OFFERINGS.

Otago Witness, Volume 06, Issue 2899, 6 October 1909, Page 87

OFFERINGS.

By John* Christie,

THE MOUXT OF VISION.

BOOK II Desmond.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horsuo, _ Than are riiearat 01 in your philosophy. ' Ho H&iJ.et ta..* to his nusi nouie menu; : fca migiii I say, iay D.nan, to ihee. How ac-st tnoa square witn tliy tubliin-i , cojiceits About the soul and heppine£s and God Xhe niiixdeier s c.ui-c-li upon . h:s \'ictim's threat, His iceeii knife in his side? The despot's power J 1 Maiigiiiy wielded o'er the bodies and souls J 1 Of ■& who^e people, crush d and darken'd i j ' down • With his damned m!c like toads within^ a i rock ? ' And what about those flesions of the will, TJiose imnismoriai trenaiugs of the blood, That make the drunksid, iuna^c, and rake, The suicide, the hypocrite, and fooi, I Extortioner, moncy-grubbsr, liar, knave, Seducer, sla.r.d'erer, sycopant, and churl, 'X"hs brag£*rt, glutton, egotist, Mid clieat, The gross;y neb. and piteciuly poor, As natural to Nature as the siime Thtft mantles it is to the stagnant pool? I J How squarest thou thy thesis, dear my lord", j With, these most devilish and inveterate ] things? Or what, to put it in another wey — What thinkest thou, my philosophic friend, About the ingrained brutiahness and spleen That makes the primal tribesman's prime delight Consist in taking, robbing, slaying all Who are not of his tribe? And what about The self-same bruiishness and spleen that re^ga Within the human bosom of to-day, Pending the creedling's virulence and pride, The antipathies of neighbour* and of castes, And that eternal demon of the heart. Old Th».nk-God-I-Am-Not-As-Thou, with all The harsh and villainous vanities that .laugh To end!-esß scorn the optimiser's dreams? "What sayest thou of those and kindred things, And of the dire results thai from them flow? . * j The very passion which begets oureelvgs, What is it in its nature, after all? — A heedlong correini. rising — God knows I vrhere, | ! An-I tumbling— God knows whither; blind | j with force, | I It drives aIL things adown its stream like j straws. i Hence every thing with procrea-tive power, — ' • Plant, creeping creature, bird, and beast, ! j and man, — j 1 With most supreme indifference— to the end?, • Doth multiply itself "ior evermore. ' Begetting lives that mean but pain and : <?sath I I T-o other lives; while there are other lives ] I That mean but pain and death in tarn to , ! thpm. \ For life in this enchanting world of thine j Would -.vhjlly pcri=h were it r.o: for death: ' j jiven the »wE-et Tcd'js=s <.i thy ladj's <iv i i And the most heavenly brightness of her ' eye i Are what they are laecause full many things i Havo d!ei that afre may flourish for her | I d?y; " I 1 And ih-9 'irna cometh when i< similar ends — i ■ In 010-ni a.n<i atmosphere and. beast and b:-d- . ' 1 She, too, shall ba r^ev-rted in her turn j - Cyril: | ' Come, come, Sir P:ain Speech! Some1 tiir.es, to be p;a.in. | Is to be brutal: art thou not so now? Desmond : "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," says tli» bare: ' I speak the truth; so Ist v? to cur tale, Unhindered, by. the cailow pi?u-e of girls. I was a'jout to say, befora 1 spoke Ab<,ut the I:ps cf la:lics and iheir e\-es, | That tixo^e wLo suffer most iroin that fell 1 dru't I Of pio.reative pa c iion aro our c o'.vos ; I For oth^r creature?, o'. erbrecdii'g, starve j A/d pcii'-h piteo'ls y, but tliat js all, ! Fj iii' as we can see, tht-r taif- of wie, 1 But ii^3. l, while bu;Tcr:n^ in the self-aaie ' ! "«J, _ ) 1 H's iiiuijv a b;t!?r hi clcr ': ' csr ' j ]< or lei. a'o.^c tlis nia :nc--i a^d v. a=ta, ' The weakness and tl.e woe ct wooing time. I Cyul. j Of wooing time! Is it not shaky gr;u"d 1 On which, thou standibt v. hc-a thou mlkest ■• > I I Of wooing time — the t.me cf all life's j tinass. ' — • Tiie t!i::o whei c'en the heaviest hnid tLat. breathes I Knows \vha>. it is to dra'-v EK's-an air; I And v.-))en the idrger and more liberal hear^ p Has wafts of happiness that ehame ths ' gale-? * I Which fan ilia finveri of Ait by the Blest; I X?y, when the =enfe of Lcauiy, like a star — Tho star of evening in the summer nd-eo — Shines in the soul and thrills it through and through With gleams and glamours which survive to b!e-ss The heart with somewhat sacred to the end ! o wooixg tim.e, o wooixg time, Wheh all the wide world is a-chime, BeITUED WITH ITHE UOPE AND AQLOW WITH THE FIHE, And stiiong vain thk strength of divine DESIHE ; And beauty's glamour amd heaven's SWEKT GRACE ahe blended togbtheb in one dear face Even when all its peide has passed, Its memobt lives with the soul to the LAST, Like the magical glow which a glorious DAT Leaves with the eaeth as it passes away, Yet lingers ou with a hallowing light That sebmeth to sat there shall be no NIGHT. Desmond: My dear good Cyril, keep thy mind at ease, And fc^ep thy raptures'- for some book of rhyme Which few wil! read and fewer understand. I deal .with solid mutter, not with whiffsOf fancied fragrance from the re*lm of ' dreama. Dorian : Yes, dear good Cyril, keep- thy mind at ease, So'that our Desmond here may «cc how good And beautiful it is to keep it «o Our poor de>r Desmond, who has not the

