Alciphron: A Fragment. Letter I.

FROM ALCIPHRON AT ALEXANDRIA TO CLEON AT ATHENS.     Well may you wonder at my flight         From those fair Gardens in whose bowers     Lingers whate'er of wise and bright,     Of Beauty's smile or Wisdom's light,         Is left to grace this world of ours.     Well may my comrades as they roam         On such sweet eyes as this inquire     Why I have left that happy home         Where all is found that all desire,         And Time hath wings that never tire:     Where bliss in all the countless shapes         That Fancy's self to bliss hath given     Comes clustering round like roadside grapes         That woo the traveller's lip at even;     Where Wisdom flings not joy away--     As Pallas in the stream they say     Once flung her flute--but smiling owns     That woman's lip can send forth tones     Worth all the music of those spheres     So many dream of but none hears;     Where Virtue's self puts on so well         Her sister Pleasure's smile that, loath     From either nymph apart to dwell,         We finish by embracing both.     Yes, such the place of bliss, I own     From all whose charms I just have flown;     And even while thus to thee I write,         And by the Nile's dark flood recline,     Fondly, in thought I wing my flight     Back to those groves and gardens bright,     And often think by this sweet light         How lovelily they all must shine;     Can see that graceful temple throw         Down the green slope its lengthened shade,     While on the marble steps below         There sits some fair Athenian maid,     Over some favorite volume bending;         And by her side a youthful sage     Holds back the ringlets that descending         Would else o'ershadow all the page.     But hence such thoughts!--nor let me grieve     O'er scenes of joy that I but leave,     As the bird quits awhile its nest     To come again with livelier zest.     And now to tell thee--what I fear     Thou'lt gravely smile at--why I'm here     Tho' thro' my life's short, sunny dream,         I've floated without pain or care     Like a light leaf down pleasure's stream,         Caught in each sparkling eddy there;     Tho' never Mirth awaked a strain     That my heart echoed not again;     Yet have I felt, when even most gay,         Sad thoughts--I knew not whence or why--         Suddenly o'er my spirit fly,     Like clouds that ere we've time to say         "How bright the sky is!" shade the sky.     Sometimes so vague, so undefined     Were these strange darkenings of my mind--     "While naught but joy around me beamed         So causelessly they've come and flown,     That not of life or earth they seemed,         But shadows from some world unknown.     More oft, however, 'twas the thought         How soon that scene with all its play         Of life and gladness must decay--     Those lips I prest, the hands I caught--     Myself--the crowd that mirth had brought     Around me--swept like weeds away!     This thought it was that came to shed         O'er rapture's hour its worst alloys;     And close as shade with sunshine wed         Its sadness with my happiest joys.     Oh, but for this disheartening voice         Stealing amid our mirth to say     That all in which we most rejoice         Ere night may be the earthworm's prey--     But for this bitter--only this--     Full as the world is brimmed with bliss,     And capable as feels my soul     Of draining to its dregs the whole,     I should turn earth to heaven and be,     If bliss made Gods, a Deity?     Thou know'st that night--the very last     That 'mong my Garden friends I past--     When the School held its feast of mirth     To celebrate our founder's birth.     And all that He in dreams but saw         When he set Pleasure on the throne     Of this bright world and wrote her law         In human hearts was felt and known--     Not in unreal dreams but true,     Substantial joy as pulse e'er knew--     By hearts and bosoms, that each felt     Itself the realm where Pleasure dwelt.     That night when all our mirth was o'er,         The minstrels silent, and the feet     Of the young maidens heard no more--         So stilly was the time, so sweet,     And such a calm came o'er that scene,     Where life and revel late had been--     Lone as the quiet of some bay     From which the sea hath ebbed away--     That still I lingered, lost in thought,         Gazing upon the stars of night,     Sad and intent as if I sought         Some mournful secret in their light;     And asked them mid that silence why     Man, glorious man, alone must die     While they, less wonderful than he,     Shine on thro' all eternity.     That night--thou haply may'st forget         Its loveliness--but 'twas a night     To make earth's meanest slave regret         Leaving a world so soft and bright.     On one side in the dark blue sky     Lonely and radiant was the eye     Of Jove himself, while on the other,      'Mong stars that came out one by one,     The young moon--like the Roman mother         Among her living jewels--shone.     "Oh that from yonder orbs," I thought,         "Pure and eternal as they are,     "There could to earth some power be brought,     "Some charm with their own essence fraught         "To make man deathless as a star,     "And open to his vast desires         "A course, as boundless and sublime     "As that which waits those comet-fires,         "That burn and roam throughout all time!"     While thoughts like these absorbed my mind,         That weariness which earthly bliss     However sweet still leaves behind,         As if to show how earthly 'tis,     Came lulling o'er me and I laid         My limbs at that fair statue's base--     That miracle, which Art hath made         Of all the choice of Nature's grace--     To which so oft I've knelt and sworn.         That could a living maid like her     Unto this wondering world be born,         I would myself turn worshipper.     Sleep came then o'er me--and I seemed         To be transported far away     To a bleak desert plain where gleamed         One single, melancholy ray.     Throughout that darkness dimly shed         From a small taper in the hand     Of one who pale as are the dead         Before me took his spectral stand,     And said while awfully a smile         Came o'er the wanness of his cheek--     "Go and beside the sacred Nile         "You'll find the Eternal Life you seek."     Soon as he spoke these words the hue     Of death o'er all his features grew     Like the pale morning when o'er night     She gains the victory full of light;     While the small torch he held became     A glory in his hand whose flame     Brightened the desert suddenly,         Even to the far horizon's line--     Along whose level I could see         Gardens and groves that seemed to shine     As if then o'er them freshly played     A vernal rainbow's rich cascade;     And music floated every where,     Circling, as 'twere itself the air,     And spirits on whose wings the hue     Of heaven still lingered round me flew,     Till from all sides such splendors broke,     That with the excess of light I woke!     Such was my dream;--and I confess         Tho' none of all our creedless school     E'er conned, believed, or reverenced less         The fables of the priest-led fool     Who tells us of a soul, a mind,     Separate and pure within us shrined,     Which is to live--ah, hope too bright!--     For ever in yon fields of light;     Who fondly thinks the guardian eyes         Of Gods are on him--as if blest     And blooming in their own blue skies     The eternal Gods were not too wise         To let weak man disturb their rest!--     Tho' thinking of such creeds as thou         And all our Garden sages think,     Yet is there something, I allow,         In dreams like this--a sort of link     With worlds unseen which from the hour         I first could lisp my thoughts till now     Hath mastered me with spell-like power.     And who can tell, as we're combined     Of various atoms--some refined,     Like those that scintillate and play     In the fixt stars--some gross as they     That frown in clouds or sleep in clay--     Who can be sure but 'tis the best         And brightest atoms of our frame,         Those most akin to stellar flame,     That shine out thus, when we're at rest;--     Even as the stars themselves whose light     Comes out but in the silent night.     Or is it that there lurks indeed     Some truth in Man's prevailing creed     And that our Guardians from on high         Come in that pause from toil and sin     To put the senses' curtain by         And on the wakeful soul look in!     Vain thought!--but yet, howe'er it be,     Dreams more than once have proved to me     Oracles, truer far than Oak     Or Dove or Tripod ever spoke.     And 'twas the words--thou'lt hear and smile--         The words that phantom seemed to speak--     "Go and beside the sacred Nile         "You'll find the Eternal Life you seek"--     That haunting me by night, by day,         At length as with the unseen hand     Of Fate itself urged me away         From Athens to this Holy Land;     Where 'mong the secrets still untaught,         The mysteries that as yet nor sun     Nor eye hath reached--oh, blessed thought!--         May sleep this everlasting one.     Farewell--when to our Garden friends     Thou talk'st of the wild dream that sends     The gayest of their school thus far,     Wandering beneath Canopus' star,     Tell them that wander where he will         Or howsoe'er they now condemn     His vague and vain pursuit he still         Is worthy of the School and them;--     Still all their own--nor e'er forgets         Even while his heart and soul pursue     The Eternal Light which never sets,         The many meteor joys that do,     But seeks them, hails them with delight     Where'er they meet his longing sight.     And if his life must wane away     Like other lives at least the day,     The hour it lasts shall like a fire     With incense fed in sweets expire.