The city of dream; an epic poem

Front matter

The city of dream; an epic poem.

3 1924 013 445 592

Cornell University Library

Index To The Songs

PAGE

Jesus of Nazareth

Mary Magdalen ......

' O child, where wilt thou rest?'

' Come again, come back to me'

■ I have sought Thee, and not found Thee '

Proserpine .....

Song of Esau .......

' Kiss, dream, and die ! ' .

'79

' Black is the night, but blacker my despair '

'Dead man : clammy, cold, and white'

' Hark ! I am call'd away "...

' Little herd-boy sitting there ' .

. 252

' Where the buttercups so sweet '

' I am lifted on the wind '■ . . .

' The woof that I weave not ' .

' Pleasant blows the growing grain ' .

• 274

' Forget me not '.....

• 350

L'Envoi: 'O blessed Death!' .

2DeDifation»

TO THE SJINTED SPIRIT OF JOHN BUNTJN.

O Teller of the Fairy Tale Divine, How bright a dream was thine, —

Wherein God's City shining as a star Gleam'd silently from far

O'er haunted wastes, where Pilgrims pale as death Toil'd slow, wi'th bated breath !

Like children at thy knees we gathered all,

Man, maiden, great and small; Tho' death was nigh and snow was on our hair,

Yet still we gathered there, Feeling upon our cheeks blow, sweet and bland

A breath from Fairyland !

The sunless Book, held ever on thy knee,

Grew magical thro' thee ; Touch'd by thy wand the fountain of our fear

Sprang bright and crystal clear ; Thy right hand held a lily flower most fair.

And holly deck'd thy hair.

Dedication

Of' Giants and of Monsters thou didst tell,

Fiends, and the Pit of Hell Of Angels that like swallows manifold

Fly round God's eaves of gold; Of God Himself, the Spirit those adore,

Book I. Setting Forth

TN the noontide of my days I had a dream,

■*■ And in my dream, which seem'd no dream at all,

I saw these things which here are written down.

And first methought, with terror on my heart, I fled, like many a pilgrim theretofore. From a dark City built beside the sea. Crying, ' I cannot any longer bear The tumult and the terror and the tears, The sadness, of the City where I dwell ; Sad is the wailing of the waters, sad The coming and the going of the sun. And sad the homeless echoes of the streets. Since I have heard that Up among the hills

There stands the City christen'd Beautiful, Green sited, golden, and with heaven above It Soft as the shining of an angel's hair ; And thither comes not rain, or wind, or snow, Nor the bleak blowing of Euroclydon, Nor moans of many miserable men.'

Now in my dream meseem'd that I had known A melancholy neighbour, old and blind. Named Faith, led by a beauteous snow-white hound. Named Peace ; and this same Faith, grown worn

and weak With wandering up and down the weary ways. Had one day learn'd, high up among the hills. Strange tidings of the City Beautifid, And heard in sooth a far-off melody Of harps and lutes, blown from the heavenly gate. Now,- when he spake of this, upon his face There grew a gleam like moonlight upon water. Sweet with exceeding sadness ; and at last. Though blind, he had left his lonely home again. And stolen across the valleys silently At midnight ; and he had return'd no more.

Him, after many melancholy days.

And many wrestlings with a darkening doubt,

I.] Setting Forth.

I, Ishmael (lone descendant of a race Who chased the mirage among desert sands), Follow'd in fear ; and lo ! I fled with speed Like one who flees before some dreadful beast ; But just beyond our town I met with one Clad in white robes and named Evangelistj Who, at the threshold of his summer dwelling. Girt round by plenteous harvest, sat and smiled ; To whom I cried :

' O thou who sittest here In thy fair garden girt by golden glebe. Instruct me (for thy beard is white and wise) Which is the pathway to the heavenly City Call'd Beautiful, first of the Land of Light ? '

Then said Evangelist, with courteous smile : ' O Pilgrim, close thine eyes, and wander on ; One Faith precedes thee, blind, led by a hound, Else trusting God ; and when thou stuhiblest, rise ; And when thou comest among thorns and flints, ' Praise God and pray; and when in some deep

slough Thou flounderest, bless God and struggle through. But chief, be warn'd, to walk with close-shut eyes Is safest, seeing our twin eyes of flesh

Mislead us, and a thousand evil things

Are made for our temptation. Grant me grace ;

And I will give thee this brave Book to read,

And for the further safety of thy soul

Will bind this blessed bandage o'er thine eyes,

To keep thy sight from evil. Though thine eyes

Be blind from seeing forward, ne'ertheless

Look, down thou canst while wandering, and glean

The wisdom of the Book.'

