Festus · Scene 9 (2/2) (3/3)

| Student | Why no; there are so many rise and fall, One knows not which to choose. As for the stars, I never look on them without dismay. Earth has outrun them in our modern mind, By worlds of odds. Enough for us, it seems, And our cold calculators to jot down Their revolutions, distances, and squares;⁠— And the bright laws which stars and spirits rule, Are all laid out and buried grave on grave. The fourfold worlds and elemental spheres, Which in concentric circles, like the ring That the magician stands in, from on high Give spiritual calling to our earth, And lord it over her, yet in such wise, That still by them we may conjoin our souls Unto the starry spirits of all worlds; Beyond the changed mansions of the moon, Beyond the burning heart of heaven, where dwell The governors of nature and the blest, All knowing spirits and celestial, And divine demons; are all gone⁠—extinct. There is no danger now of knowing aught Which ought not to be known. No more of that!⁠— And you, ye planetary sons of light! From him who hovereth, moth-like, round the sun To six-mooned Uranus, Light’s loftiest round. Tour aspects, dignities, ascendancies, Tour partile quartiles, and your plastic trines, And all your Heavenly houses and effects, Shall meet no more devout expounders here. You too, ye juried signs, earth’s sunny path Upon her wheeling orbit, all farewell! Your exaltations and triplicities, Fiery, airy, and the rest; your falls, And detriments, and governments, and gifts, Are all abolished. Henceforth ye shall shine In vain to man. Diurnal, cardinal, Nocturnal, equinoctial, hot or dry, Earthy, or moist, or feminine, or fixed, Luxurious, violent, bicorporate, Masculine, barren, and commanding, cold, Fruitful or watery, or what not, now It matters nothing. The joy of Jupiter, The exaltation of the Dragon’s head, The sun’s triplicity and glorious Day house on high, the moon’s dim detriment, And all the starry inclusions of all signs⁠— Shall rise, and rule, and pass, and no one know That there are spirit-rulers of all worlds, Which fraternise with earth, and, though unknown, Hold in the shining voices of the stars Communion on high, ever and everywhere.⁠— The mystic charm of numbers, and the sole Oneness which is in all, of nature’s great Triadic principle, in all things, seen; In man thus, as composed of thrice three forms Intrinsic; first, corporeally, blood, Body, and bones; next, intellectively, Imagination, judgment, memory; And thirdly, spiritually, mind and soul, And spirit, which unites with God the whole Being, and comes from and returns to Him⁠— Allures no more man’s mind debased. Thus, too, Of alchemy; the golden starry stone, Invisible, the principle of life, The quintessence of all the elements, Is still unbought;⁠—still flows the stream of pearl Beneath the magic mountain; still the scent As of a thousand amaranthine wreaths, which lures All life unto its sweetness, floats around Mistlike, the shining bath where Luna laves, Or Sol, bright brother of that mooned maid, Triumphs in light;⁠—the spiritual sun, The Heavenly Earth smaragdine, and the fire Spirit of life, the live land still exist, Immortally, internally unseen.⁠— Still breathes the Paradisal air around The universal whole; the watery fire, Destructive, yet impalpable to sense, The initial and conclusion of the world, Yea, the beginning and the end of Death, The secret which is shared ’tween God and man, And which is nature only, wholly, still In Heavenly gloom incomprehensible Wait the Deific will; yea, still the light Whereto all elements contribute, burns About us and within us, world and soul;⁠— The primal sperm and matter of the world, Whose centre is the limit of all things⁠— The snowy gold, the star and spirit seed Which is to render rich and deathless all⁠— The self-begot, self-wedded, and self-born, Which the wind carries in its womb, all have, And few receive; the spirit of the earth, The water of immortal life still lives:⁠— The universal solvent of disease Still bounds through nature’s veins; and still, in fine, The secrets only to be told by fire Starry or beamless, central and extreme, Burn to be born. And other natures may Use them, and do. In Demogorgon’s hall Still sits the universal mystery Throned in itself and ministered unto By its own members:⁠—Man, alas! alone, The recreant spirit of the universe, Contemns the operations of the light; Loves surface-knowledge; calls the crimes of crowds Virtue: adores the useful vices; licks The gory dust from off the feet of war, And swears it food for gods, though fit for fiends Only:⁠—reversing just the Devil’s state When first he entered on this orb of man’s⁠— A fallen angel’s form, a reptile’s soul. | | Lucifer | Oh! this is libellous to man and fiend And brute together. | | Student | All are art and part Of the same mystic treason. But enough;⁠— The most material, immaterial Departments of pure wisdom are despised. For well we know that, properly prepared, Souls self-adapted knowledge to receive Are by the truth desired, illumined; man’s Spirit, extolled, dilated, clarified, By holy meditation and divine Lore, fits him to convene with purer powers Which do unseen surround us aye and gladden In human good and exaltation; thus The face of Heaven is not more clear to one, Than to another outwardly; but one By strong intention of his soul perceives, Attracts, unites himself to essences And elemental spirits of wider range And more beneficent nature, by whose aid Occasion, circumstance, futurity Impress on him their image, and impart Their secrets to his soul; thus chance and lot Are sacred things; thus dreams are verities. But oh! alas for all earth’s loftier lore, And spiritual sympathy of worlds!