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1.087_-_The_Most_High

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1.087_-_The_Most_High

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   2 Aleister Crowley
   1 Thomas A Kempis
   1 Saint Leo the Great
   1 Saint Francis di Paola.
   1 Saint Ambrose
   1 Pico de la Mirandola
   1 Ma havagga
   1 Bonaventure

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   17 Anonymous
   11 Brian Godawa
   9 Joel Osteen
   8 Charles Haddon Spurgeon
   5 Beth Moore
   3 Leo Tolstoy
   3 Bob Marley
   2 Trevor Hall
   2 Terry Pratchett
   2 Steven Pressfield
   2 Saint Francis of Assisi
   2 Rakim
   2 Laura Miller
   2 Gena Showalter
   2 Aleister Crowley
   2 Agnes Mary Clerke
   2 Abu Hamid al-Ghazali

1:O sage, very high raise thyself, even to the most high dwelling of Truth. ~ Ma havagga, the Eternal Wisdom

2:The sot drinks, and is drunken: the coward drinks not, and shivers: the wise man, brave and free, drinks, and gives glory to the Most High God. ~ Aleister Crowley,

3:Fear the judgments of God! Dread the wrath of the Almighty! Do not discuss the works of the Most High, but examine your sins -- in what serious things you have offended and how many good things you have neglected. ~ Thomas A Kempis, The Imitation of Christ,

4:Nor does she believe it loss of honour that she is soon to be the Mother of God. For why should she be in despair over the novelty of such conception, to whom the power of the most High has promised to effect it. Her implicit faith is confirmed. ~ Saint Leo the Great,

5:May our blessed Lord Jesus Christ reign! Gaudeamus omnes; let us all rejoice who are in the service of the Most High, because the great visitation and reformation of the world is approaching when there shall be only one fold and one Shepherd." ~ Saint Francis di Paola.,

6:Let everyone say 'Lord, I came from you most high, I come to you most high, and through you most high.' This is...the whole of our metaphysics: emanation, exemplarity, and consummation, i.e., to be illumined by spiritual rays and to be led back to the most high. ~ Bonaventure,

7:Our fathers were under a cloud-a kindly cloud which cooled the heat of carnal passions. That kindly cloud overshadows those whom the Holy Spirit visits. Finally it came upon the Virgin Mary, and the Power of the Most High overshadowed her when she conceived Redemption ~ Saint Ambrose,

8:The man who has plunged deep into a pure knowledge of the profound secrets of the spirit, is neither a terrestrial nor a celestial being. He is the most high spirit robed in the perishable body, the sublime and very Divinity. ~ Pico de la Mirandola, the Eternal Wisdom

9:THE WAND    THE Magical Will is in its essence twofold, for it presupposes a beginning and an end; to will to be a thing is to admit that you are not that thing.    Hence to will anything but the supreme thing, is to wander still further from it - any will but that to give up the self to the Beloved is Black Magick - yet this surrender is so simple an act that to our complex minds it is the most difficult of all acts; and hence training is necessary. Further, the Self surrendered must not be less than the All-Self; one must not come before the altar of the Most High with an impure or an imperfect offering. As it is written in Liber LXV, "To await Thee is the end, not the beginning."    This training may lead through all sorts of complications, varying according to the nature of the student, and hence it may be necessary for him at any moment to will all sorts of things which to others might seem unconnected with the goal. Thus it is not "a priori" obvious why a billiard player should need a file.    Since, then, we may want "anything," let us see to it that our will is strong enough to obtain anything we want without loss of time.    It is therefore necessary to develop the will to its highest point, even though the last task but one is the total surrender of this will. Partial surrender of an imperfect will is of no account in Magick.    The will being a lever, a fulcrum is necessary; this fulcrum is the main aspiration of the student to attain. All wills which are not dependent upon this principal will are so many leakages; they are like fat to the athlete.    The majority of the people in this world are ataxic; they cannot coordinate their mental muscles to make a purposed movement. They have no real will, only a set of wishes, many of which contradict others. The victim wobbles from one to the other (and it is no less wobbling because the movements may occasionally be very violent) and at the end of life the movements cancel each other out. Nothing has been achieved; except the one thing of which the victim is not conscious: the destruction of his own character, the confirming of indecision. Such an one is torn limb from limb by Choronzon.    How then is the will to be trained? All these wishes, whims, caprices, inclinations, tendencies, appetites, must be detected, examined, judged by the standard of whether they help or hinder the main purpose, and treated accordingly.    Vigilance and courage are obviously required. I was about to add self-denial, in deference to conventional speech; but how could I call that self-denial which is merely denial of those things which hamper the self? It is not suicide to kill the germs of malaria in one's blood.    Now there are very great difficulties to be overcome in the training of the mind. Perhaps the greatest is forgetfulness, which is probably the worst form of what the Buddhists call ignorance. Special practices for training the memory may be of some use as a preliminary for persons whose memory is naturally poor. In any case the Magical Record prescribed for Probationers of the A.'.A.'. is useful and necessary.    Above all the practices of Liber III must be done again and again, for these practices develop not only vigilance but those inhibiting centres in the brain which are, according to some psychologists, the mainspring of the mechanism by which civilized man has raised himself above the savage.    So far it has been spoken, as it were, in the negative. Aaron's rod has become a serpent, and swallowed the serpents of the other Magicians; it is now necessary to turn it once more into a rod.    ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA, Book 4, The Wand,

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

1:The checklist is one of the most high powered productivity tool ever discovered. ~ brian-tracy, @wisdomtrove

2:You're not better than anybody else, but you're not less than anybody else. You're a child of the Most High God. ~ joel-osteen, @wisdomtrove

3:The moment we glorify ourselves, since there is room for one glory only in the universe, we set ourselves up as rivals to the Most High. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove

4:The bars could not hold me. Force could not control me. They tried to keep me down, but Jah put I around. Yes, I've been accused. Wrongly abused. But through the powers of the Most High, they've got to turn me loose. ~ bob-marley, @wisdomtrove

5:Well, what we know Is not what they tell us We're not ignorant, I mean it, And they just cannot touch us Through the powers of the Most-High We keep on surfacin' Thru the powers of the Most-High We keep on survivin'. ~ bob-marley, @wisdomtrove

6:The priest is not made. He must be born a priest; must inherit his office. I refer to the new birth-the birth of water and the Spirit. Thus all Christians must became priests, children of God and co-heirs with Christ the Most High Priest. ~ martin-luther, @wisdomtrove

7:Salvation is from our side a choice, from the divine side it is a seizing upon, an apprehending, a conquest by the Most High God. Our &

8:It is my opinion that the Christian conception of God current in these middle years of the twentieth century is so decadent as to be utterly beneath the dignity of the Most High God and actually to constitute for professed believers something amounting to a moral calamity. ~ aiden-wilson-tozer, @wisdomtrove

9:Winning is in your DNA. The most high God breathed His life into you. You've got what it takes. This is your time. This is your moment. Shake off doubts, shake off fear and insecurity, and get ready for favor, get ready for increase, get ready for the fullness of your destiny. You can, you will!! ~ joel-osteen, @wisdomtrove

10:I DECLARE I am special and extraordinary. I am not average! I have been custom-made. I am one of a kind. Of all the things God created, what He is the most proud of is me. I am His masterpiece, his most prized possession. I will keep my head held high, knowing I am a child of the most high God, made in his very image. This is my declaration. ~ joel-osteen, @wisdomtrove

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:Give thanks to the most high. ~ DJ Khaled,

2:I don't need DRUGS, I got the Most HIGH. ~ LeCrae,

3:You are a child of the Most High God. ~ Joel Osteen,

4:Clouds signify the veil of the Most High. ~ Honore de Balzac,

5:I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. ~ Jesus,

6:Sir 7:16 Hate not laborious works, nor husbandry ordained by the most High. ~ Various,

7:O sage, very high raise thyself, even to the most high dwelling of Truth. ~ Ma havagga,

8:Sometimes I think the Most High believes I can shoulder the weight of 1000 stars. ~ Brandi L Bates,

9:When surrounded by miracles, it is not proper to doubt the will of the Most High God. ~ Davis Bunn,

10:*I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. ~ Jesus quoted in Psalms 82:6,

11:Above all, we know that the Most High God is with us, and what enemy can conquer Him? ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

12:The suppliant, whose fears prevent his words, will be well understood by the Most High. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

13:PSALM 91 He who dwells in  a the shelter of the Most High         will abide in  b the shadow of the Almighty. ~ Anonymous,

14:Lend, expecting nothing in return. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. Luke 6:35 ~ Beth Moore,

15:I said, “You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, like men  you shall die, and fall like any prince. ~ Anonymous,

16:...In this world I cannot see the Most High Son of God with my own eyes, except for His Most Holy Body and Blood. ~ Saint Francis of Assisi,

17:The primary job for women in Hollywood is still super-attractive actress. That is the most high-profile women's job in Hollywood. ~ Diablo Cody,

18:Who has spoken and it came to pass, unless the Lord has commanded it? Is it not from the mouth of the Most High that good and bad come? ~ Jeremiah,

19:I don't have any religion. I'm Hebrew by nationality. My religion is just God. I have no religion, I just believe in the Most High. ~ Killah Priest,

20:We met a people who loved it when it was said to them “Fear Allah the most high!“. Today you find people become annoyed at this. ~ Sufyan al Thawri,

21:No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

22:The moment we glorify ourselves, since there is room for one glory only in the universe, we set ourselves up as rivals to the Most High. ~ Charles Spurgeon,

23:We common folk may not be able to match Trump’s piggy bank, but even the most high-minded and charitable among us can match his piggishness. ~ P J O Rourke,

24:Mary thus learns that the Most High has ever borne a Son in his bosom, and that this Son has now chosen her bosom as dwelling-place. ~ Hans Urs von Balthasar,

25:The moment we glorify ourselves, since there is room for one glory only in the universe, we set ourselves up as rivals to the Most High. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

26:The sot drinks, and is drunken: the coward drinks not, and shivers: the wise man, brave and free, drinks, and gives glory to the Most High God. ~ Aleister Crowley,

27:The sot drinks, and is drunken: the coward drinks not, and shivers: the wise man, brave and free, drinks, and gives glory to the Most High God. ~ Aleister Crowley,

28:37Reflect on the law of the Most High, and let his commandments be your constant study. Then he will enlighten your mind, and make you wise as you desire.e ~ Anonymous,

29:I say, ‘you are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, you 1shall die like men, and fall as one man, O ye princes.” (Psalm 82:6, 7 RSV ) ~ Neville Goddard,

30:Prayer is the longing of the soul to hold communion with the Most High, the desire of the heart to obtain blessings at His hands.”–1895, Sermon 2433 ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

31:No matter how I may encounter rejection in the world around me, I am welcomed to abide in the Creator of heaven and earth and the perfect Son of the Most High God. ~ Beth Moore,

32:Prayer is the noble supplication which we lift up to the throne of the Most High. It is the most efficient means to obtain from God the graces which we need. ~ Pier Giorgio Frassati,

33:PSA50.14 Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the most High:  PSA50.15 And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. ~ Anonymous,

34:Mad with the love of a wife for her husband... sing for the Most High sing for no other. We are all notes in this eternal song. God plays His flute and we all dance along. ~ Trevor Hall,

35:Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. —Luke 6:32–36 ~ Francis Chan,

36:For I know that we laughers have a gross cousinship with the most high, and it is this contrast and perpetual quarrel which feeds a spring of merriment in the soul of a sane man. ~ Hilaire Belloc,

37:Personally, I don't choose any particular religion or symbol or group of words or teachings to define me. That's between me and the most high. You know, my higher self. The Creator. ~ Erykah Badu,

38:Lets us not just read the Bible; let us learn it; let us experience it; let us live it distinctively, in truth and in spirit, as a pleasant sacrifice unto the Most High God ~ Ernest Agyemang Yeboah,

39:slove your enemies, tdo good, and ulend, 8hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and vyou will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil. ~ Anonymous,

40:He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High         will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.     2 I will say [1] to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress,         my God, in whom I trust. ~ Anonymous,

41:In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. Hamlet. ~ William Shakespeare,

42:What I do in the writing of any character is to try to enter into the mind, heart and skin of a human being who is not myself. It is the act of a writer's imagination that I set the most high. ~ Eudora Welty,

43:How much fiber should I be getting? A huge amount. The Institute of Medicine says thirty grams a day. Which is a challenge. An apple—one of the most high-fiber foods—has only three grams of fiber. ~ A J Jacobs,

44:We get so involved with the latest craze or having the latest car or the most high-powered house that we lose touch with that which makes us happy - what makes us happy are quiet states of mind. ~ Frederick Lenz,

45:3. He is the First (nothing is before Him) and the Last (nothing is after Him), the Most High (nothing is above Him) and the Most Near (nothing is nearer than Him). And He is the All-Knower of every thing. ~ Anonymous,

46:Knowledge will appear in turn the merest ignorance to those who come after us. Yet it is not to be despised, since by it we reach up groping fingers to touch the hem of the garment of the Most High. ~ Agnes Mary Clerke,

47:Our condition is most noble, being so beloved of the Most High God that He was willing to die for our sake- which He would not have done if man had not been a most noble creature and of great worth. ~ Angela of Foligno,

48:The bars could not hold me. Force could not control me. They tried to keep me down, but Jah put I around. Yes, I've been accused. Wrongly abused. But through the powers of the Most High, they've got to turn me loose. ~ Bob Marley,

49:Well, what we know Is not what they tell us We're not ignorant, I mean it, And they just cannot touch us Through the powers of the Most-High We keep on surfacin' Thru the powers of the Most-High We keep on survivin'. ~ Bob Marley,

50:All the world’s follies,” he replied, “turn up in publishing houses sooner or later. But the world’s follies may also contain flashes of the wisdom of the Most High, so the wise man observes folly with humility.” Then ~ Umberto Eco,

51:Catholic ritual of Sancta Missa: “ ‘Come in haste to assist them, you saints of God. Come in haste to meet them, you angels of the Lord. Enfold in your arms these souls, and take your burden heavenward to the most high. ~ Mitch Albom,

52:It is gracious ambition to covet to be like the Most Holy, for he has said, Be ye holy, for I am holy; but it is sinful ambition to aim to be like the Most High, for he has said, He who exalts himself shall be abased. ~ Matthew Henry,

53:It shall never be said that God dishonours His bills. The credit of the Most High never was impeached, and never shall be. He is punctual to the moment: He never is before His time, but He never is behind it. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

54:There's things in the Bible when you read the Quran there different wordings. The Quran is dealing with the Most High and the Bible is dealing with God. If they read them both and put it together they'll know what the true culture is. ~ Rakim,

55:The man who has plunged deep into a pure knowledge of the profound secrets of the spirit, is neither a terrestrial nor a celestial being. He is the most high spirit robed in the perishable body, the sublime and very Divinity. ~ Pico de la Mirandola,

56:You are ‘gods’; you are all sons of the Most High” (Ps. 82:6). God has made us in His likeness and given each of us free will as a reflection of His own nature. He has created us to be His offspring. Therefore, He calls us “little gods. ~ Myles Munroe,

57:My moms is strictly Christian but once I got knowledge of self and started reading she used to love when I would sit there and tell her some of the things that I learned. It gave her an open mind to where she started believing in the most high. ~ Rakim,

58:Not Eve: Under any condition, in any situation, a mature woman does not need to be checked by her man. She is not childish, but fully capable of [a] self check if she respects the wisdom given to her by The Most High; her name ain't Eve. ~ T F Hodge,

59:Well, what we know Is not what they tell us We're not ignorant, I mean it, And they just cannot touch us Through the powers of the Most-High We keep on surfacin' Thru the powers of the Most-High We keep on survivin'. ~ Bob Marley,

60:Yet when his classmates put their blades to a colored cadaver, they did more for the cause of colored advancement than the most high-minded abolitionist. In death the negro became a human being. Only then was he the white man’s equal. ~ Colson Whitehead,

61:You can build the Empire State Building. Train the Prussian army. Elevate the hierarchy of a totalitarian state higher than the throne of the Most High. But there are still people whose moral superiority defeats your own. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,

62:The priest is not made. He must be born a priest; must inherit his office. I refer to the new birth-the birth of water and the Spirit. Thus all Christians must became priests, children of God and co-heirs with Christ the Most High Priest. ~ Martin Luther,

63:My Refuge and My Fortress     PSALM 91 He who dwells in  a the shelter of the Most High         will abide in  b the shadow of the Almighty. 2    I will say [1] to the LORD, “My  c refuge and my  d fortress,         my God, in whom I  e trust. ~ Anonymous,

64:No actual productive work is done in the Courts of the Most High, but the staff of the Courts have the proud distinction of having prevented more work from being done on more planes than any other entity outside the United States Congress. ~ Robert Kroese,

65:13 And you said in your heart, I will ascend to heaven; I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will sit upon the mount of assembly in the uttermost north. 14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High. ~ Anonymous,

66:There is  i a river whose streams make glad  j the city of God,         the holy  k habitation of the Most High. 5     l God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;         God will help her when morning dawns. 6     m The nations rage, the kingdoms ~ Anonymous,

67:Whoever has had the experience of the moral sentiment cannot choose but believe in unlimited power. Each pulse from that heart isan oath from the Most High. I know not what the word sublime means, if it be not the intimations, in this infant, of a terrific force. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,

68:How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! . . . For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God. . . . I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High. Isaiah 14:12–14 ~ Howard Bloom,

69:The disciples worshipped the most high Lord Who had come down from heaven, made the earth into heaven and gone up again whence He came, having united things below with things above and formed one Church, at the same time heavenly and earthly, to the glory of His love for mankind. ~ Gregory Palamas,

70:We are sons and daughters of the Most High and maturing in tenderness to the extent that we are for others--all others--to the extent that no human flesh is strange to us, to the extent that we can touch the hand of another in love, to the extent that for us there are no "others. ~ Brennan Manning,

71:The odds may be against you, but the Most High God is for you. His favor on your life will cause you to go where you could not go on your own. If you’re going to be a barrier breaker, you have to get rid of excuses. If you’re going to be a barrier breaker, you have to get rid of excuses. ~ Joel Osteen,

72:To know the mighty works of God, to comprehend His wisdom and majesty and power; to appreciate, in degree, the wonderful workings of His laws, surely all this must be a pleasing and acceptable mode of worship to the Most High, to whom ignorance cannot be more grateful than knowledge. ~ Nicolaus Copernicus,

73:The reports of racial episodes are disturbing. But the players' protest is exhilarating because it is the most high-profile example to date in a continuing revolution in which the athletes who drive the multibillion-dollar college sports machine have begun to use their visibility to demand change. ~ William C Rhoden,

74:Because thou hast made the Lord, which is thy refuge, even the most high they habitation. There shall be no evil before thee, neither shall any plague come by thy dwelling. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble. I will deliver him and honor him." -Peter Cratchit ~ Charles Dickens,

75:4 There is a river whose streams shall make glad the city of God,     The holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High. 5 God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved;     God shall help her, just at the break of dawn. 6 The nations raged, the kingdoms were moved;     He uttered His voice, the earth melted. ~ Anonymous,

76: Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both Worlds,   Queller of Satan! On thy glorious work   Now enter, and begin to save Mankind."     Thus they the Son of God, our Saviour meek,   Sung victor, and, from heavenly feast refreshed,   Brought on his way with joy. He, unobserved,   Home to his mother's house private returned. ~ John Milton,

77:They have neither knowledge nor understanding, they walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.   I said, “You are gods [elohim] sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, like men you shall die, and fall like any prince.” Arise, O God, judge the earth; for you shall inherit all the nations! ~ Brian Godawa,

78:The vast majority of Americans are employed in service sector industries, and many of those sectors are highly internationalized. The most high-value added sectors, notably the tech sector, is massively globalized. And, for them, it would be a disaster if America's trade policy was to go down a spiraling route towards protectionism. ~ Judy Woodruff,

79:The revelation of His glory includes seeing One so high (transcendence) who went so low (condescension) to bring us so near (redemption) because we are so dear (Bride). The Most High God went so low because of such great desire to partner with us... We are awestruck by His power, overwhelmed by His humility, and made confident by His love. ~ Mike Bickle,

80:I DECLARE I am special and extraordinary. I am not average! I have been custom-made. I am one of a kind. Of all the things God created, what He is the most proud of is me. I am His masterpiece, his most prized possession. I will keep my head held high, knowing I am a child of the most high God, made in his very image. This is my declaration. ~ Joel Osteen,

81:What wonderful majesty! What stupendous condescension! O sublime humility! That the Lord of the whole universe, God and the Son of God, should humble Himself like this under the form of a little bread, for our salvation ...In this world I cannot see the Most High Son of God with my own eyes, except for His Most Holy Body and Blood. ~ Saint Francis of Assisi,

82:If you believe the lie that you’re a slave, that you’ve reached your limits, it will keep you from your purpose. You need to rise up and say, “I’m no longer a slave, I’m a son. I’m not a slave to my past. I’m not a slave to the people who hurt me. I’m not a slave to addiction, to poverty, to lack, or to depression. I’m a child of the Most High God. ~ Joel Osteen,

83:What has been done is little-scarcely a beginning; yet it is much in comparison with the total blank of a century past. And our knowledge will, we are easily persuaded, appear in turn the merest ignorance to those who come after us. Yet it is not to be despised, since by it we reach up groping to touch the hem of the garment of the Most High. ~ Agnes Mary Clerke,

84:When we are compelled by love, when we embrace the life of the Beatitudes, we are truly blessed. Truly we are filled with inexpressible joy knowing we dwell in the shelter of the Most High God. We rest in the shadow of the Almighty. He is our refuge and our fortress; we put our trust in Him. He covers us with His wings of love, and we find safety in Him. ~ Heidi Baker,

85:I did not take the name, I just named myself Cassius Clay, this is a honorable, Mohammed Ali, given to me by my religious leader and teacher, the Honorable Elijah Mohammed, and I would like to say that Mohammed means in Arabic "one who is worthy of praise" and one praiseworthy, and Ali means the most High, but the slave name Clay meant dirt with no ingredients. ~ Muhammad Ali,

86:Let all your thoughts be with the Most High, and direct your humble prayers unceasingly to Christ. If you cannot contemplate high and heavenly things, take refuge in the Passion of Christ, and love to dwell within His Sacred Wounds. For if you devoutly seek the Wounds of Jesus and the precious marks of His Passion, you will find great strength in all troubles. ~ Thomas Kempis,

87:Words were one of the most powerful forces known—or unknown—to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words. ~ Gena Showalter,

88:Let all your thoughts be with the Most High, and direct your humble prayers unceasingly to Christ. If you cannot contemplate high and heavenly things, take refuge in the Passion of Christ, and love to dwell within His Sacred Wounds. For if you devoutly seek the Wounds of Jesus and the precious marks of His Passion, you will find great strength in all troubles. ~ Thomas a Kempis,

89:All things are ordained of God and are settled by Him, according to His wise and holy predestination. Whatever happens here happens not by chance, but according to the counsel of the Most High! The acts and deeds of men below, though left wholly to their own wills, are the counterpart of that which is written in the purpose of heaven.”–1891, Sermon 2205 ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

90:Words were one of the most powerful forces known— or unknown— to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words. ~ Gena Showalter,

91:Avatar is the most high tech film in terms of its execution, dealing with essentially a very low tech subject; which is our relationship with nature...and in fact the irony is that the film is about our relationship with nature and how our technological civilization has taken us several removes away from a truly natural existence and the consequences of that to us. ~ James Cameron,

92:How can this come about?" Mary asked. "The Holy Spirit will come upon you," the angel answered, "and the power of the Most High will cover you with its shadow." And now you are the one who puts the question: "How can bread become Christ and wine His Blood?" I answer: "The power of the Holy Spirit will be at work to give us a marvel which surpasses understanding. ~ John of Damascus,

93:1Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.[241] 2I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” 3Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. 4He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. ~ Anonymous,

94:May God himself restore to you something you lost and never thought you’d get back again. May He heal a soul wound you thought you’d never get over. May He pour out an abundance of joy and hope that makes you celebrate before the answer comes. And may a thriving, rich faith mark your life in every way. You have access to the Most High God. May you live accordingly. Rest easy tonight! ~ Susie Larson,

95:Rush like a river from the highest mountain, drink from the fountain and stop your counting. What kind of wine does he have in his tavern, oh so enchanted and sing like a mad man. Mad with the love of a wife for her husband, child or mother, sister or brother... sing for the Most High, sing for no other. We are all notes in this eternal song, God plays his flute and we all dance along. ~ Trevor Hall,

96:The central belief both in Mormonism and paganism is the ancient dream that men can become gods. This universal and popular delusion began with Satan's impossible and self-contradictory ambition to be equal with God: "I will be like the Most High!"" How many Most Highs can there be? Satan lured Eve into joining his mad rebellion against the one true God by promising that she too could become a god. ~ Ed Decker,

97:I cleanse the windows of my mind, that it may become a mirror reflecting inspiration from the most High. I do this, not with strenuous effort, but through quiet contemplation, through gently reaching and affirming an inward recognition. I know exactly what to do in every situation. There is an inspiration within me which governs every act, every thought, with certainty, with conviction and in peace. ~ Ernest Holmes,

98:ISA14.12 How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!  ISA14.13 For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north:  ISA14.14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. ~ Anonymous,

99:There is an English expression: 'high-maintenance girlfriend,'" Csongor remarked. "Now, of course, Zula is not my girlfriend. Probably never would be, even if all this shit were not happening. And I think that if she were my girlfriend? She would not be high maintenance at all! She is just not that type of girl. However. Because of circumstances, today she is the most high-maintenance girlfriend since Cleopatra. ~ Neal Stephenson,

100:PSA91.1 He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. PSA91.2 I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. PSA91.3 Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. PSA91.4 He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. ~ Anonymous,

101:But when one researches the meaning behind the original Hebrew words, their truer fuller meaning comes to light. Elohim is revealed as a more generic plural reference to the Creator as all humankind can know through general revelation.[7] El Elyon has a linguistic affinity to the Ugaritic “Elyon Ba’al” a name for the Most High God of Canaan, and therefore a polemical stance against him. Ba’al is not the Most High, the God of Israel is.[8] ~ Brian Godawa,

102:O most sacred, most loving heart of Jesus, thou art concealed in the Holy Eucharist, and thou beatest for us still.... Thou art the heart of the Most High made man.... Thy Sacred Heart is the instrument and organ of Thy love. It did beat for us. It yearned for us. It ached for our salvation. It was on fire through zeal, that the glory of God might be manifested in and by us.... In worshipping thee I worship my incarnate God, my Emmanuel ~ John Henry Newman,

103:Whatever your critics say about you has no bearing on your worth. You are a child of the Most High God. The Creator of the universe breathed life into you. You have seeds of greatness on the inside. You’ve been crowned with favor. God has already equipped and empowered you with everything you need. Don’t waste your valuable time trying to play up to people, trying to win over all your critics, or trying to prove to someone that you’re important. ~ Joel Osteen,

104:O most sacred, most loving heart of Jesus, thou art concealed in the Holy Eucharist, and thou beatest for us still.... Thou art the heart of the Most High made man.... Thy Sacred Heart is the instrument and organ of Thy love. It did beat for us. It yearned for us. It ached for our salvation. It was on fire through zeal, that the glory of God might be manifested in and by us.... In worshipping thee I worship my incarnate God, my Emmanuel ~ Saint John Henry Newman,

105:Sometimes what’s holding us back is that we don’t really know who we are. We think we’re average, just ordinary, when in fact we are royalty. We are sons and daughters of the Most High God. When God breathed His life into you, He crowned you with His favor. He put a robe of righteousness on you. He says, “You have been fearfully and wonderfully made.” Don’t go through life with a cheese-and-crackers mentality. Have a son mentality, an abundant mentality. ~ Joel Osteen,

106:Dangerous it were for the feeble brain of man to wade far into the doings of the Most High; whom although to know be life, and joy to make mention of his name, yet our soundest knowledge is to know that we know him not as indeed he is, neither can know him; and our safest eloquence concerning him is our silence, when we confess without confession that his glory is inexplicable, his greatness above our capacity and reach. ~ Hooker, Ecclesiastical Polity, Book I, Chapter II. 3,

107:Still, prayer itself is an art that only the Holy Spirit can teach us. He is the giver of all prayer. Pray for prayer. Pray until you can pray. Pray to be helped to pray, and do not give up praying because you cannot pray. It is when you think you cannot pray that you are most praying. Sometimes, when you have no sort of comfort in your supplications, it is then that your heart, all broken and cast down, is really wrestling and truly prevailing with the Most High. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

108:5You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, 6nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. 7A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. 8You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. 9If you say, “The LORD is my refuge,” and you make the Most High your dwelling, 10no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. ~ Anonymous,

109:God has so much for you, Dear One. And, yes, seasons will come when He requires so much from you that you feel like you can’t bear it. You do have a choice. You don’t have to do it His way. You can choose bitterness, resentment, carnality, or mediocrity. Or you can go for it. With everything you’ve got. You can experience the unmatched exhilaration of partnering in divine triumph. The stakes are high. The cost is steep. But I’ll promise you this: there is no high like the Most High. ~ Beth Moore,

110:Unbelievers, those who believe with difficulty, or believe in part, are those who do not show their faith through works. Apart from works the demons also believe (cf. Jms. 2:19) and confess Christ to be God and Master. 'We know Who You are' (Mk. 1:24), they say, 'You are the Son of God' (Mt. 8:29), and elsewhere, 'These men are the servants of the Most High God' (Acts 16:17). Yet such faith will not benefit the demons, nor even humans. This faith is of no use, for it is dead. ~ Symeon the New Theologian,

111:The deceiver will promise strength and peace and security, but the Bible says he will speak out against the Most High and will wear down the saints of the Most High. That’s why I warn you to beware now of a new leader with great charisma trying to take over the world during this terrible time of chaos and confusion. This person is known in the Bible as Antichrist. He will make many promises, but he will not keep them. You must trust in the promises of God Almighty through his Son, Jesus Christ. “I ~ Tim LaHaye,

112:The Watchers were Sons of God, members of Elohim’s divine council, or heavenly host. Two hundred of them rebelled and fell to earth during the ancient days of Jared. Led by the mightiest of the Watchers, Semjaza and Azazel, they had taken on new identities as gods of the Mesopotamian pantheon. They were referred to as gods, Watchers, or even Watcher gods. Semjaza had become Anu, the most high father god of the pantheon. Azazel had become his consort Inanna. Ishtar snorted in disgust at that memory. ~ Brian Godawa,

113:Content, our life advancing To a life that shall abide, Each flame its worth enhancing, The soul is glorified. The starry host shall sink then To bright and living wine, The golden draught we drink then, And stars ourselves shall shine. Love released, lives woundless, No separation more; While life swells free and boundless As a sea without a shore. One night of glad elation, One joy that cannot die, And the sun of all creation Is the face of the Most High. ~ Novalis,

114:They remembered that God was their rock,         the Most High God their redeemer.     36 But they flattered him with their mouths;         they lied to him with their tongues.     37 Their heart was not steadfast toward him;         they were not faithful to his covenant.     38 Yet he, being compassionate,         atoned for their iniquity         and did not destroy them;     he restrained his anger often         and did not stir up all his wrath.     39 He remembered that they were but flesh,         a wind that passes and comes not again. ~ Anonymous,

115:He may worship God who shouts until the earth rings, and God may accept him. But he may worship God as truly who sits in silence before the Most High and says not even a word. It is the spiritual worship which is most acceptable to God, not the external in any shape or form. It is the heart that has fellowship with the Lord, and it needs little in the way of expressing itself—neither has God tied it down to this way or that. It may find its own methods of utterance so long as it is truly ‘moved by the Holy Spirit.’”–1892, Sermon 2239 ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

116:Your body is a temple of the Most High God. You are not a sick person trying to get well. You’re a well person fighting off sickness. You are not an addict trying to get free. You’re a free person fighting an addiction. You’re not a poor person trying to get ahead. You’re a prosperous person fighting off poverty. You are not a slave to any negative thing. God created you to be free, healthy, whole, and victorious. And, sure, we all have things come against us, but they’re not permanent. It’s just a matter of time before it changes in your favor. ~ Joel Osteen,

117:Then Abram figured it out. His eyes widened. “Are you —?” Melchizedek put his finger to his lips. “I am Melchizedek, king of Salem. I have no past. I am the servant of El Elyon, the most high God.” But Abram knew he was talking to Shem ben Noah, the blessed seedline, his great ancestor. It was why he was so old, and why he had the weapons that could only have been handed down from Noah. After the Tower of Babel debacle, Shem must have moved to Canaan and created a new identity for himself, wiping away his past, as the sons of Noah turned corrupt. ~ Brian Godawa,

118:The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape. —William Shakespeare, Hamlet How are you fallen from Heaven, Lucifer! Son of the Dawn! Cut down to the ground! And once you dominated the peoples! Didn’t you say to yourself: I will be as high as Heaven! I will be more exalted than the stars of God! I will, indeed, be the supreme leader! In the privileged places! I will be higher than the Skies! I will be the same as the Most High God! But you shall be brought down to Hell, to the bottom of its pit. And all who see you, will despise you... —Isaiah 14: 12-19 ~ Ed Warren,

119:It is my opinion that the Christian conception of God current in these middle years of the twentieth century is so decadent as to be utterly beneath the dignify of the Most High God and actually to constitute for professed believers something amounting to a moral calamity....Let us beware lest we in our pride accept the erroneous notion that idolatry consists only in kneeling before visible objects of adoration, and that civilized people are therefore free from it. The essence of idolatry is the entertainment of thoughts about God that are unworthy of Him. ~ A W Tozer,

120:God! There is no god but He, — the Living, the Self-subsisting, Eternal. No slumber can seize Him nor sleep. His are all things in the heavens and on earth. Who is there that can intercede in His presence except as He permitteth? he knoweth what before or after or behind them. Nor shall they compass aught of His knowledge except as He willeth. His Throne doth extend over the heavens and the earth, and He feeleth no fatigue in guarding and preserving them for He is the Most High, the Supreme. ~ Al-Baqara 255, translated by Arthur John Arberry in The Koran Interpreted (1955).,

121:Study is the lamp to dispel the darkness of benightedness. It is the best of possessions—thieves cannot rob you of it. It is a weapon to defeat your enemy—your blindness to all things. It is your best friend who instructs you in the means; It is a relative who will not desert you, though you be poor. It is a medicine against sorrow that does you no harm. It is the best army, which defeats great legions of misdeeds. It is also the best of treasures, of fame, and of glory. You could have no better gift when meeting the most high. It pleases the scholars in any gathering. ~ Anonymous,

122:Despite his frightening exterior, he too, like king Sihon, was still in subjection. His superior was Ashtart, the goddess ruler of the region, and personal escort of Ba’al, the most high god. Ashtart’s hairdo distracted Molech’s attention. It consisted of a massive amount of hair twirled and piled into the form of two large horns that accented her heavily made up face. Horns were symbols of deity, so she was tickled by the ability to combine the symbolic with an outrageous style. It would be a bit comical if she were not the most frightening of all warrior divinities. ~ Brian Godawa,

123:My encouragement is: Don’t settle where you are. You have seeds of greatness on the inside. Put these principles into action each day. Get up in the morning expecting good things, go through the day positive, focused on your vision, running your race, knowing that you are well able. Winning is in your DNA. The most high God breathed His life into you. You’ve got what it takes. This is your time. This is your moment. Shake off doubts, shake off fear and insecurity, and get ready for favor, get ready for increase, get ready for the fullness of your destiny. You can, you will! ~ Joel Osteen,

124:Again,7 the condition to which God brought Job in order that he might converse with God, was not that of delight and bliss, of which he there speaks, and to which he had been accustomed. God left him in misery, naked on a dung-hill, abandoned and even persecuted by his friends, killed with bitterness and grief, covered with worms:8 then it was that the Most High, Who lifteth up “the poor out of the dunghill,”9 was pleased to descend and speak to Job face to face,10 revealing to him “the deep mysteries of His wisdom,”11 as He had never done before in the days of Job’s prosperity. ~ Juan de la Cruz,

125:A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind. ~ Suzy Kassem,

126:To live always in the Secret Places of the Most High, To think only those thoughts that are inspired from above, To do all things in the conviction that God is with us, To give the best to all the world with no thought of reward, To leave all recompense to Him who doeth all things well, To love everybody as God loves us, and be Kind as He is Kind, To ask God for everything and in faith expect everything, To live in perpetual gratitude to Him who gives everything, To love God so much that we can inwardly feel that My Father and I are one, This is the prayer without ceasing, the true worship of the soul. ~ Christian D Larson,

127:Counsel: The truth of the resurrection refers to bringing the dead to life by creating them once more. Ignorance is the greatest death and knowledge the noblest life. God-may He be praised and exalted-mentioned knowledge and ignorance in his Holy book, and called them life and death, Whoever lifts another out of ignorance to knowledge has already created him anew and revivified him to a blessed life. And should a man have a way of conveying knowledge to people and calling them to the Most High that would be a kind of revivification, and such would be the level of prophets and the scholars who are their heirs. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