A space I paused.

Gazing into his coldly happy eyes, ■ Then cried: 'But thou? — O master, answer me!^ ' Art thou content here in the dales to dwell. Nor climb thyself the heavenly heights whereon The wondrous City stands ? '

Then with a smile As soft, as still, as is the snake of fire Coil'd up and flickering on some happy hearth. Evangelist replied : ' My post is here. Not on the mountains, nor a rocky place ; He whom I serve hath given me this my task To blindfold pilgrims and to point them on ; This house is His, this porch with roses hung. These golden fields ; nor can I qucit my post v Until He sends His own dark Angel down.'

.] Setting Forth.

And on my head methought Evangelist Placed his soft hands in blessing ; and my soul. With one long sigh, one glance at the blue heaven, Assented ; and methought Evangelist Did blindfold me, and set me on my wsj, And place the Book w^ithin my hands to read, Then softly singing in the summer sheen. Cried, ' Courage ! ' as I wander'd from his sight.

And as I wander'd on, not seeing wrhither, But trusting in some heavenly hand to guide, I, casting down my gaze upon the Book, Read these things, and was little comforted : —

In six days God the Lord made heaven and earth. And rested from His labours on the seventh ; Dividing firmament from firmament. Fishes He made, and flesh, and flying birds. And, lastly, Man ; next, from a rib of Man, Woman. These twain He in a garden set, Naked, and glad, and innocent of heart ; But in the centre of the garden placed A Tree for their temptation. Thither came The ancient snake upon his belly crawling. And bade the woman pluck the fruit and eat. And first the woman ate, and then the man,

And knew their nakedness, and were ashamed j And furthermore an Angel with a sword Drave them from Eden into the sunless waste.

From these twain had the generations come, The million generations of the earth. Bearing the burthen of that primal sin ; And whatsoever man is born on earth Is born unto the issues of that sin, Albeit each step he takes is predestined.

Further, I read the legend of the Flood, Of Noah and of the building of an Ark, And how the Maker (as a craftsman oft Rejects a piece of labour ill begun) Destroy'd His first work and began again With sorrow and the symbol of the Dove.

Much, furthermore, I read of the first race Of shepherds, Abraham's race and Jacob's race ; And of the chosen people God deliver'd Out of the land of bondage. Portents burnt, Strange omens came, wild scenes and faces flash'd Before me, and I ever seem'd to hear The rustle of the serpent ; till I heard The voice of David cursing to his harp

I.] Setting Forth.

And holding iip his blood-stain'd hands to God.

And ever across my soul a vision flash'd

Of a most direful Form with robes of fire,

A footfall loud as many chariots,

A voice like thunder on a mountain-top,

And nostrils drinking up with joy divine

The crimson sacrifice of flesh and blood ;

And ever as I read I felt my soul

Shake with exceeding fear, and stumbled on

With fleeter footsteps ; and I fled for hours

Ere, with a fascination deep as death,

I cast my gaze upon the Book again.

And now I read of pale and wild-eyed kings.

Of sounding trumpets and of clarions,

The clash of hosts in carnage, and the shriek

Of haggard prophets standing on the heights,

And urging on the host as men urge hounds;

As in a mirror, darkly, I beheld

The generations drift like vapour past,

Driven westward by a whirlwind, while on high

The Breath Divine like fire came and went ;

And, suddenly, the storm-cloud of the world

Uplifted, — there was light — stillness and death ;

8 The City of Bream. [bk.

All nature lay as one vast battle-field,

And cities numberless lay desolate.

And crowns were strewn about and broken swords,

And everywhere the vulture and the raven

Pick'd at the eyeballs of slain kings and churls ;

And through the world a crimson river of blood

Ran streaniing, till it wash'd the feet of God.

