How then shall man so order life
that when his tale of years is told,
Like sated guest he wend his way;
how shall his even tenour hold?
Despite the Writ that stores the skull;
despite the Table and the Pen;[1]
Maugre the Fate that plays us down,
her board the world, her pieces men?
How when the light and glow of life
wax dim in thickly gath'ering gloom,
Shall mortal scoff at sting of Death,
shall scorn the victory of the Tomb?
One way, two paths, one end the grave.
This runs athwart the flowery plain,
That breasts the bush, the steep, the crag,
in sun and wind and snow and rain:
Sips from the maiden's lips the dew;
brushes the bloom from virgin brow:--
Such is his fleshly bliss that strives
the Maker through the Made to know.
I've tried them all, I find them all
so same and tame, so drear, so dry;
My gorge ariseth at the thought;
I commune with myself and cry:--
Better the myriad toils and pains
that make the man to manhood true,
This be the rule that guideth life;
these be the laws for me and you:
With Ignor'ance wage eternal war,
to know thy self forever strain,
Thine ignorance of thine ignorance
is thy fiercest foe, thy deadliest bane;
Pluck the old woman from thy breast:
Be stout in woe, be stark in weal;
Do good for Good is good to do:
Spurn bribe of Heav'en and threat of Hell.
To seek the True, to glad the heart,
such is of life the HIGHER LAW.,
Whose differ'ence is the Man's degree,
the Man of gold, the Man of straw.
See not that something in Mankind
that rouses hate or scorn or strife,
Better the worm of Izrâil[1] than Death
that walks in form of life.
Abjure the Why and seek the How:
the God and gods enthroned on high,
Are silent all, are silent still;
nor hear thy voice, nor deign reply.
The Now, that indivisible point
which studs the length of infinite line
Whose ends are nowhere, is thine all,
the puny all thou callest thine.
{p. 64}
Perchance the law some Giver hath:
Let be! let be! what canst thou know?
A myriad races came and went;
this Sphinx hath seen them come and go.
Haply the Law that rules the world
allows to man the widest range;
And haply Fate's a Theist-word,
subject to human chance and change.
This "I" may find a future Life,
a nobler copy of our own,
Where every riddle shall be ree'd,
where every knowledge shall be known;
Where 'twill be man's to see the whole
of what on Earth he sees in part;
Where change shall ne'er surcharge the thought;
nor hope defer'd shall hurt the heart.
But!--faded flow'er and fallen leaf
no more shall deck the parent tree;
And man once dropt by Tree of Life
what hope of other life has he?
{p. 66}
The shatter'd bowl shall know repair;
the riven lute shall sound once more;
But who shall mend the clay of man,
the stolen breath to man restore?
The shiver'd clock again shall strike;
the broken reed shall pipe again:
But we, we die, and death is one,
the doom of brutes, the doom of men.
Then, if Nirwâna[1] round our life
with nothingness, 'tis haply best;
Thy toils and troubles, want and woe
at length have won their guerdon--Rest.
Cease, Abdû, cease! Thy song is sung,
nor think the gain the singer's prize;
Till men bold Ignor'ance deadly sin,
till man deserves his title "Wise:"[2]
In Days to come, Days slow to dawn,
when Wisdom deigns to dwell with men,
These echoes of a voice long stilled
haply shall wake responsive strain:
{p. 67}
Wend now thy way with brow serene,
fear not thy humble tale to tell:--
The whispers of the Desert-wind;
the tinkling of the camel's bell.
{Hebrew ShLM}
{p. 71}