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…Rose, my Rose, my Rose, And the things I have said to thee Are but the foolish echoes the wind blows Into mine ears from the most secret world Wherein thy faded petals dropped, And stopped Decaying, for eternally are curled Tightly new petals. So this my song shall be The last I shall sing to thee, To thee. Oh, the wind blows Thy secret to me, Rose | 138
…that He exists. God is the absolute object of human faith. In the infinite, He is the supreme and creative intelligence of order. In the world, He is the spirit of charity. Is the Universal Being a fatal machine which eternally grinds down intelligences by chance, or a _providential intelligence which directs forces in order to ameliorate minds? The first hypothesis is repugnant to reason; it is pessimistic and immoral. Science and reason ought then to accept the second. Yes, Proudhon, God is an hypothesis, but an hypothesis so necessary, that …
…nd wave a hand, and cry "God bless you, pretty lady, and send you safe and happy day!" with the frank warmth of the Italian peasant. The world was a fine place, after all, and Cyril Grey was the dearest boy in it, and herself the happiest woman. [291]
…ct so much as the automatic stirring of heartless passions. Con‐ sciousness has fallen into a realm unenlightened by reason. This is the world of the uncon‐ scious primitive instincts, of the psychopath, of the fanatic. The celestial ruler is Mars in Gemini, crude rage of hunger operating without restraint; although its form is intellectual, it is the temper of the inquisitor. The symbol shows nine swords of varying lengths, all striking downwards to a point. They are jagged and rusty. Poison and blood drip from their blades. There is, however,…
…I've got to tell Cripps something, and he'll think I'm mad. It's bluff, too; but it's true for all that — and it's the one chance in the world." "Right O!" "Are we retreating again?" "All through the night. There's not a dog's chance to save Paris, and the line stretches every hour." "Don't worry about Paris — it's as safe as Bordeaux. Safer, because the Covernment is at Bordeaux!" "My poor friend, wouldn't you be better in a home?" The British Army had no illusions about its situation. It was a thin, drab line of heroes, very thin and very dra…
…on: I am of them, false or frail, True or lasting, all is fusion in the spirits shadow-veil, Till the KnowledgeeLotus flowering hides the world beneath its stem ; Neither I, nor God life-showering, find a counterpart in them, As a spirit in a vision shows a countenance of fear, Laughs the looker to derision, only comes to disappear, Gods and mortals, mind and matter, in the glowing bud dissever: Vein from vein they rend and shatter, and are nothingness for ever. In the blessed, the enlightened, perfect eyes these visions pass, Pass and cease, poo…
…on: I am of them, false or frail, True or lasting, all is fusion in the spirits shadow-veil, Till the KnowledgeeLotus flowering hides the world beneath its stem ; Neither I, nor God life-showering, find a counterpart in them, As a spirit in a vision shows a countenance of fear, Laughs the looker to derision, only comes to disappear, Gods and mortals, mind and matter, in the glowing bud dissever: Vein from vein they rend and shatter, and are nothingness for ever. In the blessed, the enlightened, perfect eyes these visions pass, Pass and cease, poo…
40 AMBERGRIS FROM THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST The Palace of the World The fragrant gateways of the dawn Teem with the scent of flowers. The mother, Midnight, has withdrawn Her slumberous kissing hours : Day springs, with footsteps as a fawn, Into her rosy bowers. The pale and holy maiden horn In highest heaven is set. My forehead, bathed in her forlorn Light, with her lips is met ; My lips, that murmur in the morn, With lustrous dew are wet. My prayer is mighty with my will ; My purpose as a sword Flames through the adamant, to fill The garden…
…nd thy ghastly form Thy spirit’s torture shall abate The bodily pangs of thy fearsome fate. Weak fool ! The fate of Arcady And the whole world — that hung on thee ! Hadst thou but made thee Emperor, And led thy legions into war ! Thou broken reed — a birth unclean, A life sucked up in sordid spleen, A death absurd, most foully wrought To the shape of thy father’s leper-thought. This be thy doom, that thou shalt see The curses that are born of thee ! Thou black bat that hast barred the sun From the sight of man, thou minion Of death and disease,…
…est harmony. Soft winds are calling on the cloudy deep, (Like foam-flowers falling from the breasts of Sleep Their Lotus-kiss is), such a world forestalling Of wanton blisses, that the fear of palling Makes e’en the Sirens weep. Ah me! What serpent hisses from out those purple bysses, Far in the womb of the long-lying sea? She wakes I Nor dare he creep back to her soul, whence Sleep Has torn aside the mist—hung drapery ; Too strange the way, and steep. ETHEL ARCHER. 66
