Heaven In Hell

If the dread all-seeing stars, Ringed Saturn and ruddy Mars And their companions all the seven, That play before the lord of Heaven, Each blossoming nebula and all The constellations, were to fall Low at my feet and worship me, Endow me with all sovranty Of their wide kingdom of the blue— Yet I would not believe that you Could love me—If besides the nine Encircling legions all-divine Should, chanting, teach me that my worth Outshone the souls of men on earth And seraphs in Heaven, and as well That glittering demons deep in Hell Fled at my frown, obeyed my word— If every flower and beast and bird In God’s great earth and splendid sea Should live and love and fight, for me And my sweet singing and sad art— Yet could I not conceive your heart Stooping to mine, nor your wild eyes Unveiling their deep ecstasies, Your tenebrous hair sweep near my lips, Your eyelids bring your soul eclipse For fear that I should be made blind By love’s bright image in your mind. You are the Standard of high Heaven, The Banner brave towards which I’ve striven To force my way—To seize and hold The citadel of the city of gold I must attain the Flag of love Blazoned with the eternal Dove. Once Immortality, a babe, Played with the Future’s astrolabe And marked a destiny thereon More splendid than the morning sun Leaping to glory from the earth: More wondrous than the wonder-birth Of the white moon from darkest rock; More strange than should the sun unlock His leashes and let slip the stars; More desperate than the clanging wars Twixt Hell and Heaven; still more great Than any favourable fate; But beyond all things beautiful, Beyond Mortality’s foot-rule Of loveliness, and little words— Sometimes, at twilit eve, when birds Lapse from dream-silence into song, Sometimes when Thunder’s rolling note Reverberates from his iron throat, They speak of such high mysteries But no one can interpret these— All of this dim and deep design If I should choose, its crown were mine To win or lose by my sole hand And heart. I chose, and joined the band Of Heaven’s adventurers that seek To climb the never-conquered peak In solitude by their sole might. In the dark innocence of night I fought unknown inhuman foes And left them in their battle-throes, Hacked a way through them and advanced To where the stars of morning danced In your high honour, there I stood To see you, till the morning-flood Burst from the sky—but your sunrise Striking my unaccustomed eyes Smote them to darkness, and I turned And stumbled towards the night. There burned In heart and eyes a drunken flame That sang and clamoured out your name, And woke a madness in my head. The enemies I had left for dead Surrounded me with gibbering cries And mocked me for my blinded eyes. I curst them till they rose in rage And flung me down a battle-gage To fight them on the floors of Hell Where solely they’re assailable. I took the challenge straightaway And leaped—and that was yesterday Or was last year, but every hour For weary years to break their power Still must I fight, but now a gleam Of hope comes to me like a dream, To-day, though dimly, I do see, My vision has come back to me. And I have learnt in deepest Hell I with terror-twisted eyes Have watched you play in Paradise, Tortured and torn by demons seven Have kept my heart’s gaze fixed on Heaven, Save when the smoky mists of blood Have blinded me with their fell flood. My desert heart all desolate Lit with the mirage of your hate I searched, my vision held above, For green oasis of your love. My heart’s dry desert, hot and wide, Bounded by flames on every side, So dim and old no song can tell, Covers the tombs where dead kings dwell: Now demons dance upon their tombs, Shut with the seals of lasting dooms, For them until the world be riven No hope of Hell, no fear of Heaven. But I, alas! am torn between The things unseen and the things seen, I alone of the souls I know In Hell and Heaven am high and low, High in Heaven and low in Hell: From pit and peak inaccessible To all but Satan and seraphim My song gains power and grows more grim. Only the straining of my vision Toward the playing-fields elysian Where you with starry comrades fling Your fervours over eye and wing, With deep and happy subtlety Flavouring the wine-bag of the bee; Thrones, principalities and powers Showering with Eden-flowers: With Michael’s sword and Raphael’s lute Slaying and singing, making bruit Of lovely laughter with your lips Sounding as where the honey drips At reaping-time by rippling brooks Twining between the barley-stocks: Only your shape that holds my sight, Your ways that fill it with delight, Your steps that blossom where you’ve trod, Your laughter like the breath of God, And all the braveries that extol The living sword that is your soul: Only your passion-haunted eyes Interpreting your mysteries: These are to me and my desire For pillar of cloud and pillar of fire, A gleam and gloom of Heaven, in Hell A high continuous miracle.