Classic Poem

That night,
Irene, ere the Porphyry Chamber (pale
With strife wherein to triumph is to fail)
She left triumphant, glancing back, — her glance
Fell casual on the conscious countenance
Of that white Christ upon the black cross spread,
Whose eyes, into the now-close-curtain'd bed
Erewhile down-gazing, had beheld why those
Tight draperies round it had been twitch'd so close.
And lo! where late those witnesses had been,
Instead of eyes, two gory sockets, seen
Thro' the red firelight, stopp'd her, stagger'd her,
And to a Fear, wherefrom she dared not stir,
Fasten'd and froze her.
For a while she stood
As one that, traversing a solitude
Where nothing dwells but Danger (all in haste
To reach the end, and, after peril faced
And pass'd, proclaim " The deed I dared is done! " )
Turns, by ill chance, midway, to gaze upon
Some hideous gulf in safety cross'd; and so,
Seeing how deep the death that yawns below,
By unanticipated terror, just
In the fresh moment of achievement, thrust
Into the suddenly-suggested jaws
Of an imaginary failure, draws
Breath faint and fainter: forced to keep in sight
His own success, which, seen, defeats him quite.
But, soon return'd, the exasperated will,
Still strong to scourge the rebel senses, still
Defiant tho' dismay'd, with effort fierce
Pluck'd up the keen-cold Fear that seem'd to pierce
Her feet, and fix them to the floor, beneath
That eyeless gaze. And at the sculptured wreath
Above the unblest bed wherefrom It hung
She, like a wounded cat o' the mountain, sprung,
And caught, and gripp'd, and tugg'd, and tore away,
And crouch'd with glaring face above, her prey,
— God's Image.
Still that dreadful dearth of eyes
In the dread Face!
With fierce and bitter cries
She dasht It sharp against the marble floor,
And bruised It with wild feet.
Still as before
The Eyeless Face implied. " Do what thou wilt
Henceforth, and hug thy gain, or hide thy guilt,
Never shalt thou behold God's eyes. "
She snatch'd
And hurl'd It on the smouldering hearth: and watch'd
The embers quicken round It: heap'd up wood,
And made the blaze leap high: and all night stood
Feeding the flame: till all was burn'd away
To ashes.
And ere this was done, the day
Began to dawn.