I wondered at erewhile, somewhere i' the world,
It had been given a crafty smith to make;
A tube, he turned on objects brought too close,
Lying confusedly insubordinate

For the unassisted eye to master once:

Look through his tube, at distance now they lay,
Become succinct, distinct, so small, so clear!
Just thus, ye needs must apprehend what truth
I see, reduced to plain historic fact,
Diminished into clearness, proved a point

And far away: ye would withdraw your sense
From out eternity, strain it upon time,

Then stand before that fact, that Life and Death,
Stay there at gaze, till it dispart, dispread,

As though a star should open out, all sides,
And grow the world on you, as it is my world.

"For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,

And hope and fear, believe the aged friend,

Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is;
And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost
Such prize despite the envy of the world,
And, having gained truth, keep truth: that is all.
But see the double way wherein we are led,

H

How the soul learns diversely from the flesh!
With flesh, that hath so little time to stay,

And yields mere basement for the soul's emprise,
Expect prompt teaching. Helpful was the light,
And warmth was cherishing and food was choice
To every man's flesh, thousand years ago,

As now to yours and mine; the body sprang

At once to the height, and stayed: but the soul, no!

Since sages who, this noontide, meditate

In Rome or Athens, may descry some point

Of the eternal power, hid yester eve;

And as thereby the power's whole mass extends,

So much extends the ether floating o'er

The love that tops the might, the Christ in God.
Then, as new lessons shall be learned in these
Till earth's work stop and useless time run out,
So duly, daily, needs provision be
For keeping the soul's prowess possible,
Building new barriers as the old decay,
Saving us from evasion of life's proof,
Putting the question ever, 'Does God love,

And will ye hold that truth against the world?'
Ye know there needs no second proof with good
Gained for our flesh from any earthly source:
We might go freezing, ages, give us fire,

Thereafter we judge fire at its full worth,

And guard it safe through every chance, ye know!
That fable of Prometheus and his theft,

How mortals gained Jove's fiery flower, grows old-
(I have been used to hear the pagans own)
And out of mind; but fire, howe'er its birth,
Here is it, precious to the sophist now
Who laughs the myth of Eschylus to scorn,
As precious to those satyrs of his play,

Who touched it in gay wonder at the thing.

While were it so with the soul,— this gift of truth
Once grasped, were this our soul's gain safe, and sure
To prosper as the body's gain is wont,

Why, man's probation would conclude, his earth
Crumble; for he both reasons and decides,

Weighs first, then chooses: will he give up fire
For gold or purple once he knows its worth?
Could he give Christ up were His worth as plain?
Therefore, I say, to test man, shift the proofs,
Nor may he grasp that fact like other fact,
And straightway in his life acknowledge it,
As, say, the indubitable bliss of fire.

Sigh ye, 'It had been easier once than now?'
To give you answer I am left alive;

Look at me who was present from the first!

Ye know what things I saw; then came a test,

My first, befitting me who so had seen:

'Forsake the Christ thou sawest transfigured, Him

Who trod the sea and brought the dead to life?

What should wring this from thee?' ye laugh and ask. What wrung it? Even a torchlight and a noise,

The sudden Roman faces, violent hands,

And fear of what the Jews might do!
And, it is written, 'I forsook and fled':

There was my trial, and it ended thus.

Just that,

Ay,
but my soul had gained its truth, could grow:
Another year or two, - what little child,

What tender woman that had seen no least

Of all my sights, but barely heard them told,
Who did not clasp the cross with a light laugh,
Or wrap the burning robe round, thanking God?
Well, was truth safe forever, then? Not so.
Already had begun the silent work

Whereby truth, deadened of its absolute blaze,

Might need love's eye to pierce the o'erstretched doubt:

Teachers were busy, whispering All is true

As the aged ones report; but youth can reach

Where age gropes dimly, weak with stir and strain,

And the full doctrine slumbers till to-day.'

Thus, what the Roman's lowered spear was found,

A bar to me who touched and handled truth,

Now proved the glozing of some new shrewd tongue,

This Ebion, this Cerinthus, or their mates,

Till imminent was the outcry 'Save us Christ!'

Whereon I stated much of the Lord's life
Forgotten or misdelivered, and let it work.

Such work done, as it will be, what comes next?
What do I hear say, or conceive men say,
'Was John at all, and did he say he saw?
Assure us, ere we ask what he might see!'

"Is this indeed a burthen for late days,

And may I help to bear it with you all,
Using my weakness which becomes your strength?
For if a babe were born inside this grot,

Grew to a boy here, heard us praise the sun,

Yet had but yon sole glimmer in light's place, –
One loving him and wishful he should learn,
Would much rejoice himself was blinded first
Month by month here, so made to understand
How eyes, born darkling, apprehend amiss :

I think I could explain to such a child

There was more glow outside than gleams he caught,

Ay, nor need urge 'I saw it, so believe!'

It is a heavy burthen you shall bear