Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MESSAGE OF SETH; AN ORIENTAL TRADITION, by DAVID MACBETH MOIR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MESSAGE OF SETH; AN ORIENTAL TRADITION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Prostrate upon his couch of yellow leaves
Last Line: In hope matured to faith, the first man fell asleep.
Alternate Author Name(s): Delta
Subject(s): Faith; Messengers; Tradition; Belief; Creed


I.

PROSTRATE upon his couch of yellow leaves,
Slow-breathing lay the Father of Mankind;
And, as the rising sun through cloudland weaves
Its gold, the glowing past returned to mind,
Days of delight for ever left behind,
In purity's own garments garmented,
Under perennial branches intertwined—
Where fruits and flowers hung temptingly o'erhead,
Eden's blue streams he traced, by bliss ecstatic led.

II.

Before him still, in the far distance seen,
Arose its rampart groves impassable;
Stem behind giant stem, a barrier screen,
Whence even at noonday midnight shadows fell:
Vainly his steps had sought to bid farewell
To scenes so tenderly beloved, although
Living in sight of Heaven made Earth a Hell;
For fitful lightnings, on the turf below,
Spake of the guardian sword aye flickering to and fro—

III.

The fiery sword that, high above the trees,
Flashed awful threatenings from the angel's hand,
Who kept the gates and guarded: Nigh to these,
A hopeless exile, Adam loved to stand
Wistful, or roamed to catch a breeze that fanned
The ambrosial blooms, and wafted perfume thence,
As 'twere sweet tidings from a distant land
No more to be beheld; for Penitence,
However deep it be, brings back not Innocence.

IV.

Thus had it been through weary years, wherein
The primal curse, working its deadly way,
Had reft his vigour, made his cheek grow thin,
Furrowed his brow, and bleached his locks to grey:
A stricken man, now Adam prostrate lay
With sunken eye, and palpitating breath,
Waning like sunlight from the west away;
While tearfully, beside that bed of death,
Propping his father's head, in tenderness hung Seth.

V.

"Seth, dearest Seth," 'twas thus the father said,
"Thou know'st—ah! better none, for thou hast been
A pillow to this else forsaken head,
And made, if love could make, life's desert green—
The dangers I have braved, the ills unseen,
Like nets around my feet; and how the wrath
Of an offended God strewed briars keen,
And thorns, instead of flowers, along my path—
Yet deem not that this Night no hope of Morning hath.

VI.

"On darkness Dawn will break; and, as the gloom
Of something, all unfelt before, downweighs
My spirit, and forth-shadows coming doom,
Telling me this may be my last of days,—
I call to mind the promise sweet (let praise
Be ever His, who from Him hath not thrust
The erring utterly!) again to raise
The penitential prostrate from the dust,
And be the help of all who put in Him their trust.

VII.

"Know then, that day, as sad from Eden's home
Of primal blessedness my steps were bent
Reluctant, through the weary world to roam,
And tears were with the morning's dewdrops blent,
That 'twas even then the Almighty did relent—
Saying, 'Though labour, pain, and peril be
Thy portion, yet a balsam sweet of scent
For man hath been provided, which shall free
From death his doom—yea, gain lost Eden back to thee.

VIII.

" 'Although thy disobedience hath brought down
The wrath of justice; and the penalty
Are pangs by sickness brought, and misery's frown,
And toil—and, finally, that thou shalt die;
Yet will I help in thine extremity.
In the mid Garden, as thou know'st, there grows
The Tree of Life, and thence shall preciously,
One day, an oil distil, of power to close
Sin's bleeding wounds, and soothe man's sorrows to repose.'

IX.

"That promise hath been since a star of light,
When stumbled on the mountains dark my feet;
Hath cheered me in the visions of the night,
And made awaking even to labour sweet;
But now I feel the cycle is complete,
And horror weighs my spirit to the ground.
Haste to the guarded portals—now 'tis meet—
And learn if, even for me, may yet be found
That balsam for this else immedicable wound.

X.

