Nor may the Professor forego its peace At Gottingen presently, when, in the dusk Of his life, if his cough, as I fear, should increase, Prophesied of by that horrible husk-- When thicker and thicker the darkness fills The world through his misty spectacles, And he gropes for something more substantial Than a fable, myth or personification,-- May Christ do for him what no mere man shall, And stand confessed as the G.o.d of salvation!

Meantime, in the still recurring fear Lest myself, at unawares, be found, While attacking the choice of my neighbors round, With none of my own made--I choose here!

The giving out of the hymn reclaims me; I have done: and if any blames me, Thinking that merely to touch in brevity The topics I dwell on, were unlawful,-- Or worse, that I trench, with undue levity, On the bounds of the holy and the awful,-- I praise the heart, and pity the head of him, And refer myself to THEE, instead of him, Who head and heart alike discernest, Looking below light speech we utter, When frothy spume and frequent sputter Prove that the soul's depths boil in earnest!

May truth shine out, stand ever before us!

I put up pencil and join chorus To Hepzibah Tune, without further apology, The last five verses of the third section Of the seventeenth hymn of Whitfield's Collection, To conclude with the doxology.

In "Easter-Day" the interest is purely personal. It is a long and somewhat intricate discussion between two friends upon the basis of belief and gives no glimpses of the historical progress of belief. In brief, the poem discusses the relation of the finite life to the infinite life. The first speaker is not satisfied with the different points of view suggested by the second speaker. First, that one would be willing to suffer martyrdom in this life if only one could truly believe it would bring eternal joy. Or perhaps doubt is G.o.d's way of telling who are his friends, who are his foes. Or perhaps G.o.d is revealed in the law of the universe, or in the shows of nature, or in the emotions of the human heart. The first speaker takes the ground that the only possibility satisfying modern demands is an a.s.surance that this world's gain is in its imperfectness surety for true gain in another world. An imaginatively pictured experience of his own soul is next presented, wherein he represents himself at the Judgment Day as choosing the finite life instead of the infinite life. As a result, he learns there is nothing in finite life except as related to infinite life. The way opened out toward the infinite through love is that which gives the light of life to all the good things of earth which he desired--all beauties, that of nature and art, and the joy of intellectual activity.

EASTER-DAY

XV

And as I said This nonsense, throwing back my head With light complacent laugh, I found Suddenly all the midnight round One fire. The dome of heaven had stood As made up of a mult.i.tude Of handbreadth cloudlets, one vast rack Of ripples infinite and black, From sky to sky. Sudden there went, Like horror and astonishment, A fierce vindictive scribble of red Quick flame across, as if one said (The angry scribe of Judgment) "There-- Burn it!" And straight I was aware That the whole ribwork round, minute Cloud touching cloud beyond compute, Was tinted, each with its own spot Of burning at the core, till clot Jammed against clot, and spilt its fire Over all heaven, which 'gan suspire As fanned to measure equable,-- Just so great conflagrations kill Night overhead, and rise and sink, Reflected. Now the fire would shrink And wither off the blasted face Of heaven, and I distinct might trace The sharp black ridgy outlines left Unburned like network--then, each cleft The fire had been sucked back into, Regorged, and out it surging flew Furiously, and night writhed inflamed, Till, tolerating to be tamed No longer, certain rays world-wide Shot downwardly. On every side Caught past escape, the earth was lit; As if a dragon's nostril split And all his famished ire o'erflowed; Then, as he winced at his lord's goad, Back he inhaled: whereat I found The clouds into vast pillars bound, Based on the corners of the earth, Propping the skies at top: a dearth Of fire i' the violet intervals, Leaving exposed the utmost walls Of time, about to tumble in And end the world.

XVI

I felt begin The Judgment-Day: to retrocede Was too late now. "In very deed,"

(I uttered to myself) "that Day!"

The intuition burned away All darkness from my spirit too: There, stood I, found and fixed, I knew, Choosing the world. The choice was made; And naked and disguiseless stayed, And unevadable, the fact.

