Out of the gulf of a grief that is flame,
Spent with the storm of an æon of tears,
Call I at last the Ineffable Name—
Thou Who art throned o'er the flood of the years
Dim are the depths of the City of Dis
Where Thou hast plunged me; an infinite pain
Harries me on to its lowest abyss,
Beats on my head in a torment of rain.
Shapes that are dreadful with uttermost hate
Follow me down, and a Voice follows after:
Stay! thou dost flee from the furies of Fate!
Hell trembles with their demoniac laughter.
Why didst Thou form me so helpless and frail
Out of the clod and allied to the star?
Lured by the vision and fashioned to fail,
Is it my fault I have fallen so far?
Why in my breast didst Thou kindle desire,
Love for the lips of a woman divine?
Why did I swoon at the sound of the lyre,
Dance and grow wild in the wonder of wine?
God, how I hate Thee enthroned in the sky;
Cruel Omnipotence torturing me!
Clenched are these manacled hands that defy
Hosts of the seraphim singing to Thee!
Paused One a moment and played on a harp,
Joyous and free in the quest of his star:
Passed and was gone, in despair of the sharp
Pain that smote me like a swift scimetar—
Pain that was memory stirred by his song—
Breath of the lily and breath of the rose,
Myrrh on the fingers of maidens that throng
Home from the pools when the day is at close:
Hark! how they sing as they carry the jars
High on the shoulder: "Home, home from the well!
Gold on the dates is the kiss of the stars,
Soft as the kiss of betrothal that fell
Sweet on the lips when my lover claimed me
Caught in the vineyard, delayed by the moon
Orbed in the west, which I tarried to see:—
Night hath a charm that is not in the noon."
Flight of the Seraph, thou bringest me this—
Love and the laughter of maidens who tell
Life is revealed in the breath of a kiss;
Softly they sing it: "Home, home from the well!"
Flight of the Seraph, delay, oh, delay!
Spread wide those pinions of purple and gold;
Strike on the strings, O my Harpist, and play!
Sing me that song that they anthemed of old,
When from the dust all my members were made,
When o'er the cradle a mother looked down,
Saw me, her first-born, and clasped me and prayed
God to bequeath me a sceptre and crown!
Sing till Jehovah is shamed by that prayer—
False to the covenant sealed by her pain,
He Who hath damned what she suckled with care—
Sing back the years, and her love is again!
Gone is the Seraph! O God! and O God!
Thou only art left, Thou only, and I—
Wouldst have my pity? I who am a clod
Give that much, Torturer, throned in the sky.
Man is unconquered, Jehovah hath failed;
Love and not Hate is the end of the law!
Lonely is He, and His heart is assailed
By the swift arrow He ventured to draw—
Head to the bow and the haft to the cord—
Arrow called "Judgment" and "Rod of His Might,"
Barbed with the vengeance and wrath of the Lord,
Winged with the flame of an infinite Right!
Yea, Thou hast pity! and Man will forgive—
Man will forgive and Thine anger forget—
Man who hath learned in the dying, to live!
Open the books, for the judgment is set:
Was I to blame that Lazarus lurked
Loathsome with sores at the banqueting hall,
Vile in return for the labour he shirked,
Begging for crumbs when the world was his all?
"The race to the swift," the proverb hath said;
Fleet-footed I strove and won to the goal,
Got me a palace, anointed my head,
Unctioned my body and pleasured my soul—
Pleasured my soul that is tortured in hell!
Unctioned my body that crumbles to dust!
Got me a palace whose pinnacles fell!
Gone are the garments to moth and to rust!
Dim are the depths of the gulf of my pain!
Memory burns! ... The fine linen! ... The feast!
Beautiful faces of souls I have slain!
Blood of the threatening prophet and priest!
*****
Lazarus! thou like a dream in the night
Ere one awaketh to find that the day
Leaps on the hills in the joy of his might,
Sings till the shadows are driven away!
Lazarus! thou like a god in his star
Speeding through space, and whose chariot wheels
Thunder on pavements of crystal, and jar
Hell's deep foundations! My spirit appeals,
Clamours and cries in protest of its pain,
Rages and rails at the wreck and the wrong
Done by Jehovah! Revenge is in vain;
Hate hurls at Hate with a hate that is strong!
