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… Let there be silence while the sleeper wakes! O coiled and constricted and chosen! O tortured and twisted and twined! Deep spring of my soul deep frozen, The sleep of the truth of the mind! As a bright snake curled Round the vine of the World! E
…he nenuphar Sleeps for her couch. All darkness dreams The thing that is not, only seems. That star upon the serpent’s head Is called the soul of man: That light in shadows subtly shed The glamour of life’s plan. The sea whereon that lotus grows Is thought’s abyss of tears and woes. Leave Sirenusa! Even Greece Forget! they are not there! By worship cometh not the Peace, The Silence not by prayer! Leave the illusions, life and time And death, and seek that star sublime— Until the lotus and the sea And snake no longer are, And single through etern…
110 A SLIM GILT SOUL FEW men are given, twixt heaven and hell, To play one part supremely well. On all times tablets there are few Who make a first-rate show of two, While those who perfectly play three We knew not, until you were he. For what were lovelier on the lawn Than you, pearl-naked to the dawn, Wrapped in a scarlet dressing-gown Not thirty miles from London town, The observed of all observers save That Scotland Yard, serene and suave, When trouble came, went tramping by ; Closed one, and winked the other eye. How pleasantly you m…
… . Earth for the service of her King Does on a radiant purity , Deep to her centre passioning Mother and nurse of man to be, And all the soul of God is great With transport unimaginable , He thrills , he trembles , to create Man that has mind to praise him well .” VI . “ There is a chaos throned above the throne Law is the servant of no destiny : Law is a shadow thrown From shapes of things by fires of Anarchy . Formless are the fires , unconfined , Neither obedient to their own desires Nor serving other mind . They are and are not ; neither li…
…and weep. But he is free, and knoweth no more pain. VII THE SONG Yea! I who have lain dead among the roses Have slain love utterly in my soul By mine own death ! O constant-playing fount Under the shadow of our Venus’ mount— Thou whom I love, unto whose vine uncloses The gaping wound whose sap hath made me whole,—
…and weep. But he is free, and knoweth no more pain. VII THE SONG Yea! I who have lain dead among the roses Have slain love utterly in my soul By mine own death ! O constant-playing fount Under the shadow of our Venus’ mount— Thou whom I love, unto whose vine uncloses The gaping wound whose sap hath made me whole,—
…2 of the whole phantasmagoria presented to it by experience; for since every event of life is a sym bol of part of the structure of the Soul, the totality of experience must be the “Name” of the whole of that part of the Soul which
That if man lack not purpose, but succeed, Reaching in very deed Impersonal existence; — Lo ! Man is made one with God, an equal soul. For he shall know The harmony, the oneness of the Whole. This was my purpose. Vain, Ah vain ! The Star of the Unconquered Will Centred its vehemence and light, to stain In one successful strain, The stainless sphere of the unchangeable. With its own passionate, desperate breath Ever confronting the dark gate of Death. I passed that gate ! O pitiful ! The same Mystery holds me, and the flame Of Life stands up, un…
…ke the divine! As sunlight enkindles the ocean, As moonlight shakes earth with emotion, As starlight shoots trembling in wine, So be thy soul for a man! Teach my young fingers to span That musical lyre of thine! Passion and music and peace, Teach me the singing of these! - Teach me the tune of the vine! Teach me the stars to resemble, 28
…ook on this tight coil of bliss, Swift clasp of Rodin’s magical mind love-witted, See all creation fade; abide, one kiss. Then to my own soul’s bow this shaft be fitted; Thank God for all, seeing that all is this! 33 F
… bosom of fixed earth ; and Need, The Lady of Beginning, also was. Thus was the firmament a vital glass, The waters as the vessel of the soul ; Thus earth, the mystic basis of the whole, Was smitten through with fire, as chrysopras, Blending, uniting and dividing it, Volcanic, airy, and celestial. I rose within the elemental ball, And lo ! the Ancient One of Days did sit ! His head and hair were white as wool, his eyes A flaming fire : and from the splended mouth Flashed the Eternal Sword ! Lo ! Lying at his feet as dead, I saw The leaping-fort…