…est harmony. Soft winds are calling on the cloudy deep, (Like foam-flowers falling from the breasts of Sleep Their Lotus-kiss is), such a world forestalling Of wanton blisses, that the fear of palling Makes e’en the Sirens weep. Ah me! What serpent hisses from out those purple bysses, Far in the womb of the long-lying sea? She wakes I Nor dare he creep back to her soul, whence Sleep Has torn aside the mist—hung drapery ; Too strange the way, and steep. ETHEL ARCHER. 66
…ods and mortals wither ; Moons fade where constellations shone ; Numberless aeons brought us hither ; Numberless aeons beckon us on. The world is old, and I am strong— Awake, awake, O Sword of Song ! Here, in the Dusk of Gods, I linger ; The world awaits a Word of Truth. Kindle, O lyre, beneath my finger ! Evoke the age’s awful youth ! To arms against the inveterate wrong ! Awake, awake, O Sword of Song ! Sand-founded reels the House of Faith ; Up screams the howl of runing sect ; Out from the shrine flits the lost Wraith ; “God hath forsaken H…
…kind. Some of his sea-pictures are quite fine. But the magic of style that renders Arthur Machen so marvellous is lack- ing. “Old as the World” is always interesting; it is never enthralling. “Old as the World” is much better than “Morag the Seal,” and there is a marked improvement in the style. V.B.N. BLACK Macic. By MARJORIE BOWEN. Alston Rivers. 6s. Marjorie Bowen knows nothing of the real magic, but she has learnt the tales spread by fools about sorcerers, and fostered by them as the best possible concealments of their truth. Of these ingre…
…kind. Some of his sea-pictures are quite fine. But the magic of style that renders Arthur Machen so marvellous is lack- ing. “Old as the World” is always interesting; it is never enthralling. “Old as the World” is much better than “Morag the Seal,” and there is a marked improvement in the style. V.B.N. BLACK Macic. By MARJORIE BOWEN. Alston Rivers. 6s. Marjorie Bowen knows nothing of the real magic, but she has learnt the tales spread by fools about sorcerers, and fostered by them as the best possible concealments of their truth. Of these ingre…
…aces, that might not abide ; Flicker, and are foredone. So were they caught within the spacious tide, The sleepy waters that encased the world. Monsters rose up, and turned themselves, and curled Into the deep again. The darkness brooded, and the bitter pain Of chaos twisted the vast limbs of time In horrid rackings : then the spasm came : The Serpent rose, the servant of the slime, In one dark miracle of tlame Unluminous and void : the silent claim Of that which was, to be : the cry to climb, The bitter birth of Nature: uttermost Night Dwelt, …
…nks anticipation o’ the event Shoots in my veins, darting delight. Why, this is strange ! I am losing myself. Criosda ! The walls of the world fall back with a crash. Where is all this? Iam out of myself: I expand. O Maurya, where art thou, little phantom of myriads of agesago? What a memory! Ah, Ah! She is falling. [Maurya staggers. Criospa, who has been watching her narrowly, catches her and lays her tenderly on the altar.| Oh, what happiness, what happiness! Criosda, dear brother, how I love you ! I wish to sleep for ever—I wish to die ! [Cr…
…her William,” the young man said, “ And your legs are as flabby as suet, Yet you gloat in a week on a second-rate peak, Pray, how in the world do you do it?” 54
…metimes appears utterly impotent to perform feats which almost any amateur might do, because He has matched his Will against that of the world, having undertaken the Work of a Magus to establish the Word of is Law on the whole of mankind. He will succeed, without doubt; but He hardly expects to see more than a sample of His product during His présent incarnation. But He refuses to waste the least fraction of His force on Works foreign to His Work, however obvious it may seem to the onlooker that His advantage lies in commanding stones to become…
…thought, Unless my thought itself were but a dream, A little, troubled dream, a dream of death Whence I may wake—ah, where ? In some new world Where Consciousness doth touch the Infinite, And all the strivings of the soul be found 13
…on the darkness, where the sound Of all high song through calm eternity Shall beat and boom, thine own maternal sea. For in the formless world, so swift a fire Shall burn, that fire shall not be comprehended ; So deep a music roll, that our desire Shall hear no sound ; shall beam a light so splendid That darkness shall be infinite: the lyre Fashioned of truth, strung with men’s heart-strings | blended, Shall sound as silence: and all souls be still In wisdom’s high communion with will.