ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901)

{A Selection of Poems}

THE DEVIL’S PEEPSHOW

OLD STYLE.

As thro’ the Town of Vanity I trod,
I heard one calling in the name of God,
And turning I beheld a wan-eyed wight,
Clad in a garment that had once been bright,
Who, while a few pale children gathered round,
Did plant his faded Peepshow on the ground.
Trembling the children peep’d; and lingering nigh,
E’en thus I heard the ragged Showman cry:—

I.

Now first your eye will here descry
     How all the world begun:
The earth green-dight, the ocean bright,
     The moon, the stars, the sun.
All yet is dark; but you will mark,
     While round this sphere is spun,
A Hand so bare moves here and there,
     Whence rays of ruby run.
I pull a string, and everything
     Is finish’d bright and new,
Tho’ dim as dream all yet doth seem;
     And this, God wot, is true.

II.

Now this, you see, is Eden Tree,
     In Eden’s soil set deep;
Beneath it lies with closëd eyes
     Strong Adam, fast asleep.
All round, the scene is gold and green,
     And silver rivers creep;
Him on the grass the wild beasts pass,
     As mild and tame as sheep.
My bell I ring; I pull a string;
     And on the self-same spot,
From Adam’s side God takes his Bride;
     And this is true, God wot.

III.

There still doth shine the Tree Divine,
     Flush’d with a purple flame,
And hand in hand our parents stand,
     Naked, but have no shame.
Now Adam goes to take repose
     While musing sits his Dame;
When, over her, the blest boughs stir,
     To show how Satan came.
A Snake so bright, with horns of light,
     Green leaves he rustles thro’,
Fair Eve descries with wondering eyes;
     And this, God wot, is true.

IV.

Now pray perceive, how over Eve
     The fruits forbidden grow.
With hissing sound the Snake twines round,
     His eyes like rubies glow.
‘Fair Eve,’ he says (in those old days
     Snakes spoke) and louteth low,
‘This fruit you see upon the Tree
     Shall make you see and know. . . .’
My bell I ring; I pull a string;
     And on the self-same spot
Fair Eve doth eat the Fruit so sweet;
     And this is true, God wot.

V.

A CHILD.

Please, why did He who made the Tree,
     Our Father in the sky,
Let it grow there, so sweet and fair,
     To tempt our Parents’ eye?

SHOWMAN.

My pretty dear, it is most clear
     He wish’d their strength to try;
And therefore sent, with wise intent,
     The Serpent swift and sly.
I pull a string, and there (poor thing!)
     Stands Adam eating too!
And now, you mark, all groweth dark;
     And this, God wot, is true.

VI.

Now, you discern, a voice so stern
     Cries ‘Adam, where art thou?’
’Tis God the Lord, by all adored,
     Walks there; and all things bow.
But with his Bride doth Adam hide
     His guilty, burning brow;
And of fig-leaves each sinner weaves
     A guilty apron now.
My bell I ring; I pull a string;
     And from that pleasant spot
A Sword of Flame drives man and dame;
     And this is true, God wot.

VII.

Now wipe the glass. And we will pass
     To quite another scene:
In a strange land two Altars stand,
     One red, the other green;
The one of blood right sweet and good,
     The other weeds, I ween!
And there, full plain, stands frowning Cain,
     And Abel spruce and clean.
I pull a string; and every thing
     Grows dark and sad anew,—
There Abel lies with dying eyes!
     And this, God wot, is true.

VIII.

The wicked Cain has Abel slain
     All with a burning brand;
And now, sad sight, an Angel bright
     Doth mark him with his hand.

A CHILD.

What specks so red are those that spread
     Behind them as they stand?

SHOWMAN.

The sparks you see the wild eyes be,
     Countless as grains of sand,
Of all those men who have, since then,
     Shed blood in any land!
In grief and pain they look at Cain,
     Aghast on that sad spot;
And all around blood soaks the ground;
     And this is true, God wot.

IX.

