Under the rafters of this wooden bridge I see you come and go; sometimes in haste To reach your journey's end, which being done With feet unrested ye return again And recommence the never-ending task;Patient, whatever burdens ye may bear, And fretted only by the impeding rocks.
December 18, 1847.
Soft through the silent air descend the feathery snow-flakes;White are the distant hills, white are the neighboring fields;Only the marshes are brown, and the river rolling among them Weareth the leaden hue seen in the eyes of the blind.
August 4, 1856.
A lovely morning, without the glare of the sun, the sea in great commotion, chafing and foaming.
So from the bosom of darkness our days come roaring and gleaming, Chafe and break into foam, sink into darkness again.
But on the shores of Time each leaves some trace of its passage, Though the succeeding wave washes it out from the sand.
********
CHRISTUS: A MYSTERY
INTROITUS
The ANGEL bearing the PROPHET HABAKKUK through the air.
PROPHET.
Why dost thou bear me aloft, O Angel of God, on thy pinions O'er realms and dominions?
Softly I float as a cloud In air, for thy right hand upholds me, Thy garment enfolds me!
ANGEL.
Lo! as I passed on my way In the harvest-field I beheld thee, When no man compelled thee, Bearing with thine own hands This food to the famishing reapers, A flock without keepers!
The fragrant sheaves of the wheat Made the air above them sweet;Sweeter and more divine Was the scent of the scattered grain, That the reaper's hand let fall To be gathered again By the hand of the gleaner!
Sweetest, divinest of all, Was the humble deed of thine, And the meekness of thy demeanor!
PROPHET.
Angel of Light, I cannot gainsay thee, I can but obey thee!
ANGEL.
Beautiful was it in the lord's sight, To behold his Prophet Feeding those that toil, The tillers of the soil.
But why should the reapers eat of it And not the Prophet of Zion In the den of the lion?
The Prophet should feed the Prophet!
Therefore I thee have uplifted, And bear thee aloft by the hair Of thy head, like a cloud that is drifted Through the vast unknown of the air!
Five days hath the Prophet been lying In Babylon, in the den Of the lions, death-defying, Defying hunger and thirst;But the worst Is the mockery of men!
Alas! how full of fear Is the fate of Prophet and Seer!
Forevermore, forevermore, It shall be as it hath been heretofore;The age in which they live Will not forgive The splendor of the everlasting light, That makes their foreheads bright, Nor the sublime Fore-running of their time!
PROPHET.
Oh tell me, for thou knowest, Wherefore and by what grace, Have I, who am least and lowest, Been chosen to this place, To this exalted part?
ANGEL.
Because thou art The Struggler; and from thy youth Thy humble and patient life Hath been a strife And battle for the Truth;Nor hast thou paused nor halted, Nor ever in thy pride Turned from the poor aside, But with deed and word and pen Hast served thy fellow-men;Therefore art thou exalted!
PROPHET.
By thine arrow's light Thou goest onward through the night, And by the clear Sheen of thy glittering spear!
When will our journey end?
ANGEL.
Lo, it is ended!
Yon silver gleam Is the Euphrates' stream.
Let us descend Into the city splendid, Into the City of Gold!
PROPHET.
Behold!
As if the stars had fallen from their places Into the firmament below, The streets, the gardens, and the vacant spaces With light are all aglow;And hark!
As we draw near, What sound is it I hear Ascending through the dark?
ANGEL.
The tumultuous noise of the nations, Their rejoicings and lamentations, The pleadings of their prayer, The groans of their despair, The cry of their imprecations, Their wrath, their love, their hate!
PROPHET.
Surely the world doth wait The coming of its Redeemer!
ANGEL.
Awake from thy sleep, O dreamer?
The hour is near, though late;
Awake! write the vision sublime, The vision, that is for a time, Though it tarry, wait; it is nigh;In the end it will speak and not lie.
PART ONE
THE DIVINE TRAGEDY
THE FIRST PASSOVER
I
VOX CLAMANTIS
JOHN THE BAPTIST.
Repent! repent! repent!
For the kingdom of God is at hand, And all the land Full of the knowledge of the Lord shall be As the waters cover the sea, And encircle the continent!
Repent! repent! repent!
For lo, the hour appointed, The hour so long foretold By the Prophets of old, Of the coming of the Anointed, The Messiah, the Paraclete, The Desire of the Nations, is nigh!
He shall not strive nor cry, Nor his voice be heard in the street;Nor the bruised reed shall He break, Nor quench the smoking flax;And many of them that sleep In the dust of earth shall awake, On that great and terrible day, And the wicked shall wail and weep, And be blown like a smoke away, And be melted away like wax.
Repent! repent! repent!
O Priest, and Pharisee, Who hath warned you to flee From the wrath that is to be?
From the coming anguish and ire?
The axe is laid at the root Of the trees, and every tree That bringeth not forth good fruit Is hewn down and cast into the fire!
Ye Scribes, why come ye hither?
In the hour that is uncertain, In the day of anguish and trouble, He that stretcheth the heavens as a curtain And spreadeth them out as a tent, Shall blow upon you, and ye shall wither, And the whirlwind shall take you away as stubble!
Repent! repent! repent!
PRIEST.
Who art thou, O man of prayer!
In raiment of camel's hair, Begirt with leathern thong, That here in the wilderness, With a cry as of one in distress, Preachest unto this throng?
Art thou the Christ?
JOHN.
Priest of Jerusalem, In meekness and humbleness, I deny not, I confess I am not the Christ!
PRIEST.
What shall we say unto them That sent us here? Reveal Thy name, and naught conceal!
Art thou Elias?
JOHN.
No!
PRIEST.
Art thou that Prophet, then, Of lamentation and woe, Who, as a symbol and sign Of impending wrath divine Upon unbelieving men, Shattered the vessel of clay In the Valley of Slaughter?
JOHN.
Nay.
I am not he thou namest!
PRIEST.
Who art thou, and what is the word That here thou proclaimest?
JOHN.
I am the voice of one Crying in the wilderness alone:
