Solomon King of the Jews and the Queen of Sheba, Balkis,Talk on the ivory throne, and we well may conjecture their talk isSolely of things sublime: why else has she sought Mount Zion,Climbed the six golden steps, and sat betwixt lion and lion?She proves him with hard questions: before she has reached the middleHe smiling supplies the end, straight solves them riddle by riddle;Until, dead-beaten at last, there is left no spirit in her,And thus would she close the game whereof she was first beginner:"O wisest thou of the wise, world's marvel and wellnigh monster,One crabbed question more to construe orvulgoconster!Who are those, of all mankind, a monarch of perfect wisdomShould open to, when they knock atspheteron do—that 's, his dome?"The King makes tart reply: "Whom else but the wise his equalsShould he welcome with heart and voice?—since, king though he be, such weak wallsOf circumstance—power and pomp—divide souls each from otherThat whoso proves kingly in craft I needs must acknowledge my brother."Come poet, come painter, come sculptor, come builder—whate'er his condition,Is he prime in his art? We are peers! My insight has pierced the partitionAnd hails—for the poem, the picture, the statue, the building—my fellow!Gold 's gold though dim in the dust: court-polish soon turns it yellow."But tell me in turn, O thou to thy weakling sex superior,That for knowledge hast travelled so far yet seemest nowhit the wearier,—Who are those, of all mankind, a queen like thyself, consummateIn wisdom, should call to her side with an affable 'Up hither, come, mate'?""The Good are my mates—how else? Why doubt it?" the Queen upbridled:"Sure even above the Wise,—or in travel my eyes have idled,—I see the Good stand plain: be they rich, poor, shrewd, or simple,If Good they only are.... Permit me to drop my wimple!"And, in that bashful jerk of her body, she—peace, thou scoffer!—Jostled the King's right-hand stretched courtously help to proffer,And so disclosed a portent: all unaware the Prince eyedThe Ring which bore the Name—turned outside now from inside!The truth-compelling Name!—and at once, "I greet the Wise—oh,Certainly welcome such to my court—with this proviso:The building must be my temple, my person stand forth the statue,The picture my portrait prove, and the poem my praise—you cat, you!"But Solomon nonplussed? Nay! "Be truthful in turn!" so bade he:"See the Name, obey its hest!" And at once subjoins the lady,—"Provided the Good are the young, men strong and tall and proper,Such servants I straightway enlist,—which means" ... But the blushes stop her."Ah, Soul," the Monarch sighed, "that wouldst soar yet ever crawlest,How comes it thou canst discern the greatest yet choose the smallest,Unless because heaven is far, where wings find fit expansion,While creeping on all-fours suits, suffices the earthly mansion?"Aspire to the Best! But which? There are Bests and Bests so many,With ahabitateach for each, earth's Best as much Best as any!On Lebanon roots the cedar—soil lofty, yet stony and sandy—While hyssop, of worth in its way, on the wall grows low but handy."Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense beneath her;Below she must condescend, to plodding unbuoyed by ether.In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity;On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools—that 's Vanity."It is naught, it will go, it can never presume above to trouble me;But here,—why, it toys and tickles and teases, howe'er I redouble meIn a doggedest of endeavors to play the indifferent. Therefore,Suppose we resume discourse? Thou hast travelled thus far: but wherefore?"Solely for Solomon's sake, to see whom earth styles Sagest?"Through her blushes laughed the Queen. "For the sake of a Sage? The gay jest!On high, be communion with Mind—there, Body concerns not Balkis:Down here,—do I make too bold? Sage Solomon,—one fool's small kiss!"
Solomon King of the Jews and the Queen of Sheba, Balkis,Talk on the ivory throne, and we well may conjecture their talk isSolely of things sublime: why else has she sought Mount Zion,Climbed the six golden steps, and sat betwixt lion and lion?She proves him with hard questions: before she has reached the middleHe smiling supplies the end, straight solves them riddle by riddle;Until, dead-beaten at last, there is left no spirit in her,And thus would she close the game whereof she was first beginner:"O wisest thou of the wise, world's marvel and wellnigh monster,One crabbed question more to construe orvulgoconster!Who are those, of all mankind, a monarch of perfect wisdomShould open to, when they knock atspheteron do—that 's, his dome?"The King makes tart reply: "Whom else but the wise his equalsShould he welcome with heart and voice?—since, king though he be, such weak wallsOf circumstance—power and pomp—divide souls each from otherThat whoso proves kingly in craft I needs must acknowledge my brother."Come poet, come painter, come sculptor, come builder—whate'er his condition,Is he prime in his art? We are peers! My insight has pierced the partitionAnd hails—for the poem, the picture, the statue, the building—my fellow!Gold 's gold though dim in the dust: court-polish soon turns it yellow."But tell me in turn, O thou to thy weakling sex superior,That for knowledge hast travelled so far yet seemest nowhit the wearier,—Who are those, of all mankind, a queen like thyself, consummateIn wisdom, should call to her side with an affable 'Up hither, come, mate'?""The Good are my mates—how else? Why doubt it?" the Queen upbridled:"Sure even above the Wise,—or in travel my eyes have idled,—I see the Good stand plain: be they rich, poor, shrewd, or simple,If Good they only are.... Permit me to drop my wimple!"And, in that bashful jerk of her body, she—peace, thou scoffer!—Jostled the King's right-hand stretched courtously help to proffer,And so disclosed a portent: all unaware the Prince eyedThe Ring which bore the Name—turned outside now from inside!The truth-compelling Name!—and at once, "I greet the Wise—oh,Certainly welcome such to my court—with this proviso:The building must be my temple, my person stand forth the statue,The picture my portrait prove, and the poem my praise—you cat, you!"But Solomon nonplussed? Nay! "Be truthful in turn!" so bade he:"See the Name, obey its hest!" And at once subjoins the lady,—"Provided the Good are the young, men strong and tall and proper,Such servants I straightway enlist,—which means" ... But the blushes stop her."Ah, Soul," the Monarch sighed, "that wouldst soar yet ever crawlest,How comes it thou canst discern the greatest yet choose the smallest,Unless because heaven is far, where wings find fit expansion,While creeping on all-fours suits, suffices the earthly mansion?"Aspire to the Best! But which? There are Bests and Bests so many,With ahabitateach for each, earth's Best as much Best as any!On Lebanon roots the cedar—soil lofty, yet stony and sandy—While hyssop, of worth in its way, on the wall grows low but handy."Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense beneath her;Below she must condescend, to plodding unbuoyed by ether.In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity;On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools—that 's Vanity."It is naught, it will go, it can never presume above to trouble me;But here,—why, it toys and tickles and teases, howe'er I redouble meIn a doggedest of endeavors to play the indifferent. Therefore,Suppose we resume discourse? Thou hast travelled thus far: but wherefore?"Solely for Solomon's sake, to see whom earth styles Sagest?"Through her blushes laughed the Queen. "For the sake of a Sage? The gay jest!On high, be communion with Mind—there, Body concerns not Balkis:Down here,—do I make too bold? Sage Solomon,—one fool's small kiss!"
Solomon King of the Jews and the Queen of Sheba, Balkis,Talk on the ivory throne, and we well may conjecture their talk isSolely of things sublime: why else has she sought Mount Zion,Climbed the six golden steps, and sat betwixt lion and lion?
Solomon King of the Jews and the Queen of Sheba, Balkis,
Talk on the ivory throne, and we well may conjecture their talk is
Solely of things sublime: why else has she sought Mount Zion,
Climbed the six golden steps, and sat betwixt lion and lion?
She proves him with hard questions: before she has reached the middleHe smiling supplies the end, straight solves them riddle by riddle;Until, dead-beaten at last, there is left no spirit in her,And thus would she close the game whereof she was first beginner:
She proves him with hard questions: before she has reached the middle
He smiling supplies the end, straight solves them riddle by riddle;
Until, dead-beaten at last, there is left no spirit in her,
And thus would she close the game whereof she was first beginner:
"O wisest thou of the wise, world's marvel and wellnigh monster,One crabbed question more to construe orvulgoconster!Who are those, of all mankind, a monarch of perfect wisdomShould open to, when they knock atspheteron do—that 's, his dome?"
"O wisest thou of the wise, world's marvel and wellnigh monster,
One crabbed question more to construe orvulgoconster!
Who are those, of all mankind, a monarch of perfect wisdom
Should open to, when they knock atspheteron do—that 's, his dome?"
The King makes tart reply: "Whom else but the wise his equalsShould he welcome with heart and voice?—since, king though he be, such weak wallsOf circumstance—power and pomp—divide souls each from otherThat whoso proves kingly in craft I needs must acknowledge my brother.
The King makes tart reply: "Whom else but the wise his equals
Should he welcome with heart and voice?—since, king though he be, such weak walls
Of circumstance—power and pomp—divide souls each from other
That whoso proves kingly in craft I needs must acknowledge my brother.
"Come poet, come painter, come sculptor, come builder—whate'er his condition,Is he prime in his art? We are peers! My insight has pierced the partitionAnd hails—for the poem, the picture, the statue, the building—my fellow!Gold 's gold though dim in the dust: court-polish soon turns it yellow.
"Come poet, come painter, come sculptor, come builder—whate'er his condition,
Is he prime in his art? We are peers! My insight has pierced the partition
And hails—for the poem, the picture, the statue, the building—my fellow!
Gold 's gold though dim in the dust: court-polish soon turns it yellow.
"But tell me in turn, O thou to thy weakling sex superior,That for knowledge hast travelled so far yet seemest nowhit the wearier,—Who are those, of all mankind, a queen like thyself, consummateIn wisdom, should call to her side with an affable 'Up hither, come, mate'?"
"But tell me in turn, O thou to thy weakling sex superior,
That for knowledge hast travelled so far yet seemest nowhit the wearier,—
Who are those, of all mankind, a queen like thyself, consummate
In wisdom, should call to her side with an affable 'Up hither, come, mate'?"
"The Good are my mates—how else? Why doubt it?" the Queen upbridled:"Sure even above the Wise,—or in travel my eyes have idled,—I see the Good stand plain: be they rich, poor, shrewd, or simple,If Good they only are.... Permit me to drop my wimple!"
"The Good are my mates—how else? Why doubt it?" the Queen upbridled:
"Sure even above the Wise,—or in travel my eyes have idled,—
I see the Good stand plain: be they rich, poor, shrewd, or simple,
If Good they only are.... Permit me to drop my wimple!"
And, in that bashful jerk of her body, she—peace, thou scoffer!—Jostled the King's right-hand stretched courtously help to proffer,And so disclosed a portent: all unaware the Prince eyedThe Ring which bore the Name—turned outside now from inside!
And, in that bashful jerk of her body, she—peace, thou scoffer!—
Jostled the King's right-hand stretched courtously help to proffer,
And so disclosed a portent: all unaware the Prince eyed
The Ring which bore the Name—turned outside now from inside!
The truth-compelling Name!—and at once, "I greet the Wise—oh,Certainly welcome such to my court—with this proviso:The building must be my temple, my person stand forth the statue,The picture my portrait prove, and the poem my praise—you cat, you!"
The truth-compelling Name!—and at once, "I greet the Wise—oh,
Certainly welcome such to my court—with this proviso:
The building must be my temple, my person stand forth the statue,
The picture my portrait prove, and the poem my praise—you cat, you!"
But Solomon nonplussed? Nay! "Be truthful in turn!" so bade he:"See the Name, obey its hest!" And at once subjoins the lady,—"Provided the Good are the young, men strong and tall and proper,Such servants I straightway enlist,—which means" ... But the blushes stop her.
But Solomon nonplussed? Nay! "Be truthful in turn!" so bade he:
"See the Name, obey its hest!" And at once subjoins the lady,
—"Provided the Good are the young, men strong and tall and proper,
Such servants I straightway enlist,—which means" ... But the blushes stop her.
"Ah, Soul," the Monarch sighed, "that wouldst soar yet ever crawlest,How comes it thou canst discern the greatest yet choose the smallest,Unless because heaven is far, where wings find fit expansion,While creeping on all-fours suits, suffices the earthly mansion?
"Ah, Soul," the Monarch sighed, "that wouldst soar yet ever crawlest,
How comes it thou canst discern the greatest yet choose the smallest,
Unless because heaven is far, where wings find fit expansion,
While creeping on all-fours suits, suffices the earthly mansion?
"Aspire to the Best! But which? There are Bests and Bests so many,With ahabitateach for each, earth's Best as much Best as any!On Lebanon roots the cedar—soil lofty, yet stony and sandy—While hyssop, of worth in its way, on the wall grows low but handy.
"Aspire to the Best! But which? There are Bests and Bests so many,
With ahabitateach for each, earth's Best as much Best as any!
On Lebanon roots the cedar—soil lofty, yet stony and sandy—
While hyssop, of worth in its way, on the wall grows low but handy.
"Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense beneath her;Below she must condescend, to plodding unbuoyed by ether.In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity;On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools—that 's Vanity.
"Above may the Soul spread wing, spurn body and sense beneath her;
Below she must condescend, to plodding unbuoyed by ether.
In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity;
On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools—that 's Vanity.
"It is naught, it will go, it can never presume above to trouble me;But here,—why, it toys and tickles and teases, howe'er I redouble meIn a doggedest of endeavors to play the indifferent. Therefore,Suppose we resume discourse? Thou hast travelled thus far: but wherefore?
"It is naught, it will go, it can never presume above to trouble me;
But here,—why, it toys and tickles and teases, howe'er I redouble me
In a doggedest of endeavors to play the indifferent. Therefore,
Suppose we resume discourse? Thou hast travelled thus far: but wherefore?
"Solely for Solomon's sake, to see whom earth styles Sagest?"Through her blushes laughed the Queen. "For the sake of a Sage? The gay jest!On high, be communion with Mind—there, Body concerns not Balkis:Down here,—do I make too bold? Sage Solomon,—one fool's small kiss!"
"Solely for Solomon's sake, to see whom earth styles Sagest?"
Through her blushes laughed the Queen. "For the sake of a Sage? The gay jest!
On high, be communion with Mind—there, Body concerns not Balkis:
Down here,—do I make too bold? Sage Solomon,—one fool's small kiss!"
Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis!Here 's the gallery they trodBoth together, he her god,She his idol,—lend your rod,Chamberlain!—ay, there they are—"QuisSeparabit?"—plain those twoTouching words come into view,Apposite for me and you:Since they witness to incessantLove like ours: King Francis, he—Diane the adored one, she—Prototypes of you and me.Everywhere is carved her CrescentWith his Salamander-sign—Flame-fed creature: flame benignTo itself or, if malign,Only to the meddling curious,—So, be warned, Sir! Where 's my head?How it wanders! What I saidMerely meant—the creature, fedThus on flame, was scarce injuriousSave to fools who woke its ire,Thinking fit to play with fire.'T is the Crescent you admire?Then, be Diane! I 'll be Francis.Crescents change,—true!—wax and wane,Woman-like: male hearts retainHeat nor, once warm, cool again.So, we figure—such our chance is—I as man and you as ... What?Take offence? My Love forgotHe plays woman, I do not?I—the woman? See my habit,Ask my people! Anyhow,Be we what we may, one vowBinds us, male or female. Now,—Stand, Sir! Read! "Quis separabit?"Half a mile of pictured wayPast these palace-walls to-dayTraversed, this I came to say.You must needs begin to love me;First I hated, then, at best,—Have it so!—I acquiesced;Pure compassion did the rest.From below thus raised above me,Would you, step by step, descend,Pity me, become my friend,Like me, like less, loathe at end?That 's the ladder's round you rose by!That—my own foot kicked away,Having raised you: let it stay,Serve you for retreating? Nay.Close to me you climbed: as close by,Keep your station, though the peakReached proves somewhat bare and bleak!Woman 's strong if man is weak.Keep here, loving me forever!Love's look, gesture, speech, I claim:Act love, lie love, all the same—Play as earnest were our game!Lonely I stood long: 't was cleverWhen you climbed, before men's eyes,Spurned the earth and scaled the skies,Gained my peak and grasped your prize.Here you stood, then, to men's wonder;Here you tire of standing? Kneel!Cure what giddiness you feel,This way! Do your senses reel?Not unlikely! What rolls under?Yawning death in yon abyssWhere the waters whirl and hissRound more frightful peaks than this.Should my buffet dash you thither ...But be sage! No watery graveNeeds await you: seeming braveKneel on safe, dear timid slave!You surmised, when you climbed hither,Just as easy were retreatShould you tire, conceive unmeetLonger patience at my feet?Me as standing, you as stooping,—Who arranged for each the pose?Lest men think us friends turned foes,Keep the attitude you chose!Men are used to this same grouping—I and you like statues seen.You and I, no third between,Kneel and stand! That makes the scene.Mar it—and one buffet ... Pardon!Needless warmth—wise words in waste!'T was prostration that replacedKneeling, then? A proof of taste.Crouch, not kneel, while I mount guard onProstrate love—become no waif,No estray to waves that chafeDisappointed—love 's so safe!Waves that chafe? The idlest fancy!Peaks that scare? I think we knowWalls enclose our sculpture: soGrouped, we pose in Fontainebleau.Up now! Wherefore hesitancy?Arm in arm and cheek by cheek,Laugh with me at waves and peak!Silent still? Why, pictures speak.See, where Juno strikes Ixion,Primatice speaks plainly! Pooh—Rather, Florentine Le Roux!I 've lost head for who is who—So it swims and wanders! Fie onWhat still proves me female! Here,By the staircase!—for we nearThat dark "Gallery of the Deer."Look me in the eyes once! Steady!Are you faithful now as erstOn that eve when we two firstVowed at Avon, blessed and cursedFaith and falsehood? Pale already?Forward! Must my hand compelEntrance—this way? Exit—well,Somehow, somewhere. Who can tell?What if to the selfsame place inRustic Avon, at the doorOf the village church once more,Where a tombstone paves the floorBy that holy-water basinYou appealed to—"As, below.This stone hides its corpse, e'en soI your secrets hide"? What ho!Friends, my four! You, Priest, confess him!I have judged the culprit there:Execute my sentence! CareFor no mail such cowards wear!Done, Priest? Then, absolve and bless him!Now—you three, stab thick and fast,Deep and deeper! Dead at last?Thanks, friends—Father, thanks! Aghast?What one word of his confessionWould you tell me, though I luredWith that royal crown abjuredJust because its bars immuredLove too much? Love burst compression,Fled free, finally confessedAll its secrets to that breastWhence ... let Avon tell the rest!
Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis!Here 's the gallery they trodBoth together, he her god,She his idol,—lend your rod,Chamberlain!—ay, there they are—"QuisSeparabit?"—plain those twoTouching words come into view,Apposite for me and you:Since they witness to incessantLove like ours: King Francis, he—Diane the adored one, she—Prototypes of you and me.Everywhere is carved her CrescentWith his Salamander-sign—Flame-fed creature: flame benignTo itself or, if malign,Only to the meddling curious,—So, be warned, Sir! Where 's my head?How it wanders! What I saidMerely meant—the creature, fedThus on flame, was scarce injuriousSave to fools who woke its ire,Thinking fit to play with fire.'T is the Crescent you admire?Then, be Diane! I 'll be Francis.Crescents change,—true!—wax and wane,Woman-like: male hearts retainHeat nor, once warm, cool again.So, we figure—such our chance is—I as man and you as ... What?Take offence? My Love forgotHe plays woman, I do not?I—the woman? See my habit,Ask my people! Anyhow,Be we what we may, one vowBinds us, male or female. Now,—Stand, Sir! Read! "Quis separabit?"Half a mile of pictured wayPast these palace-walls to-dayTraversed, this I came to say.You must needs begin to love me;First I hated, then, at best,—Have it so!—I acquiesced;Pure compassion did the rest.From below thus raised above me,Would you, step by step, descend,Pity me, become my friend,Like me, like less, loathe at end?That 's the ladder's round you rose by!That—my own foot kicked away,Having raised you: let it stay,Serve you for retreating? Nay.Close to me you climbed: as close by,Keep your station, though the peakReached proves somewhat bare and bleak!Woman 's strong if man is weak.Keep here, loving me forever!Love's look, gesture, speech, I claim:Act love, lie love, all the same—Play as earnest were our game!Lonely I stood long: 't was cleverWhen you climbed, before men's eyes,Spurned the earth and scaled the skies,Gained my peak and grasped your prize.Here you stood, then, to men's wonder;Here you tire of standing? Kneel!Cure what giddiness you feel,This way! Do your senses reel?Not unlikely! What rolls under?Yawning death in yon abyssWhere the waters whirl and hissRound more frightful peaks than this.Should my buffet dash you thither ...But be sage! No watery graveNeeds await you: seeming braveKneel on safe, dear timid slave!You surmised, when you climbed hither,Just as easy were retreatShould you tire, conceive unmeetLonger patience at my feet?Me as standing, you as stooping,—Who arranged for each the pose?Lest men think us friends turned foes,Keep the attitude you chose!Men are used to this same grouping—I and you like statues seen.You and I, no third between,Kneel and stand! That makes the scene.Mar it—and one buffet ... Pardon!Needless warmth—wise words in waste!'T was prostration that replacedKneeling, then? A proof of taste.Crouch, not kneel, while I mount guard onProstrate love—become no waif,No estray to waves that chafeDisappointed—love 's so safe!Waves that chafe? The idlest fancy!Peaks that scare? I think we knowWalls enclose our sculpture: soGrouped, we pose in Fontainebleau.Up now! Wherefore hesitancy?Arm in arm and cheek by cheek,Laugh with me at waves and peak!Silent still? Why, pictures speak.See, where Juno strikes Ixion,Primatice speaks plainly! Pooh—Rather, Florentine Le Roux!I 've lost head for who is who—So it swims and wanders! Fie onWhat still proves me female! Here,By the staircase!—for we nearThat dark "Gallery of the Deer."Look me in the eyes once! Steady!Are you faithful now as erstOn that eve when we two firstVowed at Avon, blessed and cursedFaith and falsehood? Pale already?Forward! Must my hand compelEntrance—this way? Exit—well,Somehow, somewhere. Who can tell?What if to the selfsame place inRustic Avon, at the doorOf the village church once more,Where a tombstone paves the floorBy that holy-water basinYou appealed to—"As, below.This stone hides its corpse, e'en soI your secrets hide"? What ho!Friends, my four! You, Priest, confess him!I have judged the culprit there:Execute my sentence! CareFor no mail such cowards wear!Done, Priest? Then, absolve and bless him!Now—you three, stab thick and fast,Deep and deeper! Dead at last?Thanks, friends—Father, thanks! Aghast?What one word of his confessionWould you tell me, though I luredWith that royal crown abjuredJust because its bars immuredLove too much? Love burst compression,Fled free, finally confessedAll its secrets to that breastWhence ... let Avon tell the rest!
Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis!Here 's the gallery they trodBoth together, he her god,She his idol,—lend your rod,Chamberlain!—ay, there they are—"QuisSeparabit?"—plain those twoTouching words come into view,Apposite for me and you:
Ah, but how each loved each, Marquis!
Here 's the gallery they trod
Both together, he her god,
She his idol,—lend your rod,
Chamberlain!—ay, there they are—"Quis
Separabit?"—plain those two
Touching words come into view,
Apposite for me and you:
Since they witness to incessantLove like ours: King Francis, he—Diane the adored one, she—Prototypes of you and me.Everywhere is carved her CrescentWith his Salamander-sign—Flame-fed creature: flame benignTo itself or, if malign,
Since they witness to incessant
Love like ours: King Francis, he—
Diane the adored one, she—
Prototypes of you and me.
Everywhere is carved her Crescent
With his Salamander-sign—
Flame-fed creature: flame benign
To itself or, if malign,
Only to the meddling curious,—So, be warned, Sir! Where 's my head?How it wanders! What I saidMerely meant—the creature, fedThus on flame, was scarce injuriousSave to fools who woke its ire,Thinking fit to play with fire.'T is the Crescent you admire?
Only to the meddling curious,
—So, be warned, Sir! Where 's my head?
How it wanders! What I said
Merely meant—the creature, fed
Thus on flame, was scarce injurious
Save to fools who woke its ire,
Thinking fit to play with fire.
'T is the Crescent you admire?
Then, be Diane! I 'll be Francis.Crescents change,—true!—wax and wane,Woman-like: male hearts retainHeat nor, once warm, cool again.So, we figure—such our chance is—I as man and you as ... What?Take offence? My Love forgotHe plays woman, I do not?
Then, be Diane! I 'll be Francis.
Crescents change,—true!—wax and wane,
Woman-like: male hearts retain
Heat nor, once warm, cool again.
So, we figure—such our chance is—
I as man and you as ... What?
Take offence? My Love forgot
He plays woman, I do not?
I—the woman? See my habit,Ask my people! Anyhow,Be we what we may, one vowBinds us, male or female. Now,—Stand, Sir! Read! "Quis separabit?"Half a mile of pictured wayPast these palace-walls to-dayTraversed, this I came to say.