My bell I ring; I pull a string:
     Now, Father Noah you mark—
Sleeping he lies, with heavy eyes,
     All full of wine, and stark.
But now, behold! that good man old
     A Voice in dream doth hark;
And the Voice cries, ‘O Noah, arise!
     And build thyself an Ark.’
Again I ring; and pull a string;
     And all is water blue,
Where, floating free, the Ark you see;
     And this, God wot, is true.

X.

Thus God the Lord, with his great Word,
     Did bid the waters rise,
To drown and kill all things of ill
     He made beneath the skies.
The Lord saved none, but Noah alone,
     His kith and kin likewise;
Two of each beast, both great and least;
     Two of each bird that flies.
My bell I ring; I pull a string;
     And on the self-same spot,
The water sinks, the bright Bow blinks;
     And this is true, God wot.

XI.

O day and night, unto your sight
     Such wonders shown might be,
But to conclude this Peepshow good,
     You Heaven and Hell shall see:
The shining things, with spangled wings,
     Who smile and sing so free;
The crew of shame, who in hell-flame
     Complain eternallie!
My bell I ring; I pull a string;
     And you them both may view—
The blest on high, the curst who cry:—
     And this, Got wot, is true.

XII.

A CHILD.

How can they bear, who sit up there
     In shining robes so gay,
From Heaven to peer, without a tear,
     On those who scream and pray?

SHOWMAN.

Why, those who burn had, you must learn,
     As fair a chance as they—
But Adam’s fall doth doom them all
     Upon God’s judgment day.
I thus conclude with moral good,
     Not soon to be forgot;
And you must own what I have shown
     Is solemn sooth, Got wot.

XIII.

A LITTLE BOY.

O look at him, that showman grim,
     A frown is on his cheek;
Come away quick, for I am sick
     Whene’er I hear him speak!

A GIRL.

Along this way, last Holy Day,
     In blessëd Whitsun’ week,
There passed a wight, so sweet and bright
     He seemed an Angel meek:
He bare, also, an old Peep-show,
     But prettier far to view,
And loud cried He ‘O look and see!
     For all, God wot, is true!’

XIV.

CHILDREN.

And did you peep? and did you weep
     To see the pictures wild?

GIRL.

Ah nay, ah nay, I laughed, full gay,
     I looked and laughed and smiled!
For I discern’d, with bright face turned
     On mine, a little Child;
And round him, bright burn’d many a light,
     And cakes and sweets were piled;
And scents most rare fill’d all the air
     All round the heavenly spot,
While loud and wide that Showman cried—
     ‘This is our Lord, God wot!’

XV.

FIRST CHILD.

’Twas Jesus Child! so good and mild!
     He grew on Mary’s breast!

GIRL.

Sweet were his eyes, his look was wise,
     And his red lips were blest;
I longed, I wis, those lips to kiss,
     And by his side to rest.
This man’s Peepshow is strange, I know,
     But the other was the best!
Now let us go where daisies blow,
     Sweet ferns, and speedwells blue,
And Posies make for Christ His sake,
     For He is bright and true!

XVI.

SHOWMAN (solus).

Folk, I’m afraid, are changed; my trade
     Grows worse each day, I know.
How they did throng when I was young,
     To see this very Show!
My rivals pass, and lad and lass
     Follow where’er they go,
While up and down, from town to town,
     I creep, most sad and slow.
I too must try some novel cry,
     Lest I be quite forgot:
These pictures old that I unfold
     Have ceased to please, God wot!

_____

THE GOLDEN YEAR:

AN ODE ON THE JUBILEE OF THE EMPRESS VICTORIA.

               Now the winter of sorrow is over,
                   And the season of waiting is done,
               ’Mid acclaim of the people who love her
                   Our Lady steps forth in the sun;
The green earth beneath and the blue sky above her,
She walks in the sight of the millions who cover
               The realms she hath welded to one!
’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder,
As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
From the east to the west wakes the world in her honour,
The sunrise and sunset flash splendour upon her,
               Now winter is over and done!

