Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon Part 36

Spirits (sing at the third altar): Hail, Sovereign! whose fires are kindled By sparks from the bottomless pit, Has thy wors.h.i.+p 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, But forbear to trespa.s.s 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, coa.r.s.e 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, 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.

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 s.h.i.+ver and catch thy breath, The sting is certain, the venom is death, And the scales are flas.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d!

[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, Pa.s.sing smile and pa.s.sing tinge; Dimpling fast and flus.h.i.+ng 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.

Do I bless or curse that beauty?

Am I longing, am I loth?

Is it pa.s.sion, 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 d.a.m.n 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.