FOURTH PHASE
SOUL:
Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled;
And at this balance of my destiny, now close upon me,
I can forward look with a serenest joy.
But hark! upon my sense
Comes a fierce hubbub, which would make me fear,
Could I be frighted.
ANGEL:
We are now arrived
Close on the judgment court; that sullen howl
Is from the demons who assemble there.
It is the middle region, where of old
Satan appeared among the sons of God,
To cast his jibes and scoffs at holy Job.
So now his legions throng the vestibule,
Hungry and wild, to claim their property,
And gather souls for hell.
Hist to their cry.
SOUL:
HOW sour and how uncouth a dissonance!
DEMONS:
LOW-BORN clods of brute earth,
They aspire to become gods,
By a new birth, and an extra grace,
And a score of merits.
As if aught could stand in place
Of the high thought,
And the glance of fire of the great spirits,
The powers blest, The lords by right,
The primal owners of the proud dwelling
And realm of light,—
Dispossessed, aside thrust, chucked down,
By the sheer might of a despot’s will,
Of a tyrant’s frown.
Who after expelling Their hosts, gave,
Triumphant still, And still unjust,
Each forfeit crown To psalm-droners,
And canting groaners,
To every slave
And pious cheat,
And crawling knave,
Who licked the dust under his feet.
ANGEL:
Tis the restless panting of their being;
Like beasts of prey, who, caged within their bars,
In a deep hideous purring have their life,
And an incessant pacing to and fro.
DEMONS:
THE mind bold and independent,
The purpose free, so we are told,
Must not think to have the ascendant.
What’s a saint?
One whose breath doth the air taint before his death;
A bundle of bones, Which fools adore,
When life is o’er, Ha! ha!
Which rattle and stink, E’en in the flesh.
We cry his pardon!
No flesh bath he;
Ha! ha!
For it bath died, ‘Tis crucified Day by day, Afresh, afresh,
Ha! ha!
That holy clay,
Ha! ha!
And such fudge,
As priestlings prate, Is his guerdon,
Ha! ha!
Before the Judge,
And pleads and atones For spite and grudge,
And bigot mood,
And envy and hate, And greed of blood.
SOUL:
HOW impotent they are! and yet on earth
They have repute for wondrous power and skill;
And books describe, how that the very face
Of the Evil One, if seen, would have a force
Even to freeze the blood, and choke the life
Of Him who saw it.
ANGEL:
In thy trial-state
Thou hadst a traitor nestling close at home,
Connatural, who with the powers of hell
Was leagued, and of thy senses kept the keys,
And to that deadliest foe unlocked thy heart. therefore is it, in respect of man,
Those fallen ones show so majestical.
But when some child of grace, angel or saint,
Pure and upright in his integrity nature, meets the demons on their raid,
They scud away as cowards from the fight.
Nay oft hath holy hermit in his cell, yet disburdened of mortality,
Mocked at their threats and warlike overtures;
Or, dying, when they swarmed, like flies,
Defied them, and departed to his Judge.
DEMONS:
VIRTUE and vice, a knave’s pretence
‘Tis all the same; Ha! ha!
Dread of hell-fire, of the venomous flame,
A coward’s plea. Ha! ha!
Give him his price,
Saint though he be, Ha! Ha!
Fom shrewd good sense
He’ll slave for hi re; Ha! ha!
And does but aspire to the heaven above
With sordid aim,
And not for love. Ha! Ha!
SOUL:
I see not those false spirits;
Shall I see my dearest Master,
When I reach His throne?
Or hear, at least, His awful judgment-word
With personal intonation, as I now
Hear thee, not see thee, Angel? Hitherto
All has been darkness since I left the earth;
S hall I remain thus sight bereft all through
My penance time? If so, how comes it then
That I have hearing still, and taste, and touch,
Yet not a glimmer of that princely sense
Which binds ideas in one, and makes them live?
ANGEL:
NOR touch, nor taste, nor hearing hast thou now;
Thou livest in a world of signs and types,
The presentations of most holy truths,
Living and strong, which now encompass thee.
A disembodied soul, thou hast by right
No converse with aught else beside thyself;
But, lest so stern a solitude should load
And break thy being, in mercy are vouchsafed
Some lower measures of perception,
Which seem to thee, as though through channels brought,
Through ear, or nerves, or palate, which are gone.
And thou art wrapped and swathed around in dreams,
Dreams that are true, yet enigmatical;
For the belongings of thy present state,
Save through such symbols, come not home to thee.
And thus thou tell’st of space, and time, and size,
Of fragrant, solid, bitter, musical,
Of fire, and of refreshment after fire;
As (let me use similitude of earth,
To aid thee in the knowledge thou dost ask) –
As ice which blisters may be said to burn.
Nor hast thou now extension, with its parts
Correlative,—long habit cozens thee,—
Nor power to move thyself; nor limbs to move.
Hast thou not heard of those, who, after loss
Of hand or foot, still cried that they had pains
In hand or foot, as though they had it still?
So is it now with thee, who hast not lost
Thy hand or foot, but all which made up man;
So will it be, until the joyous day
Of resurrection, when thou wilt regain
All thou hast lost, new-made and glorified.
How, even now, the consummated Saints
See God in heaven, I may not explicate.
Meanwhile let it suffice thee to possess
Such means of converse as are granted thee,
Though, till that Beatific Vision thou art blind;
For e’en thy purgatory, which comes like fire,
Is fire without its light.
SOUL:
His will be done!
I am not worthy e’er to see again
The face of day; far less His countenance,
Who is the very sun. Nathless, in life,
When I looked forward to my purgatory,
It ever was my solace to believe
That, ere I plunged amid th’ avenging flame,
I had one sight of Him to strengthen me.
ANGEL:
NOR rash nor vain is that presentiment;
Yes,—for one moment thou shalt see thy Lord.
Thus will it be: what time thou art arraigned
Before the dread tribunal, and thy lot
Is cast for ever, should it be to sit
On His right hand among His pure elect,
Then sight, or that which to the soul is sight,
As by a lightning-flash, will come to thee,
And thou shalt see, amid the dark profound,
Whom thy soul loveth, and would fain approach,—
One moment; but thou knowest not,
My child, what thou dost ask:
That sight of the most fair will gladden thee,
But it will pierce thee too.
SOUL:
THOU speakest darkly, Angel; and an awe
Falls on me, and a fear lest I be rash.
ANGEL:
THERE was a mortal, who is now
Above in the mid glory:
He, when near to die, was given
Communion with the Crucified,—
Such, that the Master’s very wounds
Were stamped upon his flesh;
And, from the agony which thrilled
Through body and soul in that embrace,
Learn that the flame of the Everlasting Love
Doth burn ere it transform…
