Читать книгу The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1 - George MacDonald - Страница 3

  Julian.

  Evening again slow creeping like a death!

  And the red sunbeams fading from the wall,

  On which they flung a sky, with streaks and bars

  Of the poor window-pane that let them in,

  For clouds and shadings of the mimic heaven!

  Soul of my cell, they part, no more to come.

  But what is light to me, while I am dark!

  And yet they strangely draw me, those faint hues,

  Reflected flushes from the Evening's face,

  Which as a bride, with glowing arms outstretched,

  Takes to her blushing heaven him who has left

  His chamber in the dim deserted east.

  Through walls and hills I see it! The rosy sea!

  The radiant head half-sunk! A pool of light,

  As the blue globe had by a blow been broken,

  And the insphered glory bubbled forth!

  Or the sun were a splendid water-bird,

  That flying furrowed with its golden feet

  A flashing wake over the waves, and home!

  Lo there!—Alas, the dull blank wall!—High up,

  The window-pane a dead gray eye! and night

  Come on me like a thief!—Ah, well! the sun

  Has always made me sad! I'll go and pray:

  The terror of the night begins with prayer.

  (Vesper bell.)

  Call them that need thee; I need not thy summons;

  My knees would not so pain me when I kneel,

  If only at thy voice my prayer awoke.

  I will not to the chapel. When I find Him,

  Then will I praise him from the heights of peace;

  But now my soul is as a speck of life

  Cast on the deserts of eternity;

  A hungering and a thirsting, nothing more.

  I am as a child new-born, its mother dead,

  Its father far away beyond the seas.

  Blindly I stretch my arms and seek for him:

  He goeth by me, and I see him not.

  I cry to him: as if I sprinkled ashes,

  My prayers fall back in dust upon my soul.

  (Choir and organ-music.)

  I bless you, sweet sounds, for your visiting.

  What friends I have! Prismatic harmonies

  Have just departed in the sun's bright coach,

  And fair, convolved sounds troop in to me,

  Stealing my soul with faint deliciousness.

  Would they took shapes! What levees I should hold!

  How should my cell be filled with wavering forms!

  Louder they grow, each swelling higher, higher;

  Trembling and hesitating to float off,

  As bright air-bubbles linger, that a boy

  Blows, with their interchanging, wood-dove-hues,

  Just throbbing to their flight, like them to die.

  —Gone now! Gone to the Hades of dead loves!

  Is it for this that I have left the world?—

  Left what, poor fool? Is this, then, all that comes

  Of that night when the closing door fell dumb

  On music and on voices, and I went

  Forth from the ordered tumult of the dance,

  Under the clear cope of the moonless night,

  Wandering away without the city-walls,

  Between the silent meadows and the stars,

  Till something woke in me, and moved my spirit,

  And of themselves my thoughts turned toward God;

  When straight within my soul I felt as if

  An eye was opened; but I knew not whether

  'Twas I that saw, or God that looked on me?

  It closed again, and darkness fell; but not

  To hide the memory; that, in many failings

  Of spirit and of purpose, still returned;

  And I came here at last to search for God.

  Would I could find him! Oh, what quiet content

  Would then absorb my heart, yet leave it free!

  Robert.

  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.