The Souls' Rising.

See how the storm of life ascends     Up through the shadow of the world!     Beyond our gaze the line extends,     Like wreaths of vapour tempest-hurled!     Grasp tighter, brother, lest the storm     Should sweep us down from where we stand,     And we may catch some human form     We know, amongst the straining band.         See! see in yonder misty cloud     One whirlwind sweep, and we shall hear     The voice that waxes yet more loud     And louder still approaching near!         Tremble not, brother, fear not thou,     For yonder wild and mystic strain     Will bring before us strangely now     The visions of our youth again!         Listen! oh listen!     See how its eyeballs roll and glisten     With a wild and fearful stare     Upwards through the shining air,     Or backwards with averted look,     As a child were gazing at a book     Full of tales of fear and dread,     When the thick night-wind came hollow and dead.         Round about it, wavering and light.     As the moths flock round a candle at night,     A crowd of phantoms sheeted and dumb     Strain to its words as they shrilly come:     Brother, my brother, dost thou hear?     They pierce through the tumult sharp and clear!         "The rush of speed is on my soul,     My eyes are blind with things I see;     I cannot grasp the awful whole,     I cannot gird the mystery!     The mountains sweep like mist away;     The great sea shakes like flakes of fire;     The rush of things I cannot see     Is mounting upward higher and higher!     Oh! life was still and full of calm     In yonder spot of earthly ground,     But now it rolls a thunder-psalm,     Its voices drown my ear in sound!     Would God I were a child again     To nurse the seeds of faith and power;     I might have clasped in wisdom then     A wing to beat this awful hour!     The dullest things would take my marks--     They took my marks like drifted snow--     God! how the footsteps rise in sparks,     Rise like myself and onward go!     Have pity, O ye driving things     That once like me had human form!     For I am driven for lack of wings     A shreddy cloud before the storm!"         How its words went through me then,     Like a long forgotten pang,     Till the storm's embrace again     Swept it far with sudden clang!--     Ah, methinks I see it still!     Let us follow it, my brother,     Keeping close to one another,     Blessing God for might of will!     Closer, closer, side by side!     Ours are wings that deftly glide     Upwards, downwards, and crosswise     Flashing past our ears and eyes,     Splitting up the comet-tracks     With a whirlwind at our backs!         How the sky is blackening!     Yet the race is never slackening;     Swift, continual, and strong,     Streams the torrent slope along,     Like a tidal surge of faces     Molten into one despair;     Each the other now displaces,     A continual whirl of spaces;     Ah, my fainting eyesight reels     As I strive in vain to stare     On a thousand turning wheels     Dimly in the gloom descending,     Faces with each other blending!--     Let us beat the vapours back,     We are yet upon his track.         Didst thou see a spirit halt     Upright on a cloudy peak,     As the lightning's horrid fault     Smote a gash into the cheek     Of the grinning thunder-cloud     Which doth still besiege and crowd     Upward from the nether pits     Where the monster Chaos sits,     Building o'er the fleeing rack     Roofs of thunder long and black?     Yes, I see it! I will shout     Till I stop the horrid rout.     Ho, ho! spirit-phantom, tell     Is thy path to heaven or hell?     We would hear thee yet again,     What thy standing amongst men,     What thy former history,     And thy hope of things to be!     Wisdom still we gain from hearing:     We would know, we would know     Whither thou art steering--     Unto weal or woe!         Ah, I cannot hear it speaking!     Yet it seems as it were seeking     Through our eyes our souls to reach     With a quaint mysterious speech,     As with stretched and crossing palms     One were tracing diagrams     On the ebbing of the beach,     Till with wild unmeasured dance     All the tiptoe waves advance,     Seize him by the shoulder, cover,     Turn him up and toss him over:     He is vanished from our sight,     Nothing mars the quiet night     Save a speck of gloom afar     Like the ruin of a star!         Brother, streams it ever so,     Such a torrent tide of woe?     Ah, I know not; let us haste     Upwards from this dreary waste,     Up to where like music flowing     Gentler feet are ever going,     Streams of life encircling run     Round about the spirit-sun!     Up beyond the storm and rush     With our lesson let us rise!     Lo, the morning's golden flush     Meets us midway in the skies!     Perished all the dream and strife!     Death is swallowed up of Life!