These things I gather'd, trembling like a leaf. And moaning, ' God of Thunder ! save my soul ! Destroy me not. Destroyer ! Pity me^ O Pitiless, but let Thine anger pass ! ' '

And now, methought that I had left my home Behind me, and was far beyond the town. When, suddenly, I heard upon my path A crowd of people hearkening to one Who raised his voice aloud and prophesied. 'Who speaks?' I ask'd; and one, with low, deep

laugh, Said, ' Only our old prophet. Hurricane : He began early, and the people applauded ; But now the matter hath outgrown his wits, And newer lights are risen.' Whereon I said : ' Methinks I know the man ; he hath a house Within a suburb of our town, and ever

I. j Setting Forth. g

He mocketh all his neighbours and the poor. And praises only God, and priests, and kings.'

And in my dream I heard him, Hurricane, Railing aloud to those who flock'd around:

' Scum of the Maker's scorn, what seek ye here }

Go, thou whose sin is black, and kiss the lash ;

Haste, thou whose skin is white, and strike for kings.

O miserable generation, foam

That flashes from the Maker's chariot-wheels.

What do you crave for, shrieking for a sign ?

See yonder o'er your heads the sun and stars

Hang like bright apples on the Eternal Tree,

And day comes, and the night is' wonderful,

The eternal Order stands. What seek ye, worms?

To shake away the slime of that first curse.

Spoken when ye were fashion'd out of dust ?■

It is the mission of the worm to crawl ;

No snake is he, and cannot even sting

The heel that bruises him. Crawl on for ever ;

Obey your masters here and yonder in heaven —

Ye cannot slough your sin or quit your curse.'.

Then a voice deep and rough, as from the throat Of some strong wight, responded :

lO The City of Dream. [bk.

' Softly, master !

What profit comes of railing ? We who hear. An we were worms indeed, might creep and die; But being men, we deem thy counsel blind. And all thy words as impotent as sparks Blown by the bellows from my smithy fire. Nay, those thou bidst us honour are (I swear By Tubal Cain, the founder of my craft !) The plagues of this green earth. I know them well, I rate them, I ! the monsters of this earth. Blind priests and prophets blind, and blindest kings. And conquerors slaying in the name of God.'

Then Hurricane made answer, while a groan Went through the inmost ranks of those who heard: ' I tell you, ye are dust of evil, things For mighty powers to work with. God is strength. His blessing makes strong men, and they are strong Who blister you and bind you to your doom. Black slaves and white. Worms, do ye rave of rights ? , I tell you. He who fashion'd you for pain. And set you in a sad and sunless world, Scatters your rights as the eternal sea Loosens the fading foam-bells from its hair. What man cried out, " There is no God at all ? "

I swear to you, by sun, and stars, and moon, By hunger, by starvation and disease, By death, that there is God omnipotent, Awfiil, a King, a strong God ! yea, indeed, The Maker of the whirlwind and the worm. The judgment waiting in the heavens o'erhfead. The vengeance burning in the earth beneath, The end of sin, the doom no man eludes, Not even at the very gates of death !'

Now in my dream I shudder'd, for methought I heard the living echo of the Book ; So, sick and sad at heart, I tum'd away, And hasten'd, desolate, I knew not whither.

Methought I wander'd on and on, for long, Shadow'd with sorrow, smitten through with sin. Not heeding whither, blindfold, caring not If the next step of my sad pilgrimage Should be into some nameless, open grave. But as I crept across the darken'd earth. O'er which the sad sky shed a sobbing rain, • One cried to me, ' Poor soul, take shelter

here!' And following the summons of the voice I felt the cold touch of an outstretch'd hand,

Which led me darkly through an open door, Up steps of stone, into some unknown dwelling.

Then said I, pale, blindfolded, Book in hand:

' Who spake ? whose hand was that which led me

hither ?

And what strange dwelling have I enter'd in ?' And sharper, shriller than an eunuch's voice One answer'd, ' But for that same blinding band Across thine eyes thou for thyself couldst see — Perchance, good man, my name is known to thee, Iconoclast, — called sometimes " Gibe-at-God," Whose name hath travell'd over the wide earth.'

Then all my spirit darken'd for a moment. For I had heard the name said under breath With Satan's and with Moloch's and with Baal's, And my young soul had loathed the man who

mock'd All that the world deems holy. But as I stood, Troubled and timorous, he did laugh aloud, Saying :

' My name hath reach'd thee, I perceive. And, though thou deem'st it evil, I have hope To gain thy good opinion presently .... Whence dost thou come? and whither dost thou go ?'

