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diff --git a/30225-0.txt b/30225-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87a1d85 --- /dev/null +++ b/30225-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2111 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30225 *** + +MANY GODS + + +OTHER BOOKS BY +CALE YOUNG RICE + + Nirvana Days + Yolanda of Cyprus + Plays and Lyrics + A Night in Avignon + Charles di Tocca + David + + + + +MANY GODS + +BY + +CALE YOUNG RICE + +NEW YORK +DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +MCMX + + +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION +INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN + +COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY +PUBLISHED, FEBRUARY, 1910 + + +TO + +FINIS KING FARR + +AN OLD + +AND DEAR COMRADE + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PAGE + +"ALL'S WELL" 3 + +THE PROSELYTE RECANTS 6 + +LOVE IN JAPAN 10 + +MAPLE LEAVES ON MIYAJIMA 13 + +TYPHOON 15 + +PENANG 17 + +WHEN THE WIND IS LOW 20 + +THE PAGODA SLAVE 22 + +THE SHIPS OF THE SEA 25 + +KINCHINJUNGA 26 + +THE BARREN WOMAN 29 + +BY THE TAJ MAHAL 32 + +LOVE'S CYNIC 35 + +IN A TROPICAL GARDEN 42 + +THE WIND'S WORD 46 + +THE SHRINE OF SHRINES 47 + +FROM A FELUCCA 48 + +THE EGYPTIAN WAKES 49 + +THE IMAM'S PARABLE 50 + +SONGS OF A SEA-FARER 52 + +A SONG OF THE SECTS 54 + +THE CITY 57 + +VIA AMOROSA 58 + +DUSK AT HIROSHIMA 60 + +THE WANDERER 61 + +IN A SHINTO TEMPLE GARDEN 64 + +FAR FUJIYAMA 65 + +ON MIYAJIMA MOUNTAIN 66 + +OLD AGE 68 + +ON THE YANG-TSE-KIANG 69 + +THE SEA-ARMIES 71 + +THE CHRISTIAN IN EXILE 73 + +THE PARSEE WOMAN 75 + +SHAH JEHAN TO MUMTAZ MAHAL 77 + +PRINCESS JEHANARA 79 + +A CINGHALESE LOVE LAMENT 80 + +ON THE ARABIAN GULF 83 + +THE RAMESSID 84 + +IMMORTAL FOES 85 + +THE CONSCRIPT 87 + +NAVIS IGNOTA 89 + +THE CROSS OF THE SEPULCHRE 91 + +THE NUN 92 + +ALPINE CHANT 94 + +THE MAN OF MIGHT 96 + +IN TIME OF AWE 97 + +SUNRISE IN UTAH 99 + +CONSOLATION 100 + +WAVES 102 + +VIS ULTIMA 104 + +MEREDITH 106 + + + + +MANY GODS + + + + +"ALL'S WELL" + + +I + +The illimitable leaping of the sea, +The mouthing of his madness to the moon, +The seething of his endless sorcery, +His prophecy no power can attune, +Swept over me as, on the sounding prow +Of a great ship that steered into the stars, +I stood and felt the awe upon my brow +Of death and destiny and all that mars. + + +II + +The wind that blew from Cassiopeia cast +Wanly upon my ear a rune that rung; +The sailor in his eyrie on the mast +Sang an "All's well," that to the spirit clung +Like a lost voice from some aërial realm +Where ships sail on forever to no shore, +Where Time gives Immortality the helm, +And fades like a far phantom from life's door. + + +III + +"And is all well, O Thou Unweariable +Launcher of worlds upon bewildered space," +Rose in me, "All? or did thy hand grow dull +Building this world that bears a piteous race? +O was it launched too soon or launched too late? +Or can it be a derelict that drifts +Beyond thy ken toward some reef of Fate +On which Oblivion's sand forever shifts?" + + +IV + +The sea grew softer as I questioned--calm +With mystery that like an answer moved, +And from infinity there fell a balm, +The old peace that God _is_, tho all unproved. +The old faith that tho gulfs sidereal stun +The soul, and knowledge drown within their deep, +There is no world that wanders, no not one +Of all the millions, that He does not keep. + + + + +THE PROSELYTE RECANTS + +(_In Japan_) + + + Where the fair golden idols + Sit in darkness and in silence +While the temple drum beats solemnly and slow; + Where the tall cryptomerias + Sway in worship round about +And the rain that is falling whispers low; + I can hear strange voices + Of the dead and forgotten, +On the dimly rising incense I can see + The lives I have lived, + And my lives unbegotten, +_Namu Amida Butsu_ pity me! + + I was born this karma + Of a mother in Chuzenji, +Where Nantai-zan looks down into the lake; + Where the white-thronged pilgrims + Climb to altars in the clouds +And behold the holy eastern dawn awake. + It was there I wandered + Till a priest of the Christians +With the crucifix he wore compelled my gaze. + In grief I had grown, + So upon its grief I pondered. +_Namu Amida Butsu_, keep my days! + + It was wrong, he told me, + To pray Jiso for my children, +And Binzuru for healing of my ills. + And our gods so many + Were conceived, he said, in sin, +From Lord Shaka to the least upon the hills. + In despair I listened + For my heart beat hopeless, +Not a temple of my land had helped me live. + But alas that day + When I let my soul be christened! +_Namu Amida Butsu_, O forgive! + + For the Christ they gave me + As the only Law and Lotus, +As the only way to Light that will not wane, + May perchance have power + For the people of the West, +But to me he seemed the servitor of pain. + For in pain he perished + As one born to passion: +In some other life no doubt his sin was great, + Tho they told me no, + Those who followed him and cherished. +_Namu Amida Butsu_, such is fate. + + So again to idols + Of the Buddha who is boundless, +While the temple drum is beating thro the rain, + I have turned from treason + Into Meditation's truth, +From the strife the Western god regards as gain. + And if now I'm dying + As the voices tell me, +To the lives that I must live I'll meekly go; + Till my long grief ends + In Nirvana, and my sighing. +_Namu Amida Butsu_, be it so! + + + + +LOVE IN JAPAN + + +I + +Dragon-fly lighting +On the temple-bell, +Whose soul do you hear +On the Day of the Dead? +The soul of my lover? +Ah me, the plighting +Between two hearts +That were never wed! + +Dragon-fly, quickly, +The priest is coming! +Oh, the boom +Of the bitter bell! +Now you are gone +And my tears fall thickly. +How of Heaven +Do the gods make Hell! + + +II + +The sêmi is silent + (Autumn rains!) +The wind-bells tinkle + (How chill it is!) +The quick lights come +On the shoji-panes. +Come, O Baku, +Eater of dreams! + +The maple darkens + (Pale grow I!) +The near night shivers + (The temple fades.) + +Haunting love +Will not cease to cry! +Come, O Baku, +Eater of dreams! + +The wild mists gather + (Ah, my tears!) +The pane-lights vanish + (For some there is rest.) +But for me-- +The remembered years! +Come, O Baku, +Eater of dreams! + + + + +MAPLE LEAVES ON MIYAJIMA + + +The summer has come, +The summer has gone, +And the maple leaves lift fairy hands +That ripple upon the winds of dawn +Where the dim pagoda stands. +They ripple and beckon yearningly +To their sister fairies over the sea, +But help comes not, +So they fall and flee +From Autumn over the sands. + +And down the mountain +And into the tide, +Some are blown where the sampans glide, +And some are strewn by the temple's side, +And some by the torii. +But Autumn ever +Pursues them till, +As ever before, +She has her will, +And leaves them desolate, dead and still, +Ravished afar and wide; +Leaves them desolate; crying shrill, +"No beauty shall abide!" + + + + +TYPHOON + +(_At Hong-kong_) + + +I was weary and slept on the Peak; + The air clung close like a shroud, +And ever the blue-fly's buzz in my ear + Hung haunting and hot and loud; +I awoke and the sky was dun + With awe and a dread that soon +Went shuddering thro my heart, for I knew + That it meant typhoon! typhoon! + +In the harbour below, far down, + The junks like fowl in a flock +Were tossing in wingless terror, or fled + Fluttering in from the shock. +The city, a breathless bend + Of roofs, by the water strewn, +Lay silent and waiting, yet there was none + Within it but said typhoon! + +Then it came, like a million winds + Gone mad immeasurably, +A torrid and tortuous tempest stung + By rape of the fair South Sea. +And it swept like a scud escaped + From craters of sun or moon, +And struck as no power of Heaven could, + Or of Hell--typhoon! typhoon! + +And the junks were smitten and torn, + The drowning struggled and cried, +Or, dashed on the granite walls of the sea, + In succourless hundreds died. +Till I shut the sight from my eyes + And prayed for my soul to swoon: +If ever I see God's face, let it + Be guiltless of that typhoon! + + + + +PENANG + + +I want to go back to Singapore + And ship along the Straits, +To a bungalow I know beside Penang; + Where cocoanut palms along the shore + Are waving, and the gates +Of Peace shut Sorrow out forevermore. + I want to go back and hear the surf + Come beating in at night, +Like the washing of eternity over the dead. + I want to see dawn fare up and day + Go down in golden light; +I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back! + +I want to go back to Singapore + And up along the Straits +To the bungalow that waits me by the tide. + Where the Tamil and Malay tell their lore + At evening--and the fates +Have set no soothless canker at life's core. + I want to go back and mend my heart + Beneath the tropic moon, +While the tamarind-tree is whispering thoughts of sleep. + I want to believe that Earth again + With Heaven is in tune. +I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back! + +I want to go back to Singapore + And ship along the Straits +To the bungalow I left upon the strand. + Where the foam of the world grows faint before + It enters, and abates +In meaning as I hear the palm-wind pour. + I want to go back and end my days + Some evening when the Cross +On the southern sky hangs heavily far and sad. + I want to remember when I die + That life elsewhere was loss. +I want to go back to Penang! I want to go back! + + + + +WHEN THE WIND IS LOW + +(_To A. H. R._) + + +When the wind is low, and the sea is soft, + And the far heat-lightning plays +On the rim of the West where dark clouds nest + On a darker bank of haze; +When I lean o'er the rail with you that I love + And gaze to my heart's content; +I know that the heavens are there above-- + But you are my firmament. + +When the phosphor-stars are thrown from the bow + And the watch climbs up the shroud; +When the dim mast dips as the vessel slips + Thro the foam that seethes aloud; +I know that the years of our life are few, + And fain as a bird to flee, +That time is as brief as a drop of dew-- + But you are Eternity. + + + + +THE PAGODA SLAVE + +(_At Shwe Dagohn, in old Rangoon_) + + +All night long the pagoda slave +Hears the wind-bells high in the air +Tinkle with low sweet tongue and grave + In praise of Lord Gautama. +All night long where the lone spire sends +Its golden height to the starry light + He hears their tune + And watches the moon +And fears he shall never reach Nirvana. + +Round and round by a hundred shrines +Glittering at the great Shwe's base +Falls the sound of his feet mid lines + Droned from the sacred Wisdom. +Round and round where the idols gaze +So pitiless on his pained distress + He passes on, + Pale-eyed and wan-- +A pariah like the dogs behind him. + +Oh, what sin in a life begot +Thousands of lives ago did he sin +That he is now by all forgot, + Even by Lord Gautama? +Oh, what sin, that the lowest shun +His very name as a thing of shame-- + A sound to taint + The winds that faint +From the high bells that hear it uttered! + +Midnight comes and the hours of morn, +Tapers die and the flowers all +From the most fêted altars: lorn + And desolate is their odour. +Midnight goes, but he watches still +By each cold spire the moon sets fire, + By every palm + Whose silvery calm +Pillar and jewelled porch pray under. + +Is it dawn that is breaking?... No, +Only a star that falls in the sea, +Only a wind-bell's louder flow + Of praise to Lord Gautama. +Faithless dawn! with illusive feet +It comes too late to ease his fate. + He sinks asleep + A helpless heap, +Tho for it he may never reach Nirvana. + + + + +THE SHIPS OF THE SEA + + +Into port when the sun was setting + Rode the ship that bore my love, +Over the breakers wildly fretting, + Under the skies that shone above. + +Down to the beach I ran to meet him; + He would come as he had said: + And he came--in a sailor's coffin, + Dead!... + +O the ships of the sea! the women + They from all hope but Heaven part! +The tide has nothing now to tell me, + The breakers only break my heart! + + + + +KINCHINJUNGA + +(_Which is the next highest of mountains_) + + +I + +O white Priest of Eternity, around +Whose lofty summit veiling clouds arise +Of the earth's immemorial sacrifice +To Brahma in whose breath all lives and dies; +O Hierarch enrobed in timeless snows, +First-born of Asia whose maternal throes +Seem changed now to a million human woes, +Holy thou art and still! Be so, nor sound +One sigh of all the mystery in thee found. + + +II + +For in this world too much is overclear, +Immortal Ministrant to many lands, +From whose ice-altars flow