My brain held all the same compact Its senses, nor my heart declined Its office; rather, both combined To help me in this juncture. I Lost not a second,--agony Gave boldness: since my life had end And my choice with it--best defend, Applaud both! I resolved to say, "So was I framed by thee, such way I put to use thy senses here!

It was so beautiful, so near, Thy world,--what could I then but choose My part there? Nor did I refuse To look above the transient boon Of time; but it was hard so soon As in a short life, to give up Such beauty: I could put the cup Undrained of half its fulness, by; But, to renounce it utterly, --That was too hard! Nor did the cry Which bade renounce it, touch my brain Authentically deep and plain Enough to make my lips let go.

But Thou, who knowest all, dost know Whether I was not, life's brief while, Endeavoring to reconcile Those lips (too tardily, alas!) To letting the dear remnant pa.s.s, One day,--some drops of earthly good Untasted! Is it for this mood, That Thou, whose earth delights so well, Hast made its complement a h.e.l.l?"

XVII

A final belch of fire like blood, Overbroke all heaven in one flood Of doom. Then fire was sky, and sky Fire, and both, one brief ecstasy, Then ashes. But I heard no noise (Whatever was) because a voice Beside me spoke thus, "Life is done, Time ends, Eternity's begun, And thou art judged for evermore."

XVIII

I looked up; all seemed as before; Of that cloud-Tophet overhead No trace was left: I saw instead The common round me, and the sky Above, stretched drear and emptily Of life. 'Twas the last watch of night, Except what brings the morning quite; When the armed angel, conscience-clear, His task nigh done, leans o'er his spear And gazes on the earth he guards, Safe one night more through all its wards, Till G.o.d relieve him at his post.

"A dream--a waking dream at most!"

(I spoke out quick, that I might shake The horrid nightmare off, and wake.) "The world gone, yet the world is here?

Are not all things as they appear?

Is Judgment past for me alone?

--And where had place the great white throne?

The rising of the quick and dead?

Where stood they, small and great? Who read The sentence from the opened book?"

So, by degrees, the blood forsook My heart, and let it beat afresh; I knew I should break through the mesh Of horror, and breathe presently: When, lo, again, the voice by me!

XIX

I saw.... Oh brother, 'mid far sands The palm-tree-cinctured city stands, Bright-white beneath, as heaven, bright-blue, Leans o'er it, while the years pursue Their course, unable to abate Its paradisal laugh at fate!

One morn,--the Arab staggers blind O'er a new tract of death, calcined To ashes, silence, nothingness,-- And strives, with dizzy wits, to guess Whence fell the blow. What if, 'twixt skies And prostrate earth, he should surprise The imaged vapor, head to foot, Surveying, motionless and mute, Its work, ere, in a whirlwind rapt It vanished up again?--So hapt My chance. HE stood there. Like the smoke Pillared o'er Sodom, when day broke,-- I saw Him. One magnific pall Mantled in ma.s.sive fold and fall His head, and coiled in snaky swathes About His feet: night's black, that bathes All else, broke, grizzled with despair, Against the soul of blackness there.

A gesture told the mood within-- That wrapped right hand which based the chin, That intense meditation fixed On His procedure,--pity mixed With the fulfilment of decree.

Motionless, thus, He spoke to me, Who fell before His feet, a ma.s.s, No man now.

XX

"All is come to pa.s.s.

Such shows are over for each soul They had respect to. In the roll Of judgment which convinced mankind Of sin, stood many, bold and blind, Terror must burn the truth into: Their fate for them!--thou hadst to do With absolute omnipotence, Able its judgments to dispense To the whole race, as every one Were its sole object. Judgment done, G.o.d is, thou art,--the rest is hurled To nothingness for thee. This world, This finite life, thou hast preferred, In disbelief of G.o.d's plain word, To heaven and to infinity.

Here the probation was for thee, To show thy soul the earthly mixed With heavenly, it must choose betwixt.

The earthly joys lay palpable,-- A taint, in each, distinct as well; The heavenly flitted, faint and rare, Above them, but as truly were Taintless, so, in their nature, best.