I—the woman? See my habit,
Ask my people! Anyhow,
Be we what we may, one vow
Binds us, male or female. Now,—
Stand, Sir! Read! "Quis separabit?"
Half a mile of pictured way
Past these palace-walls to-day
Traversed, this I came to say.
You must needs begin to love me;First I hated, then, at best,—Have it so!—I acquiesced;Pure compassion did the rest.From below thus raised above me,Would you, step by step, descend,Pity me, become my friend,Like me, like less, loathe at end?
You must needs begin to love me;
First I hated, then, at best,
—Have it so!—I acquiesced;
Pure compassion did the rest.
From below thus raised above me,
Would you, step by step, descend,
Pity me, become my friend,
Like me, like less, loathe at end?
That 's the ladder's round you rose by!That—my own foot kicked away,Having raised you: let it stay,Serve you for retreating? Nay.Close to me you climbed: as close by,Keep your station, though the peakReached proves somewhat bare and bleak!Woman 's strong if man is weak.
That 's the ladder's round you rose by!
That—my own foot kicked away,
Having raised you: let it stay,
Serve you for retreating? Nay.
Close to me you climbed: as close by,
Keep your station, though the peak
Reached proves somewhat bare and bleak!
Woman 's strong if man is weak.
Keep here, loving me forever!Love's look, gesture, speech, I claim:Act love, lie love, all the same—Play as earnest were our game!Lonely I stood long: 't was cleverWhen you climbed, before men's eyes,Spurned the earth and scaled the skies,Gained my peak and grasped your prize.
Keep here, loving me forever!
Love's look, gesture, speech, I claim:
Act love, lie love, all the same—
Play as earnest were our game!
Lonely I stood long: 't was clever
When you climbed, before men's eyes,
Spurned the earth and scaled the skies,
Gained my peak and grasped your prize.
Here you stood, then, to men's wonder;Here you tire of standing? Kneel!Cure what giddiness you feel,This way! Do your senses reel?Not unlikely! What rolls under?Yawning death in yon abyssWhere the waters whirl and hissRound more frightful peaks than this.
Here you stood, then, to men's wonder;
Here you tire of standing? Kneel!
Cure what giddiness you feel,
This way! Do your senses reel?
Not unlikely! What rolls under?
Yawning death in yon abyss
Where the waters whirl and hiss
Round more frightful peaks than this.
Should my buffet dash you thither ...But be sage! No watery graveNeeds await you: seeming braveKneel on safe, dear timid slave!You surmised, when you climbed hither,Just as easy were retreatShould you tire, conceive unmeetLonger patience at my feet?
Should my buffet dash you thither ...
But be sage! No watery grave
Needs await you: seeming brave
Kneel on safe, dear timid slave!
You surmised, when you climbed hither,
Just as easy were retreat
Should you tire, conceive unmeet
Longer patience at my feet?
Me as standing, you as stooping,—Who arranged for each the pose?Lest men think us friends turned foes,Keep the attitude you chose!Men are used to this same grouping—I and you like statues seen.You and I, no third between,Kneel and stand! That makes the scene.
Me as standing, you as stooping,—
Who arranged for each the pose?
Lest men think us friends turned foes,
Keep the attitude you chose!
Men are used to this same grouping—
I and you like statues seen.
You and I, no third between,
Kneel and stand! That makes the scene.
Mar it—and one buffet ... Pardon!Needless warmth—wise words in waste!'T was prostration that replacedKneeling, then? A proof of taste.Crouch, not kneel, while I mount guard onProstrate love—become no waif,No estray to waves that chafeDisappointed—love 's so safe!
Mar it—and one buffet ... Pardon!
Needless warmth—wise words in waste!
'T was prostration that replaced
Kneeling, then? A proof of taste.
Crouch, not kneel, while I mount guard on
Prostrate love—become no waif,
No estray to waves that chafe
Disappointed—love 's so safe!
Waves that chafe? The idlest fancy!Peaks that scare? I think we knowWalls enclose our sculpture: soGrouped, we pose in Fontainebleau.Up now! Wherefore hesitancy?Arm in arm and cheek by cheek,Laugh with me at waves and peak!Silent still? Why, pictures speak.
Waves that chafe? The idlest fancy!
Peaks that scare? I think we know
Walls enclose our sculpture: so
Grouped, we pose in Fontainebleau.
Up now! Wherefore hesitancy?
Arm in arm and cheek by cheek,
Laugh with me at waves and peak!
Silent still? Why, pictures speak.
See, where Juno strikes Ixion,Primatice speaks plainly! Pooh—Rather, Florentine Le Roux!I 've lost head for who is who—So it swims and wanders! Fie onWhat still proves me female! Here,By the staircase!—for we nearThat dark "Gallery of the Deer."
See, where Juno strikes Ixion,
Primatice speaks plainly! Pooh—
Rather, Florentine Le Roux!
I 've lost head for who is who—
So it swims and wanders! Fie on
What still proves me female! Here,
By the staircase!—for we near
That dark "Gallery of the Deer."
Look me in the eyes once! Steady!Are you faithful now as erstOn that eve when we two firstVowed at Avon, blessed and cursedFaith and falsehood? Pale already?Forward! Must my hand compelEntrance—this way? Exit—well,Somehow, somewhere. Who can tell?
Look me in the eyes once! Steady!
Are you faithful now as erst
On that eve when we two first
Vowed at Avon, blessed and cursed
Faith and falsehood? Pale already?
Forward! Must my hand compel
Entrance—this way? Exit—well,
Somehow, somewhere. Who can tell?
What if to the selfsame place inRustic Avon, at the doorOf the village church once more,Where a tombstone paves the floorBy that holy-water basinYou appealed to—"As, below.This stone hides its corpse, e'en soI your secrets hide"? What ho!
What if to the selfsame place in
Rustic Avon, at the door
Of the village church once more,
Where a tombstone paves the floor
By that holy-water basin
You appealed to—"As, below.
This stone hides its corpse, e'en so
I your secrets hide"? What ho!
Friends, my four! You, Priest, confess him!I have judged the culprit there:Execute my sentence! CareFor no mail such cowards wear!Done, Priest? Then, absolve and bless him!Now—you three, stab thick and fast,Deep and deeper! Dead at last?Thanks, friends—Father, thanks! Aghast?
Friends, my four! You, Priest, confess him!
I have judged the culprit there:
Execute my sentence! Care
For no mail such cowards wear!
Done, Priest? Then, absolve and bless him!
Now—you three, stab thick and fast,
Deep and deeper! Dead at last?
Thanks, friends—Father, thanks! Aghast?
What one word of his confessionWould you tell me, though I luredWith that royal crown abjuredJust because its bars immuredLove too much? Love burst compression,Fled free, finally confessedAll its secrets to that breastWhence ... let Avon tell the rest!
What one word of his confession
Would you tell me, though I lured
With that royal crown abjured
Just because its bars immured
Love too much? Love burst compression,
Fled free, finally confessed
All its secrets to that breast
Whence ... let Avon tell the rest!
Oh, but is it not hard, Dear?Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse:If a spider drops I shrink with fear:I should die outright in a haunted house;While for you—did the danger dared bring help—From a lion's den I could steal his whelp,With a serpent round me, stand stock-still,Go sleep in a churchyard,—so would willGive me the power to dare and doValiantly—just for you!Much amiss in the head, Dear,I toil at a language, tax my brainAttempting to draw—the scratches here!I play, play, practise, and all in vain:But for you—if my triumph brought you pride,I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died,Paint a portrait of you—who can tell?Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:"Language and painting and music too,Easily done—for you!Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear,With—more than a will—what seems a powerTo pounce on my prey, love outbroke hereIn flame devouring and to devour.Such love has labored its best and worstTo win me a lover; yet, last as first,I have not quickened his pulse one beat,Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet:Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due,Utterly lost, was—you!
Oh, but is it not hard, Dear?Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse:If a spider drops I shrink with fear:I should die outright in a haunted house;While for you—did the danger dared bring help—From a lion's den I could steal his whelp,With a serpent round me, stand stock-still,Go sleep in a churchyard,—so would willGive me the power to dare and doValiantly—just for you!Much amiss in the head, Dear,I toil at a language, tax my brainAttempting to draw—the scratches here!I play, play, practise, and all in vain:But for you—if my triumph brought you pride,I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died,Paint a portrait of you—who can tell?Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:"Language and painting and music too,Easily done—for you!Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear,With—more than a will—what seems a powerTo pounce on my prey, love outbroke hereIn flame devouring and to devour.Such love has labored its best and worstTo win me a lover; yet, last as first,I have not quickened his pulse one beat,Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet:Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due,Utterly lost, was—you!
Oh, but is it not hard, Dear?Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse:If a spider drops I shrink with fear:I should die outright in a haunted house;While for you—did the danger dared bring help—From a lion's den I could steal his whelp,With a serpent round me, stand stock-still,Go sleep in a churchyard,—so would willGive me the power to dare and doValiantly—just for you!
Oh, but is it not hard, Dear?
Mine are the nerves to quake at a mouse:
If a spider drops I shrink with fear:
I should die outright in a haunted house;
While for you—did the danger dared bring help—
From a lion's den I could steal his whelp,
With a serpent round me, stand stock-still,
Go sleep in a churchyard,—so would will
Give me the power to dare and do
Valiantly—just for you!
Much amiss in the head, Dear,I toil at a language, tax my brainAttempting to draw—the scratches here!I play, play, practise, and all in vain:But for you—if my triumph brought you pride,I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died,Paint a portrait of you—who can tell?Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:"Language and painting and music too,Easily done—for you!
Much amiss in the head, Dear,
I toil at a language, tax my brain
Attempting to draw—the scratches here!
I play, play, practise, and all in vain:
But for you—if my triumph brought you pride,
I would grapple with Greek Plays till I died,
Paint a portrait of you—who can tell?
Work my fingers off for your "Pretty well:"
Language and painting and music too,
Easily done—for you!
Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear,With—more than a will—what seems a powerTo pounce on my prey, love outbroke hereIn flame devouring and to devour.Such love has labored its best and worstTo win me a lover; yet, last as first,I have not quickened his pulse one beat,Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet:Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due,Utterly lost, was—you!
Strong and fierce in the heart, Dear,
With—more than a will—what seems a power
To pounce on my prey, love outbroke here
In flame devouring and to devour.
Such love has labored its best and worst
To win me a lover; yet, last as first,
I have not quickened his pulse one beat,
Fixed a moment's fancy, bitter or sweet:
Yet the strong fierce heart's love's labor's due,
Utterly lost, was—you!
One day, it thundered and lightened.Two women, fairly frightened,Sank to their knees, transformed, transfixed,At the feet of the man who sat betwixt;And "Mercy!" cried each—"if I tell the truthOf a passage in my youth!"Said This: "Do you mind the morningI met your love with scorning?As the worst of the venom left my lips,I thought, 'If, despite this lie, he stripsThe mask from my soul with a kiss—I crawlHis slave,—soul, body, and all!'"Said That: "We stood to be married;The priest, or some one, tarried;'If Paradise-door prove locked?' smiled you.I thought, as I nodded, smiling too,'Did one, that 's away, arrive—nor lateNor soon should unlock Hell's gate!'"It ceased to lighten and thunder.Up started both in wonder,Looked round and saw that the sky was clear,Then laughed "Confess you believed us, Dear!""I saw through the joke!" the man repliedThey re-seated themselves beside.
One day, it thundered and lightened.Two women, fairly frightened,Sank to their knees, transformed, transfixed,At the feet of the man who sat betwixt;And "Mercy!" cried each—"if I tell the truthOf a passage in my youth!"Said This: "Do you mind the morningI met your love with scorning?As the worst of the venom left my lips,I thought, 'If, despite this lie, he stripsThe mask from my soul with a kiss—I crawlHis slave,—soul, body, and all!'"Said That: "We stood to be married;The priest, or some one, tarried;'If Paradise-door prove locked?' smiled you.I thought, as I nodded, smiling too,'Did one, that 's away, arrive—nor lateNor soon should unlock Hell's gate!'"It ceased to lighten and thunder.Up started both in wonder,Looked round and saw that the sky was clear,Then laughed "Confess you believed us, Dear!""I saw through the joke!" the man repliedThey re-seated themselves beside.
One day, it thundered and lightened.Two women, fairly frightened,Sank to their knees, transformed, transfixed,At the feet of the man who sat betwixt;And "Mercy!" cried each—"if I tell the truthOf a passage in my youth!"
One day, it thundered and lightened.
Two women, fairly frightened,
Sank to their knees, transformed, transfixed,
At the feet of the man who sat betwixt;
And "Mercy!" cried each—"if I tell the truth
Of a passage in my youth!"
Said This: "Do you mind the morningI met your love with scorning?As the worst of the venom left my lips,I thought, 'If, despite this lie, he stripsThe mask from my soul with a kiss—I crawlHis slave,—soul, body, and all!'"
Said This: "Do you mind the morning
I met your love with scorning?
As the worst of the venom left my lips,
I thought, 'If, despite this lie, he strips
The mask from my soul with a kiss—I crawl
His slave,—soul, body, and all!'"
Said That: "We stood to be married;The priest, or some one, tarried;'If Paradise-door prove locked?' smiled you.I thought, as I nodded, smiling too,'Did one, that 's away, arrive—nor lateNor soon should unlock Hell's gate!'"
Said That: "We stood to be married;
The priest, or some one, tarried;
'If Paradise-door prove locked?' smiled you.
I thought, as I nodded, smiling too,
'Did one, that 's away, arrive—nor late
Nor soon should unlock Hell's gate!'"
It ceased to lighten and thunder.Up started both in wonder,Looked round and saw that the sky was clear,Then laughed "Confess you believed us, Dear!""I saw through the joke!" the man repliedThey re-seated themselves beside.
It ceased to lighten and thunder.
Up started both in wonder,
Looked round and saw that the sky was clear,
Then laughed "Confess you believed us, Dear!"
"I saw through the joke!" the man replied
They re-seated themselves beside.
High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us!Here the revenge of a God, there the amends of a Man.Whirling forever in torment, flesh once mortal, immortalMade—for a purpose of hate—able to die and revive,Pays to the uttermost pang, then, newly for payment replenished,Doles out—old yet young—agonies ever afresh;Whence the result above me: torment is bridged by a rainbow,—Tears, sweat, blood,—each spasm, ghastly once, glorified now.Wrung, by the rush of the wheel ordained my place of reposing,Off in a sparklike spray,—flesh become vapor through pain,—Flies the bestowment of Zeus, soul's vaunted bodily vesture,Made that his feats observed gain the approval of Man,—Flesh that he fashioned with sense of the earth and the sky and the ocean,Framed should pierce to the star, fitted to pore on the plant,—All, for a purpose of hate, re-framed, re-fashioned, re-fitted,Till, consummate at length,—lo, the employment of sense!Pain's mere minister now to the soul, once pledged to her pleasure—Soul, if untrammelled by flesh, unapprehensive of pain!Body, professed soul's slave, which serving beguiled and betrayed her,Made things false seem true, cheated through eye and through ear,Lured thus heart and brain to believe in the lying reported,—Spurn but the trait'rous slave, uttermost atom, away,What should obstruct soul's rush on the real, the only apparent?Say I have erred,—how else? Was I Ixion or Zeus?Foiled by my senses I dreamed; I doubtless awaken in wonder:This proves shine, that—shade? Good was the evil that seemed?Shall I, with sight thus gained, by torture be taught I was blind once?Sisuphos, teaches thy stone—Tantalos, teaches thy thirstAught which unaided sense, purged pure, less plainly demonstrates?No, for the past was dream: now that the dreamers awake,Sisuphos scouts low fraud, and to Tantalos treason is folly.Ask of myself, whose form melts on the murderous wheel,What is the sin which throe and throe prove sin to the sinner!Say the false charge was true,—thus do I expiate, say,Arrogant thought, word, deed,—mere man who conceited me godlike,Sat beside Zeus, my friend—knelt before Heré, my love!What were the need but of pitying power to touch and disperse it,Film-work—eye's and ear's—all the distraction of sense?How should the soul not see, not hear,—perceive and as plainlyRender, in thought, word, deed, back again truth—not a lie?"Ay, but the pain is to punish thee!" Zeus, once more for a pastime,Play the familiar, the frank! Speak and have speech in return!I was of Thessaly king, there ruled and a people obeyed me:Mine to establish the law, theirs to obey it or die:Wherefore? Because of the good to the people, because of the honorThence accruing to me, king, the king's law was supreme.What of the weakling, the ignorant criminal? Not who, excuseless,Breaking my law braved death, knowing his deed and its due—Nay, but the feeble and foolish, the poor transgressor, of purposeNo whit more than a tree, born to erectness of bole,Palm or plane or pine, we laud if lofty, columnar—Loathe if athwart, askew,—leave to the axe and the flame!Where is the vision may penetrate earth and beholding acknowledgeJust one pebble at root ruined the straightness of stem?Whose fine vigilance follows the sapling, accounts for the failure,—Here blew wind, so it bent: there the snow lodged, so it broke?Also the tooth of the beast, bird's bill, mere bite of the insectGnawed, gnarled, warped their worst: passive it lay to offence.King—I was man, no more: what I recognized faulty I punished,Laying it prone: be sure, more than a man had I proved,Watch and ward o'er the sapling at birthtime had saved it, nor simplyOwned the distortion's excuse,—hindered it wholly: nay, more—Even a man, as I sat in my place to do judgment, and pallidCriminals passing to doom shuddered away at my foot,Could I have probed through the face to the heart, read plain a repentance,Crime confessed fools' play, virtue ascribed to the wise,Had I not stayed the consignment to doom, not dealt the renewed onesLife to retraverse the past, light to retrieve the misdeed?Thus had I done, and thus to have done much more it behooves thee,Zeus who madest man—flawless or faulty, thy work!What if the charge were true, as thou mouthest,—Ixion the cherishedMinion of Zeus grew vain, vied with the godships and fell,Forfeit through arrogance? Stranger! I clothed, with the grace of our human,Inhumanity—gods, natures I likened to ours.Man among men I had borne me till gods forsooth must regard me—Nay, must approve, applaud, claim as a comrade at last.Summoned to enter their circle, I sat—their equal, how other?Love should be absolute love, faith is in fulness or naught."I am thy friend, be mine!" smiled Zeus: "If Heré attract thee,"Blushed the imperial cheek, "then—as thy heart may suggest!"Faith in me sprang to the faith, my love hailed love as its fellow,"Zeus, we are friends—how fast! Heré, my heart for thy heart!"Then broke smile into fury of frown, and the thunder of "Hence, fool!"Then through the kiss laughed scorn "Limbs or a cloud was to clasp?"Then from Olumpos to Erebos, then from the rapture to torment,Then from the fellow of gods—misery's mate, to the man!—Man henceforth and forever, who lent from the glow of his natureWarmth to the cold, with light colored the black and the blank.So did a man conceive of your passion, you passion-protesters!So did he trust, so love—being the truth of your lie!You to aspire to be Man! Man made you who vainly would ape him:You are the hollowness, he—filling you, falsifies void.Even as—witness the emblem, Hell's sad triumph suspended,Born of my tears, sweat, blood—bursting to vapor above—Arching my torment, an iris ghostlike startles the darkness,Cold white—jewelry quenched—justifies, glorifies pain.Strive, mankind, though strife endure through endless obstruction,Stage after stage, each rise marred by as certain a fall!Baffled forever—yet never so baffled but, e'en in the baffling,When Man's strength proves weak, checked in the body or soul,Whatsoever the medium, flesh or essence,—Ixion'sMade for a purpose of hate,—clothing the entity Thou,—Medium whence that entity strives for the Not-Thou beyond it,Fire elemental, free, frame unencumbered, the All,—Never so baffled but—when, on the verge of an alien existence,Heartened to press, by pangs burst to the infinite Pure,Nothing is reached but the ancient weakness still that arrests strength,Circumambient still, still the poor human array,Pride and revenge and hate and cruelty—all it has burst through,Thought to escape,—fresh formed, found in the fashion it fled,Never so baffled but—when Man pays the price of endeavor,Thunderstruck, downthrust, Tartaros-doomed to the wheel,—Then, ay, then, from the tears and sweat and blood of his torment,E'en from the triumph of Hell, up let him look and rejoice!What is the influence, high o'er Hell, that turns to a rapturePain—and despair's murk mist blends in a rainbow of hope?What is beyond the obstruction, stage by stage though it baffle?Back must I fall, confess "Ever the weakness I fled"?No, for beyond, far, far is a Purity all-unobstructed!Zeus was Zeus—not Man: wrecked by his weakness, I whirl.Out of the wreck I rise—past Zeus to the Potency o'er him!I—to have hailed him my friend! I—to have clasped her—my love!Pallid birth of my pain,—where light, where light is, aspiringThither I rise, whilst thou—Zeus, keep the godship and sink!
High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us!Here the revenge of a God, there the amends of a Man.Whirling forever in torment, flesh once mortal, immortalMade—for a purpose of hate—able to die and revive,Pays to the uttermost pang, then, newly for payment replenished,Doles out—old yet young—agonies ever afresh;Whence the result above me: torment is bridged by a rainbow,—Tears, sweat, blood,—each spasm, ghastly once, glorified now.Wrung, by the rush of the wheel ordained my place of reposing,Off in a sparklike spray,—flesh become vapor through pain,—Flies the bestowment of Zeus, soul's vaunted bodily vesture,Made that his feats observed gain the approval of Man,—Flesh that he fashioned with sense of the earth and the sky and the ocean,Framed should pierce to the star, fitted to pore on the plant,—All, for a purpose of hate, re-framed, re-fashioned, re-fitted,Till, consummate at length,—lo, the employment of sense!Pain's mere minister now to the soul, once pledged to her pleasure—Soul, if untrammelled by flesh, unapprehensive of pain!Body, professed soul's slave, which serving beguiled and betrayed her,Made things false seem true, cheated through eye and through ear,Lured thus heart and brain to believe in the lying reported,—Spurn but the trait'rous slave, uttermost atom, away,What should obstruct soul's rush on the real, the only apparent?Say I have erred,—how else? Was I Ixion or Zeus?Foiled by my senses I dreamed; I doubtless awaken in wonder:This proves shine, that—shade? Good was the evil that seemed?Shall I, with sight thus gained, by torture be taught I was blind once?Sisuphos, teaches thy stone—Tantalos, teaches thy thirstAught which unaided sense, purged pure, less plainly demonstrates?No, for the past was dream: now that the dreamers awake,Sisuphos scouts low fraud, and to Tantalos treason is folly.Ask of myself, whose form melts on the murderous wheel,What is the sin which throe and throe prove sin to the sinner!Say the false charge was true,—thus do I expiate, say,Arrogant thought, word, deed,—mere man who conceited me godlike,Sat beside Zeus, my friend—knelt before Heré, my love!What were the need but of pitying power to touch and disperse it,Film-work—eye's and ear's—all the distraction of sense?How should the soul not see, not hear,—perceive and as plainlyRender, in thought, word, deed, back again truth—not a lie?"Ay, but the pain is to punish thee!" Zeus, once more for a pastime,Play the familiar, the frank! Speak and have speech in return!I was of Thessaly king, there ruled and a people obeyed me:Mine to establish the law, theirs to obey it or die:Wherefore? Because of the good to the people, because of the honorThence accruing to me, king, the king's law was supreme.What of the weakling, the ignorant criminal? Not who, excuseless,Breaking my law braved death, knowing his deed and its due—Nay, but the feeble and foolish, the poor transgressor, of purposeNo whit more than a tree, born to erectness of bole,Palm or plane or pine, we laud if lofty, columnar—Loathe if athwart, askew,—leave to the axe and the flame!Where is the vision may penetrate earth and beholding acknowledgeJust one pebble at root ruined the straightness of stem?Whose fine vigilance follows the sapling, accounts for the failure,—Here blew wind, so it bent: there the snow lodged, so it broke?Also the tooth of the beast, bird's bill, mere bite of the insectGnawed, gnarled, warped their worst: passive it lay to offence.King—I was man, no more: what I recognized faulty I punished,Laying it prone: be sure, more than a man had I proved,Watch and ward o'er the sapling at birthtime had saved it, nor simplyOwned the distortion's excuse,—hindered it wholly: nay, more—Even a man, as I sat in my place to do judgment, and pallidCriminals passing to doom shuddered away at my foot,Could I have probed through the face to the heart, read plain a repentance,Crime confessed fools' play, virtue ascribed to the wise,Had I not stayed the consignment to doom, not dealt the renewed onesLife to retraverse the past, light to retrieve the misdeed?Thus had I done, and thus to have done much more it behooves thee,Zeus who madest man—flawless or faulty, thy work!What if the charge were true, as thou mouthest,—Ixion the cherishedMinion of Zeus grew vain, vied with the godships and fell,Forfeit through arrogance? Stranger! I clothed, with the grace of our human,Inhumanity—gods, natures I likened to ours.Man among men I had borne me till gods forsooth must regard me—Nay, must approve, applaud, claim as a comrade at last.Summoned to enter their circle, I sat—their equal, how other?Love should be absolute love, faith is in fulness or naught."I am thy friend, be mine!" smiled Zeus: "If Heré attract thee,"Blushed the imperial cheek, "then—as thy heart may suggest!"Faith in me sprang to the faith, my love hailed love as its fellow,"Zeus, we are friends—how fast! Heré, my heart for thy heart!"Then broke smile into fury of frown, and the thunder of "Hence, fool!"Then through the kiss laughed scorn "Limbs or a cloud was to clasp?"Then from Olumpos to Erebos, then from the rapture to torment,Then from the fellow of gods—misery's mate, to the man!—Man henceforth and forever, who lent from the glow of his natureWarmth to the cold, with light colored the black and the blank.So did a man conceive of your passion, you passion-protesters!So did he trust, so love—being the truth of your lie!You to aspire to be Man! Man made you who vainly would ape him:You are the hollowness, he—filling you, falsifies void.Even as—witness the emblem, Hell's sad triumph suspended,Born of my tears, sweat, blood—bursting to vapor above—Arching my torment, an iris ghostlike startles the darkness,Cold white—jewelry quenched—justifies, glorifies pain.Strive, mankind, though strife endure through endless obstruction,Stage after stage, each rise marred by as certain a fall!Baffled forever—yet never so baffled but, e'en in the baffling,When Man's strength proves weak, checked in the body or soul,Whatsoever the medium, flesh or essence,—Ixion'sMade for a purpose of hate,—clothing the entity Thou,—Medium whence that entity strives for the Not-Thou beyond it,Fire elemental, free, frame unencumbered, the All,—Never so baffled but—when, on the verge of an alien existence,Heartened to press, by pangs burst to the infinite Pure,Nothing is reached but the ancient weakness still that arrests strength,Circumambient still, still the poor human array,Pride and revenge and hate and cruelty—all it has burst through,Thought to escape,—fresh formed, found in the fashion it fled,Never so baffled but—when Man pays the price of endeavor,Thunderstruck, downthrust, Tartaros-doomed to the wheel,—Then, ay, then, from the tears and sweat and blood of his torment,E'en from the triumph of Hell, up let him look and rejoice!What is the influence, high o'er Hell, that turns to a rapturePain—and despair's murk mist blends in a rainbow of hope?What is beyond the obstruction, stage by stage though it baffle?Back must I fall, confess "Ever the weakness I fled"?No, for beyond, far, far is a Purity all-unobstructed!Zeus was Zeus—not Man: wrecked by his weakness, I whirl.Out of the wreck I rise—past Zeus to the Potency o'er him!I—to have hailed him my friend! I—to have clasped her—my love!Pallid birth of my pain,—where light, where light is, aspiringThither I rise, whilst thou—Zeus, keep the godship and sink!
