Iii. The Undiscovered World

O in a living stream to bathe That runs its course from spring to sea! And O to cast this aching mesh Of iron bands that starkly swathe Limbs that labour, neck to knee! To feel the wind upon the flesh, Wind that was before man was, Blowing out of blue divine; Feel the feet on morning grass Lightly firm, and body bare Over-showered with beams so fine As cleanse the very heart of care! Sages, had you found but this For the mind, so it could use What the body knows of bliss When all thought it loves to lose Merely poising in the sun, Sure of powers a-spring within it Rippling out to leap and run,— Like for memory’s waiting ear Silence, ere the music win it:— When unreasoned joy alone Brims the body, itself its own Infinity unquestioning; Careless, Life is O so near, Death a legendary thing, Breath and blood like bells that ring;— Sages, had you art to find Such a glory for the mind, Not with eyes that are too wise But the lover’s wonder-vision Seeing far and seeing near As within one radiant sphere All things living, joined and whole, Bloomed with light of Paradise; Sages then—but who has taught Such an end for labouring thought, Such a nakedness of soul;— What but probing, doubting, and division? Hark, on iron iron’s endless clamour! The hours, the hours, drive swifter than we strain— Earth changes not, but who has changed us, As if a Fury with a shadowy hammer Nailed the nails into the fiery brain? Who has estranged us?

What dark enemy within Makes of Earth an enemy? Is it not he who sought of old Secrets of her wealth to win, Hot with greed and overbold, Aching to possess her? he, Searching labyrinthine veins, Thirsted for yet rarer gains, And through patient nights perused Each divided element, Curious of that pregnant dust Which with intent hand he bruised; Crucibled in fire the grains That should subtly be cajoled In the end to yield his lust Feasts of gold—a continent Molten into dazzling gold! (Were not heard the Sirens then Deriding the poor dreams of men?) Nay, but he would scrutinize Even Night’s deep-ordered scheme, And spell his own proud destinies In scripture of the starry stream. Coveting what power those skies Might enthrone, he sought a charm That should warp them and should woo. To his use, and by such aid To disimperil of one harm This brief body, would undo A universe. And he arrayed In a constellated robe His heaven-projected effigy, Because his spirit was afraid Of its nakedness, nor dared Terrors of the truth to probe; Rather chose itself to ensky In a dream. But no night bared To him her grandeur, swerved no spheres To the wrench of human fears. Earth and Night to crave of lust Yield but fruitlessness and dust; Dust to lust, to greed a weed! Mockers rise from those forgotten years: ‘This is he, the self-dupe, still the same Vaunter of a world of his defiling! Claiming heavens, with only will to maim. Who is this to own an earth’s empire, In whose blood is mud, and this aviling Squalor of desire?’

Lo, with feet on fiery ashes Earth’s foiled master casts his eyes Round his world-abode. Time’s heir, Freed by blood of martyrs, wise With myriad lives of thought and care, Into Doubt’s dim future gropes, Black with omen, lit with flashes! Lo, beneath his heaven of hopes Falling palaces of dream, Proudly pillared; regions wreckt, Peopled with stray flames that seem Hot greeds from his burning brain And the very earth infect. Lo, like bodies for his fear Shadowy shapes of force insane Menacing in murk appear, Primed with energy to kill,— Engines of his intellect, Incarnations of his will! Those old siren-songs of air Change into a song abhorred, Chanting softly, Revel, Lord! Triumph, Master! This you sought! This your own proud hands have wrought! Now the lover’s loathing taste Comes on him for what he burned So imperiously to clutch. Where is now the bliss embraced, Where the conquest? At a touch All’s to desolation turned. Is it he, or Earth, betrays? She that seemed to sting him on To possession, once possessed, Dispossesses him. Her breast Stony grows, and hard her gaze. —Yet, oh, could she again be wooed In her own, her chosen ways, Shall she not transform her mood, Glorify with truth his quest, Give, as lovers give, entire Body to body, mind to mind, Ay, and more than these can find,— Spirit to spirit? Beauty of Desire, Beauty beyond possession still is breathing, Beauty in us defaced! O secret spring eternal, muddied here, Soiled and sunken, troubled into seething! Torrent of Desire, by greed and fear Spilled into waste!