to fainting sands +Rivers that each libation poured expands. +Too much is known, O Ganges-giving sire; +Thy people fathom life and find it dire, +Thy people fathom death, and, in it, fire +To live again, tho in Illusion's sphere, +Behold concealed as Grief is in a tear. + + +III + +Wherefore continue, still enshrined, thy rites, +Tho dark Thibet, that dread ascetic, falls +In strange austerity, whose trance appals, +Before thee, and a suppliant on thee calls. +Continue still thy silence high and sure, +That something beyond fleeting may endure-- +Something that shall forevermore allure +Imagination on to mystic flights +Wherein alone no wing of Evil lights. + + +IV + +Yea, wrap thy awful gulfs and acolytes +Of lifted granite round with reachless snows. +Stand for Eternity while pilgrim rows +Of all the nations envy thy repose. +Ensheath thy swart sublimities, unscaled. +Be that alone on earth which has not failed. +Be that which never yet has yearned or ailed, +But since primeval Power upreared thy heights +Has stood above all deaths and all delights. + + +V + +And tho thy loftier Brother shall be King, +High-priest be thou to Brahma unrevealed, +While thy white sanctity forever sealed +In icy silence leaves desire congealed. +In ghostly ministrations to the sun, +And to the mendicant stars and the moon-nun, +Be holy still, till East to West has run, +And till no sacrificial suffering +On any shrine is left to tell life's sting. + + + + +THE BARREN WOMAN + +(_Benares_) + + +At the burning-ghat, O Kali, + Mother divine and dread, +See, I am waiting with open lips + Over the newly dead. +I am childless and barren; pity + And let me catch the soul +Of him who here on the kindled bier + Pays to Existence toll. + +See, by his guileless body + I cook the bread and eat. +Give me the soul he does not need + Now, for conception sweet. +Hear, or my lord and husband + Shall send me from his door +And take to his side a fairer bride + Whose breast shall be less poor. + +Oft I have sought thy temples, + By Ganges now I seek, +Where ashes of all the dead are strewn, + And is my prayer not meek? +The ghats and the shrines and the people + That bathe in the holy Stream +Have heard my cry, O goddess high, + Shall I not have my dream? + +The women of Oudh and Jaipur + Look on my face with scorn. +Children about their garments cling, + To me shall none be born? +The death-fires quiver faster, + O hasten, goddess, a sign, +That from this doom into my womb + Thy pledge has passed, divine. + +Woe! there is naught but ashes, + Now, and the weepers go. +Lone on the ghat they leave me, lone, + With but the River's flow. +Kali, I ask not jewels + Nor justice, beauty nor shrift, +But for the lowest woman's right, + A child--tho I die of the gift! + + + + +BY THE TAJ MAHAL + + +Under the Indian stars, +Mumtaz Mahal, I am sitting, +Watching them wind their silent way +Over your wistful Tomb; +Watching the crescent prow +Of the moon among them flitting, +Fair as the shallop that bore your soul +To Paradise's Room. + +Under the Indian stars, +With palm and peepul about me, +With dome and kiosk and minaret +Mounting against the sky, +I seem to see your face +In all the fairness without me; +In all the sadness that fills my heart +To hear your lover's cry. + +Under the Indian stars +I look for your Jasmine Tower, +Along the River whose barren bed +Lies gray beneath the moon. +And thro its magic doors +You seem like a spirit flower, +Wandering back from Allah's bourne +To seek for some lost boon. + +Under the Indian stars +I see you softly moving, +Among your jewel-lit maidens there, +A sweet and ghostly queen, +And the scent of attar flung +In your marble font seems proving +That passion never can die from love, +If truly love has been. + +Under the Indian stars +_He_ comes, "the Shadow of Allah," +Jehan, the lord of Magnificence, +The liege who holds your heart. +The silver doors swing back +And alone with him you hallow +The amorous night--whose moon has made +Such visions in me start. + +Under the Indian stars-- +But the end of all is moaning! +I hear his dying breath that from +Your Tomb shall never die. +For every jasper flower +He set in its dream seems loaning +To Beauty a grief, Mumtaz Mahal, +And unto Fate a sigh. + + + + +LOVE'S CYNIC + + +I + +O you poets, ever pretending + Love is immortal, pipe the truth! +Empty your books of lies, the ending + Of no passion can be--Youth. +"Heaven," you breathe, "will join the broken?" + Come, was the Infinite e'er wed, +That He must evermore be thinking + Of your wedding bed? + + +II + +Pipe the truth! tho it clip the glamour + Out of your rhymes and rip your dream. +Do you believe words can enamour + Death and dry up Lethe's stream? +Death? it is but a Sponge that passes, + One the Appeaseless e'er will squeeze +Back into Lethe's flood--whose lasting + Is eternities. + + +III + +"False!" cry you, "and an unbeseeming + Blasphemy!"--Well, look around. +Is it not only in blaspheming + Truth is ever to be found? +Whether it be, one thing I ask you, + Lovers and poets, tell, I pray, +Was there ever a love-oath ended + Ere the Judgment Day? + + +IV + +"O," you answer, "ill is in all things." + But in an ancient lie what's good? +Is it not better just to call things + What they are--not what we would? +When you are clinging to your mistress, + Love has the face of Eternity. +Cling to her then, but know that Wanting + Fools the best that be. + + +V + +"Yet her brows and her eyes that murmur + All the music," you say, "of God!" +Press her lips but a little firmer-- + You will feel that they are--sod. +"But there is living soul beyond them, + And it is love's till all things end?" +Children alone build Paradises + With but pence to spend. + + +VI + +"Ai-ho now! that is like the cynic," + Pitying runs your poet-smile, +"He has sat at the Devil's clinic + With some dead love up the while." +Dead or alive are one with passions, + Under the potent knife of Truth +They will be seen composed of craving-- + And a little ruth. + + +VII + +"Then the world on a lie is living?" + Many a lie has filled its maw! +"Better illusion tho than giving + Faith to a fatal loveless Law?" +There is a certain Socratean + Saying that swine of their ditch are sure; +Yet do they prove by their contentment + That it will endure? + + +VIII + +Clasp her close! But the truth is in you, + Tho you have rhymed