The Brewing Of Soma

The fagots blazed, the caldron's smoke     Up through the green wood curled;     "Bring honey from the hollow oak,     Bring milky sap," the brewers spoke,     In the childhood of the world.     And brewed they well or brewed they ill,     The priests thrust in their rods,     First tasted, and then drank their fill,     And shouted, with one voice and will,     "Behold the drink of gods!"     They drank, and to! in heart and brain     A new, glad life began;     The gray of hair grew young again,     The sick man laughed away his pain,     The cripple leaped and ran.     "Drink, mortals, what the gods have sent,     Forget your long annoy."     So sang the priests. From tent to tent     The Soma's sacred madness went,     A storm of drunken joy.     Then knew each rapt inebriate     A winged and glorious birth,     Soared upward, with strange joy elate,     Beat, with dazed head, Varuna's gate,     And, sobered, sank to earth.     The land with Soma's praises rang;     On Gihon's banks of shade     Its hymns the dusky maidens sang;     In joy of life or mortal pang     All men to Soma prayed.     The morning twilight of the race     Sends down these matin psalms;     And still with wondering eyes we trace     The simple prayers to Soma's grace,     That Vedic verse embalms.     As in that child-world's early year,     Each after age has striven     By music, incense, vigils drear,     And trance, to bring the skies more near,     Or lift men up to heaven!     Some fever of the blood and brain,     Some self-exalting spell,     The scourger's keen delight of pain,     The Dervish dance, the Orphic strain,     The wild-haired Bacchant's yell,     The desert's hair-grown hermit sunk     The saner brute below;     The naked Santon, hashish-drunk,     The cloister madness of the monk,     The fakir's torture-show!     And yet the past comes round again,     And new doth old fulfil;     In sensual transports wild as vain     We brew in many a Christian fane     The heathen Soma still!     Dear Lord and Father of mankind,     Forgive our foolish ways!     Reclothe us in our rightful mind,     In purer lives Thy service find,     In deeper reverence, praise.     In simple trust like theirs who heard     Beside the Syrian sea     The gracious calling of the Lord,     Let us, like them, without a word,     Rise up and follow Thee.     O Sabbath rest by Galilee!     O calm of hills above,     Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee     The silence of eternity     Interpreted by love!     With that deep hush subduing all     Our words and works that drown     The tender whisper of Thy call,     As noiseless let Thy blessing fall     As fell Thy manna down.     Drop Thy still dews of quietness,     Till all our strivings cease;     Take from our souls the strain and stress,     And let our ordered lives confess     The beauty of Thy peace.     Breathe through the heats of our desire     Thy coolness and Thy balm;     Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;     Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,     O still, small voice of calm