Poems by Philip James Bailey
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Poems by Philip James Bailey Festus - XXX Thence earthward tending, first we make the sun; Where, as at rest in light, a mediate point, A bright effect original of God, Enlightening all things, inly and externe, 'Twixt earth and heaven, our soul heroic now The spirit beloved, progressive, earlier met In satellite sphere, and kindred throne, imbue With sense of being aeonian. Only thus, As we advance in life perfective, soul Sums accurately the future forming force Of failures passed; for failures are all faiths Though each to educable man once good. The spirit inquisitive of the long foregone By natural barriers checked, at last all bounds Of birth and death views vanish; eyes the dawn Eternal of creation. The Sun.--Festus, Angela, Lucifer, Ouriel, Guardian Angel, Luniel. Festus. Soul of the world, divine necessity, Servant of God, and master of all things, Here, in the orb of light's eternal noon, First see I all things clear; from end to end The divine cycle of the soul of man; How spirit and soul, mind, life, flesh, feeling, mix, Reciprocate as the elements; how too flow The streams of feeling, passion's cataracts; How rise, how sink, mine, mountain, this of pride And that of covetousness. Such is, man to know. The human universe and the divine, and fate Central: know all must be fulfilled that is Of nature; of sin and strife, peace, righteousness, Change and destruction, ere the earth can take New life, or man God's minister become. All things are means for greater good. Thou, sun! Art just a giant slave, a god in bonds; The summit--flower of all created life Is its unition with divinity, In essence, yet existence separate. If heaven and all its stars depend on earth, Then may eternity upon time; but earth's A crumb of heaven, and time an atom sole Of eternity: neither pends on other; both One essence being, emanant from God, Whose flowings forth are aye and infinite. One only truth hath consequence, God's truth Inspirited in man. The world may act, Believe, bless, curse it's way as best it lists; Expend a vain life solemnizing points Uncertain as the site of Paradise Or Hades' area: one thing sure to us; Whate'er we expect in time or place to be, No future disappointment can be more Than that we are now to ourselves. We make our hearts Centres of all hopes, powers, rewards; nor deign Scarcely to circumscribe our life, so vast The thought of our own merit, remembering not That, solely as its imaginary, exists; This, only as intelligible, and not Substantial; draw life therefore as we may It fails to match the true invisible,-- Pure, as some virgin visionary's dream Of sanctity, still consociable with love, Or perfect faith's regenerative wave;-- Whereafter we contend. It is come to this. One state of life with me hath passed away. Aught henceforth that may matter be of doubt, To me is indifferent, not of interest. I That only love that's certain. Me no more The spirits of the bright impalpable life Shall throng round as the wind some mountain--top; Nor watery lightfulness of ghostly eyes, Belonging heavenly forms informed with light, Impose their spell of record under pain. The inspiration quits me; it is gone Like a retreating army from the land It twice hath wasted; the long gleaming mass Snakelike, at last hath wound itself away, And left me weak and wretched. None again Of all the starry tribes of museful mien Shall visit me; their leave revoked, henceforth, Restricted to perfection, earth they quit. True, albeit, I loved them more than life. I felt myself made sacred by their touch; But they are gone, and there is nought on earth Left with their beauty comparable. It seems I held me wholly assured; discrediting Once and for aye all doubts. What doubts forsooth, And all hell's hosts obscure, grief generative, Should henceforth shake me? Fiery shadows, hence! I have outbraved ye once: I scorn ye now. Is't not enough that I to myself have sworn, All things to acquit for one; truth's needled rays For truth's one sphere; the mean for the supreme; The dubitable power for that orb--throned? I have, yet is not soul God's echo. Mind And matter are proportioned in all worlds The father they and mother of all things. And earth hath favour over crowds of stars. Earth let me then reseek. It suits not now To plunge in pleasure, or to passion stoop, The lion--honey of the heart which speaks, And dwells in, life corrupted. Thirst no more For lore, or joy, the heart distracts, nor meet I' the brain with dizzying