The Pilgrim.

I come from yonder City beside the sea. And seek the Beautiful City of the Lord.

Iconoclast.

And dost thou think to gain that City's gate (If such a city there be, which travellers doubt) Blindfolded, with that bandage on thine eyes ?

The Pilgrim.

Yea, verily ; for a good man set it there. Evangelist.— But wherefore dost thou laugh ?

Iconoclast.

foolish Pilgrim, wherefore did thy Lord, Whoever made thee, or receives from thee , Credit for having made thee, give thee sight. If thou consentest not to look, or see ?

The Pilgrim.

1 know not. These are mysteries. Yet I know, Evangelist did bid me journey thus.

Iconoclast.

I know the fellow, a fat trencher slave. He wears no bandage, he, nor goeth forth On pilgrimage, but sitteth in the sun, 'Right prosperous, and eyes his golden glebe. O fool, to be persuaded by this priest Out of thy birthright ; to be blind and dark ; The sun to see not, or the stars and moon, Or any light that shines ; to turn thy face Into the tomb of dead intelligence ; To quit mortality and be a mole !

The Pilgrim.

My townsman. Faith, precedes me : he is blind, And yet he journeys safely through the land.

Iconoclast.

Leave faith to Faith ; since the good, simple soul Is eyeless, let his other senses thrive ! But thou hast eyes, and eyes were given thee To see with ; that to doubt, were blasphemy !

The Pilgrim.

Why should I see ? This Book held in my hand

Assures me 'tis a miserable world.

Base, burthen'd, and most bleak to look upon.

Iconoclast.

See for thyself! Wherefore consult a Book Upon a point of eyesight ? Look, and see !

The Pilgrim.

I dare not. I am stricken dumb and sad, After the testimony written here.

Iconoclast.

If there be misery in the ways thou treadest, If this thine earth be wretched and unclean. It is because so many walk in blindness, And read the dreary gospel written there.

The Pilgrim.

How may that be? God fashion'd all things well ; And only by man's sin did all grow sad.

Iconoclast.

Assuredly ; God fashion'd all things well.

The Pilgrim.

\nd all had still been well had man not eaten The bitter Tree of Knowledge, and been shamed.

Iconoclast.

Softly, good friend ; that is the one good tree

Adaiji ne'er tasted, not to speak of Eve

Or any wiser woman. Cast that Book

Over thy shoulder ! Leave the dreary dream ;

Forswear the apple and the fig-leaf; cease

To credit fables old of fire and flood ;

Quit gloomy visions and crude eastern nights

Of legendary horror : in a word,

Cast off thy bandage and thine ignorance.

And look abroad upon thy destiny !

■So saying, with one quick movement of his hand.

Iconoclast did snatch from oiF my brows

The bandage placed there by Evangelist ;

And lo ! I scream'd, and with my trembling fingers

Cover'd mine eyes, then, trembling like a leaf,

Perused the stranger's face, and saw it full

Of many wrinkles, and a snake-like sneer

Playing about the edges of the lips.

And it was noon, noon of a cold grey day,

A silvern, melancholy light in heaven,

All calm, the prospects and the distances

Sharp and distinct to vision, but no sun.

I.J Setting Forth. 17

' Where am I ? ' next I murmur'd ; and, ' Behold,'

Answer'd that other, ' on an eminence

Thou standest, named Mount Clear; for all the

air Is crystal pure, and hither rise no mists. Follow me higher ; far above my dwelling I have built a solitary garden-seat. Commanding a great prospect o'er the earth.' Methought I follow'd, and we gain'd the

height.

And, full of wonder now, I look'd abroad.

I saw great valleys and green watery wastes, Deep-shelter'd woods and marshes full of mist. And rivers winding seaward j then, mine eyes Following thewinding rivers, I beheld. Far away, silent, solemn, grey, and still. The waters of the Ocean ; and thereon Sat, like a sea-bird on the ribbed sand, A City that I knew to be ipine own ; But following the windings of the coast I beheld other Cities like mine own, All hungrily set beside the wash of waves. Looking expectant, seaward ; and from each Came solitary figures as of men. Mere specks upon the highways and the fields,

c

8 TKe City of Dream. [bk.

AH toiling, as it seem'd, with constant feet To those green slopes whereon I stood at gaze.

