The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 2. George MacDonaldЧитать онлайн книгу.
poor parable,
In which I would have said thy name alone
Is the one secret lying in Truth's well,
Thy voice the hidden charm in every tone,
Thy face the heart of every flower on earth,
Its vision the one hope; for every moan
Thy love the cure! O sharer of the birth
Of little children seated on thy knee!
O human God! I laugh with sacred mirth
To think how all the laden shall go free;
For, though the vision tarry, in healing ruth
One morn the eyes that shone in Galilee
Will dawn upon them, full of grace and truth,
And thy own love—the vivifying core
Of every love in heart of age or youth,
Of every hope that sank 'neath burden sore!
THE SANGREAL:
A Part Of The Story Omitted In The Old Romances
Through the wood the sunny day
Glimmered sweetly glad;
Through the wood his weary way
Rode sir Galahad.
All about stood open porch,
Long-drawn cloister dim;
'Twas a wavering wandering church
Every side of him.
On through columns arching high,
Foliage-vaulted, he
Rode in thirst that made him sigh,
Longing miserably.
Came the moon, and through the trees
Glimmered faintly sad;
Withered, worn, and ill at ease
Down lay Galahad;
Closed his eyes and took no heed
What might come or pass;
Heard his hunger-busy steed
Cropping dewy grass.
Cool and juicy was the blade,
Good to him as wine:
For his labour he was paid,
Galahad must pine!
Late had he at Arthur's board,
Arthur strong and wise,
Pledged the cup with friendly lord,
Looked in ladies' eyes;
Now, alas! he wandered wide,
Resting never more,
Over lake and mountain-side,
Over sea and shore!
Swift in vision rose and fled
All he might have had;
Weary tossed his restless head,
And his heart grew sad.
With the lowliest in the land
He a maiden fair
Might have led with virgin hand
From the altar-stair:
Youth away with strength would glide,
Age bring frost and woe;
Through the world so dreary wide
Mateless he must go!
Lost was life and all its good,
Gone without avail!
All his labour never would
Find the Holy Grail!
Galahad was in the night,
And the wood was drear;
But to men in darksome plight
Radiant things appear:
Wings he heard not floating by,
Heard no heavenly hail;
But he started with a cry,
For he saw the Grail.
Hid from bright beholding sun,
Hid from moonlight wan,
Lo, from age-long darkness won,
It was seen of man!
Three feet off, on cushioned moss,
As if cast away,
Homely wood with carven cross,
Rough and rude it lay!
To his knees the knight rose up,
Loosed his gauntlet-band;
Fearing, daring, toward the cup
Went his naked hand;
When, as if it fled from harm,
Sank the holy thing,
And his eager following arm
Plunged into a spring.
Oh the thirst, the water sweet!
Down he lay and quaffed,
Quaffed and rose up on his feet,
Rose and gayly laughed;
Fell upon his knees to thank,
Loved and lauded there;
Stretched him on the mossy bank,
Fell asleep in prayer;
Dreamed, and dreaming murmured low
Ave, pater, creed;
When the fir-tops gan to glow
Waked and