128:am blessed. I am prosperous. I am successful.” “I am victorious. I am talented. I am creative.” “I am wise. I am healthy. I am in shape.” “I am energetic. I am happy. I am positive.” “I am passionate. I am strong. I am confident.” “I am secure. I am beautiful. I am attractive.” “I am valuable. I am free. I am redeemed.” “I am forgiven. I am anointed. I am accepted.” “I am approved. I am prepared. I am qualified.” “I am motivated. I am focused. I am disciplined.” “I am determined. I am patient. I am kind.” “I am generous. I am excellent. I am equipped.” “I am empowered. I am well able.” “I am a child of the Most High God. ~ Joel Osteen,

129:Welcome to my holy temple. I am Anu, the supreme god, king of kings, and lord of lords. My consort, Inanna, Queen of heaven and earth.” He paused ceremoniously with an arrogant grin. “But you already knew that.” Then, the mocking stab, “So, where is your god?” Noah would not dignify the remark. Instead, he prophesied, “I know who you are, Semjaza and Azazel, fallen Sons of God. You have laid the nations low, you sit on the mount of assembly, you have made yourselves like the Most High. But you will be brought down to Sheol.” Inanna broke in bitterly, “He imagines himself a prophet now, and privy to the Watchers’ secrets. ~ Brian Godawa,

130:If you say: what is the ultimate point of knowledge attained by the 'knowers' of God the most high? We would say: the ultimate knowledge of the 'knowers' lies in their inability to know, in their realizing in fact that they do not know Him and that it is utterly impossible for them to know Him; indeed, that it is impossible for anyone except God to know God with an authentic knowledge comprehending the true nature of the divine attributes. If that is disclosed to them by proof, as we have mentioned, they will know it-that is, they will have attained the utmost to which creatures can possibly attain in knowing Him. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

131:Returning to Deuteronomy 32 and going back a few more verses in context, we read of a reality-changing incident that occurred at Babel:   Deut. 32:8-9 When the Most High gave to the nations their inheritance, when he divided mankind, he fixed the borders of the peoples according to the number of the sons of God. But the LORD’s portion is his people, Jacob his allotted heritage.   The reference to the creation of nations through the division of mankind and fixing of the borders of nations is clearly a reference to the event of the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11 and the dispersion of the peoples into the 70 nations listed in Genesis 10. ~ Brian Godawa,

132:Prayer of Truth I pray that you will crave Truth in every area of your life. May you find only peace in the path that the Lord has created for you to travel. I pray you will know the truth in every and all situations and that the enemy will not be able to deceive you. In Jesus’ name, I pray that you completely ignore the lies this world throws at you and that you embrace the truth that you are a child of the Most High God. I pray that your confidence in His Truth will become contagious and that blessings and favor follow you all the days of your life because of your choice to reject lies and walk in truth. In Jesus’ name, Amen. ~ Sheri Rose Shepherd,

133:Shout to God with a jubilant cry. For the LORD Most High is awe-inspiring, a great King over all the earth. Psalm 47:1–2 God has so much for you, Dear One. And yes, seasons will come when He requires so much from you that you feel like you can’t bear it. You do have a choice. You don’t have to do it His way. You can choose bitterness, resentment, carnality, or mediocrity. Or you can go for it—with everything you’ve got. You can experience the unmatched exhilaration of partnering in divine triumph. The stakes are high. The cost is steep. But I’ll promise you this: there is no high like the Most High. Don’t you dare miss it for the world. ~ Beth Moore,

134:NAFTA was another enduring Trump target. The president had said for months he wanted to leave NAFTA and renegotiate. “The only way to get a good deal is to blow up the old deal. When I blow it up, in that six months, they’ll come running back to the table.” His theory of negotiation was that to get to yes, you first had to say no. “Once you blow it up,” Cohn replied, “it may be over. That’s the most high-risk strategy. That either works or you go bankrupt.” Cohn realized that Trump had gone bankrupt six times and seemed not to mind. Bankruptcy was just another business strategy. Walk away, threaten to blow up the deal. Real power is fear. ~ Bob Woodward,

135:There is no evil in sorrow. True, it is not an essential good, a good in itself, like love; but it will mingle with any good thing, and is even so allied to good that it will open the door of the heart for any good. More of sorrowful than of joyful men are always standing about the everlasting doors that open into the presence of the Most High. (...) I repeat, a man in sorrow is in general far nearer God than a man in joy. Gladness may make a man forget his thanksgiving; misery drives him to his prayers. For we are not yet, we are only becoming. The endless day will at length dawn whose every throbbing moment will heave our hearts Godward ~ George MacDonald,

136:The Bible says, “If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you. . . . For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go” (Psalm 91:9,11). Here is a prayer you can say, speaking to God in the invisible world: God, I do not see you, your Son, or your angels, but I know they exist. I believe you are near me, like the radio waves that I cannot see but that are around me all the time. I know you see me, even when I do not see you; I know you protect me and watch over me, so I can rely on you and not be afraid of the things I do see. Thank you for your angels and your invisible hand of protection. ~ Kenneth McIntosh,

137:So from this text we see that God has a divine council that stands around him, and it consists of “gods” who are judging rulers over the nations and are also called sons of the Most High (equivalent to “sons of God”). Because they have not ruled justly, God will bring them low in judgment and take the nations away from them. Sound familiar? It’s the same exact story as Deuteronomy 32:8-9 and Isaiah 24:21-22.   Isaiah 24:21–22 On that day the Lord will punish the host of heaven, in heaven, and the kings of the earth, on the earth. They will be gathered together as prisoners in a pit; they will be shut up in a prison, and after many days they will be punished.[14] ~ Brian Godawa,

138:Elohim has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment: “How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked? Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.” They have neither knowledge nor understanding, they walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken. I said, “You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, like men you shall die, and fall like any prince.” Arise, O Elohim, judge the earth; for you shall inherit all the nations!   — A Psalm of Asaph ~ Brian Godawa,

139:the few stragglers still stumbling around in the aftermath of the blinding. The stragglers cried for mercy. Their eyes had been burned out of their sockets. They flailed for anything to grab onto for security. Mikael and the Destroyer stood in the center of the square. Mikael looked up and prayed, “El Shaddai, God Almighty, the Most High God, El Elyon, possessor of the heavens and earth, bring down your wrath!” With that prayer, the Destroyer lifted his massive sword and plunged it into the ground all the way up to the hilt. The earth trembled and shook. The Meat Puppet lost its footing and fell to the ground. Up above, a large storm cloud gathered. Thunder cracked the sky. The Sodomites circled the angels. ~ Brian Godawa,

140:JUNE 15 COMMIT YOURSELF ENTIRELY TO GOD THAT HE MAY SET YOU FREE TO BE EVERYTHING HE PLANNED.     I want to trust in You with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding; in all my ways I will acknowledge You, and You will make my paths straight (Prov. 3:5—6). For You know the plans You have for me, Lord. Plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me a hope and a future (Jer. 29:11). I desire to dwell in the shelter of You, the Most High. I will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of You, Lord, “You are my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust” (Ps. 91:1-2). Faithful Lord, because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings. My soul clings to You, and Your right hand upholds me (Ps. 63:7-8). ~ Beth Moore,

141:After four hundred years in the land of Canaan, the giant descendants of the Nephilim, the Seed of the Serpent, had spread out upon that land. The Jordan River ran north and south, splitting the country in half. The Anakim dominated the Cisjordan, which included the desert hills and valleys east of the Jordan River. The Rephaim controlled the Transjordan, which included the fertile hills and valleys west of that same river. They were both called by the generic term Amorite, and they worshipped the pantheon of Canaanite gods led by Ba’al the most high, Ashtart, goddess of sex and war, Molech of the underworld, and other patron deities of the region.   The land of Canaan was filled with abomination. The iniquity of the Amorites was complete. ~ Brian Godawa,

142:What you hold, may you always hold. What you do, may you do and never abandon. But with swift pace, light step, unswerving feet, so that even your steps stir no dust, go forward securely, joyfully, and swiftly, on the path of prudent happiness, believing nothing agreeing with nothing which would dissuade you from this resolution or which would place a stumbling block for you on the way, so that you may offer your vows to the Most High in the pursuit of that perfection to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM ~ Saint Clare of Assisi, What you hold, may you always hold ,

143:Jesus stood still and firm, staring right back into the dark pools of eyes. The demoniacs looked frightened. As if they had seen a ghost. They spoke in unison, “What have you to do with us, Son of El Elyon?” El Elyon meant “the Most High God.” It was the name that Ba’al had stolen for himself as the leader of the pantheon at Hermon. “What is your name?” demanded Jesus. Both of them jerked and twitched as if the spirits were losing control of their bodies. They answered, “Legion.” Legion? thought Simon. A legion was around six thousand armed forces. Could this be true? Could there be that many? Could they be lying spirits? Evidently, Jesus knew they were not. He raised his hands and the two demoniacs froze like puppets in the hands of a puppetmaster. ~ Brian Godawa,

144:I am well aware that various movements have taken “Ye are gods” theology to bizarre conclusions. But the fact remains, as we are told in Psalm 82:6, “I said, ‘You are gods, and all of you are children of the Most High.’” Some have tried to mitigate this verse to suggest we are simply “judges” or “mighty ones.” But the literal word here is Elohim – gods. And to further bolster the point, Jesus quotes this passage – the New Testament Greek using the word Theoi – which is clearly translated as “gods.” “It is a serious thing,” says C.S. Lewis, “to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship.”95 ~ John Crowder,

145:It was his belief, furthermore, that this religion, so elevated and simple, had repeatedly been corrupted and debased by man, and especially outraged by idolatry; wherefore a succession of prophets, each inspired by a revelation from the Most High, had been sent from time to time, and at distant periods, to restore it to its original purity. Such was Noah, such was Abraham, such was Moses, and such was Jesus Christ. By each of these, the true religion had been reinstated upon earth, but had again been vitiated by their followers. The faith, as taught and practiced by Abraham when he came out of the land of Chaldea, seems especially to have formed a religious standard in his mind, from his veneration for the patriarch as the father of Ishmael, the progenitor of his race. ~ Washington Irving,

146:I, whom you behold in these black garments of the priesthood,—I, who ascend the sacred desk, and turn my pale face heavenward, taking upon myself to hold communion, in your behalf, with the Most High Omniscience,—I, in whose daily life you discern the sanctity of Enoch,—I, whose footsteps, as you suppose, leave a gleam along my earthly track, whereby the pilgrims that shall come after me may be guided to the regions of the blest,—I, who have laid the hand of baptism upon your children,—I, who have breathed the parting prayer over your dying friends, to whom the Amen sounded faintly from a world which they had quitted,—I, your pastor, whom you so reverence and trust, am utterly a pollution and a lie!” Excerpt From: Nathaniel Hawthorne. “The Scarlet Letter.” iBooks. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne,

147:This is hard to say to people without offending them, but it’s a universal truth even for the most high-performing people on the planet, so here it is: your self-image could be a lot better, and you ought to be a lot more congruent in how you engage the world. How we think of ourselves (our self-image) and how we behave in accordance with that image in the real world is the stuff of congruence. It’s one of the most profoundly powerful drives we have as humans—to live in consistent alignment with who we think we are, how we want others to perceive us, and who we want to become. When we don’t behave as the person we believe ourselves to be, we feel “off,” “out of sorts,” and, often, frustrated or angry. If we think we’re lions, for example, but we act as mice, we secretly loath our- selves. From THE CHARGE ~ Brendon Burchard,

148:We often fail to realize the depth of evil, terrifying as it is. I am not speaking only of the selfishness of the wealthy, heaping up riches for themselves, or of those who sacrifice to achieve their self-selected goals. Or of the dictator who breathes in the incense due only to God. I am speaking of the selfishness of good people, devout people, those who have succeeded through spiritual exercises and self-denial in being able to make the proud profession before the altar of the Most High, “Lord, I am not like the rest of men.” Yes, we have had the audacity at certain times of our lives to believe we are different from other men. And here is the deepest form of self-deception, dictated by self-centeredness at its worst: spiritual egotism. This most insidious form of egotism even uses piety and prayer for its own gain. ~ Carlo Carretto,

149:Fear thou the judgments of God, fear greatly the wrath of the Almighty. Shrink from debating upon the works of the Most High, but search narrowly thine own iniquities into what great sins thou hast fallen, and how many good things thou hast neglected. There are some who carry their devotion only in books, some in pictures, some in outward signs and figures; some have Me in their mouths, but little in their hearts. Others there are who, being enlightened in their understanding and purged in their affections, continually long after eternal things, hear of earthly things with unwillingness, obey the necessities of nature with sorrow. And these understand what the Spirit of truth speaketh in them; for He teacheth them to despise earthly things and to love heavenly; to neglect the world and to desire heaven all the day and night. ~ Thomas Kempis,

150:26In the sixth month the angel  x Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named  y Nazareth, 27 z to a virgin betrothed [2] to a man whose name was Joseph,  a of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. 28And he came to her and said, “Greetings,  b O favored one,  c the Lord is with you!” [3] 29But  d she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. 30And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for  e you have found favor with God. 31And behold,  f you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and  g you shall call his name Jesus. 32He will be great and will be called the Son of  h the Most High. And the Lord God  i will give to him the throne of  j his father David, 33and he will reign over the house of Jacob  k forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end. ~ Anonymous,

151:When the Rabbis stated that obedience or disobedience to the commandments depends not on the will of Hashem but on man’s free will, they echoed Jeremiah, who said, “Out of the mouth of the Most High there comes neither the bad nor the good” (Lamentations 3:38). By the bad he meant vice, and by the good he intended virtue, meaning that Hashem does not predetermine any person as bad or good. Since this is so, a person owes it to himself to mourn his sins and transgressions, since he has committed them of his own free will, as Jeremiah says, “For what should a living man mourn? Let every man mourn because of his sins” (Lamentations 3:39). Jeremiah answers his question positively, telling us that the remedy for our disease lies with us. Just as our failings stemmed from our own free will, so do we have the power to repent of our evil deeds. ~ Maim nides,

152:Ba’al led Ashtart down the underground tunnel in a dog collar. It had been thirteen years since the battle of nine kings, where Marduk had defeated Ashtart and became Ba’al, the king of the gods of Canaan. Ashtart’s plan had been set back generations with the devastation of her giant progeny throughout the land by Chedorlaomer’s forces. But with the addition of Ba’al as the Most High God of Canaan, the two of them together could do what she could not do alone. Ashtart had revitalized the original program of miscegenation of the Watchers. The rest of the pantheon of gods were fearful of the consequences of such a pursuit, since El Shaddai had already flooded the earth the first time such a course of action had been undertaken. But with the two most powerful divinities united, the pantheon could do little but sit back and see what happened. ~ Brian Godawa,

153:Among the sins to which the human heart is prone, hardly any other is more hateful to God than idolatry, for idolatry is at bottom a libel on His character. The idolatrous heart assumes that God is other than He is - in itself a monstrous sin - and substitutes for the true God one made after its own likeness. Always this God will conform to the image of the one who created it and will be base or pure, cruel or kind, according to the moral state of the mind from which it emerges. A god begotten in the shadows of a fallen heart will quite naturally be no true likeness of the true God. ”Thou thoughtest,” said the Lord to the wicked man in the psalm, ”that I was altogether such as one as thyself.” Surely this must be a serious affront to the Most High God before whom cherubim and seraphim continually do cry, ”Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth. ~ A W Tozer,

154:Some Second Temple non-canonical Jewish texts illustrate an ancient tradition of understanding this interpretation of the gods of the nations as real spirit beings that rule over those nations:   Jubilees 15:31-32 (There are) many nations and many people, and they all belong to him, but over all of them he caused spirits to rule so that they might lead them astray from following him. But over Israel he did not cause any angel or spirit to rule because he alone is their ruler and he will protect them.   Targum Jonathan, Deuteronomy 32, Section LIII[13] When the Most High made allotment of the world unto the nations which proceeded from the sons of Noach [Noah], in the separation of the writings and languages of the children of men at the time of the division, He cast the lot among the seventy angels, the princes of the nations with whom is the revelation to oversee the city. ~ Brian Godawa,

155:The Scripture says, “Let the Lord be magnified, who has pleasure in the prosperity of His servant” (Psalm 35:27 NKJV). I say this respectfully, but we have to fight the religious spirit that says we’re supposed to be poor, broke, and defeated to prove to everyone that we’re really humble. When we’re poor, broke, and defeated, all that proves is that we’re poor, broke, and defeated. Nobody will want what we have. I can be poor, broke, and defeated without serving God. We’re supposed to be examples of what it means to live for the Most High God. We should be so blessed, so prosperous, so kind, so generous, so happy, and so peaceful that people will want what we have. If you think you’re showing God how holy you are and how humble you are by not wearing your blessings and not taking that promotion, your own thinking is what is keeping God from doing something new in your life. ~ Joel Osteen,

156:I read in the Gulistan, or Flower Garden, of Sheik Sadi of Shiraz, that "they asked a wise man, saying: Of the many celebrated trees which the Most High God has created lofty and umbrageous, they call none azad, or free, excepting the cypress, which bears no fruit; what mystery is there in this? He replied, Each has its appropriate produce, and appointed season, during the continuance of which it is fresh and blooming, and during their absence dry and withered; to neither of which states is the cypress exposed, being always flourishing; and of this nature are the azads, or religious independents.—Fix not thy heart on that which is transitory; for the Dijlah, or Tigris, will continue to flow through Bagdad after the race of caliphs is extinct: if thy hand has plenty, be liberal as the date tree; but if it affords nothing to give away, be an azad, or free man, like the cypress. ~ Henry David Thoreau,

157:34 ¶ And at the end of the days I Nebuchadnezzar lifted up mine eyes unto heaven, and mine understanding returned unto me, and I blessed the Most High, and I praised and honored him that liveth for ever, whose dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom is from generation to generation: 35 and all the inhabitants of the earth are reputed as nothing: and he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand, or say unto him, What doest thou? 36 At the same time my reason returned unto me; and for the glory of my kingdom, mine honor and brightness returned unto me; and my counselors and my lords sought unto me; and I was established in my kingdom, and excellent majesty was added unto me. 37 Now I Nebuchadnezzar praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, all whose works are truth, and his ways judgment: and those that walk in pride he is able to abase. ~ Anonymous,

158:O Holy Jesus, Son of the most high God, Thou that wert scourged at a pillar, stretched and nailed upon a cross for the sins of the world, unite me to Thy cross, and fill my soul with Thy holy, humble, and suffering spirit. O Fountain of Mercy, Thou that didst save the thief upon the cross, save me from the guilt of a sinful life; Thou that didst cast seven devils out of Mary Magdalene, cast out of my heart all evil thoughts and wicked tempers. O Giver of Life, Thou that didst raise Lazarus from the dead, raise up my soul from the death and darkness of sin. Thou that didst give to Thy Apostles power over unclean spirits, give me power over mine own heart. Thou that didst appear unto Thy disciples when the doors were shut, do Thou appear to me in the secret apartment of my heart. Thou that didst cleanse the lepers, heal the sick, and give sight to the blind, cleanse my heart, heal the disorders of my soul, and fill me with heavenly light.19 ~ Anonymous,

159:91 He who dwells in  a the shelter of the Most High         will abide in  b the shadow of the Almighty. 2    I will say [1] to the LORD, “My  c refuge and my  d fortress,         my God, in whom I  e trust.”     3 For he will deliver you from  f the snare of the fowler         and from the deadly pestilence. 4    He will  g cover you with his pinions,         and under his  h wings you will  i find refuge;         his  j faithfulness is  k a shield and buckler. 5     l You will not fear  m the terror of the night,         nor the arrow that flies by day, 6    nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,         nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.     7 A thousand may fall at your side,         ten thousand at your right hand,         but it will not come near you. 8    You will only look with your eyes         and  n see the recompense of the wicked.     9 Because you have made the LORD your  o dwelling place—         the Most High, who is my  c refuge ~ Anonymous,

160:My identity as Abba’s child is not an abstraction or a tap dance into religiosity. It is the core truth of my existence. Living in the wisdom of accepted tenderness profoundly affects my perception of reality, the way I respond to people and their life situations. How I treat my brothers and sisters from day to day, whether they be Caucasian, African, Asian, or Hispanic; how I react to the sin-scarred wino on the street; how I respond to interruptions from people I dislike; how I deal with ordinary people in their ordinary unbelief on an ordinary day will speak the truth of who I am more poignantly than the pro-life sticker on the bumper of my car. We are not for life simply because we are warding off death. We are sons and daughters of the Most High and maturing in tenderness to the extent that we are for others—all others—to the extent that no human flesh is strange to us, to the extent that we can touch the hand of another in love, to the extent that for us there are no “others. ~ Brennan Manning,

161:The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised; so shall I be saved from my enemies. PSALM 18:2-3 Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge, even the Most High, your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, nor shall any plague come near your dwelling; for He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. PSALM 91:9-12 I will restore health to you and heal you of your wounds. JEREMIAH 30:17 Do you not know that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and you are not your own? For you were bought at a price; therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, which are God’s. 1 CORINTHIANS 6:19-20 The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up. JAMES 5:15 ~ Stormie Omartian,

162:Some consider... all wants of the body as shame, disgrace, and defect to which they are compelled to attend; this is chiefly the case with the sense of touch, which is a disgrace to us according to Aristotle, and which is the cause of our desire for eating, drinking, and sensuality. Intelligent persons must, as much as possible, reduce these wants, guard against them, abstain from speaking of them, discussing them, and attending to them in company of others. Man must have control over all these desires, reduce them as much as possible, and only retain of them as much as is indispensable. His aim must be the aim of man as man, viz., the formation of ideas, and nothing else. The best and sublimest among them is the idea which man forms of God, angels, and the rest of the creation according to his capacity. Such men are always with God, and of them it is said, "Ye are princes, and all of you are children of the Most High." (Ps. lxxxii. 6) This is man's task and purpose. ~ Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed (c. 1190),

163:Ashtart, the goddess of sex and war, who tread through rivers of blood and bizarre sexual perversity had the gall to call him detestable. Ba’al, the most high bully and mightiest ego of the pantheon, treated him like a retarded child. Dagon, that fish of the Philistines, didn’t let him build any temples in Philistia. And that bitch Asherah ignored him, even though her Phoenician people had a distinct liking for his practices. All of these divinities scoffed, spurned and spit on him from their arrogant lofty high places of privilege and bigotry. And yet all of them, every single one of them, were gone. Bound in their pride in Tartarus by the archangels. Molech alone was left. He had played his game with craftiness and savvy. He had survived them all. The fools. Now, I spit on you. He hocked with his throat to gather a clump of mucus, saliva and worms, and spit on the ground as if on their graves. He lifted his chin with pride of status and took in a deep whiff of the pleasant scent of child sacrifice now burning on his altar. ~ Brian Godawa,

164:You are holy, Lord, the only God, You do wonders. You are strong, You are great, You are the most high, You are the almighty King. You, Holy Father, the King of heaven and earth. You are Three and One, Lord God of gods; You are good, all good, the highest good, Lord, God, living and true. You are love, charity. You are wisdom; You are humility; You are patience; You are beauty; You are meekness; You are security; You are inner peace; You are joy; You are our hope and joy; You are justice; You are moderation, You are all our riches. You are beauty, You are meekness; You are the protector, You are the guardian and defender; You are strength; You are refreshment. You are our hope, You are our faith, You are our charity, You are all our sweetness, You are our eternal life: Great and wonderful Lord, God almighty, Merciful Savior. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM ~ Saint Francis of Assisi, The Praises of God ,

165:Love Your Enemies 27“But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. 29To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic [2] either. 30Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. 31And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. 32“If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. 35But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. 36Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. ~ Anonymous,

166:In the first place, the soul learns to commune with God with more respect and reverence; always necessary in converse with the Most High. Now, in its prosperous days of sweetness and consolation, the soul was less observant of reverence, for the favors it then received rendered the desire somewhat bold with God, and less reverent than it should have been. Thus it was with Moses, when he heard the voice of God; for carried away by the delight he felt, he was venturing, without further consideration, to draw near, if God had not commanded him to stop, and put off his shoes, saying, “Come not nigh hither; put off the shoes from thy feet.”5 This teaches us how reverently and discreetly in spiritual detachment we are to converse with God. When Moses had become obedient to the voice, he remained so reverent and considerate, that not only did he not venture to draw near, but, in the words of Scripture, “durst not look at God.”6 For having put off the shoes of desire and sweetness, he recognized profoundly his own wretchedness in the sight of God, for so it became him when about to listen to the words of God. ~ Juan de la Cruz,

167:Love Your Enemies 27[†]“But I say to you who hear,  s Love your enemies,  t do good to those who hate you, 28[†] u bless those who curse you,  s pray for those who abuse you. 29[†] v To one who  w strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic [2] either. 30[†] x Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. 31[†]And  y as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. 32[†] z “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34And  a if you  b lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. 35[†]But  c love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and  d you will be sons of  e the Most High, for  f he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. 36 g Be merciful, even as  h your Father is merciful. ~ Anonymous,

168:Compare King William with the philosopher Haeckel. The king is one of the anointed by the most high, as they claim—one upon whose head has been poured the divine petroleum of authority. Compare this king with Haeckel, who towers an intellectual colossus above the crowned mediocrity. Compare George Eliot with Queen Victoria. The Queen is clothed in garments given her by blind fortune and unreasoning chance, while George Eliot wears robes of glory woven in the loom of her own genius. The world is beginning to pay homage to intellect, to genius, to heart. We have advanced. We have reaped the benefit of every sublime and heroic self-sacrifice, of every divine and brave act; and we should endeavor to hand the torch to the next generation, having added a little to the intensity and glory of the flame. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

169:If thou dost continually draw thine impulse, thy life, the whole of thy being from the Holy Spirit, without whom thou canst do nothing; and if thou dost live in close communion with Christ, there will be no fear of thy having a dry heart. He who lives without prayer—he who lives with little prayer—he who seldom reads the Word—he who seldom looks up to heaven for a fresh influence from on high—he will be the man whose heart will become dry and barren; but he who calls in secret on his God—who spends much time in holy retirement—who delights to meditate on the words of the Most High—whose soul is given up to Christ—who delights in his fullness, rejoices in his all-sufficiency, prays for his second coming, and delights in the thought of his glorious advent—such a man, I say, must have an overflowing heart; and as his heart is, such will his life be. It will be a full life; it will be a life that will speak from the sepulcher, and wake the echoes of the future. "Keep thine heart with all diligence," and entreat the Holy Spirit to keep it full; for, otherwise, the issues of thy life will be feeble, shallow, and superficial; and thou mayest as well not have lived at all. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

170:MARCH 19 YOU WILL COMMAND MOUNTAINS TO BE REMOVED IF YOU HAVE faith in My power at work in your life, you will be able to command any mountain that rises up against Me or My power in you to fall into the sea. Stand firm in your faith, for many will say in their hearts that they want to ascend to heaven. They will try to establish their throne above the tops of the clouds so that they may be like the Most High. But with My power at work in you, you will bring them down to the depths of the pit. In the last days the mountain of My holy temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord. He will teach us His ways, so that we may walk in His paths.” PSALM 65; MATTHEW 21:21–22 Prayer Declaration I speak to every mountain in my life and command it to be removed and cast into the sea. I speak to every financial mountain to be removed from my life in Jesus’s name. Let every evil mountain hear the voice of the Lord and be removed. Let the mountains tremble at the presence of God. Lord, You are against every destroying mountain. Make waste the evil mountains in my life, O Lord. ~ John Eckhardt,

171:Mahomet now proceeded to execute the great object of his religious aspirations, the purifying of the sacred edifice from the symbols of idolatry, with which it was crowded. All the idols in and about it, to the number of three hundred and sixty, were thrown down and de-stroyed. Among these, the most renowned was Hobal, an idol brought from Balka, in Syria, and fabled to have the power of granting rain. It was, of course, a great object of worship among the inhabitants of the thirsty desert. There were statues of Abraham and Ishmael also, represented with divining arrows in their hands ; "an outrage on their memories," said Mahomet, "being symbols of a diabolical art which they had never prac-ticed." In reverence of their memories, therefore, these statues were demolished. There were paintings, also, depicting angels in the guise of beautiful women. " The angels," said Mahomet, indignantly, " are no such beings. There are celestial houris provided in paradise for the solace of true believers ; but angels are ministering spirits of the Most High, and of too pure a nature to admit of sex." The paintings were accordingly obliterated. Even a dove, curiously carved of wood, he broke with his own hands, and cast upon the ground, as savoring of idolatry. ~ Washington Irving,

172:When the organ peals out its melodious tones, but the heart is not in the singing, do you think that God has ears like a man, which can be tickled with sweet sounds? Why have you brought Him down to your level? He is spiritual! The music that delights Him is the love of a true heart, the prayer of an anxious spirit! He has better music than all your organs and drums can ever bring to Him! If He wanted music, He would not have asked you, for winds and wave make melodies transcendently superior to all your chief musicians can compose! Does He want candles when His torch makes the mountains to be great altars smoking with the incense of praise to the God of Creation? Oh, Brothers and Sisters, I fear that it has been true of many who externally appeared to be devout, [that] ‘when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God!’ Weep over your sins; then have you glorified Him as God! Fall on your face and be nothing before the Most High; then you have glorified Him as God! Accept His righteousness. Adore His bleeding Son. Trust in His infinite compassion. Then you have glorified Him as God, for ‘God is a Spirit and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth.’ How far, my dear hearers, have you complied with that requisition?”–1892, Sermon 2257 ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

173:An example of the way he is benevolent towards His servants is His giving them more than they need and His demanding of them less than they are capable of. It also pertains to His being benevolent to facilitate their attaining the happiness of eternity with little effort in a short time, that is, a lifetime; for there is no way of comparing that with eternity. The production of pure milk out of digested food and blood, as well as the production of precious gems from hard stone, of honey from the bee, silk from the worm, and pearls from the oyster-are all part of His benevolence. But even more amazing than that is His creating from impure semen one who is a vessel for His knowledge, bears His trust and witnesses to His heavenly kingdoms-this too is impossible to reckon. Counsel: A man's share in this attribute is gentleness with regard to the servants of God-great and glorious, and a predilection for them in petitioning God the most high; as well as guiding them to the happiness of the world to come in a manner free from rebuke or harshness, fanaticism or disputation. The best way of being benevolent open to man lies in attracting others to accept the truth by one's good qualities, pleasing comportment, and exemplary actions, for they are more effective and more benign than eloquent exhortation. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

174:one like a son of man. In Aramaic and Hebrew the phrase “son of man” is simply a common expression to describe someone or something as human or humanlike. In Ezekiel, God often addresses the prophet as “son of man” to emphasize his humanness (e.g., Eze 2:6). coming with the clouds of heaven. In ancient Near Eastern literature clouds are often associated with the appearances of deities. In the OT it is Yahweh, the God of Israel, who rides on the clouds as his chariot (Ps 104:3; Isa 19:1). In Canaanite mythology Baal, the son of El, is described as “rider/charioteer of the clouds.” After doing battle with, and defeating, Yamm/Sea, Baal is promised an everlasting kingdom and eternal dominion. Some scholars see echoes of this story in Da 7:9–14. Others argue for a background in Mesopotamian cosmic conflict myths (such as the creation epic Enuma Elish and the Myth of Anzu), which depict a deity (Marduk and Ninurta, respectively) defeating the representative of chaos (Tiamat and Anzu, respectively) and regaining authority and dominion for the gods and for himself. Daniel’s vision has no conflict between the “one like a son of man” and the beasts. The interpretation in vv. 17–27, however, makes it clear that the “one like a son of man” in some way represents “the holy people of the Most High” (vv. 18, 22), who are in conflict with the “little horn” that arises out of the fourth beast (v. 8). ~ Anonymous,

175:For a king among people is one whom no-one rules but God the most high, and who does not need anything except God-great and glorious. And with that he rules his kingdom insofar as his soldiers and his subjects obey him. Yet the kingdom proper to him is his own heart and soul, where his soldiers are his appetites, his anger, and his affections; while his subjects are his tongue, his eyes, his hands, and the rest of his organs. If he rules them and they do not rule him, and if they obey him and he does not obey them, he will attain the level of a king in this world. And if that be coupled with the fact that he is independent of all people, yet all people are in need of him for their life now and in the future, he will be an earthly king. This is the level of the prophets-may God's blessings be upon all of them. For they have no need of direction to the next life from anyone except God-great and glorious-while everyone needs it from them. They are followed in this kingship by religious scholars, who 'inherit the legacy of the prophets', Their kingship, however, is proportional to their ability to guide the people, and to their lack of need for asking for guidance. By means of these attributes man comes close to the angels in qualities, and by means of them approaches God the most high. This kingship is a gift to man from the true king whose sovereignty has no competitor. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

176:Some scribes and rabbis recently had begun to interpret the Prince of Tyre as an analogy with the Shining One, Nachash, in the Garden. Simon saw in it a mockery of Ba’al’s elevation to the throne of the Most High that results in the casting of the king to the ground or underworld.   “Thus says Yahweh Elohim: “You were the signet of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of Elohim; every precious stone was your covering… From the day you were created, I placed you with the cherub on the holy mountain of Elohim; in the midst of the stones of fire you walked. You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created, till unrighteousness was found in you. In the abundance of your trade you were filled with violence in your midst, and you sinned; so I cast you as a profane thing from the mountain of Elohim, The cherub has led you out, from the midst of the stones of fire. Your heart was proud because of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor. I cast you to the ground; and I turned you to ashes on the earth in the sight of all who saw you. All who know you among the peoples are appalled at you; you have come to a dreadful end and shall be no more forever.”   Simon knew that the subjugation of Tyre was important because the gods Ba’al, Asherah and Molech would have to be bound and judged as part of the reclamation of the Promised Land for Messiah’s inheritance. But Jesus was not letting them in on his clandestine activities. ~ Brian Godawa,

177:Therefore let us desire nothing else let us wish for nothing else let nothing else please us and cause us delight except our Creator and Redeemer and Savior, the one true God, Who is the Fullness of Good all good, every good, the true and supreme good Who alone is Good merciful and gentle delectable and sweet Who alone is holy just and true holy and right Who alone is kind innocent pure from Whom and through Whom and in Whom is all pardon all grace all glory of all the penitent and the just of all the blessed who rejoice together in heaven. Therefore let nothing hinder us nothing separate us or nothing come between us. Let all of us wherever we are in every place at every hour at every time of day everyday and continually believe truly and humbly and keep in our heart and love, honor, adore,serve praise and bless glorify and exalt magnify and give thanks to the most high and supreme eternal God Trinity and Unity the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit Creator of all Savior of all who believe in Him and hope in Him and love Him Who is without beginning and without end unchangeable, invisible, indescribable, ineffable, incomprehensible, unfathomable, blessed, worthy of praise, glorious, exalted on high, sublime, most high, gentle, lovable, delectable and totally desirable above all else forever. Amen. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM ~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Let us desire nothing else ,

178:Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!   “Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth into battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended in the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames in summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it —   For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimmage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!   We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.   (After a pause.) “Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits.”   … ~ Smedley D Butler,

179:Whatever your critics say about you has no bearing on your worth. You are a child of the Most High God. The Creator of the universe breathed life into you. You have seeds of greatness on the inside. You’ve been crowned with favor. God has already equipped and empowered you with everything you need. Don’t waste your valuable time trying to play up to people, trying to win over all your critics, or trying to prove to someone that you’re important. Accept the fact that some people will never celebrate you. They will never recognize your gifts. That’s okay. Don’t be distracted. God has already lined up the right people to celebrate you, the right people who will cheer you on and help you fulfill your destiny. If you want to live in victory, you have to be very careful with your time and attention. You have to know what thoughts to ignore, what comments to ignore, and, I say this respectfully, what people to ignore. If someone at work is always on your nerves, making sarcastic comments, you could try to straighten them out, but you’d be wasting valuable time and energy that could be spent pursuing your dreams. Don’t be distracted. Ignore such people. If a family member never gives you any credit, either you can let that upset and frustrate you or you can dismiss it and say, “No big deal. I don’t need their approval. I have almighty God’s approval.” You don’t have to straighten people out. You don’t have to pay somebody back. You don’t have to be offended because of what someone said. You can ignore it and live happily. I’m convinced we would enjoy life a whole lot more if we would get good at knowing what to ignore. ~ Joel Osteen,

180:I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor Resheph that stalks in darkness, nor Qeteb that wastes at noonday. It was a song of deliverance from demons. The “terror by night” was a Mesopotamian title for Zaqar, a dream demon. Resheph was the god of plague and pestilence whose arrows were his curses. Qeteb was Resheph’s companion deity of destruction. Saul was closing the distance between them as David sang. His murderous eyes began to weaken. His jerking spasms lessened. He slowed down until he was but a few feet away from David. He stopped when another voice joined David’s. It was Michal. She had hidden in the servants’ hallway and made her way back to the room. Her voice flowed through the air with angelic sweetness and blended with David’s in harmony. Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place the Most High, who is my refuge no evil shall be allowed to befall you, no plague come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone. You will tread on the lion and the adder; the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot. Saul had collapsed at David’s feet. David looked up at Michal. They needed no words. They had worshipped Yahweh together and they had fought the evil spirit together. Their souls were one. She was the only woman in the whole world. He was the only man. Their lips were inexorably drawn toward each other. ~ Brian Godawa,