and rammed it down, +Hid it with honey-words that win you + Wreaths that you know bedeck the clown. +Kings they will call you and uplifters + Of your kind? Lord save the mark, +That we are still for fire dependent + On so false a spark. + + +IX + +And so fond! for you hold immortal + What has been born a day or two! +"But it was destined?" Ay, your portal + Only has God to heed--and you! +He with his thrice three million thirsting + Worlds in the throes of death and life +Surely has time to spare for choosing + Your behooven wife! + + +X + +By my faith, there is not a creature + Mad as a poet, pants the breeze! +Give him a mistress and he'll preach her + As creation's Masterpiece. +Let him but lean for half an hour + Over her lips and he will swear +That he would dive thro death unfathomed + To regain her there. + + +XI + +And believe that his oath is able! + That there is not in all the sea +Water enough to quench the fable + Of his soul's intensity. +Yet there was never a rose that blossomed + And endured beyond its day. +There was never a fire enkindled + But the great Cold had its way. + + +XII + +"Pessimist," is your mortal answer, + "Wait till the love-wind pierces you!" +Wait? I have been the veriest dancer + To it, and, dupe still, would do +Truth to the death--shall I confess it?-- + For but a moment on one breast. +Wherefore I add--and Adam bless it!-- + Who loves once is like the rest. + + + + +IN A TROPICAL GARDEN + +(_Peradeniya, Ceylon_) + + +I + +The sun moves here as a master-mage of nature all day long, + With fingers of heat and light that touch to a mystical growth all things. +The spell of him puts pale Time to sleep, as an opiate strange and strong, + And a waft of his wand, the wind, enchantment brings. + + +II + +The python roots of the rubber-tree where the cobra slips in peace + Are wonders that he has waved from the earth as a presage of his power. +And the giant stems of the bamboo-grass, the pool astounded, sees, + Are a marvel to keep it still hour after hour. + + +III + +The long lianas that reach in dreamy rout from tree to tree + Are dazed with the sense of sap that he calls to the tangle of their sprays. +The scarlet-hearted hibiscus stands entranced and the torrid bee + Is husht upon its rim, as in amaze + +IV + +And there the palms, the talipot with its lofty blossom-spire, + The cocoanut and the slim areca listening await +What sorceries of his trembling rays of equatorial fire + Will next be laid upon some lesser mate. + + +V + +The river, too, that he winds as a magic circle round the wealth + He has here engendered, has the glide of a serpent lost in trance; +And scents of clove and cinnamon that sip cool from it, in stealth + Pour it upon the air like necromance. + + +VI + +And down where the rain-tree and the rife breadfruit together lean + Over its flow, and the flying-foxes hanging head to earth +Suddenly drop then flap aloft on large bat-wing, is seen + More of his mazing wizardry in birth. + + +VII + +All day long it is so that his hot hypnotic eye commands + With steady ray; and the earth obedient brings enchantment forth. +All night long in the humid dark the high-voiced hyla-bands + Chant of it in chill strain from South to North. + + +VIII + +A wondrous mage, in a land whose dreams are made reality + As swift as clouds are made when the young Monsoon is in the South. +A land that is born of the sea and by it destined e'er to be + Beyond all fear of famishing and drouth. + + + + +THE WIND'S WORD + + + A star that I love, + The sea, and I, +Spake together across the night. + "Have peace," said the star, + "Have power," said the sea, +"Yea!" I answered, "and Fame's delight!" + + The wind on his way + To Araby +Paused and listened and sighed and said, + "I passed on the sands + A Pharaoh's tomb: +All these did he have--and he is dead." + + + + +THE SHRINE OF SHRINES + + +There is in Egypt by the ancient Nile +A temple of imperishable stone, +Stupendous, columned, hieroglyphed, and known +To all the world as Faith's supremest shrine. +Half in debris it stands, a granite pile +Gigantic, stayed midway in resurrection, +An awe, an inspiration, a dejection +To all who would the cryptic past divine. +The god of it was Ammon, and a throng +Of worshippers from Thebes the royal-gated +Forever at its fervid pylons waited +While priests poured ever a prophetic song. +And yet this Ammon, who gave Egypt laws, +Is not--and is forgot--and never was! + + + + +FROM A FELUCCA + + +A white tomb in the desert, +An Arab at his prayers +Beside the Nile's dark water, +Where the lone camel fares. +An ibis on the sunset, +A slow shadouf at rest, +And in the caravansary +Low music for the guest. + +Above the tawny city +A gleam of minarets, +Resounding the muezzin's +Clear call as the sun sets. +A mystery, a silence, +A breathing of strange balm, +A peace from Allah on the wind +And on the sky his calm. + + + + +THE EGYPTIAN WAKES + + +I woke at night in my eternal tomb +The desert sands had hid a thousand years, +And heard the Nile-crier across the gloom +Calling, "The flood has come! beseech the gods!" +I rose in haste, as one who blindly hears, +And sought the barterers of grain and wine +Culled for the praise and service of divine +Great Isis, by the slave who for her plods. +But as I passed along, woe! what was this, +Strange faces and strange fashions and strange fanes +Standing upon the midnight; Oh, the pains +That swept across my startled thought's abyss! +I moaned. My body crumbled into dust. +And then my soul fled Here--where all souls must. + + + + +THE IMAM'S PARABLE + + +Behold, the wind of the Desert rose, + Khamsin, in a shroud of sand, +And swept the Libyan waste, across + To far Somali-land. +His voice was thick with the drouth of death +And smote the earth as a burning breath, +Or as a curse which Allah saith + Unto a demon-band. + +The caravan from the oasis + Of palm-engirt Kûrkûr +Shuddered and couched in shaken heaps, + The horror to endure. +Its mighty Sheik, like a soul in Hell +Who longs for the lute of Israfel, +Longed for the trickle of Keneh's well, + Imperishably pure! + +Three days he longed, and the wind three days + About him whirled the shroud. +Then did a shrill dawn bring the sun-- + And a gaunt vulture-crowd. +A few bleak bones on the Desert still + Lie for the Judgment Day to thrill +Again into life--if Allah will: + _Let not