I sat and pondered in my room that nightUntil the towers and steeples, near and far,Like sentries of the sky, issued the hourOf midnight. Then I wrought magnetic forceWith waving hands; and set my swerveless willThat Veera should approach me, and that noneShould harm or see her as she passed the streets.At last I heard her footstep on the stair—The patter of her feet as soft as rain,And then she turned the hinge and entered in.A long white wrapper made of satin, boundWith lace of gold, and fastened at the throatWith buttons of cut diamond, clad her form.A band of opals was around her neck—A hundred little worlds with central fires.Her feet were naked, and her hair was down.Her large eyes, wide and staring, took no heedOf anything before them; thus she slept.I bade her sit beside me, and I placedThe Bible on her knee, and laid her handUpon the verse that names the tree of life."Tell me," I said, "where may this tree be found.""The way is long," she answered me at last,"And I am worn and weary. I have trackedThe shore of one long river, many a mile.The sun scorches like fire. I am athirst.I cannot find the tree; my search is done.""Look down the past, and find if any knewWhere grows this tree, or how it might be found."Again her lips made answer: "One I see,Long dead, who bends above a written scroll,And therein makes strange characters, which holdSome hidden sense pertaining to this tree.In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there,I see this scroll to-night; 'tis worn with age.""Now seek thy home again," I said, "sweet soul.Thou art as meek and pure as him whose handFirst wrote God's words." So she arose, and passedAlong the dark, deserted street, and IFollowed her closely, till I saw her crossThe threshold of her cottage; then I turned,And found my home, and calmly slept till dawn.
I sat and pondered in my room that nightUntil the towers and steeples, near and far,Like sentries of the sky, issued the hourOf midnight. Then I wrought magnetic forceWith waving hands; and set my swerveless willThat Veera should approach me, and that noneShould harm or see her as she passed the streets.At last I heard her footstep on the stair—The patter of her feet as soft as rain,And then she turned the hinge and entered in.A long white wrapper made of satin, boundWith lace of gold, and fastened at the throatWith buttons of cut diamond, clad her form.A band of opals was around her neck—A hundred little worlds with central fires.Her feet were naked, and her hair was down.Her large eyes, wide and staring, took no heedOf anything before them; thus she slept.I bade her sit beside me, and I placedThe Bible on her knee, and laid her handUpon the verse that names the tree of life."Tell me," I said, "where may this tree be found.""The way is long," she answered me at last,"And I am worn and weary. I have trackedThe shore of one long river, many a mile.The sun scorches like fire. I am athirst.I cannot find the tree; my search is done.""Look down the past, and find if any knewWhere grows this tree, or how it might be found."Again her lips made answer: "One I see,Long dead, who bends above a written scroll,And therein makes strange characters, which holdSome hidden sense pertaining to this tree.In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there,I see this scroll to-night; 'tis worn with age."
"Now seek thy home again," I said, "sweet soul.Thou art as meek and pure as him whose handFirst wrote God's words." So she arose, and passedAlong the dark, deserted street, and IFollowed her closely, till I saw her crossThe threshold of her cottage; then I turned,And found my home, and calmly slept till dawn.
In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there,Among Pinellian writings seared with age,I found a prophet's palimpsest—a scrollThat Angelo Maio had brought to light.And on the margin of this scroll, I foundMysterious signs which baffled me at first.After a full week's search I chanced to findThe mongrel dialect of which they were.I thus translated:Gihon is the Nile.A perfect soul may find long life and gold.Surely, I thought, Veera the maid is pure.Her life's blue sky has not one cloud of sin.If her feet press the soil where Eve first trod,I can but follow and attain. So IBack to Vienna came and found Veera.To her I made my double purpose plain,And prayed her to go with me in my search.She smiled assent. To be near me, she said,Had brought her to Vienna; this indeedDetained her from her kinsmen. Her heart's bookLay open to me, and I read her love.So we were wed, and both lives ran to one.
In Milan, in the Ambrosian library there,Among Pinellian writings seared with age,I found a prophet's palimpsest—a scrollThat Angelo Maio had brought to light.And on the margin of this scroll, I foundMysterious signs which baffled me at first.After a full week's search I chanced to findThe mongrel dialect of which they were.I thus translated:Gihon is the Nile.A perfect soul may find long life and gold.Surely, I thought, Veera the maid is pure.Her life's blue sky has not one cloud of sin.If her feet press the soil where Eve first trod,I can but follow and attain. So IBack to Vienna came and found Veera.To her I made my double purpose plain,And prayed her to go with me in my search.She smiled assent. To be near me, she said,Had brought her to Vienna; this indeedDetained her from her kinsmen. Her heart's bookLay open to me, and I read her love.So we were wed, and both lives ran to one.