"Thine errand to the Angel tell, and he
(Fear not, he knows that edict from the Throne)
Will guide thy footsteps to the Sacred Tree,
Which crowns the Garden's midmost space alone:
Thy father's utmost need to him make known;
And, ere life's pulsing lamp be wasted quite,
Bring back this Oil of Mercy—haste, be gone;
Haste thee, oh haste! for my uncertain sight,
Fitful, now deems it day, and now is quenched in night."

XI.

Seth heard; and like a swift fond bird he flew,
By filial love impelled; yea, lessened dread
Even of the guardian Fiery Angel knew,
And through the flowery plains untiring sped,
And upwards, onwards to the river-head,
Where, high to heaven, the verdant barriers towered
Of Eden; when he sank—o'ercanopied
With sudden lightning, which around him showered,
And in its vivid womb the mid-day sun devoured.

XII.

And in his ear and on his heart was poured,
While there entranced he lay, an answer meet;
And gradually, as Thought came back restored,
Uprising, forth he hied with homeward feet.
Sweet to the world's grey Father, O how sweet,
His coming on the nearest hill-top shone!
For now all feebly of his heart the beat
Returned; and of his voice the faltering tone,
Meeting the listener's ear, scarce made its purpose known.

XIII.

"Beloved father!" thus 'twas through his grief
Impassioned spake the son, "it may not be,
Alas! that, for thy misery's relief,
Wells now the promised balsam from Life's Tree.
And must I say farewell—yea, part with thee?—
Droop not thus all despairing: breath may fail,
And days and years and ages onward flee
Ere that day dawn; but thou its beams shalt hail,
And earth give up its dead, and Life o'er Death prevail.

XIV.

"Astounding are the visions I have seen:
The clouds took shapes, and turned them into trees
And men and mountains; and the lands between
Seemed cities, dun with crowds; and on the seas
Dwelt men, in arks careering with the breeze;
And shepherds drove their flocks along the plain;
And generations, smitten with disease,
Passed to the dust, on which tears fell like rain;
Yet fathers, in their sons, seem'd age grown youth again.

XV.

"And the wide waters rose above the tops
Of the high hills, and all looked desolate—
Sea without shore! Anon appeared the slopes,
Glowing with blossoms, and a group elate
Eying an arch, bright with Earth's future fate,
In heaven; and there were wanderings to and fro;
And, while beneath the multitudes await,
Tables, by God's own finger written, show
The Law by which He wills the world should walk below.

XVI.

"And ever passed before me clouds of change,
Whose figures rose, and brightened, and declined;
And what was now familiar straight grew strange,
And, melting into vapours, left behind
No trace; and, as to silence sank the wind,
Appeared in heaven a beautiful bright star,
Under whose beams an Infant lay reclined;
And all the wheels of nature ceased their jar,
And choiring angels hymned that Presence from afar.

XVII.

"And then, methought, upon a mountain stood
The Tree, from which, as shown to thee, should flow
That Oil of Mercy—but it looked like blood!
And to all quarters of the earth below
It streamed, until the desert ceased to know
Its curse of barrenness; the clouds away
Passed in their darkness from the noon; and lo!
Even backwards flowed that brightness to this day,
And, Father, showed me thee, encircled by its ray:—

XVIII.

"It showed me thee, from whom mankind had birth,
And myriads—countless as the sere leaves blown
From wintry woods—whose places on the earth,
Even from the burning to the icy zone,
Were to their sons' sons utterly unknown,
Awakening to a fresh eternal morn:
Methinks I list that glad Hosannah's tone,
From shore to shore on all the breezes borne!
Then, Father, droop not thus, as utterly forlorn;

XIX.

"A long, long future, freaked with sin and strife,
The generations of the world must know;
But surely from that Tree—the Tree of Life—
A healing for the nations yet will flow,
As God foretold thee."
"Freely then I go,
For steadfast is the Lord his word to keep,"
Said Adam, as his breathing, faint and slow,
Ceased; and, like zephyr dying on the deep,
In hope matured to faith, the First Man fell asleep.





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