181:PSALM 91 He who dwells in  a the shelter of the Most High         will abide in  b the shadow of the Almighty. 2    I will say [1] to the LORD, “My  c refuge and my  d fortress,         my God, in whom I  e trust.”     3 For he will deliver you from  f the snare of the fowler         and from the deadly pestilence. 4    He will  g cover you with his pinions,         and under his  h wings you will  i find refuge;         his  j faithfulness is  k a shield and buckler. 5     l You will not fear  m the terror of the night,         nor the arrow that flies by day, 6    nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness,         nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.     7 A thousand may fall at your side,         ten thousand at your right hand,         but it will not come near you. 8    You will only look with your eyes         and  n see the recompense of the wicked.     9 Because you have made the LORD your  o dwelling place—         the Most High, who is my  c refuge [2]— 10     p no evil shall be allowed to befall you,          q no plague come near your tent.     11  r For he will command his  s angels concerning you         to  t guard you in all your ways. 12    On their hands they will bear you up,         lest you  u strike your foot against a stone. 13    You will tread on  v the lion and the  w adder;         the young lion and  x the serpent you will  y trample underfoot.     14 “Because he  z holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him;         I will protect him, because he  a knows my name. 15    When he  b calls to me, I will answer him;         I will be with him in trouble;         I will rescue him and  c honor him. 16    With  d long life I will satisfy him         and  e show him my salvation. ~ Anonymous,

182:Jesus said in Revelation 2, “I have one thing against you, you have left your first love.” The scripture doesn’t say you’ve lost love, the passage says you’ve left your first love. That means you can go get it. You haven’t lost your passion. You just left it. Go get it. You haven’t lost the love for your family; you’ve just left it--now go get it. You haven’t lost that dream; it’s still there in you. You just left it. You have to go get it. Stir up what God put on the inside. Fan the flame. Don’t be just barely alive. God wants you to be really alive. You may have had some setbacks, but this is a new day. Dreams are coming back to life. Your vision is being renewed. Your passion is being restored. Hearts are beating again. Get ready for God’s goodness. Get ready for God’s favor. You can live a life of victory. You can overcome every obstacle. You can accomplish your dreams. You can set new levels for your family. Not only are you able, but I also declare you will become all God created you to be. You will rise to new levels. You will live a blessed, successful, rewarding life. My encouragement is: Don’t settle where you are. You have seeds of greatness on the inside. Put these principles into action each day. Get up in the morning expecting good things, go through the day positive, focused on your vision, running your race, knowing that you are well able. Winning is in your DNA. The most high God breathed His life into you. You’ve got what it takes. This is your time. This is your moment. Shake off doubts, shake off fear and insecurity, and get ready for favor, get ready for increase, get ready for the fullness of your destiny. You can, you will! ~ Joel Osteen,

183:Now, concerning their opinion that the resurrection is not a second creation but is like the first coming-to-be, that is not sound, for the resurrection is another sort of creation [insha'] quite unrelated to the first. Indeed, there are many comings-to-be proper to man, and not simply two of them. And for that reason the most high said: That we may transfigure you and make you what you know not (LVI:61). And in the same way He said after creating the little lump, the clot, and the rest: then [We] produced it as another creation. So blessed be God, the Best of Creators! (XXIII:14) Indeed, sperm originates from the earth, the clot from sperm, the lump from the clot, [135] and the spirit from the lump. It was in response to the exalted origin of the spirit, to its glory, and to its being a divine thing, that He said: 'then [We] produced it as another creation. So blessed be God the best of creators!' (XXIII:14) And the most high said: They will ask thee concerning the Spirit. Say: the Spirit is by command of my Lord (XVII:85). So the creation of sensory perceptions after creating the spiritual foundation is another creation, while the creation of discernment which appears after seven years is yet another creation, and the creation of reason after fifteen years (or thereabouts) is a further creation. So each origination is a stage, so he created you by [diverse] stages (LXXI:14). Furthermore, the appearance of the characteristic of holiness [wilaya] in the ones endowed with with this quality is another creation, while the appearance of prophethood after that is yet another, indeed it is a kind of resurrection. So God-may He be praised and exalted-is the one who raises [ba ith] up the messengers, as He is the one who will raise us all up on the day of resurrection. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

184:March 20 MORNING “My beloved.” — Song of Solomon 2:8 THIS was a golden name which the ancient Church in her most joyous moments was wont to give to the Anointed of the Lord. When the time of the singing of birds was come, and the voice of the turtle was heard in her land, her love-note was sweeter than either, as she sang, “My beloved is mine and I am His: He feedeth among the lilies.” Ever in her song of songs doth she call Him by that delightful name, “My beloved!” Even in the long winter, when idolatry had withered the garden of the Lord, her prophets found space to lay aside the burden of the Lord for a little season, and to say, as Esaias did, “Now will I sing to my well-beloved a song of my beloved touching His vineyard.” Though the saints had never seen His face, though as yet He was not made flesh, nor had dwelt among us, nor had man beheld His glory, yet He was the consolation of Israel, the hope and joy of all the chosen, the “beloved” of all those who were upright before the Most High. We, in the summer days of the Church, are also wont to speak of Christ as the best beloved of our soul, and to feel that He is very precious, the “chiefest among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely.” So true is it that the Church loves Jesus, and claims Him as her beloved, that the apostle dares to defy the whole universe to separate her from the love of Christ, and declares that neither persecutions, distress, affliction, peril, or the sword have been able to do it; nay, he joyously boasts, “In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.” O that we knew more of Thee, Thou ever precious one! “My sole possession is Thy love; In earth beneath, or heaven above, I have no other store; And though with fervent suit I pray, And importune Thee day by day, I ask Thee nothing more. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

185:Set your mind for victory You may not realize it, but that’s setting the tone for defeat, for failure, for a lousy day. The first thing you should do is get your mind going in the right direction. This is why many people don’t have enough energy, joy, vision, or passion. Their minds are set on the negative. It’s been that way so long they don’t know any better. It’s normal to them. They go through the day expecting problems, bad breaks, to barely get by, and to be mistreated. They live by Murphy’s Law, which says, “If anything can go wrong, it will, and at the worst possible time. Things will take longer than you thought. It will be more difficult than it seems.” Because these people haven’t set their minds, they expect negative things to happen. They wonder why they have such a tough time, and why they can’t get ahead. It’s because they’re setting their minds for defeat, for bad breaks, for failure. If you have fallen into that negative mind-set, you’ve got to change your outlook. You are a child of the most high God. You’ve been crowned with favor. You were never created to live an average, get-by, short-end-of-the-stick life. You were created to be the head and not the tail, to lend and not borrow, to reign in life as a king. You have royalty in your blood. Winning is in your DNA. Now get rid of that negative mentality, and set your mind for victory. Set your mind for increase. Set your mind for good breaks. Start expecting your plans to work out. Expect people to be good to you. Expect to have a productive day. If it doesn’t happen, don’t fall back into that old negative mentality by thinking things like: “I should have known it would not work out for me. I never get good breaks. I never find a good parking spot. These people never treat me right. It always takes me longer than anyone else. ~ Joel Osteen,

186:Such words are pleasing in the ear of the father of spirits. He is not a God to accept the flattery which declares him above obligation to his creatures; a God to demand of them a righteousness different from his own; a God to deal ungenerously with his poverty-stricken children; a God to make severest demands upon his little ones! Job is confident of receiving justice. There is a strange but most natural conflict of feeling in him. His faith is in truth profound, yet is he always complaining. It is but the form his faith takes in his trouble. Even while he declares the hardness and unfitness of the usage he is receiving, he yet seems assured that, to get things set right, all he needs is admission to the presence of God—an interview with the Most High. To be heard must be to have justice. He uses language which, used by any living man, would horrify the religious of the present day, in proportion to the lack of truth in them, just as it horrified his three friends, the honest pharisees of the time, whose religion was 'doctrine' and rebuke. God speaks not a word of rebuke to Job for the freedom of his speech:—he has always been seeking such as Job to worship him. It is those who know only and respect the outsides of religion, such as never speak or think of God but as the Almighty or Providence, who will say of the man who would go close up to God, and speak to him out of the deepest in the nature he has made, 'he is irreverent.' To utter the name of God in the drama—highest of human arts, is with such men blasphemy. They pay court to God, not love him; they treat him as one far away, not as the one whose bosom is the only home. They accept God's person. 'Shall not his excellency'—another thing quite than that you admire—' make you afraid? Shall not his dread'—another thing quite than that to which you show your pagan respect—' fall upon you? ~ George MacDonald,

187:RISE UP AND SALUTE THE SUN Rise up! RISE UP everyone! Rise up and salute the sun! Rise up and synergize as ONE. And division there shall be none. Yes! And division there shall be none! Wise up! Wise up and salute the sun! So what is right will always be won - And so what is wrong will be never be done. Yes! So what is wrong will never be done, And justice will always be won! Rise up! Wise up and salute the sun! Because what is turning Can never be undone, And what is churning Has already been spun. Yes, The lies are distorting the sum. And they're quickly earning The minds of our young. Rise Up! Wise up and vibrate knowledge and peace Throughout the streets and UNIVERSAL KINGDOM! Spread light to replace all the hatred And ignorance in the world - With Truth and amplified WISDOM! Rise up! Rise up and salute the sun. Get wise and join lights as ONE. Because the journey has just begun. Yes, The REVOLUTION has just begun. So wise up! Wise up and free all your minds. Rise up and stand up for all mankind! Put on your gold crowns and SHINE! Because the sun symbolizes what's lit inside. Illumination frees us and gives us eyes. It's what heals us and gives us life. It's also the symbol of the Most High -- -- THE LIGHT, The light in all its MIGHT! So RISE UP. Rise up and salute the sun! Wise up because the hour HAS COME And they've already sent us More than one drum! Hurry up! Hurry up before the last chime is STRUCK! RISE UP before the TIME IS UP! Rise up before they kill our dove! Wise up and fight with LIGHT and LOVE! RISE UP! Rise up EVERYONE. Rise up and salute the sun. Rise up and salute the sun! RISE UP AND SALUTE THE SUN - Poetry by Suzy Kassem ~ Suzy Kassem,

188:For the last part of the trial in heaven, Yahweh Elohim allowed the litigators to engage in cross examination and rebuttal. The Accuser stood next to Enoch before the throne. Yahweh Elohim announced the beginning of the next exchange, “Accuser, you may speak.” The Accuser began with his first complaint, “On this fourth aspect of the covenant, the ‘blessings and curses,’ we find another series of immoral maneuvers by Elohim, the first of which is the injustice of his capital punishment.” The Accuser delivered his lines with theatrical exaggeration. It would have annoyed Enoch had they not been so self-incriminating. “What kind of a loving god would punish a simple act of disobedience in the Garden with death and exile? In the interest of wisdom, the primeval couple eat a piece of fruit and what reward do they receive for their mature act of decision-making? Pain in childbirth, male domination, cursed ground, miserable labor, perpetual war, and worst of all, exile and death! I ask the court, does that sound like the judicious behavior of a beneficent king or an infantile temper tantrum of a juvenile divinity who did not get his way?” The Accuser bowed with a mocking tone in his voice, “Your majestic majesticness, I turn over to the illustrative, master counselor of extensive experience, Enoch ben Jared.” The Accuser’s mockery no longer fazed Enoch. His ad-hominem attacks on a lowly servant of Yahweh Elohim was so much child’s play. It was the accuser’s impious sacrilege against the Most High that offended Enoch — and the Most High’s forbearing mercy that astounded him. He spoke with a renewed awe of the Almighty, “If I may point out to the prosecutor, the seriousness of the punishment is not determined by the magnitude of the offense, but the magnitude of the one offended. Transgression of a fellow finite temporal creature requires finite earthly consequences, transgression against the infinite eternal God requires infinite eternal consequences. ~ Brian Godawa,

189:What Had He Done? I saw the farmer, when the day was done, And the proud sun had sought his crimson bed, And the mild stars came forward one by oneI saw the sturdy farmer, and I said: 'What have you done to-day, O farmer! say?' 'Oh! I have sown the wheat in yonder field, And pruned my orchard to increase its yield, And turned the furrow for a patch of corn: This have I done, with other things, since morn.' I saw the blacksmith in his smithy-door, When day had vanished and the west grew red, And all the busy noise and strife were o'erI saw the kingly blacksmith, and I said: 'What have you done to-day, O blacksmith! say? 'Oh! I have made two plough-shares all complete, And nailed the shoes on many horses' feet; And-O my friend! I cannot tell you half,' The man of muscle answered, with a laugh. I saw the miller, when the day had gone, And all the sunlight from the hills had fled, And tender shadows crept across the lawnI saw the trusty miller, and I said: 'What have you done to-day, O miller gray?' 'Oh! I have watched my mill from morn to night, And never saw yon flour so snowy white. And many are the mouths to-day I've fed, 889 I ween,' the merry miller laughed and said. I saw another, when the night grew nigh, And turned each daily toiler from his task, When gold and crimson banners decked the skyI saw another, and I paused to ask: 'What have you done to-day, Rumseller, say?' But the rumseller turned with dropping head, And not a single word in answer said. What had he done? His work he knew full well Was plunging human souls in deepest hell. Alas! rumseller, on that awful day, When death shall call you, and your race is run, How can you answer? What can you hope to say? When God shall ask you, 'What have you done?' How can you meet the eye Of the Most High? When night approaches and the day grows late, Think you to find the way to heaven's gate? Think you to dwell with souls of righteous men? Think you to enter in? If not, what then? ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox,

190:Counsel: It is hardly a secret that man has a share in the attribute of 'knower', yet man's knowledge is different from that of God the most high in three specific ways. First, regarding the multitude of things known: although the things man knows are wide-ranging, they are limited to his heart, and how could they correspond to what is infinite? Secondly, that man's disclosure, while clear, does not reach the goal beyond which no goal is possible; rather his seeing of things is like seeing them behind a thin veil. You should not deny degrees of disclosure, because inward vision is like outward sight, so there is a difference between what is clear at the time of departure and what becomes clear in morning light. Thirdly, that the knowledge which God-may He be praised and exalted-has of things is not derived from things but things are derived from it, while man's knowledge of things is contingent upon things and results from them. Now if it is difficult for you to understand the difference, compare the knowledge of one who learns chess to the knowledge of the person who devised it. For the knowledge of the person who devised it is itself the cause of the existence of chess, while the fact that chess exists is the cause of the knowledge of one who learns it. The knowledge of the one who devised it precedes chess, while the knowledge of the learner follows upon it and comes afterwards. Similarly, the knowledge which God-great and glorious-has of things precedes them and causes them, while our knowledge is not like that. Man's distinction is due to knowledge, inasmuch as it is one of the attributes of God-great and glorious; yet that knowledge is more distinguished whose objects are more distinguished, and the most distinguished object of knowledge is God the most high. Likewise, knowing God the most high is the most beneficial knowledge of all, while knowledge of the rest of things is only distinguished because it is knowledge of the actions of God-great and glorious, or knowledge of the way which brings man closer to God-great and glorious, or the thing which facilitates attaining to knowledge of God the most high and closeness to Him. All knowledge other than that cannot claim much distinction. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,

191:Get in agreement with God In the Bible, David said, “Lift up your head and the King of glory will come in.” As long as your head is down and you are discouraged, with no joy, no passion, and no zeal, the King of glory will not come. Instead, get up in the morning and say, “Father, thank you for another day. Thank you for another sunrise. I’m excited about this day.” When you’re really alive, hopeful, grateful, passionate, and productive, then the King of glory, the most high God, will come in. He’ll make a way where it looks like there is no way. We all face difficulties. We have unfair things happen. Don’t let it sour your life. I heard the saying, “Trouble is inevitable but misery is optional.” Just because you had a bad break doesn’t mean your life is over. I know a popular minister who led his church for many years and was such a great speaker he was in constant demand. But a few years ago, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. He eventually lost the ability to speak. He had to resign from his church. He once was so eloquent, strong, and vibrant, but it looked as if his career was over. It looked as if his best days were behind him. But just when things started to look really bad for him, he sent me a manuscript with a note: “Joel, as you know, I can’t speak anymore, so I’ve taken up writing. Here’s a look at my newest book.” Just because you can’t do what you used to do doesn’t mean you’re supposed to sit on the sidelines. If you can’t speak, write. If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t stand up, just sit up. If you can’t dance, shake your head. If you can’t sing, tap your foot. Do whatever you can do. As long as you have breath you have something in you. Don’t lose your passion. Think about the apostle Paul: he was thrown in prison at the peak of his career. Just when it was all coming together he had this major disappointment. Paul could have become depressed and thought: “Too bad for me.” He could have given up on his dreams. Instead, he kept his passion. While in prison, he wrote more than half of the New Testament. What looked like a setback was really a setup for God to do something greater in Paul’s life. You may have been through some bad breaks and unfair situations. Stay passionate. God is still on the throne. If you keep your head up, the King of glory will still come in and guide you to where He wants you to be. ~ Joel Osteen,

192:We are responsible for helping and encouraging others, for guiding them further along. But we are not responsible for their choices. You cannot force a good attitude upon someone. If they want to live in the pits, unhappy, discouraged, and in self-pity, that’s their choice. Do not allow them to drag you into the pit with them. If you spend all your time trying to encourage others, trying to make them do what’s right, trying to keep them cheered up, they’ll drain all the life and energy out of you. You cannot bloom if you spend all your time trying to keep others happy. That is not your responsibility. I learned long ago that not everyone wants to be happy. Some people want to live in the pits. They like the attention it brings them. Make the decision to say: “If you don’t want to be happy, that’s fine, but you can’t keep me from being happy. If you want to live in the pits, that’s your choice, but I’m not diving in there with you. If you want to be a weed, you can be a weed, but I’m a flower. I’m blooming. I’m choosing a good attitude. I’m smiling. I’m happy despite my circumstances.” When you bloom in the midst of weeds, you sow a seed to inspire and challenge the people around you to come up higher, and that’s a seed for God to take you higher. You may be in a negative environment right now. The people in your life may not be going places. They may lack goals, dreams, vision, enthusiasm. You may not see how you could ever rise above. It might be easy to just accept and settle where you are and think this is your destiny. Let me challenge you. This is not your destiny. You were made for more. God has incredible things planned for your future, but you have to do your part and bloom where you’re planted. What does that mean? Develop your gifts and talents. Whatever you do, whatever your occupation is, do your best to be the best. Improve your skills. Read books. Take training courses. Go back to school if you need to. But don’t you dare just sit back and think, I’ll never rise any higher. I’ll never get out of this neighborhood. I guess this is just my lot in life. Your lot in life is to excel. It’s to go further. It’s to make a difference in this world. Take a stand and say, “I will not settle where I am. I was made for more. I’m a child of the Most High God. I have seeds of greatness on the inside. So I am rising up to be the best I can be right here, knowing God will take me where I’m supposed to go. ~ Joel Osteen,

193:You have to remember, you are in a controlled environment. It may seem that your circumstances are out of control, but the Creator of the universe is in complete control. He has you in the palm of His hand. Nothing can happen to you without God’s permission. In fact, God is even in control of our enemies. The Scripture talks about how God caused Pharaoh to harden his heart and not let the people go. Notice that God caused him to be difficult. Why was that? So God could show His power in extraordinary ways. When something unexpected happens and catches you off-guard, instead of falling apart and blaming God and panicking, your attitude should be: God, I know You are still on the throne. This is not a surprise to You. I know You wouldn’t have allowed this unless You had a purpose. The surprise may look like a setback, but I know the truth. It’s a setup for You to show Your power in a greater way. It’s a setup for You to show my unbelieving co-workers Your greatness. God’s purpose in crises is to show not just His power but to show other people what He can do. If you will view that adversity as an opportunity for God to display His greatness, God will use you as an example. He wants your neighbors to say, “How in the world did she make it? The medical report said ‘impossible,’ but look at her today. She’s as strong and healthy as can be.” Or, “He was laid off at the worst possible time, but look at him now. He has an even better job than before.” God wants to turn your test into a testimony. That’s why God will allow you to face adversity. Being a believer doesn’t make you immune to difficulty. But God promises if you will stay in faith, He will take what was meant for your harm and use it not only to your advantage but to display His greatness to other people. When something unexpected happens, instead of falling apart and panicking, expect God to show up and turn the situation around. Expect God’s favor. Expect His supernatural power. It is true that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. But here is the difference. For the just, for the believers—that’s you and me—the Scripture says no weapon formed against us will ever prosper. It doesn’t say the challenges will never take form. Instead, it says you may face difficulties, but because you’re a child of the Most High God, they will not prosper against you. They will not get the best of you. You will get the best of them. God will bring you out better off than you were before. ~ Joel Osteen,

194:So at last Ilar Sant came to this wood, which people now call St. Hilary's wood because they have forgotten all about Ilar. And he was weary with his wandering, and the day was very hot; so he stayed by this well and began to drink. And there on that great stone he saw the shining fish, and so he rested, and built an altar and a church of willow boughs, and offered the sacrifice not only for the quick and the dead, but for all the wild beasts of the woods and the streams. "And when this blessed Ilar rang his holy bell and began to offer, there came not only the Prince and his servants, but all the creatures of the wood. There, under the hazel boughs, you might see the hare, which flies so swiftly from men, come gently and fall down, weeping greatly on account of the Passion of the Son of Mary. And, beside the hare, the weasel and the pole-cat would lament grievously in the manner of penitent sinners; and wolves and lambs together adored the saint's hierurgy; and men have beheld tears streaming from the eyes of venomous serpents when Ilar Agios uttered 'Curiluson' with a loud voice—since the serpent is not ignorant that by its wickedness sorrow came to the whole world. And when, in the time of the holy ministry, it is necessary that frequent Alleluyas should be chanted and vociferated, the saint wondered what should be done, for as yet none in that place was skilled in the art of song. Then was a great miracle, since from all the boughs of the wood, from every bush and from every green tree, there resounded Alleluyas in enchanting and prolonged harmony; never did the Bishop of Rome listen to so sweet a singing in his church as was heard in this wood. For the nightingale and thrush and blackbird and blackcap, and all their companions, are gathered together and sing praises to the Lord, chanting distinct notes and yet concluding in a melody of most ravishing sweetness; such was the mass of the Fisherman. Nor was this all, for one day as the saint prayed beside the well he became aware that a bee circled round and round his head, uttering loud buzzing sounds, but not endeavouring to sting him. To be short; the bee went before Ilar, and led him to a hollow tree not far off, and straightway a swarm of bees issued forth, leaving a vast store of wax behind them. This was their oblation to the Most High, for from their wax Ilar Sant made goodly candles to burn at the Offering; and from that time the bee is holy, because his wax makes light to shine upon the Gifts. ~ Arthur Machen,

195:So Medtronic adjusted not only its marketing efforts, but also the services it provided to directly target potential patients. For example, in conjunction with local cardiologists, Medtronic organized heart-health screening clinics across the country—providing prospective patients with free, direct access to specialists and high-tech equipment without having to go through an overwhelmed GP first. The question of paying for a pacemaker and the attendant medical services was no small concern. So Medtronic created a loan program to help patients pay for the pacemaker procedure. The company initially assumed that patients might be drawn to loans that actually expired upon the patient’s death, so that they were not saddling the family with the burden of debt—the emotional and social component of their Job to Be Done. And, as the Medtronic team learned from patients themselves, that was what they often wanted. But friends and family wanted something different: they tended to rally around a patient to find the money necessary. In those cases, the patient was more likely simply to need a bridge loan until those funds could be gathered. Medtronic made sure that the loan process was not daunting for the family: a loan is typically approved within two days, requiring minimum paperwork and entailing no asset mortgage. The experience of navigating the complex web of health care in India could be overwhelming for both patients and their families. So the company began to work with local hospitals to create a patient counselor role, initially calling them “Sherpas,” that helped patients navigate the often mind-boggling bureaucracy of a hospital, keeping their procedure and aftercare as top priorities. The patient counselor role became so popular that hospitals asked if the company would allow patients obtaining pacemakers through traditional routes to seek assistance from a counselor, too. Seeing an opportunity to further identify Jobs to Be Done from within the hospital system, Medtronic jumped at the chance. “At the end of the day, we realized the role was such an important position, we adjusted the role. And we were OK with it,” Monson recalls. “It ingrained the value of that person into the entire hospital system, and thus our business model. And it made us the partner of choice. To me that was a clear example of hitting a Job to Be Done.” The first Medtronic pacemaker distributed through the Healthy Heart for All (HHFA) program in India was implanted in late 2010. Medtronic currently has partnerships with more than one hundred hospitals in thirty cities. India is considered to be one of the most high-potential growth markets for the company. ~ Clayton M Christensen,

196:THE WAND    THE Magical Will is in its essence twofold, for it presupposes a beginning and an end; to will to be a thing is to admit that you are not that thing.    Hence to will anything but the supreme thing, is to wander still further from it - any will but that to give up the self to the Beloved is Black Magick - yet this surrender is so simple an act that to our complex minds it is the most difficult of all acts; and hence training is necessary. Further, the Self surrendered must not be less than the All-Self; one must not come before the altar of the Most High with an impure or an imperfect offering. As it is written in Liber LXV, "To await Thee is the end, not the beginning."    This training may lead through all sorts of complications, varying according to the nature of the student, and hence it may be necessary for him at any moment to will all sorts of things which to others might seem unconnected with the goal. Thus it is not "a priori" obvious why a billiard player should need a file.    Since, then, we may want "anything," let us see to it that our will is strong enough to obtain anything we want without loss of time.    It is therefore necessary to develop the will to its highest point, even though the last task but one is the total surrender of this will. Partial surrender of an imperfect will is of no account in Magick.    The will being a lever, a fulcrum is necessary; this fulcrum is the main aspiration of the student to attain. All wills which are not dependent upon this principal will are so many leakages; they are like fat to the athlete.    The majority of the people in this world are ataxic; they cannot coordinate their mental muscles to make a purposed movement. They have no real will, only a set of wishes, many of which contradict others. The victim wobbles from one to the other (and it is no less wobbling because the movements may occasionally be very violent) and at the end of life the movements cancel each other out. Nothing has been achieved; except the one thing of which the victim is not conscious: the destruction of his own character, the confirming of indecision. Such an one is torn limb from limb by Choronzon.    How then is the will to be trained? All these wishes, whims, caprices, inclinations, tendencies, appetites, must be detected, examined, judged by the standard of whether they help or hinder the main purpose, and treated accordingly.    Vigilance and courage are obviously required. I was about to add self-denial, in deference to conventional speech; but how could I call that self-denial which is merely denial of those things which hamper the self? It is not suicide to kill the germs of malaria in one's blood.    Now there are very great difficulties to be overcome in the training of the mind. Perhaps the greatest is forgetfulness, which is probably the worst form of what the Buddhists call ignorance. Special practices for training the memory may be of some use as a preliminary for persons whose memory is naturally poor. In any case the Magical Record prescribed for Probationers of the A.'.A.'. is useful and necessary.    Above all the practices of Liber III must be done again and again, for these practices develop not only vigilance but those inhibiting centres in the brain which are, according to some psychologists, the mainspring of the mechanism by which civilized man has raised himself above the savage.    So far it has been spoken, as it were, in the negative. Aaron's rod has become a serpent, and swallowed the serpents of the other Magicians; it is now necessary to turn it once more into a rod.    ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA, Book 4, The Wand,

197:The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The air was a blue clarity. Swallows flew, And a cock crew. The iron clanging sank through the light air, Rustled over with blowing branches. A flare Of spotted green, and a snake had gone Into the bed where the snowdrops shone In green new-started, Their white bells parted. Two by two, in a long brown line, The nuns were walking to breathe the fine Bright April air. They must go in soon And work at their tasks all the afternoon. But this time is theirs! They walk in pairs. First comes the Abbess, preoccupied And slow, as a woman often tried, With her temper in bond. Then the oldest nun. Then younger and younger, until the last one Has a laugh on her lips, And fairly skips. They wind about the gravel walks And all the long line buzzes and talks. They step in time to the ringing bell, With scarcely a shadow. The sun is well In the core of a sky Domed silverly. Sister Marguerite said: 'The pears will soon bud.' Sister Angelique said she must get her spud And free the earth round the jasmine roots. Sister Veronique said: 'Oh, look at those shoots! 249 There's a crocus up, With a purple cup.' But Sister Clotilde said nothing at all, She looked up and down the old grey wall To see if a lizard were basking there. She looked across the garden to where A sycamore Flanked the garden door. She was restless, although her little feet danced, And quite unsatisfied, for it chanced Her morning's work had hung in her mind And would not take form. She could not find The beautifulness For the Virgin's dress. Should it be of pink, or damasked blue? Or perhaps lilac with gold shotted through? Should it be banded with yellow and white Roses, or sparked like a frosty night? Or a crimson sheen Over some sort of green? But Clotilde's eyes saw nothing new In all the garden, no single hue So lovely or so marvellous That its use would not seem impious. So on she walked, And the others talked. Sister Elisabeth edged away From what her companion had to say, For Sister Marthe saw the world in little, She weighed every grain and recorded each tittle. She did plain stitching And worked in the kitchen. 'Sister Radegonde knows the apples won't last, I told her so this Friday past. I must speak to her before Compline.' Her words were like dust motes in slanting sunshine. 250 The other nun sighed, With her pleasure quite dried. Suddenly Sister Berthe cried out: 'The snowdrops are blooming!' They turned about. The little white cups bent over the ground, And in among the light stems wound A crested snake, With his eyes awake. His body was green with a metal brightness Like an emerald set in a kind of whiteness, And all down his curling length were disks, Evil vermilion asterisks, They paled and flooded As wounds fresh-blooded. His crest was amber glittered with blue, And opaque so the sun came shining through. It seemed a crown with fiery points. When he quivered all down his scaly joints, From every slot The sparkles shot. The nuns huddled tightly together, fear Catching their senses. But Clotilde must peer More closely at the beautiful snake, She seemed entranced and eased. Could she make Colours so rare, The dress were there. The Abbess shook off her lethargy. 'Sisters, we will walk on,' said she. Sidling away from the snowdrop bed, The line curved forwards, the Abbess ahead. Only Clotilde Was the last to yield. When the recreation hour was done Each went in to her task. Alone In the library, with its great north light, Clotilde wrought at an exquisite 251 Wreath of flowers For her Book of Hours. She twined the little crocus blooms With snowdrops and daffodils, the glooms Of laurel leaves were interwoven With Stars-of-Bethlehem, and cloven Fritillaries, Whose colour varies. They framed the picture she had made, Half-delighted and half-afraid. In a courtyard with a lozenged floor The Virgin watched, and through the arched door The angel came Like a springing flame. His wings were dipped in violet fire, His limbs were strung to holy desire. He lowered his head and passed under the arch, And the air seemed beating a solemn march. The Virgin waited With eyes dilated. Her face was quiet and innocent, And beautiful with her strange assent. A silver thread about her head Her halo was poised. But in the stead Of her gown, there remained The vellum, unstained. Clotilde painted the flowers patiently, Lingering over each tint and dye. She could spend great pains, now she had seen That curious, unimagined green. A colour so strange It had seemed to change. She thought it had altered while she gazed. At first it had been simple green; then glazed All over with twisting flames, each spot A molten colour, trembling and hot, 252 And every eye Seemed to liquefy. She had made a plan, and her spirits danced. After all, she had only glanced At that wonderful snake, and she must know Just what hues made the creature throw Those splashes and sprays Of prismed rays. When evening prayers were sung and said, The nuns lit their tapers and went to bed. And soon in the convent there was no light, For the moon did not rise until late that night, Only the shine Of the lamp at the shrine. Clotilde lay still in her trembling sheets. Her heart shook her body with its beats. She could not see till the moon should rise, So she whispered prayers and kept her eyes On the window-square Till light should be there. The faintest shadow of a branch Fell on the floor. Clotilde, grown staunch With solemn purpose, softly rose And fluttered down between the rows Of sleeping nuns. She almost runs. She must go out through the little side door Lest the nuns who were always praying before The Virgin's altar should hear her pass. She pushed the bolts, and over the grass The red moon's brim Mounted its rim. Her shadow crept up the convent wall As she swiftly left it, over all The garden lay the level glow Of a moon coming up, very big and slow. 253 The gravel glistened. She stopped and listened. It was still, and the moonlight was getting clearer. She laughed a little, but she felt queerer Than ever before. The snowdrop bed Was reached and she bent down her head. On the striped ground The snake was wound. For a moment Clotilde paused in alarm, Then she rolled up her sleeve and stretched out her arm. She thought she heard steps, she must be quick. She darted her hand out, and seized the thick Wriggling slime, Only just in time. The old gardener came muttering down the path, And his shadow fell like a broad, black swath, And covered Clotilde and the angry snake. He bit her, but what difference did that make! The Virgin should dress In his loveliness. The gardener was covering his new-set plants For the night was chilly, and nothing daunts Your lover of growing things. He spied Something to do and turned aside, And the moonlight streamed On Clotilde, and gleamed. His business finished the gardener rose. He shook and swore, for the moonlight shows A girl with a fire-tongued serpent, she Grasping him, laughing, while quietly Her eyes are weeping. Is he sleeping? He thinks it is some holy vision, Brushes that aside and with decision Jumps -- and hits the snake with his stick, Crushes his spine, and then with quick, 254 Urgent command Takes her hand. The gardener sucks the poison and spits, Cursing and praying as befits A poor old man half out of his wits. 'Whatever possessed you, Sister, it's Hatched of a devil And very evil. It's one of them horrid basilisks You read about. They say a man risks His life to touch it, but I guess I've sucked it Out by now. Lucky I chucked it Away from you. I guess you'll do.' 'Oh, no, Francois, this beautiful beast Was sent to me, to me the least Worthy in all our convent, so I Could finish my picture of the Most High And Holy Queen, In her dress of green. He is dead now, but his colours won't fade At once, and by noon I shall have made The Virgin's robe. Oh, Francois, see How kindly the moon shines down on me! I can't die yet, For the task was set.' 'You won't die now, for I've sucked it away,' Grumbled old Francois, 'so have your play. If the Virgin is set on snake's colours so strong, --' 'Francois, don't say things like that, it is wrong.' So Clotilde vented Her creed. He repented. 'He can't do no more harm, Sister,' said he. 'Paint as much as you like.' And gingerly He picked up the snake with his stick. Clotilde Thanked him, and begged that he would shield 255 Her secret, though itching To talk in the kitchen. The gardener promised, not very pleased, And Clotilde, with the strain of adventure eased, Walked quickly home, while the half-high moon Made her beautiful snake-skin sparkle, and soon In her bed she lay And waited for day. At dawn's first saffron-spired warning Clotilde was up. And all that morning, Except when she went to the chapel to pray, She painted, and when the April day Was hot with sun, Clotilde had done. Done! She drooped, though her heart beat loud At the beauty before her, and her spirit bowed To the Virgin her finely-touched thought had made. A lady, in excellence arrayed, And wonder-souled. Christ's Blessed Mould! From long fasting Clotilde felt weary and faint, But her eyes were starred like those of a saint Enmeshed in Heaven's beatitude. A sudden clamour hurled its rude Force to break Her vision awake. The door nearly leapt from its hinges, pushed By the multitude of nuns. They hushed When they saw Clotilde, in perfect quiet, Smiling, a little perplexed at the riot. And all the hive Buzzed 'She's alive!' Old Francois had told. He had found the strain Of silence too great, and preferred the pain Of a conscience outraged. The news had spread, And all were convinced Clotilde must be dead. 256 For Francois, to spite them, Had not seen fit to right them. The Abbess, unwontedly trembling and mild, Put her arms round Clotilde and wept, 'My child, Has the Holy Mother showed you this grace, To spare you while you imaged her face? How could we have guessed Our convent so blessed! A miracle! But Oh! My Lamb! To have you die! And I, who am A hollow, living shell, the grave Is empty of me. Holy Mary, I crave To be taken, Dear Mother, Instead of this other.' She dropped on her knees and silently prayed, With anguished hands and tears delayed To a painful slowness. The minutes drew To fractions. Then the west wind blew The sound of a bell, On a gusty swell. It came skipping over the slates of the roof, And the bright bell-notes seemed a reproof To grief, in the eye of so fair a day. The Abbess, comforted, ceased to pray. And the sun lit the flowers In Clotilde's Book of Hours. It glistened the green of the Virgin's dress And made the red spots, in a flushed excess, Pulse and start; and the violet wings Of the angel were colour which shines and sings. The book seemed a choir Of rainbow fire. The Abbess crossed herself, and each nun Did the same, then one by one, They filed to the chapel, that incensed prayers Might plead for the life of this sister of theirs. 257 Clotilde, the Inspired! She only felt tired. ***** The old chronicles say she did not die Until heavy with years. And that is why There hangs in the convent church a basket Of osiered silver, a holy casket, And treasured therein A dried snake-skin. ~ Amy Lowell,