Then as I look'd, and wonder'd, in mine ear The old man murmur'd : ' Lo, thou lookest on The Cities of the Nations of the Earth, Each crouching by the sad shores of the Sea Infinite, dreadful, mighty, without bound ; And in each City thou dost look upon A different legend and a different God Lengthen man's misery and make him mad ; Further, from City unto City have gone Tidings of that same City Beautiful Thou seekest ; at the gate of each there sits An arch-priest, like thine own Evangelist, Blindfolding those who wearily set forth ; And these, the Pilgrims thou beholdest now As specks afar, go stumbling sadly on ; And if they perish not upon the way. As ninety-nine in every hundred perish, Hither among the hills of ironstone They, slowly ascending, by such hands as mine Are of their blinded ignorance relieved.'

Whereat I cried, in bitterness of heart : ' I see, but seeing comfort find I none.

But all thou showest me is sick and sad,

For lo ! the things I fled from, the sad Earth,

The melancholy City, the grey Heaven,

And the vast silence of the unfathomed Sea !'

And turning to Iconoclast, I cried :

' Thy words are shallow, and thy counsel blind !

Lo ! thou hast snatch'd the bandage from my eyes,

And I perceive the fables of the Book ;

What shall I do, and whither shall I go ?'

' Haste homeward ! ' smiling said Iconoclast ; ' Back to thine earthly City, work thy work, And dream of Cities in the clouds no more.'

But with a moan, uplifting hands, I cried: ' Whither, oh whither ? To return is Death, For mine own City is dreadful, and the Sea Hath voices, and the homeless winds of woe Wander with white feet wearily on the deep ; And every slope beside the sea is green With the dead generations ; and I seek A City fairer and not perishable. Peaceable and holy, in the Land of Light !'

Then did Iconoclast, with bitter scorn. Cry : ' 'Tis an infant moaning for the moon, For the moon's phantom in the running brook.

20 ^he City of Dream. [

BK.

fool ! there is no Ciiy Beautiful

Beyond these Cities of the Earth thou seest ! *

But turning now my back upon the Sea,

And on my native City, I beheld

A mighty land of hills. There, far away.

Beyond the pastoral regions at my feet.

Beyond the quiet lanes and wayside wells.

Rose mountains, 'darken'd by deep woods of pine,

With air-hung bridges spanning cataracts.

And rainbows o'er the waters hovering ;

Mists moved, celestial shadows came and went,

While higher, dim against the blue, there rose

Peaks soft as sleep, white with eternal snow.

' What land is that f I question'd ; and the other Answer'd : ' I know not ; nay, nor seek to know ; For those be perilous regions, with an air Too thin for man to breathe ; yet many, I wis, Have travell'd thither (O the weary way !), But never a one hath hither come again. And how they fared I know not, yet I dream That never one doth reach those frigid heights. But on the crags and 'mid the pathless woods They perish, and the skeleton hands of Frost Cling to them, breaking up their bleaching bones ! '

I.J Setting Forth. 2i

But now I cried : ' O fool that I have been To talk with such a shallow soul so long ! A scoffing voice like to the mocking-bird's. The dreary echo of a hollow sound Bred in an empty heart. For, lo ! I see The land afar, and, though the ways be dire. Thither I fare, since, far among the heights. Beyond the scoffer's voice, beyond these vales, Beyond the weary wailings of the sea. First in its place the Heavenly City stands !'

So stood I trembling in the act to go,

\Vhen grey Iconoclast, with cynic sneer,

Not angry, cried : ' Stay yet ! — I had forgot !

Not far beyond these valleys lies indeed

A City wondrous smiling to the sight

Like that which thou art seeking. In its streets

Full many a prosperous pilgrim findeth peace.'

And, smiling bitterly, as if in scorn.

He added : ' O'er the mighty earth its fame

Hath travell'd on four winds ! Who hath not heard

Of this same City of Christopolis ?'

