Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity. Peeped-but his eyes, before they had their will, And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused; And she, that knew not, passed: and all at once, With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers, Her bower; whence reissuing, robed and crowned, THE TWO VOICES. A STILL Small voice spake unto me, "Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?" Then to the still small voice I said: "Let me not cast in endless shade What is so wonderfully made.” To which the voice did urge reply: "To-day I saw the dragon-fly Come from the wells where he did lie. "An inner impulse rent the veil “He dried his wings: like gauze they grew: I said, "When first the world began, "She gave him mind, the lordliest Proportion, and, above the rest, Dominion in the head and breast." Thereto the silent voice replied: "Self-blinded are you by your pride: Look up through night: the world is wide. "This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse. "Think you this mould of hopes and fears It spake, moreover, in my mind: Though thou wert scattered to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind." Then did my response clearer fall: "No compound of this earthly ball Is like another, all in all." To which he answered scoffingly: "Or will one beam be less intense, Is cancelled in the world of sense?" I would have said, "Thou canst not know," But my full heart, that worked below, Rained through my sight its overflow. Again the voice spake unto me: “Thou art so steeped in misery, Surely 'twere better not to be. "Thine anguish will not let thee sleep, Nor any train of reason keep: Thou canst not think, but thou wilt weep." I said, "The years with change advance: "Some turn this sickness yet might take, Even yet." But he: "What drug can make A withered palsy cease to shake ?” I wept, "Though I should die, I know "And men, through novel spheres of thought Still moving after truth long sought, Will learn new things when I am not.” "Yet,” said the secret voice, "some time, "Not less swift souls that yearn for light, Would sweep the tracts of day and night. "Not less the bee would range her cells, I said that" all the years invent; "Were this not well, to bide mine hour, Though watching from a ruined tower How grows the day of human power?” "The highest-mounted mind," he said, "Still sees the sacred morning spread The silent summit overhead. "Will thirty seasons render plain Those lonely lights that still remain, Just breaking over land and main ? "Or make that morn, from his cold crown And crystal silence creeping down, Flood with full daylight glebe and town ? "Forerun thy peers, thy time, and let Thy feet, millenniums hence, be set In midst of knowledge dreamed not yet. “Thou hast not gained a real height, Nor art thou nearer to the light, Because the scale is infinite. ""Twere better not to breathe or speak, Than cry for strength, remaining weak, And seem to find, but still to seek. "Moreover, but to seem to find Asks what thou lackest, thought resigned, A healthy frame, a quiet mind." I said, "When I am gone away, "This is more vile," he made reply, "Sick art thou-a divided will Still heaping on the fear of ill The fear of men, a coward still. "Do men love thee? Art thou so bound To men, that how thy name may sound Will vex thee lying underground? "The memory of the withered leaf In endless time is scarce more brief Than of the garnered Autumn-sheaf. "Go, vexed Spirit, sleep in trust; The right ear, that is filled with dust, Hears little of the false or just." |