Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A STORY OF DOOM: BOOK 2, by JEAN INGELOW Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Now ere the sunrise, while the morning star Last Line: Into the waste to meet the voice of god. Subject(s): God; Methuselah; Noah (bible) | ||||||||
NOW ere the sunrise, while the morning star Hung yet behind the pine bough, woke and prayed The world's great shipwright, and his soul was glad Because the Voice was favourable. Now Began the tap o' the hammer, now ran forth The slaves preparing food. They therefore ate In peace together; then Niloiya forth Behind the milk-white steers went on her way; And the great Master-builder, down the course Of the long river, on his errand sped, And as he went, he thought: [They do not well Who, walking up a trodden path, all smooth With footsteps of their fellows, and made straight From town to town, will scorn at them that wonn Under the covert of God's eldest trees (Such as He planted with His hand, and fed With dew before rain fell, till they stood close And awful; drank the light up as it dropped, And kept the dusk of ages at their roots); They do not well who mock at such, and cry, 'We peaceably, without or fault or fear, Proceed, and miss not of our end; but these Are slow and fearful: with uncertain pace, And ever reasoning of the way, they oft, After all reasoning, choose the worser course, And plunged in swamp, or in the matted growth Nigh smothered struggle, all to reach a goal Not worth their pains.' Nor do they well whose work Is still to feed and shelter them and theirs, Get gain, and gathered store it, to think scorn Of those who work for a world (no wages paid By a Master hid in light), and sent alone To face a laughing multitude, whose eyes Are full of damaging pity, that forbears To tell the harmless labourer, 'Thou art mad.'] And as he went, he thought: 'They counsel me, Ay, with a kind of reason in their talk "Consider; call thy soberer thought to aid; Why to but one man should a message come? And why, if but to one, to thee? Art thou Above us, greater, wiser? Had He sent, He had willed that we should heed. Then since He knoweth That such as thou, a wise man cannot heed, He did not send." My answer, "Great and wise, If He had sent with thunder, and a voice Leaping from heaven, ye must have heard: but so Ye had been robbed of choice, and, like the beasts, Yoked to obedience. God makes no men slaves." They tell me, "God is great above thy thought: he meddles not; and this small world is ours, These many hundred years we govern it; Old Adam, after Eden, saw Him not." Then I, "It may be He is gone to knead More clay. But look, my masters; one of you Going to warfare, layeth up his gown, His sickle, or his gold, and thinks no more Upon it, till young trees have waxen great; At last, when he returneth he will seek His own. And God, shall He not do the like? And having set new worlds a-rolling, come And say, 'I will betake Me to the earth That I did make:' and having found it vile, Be sorry? Why should man be free, you wise, And not the Master?" Then they answer, "Fool! A man shall cast a stone into the air For pastime, or for lack of heed, -- but He! Will He come fingering of His ended work, Fright it with His approaching face, or snatch One day the rolling wonder from its ring, And hold it quivering, as a wanton child Might take a nestling from its downy bed, And having satisfied a careless wish, Go thrust it back into its place again? To such I answer, and, that doubt once mine, I am assured that I do speak aright: "Sirs, the significance of this your doubt Lies in the reason of it; ye do grudge That these your lands should have another Lord; Ye are not loyal, therefore ye would fain Your King would bide afar. But if ye looked For countenance and favour when He came, Knowing yourselves right worthy, would ye care, With cautious reasoning, deep and hard, to prove That He would never come, and would your wrath Be hot against a prophet? Nay, I wot That as a flatterer you would look on him, -- 'Full of sweet words thy mouth is: if He come -- We think not that He will -- but if He come, Would it might be to-morrow, or to-night, Because we look for praise.'"' Now, as he went, The noontide heats came on, and he grew faint; But while he sat below an almug tree, A slave approached with greeting. 'Master, hail!' He answered, 'Hail! what wilt thou?' Then she said, 'The palace of thy fathers standeth nigh.' 'I know it,' quoth he; and she said again, 'The Elder, learning thou wouldst pass, hath sent To fetch thee;' then he rose and followed her. So first they walked beneath a lofty roof Of living bough and tendril, woven on high To let no drop of sunshine through, and hung With gold and purple fruitage, and the white Thick cups of scented blossom. Underneath, Soft grew the sward and delicate, and flocks Of egrets, aye, and many cranes, stood up, Fanning their wings, to agitate and cool The noonday air, as men with heed and pains Had taught them, marshalling and taming them To bear the wind in, on their moving wings. So long time as a nimble slave would spend In milking of her cow, they walked at ease; Then reached the palace, all of forest trunks, Brought whole, and set together, made. Therein Had dwelt old Adam, when his mighty sons Had finished it, and up to Eden gate Had journeyed for to fetch him. 