198:I WHEN the pine tosses its cones To the song of its waterfall tones, Who speeds to the woodland walks? To birds and trees who talks? Csar of his leafy Rome, There the poet is at home. He goes to the river-side, Not hook nor line hath he; He stands in the meadows wide, Nor gun nor scythe to see. Sure some god his eye enchants: What he knows nobody wants. In the wood he travels glad, Without better fortune had, Melancholy without bad. Knowledge this man prizes best Seems fantastic to the rest: Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds, Boughs on which the wild bees settle, Tints that spot the violet's petal, Why Nature loves the number five, And why the star-form she repeats: Lover of all things alive, Wonderer at all he meets, Wonderer chiefly at himself, Who can tell him what he is? Or how meet in human elf Coming and past eternities? 2 And such I knew, a forest seer, A minstrel of the natural year, Foreteller of the vernal ides, Wise harbinger of spheres and tides, A lover true, who knew by heart Each joy the mountain dales impart; It seemed that Nature could not raise A plant in any secret place, In quaking bog, on snowy hill, Beneath the grass that shades the rill, Under the snow, between the rocks, In damp fields known to bird and fox. But he would come in the very hour It opened in its virgin bower, As if a sunbeam showed the place, And tell its long-descended race. It seemed as if the breezes brought him, It seemed as if the sparrows taught him; As if by secret sight he knew Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. Many haps fall in the field Seldom seen by wishful eyes, But all her shows did Nature yield, To please and win this pilgrim wise. He saw the partridge drum in the woods; He heard the woodcock's evening hymn; He found the tawny thrushes' broods; And the shy hawk did wait for him; What others did at distance hear, And guessed within the thicket's gloom, Was shown to this philosopher, And at his bidding seemed to come. 3 In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang; He trod the unplanted forest floor, whereon The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone; Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear, And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker. He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, The slight Linna hang its twin-born heads, And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, Which breathes his sweet fame'through the northern bowers. He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls, One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree, Declares the close of its green century. Low lies the plant to whose creation went Sweet influence from every element; Whose living towers the years conspired to build, Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, He roamed, content alike with man and beast. Where darkness found him he lay glad at night; There the red morning touched him with its light. Three moons his great heart him a hermit made, So long he roved at will the boundless shade. The timid it concerns to ask their way, And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, To make no step until the event is known, And ills to come as evils past bemoan. Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps To spy what danger on his pathway creeps; Go where he will, the wise man is at home, His hearth the earth,his hall the azure dome; Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. 4 'T was one of the charmd days When the genius of God doth flow; The wind may alter twenty ways, A tempest cannot blow; It may blow north, it still is warm; Or south, it still is clear; Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; Or west, no thunder fear. The musing peasant, lowly great, Beside the forest water sate; The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown Composed the network of his throne; The wide lake, edged with sand and grass, Was burnished to a floor of glass, Painted with shadows green and proud Of the tree and of the cloud. He was the heart of all the scene; On him the sun looked more serene; To hill and cloud his face was known, It seemed the likeness of their own; They knew by secret sympathy The public child of earth and sky. 'You ask,' he said,'what guide Me through trackless thickets led, Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide. I found the water's bed. The watercourses were my guide; I travelled grateful by their side, Or through their channel dry; They led me through the thicket damp, Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp, Through beds of granite cut my road, And their resistless friendship showed. The falling waters led me, The foodful waters fed me, And brought me to the lowest land Unerring to the ocean sand. The moss upon the forest bark Was pole-star when the night was dark; The purple berries in the wood Supplied me necessary food; For Nature ever faithful is To such as trust her faithfulness. When the forest shall mislead me, When the night and morning lie, When sea and land refuse to feed me, 'T will be time enough to die; Then will yet my mother yield A pillow in her greenest field, Nor the June flowers scorn to cover The clay of their departed lover.' II As sunbeams stream through liberal space And nothing jostle or displace, So waved the pine-tree through my thought And fanned the dreams it never brought. 'Whether is better, the gift or the donor? Come to me,' Quoth the pine-tree, 'I am the giver of honor. My garden is the cloven rock, And my manure the snow; And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock, In summer's scorching glow. He is great who can live by me: The rough and bearded forester Is better than the lord; God fills the scrip and canister, Sin piles the loaded board. The lord is the peasant that was, The peasant the lord that shall be; The lord is hay, the peasant grass, One dry, and one the living tree. Who liveth by the ragged pine Foundeth a heroic line; Who liveth in the palace hall Waneth fast and spendeth all. He goes to my savage haunts, With his chariot and his care; My twilight realm he disenchants, And finds his prison there. 'What prizes the town and the tower? Only what the pine-tree yields; Sinew that subdued the fields; The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods Chants his hymn to hills and floods, Whom the city's poisoning spleen Made not pale, or fat, or lean; Whom the rain and the wind purgeth, Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth, In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth, In whose feet the lion rusheth, Iron arms, and iron mould, That know not fear, fatigue, or cold. I give my rafters to his boat, My billets to his boiler's throat, And I will swim the ancient sea To float my child to victory, And grant to dwellers with the pine Dominion o'er the palm and vine. Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, Unnerves his strength, invites his end. Cut a bough from my parent stem, And dip it in thy porcelain vase; A little while each russet gem Will swell and rise with wonted grace; But when it seeks enlarged supplies, The orphan of the forest dies. Whoso walks in solitude And inhabiteth the wood, Choosing light, wave, rock and bird, Before the money-loving herd, Into that forester shall pass, From these companions, power and grace. Clean shall he be, without, within, From the old adhering sin, All ill dissolving in the light Of his triumphant piercing sight: Not vain, sour, nor frivolous; Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous; Grave, chaste, contented, though retired, And of all other men desired. On him the light of star and moon Shall fall with purer radiance down; All constellations of the sky Shed their virtue through his eye. Him Nature giveth for defence His formidable innocence; The mounting sap, the shells, the sea, All spheres, all stones, his helpers be; He shall meet the speeding year, Without wailing, without fear; He shall be happy in his love, Like to like shall joyful prove; He shall be happy whilst he wooes, Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse. But if with gold she bind her hair, And deck her breast with diamond, Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear, Though thou lie alone on the ground. ' Heed the old oracles, Ponder my spells; Song wakes in my pinnacles When the wind swells. Soundeth the prophetic wind, The shadows shake on the rock behind, And the countless leaves of the pine are strings Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings. Hearken! Hearken! If thou wouldst know the mystic song Chanted when the sphere was young. Aloft, abroad, the pan swells; O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells? O wise man! hear'st thou the least part? 'T is the chronicle of art. To the open ear it sings Sweet the genesis of things, Of tendency through endless ages, Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages, Of rounded worlds, of space and time, Of the old flood's subsiding slime, Of chemic matter, force and form, Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm: The rushing metamorphosis Dissolving all that fixture is, Melts things that be to things that seem, And solid nature to a dream. O, listen to the undersong, The ever old, the ever young; And, far within those cadent pauses, The chorus of the ancient Causes! Delights the dreadful Destiny To fling his voice into the tree, And shock thy weak ear with a note Breathed from the everlasting throat. In music he repeats the pang Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang. O mortal! thy ears are stones; These echoes are laden with tones Which only the pure can hear; Thou canst not catch what they recite Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right, Of man to come, of human life, Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.' Once again the pine-tree sung: ' Speak not thy speech my boughs among: Put off thy years, wash in the breeze; My hours are peaceful centuries. Talk no more with feeble tongue; No more the fool of space and time, Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme. Only thy Americans Can read thy line, can meet thy glance, But the runes that I rehearse Understands the universe; The least breath my boughs which tossed Brings again the Pentecost; To every soul resounding clear In a voice of solemn cheer, "Am I not thine? Are not these thine?" And they reply, "Forever mine!" My branches speak Italian, English, German, Basque, Castilian, Mountain speech to Highlanders, Ocean tongues to islanders, To Fin and Lap and swart Malay, To each his bosom-secret say. 'Come learn with me the fatal song Which knits the world in music strong, Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes, Of things with things, of times with times, Primal chimes of sun and shade, Of sound and echo, man and maid, The land reflected in the flood, Body with shadow still pursued. For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. The wood is wiser far than thou; The wood and wave each other know Not unrelated, unaffied, But to each thought and thing allied, Is perfect Nature's every part, Rooted in the mighty Heart. But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed, Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed, Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded? Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded? Who thee divorced, deceived and left? Thee of thy faith who hath bereft, And torn the ensigns from thy brow, And sunk the immortal eye so low? Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender, Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender For royal man;they thee confess An exile from the wilderness, The hills where health with health agrees, And the wise soul expels disease. Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign By which thy hurt thou may'st divine. 'When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff, Or see the wide shore from thy skiff, To thee the horizon shall express But emptiness on emptiness; There lives no man of Nature's worth In the circle of the earth; And to thine eye the vast skies fall, Dire and satirical, On clucking hens and prating fools, On thieves, on drudges and on dolls. And thou shalt say to the Most High, "Godhead! all this astronomy, And fate and practice and invention, Strong art and beautiful pretension, This radiant pomp of sun and star, Throes that were, and worlds that are, Behold! were in vain and in vain; It cannot be,I will look again. Surely now will the curtain rise, And earth's fit tenant me surprise; But the curtain doth not rise, And Nature has miscarried wholly Into failure, into folly." 'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy, Blessed Nature so to see. Come, lay thee in my soothing shade, And heal the hurts which sin has made. I see thee in the crowd alone; I will be thy companion. Quit thy friends as the dead in doom, And build to them a final tomb; Let the starred shade that nightly falls Still celebrate their funerals, And the bell of beetle and of bee Knell their melodious memory. Behind thee leave thy merchandise, Thy churches and thy charities; And leave thy peacock wit behind; Enough for thee the primal mind That flows in streams, that breathes in wind: Leave all thy pedant lore apart; God hid the whole world in thy heart. Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns, Gives all to them who all renounce. The rain comes when the wind calls; The river knows the way to the sea; Without a pilot it runs and falls, Blessing all lands with its charity; The sea tosses and foams to find Its way up to the cloud and wind; The shadow sits close to the flying ball; The date fails not on the palm-tree tall; And thou,go burn thy wormy pages, Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages. Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain To find what bird had piped the strain: Seek not, and the little eremite Flies gayly forth and sings in sight. 'Hearken once more! I will tell thee the mundane lore. Older am I than thy numbers wot, Change I may, but I pass not. Hitherto all things fast abide, And anchored in the tempest ride. Trenchant time behoves to hurry All to yean and all to bury: All the forms are fugitive, But the substances survive. Ever fresh the broad creation, A divine improvisation, From the heart of God proceeds, A single will, a million deeds. Once slept the world an egg of stone, And pulse, and sound, and light was none; And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion And the vast mass became vast ocean. Onward and on, the eternal Pan, Who layeth the world's incessant plan, Halteth never in one shape, But forever doth escape, Like wave or flame, into new forms Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms. I, that to-day am a pine, Yesterday was a bundle of grass. He is free and libertine, Pouring of his power the wine To every age, to every race;. Unto every race and age He emptieth the beverage; Unto each, and unto all, Maker and original. The world is the ring of his spells, And the play of his miracles. As he giveth to all to drink, Thus or thus they are and think. With one drop sheds form and feature; With the next a special nature; The third adds heat's indulgent spark; The fourth gives light which eats the dark; Into the fifth himself he flings, And conscious Law is King of kings. As the bee through the garden ranges, From world to world the godhead changes; As the sheep go feeding in the waste, From form to form He maketh haste; This vault which glows immense with light Is the inn where he lodges for a night. What reeks such Traveller if the bowers Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers A bunch of fragrant lilies be, Or the stars of eternity? Alike to him the better, the worse, The glowing angel, the outcast corse. Thou metest him by centuries, And lo! he passes like the breeze; Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, He hides in pure transparency; Thou askest in fountains and in fires, He is the essence that inquires. He is the axis of the star; He is the sparkle of the spar; He is the heart of every creature; He is the meaning of each feature; And his mind is the sky. Than all it holds more deep, more high.' by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Woodnotes ,

199:Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2 LET PETER rejoice with the MOON FISH who keeps up the life in the waters by night. Let Andrew rejoice with the Whale, who is array'd in beauteous blue and is a combination of bulk and activity. Let James rejoice with the Skuttle-Fish, who foils his foe by the effusion of his ink. Let John rejoice with Nautilus who spreads his sail and plies his oar, and the Lord is his pilot. Let Philip rejoice with Boca, which is a fish that can speak. Let Bartholomew rejoice with the Eel, who is pure in proportion to where he is found and how he is used. Let Thomas rejoice with the Sword-Fish, whose aim is perpetual and strength insuperable. Let Matthew rejoice with Uranoscopus, whose eyes are lifted up to God. Let James the less, rejoice with the Haddock, who brought the piece of money for the Lord and Peter. Let Jude bless with the Bream, who is of melancholy from his depth and serenity. Let Simon rejoice with the Sprat, who is pure and innumerable. Let Matthias rejoice with the Flying-Fish, who has a part with the birds, and is sublimity in his conceit. Let Stephen rejoice with Remora -- The Lord remove all obstacles to his glory. Let Paul rejoice with the Scale, who is pleasant and faithful!, like God's good ENGLISHMAN. Let Agrippa, which is Agricola, rejoice with Elops, who is a choice fish. 56 Let Joseph rejoice with the Turbut, whose capture makes the poor fisher-man sing. Let Mary rejoice with the Maid -- blessed be the name of the immaculate CONCEPTION. Let John, the Baptist, rejoice with the Salmon -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus for infant Baptism. Let Mark rejoice with the Mullet, who is John Dore, God be gracious to him and his family. Let Barnabus rejoice with the Herring -- God be gracious to the Lord's fishery. Let Cleopas rejoice with the Mackerel, who cometh in a shoal after a leader. Let Abiud of the Lord's line rejoice with Murex, who is good and of a precious tincture. Let Eliakim rejoice with the Shad, who is contemned in his abundance. Let Azor rejoice with the Flounder, who is both of the sea and of the river, Let Sadoc rejoice with the Bleak, who playeth upon the surface in the Sun. Let Achim rejoice with the Miller's Thumb, who is a delicious morsel for the water fowl. Let Eliud rejoice with Cinaedus, who is a fish yellow all over. Let Eleazar rejoice with the Grampus, who is a pompous spouter. Let Matthan rejoice with the Shark, who is supported by multitudes of small value. Let Jacob rejoice with the Gold Fish, who is an eye-trap. Let Jairus rejoice with the Silver Fish, who is bright and lively. Let Lazarus rejoice with Torpedo, who chills the life of the assailant through his staff. 57 Let Mary Magdalen rejoice with the Place, whose goodness and purity are of the Lord's making. Let Simon the leper rejoice with the Eel-pout, who is a rarity on account of his subtlety. Let Alpheus rejoice with the Whiting, whom God hath bless'd in multitudes, and his days are as the days of PURIM. Let Onesimus rejoice with the Cod -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus for a miraculous draught of men. Let Joses rejoice with the Sturgeon, who saw his maker in the body and obtained grace. Let Theophilus rejoice with the Folio, who hath teeth, like the teeth of a saw. Let Bartimeus rejoice with the Quaviver -- God be gracious to the eyes of him, who prayeth for the blind. Let CHRISTOPHER, who is Simon of Cyrene, rejoice with the Rough -- God be gracious to the CAM and to DAVID CAM and his seed for ever. Let Timeus rejoice with the Ling -- God keep the English Sailors clear of French bribery. Let Salome rejoice with the Mermaid, who hath the countenance and a portion of human reason. Let Zacharias rejoice with the Gudgeon, who improves in his growth till he is mistaken. Let Campanus rejoice with the Lobster -- God be gracious to all the CAMPBELLs especially John. Let Martha rejoice with the Skallop -- the Lord revive the exercise and excellence of the Needle. Let Mary rejoice with the Carp -- the ponds of Fairlawn and the garden bless for the master. 58 Let Zebedee rejoice with the Tench -- God accept the good son for his parents also. Let Joseph of Arimathea rejoice with the Barbel -- a good coffin and a tombstone without grudging! Let Elizabeth rejoice with the Crab -- it is good, at times, to go back. Let Simeon rejoice with the Oyster, who hath the life without locomotion. Let Jona rejoice with the Wilk -- Wilks, Wilkie, and Wilkinson bless the name of the Lord Jesus. Let Nicodemus rejoice with the Muscle, for so he hath provided for the poor. Let Gamaliel rejoice with the Cockle -- I will rejoice in the remembrance of mercy. Let Agabus rejoice with the Smelt -- The Lord make me serviceable to the HOWARDS. Let Rhoda rejoice with the Sea-Cat, who is pleasantry and purity. Let Elmodam rejoice with the Chubb, who is wary of the bait and thrives in his circumspection. Let Jorim rejoice with the Roach -- God bless my throat and keep me from things stranggled. Let Addi rejoice with the Dace -- It is good to angle with meditation. Let Luke rejoice with the Trout -- Blessed be Jesus in Aa, in Dee and in Isis. Let Cosam rejoice with the Perch, who is a little tyrant, because he is not liable to that, which he inflicts. Let Levi rejoice with the Pike -- God be merciful to all dumb creatures in respect of pain. Let Melchi rejoice with the Char, who cheweth the cud. Let Joanna rejoice with the Anchovy -- I beheld and lo! 'a great multitude! 59 Let Neri rejoice with the Keeling Fish, who is also called the Stock Fish. Let Janna rejoice with the Pilchard -- the Lord restore the seed of Abishai. Let Esli rejoice with the Soal, who is flat and spackles for the increase of motion. Let Nagge rejoice with the Perriwinkle -- 'for the rain it raineth every day.' Let Anna rejoice with the Porpus, who is a joyous fish and of good omen. Let Phanuel rejoice with the Shrimp, which is the childrens fishery. Let Chuza rejoice with the Sea-Bear, who is full of sagacity and prank. Let Susanna rejoice with the Lamprey, who is an eel with a title. Let Candace rejoice with the Craw-fish -- How hath the Christian minister renowned the Queen. Let The Eunuch rejoice with the Thorn-Back -- It is good to be discovered reading the BIBLE. Let Simon the Pharisee rejoice with the Grigg -- the Lord bring up Issachar and Dan. Let Simon the converted Sorcerer rejoice with the Dab quoth Daniel. Let Joanna, of the Lord's line, rejoice with the Minnow, who is multiplied against the oppressor. Let Jonas rejoice with the Sea-Devil, who hath a good name from his Maker. Let Alexander rejoice with the Tunny -- the worse the time the better the eternity. Let Rufus rejoice with the Needle-fish, who is very good in his element. Let Matthat rejoice with the Trumpet-fish -- God revive the blowing of the TRUMPETS. Let Mary, the mother of James, rejoice with the Sea-Mouse -- it is good to be at 60 peace. Let Prochorus rejoice with Epodes, who is a kind of fish with Ovid who is at peace in the Lord. Let Timotheus rejoice with the Dolphin, who is of benevolence. Let Nicanor rejoice with the Skeat -- Blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus in fish and in the Shewbread, which ought to be continually on the altar, now more than ever, and the want of it is the Abomination of Desolation spoken of by Daniel. Let Timon rejoice with Crusion -- The Shew-Bread in the first place is gratitude to God to shew who is bread, whence it is, and that there is enough and to spare. Let Parmenas rejoice with the Mixon -- Secondly it is to prevent the last extremity, for it is lawful that rejected hunger may take it. Let Dorcas rejoice with Dracunculus -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus in the Grotto. Let Tychicus rejoice with Scolopendra, who quits himself of the hook by voiding his intrails. Let Trophimus rejoice with the Sea-Horse, who shoud have been to Tychicus the father of Yorkshiremen. Let Tryphena rejoice with Fluta -- Saturday is the Sabbath for the mouth of God hath spoken it. Let Tryphosa rejoice with Acarne -- With such preparation the Lord's Jubile is better kept. Let Simon the Tanner rejoice with Alausa -- Five days are sufficient for the purposes of husbandry. Let Simeon Niger rejoice with the Loach -- The blacks are the seed of Cain. Let Lucius rejoice with Corias -- Some of Cain's seed was preserved in the loins of Ham at the flood. Let Manaen rejoice with Donax. My DEGREE is good even here, in the Lord I have 61 a better. Let Sergius Paulus rejoice with Dentex -- Blessed be the name Jesus for my teeth. Let Silas rejoice with the Cabot -- the philosophy of the times ev'n now is vain deceit. Let Barsabas rejoice with Cammarus -- Newton is ignorant for if a man consult not the WORD how should he understand the WORK? -Let Lydia rejoice with Attilus -- Blessed be the name of him which eat the fish and honey comb. Let Jason rejoice with Alopecias, who is subtlety without offence. Let Dionysius rejoice with Alabes who is peculiar to the Nile. Let Damaris rejoice with Anthias -- The fountain of the Nile is known to the Eastern people who drink it. Let Apollos rejoice with Astacus, but St Paul is the Agent for England. Let Justus rejoice with Crispus in a Salmon-Trout -- the Lord look on the soul of Richard Atwood. Let Crispus rejoice with Leviathan -- God be gracious to the soul of HOBBES, who was no atheist, but a servant of Christ, and died in the Lord -- I wronged him God forgive me. Let Aquila rejoice with Beemoth who is Enoch no fish but a stupendous creeping Thing. Let Priscilla rejoice with Cythera. As earth increases by Beemoth so the sea likewise enlarges. Let Tyrannus rejoice with Cephalus who hath a great head. Let Gaius rejoice with the Water-Tortoise -- Paul and Tychicus were in England with Agricola my father. Let Aristarchus rejoice with Cynoglossus -- The Lord was at Glastonbury in the 62 body and blessed the thorn. Let Alexander rejoice with the Sea-Urchin -- The Lord was at Bristol and blessed the waters there. Let Sopater rejoice with Elacate -- The waters of Bath were blessed by St Matthias. Let Secundus rejoice with Echeneis who is the sea-lamprey. Let Eutychus rejoice with Cnide -- Fish and honeycomb are blessed to eat after a recovery. -Let Mnason rejoice with Vulvula a sort of fish -- Good words are of God, the cant from the Devil. Let Claudius Lysias rejoice with Coracinus who is black and peculiar to Nile. Let Bernice rejoice with Corophium which is a kind of crab. Let Phebe rejoice with Echinometra who is a beautiful shellfish red and green. Let Epenetus rejoice with Erythrinus who is red with a white belly. Let Andronicus rejoice with Esox, the Lax, a great fish of the Rhine. Let Junia rejoice with the Faber-Fish -- Broil'd fish and honeycomb may be taken for the sacrament. Let Amplias rejoice with Garus, who is a kind of Lobster. Let Urbane rejoice with Glanis, who is a crafty fish who bites away the bait and saves himself. Let Stachys rejoice with Glauciscus, who is good for Women's milk. Let Apelles rejoice with Glaucus -- behold the seed of the brave and ingenious how they are saved! Let Aristobulus rejoice with Glycymerides who is pure and sweet. Let Herodion rejoice with Holothuria which are prickly fishes. 63 Let Narcissus rejoice with Hordeia -- I will magnify the Lord who multiplied the fish. Let Persis rejoice with Liparis -- I will magnify the Lord who multiplied the barley loaves. Let Rufus rejoice with Icthyocolla of whose skin a water-glue is made. Let Asyncritus rejoice with Labrus who is a voracious fish. Let Phlegon rejoice with the Sea-Lizard -- Bless Jesus THOMAS BOWLBY and all the seed of Reuben. Let Hermas rejoice with Lamyrus who is of things creeping in the sea. Let Patrobas rejoice with Lepas, all shells are precious. Let Hermes rejoice with Lepus, who is a venomous fish. Let Philologus rejoice with Ligarius -- shells are all parries to the adversary. Let Julia rejoice with the Sleeve-Fish -- Blessed be Jesus for all the TAYLERS. Let Nereus rejoice with the Calamary -- God give success to our fleets. Let Olympas rejoice with the Sea-Lantern, which glows upon the waters. Let Sosipater rejoice with Cornuta. There are fish for the Sea-Night-Birds that glow at bottom. Let Lucius rejoice with the Cackrel Fish. God be gracious to JMs FLETCHER who has my tackling. Let Tertius rejoice with Maia which is a kind of crab. Let Erastus rejoice with Melandry which is the largest Tunny. Let Quartus rejoice with Mena. God be gracious to the immortal soul of poor Carte, who was barbarously and cowardly murder'd -- the Lord prevent the dealers in clandestine death. 64 Let Sosthenes rejoice with the Winkle -- all shells like the parts of the body are good kept for those parts. Let Chloe rejoice with the Limpin -- There is a way to the terrestrial Paradise upon the knees. Let Carpus rejoice with the Frog-Fish -- A man cannot die upon his knees. Let Stephanas rejoice with Mormyra who is a fish of divers colours. Let Fortunatus rejoice with the Burret -- it is good to be born when things are crossed. Let Lois rejoice with the Angel-Fish -- There is a fish that swims in the fluid Empyrean. Let Achaicus rejoice with the Fat-Back -- The Lord invites his fishers to the WEST INDIES. Let Sylvanus rejoice with the Black-Fish -- Oliver Cromwell himself was the murderer in the Mask. Let Titus rejoice with Mys -- O Tite siquid ego adjuero curamve levasso! Let Euodias rejoice with Myrcus -- There is a perfumed fish I will offer him for a sweet savour to the Lord. Let Syntyche rejoice with Myax -- There are shells in the earth which were left by the FLOOD. Let Clement rejoice with Ophidion -- There are shells again in earth at sympathy with those in sea. Let Epaphroditus rejoice with Opthalmias -- The Lord increase the Cambridge collection of fossils. Let Epaphras rejoice with Orphus -- God be gracious to the immortal soul of Dr Woodward. Let Justus rejoice with Pagrus -- God be gracious to the immortal soul of Dr Middleton. 65 Let Nymphas rejoice with Fagurus -- God bless Charles Mason and all Trinity College. Let Archippus rejoice with Nerita whose shell swimmeth. Let Eunice rejoice with Oculata who is of the Lizard kind. Let Onesephorus rejoice with Orca, who is a great fish. Let Eubulus rejoice with Ostrum the scarlet -- God be gracious to Gordon and Groat. Let Pudens rejoice with Polypus -- The Lord restore my virgin! Let Linus rejoice with Ozsena who is a kind of Polype -- God be gracious to Lyne and Anguish. Let Claudia rejoice with Pascer -- the purest creatures minister to wantoness by unthankfulness. Let Artemas rejoice with Pastinaca who is a fish with a sting. Let Zenas rejoice with Pecten -- The Lord obliterate the laws of man! Let Philemon rejoice with Pelagia -- The laws and judgement are impudence and blindness. Let Apphia rejoice with Pelamis -- The Lord Jesus is man's judgement. Let Demetrius rejoice with Peloris, who is greatest of Shell-Fishes. Let Antipas rejoice with Pentadactylus -- A papist hath no sentiment God bless CHURCHILL. *** FOR I pray the Lord JESUS that cured the LUNATICK to be merciful to all my brethren and sisters in these houses. For they work me with their harping-irons, which is a barbarous instrument, because I am more unguarded than others. 66 For the blessing of God hath been on my epistles, which I have written for the benefit of others. For I bless God that the CHURCH of ENGLAND is one of the SEVEN ev'n the candlestick of the Lord. For the ENGLISH TONGUE shall be the language of the WEST. For I pray Almighty CHRIST to bless the MAGDALEN HOUSE and to forward a National purification. For I have the blessing of God in the three POINTS of manhood, of the pen, of the sword, and of chivalry. For I am inquisitive in the Lord, and defend the philosophy of the scripture against vain deceit. For the nets come down from the eyes of the Lord to fish up men to their salvation. For I have a greater compass both of mirth and melancholy than another. For I bless the Lord JESUS in the innumerables, and for ever and ever. For I am redoubted, and redoubtable in the Lord, as is THOMAS BECKET my father. For I have had the grace to GO BACK, which is my blessing unto prosperity. For I paid for my seat in St PAUL's, when I was six years old, and took possession against the evil day. For I am descended from the steward of the island -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus king of England. For the poor gentleman is the first object of the Lord's charity and he is the most pitied who hath lost the most. For I am in twelve HARDSHIPS, but he that was born of a virgin shall deliver me out of all. For I am safe, as to my head, from the female dancer and her admirers. 67 For I pray for CHICHISTER to give the glory to God, and to keep the adversary at bay. For I am making to the shore day by day, the Lord Jesus take me. For I bless the Lord JESUS upon RAMSGATE PIER -- the Lord forward the building of harbours. For I bless the Lord JESUS for his very seed, which is in my body. For I pray for R and his family, I pray for Mr Becher, and I bean for the Lord JESUS. For I pray to God for Nore, for the Trinity house, for all light-houses, beacons and buoys. For I bless God that I am not in a dungeon, but am allowed the light of the Sun. For I pray God for the PYGMIES against their feathered adversaries, as a deed of charity. For I pray God for all those, who have defiled themselves in matters inconvenient. For I pray God be gracious to CORNELIUS MATTHEWS name and connection. For I am under the same accusation with my Saviour -- -for they said, he is besides himself. For I pray God for the introduction of new creatures into this island. For I pray God for the ostriches of Salisbury Plain, the beavers of the Medway and silver fish of Thames. For Charity is cold in the multitude of possessions, and the rich are covetous of their crumbs. For I pray to be accepted as a dog without offence, which is best of all. For I wish to God and desire towards the most High, which is my policy. 68 For the tides are the life of God in the ocean, and he sends his angel to trouble the great DEEP. For he hath fixed the earth upon arches and pillars, and the flames of hell flow under it. For the grosser the particles the nearer to the sink, and the nearer to purity, the quicker the gravitation. For MATTER is the dust of the Earth, every atom of which is the life. For MOTION is as the quantity of life direct, and that which hath not motion, is resistance. For Resistance is not of GOD, but he -- hath built his works upon it. For the Centripetal and Centrifugal forces are GOD SUSTAINING and DIRECTING. For Elasticity is the temper of matter to recover its place with vehemence. For Attraction is the earning of parts, which have a similitude in the life. For the Life of God is in the Loadstone, and there is a magnet, which pointeth due EAST. For the Glory of God is always in the East, but cannot be seen for the cloud of the crucifixion. For due East is the way to Paradise, which man knoweth not by reason of his fall. For the Longitude is (nevertheless) attainable by steering angularly notwithstanding. For Eternity is a creature and is built upon Eternity ¥ê¥á¥ó¥á¥â¥ï¥ë¥ç ¥å¥g¥é ¥ó¥ç ¥ä¥é¥á¥â¥ï¥ë¥ç . For Fire is a mixed nature of body and spirit, and the body is fed by that which hath not life. For Fire is exasperated by the Adversary, who is Death, unto the detriment of 69 man. For an happy Conjecture is a miraculous cast by the Lord Jesus. For a bad Conjecture is a draught of stud and mud. For there is a Fire which is blandishing, and which is of God direct. For Fire is a substance and distinct, and purifyeth ev'n in hell. For the Shears is the first of the mechanical powers, and to be used on the knees. For if Adam had used this instrument right, he would not have fallen. For the power of the Shears Is direct as the life. For the power of the WEDGE is direct as it's altitude by communication of Almighty God. For the Skrew, Axle and Wheel, Pulleys, the Lever and Inclined Plane are known in the Schools. For the Centre is not known but by the application of the members to matter. For I have shown the Vis Inerti©¡ to be false, and such is all nonsense. For the Centre is the hold of the Spirit upon the matter in hand. For FRICTION is inevitable because the Universe is FULL of God's works. For the PERPETUAL MOTION is in all the works of Almighty GOD. For it is not so in the engines of man, which are made of dead materials, neither indeed can be. For the Moment of bodies, as it is used, is a false term -- bless God ye Speakers on the Fifth of November. For Time and Weight are by their several estimates. For I bless GOD in the discovery of the LONGITUDE direct by the means of 70 GLADWICK. For the motion of the PENDULUM is the longest in that it parries resistance. For the WEDDING GARMENTS of all men are prepared in the SUN against the day of acceptation. For the Wedding Garments of all women are prepared in the MOON against the day of their purification. For CHASTITY is the key of knowledge as in Esdras, Sr Isaac Newton and now, God be praised, in me. For Newton nevertheless is more of error than of the truth, but I am of the WORD of GOD. For WATER, is not of solid constituents, but is dissolved from precious stones above. For the life remains in its dissolvent state, and that in great power. For WATER is condensed by the Lord's FROST, tho' not by the FLORENTINE experiment. For GLADWICK is a substance growing on hills in the East, candied by the sun, and of diverse colours. For it is neither stone nor metal but a new creature, soft to the ax, but hard to the hammer. For it answers sundry uses, but particularly it supplies the place of Glass. For it giveth a benign light without the fragility, malignity or mischief of Glass. For it attracteth all the colours of the GREAT BOW which is fixed in the EAST. For the FOUNTAINS and SPRINGS are the life of the waters working up to God. For they are in SYMPATHY with the waters above the Heavens, which are solid. For the Fountains, springs and rivers are all of them from the sea, whose water is filtrated and purified by the earth. 71 For there is Water above the visible surface in a spiritualizing state, which cannot be seen but by application of a CAPILLARY TUBE. For the ASCENT of VAPOURS is the return of thanksgiving from all humid bodies. For the RAIN WATER kept in a reservoir at any altitude, suppose of a thousand feet, will make a fountain from a spout of ten feet of the same height. For it will ascend in a stream two thirds of the way and afterwards prank itself into ten thousand agreeable forms. For the SEA is a seventh of the Earth -- the spirit of the Lord by Esdras. For MERCURY is affected by the AIR because it is of a similar subtlety. For the rising in the BAROMETER is not effected by pressure but by sympathy. For it cannot be seperated from the creature with which it is intimately and eternally connected. For where it is stinted of air there it will adhere together and stretch on the reverse. For it works by ballancing according to the hold of the spirit. For QUICK-SILVER is spiritual and so is the AIR to all intents and purposes. For the AIR-PUMP weakens and dispirits but cannot wholly exhaust. For SUCKTION is the withdrawing of the life, but life will follow as fast as it can. For there is infinite provision to keep up the life in all the parts of Creation. For the AIR is contaminated by curses and evil language. For poysonous creatures catch some of it and retain it or ere it goes to the adversary. For IRELAND was without these creatures, till of late, because of the simplicity of the people. 72 For the AIR. is purified by prayer which is made aloud and with all our might. For loud prayer is good for weak lungs and for a vitiated throat. For SOUND is propagated in the spirit and in all directions. For the VOICE of a figure compleat in all its parts. For a man speaks HIMSELF from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet. For a LION roars HIMSELF compleat from head to tail. For all these things are seen in the spirit which makes the beauty of prayer. For all whispers and unmusical sounds in general are of the Adversary. For 'I will hiss saith the Lord' is God's denunciation of death. For applause or the clapping of the hands is the natural action of a man on the descent of the glory of God. For EARTH which is an intelligence hath a voice and a propensity to speak in all her parts. For ECHO is the soul of the voice exerting itself in hollow places. For ECHO cannot act but when she can parry the adversary. For ECHO is greatest in Churches and where she can assist in prayer. For a good voice hath its Echo with it and it is attainable by much supplication. For the FOICE is from the body and the spirit -- and is a a body and a spirit. For the prayers of good men are therefore visible to second-sighted persons. For HARPSICHORDS are best strung with gold wire. For HARPS and VIOLS are best strung with Indian weed. For the GERMAN FLUTE is an indirect -- the common flute good, bless the Lord Jesus BENJIMIN HALLET. 73 For the feast of TRUMPETS should be kept up, that being the most direct and acceptable of all instruments. For the TRUMPET of God is a blessed intelligence and so are all the instruments in HEAVEN. For GOD the father Almighty plays upon the HARP of stupendous magnitude and melody. For innumerable Angels fly out at every touch and his tune is a work of creation. For at that time malignity ceases and the devils themselves are at peace. For this time is perceptible to man by a remarkable stillness and serenity of soul. For the ¨¡olian harp is improveable into regularity. For when it is so improved it will be known to be the SHAWM. For it woud be better if the LITURGY were musically performed. For the strings of the SHAWM were upon a cylinder which turned to the wind. For this was spiritual musick altogether, as the wind is a spirit. For there is nothing but it may be played upon in delight. For the flames of fire may lie blown thro musical pipes. For it is so higher up in the vast empyrean. For is so real as that which is spiritual. For an IGNIS FATUUS is either the fool's conceit or a blast from the adversary. For SHELL-FIRE or ELECTRICAL is the quick air when it is caught. For GLASS is worked in the fire till it partakes of its nature. For the electrical fire is easily obtain'd by the working of glass. 74 For all spirits are of fire and the air is a very benign one. For the MAN in VACUO is a flat conceit of preposterous folly. For the breath of our nostrils is an electrical spirit. For an electrical spirit may be exasperated into a malignant fire. For it is good to quicken in paralytic cases being the life applied unto death, For the method of philosophizing is in a posture of Adoration. For the School-Doctrine of Thunder and Lightning is a Diabolical Hypothesis. For it is taking the nitre from the lower regions and directing it against the Infinite of Heights. For THUNDER is the voice of God direct in verse and musick. For LIGHTNING is a glance of the glory of God. For the Brimstone that is found at the times of thunder and lightning is worked up by the Adversary. For the voice is always for infinite good which he strives to impede. For the Devil can work coals into shapes to afflict the minds of those that will not pray. For the coffin and the cradle and the purse are all against a man. For the coffin is for the dead and death came by disobedience. For the cradle is for weakness and the child of man was originally strong from the womb. For the purse is for money and money is dead matter with the stamp of human vanity. For the adversary frequently sends these particular images out of the fire to those whom they concern. 75 For the coffin is for me because I have nothing to do with it. For the cradle is for me because the old Dragon attacked me in it and overcame in Christ. For the purse is for me because I have neither money nor human friends. For LIGHT is propagated at all distances in an instant because it is actuated by the divine conception. For the Satellites of the planet prove nothing in this matter but the glory of Almighty God. For the SHADE is of death and from the adversary. For Solomon said vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities all is vanity. For Jesus says verity of verities, verity of verities all is verity. For Solomon said THOU FOOL in malice from his own vanity. For the Lord reviled not all in hardship and temptation unutterable. For Fire hath this property that it reduces a thing till finally it is not. For all the filth wicked of men shall be done away by fire in Eternity. For the furnace itself shall come up at the last according to Abraham's vision. For the Convex Heaven of shall work about on that great event. For the ANTARTICK POLE is not yet but shall answer in the Consummation. For the devil hath most power in winter, because darkness prevails. For the Longing of Women is the operation of the Devil upon their conceptions. For the marking of their children is from the same cause both of which are to be parried by prayer. For the laws of King James the first against Witchcraft were wise, had it been of man to make laws. 76 For there are witches and wizards even now who are spoken to by their familiars. For the visitation of their familiars is prevented by the Lord's incarnation. For to conceive with intense diligence against one's neighbour is a branch of witchcraft. For to use pollution, exact and cross things and at the same time to think against a man is the crime direct. For prayer with musick is good for persons so exacted upon. For before the NATIVITY is the dead of the winter and after it the quick. For the sin against the HOLY GHOST is INGRATITUDE. For stuff'd guts make no musick; strain them strong and you shall have sweet melody. For the SHADOW is of death, which is the Devil, who can make false and faint images of the works of Almighty God. For every man beareth death about him ever since the transgression of Adam, but in perfect light there is no shadow. For all Wrath is Fire, which the adversary blows upon and exasperates. For SHADOW is a fair Word from God, which is not returnable till the furnace comes up. For the ECLIPSE is of the adversary -- blessed be the name of Jesus for Whisson of Trinity. For the shadow is his and the penumbra is his and his the perplexity of the the phenomenon. For the eclipses happen at times when the light is defective. For the more the light is defective, the more the powers of darkness prevail. 77 For deficiencies happen by the luminaries crossing one another. For the SUN is an intelligence and an angel of the human form. For the MOON is an intelligence and an angel in shape like a woman. For they are together in the spirit every night like man and wife. For Justice is infinitely beneath Mercy in nature and office. For the Devil himself may be just in accusation and punishment. For HELL is without eternity from the presence of Almighty God. For Volcanos and burning mountains are where the adversary hath most power. For the angel GRATITUDE is my wife -- God bring me to her or her to me. For the propagation of light is quick as the divine Conception. For FROST is damp and unwholsome air candied to fall to the best advantage. For I am the Lord's News-Writer -- the scribe-evangelist -- Widow Mitchel, Gun and Grange bless the Lord Jesus. For Adversity above all other is to be deserted of the grace of God. For in the divine Idea this Eternity is compleat and the Word is a making many more. For there is a forlorn hope ev'n for impenitent sinners because the furnace itself must be the crown of Eternity. For my hope is beyond Eternity in the bosom of God my saviour. For by the grace of God I am the Reviver of ADORATION amongst ENGLISH-MEN. For being desert-ed is to have desert in the sight of God and intitles one to the Lord's merit. For things that are not in the sight of men are thro' God of infinite concern. 78 For envious men have exceeding subtlety quippe qui in -- videant. For avaricious men are exceeding subtle like the soul seperated from the body. For their attention is on a sinking object which perishes. For they can go beyond the children of light in matters of their own misery. For Snow is the dew candied and cherishes. For TIMES and SEASONS are the Lord's -- Man is no CHRONOLOGER. For there is a CIRCULATION of the SAP in all vegetables. For SOOT is the dross of Fire. For the CLAPPING of the hands is naught unless it be to the glory of God. For God will descend in visible glory when men begin to applaud him. For all STAGE-Playing is Hypocrisy and the Devil is the master of their revels. For the INNATATION of corpuscles is solved by the Gold-beater's hammer -- God be gracious to Christopher Peacock and to all my God-Children. For the PRECESSION of the Equinoxes is improving nature -- something being gained every where for the glory of God perpetually. For the souls of the departed are embodied in clouds and purged by the Sun. For the LONGITUDE may be discovered by attending the motions of the Sun. Way 2d. For you must consider the Sun as dodging, which he does to parry observation. For he must be taken with an Astrolabe, and considered respecting the point he left. For you must do this upon your knees and that will secure your point. For I bless God that I dwell within the sound of Success, and that it is well with 79 ENGLAND this blessed day. NATIVITY of our LORD N.S. 1759. ~ Christopher Smart,

