Out Of The East

When man first walked upright and soberly     Reflecting as he paced to and fro,     And no more swinging from wide tree to tree,     Or sheltered by vast boles from sheltered foe,     Or crouched within some deep cave by the sea     Stared at the noisy waste of water's woe     Where the earth ended, and far lightning died     Splintered upon the rigid tideless tide;     When man above Time's cloud lifted his head     And speech knew, and the company of speech,     And from his alien presence wild beasts fled     And birds flew wary from his arrow's reach,     And cattle trampling the long meadow weed     Did sentry in the wind's path set; when each     Horn, hoof, claw, sting and sinew against man     Was turned, and the old enmity began;     When, following, beneath the hand of kings     Moved men their parting ways, and some passed on     To forest refuge, some by dark-browed springs,     And some to high remoter pastures won,     And some o'er yellow deserts spread their wings,     Thinning with time and thirst and so were gone     Forgotten; when between each wandered host     The seldom travellers faltered and were lost;--     In those old days, upon the soft dew'd sward     That held its green between the thicket's cloud,     Walked two men musing ere the wide moon poured     Her full-girthed weightless flood. And one was bowed     With years past knowledge, and his face was scored     Where light or deep had every long year ploughed--     Pain, labour, present peril, distant dread     Scored in his brow and bending his shagged head.     Palsy his frame shook as a harsh wind shakes     Complaining reeds fringing a frozen river;     His eye the aspect had of frozen lakes     Whereunder the foiled waters swirl and quiver;     His voice the deep note that the north wind takes     Drawn through bare beechwoods where forlorn birds shiver--     Deep and unfaltering. A younger man     Listened, while warmer currents in him ran.     "Was not my son even as myself to me,     As you to him showed his own life again?     Now he is dead, and all I looked to see     In him removes to you--less near and plain,     Confused with other blood; and what will be     I groping cannot tell, and grope in vain.     For men have turned to other ways than mine:     Yourself are less fulfilment than a sign,     "Sign of a changing world. And change I fear.     I have seen old and young like brief gnats die,     And have faced death by plague and flood and spear:     I have seen mine own familiar people lie     In generations reaped; and near and near     Age leads on Death--I hear his husky sigh.     Yet Death I fear not, but these clouds of change     Sweeping the old firm world with new and strange.     "Son of my son, to whom the world shines new,     You are strange to me for whom the world is old.     Your thoughts are not my thoughts, and unto you     The past, sole warmth for me, is void and cold.     Another passion pours your spirit through,     Another faith has leapt upon the fold     And wrestles with the ancient faith. 'And lo!'     Lightly men say, 'Even the gods come and go!'"     He paused awhile in pacing and hung still,     Amid the thickening shades a darker shade.     Down the steep valley from the barren hill     A herd of deer with antlered leader made     Brief apparition. Mist brimmed up until     Only the great round heights yet solid stayed--     Then they too changed to spectral, and upon     The changing mist wavered, and were gone....     "Standing to-day your father's grave beside,     I knew my heart with his was covered there;     O, more than flesh did in the cold earth hide--     My past, his promise. There was none to care     Save for the body of a prince that died     As princes die; there was none whispered, 'Where     Moves now among us his unburied part?     What breast beats with the pulses of his heart?'     "--Vain thoughts are these that but a dying man     Searches among the dark caves of his mind!     But as I stood, the very wind that ran     Between the files breathed more than common wind,     As though the gods of men when Time began,     Fathers of fathers of old humankind,     Startled, heard now the changeful future knock;     And their lament it was from rock to rock     "Tossed with the wind's long echo ... O, speak not,     Nor tell me with my loss I am so dazed,     That my tongue speaks unfaithfully my thought;     That you, you too, within his shadow raised,     Stand bare now, wanting all you held or thought,     By aimless love or prisoned grief amazed.     Tell me not: let me out of silence speak,     Or let me still my thoughts in silence break."     And so both stood, and not a word to say,     By silence overborne, until at last     The young man breathed, "Look how the end of day     Falls heavily, as though the earth were cast     Into a shapeless soundless pit, where ray     Of heavenly light never the verge has past.     Yet will the late moon's light anon shine here,     And then gray light, and then the sun's light clear.     "Sire, 'twas my father died, and like night's pit     Soundless and shapeless yawn my orphaned years.     And yet I know morn comes and brings with it     Old tasks again, and new joys, hopes and fears.     Or sword or plough these fingers will find fit,     And morrows end with other cries and tears,     With women's arms and children's voices and     The sacred gods blessing the new-sown land.     "But look, upon your beard the dew is bright,     Chill is the winter fall: let us go in."     