Collected Works (Vol. I)

THE HOLY OF HOLIES 209 Infinite rings of luminous ether move At first amid the blackness that I seek: Infinite motion and amazing love Deaden the lustre of the night. I speak The cry of silence, that is heard unspoken ; That, being heard, rings evermore unbroken. Silence, deep silence. Not a shudder stirs The vast demesne of unforgetful space, No comet’s lunatic rush: no meteor whirs, No star dares breathe, no planet knows his place In that supreme unquiet quietude. I am the master of my own deep mood. I am the master. Yea, no doubt I rule The whole mad universe by will extended!— Who whispers then, ‘‘ O miserable fool ! This night thy might and majesty are ended; Thy soul shall be required of thee”? I heard This voice, and knew it for my proper word ! Yea, mine own voice: the higher spirit speaks, Stemming the hands that guide, the arms that hold, Even the infinite brain: that spirit seeks A loftier dawn of more ephemeral gold— Ephemeral, and eternal: droop thine head, O God ! for thou must suffer this: I said! Droop thy wide pinions, O thou mortal God ! Sink thy vast forehead, and let Life con- sume The miserable life thy feet have trod Beneath them, that thine own life in its doom Fall, in its resurrection to arise; Stoop, that its holier hope may cleave the skies. Power, power, and power! O single sacrifice On thine own altar: let thy savour steam Up, through the domes of broken Paradise ; Up, by Euphrates’? unimagined stream ; Up, by strange river and mysterious lawn To some impossible diadem of dawn ! 1 Cf. Fichte. 2 Or Phrath, the Fourth River of the Mystic Eden, flowing from ‘Tiphereth to Yesod. VOL. 1. So the mere orderly ruling of events Shall change and blossom to a finer flower Until it serve to worlds and elements For aspiration in the nobler hour— Not mere repression, but the hope and crown Of fallen hierarchies no more cast down. O misery of triple love and grief And hope! O joy of hatred and despair And happiness! The little hour is brief, And the lithe fingers soothe the listless hair Less, and the kisses swoon to tenderer sighs And little sobs of sleeping ecstasies. No! for the envy of the infinite Crushes the juice from out the poppy’s stem, And brown-stained fingers wring the petals white, And weary lips seek lotus-life in them Vainly: the lotus burns above the tomb— Yea, but in thought’s unfathomable womb! For spiritual life and love and light Climb the swayed Jadder of our various fate ; The steep rude stair that mocks the hero’s might, Casts off the wise, and crumbles with the great. Yet from the highest crown no blossom fell, Save one, to bring salvation unto Hell. O angel of my spiritual desire !? O luminous master of the silver feet ! O passionate rose of infinite white fire ! O cross of sacrifice made bitter-sweet ! O wide-wing, star-brow, veritable lord ! O mystic bearer of the flaming sword ! O brows half seen, O visionary star Seen in the fragrant breezes of the East ! O lover of my love, O avatar Of the All-One, O mystical High Priest ! O thou before whose eyes my weak eyes fail, Wonderful warden of the Holy Grail! 1 The ‘‘Genius” of Socrates; the ‘‘ Holy Guardian Angel” of Abramelin the Mage; or the ‘‘ Higher Self" of the Theosophists. a)