PROLOGUE
Not for any good
That I have done,
There where the great crowd stood
In the light of the sun,
But for the burthening rood
That I have borne,
But for the piercing crown
That I have worn,
But for the dull, dark agony that drew me down,
Show unto me,
After thy fashion,
Lord of compassion,
Thy great pity!
" Presently ... presently ...
Who is it that calls to me?
Who is it that cries to me?
There's a most unholy riot!
Tell the angels to be quiet.
What's the good of being God,
If you don't skip at my nod,
Practice gentle genuflexion,
As the code is and direction?
What's that? Someone come from Earth?
Seems to be a man of birth
And good bearing? Learned, too?
By my beard, why, let him through!
Let the gallant fellow in.
We'll discuss transcendent sin;
Argument and fine persuasion,
That's the way to win salvation.
All right, Luci, read aloud
To the dear angelic crowd:
God and man will now debate
Whether human love and hate,
Whether human tears and laughter
(Pro and con, each follows after)
Whether human peace and battle,
Human pride and human prattle,
Guilelessness and aspiration,
Power of gifts and grace of station,
Faith and unfaith, hope, despair,
All the breeze of earthly air,
Is in any way or manner
Matter worthy cross and banner.
All of which profound discussion
Will be carried on in Russian.
Who is it that calls to me?
Who is it that cries to me?
Presently ... presently ... "
PARTONE
God sprawled uncouthly on his judgment throne,
" Who beareth chief witness against him? " he thundered,
" Speak! "
But none spoke, and God thundered a second time,
" Speak! "
Then out of the quaking silence shrilled the querulous, tremulous squeak of the Worm,
" I! I! I! Lord Worm! I come to witness against him! "
And laughed to see God laughing.
And all laughed uproariously; Death, and the Beasts, and the Whore of Babylon laughed to see God laughing,
Till heaven shook with their laughter.
" Lord Worm who cometh to witness against Lord Man, " God thundered,
" Speak! " and quivered with laughter.
Then the Worm spoke, and with words bitter and gritty as the earth he fed on
Spat upon Man and cursed him:
" Earth's Fool! " — then, " Hear, most potent Lord!
From ancient mist and impregnated slime am I sprung,
For so you wrought in a merry mood,
And mated the twain in the scant hours of time.
Nor yet content of your jest you caught a passing star,
And filled my mother Earth; here stands my brother,
Behold the Fool of Earth!
Behold my brother, Man!
This do I witness against him:
That he hath contemned me, first-born,
That he hath contemned our mother,
That he hath railed against thee,
That he is swelled with a bastard conceit, —
" I am no kin of ye!" he cries, and stares at the stars,
" I have a soul!"
What is this soul that Man should humble us?
Pluck out his eyes, his soul is hidden in them!
Tear out his heart, his soul is buried there!
Tear out this soul, that I may batten on't! "
Screamed the Worm, and spat upon Man.
And the Beasts howled:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
Then sat the Whore of Babylon with sinuous motion upon the knees of God, and stroked his beard:
" Sire, " she whispered,
" O loath were I to bring witness against him,
But that he hath grown rebellious of my love.
Once did he quiver with passion at sight of me,
Once did he flame at the touch of my flesh against him,
Burned with the amorous caresses of my breasts,
Called me sweet names ...
Ah, but the Fool hath fashioned him a soul!
Now am I hateful to him,
Now doth he shun me as the pestilence.
I found him brooding by the river-side,
I clung to him and sought his lips,
But he smote me on my lips,
He drove me from him with my passion unappeased:
" Foul-born of the night-damp!" so he called me,
" Come not nigh me, lest thy presence stain the whiteness of my new-found soul!
This to thy merry lord sire bear,
This to his accursed flatterers,
That an they mock and harry me the more,
I will drive a wind about them that will shake them howling into ruin!
I am no kin of ye!
I have a soul!" ...
What is this soul that Man shall humble us?
Hath it limbs smoother than mine?
Hath it lips riper than mine?
Hath it breasts warmer than mine?
Where is this soul the Fool hath prated of? "
And the Beasts whined:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
Said Death:
" I am the mighty hunter of thy realm,
Restless, invincible,
Scarce lower than thyself, as deed to will.
And with the poison of my breath I have breathed upon all things,
And hid infection with the fairest guise,
Till this Fool cometh
To confound my snare
With strange magic
And mercy ...
Lord, Lord, it passeth beyond bounds!
Lord, we are made the jest of a Fool!
Look now to thine own security,
For he hath taken mad counsel of this strange thing, his soul! "
And the Beasts howled:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
And God said:
" Thou mighty Manikin!