Lazarus, why art thou come unto me?
Stand like a star on a mountain of morn,
Spirit redeemed by Jehovah's decree,
And drink to the dregs of my chalice of scorn.
Bitter the chalice of Dives' disgrace!
Shudderest thou at the purple stained brim!
Drink! or I dash the cup full in thy face—
Drink! and then back to hosannah and hymn!
Fade from my sight! and thy glory withdraw
Over the gulf to dim islands of palm,
Where the Redeemed by the blood of the law
Sing to the Lord on their harps, with a psalm!
Taunt me not, Lazarus, thou, and thy smile!
Pity or scorn I regard not! Away!
Is Paradise lonely that thou must beguile
Hell with thy holiness! What does thou say?
Nay, thou are silent; why wilt thou not speak?
This is the torment: that never a word,
Touch of a hand, or of lips on my cheek
Cloud of Gehenna's death-stillness hath stirred.
Think of it, Lazarus! Thou wast alone;
Down by the gate of my palace didst call:
"Give of thy bread!" and I gave thee a stone!
Lazarus! Lazarus! I would give all—
I would give all, for I know thou didst crave
Love, only love, who had no one to love;
Even as I who have learned in the grave
What I had missed in the earth-life above.
Life is in loving: and lonely is he
Who hath not found in the flower and fern,
Song of the bird and the hum of the bee,
Voice and a prayer as of spirits that yearn
Upward forever to fellowship; strive
Bravely for place in the legions of light;
Dauntless of death in the tempest they thrive,
Laugh and are glad of the foe and the fight.
This was my failure, who thought that the feast
Rivalled the rapture of bird on the wing;
Rivalled the lily all robed like a priest;
Smoke of the pollen when rose-censers swing.
This was my folly, who gave for a gown—
Purple and gold, and a bracelet and rings,
Shouts in the streets as I rode through the town—
Life in the love of the kinship of things.
Lazarus! Lazarus! This is my thirst,
Fever from flame of the love I have missed;
Ache of the heart for the friends I have cursed;
Longing for lips that I never have kissed!
Hell is for him who hath never found God
Hid in the bramble that burns by the way;
Findeth Him not in the stone and the clod;
Heareth Him not at the cool of the day.
Hell is for him who hath never found Man!
God and my Brother, I failing to find,
Failed to find me; so my days were a span
Void of the triumph of Spirit and Mind.
Once, I recall, at the table I leaned
Back on the breast of Pomona, my slave,
Saw through the window, with lattice-work screened,
Thee in thy rags, and I laughed! then grew grave:
Up the white street came a Man with a face
Sad with the woe and the pain of the world;
Moving with kingliness, ease, and a grace;
Crowned with wine-coloured hair wavy and curled
Over broad shoulders, so broad that I vowed
Here was Messias—the Samson—the King!
Leaped from the table and joined with the crowd;
Offered my purple, my bracelet, my ring!
Then through the clamour and dust of the street
Words of rebuke were directed to me:
"Lift thou up Lazarus; give him a seat
High among all who are feasting with thee."
Lift up the beggar! I laughed at Him there—
"Thou and Thy tattered ones take to the street—
I to the palace ... Begone! ... And beware!
Caiaphas comes, and the Sanhedrin meet!
"Go! or I hale Thee to judgment of them;
Go! or Thy God shall avail Thee in vain;
Thou art of Japheth, and I am of Shem
Lazarus, outcast and cursed with Cain!
"Needs must there be a division of men;
Hewer of wood is the Gibeonite,
Cutter of stone in the quarries, and then
Slave to the Covenant-Israelite."
"Nay, all are equal and loved of the Lord,"
Whispered the Stranger. The listening street,
Filled with the murmur of those who adored,
Hushed at the sound of His voice that was sweet,
Stirring my heart as a harp in the hall,
Silent for ages, is stirred by the wind
Breathed through the arras; and memories call
Over the summits of spirit and mind.