. . . Empress and Queen, the flowers and fruits of nations
         Are heapt upon the footstool of thy throne;
Amid the thronging hosts, the acclamations,
         The trumpets of thy Jubilee are blown!
Glorious and glad, with pomp and pride resplendent,
Thy subject Spirits come and wait attendant:
Tawny and proud, a queenly sibyl-maiden,
         Comes INDIA, clad in woofs of strange device,
With fruitage from the fabled Eastern Aiden,
         And gifts of precious gems and gold and spice;
On a white elephant she rides, while round her
         Like baying hounds her spotted tigers run—
Black-brow’d as night, to her who tamed and crown’d her
         She comes, with fiery eyes that front the sun.
AUSTRALIA follows, in a chariot golden
         Drawn by black heifers; on the chariot’s side
An ocean eagle sits with white wings folden,
         And o’er her head float egrets purple-dyed.
Tatoo’d TASMANIA, with wild ringlets flowing,
         Followed by savage herds and hinds, strides near.
CANADA comes mocassin’d, clearly blowing
         Her forest horn, and brandishing her spear.
ALBION in martial mail, with trident gleaming,
         Leads an old lion, and a lamb snow-white;
Blonde CALEDONIA, with glad tartan streaming
         Back from her shoulder, leaves her lonely height,
And with her mountain Sister, to the strumming
         Of harp and pipe, joins the rejoicing throng.
The world is shadow’d with the swarms still coming
         To hail their Queen with mirth and festal song!

               For the winter of sorrow is over,
                   And gone are the griefs that have been,
               ’Mid acclaim of the people who love her
                   She comes to her glory, a Queen.
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder
         As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
         From the east to the west wakes the world in her honour,
         The sunrise and sunset flash splendour upon her,
                   Unclouded, at peace, and serene!

Yet . . . who is this that rises up before her,
         Ragged and hungry, blood upon her hands?
Smileless beneath the heavens now smiling o’er her,
         Wild grey-hair’d ERIN on her island stands!
Loudly she crieth, “Crownèd Queen and Mother,
         If such thou art, redress my children’s wrong;
Upraise the seed of Esau! Bid his brother
         Restore to him the birthright stol’n so long!
’Mid his fat flocks sits Jacob unrepenting,
         Yet starts with lifted wine-cup at my cry;
My children starve—my tribe is left lamenting—
         My dwellings lie unroof’d beneath the sky.
Even the mess of pottage gives he never,
         For which he bought the birthright long ago;
While joy in Jacob’s vineyard flows for ever,
         Esau preserves his heritage of woe!
Justice, O Queen, or—” For the rest she clutches
         Her naked knife, and laughs in shrill despair. . . .
O Queen and Empress, by the piteous touches
         Of Love’s anointing fingers, hear her prayer!
Let not thy Jubilee be stained, O Mother,
         By the old sin the sinful past hath known.
The wrongs this Esau suffers from his brother
         Are blood-stains on the brightness of thy throne!

               Now the winter of sorrow is ended,
                   And the season of waiting is fled,
               Let the blessing by all men attended
                   On Esau and Erin be shed!
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder
         As far as the sun round thine empire doth wander;
         But Esau roams outcast and homeless, O Mother,—
         At night on the rocks, near the tents of his brother,
                   The weary one pillows his head!

O bright and beauteous, Lady, is thy splendour,
         The waves of life leap round thee like a sea—
Smiling thou hearest, happy-eyed and tender,
         The silver clarions of thy Jubilee!
And yet . . . O God! what shrouded shapes of pity
         Are these who cry unto thee from afar?
Huddling beneath the gas, in the dark City,
         Hagar and Mary wail their evil star!
For Hagar still is hungry and forth-driven,
         And Magdalen still crawls from door to door,
Tho’ He who cast no stone, and promised Heaven,
         Bade her repent and go, and sin no more.
Long, long hath she repented, tho’ foul fetters
         Still bind her to the sin without a name;
And on the children’s breasts the crimson letters
         Tell to a cruel world the mother’s shame.
But thou, too, art a Mother, Queen appointed,
         And thou, too, hast thy children! Wherefore, heed
The crying of the lost one, who anointed
         Thy Master’s feet, and save her sinless seed.
Feed Hagar and her little ones, whose crying
         Pierces the heart of Pity to the core!
Find Magdalen, from shrine to shrine still flying,
         And say to him who stones her as of yore:
“The time hath come for justice in full measure,
         For him who shares the sin to share the stain;
No longer shall my triumph or my pleasure
         Be troubled by my broken sister’s pain!”
O Lady, such a word of vindication
         Shall value all thy splendour twentyfold;
Hagar’s new gladness, Magdalen’s salvation,
         Would be a brighter crown than that of gold!