High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us!Here the revenge of a God, there the amends of a Man.Whirling forever in torment, flesh once mortal, immortalMade—for a purpose of hate—able to die and revive,Pays to the uttermost pang, then, newly for payment replenished,Doles out—old yet young—agonies ever afresh;Whence the result above me: torment is bridged by a rainbow,—Tears, sweat, blood,—each spasm, ghastly once, glorified now.Wrung, by the rush of the wheel ordained my place of reposing,Off in a sparklike spray,—flesh become vapor through pain,—Flies the bestowment of Zeus, soul's vaunted bodily vesture,Made that his feats observed gain the approval of Man,—Flesh that he fashioned with sense of the earth and the sky and the ocean,Framed should pierce to the star, fitted to pore on the plant,—All, for a purpose of hate, re-framed, re-fashioned, re-fitted,Till, consummate at length,—lo, the employment of sense!Pain's mere minister now to the soul, once pledged to her pleasure—Soul, if untrammelled by flesh, unapprehensive of pain!Body, professed soul's slave, which serving beguiled and betrayed her,Made things false seem true, cheated through eye and through ear,Lured thus heart and brain to believe in the lying reported,—Spurn but the trait'rous slave, uttermost atom, away,What should obstruct soul's rush on the real, the only apparent?Say I have erred,—how else? Was I Ixion or Zeus?Foiled by my senses I dreamed; I doubtless awaken in wonder:This proves shine, that—shade? Good was the evil that seemed?Shall I, with sight thus gained, by torture be taught I was blind once?Sisuphos, teaches thy stone—Tantalos, teaches thy thirstAught which unaided sense, purged pure, less plainly demonstrates?No, for the past was dream: now that the dreamers awake,Sisuphos scouts low fraud, and to Tantalos treason is folly.Ask of myself, whose form melts on the murderous wheel,What is the sin which throe and throe prove sin to the sinner!Say the false charge was true,—thus do I expiate, say,Arrogant thought, word, deed,—mere man who conceited me godlike,Sat beside Zeus, my friend—knelt before Heré, my love!What were the need but of pitying power to touch and disperse it,Film-work—eye's and ear's—all the distraction of sense?How should the soul not see, not hear,—perceive and as plainlyRender, in thought, word, deed, back again truth—not a lie?"Ay, but the pain is to punish thee!" Zeus, once more for a pastime,Play the familiar, the frank! Speak and have speech in return!I was of Thessaly king, there ruled and a people obeyed me:Mine to establish the law, theirs to obey it or die:Wherefore? Because of the good to the people, because of the honorThence accruing to me, king, the king's law was supreme.What of the weakling, the ignorant criminal? Not who, excuseless,Breaking my law braved death, knowing his deed and its due—Nay, but the feeble and foolish, the poor transgressor, of purposeNo whit more than a tree, born to erectness of bole,Palm or plane or pine, we laud if lofty, columnar—Loathe if athwart, askew,—leave to the axe and the flame!Where is the vision may penetrate earth and beholding acknowledgeJust one pebble at root ruined the straightness of stem?Whose fine vigilance follows the sapling, accounts for the failure,—Here blew wind, so it bent: there the snow lodged, so it broke?Also the tooth of the beast, bird's bill, mere bite of the insectGnawed, gnarled, warped their worst: passive it lay to offence.King—I was man, no more: what I recognized faulty I punished,Laying it prone: be sure, more than a man had I proved,Watch and ward o'er the sapling at birthtime had saved it, nor simplyOwned the distortion's excuse,—hindered it wholly: nay, more—Even a man, as I sat in my place to do judgment, and pallidCriminals passing to doom shuddered away at my foot,Could I have probed through the face to the heart, read plain a repentance,Crime confessed fools' play, virtue ascribed to the wise,Had I not stayed the consignment to doom, not dealt the renewed onesLife to retraverse the past, light to retrieve the misdeed?Thus had I done, and thus to have done much more it behooves thee,Zeus who madest man—flawless or faulty, thy work!What if the charge were true, as thou mouthest,—Ixion the cherishedMinion of Zeus grew vain, vied with the godships and fell,Forfeit through arrogance? Stranger! I clothed, with the grace of our human,Inhumanity—gods, natures I likened to ours.Man among men I had borne me till gods forsooth must regard me—Nay, must approve, applaud, claim as a comrade at last.Summoned to enter their circle, I sat—their equal, how other?Love should be absolute love, faith is in fulness or naught."I am thy friend, be mine!" smiled Zeus: "If Heré attract thee,"Blushed the imperial cheek, "then—as thy heart may suggest!"Faith in me sprang to the faith, my love hailed love as its fellow,"Zeus, we are friends—how fast! Heré, my heart for thy heart!"Then broke smile into fury of frown, and the thunder of "Hence, fool!"Then through the kiss laughed scorn "Limbs or a cloud was to clasp?"Then from Olumpos to Erebos, then from the rapture to torment,Then from the fellow of gods—misery's mate, to the man!—Man henceforth and forever, who lent from the glow of his natureWarmth to the cold, with light colored the black and the blank.So did a man conceive of your passion, you passion-protesters!So did he trust, so love—being the truth of your lie!You to aspire to be Man! Man made you who vainly would ape him:You are the hollowness, he—filling you, falsifies void.Even as—witness the emblem, Hell's sad triumph suspended,Born of my tears, sweat, blood—bursting to vapor above—Arching my torment, an iris ghostlike startles the darkness,Cold white—jewelry quenched—justifies, glorifies pain.Strive, mankind, though strife endure through endless obstruction,Stage after stage, each rise marred by as certain a fall!Baffled forever—yet never so baffled but, e'en in the baffling,When Man's strength proves weak, checked in the body or soul,Whatsoever the medium, flesh or essence,—Ixion'sMade for a purpose of hate,—clothing the entity Thou,—Medium whence that entity strives for the Not-Thou beyond it,Fire elemental, free, frame unencumbered, the All,—Never so baffled but—when, on the verge of an alien existence,Heartened to press, by pangs burst to the infinite Pure,Nothing is reached but the ancient weakness still that arrests strength,Circumambient still, still the poor human array,Pride and revenge and hate and cruelty—all it has burst through,Thought to escape,—fresh formed, found in the fashion it fled,Never so baffled but—when Man pays the price of endeavor,Thunderstruck, downthrust, Tartaros-doomed to the wheel,—Then, ay, then, from the tears and sweat and blood of his torment,E'en from the triumph of Hell, up let him look and rejoice!What is the influence, high o'er Hell, that turns to a rapturePain—and despair's murk mist blends in a rainbow of hope?What is beyond the obstruction, stage by stage though it baffle?Back must I fall, confess "Ever the weakness I fled"?No, for beyond, far, far is a Purity all-unobstructed!Zeus was Zeus—not Man: wrecked by his weakness, I whirl.Out of the wreck I rise—past Zeus to the Potency o'er him!I—to have hailed him my friend! I—to have clasped her—my love!Pallid birth of my pain,—where light, where light is, aspiringThither I rise, whilst thou—Zeus, keep the godship and sink!
High in the dome, suspended, of Hell, sad triumph, behold us!
Here the revenge of a God, there the amends of a Man.
Whirling forever in torment, flesh once mortal, immortal
Made—for a purpose of hate—able to die and revive,
Pays to the uttermost pang, then, newly for payment replenished,
Doles out—old yet young—agonies ever afresh;
Whence the result above me: torment is bridged by a rainbow,—
Tears, sweat, blood,—each spasm, ghastly once, glorified now.
Wrung, by the rush of the wheel ordained my place of reposing,
Off in a sparklike spray,—flesh become vapor through pain,—
Flies the bestowment of Zeus, soul's vaunted bodily vesture,
Made that his feats observed gain the approval of Man,—
Flesh that he fashioned with sense of the earth and the sky and the ocean,
Framed should pierce to the star, fitted to pore on the plant,—
All, for a purpose of hate, re-framed, re-fashioned, re-fitted,
Till, consummate at length,—lo, the employment of sense!
Pain's mere minister now to the soul, once pledged to her pleasure—
Soul, if untrammelled by flesh, unapprehensive of pain!
Body, professed soul's slave, which serving beguiled and betrayed her,
Made things false seem true, cheated through eye and through ear,
Lured thus heart and brain to believe in the lying reported,—
Spurn but the trait'rous slave, uttermost atom, away,
What should obstruct soul's rush on the real, the only apparent?
Say I have erred,—how else? Was I Ixion or Zeus?
Foiled by my senses I dreamed; I doubtless awaken in wonder:
This proves shine, that—shade? Good was the evil that seemed?
Shall I, with sight thus gained, by torture be taught I was blind once?
Sisuphos, teaches thy stone—Tantalos, teaches thy thirst
Aught which unaided sense, purged pure, less plainly demonstrates?
No, for the past was dream: now that the dreamers awake,
Sisuphos scouts low fraud, and to Tantalos treason is folly.
Ask of myself, whose form melts on the murderous wheel,
What is the sin which throe and throe prove sin to the sinner!
Say the false charge was true,—thus do I expiate, say,
Arrogant thought, word, deed,—mere man who conceited me godlike,
Sat beside Zeus, my friend—knelt before Heré, my love!
What were the need but of pitying power to touch and disperse it,
Film-work—eye's and ear's—all the distraction of sense?
How should the soul not see, not hear,—perceive and as plainly
Render, in thought, word, deed, back again truth—not a lie?
"Ay, but the pain is to punish thee!" Zeus, once more for a pastime,
Play the familiar, the frank! Speak and have speech in return!
I was of Thessaly king, there ruled and a people obeyed me:
Mine to establish the law, theirs to obey it or die:
Wherefore? Because of the good to the people, because of the honor
Thence accruing to me, king, the king's law was supreme.
What of the weakling, the ignorant criminal? Not who, excuseless,
Breaking my law braved death, knowing his deed and its due—
Nay, but the feeble and foolish, the poor transgressor, of purpose
No whit more than a tree, born to erectness of bole,
Palm or plane or pine, we laud if lofty, columnar—
Loathe if athwart, askew,—leave to the axe and the flame!
Where is the vision may penetrate earth and beholding acknowledge
Just one pebble at root ruined the straightness of stem?
Whose fine vigilance follows the sapling, accounts for the failure,
—Here blew wind, so it bent: there the snow lodged, so it broke?
Also the tooth of the beast, bird's bill, mere bite of the insect
Gnawed, gnarled, warped their worst: passive it lay to offence.
King—I was man, no more: what I recognized faulty I punished,
Laying it prone: be sure, more than a man had I proved,
Watch and ward o'er the sapling at birthtime had saved it, nor simply
Owned the distortion's excuse,—hindered it wholly: nay, more—
Even a man, as I sat in my place to do judgment, and pallid
Criminals passing to doom shuddered away at my foot,
Could I have probed through the face to the heart, read plain a repentance,
Crime confessed fools' play, virtue ascribed to the wise,
Had I not stayed the consignment to doom, not dealt the renewed ones
Life to retraverse the past, light to retrieve the misdeed?
Thus had I done, and thus to have done much more it behooves thee,
Zeus who madest man—flawless or faulty, thy work!
What if the charge were true, as thou mouthest,—Ixion the cherished
Minion of Zeus grew vain, vied with the godships and fell,
Forfeit through arrogance? Stranger! I clothed, with the grace of our human,
Inhumanity—gods, natures I likened to ours.
Man among men I had borne me till gods forsooth must regard me
—Nay, must approve, applaud, claim as a comrade at last.
Summoned to enter their circle, I sat—their equal, how other?
Love should be absolute love, faith is in fulness or naught.
"I am thy friend, be mine!" smiled Zeus: "If Heré attract thee,"
Blushed the imperial cheek, "then—as thy heart may suggest!"
Faith in me sprang to the faith, my love hailed love as its fellow,
"Zeus, we are friends—how fast! Heré, my heart for thy heart!"
Then broke smile into fury of frown, and the thunder of "Hence, fool!"
Then through the kiss laughed scorn "Limbs or a cloud was to clasp?"
Then from Olumpos to Erebos, then from the rapture to torment,
Then from the fellow of gods—misery's mate, to the man!
—Man henceforth and forever, who lent from the glow of his nature
Warmth to the cold, with light colored the black and the blank.
So did a man conceive of your passion, you passion-protesters!
So did he trust, so love—being the truth of your lie!
You to aspire to be Man! Man made you who vainly would ape him:
You are the hollowness, he—filling you, falsifies void.
Even as—witness the emblem, Hell's sad triumph suspended,
Born of my tears, sweat, blood—bursting to vapor above—
Arching my torment, an iris ghostlike startles the darkness,
Cold white—jewelry quenched—justifies, glorifies pain.
Strive, mankind, though strife endure through endless obstruction,
Stage after stage, each rise marred by as certain a fall!
Baffled forever—yet never so baffled but, e'en in the baffling,
When Man's strength proves weak, checked in the body or soul,
Whatsoever the medium, flesh or essence,—Ixion's
Made for a purpose of hate,—clothing the entity Thou,
—Medium whence that entity strives for the Not-Thou beyond it,
Fire elemental, free, frame unencumbered, the All,—
Never so baffled but—when, on the verge of an alien existence,
Heartened to press, by pangs burst to the infinite Pure,
Nothing is reached but the ancient weakness still that arrests strength,
Circumambient still, still the poor human array,
Pride and revenge and hate and cruelty—all it has burst through,
Thought to escape,—fresh formed, found in the fashion it fled,
Never so baffled but—when Man pays the price of endeavor,
Thunderstruck, downthrust, Tartaros-doomed to the wheel,—
Then, ay, then, from the tears and sweat and blood of his torment,
E'en from the triumph of Hell, up let him look and rejoice!
What is the influence, high o'er Hell, that turns to a rapture
Pain—and despair's murk mist blends in a rainbow of hope?
What is beyond the obstruction, stage by stage though it baffle?
Back must I fall, confess "Ever the weakness I fled"?
No, for beyond, far, far is a Purity all-unobstructed!
Zeus was Zeus—not Man: wrecked by his weakness, I whirl.
Out of the wreck I rise—past Zeus to the Potency o'er him!
I—to have hailed him my friend! I—to have clasped her—my love!
Pallid birth of my pain,—where light, where light is, aspiring
Thither I rise, whilst thou—Zeus, keep the godship and sink!
"This now, this other story makes amendsAnd justifies our Mishna," quoth the JewAforesaid. "Tell it, learnedest of friends!"A certain morn broke beautiful and blueO'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth,—So had ye deemed; while the reverse was true,Since one small house there gave a sorrow birthIn such black sort that, to each faithful eye,Midnight, not morning settled on the earth.How else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die,Our much-enlightened master, Israel's prop,Eximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai?Old, yea, but, undiminished of a drop,The vital essence pulsed through heart and brain;Time left unsickled yet the plenteous cropOn poll and chin and cheek, whereof a skeinHandmaids might weave—hairs silk-soft, silver-white,Such as the wool-plant's; none the less in vainHad Physic striven her best against the spiteOf fell disease: the Rabbi must succumb;And, round the couch whereon in piteous plightHe lay a-dying, scholars,—awe-struck, dumbThroughout the night-watch,—roused themselves and spokeOne to the other: "Ere death's touch benumb"His active sense,—while yet 'neath Reason's yokeObedient toils his tongue,—befits we claimThe fruit of long experience, bid this oak"Shed us an acorn which may, all the same,Grow to a temple-pillar,—dear that day!—When Israel's scattered seed finds place and name"Among the envious nations. Lamp us, pray,Thou the Enlightener! Partest hence in peace?Hailest without regret—much less, dismay—"The hour of thine approximate releaseFrom fleshly bondage soul hath found obstruct?Calmly envisagest the sure increase"Of knowledge? Eden's tree must hold unpluckedSome apple, sure, has never tried thy tooth,Juicy with sapience thou hast sought, not sucked?"Say, does age acquiesce in vanished youth?Still towers thy purity above—as erst—Our pleasant follies? Be thy last word—truth!"The Rabbi groaned; then, grimly, "Last as firstThe truth speak I—in boyhood who beganStriving to live an angel, and, amerced"For such presumption, die now hardly man.What have I proved of life? To live, indeed,That much I learned: but here lies Jochanan"More luckless than stood David when, to speedHis fighting with the Philistine, they broughtSaul's harness forth: whereat, 'Alack, I need"Armor to arm me, but have never foughtWith sword and spear, nor tried to manage shield,Proving arms' use, as well-trained warrior ought,"'Only a sling and pebbles can I wield!'So he: while I, contrariwise, 'No trickOf weapon helpful on the battlefield"'Comes unfamiliar to my theoric:But, bid me put in practice what I know,Give me a sword—it stings like Moses' stick,"'A serpent I let drop apace.' E'en so,I,—able to comport me at each stageOf human life as never here below"Man played his part,—since mine the heritageOf wisdom carried to that perfect pitch,Ye rightly praise,—I, therefore, who, thus sage,"Could sure act man triumphantly, enrichLife's annals, with example how I playedLover, Bard, Soldier, Statist,—(all of which"Parts in presentment failing, cries invadeThe world's ear—'Ah, the Past, the pearl-gift thrownTo hogs, time's opportunity we made"'So light of, only recognized when flown!Had we been wise!')—-in fine, I—wise enough,—What profit brings me wisdom never shown"Just when its showing would from each rebuffShelter weak virtue, threaten back to boundsEncroaching vice, tread smooth each track too rough"For youth's unsteady footstep, climb the roundsOf life's long ladder, one by slippery one,Yet make no stumble? Me hard fate confounds"With that same crowd of wailers I outrunBy promising to teach another cryOf more hilarious mood than theirs, the sun"I look my last at is insulted by.What cry,—ye ask? Give ear on every side!Witness yon Lover! 'How entrapped am I!"'Methought, because a virgin's rose-lip viedWith ripe Khubbezleh's, needs must beauty mateWith meekness and discretion in a bride:"'Bride she became to me who wail—too late—Unwise I loved!' That 's one cry. 'Mind 's my gift:I might have loaded me with lore, full weight"'Pressed down and running over at each riftO' the brain-bag where the famished clung and fed.I filled it with what rubbish!—would not sift"'The wheat from chaff, sound grain from musty—shedPoison abroad as oft as nutriment—And sighing say but as my fellows said,"'Unwise I learned!' That 's two. 'In dwarfs-play spentWas giant's prowess: warrior all unversedIn war's right waging, I struck brand, was lent"'For steel's fit service, on mere stone—and cursedAlike the shocked limb and the shivered steel,Seeing too late the blade's true use which erst"How was I blind to! My cry swells the peal—Unwise I fought!' That 's three. But wherefore wasteBreath on the wailings longer? Why reveal"A root of bitterness whereof the tasteIs noisome to Humanity at large?First we get Power, but Power absurdly placed"In Folly's keeping, who resigns her chargeTo Wisdom when all Power grows nothing worth:Bones marrowless are mocked with helm and targe"When, like your Master's, soon below the earthWith worms shall warfare only be. Farewell,Children! I die a failure since my birth!""Not so!" arose a protest, as, pell-mell,They pattered from his chamber to the street,Bent on a last resource. Our Targums tellThat such resource there is. Put case, there meetThe Nine Points of Perfection—rarest chance—Within some saintly teacher whom the fleetYears, in their blind implacable advance,O'ertake before fit teaching born of theseHave magnified his scholars' countenance,—If haply folk compassionating pleaseTo render up—according to his store,Each one—a portion of the life he seesHardly worth saving when 't is set beforeEarth's benefit should the Saint, Hakkadosh,Favored thereby, attain to full fourscore—If such contribute (Scoffer, spare thy "Bosh!")A year, a month, a day, an hour—to ekeLife out,—in him away the gift shall washThat much of ill-spent time recorded, streakThe twilight of the so-assisted sageWith a new sunrise: truth, though strange to speak!Quick to the doorway, then, where youth and age,All Israel, thronging, waited for the lastNews of the loved one. "'T is the final stage:"Art's utmost done, the Rabbi's feet tread fastThe way of all flesh!" So announced that aptOlive-branch Tsaddik: "Yet, O Brethren, east"No eye to earthward! Look where heaven has clappedMorning's extinguisher—yon ray-shot robeOf sun-threads—on the constellation mapped"And mentioned by our Elders,—yea, from JobDown to Satam,—as figuring forth—what?Perpend a mystery! Ye call itDob,"'The Bear': I trow, a wiser name than thatWereAish—'The Bier': a corpse those four stars hold,Which—are not those Three Daughters weeping at"Banoth?I judge so: list while I unfoldThe reason. As in twice twelve hours this BierGoes and returns, about the east-cone rolled,"So may a setting luminary hereBe rescued from extinction, rolled anewUpon its track of labor, strong and clear,"About the Pole—that Salem, every JewHelps to build up when thus he saves some SaintOrdained its architect. Ye grasp the clue"To all ye seek? The Rabbi's lamp-flame faintSinks: would ye raise it? Lend then life from yours,Spare each his oil-drop! Do I need acquaint"The Chosen how self-sacrifice ensuresTenfold requital?—urge ye emulateThe fame of those Old Just Ones death procures"Such praise for, that 't is now men's sole debateWhich of the Ten, who volunteered at RomeTo die for glory to our Race, was great"Beyond his fellows? Was it thou—the combOf iron carded, flesh from bone, away,While thy lips sputtered through their bloody foam"Without a stoppage (O brave Akiba!)'Hear, Israel, our Lord God is One'? Or thou,Jischab?—who smiledst, burning, since there lay,"Burning along with thee, our Law! I trow,Such martyrdom might tax flesh to afford:While that for which I make petition now,"To what amounts it? Youngster, wilt thou hoardEach minute of long years thou look'st to spendIn dalliance with thy spouse? Hast thou so soared,"Singer of songs, all out of sight of friendAnd teacher, warbling like a woodland bird,There 's left no Selah, 'twixt two psalms, to lend"Our late-so-tuneful quirist? Thou, averredThe fighter born to plant our lion-flagOnce more on Zion's mount,—doth all-unheard,"My pleading fail to move thee? Toss some ragShall stanch our wound, some minute never missedFrom swordsman's lustihood like thine! Wilt lag"In liberal bestowment, show close fistWhen open palm we look for,—thou, wide-knownFor statecraft? whom, 't is said, and if thou list,"The Shah himself would seat beside his throne,So valued were advice from thee" ... But hereHe stopped short: such a hubbub! Not aloneFrom those addressed, but far as well as nearThe crowd brought into clamor: "Mine, mine, mine—Lop from my life the excrescence, never fear!"At me thou lookedst, markedst me! AssignTo me that privilege of granting life—Mine, mine!" Then he: "Be patient! I combine"The needful portions only, wage no strifeWith Nature's law nor seek to lengthen outThe Rabbi's day unduly. 'T is the knife"I stop,—would eat its thread too short. AboutAs much as helps life last the proper term,The appointed Fourscore,—that I crave, and scout"A too-prolonged existence. Let the wormChange at fit season to the butterfly!And here a story strikes me, to confirm"This judgment. Of our worthies, none ranks highAs Perida who kept the famous school:None rivalled him in patience: none! For why?"In lecturing it was his constant rule,Whatever he expounded, to repeat—Ay, and keep on repeating, lest some fool"Should fail to understand him fully—(featUnparalleled, Uzzean!)—do ye mark?—Five hundred times! So might he entrance beat"For knowledge into howsoever darkAnd dense the brain-pan. Yet it happed, at closeOf one especial lecture, not one spark"Of light was found to have illumed the rowsOf pupils round their pedagogue. 