'Here,' they said 'Mother and father, ye may dwell, and here Forget the garden wholly.' So he came Under the doorplace, and the women sat, Each with her finger on her lips; but he, Having been called, went on, until he reached The jewelled settle, wrought with cunning work Of gold and ivory, whereon they wont To set the Elder. All with sleekest skins, That striped and spotted creatures of the wood Had worn, the seat was covered, but thereon The Elder was not; by the steps thereof, Upon the floor, whereto his silver beard Did reach, he sat, and he was in his trance. Upon the settle many doves were perched, That set the air a-going with their wings: These opposite, the world's great shipwright stood To wait the burden; and the Elder spake: 'Will He forget me? Would He might forget! Old, old! The hope of old Methuselah Is all in His forgetfulness.' With that, A slave-girl took a cup of wine, and crept Anear him, saying, 'Taste;' and when his lips Had touched it, lo, he trembled, and he cried, 'Behold, I prophesy.' Then straight they fled That were about him, and did stand apart And stop their ears. For he, from time to time, Was plagued with that same fate to prophesy, And spake against himself, against his day And time, in words that all men did abhor. Therefore, he warning them what time the fit Came on him, saved them, that they heard it not. So while they fled, he cried: 'I saw the God Reach out of heaven His wonderful right hand. Lo, lo! He dipped it in the unquiet sea, And in its curved palm behold the ark, As in a vast calm lake, came floating on. Ay, then, His other hand -- the cursing hand -- He took and spread between us and the sun, And all was black; the day was blotted out, And horrible staggering took the frighted earth. I heard the water hiss, and then methinks The crack as of her splitting. Did she take Their palaces that are my brothers dear, And huddle them with all their ancientry Under into her breast? If it was black, How could this old man see? There was a noise I' the dark, and He drew back His hand again. I looked ----- It was a dream, -- let no man say It was aught else. There, so -- the fit goes by. Sir, and my daughters, is it eventide? -- Sooner than that, saith old Methuselah, Let the vulture lay his beak to my green limbs. What! art Thou envious? -- are the sons of men Too wise to please Thee, and to do Thy will? Methuselah, he sitteth on the ground, Clad in his gown of age, the pale white gown, And goeth not forth to war; his wrinkled hands He claspeth round his knees: old, very old. Would he could steal from Thee one secret more -- The secret of Thy youth! O, envious God! We die. The words of old Methuselah And his prophecy are ended.' Then the wives, Beholding how he trembled, and the maids And children, came anear, saying, 'Who art thou That standest gazing on the Elder? Lo, Thou dost not well: withdraw; for it was thou Whose stranger presence troubled him, and brought The fit of prophecy.' And he did turn To look upon them, and their majesty And glorious beauty took away his words And being pure among the vile, he cast In his thought a veil of snow-white purity Over the beauteous throng. 'Thou dost not well,' They said. He answered: 'Blossoms o' the world, Fruitful as fair, never in watered glade, Where in the youngest grass blue cups push forth, And the white lily reareth up her head, And purples cluster, and the saffron flower Clear as a flame of sacrifice breaks out, And every cedar bough, made delicate With climbing roses, drops in white and red, -- Saw I (good angels keep you in their care) So beautiful a crowd.' With that, they stamped, Gnashed their white teeth, and turning, fled and spat Upon the floor. The Elder spake to him, Yet shaking with the burden, 'Who art thou?' He answered, 'I, the man whom thou didst send To fetch through this thy woodland, do forbear To tell my name; thou lovest it not, great sire, -- No, nor mine errand. To thy house I spake, Touching their beauty.' 'Wherefore didst thou spite,' Quoth he, 'the daughters?' and it seemed he lost Count of that prophecy, for very age, And from his thin lips dropped a trembling laugh. 'Wicked old man,' quoth he, 'this wise old man I see as 't were not I. Thou bad old man, What shall be done to thee? for thou didst burn Their babes, and strew the ashes all about, To rid the world of His white soldiers. Ay, Scenting of human sacrifice, they fled. Cowards! I heard them winnow their great wings: They went to tell Him; but they came no more. The women hate to hear of them, so sore They grudged their little ones; and yet no way There was but that. I took it; I did well.' With that he fell to weeping. 