               . . . For the season of waiting is over,
                   And the winter of sorrow is done,
               ’Mid acclaim of the people who love her
                   Our Lady steps forth in the sun.
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder
         As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
         If the weary and outcast are weeping no longer,
         The wrong’d stands erect, at her feet kneels the wronger,
                   For the Golden Year has begun!

The Golden Year! How loudly and how gladly
         The trumpets of thy Jubilee are blown!
But . . . what is this that loometh out so sadly
         Yonder, behind the shining of thy throne?
Christ’s Tree? A cloud of blackness doth enfold it,
         Beneath it weeping shapes their wild arms toss—
Alas! the bright sun strikes, and we behold it—
         The Tree of Man’s Invention, not the Cross!
Blackest of blots upon thy throne pure golden
         Casts this foul growth of evil, with its root
Deep as the roots of Hell, this upas olden
         With blood for blossoms, flesh and blood for fruit!
And weeping angels of the empyræan
         Look down in shame and sorrow from the sky,
While followers of the bloodless Galilean
         With impious rites lead deathless Cain to die!
While this Tree bears, O Queen, while earth is sooted
         With its black shadow, woe to thine and thee!
The air around thy throne shall be polluted,
         And Hell must laugh to hear thy Jubilee!

               By the hope and the faith thou dost cherish,
                   By summer now breaking serene,
               Let the Tree of man’s cruelty perish,
                   The Cross of man’s mercy be seen!
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder,
         As far as the sun round thine empire doth wander,
         But, long as these boughs of the upas are bearing,
         The sound of sad weeping, of bitter despairing,
                   Shall trouble thy glory, O Queen!

O merry music! Drums and fifes are sounding,
         Thy realm is resonant from sea to sea!
A million hearts are gladdening and bounding
         To the great glory of thy Jubilee!
Yet . . . who are these that thy proud throne environ,
         That, ring’d around by swords, with shout and laugh
Drag forth the monsters from whose mouths of iron
         The frail Sepoy was blown like bloodiest chaff?
Thy warriors? Thine? Not His who came proclaiming
         Love’s gospel, while earth’s Kings knelt down to hear?
O Queen, then Fire and Sword surround thee, shaming
         The peace and plenty of thy Golden Year?
O hearken! From the lonely desert places,
         From graves thy hosts have dug these latter years,
The cry of wailing tribes and wounded races
         Breaks on thy queendom with a sound of tears;
And while in cottages and princely towers
         Pale English widows weep and orphans moan,
Death comes to set his pallid funeral flowers
         And yew-trees round the footstool of thy throne!

               Yet gone are the seasons of sorrow
                   And winter hath vanish’d (men say)!
               Shall Famine and Fire come to-morrow
                   And add to the graves of to-day?
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder,
         As far as the sun round thine empire doth wander,
         Yet Cain rears his altar and slays his frail brother,
         And men who should cherish and love one another
                   Go smiling to torture and slay!

Listen, O Empress, to the tearful voices
         That pierce above the thunder of thy State!
Beyond the throng that gladdens and rejoices
         The flocks of human martyrs weep and wait.
They know thee great and good, O Queen and Mother,
         They hunger for the blessing of thy hand;
But Jacob in his pride forgets his brother,
         And Hagar wanders famish’d thro’ the land.
Grasping thine Aaron’s rod with gentle fingers,
         Touch hearts of stone until the fountains start,
Shed summer on the isle where winter lingers,
         Fill the black void in Erin’s aching heart!
Rebuke thy legions! Bid them crouch before thee,
         Nor lusting still for conquest draw the sword!
Let doves, not battle-ravens, hover o’er thee,
         And Christ, not Moloch, deck thy festal board!
For all this pomp and pride turn black and bitter
         If women weep and mourners wail their dead,
The blessing of the sorrowful were fitter
         To crown thee than the crown upon thy head!
O hearken yet, this year of years, O Mother,
         Proclaim sweet peace from every heaven-lit hill,
Let Justice be thy handmaid, and no other,
         And say to all things evil, “Cease, be still!”