Now for the Nile we journeyed, gaining firstThe town of Gondokoro, where the streamOf Bahr el Abiad, or White Nile, flows.Thence we passed on, and with the savage kingsOf Karagwe, Uganda and Ungoro, stopped,To rest our weary feet, or in their hutsEscape the sun's fierce glare. At last we foundThe sources of the Nile; two lakes that nowAre called Nyanza and Nzige. If hereI had but paused, and had retraced my steps,The whole world would have known and praised my name,For I was first to find the secret out.But then I cared not for it, journeying on.After a week, we came upon a landAll void, and barren of a single leaf.Veera was pale and worn, although she boreFatigue with generous patience for my sake.Our feet were swollen, and with the hot sand scorched,Our garments were in tatters, and we seemedLike beggars, in a land where there were none to give.At night we slept beside a wide, cool stream,Whereat we quenched our thirst, and bathed our feet.My beard was grown, and all my hair hung downNeglected, on my shoulders. I was weak,And thin, and feverish, and Veera, too,I saw was sick, and languished hour by hour.
Now for the Nile we journeyed, gaining firstThe town of Gondokoro, where the streamOf Bahr el Abiad, or White Nile, flows.Thence we passed on, and with the savage kingsOf Karagwe, Uganda and Ungoro, stopped,To rest our weary feet, or in their hutsEscape the sun's fierce glare. At last we foundThe sources of the Nile; two lakes that nowAre called Nyanza and Nzige. If hereI had but paused, and had retraced my steps,The whole world would have known and praised my name,For I was first to find the secret out.But then I cared not for it, journeying on.After a week, we came upon a landAll void, and barren of a single leaf.Veera was pale and worn, although she boreFatigue with generous patience for my sake.Our feet were swollen, and with the hot sand scorched,Our garments were in tatters, and we seemedLike beggars, in a land where there were none to give.At night we slept beside a wide, cool stream,Whereat we quenched our thirst, and bathed our feet.My beard was grown, and all my hair hung downNeglected, on my shoulders. I was weak,And thin, and feverish, and Veera, too,I saw was sick, and languished hour by hour.
In the sand, lo! something to the sunReplied with brilliant lustre; as I brushedThe dust away, I saw that it was gold!—A solid bar of gold—and yet so weakWas I, I could not move it from its place.I would have given then the bar of goldTo buy a crust, but could not. So we passed,And came where five great rivers went their ways.Which should we follow? One I knewLed to the tree of life, but all the restWent back to death. Here a dead bird we found,And tearing off its gaudy plumage, ate.Upon occasional trees grew strange sparse fruits,And these sustained us as we wandered on.Along the banks for many a mile we wentBy each of these five rivers, then returned.So all my hope was dead, and long I prayedThat I might live to see my land again.
In the sand, lo! something to the sunReplied with brilliant lustre; as I brushedThe dust away, I saw that it was gold!—A solid bar of gold—and yet so weakWas I, I could not move it from its place.I would have given then the bar of goldTo buy a crust, but could not. So we passed,And came where five great rivers went their ways.Which should we follow? One I knewLed to the tree of life, but all the restWent back to death. Here a dead bird we found,And tearing off its gaudy plumage, ate.Upon occasional trees grew strange sparse fruits,And these sustained us as we wandered on.Along the banks for many a mile we wentBy each of these five rivers, then returned.So all my hope was dead, and long I prayedThat I might live to see my land again.
The night came on, and unto sleep we gaveOur spirits. When the golden day was bornVeera awoke, and told me all her dream;"Lo, in the night three men have talked with me—Three strange good men who said the kindest words,And said that only those who were releasedFrom sin, could find the garden of the Lord.And this release was bought upon a crossBy One, a Nazarene, with priceless blood.If He would bear our sins, then we might reachThe garden; but we must not touch or eatThe tree of life that flourished in the midst."Then I abased my soul, and prayed again,And cast off all the burden of my sins,Tearing my strange ambition from my heart.And Veera, too, embraced the Christian Faith.So we arose, and went upon our way,And journeying eastward, Eden found at last!
The night came on, and unto sleep we gaveOur spirits. When the golden day was bornVeera awoke, and told me all her dream;"Lo, in the night three men have talked with me—Three strange good men who said the kindest words,And said that only those who were releasedFrom sin, could find the garden of the Lord.And this release was bought upon a crossBy One, a Nazarene, with priceless blood.If He would bear our sins, then we might reachThe garden; but we must not touch or eatThe tree of life that flourished in the midst."Then I abased my soul, and prayed again,And cast off all the burden of my sins,Tearing my strange ambition from my heart.And Veera, too, embraced the Christian Faith.So we arose, and went upon our way,And journeying eastward, Eden found at last!
