Songs of Olden Magic--II. The Robing of the King

--"His candle shined upon my head, and by his light I walked     through darkness."--Job, xxix. 3               On the bird of air blue-breasted         glint the rays of gold,     And a shadowy fleece above us         waves the forest old,     Far through rumorous leagues of midnight         stirred by breezes warm.     See the old ascetic yonder,         Ah, poor withered form!     Where he crouches wrinkled over         by unnumbered years     Through the leaves the flakes of moonfire         fall like phantom tears.     At the dawn a kingly hunter         passed proud disdain,     Like a rainbow-torrent scattered         flashed his royal train.     Now the lonely one unheeded         seeks earth's caverns dim,     Never king or princes will robe them         radiantly as him.     Mid the deep enfolding darkness,         follow him, oh seer,     While the arrow will is piercing         fiery sphere on sphere.     Through the blackness leaps and sparkles         gold and amethyst,     Curling, jetting and dissolving         in a rainbow mist.     In the jewel glow and lunar         radiance rise there     One, a morning star in beauty,         young, immortal, fair.     Sealed in heavy sleep, the spirit         leaves its faded dress,     Unto fiery youth returning         out of weariness.     Music as for one departing,         joy as for a king,     Sound and swell, and hark! above him         cymbals triumphing.     Fire an aureole encircling         suns his brow with gold     Like to one who hails the morning         on the mountains old.     Open mightier vistas changing         human loves to scorns,     And the spears of glory pierce him         like a Crown of Thorns.     As the sparry rays dilating         o'er his forehead climb     Once again he knows the Dragon         Wisdom of the prime.     High and yet more high to freedom         as a bird he springs,     And the aureole outbreathing,         gold and silver wings     Plume the brow and crown the seraph.         Soon his journey done     He will pass our eyes that follow,         sped beyond the sun.     None may know the darker radiance,         King, will there be thine.     Rapt above the Light and hidden         in the Dark Divine. --September 15, 1895