Then moved they slowly downward till a light     Shining the door-post and thonged door between     Showed the square Prince's House. Out of the night     They passed the sudden rubied warmth within.     Curled shadowy by the wall a servant slept:     A sleepy hound from the same corner crept.     Soon were they couched. The young man fell asleep;     While the old Prince drowsing uneasily,     Tossing on the crest of agitations deep,     Dreamed waking, waking dreamed. Then memory     The unseen hound, did from her corner creep     Into his bosom and stirred him with her sigh     Soundless. And he arose and answering pressed     Her beloved head yet closer to his breast....     Happy those years returned when first he strode     Beside his father's knees, or climbed and felt     The warm strength of those arms, or singing rode     High on his shoulders; or in winter pelt     Of dread beasts wrapt, set as his father showed     Snares in the frosty grass, and at dawn knelt     Beside the snares, and shouting homeward tore,     Winged with such pride as seldom manhood wore.     --How many, many, many years ago!     There was no older man now walked the earth.     Had all those years sunk to a bitter glow,     Like the fire lingering yet upon the hearth?     Ah, he might warm his hands there still, and so     Must warm his heart now in this wintry dearth,     Till the reluming sunken fire should give     Warmth to his ageing wits and bid him live.     Even this house! It was his father told     How in the days half lost in icy time     Men first forsook their wormy caves and cold     To build where the wind-footed cattle climb;     And noise of labour broke the silence old     By such unbroken since the sparkling prime     Of the world's spring. And so the house arose,     A builded cave, perpetual as the snows     On the remotest summits of the range     Hemming the north. Then house by house appeared     'Neath valley-eaves, and change following on change     Unnoted tamed earth's shaggy front. Men heard     Strange voices syllabling with accents strange,     By travellers breathed who, startled, paused and feared     Seeing the smoke of habitations curled     Above this hollow of an unrumoured world.     Startled, they paused and spoke by doubtful sign,     Answered by hesitating sign, until     Moved one with aspect fearless and benign,     And met one fearless, while all else hung still.     And then was welcome, rest, and meat and wine     And intercourse of uncouth word, as shrill     Voice with deep voice was mingled. So they stayed     And to astonished eyes strange arts betrayed.     By them the oarage of the wind was taught,     And how the quick tail steered the cockled boat.     They netted fruitful streams, and smiling brought     Their breaking wickers home, too full to float.     And opening the earth's rich womb they wrought     Arms from the sullied ore; and labouring smote     The mountain's bosom, till a path was seen     Stony amid the flushed snow and flushed green.     Then first upon earth's wave the silver share     Floated, by the teamed oxen drawn; then first     Were seed-time rites, and harvest rites when bare     The cropped fields lay, and gathered tumult--nurst     Long in the breasts of men that laboured there--     Now in the broad ease of fulfilment burst;     And when the winter tasks failed in days chill,     Weaving of bright-hued yarn, and chattering shrill;     And the loved tones of music sounded sweet     Unwonted, when the new-stopped pipe was heard     Rising and falling, and the falling feet     Of sudden dancers. And old men were stirred     With old men's memories of ancient heat     When youth sang in their bosoms like a bird....     Sweet that divine musician, Memory,     Fingering her many-reeded melody.     Then as he stared into the wasting glow     And watched the fire faint in the whitening wood,     Came starker shadows moving vast and slow,     And echoes of wild strife and smell of blood,     Twitching of slain men, cries of parting woe,     Bruised bodies ghastly in the mountain flood;     Burials and burnings, triumph with terrors blent,     And widowed languors and night-long lament.     Like seeds long buried, these dead memories     Upthrust in their new green and spread to flower:     An eager child against his father's knees     Leaning, he had listened many an evening hour.     Now these remote reworded histories     Entangled with his own renewed their power,     Breathing an antique virtue through his mind,     As through dense yew boughs breathes the undying wind.     Sighing, he rose up softly. On the wall     A dark shape shambled aimless to and fro;     Head bent, eyes inward-seeing, rugged, tall,     Himself a shadow moved with musings slow     Amid his cumbered past, and heard sweet call     Of mother voice, and mother folk, and flow     Of gentle and proud speech and tender laughter,     Story and song, fault and forgiveness after;     And a voice graver, gentler than a man     Might hear from any but a woman beloved,     Stilling and awakening the blood that ran     Like ocean tide, as neared she or removed ...     Faded that music. Then a voice began     Paining within his heart, yet unreproved;     For dear the anguish is that steals upon     A father's spirit lamenting his lost son.     --The latest born and latest lost of those     Of his strong and her gentle being born.     By earthquake, pestilence, by human foes     Long were they dead; and yet not all forlorn     He grieved, for at his side the youngest rose     Bright as a willow gilded by dewy morn....     