your heart be proud._ + + + + +SONGS OF A SEA-FARER + + +I + +Many are on the sea to-day + With all sails set. +The tide rolls in a restive gray, + The wind blows wet. +The gull is weary of his wings, +And I am weary of all things. + +Heavy upon me longing lies, + My sad eyes gaze +Across the leagues that sink and rise + And sink always. +My life has sunk and risen so, +I'd have it cease awhile to flow. + + +II + +All the winds of the sea weary, + All the waves of the sea rest, +All the wants of my heart settle + Softly now in my breast. +All the stars that in heaven anchor, + Golden buoys of Elysian light, +Send me across the gulf promise + That I am faring right. + +So while clouds that are left lonely + At the gates of the far West +Wait, so still, for the moon's stiller + Stealing from her nest, +I am held by a low vesper + Haunting afar the vague twilight, +Then with my soul at peace whisper + Hallowedly good-night. + + + + +A SONG OF THE SECTS + +(_In a Jerusalem tavern_) + + +A Latin and Greek, praise God, are we, Armenian and Copt, +And we're all drunk as drunk can be, for we've together sopped. +Not one of us but spits at the creed the others mouth and purr, +But we all believe, we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + +_The Armenian sings_ + +The Copt comes out of Egypt-land and with a braggart face +He'll tell you that his fathers piled the Pyramids in place. +In his Monophysite Christ we set no faith, the blasphemer! +But we all believe, we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + +_The Latin sings_ + +The Greek will curse you if you call his Ikons images, +And damns your soul to Hell--no purgatory, if you please! +About Procession of the Ghost he's prickly as a burr, +But he believes, as we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + +_The Copt sings_ + +Of heretics God leaves unburnt, Armenians are worst, +They will not celebrate the Day, that was for Christ the first. +No wine with water mixed for them, as well mix heathen myrrh-- +Or not believe, as we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + +_The Greek sings_ + +The Latin swears his Roman Pope is judge infallible. +Wherefore you may be very sure the Devil from his skull +Will drink a toast unto all liars, who such a lie aver-- +Tho they believe, as we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + +_The Four again_ + +A Latin and Greek, praise God, are we, Armenian and Copt, +And we're all drunk as drunk can be, for we've together sopped. +Not one of us but hankers to hang all Jews on a Juniper, +For we all believe, we all believe, in the Holy Sepulchre! + + + + +THE CITY + + +Soft and fair by the Desert's edge, + And on the dim blue edge of the sea, +Where white gulls wing all day and fledge +Their young on the high cliff's sandy ledge, +There is a city I have beheld, +Sometime or where, by day or dream, +I know not which, for it seems enspelled + As I am by its memory. + +Pale minarets of the Prophet pierce + Above it into the white of the skies, +And sails enchanted a thousand years +Flit at its feet while fancy steers. +No face of all its faces to me +Is known--no passion of it or pain. +It is but a city by the sea, + Enshrined forever beyond my eyes! + + + + +VIA AMOROSA + +(_To A. H. R._) + + +When we two walk, my love, on the path + The moon makes over the sea, +To the end of the world where sorrow hath + An end that is ecstasy, +Should we not think of the other road + Of wearying dust and stone +Our feet would fare did each but care + To follow the way alone? + +When we two slip at night to the skies + And find one star that we keep +As a trysting-place to which our eyes + May lead our souls ere sleep, +Should we not pause for a little space + And think how many must sigh +Because they gaze over starry ways + With no heart-comrade by? + +When we two then lie down to our dreams + That deepen still the delight +Of our wandering where stars and streams + Stray in immortal light, +Should we not grieve with the myriads + From East of earth to West +Who lay them down at night but to drown + The longing for some loved breast? + +Ah, yes, for life has a thousand gifts, + But love it is gives life. +Who walks thro his world alone e'er lifts + A soul that is sorrow-rife. +But they to whom it is given to tread + The moon-path and not sink +Can ever say the unhappiest way + Earth has is fair to the brink. + + + + +DUSK AT HIROSHIMA + + +Softly the bamboo bends +As the sun sinks down unglowing, +Softer the willow ends +A sigh to the dusk around. +Quickly the brief bat wends +His flittering way, thro flowing +Fields of the autumn air, +That are husht of the city's sound. + +Temple and thatch and stream +Are forgetting the light that lingers, +Mountain and mist in dream +Already are lost, afar. +Faintingly comes the beam +Of the moon--then viewless fingers +Tinkle a samisen, +And astir on the East is a star. + + + + +THE WANDERER + + + When moonlight on the face + Of the great Buddha falls + As he sits in Nirvana + On the shores of Kamakura, + When the pines about him place + Soft shadows at his feet +Like offerings of penitence and tears, + I hear in the grace + Of the wind's low susurra + A voice that calls me still + To my home within the West, + But I've lingered overlong + In the East's strange arcana +And no more is there desire within my breast. + + I left it when a boy, + That far home and, alas, + 'Twas so fair that my dreaming + Earth had fairer was a madness. + I left it for the joy + Of wandering the world, +And heathen-hearted lands have I beheld! + But when at last cloy + Of delight brought sadness + Like lotus to my veins, + And forgetfulness seemed fate, + I had fared unto this shrine + And the moon as now was beaming, +And here have I awaited--and await. + + But not for any gift + Of its god, or any grace + That in living or in dying + Men in text or sutra sigh for. + And not for any shrift + Nirvana has, or skies +Where Paradise imperishably smiles. + But only for the sift + Of the wind, that seems to die for + My soul's enduring peace + In the dwelling of the Tomb. + And only for the drift + Of the moon that comes denying +Eternity to everything but Doom. + + + + +IN A SHINTO TEMPLE GARDEN + + +Under the torii, robed in green, + The old priest creeps to the shrine. +Over the bridge the still stork stands, + The crow caws not in the pine. + +Far in the