'What, stillImpenetrable to me? Then—here goes!'"And for a second time he sets the rillOf knowledge running, and five hundred timesMore re-repeats the matter—and gainsnil."Out broke a voice from heaven: 'Thy patience climbsEven thus high. Choose! Wilt thou, rather, quickAscend to bliss—or, since thy zeal sublimes"'Such drudgery, will thy back still bear its crick,Bent o'er thy class,—thy voice drone spite of drouth,—Five hundred years more at thy desk wilt stick?'"'To heaven with me!' was in the good man's mouth,When all his scholars—cruel-kind were they!—Stopped utterance, from East, West, North and South,"Rending the welkin with their shout of 'Nay—No heaven as yet for our instructor! GrantFive hundred years on earth for Perida!'"And so long did he keep instructing! WantOur Master no such misery! I but takeThree months of life marital. Ministrant"Be thou of so much, Poet! Bold I make,Swordsman, with thy frank offer!—and conclude,Statist, with thine! One year,—ye will not shake"My purpose to accept no more. So rude?The very boys and girls, forsooth, must pressAnd proffer their addition? Thanks! The mood"Is laudable, but I reject, no less,One month, week, day of life more. Leave my gown,Ye overbold ones! Your life's gift, you guess,"Were good as any? Rudesby, get thee down!Set my feet free, or fear my staff! Farewell,Seniors and saviors, sharers of renown"With Jochanan henceforward!" Straightway fellSleep on the sufferer; who awoke in health,Hale everyway, so potent was the spell.O the rare Spring-time! Who is he by stealthApproaches Jochanan?—embowered that sitsUnder his vine and figtree 'mid the wealthOf garden-sights and sounds, since intermitsNever the turtle's coo, nor stays nor stintsThe rose her smell. In homage that befitsThe musing Master, Tsaddik, see, imprintsA kiss on the extended foot, low bendsForehead to earth, then, all-obsequious, hints"What if it should be time? A period ends—That of the Lover's gift—his quarter-yearOf lustihood: 't is just thou make amends,"Return that loan with usury: so, hereCome I, of thy Disciples delegate,Claiming our lesson from thee. Make appear"Thy profit from experience! Plainly stateHow men should Love!" Thus he: and to him thusThe Rabbi: "Love, ye call it?—rather, Hate!"What wouldst thou? Is it needful I discussWherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottlescakedWith old strong wine's deposit, offers us"Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked?Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound—Languors and yearnings: not a sense but ached"Weighed on by fancied form and feature, soundOf silver word and sight of sunny smile:No beckoning of a flower-branch, no profound"Purple of noon-oppression, no light wileO' the West wind, but transformed itself till—brief—Before me stood the phantasy ye style"Youth's love, the joy that shall not come to grief,Born to endure, eternal, unimpairedBy custom the accloyer, time the thief."Had Age's hard cold knowledge only sparedThat ignorance of Youth! But now the dream,Fresh as from Paradise, alighting fared"As fares the pigeon, finding what may seemHer nest's safe hollow holds a snake insideCoiled to enclasp her. See, Eve stands supreme"In youth and beauty! Take her for thy bride!What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dewMorn set a-sparkle, but which noon quick dried"While Youth bent gazing at its red and blueSupposed perennial,—never dreamed the sunWhich kindled the display would quench it too."Graces of shape and color—every oneWith its appointed period of decayWhen ripe to purpose! 'Still, these dead and done,"'Survives the woman-nature—the soft swayOf undefinable omnipotenceO'er our strong male-stuff, we of Adam's clay.'"Ay, if my physics taught not why and whenceThe attraction! Am I like the simple steerWho, from his pasture lured inside the fence,"Where yoke and goad await him, holds that mereKindliness prompts extension of the handHollowed for barley, which drew near and near"His nose—in proof that, of the hornèd band,The farmer best affected him? Beside,Steer, since his calfhood, got to understand"Farmers a many in the world so wideWere ready with a handful just as choiceOr choicer—maize and cummin, treats untried."Shall I wed wife, and all my days rejoiceI gained the peacock? 'Las me, round I look,And lo—'With me thou wouldst have blamed no voice"'Like hers that daily deafens like a rook:I am the phœnix!'—'I, the lark, the dove,—The owl,' for aught knows he who blindly took"Peacock for partner, while the vale, the grove,The plain held bird-mates in abundance. There!Youth, try fresh capture! Age has found out Love"Long ago. War seems better worth man's care.But leave me! Disappointment finds a balmHaply in slumber." "This first step o' the stair"To knowledge fails me, but the victor's palmLies on the next to tempt him overleapA stumbling-block. Experienced, gather calm,"Thou excellence of Judah, cured by sleepWhich ushers in the Warrior, to replaceThe Lover! At due season I shall reap"Fruit of my planting!" So, with lengthened face,Departed Tsaddik: and three moons more waxedAnd waned, and not until the summer-spaceWaned likewise, any second visit taxedThe Rabbi's patience. But at three months' endBehold, supine beneath a rock, relaxedThe sage lay musing till the noon should spendIts ardor. Up comes Tsaddik, who but he,With "Master, may I warn thee, nor offend,"That time comes round again? We look to seeSprout from the old branch—not the youngling twig—But fruit of sycamine: deliver me,"To share among my fellows, some plump figJuicy as seedy! That same man of war,Who, with a scantling of his store, made big"Thy starveling nature, caused thee, safe from scar,To share his gains by long acquaintanceshipWith bump and bruise and all the knocks that are"Of battle dowry,—he bids loose thy lip,Explain the good of battle! Since thou know'st,Let us know likewise! Fast the moments slip,"More need that we improve them!"—"Ay, we boast,We warriors in our youth, that with the swordMan goes the swiftliest to the uttermost—"Takes the straight way through lands yet unexploredTo absolute Right and Good,—may so obtainGod's glory and man's weal too long ignored,"Too late attained by preachments all in vain—The passive process. Knots get tangled worseBy toying with: does cut cord close again?"Moreover there is blessing in the cursePeace-praisers call war. What so sure evolvesAll the capacities of soul, proves nurse"Of that self-sacrifice in men which solvesThe riddle—Wherein differs Man from beast?Foxes boast cleverness and courage wolves:"Nowhere but in mankind is found the leastTouch of an impulse 'To our fellows—goodI' the highest!—not diminished but increased"'By the condition plainly understood—Such good shall be attained at price of hurtI' the highest to ourselves!' Fine sparks that brood"Confusedly in Man, 't is war bids spurtForth into flame: as fares the meteor-mass,Whereof no particle but holds inert"Some seed of light and heat, however crassThe enclosure, yet avails not to dischargeIts radiant birth before there come to pass"Some push external,—strong to set at largeThose dormant fire-seeds; whirl them in a triceThrough heaven, and light up earth from marge to marge:"Since force by motion makes—what erst was ice—Crash into fervency and so expire,Because some Djinn has hit on a device"For proving the full prettiness of fire!Ay, thus we prattle—young: but old—why, first,Where 's that same Right and Good—(the wise inquire)—"So absolute, it warrants the outburstOf blood, tears, all war's woeful consequence,That comes of the fine flaring? Which plague cursed"The more your benefited Man—offence,Or what suppressed the offender? Say it did—Show us the evil cured by violence,"Submission cures not also! Lift the lidFrom the maturing crucible, we findIts slow sure coaxing-out of virtue, hid"In that same meteor-mass, hath uncombinedThose particles and, yielding for resultGold, not mere flame, by so much leaves behind"The heroic product. E'en the simple cultOf Edom's children wisely bids them turnCheek to the smiter with 'Sic Jesus vult.'"Say there 's a tyrant by whose death we earnFreedom, and justify a war to wage:Good!—were we only able to discern"Exactly how to reach and catch and cageHim only and no innocent beside!Whereas the folk whereon war wreaks its rage"—How shared they his ill-doing? Far and wideThe victims of our warfare strew the plain,Ten thousand dead, whereof not one but died"In faith that vassals owed their suzerainLife: therefore each paid tribute—honest soul—To that same Right and Good ourselves are fain"To call exclusively our end. From bole(Since ye accept in me a sycamine)Pluck, eat, digest a fable—yea, the sole"Fig I afford you! 'Dost thou dwarf my vine?'(So did a certain husbandman addressThe tree which faced his field.) 'Receive condign"'Punishment, prompt removal by the stressOf axe I forthwith lay unto thy root!'Long did he hack and hew, the root no less"As long defied him, for its tough strings shootAs deep down as the boughs above aspire:All that he did was—shake to the tree's foot"Leafage and fruitage, things we most requireFor shadow and refreshment: which good deedThoroughly done, behold the axe-haft tires"His hand, and he desisting leaves unfreedThe vine he hacked and hewed for. Comes a frost,One natural night's work, and there 's little need"Of hacking, hewing: lo, the tree 's a ghost!Perished it starves, black death from topmost boughTo farthest-reaching fibre! Shall I boast"My rough work—warfare—helped more? Loving, now—That, by comparison, seems wiser, sinceThe loving fool was able to avow"He could effect his purpose, just evinceLove's willingness,—once 'ware of what she lacked,His loved one,—to go work for that, nor wince"At self-expenditure: he neither hackedNor hewed, but when the lady of his fieldRequired defence because the sun attacked,"He, failing to obtain a fitter shield,Would interpose his body, and so blaze,Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield"The intellectual weapon—poet-lays,—How preferably had I sung one songWhich ... but my sadness sinks me: go your ways!"I sleep out disappointment." "Come along,Never lose heart! There 's still as much againOf our bestowment left to right the wrong"Done by its earlier moiety—explainWherefore, who may! The Poet's mood comes next.Was he not wishful the poetic vein"Should pulse within him? Jochanan, thou reck'stLittle of what a generous flood shall soonFloat thy clogged spirit free and unperplexed"Above dry dubitation! Song 's the boonShall make amends for my untoward mistakeThat Joshua-like thou couldst bid sun and moon—"Fighter and Lover,—which for most men makeAll they descry in heaven,—stand both stock-stillAnd lend assistance. Poet shalt thou wake!"Autumn brings Tsaddik. "Ay, there speeds the rillLoaded with leaves: a scowling sky, beside:The wind makes olive-trees up yonder hill"Whiten and shudder—symptoms far and wideOf gleaning-time's approach; and glean good storeMay I presume to trust we shall, thou tried"And ripe experimenter! Three months moreHave ministered to growth of Song: that graftInto thy sterile stock has found at core"Moisture, I warrant, hitherto unquaffedBy boughs, however florid, wanting sapOf prose-experience which provides the draught"Which song-sprouts, wanting, wither: vain we tapA youngling stem all green and immature;Experience must secrete the stuff, our hap"Will be to quench Man's thirst with, glad and sureThat fancy wells up through corrective fact:Missing which test of truth, though flowers allure"The goodman's eye with promise, soon the pactIs broken, and 'tis flowers—mere words—he findsWhen things—that's fruit—he looked for. Well, once cracked"The nut, how glad my tooth the kernel grinds!Song may henceforth boast substance! Therefore, hailProser and poet, perfect in both kinds!"Thou from whose eye hath dropped the envious scaleWhich hides the truth of things and substitutesDeceptive show, unaided optics fail"To transpierce,—hast entrusted to the lute'sSoft but sure guardianship some unrevealedSecret shall lift mankind above the brutes"As only knowledge can?" "A fount unsealed"(Sighed Jochanan) "should seek the heaven in leapsTo die in dew-gems—not find death, congealed"By contact with the cavern's nether deeps,Earth's secretest foundation where, enswathedIn dark and fear, primeval mystery sleeps—"Petrific fount wherein my fancies bathedAnd straight turned ice. My dreams of good and fairIn soaring upwards had dissolved, unscathed"By any influence of the kindly air,Singing, as each took flight, 'The Future—that'sOur destination, mists turn rainbows there,"'Which sink to fog, confounded in the flatsO' the Present! Day's the song-time for the lark,Night for her music boasts but owls and bats."'And what's the Past but night—the deep and darkIce-spring I speak of, corpse-thicked with its drownedDead fancies which no sooner touched the mark"'They aimed at—fact—than all at once they foundTheir film-wings freeze, henceforth unfit to reachAnd roll in ether, revel—robed and crowned"'As truths confirmed by falsehood all and each—Sovereign and absolute and ultimate!Up with them, skyward, Youth, ere Age impeach"'Thy least of promises to reinstateAdam in Eden!' Sing on, ever sing,Chirp till thou burst!—the fool cicada's fate,"Who holds that after Summer next comes Spring,Than Summer's self sun-warmed, spice-scented more.Fighting was better! There, no fancy-fling"Pitches you past the point was reached of yoreBy Samsons, Abners, Joabs, Judases,The mighty men of valor who, before"Our little day, did wonders none professTo doubt were fable and not fact, so trustBy fancy-flights to emulate much less."Were I a Statesman, now! Why, that were justTo pinnacle my soul, mankind above,A-top the universe: no vulgar lust"To gratify—fame, greed, at this removeLooked down upon so far—or overlookedSo largely, rather—that mine eye should rove"World-wide and rummage earth, the many-nooked,Yet find no unit of the human flockCaught straying but straight comes back hooked and crooked"By the strong shepherd who, from out his stockOf aids proceeds to treat each ailing fleece,Here stimulate to growth, curtail and dock"There, baldness or excrescence,—that, with grease,This, with up-grubbing of the bristly patchBorn of the tick-bite. How supreme a peace"Steals o'er the Statist,—while, in wit, a matchFor shrewd Ahithophel, in wisdom ... well,His name escapes me—somebody, at watch"And ward, the fellow of AhithophelIn guidance of the Chosen!"—at which wordEyes closed and fast asleep the Rabbi fell."Cold weather!" shivered Tsaddik. "Yet the hoardOf the sagacious ant shows garnered grain,Ever abundant most when fields afford"Least pasture, and alike disgrace the plainTall tree and lowly shrub. 'T is so with usMortals: our age stores wealth ye seek in vain"While busy youth culls just what we discussAt leisure in the last days: and the lastTruly are these for Jochanan, whom thus"I make one more appeal to! Thine amassedExperience, now or never, let escapeSome portion of! For I perceive aghast"The end approaches, while they jeer and jape,These sons of Shimei: 'Justify your boast!What have ye gained from Death by twelve months' rape?'"Statesman, what cure hast thou for—least and most—Popular grievances? What nostrum, say,Will make the Rich and Poor, expertly dosed,"Forget disparity, bid each go gay,That, with his bauble,—with his burden, this?Propose an alkahest shall melt away"Men's lacquer, show by prompt analysisWhich is the metal, which the make-believe,So that no longer brass shall find, gold miss"Coinage and currency? Make haste, retrieveThe precious moments, Master!" WhereuntoThere snarls an "Ever laughing in thy sleeve,"Pert Tsaddik? Youth indeed sees plain a clueTo guide man where life's wood is intricate:How shall he fail to thrid its thickest through"When every oak-trunk takes the eye? ElateHe goes from hole to brushwood, plunging finds—Smothered in briers—that the small's the great!"All men are men: I would all minds were minds!Whereas 't is just the many's mindless massThat most needs helping: laborers and hinds"We legislate for—not the cultured classWhich law-makes for itself nor needs the whipAnd bridle,—proper help for mule and ass,"Did the brutes know! In vain our statesmanshipStrives at contenting the rough multitude:Still the ox cries ''T is me thou shouldst equip"'With equine trappings!' or, in humbler mood,'Cribful of corn for me! and, as for work—Adequate rumination o'er my food!'"Better remain a Poet! Needs it irkSuch an one if light, kindled in his sphere,Fail to transfuse the Mizraim cold and murk"Round about Goshen? Though light disappear,Shut inside,—temporary ignoranceGot outside of, lo, light emerging clear"Shows each astonished starer the expanseOf heaven made bright with knowledge! That's the way,The only way—I see it at a glance—"To legislate for earth! As poet ... Stay!What is ... I would that ... were it ... I had been ...O sudden change, as if my arid clay"Burst into bloom!" ... "A change indeed, I ween,And change the last!" sighed Tsaddik as he kissedThe closing eyelids. "Just as those serene"Princes of Night apprised me! Our acquistOf life is spent, since corners only fourHath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist"In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore—Little it profits here!) by strenuous tugOf friends who eked out thus to full fourscore"The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug!What have we gained? Away the Bier may roll!To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug,"In with his body I may pitch the scrollI hoped to glorify with, text and gloss,My Science of Man's Life: one blank's the whole!"Love, war, song, statesmanship—no gain, all loss,The stars' bestowment! We on our returnTo-morrow merely find—not gold but dross,"The body not the soul. Come, friends, we learnAt least thus much by our experiment—That—that ... well, find what, whom it may concern!"But next day through the city rumors wentOf a new persecution; so, they fledAll Israel, each man,—this time,—from his tent,Tsaddik among the foremost. When, the dreadSubsiding, Israel ventured back againSome three months after, to the cave they spedWhere lay the Sage,—a reverential train!Tsaddik first enters. "What is this I view?The Rabbi still alive? No stars remain"Of Aisch to stop within their courses. True,I mind me, certain gamesome boys must urgeTheir offerings on me: can it be—one threw"Life at him and it stuck? There needs the scourgeTo teach that urchin manners! Prithee, grantForgiveness if we pretermit thy dirge"Just to explain no friend was ministrant,This time, of life to thee! Some jackanapes,I gather, has presumed to foist his scant"Scurvy unripe existence—wilding grapesGrass-green and sorrel-sour—on that grand wine,Mighty as mellow, which, so fancy shapes"May fitly image forth this life of thineFed on the last low fattening lees—condensedElixir, no milk-mildness of the vine!"Rightly with Tsaddik wert thou now incensedHad he been witting of the mischief wroughtWhen, for elixir, verjuice he dispensed!"And slowly woke,—like Shushan's flower besoughtBy over-curious handling to unlooseThe curtained secrecy wherein she thoughtHer captive bee, 'mid store of sweets to choose,Would loll, in gold pavilioned lie unteased,Sucking on, sated never,—whose, O whoseMight seem that countenance, uplift, all easedOf old distraction and bewilderment,Absurdly happy? "How ye have appeased"The strife within me, bred this whole content,This utter acquiescence in my past,Present and future life,—by whom was lent"The power to work this miracle at last,—Exceeds my guess. Though—ignorance confirmedBy knowledgesounds like paradox, I cast"Vainly about to tell you—fitlier termed—Of calm struck by encountering opposites,Each nullifying either! Henceforth wormed"From out my heart is every snake that bitesThe dove that else would brood there: doubt, which killsWith hiss of 'What if sorrows end delights?'"Fear which stings ease with 'Work the Master wills!'Experience which coils round and strangles quickEach hope with 'Ask the Past if hoping skills"'To work accomplishment, or proves a trickWiling thee to endeavor! Strive, fool, stopNowise, so live, so die—that's law! why kick"'Against the pricks?' All out-wormed! Slumber, dropThy films once more and veil the bliss within!Experience strangle hope? Hope waves a-top"Her wings triumphant! Come what will, I win,Whoever loses! Every dream's assuredOf soberest fulfilment. Where's a sin"Except in doubting that the light, which luredThe unwary into darkness, meant no wrongHad I but marched on bold, nor paused immured"By mists I should have pressed through, passed alongMy way henceforth rejoicing? Not the boy'sPassionate impulse he conceits so strong,"Which, at first touch, truth, bubble-like, destroys,—Not the man's slow conviction 'VanityOf vanities—alike my griefs and joys!'"Ice!—thawed (look up) each bird, each insect by—(Look round) by all the plants that break in bloom,(Look down) by every dead friend's memory"That smiles 'Am I the dust within my tomb?'Not either, but both these—amalgam rare—Mix in a product, not from Nature's womb,"But stuff which He the Operant—who shall dareDescribe His operation?—strikes aliveAnd thaumaturgic. I nor know nor care"How from this tohu-bohu—hopes which dive,And fears which soar—faith, ruined through and throughBy doubt, and doubt, faith treads to dust?—revive"In some surprising sort,—as see, they do!—Not merely foes no longer but fast friends.What does it mean unless—O strange and new"Discovery!—this life proves a wine-press—blendsEvil and good, both fruits of Paradise,Into a novel drink which—who intends"To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasiesAttempered, not this all-inadequateOrgan which, quivering within me, dies"—Nay, lives!—what, how,—too soon, or else too late—I was—I am" ... ("He babbleth!" Tsaddik mused)"O Thou Almighty, who canst reinstate"Truths in their primal clarity, confusedBy man's perception, which is man's and madeTo suit his service,—how, once disabused"Of reason which sees light half shine half shade,Because of flesh, the medium that adjustsPurity to his visuals, both an aid"And hindrance,—how to eyes earth's air encrusts,When purged and perfect to receive truth's beamPouring itself on the new sense it trusts"With all its plenitude of power,—how seemThe intricacies now, of shade and shine,Oppugnant natures—Right and Wrong, we deem"Irreconcilable? O eyes of mine,Freed now of imperfection, ye availTo see the whole sight, nor may uncombine"Henceforth what, erst divided, caused you quail—So huge the chasm between the false and true,The dream and the reality! All hail,"Day of my soul's deliverance—day the new,The never-ending! What though every shapeWhereon I wreaked my yearning to pursue"Even to success each semblance of escapeFrom my own bounded self to some all-fairAll-wise external fancy, proved a rape"Like that old giant's, feigned of fools—on air,Not solid flesh? How otherwise? To love—That lesson was to learn not here—but there—"On earth, not here! 'Tis there we learn,—there proveOur parts upon the stuff we needs must spoil,Striving at mastery, there bend above"The spoiled clay potsherds, many a year of toilAttests the potter tried his hand upon,Till sudden he arose, wiped free from soil"His hand, cried 'So much for attempt—anonPerformance! Taught to mould the living vase,What matter the cracked pitchers dead and gone?'"Could I impart and could thy mind embraceThe secret, Tsaddik!" "Secret none to me!"Quoth Tsaddik, as the glory on the faceOf Jochanan was quenched. "The truth I seeOf what that excellence of Judah wrote,Doughty Halaphta. This a case must be"Wherein, though the last breath, have passed the throat,So that 'The man is dead' we may pronounce,Yet is the Ruach—(thus do we denote"The imparted Spirit)—in no haste to bounceFrom its entrusted Body,—some three daysLingers ere it relinquish to the pounce"Of hawk-clawed Death his victim. Further saysHalaphta, 'Instances have been, and yetAgain may be, when saints, whose earthly ways"'Tend to perfection, very nearly getTo heaven while still on earth: and, as a fineInterval shows where waters pure have met"'Waves brackish, in a mixture, sweet with brine,That's neither sea nor river but a tasteOf both—so meet the earthly and divine"'And each is either.' Thus I hold him graced—Dying on earth, half inside and half out,Wholly in heaven, who knows? My mind embraced"Thy secret, Jochanan, how dare I doubt?Follow thy Ruach, let earth, all it can,Keep of the leavings!" Thus was brought aboutThe sepulture of Rabbi Jochanan:Thou hast him,—sinner-saint, live-dead, boy-man,—Schiphaz, on Bendimir, in Farzistan!