Felled now the tree, silent that music, still     The motion that did all the vale-air fill.     Once more they bore the body from the hunt     Where he alone had died. Once more he heard     The wail and sigh, and saw once more their front     Of drooping grief; once more the wailing stirred     Old hounds to baying wilder than was wont;     Fell once more like slow, sullen rain each word     Reluctant, telling to his senses strayed,     How while the gods drowsed and men hung afraid.     Slain was the Prince unwary by the paw     Of a springing beast that died in giving death.     Again the featureless torn face he saw,     The ribboned bosom emptied of warm breath;     Again the circle sudden hush'd with awe,     And smothered moaning heard the hush beneath.     Again, again, and every night again,     Vision renewed and voice recalled in vain.     Again those dear and lamentable rites     Within the winter stems of forest shade,     The pile, the smokeless flame, the thousand lights,     The one light that in all the thousand played;     Deep burthened voices while, around the heights     Lifting, young trebles their wild echo made;     Then the returning torches at the pyre     Lit, when the eye glowed faint within the fire.     *             *             *             *             *     Even as a man that by slow steps may climb     An unknown mountain path with tired tread     By ice-fringed brook and close herb white with rime,     Sees sudden far below a strange land spread     Immense; so from his lonely crag of Time     The Prince, his eye bewildered and adread,     Gazed at the vast, with mist and storm confused,     Cloud-racked, and changing even while he mused.     Ending were the old wise and stable ways.     Adventurers into distant lands had fared,     From distant lands adventurers with gaze     Proud and unenvying on his kingdom stared,     And sojourning had shaken quiet days     With restless knowledge, and strange worship reared     Of foreign altars, idols, prayers and songs     And sacrifice as to such gods belongs.     And all unsatisfied his people grown     Would move from this rejected mountain range     By yearlong valley journeys slowly down,     Sun-following, till surfeited with change,     Mid idle pastures pitched or fabled town,     Subdued to climes and kings and customs strange,     At length their very name should die away     And all their remnant be a vague "Men say."     "Men say!" he sighed, and from that lofty verge     Of inward seeing drooped his doubtful sight.     Sweet was it from such reverie to emerge     And breathe once more the thoughtless air of night,     And watch the fire-slave through fresh billets urge     The sleeping flame, until the vivid light     And toothed shadows wearied.... And then crept     The hounds a little nearer, and all slept.     *             *             *             *             *     But the young man still lay in quiet sleep,     Or half-sleep, and a dream-born cloud enwreathed     With memories, hopes and longings hidden deep     In his flown mind. Another air he breathed,     Saw from an unsubstantial mountain sweep     In purest light, soon in low shadow sheathed,     Semblance of faint-known faces, or beloved     Daily-acquainted still, or long removed.     Even as sacred fire in fennel stalks     Through windy ways is borne and densest night,     Till where the outpost shivering sentry walks     Beating the minutes into hours, the light     Touches the guarded pile and, flaring, balks     Beasts padding near and each unvisioned sprite     By old dread apprehended; and new gladness     Shakes in the village prone in winter sadness:--     So through the young man's dream the kingly flame     In his own breast was undiminished borne.     And other peoples catching from his fame     A noble heat, in neighbouring lands forlorn,     Would glow with new power and the ancient name     Bless, that had brightened through their narrow morn.     And purer yet and steadier would pass on     The sacred flame to son and son and son.     Or with contracting mind he saw the host     Of mountain warriors banded, moving down     Untrodden ways, as on young buds a frost     Falls, and the spring lies stiff. The air was sown     With strife, the fields with blood, the night with ghost     Wandering by ghost, and wounded men were strown     Surprised, unweaponed; and chill air congealed     Each hurt, and with the blood their breath was sealed.     And the loved tones of music sounded fierce     When the returning files with aspect proud     Approached, and brandished their rich trophied spears.     Sweet the pipes' spearlike music, sweet and loud,     And music of smitten arms was sweet to tears;     Sweet the dance unto smiling gods new vowed,     Sweet the recounting song and choral cries,     And age's quaverings and girls' envious sighs.     --So of himself, a father-king, he dreamed,     Holding an equal nation in his eye.     O with what golden points the future gleamed!     Rustled the years like laden mule-trains by,     Each with its burthen of old time redeemed....     Splendour on splendour poured, and so would lie     Unnoted and unmeasured:--metals, herds,     Distant-sought wonders, strange growths, beasts and birds.     Within the summer of that splendid shade     Might men live happy and nought left to fear,     Or if an antique restless spirit played     Fretful within their bones, and change drew near     Drumming wild airs, and another music made,     A father-king, speaking assured and clear,     Bidding them follow he would lead them forth     Through the yet undiscovered frowning north.     And the last fire on the warm stones would burn,     And the smoke linger on the mountain skies.     And seeing, they would muse yet of return     And then forget their sadness in the cries     Confused of the great caravan; and so turn     Towards the next sun-setting and the next sunrise     Many and many a day and wind and wind     Through foreign earth, as a dream through the mind.     Flowing on with the changes of its thought.     And doubtful kings entreating them to stay     Would sleep the easier when they lingered not;     And sullen tribes menacing would make way,     And broad slow rivers in their tide be caught,     And the long caravan o'er the ford all day     And all day and all day pass; while the tide slept     In sluggish shallows, or through marsh-reeds crept.     So would they on and on, with death and birth     For wayfellows and nightly stars for guide,     While seasons bloomed and faded on the earth,     And jealous gods their wandering gods would chide.     Until, weary of endless going forth     Dark-locust-like, the old fret would subside,     And young men with aged men and women cry,     "In this full-rivered pasture let us lie!     "Here let us lie, and wanderings be at rest!"     Midmost a cedar grove high sacrifice     Needs then be made, that gods be manifest;     And while the smoke spread in long twilit skies,     "Here let us lie, and wanderings be at rest,"     Would old men breathe repeated between sighs.     "In this green world and cool," would mothers say,     "Rest we, nor with thin babes yet longer stray."     --So stealing from the mind of the old King     Exhausted, into the sleeping young man's brain     Crept the same dream and lifted on new wing     And took from his swift passions a new stain,     Sanguine and azure, and first fluttering     Rose then on easy vans that bore again     The sleeper past his common thought's confine:--     So borne, so soaring, in that air divine,     He saw his people stayed, their journeys ended....     There should they, no more fretful, dwell for ever     In the full-nourished pasture where untended     Herds multiplied, and famine threatened never,     And where high border-hills glittered with splendid     Sparse-covered veins washed by the hill-born river.     So stead by stead arose, and men there moved     Satisfied, and no more vain longings roved.     Again the silver plough gleamed in the sod,     And seed from old fields slept in furrows new.     Then when Spring's rain and sun together trod     And interweaved swift steps the meadow through,     Old rites revived; they bore the shapen god     With green stalks and first-budded boughs, and drew     Together youth and age. And sowers leapt     High o'er the seed in earth's cold bosom wrapt:--     So in the golden-hued and burning hours     Of harvest, leapt on high the full-eared corn.     Friendly to pious hands those imaged Powers     Of rain and sun. And when the grain was borne     By oxen trailing tangled straws and flowers,     With leaves and dying blossoms on each horn,     Friendly the gods commingling in the shades     Of moon and torch and smoke-delaying glades.     Fell slowly sunset; the starred evening cool     Drooped round as mid his people the king rode,     Blessing and blessed, and in the faithful pool     Of their old loves his clear reflection glowed     Like summer's golden moon:--in wise and fool,     Noble and mean, accustomed reverence showed     Clear-shining; so he reached the unbarred hall     Where lamps, lords, servitors flashed festival,     Remembering old journeys and their end.     Bright-throned he sat there, with those lords around     Snow-polled, co-eval, as with friends their friend     Feasting. Arose at length the awaited sound     Of bardic chanting, bidding their thoughts descend     Into the chamber where the Past lay bound,     Wanting but music's finger; so upspringing,     The Past stormed all their minds in that loud singing.     And strangers, furred and tawny, seated there,     Far travellers from the sunrise, looking on     The feasting and the splendour, and with ear     Uncertain listening to the solemn tone     Of most dear Memory, envied all and sware     A sudden fealty. But the bard sang on     While silver beakers brimmed untouched; and darkened     The proud remembering eyes of men that hearkened.     Then came once more those strangers leading long     Migration of their subject folk. They stayed     And medley'd and were mingled, and their throng     Melted in his like snows, and so were made     One with them, and forgot their useless tongue,     Nor now their ancient bloody worship paid     To painted gods:--name, language, story died     When their last faithless exile parting sighed.     So year on year, century on century     In his imagination of delight     Followed, in a new world all innocency     And simpleness, and made for beings bright,     Where man to man was friend, unfearful, free,     And natural griefs alone darkened their night,     And natural joys as the wide air were common,     And kindness was the bond of all kin human.     *             *             *             *             *     --When the loved reeds of music sounded clear     From birds' breasts quivering in tall woodland trees     That rustled leafless in the winter air,     And with morn's new voice shrilled the western breeze:     Folding her wings the dream crept from his ear     To hang where bats drowse until daylight dies.     Then he from sleep's dear vanity awaking     Watched a sole sunbeam the roof-shadows raking.