, and their kindred, glad-hearted men. Ocean's dusky, green abyss was the lap of a goddess. In the crystal grottoes revelled a wanton folk. Rivers, trees, flowers, and beasts had human wits. Sweeter tasted the wine, poured out by youth impersonated; a god was in the grape-clusters; a loving, motherly goddess upgrew in the full golden sheaves; love's sacred carousal was a sweet worship of the fairest of the goddesses. Life revelled through the centuries like one spring-time, an ever-variegated festival of the children of heaven and the dwellers on the earth. All races childlike adored the ethereal, thousandfold flame, as the one sublimest thing in the world.

It was but a fancy, a horrible dream-shape-

That fearsome to the merry tables strode, And wrapt the spirit in wild consternation. The gods themselves here counsel knew nor showed To fill the stifling heart with consolation. Mysterious was the monster's pathless road, Whoose rage would heed no prayer and no oblation; Twas Death who broke the banquet up with fears, With anguish, with dire pain, and bitter tears.

Eternally from all things here disparted That sway the heart with pleasure's joyous flow, Divided from the loved, whom, broken-hearted, Vain longing tosses and unceasing woe- In a dull dream to struggle, faint and thwarted, Smeemed all was granted to the dead below! Broke lay the merry wave of human glory On Death's inevitable promontory.

With daring flight, aloft Thought's pinions sweep; The horrid thing with beauty's robe men cover: A gentle youth puts out his torch, to sleep; Sweet comes the end, like moaning lute of lover. Cool shadow-floods o'er melting memory creep: So sang the song, for Misery was the mover. Still undeciphered lay the endless Night- The solemn symbol of a far-off Might.

The old world began to decline. The pleasure-garden of the young race withered away; up into opener regions and desolate, forsaking his childhood, struggled the growing man. The gods vanished with their retinue. Nature stood alone and lifeless. Dry Number and rigid Measure bound her with iron chains. As into dust and air the priceless blossoms of life fell away in words obscure. Gone was wonder-working Faith, and the all-transforming, all-uniting angel-comrade, the Imagination. A cold north wind blew unkindly over the torpid plain, and the wonderland first froze, then evaporated into aether. The far depths of heaven filled with flashing worlds. Into the deeper sanctuary, into the more exalted region of the mind, the soul of the world retired with all her powers, there to rule until the dawn should break of the glory universal. No longer was the Light the abode of the gods, and the heavenly token of their presence: they cast over them the veil of the Night. The Night became the mighty womb of revelations; into it the gods went back, and fell asleep, to go abroad in new and more glorious shapes over the transfigured world. Among the people which, untimely ripe, was become of all the most scornful and insolently hostile to the blessed innocence of youth, appeared the New World, in guise never seen before, in the song-favouring hut of poverty, a son of the first maid and mother, the eternal fruit of mysterious embrace. The forseeing, rich-blossoming wisdom of the East at once recognized the beginning of the new age; a star showed it the way to the lowly cradle of the king. In the name of the far-reaching future, they did him homage with lustre ond odour, the highest wonders of Nature. In solitude the heavenly heart unfolded itself to a flower-chalice of almighty love, upturned to the supreme face of the father, and resting on the bliss-boding bosom of the sweetly solemn mother. With deifying fervour the prophetic eye of the blooming child beheld the years to come, foresaw, untroubled over the earthly lot of his own days, the beloved offspring of his divine stem. Ere long the most childlike souls, by true love marvellously possessed, gathered about him. Like flowers sprang up a new strange life in his presence. Words inexhaustible and tidings the most joyful fell like sparks of a divine spirit from his friendly lips. From a far shore came a singer, born under the clear sky of Hellas, to Palestine, and gave up his whole heart to the marvellous child:-

The youth art thou who ages long hast stood Upon our graves, lost in a maze of weening; Sign in the darkness of God's tidings good, Whence hints of growth humanity is gleaning; For that we long, on that we sweetly brood Which erst in woe had lost all life and meaning; In everlasting life death found its goal, For thou art Death, and thou first mak'st us whole.