"This now, this other story makes amendsAnd justifies our Mishna," quoth the JewAforesaid. "Tell it, learnedest of friends!"A certain morn broke beautiful and blueO'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth,—So had ye deemed; while the reverse was true,Since one small house there gave a sorrow birthIn such black sort that, to each faithful eye,Midnight, not morning settled on the earth.How else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die,Our much-enlightened master, Israel's prop,Eximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai?Old, yea, but, undiminished of a drop,The vital essence pulsed through heart and brain;Time left unsickled yet the plenteous cropOn poll and chin and cheek, whereof a skeinHandmaids might weave—hairs silk-soft, silver-white,Such as the wool-plant's; none the less in vainHad Physic striven her best against the spiteOf fell disease: the Rabbi must succumb;And, round the couch whereon in piteous plightHe lay a-dying, scholars,—awe-struck, dumbThroughout the night-watch,—roused themselves and spokeOne to the other: "Ere death's touch benumb"His active sense,—while yet 'neath Reason's yokeObedient toils his tongue,—befits we claimThe fruit of long experience, bid this oak"Shed us an acorn which may, all the same,Grow to a temple-pillar,—dear that day!—When Israel's scattered seed finds place and name"Among the envious nations. Lamp us, pray,Thou the Enlightener! Partest hence in peace?Hailest without regret—much less, dismay—"The hour of thine approximate releaseFrom fleshly bondage soul hath found obstruct?Calmly envisagest the sure increase"Of knowledge? Eden's tree must hold unpluckedSome apple, sure, has never tried thy tooth,Juicy with sapience thou hast sought, not sucked?"Say, does age acquiesce in vanished youth?Still towers thy purity above—as erst—Our pleasant follies? Be thy last word—truth!"The Rabbi groaned; then, grimly, "Last as firstThe truth speak I—in boyhood who beganStriving to live an angel, and, amerced"For such presumption, die now hardly man.What have I proved of life? To live, indeed,That much I learned: but here lies Jochanan"More luckless than stood David when, to speedHis fighting with the Philistine, they broughtSaul's harness forth: whereat, 'Alack, I need"Armor to arm me, but have never foughtWith sword and spear, nor tried to manage shield,Proving arms' use, as well-trained warrior ought,"'Only a sling and pebbles can I wield!'So he: while I, contrariwise, 'No trickOf weapon helpful on the battlefield"'Comes unfamiliar to my theoric:But, bid me put in practice what I know,Give me a sword—it stings like Moses' stick,"'A serpent I let drop apace.' E'en so,I,—able to comport me at each stageOf human life as never here below"Man played his part,—since mine the heritageOf wisdom carried to that perfect pitch,Ye rightly praise,—I, therefore, who, thus sage,"Could sure act man triumphantly, enrichLife's annals, with example how I playedLover, Bard, Soldier, Statist,—(all of which"Parts in presentment failing, cries invadeThe world's ear—'Ah, the Past, the pearl-gift thrownTo hogs, time's opportunity we made"'So light of, only recognized when flown!Had we been wise!')—-in fine, I—wise enough,—What profit brings me wisdom never shown"Just when its showing would from each rebuffShelter weak virtue, threaten back to boundsEncroaching vice, tread smooth each track too rough"For youth's unsteady footstep, climb the roundsOf life's long ladder, one by slippery one,Yet make no stumble? Me hard fate confounds"With that same crowd of wailers I outrunBy promising to teach another cryOf more hilarious mood than theirs, the sun"I look my last at is insulted by.What cry,—ye ask? Give ear on every side!Witness yon Lover! 'How entrapped am I!"'Methought, because a virgin's rose-lip viedWith ripe Khubbezleh's, needs must beauty mateWith meekness and discretion in a bride:"'Bride she became to me who wail—too late—Unwise I loved!' That 's one cry. 'Mind 's my gift:I might have loaded me with lore, full weight"'Pressed down and running over at each riftO' the brain-bag where the famished clung and fed.I filled it with what rubbish!—would not sift"'The wheat from chaff, sound grain from musty—shedPoison abroad as oft as nutriment—And sighing say but as my fellows said,"'Unwise I learned!' That 's two. 'In dwarfs-play spentWas giant's prowess: warrior all unversedIn war's right waging, I struck brand, was lent"'For steel's fit service, on mere stone—and cursedAlike the shocked limb and the shivered steel,Seeing too late the blade's true use which erst"How was I blind to! My cry swells the peal—Unwise I fought!' That 's three. But wherefore wasteBreath on the wailings longer? Why reveal"A root of bitterness whereof the tasteIs noisome to Humanity at large?First we get Power, but Power absurdly placed"In Folly's keeping, who resigns her chargeTo Wisdom when all Power grows nothing worth:Bones marrowless are mocked with helm and targe"When, like your Master's, soon below the earthWith worms shall warfare only be. Farewell,Children! I die a failure since my birth!""Not so!" arose a protest, as, pell-mell,They pattered from his chamber to the street,Bent on a last resource. Our Targums tellThat such resource there is. Put case, there meetThe Nine Points of Perfection—rarest chance—Within some saintly teacher whom the fleetYears, in their blind implacable advance,O'ertake before fit teaching born of theseHave magnified his scholars' countenance,—If haply folk compassionating pleaseTo render up—according to his store,Each one—a portion of the life he seesHardly worth saving when 't is set beforeEarth's benefit should the Saint, Hakkadosh,Favored thereby, attain to full fourscore—If such contribute (Scoffer, spare thy "Bosh!")A year, a month, a day, an hour—to ekeLife out,—in him away the gift shall washThat much of ill-spent time recorded, streakThe twilight of the so-assisted sageWith a new sunrise: truth, though strange to speak!Quick to the doorway, then, where youth and age,All Israel, thronging, waited for the lastNews of the loved one. "'T is the final stage:"Art's utmost done, the Rabbi's feet tread fastThe way of all flesh!" So announced that aptOlive-branch Tsaddik: "Yet, O Brethren, east"No eye to earthward! Look where heaven has clappedMorning's extinguisher—yon ray-shot robeOf sun-threads—on the constellation mapped"And mentioned by our Elders,—yea, from JobDown to Satam,—as figuring forth—what?Perpend a mystery! Ye call itDob,"'The Bear': I trow, a wiser name than thatWereAish—'The Bier': a corpse those four stars hold,Which—are not those Three Daughters weeping at"Banoth?I judge so: list while I unfoldThe reason. As in twice twelve hours this BierGoes and returns, about the east-cone rolled,"So may a setting luminary hereBe rescued from extinction, rolled anewUpon its track of labor, strong and clear,"About the Pole—that Salem, every JewHelps to build up when thus he saves some SaintOrdained its architect. Ye grasp the clue"To all ye seek? The Rabbi's lamp-flame faintSinks: would ye raise it? Lend then life from yours,Spare each his oil-drop! Do I need acquaint"The Chosen how self-sacrifice ensuresTenfold requital?—urge ye emulateThe fame of those Old Just Ones death procures"Such praise for, that 't is now men's sole debateWhich of the Ten, who volunteered at RomeTo die for glory to our Race, was great"Beyond his fellows? Was it thou—the combOf iron carded, flesh from bone, away,While thy lips sputtered through their bloody foam"Without a stoppage (O brave Akiba!)'Hear, Israel, our Lord God is One'? Or thou,Jischab?—who smiledst, burning, since there lay,"Burning along with thee, our Law! I trow,Such martyrdom might tax flesh to afford:While that for which I make petition now,"To what amounts it? Youngster, wilt thou hoardEach minute of long years thou look'st to spendIn dalliance with thy spouse? Hast thou so soared,"Singer of songs, all out of sight of friendAnd teacher, warbling like a woodland bird,There 's left no Selah, 'twixt two psalms, to lend"Our late-so-tuneful quirist? Thou, averredThe fighter born to plant our lion-flagOnce more on Zion's mount,—doth all-unheard,"My pleading fail to move thee? Toss some ragShall stanch our wound, some minute never missedFrom swordsman's lustihood like thine! Wilt lag"In liberal bestowment, show close fistWhen open palm we look for,—thou, wide-knownFor statecraft? whom, 't is said, and if thou list,"The Shah himself would seat beside his throne,So valued were advice from thee" ... But hereHe stopped short: such a hubbub! Not aloneFrom those addressed, but far as well as nearThe crowd brought into clamor: "Mine, mine, mine—Lop from my life the excrescence, never fear!"At me thou lookedst, markedst me! AssignTo me that privilege of granting life—Mine, mine!" Then he: "Be patient! I combine"The needful portions only, wage no strifeWith Nature's law nor seek to lengthen outThe Rabbi's day unduly. 'T is the knife"I stop,—would eat its thread too short. AboutAs much as helps life last the proper term,The appointed Fourscore,—that I crave, and scout"A too-prolonged existence. Let the wormChange at fit season to the butterfly!And here a story strikes me, to confirm"This judgment. Of our worthies, none ranks highAs Perida who kept the famous school:None rivalled him in patience: none! For why?"In lecturing it was his constant rule,Whatever he expounded, to repeat—Ay, and keep on repeating, lest some fool"Should fail to understand him fully—(featUnparalleled, Uzzean!)—do ye mark?—Five hundred times! So might he entrance beat"For knowledge into howsoever darkAnd dense the brain-pan. Yet it happed, at closeOf one especial lecture, not one spark"Of light was found to have illumed the rowsOf pupils round their pedagogue. 'What, stillImpenetrable to me? Then—here goes!'"And for a second time he sets the rillOf knowledge running, and five hundred timesMore re-repeats the matter—and gainsnil."Out broke a voice from heaven: 'Thy patience climbsEven thus high. Choose! Wilt thou, rather, quickAscend to bliss—or, since thy zeal sublimes"'Such drudgery, will thy back still bear its crick,Bent o'er thy class,—thy voice drone spite of drouth,—Five hundred years more at thy desk wilt stick?'"'To heaven with me!' was in the good man's mouth,When all his scholars—cruel-kind were they!—Stopped utterance, from East, West, North and South,"Rending the welkin with their shout of 'Nay—No heaven as yet for our instructor! GrantFive hundred years on earth for Perida!'"And so long did he keep instructing! WantOur Master no such misery! I but takeThree months of life marital. Ministrant"Be thou of so much, Poet! Bold I make,Swordsman, with thy frank offer!—and conclude,Statist, with thine! One year,—ye will not shake"My purpose to accept no more. So rude?The very boys and girls, forsooth, must pressAnd proffer their addition? Thanks! The mood"Is laudable, but I reject, no less,One month, week, day of life more. Leave my gown,Ye overbold ones! Your life's gift, you guess,"Were good as any? Rudesby, get thee down!Set my feet free, or fear my staff! Farewell,Seniors and saviors, sharers of renown"With Jochanan henceforward!" Straightway fellSleep on the sufferer; who awoke in health,Hale everyway, so potent was the spell.O the rare Spring-time! Who is he by stealthApproaches Jochanan?—embowered that sitsUnder his vine and figtree 'mid the wealthOf garden-sights and sounds, since intermitsNever the turtle's coo, nor stays nor stintsThe rose her smell. In homage that befitsThe musing Master, Tsaddik, see, imprintsA kiss on the extended foot, low bendsForehead to earth, then, all-obsequious, hints"What if it should be time? A period ends—That of the Lover's gift—his quarter-yearOf lustihood: 't is just thou make amends,"Return that loan with usury: so, hereCome I, of thy Disciples delegate,Claiming our lesson from thee. Make appear"Thy profit from experience! Plainly stateHow men should Love!" Thus he: and to him thusThe Rabbi: "Love, ye call it?—rather, Hate!"What wouldst thou? Is it needful I discussWherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottlescakedWith old strong wine's deposit, offers us"Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked?Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound—Languors and yearnings: not a sense but ached"Weighed on by fancied form and feature, soundOf silver word and sight of sunny smile:No beckoning of a flower-branch, no profound"Purple of noon-oppression, no light wileO' the West wind, but transformed itself till—brief—Before me stood the phantasy ye style"Youth's love, the joy that shall not come to grief,Born to endure, eternal, unimpairedBy custom the accloyer, time the thief."Had Age's hard cold knowledge only sparedThat ignorance of Youth! But now the dream,Fresh as from Paradise, alighting fared"As fares the pigeon, finding what may seemHer nest's safe hollow holds a snake insideCoiled to enclasp her. See, Eve stands supreme"In youth and beauty! Take her for thy bride!What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dewMorn set a-sparkle, but which noon quick dried"While Youth bent gazing at its red and blueSupposed perennial,—never dreamed the sunWhich kindled the display would quench it too."Graces of shape and color—every oneWith its appointed period of decayWhen ripe to purpose! 'Still, these dead and done,"'Survives the woman-nature—the soft swayOf undefinable omnipotenceO'er our strong male-stuff, we of Adam's clay.'"Ay, if my physics taught not why and whenceThe attraction! Am I like the simple steerWho, from his pasture lured inside the fence,"Where yoke and goad await him, holds that mereKindliness prompts extension of the handHollowed for barley, which drew near and near"His nose—in proof that, of the hornèd band,The farmer best affected him? Beside,Steer, since his calfhood, got to understand"Farmers a many in the world so wideWere ready with a handful just as choiceOr choicer—maize and cummin, treats untried."Shall I wed wife, and all my days rejoiceI gained the peacock? 'Las me, round I look,And lo—'With me thou wouldst have blamed no voice"'Like hers that daily deafens like a rook:I am the phœnix!'—'I, the lark, the dove,—The owl,' for aught knows he who blindly took"Peacock for partner, while the vale, the grove,The plain held bird-mates in abundance. There!Youth, try fresh capture! Age has found out Love"Long ago. War seems better worth man's care.But leave me! Disappointment finds a balmHaply in slumber." "This first step o' the stair"To knowledge fails me, but the victor's palmLies on the next to tempt him overleapA stumbling-block. Experienced, gather calm,"Thou excellence of Judah, cured by sleepWhich ushers in the Warrior, to replaceThe Lover! At due season I shall reap"Fruit of my planting!" So, with lengthened face,Departed Tsaddik: and three moons more waxedAnd waned, and not until the summer-spaceWaned likewise, any second visit taxedThe Rabbi's patience. But at three months' endBehold, supine beneath a rock, relaxedThe sage lay musing till the noon should spendIts ardor. Up comes Tsaddik, who but he,With "Master, may I warn thee, nor offend,"That time comes round again? We look to seeSprout from the old branch—not the youngling twig—But fruit of sycamine: deliver me,"To share among my fellows, some plump figJuicy as seedy! That same man of war,Who, with a scantling of his store, made big"Thy starveling nature, caused thee, safe from scar,To share his gains by long acquaintanceshipWith bump and bruise and all the knocks that are"Of battle dowry,—he bids loose thy lip,Explain the good of battle! Since thou know'st,Let us know likewise! Fast the moments slip,"More need that we improve them!"—"Ay, we boast,We warriors in our youth, that with the swordMan goes the swiftliest to the uttermost—"Takes the straight way through lands yet unexploredTo absolute Right and Good,—may so obtainGod's glory and man's weal too long ignored,"Too late attained by preachments all in vain—The passive process. Knots get tangled worseBy toying with: does cut cord close again?"Moreover there is blessing in the cursePeace-praisers call war. What so sure evolvesAll the capacities of soul, proves nurse"Of that self-sacrifice in men which solvesThe riddle—Wherein differs Man from beast?Foxes boast cleverness and courage wolves:"Nowhere but in mankind is found the leastTouch of an impulse 'To our fellows—goodI' the highest!—not diminished but increased"'By the condition plainly understood—Such good shall be attained at price of hurtI' the highest to ourselves!' Fine sparks that brood"Confusedly in Man, 't is war bids spurtForth into flame: as fares the meteor-mass,Whereof no particle but holds inert"Some seed of light and heat, however crassThe enclosure, yet avails not to dischargeIts radiant birth before there come to pass"Some push external,—strong to set at largeThose dormant fire-seeds; whirl them in a triceThrough heaven, and light up earth from marge to marge:"Since force by motion makes—what erst was ice—Crash into fervency and so expire,Because some Djinn has hit on a device"For proving the full prettiness of fire!Ay, thus we prattle—young: but old—why, first,Where 's that same Right and Good—(the wise inquire)—"So absolute, it warrants the outburstOf blood, tears, all war's woeful consequence,That comes of the fine flaring? Which plague cursed"The more your benefited Man—offence,Or what suppressed the offender? Say it did—Show us the evil cured by violence,"Submission cures not also! Lift the lidFrom the maturing crucible, we findIts slow sure coaxing-out of virtue, hid"In that same meteor-mass, hath uncombinedThose particles and, yielding for resultGold, not mere flame, by so much leaves behind"The heroic product. E'en the simple cultOf Edom's children wisely bids them turnCheek to the smiter with 'Sic Jesus vult.'"Say there 's a tyrant by whose death we earnFreedom, and justify a war to wage:Good!—were we only able to discern"Exactly how to reach and catch and cageHim only and no innocent beside!Whereas the folk whereon war wreaks its rage"—How shared they his ill-doing? Far and wideThe victims of our warfare strew the plain,Ten thousand dead, whereof not one but died"In faith that vassals owed their suzerainLife: therefore each paid tribute—honest soul—To that same Right and Good ourselves are fain"To call exclusively our end. From bole(Since ye accept in me a sycamine)Pluck, eat, digest a fable—yea, the sole"Fig I afford you! 'Dost thou dwarf my vine?'(So did a certain husbandman addressThe tree which faced his field.) 'Receive condign"'Punishment, prompt removal by the stressOf axe I forthwith lay unto thy root!'Long did he hack and hew, the root no less"As long defied him, for its tough strings shootAs deep down as the boughs above aspire:All that he did was—shake to the tree's foot"Leafage and fruitage, things we most requireFor shadow and refreshment: which good deedThoroughly done, behold the axe-haft tires"His hand, and he desisting leaves unfreedThe vine he hacked and hewed for. Comes a frost,One natural night's work, and there 's little need"Of hacking, hewing: lo, the tree 's a ghost!Perished it starves, black death from topmost boughTo farthest-reaching fibre! Shall I boast"My rough work—warfare—helped more? Loving, now—That, by comparison, seems wiser, sinceThe loving fool was able to avow"He could effect his purpose, just evinceLove's willingness,—once 'ware of what she lacked,His loved one,—to go work for that, nor wince"At self-expenditure: he neither hackedNor hewed, but when the lady of his fieldRequired defence because the sun attacked,"He, failing to obtain a fitter shield,Would interpose his body, and so blaze,Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield"The intellectual weapon—poet-lays,—How preferably had I sung one songWhich ... but my sadness sinks me: go your ways!"I sleep out disappointment." "Come along,Never lose heart! There 's still as much againOf our bestowment left to right the wrong"Done by its earlier moiety—explainWherefore, who may! The Poet's mood comes next.Was he not wishful the poetic vein"Should pulse within him? Jochanan, thou reck'stLittle of what a generous flood shall soonFloat thy clogged spirit free and unperplexed"Above dry dubitation! Song 's the boonShall make amends for my untoward mistakeThat Joshua-like thou couldst bid sun and moon—"Fighter and Lover,—which for most men makeAll they descry in heaven,—stand both stock-stillAnd lend assistance. Poet shalt thou wake!"Autumn brings Tsaddik. "Ay, there speeds the rillLoaded with leaves: a scowling sky, beside:The wind makes olive-trees up yonder hill"Whiten and shudder—symptoms far and wideOf gleaning-time's approach; and glean good storeMay I presume to trust we shall, thou tried"And ripe experimenter! Three months moreHave ministered to growth of Song: that graftInto thy sterile stock has found at core"Moisture, I warrant, hitherto unquaffedBy boughs, however florid, wanting sapOf prose-experience which provides the draught"Which song-sprouts, wanting, wither: vain we tapA youngling stem all green and immature;Experience must secrete the stuff, our hap"Will be to quench Man's thirst with, glad and sureThat fancy wells up through corrective fact:Missing which test of truth, though flowers allure"The goodman's eye with promise, soon the pactIs broken, and 'tis flowers—mere words—he findsWhen things—that's fruit—he looked for. Well, once cracked"The nut, how glad my tooth the kernel grinds!Song may henceforth boast substance! Therefore, hailProser and poet, perfect in both kinds!"Thou from whose eye hath dropped the envious scaleWhich hides the truth of things and substitutesDeceptive show, unaided optics fail"To transpierce,—hast entrusted to the lute'sSoft but sure guardianship some unrevealedSecret shall lift mankind above the brutes"As only knowledge can?" "A fount unsealed"(Sighed Jochanan) "should seek the heaven in leapsTo die in dew-gems—not find death, congealed"By contact with the cavern's nether deeps,Earth's secretest foundation where, enswathedIn dark and fear, primeval mystery sleeps—"Petrific fount wherein my fancies bathedAnd straight turned ice. My dreams of good and fairIn soaring upwards had dissolved, unscathed"By any influence of the kindly air,Singing, as each took flight, 'The Future—that'sOur destination, mists turn rainbows there,"'Which sink to fog, confounded in the flatsO' the Present! Day's the song-time for the lark,Night for her music boasts but owls and bats."'And what's the Past but night—the deep and darkIce-spring I speak of, corpse-thicked with its drownedDead fancies which no sooner touched the mark"'They aimed at—fact—than all at once they foundTheir film-wings freeze, henceforth unfit to reachAnd roll in ether, revel—robed and crowned"'As truths confirmed by falsehood all and each—Sovereign and absolute and ultimate!Up with them, skyward, Youth, ere Age impeach"'Thy least of promises to reinstateAdam in Eden!' Sing on, ever sing,Chirp till thou burst!—the fool cicada's fate,"Who holds that after Summer next comes Spring,Than Summer's self sun-warmed, spice-scented more.Fighting was better! There, no fancy-fling"Pitches you past the point was reached of yoreBy Samsons, Abners, Joabs, Judases,The mighty men of valor who, before"Our little day, did wonders none professTo doubt were fable and not fact, so trustBy fancy-flights to emulate much less."Were I a Statesman, now! Why, that were justTo pinnacle my soul, mankind above,A-top the universe: no vulgar lust"To gratify—fame, greed, at this removeLooked down upon so far—or overlookedSo largely, rather—that mine eye should rove"World-wide and rummage earth, the many-nooked,Yet find no unit of the human flockCaught straying but straight comes back hooked and crooked"By the strong shepherd who, from out his stockOf aids proceeds to treat each ailing fleece,Here stimulate to growth, curtail and dock"There, baldness or excrescence,—that, with grease,This, with up-grubbing of the bristly patchBorn of the tick-bite. How supreme a peace"Steals o'er the Statist,—while, in wit, a matchFor shrewd Ahithophel, in wisdom ... well,His name escapes me—somebody, at watch"And ward, the fellow of AhithophelIn guidance of the Chosen!"—at which wordEyes closed and fast asleep the Rabbi fell."Cold weather!" shivered Tsaddik. "Yet the hoardOf the sagacious ant shows garnered grain,Ever abundant most when fields afford"Least pasture, and alike disgrace the plainTall tree and lowly shrub. 'T is so with usMortals: our age stores wealth ye seek in vain"While busy youth culls just what we discussAt leisure in the last days: and the lastTruly are these for Jochanan, whom thus"I make one more appeal to! Thine amassedExperience, now or never, let escapeSome portion of! For I perceive aghast"The end approaches, while they jeer and jape,These sons of Shimei: 'Justify your boast!What have ye gained from Death by twelve months' rape?'"Statesman, what cure hast thou for—least and most—Popular grievances? What nostrum, say,Will make the Rich and Poor, expertly dosed,"Forget disparity, bid each go gay,That, with his bauble,—with his burden, this?Propose an alkahest shall melt away"Men's lacquer, show by prompt analysisWhich is the metal, which the make-believe,So that no longer brass shall find, gold miss"Coinage and currency? Make haste, retrieveThe precious moments, Master!" WhereuntoThere snarls an "Ever laughing in thy sleeve,"Pert Tsaddik? Youth indeed sees plain a clueTo guide man where life's wood is intricate:How shall he fail to thrid its thickest through"When every oak-trunk takes the eye? ElateHe goes from hole to brushwood, plunging finds—Smothered in briers—that the small's the great!"All men are men: I would all minds were minds!Whereas 't is just the many's mindless massThat most needs helping: laborers and hinds"We legislate for—not the cultured classWhich law-makes for itself nor needs the whipAnd bridle,—proper help for mule and ass,"Did the brutes know! In vain our statesmanshipStrives at contenting the rough multitude:Still the ox cries ''T is me thou shouldst equip"'With equine trappings!' or, in humbler mood,'Cribful of corn for me! and, as for work—Adequate rumination o'er my food!'"Better remain a Poet! Needs it irkSuch an one if light, kindled in his sphere,Fail to transfuse the Mizraim cold and murk"Round about Goshen? Though light disappear,Shut inside,—temporary ignoranceGot outside of, lo, light emerging clear"Shows each astonished starer the expanseOf heaven made bright with knowledge! That's the way,The only way—I see it at a glance—"To legislate for earth! As poet ... Stay!What is ... I would that ... were it ... I had been ...O sudden change, as if my arid clay"Burst into bloom!" ... "A change indeed, I ween,And change the last!" sighed Tsaddik as he kissedThe closing eyelids. "Just as those serene"Princes of Night apprised me! Our acquistOf life is spent, since corners only fourHath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist"In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore—Little it profits here!) by strenuous tugOf friends who eked out thus to full fourscore"The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug!What have we gained? Away the Bier may roll!To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug,"In with his body I may pitch the scrollI hoped to glorify with, text and gloss,My Science of Man's Life: one blank's the whole!"Love, war, song, statesmanship—no gain, all loss,The stars' bestowment! We on our returnTo-morrow merely find—not gold but dross,"The body not the soul. Come, friends, we learnAt least thus much by our experiment—That—that ... well, find what, whom it may concern!"But next day through the city rumors wentOf a new persecution; so, they fledAll Israel, each man,—this time,—from his tent,Tsaddik among the foremost. When, the dreadSubsiding, Israel ventured back againSome three months after, to the cave they spedWhere lay the Sage,—a reverential train!Tsaddik first enters. "What is this I view?The Rabbi still alive? No stars remain"Of Aisch to stop within their courses. True,I mind me, certain gamesome boys must urgeTheir offerings on me: can it be—one threw"Life at him and it stuck? There needs the scourgeTo teach that urchin manners! Prithee, grantForgiveness if we pretermit thy dirge"Just to explain no friend was ministrant,This time, of life to thee! Some jackanapes,I gather, has presumed to foist his scant"Scurvy unripe existence—wilding grapesGrass-green and sorrel-sour—on that grand wine,Mighty as mellow, which, so fancy shapes"May fitly image forth this life of thineFed on the last low fattening lees—condensedElixir, no milk-mildness of the vine!"Rightly with Tsaddik wert thou now incensedHad he been witting of the mischief wroughtWhen, for elixir, verjuice he dispensed!"And slowly woke,—like Shushan's flower besoughtBy over-curious handling to unlooseThe curtained secrecy wherein she thoughtHer captive bee, 'mid store of sweets to choose,Would loll, in gold pavilioned lie unteased,Sucking on, sated never,—whose, O whoseMight seem that countenance, uplift, all easedOf old distraction and bewilderment,Absurdly happy? "How ye have appeased"The strife within me, bred this whole content,This utter acquiescence in my past,Present and future life,—by whom was lent"The power to work this miracle at last,—Exceeds my guess. Though—ignorance confirmedBy knowledgesounds like paradox, I cast"Vainly about to tell you—fitlier termed—Of calm struck by encountering opposites,Each nullifying either! Henceforth wormed"From out my heart is every snake that bitesThe dove that else would brood there: doubt, which killsWith hiss of 'What if sorrows end delights?'"Fear which stings ease with 'Work the Master wills!'Experience which coils round and strangles quickEach hope with 'Ask the Past if hoping skills"'To work accomplishment, or proves a trickWiling thee to endeavor! Strive, fool, stopNowise, so live, so die—that's law! why kick"'Against the pricks?' All out-wormed! Slumber, dropThy films once more and veil the bliss within!Experience strangle hope? Hope waves a-top"Her wings triumphant! Come what will, I win,Whoever loses! Every dream's assuredOf soberest fulfilment. Where's a sin"Except in doubting that the light, which luredThe unwary into darkness, meant no wrongHad I but marched on bold, nor paused immured"By mists I should have pressed through, passed alongMy way henceforth rejoicing? Not the boy'sPassionate impulse he conceits so strong,"Which, at first touch, truth, bubble-like, destroys,—Not the man's slow conviction 'VanityOf vanities—alike my griefs and joys!'"Ice!—thawed (look up) each bird, each insect by—(Look round) by all the plants that break in bloom,(Look down) by every dead friend's memory"That smiles 'Am I the dust within my tomb?'Not either, but both these—amalgam rare—Mix in a product, not from Nature's womb,"But stuff which He the Operant—who shall dareDescribe His operation?—strikes aliveAnd thaumaturgic. I nor know nor care"How from this tohu-bohu—hopes which dive,And fears which soar—faith, ruined through and throughBy doubt, and doubt, faith treads to dust?—revive"In some surprising sort,—as see, they do!—Not merely foes no longer but fast friends.What does it mean unless—O strange and new"Discovery!—this life proves a wine-press—blendsEvil and good, both fruits of Paradise,Into a novel drink which—who intends"To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasiesAttempered, not this all-inadequateOrgan which, quivering within me, dies"—Nay, lives!—what, how,—too soon, or else too late—I was—I am" ... ("He babbleth!" Tsaddik mused)"O Thou Almighty, who canst reinstate"Truths in their primal clarity, confusedBy man's perception, which is man's and madeTo suit his service,—how, once disabused"Of reason which sees light half shine half shade,Because of flesh, the medium that adjustsPurity to his visuals, both an aid"And hindrance,—how to eyes earth's air encrusts,When purged and perfect to receive truth's beamPouring itself on the new sense it trusts"With all its plenitude of power,—how seemThe intricacies now, of shade and shine,Oppugnant natures—Right and Wrong, we deem"Irreconcilable? O eyes of mine,Freed now of imperfection, ye availTo see the whole sight, nor may uncombine"Henceforth what, erst divided, caused you quail—So huge the chasm between the false and true,The dream and the reality! All hail,"Day of my soul's deliverance—day the new,The never-ending! What though every shapeWhereon I wreaked my yearning to pursue"Even to success each semblance of escapeFrom my own bounded self to some all-fairAll-wise external fancy, proved a rape"Like that old giant's, feigned of fools—on air,Not solid flesh? How otherwise? To love—That lesson was to learn not here—but there—"On earth, not here! 'Tis there we learn,—there proveOur parts upon the stuff we needs must spoil,Striving at mastery, there bend above"The spoiled clay potsherds, many a year of toilAttests the potter tried his hand upon,Till sudden he arose, wiped free from soil"His hand, cried 'So much for attempt—anonPerformance! Taught to mould the living vase,What matter the cracked pitchers dead and gone?'"Could I impart and could thy mind embraceThe secret, Tsaddik!" "Secret none to me!"Quoth Tsaddik, as the glory on the faceOf Jochanan was quenched. "The truth I seeOf what that excellence of Judah wrote,Doughty Halaphta. This a case must be"Wherein, though the last breath, have passed the throat,So that 'The man is dead' we may pronounce,Yet is the Ruach—(thus do we denote"The imparted Spirit)—in no haste to bounceFrom its entrusted Body,—some three daysLingers ere it relinquish to the pounce"Of hawk-clawed Death his victim. Further saysHalaphta, 'Instances have been, and yetAgain may be, when saints, whose earthly ways"'Tend to perfection, very nearly getTo heaven while still on earth: and, as a fineInterval shows where waters pure have met"'Waves brackish, in a mixture, sweet with brine,That's neither sea nor river but a tasteOf both—so meet the earthly and divine"'And each is either.' Thus I hold him graced—Dying on earth, half inside and half out,Wholly in heaven, who knows? My mind embraced"Thy secret, Jochanan, how dare I doubt?Follow thy Ruach, let earth, all it can,Keep of the leavings!" Thus was brought aboutThe sepulture of Rabbi Jochanan:Thou hast him,—sinner-saint, live-dead, boy-man,—Schiphaz, on Bendimir, in Farzistan!