               O then shall all sorrow be over,
                   And then indeed winter be done,
               ’Mid acclaim of the people who love her
                   Our Lady shall walk in the sun!
         The green earth beneath and the blue sky above her,
         Her smile shall shed peace on the millions who cover
                   The realms she hath welded to one.
         ’Tis Jubilee here, and ’tis Jubilee yonder
         As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
         But Jubilee brighter shall come with to-morrow,
         With the end of all strife and surcease of all sorrow,
                   When the night-tide of evil is done!

Epode.

         LADY, God lends a torch to light
               Thy path to peace transcending dreams.
         Uphold it! See, from height to height,
         Across the day, across the night,
               Its splendour streams!
         God gave the realm, God gives the Light—
               How sweet, how bright,
                   It beams!

         That torch is LOVE, whose lucent ray
               Slays all things cruel and unclean!
         No shadow clouds it night or day,
         While sun and moon keep equal sway,
               Calm and serene.
         God gives this torch with heaven-fed ray
               To light thy way,
                   O Queen!

         Let this thy guide and sceptre be,
               And power and peace may still be thine,
         All mortal men shall bend the knee,
         All men revere, in thine and thee,
               The Law Divine.
         Blest shall thy mighty Empire be,
         While o’er the world, from sea to sea,
         The sunlight of thy Jubilee
                   Shall shine!

[Notes:
This ode on Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee was originally published in the June, 1887 edition of The Contemporary Review (Vol. 51, p. 887-893) under the title, ‘Annus Aureolus: An Ode on the Jubilee of the Empress Victoria.’ It was reprinted in the 1892 collection, The Buchanan Ballads Old and New, with two minor alterations to the following lines:
Line 30: And o’er her head float wild-fowl purple-dyed.
Line 91: And on the children’s hearts the crimson letters ]

_____

THE LITANY. DE PROFUNDIS.

O God our Father in Heaven, Holy, Unseen, and Unknown,
Have mercy on us Thy children, who pray beneath Thy Throne!

O God our Father in Heaven, Holy, Unseen, and Unknown
Have mercy on us Thy children, who pray beneath Thy Throne.

O God the Maker of Mortals, Life of all lives that be,
Speak, that our ears may hear Thee, shine, that our eyes may see!

O God the Maker of Mortals, Life of all lives that be,
Speak, that our ears may hear Thee, shine, that our eyes may see.

O God the Unbegotten, Fountain whence all things flow,
Open the Rock of Thy Secret, that we may see Thee and know.

O God the Unbegotten, Fountain whence all things flow,
Open the Rock of Thy Secret, that we may see Thee and know.

Son that had never a Father, Father that never had Son,
Here on the Earth and yonder in Heaven, Thy will be done.

Son that had never a Father, Father that never had son,
Here on the Earth and yonder in Heaven, Thy will be done.

Remember not our offences, O Father and Lord Divine,
Pity and spare Thy children, whose sins and offences are Thine;
For if they are blind and see not, ’tis Thou who closest their eyes,
And if they are frail and foolish, ’tis Thou who shouldst make them wise!
And be not angry, O Father, but sheathe Thine avenging Sword,
Spare the things of Thy making, love them and spare them, O Lord.

We are the things of Thy making, spare us and love us, O Lord.

From all things hateful and evil, which come, O Father, from Thee,
From Sin, the Flesh, and the Devil, whom Thou permittest to be,
From what through Thee we suffer, since Thou hast made men thus,
From lesser and greater damnation, O Lord, deliver us!