Filled with joy, the singer went on to Indostan, his heart intoxicated with sweetest love, and poured it out in fiery songs under that tender sky, so that a thousand hearts bowed to him, and the good news sprang up with a thousand branches. Soon after the singer's departure, his precious life was made a sacrifice for the deep fall of man. He died in his youth, torn away from his loved world, from his weeping mother, and his trembling friends. His lovely mouth emptied the dark cup of unspeakable wrongs. In horrible anguish the birth of the new world drew near. Hard he wrestled with the terrors of old Death; heavy lay the weight of the old world upon him. Yet once more he looked kindly at his mother; then came the releasing hand of the Love eternal, and he fell asleep. Only a few days hung a deep veil over the roaring sea, over the quaking land; countless tears wept his loved ones; the mystery was unsealed: heavenely spirits heaved the ancient stone from the gloomy grave. Angels sat by the sleeper, sweetly outbodied from his dreams; awaked in new Godlike glory, he clomb the apex of the new-born world, buried with his own hand the old corpse in the forsaken cavity, and with hand almighty laid upon it the stone which no power shall again upheave.

Yet weep thy loved ones over thy grave tears of joy, tears of emotion, tears of endless thanksgiving; ever afresh, with joyous start, see thee rise again, and themselves with thee; behold thee weep with soft fervour on the blessed bosom of thy mother, walk in thoughtful communion with thy friends, uttering words plucked as from the tree of life; see thee hasten, full of longing, into thy father's arms, bearing with thee youthful Humanity, and the inexhaustible cup of the golden Future. Soon the mother hastened after thee in heavenly triumph; she was the first with thee in the new home. Since then, long ages have flowed past, and in splendour ever increasing hath bestirred itself thy new creation, and thousands have, out of pangs and tortures, followed thee, filled with faith and longing and truth, and are walking about with thee and the heavenly virgin in the kingdom of Love, minister in the temple of heavenly Death, and are for ever thine.

Uplifted is the stone, And all mankind is risen; We all remain thine own, And vanished is our prison. All troubles flee away Before thy golden cup; For Earth nor Life can stay When with our Lord we sup.

To the marriage Death doth call; No virgin holdeth back; The lamps burn lustrous all; Of oil there is no lack. Would thy far feet were waking The echoes of our street! And that the stars were making Signal with voices sweet!

To thee, O mother maiden, Ten thousand hearts aspire; In this life, sorrow-laden, Thee only they desire; In thee they hope for healing; In thee expect true rest, When thou, their safety sealing, Shalt clasp them to thy breast.

With disappointment burning Who made in hell their bed, At last from this world turning To thee have looked and fled: Helpful thou hast appeared To us in many a pain: Now to thy home we're neared, Not to go out again!

Now at no grave are weeping Such as do love and pray; The gift that Love is keeping From none is taken away. To soothe and quiet our longing Night comes, and stills the smart; Heaven's children round us thronging Now watch and ward our heart.

Courage! for life is striding To endless life along; The Sense, in love abiding, Grows clearer and more strong. One day the stars, down dripping, Shall flow in golden wine: We, of that nectar sipping, As living stars shall shine!

Free, from the tomb emerges Love, to die never more; Fulfilled, life heaves and surges A sea without a shore! All night! all blissful leisure! One jubilating ode! And the sun of all our pleasure The countenance of God!


VI.

LONGING AFTER DEATH.

Into the bosom of the earth! Out of the Light's dominions! Death's pains are but the bursting forth Of glad Departure's pinions! Swift in the narrow little boat, Swift to the heavenly shore we float!

Blest be the everlasting Night, And blest the endless Slumber! We are heated with the day too bright, And withered up with cumber! We're weary of that life abroad: Come, we will now go home to God!

Why longer in this world abide? Why love and truth here cherish? That which is old is set aside-For us the new may perish!