pit. With a.ll his sofcber gifts, to see- that sin From fairyland* with ■ the *we«t breath of lovert, ;•

1 I'as gieani or s'.ars, and the juost aerial dreams , Arc just as orach true mailer as the sloughs And fcctid puddles, and the heaps of dirt, Whose coatcniplatioa so p.bs^rbs his soui. Dot-ramc! : And, vice versa, . most Platonic °?.za, Tho sloughs and puddl-es r.ud the hcar.s of dirt Are ;ust as real as are thy - gjol&e j dreams, And heavenly ecstasies. Dorian : 2fot to the scul — Xot if thou hast a sou! and ownest GoJ. Desmond : Ah, there's the rub. A eoul — hall? man a soul ? I own my?elf a doubter en the point. Sornciim-es my tliough.s and feelings are so i clear, So strong, so reaching in their height and | depth, ! So fraught with heavenwardness, and with the JO7 Of knowledge ar.d of beauty and cf love-, lliat all I atn is centred in a. esn^-e Of immortality that, star-like, shads A radiance out into the farthest void". But these are twinklings in a great p;?.imt gloom ; And oftener far my thought about this life Is, that it is a bubbje born to bur3t, AnA p£«e. Im lsnsrsiins:. into Tit 'er r;:3Tair*it_ Once when I thought of weddiag a. sweet maid, Whom I ne'er wedded — none the worse for I her, Whaie'er it was for me — amongst the things I did to ward off trouble from us both — To keep vexation from our little horn« — Was, thai I went to get four fractious stumps Drawn by the dentist. You may laugh; I speak The simple truth. A doctor who was with me - , Dosed me with chloroform; but -each t'mo A stump was wrenched my consciousness return'd, And I was chloroform'^ nigh to death. But that is nothing: what I wished to say Is that each v time the dose was acting I Ma-da an anaysis of my own soul, If I may uaa the word. I shut mine eyes, Yet kept a-seeing strange things with my brain ; - But as the fumes worked inwards, every sense — Taste, smell, sight, hearing, touch, the pulse of thought —^ The things observed, and thing observing them — ° • Died into nothingness, as the evening's hues I Die into" darkness-; and in me there lay I No tr>uch of further being mor.e than, lies I Within a burnt-out cinder. When I woke — Sick, haggard, corpse-like almost in my 100k — * i I felt, like one who knows that he has I gauged . The scope of man's -existence; and I feel Tco oft that selfsame feeling to this day. AYe ''ive. wa die, and whan we die our frames j Go to the building up of other lives, I Bat we ourselves are nought for evermore ; 1 O-ur recollection of our dearest friends — Our kindred, mothers, wives, and little ones — Our consciousness of all^ this mighty world, Cur senna of God, our sense of self— quite I gon.3 For ever, ai:<l for ever, and for ever. j Dalian: I In interesting biographic scrap, j Which, read with sympathy, would dcubt- ] 'ess throw 1 iluch useful light en thee and all thy ways. j , Cyril I Which, read with science, might in fu!I nsss shed *- { A helpful light on what v.c -are and nre not I jiux then, deny the zowl, a-id -what oi God'/ And if 01 God, what., then, of ever-lining? With. God edmiti-ed twenty thousand times. X most si licentious puzzle is the world ; With Gzd deniad but once, it sseois to me The puzzle grows by twenty thourar.d timc3 In its stupenclou.sn3.ss. We are blind v.-orms, That, living at the bottom of a weli, j Aspire to snatch the secret of the siars. I "" Desmond . I It may be so, but thai is nol our theme: Where was I? Let rn-3 "See. at "wjoiag time" — At v/ooin^ trine, which Cyri! here so lauds — Cyiil, who ecarce a year r<_o, with me '• On a shcrt holiday, did n^et wi.h o-'e j Whoi.3 \vooin,-i:iiie was rnieiy bless'd Y;t ir a iash,'on, (00, by no meaji3 rr.rp. lie was a pn'e ycu.ig ?'.i-(ie»t from the linlls Oi a faired c/'s:>,p, and he ie:id his dreams And fine idea'- deeo into tLe fs.ee Arid plum; louj'd figure of a ppngMiy lass, ; Vi'ho, of the oorth, was earthy 211 most So wh'ic r'lo 1 roam'J?t smo.ijtt t!»e woods and hills, Filed with hsr image a:jd thy bookish j thoughts— I O student lover, F-enliinental swair — 1 j lliy ;>v.cet e-cnora da'.hed by the Side Of thy libidinous felioiv-lodjrer, looked TiccipncatingV into his eves And. toying with his whisker 1 ;, called thee fool Qu'i'pi in her heart snd half even with hsr lips ; Nay, pining v.itli her gallant in his jests , At thine linanimal nature and thy ways, Sho lanse-d into the animal, whence the. race Have been ascending myriads of years. She pley«d thee false-, and in her turn, poor soul, Was played most false by him for whom she scorn'd the-e. So run the humours of tbe mighty world. Bui let that pass, that I may turn again To lift the burden of my proper taJe. The woman weds the man that she may phare His home, his fortune, for a selfish end ; The man (.be v oman for her person's sake, Or something else, to pu'lt himself alone; Or both become united through some fr«*k Of fantasy, or folly, or mischance. And so they lead their name and loveless , lives* 1 Aye reedy to impute the wrong not meant, And take the pettiest cros3 act at its worst; Ne'er trying to beget a little love By thinking in the deep core of tbeir hearts How much, even at the worst, they both deserve From one another as poor human souls, — How very little at 1 their very best , They do' ot vtibh. in cumibozt kinetyy ijhought As fellow mortal b: for each other's w«*l^ But wild beast-like, they keep their wildbeasE moods A-brooding churlishly within the breast, Like damp log* smouldering in * cheerless Axe. True, tbey are sometimes nappy — in their sleep, When the acidnlou* and weary wife Walk* through enchanted moonlight, band ia hind. With an adoring lover, not h*r lord; "And tfc* fcual lw*ha»d empties out iiia heart

In biases on tho sweet and sumptuous lips T Ot his fccui's Venus: though between each 1 wain, Excspl in dreams &nd twilight nooks of thought, t ' 1 Forever stacid the aJaciantine walls > Of Ci: cam stance, or tha , a-auii-t gulf of Eea-Jb: " j ' So piteoxis is the s-tory o£ their lives. ' Ye', bad as all ihat is, it is not all; For children bom in that chaotic world But kelp to make it nsoie chaotic si'ill; Poor little tliinss, pocr blanieks,' little things, Born wi:h ;" 9 gcrnia of discord and disease, Of dire insanity and unnatural death, I • Of misery, meanness, lewdness, lust, and sin ! Within thsir b'.ooci! Almighty God of h^avsn, Art Tbcu all-ml^hty, art Thou even God, With such thing 3 regnant o'er the whole w.'de- world ? Dorian : . j Ah, Des=uond, Desmond! Brooding on the b.id * " Hath made our brother strangely ill indeed. The of which thou s-peak'st are to the vrcrld What . its odd straggling spots are to the sun. r I Xcs<t bitter "to its bearsr is all ill, j And bitt«r, too, to the- observing heart ; Eut the worst string that tartureth the soul Hath yet its remedy. O noble friend. Havft courage, and the millsiane of contempt Ami . indignation yet shall -grind to dust 1 The bitterest tyrant and the cruellest knave. And delicate pity and iß&dieinal time j Shall deal benignly ' with all other ills. Then, lastly. 'but o'er nil. bare faith in God, And through that faith thou , verily shalt find A balm, in Gilead for the world's worst woes, And. for thyself. » deep and lasting peace ! That passes understanding, gentle friend. O trust my words and put them to the test, - And cease to be as one who roams a wood, A gresn wood in the heart. of summer -time, And seeth nothing but the crawling things Amongst the . leaves, But not the leaves themselves, ' Nor the celestial sunshine thick among them! • ' ' ' - ] Alas, thou art as one' who walks at will In a grsat orchard filled, with, fragrant fruit, ! Yet who declaxeth there is pirnght- to -.eat ,;i Save the dry drift that teeth ia the grass; i And thy great soul, which. s£ould. reflect the work] — The mighty world — with loyalty and love, Doth! turn its ncble function, unto shame ; As 'though a lake, in-- mirroring tbe trees Upon its mar^e, displayed within its breast No just fair image of the leafy' sceae, " „ But the mere gnarled knobs amidst the boughs! Desmond : 0 words, mere words ! Can thy transcendent cres-d , v 1 Turn life's \ile vinegars to gracious wines, Or help the wretches who must drain the stuff ' To d«em its bitterness of no account? An o-ptimist. Thou seasi in fife's ills Less of their evil than thine own mind's jrood ; f An arti«t, -where thou se-es-t sores and woxmds, Ar.d marks of anguish, thou dost fling- the veil Of fa-iicy o'er, and desia'st Ihat aJI is well: "Bvi •li'<« are ills, and suffering hid from s ; aht | Is suffering still, as in my dead friend's ' ?r.\T* 3 . - . 'I lly d«r.<l frier.d lies, although the greenest , Sreis^ _ ] And fairest flowers of spring above it grew. '. Dorian j Well. I beseech thy pardon : say thy say. TLy i»e-ait is bii-cisa-i'd like a mountain tarn O'e-fcJ iiom ncighboi."