'Son,' said he, 'Long have I hid mine eyes from stalwart men, For it is hard to lose the majesty And pride and power of manhood: but to-day, Stand forth into the light, that I may look Upon thy strength, and think, Even thus did I, In the glory of my youth, more like to God Than like His soldiers, face the vassal world.' Then Noah stood forward in his majesty, Shouldering the golden billhook, wherewithal He wont to cut his way, when tangled in The matted hayes. And down the opened roof Fell slanting beams upon his stately head, And streamed along his gown, and made to shine The jewelled sandals on his feet. And, lo, The Elder cried aloud: 'I prophesy. Behold, my son is as a fruitful field When all the lands are waste. The archers drew -- They drew the bow against him; they were fain To slay: but he shall live -- my son shall live, And I shall live by him in the other days. Behold the prophet of the Most High God: Hear him. Behold the hope o' the world, what time She lieth under. Hear him; he shall save A seed alive, and sow the earth with man. O, earth! earth! earth! a floating shell of wood Shall hold the remnant of thy mighty lords. Will this old man be in it? Sir, and you My daughters, hear him! Lo, this white old man He sitteth on the ground. (Let be, let be: Why dost Thou trouble us to make our tongue Ring with abhorred words?) The prophecy Of the Elder, and the vision that he saw, They both are ended.' Then said Noah: 'The life Of this my lord is low for very age: Why then, with bitter words upon thy tongue, Father of Lamech, dost thou anger Him? Thou canst not strive against Him now.' He said: 'Thy feet are toward the valley, where lie bones Bleaching upon the desert. Did I love The lithe strong lizards that I yoked and set To draw my car? and were they not Possessed? Yea, all of them were liars. I loved them well. What did the Enemy, but on a day When I behind my talking team went forth, They sweetly lying, so that all men praised Their flattering tongues and mild persuasive eyes -- What did the Enemy but send His slaves, Angels, to cast down stones upon their heads And break them? Nay, I could not stir abroad But havoc came; they never crept or flew Beyond the shelter that I builded here, But straight the crowns I had set upon their heads Were marks for myrmidons that in the clouds Kept watch to crush them. Can a man forgive That hath been warred on thus? I will not. Nay, I swear it -- I, the man Methuselah.' The Master-shipwright, he replied, ''Tis true, Great loss was that; but they that stood thy friends, The wicked spirits, spoke upon their tongues, And cursed the God of heaven. What marvel, sir, If He was angered?' But the Elder cried, 'They all are dead -- the toward beasts I loved; My goodly team, my joy, they all are dead; Their bones lie bleaching in the wilderness: And I will keep my wrath for evermore Against the Enemy that slew them. Go, Thou coward servant of a tyrant King, Go down the desert of the bones, and ask, "My King, what bones are these? Methuselah, The white old man that sitteth on the ground, Sendeth a message, 'Bid them that they live, And let my lizards run up every path They wont to take when out of silver pipes, The pipes that Tubal wrought into my roof, I blew a sweeter cry than song-bird's throat Hath ever formed; and while they laid their heads Submiss upon my threshold, poured away Music that welled by heartfuls out, and made The throats of men that heard to swell, their breasts To heave with the joy of grief; yea, caused the lips To laugh of men asleep. Return to me The great wise lizards; aye, and them that flew My pursuivants before me. Let me yoke Again that multitude; and here I swear That they shall draw my car and me thereon Straight to the ship of doom. So men shall know My loyalty, that I submit, and Thou Shalt yet have honour, O mine Enemy, By me. The speech of old Methuselah.'"' Then Noah made answer, 'By the living God, That is no enemy to men, great sire, I will not take thy message; hear thou Him. "Behold (He saith that suffereth thee), behold, The earth that I made green cries out to Me, Red with the costly blood of beauteous man. I am robbed, I am robbed (He saith); they sacrifice To evil demons of My blameless flocks, That I did fashion with My hand. Behold, How goodly was the world! I gave it thee Fresh from its finishing. What hast thou done? I will cry out to the waters, Cover it, And hide it from its Father. Lo, Mine eyes Turn from it shamed."' With that the old man laughed Full softly. 'Ay,' quoth he, 'a goodly world, And we have done with it as we did list. Why did He give it us? Nay, look you, son: Five score they were that died in yonder waste; And if He crieth, "Repent, be reconciled," I answer, "Nay, my lizards;" and again, If He will trouble me in this mine age, "Why hast Thou slain my lizards?" Now my speech Is cut away from all my other words, Standing alone. The Elder sweareth it, The man of many days, Methuselah.' Then answered Noah, 'My Master, hear it not; But yet have patience;' and he turned himself, And down betwixt the ordered trees went forth, And in the light of evening made his way Into the waste to meet the Voice of God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: WHY by EDITH SITWELL STILL, CITIZEN SPARROW by RICHARD WILBUR NOAH EN DE ARK by LOUISE AYRES GARNETT A STORY OF DOOM: BOOK 1 by JEAN INGELOW A STORY OF DOOM: BOOK 9 by JEAN INGELOW THE WORLD OF THE PERFECT TEAR by THOMAS MCGRATH OLD NOAH'S INVENTION by GEORGE NEAVES AS THE DOVE, WHICH FOUND NO REST by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ECHO AND THE FERRY by JEAN INGELOW GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW |
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