"This now, this other story makes amendsAnd justifies our Mishna," quoth the JewAforesaid. "Tell it, learnedest of friends!"
"This now, this other story makes amends
And justifies our Mishna," quoth the Jew
Aforesaid. "Tell it, learnedest of friends!"
A certain morn broke beautiful and blueO'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth,—So had ye deemed; while the reverse was true,
A certain morn broke beautiful and blue
O'er Schiphaz city, bringing joy and mirth,
—So had ye deemed; while the reverse was true,
Since one small house there gave a sorrow birthIn such black sort that, to each faithful eye,Midnight, not morning settled on the earth.
Since one small house there gave a sorrow birth
In such black sort that, to each faithful eye,
Midnight, not morning settled on the earth.
How else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die,Our much-enlightened master, Israel's prop,Eximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai?
How else, when it grew certain thou wouldst die,
Our much-enlightened master, Israel's prop,
Eximious Jochanan Ben Sabbathai?
Old, yea, but, undiminished of a drop,The vital essence pulsed through heart and brain;Time left unsickled yet the plenteous crop
Old, yea, but, undiminished of a drop,
The vital essence pulsed through heart and brain;
Time left unsickled yet the plenteous crop
On poll and chin and cheek, whereof a skeinHandmaids might weave—hairs silk-soft, silver-white,Such as the wool-plant's; none the less in vain
On poll and chin and cheek, whereof a skein
Handmaids might weave—hairs silk-soft, silver-white,
Such as the wool-plant's; none the less in vain
Had Physic striven her best against the spiteOf fell disease: the Rabbi must succumb;And, round the couch whereon in piteous plight
Had Physic striven her best against the spite
Of fell disease: the Rabbi must succumb;
And, round the couch whereon in piteous plight
He lay a-dying, scholars,—awe-struck, dumbThroughout the night-watch,—roused themselves and spokeOne to the other: "Ere death's touch benumb
He lay a-dying, scholars,—awe-struck, dumb
Throughout the night-watch,—roused themselves and spoke
One to the other: "Ere death's touch benumb
"His active sense,—while yet 'neath Reason's yokeObedient toils his tongue,—befits we claimThe fruit of long experience, bid this oak
"His active sense,—while yet 'neath Reason's yoke
Obedient toils his tongue,—befits we claim
The fruit of long experience, bid this oak
"Shed us an acorn which may, all the same,Grow to a temple-pillar,—dear that day!—When Israel's scattered seed finds place and name
"Shed us an acorn which may, all the same,
Grow to a temple-pillar,—dear that day!—
When Israel's scattered seed finds place and name
"Among the envious nations. Lamp us, pray,Thou the Enlightener! Partest hence in peace?Hailest without regret—much less, dismay—
"Among the envious nations. Lamp us, pray,
Thou the Enlightener! Partest hence in peace?
Hailest without regret—much less, dismay—
"The hour of thine approximate releaseFrom fleshly bondage soul hath found obstruct?Calmly envisagest the sure increase
"The hour of thine approximate release
From fleshly bondage soul hath found obstruct?
Calmly envisagest the sure increase
"Of knowledge? Eden's tree must hold unpluckedSome apple, sure, has never tried thy tooth,Juicy with sapience thou hast sought, not sucked?
"Of knowledge? Eden's tree must hold unplucked
Some apple, sure, has never tried thy tooth,
Juicy with sapience thou hast sought, not sucked?
"Say, does age acquiesce in vanished youth?Still towers thy purity above—as erst—Our pleasant follies? Be thy last word—truth!"
"Say, does age acquiesce in vanished youth?
Still towers thy purity above—as erst—
Our pleasant follies? Be thy last word—truth!"
The Rabbi groaned; then, grimly, "Last as firstThe truth speak I—in boyhood who beganStriving to live an angel, and, amerced
The Rabbi groaned; then, grimly, "Last as first
The truth speak I—in boyhood who began
Striving to live an angel, and, amerced
"For such presumption, die now hardly man.What have I proved of life? To live, indeed,That much I learned: but here lies Jochanan
"For such presumption, die now hardly man.
What have I proved of life? To live, indeed,
That much I learned: but here lies Jochanan
"More luckless than stood David when, to speedHis fighting with the Philistine, they broughtSaul's harness forth: whereat, 'Alack, I need
"More luckless than stood David when, to speed
His fighting with the Philistine, they brought
Saul's harness forth: whereat, 'Alack, I need
"Armor to arm me, but have never foughtWith sword and spear, nor tried to manage shield,Proving arms' use, as well-trained warrior ought,
"Armor to arm me, but have never fought
With sword and spear, nor tried to manage shield,
Proving arms' use, as well-trained warrior ought,
"'Only a sling and pebbles can I wield!'So he: while I, contrariwise, 'No trickOf weapon helpful on the battlefield
"'Only a sling and pebbles can I wield!'
So he: while I, contrariwise, 'No trick
Of weapon helpful on the battlefield
"'Comes unfamiliar to my theoric:But, bid me put in practice what I know,Give me a sword—it stings like Moses' stick,
"'Comes unfamiliar to my theoric:
But, bid me put in practice what I know,
Give me a sword—it stings like Moses' stick,
"'A serpent I let drop apace.' E'en so,I,—able to comport me at each stageOf human life as never here below
"'A serpent I let drop apace.' E'en so,
I,—able to comport me at each stage
Of human life as never here below
"Man played his part,—since mine the heritageOf wisdom carried to that perfect pitch,Ye rightly praise,—I, therefore, who, thus sage,
"Man played his part,—since mine the heritage
Of wisdom carried to that perfect pitch,
Ye rightly praise,—I, therefore, who, thus sage,
"Could sure act man triumphantly, enrichLife's annals, with example how I playedLover, Bard, Soldier, Statist,—(all of which
"Could sure act man triumphantly, enrich
Life's annals, with example how I played
Lover, Bard, Soldier, Statist,—(all of which
"Parts in presentment failing, cries invadeThe world's ear—'Ah, the Past, the pearl-gift thrownTo hogs, time's opportunity we made
"Parts in presentment failing, cries invade
The world's ear—'Ah, the Past, the pearl-gift thrown
To hogs, time's opportunity we made
"'So light of, only recognized when flown!Had we been wise!')—-in fine, I—wise enough,—What profit brings me wisdom never shown
"'So light of, only recognized when flown!
Had we been wise!')—-in fine, I—wise enough,—
What profit brings me wisdom never shown
"Just when its showing would from each rebuffShelter weak virtue, threaten back to boundsEncroaching vice, tread smooth each track too rough
"Just when its showing would from each rebuff
Shelter weak virtue, threaten back to bounds
Encroaching vice, tread smooth each track too rough
"For youth's unsteady footstep, climb the roundsOf life's long ladder, one by slippery one,Yet make no stumble? Me hard fate confounds
"For youth's unsteady footstep, climb the rounds
Of life's long ladder, one by slippery one,
Yet make no stumble? Me hard fate confounds
"With that same crowd of wailers I outrunBy promising to teach another cryOf more hilarious mood than theirs, the sun
"With that same crowd of wailers I outrun
By promising to teach another cry
Of more hilarious mood than theirs, the sun
"I look my last at is insulted by.What cry,—ye ask? Give ear on every side!Witness yon Lover! 'How entrapped am I!
"I look my last at is insulted by.
What cry,—ye ask? Give ear on every side!
Witness yon Lover! 'How entrapped am I!
"'Methought, because a virgin's rose-lip viedWith ripe Khubbezleh's, needs must beauty mateWith meekness and discretion in a bride:
"'Methought, because a virgin's rose-lip vied
With ripe Khubbezleh's, needs must beauty mate
With meekness and discretion in a bride:
"'Bride she became to me who wail—too late—Unwise I loved!' That 's one cry. 'Mind 's my gift:I might have loaded me with lore, full weight
"'Bride she became to me who wail—too late—
Unwise I loved!' That 's one cry. 'Mind 's my gift:
I might have loaded me with lore, full weight
"'Pressed down and running over at each riftO' the brain-bag where the famished clung and fed.I filled it with what rubbish!—would not sift
"'Pressed down and running over at each rift
O' the brain-bag where the famished clung and fed.
I filled it with what rubbish!—would not sift
"'The wheat from chaff, sound grain from musty—shedPoison abroad as oft as nutriment—And sighing say but as my fellows said,
"'The wheat from chaff, sound grain from musty—shed
Poison abroad as oft as nutriment—
And sighing say but as my fellows said,
"'Unwise I learned!' That 's two. 'In dwarfs-play spentWas giant's prowess: warrior all unversedIn war's right waging, I struck brand, was lent
"'Unwise I learned!' That 's two. 'In dwarfs-play spent
Was giant's prowess: warrior all unversed
In war's right waging, I struck brand, was lent
"'For steel's fit service, on mere stone—and cursedAlike the shocked limb and the shivered steel,Seeing too late the blade's true use which erst
"'For steel's fit service, on mere stone—and cursed
Alike the shocked limb and the shivered steel,
Seeing too late the blade's true use which erst
"How was I blind to! My cry swells the peal—Unwise I fought!' That 's three. But wherefore wasteBreath on the wailings longer? Why reveal
"How was I blind to! My cry swells the peal—
Unwise I fought!' That 's three. But wherefore waste
Breath on the wailings longer? Why reveal
"A root of bitterness whereof the tasteIs noisome to Humanity at large?First we get Power, but Power absurdly placed
"A root of bitterness whereof the taste
Is noisome to Humanity at large?
First we get Power, but Power absurdly placed
"In Folly's keeping, who resigns her chargeTo Wisdom when all Power grows nothing worth:Bones marrowless are mocked with helm and targe
"In Folly's keeping, who resigns her charge
To Wisdom when all Power grows nothing worth:
Bones marrowless are mocked with helm and targe
"When, like your Master's, soon below the earthWith worms shall warfare only be. Farewell,Children! I die a failure since my birth!"
"When, like your Master's, soon below the earth
With worms shall warfare only be. Farewell,
Children! I die a failure since my birth!"
"Not so!" arose a protest, as, pell-mell,They pattered from his chamber to the street,Bent on a last resource. Our Targums tell
"Not so!" arose a protest, as, pell-mell,
They pattered from his chamber to the street,
Bent on a last resource. Our Targums tell
That such resource there is. Put case, there meetThe Nine Points of Perfection—rarest chance—Within some saintly teacher whom the fleet
That such resource there is. Put case, there meet
The Nine Points of Perfection—rarest chance—
Within some saintly teacher whom the fleet
Years, in their blind implacable advance,O'ertake before fit teaching born of theseHave magnified his scholars' countenance,—
Years, in their blind implacable advance,
O'ertake before fit teaching born of these
Have magnified his scholars' countenance,—
If haply folk compassionating pleaseTo render up—according to his store,Each one—a portion of the life he sees
If haply folk compassionating please
To render up—according to his store,
Each one—a portion of the life he sees
Hardly worth saving when 't is set beforeEarth's benefit should the Saint, Hakkadosh,Favored thereby, attain to full fourscore—
Hardly worth saving when 't is set before
Earth's benefit should the Saint, Hakkadosh,
Favored thereby, attain to full fourscore—
If such contribute (Scoffer, spare thy "Bosh!")A year, a month, a day, an hour—to ekeLife out,—in him away the gift shall wash
If such contribute (Scoffer, spare thy "Bosh!")
A year, a month, a day, an hour—to eke
Life out,—in him away the gift shall wash
That much of ill-spent time recorded, streakThe twilight of the so-assisted sageWith a new sunrise: truth, though strange to speak!
That much of ill-spent time recorded, streak
The twilight of the so-assisted sage
With a new sunrise: truth, though strange to speak!
Quick to the doorway, then, where youth and age,All Israel, thronging, waited for the lastNews of the loved one. "'T is the final stage:
Quick to the doorway, then, where youth and age,
All Israel, thronging, waited for the last
News of the loved one. "'T is the final stage:
"Art's utmost done, the Rabbi's feet tread fastThe way of all flesh!" So announced that aptOlive-branch Tsaddik: "Yet, O Brethren, east
"Art's utmost done, the Rabbi's feet tread fast
The way of all flesh!" So announced that apt
Olive-branch Tsaddik: "Yet, O Brethren, east
"No eye to earthward! Look where heaven has clappedMorning's extinguisher—yon ray-shot robeOf sun-threads—on the constellation mapped
"No eye to earthward! Look where heaven has clapped
Morning's extinguisher—yon ray-shot robe
Of sun-threads—on the constellation mapped
"And mentioned by our Elders,—yea, from JobDown to Satam,—as figuring forth—what?Perpend a mystery! Ye call itDob,
"And mentioned by our Elders,—yea, from Job
Down to Satam,—as figuring forth—what?
Perpend a mystery! Ye call itDob,
"'The Bear': I trow, a wiser name than thatWereAish—'The Bier': a corpse those four stars hold,Which—are not those Three Daughters weeping at
"'The Bear': I trow, a wiser name than that
WereAish—'The Bier': a corpse those four stars hold,
Which—are not those Three Daughters weeping at
"Banoth?I judge so: list while I unfoldThe reason. As in twice twelve hours this BierGoes and returns, about the east-cone rolled,
"Banoth?I judge so: list while I unfold
The reason. As in twice twelve hours this Bier
Goes and returns, about the east-cone rolled,
"So may a setting luminary hereBe rescued from extinction, rolled anewUpon its track of labor, strong and clear,
"So may a setting luminary here
Be rescued from extinction, rolled anew
Upon its track of labor, strong and clear,
"About the Pole—that Salem, every JewHelps to build up when thus he saves some SaintOrdained its architect. Ye grasp the clue
"About the Pole—that Salem, every Jew
Helps to build up when thus he saves some Saint
Ordained its architect. Ye grasp the clue
"To all ye seek? The Rabbi's lamp-flame faintSinks: would ye raise it? Lend then life from yours,Spare each his oil-drop! Do I need acquaint
"To all ye seek? The Rabbi's lamp-flame faint
Sinks: would ye raise it? Lend then life from yours,
Spare each his oil-drop! Do I need acquaint
"The Chosen how self-sacrifice ensuresTenfold requital?—urge ye emulateThe fame of those Old Just Ones death procures
"The Chosen how self-sacrifice ensures
Tenfold requital?—urge ye emulate
The fame of those Old Just Ones death procures
"Such praise for, that 't is now men's sole debateWhich of the Ten, who volunteered at RomeTo die for glory to our Race, was great
"Such praise for, that 't is now men's sole debate
Which of the Ten, who volunteered at Rome
To die for glory to our Race, was great
"Beyond his fellows? Was it thou—the combOf iron carded, flesh from bone, away,While thy lips sputtered through their bloody foam
"Beyond his fellows? Was it thou—the comb
Of iron carded, flesh from bone, away,
While thy lips sputtered through their bloody foam
"Without a stoppage (O brave Akiba!)'Hear, Israel, our Lord God is One'? Or thou,Jischab?—who smiledst, burning, since there lay,
"Without a stoppage (O brave Akiba!)
'Hear, Israel, our Lord God is One'? Or thou,
Jischab?—who smiledst, burning, since there lay,
"Burning along with thee, our Law! I trow,Such martyrdom might tax flesh to afford:While that for which I make petition now,
"Burning along with thee, our Law! I trow,
Such martyrdom might tax flesh to afford:
While that for which I make petition now,
"To what amounts it? Youngster, wilt thou hoardEach minute of long years thou look'st to spendIn dalliance with thy spouse? Hast thou so soared,
"To what amounts it? Youngster, wilt thou hoard
Each minute of long years thou look'st to spend
In dalliance with thy spouse? Hast thou so soared,
"Singer of songs, all out of sight of friendAnd teacher, warbling like a woodland bird,There 's left no Selah, 'twixt two psalms, to lend
"Singer of songs, all out of sight of friend
And teacher, warbling like a woodland bird,
There 's left no Selah, 'twixt two psalms, to lend
"Our late-so-tuneful quirist? Thou, averredThe fighter born to plant our lion-flagOnce more on Zion's mount,—doth all-unheard,
"Our late-so-tuneful quirist? Thou, averred
The fighter born to plant our lion-flag
Once more on Zion's mount,—doth all-unheard,
"My pleading fail to move thee? Toss some ragShall stanch our wound, some minute never missedFrom swordsman's lustihood like thine! Wilt lag
"My pleading fail to move thee? Toss some rag
Shall stanch our wound, some minute never missed
From swordsman's lustihood like thine! Wilt lag
"In liberal bestowment, show close fistWhen open palm we look for,—thou, wide-knownFor statecraft? whom, 't is said, and if thou list,
"In liberal bestowment, show close fist
When open palm we look for,—thou, wide-known
For statecraft? whom, 't is said, and if thou list,
"The Shah himself would seat beside his throne,So valued were advice from thee" ... But hereHe stopped short: such a hubbub! Not alone
"The Shah himself would seat beside his throne,
So valued were advice from thee" ... But here
He stopped short: such a hubbub! Not alone
From those addressed, but far as well as nearThe crowd brought into clamor: "Mine, mine, mine—Lop from my life the excrescence, never fear!
From those addressed, but far as well as near
The crowd brought into clamor: "Mine, mine, mine—
Lop from my life the excrescence, never fear!