… lustre of your eyes dissolves The veil that hides your naked splendour From these infirm resolves And halting loves of your poor poets soul With radiance mild and tender, So that I see awhile the golden goal ! Yea ! all your light involves Me, me tenebrous, me too cold and base Ever to kindle to the maiden face (Three years my wife, three years of me unwon !) That would be mine, be mine, Were I but man enough To endure the rapture of that sudden sun The knowledge of your love, The assumption of me into that sweet shrine Whose godhead duly kno…
… or attempting to pervert it, as ignorance and fear, shame and weakness, so often induce him to do. Whatever the act which expresses the soul, that act and no other is right. But, on the other hand, whatever the act may be it is always a sacrament; and, however profaned, it is always efficient. To pro fane it is only to turn food into poison. The act must be pure and passionate. It must be held as the union with God in the heart of the Holy of Holies. One must never forget that a child will be born of that deed. One must choose the environment…
…e caps of it, golden or hoary, Leap in the light of the sun, in the light of the eyes of the sea. Triumph is born like a flower, and the soul of the adept is free. 76
… thy red centre are my eyes held fast and fervent, as at night Some sad miasma lends a light of strange and silent blasphemies To lure a soul to hell, to draw some saint’s charred lust, to tempt, to win Another sacrifice to sin, another poet’s heart to gnaw With dubious remorse. Oh ! flame of torturing flower- love ! sacrament Of Satan, triple element of mystery and love and shame, Green, gold, and crimson, in my heart you strive with Jesus for its realm, While Sorrow’s tears would overwhelm the warriors of either part.
…, Deep in the hearts that revel in it, Drowned in the breath of the hell that pours In the heart of Paris its infamous wave. Damning the soul of God, I rise, Stumble among the dissolute bands, 36
…tame. An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame Is this great ache that grips the heart of me. Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws Till I am dead. Then let me die ! Who knows But that this corpse committed to the earth May be the occasion of some happier birth ? Springs earliest snowdrop ? Summers latest rose ? II Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth In the white breast that trembled like a flower At thy name whispered. Thou hast marked how hour By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth,
were too fascinated to express anything less than a deep, dull joy. Our song-makers tell us that pleasure makes the soul kind, and softens the heart; the song was right that evening as far as I was concerned; not only was I made tender by this family of eyes, but I felt a little ashamed of our bottles and glasses, that were greater than our thirst. I turned my looks to yours, dear love, to read my thought therein. I plunged into your eyes, so beautiful and so strangely sweet; into your green eyes, indwelt by caprice, and in- spired by the moon;…
HYMN TO PAN sqpptç epcoTi ‘KEpiocpyrjç c avEûTogav tco tco Tüàv Tîàv (o T:àv izàv àXrrcXayxts, xuXXavtaç ytovoxTU~Gt<. TiiTpata; àîîo SeipdSoç çàvY]ô\ co (kcov yopoTcét’ ava^ SOPH. AJ. Thrill with lissome lust of the light, O man ! My man ! Corne careering out of the night Of Pan ! Io Pan! Io Pan ! Io Pan ! Corne over the sea From Sicily and from Arcady ! Roaming as Racchus, with fauns and pards And nymphs and satyrs for thy gnards, On a milk-white ass, corne over the sea To me, to me, Corne with Apollo in hridal dress (Shepherdess and pythones…
…or the Buddha, was a Magus of our Holy Order. And His Word was ANATTA; for the Root of His whole Doctrine was that there is no Atman, or Soul, as Men ill translate it, meaning a Substance incapable of Change. Thus, He, like Lao-Tze, based all upon a Movement, instead of a fixed Point. And His Way of Truth was Analysis, made possible by great Intention of the Mind toward itself, and that well fortified by certain tempered Rigour of Life. And He most thoroughly explored and Mapped out the Fastnesses of the Mind, and gave the Keys of its Fortresse…