distance bugles blow, + War's bloody memory wakes. +The priest prays on--for his sons that are dead, + And the heart within him breaks. + + + + +FAR FUJIYAMA + + +Against the phantom gold of failing skies +I see the ghost of Fujiyama rise +And think of the innumerable eyes + That have beheld its vision sunset-crowned. +The peasant in his field of rice or tea, +The prince in gardens dreaming by the sea, +The priest to whom the sêmi in the tree + Was but some shrilling soul's incarnate sound. + +And as I think upon them, lo, the trance +Of backward time and distant circumstance, +Of Karma's all-remembering necromance, + Lies suddenly before my boundless sight. +It is as if, a moment, Buddhahood +Were given to me; as if understood +At last were vague Nirvana's vaguer good; + As if time were dissolved in living light. + + + + +ON MIYAJIMA MOUNTAIN + +(_To A. H. R._) + + +Out on the sea the sampans ride + And the mountains brim with mist and sun. +O we are in Japan again + And the spell is about us spun! +The spell of the old enchanting East, +Of Buddha and many a blissful priest, +The spell that has never, never ceased + To haunt us! + +Glad we behold the temple-tops + And the lanterns in religious row +Standing, like acolytes of stone, + Where the pine and camphor grow. +And o'er them the old pagoda prays +Blessing upon their dreaming days, +And upon the eightfold sacred ways + From Sorrow! + +Ah, and the torii too is there + Where the tranced sea enters to his shrine +Daily, with tidal mystery + And majesty divine. +He enters now, as the nuptial sea +Of love first entered our hearts, to be +Lord of their tides eternally, + And Master! + + + + +OLD AGE + + +I have heard the wild geese, + I have seen the leaves fall, +There was frost last night + On the garden wall. +It is gone to-day + And I hear the wind call. + The wind?... that is all. + +If the swallow will light + When evening is near; +If the crane will not scream + Like a soul in fear; +I will think no more + Of the dying year, + And the wind, its seer. + + + + +ON THE YANG-TSE-KIANG + + + Down the Yang-tse bat-wing junk + And tatterdemalion sampan glide, +Sails of brown and black and yellow swinging. + Down the Yang-tse bat-wing junks + Fish-eyed and gaudy take the tide, + Forth to the sea in sloth they ride, + The coolies singing. + + Off in the field the peasant toils + And along the canal the low tows slip, +Fruit of the red persimmon piled upon them. + Off in the field the peasant toils-- + With lip and brow the dull years strip + Bare of the dreams of life, whose grip + Has grimly drawn them. + + High on the hill the yamên rests + And the temple beside it sleeps in sun, +Far in the distance faints the city dreary. + High on the hill the yamên rests, + And dun dead shadows o'er it run: + This is the land where Time begun + And now grows weary. + + + + +THE SEA-ARMIES + + + The wild sea-armies led by the wind + Are following in our wake, +White-crested shouting millions moving on. + They have broken their camp of Calm and o'er + The world rebellion make, +With banner of cloud and mist above them drawn. + + They have heard the call of infinite Death, + The ordering of his word, +"Arise, go forth and conquer where ye can; + For that is the only law ye know, + Its mandate men have heard, +Let them beware when they your path would span. + + "Let them beware, for I am lord + Of all that on earth has name, +And unto you is given most my might. + Ride on, ye have many a ship to rend, + And many a mast to maim, +And many a land to lash and soul to fright." + + So on they ride, a ravaging horde, + From shore to shuddering shore, +Beyond us in the bleak star-buried dawn; + Nor know that when they have camped again + And sleep, Life will restore +Unto her world the hope they have withdrawn. + + + + +THE CHRISTIAN IN EXILE + +(_Mandalay_) + + +The palms along the old fort wall are paling, + The mountains in the evening light are red, +The moon has dropped into the moat from heaven, + A spell barbaric over all is spread. +But what is that to him, a stranger lonely, + In a land strange to all his faith and dim? +He cares not for old splendours, he would only + Hear on the air a simple Sabbath hymn. + +The paddy-birds their snowy flight are taking + From the tall tamarind unto their nest, +The bullock-carts along the road are creaking, + The bugles o'er the wall are sounding rest. +On a calm jetty looking off to Mecca + Sons of Mahomet watch the low day's rim. +He too is waiting for it--with an echo + Upon his lips of a believer's hymn. + +The red gate-towers rise against the twilight, + The palace of the heathen king is hid, +The white bridge bent across the moat beside it + Seems now of all unholinesses rid. +He wishes it were so with all this city + Whose Buddha-built pagodas skyward swim; +But he can only gaze on them and pity-- + And sing within his heart a Christian hymn. + + + + +THE PARSEE WOMAN + +(_At Bombay_) + + +Cast me out from among you, + I will not see my child +Laid aloft where the vultures + May clamour for him, wild! +The earth you say is holy, + Not to be soiled by death, +And a Parsee still should hold divine + What Zoroaster saith. + +Ay, and so I will hold it, + But see his pale sweet face, +As pure as the palest flower + Left dead in Spring's embrace. +The sun we worship daily + Shrined it for seven years, +Then shall it go to cruel beaks, + There where the sea-wind veers? + +No, no, no! tho you send me + A beggar from your door, +You, my lord, whom I honour, + And you, his sisters four, +To whom there have come no children + To make your bosoms feel +How even a thought so full of throe + Can make my sick brain reel. + +Ah, you are deaf? you scorn me + And loathe, as a thing defiled? +My lord, I am but a woman + Who longs to see her child +Laid in a tomb, entreasured + Under the shrouding sod. +O would I had never given birth, + Or that earth had no God! + + + + +SHAH JEHAN TO MUMTAZ MAHAL + + + I see as in a pale mirage + The palm that o'er you sways, +The waters of the Jumna wan are beating. + One pearl-cloud, like a far-off Taj, + A dome of grief betrays-- +Its beauty as was yours will be too fleeting! + + The world is wider than I knew + Now that your face is gone! +While you were here no destiny seemed boundless. + So I am lost and find no clue + To any dusk or dawn! +Life has become a quest decayed and