-inpf heights in time oi storm, And neeJs n^ust find a vent; so let .it pour Its p-r.ssion ir. a cataract of words, , If by that means or any other means j God's peace may find an opening in -thy soul. - 1 Desmond : Well, what I am, I am. And thought 'I lie Here m tLe j;w.ss, and am nut whdly blind 'lo tiie arLa/iei aspacis of the wcrlo, 1 i'eedi must th>ak of >pnder swarmir.3 io..n ; In all wlio=e buildings he who runs may lead The_s'^r\ 01 the people and ths times. The* fl.e.Lhanl's store, the banker's counting bou 3, The Jii'.e Tn-jio' whi.se va^t foundations res'.. Oi. .viecked lives-, v.iecked bj- its own beer u'.d ru .1, Ai'c i>->nted to by men wiJi thrills of pride As fiiii gs which pro>e the splendour of tl.e p!..t.e. The fl (Uii-hiiig- stale and manliocd of tj:e '■„ -'I While I'll the time the fact is. tJiey but show How sela-hncss is rampant \n the >ea'iu. Tho-e gi<int buildings have not burgeon'd out 1 Lik-j cak trefs from the bc'j.im of the earth, Bui ha\ c b.cn raised to serve the feoroid ends Of p'irsy townsmen — raided with -wealth .nado ud Of subsiair-e gathered in a thousand ways — By trickery, shrewdness, guile, and legal fraud— j From the" hard-toilin;? tillers of the soil. j And from the haggard city wox^men, too, j Whoso labours, paid for with some paltry . pence And a lank lodging, help the game along. Thus riving from or holding back, .he cit ' Pursues has way amidst the sumptuous shrines And haunts of • commerce and his gilded , homes ; Deeming himself the embodiment of all The manly virtues, and the gracious God And goodly government thai rule the land, I Best of all possible governments and pods. Yet the dulled toiler and his squalid brood, With all the hideous hardness of their lives. ■ And his own earthiness. stand forth to tell . How mean, maltifrnant, damnable, and base j Are his loved ethics, and how foul their fruits. Nor doth the good man play a lonely part: The neddling politicians of the ■ day His jsckafs are; the doctors of the law His trusty henchmen; and the priestly caste — With rare exceptions true to God and man — His countenancers all along the line. The- country, too/ sefcrce ; lesslier than the ' town , 4 ' SnppKeg its share of vasqAres fa the .world. What are your mighty, territorial lords But territorial parasites, th it Buck T&e *nb*t*nce of the landeeape lo fhenv selves? " - . ■ . ■. . Whereof there come* that irony of hell Which dooms the actual tillers' ©4 the earth . To "fxnni and sweat under* *e«ury life," And sever own wh#t can' be called a home; AHhonjh a*t*We home with tfoi* «f bread; A»d lime and freedom to pbraessMifs *oul, I. SHould be assured to every son- of toil. ]

In eooth, indeed,- rs is «ii rsanEcx -tmqjvl.d-' A fESPECT PAKADISE OF PEKFECTXESS! Alas! alas! ftibti" r spea»e*f Tsttsi ; \ And the keen sensa that thou art njctnly right c J i v "1 i' * Is n»a wound wfrt bears the " soldier down", And makes hiai .hide , his face within his hands v -L' ■ And think of nothing hut his cruel pa:ns. > (To be continued.) ' :