From lesser and greater damnation O Lord, deliver us.

From pride and from vain glory, from all hypocrisy,
From envy, hatred, and malice, and all uncharity,
From filth, from fornication, from all things vile and abhorred
Which leaven the bread of Thy making, deliver us, O Lord.

From filth, from fornication, from all things vile and abhorred
Which leaven the bread of Thy making, deliver us, O Lord.

From thine avenging Lightning! from Fire and Famine and Pest!
From all the terrors and portents Thy Will makes manifest!
From War Thy witless Daughter, from Murder Thy maniac Son,
From Death that at Thy bidding betrays us, Almighty One,
From all Thy hand hath fashion’d to keep men mourning thus,
From all the woes of Creation, good Lord, deliver us.

From all the woes of Creation, good Lord, deliver us.

We are the things of Thy making, we are the clouds of Thy breath!
Life hast Thou made, O Father, to flee for ever from Death,
Flesh Thou hast wrapt around us, Flesh and the lusts of the same,
Out of Thy Word ’twas fashion’d, out of Thy mouth they came!
From all the doubt and the darkness Thy vials of wrath have poured
To blind the spirits that seek Thee, deliver us, good Lord.

From all the doubt and the darkness Thy vials of wrath have poured
To blind the spirits that seek Thee, deliver us, good Lord.

Thou hast set these Rulers above us, to bind us, to blind our eyes,
Thou hast sent these Priests to lure us with creeds and dogmas and lies,
Thou hast built Thy Church on the sands still shifting and tremulous:
From Churches, and Priests, and Liars, good Lord, deliver us.

From Churches, and Priests, and Liars, good Lord, deliver us.

By Thyself Incarnate within us, Thy Voice in our aching ears,
By Thy birth and Thy circumcision, Thy baptism of tears,
By fasting and by temptation, from all the passionate horde
Of Devils that seize and slay us, deliver us, good Lord.

By fasting and by temptation, from all the passionate horde
Of Devils that seize and slay us, deliver us, good Lord.

By the woe Thou hast never felt, by the Cross and the Crown of Thorn,
By the agony and the sweat on the brow of Thine Eldest Born,
By the cry that never was answer’d and ringeth ever aloud,
By the tomb that never was open’d, the dust therein, and the shroud,
By Him who sleepeth for ever, while we implore Thee thus,
From death and from tribulation, good Lord, deliver us.

From death and from tribulation, good Lord, deliver us.

Strengthen our hearts to know Thee, O God that cannot be known!
Make righteous the Kings who rule us, and sit on an earthly throne!
Set in their hands Thy sceptre, place in their hands Thy sword—
Help us to bear their yoke!

     We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.

Shine on the eyes of Thy Priests, illumine Thy Bishops, shed
Lightnings to quicken life in the creeds that are pulseless and dead.
When the Holy supper is set, and the Ghost of the Christ at the board
Sits, be Thou there in our midst!

     We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.

Instruct the Lords of the Council! endow the brain of the Fool!
Bless and preserve our Masters who sit in high places and rule!
But when in their granaries yonder the harvest of toil is stored,
Spare us some mouthfuls of bread!

     We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.

Father that dwellest in Heaven, so far from the sorrows of Earth,
Soften to us, Thy children, the travails of Death and of Birth,
Teach us to love Thee and dread Thee, to eat the bread of Thy Word,
Altho’ it be hard as stone!

     We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord.

We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord, when darkness and sorrow are near us,
When blindly we grope thro’ the dark, good Lord, we beseech Thee to hear us,
We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord, and send Thy Spirit to cheer us!

When Thy yoke is hardest to bear, good Lord, we beseech Thee to hear us.

Help us when we are falling, as we help others who fall!
By land and by sea preserve us, O Father, Maker of all!
Comfort the sick and the weary with tidings of hope and of peace,
All children, all women who labour that what Thou hast made may increase,
Open the gates to the captive, lift up the weak and forlorn,
Feed, too, the fatherless orphans, comfort the widows that mourn.
Have mercy, Father in Heaven, and send Thy spirit to cheer us,
We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord!

