The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 - George MacDonald (digital book reader TXT) 📗

.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.

Julian .
I will not sup to-night.

Robert .
Not sup? You'll never live to be a saint.

Julian .
A saint! The devil has me by the heel.

Robert .
So has he all saints; as a boy his kite,
Which ever struggles higher for his hold.
It is a silly devil to gripe so hard;-
He should let go his hold, and then he has you.
If you'll not come, I'll leave the light with you.
Hark to the chorus! Brother Stephen sings.

Chorus. Always merry, and never drunk.
That's the life of the jolly monk .

SONG.

They say the first monks were lonely men,
Praying each in his lonely den,
Rising up to kneel again,
Each a skinny male Magdalene,
Peeping scared from out his hole
Like a burrowing rabbit or a mole;
But years ring changes as they roll-

Cho. Now always merry, &c .

When the moon gets up with her big round face,
Like Mistress Poll's in the market-place,
Down to the village below we pace;-
We know a supper that wants a grace:
Past the curtsying women we go,
Past the smithy, all a glow,
To the snug little houses at top of the row-

Cho. For always merry, &c .

And there we find, among the ale,
The fragments of a floating tale:
To piece them together we never fail;
And we fit them rightly, I'll go bail.
And so we have them all in hand,
The lads and lasses throughout the land,
And we are the masters,-you understand?

Cho. So always merry, &c .

Last night we had such a game of play
With the nephews and nieces over the way,
All for the gold that belonged to the clay
That lies in lead till the judgment-day!
The old man's soul they'd leave in the lurch,
But we saved her share for old Mamma Church.
How they eyed the bag as they stood in the porch!

Cho. Oh! always merry, and never drunk .
That's the life of the jolly monk!

Robert .
The song is hardly to your taste, I see!
Where shall I set the light?

Julian .
I do not need it.

Robert .
Come, come! The dark is a hot-bed for fancies.
I wish you were at table, were it only
To stop the talking of the men about you.
You in the dark are talked of in the light.

Julian .
Well, brother, let them talk; it hurts not me.

Robert .
No; but it hurts your friend to hear them say,
You would be thought a saint without the trouble;
You do no penance that they can discover.
You keep shut up, say some, eating your heart,
Possessed with a bad conscience, the worst demon.
You are a prince, say others, hiding here,
Till circumstance that bound you, set you free.
To-night, there are some whispers of a lady
That would refuse your love.

Julian .
Ay! What of her?

Robert .
I heard no more than so; and that you came
To seek the next best service you could find:
Turned from the lady's door, and knocked at God's.

Julian .
One part at least is true: I knock at God's;
He has not yet been pleased to let me in.
As for the lady-that is-so far true,
But matters little. Had I less to think,
This talking might annoy me; as it is,
Why, let the wind set there, if it pleases it;
I keep in-doors.

Robert .
Gloomy as usual, brother!
Brooding on fancy's eggs. God did not send
The light that all day long gladdened the earth,
Flashed from the snowy peak, and on the spire
Transformed the weathercock into a star,
That you should gloom within stone walls all day.
At dawn to-morrow, take your staff, and come:
We will salute the breezes, as they rise
And leave their lofty beds, laden with odours
Of melting snow, and fresh damp earth, and moss-
Imprisoned spirits, which life-waking Spring
Lets forth in vapour through the genial air.
Come, we will see the sunrise; watch the light
Leap from his chariot on the loftiest peak,
And thence descend triumphant, step by step,
The stairway of the hills. Free air and action
Will soon dispel these vapours of the brain.

Julian .
My friend, if one should tell a homeless boy,
"There is your father's house: go in and rest;"
Through every open room the child would pass,
Timidly looking for the friendly eye;
Fearing to touch, scarce daring even to wonder
At what he saw, until he found his sire;
But gathered to his bosom, straight he is
The heir of all; he knows it 'mid his tears.
And so with me: not having seen Him yet,
The light rests on me with a heaviness;
All beauty wears to me a doubtful look;
A voice is in the wind I do not know;
A meaning on the face of the high hills
Whose utterance I cannot comprehend.
A something is behind them: that is God.
These are his words, I doubt not, language strange;
These are the expressions of his shining thoughts;
And he is present, but I find him not.
I have not yet been held close to his heart.
Once in his inner room, and by his eyes
Acknowledged, I shall find my home in these,
'Mid sights familiar as a mother's smiles,
And sounds that never lose love's mystery.
Then they will comfort me. Lead me to Him.

Robert
(pointing to the Crucifix in a recess ). See, there
is God revealed in human form!

Julian (kneeling and crossing ).
Alas, my friend!-revealed-but as in nature:
I see the man; I cannot find the God.
I know his voice is in the wind, his presence
Is in the Christ. The wind blows where it listeth;
And there stands Manhood: and the God is there,
Not here, not here!

( Pointing to his bosom .)
[ Seeing Robert's bewildered look, and changing his tone -]

You do not understand me.
Without my need, you cannot know my want.
You will all night be puzzling to determine
With which of the old heretics to class me.
But you are honest; will not rouse the cry
Against me. I am honest. For the proof,
Such as will satisfy a monk, look here!
Is this a smooth belt, brother? And look here!
Did one week's scourging seam my side like that?
I am ashamed to speak thus, and to show
Things rightly hidden; but in my heart I love you,
And cannot bear but you should think me true.
Let it excuse my foolishness. They talk
Of penance! Let them talk when they have tried,
And found it has not even unbarred heaven's gate,
Let out one stray beam of its living light,
Or humbled that proud I that knows not God!
You are my friend:-if you should find this cell
Empty some morning, do not be afraid
That any ill has happened.

Robert .]
Well, perhaps
'Twere better you should go. I cannot help you,
But I can keep your secret. God be with you. [ Goes .

Julian .
Amen.-A good man; but he has not waked,
And seen the Sphinx's stony eyes fixed on him.
God veils it. He believes in Christ, he thinks;
And so he does, as possible for him.
How he will wonder when he looks for heaven!
He thinks me an enthusiast, because
I seek to know God, and to hear his voice
Talk to my heart in silence; as of old
The Hebrew king, when, still, upon his bed,
He lay communing with his heart; and God
With strength in his soul did strengthen him, until
In his light he saw light. God speaks to men.
My soul leans toward him; stretches forth its arms,
And waits expectant. Speak to me, my God;
And let me know the living Father cares
For me, even me; for this one of his children.-
Hast thou no word for me? I am thy thought.