The poetical works of George MacDonald Volume Ii Part 47

And may his love who can restore All losses, give all new good things, Like loving eyes and sheltering wings Be round us all for evermore!

_THEY ARE BLIND_.

They are blind, and they are dead: We will wake them as we go; There are words have not been said, There are sounds they do not know: We will pipe and we will sing-- With the Music and the Spring Set their hearts a wondering!

They are tired of what is old, We will give it voices new; For the half hath not been told Of the Beautiful and True.

Drowsy eyelids shut and sleeping!

Heavy eyes oppressed with weeping!

Flashes through the lashes leaping!

Ye that have a pleasant voice, Hither come without delay; Ye will never have a choice Like to that ye have to-day: Round the wide world we will go, Singing through the frost and snow Till the daisies are in blow.

Ye that cannot pipe or sing, Ye must also come with speed; Ye must come, and with you bring Weighty word and weightier deed-- Helping hands and loving eyes!

These will make them truly wise-- Then will be our Paradise.

_March 27, 1852._

_WHEN THE STORM WAS PROUDEST_.

When the storm was proudest, And the wind was loudest, I heard the hollow caverns drinking down below; When the stars were bright, And the ground was white, I heard the gra.s.ses springing underneath the snow.

Many voices spake-- The river to the lake, And the iron-ribbed sky was talking to the sea; And every starry spark Made music with the dark, And said how bright and beautiful everything must be.

When the sun was setting, All the clouds were getting Beautiful and silvery in the rising moon; Beneath the leafless trees Wrangling in the breeze, I could hardly see them for the leaves of June.

When the day had ended, And the night descended, I heard the sound of streams that I heard not through the day, And every peak afar Was ready for a star, And they climbed and rolled around until the morning gray.

Then slumber soft and holy Came down upon me slowly, And I went I know not whither, and I lived I know not how; My glory had been banished, For when I woke it vanished; But I waited on its coming, and I am waiting now.

_THE DIVER._

FROM SCHILLER.

"Which of you, knight or squire, will dare Plunge into yonder gulf?

A golden beaker I fling in it--there!

The black mouth swallows it like a wolf!

Who brings me the cup again, whoever, It is his own--he may keep it for ever!"

'Tis the king who speaks. He flings from the brow Of the cliff, that, rugged and steep, Hangs out o'er the endless sea below, The cup in the whirlpool's howling heap:-- "Again I ask, what hero will follow, What hero plunge into yon dark hollow?"

The knights and the squires the king about Hear, and dumbly stare Into the wild sea's tumbling rout; To win the beaker they hardly care!

The king, for the third time, round him glaring-- "Not one soul of you has the daring?"

Speechless all, as before, they stand.

Then a squire, young, gentle, gay, Steps from his comrades' shrinking band, Flinging his girdle and cloak away; And all the women and men that surrounded Gazed on the n.o.ble youth, astounded.

And when he stepped to the rock's rough brow And looked down on the gulf so black, The waters which it had swallowed, now Charybdis bellowing rendered back; And, with a roar as of distant thunder, Foaming they burst from the dark lap under.

It wallows, seethes, hisses in raging rout, As when water wrestles with fire, Till to heaven the yeasty tongues they spout; And flood upon flood keeps mounting higher: It will never its endless coil unravel, As the sea with another sea were in travail!

But, at last, slow sinks the writhing spasm, And, black through the foaming white, Downward gapes a yawning chasm-- Bottomless, cloven to h.e.l.l's wide night; And, sucked up, see the billows roaring Down through the whirling funnel pouring!

Then in haste, ere the out-rage return again, The youth to his G.o.d doth pray, And--ascends a cry of horror and pain!-- Already the vortex hath swept him away, And o'er the bold swimmer, in darkness eternal, Close the great jaws of the gulf infernal!

Then the water above grows smooth as gla.s.s, While, below, dull roarings ply; And trembling they hear the murmur pa.s.s-- "High-hearted youth, farewell, good-bye!"

And hollower still comes the howl affraying, Till their hearts are sick with the frightful delaying.

If the crown itself thou in should fling, And say, "Who back with it hies Himself shall wear it, and shall be king,"

I would not covet the precious prize!

What Ocean hides in that howling h.e.l.l of it Live soul will never come back to tell of it!

Ships many, caught in that whirling surge, Shot sheer to their dismal doom: Keel and mast only did ever emerge, Shattered, from out the all-gulping tomb!-- Like the bl.u.s.ter of tempest, clearer and clearer, Comes its roaring nearer and ever nearer!

It wallows, seethes, hisses, in raging rout, As when water wrestles with fire, Till to heaven the yeasty tongues they spout, Wave upon wave's back mounting higher; And as with the grumble of distant thunder, Bellowing it bursts from the dark lap under.

And, see, from its bosom, flowing dark, Something heave up, swan-white!

An arm and a shining neck they mark, And it rows with never relaxing might!

It is he! and high his golden capture His left hand waves in success's rapture!

With long deep breaths his path he ploughed, And he hailed the heavenly day; Jubilant shouted the gazing crowd, "He lives! he is there! he broke away!

Out of the grave, the whirlpool uproarious, The hero hath rescued his life victorious!"

He comes; they surround him with shouts of glee; At the king's feet he sinks on the sod, And hands him the beaker upon his knee; To his lovely daughter the king gives a nod: She fills it brim-full of wine sparkling and playing, And then to the king the youth turned him saying:

"Long live the king!--Well doth he fare Who breathes in this rosy light, But, ah, it is horrible down there!

And man must not tempt the heavenly Might, Or ever seek, with prying unwholesome, What he graciously covers with darkness dolesome!

"It tore me down with a headlong swing; Then a shaft in a rock outpours, Wild-rushing against me, a torrent spring; It seized me, the double stream's raging force, And like a top, with giddy twisting, It spun me round--there was no resisting!

"Then G.o.d did show me, sore beseeching In deepest, frightfullest need, Up from the bottom a rock-ledge reaching-- At it I caught, and from death was freed!

And, behold, on spiked corals the beaker suspended, Which had else to the very abyss descended!

"For below me it lay yet mountain-deep The purply darksome maw; And though to the ear it was dead asleep, The ghasted eye, down staring, saw How with dragons, lizards, salamanders crawling, The h.e.l.l-jaws horrible were sprawling.

"Black swarming in medley miscreate, In ma.s.ses lumped hideously, Wallowed the conger, the th.o.r.n.y skate, The lobster's grisly deformity; And bared its teeth with cruel sheen a Terrible shark, the sea's hyena.

"And there I hung, and shuddering knew That human help was none; One thinking soul mid the horrid crew, In the ghastly solitude I was alone-- Deeper than man's speech ever sounded, By the waste sea's dismal monsters surrounded.

"I thought and shivered. Then something crept near, Moved at once a hundred joints!

Now it will have me!--Frantic with fear I lost my grasp of the coral points!

Away the whirl in its raging tore me, But it was my salvation, and upward bore me!"