Drink not of that divine philosophy,
Save thou canst bravely suffer wrong's misrule,
Thy best intent thought ill; save thou canst be
What men deem "fool," real fools despising, pitying thee.
"Not all my ministry to lift the gloom
Yet hovering o'er this mystic hemisphere.
List while I tell, for I am one by whom
Future and past as present shall appear. 380
In me behold Messiah's Minister,
Ancient of time and of eternity,
Spirit of song that moved the Hebrew seer,
Voice of the stars[7] ere earth's nativity;
Exile, for ages gone, of mortal minstrelsy.
"See now my sacred heritage, the prey
Of ribald rhymesters, sensuous, half obscene;
Of gloating censors, glad o'er my decay,
And deeming all but best I ne'er had been!
The body's bard[8] throned, sceptering the scene, 390
A groveling worshiper of earth and time.
Arise! and with thy soul's celestial sheen,
Shame these false meteors, change the ruling chime;
My minstrel, I thy muse, sing thou the song sublime!
"Sing, poet, sing! but not of new—of old,
Of old and new—eternal truth thy theme,
That holdeth past and future in her fold,
That maketh present but a passing dream,
While time and earth and man as trifles seem;
That knoweth not of new, or old, or strange; 400
Whose everduring, all-redemptive scheme,
Fixt and immutable 'mid worlds of change,
On, on, from universe to universe doth range.
"Faint not, nor fear, for all shall fare thy way—
My way, His way, the Master's, evermore.
East shall seem West, rethrown the rising ray,
Shining afar from this most ancient shore[9],
And man shall rise[10] e'en where man fell before.
Fools may deride, may jeer at destiny;
They mock to mourn, oblivion earths them o'er; 410
While they that champion truth, by truth shall be
Exalted, e'en in time, to live eternally."
The ancient paused, and, unperceived till then,
A wondrous harp his bosom swung before,
Such harp as played the shepherd psalmist[11] when
A maddening rage his monarch seized and tore,
And music's magic quelled satanic power.
Seated, his form against the crag reclined,
He waved me to his feet, and forth did pour,
As pours Niagara on the plaintive wind, 420
Floods of majestic song, falling from mind to mind.
Full tale of wonders told, I may not tell,
Though mind be heir to all of mystery;
With milk of truth the breasts of wisdom swell,
Sufficing past and present infancy.
But matching all the modern eye may see
With marvels promised to the future sight,
'Twas as the shrub unto the sheltering tree,
The floating swan unto the eagle's flight,
The hillock to the snow-crowned summit, lost in light. 430
Silent he towered above me, harp in hand,—
Was it a dream? Could dream so vivid be?—
And with his mantle's fold my forehead fanned.
Then leapt to life the flame of poesy!
Was it a vision of my destiny?
Upon the mount, as erst, I stood alone,
And naught was there of muse or minstrelsy;
Save that afar still trembled that strange tone,
And something said within: "That harp is now thine own."
CANTO THREE
Elect of Elohim[1]
Sing I a song of aeons gone, 440
Of life from mystery sprung,
Ere sun, or moon, or rolling stars
Their radiance earthward flung;
Ere spirit-winged intelligence
Forsook those shining spheres.
Exceeding glory there to gain
Through mortal toil and tears.
A song they learn whose lives eterne
Transcend yon twinkling night,
Pale Olea's silver beam[2] outsoar, 450
Shinea's golden flight;
Passing the angel sentries by,
Mounting o'er stars and suns,
To where the orbs that govern burn,
Royal and regnant ones.
Declare, O Muse of mightier wing,
Of loftier lore, than mine!
Why God is God, and man may be
Both human and divine;
Why Sons of God, 'mid sons of men, 460
Unrecognized may dwell,
So masked in dense mortality
That none their truth can tell.
From worlds afar, from heavenmost star,
Heard I, or seemed to hear,
A sweet refrain, as summer rain,
A cadence soft and clear.
A voice, a harp,—Was it the same?—
Harping those harps among,
Leading the lyric universe, 470
On those high hills of song?
In solemn council sat the Gods;
From Kolob's height supreme,
Celestial light blazed forth afar
O'er countless kokaubeam;
And faintest tinge, the fiery fringe
Of that resplendent day,
'Lumined the dark abysmal realm
Where earth in chaos lay.
Silence. That awful hour was one 480
When thought doth most avail;
Of