bookssland.com » Poetry » The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 - George MacDonald (digital book reader TXT) 📗

Book online «The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 - George MacDonald (digital book reader TXT) 📗». Author George MacDonald



1 ... 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 ... 71
Go to page:
by my child.

[ Staring at him .]

Oh! you are Death. Go, saddle the pale horse-
I will not walk-I'll ride. What, skeleton!
I cannot sit him ! ha! ha! Hither, brute!
Here, Lilia, do the lady's task, my child,
And buckle on my spurs. I'll send him up
With a gleam through the blue, snorting white foam-flakes.
Ah me! I have not won my golden spurs,
Nor is there any maid to bind them on:

I will not ride the horse, I'll walk with thee.
Come, Death, give me thine arm, good slave!-we'll go.

Lord Seaford (stooping over him ).
I am Seaford, Count.

Julian .

Seaford! What Seaford?

[ Recollecting .]

-Seaford !

[ Springing to his feet .]

Where is my wife?

[ He falls into SEAFORD'S arms. He lays him down .]

Lord S .
Had I seen him , she had been safe for me.

[ Goes .]

[JULIAN lies motionless. Insensibility passes into sleep. He
wakes calm, in the sultry dusk of a summer evening .]

Julian .
Still, still alive! I thought that I was dead.
I had a frightful dream. 'Tis gone, thank God!

[ He is quiet a little .]

So then thou didst not take the child away
That I might find my wife! Thy will be done.
Thou wilt not let me go. This last desire
I send away with grief, but willingly.
I have prayed to thee, and thou hast heard my prayer:
Take thou thine own way, only lead her home.
Cleanse her, O Lord. I cannot know thy might;
But thou art mighty, with a power unlike
All, all that we know by the name of power,
Transcending it as intellect transcends
'The stone upon the ground-it may be more,
For these are both created-thou creator,
Lonely, supreme.

Now it is almost over,
My spirit's journey through this strange sad world;
This part is done, whatever cometh next.
Morning and evening have made out their day;
My sun is going down in stormy dark,
But I will face it fearless.
The first act Is over of the drama.-Is it so?
What means this dim dawn of half-memories?

There's something I knew once and know not now!-
A something different from all this earth!
It matters little; I care not-only know
That God will keep the living thing he made.
How mighty must he be to have the right
Of swaying this great power I feel I am-
Moulding and forming it, as pleaseth him!
O God, I come to thee! thou art my life;
O God, thou art my home; I come to thee.

Can this be death? Lo! I am lifted up
Large-eyed into the night. Nothing I see
But that which is , the living awful Truth-
All forms of which are but the sparks flung out
From the luminous ocean clothing round the sun,
Himself all dark. Ah, I remember me:
Christ said to Martha-"Whosoever liveth,
And doth believe in me, shall never die"!
I wait, I wait, wait wondering, till the door
Of God's wide theatre be open flung
To let me in. What marvels I shall see!
The expectation fills me, like new life
Dancing through all my veins.

Once more I thank thee
For all that thou hast made me-most of all,
That thou didst make me wonder and seek thee.
I thank thee for my wife: to thee I trust her;
Forget her not, my God. If thou save her,
I shall be able then to thank thee so
As will content thee-with full-flowing song,
The very bubbles on whose dancing waves
Are daring thoughts flung faithful at thy feet.

My heart sinks in me.-I grow faint. Oh! whence
This wind of love that fans me out of life?
One stoops to kiss me!-Ah, my lily child!
God hath not flung thee over his garden-wall.

[ Re-enter LORD SEAFORD with the doctor . JULIAN takes no
heed of them. The doctor shakes his head .]

My little child, I'll never leave thee more;
We are both children now in God's big house.
Come, lead me; you are older here than I
By three whole days, my darling angel-child!

[ A letter is brought in . LORD SEAFORD holds it before
JULIAN'S eyes. He looks vaguely at it .]

Lord S .
It is a letter from your wife, I think.