"At me thou lookedst, markedst me! AssignTo me that privilege of granting life—Mine, mine!" Then he: "Be patient! I combine
"At me thou lookedst, markedst me! Assign
To me that privilege of granting life—
Mine, mine!" Then he: "Be patient! I combine
"The needful portions only, wage no strifeWith Nature's law nor seek to lengthen outThe Rabbi's day unduly. 'T is the knife
"The needful portions only, wage no strife
With Nature's law nor seek to lengthen out
The Rabbi's day unduly. 'T is the knife
"I stop,—would eat its thread too short. AboutAs much as helps life last the proper term,The appointed Fourscore,—that I crave, and scout
"I stop,—would eat its thread too short. About
As much as helps life last the proper term,
The appointed Fourscore,—that I crave, and scout
"A too-prolonged existence. Let the wormChange at fit season to the butterfly!And here a story strikes me, to confirm
"A too-prolonged existence. Let the worm
Change at fit season to the butterfly!
And here a story strikes me, to confirm
"This judgment. Of our worthies, none ranks highAs Perida who kept the famous school:None rivalled him in patience: none! For why?
"This judgment. Of our worthies, none ranks high
As Perida who kept the famous school:
None rivalled him in patience: none! For why?
"In lecturing it was his constant rule,Whatever he expounded, to repeat—Ay, and keep on repeating, lest some fool
"In lecturing it was his constant rule,
Whatever he expounded, to repeat
—Ay, and keep on repeating, lest some fool
"Should fail to understand him fully—(featUnparalleled, Uzzean!)—do ye mark?—Five hundred times! So might he entrance beat
"Should fail to understand him fully—(feat
Unparalleled, Uzzean!)—do ye mark?—
Five hundred times! So might he entrance beat
"For knowledge into howsoever darkAnd dense the brain-pan. Yet it happed, at closeOf one especial lecture, not one spark
"For knowledge into howsoever dark
And dense the brain-pan. Yet it happed, at close
Of one especial lecture, not one spark
"Of light was found to have illumed the rowsOf pupils round their pedagogue. 'What, stillImpenetrable to me? Then—here goes!'
"Of light was found to have illumed the rows
Of pupils round their pedagogue. 'What, still
Impenetrable to me? Then—here goes!'
"And for a second time he sets the rillOf knowledge running, and five hundred timesMore re-repeats the matter—and gainsnil.
"And for a second time he sets the rill
Of knowledge running, and five hundred times
More re-repeats the matter—and gainsnil.
"Out broke a voice from heaven: 'Thy patience climbsEven thus high. Choose! Wilt thou, rather, quickAscend to bliss—or, since thy zeal sublimes
"Out broke a voice from heaven: 'Thy patience climbs
Even thus high. Choose! Wilt thou, rather, quick
Ascend to bliss—or, since thy zeal sublimes
"'Such drudgery, will thy back still bear its crick,Bent o'er thy class,—thy voice drone spite of drouth,—Five hundred years more at thy desk wilt stick?'
"'Such drudgery, will thy back still bear its crick,
Bent o'er thy class,—thy voice drone spite of drouth,—
Five hundred years more at thy desk wilt stick?'
"'To heaven with me!' was in the good man's mouth,When all his scholars—cruel-kind were they!—Stopped utterance, from East, West, North and South,
"'To heaven with me!' was in the good man's mouth,
When all his scholars—cruel-kind were they!—
Stopped utterance, from East, West, North and South,
"Rending the welkin with their shout of 'Nay—No heaven as yet for our instructor! GrantFive hundred years on earth for Perida!'
"Rending the welkin with their shout of 'Nay—
No heaven as yet for our instructor! Grant
Five hundred years on earth for Perida!'
"And so long did he keep instructing! WantOur Master no such misery! I but takeThree months of life marital. Ministrant
"And so long did he keep instructing! Want
Our Master no such misery! I but take
Three months of life marital. Ministrant
"Be thou of so much, Poet! Bold I make,Swordsman, with thy frank offer!—and conclude,Statist, with thine! One year,—ye will not shake
"Be thou of so much, Poet! Bold I make,
Swordsman, with thy frank offer!—and conclude,
Statist, with thine! One year,—ye will not shake
"My purpose to accept no more. So rude?The very boys and girls, forsooth, must pressAnd proffer their addition? Thanks! The mood
"My purpose to accept no more. So rude?
The very boys and girls, forsooth, must press
And proffer their addition? Thanks! The mood
"Is laudable, but I reject, no less,One month, week, day of life more. Leave my gown,Ye overbold ones! Your life's gift, you guess,
"Is laudable, but I reject, no less,
One month, week, day of life more. Leave my gown,
Ye overbold ones! Your life's gift, you guess,
"Were good as any? Rudesby, get thee down!Set my feet free, or fear my staff! Farewell,Seniors and saviors, sharers of renown
"Were good as any? Rudesby, get thee down!
Set my feet free, or fear my staff! Farewell,
Seniors and saviors, sharers of renown
"With Jochanan henceforward!" Straightway fellSleep on the sufferer; who awoke in health,Hale everyway, so potent was the spell.
"With Jochanan henceforward!" Straightway fell
Sleep on the sufferer; who awoke in health,
Hale everyway, so potent was the spell.
O the rare Spring-time! Who is he by stealthApproaches Jochanan?—embowered that sitsUnder his vine and figtree 'mid the wealth
O the rare Spring-time! Who is he by stealth
Approaches Jochanan?—embowered that sits
Under his vine and figtree 'mid the wealth
Of garden-sights and sounds, since intermitsNever the turtle's coo, nor stays nor stintsThe rose her smell. In homage that befits
Of garden-sights and sounds, since intermits
Never the turtle's coo, nor stays nor stints
The rose her smell. In homage that befits
The musing Master, Tsaddik, see, imprintsA kiss on the extended foot, low bendsForehead to earth, then, all-obsequious, hints
The musing Master, Tsaddik, see, imprints
A kiss on the extended foot, low bends
Forehead to earth, then, all-obsequious, hints
"What if it should be time? A period ends—That of the Lover's gift—his quarter-yearOf lustihood: 't is just thou make amends,
"What if it should be time? A period ends—
That of the Lover's gift—his quarter-year
Of lustihood: 't is just thou make amends,
"Return that loan with usury: so, hereCome I, of thy Disciples delegate,Claiming our lesson from thee. Make appear
"Return that loan with usury: so, here
Come I, of thy Disciples delegate,
Claiming our lesson from thee. Make appear
"Thy profit from experience! Plainly stateHow men should Love!" Thus he: and to him thusThe Rabbi: "Love, ye call it?—rather, Hate!
"Thy profit from experience! Plainly state
How men should Love!" Thus he: and to him thus
The Rabbi: "Love, ye call it?—rather, Hate!
"What wouldst thou? Is it needful I discussWherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottlescakedWith old strong wine's deposit, offers us
"What wouldst thou? Is it needful I discuss
Wherefore new sweet wine, poured in bottlescaked
With old strong wine's deposit, offers us
"Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked?Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound—Languors and yearnings: not a sense but ached
"Spoilt liquor we recoil from, thirst-unslaked?
Like earth-smoke from a crevice, out there wound—
Languors and yearnings: not a sense but ached
"Weighed on by fancied form and feature, soundOf silver word and sight of sunny smile:No beckoning of a flower-branch, no profound
"Weighed on by fancied form and feature, sound
Of silver word and sight of sunny smile:
No beckoning of a flower-branch, no profound
"Purple of noon-oppression, no light wileO' the West wind, but transformed itself till—brief—Before me stood the phantasy ye style
"Purple of noon-oppression, no light wile
O' the West wind, but transformed itself till—brief—
Before me stood the phantasy ye style
"Youth's love, the joy that shall not come to grief,Born to endure, eternal, unimpairedBy custom the accloyer, time the thief.
"Youth's love, the joy that shall not come to grief,
Born to endure, eternal, unimpaired
By custom the accloyer, time the thief.
"Had Age's hard cold knowledge only sparedThat ignorance of Youth! But now the dream,Fresh as from Paradise, alighting fared
"Had Age's hard cold knowledge only spared
That ignorance of Youth! But now the dream,
Fresh as from Paradise, alighting fared
"As fares the pigeon, finding what may seemHer nest's safe hollow holds a snake insideCoiled to enclasp her. See, Eve stands supreme
"As fares the pigeon, finding what may seem
Her nest's safe hollow holds a snake inside
Coiled to enclasp her. See, Eve stands supreme
"In youth and beauty! Take her for thy bride!What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dewMorn set a-sparkle, but which noon quick dried
"In youth and beauty! Take her for thy bride!
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew
Morn set a-sparkle, but which noon quick dried
"While Youth bent gazing at its red and blueSupposed perennial,—never dreamed the sunWhich kindled the display would quench it too.
"While Youth bent gazing at its red and blue
Supposed perennial,—never dreamed the sun
Which kindled the display would quench it too.
"Graces of shape and color—every oneWith its appointed period of decayWhen ripe to purpose! 'Still, these dead and done,
"Graces of shape and color—every one
With its appointed period of decay
When ripe to purpose! 'Still, these dead and done,
"'Survives the woman-nature—the soft swayOf undefinable omnipotenceO'er our strong male-stuff, we of Adam's clay.'
"'Survives the woman-nature—the soft sway
Of undefinable omnipotence
O'er our strong male-stuff, we of Adam's clay.'
"Ay, if my physics taught not why and whenceThe attraction! Am I like the simple steerWho, from his pasture lured inside the fence,
"Ay, if my physics taught not why and whence
The attraction! Am I like the simple steer
Who, from his pasture lured inside the fence,
"Where yoke and goad await him, holds that mereKindliness prompts extension of the handHollowed for barley, which drew near and near
"Where yoke and goad await him, holds that mere
Kindliness prompts extension of the hand
Hollowed for barley, which drew near and near
"His nose—in proof that, of the hornèd band,The farmer best affected him? Beside,Steer, since his calfhood, got to understand
"His nose—in proof that, of the hornèd band,
The farmer best affected him? Beside,
Steer, since his calfhood, got to understand
"Farmers a many in the world so wideWere ready with a handful just as choiceOr choicer—maize and cummin, treats untried.
"Farmers a many in the world so wide
Were ready with a handful just as choice
Or choicer—maize and cummin, treats untried.
"Shall I wed wife, and all my days rejoiceI gained the peacock? 'Las me, round I look,And lo—'With me thou wouldst have blamed no voice
"Shall I wed wife, and all my days rejoice
I gained the peacock? 'Las me, round I look,
And lo—'With me thou wouldst have blamed no voice
"'Like hers that daily deafens like a rook:I am the phœnix!'—'I, the lark, the dove,—The owl,' for aught knows he who blindly took
"'Like hers that daily deafens like a rook:
I am the phœnix!'—'I, the lark, the dove,
—The owl,' for aught knows he who blindly took
"Peacock for partner, while the vale, the grove,The plain held bird-mates in abundance. There!Youth, try fresh capture! Age has found out Love
"Peacock for partner, while the vale, the grove,
The plain held bird-mates in abundance. There!
Youth, try fresh capture! Age has found out Love
"Long ago. War seems better worth man's care.But leave me! Disappointment finds a balmHaply in slumber." "This first step o' the stair
"Long ago. War seems better worth man's care.
But leave me! Disappointment finds a balm
Haply in slumber." "This first step o' the stair
"To knowledge fails me, but the victor's palmLies on the next to tempt him overleapA stumbling-block. Experienced, gather calm,
"To knowledge fails me, but the victor's palm
Lies on the next to tempt him overleap
A stumbling-block. Experienced, gather calm,
"Thou excellence of Judah, cured by sleepWhich ushers in the Warrior, to replaceThe Lover! At due season I shall reap
"Thou excellence of Judah, cured by sleep
Which ushers in the Warrior, to replace
The Lover! At due season I shall reap
"Fruit of my planting!" So, with lengthened face,Departed Tsaddik: and three moons more waxedAnd waned, and not until the summer-space
"Fruit of my planting!" So, with lengthened face,
Departed Tsaddik: and three moons more waxed
And waned, and not until the summer-space
Waned likewise, any second visit taxedThe Rabbi's patience. But at three months' endBehold, supine beneath a rock, relaxed
Waned likewise, any second visit taxed
The Rabbi's patience. But at three months' end
Behold, supine beneath a rock, relaxed
The sage lay musing till the noon should spendIts ardor. Up comes Tsaddik, who but he,With "Master, may I warn thee, nor offend,
The sage lay musing till the noon should spend
Its ardor. Up comes Tsaddik, who but he,
With "Master, may I warn thee, nor offend,
"That time comes round again? We look to seeSprout from the old branch—not the youngling twig—But fruit of sycamine: deliver me,
"That time comes round again? We look to see
Sprout from the old branch—not the youngling twig—
But fruit of sycamine: deliver me,
"To share among my fellows, some plump figJuicy as seedy! That same man of war,Who, with a scantling of his store, made big
"To share among my fellows, some plump fig
Juicy as seedy! That same man of war,
Who, with a scantling of his store, made big
"Thy starveling nature, caused thee, safe from scar,To share his gains by long acquaintanceshipWith bump and bruise and all the knocks that are
"Thy starveling nature, caused thee, safe from scar,
To share his gains by long acquaintanceship
With bump and bruise and all the knocks that are
"Of battle dowry,—he bids loose thy lip,Explain the good of battle! Since thou know'st,Let us know likewise! Fast the moments slip,
"Of battle dowry,—he bids loose thy lip,
Explain the good of battle! Since thou know'st,
Let us know likewise! Fast the moments slip,
"More need that we improve them!"—"Ay, we boast,We warriors in our youth, that with the swordMan goes the swiftliest to the uttermost—
"More need that we improve them!"—"Ay, we boast,
We warriors in our youth, that with the sword
Man goes the swiftliest to the uttermost—
"Takes the straight way through lands yet unexploredTo absolute Right and Good,—may so obtainGod's glory and man's weal too long ignored,
"Takes the straight way through lands yet unexplored
To absolute Right and Good,—may so obtain
God's glory and man's weal too long ignored,
"Too late attained by preachments all in vain—The passive process. Knots get tangled worseBy toying with: does cut cord close again?
"Too late attained by preachments all in vain—
The passive process. Knots get tangled worse
By toying with: does cut cord close again?
"Moreover there is blessing in the cursePeace-praisers call war. What so sure evolvesAll the capacities of soul, proves nurse
"Moreover there is blessing in the curse
Peace-praisers call war. What so sure evolves
All the capacities of soul, proves nurse
"Of that self-sacrifice in men which solvesThe riddle—Wherein differs Man from beast?Foxes boast cleverness and courage wolves:
"Of that self-sacrifice in men which solves
The riddle—Wherein differs Man from beast?
Foxes boast cleverness and courage wolves:
"Nowhere but in mankind is found the leastTouch of an impulse 'To our fellows—goodI' the highest!—not diminished but increased
"Nowhere but in mankind is found the least
Touch of an impulse 'To our fellows—good
I' the highest!—not diminished but increased
"'By the condition plainly understood—Such good shall be attained at price of hurtI' the highest to ourselves!' Fine sparks that brood
"'By the condition plainly understood
—Such good shall be attained at price of hurt
I' the highest to ourselves!' Fine sparks that brood
"Confusedly in Man, 't is war bids spurtForth into flame: as fares the meteor-mass,Whereof no particle but holds inert
"Confusedly in Man, 't is war bids spurt
Forth into flame: as fares the meteor-mass,
Whereof no particle but holds inert
"Some seed of light and heat, however crassThe enclosure, yet avails not to dischargeIts radiant birth before there come to pass
"Some seed of light and heat, however crass
The enclosure, yet avails not to discharge
Its radiant birth before there come to pass
"Some push external,—strong to set at largeThose dormant fire-seeds; whirl them in a triceThrough heaven, and light up earth from marge to marge:
"Some push external,—strong to set at large
Those dormant fire-seeds; whirl them in a trice
Through heaven, and light up earth from marge to marge:
"Since force by motion makes—what erst was ice—Crash into fervency and so expire,Because some Djinn has hit on a device
"Since force by motion makes—what erst was ice—
Crash into fervency and so expire,
Because some Djinn has hit on a device
"For proving the full prettiness of fire!Ay, thus we prattle—young: but old—why, first,Where 's that same Right and Good—(the wise inquire)—
"For proving the full prettiness of fire!
Ay, thus we prattle—young: but old—why, first,
Where 's that same Right and Good—(the wise inquire)—
"So absolute, it warrants the outburstOf blood, tears, all war's woeful consequence,That comes of the fine flaring? Which plague cursed
"So absolute, it warrants the outburst
Of blood, tears, all war's woeful consequence,
That comes of the fine flaring? Which plague cursed
"The more your benefited Man—offence,Or what suppressed the offender? Say it did—Show us the evil cured by violence,
"The more your benefited Man—offence,
Or what suppressed the offender? Say it did—
Show us the evil cured by violence,
"Submission cures not also! Lift the lidFrom the maturing crucible, we findIts slow sure coaxing-out of virtue, hid
"Submission cures not also! Lift the lid
From the maturing crucible, we find
Its slow sure coaxing-out of virtue, hid
"In that same meteor-mass, hath uncombinedThose particles and, yielding for resultGold, not mere flame, by so much leaves behind
"In that same meteor-mass, hath uncombined
Those particles and, yielding for result
Gold, not mere flame, by so much leaves behind
"The heroic product. E'en the simple cultOf Edom's children wisely bids them turnCheek to the smiter with 'Sic Jesus vult.'
"The heroic product. E'en the simple cult
Of Edom's children wisely bids them turn
Cheek to the smiter with 'Sic Jesus vult.'
"Say there 's a tyrant by whose death we earnFreedom, and justify a war to wage:Good!—were we only able to discern
"Say there 's a tyrant by whose death we earn
Freedom, and justify a war to wage:
Good!—were we only able to discern
"Exactly how to reach and catch and cageHim only and no innocent beside!Whereas the folk whereon war wreaks its rage
"Exactly how to reach and catch and cage
Him only and no innocent beside!
Whereas the folk whereon war wreaks its rage
"—How shared they his ill-doing? Far and wideThe victims of our warfare strew the plain,Ten thousand dead, whereof not one but died
"—How shared they his ill-doing? Far and wide
The victims of our warfare strew the plain,
Ten thousand dead, whereof not one but died
"In faith that vassals owed their suzerainLife: therefore each paid tribute—honest soul—To that same Right and Good ourselves are fain
"In faith that vassals owed their suzerain
Life: therefore each paid tribute—honest soul—
To that same Right and Good ourselves are fain
"To call exclusively our end. From bole(Since ye accept in me a sycamine)Pluck, eat, digest a fable—yea, the sole
"To call exclusively our end. From bole
(Since ye accept in me a sycamine)
Pluck, eat, digest a fable—yea, the sole
"Fig I afford you! 'Dost thou dwarf my vine?'(So did a certain husbandman addressThe tree which faced his field.) 'Receive condign
"Fig I afford you! 'Dost thou dwarf my vine?'
(So did a certain husbandman address
The tree which faced his field.) 'Receive condign
"'Punishment, prompt removal by the stressOf axe I forthwith lay unto thy root!'Long did he hack and hew, the root no less
"'Punishment, prompt removal by the stress
Of axe I forthwith lay unto thy root!'
Long did he hack and hew, the root no less
"As long defied him, for its tough strings shootAs deep down as the boughs above aspire:All that he did was—shake to the tree's foot
"As long defied him, for its tough strings shoot
As deep down as the boughs above aspire:
All that he did was—shake to the tree's foot
"Leafage and fruitage, things we most requireFor shadow and refreshment: which good deedThoroughly done, behold the axe-haft tires
"Leafage and fruitage, things we most require
For shadow and refreshment: which good deed
Thoroughly done, behold the axe-haft tires
"His hand, and he desisting leaves unfreedThe vine he hacked and hewed for. Comes a frost,One natural night's work, and there 's little need
"His hand, and he desisting leaves unfreed
The vine he hacked and hewed for. Comes a frost,
One natural night's work, and there 's little need
"Of hacking, hewing: lo, the tree 's a ghost!Perished it starves, black death from topmost boughTo farthest-reaching fibre! Shall I boast
"Of hacking, hewing: lo, the tree 's a ghost!
Perished it starves, black death from topmost bough
To farthest-reaching fibre! Shall I boast
"My rough work—warfare—helped more? Loving, now—That, by comparison, seems wiser, sinceThe loving fool was able to avow
"My rough work—warfare—helped more? Loving, now—
That, by comparison, seems wiser, since
The loving fool was able to avow
"He could effect his purpose, just evinceLove's willingness,—once 'ware of what she lacked,His loved one,—to go work for that, nor wince
"He could effect his purpose, just evince
Love's willingness,—once 'ware of what she lacked,
His loved one,—to go work for that, nor wince
"At self-expenditure: he neither hackedNor hewed, but when the lady of his fieldRequired defence because the sun attacked,
"At self-expenditure: he neither hacked
Nor hewed, but when the lady of his field
Required defence because the sun attacked,
"He, failing to obtain a fitter shield,Would interpose his body, and so blaze,Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield
"He, failing to obtain a fitter shield,
Would interpose his body, and so blaze,
Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield
"The intellectual weapon—poet-lays,—How preferably had I sung one songWhich ... but my sadness sinks me: go your ways!
"The intellectual weapon—poet-lays,—
How preferably had I sung one song
Which ... but my sadness sinks me: go your ways!
"I sleep out disappointment." "Come along,Never lose heart! There 's still as much againOf our bestowment left to right the wrong
"I sleep out disappointment." "Come along,
Never lose heart! There 's still as much again
Of our bestowment left to right the wrong
"Done by its earlier moiety—explainWherefore, who may! The Poet's mood comes next.Was he not wishful the poetic vein
"Done by its earlier moiety—explain
Wherefore, who may! The Poet's mood comes next.
Was he not wishful the poetic vein
"Should pulse within him? Jochanan, thou reck'stLittle of what a generous flood shall soonFloat thy clogged spirit free and unperplexed
"Should pulse within him? Jochanan, thou reck'st
Little of what a generous flood shall soon
Float thy clogged spirit free and unperplexed
"Above dry dubitation! Song 's the boonShall make amends for my untoward mistakeThat Joshua-like thou couldst bid sun and moon—
"Above dry dubitation! Song 's the boon
Shall make amends for my untoward mistake
That Joshua-like thou couldst bid sun and moon—
"Fighter and Lover,—which for most men makeAll they descry in heaven,—stand both stock-stillAnd lend assistance. Poet shalt thou wake!"
"Fighter and Lover,—which for most men make
All they descry in heaven,—stand both stock-still
And lend assistance. Poet shalt thou wake!"
Autumn brings Tsaddik. "Ay, there speeds the rillLoaded with leaves: a scowling sky, beside:The wind makes olive-trees up yonder hill
Autumn brings Tsaddik. "Ay, there speeds the rill
Loaded with leaves: a scowling sky, beside:
The wind makes olive-trees up yonder hill
"Whiten and shudder—symptoms far and wideOf gleaning-time's approach; and glean good storeMay I presume to trust we shall, thou tried
"Whiten and shudder—symptoms far and wide
Of gleaning-time's approach; and glean good store
May I presume to trust we shall, thou tried
"And ripe experimenter! Three months moreHave ministered to growth of Song: that graftInto thy sterile stock has found at core
"And ripe experimenter! Three months more
Have ministered to growth of Song: that graft
Into thy sterile stock has found at core
"Moisture, I warrant, hitherto unquaffedBy boughs, however florid, wanting sapOf prose-experience which provides the draught
"Moisture, I warrant, hitherto unquaffed
By boughs, however florid, wanting sap
Of prose-experience which provides the draught
"Which song-sprouts, wanting, wither: vain we tapA youngling stem all green and immature;Experience must secrete the stuff, our hap
"Which song-sprouts, wanting, wither: vain we tap
A youngling stem all green and immature;
Experience must secrete the stuff, our hap
"Will be to quench Man's thirst with, glad and sureThat fancy wells up through corrective fact:Missing which test of truth, though flowers allure
"Will be to quench Man's thirst with, glad and sure
That fancy wells up through corrective fact:
Missing which test of truth, though flowers allure
"The goodman's eye with promise, soon the pactIs broken, and 'tis flowers—mere words—he findsWhen things—that's fruit—he looked for. Well, once cracked
"The goodman's eye with promise, soon the pact
Is broken, and 'tis flowers—mere words—he finds
When things—that's fruit—he looked for. Well, once cracked
"The nut, how glad my tooth the kernel grinds!Song may henceforth boast substance! Therefore, hailProser and poet, perfect in both kinds!
"The nut, how glad my tooth the kernel grinds!
Song may henceforth boast substance! Therefore, hail
Proser and poet, perfect in both kinds!