200:MANTIS EIM ESQLWN AGWNWN --Oedip. Colon. TO HIS EXCELLENCY PRINCE ALEXANDER MAVROCORDATO LATE SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS TO THE HOSPODAR OF WALLACHIA THE DRAMA OF HELLAS IS INSCRIBED AS AN IMPERFECT TOKEN OF THE ADMIRATION, SYMPATHY, AND FRIENDSHIP OF THE AUTHOR. PROLOGUE TO HELLAS Herald of Eternity. It is the day when all the sons of God Wait in the roofless senate-house, whose floor Is Chaos, and the immovable abyss Frozen by His steadfast word to hyaline... The shadow of God, and delegate Of that before whose breath the universe Is as a print of dew.            Hierarchs and kings Who from your thrones pinnacled on the past Sway the reluctant present, ye who sit Pavilioned on the radiance or the gloom Of mortal thought, which like an exhalation Steaming from earth, conceals the...of heaven Which gave it birth,...assemble here Before your Father's throne; the swift decree Yet hovers, and the fiery incarnation Is yet withheld, clothd in which it shall ...annul The fairest of those wandering isles that gem The sapphire space of interstellar air, That green and azure sphere, that earth enwrapped Less in the beauty of its tender light Than in an atmosphere of living spirit Which interpenetrating all the... ...it rolls from realm to realm And age to age, and in its ebb and flow Impels the generations To their appointed place, Whilst the high Arbiter Beholds the strife, and at the appointed time Sends His decrees veiled in eternal... Within the circuit of this pendent orb There lies an antique region, on which fell The dews of thought in the world's golden dawn Earliest and most benign, and from it sprung Temples and cities and immortal forms And harmonies of wisdom and of song, And thoughts, and deeds worthy of thoughts so fair. And when the sun of its dominion failed, And when the winter of its glory came, The winds that stripped it bare blew on and swept That dew into the utmost wildernesses In wandering clouds of sunny rain that thawed The unmaternal bosom of the North. Haste, sons of God,...for ye beheld, Reluctant, or consenting, or astonished, The stern decrees go forth, which heaped on Greece Ruin and degradation and despair. A fourth now waits: assemble, sons of God, To speed or to prevent or to suspend, If, as ye dream, such power be not withheld, The unaccomplished destiny... Chorus. The curtain of the Universe Is rent and shattered, The splendour-wingd worlds disperse Like wild doves scattered.   Space is roofless and bare, And in the midst a cloudy shrine, Dark amid thrones of light. In the blue glow of hyaline Golden worlds revolve and shine. In...flight From every point of the Infinite, Like a thousand dawns on a single night The splendours rise and spread; And through thunder and darkness dread Light and music are radiated, And in their pavilioned chariots led By living wings high overhead The giant Powers move, Gloomy or bright as the thrones they fill... A chaos of light and motion Upon that glassy ocean... The senate of the Gods is met, Each in his rank and station set;   There is silence in the spaces Lo! Satan, Christ, and Mahomet Start from their places! Christ.              Almighty Father! Low-kneeling at the feet of Destiny. . . There are two fountains in which spirits weep When mortals err, Discord and Slavery named, And with their bitter dew two Destinies Filled each their irrevocable urns; the third, Fiercest and mightiest, mingled both, and added Chaos and Death, and slow Oblivion's lymph, And hate and terror, and the poisoned rain. . . The Aurora of the nations. By this brow Whose pores wept tears of blood, by these wide wounds, By this imperial crown of agony, By infamy and solitude and death, For this I underwent, and by the pain Of pity for those who would...for me The unremembered joy of a revenge, For this I feltby Plato's sacred light, Of which my spirit was a burning morrow By Greece and all she cannot cease to be, Her quenchless words, sparks of immortal truth, Stars of all nighther harmonies and forms, Echoes and shadows of what Love adores In thee, I do compel thee, send forth Fate, Thy irrevocable child: let her descend, A seraph-wingd Victory [arrayed] In tempest of the omnipotence of God Which sweeps through all things. From hollow leagues, from Tyranny which arms Adverse miscreeds and emulous anarchies To stamp, as on a wingd serpent's seed, Upon the name of Freedom; from the storm Of faction, which like earthquake shakes and sickens The solid heart of enterprise; from all By which the holiest dreams of highest spirits Are stars beneath the dawn...                  She shall arise Victorious as the world arose from Chaos! And as the Heavens and the Earth arrayed Their presence in the beauty and the light Of Thy first smile, O Father,as they gather The spirit of Thy love which paves for them Their path o'er the abyss, till every sphere Shall be one living Spirit,-- so shall Greece-- Satan. Be as all things beneath the empyrean, Mine! Art thou eyeless like old Destiny, Thou mockery-king, crowned with a wreath of thorns? Whose sceptre is a reed, the broken reed Which pierces thee! whose throne a chair of scorn; For seest thou not beneath this crystal floor The innumerable worlds of golden light Which are my empire, and the least of them ...which thou wouldst redeem from me? Know'st thou not them my portion? Or wouldst rekindle the...strife Which our great Father then did arbitrate Which he assigned to his competing sons Each his apportioned realm?                Thou Destiny, Thou who art mailed in the omnipotence Of Him who sends thee forth, whate'er thy task, Speed, spare not to accomplish, and be mine Thy trophies, whether Greece again become The fountain in the desert whence the earth Shall drink of freedom, which shall give it strength To suffer, or a gulf of hollow death To swallow all delight, all life, all hope. Go, thou Vicegerent of my will, no less Than of the Father's; but lest thou shouldst faint, The wingd hounds, Famine and Pestilence, Shall wait on thee, the hundred-forkd snake Insatiate Superstition still shall... The earth behind thy steps, and War shall hover Above, and Fraud shall gape below, and Change Shall flit before thee on her dragon wings, Convulsing and consuming, and I add Three vials of the tears which daemons weep When virtuous spirits through the gate of Death Pass triumphing over the thorns of life, Sceptres and crowns, mitres and swords and snares, Trampling in scorn, like Him and Socrates. The first is Anarchy; when Power and Pleasure, Glory and science and security, On Freedom hang like fruit on the green tree, Then pour it forth, and men shall gather ashes. The second Tyranny-- Christ.            Obdurate spirit! Thou seest but the Past in the To-come. Pride is thy error and thy punishment. Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds Are more than furnace-sparks or rainbow-drops Before the Power that wields and kindles them. True greatness asks not space, true excellence Lives in the Spirit of all things that live, Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine... Mahomet. Haste thou and fill the waning crescent With beams as keen as those which pierced the shadow Of Christian night rolled back upon the West, When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow...                        Wake, thou Word Of God, and from the throne of Destiny Even to the utmost limit of thy way May Triumph........... Be thou a curse on them whose creed Divides and multiplies the most high God. HELLAS DRAMATIS PERSONAE Mahmud. Hassan. Daood. Ahasuerus, a Jew. Chorus of Greek Captive Women. The Phantom of Mahomet II. Messengers, Slaves, and Attendants. Scene, Constantinople. Time, Sunset. Scene--A Terrace on the Seraglio. Mahmud sleeping, an Indian Slave sitting beside his Couch. Chorus of Greek Captive Women. We strew these opiate flowers   On thy restless pillow, They were stripped from Orient bowers,   By the Indian billow.    Be thy sleep    Calm and deep, Like theirs who fellnot ours who weep! Indian. Away, unlovely dreams!   Away, false shapes of sleep! Be his, as Heaven seems,   Clear, and bright, and deep! Soft as love, and calm as death, Sweet as a summer night without a breath. Chorus. Sleep, sleep! our song is laden   With the soul of slumber; It was sung by a Samian maiden,   Whose lover was of the number    Who now keep    That calm sleep Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. Indian. I touch thy temples pale!   I breathe my soul on thee! And could my prayers avail,   All my joy should be Dead, and I would live to weep, So thou mightst win one hour of quiet sleep. Chorus.   Breathe low, low The spell of the mighty mistress now! When Conscience lulls her sated snake, And Tyrants sleep, let Freedom wake.   Breathe lowlow The words which, like secret fire, shall flow Through the veins of the frozen earthlow, low! Semichorus I. Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed,but it returneth! Semichorus II. Yet were life a charnel where Hope lay coffined with Despair; Yet were truth a sacred lie, Love were lust Semichorus I.          If Liberty Lent not life its soul of light, Hope its iris of delight, Truth its prophet's robe to wear, Love its power to give and bear. Chorus. In the great morning of the world, The Spirit of God with might unfurled The flag of Freedom over Chaos, And all its banded anarchs fled, Like vultures frighted from Imaus, Before an earthquake's tread. So from Time's tempestuous dawn Freedom's splendour burst and shone: Thermopylae and Marathon Caught, like mountains beacon-lighted, The springing Fire.The wingd glory On Philippi half-alighted, Like an eagle on a promontory. Its unwearied wings could fan The quenchless ashes of Milan.[1] From age to age, from man to man, It lived; and lit from land to land Florence, Albion, Switzerland. Then night fell; and, as from night, Reassuming fiery flight, From the West swift Freedom came, Against the course of Heaven and doom, A second sun arrayed in flame, To burn, to kindle, to illume. From far Atlantis its young beams Chased the shadows and the dreams. France, with all her sanguine steams, Hid, but quenched it not; again Through clouds its shafts of glory rain From utmost Germany to Spain. As an eagle fed with morning Scorns the embattled tempest's warning, When she seeks her aerie hanging In the mountain-cedar's hair, And her brood expect the clanging Of her wings through the wild air, Sick with famine:Freedom, so To what of Greece remaineth now Returns; her hoary ruins glow Like Orient mountains lost in day; Beneath the safety of her wings Her renovated nurslings prey, And in the naked lightenings Of truth they purge their dazzled eyes. Let Freedom leavewhere'er she flies, A Desert, or a Paradise: Let the beautiful and the brave Share her glory, or a grave. Semichorus I. With the gifts of gladness Greece did thy cradle strew; Semichorus II. With the tears of sadness Greece did thy shroud bedew! Semichorus I. With an orphan's affection She followed thy bier through Time; Semichorus II. And at thy resurrection Reappeareth, like thou, sublime! Semichorus I. If Heaven should resume thee, To Heaven shall her spirit ascend; Semichorus II. If Hell should entomb thee, To Hell shall her high hearts bend. Semichorus I. If Annihilation Semichorus II. Dust let her glories be! And a name and a nation Be forgotten, Freedom, with thee! Indian. His brow grows darkerbreathe notmove not! He startshe shuddersye that love not, With your panting loud and fast, Have awakened him at last. Mahmud (starting from his sleep). Man the Seraglio-guard! make fast the gate! What! from a cannonade of three short hours? 'Tis false! that breach towards the Bosphorus Cannot be practicable yetwho stirs? Stand to the match; that when the foe prevails One spark may mix in reconciling ruin The conqueror and the conquered! Heave the tower Into the gapwrench off the roof! (Enter Hassan.)                   Ha! what! The truth of day lightens upon my dream And I am Mahmud still. Hassan.             Your Sublime Highness Is strangely moved. Mahmud.           The times do cast strange shadows On those who watch and who must rule their course, Lest they, being first in peril as in glory, Be whelmed in the fierce ebb:and these are of them. Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me As thus from sleep into the troubled day; It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea, Leaving no figure upon memory's glass. Would thatno matter. Thou didst say thou knewest A Jew, whose spirit is a chronicle Of strange and secret and forgotten things. I bade thee summon him:'tis said his tribe Dream, and are wise interpreters of dreams. Hassan. The Jew of whom I spake is old,so old He seems to have outlived a world's decay; The hoary mountains and the wrinkled ocean Seem younger still than he;his hair and beard Are whiter than the tempest-sifted snow; His cold pale limbs and pulseless arteries Are like the fibres of a cloud instinct With light, and to the soul that quickens them Are as the atoms of the mountain-drift To the winter wind:but from his eye looks forth A life of unconsumd thought which pierces The Present, and the Past, and the To-come. Some say that this is he whom the great prophet Jesus, the son of Joseph, for his mockery, Mocked with the curse of immortality. Some feign that he is Enoch: others dream He was pre-adamite and has survived Cycles of generation and of ruin. The sage, in truth, by dreadful abstinence And conquering penance of the mutinous flesh, Deep contemplation, and unwearied study, In years outstretched beyond the date of man, May have attained to sovereignty and science Over those strong and secret things and thoughts Which others fear and know not. Mahmud.                  I would talk With this old Jew. Hassan.           Thy will is even now Made known to him, where he dwells in a sea-cavern 'Mid the Demonesi, less accessible Than thou or God! He who would question him Must sail alone at sunset, where the stream Of Ocean sleeps around those foamless isles, When the young moon is westering as now, And evening airs wander upon the wave; And when the pines of that bee-pasturing isle, Green Erebinthus, quench the fiery shadow Of his gilt prow within the sapphire water, Then must the lonely helmsman cry aloud 'Ahasuerus!' and the caverns round Will answer 'Ahasuerus!' If his prayer Be granted, a faint meteor will arise Lighting him over Marmora, and a wind Will rush out of the sighing pine-forest, And with the wind a storm of harmony Unutterably sweet, and pilot him Through the soft twilight to the Bosphorus: Thence at the hour and place and circumstance Fit for the matter of their conference The Jew appears. Few dare, and few who dare Win the desired communionbut that shout Bodes [A shout within. Mahmud.     Evil, doubtless; like all human sounds. Let me converse with spirits. Hassan.                 That shout again.                 Mahmud. This Jew whom thou hast summoned Hassan.                   Will be here                   Mahmud. When the omnipotent hour to which are yoked He, I, and all things shall compelenough! Silence those mutineersthat drunken crew, That crowd about the pilot in the storm. Ay! strike the foremost shorter by a head! They weary me, and I have need of rest. Kings are like starsthey rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose. [Exeunt severally. Chorus[2]. Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.   But they are still immortal   Who, through birth's orient portal And death's dark chasm hurrying to and fro,   Clothe their unceasing flight   In the brief dust and light Gathered around their chariots as they go;   New shapes they still may weave,   New gods, new laws receive, Bright or dim are they as the robes they last   On Death's bare ribs had cast.    A power from the unknown God,   A Promethean conqueror, came; Like a triumphal path he trod   The thorns of death and shame.   A mortal shape to him   Was like the vapour dim Which the orient planet animates with light;   Hell, Sin, and Slavery came,   Like bloodhounds mild and tame, Nor preyed, until their Lord had taken flight;   The moon of Mahomet   Arose, and it shall set: While blazoned as on Heaven's immortal noon The cross leads generations on.   Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep   From one whose dreams are Paradise Fly, when the fond wretch wakes to weep,   And Day peers forth with her blank eyes;   So fleet, so faint, so fair,   The Powers of earth and air Fled from the folding-star of Bethlehem:   Apollo, Pan, and Love,   And even Olympian Jove Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them;   Our hills and seas and streams,   Dispeopled of their dreams, Their watrs turned to blood, their dew to tears,   Wailed for the golden years.   Enter Mahmud, Hassan, Daood, and others. Mahmud. More gold? our ancestors bought gold with victory, And shall I sell it for defeat? Daood.                  The Janizars Clamour for pay. Mahmud.          Go! bid them pay themselves With Christian blood! Are there no Grecian virgins Whose shrieks and spasms and tears they may enjoy? No infidel children to impale on spears? No hoary priests after that Patriarch[3] Who bent the curse against his country's heart, Which clove his own at last? Go! bid them kill, Blood is the seed of gold. Daood.               It has been sown, And yet the harvest to the sicklemen Is as a grain to each. Mahmud.             Then, take this signet, Unlock the seventh chamber in which lie The treasures of victorious Solyman, An empire's spoil stored for a day of ruin. O spirit of my sires! is it not come? The prey-birds and the wolves are gorged and sleep; But these, who spread their feast on the red earth, Hunger for gold, which fills not.See them fed; Then, lead them to the rivers of fresh death. [Exit Daood. O miserable dawn, after a night More glorious than the day which it usurped! O faith in God! O power on earth! O word Of the great prophet, whose o'ershadowing wings Darkened the thrones and idols of the West, Now bright!For thy sake cursd be the hour, Even as a father by an evil child, When the orient moon of Islam rolled in triumph From Caucasus to White Ceraunia! Ruin above, and anarchy below; Terror without, and treachery within; The Chalice of destruction full, and all Thirsting to drink; and who among us dares To dash it from his lips? and where is Hope? Hassan. The lamp of our dominion still rides high; One God is GodMahomet is His prophet. Four hundred thousand Moslems, from the limits Of utmost Asia, irresistibly Throng, like full clouds at the Sirocco's cry; But not like them to weep their strength in tears: They bear destroying lightning, and their step Wakes earthquake to consume and overwhelm, And reign in ruin. Phrygian Olympus, Tmolus, and Latmos, and Mycale, roughen With horrent arms; and lofty ships even now, Like vapours anchored to a mountain's edge, Freighted with fire and whirlwind, wait at Scala The convoy of the ever-veering wind. Samos is drunk with blood;the Greek has paid Brief victory with swift loss and long despair. The false Moldavian serfs fled fast and far, When the fierce shout of 'Allah-illa-Allah!' Rose like the war-cry of the northern wind Which kills the sluggish clouds, and leaves a flock Of wild swans struggling with the naked storm. So were the lost Greeks on the Danube's day! If night is mute, yet the returning sun Kindles the voices of the morning birds; Nor at thy bidding less exultingly Than birds rejoicing in the golden day, The Anarchies of Africa unleash Their tempest-wingd cities of the sea, To speak in thunder to the rebel world. Like sulphurous clouds, half-shattered by the storm, They sweep the pale Aegean, while the Queen Of Ocean, bound upon her island-throne, Far in the West, sits mourning that her sons Who frown on Freedom spare a smile for thee: Russia still hovers, as an eagle might Within a cloud, near which a kite and crane Hang tangled in inextricable fight, To stoop upon the victor;for she fears The name of Freedom, even as she hates thine. But recreant Austria loves thee as the Grave Loves Pestilence, and her slow dogs of war Fleshed with the chase, come up from Italy, And howl upon their limits; for they see The panther, Freedom, fled to her old cover, Amid seas and mountains, and a mightier brood Crouch round. What Anarch wears a crown or mitre, Or bears the sword, or grasps the key of gold, Whose friends are not thy friends, whose foes thy foes? Our arsenals and our armouries are full; Our forts defy assault; ten thousand cannon Lie ranged upon the beach, and hour by hour Their earth-convulsing wheels affright the city; The galloping of fiery steeds makes pale The Christian merchant; and the yellow Jew Hides his hoard deeper in the faithless earth. Like clouds, and like the shadows of the clouds, Over the hills of Anatolia, Swift in wide troops the Tartar chivalry Sweep;the far flashing of their starry lances Reverberates the dying light of day. We have one God, one King, one Hope, one Law; But many-headed Insurrection stands Divided in itself, and soon must fall. Mahmud. Proud words, when deeds come short, are seasonable: Look, Hassan, on yon crescent moon, emblazoned Upon that shattered flag of fiery cloud Which leads the rear of the departing day; Wan emblem of an empire fading now! See how it trembles in the blood-red air, And like a mighty lamp whose oil is spent Shrinks on the horizon's edge, while, from above, One star with insolent and victorious light Hovers above its fall, and with keen beams, Like arrows through a fainting antelope, Strikes its weak from to death. Hassan.                  Even as that moon Renews itself Mahmud.         Shall we be not renewed! Far other bark than ours were needed now To stem the torrent of descending time: The Spirit that lifts the slave before his lord Stalks through the capitals of armd kings, And spreads his ensign in the wilderness: Exults in chains; and, when the rebel falls, Cries like the blood of Abel from the dust; And the inheritors of the earth, like beasts When earthquake is unleashed, with idiot fear Cower in their kingly densas I do now. What were Defeat when Victory must appal? Or Danger, when Security looks pale? How said the messengerwho, from the fort Islanded in the Danube, saw the battle Of Bucharest?that Hassan.            Ibrahim's scimitar Drew with its gleam swift victory from Heaven, To burn before him in the night of battle A light and a destruction. Mahmud.               Ay! the day Was ours: but how? Hassan.            The light Wallachians, The Arnaut, Servian, and Albanian allies Fled from the glance of our artillery Almost before the thunderstone alit. One half the Grecian army made a bridge Of safe and slow retreat, with Moslem dead; The other Mahmud.       Speaktremble not.       Hassan.                  Islanded By victor myriads, formed in hollow square With rough and steadfast front, and thrice flung back The deluge of our foaming cavalry; Thrice their keen wedge of battle pierced our lines. Our baffled army trembled like one man Before a host, and gave them space; but soon, From the surrounding hills, the batteries blazed, Kneading them down with fire and iron rain: Yet none approached; till, like a field of corn Under the hook of the swart sickleman, The band, intrenched in mounds of Turkish dead, Grew weak and few.Then said the Pacha, 'Slaves, Render yourselvesthey have abandoned you What hope of refuge, or retreat, or aid? We grant your lives.' 'Grant that which is thine own!' Cried one, and fell upon his sword and died! Another'God, and man, and hope abandon me; But I to them, and to myself, remain Constant:'he bowed his head, and his heart burst. A third exclaimed, 'There is a refuge, tyrant, Where thou darest not pursue, and canst not harm Shouldst thou pursue; there we shall meet again.' Then held his breath, and, after a brief spasm, The indignant spirit cast its mortal garment Among the slaindead earth upon the earth! So these survivors, each by different ways, Some strange, all sudden, none dishonourable, Met in triumphant death; and when our army Closed in, while yet wonder, and awe, and shame Held back the base hyaenas of the battle That feed upon the dead and fly the living, One rose out of the chaos of the slain: And if it were a corpse which some dread spirit Of the old saviours of the land we rule Had lifted in its anger, wandering by; Or if there burned within the dying man Unquenchable disdain of death, and faith Creating what it feigned;I cannot tell But he cried, 'Phantoms of the free, we come! Armies of the Eternal, ye who strike To dust the citadels of sanguine kings, And shake the souls throned on their stony hearts, And thaw their frostwork diadems like dew; O ye who float around this clime, and weave The garment of the glory which it wears, Whose fame, though earth betray the dust it clasped, Lies sepulchred in monumental thought; Progenitors of all that yet is great, Ascribe to your bright senate, O accept In your high ministrations, us, your sons Us first, and the more glorious yet to come! And ye, weak conquerors! giants who look pale When the crushed worm rebels beneath your tread, The vultures and the dogs, your pensioners tame, Are overgorged; but, like oppressors, still They crave the relic of Destruction's feast. The exhalations and the thirsty winds Are sick with blood; the dew is foul with death; Heaven's light is quenched in slaughter: thus, where'er Upon your camps, cities, or towers, or fleets, The obscene birds the reeking remnants cast Of these dead limbs,upon your streams and mountains, Upon your fields, your gardens, and your housetops, Where'er the winds shall creep, or the clouds fly, Or the dews fall, or the angry sun look down With poisoned lightFamine, and Pestilence, And Panic, shall wage war upon our side! Nature from all her boundaries is moved Against ye: Time has found ye light as foam. The Earth rebels; and Good and Evil stake Their empire o'er the unborn world of men On this one cast;but ere the die be thrown, The renovated genius of our race, Proud umpire of the impious game, descends, A seraph-wingd Victory, bestriding The tempest of the Omnipotence of God, Which sweeps all things to their appointed doom, And you to oblivion!'More he would have said, But Mahmud.    Diedas thou shouldst ere thy lips had painted Their ruin in the hues of our success. A rebel's crime, gilt with a rebel's tongue! Your heart is Greek, Hassan. Hassan.                It may be so: A spirit not my own wrenched me within, And I have spoken words I fear and hate; Yet would I die for Mahmud.            Live! oh live! outlive Me and this sinking empire. But the fleet Hassan. Alas! Mahmud.     The fleet which, like a flock of clouds Chased by the wind, flies the insurgent banner! Our wingd castles from their merchant ships! Our myriads before their weak pirate bands! Our arms before their chains! our years of empire Before their centuries of servile fear! Death is awake! Repulse is on the waters! They own no more the thunder-bearing banner Of Mahmud; but, like hounds of a base breed, Gorge from a stranger's hand, and rend their master. Hassan. Latmos, and Ampelos, and Phanae saw The wreck Mahmud.       The caves of the Icarian isles Told each to the other in loud mockery, And with the tongue as of a thousand echoes, First of the sea-convulsing fightand, then, Thou darest to speaksenseless are the mountains: Interpret thou their voice! Hassan.                My presence bore A part in that day's shame. The Grecian fleet Bore down at daybreak from the North, and hung As multitudinous on the ocean line, As cranes upon the cloudless Thracian wind. Our squadron, convoying ten thousand men, Was stretching towards Nauplia when the battle Was kindled. First through the hail of our artillery The agile Hydriote barks with press of sail Dashed:ship to ship, cannon to cannon, man To man were grappled in the embrace of war, Inextricable but by death or victory. The tempest of the raging fight convulsed To its crystlline depths that stainless sea, And shook Heaven's roof of golden morning clouds, Poised on an hundred azure mountain-isles. In the brief trances of the artillery One cry from the destroyed and the destroyer Rose, and a cloud of desolation wrapped The unforeseen event, till the north wind Sprung from the sea, lifting the heavy veil Of battle-smokethen victoryvictory! For, as we thought, three frigates from Algiers Bore down from Naxos to our aid, but soon The abhorrd cross glimmered behind, before, Among, around us; and that fatal sign Dried with its beams the strength in Moslem hearts, As the sun drinks the dew.What more? We fled! Our noonday path over the sanguine foam Was beaconed,and the glare struck the sun pale, By our consuming transports: the fierce light Made all the shadows of our sails blood-red, And every countenance blank. Some ships lay feeding The ravening fire, even to the water's level; Some were blown up; some, settling heavily, Sunk; and the shrieks of our companions died Upon the wind, that bore us fast and far, Even after they were dead. Nine thousand perished! We met the vultures legioned in the air Stemming the torrent of the tainted wind; They, screaming from their cloudy mountain-peaks, Stooped through the sulphurous battle-smoke and perched Each on the weltering carcase that we loved, Like its ill angel or its damnd soul, Riding upon the bosom of the sea. We saw the dog-fish hastening to their feast. Joy waked the voiceless people of the sea, And ravening Famine left his ocean cave To dwell with War, with us, and with Despair. We met night three hours to the west of Patmos, And with night, tempest Mahmud.               Cease!               Enter a Messenger. Messenger.                  Your Sublime Highness, That Christian hound, the Muscovite Ambassador, Has left the city.If the rebel fleet Had anchored in the port, had victory Crowned the Greek legions in the Hippodrome, Panic were tamer.Obedience and Mutiny, Like giants in contention planet-struck, Stand gazing on each other.There is peace In Stamboul. Mahmud.        Is the grave not calmer still? Its ruins shall be mine. Hassan.              Fear not the Russian: The tiger leagues not with the stag at bay Against the hunter.Cunning, base, and cruel, He crouches, watching till the spoil be won, And must be paid for his reserve in blood. After the war is fought, yield the sleek Russian That which thou canst not keep, his deserved portion Of blood, which shall not flow through streets and fields, Rivers and seas, like that which we may win, But stagnate in the veins of Christian slaves! Enter second Messenger. Second Messenger. Nauplia, Tripolizza, Mothon, Athens, Navarin, Artas, Monembasia, Corinth, and Thebes are carried by assault, And every Islamite who made his dogs Fat with the flesh of Galilean slaves Passed at the edge of the sword: the lust of blood, Which made our warriors drunk, is quenched in death; But like a fiery plague breaks out anew In deeds which make the Christian cause look pale In its own light. The garrison of Patras Has store but for ten days, nor is there hope But from the Briton: at once slave and tyrant, His wishes still are weaker than his fears, Or he would sell what faith may yet remain From the oaths broke in Genoa and in Norway; And if you buy him not, your treasury Is empty even of promiseshis own coin. The freedman of a western poet-chief[4] Holds Attica with seven thousand rebels, And has beat back the Pacha of Negropont: The agd Ali sits in Yanina A crownless metaphor of empire: His name, that shadow of his withered might, Holds our besieging army like a spell In prey to famine, pest, and mutiny; He, bastioned in his citadel, looks forth Joyless upon the sapphire lake that mirrors The ruins of the city where he reigned Childless and sceptreless. The Greek has reaped The costly harvest his own blood matured, Not the sower, Aliwho has bought a truce From Ypsilanti with ten camel-loads Of Indian gold. Enter a third Messenger. Mahmud.         What more?         Third Messenger.               The Christian tribes Of Lebanon and the Syrian wilderness Are in revolt;Damascus, Hems, Aleppo Tremble;the Arab menaces Medina, The Aethiop has intrenched himself in Sennaar, And keeps the Egyptian rebel well employed, Who denies homage, claims investiture As price of tardy aid. Persia demands The cities on the Tigris, and the Georgians Refuse their living tribute. Crete and Cyprus, Like mountain-twins that from each other's veins Catch the volcano-fire and earthquake-spasm, Shake in the general fever. Through the city, Like birds before a storm, the Santons shriek, And prophesyings horrible and new Are heard among the crowd: that sea of men Sleeps on the wrecks it made, breathless and still. A Dervise, learnd in the Koran, preaches That it is written how the sins of Islam Must raise up a destroyer even now. The Greeks expect a Saviour from the West[5], Who shall not come, men say, in clouds and glory, But in the omnipresence of that Spirit In which all live and are. Ominous signs Are blazoned broadly on the noonday sky: One saw a red cross stamped upon the sun; It has rained blood; and monstrous births declare The secret wrath of Nature and her Lord. The army encamped upon the Cydaris Was roused last night by the alarm of battle, And saw two hosts conflicting in the air, The shadows doubtless of the unborn time Cast on the mirror of the night. While yet The fight hung balanced, there arose a storm Which swept the phantoms from among the stars. At the third watch the Spirit of the Plague Was heard abroad flapping among the tents; Those who relieved watch found the sentinels dead. The last news from the camp is, that a thousand Have sickened, and Enter a fourth Messenger. Mahmud.            And thou, pale ghost, dim shadow Of some untimely rumour, speak! Fourth Messenger.                  One comes Fainting with toil, covered with foam and blood: He stood, he says, on Chelonites' Promontory, which o'erlooks the isles that groan Under the Briton's frown, and all their waters Then trembling in the splendour of the moon, When as the wandering clouds unveiled or hid Her boundless light, he saw two adverse fleets Stalk through the night in the horizon's glimmer, Mingling fierce thunders and sulphureous gleams, And smoke which strangled every infant wind That soothed the silver clouds through the deep air. At length the battle slept, but the Sirocco Awoke, and drove his flock of thunder-clouds Over the sea-horizon, blotting out All objectssave that in the faint moon-glimpse He saw, or dreamed he saw, the Turkish admiral And two the loftiest of our ships of war, With the bright image of that Queen of Heaven, Who hid, perhaps, her face for grief, reversed; And the abhorrd cross Enter an Attendant. Attendant.              Your Sublime Highness, The Jew, who Mahmud.        Could not come more seasonably: Bid him attend. I'll hear no more! too long We gaze on danger through the mist of fear, And multiply upon our shattered hopes The images of ruin. Come what will! To-morrow and to-morrow are as lamps Set in our path to light us to the edge Through rough and smooth, nor can we suffer aught Which He inflicts not in whose hand we are. [Exeunt. Semichorus I. Would I were the wingd cloud Of a tempest swift and loud!   I would scorn   The smile of morn And the wave where the moonrise is born!   I would leave   The spirits of eve A shroud for the corpse of the day to weave From other threads than mine! Bask in the deep blue noon divine.    Who would? Not I.    Semichorus II. Whither to fly? Semichorus I. Where the rocks that gird th'Aegean Echo to the battle paean   Of the free   I would flee A tempestuous herald of victory!   My golden rain   For the Grecian slain Should mingle in tears with the bloody main, And my solemn thunder-knell Should ring to the world the passing-bell   Of Tyranny!   Semichorus II. Ah king! wilt thou chain The rack and the rain? Wilt thou fetter the lightning and hurricane? The storms are free,   But we   Chorus. O Slavery! thou frost of the world's prime, Killing its flowers and leaving its thorns bare! Thy touch has stamped these limbs with crime, These brows thy branding garland bear,   But the free heart, the impassive soul    Scorn thy control!    Semichorus I. Let there be light! said Liberty, And like sunrise from the sea, Athens arose!Around her born, Shone like mountains in the morn Glorious states;and are they now Ashes, wrecks, oblivion? Semichorus II.              Go, Where Thermae and Asopus swallowed Persia, as the sand does foam; Deluge upon deluge followed, Discord, Macedon, and Rome: And lastly thou! Semichorus I.          Temples and towers, Citadels and marts, and they Who live and die there, have been ours, And may be thine, and must decay; But Greece and her foundations are Built below the tide of war, Based on the crystlline sea Of thought and its eternity; Her citizens, imperial spirits, Rule the present from the past, On all this world of men inherits Their seal is set. Semichorus II.            Hear ye the blast, Whose Orphic thunder thrilling calls From ruin her Titanian walls? Whose spirit shakes the sapless bones Of Slavery? Argos, Corinth, Crete Hear, and from their mountain thrones The daemons and the nymphs repeat The harmony. Semichorus I.       I hear! I hear!       Semichorus II. The world's eyeless charioteer,   Destiny, is hurrying by! What faith is crushed, what empire bleeds Beneath her earthquake-footed steeds? What eagle-wingd victory sits At her right hand? what shadow flits Before? what splendour rolls behind?   Ruin and renovation cry 'Who but We?' Semichorus I.        I hear! I hear! The hiss as of a rushing wind, The roar as of an ocean foaming, The thunder as of earthquake coming.   I hear! I hear! The crash as of an empire falling, The shrieks as of a people calling 'Mercy! mercy!'How they thrill! Then a shout of 'kill! kill! kill!' And then a small still voice, thus Semichorus II.                     For Revenge and Wrong bring forth their kind, The foul cubs like their parents are, Their den is in the guilty mind, And Conscience feeds them with despair. Semichorus I. In sacred Athens, near the fane Of Wisdom, Pity's altar stood: Serve not the unknown God in vain, But pay that broken shrine again, Love for hate and tears for blood. Enter Mahmud and Ahasuerus. Mahmud. Thou art a man, thou sayest, even as we. Ahasuerus. No more! Mahmud.     But raised above thy fellow-men By thought, as I by power. Ahasuerus.               Thou sayest so.               Mahmud. Thou art an adept in the difficult lore Of Greek and Frank philosophy; thou numberest The flowers, and thou measurest the stars; Thou severest element from element; Thy spirit is present in the Past, and sees The birth of this old world through all its cycles Of desolation and of loveliness, And when man was not, and how man became The monarch and the slave of this low sphere, And all its narrow circlesit is much I honour thee, and would be what thou art Were I not what I am; but the unborn hour, Cradled in fear and hope, conflicting storms, Who shall unveil? Nor thou, nor I, nor any Mighty or wise. I apprehended not What thou hast taught me, but I now perceive That thou art no interpreter of dreams; Thou dost not own that art, device, or God, Can make the Future presentlet it come! Moreover thou disdainest us and ours; Thou art as God, whom thou contemplatest. Ahasuerus. Disdain thee?not the worm beneath thy feet! The Fathomless has care for meaner things Than thou canst dream, and has made pride for those Who would be what they may not, or would seem That which they are not. Sultan! talk no more Of thee and me, the Future and the Past; But look on that which cannot changethe One, The unborn and the undying. Earth and ocean, Space, and the isles of life or light that gem The sapphire floods of interstellar air, This firmament pavilioned upon chaos, With all its cressets of immortal fire, Whose outwall, bastioned impregnably Against the escape of boldest thoughts, repels them As Calpe the Atlantic cloudsthis Whole Of suns, and worlds, and men, and beasts, and flowers, With all the silent or tempestuous workings By which they have been, are, or cease to be, Is but a vision;all that it inherits Are motes of a sick eye, bubbles and dreams; Thought is its cradle and its grave, nor less The Future and the Past are idle shadows Of thought's eternal flightthey have no being: Nought is but that which feels itself to be. Mahmud. What meanest thou? Thy words stream like a tempest Of dazzling mist within my brainthey shake The earth on which I stand, and hang like night On Heaven above me. What can they avail? They cast on all things surest, brightest, best, Doubt, insecurity, astonishment. Ahasuerus. Mistake me not! All is contained in each. Dodona's forest to an acorn's cup Is that which has been, or will be, to that Which isthe absent to the present. Thought Alone, and its quick elements, Will, Passion, Reason, Imagination, cannot die; They are, what that which they regard appears, The stuff whence mutability can weave All that it hath dominion o'er, worlds, worms, Empires, and superstitions. What has thought To do with time, or place, or circumstance? Wouldst thou behold the Future?ask and have! Knock and it shall be openedlook, and lo! The coming age is shadowed on the Past As on a glass. Mahmud.        Wild, wilder thoughts convulse My spiritDid not Mahomet the Second Win Stamboul? Ahasuerus.        Thou wouldst ask that giant spirit The written fortunes of thy house and faith. Thou wouldst cite one out of the grave to tell How what was born in blood must die. Mahmud.                     Thy words Have power on me! I see Ahasuerus.               What hearest thou?               Mahmud. A far whisper Terrible silence. Ahasuerus.          What succeeds?          Mahmud.                  The sound As of the assault of an imperial city[6], The hiss of inextinguishable fire, The roar of giant cannon; the earthquaking Fall of vast bastions and precipitous towers, The shock of crags shot from strange enginery, The clash of wheels, and clang of armd hoofs, And crash of brazen mail as of the wreck Of adamantine mountainsthe mad blast Of trumpets, and the neigh of raging steeds, The shrieks of women whose thrill jars the blood, And one sweet laugh, most horrible to hear, As of a joyous infant waked and playing With its dead mother's breast, and now more loud The mingled battle-cry,ha! hear I not 'En toutwi nikh!' 'Allah-illa-Allah!'? Ahasuerus. The sulphurous mist is raisedthou seest Mahmud.                        A chasm, As of two mountains, in the wall of Stamboul; And in that ghastly breach the Islamites, Like giants on the ruins of a world, Stand in the light of sunrise. In the dust Glimmers a kingless diadem, and one Of regal port has cast himself beneath The stream of war. Another proudly clad In golden arms spurs a Tartarian barb Into the gap, and with his iron mace Directs the torrent of that tide of men, And seemshe isMahomet! Ahasuerus.               What thou seest Is but the ghost of thy forgotten dream. A dream itself, yet less, perhaps, than that Thou call'st reality. Thou mayst behold How cities, on which Empire sleeps enthroned, Bow their towered crests to mutability. Poised by the flood, e'en on the height thou holdest, Thou mayst now learn how the full tide of power Ebbs to its depths.Inheritor of glory, Conceived in darkness, born in blood, and nourished With tears and toil, thou seest the mortal throes Of that whose birth was but the same. The Past Now stands before thee like an Incarnation Of the To-come; yet wouldst thou commune with That portion of thyself which was ere thou Didst start for this brief race whose crown is death, Dissolve with that strong faith and fervent passion Which called it from the uncreated deep, Yon cloud of war, with its tempestuous phantoms Of raging death; and draw with mighty will The imperial shade hither. [Exit Ahasuerus. The Phantom of Mahomet the Second appears. Mahmud.               Approach!               Phantom.                    I come Thence whither thou must go! The grave is fitter To take the living than give up the dead; Yet has thy faith prevailed, and I am here. The heavy fragments of the power which fell When I arose, like shapeless crags and clouds, Hang round my throne on the abyss, and voices Of strange lament soothe my supreme repose, Wailing for glory never to return. A later Empire nods in its decay: The autumn of a greener faith is come, And wolfish change, like winter, howls to strip The foliage in which Fame, the eagle, built Her aerie, while Dominion whelped below. The storm is in its branches, and the frost Is on its leaves, and the blank deep expects Oblivion on oblivion, spoil on spoil, Ruin on ruin:Thou art slow, my son; The Anarchs of the world of darkness keep A throne for thee, round which thine empire lies Boundless and mute; and for thy subjects thou, Like us, shalt rule the ghosts of murdered life, The phantoms of the powers who rule thee now Mutinous passions, and conflicting fears, And hopes that sate themselves on dust, and die! Stripped of their mortal strength, as thou of thine. Islam must fall, but we will reign together Over its ruins in the world of death: And if the trunk be dry, yet shall the seed Unfold itself even in the shape of that Which gathers birth in its decay. Woe! woe! To the weak people tangled in the grasp Of its last spasms. Mahmud.           Spirit, woe to all! Woe to the wronged and the avenger! Woe To the destroyer, woe to the destroyed! Woe to the dupe, and woe to the deceiver! Woe to the oppressed, and woe to the oppressor! Woe both to those that suffer and inflict; Those who are born and those who die! but say, Imperial shadow of the thing I am, When, how, by whom, Destruction must accomplish Her consummation! Phantom.          Ask the cold pale Hour, Rich in reversion of impending death, When he shall fall upon whose ripe gray hairs Sit Care, and Sorrow, and Infirmity The weight which Crime, whose wings are plumed with years, Leaves in his flight from ravaged heart to heart Over the heads of men, under which burthen They bow themselves unto the grave: fond wretch! He leans upon his crutch, and talks of years To come, and how in hours of youth renewed He will renew lost joys, and Voice without.                 Victory! Victory!                 [The Phantom vanishes. Mahmud. What sound of the importunate earth has broken My mighty trance? Voice without.          Victory! Victory!          Mahmud. Weak lightning before darkness! poor faint smile Of dying Islam! Voice which art the response Of hollow weakness! Do I wake and live? Were there such things, or may the unquiet brain, Vexed by the wise mad talk of the old Jew, Have shaped itself these shadows of its fear? It matters not!for nought we see or dream, Possess, or lose, or grasp at, can be worth More than it gives or teaches: Come what may, The Future must become the Past, and I As they were to whom once this present hour, This gloomy crag of time to which I cling, Seemed an Elysian isle of peace and joy Never to be attained.I must rebuke This drunkenness of triumph ere it die, And dying, bring despair. Victory! poor slaves! Exit Mahmud. Voice without. Shout in the jubilee of death! The Greeks Are as a brood of lions in the net Round which the kingly hunters of the earth Stand smiling. Anarchs, ye whose daily food Are curses, groans, and gold, the fruit of death, From Thule to the girdle of the world, Come, feast! the board groans with the flesh of men; The cup is foaming with a nation's blood, Famine and Thirst await! eat, drink, and die! Semichorus I. Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream, Salutes the rising sun, pursues the flying day! I saw her, ghastly as a tyrant's dream, Perch on the trembling pyramid of night, Beneath which earth and all her realms pavilioned lay In visions of the dawning undelight.   Who shall impede her flight?   Who rob her of her prey?   Voice without. Victory! Victory! Russia's famished eagles Dare not to prey beneath the crescent's light. Impale the remnant of the Greeks! despoil! Violate! make their flesh cheaper than dust! Semichorus II. Thou voice which art The herald of the ill in splendour hid! Thou echo of the hollow heart Of monarchy, bear me to thine abode When desolation flashes o'er a world destroyed: Oh, bear me to those isles of jaggd cloud Which float like mountains on the earthquake, mid The momentary oceans of the lightning, Or to some toppling promontory proud Of solid tempest whose black pyramid, Riven, overhangs the founts intensely bright'ning Of those dawn-tinted deluges of fire Before their waves expire, When heaven and earth are light, and only light   In the thunder-night!   Voice without. Victory! Victory! Austria, Russia, England, And that tame serpent, that poor shadow, France, Cry peace, and that means death when monarchs speak. Ho, there! bring torches, sharpen those red stakes, These chains are light, fitter for slaves and poisoners Than Greeks. Kill! plunder! burn! let none remain. Semichorus I.    Alas! for Liberty! If numbers, wealth, or unfulfilling years, Or fate, can quell the free!    Alas! for Virtue, when Torments, or contumely, or the sneers    Of erring judging men   Can break the heart where it abides. Alas! if Love, whose smile makes this obscure world splendid,   Can change with its false times and tides,    Like hope and terror,     Alas for Love! And Truth, who wanderest lone and unbefriended, If thou canst veil thy lie-consuming mirror Before the dazzled eyes of Error, Alas for thee! Image of the Above. Semichorus II.   Repulse, with plumes from conquest torn, Led the ten thousand from the limits of the morn   Through many an hostile Anarchy! At length they wept aloud, and cried, 'The Sea! the Sea!'   Through exile, persecution, and despair,    Rome was, and young Atlantis shall become    The wonder, or the terror, or the tomb Of all whose step wakes Power lulled in her savage lair: But Greece was as a hermit-child,   Whose fairest thoughts and limbs were built To woman's growth, by dreams so mild,   She knew not pain or guilt; And now, O Victory, blush! and Empire, tremble    When ye desert the free    If Greece must be A wreck, yet shall its fragments reassemble, And build themselves again impregnably    In a diviner clime, To Amphionic music on some Cape sublime, Which frowns above the idle foam of Time. Semichorus I. Let the tyrants rule the desert they have made; Let the free possess the Paradise they claim; Be the fortune of our fierce oppressors weighed With our ruin, our resistance, and our name! Semichorus II. Our dead shall be the seed of their decay, Our survivors be the shadow of their pride, Our adversity a dream to pass away Their dishonour a remembrance to abide! Voice without. Victory! Victory! The bought Briton sends The keys of ocean to the Islamite. Now shall the blazon of the cross be veiled, And British skill directing Othman might, Thunder-strike rebel victory. Oh, keep holy This jubilee of unrevengd blood! Kill! crush! despoil! Let not a Greek escape! Semichorus I. Darkness has dawned in the East On the noon of time: The death-birds descend to their feast From the hungry clime. Let Freedom and Peace flee far To a sunnier strand, And follow Love's folding-star To the Evening land! Semichorus II.     The young moon has fed      Her exhausted horn       With the sunset's fire:     The weak day is dead,      But the night is not born; And, like loveliness panting with wild desire While it trembles with fear and delight, Hesperus flies from awakening night, And pants in its beauty and speed with light Fast-flashing, soft, and bright. Thou beacon of love! thou lamp of the free!    Guide us far, far away, To climes where now veiled by the ardour of day     Thou art hidden   From waves on which weary Noon   Faints in her summer swoon,   Between kingless continents sinless as Eden,   Around mountains and islands inviolably     Pranked on the sapphire sea.     Semichorus I. Through the sunset of hope, Like the shapes of a dream, What Paradise islands of glory gleam!   Beneath Heaven's cope, Their shadows more clear float by The sound of their oceans, the light of their sky, The music and fragrance their solitudes breathe Burst, like morning on dream, or like Heaven on death,   Through the walls of our prison; And Greece, which was dead, is arisen! Chorus[7]. The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam, Like wrecks of a dissolving dream. A brighter Hellas rears its mountains From waves serener far; A new Peneus rolls his fountains Against the morning star. Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize; Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies. A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore. Oh, write no more the tale of Troy, If earth Death's scroll must be! Nor mix with Laian rage the joy Which dawns upon the free: Although a subtler Sphinx renew Riddles of death Thebes never knew. Another Athens shall arise, And to remoter time Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, The splendour of its prime; And leave, if nought so bright may live, All earth can take or Heaven can give. Saturn and Love their long repose Shall burst[8], more bright and good Than all who fell, than One who rose, Than many unsubdued: Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers, But votive tears and symbol flowers. Oh, cease! must hate and death return? Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last! Hellas was composed at Pisa in the autumn of 1821, and dispatched to London, November 11. It was published, with the author's name, by C. & J. Ollier in the spring of 1822. A transcript of the poem by Edward Williams is in the Rowfant Library. Note by Mrs. Shelley: 'Hellas was among the last of his compositions, and is among the most beautiful. The choruses are singularly imaginative, and melodious in their versification. There are some stanzas that beautifully exemplify Shelley's peculiar style; as, for instance, the assertion of the intellectual empire which must be for ever the inheritance of the country of Homer, Sophocles, and Plato:-- ''But Greece and her foundations are Built below the tide of war, Based on the crystalline sea Of thought and its eternity.''' ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Hellas - A Lyrical Drama ,

201:Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric Dramatis Personae HUGO, a Norman Baron and a Scholar. ERIC, a friend of Hugo's. THURSTON, | EUSTACE, | RALPH, | Followers of Hugo. HENRY, a Page. LUKE, | HUBERT, | Monks living in a Norman Chapel. BASIL, Abbot of a Convent on the Rhine. CYRIL, a Monk of the same Convent. OSRIC, a Norwegian Adventurer, and formerly a Corsair. RUDOLPH, an Outlawed Count, and the Captain of a Band of Robbers. DAGOBERT, the Captain of some predatory Soldiers called "Free Lances". HAROLD, a Danish Knight. ORION. THORA, AGATHA, ELSPETH, a Nurse of Thora's, URSULA, Abbess of the Convent on the Rhine, | NUNS, etc. | Women. Men-at-arms, Soldiers, and Robbers; Monks, Friars, and Churchmen, Spirits, etc. SCENE — A Castle in Normandy. A Study in a Tower; HUGO seated at a table covered with maps and charts of the heavens, astronomical instruments, books, manuscripts, Enter HENRY, a Page. Hugo: Well, boy, what is it? 27 Henry: The feast is spread. Hugo: Why tarry the guests for me? Let Eric sit at the table's head; Alone I desire to be. [Henry goes out.] What share have I at their festive board? Their mirth I can only mar; To me no pleasure their cups afford, Their songs on my silence jar. With an aching eye and a throbbing brain, And yet with a hopeful heart, I must toil and strain with the planets again When the rays of the sun depart; He who must needs with the topers tope, And the feasters feast in the hall, How can he hope with a matter to cope That is immaterial? Orion: He who his appetite stints and curbs, Shut up in the northern wing, With his rye-bread flavoured with bitter herbs, And his draught from the tasteless spring, Good sooth, he is but a sorry clown. There are some good things upon earth — Pleasure and power and fair renown, And wisdom of worldly worth! There is wisdom in follies that charm the sense, In follies that light the eyes, But the folly to wisdom that makes pretence Is alone by the fool termed wise. Hugo: Thy speech, Orion, is somewhat rude; Perchance, having jeer'd and scoff'd To thy fill, thou wilt curb thy jeering mood; I wot thou hast served me oft. This plan of the skies seems fairly traced; What errors canst thou detect? 28 Orion: Nay, the constellations are misplaced, And the satellites incorrect; Leave the plan to me; you have time to seek An hour of needful rest, The night is young and the planets are weak; See, the sun still reddens the west. Hugo: I fear I shall sleep too long. Orion: If you do It matters not much; the sky Is cloudy, the stars will be faint and few; Now, list to my lullaby. [Hugo reclines on a couch.] (Sings.) Still the darkling skies are red, Though the day-god's course is run; Heavenly night-lamps overhead Flash and twinkle one by one. Idle dreamer — earth-born elf! Vainly grasping heavenly things, Wherefore weariest thou thyself With thy vain imaginings? From the tree of knowledge first, Since his parents pluck'd the fruit, Man, with partial knowledge curs'd, Of the tree still seeks the root; Musty volumes crowd thy shelf — Which of these true knowledge brings? Wherefore weariest thou thyself With thy vain imaginings? Will the stars from heaven descend? Can the earth-worm soar and rise? Can the mortal comprehend Heaven's own hallow'd mysteries? Greed and glory, power and pelf — These are won by clowns and kings; Wherefore weariest thou thyself 29 With thy vain imaginings? Sow and reap, and toil and spin; Eat and drink, and dream and die; Man may strive, yet never win, And I laugh the while and cry — Idle dreamer, earth-born elf! Vainly grasping heavenly things, Wherefore weariest thou thyself With thy vain imaginings? He sleeps, and his sleep appears serene, Whatever dreams it has brought him — [Looks at the plans.] If he knows what those hieroglyphics mean, He's wiser than one who taught him. Why does he number the Pole-star thus? Or the Pleiades why combine? And what is he doing with Sirius, In the devil's name or in mine? Man thinks, discarding the beaten track, That the sins of his youth are slain, When he seeks fresh sins, but he soon comes back To his old pet sins again. SCENE — The Same. HUGO waking, ORION seated near him. Daybreak. Hugo: Oh, weary spirit! oh, cloudy eyes! Oh, heavy and misty brain! Yon riddle that lies 'twixt earth and skies, Ye seek to explore in vain! See, the east is grey; put those scrolls away, And hide them far from my sight; I will toil and study no more by day, I will watch no longer by night; I have labour'd and long'd, and now I seem No nearer the mystic goal; 30 Orion, I fain would devise some scheme To quiet this restless soul; To distant climes I would fain depart — I would travel by sea or land. Orion: Nay, I warn'd you of this, "Short life, long art", The proverb, though stale, will stand; Full many a sage from youth to age Has toil'd to obtain what you Would master at once. In a pilgrimage, Forsooth, there is nothing new; Though virtue, I ween, in change of scene, And vigour in change of air, Will always be, and has always been, And travel is a tonic rare. Still, the restless, discontented mood For the time alone is eased; It will soon return with hunger renew'd, And appetite unappeased. Nathless I could teach a shorter plan To win that wisdom you crave, That lore that is seldom attain'd by man From the cradle down to the grave. Hugo: Such lore I had rather do without, It hath nothing mystic nor awful In my eye. Nay, I despise and doubt The arts that are term'd unlawful; 'Twixt science and magic the line lies plain, I shall never wittingly pass it; There is now no compact between us twain. Orion: But an understanding tacit. You have prospered much since the day we met; You were then a landless knight; You now have honour and wealth, and yet I never can serve you right. Hugo: Enough; we will start this very day, 31 Thurston, Eric, and I, And the baffled visions will pass away, And the restless fires will die. Orion: Till the fuel expires that feeds those fires They smoulder and live unspent; Give a mortal all that his heart desires, He is less than ever content. SCENE — A Cliff on the Breton Coast, Overhanging the Sea. HUGO. Hugo: Down drops the red sun; through the gloaming They burst — raging waves of the sea, Foaming out their own shame — ever foaming Their leprosy up with fierce glee; Flung back from the stone, snowy fountains Of feathery flakes, scarcely flag Where, shock after shock, the green mountains Explode on the iron-grey crag. The salt spray with ceaseless commotion Leaps round me. I sit on the verge Of the cliff — 'twixt the earth and the ocean — With feet overhanging the surge. In thy grandeur, oh, sea! we acknowledge, In thy fairness, oh, earth! we confess, Hidden truths that are taught in no college, Hidden songs that no parchments express. Were they wise in their own generations, Those sages and sagas of old? They have pass'd; o'er their names and their nations Time's billows have silently roll'd; They have pass'd, leaving little to their children, Save histories of a truth far from strict; Or theories more vague and bewildering, 32 Since three out of four contradict. Lost labour! vain bookworms have sat in The halls of dull pedants who teach Strange tongues, the dead lore of the Latin, The scroll that is god-like and Greek: Have wasted life's springtide in learning Things long ago learnt all in vain; They are slow, very slow, in discerning That book lore and wisdom are twain. Pale shades of a creed that was mythic, By time or by truth overcome, Your Delphian temples and Pythic Are ruins deserted and dumb; Your Muses are hush'd, and your Graces Are bruised and defaced; and your gods, Enshrin'd and enthron'd in high places No longer, are powerless as clods; By forest and streamlet, where glisten'd Fair feet of the Naiads that skimm'd The shallows; where the Oreads listen'd, Rose-lipp'd, amber-hair'd, marble-limb'd, No lithe forms disport in the river, No sweet faces peer through the boughs, Elms and beeches wave silent for ever, Ever silent the bright water flows. (Were they duller or wiser than we are, Those heathens of old? Who shall say? Worse or better? Thy wisdom, O "Thea Glaucopis", was wise in thy day; And the false gods alluring to evil, That sway'd reckless votaries then, Were slain to no purpose; they revel Re-crowned in the hearts of us men.) Dead priests of Osiris and Isis, And Apis! that mystical lore, Like a nightmare, conceived in a crisis Of fever, is studied no more; 33 Dead Magian! yon star-troop that spangles The arch of yon firmament vast Looks calm, like a host of white angels, On dry dust of votaries past. On seas unexplored can the ship shun Sunk rocks? Can man fathom life's links, Past or future, unsolved by Egyptian Or Theban, unspoken by Sphinx? The riddle remains still unravell'd By students consuming night oil. Oh, earth! we have toil'd, we have travail'd, How long shall we travail and toil? How long? The short life that fools reckon So sweet, by how much is it higher Than brute life? — the false gods still beckon, And man, through the dust and the mire, Toils onward, as toils the dull bullock, Unreasoning, brutish, and blind, With Ashtaroth, Mammon, and Moloch In front, and Alecto behind. The wise one of earth, the Chaldean, Serves folly in wisdom's disguise; And the sensual Epicurean, Though grosser, is hardly less wise; 'Twixt the former, half pedant, half pagan, And the latter, half sow and half sloth, We halt, choose Astarte or Dagon, Or sacrifice freely to both. With our reason that seeks to disparage, Brute instinct it fails to subdue; With our false illegitimate courage, Our sophistry, vain and untrue; Our hopes that ascend so and fall so, Our passions, fierce hates and hot loves, We are wise (aye, the snake is wise also) — Wise as serpents, NOT harmless as doves. Some flashes, like faint sparks from heaven, 34 Come rarely with rushing of wings; We are conscious at times we have striven, Though seldom, to grasp better things; These pass, leaving hearts that have falter'd, Good angels with faces estranged, And the skin of the Ethiop unalter'd, And the spots of the leopard unchanged. Oh, earth! pleasant earth! have we hanker'd To gather thy flowers and thy fruits? The roses are wither'd, and canker'd The lilies, and barren the roots Of the fig-tree, the vine, the wild olive, Sharp thorns and sad thistles that yield Fierce harvest — so WE live, and SO live The perishing beasts of the field. And withal we are conscious of evil And good — of the spirit and the clod, Of the power in our hearts of a devil, Of the power in our souls of a God, Whose commandments are graven in no cypher, But clear as His sun — from our youth One at least we have cherished — "An eye for An eye, and a tooth for a tooth." Oh, man! of thy Maker the image; To passion, to pride, or to wealth, Sworn bondsman, from dull youth to dim age, Thy portion the fire or the filth, Dross seeking, dead pleasure's death rattle Thy memories' happiest song, And thy highest hope — scarce a drawn battle With dark desperation. How long? Roar louder! leap higher! ye surf-beds, And sprinkle your foam on the furze; Bring the dreams that brought sleep to our turf-beds, To camps of our long ago years, With the flashing and sparkling of broadswords, 35 With the tossing of banners and spears, With the trampling of hard hoofs on hard swards, With the mingling of trumpets and cheers. The gale has gone down; yet outlasting The gale, raging waves of the sea, Casting up their own foam, ever casting Their leprosy up with wild glee, Still storm; so in rashness and rudeness Man storms through the days of his grace; Yet man cannot fathom God's goodness, Exceeding God's infinite space. And coldly and calmly and purely Grey rock and green hillock lie white In star-shine dream-laden — so surely Night cometh — so cometh the night When we, too, at peace with our neighbour, May sleep where God's hillocks are piled, Thanking HIM for a rest from day's labour, And a sleep like the sleep of a child! SCENE — The Castle in Normandy. THORA working at embroidery, ELSPETH spinning. Thora (sings): We severed in autumn early, Ere the earth was torn by the plough; The wheat and the oats and the barley Are ripe for the harvest now. We sunder'd one misty morning, Ere the hills were dimm'd by the rain, Through the flowers those hills adorning — Thou comest not back again. My heart is heavy and weary With the weight of a weary soul; 36 The mid-day glare grows dreary, And dreary the midnight scroll. The corn-stalks sigh for the sickle, 'Neath the load of the golden grain; I sigh for a mate more fickle — Thou comest not back again. The warm sun riseth and setteth, The night bringeth moistening dew, But the soul that longeth forgetteth The warmth and the moisture too; In the hot sun rising and setting There is naught save feverish pain; There are tears in the night-dews wetting — Thou comest not back again. Thy voice in mine ear still mingles With the voices of whisp'ring trees; Thy kiss on my cheek still tingles At each kiss of the summer breeze; While dreams of the past are thronging For substance of shades in vain, I am waiting, watching, and longing — Thou comest not back again. Waiting and watching ever, Longing and lingering yet, Leaves rustle and corn-stalks quiver, Winds murmur and waters fret; No answer they bring, no greeting, No speech save that sad refrain, Nor voice, save an echo repeating — He cometh not back again. Elspeth: Thine eldest sister is wedded to Max; With Biorn, Hilda hath cast her lot. If the husbands vanish'd, and left no tracks, Would the wives have cause for sorrow, I wot? Thora: How well I remember that dreary ride; 37 How I sigh'd for the lands of ice and snow, In the trackless wastes of the desert wide, With the sun o'erhead and the sand below; 'Neath the scanty shades of the feathery palms, How I sigh'd for the forest of sheltering firs, Whose shadows environ'd the Danish farms, Where I sang and sported in childish years. On the fourteenth day of our pilgrimage We stayed at the foot of a sandhill high; Our fever'd thirst we could scarce assuage At the brackish well that was nearly dry, And the hot sun rose, and the hot sun set, And we rode all the day through a desert land, And we camp'd where the lake and the river met, On sedge and shingle and shining sand: Enfolded in Hugo's cloak I slept, Or watch'd the stars while I lay awake; And close to our feet the staghound crept, And the horses were grazing beside the lake; Now we own castles and serving men, Lands and revenues. What of that? Hugo the Norman was kinder then, And happier was Thora of Armorat. Elspeth: Nay, I warn'd thee, with Norman sails unfurl'd Above our heads, when we wished thee joy, That men are the same all over the world, They will worship only the newest toy; Yet Hugo is kind and constant too, Though somewhat given to studies of late; Biorn is sottish, and Max untrue, And worse than thine is thy sisters' fate. But a shadow darkens the chamber door. Enter THURSTON. Thurston: 'Tis I, Lady Thora; our lord is near. My horse being fresher, I rode before; Both he and Eric will soon be here. 38 Thora: Good Thurston, give me your hand. You are Most welcome. What has delayed you thus? Thurston: Both by sea and land we have travell'd far, Yet little of note has happened to us — We were wreck'd on the shores of Brittany, Near the coast of Morbihan iron-bound; The rocks were steep and the surf ran high, Thy kinsman, Eric, was well-nigh drown'd. By a swarm of knaves we were next beset, Who took us for corsairs; then released By a Breton count, whose name I forget. Now I go, by your leave, to tend my beast. [He goes out.] Elspeth: That man is rude and froward of speech: My ears are good, though my sight grows dim. Thora: Thurston is faithful. Thou canst not teach Courtly nor servile manners to him. SCENE — The Castle Hall. THURSTON, RALPH, EUSTACE, and other followers of HUGO, seated at a long table. HAROLD seated apart. Thurston: Who is that stranger, dark and tall, On the wooden settle next to the wall — Mountebank, pilgrim, or wandering bard? Eustace: To define his calling is somewhat hard; Lady Thora has taken him by the hand Because he has come from the Holy Land. 39 Pilgrims and palmers are all the rage With her, since she shared in that pilgrimage With Hugo. The stranger came yesterday, And would have gone on, but she bade him stay. Besides, he sings in the Danish tongue The songs she has heard in her childhood sung. That's all I know of him, good or bad; In my own opinion he's somewhat mad. You must raise your voice if you speak with him, And he answers as though his senses were dim. Thurston (to Harold): Good-morrow, sir stranger. Harold: Good-morrow, friend. Thurston: Where do you come from? and whither wend? Harold: I have travelled of late with the setting sun At my back; and as soon as my task is done I purpose to turn my face to the north — Yet we know not what a day may bring forth. Thurston: Indeed we don't. (To Eustace, aside): Nay, I know him now By that ugly scar that crosses his brow; And the less we say to him the better. Your judgment is right to the very letter — The man is mad. Eustace: But harmless, I think; He eats but little, eschews strong drink, And only speaks when spoken to first. Thurston: Harmless or not, he was once the worst And bitterest foe Lord Hugo had; And yet his story is somewhat sad. 40 Eustace: May I hear it? Thurston: Nay, I never reveal What concerns me not. Our lord may conceal Or divulge at pleasure his own affairs, — Not even his comrade Eric shares His secrets; though Eric thinks him wise, Which is more than I do, for I despise That foolish science he learnt in Rome. He dreams and mopes when he sits at home, And now he's not much better abroad; 'Tis hard to follow so tame a lord. 'Twixt us two, he won't be worth a rush If he will persist in his studies —— Eustace: Hush! Ralph has persuaded our guest to sing. Thurston: I have known the day when his voice would ring Till the rafters echoed. Eustace: 'Tis pleasant still, Though far too feeble this hall to fill. Harold (sings): On the current, where the wide Windings of the river Eddy to the North Sea tide, Shall I in my shallop glide, As I have done at her side? Never! never! never! In the forest, where the firs, Pines, and larches quiver To the northern breeze that stirs, Shall my lips be press'd to hers, As they were in by-gone years? Never! never! never! 41 In the battle on the plain, Where the lance-shafts shiver, And the sword-strokes fall like rain, Shall I bear her scarf again As I have done — not in vain? Never! never! never! In a fairer, brighter land, Where the saints rest ever, Shall I once more see her stand, White, amidst a white-robed band, Harp and palm-branch in her hand? Never! never! never! SCENE — The Same. EUSTACE, THURSTON, and followers of HUGO. HAROLD. Enter, by the hall door, HUGO, ERIC, and THORA. Eustace (and others standing up): Welcome, Lord Hugo! Hugo: Welcome or not, Thanks for your greeting all. Ha, Eustace! what complaints hast thou got? What grievances to recall? Eustace: Count William came with a numerous band, Ere the snows began to fall, And slew a buck on your lordship's land, Within a league of the wall. Hugo: Count William has done to us no more Than we to him. In his vineyard Last summer, or later, maybe, a boar Was slaughter'd by Thurston's whinyard. 42 Thurston: Aye, Hugo! But William kept the buck, I will wager marks a score, Though the tale is new to me; and, worse luck, You made me give back the boar. Harold (advancing): Lord Hugo! Hugo: What! Art thou living yet? I scarcely knew thee, Sir Dane! And 'tis not so very long since we met. Harold: 'Twill be long ere we meet again. (gives a letter) This letter was traced by one now dead In the Holy Land; and I Must wait till his dying request is read, And in his name ask the reply. Thora (aside): Who is that stranger, Hugo? Hugo: By birth He is a countryman of thine, Thora. What writing is this on earth? I can scarce decipher a line. Harold: The pen in the clutch of death works ill. Hugo: Nay, I read now; the letters run More clearly. Harold: Wilt grant the request? Hugo: I will. Harold: Enough! Then my task is done. (He holds out his hand.) Hugo, I go to a far-off land, 43 Wilt thou say, "God speed thee!" now? Hugo: Sir Harold, I cannot take thy hand, Because of my ancient vow. Harold: Farewell, then. Thora: Friend, till the morning wait. On so wild a night as this Thou shalt not go from my husband's gate; The path thou wilt surely miss. Harold: I go. Kind lady, some future day Thy care will requited be. Thora: Speak, Hugo, speak. Hugo: He may go or stay, It matters little to me. [Harold goes out.] Thora: Husband, that man is ill and weak; On foot he goes and alone Through a barren moor in a night-storm bleak. Eric: Now I wonder where he has gone! Hugo: Indeed, I have not the least idea; The man is certainly mad. He wedded my sister, Dorothea, And used her cruelly bad. He was once my firmest and surest friend, And once my deadliest foe; But hate and friendship both find their end — Now I heed not where he may go. 44 SCENE — A Chamber in the Castle. HUGO, THORA, and ERIC. Hugo: That letter that came from Palestine, By the hands of yon wandering Dane, Will cost me a pilgrimage to the Rhine. Thora: Wilt thou travel so soon again? Hugo: I can scarce refuse the dying request Of my comrade, Baldwin, now; His bones are dust. May his soul find rest He once made a foolish vow, That at Englemehr, 'neath the watchful care Of the Abbess, his child should stay, For a season at least. To escort her there I must start at the break of day. Thora: Is it Agatha that goes, or Clare? Hugo: Nay, Clare is dwelling in Spain With her spouse. Thora: 'Tis Agatha. She is fair, I am told; but giddy and vain. Eric: Some musty tales on my memory grow Concerning Count Baldwin's vow; Thou knew'st his daughter? Hugo: Aye, years ago. I should scarcely know her now. 45 It seems, when her father's vow was made, She was taken sorely ill; Then he travell'd, and on his return was stay'd; He could never his oath fulfil. Eric: If rightly I've heard, 'twas Agatha That fled with some Danish knight — I forget the name. Hugo: Nay, she fled not far; She returned again that night. Thora: For a nun, I fear, she is too self-willed. Hugo: That is no affair of mine. My task is over, my word fulfilled, Should I bring her safe to the Rhine. Come, Thora, sing. Thora: Nay, I cannot sing, Nor would I now if I could. Sing thou. Hugo: I will, though my voice should bring No sound save a discord rude. (Sings.) Where the storm in its wrath hath lighted, The pine lies low in the dust; And the corn is withered and blighted, Where the fields are red with the rust; Falls the black frost, nipping and killing, Where its petals the violet rears, And the wind, though tempered, is chilling To the lamb despoiled by the shears. The strong in their strength are shaken, The wise in their wisdom fall; And the bloom of beauty is taken — Strength, wisdom, beauty, and all, 46 They vanish, their lot fulfilling, Their doom approaches and nears, But the wind, though tempered, is chilling To the lamb despoiled by the shears. 'Tis the will of a Great Creator, He is wise, His will must be done, And it cometh sooner or later; And one shall be taken, and one Shall be left here, toiling and tilling, In this vale of sorrows and tears, Where the wind, though tempered, is chilling To the lamb despoiled by the shears. Tell me, mine own one, tell me, The shadows of life and the fears Shall neither daunt me nor quell me, While I can avert thy tears: Dost thou shrink, as I shrink, unwilling To realise lonely years? Since the wind, though tempered, is chilling To the lamb despoiled by the shears. Enter HENRY. Henry: My lord, Father Luke craves audience straight, He has come on foot from the chapel; Some stranger perished beside his gate When the dawn began to dapple. SCENE — A Chapel Not Very Far from Hugo's Castle. HUGO, ERIC, and two Monks (LUKE and HUBERT). The dead body of HAROLD. Luke: When the dawn was breaking, Came a faint sound, waking Hubert and myself; we hurried to the door, Found the stranger lying 47 At the threshold, dying. Somewhere have I seen a face like his before. Hugo: Harold he is hight. Only yester-night From our gates he wander'd, in the driving hail; Well his face I know, Both as friend and foe; Of my followers only Thurston knows his tale. Luke: Few the words he said, Faint the signs he made, Twice or thrice he groaned; quoth Hubert, "Thou hast sinn'd. This is retribution, Seek for absolution; Answer me — then cast thy sorrows to the wind. Do their voices reach thee, Friends who failed to teach thee, In thine earlier days, to sunder right from wrong? Charges 'gainst thee cited, Cares all unrequited, Counsels spurned and slighted — do they press and throng?" But he shook his head. "'Tis not so," he said; "They will scarce reproach me who reproached of yore. If their counsels good, Rashly I withstood; Having suffered longer, I have suffered more." "Do their curses stun thee? Foes who failed to shun thee, Stricken by rash vengeance, in some wild career, As the barbed arrow Cleaveth bone and marrow, From those chambers narrow — do they pierce thine ear?" And he made reply, Laughing bitterly, "Did I fear them living — shall I fear them dead? Blood that I have spilt Leaveth little guilt; 48 On the hand it resteth, scarcely on the head." "Is there one whom thou May'st have wronged ere now, Since remorse so sorely weigheth down thine heart? By some saint in heaven, Sanctified and shriven, Would'st thou be forgiven ere thy soul depart?" Not a word he said, But he bowed his head Till his temples rested on the chilly sods And we heard him groan — "Ah! mine own, mine own! If I had thy pardon I might ask for God's." Hubert raised him slowly, Sunrise, faint and holy, Lit the dead face, placid as a child's might be. May the troubled spirit, Through Christ's saving merit, Peace and rest inherit. Thus we sent for thee. Hugo: God o'erruleth fate. I had cause for hate; In this very chapel, years back, proud and strong, Joined by priestly vows, He became the spouse Of my youngest sister, to her bitter wrong. And he wrought her woe, Making me his foe; Not alone unfaithful — brutal, too, was he. She had scarce been dead Three months, ere he fled With Count Baldwin's daughter, then betrothed to me. Fortune straight forsook him, Vengeance overtook him; Heavy crimes will bring down heavy punishment. All his strength was shatter'd, Even his wits were scatter'd, Half-deranged, half-crippled, wandering he went. We are unforgiving 49 While our foes are living; Yet his retribution weigh'd so heavily That I feel remorse, Gazing on his corpse, For my rudeness when he left our gates to die. And his grave shall be 'Neath the chestnut tree, Where he met my sister many years ago; Leave that tress of hair On his bosom there — Wrap the cerecloth round him! Eric, let us go. SCENE — A Room in the Castle. HUGO and ERIC. Early morning. Hugo: The morn is fair, the weary miles Will shorten 'neath the summer's wiles; Pomona in the orchard smiles, And in the meadow, Flora! And I have roused a chosen band For escort through the troubled land; And shaken Elspeth by the hand, And said farewell to Thora. Comrade and kinsman — for thou art Comrade and kin to me — we part Ere nightfall, if at once we start, We gain the dead Count's castle. The roads are fair, the days are fine, Ere long I hope to reach the Rhine. Forsooth, no friend to me or mine Is that same Abbot Basil; I thought he wronged us by his greed. My father sign'd a foolish deed For lack of gold in time of need, And thus our lands went by us; Yet wrong on our side may have been: As far as my will goes, I ween, 'Tis past, the grudge that lay between 50 Us twain. Men call him pious — And I have prosper'd much since then, And gain'd for one lost acre ten; And even the ancient house and glen Rebought with purchase-money. He, too, is wealthy; he has got By churchly rights a fertile spot, A land of corn and wine, I wot, A land of milk and honey. Now, Eric, change thy plans and ride With us; thou hast no ties, no bride. Eric: Nay, ties I have, and time and tide, Thou knowest, wait for no man; And I go north; God's blessing shuns The dwellings of forgetful sons, That proverb he may read who runs, In Christian lore or Roman. My good old mother she hath heard, For twelve long months, from me no word; At thought of her my heart is stirr'd, And even mine eyes grow moister. Greet Ursula from me; her fame Is known to all. A nobler dame, Since days of Clovis, ne'er became The inmate of a cloister. Our paths diverge, yet we may go Together for a league or so; I, too, will join thy band below When thou thy bugle windest. [Eric goes out.] Hugo: From weaknesses we stand afar, On us unpleasantly they jar; And yet the stoutest-hearted are The gentlest and the kindest. My mother loved me tenderly; Alas! her only son was I. I shudder'd, but my lids were dry, By death made orphan newly. 51 A braver man than me, I swear, Who never comprehended fear, Scarce names his mother, and the tear, Unbidden, springs unruly. SCENE — A Road on the Norman Frontiers. HUGO, AGATHA, ORION, THURSTON, and armed attendants, riding slowly. Agatha: Sir Knight, what makes you so grave and glum? At times I fear you are deaf or dumb, Or both. Hugo: And yet, should I speak the truth, There is little in common 'twixt us, forsooth; You would think me duller, and still more vain, If I uttered the thoughts that fill my brain; Since the matters with which my mind is laden Would scarcely serve to amuse a maiden. Agatha: I am so foolish and you are so wise, 'Tis the meaning your words so ill disguise. Alas! my prospects are sad enough: I had rather listen to speeches rough Than muse and meditate silently On the coming loss of my liberty. Sad hope to me can my future bring, Yet, while I may, I would prattle and sing, Though it only were to try and assuage The dreariness of my pilgrimage. Hugo: Prattle and sing to your heart's content, And none will offer impediment. Agatha (sings): We were playmates in childhood, my sister and I, Whose playtime with childhood is done; 52 Through thickets where briar and bramble grew high, Barefooted I've oft seen her run. I've known her, when mists on the moorland hung white, Bareheaded past nightfall remain; She has followed a landless and penniless knight Through battles and sieges in Spain. But I pulled the flower, and shrank from the thorn, Sought the sunshine, and fled from the mist; My sister was born to face hardship with scorn — I was born to be fondled and kiss'd. Hugo (aside): She has a sweet voice. Orion: And a sweet face, too — Be candid for once, and give her her due. Agatha: Your face grows longer, and still more long, Sir Scholar! how did you like my song? Hugo: I thought it rather a silly one. Agatha: You are far from a pleasant companion. SCENE — An Apartment in a Wayside Inn. HUGO and AGATHA. Evening. Hugo: I will leave you now — we have talked enough, And for one so tenderly reared and nursed This journey is wearisome, perhaps, and rough. Agatha: Will you not finish your story first? 53 Hugo: I repent me that I began it now, 'Tis a dismal tale for a maiden's ears; Your cheek is pale already, your brow Is sad, and your eyes are moist with tears. Agatha: It may be thus, I am lightly vexed, But the tears will lightly come and go; I can cry one moment and laugh the next, Yet I have seen terrors, as well you know. I remember that flight through moss and fern, The moonlit shadows, the hoofs that rolled In fierce pursuit, and the ending stern, And the hawk that left his prey on the wold. Hugo: I have sorrowed since that I left you there: Your friends were close behind on the heath, Though not so close as I thought they were. (Aside.) Now I will not tell her of Harold's death. Agatha: 'Tis true, I was justly punished, and men, As a rule, of pity have little share; Had I died you had cared but little then. Hugo: But little then, yet now I should care More than you think for. Now, good-night. Tears still? Ere I leave you, child, alone, Must I dry your cheeks? Agatha: Nay, I am not quite Such a child but what I can dry my own. [Hugo goes out. Agatha retires.] Orion (singing outside the window of Agatha's chamber): 'Neath the stems with blossoms laden, 'Neath the tendrils curling, I, thy servant, sing, oh, maiden! I, thy slave, oh, darling! 