Julian (feebly ).
A letter from my Lilia! Bury it with me-
I'll read it in my chamber, by and by:
Dear words should not be read with others nigh.
Lilia, my wife! I am going home to God.

Lord S. (pending over him ).
Your wife is innocent. I know she is.

JULIAN gazes at him blankly. A light begins to grow in his
eyes. It grows till his face is transfigured. It vanishes.
He dies .


PART V.

AND do not fear to hope. Can poet's brain
More than the Father's heart rich good invent?
Each time we smell the autumn's dying scent,
We know the primrose time will come again;
Not more we hope, nor less would soothe our pain.
Be bounteous in thy faith, for not mis-spent
Is confidence unto the Father lent:
Thy need is sown and rooted for his rain.
His thoughts are as thine own; nor are his ways
Other than thine, but by pure opulence
Of beauty infinite and love immense.
Work on. One day, beyond all thoughts of praise,
A sunny joy will crown thee with its rays;
Nor other than thy need, thy recompense.


A DREAM.

SCENE I.-" A world not realized ." LILY. To her JULIAN.

Lily .
O father, come with me! I have found her-mother!


SCENE II.- A room in a cottage . LILIA on her knees before a crucifix. Her back only is seen, for the Poet dares not look on her face. On a chair beside her lies a book, open at CHAPTER VIII. Behind her stands an Angel, bending forward, as if to protect her with his wings partly expanded. Appear JULIAN, with LILY in his arms . LILY looks with love on the angel, and a kind of longing fear on her mother .

Julian .
Angel, thy part is done; leave her to me.

Angel .
Sorrowful man, to thee I must give place;
Thy ministry is stronger far than mine;
Yet have I done my part.-She sat with him.
He gave her rich white flowers with crimson scent,
The tuberose and datura ever burning
Their incense to the dusky face of night.
He spoke to her pure words of lofty sense,
But tinged with poison for a tranced ear.
He bade low music sound of faint farewells,
Which fixed her eyes upon a leafy picture,
Wherein she wandered through an amber twilight
Toward a still grave in a sleepy nook.
And ever and anon she sipped pale wine,
Rose-tinged, rose-odoured, from a silver cup.
He sang a song, each pause of which closed up,
Like a day-wearied daisy for the night,
With these words falling like an echo low:
"Love, let us love and weep and faint and die."
With the last pause the tears flowed at their will,
Without a sob, down from their cloudy skies.
He took her hand in his, and it lay still.-
blast of music from a wandering band
Billowed the air with sudden storm that moment.
The visible rampart of material things
Was rent-the vast eternal void looked in
Upon her awe-struck soul. She cried and fled.

It was the sealing of her destiny.
A wild convulsion shook her inner world;
Its lowest depths were heaved tumultuously;
Far unknown molten gulfs of being rushed
Up into mountain-peaks, rushed up and stood.
The soul that led a fairy life, athirst
For beauty only, passed into a woman's:
In pain and tears was born the child-like need
For God, for Truth, and for essential Love.
But first she woke to terror; was alone,
For God she saw not;-woke up in the night,
The great wide night alone. No mother's hand,
To soothe her pangs, no father's voice was near.
She would not come to thee; for love itself
Too keenly stung her sad, repentant heart,
Giving her bitter names to give herself;
But, calling back old words which thou hadst spoken,
In other days, by light winds borne afar,
And now returning on the storm of grief,
Hither she came to seek her Julian's God.
Farewell, strange friend! My care of her is over.

Julian .
A heart that knows what thou canst never know,
Fair angel, blesseth thee, and saith, farewell.

[ The Angel goes . JULIAN and LILY take his place .
LILIA is praying, and they hear parts of her prayer .]

Lilia .
O Jesus, hear me! Let me speak to thee.
No fear oppresses me; for misery
Fills my heart up too full for any fear.

Is there no help, O Holy? Am
1 ... 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 ... 71
Go to page:

Free e-book «The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes - Volume 1 - George MacDonald (digital book reader TXT) 📗» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment