I saw, in visions of the night, Creation like a sea outspread, With surf of stars and storm of light And movements manifold and dread.
Then lo, within a Human Hand A Sceptre moved that storm above: Thereon, as on the golden wand Of kings new-crowned, there sat a Dove.
Beneath her gracious weight inclined That Sceptre drooped. The waves had rest And Sceptre, Hand, and Dove were shrined Within a gla.s.sy ocean"s breast.
His Will it was that placed her there!
He at whose word the tempests cease Upon that Sceptre planted fair That peace-bestowing type of Peace!
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_Thronus Trinitatis._
X.
Each several Saint the Church reveres, What is he but an altar whence Some separate Virtue ministers To G.o.d a separate frankincense?
Each beyond each, not made of hands, They rise, a ladder angel-trod: Star-bright the last and loftiest stands-- That altar is the Throne of G.o.d.
Lost in the uncreated light A Form all Human rests thereon: His shade from that surpa.s.sing height Beyond creation"s verge is thrown.
Him "Lord of lords, and King of kings,"
The chorus of all worlds proclaim:-- "He took from her," one angel sings At intervals, "His Human frame."
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_Cultus Sanctorum._
XI.
He seemed to linger with them yet: But late ascended to the skies, They saw--ah, how could they forget?-- The form they loved, the hands, the eyes.
From anch.o.r.ed boat--in lane or field-- He taught; He blessed, and brake the bread; The hungry filled; the afflicted healed; And wept, ere yet he raised, the dead.
But when, like some supreme of hills, Whose feet shut out its summit"s snow, That, hid no longer, heavenward swells As further from its base we go,
Abroad His perfect G.o.dhead shone, Each hour more plainly kenned on high, And clothed His Manhood with the sun, And, cleansing, hurt the adoring eye;
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Then fixed His Church a deepening gaze Upon His Saints. With Him they sate, And, burning in that G.o.dhead"s blaze, They seemed that Manhood to dilate.
His were they: of His likeness each Had grace some fragment to present, And nearer brought to mortal reach Of Him some line or lineament.
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_Fest. S. S. Trinitatis._
XII.
Fall back, all worlds, into the abyss, That man may contemplate once more That which He ever was Who is:-- The Eternal Essence we adore.
Angelic hierarchies! recede Beyond extinct creation"s shade!
What were ye at the first? Decreed:-- Decreed, not fashioned; thought, not made!
Like wind the untold Millenniums pa.s.sed.
Sole-throned He sat; yet not alone: G.o.dhead in G.o.dhead still was gla.s.sed;-- The Spirit was breathed from Sire and Son.
Prime Virgin, separate and sealed; Nor less of social love the root; Dimly in lowliest shapes revealed; Entire in every Attribute;--
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Thou liv"st in all things, and around; To Thee external is there nought; Thou of the boundless art the bound; And still Creation is Thy Thought.
In vain, O G.o.d, our wings we spread; So distant art Thou--yet so nigh.
Remains but this, when all is said, For Thee to live; in Thee to die.
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XIII.
Where is the crocus now, that first, When earth was dark and heaven was grey, A prothalamion flash, up-burst?
Ah, then we deemed not of the May!
The clear stream stagnates in its course; Narcissus droops in pallid gloom; Far off the hills of golden gorse A dusk Saturnian face a.s.sume.
The seeded dandelion dim Casts loose its air-globe on the breeze; Along the gra.s.s the swallows skim; The cattle couch among the trees.
Yet ever lordlier loveliness Succeeds to that which slips our hold: The thorn a.s.sumes her snowy dress; Laburnum bowers their robes of gold.
Down waves successive of the year We drop; but drop once more to rise, With ampler view, as on we steer, Of lovelier lights and loftier skies.
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_"Ad Nives."_
XIV.
Before the morn began to break The bright One bent above that pair Whose childless vows aspired to take The mother of their Lord for heir.
"Twas August: even in midnight shade The roofs were hot, and hot the street:-- "Build me a fane," the vision said, "Where first your eyes the snow shall meet." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: Santa Maria Maggiore, on the Esquiline, at Rome.]