⁠— There shall be no more magic nor cabala, Nor Rosicrucian nor Alchymic lore, Nor fairy fantasies; no more hobgoblins, Nor ghosts, nor imps, nor demons. Conjurors. Enchanters, witches, wizards, shall all die Hopeless and heirless; their divining arts Supernal or infernal⁠—dead with them. And so ’twill doubtless be with other things In time; therefore I will commit my brain To none of them. | | Festus | Perchance ’twere wiser not. Man’s heart hath not half uttered itself yet, And much remains to do as well as say. The heart is some time ere it finds its focus. And when it does, with the whole light of nature Strained through it to a hair’s breadth, it but burns The things beneath it, which it lights to death. Well, farewell, Mr. Student. May you never Regret those hours which make the mind, if they Unmake the body; for the sooner we Are fit to be all mind, the better. Blest Is he whose heart is the home of the great dead, And their great thoughts. Who can mistake great thoughts? They seize upon the mind⁠—arrest, and search, And shake it⁠—bow the tall soul as by wind⁠— Rush over it like rivers over reeds, Which quaver in the current⁠—turn us cold, And pale, and voiceless; leaving in the brain A rocking and a ringing⁠—glorious, But momentary, madness might it last, And close the soul with Heaven as with a seal! In lieu of all these things whose loss thou mournest, If earnestly or not I know not, use The great and good and true which ever live, And are all common to pure eyes and true. Upon the summit of each mountain-thought Worship thou God; for Deity is seen From every elevation of the soul. Study the Light; attempt the high; seek out The soul’s bright path; and since the soul is fire Of heat intelligential, turn it aye To the all-Fatherly source of light and life; Piety purifies the soul to see Perpetual apparitions of all grace And power, which to the sight of those who dwell In ignorant sin are never known. Obey Thy genius, for a minister it is Unto the throne of Fate. Draw to thy soul, And centralise the rays which are around Of the Divinity. Keep thy spirit pure From worldly taint by the repellant strength Of virtue. Think on noble thoughts and deeds, Ever. Count o’er the rosary of truth; And practice precepts which are proven wise. It matters not then what thou fearest. Walk Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast;⁠— There is a hand above will help thee on. I am an omnist, and believe in all Religions⁠—fragments of one golden world Yet to be relit in its place in Heaven⁠— For all are relatively true and false, As evidence and earnest of the heart To those who practice, or have faith in them. The absolutely true religion is In Heaven only, yea in Deity. But foremost of all studies, let me not Forget to bid thee learn Christ’s faith by heart. Study its truths, and practice its behests: They are the purest, sweetest, peacefullest, Of all immortal reasons or records: They will be with thee when all else have gone. Mind, body, passion, all wear out⁠—not faith, Nor truth. Keep thy heart cool, or rule its heat To fixed ends: waste it not upon itself. Not all the agony of all the damned, Fused in one pang, vies with that earthquake throb Which wakens it from waste to let us see The world rolled by for aye; and that we must Wait an eternity for our next chance, Whether it be in Heaven or elsewhere. | | Student | Sir, I will remember this most grave advice, And think of you with all respect. | | Festus | Well, mind! The worst men often give the best advice. Our deeds are sometimes better than our thoughts. Commend me, friend, to every one you meet: I am an universal favourite. Old men admire me deeply for my beauty, Young women for my genius and strict virtue, And young men for my modesty and wisdom. All turn to me, whenever I speak, full-faced, As planets to the sun, or owls to a rushlight. Farewell! | | Student | I hope to meet again. | | Festus | And I.