groundless. + + Come back! come back or let me find + The jungle leads at last +Unto your lips and bosom recreated! + O somewhere I again must wind + My arms about you, cast +Into one word my love all unabated! + + + + +PRINCESS JEHANARA + + +Where the road leads from Delhi to the South, +And dingy camel-trains creep in the dust +Past ruin-heaps of old Firozabad +And Indropat unpitied of the drouth; +By a lone tree, above a Pool whose sad +Prayer-water all the turban-people trust, +Is a heat-hidden tomb, and on it just +A few faint blades of bent and grieving grass. +"Jehanara's it is," with ready mouth +A Moslem tells the stranger, "once she said, +'The covering of the poor is only grass, +Let it be mine alone when I am dead.'" +And who has stood there, where about her Rest +Rise high Imperial tombs, knows hers is best. + + + + +A SINGHALESE LOVE LAMENT + + + As the cocoanut-palm + That pines, my love, + Away from the sound + Of the planter's voice, + Am I, for I hear + No more resound +Your song by the pearl-strewn sea! + The sun may come + And the moon wax round, + And in its beam + My mates may rejoice, + But I feast not + And my heart is dumb, +As I long, O long, for thee! + + In the jungle-deeps, + Where the cobra creeps, + The leopard lies + In wait for me. + But O, my love, + When the daylight dies +There is more to my dread than he! + Harsh lonely tears + That assail my eyes + Are worse to bear, + For the misery + That makes them well + Is the long, long years +That I moan away from thee! + + O again, again, + In my katamaran + A-keel would I push + To your palmy door! + Again would I hear + The heave and hush +Of your song by the plantain-tree. + But far away + Do I toil and crush + The hopes that arise + At my sick heart's core. + For never near + Does it come, the day +That draws me again to thee! + + + + +ON THE ARABIAN GULF + + +From a far minaret of faithful cloud +A wraith-muezzin of the sunset cried +Over the sea that swung with sultan pride, +"Allah is Beauty, there is none beside! +Allah is Beauty, not to be denied +By Death or any Infidel dark-browed!" + +And every wave that worshipped, every one +Under the mosque of heaven arching high, +Lifted a white crest with assenting sigh +And answered, "Let all gods but Allah die, +Yea, let all gods! until the world shall cry, +Beauty alone is left under the sun!" + + + + +THE RAMESSID + + +Upon an image of immortal stone, +Seated and vast, the moon of Luxor falls, +Lending to it a stillness that appals, +A mystery Osirian and strange. +The hands outplaced upon the knees in lone +And placid majesty reveal the power +Of Egypt in her most triumphal hour, +The calm of tyranny that cannot change. +It is of that Great king, who heard the cries +Of millions toil to lift him to the skies, +Who saw them perish at their task like flies, +Yet let no eye of pity o'er them range. +What rue, then, if his desecrated face +Rots now at Cairo in a mummy case? + + + + +IMMORTAL FOES + + +At Bedrashein between the pyramids +I saw the wingèd sun fold up his pinions +And sink into the nether world's dominions +Where Set sent ill on the Egyptian dead. +I saw the ancient Desert, that outbids +The Nile for the date-lands between them spread, +Fling over Memphis that is vanishèd, +Another shroud of sand, then bid his minions, +The winds, lie down upon their boundless bed. + +I saw where temples vowed to Serapis +And granite splendours men name Pharaonic +Are kept by Time in silence and sardonic +Concealment--mummied in deep mystic tombs. +And when the stars came out in quiet bliss, +I heard Eternity with all its dooms, +Past and to come, sound softly the mnemonic +Of Death who waits all worlds that Life enwombs. + + + + +THE CONSCRIPT + + +The camel at the old sakiyeh + Toils around and round. +Aweary is he of the Nile + And of the wailing sound +Of the slow wheel he turns all day +To lift the water on its way +Over the fields of Ahmed Bey, + That with green grain abound. + +Aweary is he, too, of fellàheen + Who compel him on, +With thick-voiced chanting till the day + Over the West has gone. +For the bold Desert was he made, +The Bedouin, his lord, to aid, +Not for this peasant wheel of trade + That ever must be drawn. + +But on he toils while dahabiyeh + And dark felucca glide +Below him on the glassy flow + Of the gray river's tide. +Then when the night has come lies down, +In sleep the servile day to drown-- +Like all whom Life turns with a frown + From their true fate aside. + + + + +NAVIS IGNOTA + + +Lord, what ship goes forth to-day? + I see her setting West. +Shall she have thy winds aright, +Stars to guide her with their light, +Shall she sweep the seas to sight + Of land and harbour-rest? + +Awful is thy ocean-wrath, + And none can chart thy shoals +When storm unassuaging hath +Blotted sun and planet-path. +Shall she, Lord, escape the scath + And live, with all her souls? + +For it is a beauteous thing + That ships should sail the sea. +Splendid is their plunge and swing +Into waves that foam and fling +Maelstroms at their bows to bring + Them down to destiny. + +And she, too, courageous rides + Away into the gloom. +Now her lights are lost in tides +Of the windy spray that glides +Thro the darkness, Lord, abides + Thy Dove with her--or Doom? + +I shall know perhaps some day, + Or, knowing not, recall +How my heart was fain to pray +For a ship that bravely lay +To her task: O Lord, so may + Each vessel of us all! + + + + +THE CROSS OF THE SEPULCHRE + + +Within the Holy Sepulchre, breast-high, +There is a cross uncounted lips have kissed, +Millions the world to dust has long dismissed, +Millions that now hope of it but to die. +Pilgrims, I saw, from out far fervid lands +Of superstition, North and West and South, +Bend to it each a trembling, reverent mouth, +Then kneel where Christ was said to loose Death's bands. +And then I wondered if He who believed +In the One God were wounded sore by this, +Whether He shrinks at each ecstatic kiss, +Or knowing how humanity is grieved, +Knows too that it is better to give Hope +Than Truth, if only one is in man's scope. + + + + +THE NUN + + +A lone palm leans in the moonlight + Over a convent wall. +The sea below is waking and breaking + With quiet heave and fall. +A young nun sits at the window; + For Heaven she is too fair; +Yet even the Dove of God might nest + In her bosom beating there. + +A lone ship