Then I upleapt i' the air and waved my hands. 'The name! the name! — He built itwith His blood! — I charge thee on thy life, point out the way ! ' ' Thou canst not miss it,' said Iconoclast ;

' For if the milestone or the finger-post Should fail thee, only seek the open road. And there beshrew me if thou meetest not With many of its priestly citizens, Who will direct thee onward willingly. Still, if thou lovest wisdom, be advised — Turn back and hasten home. Christopolis, Methinks, is not the City of thy quest.'

' How knowest thou that ? ' I cried, full eagerly. ' Hast thou thyself fared thither ? '

' Verily,' Answered the greybeard ; ' more, within its streets I first drew breath ! '

The Pilgrim.

I understand thee not.

Born there, and yet, alas ! thou sittest here ?

IcOflOCLAST.

I could not choose. She from whose womb I came.

More mighty than niy yet unwoven will.

Would have it so ! — and thus on golden streets

I ran, and under golden fanes I played.

And in the splendour of Christopolis

1 fed and throve, till, weary of so much light.

While yet a fleet-.heerd boy I fled away.

The Pilgrim.

Fled ? From thy birthplace ? from thy happiness ?

fool, to quit the paths and ways of peace !

Iconoclast.

1 was not peaceful in those peaceful ways, I did not love my birthplace. So I fled.

Was it not fair ?

The Pilgrim.

Iconoclast.

Most fair.

The Pilgrim.

And holy ?

Iconoclast.

In sooth, My nurses said so much.

The Pilgrim. * . Yet thou art here !

Iconoclast.

I loved my freedom better far than fanes: Within those scented shrines I could not breathe.

Besides, the people were idolaters, — Fools of the fig-leaf, blind inheritors Of that sad symbol of a slaughter'd God. I left them, and I came to warn the world Against the follies I had left behind. Or haply now and then with this weak arm To aid some miserable human thing Their citizens have hunted even hither !'

He added, with a strange and inward smile : ' Go thither, if thou wilt — seek out its gates — Remember that I warn'd thee 'twas in vain.'

More might his lips have spoken garrulously. But swiftly down the silent heights I ran. Thrusting the Book into my breast ; and now Methought my soul was wroth against the man, Iconoclast. Most fleet of foot I fled. Until I reach'd the shadowy vale below. Through whose green heart there wound a dusty

way Where many men and women came and went. But as I leapt a brook to gain the road. Suddenly on mine ears there swept a sound, A tumult, then a tramp of horses' feet. Sharp yelp of hounds, and all the cries o' the chase.

Wondering I stood, and lo ! across the meads, There came a naked man who shriek'd for dread, Speeding as swift as any dappled deer ; And close behind him silent blood-hounds ran. Swiftly, with crimson nostrils to the ground j And after these came a great company, Priests in red robes, and hoary crowned Kings, And pallid Queens with grey and golden hair. With countless savage slaves that ran afoot. And huntsmen, shrieking, ' In the name of God !' And much I fear'd the hounds behind the man, Lolling their crimson tongues to drink his life; And lo ! they would have caught and rent the

man, But, suddenly, he sprang with one swift bound Over the threshold of a house of stone, A, lowly place white-visaged like a shrine. That at the corner of a little wood Stood with a spire that pointed up to heaven. Therein he leapt and vanish'd through a door That stands for ever open ; and the train Were following when there rose beneath the porch A figure like an .angel with one hand Outreaching; and they dare not enter in, But with a sullen roar, clashing like waves. Broke at the threshold, foam'd, and were repell'd.

'26 The City of Dream. [bk. i.

Then, gazing past the Spirit, I beheld

A chancel and an altar, and the man,

With panting mouth and wild eyes backward gazing.

Cast prone before the altar, faint with fear ;

And further, full of wonder, raising eyes,

I read these words written above the porch —

' Iconoclast hath built this church to God ! '

Then did I pray and weep, crying aloud :

' Lord, let me judge not, since Thou art my Judge,

For I perceive an angel bright doth guard

The Temple of the ScofFer, and the same

May be Thy servant, though his place be set

Outside Thy City, in a rocky place.'

Then turning, I gazed upward, and behold !

On the cold eminence above my head,

I saw Iconoclast in milk-white robes

Walking with sunlight on his reverent hair ;

And as he walk'd upon the golden sward

He scatter'd seeds and call'd, and many doves.

That rear'd their young beneath his lonely eaves,

Came fluttering down in answer to his call.

Making a snow around him, and were fed.