Collected Works (Vol. I)

206 THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST Yonder the hatred of the dismal steep Sweeps up to wrathful thunders, that are curled In billowy menace, as the deadlier deep That menaces the world With breaking foam: so hangs the glacier, rent By giant sunrays, in the frost-grip pent. Yonder again rears up the craggy wall Its cleaving head to heaven: thither I Clomb the vast terrors, where the echoing fall Roars stony from the sky. Thither I pressed at midnight, and the dawn Saw my swift feet move faster than the fawn. Pale seas of blue soft azure lie beyond, Far o’er the gleaming green: the smoke is risen Out of the cloudy north ; the incense-wand That binds dead souls in prison, That prison of the day, when sleepless dead Rest for awhile from agony and dread. Strange ! how a certain fear possesses me Alone amid their crag-bound solitude. Even beyond the keen delight—to Be— Steals that diviner mood Of wonder at the miracle—the plan Of Nature crowned by the astounding Man! The secret of the Lord is set with him That wonders at His majesty :? his praise Wells from no trembler’s misery: his hymn Swells the exultant day’s. His psalm wings upward, and reflected down Even in Hell makes music and renown. Yea! for the echo of the anthem rolls Down to the lost unfathomable deep. Down, to the darkness of all shades and souls, The founts of music sweep. Even the devils in the utter night Feel it the saving, not the avenging light. 1 See the Psalms of David. '' Wonders" is a correcter rendering than ‘' fears.” Yea! for the worship of my secret song Vibrates through every chasm of the world : Its sound is caught by angels, and made strong ! By sylphs, and dewed, and pearled With fairy melodies, and borne, alone, Aloft, to the immeasurable throne. O mighty palace of immortal stone ! O glamour of the fathomless gray snow ! O clouds! O whirlwinds of my mountain throne! I chargé your souls to go Unto the souls of men, and bid them rise Toward redemption, and the unsullied eyes. I charge you go and whisper unto men The solemn glories of your secret mind, Making them pure, and wise; return ye then Unto your proper kind, Having thus offered water, blood, and tears, for the remission of our carrion years.! So deepen all the mountains: even so The wandering shadows close upon the day; The sunlight burns its fading ruby glow On the chaotic way. Night falls, and I must tread the dizzy steep Again, to plunge to the devouring deep. The blessing of the Highest shall be set On your white heads, O monarchs of the snow ! The blessing of the Highest, lightening yet The burdens that ye know. So, as three golden arrows of the sun Strike, may the threefold sacrament be One ! O visionary valley of my Soul! When shall thy beauty, even thine, be made As pure and mighty as these hills that roll In mist and sun and shade? O thou! the Highest! make my will as thine, My consciousness, the consciousness divine ! 1 See the Prayer of the Undines, given by \"liphaz I.evi and some other writers on occult subjects.