Yet so revolves the axle of the world, ΙΟ 20 O God, before Whom We marshal thus Thy legioned works to take The secret of Thy counsel, and array Congress and progress, and, with multitude As conquerors and to conquer, in consent Of universal law, approach Thy bound, Thine immemorial bound, and at Thy face Heaven and earth flee away; O Thou Lord God, Whether, O absolute existence, Thou, The Maker, makest, and this fair we see Be but the mote and dust of that unseen Unsought unsearchable; or whether Thou Whose goings forth are from of old, around Thy going, in mere effluence, without care, Breathest creation out into the cold Beyond Thee, and, within Thine ambient breath, So walkest everlasting as we walk 51 ΙΟ To mine, and, clasp'd, they tread the equal lea His Helena and Hermia. Shall we fight? Nor force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, For service meetly worn; Her hair that lay along her back Her seemed she scarce had been a day One of God's choristers; The wonder was not yet quite gone From that still look of hers; Albeit, to them she left, her day Had counted as ten years. (To one, it is ten years of years. Yet now, and in this place, It was the rampart of God's house By God built over the sheer depth So high, that looking downward thence It lies in Heaven, across the flood Beneath, the tides of day and night With flame and darkness ridge The void, as low as where this earth Spins like a fretful midge. Around her, lovers, newly met 'Mid deathless love's acclaims, Spoke evermore among themselves Their heart-remembered names; And the souls mounting up to God Went by her like thin flames. And still she bowed herself and stooped Until her bosom must have made Along her bended arm. From the fixed place of Heaven she saw Time like a pulse shake fierce 12 18 24 30 36 42 48 Fluttering far down the gulf; and now (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song, Strove not her accents there, Fain to be hearkened? When those bells "I wish that he were come to me, Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd? on earth, Are not two prayers a perfect strength? And shall I feel afraid? When round his head the aureole clings, And he is clothed in white, Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads Bowed with their aureoles: The cloud's not danced out of my brain, But while my thought runs on like this 20 30 On sorry matters best unsolved? — For sometimes, were the truth confess'd, You're thankful for a little rest, Glad from the crush to rest within, From the heart-sickness and the din Where envy's voice at virtue's pitch Mocks you because your gown is rich; And from the pale girl's dumb rebuke, Whose ill-clad grace and toil-worn look Proclaim the strength that keeps her weak, And other nights than yours bespeak; And from the wise unchildish elf, To schoolmate lesser than himself, Pointing you out, what thing you are:Yes, from the daily jeer and jar, From shame and shame's outbraving too, Is rest not sometimes sweet to you? But most from the hatefulness of man Who spares not to end what he began, Whose acts are ill and his speech ill, Who, having used you at his will, Thrusts you aside, as when I dine I serve the dishes and the wine. Well, handsome Jenny mine, sit up, I've filled our glasses, let us sup, And do not let me think of you, 40 Lest shame of yours suffice for two. 50 What, still so tired? Well, well then, keep Behold the lilies of the field, They toil not neither do they spin; (So doth the ancient text begin, Not of such rest as one of these Can share.) Another rest and ease Along each summer-sated path From its new lord the garden hath, Than that whose spring in blessings ran Which praised the bounteous husbandman, Ere yet, in days of hankering breath, The lilies sickened unto death. What, Jenny, are your lilies dead? Aye, and the snow-white leaves are spread Jenny, you know the city now. Have seen your coach-wheels splash rebuke 140 Shall find the best and hold it dear: The unconquered mirth turn quieter Not through her own, through others' woe: Of the same lump (as it is said) For honour and dishonour made, Two sister vessels. Here is one. so fall'n! How dare to think Of the first common kindred link? Yet, Jenny, till the world shall burn It seems that all things take their turn; And who shall say but this fair tree May need, in changes that may be, Your children's children's charity? Scorned then, no doubt, as you are scorn'd! Shall no man hold his pride forewarn'd 200 210 |