"Thou from whose eye hath dropped the envious scaleWhich hides the truth of things and substitutesDeceptive show, unaided optics fail
"Thou from whose eye hath dropped the envious scale
Which hides the truth of things and substitutes
Deceptive show, unaided optics fail
"To transpierce,—hast entrusted to the lute'sSoft but sure guardianship some unrevealedSecret shall lift mankind above the brutes
"To transpierce,—hast entrusted to the lute's
Soft but sure guardianship some unrevealed
Secret shall lift mankind above the brutes
"As only knowledge can?" "A fount unsealed"(Sighed Jochanan) "should seek the heaven in leapsTo die in dew-gems—not find death, congealed
"As only knowledge can?" "A fount unsealed"
(Sighed Jochanan) "should seek the heaven in leaps
To die in dew-gems—not find death, congealed
"By contact with the cavern's nether deeps,Earth's secretest foundation where, enswathedIn dark and fear, primeval mystery sleeps—
"By contact with the cavern's nether deeps,
Earth's secretest foundation where, enswathed
In dark and fear, primeval mystery sleeps—
"Petrific fount wherein my fancies bathedAnd straight turned ice. My dreams of good and fairIn soaring upwards had dissolved, unscathed
"Petrific fount wherein my fancies bathed
And straight turned ice. My dreams of good and fair
In soaring upwards had dissolved, unscathed
"By any influence of the kindly air,Singing, as each took flight, 'The Future—that'sOur destination, mists turn rainbows there,
"By any influence of the kindly air,
Singing, as each took flight, 'The Future—that's
Our destination, mists turn rainbows there,
"'Which sink to fog, confounded in the flatsO' the Present! Day's the song-time for the lark,Night for her music boasts but owls and bats.
"'Which sink to fog, confounded in the flats
O' the Present! Day's the song-time for the lark,
Night for her music boasts but owls and bats.
"'And what's the Past but night—the deep and darkIce-spring I speak of, corpse-thicked with its drownedDead fancies which no sooner touched the mark
"'And what's the Past but night—the deep and dark
Ice-spring I speak of, corpse-thicked with its drowned
Dead fancies which no sooner touched the mark
"'They aimed at—fact—than all at once they foundTheir film-wings freeze, henceforth unfit to reachAnd roll in ether, revel—robed and crowned
"'They aimed at—fact—than all at once they found
Their film-wings freeze, henceforth unfit to reach
And roll in ether, revel—robed and crowned
"'As truths confirmed by falsehood all and each—Sovereign and absolute and ultimate!Up with them, skyward, Youth, ere Age impeach
"'As truths confirmed by falsehood all and each—
Sovereign and absolute and ultimate!
Up with them, skyward, Youth, ere Age impeach
"'Thy least of promises to reinstateAdam in Eden!' Sing on, ever sing,Chirp till thou burst!—the fool cicada's fate,
"'Thy least of promises to reinstate
Adam in Eden!' Sing on, ever sing,
Chirp till thou burst!—the fool cicada's fate,
"Who holds that after Summer next comes Spring,Than Summer's self sun-warmed, spice-scented more.Fighting was better! There, no fancy-fling
"Who holds that after Summer next comes Spring,
Than Summer's self sun-warmed, spice-scented more.
Fighting was better! There, no fancy-fling
"Pitches you past the point was reached of yoreBy Samsons, Abners, Joabs, Judases,The mighty men of valor who, before
"Pitches you past the point was reached of yore
By Samsons, Abners, Joabs, Judases,
The mighty men of valor who, before
"Our little day, did wonders none professTo doubt were fable and not fact, so trustBy fancy-flights to emulate much less.
"Our little day, did wonders none profess
To doubt were fable and not fact, so trust
By fancy-flights to emulate much less.
"Were I a Statesman, now! Why, that were justTo pinnacle my soul, mankind above,A-top the universe: no vulgar lust
"Were I a Statesman, now! Why, that were just
To pinnacle my soul, mankind above,
A-top the universe: no vulgar lust
"To gratify—fame, greed, at this removeLooked down upon so far—or overlookedSo largely, rather—that mine eye should rove
"To gratify—fame, greed, at this remove
Looked down upon so far—or overlooked
So largely, rather—that mine eye should rove
"World-wide and rummage earth, the many-nooked,Yet find no unit of the human flockCaught straying but straight comes back hooked and crooked
"World-wide and rummage earth, the many-nooked,
Yet find no unit of the human flock
Caught straying but straight comes back hooked and crooked
"By the strong shepherd who, from out his stockOf aids proceeds to treat each ailing fleece,Here stimulate to growth, curtail and dock
"By the strong shepherd who, from out his stock
Of aids proceeds to treat each ailing fleece,
Here stimulate to growth, curtail and dock
"There, baldness or excrescence,—that, with grease,This, with up-grubbing of the bristly patchBorn of the tick-bite. How supreme a peace
"There, baldness or excrescence,—that, with grease,
This, with up-grubbing of the bristly patch
Born of the tick-bite. How supreme a peace
"Steals o'er the Statist,—while, in wit, a matchFor shrewd Ahithophel, in wisdom ... well,His name escapes me—somebody, at watch
"Steals o'er the Statist,—while, in wit, a match
For shrewd Ahithophel, in wisdom ... well,
His name escapes me—somebody, at watch
"And ward, the fellow of AhithophelIn guidance of the Chosen!"—at which wordEyes closed and fast asleep the Rabbi fell.
"And ward, the fellow of Ahithophel
In guidance of the Chosen!"—at which word
Eyes closed and fast asleep the Rabbi fell.
"Cold weather!" shivered Tsaddik. "Yet the hoardOf the sagacious ant shows garnered grain,Ever abundant most when fields afford
"Cold weather!" shivered Tsaddik. "Yet the hoard
Of the sagacious ant shows garnered grain,
Ever abundant most when fields afford
"Least pasture, and alike disgrace the plainTall tree and lowly shrub. 'T is so with usMortals: our age stores wealth ye seek in vain
"Least pasture, and alike disgrace the plain
Tall tree and lowly shrub. 'T is so with us
Mortals: our age stores wealth ye seek in vain
"While busy youth culls just what we discussAt leisure in the last days: and the lastTruly are these for Jochanan, whom thus
"While busy youth culls just what we discuss
At leisure in the last days: and the last
Truly are these for Jochanan, whom thus
"I make one more appeal to! Thine amassedExperience, now or never, let escapeSome portion of! For I perceive aghast
"I make one more appeal to! Thine amassed
Experience, now or never, let escape
Some portion of! For I perceive aghast
"The end approaches, while they jeer and jape,These sons of Shimei: 'Justify your boast!What have ye gained from Death by twelve months' rape?'
"The end approaches, while they jeer and jape,
These sons of Shimei: 'Justify your boast!
What have ye gained from Death by twelve months' rape?'
"Statesman, what cure hast thou for—least and most—Popular grievances? What nostrum, say,Will make the Rich and Poor, expertly dosed,
"Statesman, what cure hast thou for—least and most—
Popular grievances? What nostrum, say,
Will make the Rich and Poor, expertly dosed,
"Forget disparity, bid each go gay,That, with his bauble,—with his burden, this?Propose an alkahest shall melt away
"Forget disparity, bid each go gay,
That, with his bauble,—with his burden, this?
Propose an alkahest shall melt away
"Men's lacquer, show by prompt analysisWhich is the metal, which the make-believe,So that no longer brass shall find, gold miss
"Men's lacquer, show by prompt analysis
Which is the metal, which the make-believe,
So that no longer brass shall find, gold miss
"Coinage and currency? Make haste, retrieveThe precious moments, Master!" WhereuntoThere snarls an "Ever laughing in thy sleeve,
"Coinage and currency? Make haste, retrieve
The precious moments, Master!" Whereunto
There snarls an "Ever laughing in thy sleeve,
"Pert Tsaddik? Youth indeed sees plain a clueTo guide man where life's wood is intricate:How shall he fail to thrid its thickest through
"Pert Tsaddik? Youth indeed sees plain a clue
To guide man where life's wood is intricate:
How shall he fail to thrid its thickest through
"When every oak-trunk takes the eye? ElateHe goes from hole to brushwood, plunging finds—Smothered in briers—that the small's the great!
"When every oak-trunk takes the eye? Elate
He goes from hole to brushwood, plunging finds—
Smothered in briers—that the small's the great!
"All men are men: I would all minds were minds!Whereas 't is just the many's mindless massThat most needs helping: laborers and hinds
"All men are men: I would all minds were minds!
Whereas 't is just the many's mindless mass
That most needs helping: laborers and hinds
"We legislate for—not the cultured classWhich law-makes for itself nor needs the whipAnd bridle,—proper help for mule and ass,
"We legislate for—not the cultured class
Which law-makes for itself nor needs the whip
And bridle,—proper help for mule and ass,
"Did the brutes know! In vain our statesmanshipStrives at contenting the rough multitude:Still the ox cries ''T is me thou shouldst equip
"Did the brutes know! In vain our statesmanship
Strives at contenting the rough multitude:
Still the ox cries ''T is me thou shouldst equip
"'With equine trappings!' or, in humbler mood,'Cribful of corn for me! and, as for work—Adequate rumination o'er my food!'
"'With equine trappings!' or, in humbler mood,
'Cribful of corn for me! and, as for work—
Adequate rumination o'er my food!'
"Better remain a Poet! Needs it irkSuch an one if light, kindled in his sphere,Fail to transfuse the Mizraim cold and murk
"Better remain a Poet! Needs it irk
Such an one if light, kindled in his sphere,
Fail to transfuse the Mizraim cold and murk
"Round about Goshen? Though light disappear,Shut inside,—temporary ignoranceGot outside of, lo, light emerging clear
"Round about Goshen? Though light disappear,
Shut inside,—temporary ignorance
Got outside of, lo, light emerging clear
"Shows each astonished starer the expanseOf heaven made bright with knowledge! That's the way,The only way—I see it at a glance—
"Shows each astonished starer the expanse
Of heaven made bright with knowledge! That's the way,
The only way—I see it at a glance—
"To legislate for earth! As poet ... Stay!What is ... I would that ... were it ... I had been ...O sudden change, as if my arid clay
"To legislate for earth! As poet ... Stay!
What is ... I would that ... were it ... I had been ...
O sudden change, as if my arid clay
"Burst into bloom!" ... "A change indeed, I ween,And change the last!" sighed Tsaddik as he kissedThe closing eyelids. "Just as those serene
"Burst into bloom!" ... "A change indeed, I ween,
And change the last!" sighed Tsaddik as he kissed
The closing eyelids. "Just as those serene
"Princes of Night apprised me! Our acquistOf life is spent, since corners only fourHath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist
"Princes of Night apprised me! Our acquist
Of life is spent, since corners only four
Hath Aisch, and each in turn was made desist
"In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore—Little it profits here!) by strenuous tugOf friends who eked out thus to full fourscore
"In passage round the Pole (O Mishna's lore—
Little it profits here!) by strenuous tug
Of friends who eked out thus to full fourscore
"The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug!What have we gained? Away the Bier may roll!To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug,
"The Rabbi's years. I see each shoulder shrug!
What have we gained? Away the Bier may roll!
To-morrow, when the Master's grave is dug,
"In with his body I may pitch the scrollI hoped to glorify with, text and gloss,My Science of Man's Life: one blank's the whole!
"In with his body I may pitch the scroll
I hoped to glorify with, text and gloss,
My Science of Man's Life: one blank's the whole!
"Love, war, song, statesmanship—no gain, all loss,The stars' bestowment! We on our returnTo-morrow merely find—not gold but dross,
"Love, war, song, statesmanship—no gain, all loss,
The stars' bestowment! We on our return
To-morrow merely find—not gold but dross,
"The body not the soul. Come, friends, we learnAt least thus much by our experiment—That—that ... well, find what, whom it may concern!"
"The body not the soul. Come, friends, we learn
At least thus much by our experiment—
That—that ... well, find what, whom it may concern!"
But next day through the city rumors wentOf a new persecution; so, they fledAll Israel, each man,—this time,—from his tent,
But next day through the city rumors went
Of a new persecution; so, they fled
All Israel, each man,—this time,—from his tent,
Tsaddik among the foremost. When, the dreadSubsiding, Israel ventured back againSome three months after, to the cave they sped
Tsaddik among the foremost. When, the dread
Subsiding, Israel ventured back again
Some three months after, to the cave they sped
Where lay the Sage,—a reverential train!Tsaddik first enters. "What is this I view?The Rabbi still alive? No stars remain
Where lay the Sage,—a reverential train!
Tsaddik first enters. "What is this I view?
The Rabbi still alive? No stars remain
"Of Aisch to stop within their courses. True,I mind me, certain gamesome boys must urgeTheir offerings on me: can it be—one threw
"Of Aisch to stop within their courses. True,
I mind me, certain gamesome boys must urge
Their offerings on me: can it be—one threw
"Life at him and it stuck? There needs the scourgeTo teach that urchin manners! Prithee, grantForgiveness if we pretermit thy dirge
"Life at him and it stuck? There needs the scourge
To teach that urchin manners! Prithee, grant
Forgiveness if we pretermit thy dirge
"Just to explain no friend was ministrant,This time, of life to thee! Some jackanapes,I gather, has presumed to foist his scant
"Just to explain no friend was ministrant,
This time, of life to thee! Some jackanapes,
I gather, has presumed to foist his scant
"Scurvy unripe existence—wilding grapesGrass-green and sorrel-sour—on that grand wine,Mighty as mellow, which, so fancy shapes
"Scurvy unripe existence—wilding grapes
Grass-green and sorrel-sour—on that grand wine,
Mighty as mellow, which, so fancy shapes
"May fitly image forth this life of thineFed on the last low fattening lees—condensedElixir, no milk-mildness of the vine!
"May fitly image forth this life of thine
Fed on the last low fattening lees—condensed
Elixir, no milk-mildness of the vine!
"Rightly with Tsaddik wert thou now incensedHad he been witting of the mischief wroughtWhen, for elixir, verjuice he dispensed!"
"Rightly with Tsaddik wert thou now incensed
Had he been witting of the mischief wrought
When, for elixir, verjuice he dispensed!"
And slowly woke,—like Shushan's flower besoughtBy over-curious handling to unlooseThe curtained secrecy wherein she thought
And slowly woke,—like Shushan's flower besought
By over-curious handling to unloose
The curtained secrecy wherein she thought
Her captive bee, 'mid store of sweets to choose,Would loll, in gold pavilioned lie unteased,Sucking on, sated never,—whose, O whose
Her captive bee, 'mid store of sweets to choose,
Would loll, in gold pavilioned lie unteased,
Sucking on, sated never,—whose, O whose
Might seem that countenance, uplift, all easedOf old distraction and bewilderment,Absurdly happy? "How ye have appeased
Might seem that countenance, uplift, all eased
Of old distraction and bewilderment,
Absurdly happy? "How ye have appeased
"The strife within me, bred this whole content,This utter acquiescence in my past,Present and future life,—by whom was lent
"The strife within me, bred this whole content,
This utter acquiescence in my past,
Present and future life,—by whom was lent
"The power to work this miracle at last,—Exceeds my guess. Though—ignorance confirmedBy knowledgesounds like paradox, I cast
"The power to work this miracle at last,—
Exceeds my guess. Though—ignorance confirmed
By knowledgesounds like paradox, I cast
"Vainly about to tell you—fitlier termed—Of calm struck by encountering opposites,Each nullifying either! Henceforth wormed
"Vainly about to tell you—fitlier termed—
Of calm struck by encountering opposites,
Each nullifying either! Henceforth wormed
"From out my heart is every snake that bitesThe dove that else would brood there: doubt, which killsWith hiss of 'What if sorrows end delights?'
"From out my heart is every snake that bites
The dove that else would brood there: doubt, which kills
With hiss of 'What if sorrows end delights?'
"Fear which stings ease with 'Work the Master wills!'Experience which coils round and strangles quickEach hope with 'Ask the Past if hoping skills
"Fear which stings ease with 'Work the Master wills!'
Experience which coils round and strangles quick
Each hope with 'Ask the Past if hoping skills
"'To work accomplishment, or proves a trickWiling thee to endeavor! Strive, fool, stopNowise, so live, so die—that's law! why kick
"'To work accomplishment, or proves a trick
Wiling thee to endeavor! Strive, fool, stop
Nowise, so live, so die—that's law! why kick
"'Against the pricks?' All out-wormed! Slumber, dropThy films once more and veil the bliss within!Experience strangle hope? Hope waves a-top
"'Against the pricks?' All out-wormed! Slumber, drop
Thy films once more and veil the bliss within!
Experience strangle hope? Hope waves a-top
"Her wings triumphant! Come what will, I win,Whoever loses! Every dream's assuredOf soberest fulfilment. Where's a sin
"Her wings triumphant! Come what will, I win,
Whoever loses! Every dream's assured
Of soberest fulfilment. Where's a sin
"Except in doubting that the light, which luredThe unwary into darkness, meant no wrongHad I but marched on bold, nor paused immured
"Except in doubting that the light, which lured
The unwary into darkness, meant no wrong
Had I but marched on bold, nor paused immured
"By mists I should have pressed through, passed alongMy way henceforth rejoicing? Not the boy'sPassionate impulse he conceits so strong,
"By mists I should have pressed through, passed along
My way henceforth rejoicing? Not the boy's
Passionate impulse he conceits so strong,
"Which, at first touch, truth, bubble-like, destroys,—Not the man's slow conviction 'VanityOf vanities—alike my griefs and joys!'
"Which, at first touch, truth, bubble-like, destroys,—
Not the man's slow conviction 'Vanity
Of vanities—alike my griefs and joys!'
"Ice!—thawed (look up) each bird, each insect by—(Look round) by all the plants that break in bloom,(Look down) by every dead friend's memory
"Ice!—thawed (look up) each bird, each insect by—
(Look round) by all the plants that break in bloom,
(Look down) by every dead friend's memory
"That smiles 'Am I the dust within my tomb?'Not either, but both these—amalgam rare—Mix in a product, not from Nature's womb,
"That smiles 'Am I the dust within my tomb?'
Not either, but both these—amalgam rare—
Mix in a product, not from Nature's womb,
"But stuff which He the Operant—who shall dareDescribe His operation?—strikes aliveAnd thaumaturgic. I nor know nor care
"But stuff which He the Operant—who shall dare
Describe His operation?—strikes alive
And thaumaturgic. I nor know nor care
"How from this tohu-bohu—hopes which dive,And fears which soar—faith, ruined through and throughBy doubt, and doubt, faith treads to dust?—revive
"How from this tohu-bohu—hopes which dive,
And fears which soar—faith, ruined through and through
By doubt, and doubt, faith treads to dust?—revive
"In some surprising sort,—as see, they do!—Not merely foes no longer but fast friends.What does it mean unless—O strange and new
"In some surprising sort,—as see, they do!—
Not merely foes no longer but fast friends.
What does it mean unless—O strange and new
"Discovery!—this life proves a wine-press—blendsEvil and good, both fruits of Paradise,Into a novel drink which—who intends
"Discovery!—this life proves a wine-press—blends
Evil and good, both fruits of Paradise,
Into a novel drink which—who intends
"To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasiesAttempered, not this all-inadequateOrgan which, quivering within me, dies
"To quaff, must bear a brain for ecstasies
Attempered, not this all-inadequate
Organ which, quivering within me, dies
"—Nay, lives!—what, how,—too soon, or else too late—I was—I am" ... ("He babbleth!" Tsaddik mused)"O Thou Almighty, who canst reinstate
"—Nay, lives!—what, how,—too soon, or else too late—
I was—I am" ... ("He babbleth!" Tsaddik mused)
"O Thou Almighty, who canst reinstate
"Truths in their primal clarity, confusedBy man's perception, which is man's and madeTo suit his service,—how, once disabused
"Truths in their primal clarity, confused
By man's perception, which is man's and made
To suit his service,—how, once disabused
"Of reason which sees light half shine half shade,Because of flesh, the medium that adjustsPurity to his visuals, both an aid
"Of reason which sees light half shine half shade,
Because of flesh, the medium that adjusts
Purity to his visuals, both an aid
"And hindrance,—how to eyes earth's air encrusts,When purged and perfect to receive truth's beamPouring itself on the new sense it trusts
"And hindrance,—how to eyes earth's air encrusts,
When purged and perfect to receive truth's beam
Pouring itself on the new sense it trusts
"With all its plenitude of power,—how seemThe intricacies now, of shade and shine,Oppugnant natures—Right and Wrong, we deem
"With all its plenitude of power,—how seem
The intricacies now, of shade and shine,
Oppugnant natures—Right and Wrong, we deem
"Irreconcilable? O eyes of mine,Freed now of imperfection, ye availTo see the whole sight, nor may uncombine
"Irreconcilable? O eyes of mine,
Freed now of imperfection, ye avail
To see the whole sight, nor may uncombine
"Henceforth what, erst divided, caused you quail—So huge the chasm between the false and true,The dream and the reality! All hail,
"Henceforth what, erst divided, caused you quail—
So huge the chasm between the false and true,
The dream and the reality! All hail,
"Day of my soul's deliverance—day the new,The never-ending! What though every shapeWhereon I wreaked my yearning to pursue
"Day of my soul's deliverance—day the new,
The never-ending! What though every shape
Whereon I wreaked my yearning to pursue
"Even to success each semblance of escapeFrom my own bounded self to some all-fairAll-wise external fancy, proved a rape
"Even to success each semblance of escape
From my own bounded self to some all-fair
All-wise external fancy, proved a rape
"Like that old giant's, feigned of fools—on air,Not solid flesh? How otherwise? To love—That lesson was to learn not here—but there—
"Like that old giant's, feigned of fools—on air,
Not solid flesh? How otherwise? To love—
That lesson was to learn not here—but there—
"On earth, not here! 'Tis there we learn,—there proveOur parts upon the stuff we needs must spoil,Striving at mastery, there bend above
"On earth, not here! 'Tis there we learn,—there prove
Our parts upon the stuff we needs must spoil,
Striving at mastery, there bend above
"The spoiled clay potsherds, many a year of toilAttests the potter tried his hand upon,Till sudden he arose, wiped free from soil
"The spoiled clay potsherds, many a year of toil
Attests the potter tried his hand upon,
Till sudden he arose, wiped free from soil
"His hand, cried 'So much for attempt—anonPerformance! Taught to mould the living vase,What matter the cracked pitchers dead and gone?'
"His hand, cried 'So much for attempt—anon
Performance! Taught to mould the living vase,
What matter the cracked pitchers dead and gone?'
"Could I impart and could thy mind embraceThe secret, Tsaddik!" "Secret none to me!"Quoth Tsaddik, as the glory on the face
"Could I impart and could thy mind embrace
The secret, Tsaddik!" "Secret none to me!"
Quoth Tsaddik, as the glory on the face
Of Jochanan was quenched. "The truth I seeOf what that excellence of Judah wrote,Doughty Halaphta. This a case must be
Of Jochanan was quenched. "The truth I see
Of what that excellence of Judah wrote,
Doughty Halaphta. This a case must be
"Wherein, though the last breath, have passed the throat,So that 'The man is dead' we may pronounce,Yet is the Ruach—(thus do we denote
"Wherein, though the last breath, have passed the throat,
So that 'The man is dead' we may pronounce,
Yet is the Ruach—(thus do we denote
"The imparted Spirit)—in no haste to bounceFrom its entrusted Body,—some three daysLingers ere it relinquish to the pounce
"The imparted Spirit)—in no haste to bounce
From its entrusted Body,—some three days
Lingers ere it relinquish to the pounce
"Of hawk-clawed Death his victim. Further saysHalaphta, 'Instances have been, and yetAgain may be, when saints, whose earthly ways
"Of hawk-clawed Death his victim. Further says
Halaphta, 'Instances have been, and yet
Again may be, when saints, whose earthly ways
"'Tend to perfection, very nearly getTo heaven while still on earth: and, as a fineInterval shows where waters pure have met
"'Tend to perfection, very nearly get
To heaven while still on earth: and, as a fine
Interval shows where waters pure have met
"'Waves brackish, in a mixture, sweet with brine,That's neither sea nor river but a tasteOf both—so meet the earthly and divine
"'Waves brackish, in a mixture, sweet with brine,
That's neither sea nor river but a taste
Of both—so meet the earthly and divine
"'And each is either.' Thus I hold him graced—Dying on earth, half inside and half out,Wholly in heaven, who knows? My mind embraced
"'And each is either.' Thus I hold him graced—
Dying on earth, half inside and half out,
Wholly in heaven, who knows? My mind embraced
"Thy secret, Jochanan, how dare I doubt?Follow thy Ruach, let earth, all it can,Keep of the leavings!" Thus was brought about
"Thy secret, Jochanan, how dare I doubt?
Follow thy Ruach, let earth, all it can,
Keep of the leavings!" Thus was brought about
The sepulture of Rabbi Jochanan:Thou hast him,—sinner-saint, live-dead, boy-man,—Schiphaz, on Bendimir, in Farzistan!
The sepulture of Rabbi Jochanan:
Thou hast him,—sinner-saint, live-dead, boy-man,—
Schiphaz, on Bendimir, in Farzistan!