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The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
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Not thou, but I am guilty, Lilia.
I made it possible to tempt thee, child.
Thou didst not fall, my love; only, one moment,
Beauty was queen, and Truth not lord of all.
Lilia.
O Julian, my husband, is it strange,
That, when I think of Him, he looks like thee?
That, when he speaks to comfort me, the voice
Is like thy voice, my husband, my beloved?
Oh! if I could but lie down at thy feet,
And tell thee all—yea, every thought—I know
That thou wouldst think the best that could be thought,
And love and comfort me. O Julian,
I am more thine than ever.—Forgive me, husband,
For calling me, defiled and outcast, thine.
Yet may I not be thine as I am His?
Would I might be thy servant—yes, thy slave,
To wash thy feet, and dress thy lovely child,
And bring her at thy call—more wife than I.
But I shall never see thee, till the earth
Lies on us both—apart—oh, far apart!
How lonely shall I lie the long, long years!
Lily.
O mother, there are blue skies here, and flowers,
And blowing winds, and kisses, mother dear!
And every time my father kisses me,
It is not father only, but another.
Make haste and come. My head never aches here.
Lilia.
Can it be that they are dead? Is it possible?
I feel as if they were near me!—Speak again,
Beloved voices; comfort me; I need it.
Julian (singing).
Come to us: above the storm
Ever shines the blue.
Come to us: beyond its form
Ever lies the True.
Lily (singing).
Mother, darling, do not weep—
All I cannot tell:
By and by you'll go to sleep,
And you'll wake so well.
Julian (singing).
There is sunshine everywhere
For thy heart and mine:
God, for every sin and care,
Is the cure divine.
Lily (singing).
We're so happy all the day,
Waiting for another!
All the flowers and sunshine stay,
Watching for my mother.
Julian.
My maiden! for true wife is always maiden
To the true husband: thou art mine for ever.
Lilia.
What gentle hopes keep passing to and fro!
Thou shadowest me with thine own rest, my God;
A cloud from thee stoops down and covers me.
[She falls asleep on her knees]
SCENE III.—JULIAN on the summit of a mountain-peak
The stars are brilliant around a crescent moon, hanging half-way between the mountain and the zenith. Below lies a sea of vapour. Beyond rises a loftier pinnacle, across which is stretched a bar of cloud. LILY lies on the cloud, looking earnestly into the mist below
Julian (gazing upward).
And thou wast with me all the time, my God,
Even as now! I was not far from thee.
Thy spirit spoke in all my wants and fears,
And hopes and longings. Thou art all in all.
I am not mine, but thine. I cannot speak
The thoughts that work within me like a sea.
When on the earth I lay, crushed down beneath
A hopeless weight of empty desolation,
Thy loving face was lighted then, O Christ,
With expectation of my joy to come,
When all the realm of possible ill should lie
Under my feet, and I should stand as now
Heart-sure of thee, true-hearted, only One.
Was ever soul filled to such overflowing
With the pure wine of blessedness, my God!
Filled as the night with stars, am I with joys;
Filled as the heavens with thee, am I with peace;
For now I wait the end of all my prayers—
Of all that have to do with old-world things:
What new things come to wake new prayers, my God,
Thou know'st; I wait on thee in perfect peace.
[He turns his gaze downward.—From the fog-sea below half-rises a woman-form, which floats toward him.]
I made it possible to tempt thee, child.
Thou didst not fall, my love; only, one moment,
Beauty was queen, and Truth not lord of all.
Lilia.
O Julian, my husband, is it strange,
That, when I think of Him, he looks like thee?
That, when he speaks to comfort me, the voice
Is like thy voice, my husband, my beloved?
Oh! if I could but lie down at thy feet,
And tell thee all—yea, every thought—I know
That thou wouldst think the best that could be thought,
And love and comfort me. O Julian,
I am more thine than ever.—Forgive me, husband,
For calling me, defiled and outcast, thine.
Yet may I not be thine as I am His?
Would I might be thy servant—yes, thy slave,
To wash thy feet, and dress thy lovely child,
And bring her at thy call—more wife than I.
But I shall never see thee, till the earth
Lies on us both—apart—oh, far apart!
How lonely shall I lie the long, long years!
Lily.
O mother, there are blue skies here, and flowers,
And blowing winds, and kisses, mother dear!
And every time my father kisses me,
It is not father only, but another.
Make haste and come. My head never aches here.
Lilia.
Can it be that they are dead? Is it possible?
I feel as if they were near me!—Speak again,
Beloved voices; comfort me; I need it.
Julian (singing).
Come to us: above the storm
Ever shines the blue.
Come to us: beyond its form
Ever lies the True.
Lily (singing).
Mother, darling, do not weep—
All I cannot tell:
By and by you'll go to sleep,
And you'll wake so well.
Julian (singing).
There is sunshine everywhere
For thy heart and mine:
God, for every sin and care,
Is the cure divine.
Lily (singing).
We're so happy all the day,
Waiting for another!
All the flowers and sunshine stay,
Watching for my mother.
Julian.
My maiden! for true wife is always maiden
To the true husband: thou art mine for ever.
Lilia.
What gentle hopes keep passing to and fro!
Thou shadowest me with thine own rest, my God;
A cloud from thee stoops down and covers me.
[She falls asleep on her knees]
SCENE III.—JULIAN on the summit of a mountain-peak
The stars are brilliant around a crescent moon, hanging half-way between the mountain and the zenith. Below lies a sea of vapour. Beyond rises a loftier pinnacle, across which is stretched a bar of cloud. LILY lies on the cloud, looking earnestly into the mist below
Julian (gazing upward).
And thou wast with me all the time, my God,
Even as now! I was not far from thee.
Thy spirit spoke in all my wants and fears,
And hopes and longings. Thou art all in all.
I am not mine, but thine. I cannot speak
The thoughts that work within me like a sea.
When on the earth I lay, crushed down beneath
A hopeless weight of empty desolation,
Thy loving face was lighted then, O Christ,
With expectation of my joy to come,
When all the realm of possible ill should lie
Under my feet, and I should stand as now
Heart-sure of thee, true-hearted, only One.
Was ever soul filled to such overflowing
With the pure wine of blessedness, my God!
Filled as the night with stars, am I with joys;
Filled as the heavens with thee, am I with peace;
For now I wait the end of all my prayers—
Of all that have to do with old-world things:
What new things come to wake new prayers, my God,
Thou know'st; I wait on thee in perfect peace.
[He turns his gaze downward.—From the fog-sea below half-rises a woman-form, which floats toward him.]
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
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