Many Gods Part 8

IMMORTAL FOES

At Bedrashein between the pyramids I saw the winged sun fold up his pinions And sink into the nether world's dominions Where Set sent ill on the Egyptian dead.

I saw the ancient Desert, that outbids The Nile for the date-lands between them spread, Fling over Memphis that is vanished, Another shroud of sand, then bid his minions, The winds, lie down upon their boundless bed.

I saw where temples vowed to Serapis And granite splendours men name Pharaonic Are kept by Time in silence and sardonic Concealment--mummied in deep mystic tombs.

And when the stars came out in quiet bliss, I heard Eternity with all its dooms, Past and to come, sound softly the mnemonic Of Death who waits all worlds that Life enwombs.

THE CONSCRIPT

The camel at the old sakiyeh Toils around and round.

Aweary is he of the Nile And of the wailing sound Of the slow wheel he turns all day To lift the water on its way Over the fields of Ahmed Bey, That with green grain abound.

Aweary is he, too, of fellaheen Who compel him on, With thick-voiced chanting till the day Over the West has gone.

For the bold Desert was he made, The Bedouin, his lord, to aid, Not for this peasant wheel of trade That ever must be drawn.

But on he toils while dahabiyeh And dark felucca glide Below him on the gla.s.sy flow Of the gray river's tide.

Then when the night has come lies down, In sleep the servile day to drown-- Like all whom Life turns with a frown From their true fate aside.

NAVIS IGNOTA

Lord, what s.h.i.+p goes forth to-day?

I see her setting West.

Shall she have thy winds aright, Stars to guide her with their light, Shall she sweep the seas to sight Of land and harbour-rest?

Awful is thy ocean-wrath, And none can chart thy shoals When storm una.s.suaging hath Blotted sun and planet-path.

Shall she, Lord, escape the scath And live, with all her souls?

For it is a beauteous thing That s.h.i.+ps should sail the sea.

Splendid is their plunge and swing Into waves that foam and fling Maelstroms at their bows to bring Them down to destiny.

And she, too, courageous rides Away into the gloom.

Now her lights are lost in tides Of the windy spray that glides Thro the darkness, Lord, abides Thy Dove with her--or Doom?

I shall know perhaps some day, Or, knowing not, recall How my heart was fain to pray For a s.h.i.+p that bravely lay To her task: O Lord, so may Each vessel of us all!

THE CROSS OF THE SEPULCHRE

Within the Holy Sepulchre, breast-high, There is a cross uncounted lips have kissed, Millions the world to dust has long dismissed, Millions that now hope of it but to die.

Pilgrims, I saw, from out far fervid lands Of superst.i.tion, North and West and South, Bend to it each a trembling, reverent mouth, Then kneel where Christ was said to loose Death's bands.

And then I wondered if He who believed In the One G.o.d were wounded sore by this, Whether He shrinks at each ecstatic kiss, Or knowing how humanity is grieved, Knows too that it is better to give Hope Than Truth, if only one is in man's scope.

THE NUN

A lone palm leans in the moonlight Over a convent wall.

The sea below is waking and breaking With quiet heave and fall.

A young nun sits at the window; For Heaven she is too fair; Yet even the Dove of G.o.d might nest In her bosom beating there.

A lone s.h.i.+p sails from the harbour: Whom does it bear away?

Her lover who sin-hearted has parted And left her but to pray?

She has no lover, nor ever Has heard afar love's sigh.

Only the convent's vesper vow Has ever dimmed her eye.

For naught knows she of her beauty, More than the palm of its peace; And who beyond Christ's portal to mortal Desires would bend her knees?

The ways of the World have flowers, And any who will pluck those; But let there ever be a place Where none may pluck G.o.d's rose.

ALPINE CHANT

I'm tramping thro the mountains, They are rising white around me, Snow peaks like patriarchs That Winter has enthroned.

I'm tramping up the valleys Where the cataracts sound me Thunders they have shrilly From eternity intoned.

I'm tramping thro the mountains, With the clouds for my companions, Soft clouds that float and cling From crag to cloven crag.

I'm pa.s.sing by the chalets That o'erhang the high canons, Pa.s.sing where the shepherds And the flocks they pipe to lag.

I'm tramping thro the mountains Where the pines in proud procession Climb like a hardy host To halo-heights of sun.

I'm listening for the sallies Of the avalanche's Hessian Hurl of ice and granite Into gulfs Avernian.

I'm tramping thro the mountains And the wind is yodling to me Yearnings of the glaciers To flow to summer lands.

I'm treading up the valleys With no wanting to undo me-- For to-day I'm goalless And the great G.o.d understands!

THE MAN OF MIGHT

No moment drooped between his thought and action, No morrow died between his dream and deed.