Thy choice was earth: thou didst attest 'Twas fitter spirit should subserve The flesh, than flesh refine to nerve Beneath the spirit's play. Advance No claim to their inheritance Who chose the spirit's fugitive Brief gleams, and yearned, 'This were to live Indeed, if rays, completely pure From flesh that dulls them, could endure,-- Not shoot in meteor-light athwart Our earth, to show how cold and swart It lies beneath their fire, but stand As stars do, destined to expand, Prove veritable worlds, our home!'

Thou saidst,--'Let spirit star the dome Of sky, that flesh may miss no peak, No nook of earth,--I shall not seek Its service further!' Thou art shut Out of the heaven of spirit; glut Thy sense upon the world: 'tis thine For ever--take it!"

XXI

"How? Is mine, The world?" (I cried, while my soul broke Out in a transport.) "Hast Thou spoke Plainly in that? Earth's exquisite Treasures of wonder and delight, For me?"

XXII

The austere voice returned,-- "So soon made happy? Hadst thou learned What G.o.d accounteth happiness, Thou wouldst not find it hard to guess What h.e.l.l may be his punishment For those who doubt if G.o.d invent Better than they. Let such men rest Content with what they judged the best.

Let the unjust usurp at will: The filthy shall be filthy still: Miser, there waits the gold for thee!

Hater, indulge thine enmity!

And thou, whose heaven self-ordained Was, to enjoy earth unrestrained, Do it! Take all the ancient show!

The woods shall wave, the rivers flow, And men apparently pursue Their works, as they were wont to do, While living in probation yet.

I promise not thou shalt forget The past, now gone to its account; But leave thee with the old amount Of faculties, nor less nor more, Unvisited, as heretofore, By G.o.d's free spirit, that makes an end.

So, once more, take thy world! Expend Eternity upon its shows, Flung thee as freely as one rose Out of a summer's opulence, Over the Eden-barrier whence Thou art excluded. Knock in vain!"

XXIII

I sat up. All was still again.

I breathed free: to my heart, back fled The warmth. "But, all the world!"--I said.

I stooped and picked a leaf of fern, And recollected I might learn From books, how many myriad sorts Of fern exist, to trust reports, Each as distinct and beautiful As this, the very first I cull.

Think, from the first leaf to the last!

Conceive, then, earth's resources! Vast Exhaustless beauty, endless change Of wonder! And this foot shall range Alps, Andes,--and this eye devour The bee-bird and the aloe-flower?

XXIV

Then the voice, "Welcome so to rate The arras-folds that variegate The earth, G.o.d's antechamber, well!

The wise, who waited there, could tell By these, what royalties in store Lay one step past the entrance-door.

For whom, was reckoned, not so much, This life's munificence? For such As thou,--a race, whereof scarce one Was able, in a million, To feel that any marvel lay In objects round his feet all day; Scarce one, in many millions more, Willing, if able, to explore The secreter, minuter charm!

--Brave souls, a fern-leaf could disarm Of power to cope with G.o.d's intent,-- Or scared if the south firmament With north-fire did its wings refledge!

All partial beauty was a pledge Of beauty in its plenitude: But since the pledge sufficed thy mood, Retain it! plenitude be theirs Who looked above!"

XXV

Though sharp despairs Shot through me, I held up, bore on.

"What matter though my trust were gone From natural things? Henceforth my part Be less with nature than with art!

For art supplants, gives mainly worth To nature; 'tis man stamps the earth-- And I will seek his impress, seek The statuary of the Greek, Italy's painting--there my choice Shall fix!"

XXVI

"Obtain it!" said the voice, "--The one form with its single act, Which sculptors labored to abstract, The one face, painters tried to draw, With its one look, from throngs they saw.

And that perfection in their soul, These only hinted at? The whole, They were but parts of? What each laid His claim to glory on?--afraid His fellow-men should give him rank By mere tentatives which he shrank Smitten at heart from, all the more, That gazers pressed in to adore!

'Shall I be judged by only these?'

If such his soul's capacities, Even while he trod the earth,--think, now, What pomp in Buonarroti's brow, With its new palace-brain where dwells Superb the soul, unvexed by cells That crumbled with the transient clay!