sails from the harbour: + Whom does it bear away? +Her lover who sin-hearted has parted + And left her but to pray? +She has no lover, nor ever + Has heard afar love's sigh. +Only the convent's vesper vow + Has ever dimmed her eye. + +For naught knows she of her beauty, + More than the palm of its peace; +And who beyond Christ's portal to mortal + Desires would bend her knees? +The ways of the World have flowers, + And any who will pluck those; +But let there ever be a place + Where none may pluck God's rose. + + + + +ALPINE CHANT + + +I'm tramping thro the mountains, +They are rising white around me, +Snow peaks like patriarchs + That Winter has enthroned. +I'm tramping up the valleys +Where the cataracts sound me +Thunders they have shrilly + From eternity intoned. + +I'm tramping thro the mountains, +With the clouds for my companions, +Soft clouds that float and cling + From crag to cloven crag. +I'm passing by the chalets +That o'erhang the high cañons, +Passing where the shepherds + And the flocks they pipe to lag. + +I'm tramping thro the mountains +Where the pines in proud procession +Climb like a hardy host + To halo-heights of sun. +I'm listening for the sallies +Of the avalanche's Hessian +Hurl of ice and granite + Into gulfs Avernian. + +I'm tramping thro the mountains +And the wind is yodling to me +Yearnings of the glaciers + To flow to summer lands. +I'm treading up the valleys +With no wanting to undo me-- +For to-day I'm goalless + And the great God understands! + + + + +THE MAN OF MIGHT + + +No moment drooped between his thought and action, + No morrow died between his dream and deed. +Within his soul there was no fatal faction + That could betray him in his hour of need. + + + + +IN TIME OF AWE + + +The fierce sea-sunset over the world + Springs like a wounded spirit, +The waves all day have hissed and hurled +Their fangs and the spray has swept and swirled, +And ships in the gray gale's lair have furled + Their sails--well may they fear it! + +The night will be but a monstrous seethe + Of terrors elemental. +The clouds will wrap in a ghastly wreath +Of gloom the winds that in them breathe, +And all that lives in the sea beneath + By fear shall be made gentle; + +And sink down, down to the nether deeps, + Below the foam and fretting. +Down where the sullen water sleeps +Alway and the slow sand coldly creeps +Over the lone wreck, which Death keeps + To guard him 'gainst forgetting. + +And there in the ominous vast calm + They'll harbour, like enchanted +Chill shapes he has strangely conjured from +The silence of his masterdom; +There float till again they feel the qualm + Of hunger thro them panted. + +And then once more far up will they spring, + To drift and sport and plunder, +Shark, eel and whale and devil-thing, +With tooth to rend and tail to sting. +To the sea, O God, does horror cling + And haunting past all wonder. + + + + +SUNRISE IN UTAH + + +The dun sand-cliffs that break the desert's sea +Rose suddenly upon my sight at dawn, +And terrible in an eternity +Of death took silently the sunrise on. +Purple funereal from rifted skies +Swept down across their proud sterility, +Only to die as here all glory dies, +On barrenness I did not dream could be. +O God, for a bird-song! or opening lips +Of but one flower upon the fatal air, +For but the voice of water as it drips, +Or stir of leaves the day-wind makes aware! +O God, for these, for life! or from the face +Of the world wipe so irreparable a place! + + + + +CONSOLATION + + +I + +Come to me, shadows, down the hill, +Lie softly at my feet. +The sun has worked his will +And the day is done. +Come to me softly and distil +Your dews and dreams, that heat +And hours of heartless glare have overrun. + + +II + +Come to me, shadows, down the hill +And bring with you the night, +Fire-flies and the whippoorwill +And ah, the moon-- +Whose soft interpretings can still +The tangled tongues of right +And wrong, and hope and fear, that haunt the noon. + + +III + +Come to me, shadows, down the hill-- +And let there follow Sleep, +Which is God's tidal Will +That overflows +The world--obliterating ill, +And in its soothing sweep +Murmuring more of mercy than man knows. + + + + +WAVES + + +The evening sails come home + With twilight in their wings. +The harbour-light across the gloam + Springs; + The wind sings. + +The waves begin to tell + The sea's night-sorrow o'er, +Weaving within their ancient spell + More + Than earth's lore. + +The rising moon wafts strange + Low lures across the tide, +On which my dim thoughts seem to range, + Stride + Upon stride, +Until, with flooding thrill, + They seem at last to blend +With waves that from the Eternal Will + Wend, + Without end. + + + + +VIS ULTIMA + + +There is no day but leads me to + A peak impossible to scale, + A task at which my hands must fail, + A sea I cannot swim or sail. +There is no night I suffer thro + But Destiny rules stern and pale: +And yet what I am meant to do + I will do, ere Death drop his veil. + +And it shall be no little thing, + Tho to oblivion it fall, + For I shall strive to it thro all + That can imperil or appal. +So at each morning's trumpet-ring + I mount again, less slave and thrall, +And at the barriers gladly fling + A fortitude that scorns to crawl. + + + + +MEREDITH + + +What am I reading? He is dead? +He the great interpreter +And seer--England's noblest head? +What am I reading? It is hushed? +The deepest voice that life had found +To read a century profound +With all time's seethe and stir? + +Why, it is but a scanty score +Of days, since, at his side, +Clasping his hand with more than pride, +I felt that the immortal tide +Of his great mind would long break o'er +The cold command of Death. +Still in my ear is echoing +The surf of his strong words, and still +Against the wild trees on the Hill +His cottage sheltered under, +I see the toss of his gray locks, +Like Lear's--for he had felt the sting +Of all too greatly giving +The kingdom of his mind to those +Who for it held him mad. + +O England, guard thy living +Like him from a like fate! +For not the mighty thunder +Of thy proud name from all the rocks +Of all the world can compensate +A nation whom no Song makes glad, +And whom no Seer makes great. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Many Gods, by Cale Young Rice + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30225 *** |