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    Selected Poems and Prose

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      Felt cold in her torn entrails!

      Religion! thou wert then in manhood’s prime:

      But age crept on: one God would not suffice

      For senile puerility; thou framedst

      125A tale to suit thy dotage, and to glut

      Thy misery-thirsting soul, that the mad fiend

      Thy wickedness had pictured, might afford

      A plea for sating the unnatural thirst

      For murder, rapine, violence, and crime,

      130That still consumed thy being, even when

      Thou heardst the step of fate;—that flames might light

      Thy funeral scene, and the shrill horrent shrieks

      Of parents dying on the pile that burned

      To light their children to thy paths, the roar

      135Of the encircling flames, the exulting cries

      Of thine apostles, loud commingling there,

      Might sate thine hungry ear

      Even on the bed of death!

      But now contempt is mocking thy grey hairs;

      140Thou art descending to the darksome grave,

      Unhonored and unpitied, but by those

      Whose pride is passing by like thine, and sheds,

      Like thine, a glare that fades before the sun

      Of truth, and shines but in the dreadful night

      145That long has lowered above the ruined world.

      Throughout these infinite orbs of mingling light,

      Of which yon earth is one, is wide diffused

      A Spirit of activity and life,

      That knows no term, cessation, or decay;

      150That fades not when the lamp of earthly life,

      Extinguished in the dampness of the grave,

      Awhile there slumbers, more than when the babe

      In the dim newness of its being feels

      The impulses of sublunary things,

      155And all is wonder to unpractised sense:

      But, active, stedfast, and eternal, still

      Guides the fierce whirlwind, in the tempest roars,

      Cheers in the day, breathes in the balmy groves,

      Strengthens in health, and poisons in disease;

      160And in the storm of change, that ceaselessly

      Rolls round the eternal universe, and shakes

      Its undecaying battlement, presides,

      Apportioning with irresistible law

      The place each spring of its machine shall fill;

      165So that, when waves on waves tumultuous heap

      Confusion to the clouds, and fiercely driven

      Heaven’s lightnings scorch the uprooted ocean-fords,

      Whilst, to the eye of shipwrecked mariner,

      Lone sitting on the bare and shuddering rock,

      170All seems unlinked contingency and chance:

      No atom of this turbulence fulfils

      A vague and unnecessitated task,

      Or acts but as it must and ought to act.

      Even the minutest molecule of light,

      175That in an April sunbeam’s fleeting glow

      Fulfills its destined, though invisible work,

      The universal Spirit guides; nor less,

      When merciless ambition, or mad zeal,

      Has led two hosts of dupes to battle-field,

      180That, blind, they there may dig each other’s graves,

      And call the sad work glory, does it rule

      All passions: not a thought, a will, an act,

      No working of the tyrant’s moody mind,

      Nor one misgiving of the slaves who boast

      185Their servitude, to hide the shame they feel,

      Nor the events enchaining every will,

      That from the depths of unrecorded time

      Have drawn all-influencing virtue, pass

      Unrecognized, or unforeseen by thee,

      190Soul of the Universe! eternal spring

      Of life and death, of happiness and woe,

      Of all that chequers the phantasmal scene

      That floats before our eyes in wavering light,

      Which gleams but on the darkness of our prison,

      195 Whose chains and massy walls

      We feel, but cannot see.

      Spirit of Nature! all-sufficing Power,

      Necessity! thou mother of the world!

      Unlike the God of human error, thou

      200Requirest no prayers or praises; the caprice

      Of man’s weak will belongs no more to thee

      Than do the changeful passions of his breast

      To thy unvarying harmony: the slave,

      Whose horrible lusts spread misery o’er the world,

      205And the good man, who lifts, with virtuous pride,

      His being, in the sight of happiness,

      That springs from his own works; the poison-tree,

      Beneath whose shade all life is withered up,

      And the fair oak, whose leafy dome affords

      210A temple where the vows of happy love

      Are registered, are equal in thy sight:

      No love, no hate thou cherishest; revenge

      And favoritism, and worst desire of fame

      Thou knowest not: all that the wide world contains

      215Are but thy passive instruments, and thou

      Regardst them all with an impartial eye,

      Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel,

      Because thou hast not human sense,

      Because thou art not human mind.

      220 Yes! when the sweeping storm of time

      Has sung its death-dirge o’er the ruined fanes

      And broken altars of the almighty fiend,

      Whose name usurps thy honors, and the blood

      Through centuries clotted there, has floated down

      225The tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live

      Unchangeable! A shrine is raised to thee,

      Which, nor the tempest breath of time,

      Nor the interminable flood,

      Over earth’s slight pageant rolling,

      230 Availeth to destroy,—

      The sensitive extension of the world,

      That wonderous and eternal fane,

      Where pain and pleasure, good and evil join,

      To do the will of strong necessity,

      235 And life, in multitudinous shapes,

      Still pressing forward where no term can be,

      Like hungry and unresting flame

      Curls round the eternal columns of its strength.