     Good Lord, we beseech Thee to hear us.

O Father who canst not conquer our sorrow, since it is Thine!
Maker who cannot unmake us, since we, like Thee, are divine!
Light that dwellest within us, Light that art far away!
Nearest to, farthest from us, answer our prayers when we pray!
Lord, have mercy upon us! Send Thy Spirit to cheer us!
Have mercy and hear us, O Lord!

         O Lord, have mercy and hear us.

Save us from all our enemies, Most High!

In our afflictions, Lord, be ever nigh!

Pity our sorrows, Fountain of all Light!

And when we pray be near us day and night.

Let us pray.

THE PRAYER.

Father, which art in Heaven, not here below!
     Be Thy Name hallowed, in that place of worth!
And till Thy Kingdom cometh, and we know,
     Be Thy will done more tenderly on earth!
Since we must live, give us our daily bread!
     Forgive our stumblings, since Thou mad’st us blind!
If we offend Thee, Lord, at least forgive
     As tenderly as we forgive our kind.
Spare us temptation, human or divine!
     Deliver us from evil, now and then!
The Kingdom, Power, and Glory all are Thine
     For ever and for evermore. Amen.

Let us pray.

O God, Unseen, Unknown, yet dimly guessed
     By spirit and by sense,
The miracle of Nature doth attest
     Thy dread Omnipotence!

Teach us to love Thee, God and Lord of all,
     And lead us to Thy Light!
We love Thee not, we are too weak and small,
     And Thou too Infinite! . . . .

O God, we have heard with our ears, and our fathers have told it unto us,
That Thou canst uplift or cast down, redeem, or for ever undo us,
The works Thou hast made we behold as dawn after dawn cometh breaking,
But evil and pain and despair are blent with the worlds of Thy making,—
Unveil the light of Thy Face, till all Thy dread ways become clear to us!

Deliver us out of the Darkness! Bend down thro’ Thy clouds and give ear to us.

Glory be Thine, O Father, from all things fashion’d by Thee.

As it was in the beginning, is, and ever shall be.

_____

[from]

CARMEN DEIFIC

V.

If I were a God like you, and you were a man like me,
If from a throne omnipotent I ruled all things that be,
Tidings of light and love I'd send as far as thought could fly,
And one great hymn of happiness should sound from sky to sky,—
And on your brow my gentle hand should shed the saving dew,
If you were a man like me, and I were a God like you!

If I were a God like you, and you were a man like me,
And in the dark you prayed and wept and I could hear and see,
The sorrow of your broken heart would darken all my day,
And never peace or pride were mine, till it was smiled away,—
I'd clear my Heaven above your head till all was bright and blue,
If you were a man like me, and I were a God like you!

If I were a God like you, and you were a man like me,
Small need for those my might had made to bend the suppliant knee;
I'd light no lamp in yonder Heaven to fade and disappear,
I'd break no promise to the Soul, yet keep it to the ear!
High as my heart I'd lift my child till all his dreams came true,
If you were a man like me, and I were a God like you!

_____

THE JEW PASSES.

With slow monotonous tread,
     A Phantom hoary and grey,
While Heaven was shining overhead,
     He wandered on His way:

And still His thin feet bled,
     And His eyes were dim with tears—
‘Surely at last,’ He said,
     ‘My father in Heaven hears?

‘Surely now at last
     My Cross is a blossoming tree,—
Evil and sorrow are past,
     My Throne is ready for me?’

Worn and wan and white,
     He gazed to Heaven and smiled,
And the restless wind of the night
     Slept, like a sleeping child.

Slowly along the dark
     Unseen by Men crept He,
But the Earth lay silently down to mark
     In the soft still arms of the Sea!

He came to a City great,
     Silent under the sky,
And the watchmen at the gate
     Beheld Him not go by.

Passing the empty mart,
     Creeping from shade to shade,
He found at last in the City’s heart
     A Temple that men had made.

Dark at the Temple door
     The ragged and outcast lay,
And Lazarus wail’d once more,
     Weary and gaunt and grey.

