THE NEW WINE
269
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tortures his very soul ; rather would he be reborn in the
lowest
depths of Orcus
and point
out to others
the
path of salvation , than attain to the uttermost
bliss ,
whilst others are being damned . George Eliot , know
ingly or unknowingly
,
set
the true lyre
of
Buddhism
reverberating
in
her grand
and noble prayer
,
“
The
Choir
Invisible
.”
May
I
reach
That
purest
heaven
,
be
to
other souls
The cup
of
strength
in
some great agony
,
Enkindle
generous ardour
,
feed pure
love
,
Beget the smiles that have
no
cruelty
,
Be
the sweet
presence
of
a
good diffus'd
And
in
diffusion ever
more
intense
!
So
shall
I
join the choir invisible
Whose music
is
the gladness
of
the world
.
In
the
song
of
Orpheus we listen
to
the glittering
and mystic consummation
of
bliss
:
This world
is
shadow
-
shapen
of
The bitterness
of
pain
.
Vain are the little lamps
of
love
!
The light
of
life
is
vain
!
Life
,
death
,
joy
,
sorrow
,
age and youth
Are phantoms
of
a
further truth
.
Beyond the splendour
of
the world
,
False glittering
of
the gold
,
A
Serpent
is
in
slumber curled
In
wisdom's sacred cold
.
Life
is
the flaming
of
that flame
.
Death
is
the naming
of
that
name
.
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
.