      VII

      SPIRIT

      I was an infant when my mother went

      To see an atheist burned. She took me there:

      The dark-robed priests were met around the pile;

      The multitude was gazing silently;

      5And as the culprit passed with dauntless mien,

      Tempered disdain in his unaltering eye,

      Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth:

      The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs;

      His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon;

      10His death-pang rent my heart! the insensate mob

      Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept.

      Weep not, child! cried my mother, for that man

      Has said, There is no God.

      FAIRY

      There is no God!

      Nature confirms the faith his death-groan sealed:

      15Let heaven and earth, let man’s revolving race,

      His ceaseless generations tell their tale;

      Let every part depending on the chain

      That links it to the whole, point to the hand

      That grasps its term! let every seed that falls

      20In silent eloquence unfold its store

      Of argument: infinity within,

      Infinity without, belie creation;

      The exterminable spirit it contains

      Is nature’s only God; but human pride

      25Is skilful to invent most serious names

      To hide its ignorance.

      The name of God

      Has fenced about all crime with
    holiness,

      Himself the creature of his worshippers,

      Whose names and attributes and passions change,

      30Seeva, Buddh, Foh, Jehovah, God, or Lord,

      Even with the human dupes who build his shrines,

      Still serving o’er the war-polluted world

      For desolation’s watchword; whether hosts

      Stain his death-blushing chariot wheels, as on

      35Triumphantly they roll, whilst Brahmins raise

      A sacred hymn to mingle with the groans;

      Or countless partners of his power divide

      His tyranny to weakness; or the smoke

      Of burning towns, the cries of female helplessness,

      40Unarmed old age, and youth, and infancy,

      Horribly massacred, ascend to heaven

      In honor of his name; or, last and worst,

      Earth groans beneath religion’s iron age,

      And priests dare babble of a God of peace,

      45Even whilst their hands are red with guiltless blood,

      Murdering the while, uprooting every germ

      Of truth, exterminating, spoiling all,

      Making the earth a slaughter-house!

      O Spirit! through the sense

      50By which thy inner nature was apprised

      Of outward shews, vague dreams have rolled,

      And varied reminiscences have waked

      Tablets that never fade;

      All things have been imprinted there,

      55 The stars, the sea, the earth, the sky,

      Even the unshapeliest lineaments

      Of wild and fleeting visions

      Have left a record there

      To testify of earth.

      60These are my empire, for to me is given

      The wonders of the human world to keep,

      And fancy’s thin creations to endow

      With manner, being, and reality;

      Therefore a wondrous phantom, from the dreams

      65Of human error’s dense and purblind faith,

      I will evoke, to meet thy questioning.

      Ahasuerus, rise!

      A strange and woe-worn wight

      Arose beside the battlement,

      70 And stood unmoving there.

      His inessential figure cast no shade

      Upon the golden floor;

      His port and mien bore mark of many years,

      And chronicles of untold ancientness

      75Were legible within his beamless eye:

      Yet his cheek bore the mark of youth;

      Freshness and vigor knit his manly frame;

      The wisdom of old age was mingled there

      With youth’s primaeval dauntlessness;

      80 And inexpressible woe,

      Chastened by fearless resignation, gave

      An awful grace to his all-speaking brow.

      SPIRIT

      Is there a God?

      AHASUERUS

      Is there a God!—aye, an almighty God,

      85And vengeful as almighty! Once his voice

      Was heard on earth: earth shuddered at the sound;

      The fiery-visaged firmament expressed

      Abhorrence, and the grave of nature yawned

      To swallow all the dauntless and the good

      90That dared to hurl defiance at his throne,

      Girt as it was with power. None but slaves

      Survived,—cold-blooded slaves, who did the work

      Of tyrannous omnipotence; whose souls

      No honest indignation ever urged

      95To elevated daring, to one deed

      Which gross and sensual self did not pollute.

      These slaves built temples for the omnipotent fiend,

      Gorgeous and vast: the costly altars smoked

      With human blood, and hideous paeans rung

      100Through all the long-drawn aisles. A murderer heard

      His voice in Egypt, one whose gifts and arts

      Had raised him to his eminence in power,

      Accomplice of omnipotence in crime,

      And confidant of the all-knowing one.

      105 These were Jehovah’s words.

      From an eternity of idleness

      I, God, awoke; in seven days’ toil made earth

      From nothing; rested, and created man:

      I placed him in a paradise, and there

      110Planted the tree of evil, so that he

      Might eat and perish, and my soul procure

      Wherewith to sate its malice, and to turn,

      Even like a heartless conqueror of the earth,

      All misery to my fame. The race of men

      115Chosen to my honor, with impunity

      May sate the lusts I planted in their heart.