54 Lo! the shaft that slew the red deer, At the elk may fly too. Spare them not! The dead are dead, dear, Let the living die too. Where the wiles of serpent mingle, And the looks of dove lie, Where small hands in strong hands tingle, Loving eyes meet lovely: Where the harder natures soften, And the softer harden — Certes! such things have been often Since we left Eve's garden. Sweeter follies herald sadder Sins — look not too closely; Tongue of asp and tooth of adder Under leaf of rose lie. Warned, advised in vain, abandon Warning and advice too, Let the child lay wilful hand on Den of cockatrice too. I, thy servant, or thy master, One or both — no matter; If the former — firmer, faster, Surer still the latter — Lull thee, soothe thee with my singing, Bid thee sleep, and ponder On my lullabies still ringing Through thy dreamland yonder. SCENE — A Wooded Rising Ground, Near the Rhine. HUGO and AGATHA resting under the trees. THURSTON, EUSTACE, and followers a little apart. ORION. (Noonday.) The Towers of the Convent in the distance. Agatha: I sit on the greensward, and hear the bird sing, 55 'Mid the thickets where scarlet and white blossoms cling; And beyond the sweet uplands all golden with flower, It looms in the distance, the grey convent tower. And the emerald earth and the sapphire-hued sky Keep telling me ever my spring has gone by; Ah! spring premature, they are tolling thy knell, In the wind's soft adieu, in the bird's sweet farewell. Oh! why is the greensward with garlands so gay, That I quail at the sight of my prison-house grey? Oh! why is the bird's note so joyous and clear? The caged bird must pine in a cage doubly drear. Hugo: May the lances of Dagobert harry their house, If they coax or intimidate thee to take vows; May the freebooters pillage their shrines, should they dare Touch with their scissors thy glittering hair. Our short and sweet journey now draws to an end, And homeward my sorrowful way I must wend; Oh, fair one! oh, loved one! I would I were free, To squander my life in the greenwood with thee. Orion (aside): Ho! seeker of knowledge, so grave and so wise, Touch her soft curl again — look again in her eyes; Forget for the nonce musty parchments, and learn How the slow pulse may quicken — the cold blood may burn. Ho! fair, fickle maiden, so blooming and shy! The old love is dead, let the old promise die! Thou dost well, thou dost wise, take the word of Orion, "A living dog always before a dead lion!" Thurston: Ye varlets, I would I knew which of ye burst Our wine-skin — what, ho! must I perish with thirst! Go, Henry, thou hast a glib tongue, go and ask Thy lord to send Ralph to yon inn for a flask. Henry: Nay, Thurston, not so; I decline to disturb 56 Our lord for the present; go thou, or else curb Thy thirst, or drink water, as I do. Thurston: Thou knave Of a page, dost thou wish me the colic to have? Orion (aside): That clown is a thoroughbred Saxon. He thinks With pleasure on naught save hard blows and strong drinks; In hell he will scarce go athirst if once given An inkling of any good liquors in heaven. Hugo: Our Pontiff to manhood at Englemehr grew, The priests there are many, the nuns are but few. I love not the Abbot — 'tis needless to tell My reason; but all of the Abbess speak well. Agatha: Through vineyards and cornfields beneath us, the Rhine Spreads and winds, silver-white, in the merry sunshine; And the air, overcharged with a subtle perfume, Grows faint from the essence of manifold bloom. Hugo: And the tinkling of bells, and the bleating of sheep, And the chaunt from the fields, where the labourers reap The earlier harvest, comes faint on the breeze, That whispers so faintly in hedgerows and trees. Orion: And a waggon wends slow to those turrets and spires, To feed the fat monks and the corpulent friars; It carries the corn, and the oil, and the wine, The honey and milk from the shores of the Rhine. The oxen are weary and spent with their load, They pause, but the driver doth recklessly goad; Up yon steep, flinty rise they have staggered and reeled, Even devils may pity dumb beasts of the field. 57 Agatha (sings): Oh! days and years departed, Vain hopes, vain fears that smarted, I turn to you sad-hearted — I turn to you in tears! Your daily sun shone brightly, Your happy dreams came nightly, Flowers bloomed and birds sang lightly, Through all your hopes and fears! You halted not, nor tarried, Your hopes have all miscarried, And even your fears are buried, Since fear with hope must die. You halted not, but hasted, And flew past, childhood wasted, And girlhood scarcely tasted, Now womanhood is nigh. Yet I forgive your wronging, Dead seasons round me thronging, With yearning and with longing, I call your bitters sweet. Vain longing, and vain yearning, There now is no returning; Oh! beating heart and burning, Forget to burn and beat! Oh! childish suns and showers, Oh! girlish thorns and flowers, Oh! fruitless days and hours, Oh! groundless hopes and fears: The birds still chirp and twitter, And still the sunbeams glitter: Oh! barren years and bitter, Oh! bitter, barren years! SCENE — The Summit of a Burning Mountain. Night. A terrific storm. ORION (undisguised). 58 Orion (sings): From fathomless depths of abysses, Where fires unquenchable burst, From the blackness of darkness, where hisses The brood of the serpent accurs'd; From shrines where the hymns are the weeping And wailing and gnashing of teeth, Where the palm is the pang never sleeping, Where the worm never dying is the wreath; Where all fruits save wickedness wither, Whence naught save despair can be gleaned — Come hither! come hither! come hither! Fall'n angel, fell sprite, and foul fiend. Come hither! the bands are all broken, And loosed in hell's innermost womb, When the spell unpronounceable spoken Divides the unspeakable gloom. Evil Spirits approach. The storm increases. Evil Spirits (singing): We hear thee, we seek thee, on pinions That darken the shades of the shade; Oh! Prince of the Air, with dominions Encompass'd, with powers array'd, With majesty cloth'd as a garment, Begirt with a shadowy shine, Whose feet scorch the hill-tops that are meant As footstools for thee and for thine. Orion (sings): How it swells through each pause of the thunder, And mounts through each lull of the gust, Through the crashing of crags torn asunder, And the hurtling of trees in the dust; With a chorus of loud lamentations, With its dreary and hopeless refrain! 'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations, That suffer and shudder in vain. 59 Evil Spirits (singing): 'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations; Our song shall chime in with their strain; Lost spirits blend their wild exultations With the sighing of mortals in pain. Orion (sings): With just light enough to see sorrows In this world, and terrors beyond, 'Twixt the day's bitter pangs and the morrow's Dread doubts, to despair and despond, Man lingers through toils unavailing For blessings that baffle his grasp; To his cradle he comes with a wailing, He goes to his grave with a gasp. Evil Spirits (singing): His birth is a weeping and wailing, His death is a groan and a gasp; O'er the seed of the woman prevailing, Thus triumphs the seed of the asp. SCENE — Chamber of a Wayside Inn. HUGO sitting alone. Evening. Hugo: And now the parting is over, The parting should end the pain; And the restless heart may recover, And so may the troubled brain. I am sitting within the chamber Whose windows look on the porch, Where the roses cluster and clamber; We halted here on our march With her to the convent going, And now I go back alone: Ye roses, budding and blowing, Ye heed not though she is flown. 60 I remember the girlish gesture, The sportive and childlike grace, With which she crumpled and pressed your Rose leaves to her rose-hued face. Shall I think on her ways hereafter — On those flashes of mirth and grief, On that April of tears and laughter, On our parting, bitterly brief? I remember the bell at sunrise, That sounded so solemnly, Bidding monk, and prelate, and nun rise; I rose ere the sun was high. Down the long, dark, dismal passage, To the door of her resting-place I went, on a farewell message, I trod with a stealthy pace. There was no one there to see us When she opened her chamber door. "Miserere, mei Deus", Rang faint from the convent choir. I remember the dark and narrow And scantily-furnished room; And the gleam, like a golden arrow — The gleam that lighted the gloom. One couch, one seat, and one table, One window, and only one — It stands in the eastern gable, It faces the rising sun; One ray shot through it, and one light On doorway and threshold played. She stood within in the sunlight, I stood without in the shade. I remember that bright form under The sheen of that slanting ray. I spoke — "For life we must sunder, Let us sunder without delay. Let us sever without preamble, As brother and sister part, For the sake of one pleasant ramble, 61 That will live in at least one heart." Still the choir in my ears rang faintly, In the distance dying away, Sweetly and sadly and saintly, Through arch and corridor grey! And thus we parted for ever, Between the shade and the shine; Not as brother and sister sever — I fondled her hands in mine. Still the choir in my ears rang deaden'd And dull'd, though audible yet; And she redden'd, and paled, and redden'd — Her lashes and lids grew wet. Not as brother severs from sister, My lips clung fast to her lips; She shivered and shrank when I kissed her. On the sunbeam drooped the eclipse. I remember little of the parting With the Abbot, down by the gate, My men were eager for starting; I think he pressed me to wait. From the lands where convent and glebe lie, From manors, and Church's right, Where I fought temptation so feebly, I, too, felt eager for flight. Alas! the parting is over — The parting, but not the pain — Oh! sweet was the purple clover, And sweet was the yellow grain; And sweet were the woody hollows On the summery Rhineward track; But a winter untimely swallows All sweets as I travel back. Yet I feel assured, in some fashion, Ere the hedges are crisp with rime, I shall conquer this senseless passion, 'Twill yield to toil and to time. I will fetter these fancies roaming; Already the sun has dipped; 62 I will trim the lamps in the gloaming, I will finish my manuscript. Through the nightwatch unflagging study Shall banish regrets perforce; As soon as the east is ruddy Our bugle shall sound "To Horse!" SCENE — Another Wayside House, Near the Norman Frontier. HUGO and ORION in a chamber. Evening. Orion: Your eyes are hollow, your step is slow, And your cheek is pallid as though from toil, Watching or fasting, by which I know That you have been burning the midnight oil. Hugo: Aye, three nights running. Orion: 'Twill never do To travel all day, and study all night; Will you join in a gallop through mist and dew, In a flight that may vie with the eagle's flight? Hugo: With all my heart. Shall we saddle "Rollo"? Orion: Nay, leave him undisturb'd in his stall; I have steeds he would hardly care to follow. Hugo: Follow, forsooth! he can lead them all. Orion: Touching his merits we will not quarrel; But let me mount you for once; enough Of work may await your favourite sorrel, And the paths we must traverse to-night are rough. 63 But first let me mix you a beverage, To invigorate your enfeebled frame. [He mixes a draught and hands it to Hugo.] All human ills this draught can assuage. Hugo: It hisses and glows like liquid flame; Say, what quack nostrum is this thou'st brewed? Speak out; I am learned in the chemist's lore. Orion: There is nothing but what will do you good; And the drugs are simples; 'tis hellebore, Nepenthe, upas, and dragon's blood, Absinthe, and mandrake, and mandragore. Hugo: I will drink it, although, by mass and rood, I am just as wise as I was before. SCENE — A Rough, Hilly Country. HUGO and ORION riding at speed on black horses. Mountains in the distance. Night. Hugo: See! the sparks that fly from our hoof-strokes make A fiery track that gleams in our wake; Like a dream the dim landscape past us shoots, Our horses fly. Orion: They are useful brutes, Though somewhat skittish; the foam is whit'ning The crest and rein of my courser "Lightning"; He pulls to-night, being short of work, And takes his head with a sudden jerk; Still heel and steady hand on the bit, For that is "Tempest" on which you sit. Hugo: 64 'Tis the bravest steed that ever I back'd; Did'st mark how he crossed yon cataract? From hoof to hoof I should like to measure The space he clear'd. Orion: He can clear at leisure A greater distance. Observe the chasm We are nearing. Ha! did you feel a spasm As we flew over it? Hugo: Not at all. Orion: Nathless 'twas an ugly place for a fall. Hugo: Let us try a race to yon mountain high, That rears its dusky peak 'gainst the sky. Orion: I won't disparage your horsemanship, But your steed will stand neither spur nor whip, And is hasty and hard to steer at times. We must travel far ere the midnight chimes; We must travel back ere the east is grey. Ho! "Lightning"! "Tempest"! Away! Away! [They ride on faster.] SCENE — A Peak in a Mountainous Country Overhanging a Rocky Pass. HUGO and ORION on black horses. Midnight. Hugo: These steeds are sprung from no common race, Their vigour seems to annihilate space; What hast thou brought me here to see? Orion: No boisterous scene of unhallow'd glee, No sabbat of witches coarse and rude, 65 But a mystic and musical interlude; You have long'd to explore the scrolls of Fate, Dismount, as I do, and listen and wait. [They dismount.] Orion (chanting): Spirits of earth, and air, and sea, Spirits unclean, and spirits untrue, By the symbols three that shall nameless be, One of your masters calls on you. Spirits (chanting in the distance): From the bowels of earth, where gleams the gold; From the air where the powers of darkness hold Their court; from the white sea-foam, Whence the white rose-tinted goddess sprung, Whom poets of every age have sung, Ever we come! we come! Hugo: How close to our ears the thunder peals! How the earth beneath us shudders and reels! A Voice (chanting): Woe to the earth! Where men give death! And women give birth! To the sons of Adam, by Cain or Seth! Plenty and dearth! To the daughters of Eve, who toil and spin, Barren of worth! Let them sigh, and sicken, and suffer sin! Woe to the earth! Hugo: What is yon phantom large and dim That over the mountain seems to swim? Orion: 'Tis the scarlet woman of Babylon! Hugo: Whence does she come? Where has she gone? 66 And who is she? Orion: You would know too much; These are subjects on which I dare not touch; And if I were to try and enlighten you, I should probably fail, and possibly frighten you. You had better ask some learned divine, Whose opinion is p'rhaps worth as much as mine, In his own conceit; and who, besides, Could tell you the brand of the beast she rides. What can you see in the valley yonder? Speak out; I can hear you, for all the thunder. Hugo: I see four shadowy altars rise, They seem to swell and dilate in size; Larger and clearer now they loom, Now fires are lighting them through the gloom. A Voice (chanting): The first a golden-hued fire shows, A blood-red flame on the second glows, The blaze on the third is tinged like the rose, From the fourth a column of black smoke goes. Orion: Can you see all this? Hugo: I see and hear; The lights and hues are vivid and clear. Spirits (sing at the first altar): Hail, Mammon! while man buys and barters, Thy kingdom in this world is sure; Thy prophets thou hast and thy martyrs, Great things in thy name they endure; Thy fetters of gold crush the miser, The usurer bends at thy shrine, And the wealthier nations and the wiser Bow with us at this altar of thine. Spirits (sing at the second altar): 67 Hail, Moloch! whose banner floats blood-red, From pole to equator unfurl'd, Whose laws redly written have stood red, And shall stand while standeth this world; Clad in purple, with thy diadem gory, Thy sceptre the blood-dripping steel, Thy subjects with us give thee glory, With us at thine altar they kneel. Spirits (sing at the third altar): Hail, Sovereign! whose fires are kindled By sparks from the bottomless pit, Has thy worship diminish'd or dwindled? Do the yokes of thy slaves lightly sit? Nay, the men of all climes and all races Are stirr'd by the flames that now stir us; Then (as we do) they fall on their faces, Crying, "Hear us! Oh! Ashtaroth, hear us!" Spirits (all in chorus): The vulture her carrion swallows, Returns to his vomit the dog. In the slough of uncleanliness wallows The he-goat, and revels the hog. Men are wise with their schools and their teachers, Men are just with their creeds and their priests; Yet, in spite of their pedants and preachers, They backslide in footprints of beasts! Hugo: From the smoky altar there seems to come A stifled murmur, a droning hum. Orion: With that we have nothing at all to do, Or, at least, not now, neither I nor you; Though some day or other, possibly We may see it closer, both you and I; Let us visit the nearest altar first, Whence the yellow fires flicker and burst, Like the flames from molten ore that spring; We may stand in the pale of the outer ring, 68 But forbear to trespass within the inner, Lest the sins of the past should find out the sinner. [They approach the first altar, and stand within the outer circle which surrounds it, and near the inner.] Spirits (sing): Beneath us it flashes, The glittering gold, Though it turneth to ashes And dross in the hold; Yet man will endeavour, By fraud or by strife, To grasp it and never To yield it with life. Orion: What can you see? Hugo: Some decrepit shapes, That are neither dwarfs, nor demons, nor apes; In the hollow earth they appear to store And rake together great heaps of ore. Orion: These are the gnomes, coarse sprites and rough; Come on, of these we have seen enough. [They approach second altar and stand as before.] Spirits (singing): Above us it flashes, The glittering steel, Though the red blood splashes Where its victims reel; Yet man will endeavour To grapple the hilt, And to wield the blade ever Till his life be spilt. Orion: What see you now? Hugo: A rocky glen, 69 A horrid jumble of fighting men, And a face that somewhere I've seen before. Orion: Come on; there is naught worth seeing more, Except the altar of Ashtaroth. Hugo: To visit that altar I am loth. Orion: Why so? Hugo: Nay, I cannot fathom why, But I feel no curiosity. Orion: Come on. Stand close to the inner ring, And hear how sweetly these spirits sing. [They approach third altar.] Spirits (sing): Around us it flashes, The cestus of one Born of white foam, that dashes Beneath the white sun; Let the mortal take heart, he Has nothing to dare; She is fair, Queen Astarte, Her subjects are fair! Orion: What see you now, friend? Hugo: Wood and wold, And forms that look like the nymphs of old. There is nothing here worth looking at twice. I have seen enough. Orion: You are far too nice; Nevertheless, you must look again. Those forms will fade. 70 Hugo: They are growing less plain. They vanish. I see a door that seems To open; a ray of sunlight gleams From a window behind; a vision as fair As the flush of dawn is standing there. [He gazes earnestly.] Orion (sings): Higher and hotter the white flames glow, And the adamant may be thaw'd like snow, And the life for a single chance may go, And the soul for a certainty. Oh! vain and shallow philosopher, Dost feel them quicken, dost feel them stir, The thoughts that have stray'd again to HER From whom thou hast sought to fly? Lo! the furnace is heated till sevenfold; Is thy brain still calm? Is thy blood still cold To the curls that wander in ripples of gold, On the shoulders of ivory? Do the large, dark eyes, and the small, red mouth, Consume thine heart with a fiery drouth, Like the fierce sirocco that sweeps from the south, When the deserts are parch'd and dry? Aye, start and shiver and catch thy breath, The sting is certain, the venom is death, And the scales are flashing the fruit beneath, And the fang striketh suddenly. At the core the ashes are bitter and dead, But the rind is fair and the rind is red, It has ever been pluck'd since the serpent said, Thou shalt NOT SURELY die. [Hugo tries to enter the inner ring; Orion holds him back; they struggle.] Hugo: Unhand me, slave! or quail to the rod! Agatha! Speak! in the name of God! 71 [The vision disappears; the altars vanish. Hugo falls insensible.] SCENE — The Wayside House. HUGO waking in his chamber. ORION unseen at first. Morning. Hugo: Vanish, fair and fatal vision! Fleeting shade of fever'd sleep, Chiding one whose indecision Waking substance failed to keep; Picture into life half starting, As in life once seen before, Parting somewhat sadly, parting Slowly at the chamber door. Were my waking senses duller? Have I seen with mental eye Light and shade, and warmth and colour, Plainer than reality? Sunlight that on tangled tresses Every ripple gilds and tips; Balm and bloom, and breath of kisses, Warm on dewy, scarlet lips. Dark eyes veiling half their splendour 'Neath their lashes' darker fringe, Dusky, dreamy, deep and tender, Passing smile and passing tinge; Dimpling fast and flushing faster, Ivory chin and coral cheek, Pearly strings, by alabaster Neck and arms made faint and weak; Drooping, downcast lids enduring Gaze of man unwillingly; Sudden, sidelong gleams alluring, Partly arch and partly shy. 72 Do I bless or curse that beauty? Am I longing, am I loth? Is it passion, is it duty That I strive with, one or both? Round about one fiery centre Wayward thoughts like moths revolve. [He sees Orion.] Ha! Orion, thou didst enter Unperceived. I pray thee solve These two questions: Firstly, tell me, Must I strive for wrong or right? Secondly, what things befell me — Facts, or phantasies — last night? Orion: First, your strife is all a sham, you Know as well as I which wins; Second, waking sins will damn you, Never mind your sleeping sins; Both your questions thus I answer; Listen, ere you seek or shun: I at least am no romancer, What you long for may be won. Turn again and travel Rhineward, Tread once more the flowery path. Hugo: Aye, the flowery path that, sinward Pointing, ends in sin and wrath. Orion: Songs by love-birds lightly caroll'd, Even the just man may allure. Hugo: To his shame; in this wise Harold Sinn'd, his punishment was sure. Orion: Nay, the Dane was worse than you are, Base and pitiless to boot; 73 Doubtless all are bad, yet few are Cruel, false, and dissolute. Hugo: Some sins foreign to our nature Seem; we take no credit when We escape them. Orion: Yet the creature, Sin-created, lives to sin. Hugo: Be it so; come good, come evil, Ride we to the Rhine again! Orion (aside): 'Gainst the logic of the devil Human logic strives in vain. SCENE — A Camp Near the Black Forest. RUDOLPH, OSRIC, DAGOBERT, and followers. ORION disguised as one of the Free-lances. Mid-day. Osric: Now, by axe of Odin, and hammer of Thor, And by all the gods of the Viking's war, I swear we have quitted our homes in vain: We have nothing to look to, glory nor gain. Will our galley return to Norway's shore With heavier gold, or with costlier store? Will our exploits furnish the scald with a song? We have travell'd too far, we have tarried too long. Say, captains all, is there ever a village For miles around that is worth the pillage? Will it pay the costs of my men or yours To harry the homesteads of German boors? Have we cause for pride in our feats of arms When we plunder the peasants or sack the farms? I tell thee, Rudolph of Rothenstein, 74 That were thy soldiers willing as mine, And I sole leader of this array, I would give Prince Otto battle this day. Dost thou call thy followers men of war? Oh, Dagobert! thou whose ancestor On the neck of the Caesar's offspring trod, Who was justly surnamed "The Scourge of God". Yet in flight lies safety. Skirmish and run To forest and fastness, Teuton and Hun, From the banks of the Rhine to the Danube's shore, And back to the banks of the Rhine once more; Retreat from the face of an armed foe, Robbing garden and hen-roost where'er you go. Let the short alliance betwixt us cease, I and my Norsemen will go in peace! I wot it never will suit with us, Such existence, tame and inglorious; I could live no worse, living single-handed, And better with half my men disbanded. Rudolph: Jarl Osric, what would'st thou have me do? 'Gainst Otto's army our men count few; With one chance of victory, fight, say I! But not when defeat is a certainty. If Rudiger joins us with his free-lances, Our chance will be equal to many chances; For Rudiger is both prompt and wary; And his men are gallant though mercenary; But the knave refuses to send a lance Till half the money is paid in advance. Dagobert: May his avarice wither him like a curse! I guess he has heard of our late reverse; But, Rudolph, whether he goes or stays, There is reason in what Jarl Osric says; Of provisions we need a fresh supply, And our butts and flasks are shallow or dry; My men are beginning to grumble sadly, 'Tis no wonder, since they must fare so badly. 75 Rudolph: We have plenty of foragers out, and still We have plenty of hungry mouths to fill; And, moreover, by some means, foul or fair, We must raise money; 'tis little I care, So long as we raise it, whence it comes. Osric: Shall we sit till nightfall biting our thumbs? The shortest plan is ever the best; Has anyone here got aught to suggest? Orion: The cornfields are golden that skirt the Rhine, Fat are the oxen, strong is the wine, In those pleasant pastures, those cellars deep, That o'erflow with the tears that those vineyards weep; Is it silver you stand in need of, or gold? Ingot or coin? There is wealth untold In the ancient convent of Englemehr; That is not so very far from here. The Abbot, esteem'd a holy man, Will hold what he has and grasp what he can; The cream of the soil he loves to skim, Why not levy a contribution on him? Dagobert: The stranger speaks well; not far away That convent lies; and one summer's day Will suffice for a horseman to reach the gate; The garrison soon would capitulate, Since the armed retainers are next to none, And the walls, I wot, may be quickly won. Rudolph: I kept those walls for two months or more, When they feared the riders of Melchior! That was little over three years ago. Their Abbot is thrifty, as well I know; He haggled sorely about the price Of our service. 76 Dagobert: Rudolph, he paid thee twice. Rudolph: Well, what of that? Since then I've tried To borrow from him; now I know he lied When he told me he could not spare the sum I asked. If we to his gates should come, He could spare it though it were doubled; and still, This war with the Church I like it ill. Osric: The creed of our fathers is well-nigh dead, And the creed of the Christian reigns in its stead But the creed of the Christian, too, may die, For your creeds or your churches what care I! If there be plunder at Englemehr, Let us strike our tents and thitherward steer. SCENE — A Farm-house on the Rhine (About a mile from the Convent). HUGO in chamber alone. Enter ERIC. Eric: What, Hugo, still at the Rhine! I thought You were home. You have travell'd by stages short. Hugo (with hesitation): Our homeward march was labour in vain, We had to retrace our steps again; It was here or hereabouts that I lost Some papers of value; at any cost I must find them; and which way lies your course? Eric: I go to recruit Prince Otto's force. I cannot study as you do; I Am wearied with inactivity; So I carry a blade engrim'd with rust (That a hand sloth-slacken'd has, I trust, Not quite forgotten the way to wield), 77 To strike once more on the tented field. Hugo: Fighting is all a mistake, friend Eric, And has been so since the age Homeric, When Greece was shaken and Troy undone, Ten thousand lives for a worthless one. Yet I blame you not; you might well do worse; Better fight and perish than live to curse The day you were born; and such has been The lot of many, and shall, I ween, Be the lot of more. If Thurston chooses He may go with you. The blockhead abuses Me and the life I lead. Enter ORION. Orion: Great news! The Englemehr monks will shake in their shoes; In the soles of their callous feet will shake The barefooted friars. The nuns will quake. Hugo: Wherefore? Orion: The outlaw of Rothenstein Has come with his soldiers to the Rhine, Back'd by those hardy adventurers From the northern forests of pines and firs, And Dagobert's horse. They march as straight As the eagle swoops to the convent gate. Hugo: We must do something to save the place. Orion: They are sure to take it in any case, Unless the sum that they ask is paid. Eric: Some effort on our part must be made. Hugo: 78 'Tis not so much for the monks I care. Eric: Nor I; but the Abbess and nuns are there. Orion: 'Tis not our business; what can we do? They are too many, and we are too few; And yet, I suppose, you will save, if you can, That lady, your ward, or your kinswoman. Hugo: She is no kinswoman of mine; How far is Otto's camp from the Rhine? Orion: Too far for help in such time of need To be brought, though you used your utmost speed. Eric: Nay, that I doubt. Hugo: And how many men Have they? Orion: To your one they could muster ten. Eric: I know Count Rudolph, and terms may be made With him, I fancy; for though his trade Is a rough one now, gainsay it who can, He was once a knight and a gentleman. And Dagobert, the chief of the Huns, Bad as he is, will spare the nuns; Though neither he nor the Count could check Those lawless men, should they storm and sack The convent. Jarl Osric, too, I know; He is rather a formidable foe, And will likely enough be troublesome; But the others, I trust, to terms will come. Hugo: 79 Eric, how many men have you? I can count a score. Eric: I have only two. Hugo: At every hazard we must try to save The nuns. Eric: Count Rudolph shall think we have A force that almost equals his own, If I can confer with him alone. Orion: He is close at hand; by this time he waits The Abbot's reply at the convent gates. Hugo: We had better send him a herald. Eric: Nay, I will go myself. [Eric goes out.] Hugo: Orion, stay! So this is the reed on which I've leaned, These are the hopes thou hast fostered, these The flames thou hast fanned. Oh, lying fiend! Is it thus thou dost keep thy promises? Orion: Strong language, Hugo, and most unjust; You will cry out before you are hurt — You will live to recall your words, I trust. Fear nothing from Osric or Dagobert, These are your friends, if you only knew it, And would take the advice of a friend sincere; Neglect his counsels and you must rue it, For I know by a sign the crisis is near. Accept the terms of these outlaws all, And be thankful that things have fallen out Exactly as you would have had them fall — You may save the one that you care about; 80 Otherwise, how did you hope to gain Access to her — on what pretence? What were the schemes that worried your brain To tempt her there or to lure her thence? You must have bungled, and raised a scandal About your ears, that might well have shamed The rudest Hun, the veriest Vandal, Long or ever the bird was tamed. Hugo: The convent is scarce surrounded yet, We might reach and hold it against their force Till another sun has risen and set; And should I despatch my fleetest horse To Otto —— Orion: For Abbot, or Monk, or Friar, Between ourselves, 'tis little you care If their halls are harried by steel and fire: Their avarice left your heritage bare. Forsake them! Mitres, and cowls, and hoods Will cover vices while earth endures; Through the green and gold of the summer woods Ride out with that pretty bird of yours. If again you fail to improve your chance, Why, then, my friend, I can only say You are duller far than the dullest lance That rides in Dagobert's troop this day. "Faemina semper", frown not thus, The girl was always giddy and wild, Vain, and foolish, and frivolous, Since she fled from her father's halls, a child. I sought to initiate you once In the mystic lore of the old Chaldean; But I found you far too stubborn a dunce, And your tastes are coarser and more plebeian. Yet mark my words, for I read the stars, And trace the future in yonder sky; To the right are wars and rumours of wars, To the left are peace and prosperity. Fear naught. The world shall never detect The cloven hoof, so carefully hid 81 By the scholar so staid and circumspect, So wise for once to do as he's bid. Remember what pangs come year by year For opportunity that has fled; And Thora in ignorance. Hugo: Name not her! I am sorely tempted to strike thee dead! Orion: Nay, I hardly think you will take my life, The angel Michael was once my foe; He had a little the best of our strife, Yet he never could deal so stark a blow. SCENE — A Chamber in the Nuns' Apartments of the Convent. AGATHA and URSULA. Agatha: My sire in my childhood pledged my hand To Hugo — I know not why — They were comrades then, 'neath the Duke's command, In the wars of Lombardy. I thought, ere my summers had turned sixteen, That mine was a grievous case; Save once, for an hour, I had never seen My intended bridegroom's face; And maidens vows of their own will plight. Unknown to my kinsfolk all My love was vowed to a Danish knight, A guest in my father's hall. His foot fell lightest in merry dance, His shaft never missed the deer; He could fly a hawk, he could wield a lance, Our wildest colt he could steer. His deep voice ringing through hall or glen Had never its match in song; And little was known of his past life then, Or of Dorothea's wrong. 