mixture, they. Be it mine To hope not yet all things concluse; nor fate's Broad arrow sped, but from its living bow God's lips, defixed, may yet to sheaf return. If suffering expiated offence, then they Who have suffered most, have most maybe, atoned. Earth--like, the heart must bide all change ere yet The heaven--life form within it, and we feel Midst all the world's delights, and life's desires That chastity of heart which loves but God. Lucifer. Lo! I am one who waits not to be sought. It is from this mighty orb, Time's solar brood, How many or how far soe'er, are born; And here, if chance or destiny hath bade Converge our courses, it were doubtless well. Festus. Would I could well reply to word of thine. Lucifer. All mysteries once I warned thee thou shouldst ken, Nor mazèd stand at aught: that promise now I honour; and will show thee thou hast been Thyself the all thou seest. Ere every birth, The spirit, baptized into forgetfulness, Sloughs off the oppressive consciousness of years, Soul--saddening as with thunderstorms of thought. But leave is mine and power devolved of God, With reminiscence of Time's foresped tides, Thy memory to endow; and from the passed Evoke eternal pictures; for the world Itself is but an outline manifold, And surface of true essence. Underneath That superficial veil is nought but God. Festus. Draw it and die. Lucifer. Not yet. It irks not me That thou wouldst aye, from this to that extreme, Hie with a footstep as of polar light, All sequence mocking; urgent when the passed, Then calling on the future. But this sun, All life, hath its set service. Be it now Mine own to show what hath been, and the soul, Here doting on the merest chance of death, Its prouder pre--existence, angel--mate Of immortality, all time foregone. Souls are not new created, hour by hour, Like rain--drops; but immortal in the heavens From form to form pass through eternity. And now what seest thou? Festus. Surely, in yonder shape I see approaching, purer, lovelier, her Whose spirit enshrined in beauty's crescent star, With bliss intense lit up my heart; my soul Steeped in the pearly radiance of her smile; But here of loftier and more grand aspect, Nor now by inmost shadows saddened. Speak, Transcendent spirit; and whom thou seekest say; Or wherefore here. Angela. The life of all that's good Is one perpetual progress. Every thought That strengthens, purifies, exalts a mind, Betters the soul so blessing. Festus. Spirit benign! Such progress is perfection. It is the power Of man's perfectibility gives earth Capacity of heaven. And thou hast left Yon orb celestial, for this throne of light, Throne than all empires wider; but while thou Art here of right and fitness, I of mere Permission come, and momentary choice. Angela. To will and to permit with one whose will, Creative even of all obstructive force, Is irresistible, were nought but one. Festus. Thou, too, mine angel guardian! Guardian Angel. Wheresoe'er Thou art am I, or far or nigh, to ward From woe, to watch 'gainst evil, or to warn. But let the fates proceed. Here all is safe; Here, 'neath yon mighty ruler, like a god Blessing his worshippers; for he is found Most blessing who most serves in godly love. Lucifer. Yon servant--lord, chained doubtless to his throne; Such empery be not mine? Angela. Nay, see, he comes. Guardian Angel. Lo! Ouriel, regent spirit of the sun. Ouriel. Were I sole servant of the universe, As of one starry family, not then Could I the pride admit thou feelest, fiend, In ruling or in ruining one poor soul. The glory of kingship is humility. Hence knowing every star, for light is here No more obstructive to angelic eye, Than night to man's, I know all; and beside, Hear angel--whispers in remotest heavens; O'er all, God's will, how strange soe'er, embrace; And blazon on my breast his holy law. Whatever its requirements, here obeyed, Do that ye came for hither. It is fate. Fate is God's spoken law, and age by age Concurrent with his written ripely fulfilled. Guardian Angel. A life, a moment, all is doomed of God; The aged growth of empire and the fall Ephemeral of a flower. Angela. That all are here, Hosts of the blessèd know; and for what end Thou, man! shalt learn; and with profound surprise The volumed ages of the soul unseal, Time's growth concentric reaping at one glance. Festus. Hold we, then, passed and future in ourselves? Angela. Truly. Thy future lightly once I limned, Leave given, but just so far; and now thy passed, In shadowy visions, rimmed or cored with light, I call before thee as in painted clouds.