      Here I command thee hence to lead them on,

      Until, with hardened feet, their conquering troops

      Wade on the promised soil through woman’s blood,

      120And make my name be dreaded through the land.

      Yet ever burning flame and ceaseless woe

      Shall be the doom of their eternal souls,

      With every soul on this ungrateful earth,

      Virtuous or vicious, weak or strong,—even all

      125Shall perish, to fulfill the blind revenge

      (Which you, to men, call justice) of their God.

      The murderer’s brow

      Quivered with horror.

      God omnipotent,

      Is there no mercy? must our punishment

      130Be endless? will long ages roll away,

      And see no term? Oh! wherefore hast thou made

      In mockery and wrath this evil earth?

      Mercy becomes the powerful—be but just:

      O God! repent and save.

      One way remains:

      135I will beget a son, and he shall bear

      The sins of all the world; he shall arise

      In an unnoticed corner of the earth,

      And there shall die upon a cross, and purge

      The universal crime; so that the few

      140On whom my grace descends, those who are marked

      As vessels to the honor of their God,

      May credit this strange sacrifice, and save

      Their souls alive: millions shall live and die,

      Who ne’er shall call upon their Saviour’s name,

      145But, unredeemed, go to the gaping grave.

      Thousands shall deem it an old woman’s tale,

      Such as the nurses frighten babes withal:

      These in a gulph of anguish and of flame

      Shall curse their reprobation endlessly,

      150Yet tenfold pangs shall force them to avow,

      Even on their beds of torment, where they howl,

      My honor, and the justice of their doom.

      What then avail their virtuous deeds, their thoughts

      Of purity, with radiant genius bright,

      155Or lit with human reason’s earthly ray?

      Many are called, but few will I elect.

      Do thou my bidding, Moses!

      Even the murderer’s cheek

      Was blanched with horror, and his quivering lips

      Scarce faintly uttered—O almighty one,

      160I tremble and obey!

      O Spirit! centuries have set their seal

      On this heart of many wounds, and loaded brain,

      Since the Incarnate came: humbly he came,

      Veiling his horrible Godhead in the shape

      165Of man, scorned by the world, his name unheard,

      Save by the rabble of his native town,

      Even as a parish demagogue. He led

      The crowd; he taught them justice, truth, and peace,

      In semblance; but he lit within their souls

      170The quenchless flames of zeal, and blessed the sword

      He brought on earth to satiate with the blood

      Of truth and freedom his malignant soul.

      At length his mortal frame was led to death.

      I stood beside him: on the torturing cross

      175No pain assailed his unterr
    estrial sense;

      And yet he groaned. Indignantly I summed

      The massacres and miseries which his name

      Had sanctioned in my country, and I cried,

      Go! go! in mockery.

      180A smile of godlike malice reillumined

      His fading lineaments.—I go, he cried,

      But thou shalt wander o’er the unquiet earth

      Eternally.——–The dampness of the grave

      Bathed my imperishable front. I fell,

      185And long lay tranced upon the charmed soil.

      When I awoke hell burned within my brain,

      Which staggered on its seat; for all around

      The mouldering relics of my kindred lay,

      Even as the Almighty’s ire arrested them,

      190And in their various attitudes of death

      My murdered children’s mute and eyeless sculls

      Glared ghastily upon me.

      But my soul,

      From sight and sense of the polluting woe

      Of tyranny, had long learned to prefer

      195Hell’s freedom to the servitude of heaven.

      Therefore I rose, and dauntlessly began

      My lonely and unending pilgrimage,

      Resolved to wage unweariable war

      With my almighty tyrant, and to hurl

      200Defiance at his impotence to harm

      Beyond the curse I bore. The very hand

      That barred my passage to the peaceful grave

      Has crushed the earth to misery, and given

      Its empire to the chosen of his slaves.

      205These I have seen, even from the earliest dawn

      Of weak, unstable and precarious power;

      Then preaching peace, as now they practise war;

      So, when they turned but from the massacre

      Of unoffending infidels, to quench

      210Their thirst for ruin in the very blood

      That flowed in their own veins, and pityless zeal

      Froze every human feeling, as the wife

      Sheathed in her husband’s heart the sacred steel,

      Even whilst its hopes were dreaming of her love;

      215And friends to friends, brothers to brothers stood

      Opposed in bloodiest battle-field, and war,

      Scarce satiable by fate’s last death-draught waged,

      Drunk from the winepress of the Almighty’s wrath;

      Whilst the red cross, in mockery of peace,

      220Pointed to victory! When the fray was done,

      No remnant of the exterminated faith

      Survived to tell its ruin, but the flesh,

      With putrid smoke poisoning the atmosphere,

      That rotted on the half-extinguished pile.

     


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