dreams & dust(梦与尘)-第9节
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THE WAGES
EARTH loves to gibber o'er her dross； Her golden souls； to waste；
The cup she fills for her god…men Is a bitter cup to taste。
Who sees the gyves that bind mankind And strives to strike them
off Shall gain the hissing hate of fools； Thorns； and the ingrate's scoff。
Who storms the moss…grown walls of eld And beats some falsehood
down Shall pass the pallid gates of death Sans laurel； love or crown；
For him who fain would teach the world The world holds hate in
fee For Socrates； the hemlock cup； For Christ； Gethsemane。
IN MARS； WHAT AVATAR？
〃In Vishnu…land； what avatar？〃
BROWNING。
PERCHANCE the dying gods of Earth Are destined to another birth；
And worn…out creeds regain their worth In the kindly air of other stars
What lords of life and light hold sway In the myriad worlds of the Milky
Way？ What avatars in Mars？
What Aphrodites from the seas That lap the plunging Pleiades Arise
to spread afar The dream that was the soul of Greece？ In Mars； what
avatar？
Which hundred moons are wan with love For dull Endymions？
Which hundred moons hang tranced above Audacious Ajalons？
What Holy Grail lures errants pale Through the wastes of yonder
star？ What fables sway the Milky Way？ In Mars； what avatar？
When morning skims with crimson wings Across the meres of
Mercury； What dreaming Memnon wakes and sings Of miracles on
Mercury？ What Christs； what avatars； Claim Mars？
THE GOD…MAKER； MAN
NEVERMORE Shall the shepherds of Arcady follow Pan's moods
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as he lolls by the shore Of the mere； or lies hid in the hollow；
Nevermore Shall they start at the sound of his reed…fashioned
flute；
Fallen mute Are the strings of Apollo； His lyre and his lute； And
the lips of the Memnons are mute Evermore； And the gods of the
North；are they dead or forgetful； Our Odin and Baldur and Thor？
Are they drunk； or grown weary of worship and fretful； Our Odin
and Baldur and Thor？
And into what night have the Orient dieties strayed？ Swart
gods of the Nile； in dusk splendors arrayed； Brooding Isis and somber
Osiris； You were gone ere the fragile papyrus； （That bragged you
eternal！） decayed。
The avatars But illumine their limited evens And vanish like
plunging stars； They are fixed in the whirling heavens No firmer than
falling stars； Brief lords of the changing soul； they pass Like a breath from
the face of a glass； Or a blossom of summer blown shallop…like over
The clover And tossed tides of grass。
Sink to silence the psalms and the paeans The shibboleths shift； and
the faiths； And the temples that challenged the aeons Are tenanted only
by wraiths； Swoon to silence the cymbals and psalters； The worships
grow senseless and strange；
And the mockers ask； 〃Where be thy altars？〃 Crying； 〃Nothing is
changelessbut Change！〃
Yes； nothing seems changeless； but Change。 And yet； through the
creed…wrecking years； One story for ever appears； The tale of a City
Supernal The whisper of Something eternal A passion； a hope； and a
vision That peoples the silence with Powers； A fable of meadows
Elysian Where Time enters not with his Hours； Manifold are the tale's
variations； Race and clime ever tinting the dreams； Yet its essence；
through endless mutations； Immutable gleams。
Deathless； though godheads be dying； Surviving the creeds that
expire； Illogical； reason…defying； Lives that passionate； primal desire；
Insistent； persistent； forever Man cries to the silences； Never
Shall Death reign the lord of the soul； Shall the dust be the ultimate
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goal I will storm the black bastions of Night！ I will tread where my
vision has trod； I will set in the darkness a light； In the vastness； a god！〃
As the forehead of Man grows broader； so do his creeds； And
his gods they are shaped in his image； and mirror his needs； And
he clothes them with thunders and beauty； he clothes them with
music and fire； Seeing not； as he bows by their altars； that he
worships his own desire； And mixed with his trust there is terror； and
mixed with his madness is ruth； And every man grovels in error； yet every
man glimpses a truth。
For all of the creeds are false； and all of the creeds are true；
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow； there will I bow；
too；
For no form of a god； and no fashion Man has made in his desperate
passion But is worthy some worship of mine； Not too hot with a gross
belief； Nor yet too cold with pride； I will bow me down where my
brothers bow； Humblebut open…eyed！
UNREST A FIERCE unrest seethes at the core Of all existing
things： It was the eager wish to soar That gave the gods their wings。
From what flat wastes of cosmic slime； And stung by what quick
fire； Sunward the restless races climb！ Men risen out of mire！
There throbs through all the worlds that are This heart…beat hot and
strong； And shaken systems； star by star； Awake and glow in song。
But for the urge of this unrest These joyous spheres were mute； But
for the rebel in his breast Had man remained a brute。
When baffled lips demanded speech； Speech trembled into birth
（One day the lyric word shall reach From earth to laughing earth）
When man's dim eyes demanded light The light he sought was
born His wish； a Titan； scaled the height And flung him back the
morn！
From deed to dream； from dream to deed； From daring hope to
hope； The restless wish； the instant need； Still lashed him up the slope！
。 。 。 。 。 。
I sing no governed firmament； Cold； ordered； regular I sing the
stinging discontent That leaps from star to star！
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THE PILTDOWN SKULL
WHAT was his life； back yonder In the dusk where time began；
This beast uncouth with the jaw of an ape And the eye and brain of a
man？ Work； and the wooing of woman； Fight； and the lust of fight；
Play； and the blind beginnings Of an Art that groped for light？
In the wonder of redder mornings； By the beauty of brighter seas；
Did he stand； the world's first thinker； Scorning his clan's decrees？
Seeking； with baffled eyes； In the dumb； inscrutable skies； A name for the
greater glory That only the dreamer sees？
One day； when the afterglows； Like quick and sentient things；
With a rush of their vast； wild wings； Rose out of the shaken ocean
As great birds rise from the sod； Did the shock of their sudden splendor
Stir him and startle and thrill him； Grip him and shake him and fill him
With a sense as of heights untrod？ Did he tremble with hope and vision；
And grasp at a hint of God？
London stands where the mammoth Caked shag flanks with slime
And what are our lives that inherit The treasures of all time？ Work； and
the wooing of woman； Fight； and the lust of fight； A little play （and too
much toil！） With an Art that gropes for light； And now and then a
dreamer； Rapt； from his lonely sod Looks up and is thrilled and startled
With a fleeting sense of God！
THE SEEKER
