Man was made of social earth,
Child and brother from his birth;
Tethered by a liquid
Of blood through veins of kindred poured,
Next his heart the fireside
Of mother, father, sister, stand;
Names from awful childhood heard,
Throbs of a wild religion stirred,
Their good was heaven, their harm was vice,
Till Beauty came to snap all ties,
The maid, abolishing the past,
With lotus-wine
Dear memory's stone-incarved traits,
And by herself supplants
Friends year by year more inly known.
When her calm eyes opened bright,
All were foreign in their light.
It was ever the self-same tale,
The old experience will not fail,—Only two in the garden walked,
And with snake and seraph talked.
But God said;
I will have a purer gift,
There is smoke in the flame;
New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift,
And love without a name.
Fond children, ye
To please each other well;
Another round, a higher,
Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair,
And selfish preference forbear;
And in right deserving,
And without a
Each from your proper state,
Weave roses for your mate.
Deep, deep are loving eyes,
Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet,
And the point is
Where their glances meet:
Their reach shall yet be more profound,
And a vision without bound:
The axis of those eyes
Be the axis of the sphere;
Then shall the lights ye pour
Go without check or intervals,
Through from the empyrean walls,
Unto the same again.
Close, close to men,
Like undulating layer of air,
Right above their heads,
The potent plain of Dæmons spreads.
Stands to each human soul its own,
For watch, and ward, and
In the snares of nature's dance;
And the lustre and the
Which fascinate each human heart,
Beaming from another part,
Translucent through the mortal covers,
Is the Dæmon's form and face.
To and fro the Genius hies,
A gleam which plays and
Over the maiden's head,
And dips sometimes as low as to her eyes.
Unknown, — albeit lying near, —To men the path to the Dæmon sphere,
And they that swiftly come and go,
Leave no track on the heavenly snow.
Sometimes the airy synod bends,
And the mighty choir descends,
And the brains of men thenceforth,
In crowded and in still resorts,
Teem with unwonted thoughts.
As when a shower of
Cross the orbit of the earth,
And, lit by fringent air,
Blaze near and far.
Mortals deem the planets
Have slipped their sacred bars,
And the lone seaman all the
Sails astonished amid stars.
Beauty of a richer vein,
Graces of a subtler strain,
Unto men these moon-men lend,
And our shrinking sky extend.
So is man's narrow
By strength and terror skirted,
Also (from the song the
Of the Genii be averted!
The Muse the truth uncolored speaking),
The Dæmons are self-seeking;
Their fierce and limitary
Draws men to their likeness still.
The erring painter made Love blind,
Highest Love who shines on all;
Him radiant, sharpest-sighted
None can bewilder;
Whose eyes
The Universe,
Path-finder, road-builder,
Mediator, royal giver,
Rightly-seeing, rightly-seen,
Of joyful and transparent mien.'Tis a sparkle
From each to each, from me to thee,
Perpetually,
Sharing all, daring all,
Levelling,
Each obstruction, it
Equals remote, and seeming opposites.
And ever and forever
Delights to build a road;
Unheeded Danger near him strides,
Love laughs, and on a lion rides.
But Cupid wears another
Born into Dæmons less divine,
His roses bleach apace,
His nectar smacks of wine.
The Dæmon ever builds a wall,
Himself incloses and includes,
Solitude in solitudes:
In like sort his love doth fall.
He is an oligarch,
He prizes wonder, fame, and mark,
He loveth crowns,
He scorneth drones;
He doth
The beautiful and fortunate,
And the sons of intellect,
And the souls of ample fate,
Who the Future's gates unbar,
Minions of the Morning Star.
In his prowess he exults,
And the multitude insults.
His impatient looks
Oft the humble and the poor,
And, seeing his eye glare,
They drop their few pale
Gathered with hope to
Along the mountain towers,
Lose courage, and despair.
He will never be gainsaid,
Pitiless, will not be stayed.
His hot
Burns up every other tie;
Therefore comes an hour from
Which his ruthless will defies,
And the dogs of Fate unties.
Shiver the palaces of glass,
Shrivel the rainbow-colored
Where in bright art each god and sibyl
Secure as in the Zodiack's belt;
And the galleries and
Wherein every Siren sung,
Like a meteor pass.
For this fortune wanted
In the core of God's abysm,
Was a weed of self and schism:
And ever the Dæmonic
Is the ancestor of wars,
And the parent of remorse.
