George MacDonald - The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1

Why, how now, Robert?

[ Rising on his elbow .] Robert (glancing at the chest ). I see; that's well. Are you nearly ready?

Julian .
Why? What's the matter?

Robert .
You must go this night,
If you would go at all.

Julian .
Why must I go?

Robert (turning over the things in the chest ).
Here, put
this coat on. Ah! take that thing too.
No more such head-gear! Have you not a hat,

Or something for your head? There's such a hubbub
Got up about you! The Abbot comes to-morrow.

Julian .
Ah, well! I need not ask. I know it all.

Robert .
No, you do not. Nor is there time to tell you.
Ten minutes more, they will be round to bar
The outer doors; and then—good-bye, poor Julian!

Julian .
Now I am ready, Robert. Thank you, friend.
Farewell! God bless you! We shall meet again.

Robert .
Farewell, dear friend! Keep far away from this.

Abbot .
Now for a shrine to house this rich Madonna,
Within the holiest of the holy place!
I'll have it made in fashion as a stable,
With porphyry pillars to a marble stall;
And odorous woods, shaved fine like shaken hay,
Shall fill the silver manger for a bed,
Whereon shall lie the ivory Infant carved
By shepherd hands on plains of Bethlehem.
And over him shall bend the Mother mild,
In silken white and coroneted gems.
Glorious! But wherewithal I see not now—
The Mammon of unrighteousness is scant;
Nor know I any nests of money-bees
That could yield half-contentment to my need.
Yet will I trust and hope; for never yet
In journeying through this vale of tears have I
Projected pomp that did not blaze anon.

Julian .
So lies my journey—on into the dark!
Without my will I find myself alive,
And must go forward. Is it God that draws
Magnetic all the souls unto their home,
Travelling, they know not how, but unto God?
It matters little what may come to me
Of outward circumstance, as hunger, thirst,
Social condition, yea, or love or hate;
But what shall I be, fifty summers hence?
My life, my being, all that meaneth me ,
Goes darkling forward into something—what?
O God, thou knowest. It is not my care.
If thou wert less than truth, or less than love,
It were a fearful thing to be and grow
We know not what. My God, take care of me;
Pardon and swathe me in an infinite love,
Pervading and inspiring me, thy child.
And let thy own design in me work on,
Unfolding the ideal man in me;
Which being greater far than I have grown,
I cannot comprehend. I am thine, not mine.
One day, completed unto thine intent,
I shall be able to discourse with thee;
For thy Idea, gifted with a self,
Must be of one with the mind where it sprang,
And fit to talk with thee about thy thoughts.
Lead me, O Father, holding by thy hand;
I ask not whither, for it must be on.

This road will lead me to the hills, I think;
And there I am in safety and at home.

Abbot .
Did she say Julian ? Did she say the name?

Monk .
She did.

Abbot .
What did she call the lady? What?

Monk .
I could not hear.

Abbot .
Nor where she lived?

Monk .
Nor that.
She was too wild for leading where I would.

Abbot .
So! Send Julian. One thing I need not ask:
You have kept this matter secret?

Monk .
Yes, my lord.

Abbot .
Well, go and send him hither.

Said I well,
That prayer would burgeon into pomp for me?
That God would hear his own elect who cried?
Now for a shrine, so glowing in the means
That it shall draw the eyes by power of light!
So tender in conceit, that it shall draw
The heart by very strength of delicateness,
And move proud thought to worship!
I must act
With caution now; must win his confidence;
Question him of the secret enemies
That fight against his soul; and lead him thus
To tell me, by degrees, his history.
So shall I find the truth, and lay foundation
For future acts, as circumstance requires.
For if the tale be true that he is rich,
And if——

Monk .
He's gone, my lord! His cell is empty.

Abbot ( starting up ).
What! You are crazy! Gone?
His cell is empty?

Monk .
'Tis true as death, my lord. Witness, these eyes!

Abbot .
Heaven and hell! It shall not be, I swear!
There is a plot in this! You, sir, have lied!
Some one is in his confidence!—who is it?
Go rouse the convent.

He must be followed, found.
Hunt's up, friend Julian! First your heels, old stag!
But by and by your horns, and then your side!
'Tis venison much too good for the world's eating.
I'll go and sift this business to the bran.
Robert and him I have sometimes seen together!—God's
curse! it shall fare ill with any man
That has connived at this, if I detect him.

Julian .
Once more I tread thy courts, O God of heaven!
I lay my hand upon a rock, whose peak
Is miles away, and high amid the clouds.
Perchance I touch the mountain whose blue summit,
With the fantastic rock upon its side,
Stops the eye's flight from that high chamber-window
Where, when a boy, I used to sit and gaze
With wondering awe upon the mighty thing,
Terribly calm, alone, self-satisfied,
The hitherto of my child-thoughts. Beyond,
A sea might roar around its base. Beyond,
Might be the depths of the unfathomed space,
This the earth's bulwark over the abyss.
Upon its very point I have watched a star
For a few moments crown it with a fire,
As of an incense-offering that blazed
Upon this mighty altar high uplift,
And then float up the pathless waste of heaven.
From the next window I could look abroad
Over a plain unrolled, which God had painted
With trees, and meadow-grass, and a large river,
Where boats went to and fro like water-flies,
In white and green; but still I turned to look
At that one mount, aspiring o'er its fellows:
All here I saw—I knew not what was there.
O love of knowledge and of mystery,
Striving together in the heart of man!
"Tell me, and let me know; explain the thing."—
Then when the courier-thoughts have circled round:
"Alas! I know it all; its charm is gone!"
But I must hasten; else the sun will set
Before I reach the smoother valley-road.
I wonder if my old nurse lives; or has
Eyes left to know me with. Surely, I think,
Four years of wandering since I left my home,
In sunshine and in snow, in ship and cell,
Must have worn changes in this face of mine
Sufficient to conceal me, if I will.