Thou fair-faced Bastard of Earth!
I know not what insane prevision hath betrayed thee,
Enough for me thy fancy hath no issue,
Nor ever shall,
For never jest of mine shall cost me dear.
Woe for thee, that ever star hath fathered thee!
Woe, woe for thee, that ever earth hath borne thee!
See!
Wrapped in the cold solitude of space,
I'll hang thee high above the moaning sea,
To sing sweet music for thee;
And there, with the first bleak pallor of each dawn,
Three friends of mine shall seek thee out,
Three strong-beaked birds,
To fan thy face with their great flapping wings,
And rip thy soul from thee! "
PART TWO ( MAN SPEAKS )
The mists curl thinly, creep, and sway
Like the white Harlot of Heaven
Swayed at the beck of the wind
In dance by the river,
Swayed ... and swayed ...
Till I laughed. . . .
These cling vaporously to my face
With sly swift coldness,
Caress my tongue,
Sting my dry lips with coolness ...
O night, let not the dawn come,
But death, death, let him crush me. . . .
Why does the sea clamor abidingly?
Bleak rushing shadow-faces
Ride the crests,
Howling. . . .
O night, pour the sea upon me,
Quench me utterly,
Lest the flame on my lips leap out and lick the waves and mists and earth to dryness,
Leaving me on fire,
Burning forever. . . .
The mists are kind, but sly,
And murmurous,
Writhe about my face, curious
With gossip of my soul,
Cling to my lips, curious
Of this agony which twists through me ...
Night thins and falls away,
Dawn creeps quietly up from the rhythming flanks of the sea,
Dawn ... and the horror of black wings and beaks about me. . . .
Now ... my soul ... make me mad ...
With laughter ...
Tighten the bones of my jaw ...
Edge my teeth with silence ...
So ...
My black soul-crunching doves ...
The feast is spread ...
Come, glut your sweet maws ...
My soul is here ... and here ... and here ...
O death, speed thy bolt,
O sea,
Draw me into thee,
Drown me forever
From God's hate ...
O night,
Hide me forever
From my shame ...
Vast bird-eyes burn upon me,
Green and furious,
Black iron beaks rend me,
And God's face
Grins at me from the sun ...
Night ... and the clamoring tides ...
And the thin sea-mists ...
Writhing ...
Murmurous ...
Not for any good
That I have done,
There where the great crowd stood
In the light of the sun,
But for the burthening rood
That I have borne,
But for the piercing crown
That I have worn,
But for the dull, dark agony that drew me down,
Show unto me,
After thy fashion,
Lord of compassion,
Thy great pity!
" Presently ... presently ...
Who is it that calls to me?
Who is it that cries to me?
There's a most unholy riot!
Tell the angels to be quiet.
What's the good of being God,
If you don't skip at my nod,
Practice gentle genuflexion,
As the code is and direction?
What's that? Someone come from Earth?
Seems to be a man of birth
And good bearing? Learned, too?
By my beard, why, let him through!
Let the gallant fellow in.
We'll discuss transcendent sin;
Argument and fine persuasion,
That's the way to win salvation.
All right, Luci, read aloud
To the dear angelic crowd:
God and man will now debate
Whether human love and hate,
Whether human tears and laughter
(Pro and con, each follows after)
Whether human peace and battle,
Human pride and human prattle,
Guilelessness and aspiration,
Power of gifts and grace of station,
Faith and unfaith, hope, despair,
All the breeze of earthly air,
Is in any way or manner
Matter worthy cross and banner.
All of which profound discussion
Will be carried on in Russian.
Who is it that calls to me?
Who is it that cries to me?
Presently ... presently ... "
PARTONE
God sprawled uncouthly on his judgment throne,
" Who beareth chief witness against him? " he thundered,
" Speak! "
But none spoke, and God thundered a second time,
" Speak! "
Then out of the quaking silence shrilled the querulous, tremulous squeak of the Worm,
" I! I! I! Lord Worm! I come to witness against him! "
And laughed to see God laughing.
And all laughed uproariously; Death, and the Beasts, and the Whore of Babylon laughed to see God laughing,
Till heaven shook with their laughter.
" Lord Worm who cometh to witness against Lord Man, " God thundered,
" Speak! " and quivered with laughter.
Then the Worm spoke, and with words bitter and gritty as the earth he fed on
Spat upon Man and cursed him:
" Earth's Fool! " — then, " Hear, most potent Lord!
From ancient mist and impregnated slime am I sprung,
For so you wrought in a merry mood,
And mated the twain in the scant hours of time.
Nor yet content of your jest you caught a passing star,
And filled my mother Earth; here stands my brother,
Behold the Fool of Earth!
