Neanderthal

"Then what is life?" I cried. And with that cry     I woke from deeper slumber - was it sleep? -     And saw a hooded figure standing by     The bed whereon I lay.         "Why do you keep,     O spirit beautiful and swift, this guard     About my slumber? Shelley, from the deep     Why do you come with veiled face, mighty bard,     As that unearthly shape was veiled to you     At Casa Magni?"             Then the room was starred     With light as I was speaking, and I knew     The god, my brother, from whose face the veil     Melted as mist.             "What mission fair and true,     While I am sleeping, brings you? For I pale     Amid this solemn stillness, for your face     Unutterably majestic."         As when the dale     At midnight echoes for a little space,     The night-bird's cry, the god responded "Come,"     And nothing more. I left my bed apace,     And followed him with wings above the gloom     Of clouds like chariots driven on to war,     Between whose wheels the swift moon raced and swum.     A mile beneath us lay the earth, afar     Were mountains which as swift as thought drew near     As we passed over pines, where many a star     And heaven's light made every frond as clear     As through a glass or in the lightning's flash. ...     Yet I seemed flying from an olden fear,     A bulk of black that sought to sting or gnash     My breast or side - which was myself, it seemed,     The flesh or thinking part of me grown rash     And violent, a brain soul unredeemed,     Which sometime earlier in the grip of Death     Forgot its terror when my soul which streamed     Like ribbons of silk fire, with quiet breath     Said to the body, as it were a thing     Separate and indifferent: "How uneath     That fellow turns, while I am safe yet cling     Close to him, both another and the same."     Now was this mood reversed: That self must wing     Its fastest flight to fly him, lest he maim     With fleshly hands my better, stronger part,     As dragon wings my flap and quench a flame. ...     But as we passed o'er empires and athwart     A bellowing strait, beholding bergs and floes     And running tides which made the sinking heart     Rise up again for breath, I felt how close     The god, my brother, was, who would sustain     My wings whatever dangers might oppose,     And knowing him beside me, like a strain     Of music were his thoughts, though nothing yet     Was spoken by him.             When as out of rain     Suddenly lights may break, the earth was set     Beneath us, and we stood and paused to see     The Dssel river from a parapet     Of earth and rock. Then bending curiously,     As reaching, in a moment with his hand     He scraped the turf and stones, pried up a key     Of harder granite, and at his command,     When he had made an opening, I slid     And sank, down, down through the Devonian land     Until with him I reached a cavern hid     From every eye but ours, and where no light     But from our faces was, a pyramid     Of hills that walled this crypt of soundless night.     Then in a mood, it seemed more fanciful,     He bent again and raked, and to my sight     Upheaved and held the remnant of a skull -     Gorilla's or a man's, I could not guess.     Yet brutal though it was, it was a hull     Too fine and large to house the nakedness     Of a beast's mind.             But as I looked the god     Began these words: "Before the iron stress     Of the north pole's dominion fell, he trod     The wastes of Europe, ere the Nile was made     A granary for the east, or ere the clod     In Babylon or India baked was laid     For hovels, this man lived. Ten thousand years     Before the earliest pyramid cast its shade     Upon the desolate sands this thing of fears,     Lusts, hungers, lived and hunted, woke and slept,     Mated, produced its kind, with hairy ears,     And tiger eyes sensed all that you accept     In terms of thought or vision as the proof     Of immanent Power or Love. But this skull kept     The intangible meaning out. This heavy roof     Of brutish bone above the eyes was dead     Even to lower ethers, no behoof     Of seasons, stars or skies took, though they bred     Suspicions, fears, or nervous glances, thought,     Which silent as a lizard's shadow fled     Before it graved itself, passed over, wrought     No vision, only pain, which he deemed pangs     Of hunger or of thirst."             As you have sought     The meaning of life's riddle, since it hangs     In waking or in slumber just above     The highest reach of prophecy, and fangs     With poison of despair all moods but love,     Behold its secret lettered on this brow     Placed by your own!         This is the word thereof:     Change and progression from the glazed slough,     Where life creeps and is blind, ascending up     The jungled slopes for prey till spirits bow     On Calvaries with crosses, take the cup     Of martyrdom for truth's sake.         It may be     Men of to-day make monstrous war, sleep, sup,     Traffic, build shrines, as earliest history     Records the earliest day, and that the race     Is what it was in virtue, charity,     And nothing better. But within this face     No light shone from that realm where Hindostan,     Delving in numbers, watching stars took grace     And inspiration to explore the plan     Of heaven and earth. And of the scheme the test     Is not five thousand years, which leave the van     Just where it was, but this change manifest     In fifty thousand years between the mind     Neanderthal's and Shelley's.         Man progressed     Along these years, found eyes where he was blind,     Put instinct under thought, crawled from the cave,     And faced the sun, till somewhere heaven's wind     Mixed with the light of Lights descending, gave     To mind a touch of divinity, making whole     An undeveloped growth.         As ships that brave     Great storms at sea on masts a flaming coal     From heaven catch, bear on, so man was wreathed     Somewhere with lightning and became a soul.     Into his nostrils purer fire was breathed     Than breath of life itself, and by a leap,     As lightning leaps from crag to crag, what seethed     In man from the beginning broke the sleep     That lay on consciousness of self, with eyes     Awakened saw himself, out of the deep     And wonder of the self caught the surmise     Of Power beyond this world, and felt it through     The flow of living.         And so man shall rise     From this illumination, from this clue     To perfect knowledge that this Power exists,     And what man is to this Power, even as you     Have left Neanderthal lost in the mists     And ignorance of centuries untold.     What would you say if learned geologists     Out of the rocks and caverns should unfold     The skulls of greater races, records, books     To shame us for our day, could we behold     Therein our retrogression? Wonder looks     In vain for these, discovers everywhere     Proof of the root which darkly bends and crooks     Far down and far away; a stalk more fair     Upspringing finds its proof, buds on the stalk     The eye may see, at last the flowering flare     Of man to-day!          I see the things which balk,     Retard, divert, draw into sluices small,     But who beholds the stream turned back to mock,     Not just itself, but make equivocal     A Universal Reason, Vision? No.     You find no proof of this, but prodigal     Proof of ascending Life!             So life shall flow     Here on this globe until the final fruit     And harvest. As it were until the glow     Of the great blossom has the attribute     In essence, color of eternal things,     And shows no rim between its hues which suit     The infinite sky's. Then if the dead earth swings     A gleaned and stricken field amid the void     What matters it to you, a soul with wings,     Whether it be replanted or destroyed?     Has it not served you?"             Now his voice was still,     Which in such discourse had been thus employed.     And in that lonely cavern dark and chill     I heard again, "Then what is life?" And woke     To find the moonlight on the window sill     That which had seemed his presence. And a cloak,     Whose hood was perked upon the moonbeams, made     The skull of the Neanderthal. The smoke     Blown from the fireplace formed the cavern's shade.     And roaring winds blew down as they had tuned     The voice which left me calm and unafraid.