⁠— Yonder’s a woman singing. Let us hear her. | | Ballad-Singer | In the gray church tower Were the clear bells ringing When a maiden sat in her lonely bower Sadly and lowly singing, And thus she sang, that maiden fair, Of the soft blue eyes and the long light hair: This hand hath oft been held by one Who now is far away; And here I sit and sigh alone Through all the weary day. Oh, when will he I love return! Oh, when shall I forget to mourn! Along the dark and dizzy path Ambition madly runs, ’Tis there they say his course he hath, And therefore love he shuns. Oh, fame and honour bind his brow, For so he would be with me now! In the gray church tower Were the dear bells ringing, When a bounding step in that lonely bower Broke on the maiden singing; She turned, she saw; oh, happy fair! For her love who loved her so well was there! | | Lucifer | And we might trust these youths and maidens fair, The world was made for nothing bat love, love! Now I think it was made but to be burned. | | Festus | And if I love not now, while woman is All bosom to the young, when shall I love? Who ever paused on passion’s fiery wheel? Or trembling by the side of her he loved Whose lightest touch brings all but madness, ever Stopped coldly short to reckon up his pulse? The car comes⁠—and we lie⁠—and let it come; It crushes⁠—kills⁠—what then! It is joy to die. Enough shall not fool me. I fling the foil Away. Let me but look on aught which casts The shadow of a pleasure, and here I bare A breast which would embrace a bride of fire. Pleasure⁠—we part not! No! It were easier To wring God’s lightnings from the grasp of God. I must be mad; but so is all the world. Folly. It matters not. What is the world To me? Nought. I am all things to myself. If my heart thundered, would the world rock? Well⁠— Then let the mad world fight its shadow down; There soon will be nor sun, nor world, nor shadow. And thou, my blood, my bright red running soul⁠— Rejoice thou, like a river in thy rapids! Rejoice⁠—thou wilt never pale with age, nor thin; But in thy full dark beauty, vein by vein, Fold by fold, serpent-like, encircling me Like a stag, sunstruck, top thy bounds and die. Throb, bubble, sparkle, laugh and leap along! Make merry while the holidays shall last. Heart! I could tear thee out, thou fool! thou fool! And strip thee into shreds upon the wind: What have I done that thou shouldst serve me thus? | | Lucifer | Let us away. We have had enough of this. | | Festus | The night is glooming on us. It is the hour When lovers will speak lowly, for the sake Of being nigh each other; and when love Shoots up the eye like morning on the east, Making amends for the long northern night They passed ere either knew the other loved. It is the hour of hearts, when all hearts feel As they could love to mad death, finding aught To give back fire; for love, like nature, is War⁠—sweet war! Arms! To arms! so they be Woman! Old people may say what they please⁠— The heart of age is like an emptied wine-cup, Its life lies in a heel-tap⁠—how can they judge? ’Twere a waste of time to ask how they wasted theirs. But while the blood is bright, breath sweet, skin smooth, And limbs all made to minister delight⁠— Ere yet we have shed our locks like trees their leaves, And we stand staring bare into the air⁠— He is a fool who is not for love and beauty. I speak unto the young, for I am of them, And alway shall be. What are years to me? Traitors! that vice-like fang the hand ye lick: Ye fall like small birds beaten by a storm Against a dead wall, dead. I pity ye. Oh! that such mean things should raise hope or fear; Those Titans of the heart, that fight at Heaven And sleep by fits on fire; whose slightest stir’s An earthquake. I am bound and blest to youth! Oh! give me to the young⁠—the fair⁠—the free⁠— The brave, who would breast a rushing burning world Which came between them and their hearts’ delight. None but the brave and beautiful can love. Oh, for the young heart like a fountain playing! Flinging its bright fresh feelings up to the skies It loves and strives to reach⁠—strives, loves in vain: It is of earth, and never meant for Heaven. Let us love both, and die. The sphinx-like heart, Consistent in its inconsistency, Loathes life the moment that life’s riddle is read: The knot of our existence is untied, And we lie loose and useless. Life is had; And then we sigh, and say, can this be all? It is not what we thought⁠—it is very well⁠— But we want something more⁠—there is but death. And when we have said, and seen, and done, and had, Enjoyed and suffered, all we have wished and feared⁠— From fame to ruin, and from love to loathing⁠— There can come but one more change⁠—try it⁠—death. Oh! it is great to feel we care for nothing⁠— That hope, nor love, nor fear, nor aught of earth Can check the royal lavishment of life; But like a streamer strown upon the wind, We fling our souls to fate and to the future. And to die young is youth’s divinest gift⁠— To pass from one world fresh into another, Ere change hath lost the charm of soft regret, And feel the immortal impulse from within Which makes the coming, life⁠—cry, alway, on! And follow it while strong⁠—is Heaven’s last mercy. There is a fire-fly in the southern clime Which shineth only when upon the wing; So is it with the mind: when once we rest, We darken. On! said God unto the soul As to the earth, for ever. On it goes, A rejoicing native of the infinite⁠— As a bird of air⁠—an orb of heaven. |