Poems — Inside the Classic

And was accounted mad before all men. But patience!--Winter bears within its breast The nascent seeds of golden harvest-time.

This only shall I tell you of my ways-- Straying, now here, now there, 'mid science' wealth, I have discover'd a vast hidden power-- A power that perfected shall surely work Great revolution in all human laws,-- Where stop its courses I as yet know not; 'Tis to me like the sun, that all the day Shines godlike in my vision, and, at night, Though darkness hide its brightness, still, I feel, Shines on in glory over other spheres; It is a power beneficent and good, That grants to spirit infinite control Over all matter, and that frees the soul From its flesh shackles, and its sensuous means. What else its influences, or for health, For happiness, or blessing, I say not-- Save that such glimpses of vast powers unknown Dawn on my wondering mind, that like a man Standing upon some giddy pinnacle, With a whole world seen faint and small below, I close mine eyes for very fear and joy. To her, my Mabel, do I bear in love Some first-fruits of my finding--make her rich, That, gazing through her eyes, I may behold How sweet is heaven, how dear is happiness. This is the sum of that I work on her; Then, though I thank you for your good intent, Leave me untroubled to my life of thought, Leave her all trustful in the arms of love.

You love her not, false man! your heart and soul Are steep'd in science till not e'en the heel, Achilles-like, is vulnerable left. Ay! wear thus feeling's semblance as you will, Pale visionary! no more shall I pause, But with strong hand arrest your mad career! Soon we return arm'd with a father's power, To snatch our sister from your fearful arts.

Oh! if you love her, Sir, as once you did-- If yet upon the dial of your life Her sun mark out the short sweet hours of joy, And all too swiftly on the shadows glide-- If yet you prize the loving heart you hold, From this most mad delusion waken up, That blindly blights her whom it seeks to bless; Cease your Utopian and unsafe essays, And rather turn your studious care to call The fading roses back into her cheeks, And shed health's gladness on her feeble frame; Reflect whilst yet you may, lest late Remorse Stalk, ghost-like, through the chambers of your soul, Haunting their gloomy void for evermore.

[_Exeunt Maurice and Roger_.

SCENE II.--_The Same_.

Not love her! O my God! thou knowest me-- Thou, looking through me as the sun at noon That searches through the being of the world-- Thou setting life against thy glory light, As men hold up a crystal 'gainst the sun, Making its frame as nothing in the blaze!

Lo! my heart was like a chaotic world, Still, silent, 'mid the dreary waste of time. Man there was not in all its desert bounds, But hoary ruins of past wondrous things, Old unbeliefs, fierce doubts, unsightly dreams, That wearing out their wild hot-breathing life, Wearily stretch'd their writhing shapes to die; Then came she moving o'er my awe-hush'd soul, Like God's own Spirit over earth's void waters, And there arose order and life through all. She was my sun, set high to rule the day, And make my world all bright and beautiful; She was my moon, amid the stilly night Subduing darkness with her quiet smiles, And stealing softly through my anxious dreams, A sweet-soul'd hostage for departed day; She was my summer, clothing all my life With fragrant blossoms of delight and joy.