Eidolon, or The Course of a Soul Part 12

It is the sign Of Earth's fraternity, the only tie That links us all, Both great and small, In common sympathy.

It is the heart Issueing from its prison house of clay; Perchance gladly, Perchance sadly, Wending on its way.

IONE.

Sad are the glances from thy deep blue eyes, Ione, Soft as the mirror of the summer skies When twilight shadows o'er its surface steal, And twinkling stars their radiant orbs reveal!

Why are they sad Which were so glad, Ione?

Have their rays bathed in dew-drops 'mid the air, And still the sparkling moisture trembles there?

Then, smile, for dewy tears Melt when the sun appears, Ione!

Yet thou art very beautiful in sadness, Ione!

More beautiful e'en than in gladness, And the sweet music of thy gentle sighs Comes like the language of thy speaking eyes; What do they say?

Tell me their lay, Ione!

Fain would I learn from thee what pa.s.sing thought Can with such plaintive melody be fraught-- Ah! wherefore turn away, Stay, yet a little stay, Ione!

REALITY.

O the heart has dreams Elysian!

That steal o'er it calm and sweet, Hushing pain like a magician Who binds spirits at his feet.

But the forms that throng its mazes Are too bright for mortal birth, And the scenes that fancy raises Far too beautiful for earth.

Let us turn with humbler spirits To the things that G.o.d has made, Pa.s.s the weakness flesh inherits, Since the sunshine, too, has shade.

'Tis the pride of human nature That makes life seem cold and drear, Drawing up a dwarfish stature To o'ertop its proper sphere.

Gath'ring round it misty fancies, Like the mountain's cloudy wreath, Till the spirit's errant glances See no beauty underneath.

There are true hearts beating nigh us As we fight the fight of life, Hearts unstain'd by guilty bias, Hearts unharden'd by its strife.

There are gentle bosoms swelling With all motions pure and kind, That unceasingly are welling Solace to the weary mind.

Few there are without possessing Some good virtue in their heart, Whence, beneath love's soft compressing, As from flowers, sweet perfumes start.

Dreamer, turn then to the real With a frank and trusting soul, Not alone to the ideal Let thy genial currents roll.

Pierce the clay that oft encloses The pure brightness of a gem, Think thee, flowers less fair than roses, In their sweetness rival them.

Thus in truth, and not in dreaming, Life will blossom to the full, Unto love's eyes all things seeming Prism'd through the beautiful.

RETROSPECTION.

Oh, my heart throbs ever wildly, half in joy and half in scorning, As the course of my life's story dimly flits across my mind, Now that fate seems clear and steady, and the mist that veil'd its morning Has resolved into bright sunshine with the azure heaven behind.

And I cry with exultation--"Bless he who feeling in him Precepts of pure grace and beauty guiding on his willing soul, Yields himself unto their teaching, nor lets toil nor danger win him To forsake the race he runneth till he resteth at the goal."

I was sprung, from lineage n.o.ble, with a spirit inly burning To uphold my name and honor taintless from the blast of shame, I was born to be a freeman, by my birthright therefore spurning All the gilded chains of fashion that make freedom but a name.

From the forms and outward emblems of the deep-lored spirit Nature Drew I inspiration early for the moulding of my thought, Gath'ring strength from her o'erflowing, till I grew unto the stature Of a man nerved to accomplish all the good her wisdom taught.

So when years had ripen'd on me, and the world's great portals yawning, Bid me enter the enchanted palace of youth's mystic life, Eager, breathless to explore it, at each step new wonders dawning, I went on with stedfast courage, arm'd alike for peace or strife.

And I loved, that I might ever in my bosom bear a treasure Strong to ransom life from sorrow, strong to furnish it with joy; So I sought with keenest insight--neither small nor scant the measure To content my requisition--purest gold without alloy.

And I found it lying lowly, far beneath my proud line's dreaming, Who if they perchance had seen it, would with scorn have turn'd away, But I sought it with soul-gladness, e'en with pride, for to my seeming A pure gem is worth the lifting though it lie amongst the clay.

She was fair, a lumin'd beauty rippling o'er each chisell'd feature, Changing ever like the sunshine playing on the summer sea, Revelations of G.o.d's spirit permeating through his creature, Making loveliness all perfect by infused divinity.

What to me though all her dow'ry were the wealth of love and kindness, And a heart full fraught with feelings vein'd with gentleness and grace?

Which the worldling holds as nothing, smitten with judicial blindness, But which I o'er all things prizing, wed her in the weak world's face.

Scared my kinsmen were and bitter for the shame and the dishonour, Said they, I had brought upon them and the n.o.ble name I bore; And my sire with pa.s.sion burning launch'd his deepest curses on her, And as though I were a felon, drove me fiercely from his door.

I was destined for some puppet, some gold image of his choosing, Doubtless, who was made to worship like the golden calf of old, With no merit but her riches, but such shame my soul refusing, I was cast forth without blessing, poor and guideless from the fold.

Poor?--Not poor, for she went with me, pouring still with patient spirit Balm upon my wounded feelings, peace upon my burning soul; So that though man's love was reft me, 'twas the better to inherit That which far transcends man's favour,--sentience of Heaven's sweetest dole.

Words of scorn and deep contemning gave I back for their reviling, For my soul waxed wroth within me to be judged by such as they, Fools so sage in their great folly, that they shake their bells, and smiling With an imbecile self-blindness, sneer the wise of heart away.

Let them wear their masking purple, threadbare now with vilest uses, All the ancient gloss and brightness faded from it through their stains, _They_ may be disgraced, degraded, but true n.o.bleness, ne'er loses By relinquishing its trappings, whilst the spirit still remains.

Did I shame them that I ceded all the forms and false adorning That doth deck them for their stations heedless of the stuff within, And stood forth in my own fashion, such as G.o.d had made me, scorning To be made a man of tinsel, to be honoured for my kin.

Did I shame them that rejoicing in the freedom of my spirit I a.s.serted all its fulness, spite of prejudice and pride; Whilst they, slaves of wealth and fashion, trembling cowards did not dare it, Would not risk a pointed finger e'en to gain an angel bride.

Was the n.o.ble name they cited but the badge of slaves and va.s.sals, Bound beyond emanc.i.p.ation to obey another's mood?

Better far to be a peasant 'neath the shadow of their castles, Than debase the soul within me to such brutish servitude.

What were they with all their lordship, all their riches, measured duly, That they looked with scorn upon her in her unadorned worth?

Ashy fruit with surface golden, she with goodness leavened throughly, All her wealth by heaven imparted, their's derived alone from Earth.

Oh! I felt a high compa.s.sion for their warp'd and narrow feelings As I press'd my bride unto me, and read o'er her gentle eyes, Gaining deeper insight daily, meeting ever new revealings Of the grace of woman's spirit, and her holy sympathies.

So we pilgrim'd on together, buffeting the ills about us, Sharing hope, and joy, and sorrow, as we shared our daily bread, Keeping still a pleasaunce scathless in our hearts, though all without us Might be cheerless desolation, and the sky with clouds o'erspread.

Through much toil and tribulation, we attain'd at last to honour With no succour from my kindred, I upreared my house alone, And I see my cherish'd maiden, with admiring gazes on her, Glide amid the high and n.o.ble with a grace beyond their own.