And an altar-light burn’d there,
     And a litany sounded thence—
‘Rejoice! rejoice! for all gods that were
     Are banish’d and vanish’d hence!

‘And the only god we know
     Is the ghost of our own despair;
Gaze in the glass, and lo!
     Is he not mirror’d there?

‘Strong as when time began,
     Creature of dust and breath,
God our Lord, the Spirit of Man,
     Crown’d with the crown of Death!’

And lo! from earth and sea,
     And the skies now overcast,
A voice wail’d, ‘Woe is me!
     Death is the first and last!’

He went with silent feet
     Thro’ loathsome alley and den;
He heard around Him from every street
     The moan of the Magdalen.

‘How long, O Lord, how long,’
     He heard the lone voice cry,
‘Shall they who wrought the wrong,
     While we lie lost, go by?

‘Reach down thy hand,’ it moaned,
     ‘To help the lost, and me,—
Rabbi, the Woman still is stoned,
     The Man still wanders free!’

Still and unseen crept He
     Into the prison-square,
And He saw the Upas Tree
     Of Man’s Invention there . . .

High as the Cross it stood,
     Cross-wise its shadows fell,
And the sap of the tree was tears and blood
     And its roots sank deep as Hell.

‘Rabbi!’ again that cry
     Came from a lonely place—
And she who waited to die
     Had a Woman’s form and face.

‘Reach down thy hand,’ she moaned,
     ‘To help the lost, and me,—
Rabbi, the Woman still is stoned,
     The Man still wanders free!

‘The lie, the blight, and the ban,
     That doom me, men have cast—
By Man I fell, and my Judge, a man,
     Threw the first stone, and last.

‘Master, master!’ she said,
     ‘Hither, come hither to me!’
He left His blessing upon her head,
     His curse on the Upas Tree!

And all His soul was stirr’d,
     His tears like red blood ran,
While the light of the woeful Word
     Flamed on the City of Man!

And the heavens grew black as night,
     And the voice cried: ‘Wander on!’
And the cold Moon’s arms clung wild and white
     Round a World all woe-begone!

He walked upon the Sea,
     And the lamb-like waves lay still,
And He came to Calvary
     And the Crosses high on the hill.

Beneath His Cross He stood,
     Between the thief and the thief;
And lo, the Cross dript blood, dript blood,
     And never put forth a leaf!

With slow monotonous tread
     He passed from sea to sea.
‘So long, so long!’ He said,
     ‘And still no sleep for me!’

_____

SONG OF THE SLAIN.

     This is the Song of the Weak
         Trod ’neath the heel of the Strong!
     This is the Song of the hearts that break
         And bleed as we ride along,—
From sea to sea we singing sweep, but this
               is the slain man’s Song!

     Southward, a shriek of pain,
         As the martyr’d races fall!
     The wild man’s land and his herds we gain,
         With the gold that’s best of all,—
Because the leaves of the tree are black ’tis
               meet that they should fall!

     Eastward, another cry,
         Wrung from the black and red!
     But merrily our hosts go by,
         Trampling the quick and dead,—
’Tis meet that the heathen tribes should
               starve, and the Christian dogs be fed.

     Westward, close at the door,
         A cry for bread and light!
     But lo, we hug our golden store
         And feast from morn to night:—
Our brother Esau must perish too, altho’
               his skin be white!

     In the name of the Jingo-Christ
         We raise our savage song,
     In gold the martyr’s blood is priced
         Wherever we march along,
How should we heed our brother’s cry,—
               he is weak and we are strong!

     We have sow’d, and lo! we reap,
         We are strong, and lo! we slay;
     We are lords of Earth and Deep,
         And this is our triumph-day,—
The broken wave and the broken heart are
               spent, and vanish away!

     Ever the Weak must fall
         Under the strength of the Strong!
     And God (they say), who is Lord of all,
         Smiles as we sweep along;
Yet tho’ we are strong and our song is loud,
               this is the slain man’s Song!

_____

Next: ‘The Charter’d Companie’

A Selection of Poems - the List