Behold my brother, Man!
This do I witness against him:
That he hath contemned me, first-born,
That he hath contemned our mother,
That he hath railed against thee,
That he is swelled with a bastard conceit, —
" I am no kin of ye!" he cries, and stares at the stars,
" I have a soul!"
What is this soul that Man should humble us?
Pluck out his eyes, his soul is hidden in them!
Tear out his heart, his soul is buried there!
Tear out this soul, that I may batten on't! "
Screamed the Worm, and spat upon Man.
And the Beasts howled:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
Then sat the Whore of Babylon with sinuous motion upon the knees of God, and stroked his beard:
" Sire, " she whispered,
" O loath were I to bring witness against him,
But that he hath grown rebellious of my love.
Once did he quiver with passion at sight of me,
Once did he flame at the touch of my flesh against him,
Burned with the amorous caresses of my breasts,
Called me sweet names ...
Ah, but the Fool hath fashioned him a soul!
Now am I hateful to him,
Now doth he shun me as the pestilence.
I found him brooding by the river-side,
I clung to him and sought his lips,
But he smote me on my lips,
He drove me from him with my passion unappeased:
" Foul-born of the night-damp!" so he called me,
" Come not nigh me, lest thy presence stain the whiteness of my new-found soul!
This to thy merry lord sire bear,
This to his accursed flatterers,
That an they mock and harry me the more,
I will drive a wind about them that will shake them howling into ruin!
I am no kin of ye!
I have a soul!" ...
What is this soul that Man shall humble us?
Hath it limbs smoother than mine?
Hath it lips riper than mine?
Hath it breasts warmer than mine?
Where is this soul the Fool hath prated of? "
And the Beasts whined:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
Said Death:
" I am the mighty hunter of thy realm,
Restless, invincible,
Scarce lower than thyself, as deed to will.
And with the poison of my breath I have breathed upon all things,
And hid infection with the fairest guise,
Till this Fool cometh
To confound my snare
With strange magic
And mercy ...
Lord, Lord, it passeth beyond bounds!
Lord, we are made the jest of a Fool!
Look now to thine own security,
For he hath taken mad counsel of this strange thing, his soul! "
And the Beasts howled:
" Tear out this soul, that we may batten on't! "
And God said:
" Thou mighty Manikin!
Thou fair-faced Bastard of Earth!
I know not what insane prevision hath betrayed thee,
Enough for me thy fancy hath no issue,
Nor ever shall,
For never jest of mine shall cost me dear.
Woe for thee, that ever star hath fathered thee!
Woe, woe for thee, that ever earth hath borne thee!
See!
Wrapped in the cold solitude of space,
I'll hang thee high above the moaning sea,
To sing sweet music for thee;
And there, with the first bleak pallor of each dawn,
Three friends of mine shall seek thee out,
Three strong-beaked birds,
To fan thy face with their great flapping wings,
And rip thy soul from thee! "
PART TWO ( MAN SPEAKS )
The mists curl thinly, creep, and sway
Like the white Harlot of Heaven
Swayed at the beck of the wind
In dance by the river,
Swayed ... and swayed ...
Till I laughed. . . .
These cling vaporously to my face
With sly swift coldness,
Caress my tongue,
Sting my dry lips with coolness ...
O night, let not the dawn come,
But death, death, let him crush me. . . .
Why does the sea clamor abidingly?
Bleak rushing shadow-faces
Ride the crests,
Howling. . . .
O night, pour the sea upon me,
Quench me utterly,
Lest the flame on my lips leap out and lick the waves and mists and earth to dryness,
Leaving me on fire,
Burning forever. . . .
The mists are kind, but sly,
And murmurous,
Writhe about my face, curious
With gossip of my soul,
Cling to my lips, curious
Of this agony which twists through me ...
Night thins and falls away,
Dawn creeps quietly up from the rhythming flanks of the sea,
Dawn ... and the horror of black wings and beaks about me. . . .
Now ... my soul ... make me mad ...
With laughter ...
Tighten the bones of my jaw ...
Edge my teeth with silence ...
So ...
My black soul-crunching doves ...
The feast is spread ...
Come, glut your sweet maws ...
My soul is here ... and here ... and here ...
O death, speed thy bolt,
O sea,
Draw me into thee,
Drown me forever
From God's hate ...
O night,
Hide me forever
From my shame ...
Vast bird-eyes burn upon me,
Green and furious,
Black iron beaks rend me,
And God's face
Grins at me from the sun ...
Night ... and the clamoring tides ...
And the thin sea-mists ...
Writhing ...
Murmurous ...