robert falconer-第68章
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Some fowk's poverty maun be han'let jist like a sair place; doctor。
He canna weel compleen o' a bit darnin'。He canna tak that ill;'
repeated Robert; in a tone that showed he yet felt some anxiety on
the subject; 'but new anes! I wadna like to be by whan he fand that
oot。 Maybe he micht tak them frae a wuman; but frae a man
body!na; na; I maun jist darn awa'。 But I'll mak them dacent
eneuch afore I hae dune wi' them。 A fiddler has fingers。'
The doctor smiled a pleased smile; but when he got into his
carriage; again he laughed heartily。
The evening deepened into night。 Robert thought Ericson was asleep。
But he spoke。
'Who is that at the street door?' he said。
They were at the top of the house; and there was no window to the
street。 But Ericson's senses were preternaturally acute; as is
often the case in such illnesses。
'I dinna hear onybody;' answered Robert。
'There was somebody;' returned Ericson。
》From that moment he began to be restless; and was more feverish than
usual throughout the night。
Up to this time he had spoken little; was depressed with a suffering
to which he could give no namenot pain; he saidbut such that he
could rouse no mental effort to meet it: his endurance was passive
altogether。 This night his brain was more affected。 He did not
rave; but often wandered; never spoke nonsense; but many words that
would have seemed nonsense to ordinary people: to Robert they seemed
inspired。 His imagination; which was greater than any other of his
fine faculties; was so roused that he talked in verseprobably
verse composed before and now recalled。 He would even pray
sometimes in measured lines; and go on murmuring petitions; till the
words of the murmur became undistinguishable; and he fell asleep。
But even in his sleep he would speak; and Robert would listen in
awe; for such words; falling from such a man; were to him as dim
breaks of coloured light from the rainbow walls of the heavenly
city。
'If God were thinking me;' said Ericson; 'ah! But if he be only
dreaming me; I shall go mad。'
Ericson's outside was like his own northern climedark; gentle; and
clear; with gray…blue seas; and a sun that seems to shine out of the
past; and know nothing of the future。 But within glowed a volcanic
angel of aspiration; fluttering his half…grown wings; and ever
reaching towards the heights whence all things are visible; and
where all passions are safe because true; that is divine。 Iceland
herself has her Hecla。
Robert listened with keenest ear。 A mist of great meaning hung
about the words his friend had spoken。 He might speak more。 For
some minutes he listened in vain; and was turning at last towards
his book in hopelessness; when he did speak yet again: Robert's ear
soon detected the rhythmic motion of his speech。
'Come in the glory of thine excellence;
Rive the dense gloom with wedges of clear light;
And let the shimmer of thy chariot wheels
Burn through the cracks of night。So slowly; Lord;
To lift myself to thee with hands of toil;
Climbing the slippery cliff of unheard prayer!
Lift up a hand among my idle days
One beckoning finger。 I will cast aside
The clogs of earthly circumstance; and run
Up the broad highways where the countless worlds
Sit ripening in the summer of thy love。'
Breathless for fear of losing a word; Robert yet remembered that he
had seen something like these words in the papers Ericson had given
him to read on the night when his illness began。 When he had fallen
asleep and silent; he searched and found the poem from which I give
the following extracts。 He had not looked at the papers since that
night。
A PRAYER。
O Lord; my God; how long
Shall my poor heart pant for a boundless joy?
How long; O mighty Spirit; shall I hear
The murmur of Truth's crystal waters slide
》From the deep caverns of their endless being;
But my lips taste not; and the grosser air
Choke each pure inspiration of thy will?
I would be a wind;
Whose smallest atom is a viewless wing;
All busy with the pulsing life that throbs
To do thy bidding; yea; or the meanest thing
That has relation to a changeless truth
Could I but be instinct with theeeach thought
The lightning of a pure intelligence;
And every act as the loud thunder…clap
Of currents warring for a vacuum。
Lord; clothe me with thy truth as with a robe。
Purge me with sorrow。 I will bend my head;
And let the nations of thy waves pass over;
Bathing me in thy consecrated strength。
And let the many…voiced and silver winds
Pass through my frame with their clear influence。
O save meI am blind; lo! thwarting shapes
Wall up the void before; and thrusting out
Lean arms of unshaped expectation; beckon
Down to the night of all unholy thoughts。
I have seen
Unholy shapes lop off my shining thoughts;
Which I had thought nursed in thine emerald light;
And they have lent me leathern wings of fear;
Of baffled pride and harrowing distrust;
And Godhead with its crown of many stars;
Its pinnacles of flaming holiness;
And voice of leaves in the green summer…time;
Has seemed the shadowed image of a self。
Then my soul blackened; and I rose to find
And grasp my doom; and cleave the arching deeps
Of desolation。
O Lord; my soul is a forgotten well;
Clad round with its own rank luxuriance;
A fountain a kind sunbeam searches for;
Sinking the lustre of its arrowy finger
Through the long grass its own strange virtue5
Hath blinded up its crystal eye withal:
Make me a broad strong river coming down
With shouts from its high hills; whose rocky hearts
Throb forth the joy of their stability
In watery pulses from their inmost deeps;
And I shall be a vein upon thy world;
Circling perpetual from the parent deep。
O First and Last; O glorious all in all;
In vain my faltering human tongue would seek
To shape the vesture of the boundless thought;
Summing all causes in one burning word;
Give me the spirit's living tongue of fire;
Whose only voice is in an attitude
Of keenest tension; bent back on itself
With a strong upward force; even as thy bow
Of bended colour stands against the north;
And; in an attitude to spring to heaven;
Lays hold of the kindled hills。
Most mighty One;
Confirm and multiply my thoughts of good;
Help me to wall each sacred treasure round
With the firm battlements of special action。
Alas my holy; happy thoughts of thee
Make not perpetual nest within my soul;
But like strange birds of dazzling colours stoop
The trailing glories of their sunward speed;
For one glad moment filling my blasted boughs
With the sunshine of their wings。
Make me a forest
Of gladdest life; wherein perpetual spring
Lifts up her leafy tresses in the wind。
Lo! now I see
Thy trembling starlight sit among my pines;
And thy young moon slide down my arching boughs
With a soft sound of restless eloquence。
And I can feel a joy as when thy hosts
Of trampling winds; gathering in maddened bands;
Roar upward through the blue and flashing day
Round my still depths of uncleft solitude。
Hear me; O Lord;
When the black night draws down upon my soul;
And voices of temptation darken down
The misty wind; slamming thy starry doors;
With bitter jests。 'Thou fool!' they seem to say
'Thou hast no seed of goodness in thee; all
Thy nature hath been stung right through and through。
Thy sin hath blasted thee; and made thee old。
Thou hadst a will; but thou hast killed itdead
And with the fulsome garniture of life
Built out the loathsome corpse。 Thou art a child
Of night and death; even lower than a worm。
Gather the skirts up of thy shadowy self;
And with what resolution thou hast left;
Fall on the damned spikes of doom。'
O take me like a child;
If thou hast made me for thyself; my God;
And lead me up thy hills。 I shall not fear
S