The trees were housed with nests, and every oneWas like a city of song. The streams tooWere voluble; they laughed and gurgled thereLike men who, at a banquet, sit and drinkAnd chatter. All the grass was like a robeOf velvet, and there was no need of rain.In dells roofed with green leafage, nature spreadCouches meet for a Sybarite. Sweet foodThe servant trees extended us to eatIn their long, branchy arms. Even the sunWas tempered, and the sky was always blue.Corpulent grapes along the crystal rocks,Made consorts of the long-robed lady leaves.The butterfly and bee, from morn till eve,Consulted with the roses, lip to lip,Which grew in rank profusion. They at timesDared to invade the empire of the grass,And overthrew its green-robed, spear-armed hosts.The lilies too were like an army there,And every night they struck their snowy tents,To please their great commander, the round moon—God's lily in the everlasting sky.
The trees were housed with nests, and every oneWas like a city of song. The streams tooWere voluble; they laughed and gurgled thereLike men who, at a banquet, sit and drinkAnd chatter. All the grass was like a robeOf velvet, and there was no need of rain.In dells roofed with green leafage, nature spreadCouches meet for a Sybarite. Sweet foodThe servant trees extended us to eatIn their long, branchy arms. Even the sunWas tempered, and the sky was always blue.Corpulent grapes along the crystal rocks,Made consorts of the long-robed lady leaves.The butterfly and bee, from morn till eve,Consulted with the roses, lip to lip,Which grew in rank profusion. They at timesDared to invade the empire of the grass,And overthrew its green-robed, spear-armed hosts.The lilies too were like an army there,And every night they struck their snowy tents,To please their great commander, the round moon—God's lily in the everlasting sky.
As to the heliotrope comes fluttering downThe peacock-butterfly, who sips and flies,So each glad day gold-winged came to the landAnd sipped its sip of time and fled away.Now in an evil hour I hungered, and I sawThe tree of life that grew forbidden fruit.What harm, I thought, is there to always live?To live is happiness; but to die is pain.The rental claimed by death falls due too soon.So I reached forth, and took the fruit, and ate.Then all the sky grew dark, and from the landMalignant terrors drove me shrieking forth;And as I fled, my youth abandoned me;My hair turned gray, my shoulders stooped, my bloodGrew colder, and my perfect form was changed.A weak old man with wrinkled face, I fled,To wander in the wastes. Once I looked backUpon the garden; over it the skyWas soft and clear; and midway in the airI saw Veera between two angels, borneTo heaven. So I turned again and fled.
As to the heliotrope comes fluttering downThe peacock-butterfly, who sips and flies,So each glad day gold-winged came to the landAnd sipped its sip of time and fled away.Now in an evil hour I hungered, and I sawThe tree of life that grew forbidden fruit.What harm, I thought, is there to always live?To live is happiness; but to die is pain.The rental claimed by death falls due too soon.So I reached forth, and took the fruit, and ate.Then all the sky grew dark, and from the landMalignant terrors drove me shrieking forth;And as I fled, my youth abandoned me;My hair turned gray, my shoulders stooped, my bloodGrew colder, and my perfect form was changed.A weak old man with wrinkled face, I fled,To wander in the wastes. Once I looked backUpon the garden; over it the skyWas soft and clear; and midway in the airI saw Veera between two angels, borneTo heaven. So I turned again and fled.
I came at last to Mesched. It was night.The moon, half-shadowed, trailed its silver robeOver the tower above the eastern gate,And there revealed the outlines of a skullSet on a spear. The portals were unbarred.I passed the arch, but in the shadow kept,While on the flinty wall I edged my knife.Then I crept on until I gained the porchOf the great palace. There I smote the guard,And entering in, sought out the sleeping king.Deep in his heart I plunged my thirsty knife.All the next day I sat before the gate,And begged, and heard the rumors of the town;Then, standing forth, I claimed to be their king,And told them all my story to the end.None pitied the dead ruler, for he knewNo pity while he lived. So I was king at last;But all my life, and all my hope to meAre dust and ashes, knowing that God's frownAbides upon me. Would that I could die!There is no kindlier spirit than content.And there is nothing better in the worldThan to do good, and trust in God for all.
I came at last to Mesched. It was night.The moon, half-shadowed, trailed its silver robeOver the tower above the eastern gate,And there revealed the outlines of a skullSet on a spear. The portals were unbarred.I passed the arch, but in the shadow kept,While on the flinty wall I edged my knife.Then I crept on until I gained the porchOf the great palace. There I smote the guard,And entering in, sought out the sleeping king.Deep in his heart I plunged my thirsty knife.All the next day I sat before the gate,And begged, and heard the rumors of the town;Then, standing forth, I claimed to be their king,And told them all my story to the end.None pitied the dead ruler, for he knewNo pity while he lived. So I was king at last;But all my life, and all my hope to meAre dust and ashes, knowing that God's frownAbides upon me. Would that I could die!
There is no kindlier spirit than content.And there is nothing better in the worldThan to do good, and trust in God for all.