82 I loved him — Lady Abbess, I know That my love was foolish now; I was but a child five years ago, And thoughtless as bird on bough. One evening Hugo the Norman came, And, to shorten a weary tale, I fled that night (let me bear the blame) With Harold by down and dale. He had mounted me on a dappled steed, And another of coal-black hue He rode himself; and away at speed We fled through mist and dew. Of miles we had ridden some half a score, We had halted beside a spring, When the breeze to our ears through the still night bore A distant trample and ring; We listen'd one breathing space, and caught The clatter of mounted men, With vigour renewed by their respite short Our horses dash'd through the glen. Another league, and we listen'd in vain; The breeze to our ears came mute; But we heard them again on the spacious plain, Faint tidings of hot pursuit. In the misty light of a moon half hid By the dark or fleecy rack, Our shadows over the moorland slid, Still listening and looking back. So we fled (with a cheering word to say At times as we hurried on), From sounds that at intervals died away, And at intervals came anon. Another league, and my lips grew dumb, And I felt my spirit quailing, For closer those sounds began to come, And the speed of my horse was failing. "The grey is weary and lame to boot," Quoth Harold; "the black is strong, And their steeds are blown with their fierce pursuit, What wonder! our start was long. Now, lady, behind me mount the black, 83 The double load he can bear; We are safe when we reach the forest track, Fresh horses and friends wait there." Then I sat behind him and held his waist, And faster we seemed to go By moss and moor; but for all our haste Came the tramp of the nearing foe. A dyke through the mist before us hover'd, And, quicken'd by voice and heel, The black overleap'd it, stagger'd, recover'd; Still nearer that muffled peal. And louder on sward the hoof-strokes grew, And duller, though not less nigh, On deader sand; and a dark speck drew On my vision suddenly, And a single horseman in fleet career, Like a shadow appear'd to glide To within six lances' lengths of our rear, And there for a space to bide. Quoth Harold, "Speak, has the moon reveal'd His face?" I replied, "Not so! Yet 'tis none of my kinsfolk." Then he wheel'd In the saddle and scanned the foe, And mutter'd, still gazing in our wake, "'Tis he; now I will not fight The brother again, for the sister's sake, While I can escape by flight." "Who, Harold?" I asked; but he never spoke. By the cry of the bittern harsh, And the bull-frog's dull, discordant croak, I guess'd that we near'd the marsh; And the moonbeam flash'd on watery sedge As it broke from a strip of cloud, Ragged and jagged about the edge, And shaped like a dead man's shroud. And flagg'd and falter'd our gallant steed, 'Neath the weight of his double burden, As we splash'd through water and crash'd through reed; Then the soil began to harden, And again we gain'd, or we seem'd to gain, With our foe in the deep morass; But those fleet hoofs thunder'd, and gain'd again, 84 When they trampled the firmer grass, And I cried, and Harold again look'd back, And bade me fasten mine eyes on The forest, that loom'd like a patch of black Standing out from the faint horizon. "Courage, sweetheart! we are saved," he said; "With the moorland our danger ends, And close to the borders of yonder glade They tarry, our trusty friends." Where the mossy uplands rise and dip On the edge of the leafy dell, With a lurch, like the lurch of a sinking ship, The black horse toppled and fell. Unharm'd we lit on the velvet sward, And even as I lit I lay, But Harold uprose, unsheath'd his sword, And toss'd the scabbard away. And spake through his teeth, "Good brother-in-law, Forbearance, at last, is spent; The strife that thy soul hath lusted for Thou shalt have to thy soul's content!" While he spoke, our pursuer past us swept, Ere he rein'd his war-horse proud, To his haunches flung, then to the earth he leapt, And my lover's voice rang loud: "Thrice welcome! Hugo of Normandy, Thou hast come at our time of need, This lady will thank thee, and so will I, For the loan of thy sorrel steed!" And never a word Lord Hugo said, They clos'd 'twixt the wood and the wold, And the white steel flickered over my head In the moonlight calm and cold; 'Mid the feathery grasses crouching low, With face bow'd down to the dust, I heard the clash of each warded blow, The click of each parried thrust, And the shuffling feet that bruis'd the lawn, As they traversed here and there, And the breath through the clench'd teeth heavily drawn When breath there was none to spare; 85 Sharp ringing sword play, dull, trampling heel, Short pause, spent force to regain, Quick muffled footfall, harsh grating steel, Sharp ringing rally again; They seem'd long hours, those moments fleet, As I counted them one by one, Till a dead weight toppled across my feet, And I knew that the strife was done. When I looked up, after a little space, As though from a fearful dream, The moon was flinging on Harold's face A white and a weird-like gleam; And I felt mine ankles moist and warm With the blood that trickled slow From a spot on the doublet beneath his arm, From a ghastly gash on his brow; I heard the tread of the sorrel's hoof As he bore his lord away; They passed me slowly, keeping aloof, Like spectres, misty and grey. I thought Lord Hugo had left me there To die, but it was not so; Yet then for death I had little care, My soul seem'd numb'd by the blow; A faintness follow'd, a sickly swoon, A long and a dreamless sleep, And I woke to the light of a sultry noon In my father's castled keep. And thus, Lady Abbess, it came to pass That my father vow'd his vow; Must his daughter espouse the Church? Alas! Is she better or wiser now? For some are feeble and others strong, And feeble am I and frail. Mother! 'tis not that I love the wrong, 'Tis not that I loathe the veil, But with heart still ready to go astray, If assail'd by a fresh temptation, I could sin again as I sinned that day, For a girl's infatuation. 86 See! Harold, the Dane, thou say'st is dead, Yet I weep NOT BITTERLY; As I fled with the Dane, so I might have fled With Hugo of Normandy. Ursula: My child, I advise no hasty vows, Yet I pray that in life's brief span Thou may'st learn that our Church is a fairer spouse Than fickle and erring man; Though fenced for a time by the Church's pale, When that time expires thou'rt free; And we cannot force thee to take the veil, Nay, we scarce can counsel thee. Enter the ABBOT hastily. Basil (the Abbot): I am sorely stricken with shame and grief, It has come by the self-same sign, A summons brief from the outlaw'd chief, Count Rudolph of Rothenstein. Lady Abbess, ere worse things come to pass, I would speak with thee alone; Alack and alas! for by the rood and mass I fear we are all undone. SCENE — A Farm-house Near the Convent. A Chamber furnished with writing materials. HUGO, ERIC, and THURSTON on one side; on the other OSRIC, RUDOLPH, and DAGOBERT. Osric: We have granted too much, ye ask for more; I am not skill'd in your clerkly lore, I scorn your logic; I had rather die Than live like Hugo of Normandy: I am a Norseman, frank and plain; Ye must read the parchment over again. 87 Eric: Jarl Osric, twice we have read this scroll. Osric: Thou hast read a part. Eric: I have read the whole. Osric: Aye, since I attached my signature! Eric: Before and since! Rudolph: Nay, of this be sure, Thou hast signed; in fairness now let it rest. Osric: I had rather have sign'd upon Hugo's crest; He has argued the question mouth to mouth With the wordy lore of the subtle south; Let him or any one of his band Come and argue the question hand to hand. With the aid of my battle-axe I will show That a score of words are not worth one blow. Thurston: To the devil with thee and thy battle-axe; I would send the pair of ye back in your tracks, With an answer that even to thy boorish brain Would scarce need repetition again. Osric: Thou Saxon slave to a milksop knight, I will give thy body to raven and kite. Thurston: Thou liest; I am a freeborn man, And thy huge carcase — in cubit and span Like the giant's of Gath — 'neath Saxon steel, Shall furnish the kites with a fatter meal. 88 Osric: Now, by Odin! Rudolph: Jarl Osric, curb thy wrath; Our names are sign'd, our words have gone forth. Hugo: I blame thee, Thurston. Thurston: And I, too, blame Myself, since I follow a knight so tame! [Thurston goes out.] Osric: The Saxon hound, he said I lied! Rudolph: I pray thee, good Viking, be pacified. Osric: Why do we grant the terms they ask? To crush them all were an easy task. Dagobert: That know'st thou not; if it come to war, They are stronger, perhaps, than we bargain for. Eric: Jarl Osric, thou may'st recall thy words — Should we meet again. Osric: Should we meet with swords, Thou, too, may'st recall them to thy sorrow. Hugo: Eric! we dally. Sir Count, good-morrow. SCENE — The Guest Chamber of the Convent. HUGO, ERIC, and ORION. 89 Eric: Hugo, their siege we might have tried; This place would be easier fortified Than I thought at first; it is now too late, They have cut off our access to the gate. Hugo: I have weigh'd the chances and counted the cost, And I know by the stars that all is lost If we take up this quarrel. Eric: So let it be! I yield to one who is wiser than me. (Aside.) Nevertheless, I have seen the day When the stars would scarcely have bade us stay. Enter the ABBOT, CYRIL, and other Monks. Hugo: Lord Abbot, we greet thee. Good fathers all, We bring you greeting. Orion (aside): And comfort small. Abbot: God's benediction on you, my sons. Hugo: May He save you, too, from Norsemen and Huns! Since the gates are beleaguer'd and walls begirt By the forces of Osric and Dagobert; 'Tis a heavy price that the knaves demand. Abbot: Were we to mortgage the Church's land We never could raise what they would extort. Orion (aside): The price is too long and the notice too short. Eric: 90 And you know the stern alternative. Abbot: If we die we die, if we live we live; God's will be done; and our trust is sure In Him, though His chast'nings we endure. Two messengers rode from here last night, To Otto they carry news of our plight; On my swiftest horses I saw them go. Orion (aside): Then his swiftest horses are wondrous slow. Eric: One of these is captive and badly hurt; By the reckless riders of Dagobert He was overtaken and well-nigh slain, Not a league from here on the open plain. Abbot: But the other escap'd. Eric: It may be so; We had no word of him, but we know That unless you can keep these walls for a day At least, the Prince is too far away To afford relief. Abbot: Then a hopeless case Is ours, and with death we are face to face. Eric: You have arm'd retainers. Cyril (a Monk): Aye, some half score; And some few of the brethren, less or more, Have in youth the brunt of the battle bided, Yet our armoury is but ill provided. Hugo: We have terms of truce from the robbers in chief, Though the terms are partial, the truce but brief; 91 To Abbess, to nuns, and novices all, And to every woman within your wall, We can offer escort, and they shall ride From hence in safety whate'er betide. Abbot: What escort, Hugo, canst thou afford? Hugo: Some score of riders who call me lord Bide at the farm not a mile from here, Till we rejoin them they will not stir; My page and armourer wait below, And all our movements are watch'd by the foe. Strict stipulation was made, of course, That, except ourselves, neither man nor horse Should enter your gates — they were keen to shun The chance of increasing your garrison. Eric: I hold safe conduct here in my hand, Signed by the chiefs of that lawless band; See Rudolph's name, no disgrace to a clerk, And Dagobert's scrawl, and Osric's mark; Jarl signed sorely against his will, With a scratch like the print of a raven's bill; But the foe have muster'd in sight of the gate. For another hour they will scarcely wait; Bid Abbess and dame prepare with haste. Hugo: Lord Abbot, I tell thee candidly There is no great love between thou and I, As well thou know'st; but, nevertheless, I would we were more, or thy foes were less. Abbot: I will summon the Lady Abbess straight. [The Abbot and Monks go out.] Eric: 'Tis hard to leave these men to their fate, 92 Norsemen and Hun will never relent; Their day of grace upon earth is spent. [Hugo goes out, followed by Orion.] SCENE — The Corridor Outside the Guest Chamber. HUGO pacing up and down. ORION leaning against the wall. Hugo: My day of grace with theirs is past. I might have saved them; 'tis too late — Too late for both. The die is cast, And I resign me to my fate. God's vengeance I await. Orion: The boundary 'twixt right and wrong Is not so easy to discern; And man is weak, and fate is strong, And destiny man's hopes will spurn, Man's schemes will overturn. Hugo: Thou liest, thou fiend! Not unawares The sinner swallows Satan's bait, Nor pits conceal'd nor hidden snares Seeks blindly; wherefore dost thou prate Of destiny and fate? Orion: Who first named fate? But never mind, Let that pass by — to Adam's fall And Adam's curse look back, and find Iniquity the lot of all, And sin original. Hugo: But I have sinn'd, repented, sinn'd, Till seven times that sin may be By seventy multiplied; the wind 93 Is constant when compared with me, And stable is the sea! My hopes are sacrificed, for what? For days of folly, less or more, For years to see those dead hopes rot, Like dead weeds scatter'd on the shore, Beyond the surfs that roar! Orion: The wiles of Eve are swift to smite; Aye, swift to smite and not to spare — Red lips and round limbs sweet and white, Dark eyes and sunny, silken hair, Thy betters may ensnare. Hugo: Not so; the strife 'twixt hell and heaven I felt last night, and well I knew The crisis; but my aid was given To hell. Thou'st known the crisis too, For once thou'st spoken true. Having foretold it, there remains For grace no time, for hope no room; Even now I seem to feel the pains Of hell, that wait beyond the gloom Of my dishonour'd tomb. Thou who hast lived and died to save, Us sinners, Christ of Galilee! Thy great love pardon'd and forgave The dying thief upon the tree, Thou canst not pardon me! Dear Lord! hear Thou my latest prayer, For prayer must die since hope is dead; Thy Father's vengeance let me bear, Nor let my guilt be visited Upon a guiltless head! Ah! God is just! Full sure I am 94 He never did predestinate Our souls to hell. Ourselves we damn — [To Orion, with sudden passion] Serpent! I know thee now, too late; Curse thee! Work out thy hate! Orion: I hate thee not; thy grievous plight Would move my pity, but I bear A curse to which thy curse seems light! Thy wrong is better than my right, My day is darker than thy night; Beside the whitest hope I share How white is thy despair! SCENE — The Chapel of the Convent. URSULA, AGATHA, Nuns and Novices. (Hymn of the Nuns): Jehovah! we bless Thee, All works of Thine hand Extol Thee, confess Thee; By sea and by land, By mountain and river, By forest and glen, They praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! The heathen are raging Against Thee, O Lord! The ungodly are waging Rash war against God! Arise, and deliver Us, sheep of Thy pen, Who praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! Thou Shepherd of Zion! 95 Thy firstlings didst tear From jaws of the lion, From teeth of the bear; Thy strength to deliver Is strong now as then. We praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! Thine arm hath delivered Thy servants of old, Hath scatter'd and shiver'd The spears of the bold, Hath emptied the quiver Of bloodthirsty men. We praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! Nathless shall Thy right hand Those counsels fulfil Most wise in Thy sight, and We bow to Thy will; Thy children quail never For dungeon or den, They praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! Though fierce tribulation Endure for a space, Yet God! our salvation! We gain by Thy grace, At end of life's fever, Bliss passing man's ken; There to praise Thee for ever! And ever! Amen! SCENE — The Guest Room of the Convent. HUGO, ERIC, and ORION. Enter URSULA, AGATHA, and Nuns. Ursula: 96 Hugo, we reject thine offers, Not that we can buy Safety from the Church's coffers, Neither can we fly. Far too great the price they seek is, Let their lawless throng Come, we wait their coming; weak is Man, but God is strong. Eric: Think again on our proposals: It will be too late When the robbers hold carousals On this side the gate. Ursula: For myself I speak and others Weak and frail as I; We will not desert our brothers In adversity. Hugo (to the Nuns): Does the Abbess thus advance her Will before ye all? A Nun: We will stay. Hugo: Is this thine answer, Agatha? The wall Is a poor protection truly, And the gates are weak, And the Norsemen most unruly. Come, then. A Nun (to Agatha): Sister, speak! Orion (aside to Hugo): Press her! She her fears dissembling, Stands irresolute; She will yield — her limbs are trembling, Though her lips are mute. 97 [A trumpet is heard without.] Eric: Hark! their savage war-horn blowing Chafes at our delay. Hugo: Agatha, we must be going. Come, girl! Agatha (clinging to Ursula): Must I stay? Ursula: Nay, my child, thou shalt not make me Judge; I cannot give Orders to a novice. Agatha: Take me, Hugo! Let me live! Eric (to Nuns): Foolish women! will ye tarry, Spite of all we say? Hugo: Must we use our strength and carry You by force away? Ursula: Bad enough thou art, Sir Norman, Yet thou wilt not do This thing. Shame! — on men make war, man, Not on women few. Eric: Heed her not — her life she barters, Of her free accord, For her faith; and, doubtless, martyrs Have their own reward. Ursula: In the Church's cause thy father 98 Never grudged his blade — Hugo, did he rue it? Orion: Rather! He was poorly paid. Hugo: Abbess, this is not my doing; I have said my say; How can I avert the ruin, Even for a day, Since they count two hundred fairly, While we count a score; And thine own retainers barely Count a dozen more? Agatha (kneeling to Ursula): Ah! forgive me, Lady Abbess, Bless me ere I go; She who under sod and slab is Lying, cold and low, Scarce would turn away in anger From a child so frail; Not dear life, but deadly danger, Makes her daughter quail. Hugo: Eric, will those faces tearful To God's judgment seat Haunt us? Eric: Death is not so fearful. Hugo: No, but life is sweet — Sweet for once, to me, though sinful. Orion (to Hugo): Earth is scant of bliss; Wisest he who takes his skinful When the chance is his. (To Ursula): Lady Abbess! stay and welcome 99 Osric's savage crew; Yet when pains of death and hell come, Thou thy choice may'st rue. Ursula (to Orion): What dost thou 'neath roof-trees sacred? Man or fiend, depart! Orion: Dame, thy tongue is sharp and acrid, Yet I bear the smart. Ursula (advancing and raising up a crucifix): I conjure thee by this symbol Leave us! [Orion goes out hastily.] Hugo: Ha! the knave, He has made an exit nimble; Abbess! thou art brave. Yet once gone, we're past recalling, Let no blame be mine. See, thy sisters' tears are falling Fast, and so are thine. Ursula: Fare you well! The teardrop splashes Vainly on the ice. Ye will sorrow o'er our ashes And your cowardice. Eric: Sorry am I, yet my sorrow Cannot alter fate; Should Prince Otto come to-morrow, He will come too late. Hugo: Nay, old comrade, she hath spoken Words we must not hear; Shall we pause for sign or token — Taunted twice with fear? 100 Yonder, hilt to hilt adjusted, Stand the swords in which we trusted Years ago. Their blades have rusted, So, perchance, have we. Ursula! thy words may shame us, Yet we once were counted famous, Morituri, salutamus, Aut victuri, te! [They go out.] SCENE — The Outskirts of Rudolph's Camp. RUDOLPH, OSRIC, and DAGOBERT. HUGO. Rudolph: Lord Hugo! thy speech is madness; Thou hast tax'd our patience too far; We offer'd thee peace — with gladness, We gladly accept thy war. Dagobert: And the clemency we extended To thee and thine we recall; And the treaty 'twixt us is ended — We are ready to storm the wall. Osric: Now tear yon parchment to tatters; Thou shalt make no further use Of our safeguard; the wind that scatters The scroll shall scatter the truce. Hugo: Jarl Osric, to save the spilling Of blood, and the waste of life, I am willing, if thou art willing, With thee to decide this strife; Let thy comrades draw their force back; I defy thee to single fight, I will meet thee on foot or horseback, And God shall defend the right. 101 Rudolph: No single combat shall settle This strife; thou art overbold — Thou hast put us all on our mettle, Now the game in our hands we hold. Dagobert: Our lances round thee have hover'd, Have seen where thy fellows bide; Thy weakness we have discover'd, Thy nakedness we have spied. Osric: And hearken, knight, to my story — When sack'd are the convent shrines, When the convent thresholds are gory, And quaff'd are the convent wines: When our beasts with pillage are laden, And the clouds of our black smoke rise From yon tower, one fair-haired maiden Is singled as Osric's prize. I will fit her with chain and collar Of red gold, studded with pearls; With bracelet of gold, Sir Scholar, The queen of my captive girls. Hugo (savagely): May the Most High God of battles The Lord and Ruler of fights, Who breaketh the shield that rattles, Who snappeth the sword that smites, In whose hands are footmen and horsemen, At whose breath they conquer or flee, Never show me His mercy, Norseman! If I show mercy to thee. Osric: What, ho! art thou drunk, Sir Norman? Has the wine made thy pale cheek red? Now, I swear by Odin and Thor, man, Already I count thee dead. 102 Rudolph: I crave thy pardon for baulking The flood of thine eloquence, But thou canst not scare us with talking, I therefore pray thee go hence. Osric: Though I may not take up thy gauntlet, Should we meet where the steel strikes fire, 'Twixt thy casque and thy charger's frontlet The choice will perplex thy squire. Hugo: When the Norman rowels are goading, When glitters the Norman glaive, Thou shalt call upon Thor and Odin: They shall not hear thee nor save. "Should we meet!" Aye, the chance may fall so, In the furious battle drive, So may God deal with me — more, also! If we separate, both alive! SCENE — The Court-yard of the Old Farm. EUSTACE and other followers of HUGO and ERIC lounging about. Enter THURSTON hastily, with swords under his arm. Thurston: Now saddle your horses and girth them tight, And see that your weapons are sharp and bright. Come, lads, get ready as fast as you can. Eustace: Why, what's this bustle about, old man? Thurston: Well, it seems Lord Hugo has changed his mind, As the weathercock veers with the shifting wind; He has gone in person to Osric's camp, 103 To tell him to pack up his tents and tramp! But I guess he won't. Eustace: Then I hope he will, They are plenty to eat us, as well as to kill. Ralph: And I hope he won't — I begin to feel A longing to moisten my thirsty steel. [They begin to saddle and make preparations for a skirmish.] Thurston: I've a couple of blades to look to here. In their scabbards I scarcely could make them stir At first, but I'll sharpen them both ere long. A Man-at-arms: Hurrah for a skirmish! Who'll give us a song? Thurston (sings, cleaning and sharpening): Hurrah! for the sword! I hold one here, And I scour at the rust and say, 'Tis the umpire this, and the arbiter, That settles in the fairest way; For it stays false tongues and it cools hot blood, And it lowers the proud one's crest; And the law of the land is sometimes good, But the law of the sword is best. In all disputes 'tis the shortest plan, The surest and best appeal; — What else can decide between man and man? (Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel! Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword of Hugo, our lord! 'Tis a trusty friend and a true; It has held its own on a grassy sward, When its blade shone bright and blue, Though it never has stricken in anger hard, 104 And has scarcely been cleansed from rust, Since the day when it broke through Harold's guard With our favourite cut and thrust; Yet Osric's crown will look somewhat red, And his brain will be apt to reel, Should the trenchant blade come down on his head — (Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel! Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword of our ally bold, It has done good service to him; It has held its own on an open wold, When its edge was in keener trim. It may baffle the plots of the wisest skull, It may slacken the strongest limb, Make the brains full of forethought void and null, And the eyes full of far-sight dim; And the hasty hands are content to wait, And the knees are compelled to kneel, Where it falls with the weight of a downstroke straight — (Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel! Thurston (sings): Hurrah! for the sword — I've one of my own; And I think I may safely say, Give my enemy his, let us stand alone, And our quarrel shall end one way; One way or the other — it matters not much, So the question be fairly tried. Oh! peacemaker good, bringing peace with a touch, Thy clients will be satisfied. As a judge, thou dost judge — as a witness, attest, And thou settest thy hand and seal, And the winner is blest, and the loser at rest — (Chorus of all): Hurrah! for the bright blue steel! [Hugo and Eric enter during the last verse 105 of the song.] Hugo: Boot and saddle, old friend, Their defiance they send; Time is short — make an end Of thy song. Let the sword in this fight Strike as hard for the right As it once struck for might Leagued with wrong. Ha! Rollo, thou champest Thy bridle and stampest, For the rush of the tempest Dost long? Ho! the kites will grow fatter On the corpses we scatter, In the paths where we shatter Their throng. Where Osric, the craven, Hath reared the black raven 'Gainst monks that are shaven And cowl'd: Where the Teuton and Hun sit, In the track of our onset, Will the wolves, ere the sunset, Have howl'd. Retribution is good, They have revell'd in blood, Like the wolves of the wood They have prowl'd. Birds of prey they have been, And of carrion unclean, And their own nests (I ween) They have foul'd. Eric: Two messengers since Yestermorn have gone hence, 106 And ere long will the Prince Bring relief. Shall we pause? — they are ten To our one, but their men Are ill-arm'd, and scarce ken Their own chief; And for this we give thanks: Their disorderly ranks, If assail'd in the flanks, Will as lief Run as fight — loons and lords. Hugo: Mount your steeds! draw your swords! Take your places! My words Shall be brief: Ride round by the valley, Through pass and gorge sally — The linden trees rally Beneath. Then, Eric and Thurston, Their ranks while we burst on, Try which will be first on The heath. (Aside) Look again, mother mine, Through the happy starshine, For my sins dost thou pine? With my breath, See! thy pangs are all done, For the life of thy son: Thou shalt never feel one For his death. [They all go out but Hugo, who lingers to tighten his girths. Orion appears suddenly in the gateway.] Orion: Stay, friend! I keep guard on Thy soul's gates; hold hard on Thy horse. Hope of pardon 107 Hath fled! Bethink once, I crave thee, Can recklessness save thee? Hell sooner will have thee Instead. Hugo: Back! My soul, tempest-toss'd, Hath her Rubicon cross'd, She shall fly — saved or lost! Void of dread! Sharper pang than the steel, Thou, oh, serpent! shalt feel, Should I set the bruised heel On thy head. [He rides out.] SCENE — A Room in the Convent Tower Overlooking the Gate. URSULA at the window. AGATHA and Nuns crouching or kneeling in a corner. Ursula: See, Ellinor! Agatha! Anna! While yet for the ladders they wait, Jarl Osric hath rear'd the black banner Within a few yards of the gate; It faces our window, the raven, The badge of the cruel sea-kings, That has carried to harbour and haven Destruction and death on its wings. Beneath us they throng, the fierce Norsemen, The pikemen of Rudolph behind Are mustered, and Dagobert's horsemen With faces to rearward inclined; Come last, on their coursers broad-chested, Rough-coated, short-pastern'd and strong, Their casques with white plumes thickly crested, Their lances barb-headed and long: They come through the shades of the linden, Fleet riders and war-horses hot: 108 The Normans, our friends — we have sinn'd in Our selfishness, sisters, I wot — They come to add slaughter to slaughter, Their handful can ne'er stem the tide Of our foes, and our fate were but shorter Without them. How fiercely they ride! And "Hugo of Normandy!" "Hugo!" "A rescue! a rescue!" rings loud, And right on the many the few go! A sway and a swerve of the crowd! A springing and sparkling of sword-blades! A crashing and 'countering of steeds! And the white feathers fly 'neath their broad blades Like foam-flakes! the spear-shafts like reeds! A Nun (to Agatha): Pray, sister! Agatha: Alas! I have striven To pray, but the lips move in vain When the heart with such terror is riven. Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again! Ursula: As leaves fall by wintry gusts scatter'd, As fall by the sickle ripe ears, As the pines by the whirlwind fall shatter'd, As shatter'd by bolt fall the firs — To the right hand they fall, to the left hand They yield! They go down! they give back! And their ranks are divided and cleft, and Dispers'd and destroy'd in the track! Where, stirrup to stirrup, and bridle To bridle, down-trampling the slain! Our friends, wielding swords never idle, Hew bloody and desperate lane Through pikemen, so crowded together They scarce for their pikes can find room, Led by Hugo's gilt crest, the tall feather Of Thurston, and Eric's black plume! A Nun (to Agatha): 109 Pray, sister! Agatha: First pray thou that heaven Will lift this dull weight from my brain, That crushes like crime unforgiven. Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again! Ursula: Close under the gates men are fighting On foot where the raven is rear'd! 'Neath that sword-stroke, through helm and skull smiting, Jarl Osric falls, cloven to the beard! And Hugo, the hilt firmly grasping, His heel on the throat of his foe, Wrenches back. I can hear the dull rasping, The steel through the bone grating low! And the raven rocks! Thurston has landed Two strokes, well directed and hard, On the standard pole, wielding, two-handed, A blade crimson'd up to the guard. Like the mast cut in two by the lightning, The black banner topples and falls! Bewildering! back-scattering! affright'ning! It clears a wide space next the walls. A Nun (to Agatha): Pray, sister! Agatha: Does the sinner unshriven, With naught beyond this life to gain, Pray for mercy on earth or in heaven? Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again! Ursula: The gates are flung open, and straightway, By Ambrose and Cyril led on, Our own men rush out through the gateway; One charge, and the entrance is won! No! our foes block the gate and endeavour To force their way in! Oath and yell, Shout and war-cry wax wilder than ever! Those children of Odin fight well; 110 And my ears are confused by the crashing, The jarring, the discord, the din; And mine eyes are perplex'd by the flashing Of fierce lights that ceaselessly spin; So when thunder to thunder is calling, Quick flash follows flash in the shade, So leaping and flashing and falling, Blade flashes and follows on blade! While the sward, newly plough'd, freshly painted, Grows purple with blood of the slain, And slippery! Has Agatha fainted? Agatha: Not so, Lady Abbess! Look again! Ursula: No more from the window; in the old years I have look'd upon strife. Now I go To the court-yard to rally our soldiers As I may — face to face with the foe. [She goes out.] SCENE — A Room in the Convent. THURSTON seated near a small fire. Enter EUSTACE. Eustace: We have come through this skirmish with hardly a scratch. Thurston: And without us, I fancy, they have a full batch Of sick men to look to. Those robbers accurs'd Will soon put our soundest on terms with our worst. Nathless I'd have bartered, with never a frown, Ten years for those seconds when Osric went down. Where's Ethelwolf? Eustace: Dying. 111 Thurston: And Reginald? Eustace: Dead. And Ralph is disabled, and Rudolph is sped. He may last till midnight — not longer. Nor Tyrrel, Nor Brian will ever see sunrise. Thurston: That Cyril, The monk, is a very respectable fighter. Eustace: Not bad for a monk. Yet our loss had been lighter Had he and his fellows thrown open the gate A little more quickly. And now, spite of fate, With thirty picked soldiers their siege we might weather, But the Abbess is worth all the rest put together. [Enter Ursula.] Thurston: Here she comes. Ursula: Can I speak with your lord? Eustace: 'Tis too late, He was dead when we carried him in at the gate. Thurston: Nay, he spoke after that, for I heard him myself; But he won't speak again, he must lie on his shelf. Ursula: Alas! is he dead, then? Thurston: As dead as St. Paul. And what then? to-morrow we, too, one and all, Die, to fatten these ravenous carrion birds. I knelt down by Hugo and heard his last words: "How heavy the night hangs — how wild the waves dash; Say a mass for my soul — and give Rollo a mash." Ursula: 112 Nay, Thurston, thou jestest. Thurston: Ask Eric. I swear We listened and caught every syllable clear. Eustace: Why, his horse was slain, too. Thurston: 'Neath the linden trees grey, Ere the onset, young Henry rode Rollo away; He will hasten the Prince, and they may reach your gate To-morrow — though to-morrow for us is too late. Hugo rode the boy's mare, and she's dead — if you like — Disembowel'd by the thrust of a freebooter's pike. Eustace: Neither Henry nor Rollo we ever shall see. Ursula: But we may hold the walls till to-morrow. Thurston: Not we. In an hour or less, having rallied their force, They'll storm your old building — and take it, of course, Since of us, who alone in war's science are skill'd, One-third are disabled, and two-thirds are kill'd. Ursula: Art thou hurt? Thurston: At present I feel well enough, But your water is brackish, unwholesome and rough; Bring a flask of your wine, dame, for Eustace and I, Let us gaily give battle and merrily die. [Enter Eric, with arm in sling.] Eric: Thou art safe, Lady Abbess! The convent is safe! To be robbed of their prey how the ravens will chafe! The vanguard of Otto is looming in sight! At the sheen of their spears, see! thy foemen take flight, Their foremost are scarce half a mile from the wall. 113 Thurston: Bring the wine, lest those Germans should swallow it all. SCENE — The Chapel of the Convent. Dirge of the Monks: Earth to earth, and dust to dust, Ashes unto ashes go. Judge not. He who judgeth just, Judgeth merciful also. Earthly penitence hath fled, Earthly sin hath ceased to be; Pile the sods on heart and head, Miserere Domine! Hominum et angelorum, Domine! precamur te Ut immemor sis malorum — Miserere Domine! (Miserere!) Will the fruits of life brought forth, Pride and greed, and wrath and lust, Profit in the day of wrath, When the dust returns to dust? Evil flower and thorny fruit Load the wild and worthless tree. Lo! the axe is at the root, Miserere Domine! Spes, fidesque, caritasque, Frustra fatigant per se, Frustra virtus, forsque, fasque, Miserere Domine! (Miserere!) Fair without and foul within, When the honey'd husks are reft From the bitter sweets of sin, 114 Bitterness alone is left; Yet the wayward soul hath striven Mostly hell's ally to be, In the strife 'twixt hell and heaven, Miserere Domine! Heu! heu! herba latet anguis — Caro herba — carni vae — Solum purgat, Christi sanguis, Miserere Domine! (Miserere!) Pray that in the doubtful fight Man may win through sore distress, By His goodness infinite, And His mercy fathomless. Pray for one more of the weary, Head bow'd down and bended knee, Swell the requiem, Miserere! Miserere Domine! Bonum, malum, qui fecisti Mali imploramus te, Salve fratrem, causa Christi, Miserere Domine! (Miserere!) [End of Ashtaroth.] ~ Adam Lindsay Gordon,