Yea, for a moment I struggled with Love;
Yearned to embrace thee and pour on thy hair
Oil of anointing, and place thee above
All of the guests who were gathering there—
There in my palace of pleasure and ease,
Builded by Herod, and bought with my gold,
Portaled and curtained with soft tapestries
Woven at looms of the Orient, sold
Down in Damascus. A palm in the sands,
That was my palace; a palm with a soul
Breathing of beauty when each leaf expands
Out to the desert which brims like a bowl—
Brims like a bowl of Falernian wine
Turned to the sun! O my palace and hall!
O sound of the psaltery under the vine
Grown in the garden! O footsteps that fall
Soft as the leaves in a pomegranate grove,
Soft on the pavement of beryl and pearl
Under the moon when my Miriam strove,
Laughing, to dance down the Syrian girl!
These thrust between my compassion and thee—
Beauty that mocked like a maid from her bower—
Beauty that looked through the lattice at me;
Sighed: "I have tarried, my Love, for this hour!"
Then to the palace all flaming I went,
Flaming with love for Pomona, my pride.
Back like a bow her dear body I bent,
Kissed her and placed her in joy at my side;
Crowned her with myrtle, proclaimed her a queen;
Drank to her eyes and her lips and her hair;
Clasped on her throat of an ivory sheen
Gems of an order kings only might wear.
Oh, how she sparkled and gleamed like a sword!
Oh, how the cymbals and tabours did sound!
Oh, my Pomona, my loved and adored—
Dust of the body is dust of the ground!
*****
For I forgot Him, and bought with my gold
Houses and lands. Yea, I sought far and wide
Pleasure and ease. Then one day I was old....
Darkness came over the noon ... and I died!
Dead and companioned in pomp to the grave!
Dead and forgotten in less than a day
Save by Pomona, my mistress and slave
Sold unto Herod! ... Oh, she had a way,
Turn of the head and glance of the eye!
Touch of the hand and a fall of the feet!
Voice that was coo of the dove and a cry
Heard in the night when the seraphim meet!
Sometimes I fancy Gehenna's abyss
Gleams with a light that is love; and I feel
Lips on my lips in the tenderest kiss,
Making hell heaven: as though the appeal
Sent from my soul to Pomona had gained
Heart and the whole of her throned on a star,
Where for an son of bliss she hath reigned
Lonely for Dives so lost and afar!
Lazarus! Nearer! The light on thy face
Shines through the dark! Oh, what glory is thine!
Nay, not too near lest thou see my disgrace
Naked! behold bruised the image divine!
Lazarus! Pity! Pursue not my soul
Down the last gulf! I am fearful of thee—
Not of Jehovah, Whose thunders may roll
Over my head—Have thou pity on me!
This have I learned in the torment of hell:
Man is the judge of the soul that hath sin;
Man must raise man from the depths where he fell,
Hurled by the hand of his passion. Begin,
Lazarus, Lord of the light and the dark;
Stand on the cloud that hath bridged the abyss,
Judging my cause; for my spirit is stark
Under thy glance in abandon of bliss!
Yea, there is joy in the judgment; a peace
I have not known in an æon of pain;
Joy in the thought that thy love will not cease
Till it hath cleansed all my spirit from stain.
Therefore I hail thee, O Lazarus! cry:
"Hail to the love that restoreth the years
The locusts have eaten! Search me and try
The thought of my heart and the tale of my tears!"
Try me and prove me; for I am undone,
Conquered by love of a love that hath sought
Me unto hell! Thou hast triumphed and won,
Lazarus, who for my spirit hath fought.
Yield I the trophies of battle; lay down
All of the pride and the hatred of heart;
Weeping I give thee my sceptre and crown;
Nothing I claim; not a tithe, not a part!
*****
Lazarus, art thou the same that I saw
Begging for crumbs? Thou hast changed, thou hast changed!
Through what dominions of wonder and awe,
Beauty and joy, hast thou ranged, hast thou ranged?
Kingly and glorious, mantled with flame,
Lo! in thyself the Messias I see.
Lazarus, thou and the Christ art the same,
Thou art the Christ and the Master of me—
Thou art Messias! ... And this Paradise! ...
There is Pomona! ... There Mother who gave
Breast to her babe! ... From Gehenna I rise
Cleansed by a love that is mighty to save!
Light, and the sound of a song that is love!
Light, and the freedom of spirit to soar!
Light, and Messias enthroned above
High where the seraphim bow and adore!