Poems (Chitwood)/Daleria's Temptation
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DALERIA'S TEMPTATION.
"One little blow and it will all be o'er.
Then shall the heavy bitterness of life
Fall as the pilgrim's bundle at the sight
Of the pearl gates around the land of rest.
Then shall I cease to hear the secret sob,
The stifled moanings, daily rising up
To the white throne of pity. Fate hath dealt
But hardly with me, and my woof of life
Is formed of shreds of darkness, with a line
Of golden lustre shining here and there.
Oh, day by day, I hear a heart-string break;
And the faint beating at the throne of life
Grows softer, as the plash of waters when
A bird's wing hath but fann'd them. I would
Loose the silvery bands and be at rest.
Then shall the heavy bitterness of life
Fall as the pilgrim's bundle at the sight
Of the pearl gates around the land of rest.
Then shall I cease to hear the secret sob,
The stifled moanings, daily rising up
To the white throne of pity. Fate hath dealt
But hardly with me, and my woof of life
Is formed of shreds of darkness, with a line
Of golden lustre shining here and there.
Oh, day by day, I hear a heart-string break;
And the faint beating at the throne of life
Grows softer, as the plash of waters when
A bird's wing hath but fann'd them. I would
Loose the silvery bands and be at rest.
Oh Thou, whose name is Love, who mad'st all hearts,—
Some as the mountain eagle's soaring still
Through storms and tempests, and the beating rain,
To the bright sunshine, far above the clouds,—
Did'st make mine own e'en as the woodland dove
That hides the arrow 'neath its shining wings,
And, in the glen's deep heart, sinks down to die,
Alone. O wilt not Thou forgive the poor,
Weak wanderer, that, trembling, asks from Thee
The wide arms of protection?—Thou whose feet
Left their meek impress on the shores of earth,
Whose home was with the lowly, who didst cast
Aside the sparkling diadem of power
For the sharp thorn-crown and the manger bed;
Oh, wilt not Thou forgive, if, weak and faint,
I come, unsummoned, and bow down beside
The snowy gates of mercy? let me come,
For earth is pitiless, and cold, and drear.
Some as the mountain eagle's soaring still
Through storms and tempests, and the beating rain,
To the bright sunshine, far above the clouds,—
Did'st make mine own e'en as the woodland dove
That hides the arrow 'neath its shining wings,
And, in the glen's deep heart, sinks down to die,
Alone. O wilt not Thou forgive the poor,
Weak wanderer, that, trembling, asks from Thee
The wide arms of protection?—Thou whose feet
Left their meek impress on the shores of earth,
Whose home was with the lowly, who didst cast
Aside the sparkling diadem of power
For the sharp thorn-crown and the manger bed;
Oh, wilt not Thou forgive, if, weak and faint,
I come, unsummoned, and bow down beside
The snowy gates of mercy? let me come,
For earth is pitiless, and cold, and drear.
Thus spake Daleria, one fair summer's night,
When sunset's kiss was on the cherry lips
Of smiling June, and a crowd of stars
Gleamed on her sunny tresses; when young May
Seemed glancing backward through the half shut gates,
Of the ripe seasons,—From old Nature's breast
Welled up full notes of music; but they found
No harp string yet unbroken in the heart
Of fair Daleria. Oh, are the wings
Of every guardian angel folded up,
That they may leave no drop of love, or hope,
In their soft wavings, on her snowy brow?
Have heaven and earth forsaken? Is there no
Invisible hand wherein her own may rest
For one brief moment, till it lead her back
From the dark waters?
Now her fair lips move,
And let us listen to the words they speak.
"'Tis o'er, 'tis o'er, and I am strong again.
The tempter hath no power; my heart is rock—
I could walk on, o'er deserts and wide plains
Of burning heat, and faint or falter not.
Yes, e'en this weight of gloom, that nigh hath pressed
My erring feet to ruin, is a shield
With which to win the victory; and now
I would not loose the slightest tic that binds
The burden of my grief. I glorify
The trial, till it seems the furnace hot
Wherein my heart's pure gold was purified.
Yes, yes, I feel so strong, that. were the love
I would have died for; now all, all my own,
I could tear every clasping from my soul,
And cast it, with no sigh, or tear, into
Oblivion's waters deep. Ah yes, methinks
The wrestler with the heart, the weary one,
Who fights fierce battles with the giant will,
And comes off victor, wins a glory-crown,
Starr'd with more jewels than the spirit does
That ne'er hath felt temptation—as the oak
Gathers new strength and root with tempests, till
It sways not with the storm.
"Oh, earth is fair!
The blue sky hath its stars, the fair earth, flowers,
The waters, pearls, the forest, sweetest birds,
The clouds, rich treasures of the tinkling rain,
The day its sunshine, and the night its moon,
The humblest bud, a dewdrop, or a heart
Brimful of odors. If no nook nor spot,—
No object of dear Nature is bereft
Wholly of beauty, sure the human heart,
The mightiest of them all, can not be left
Without a flower. or star, or gem, or bird,
To keep it vital. No, ah no, it has
Ten thousand blessings left; and I will tear
From my dim eyes the mantle full of dust,
And go, untrembling. through the change that lies
Between me and the path that slopes away
Toward the high city of eternal peace.
When sunset's kiss was on the cherry lips
Of smiling June, and a crowd of stars
Gleamed on her sunny tresses; when young May
Seemed glancing backward through the half shut gates,
Of the ripe seasons,—From old Nature's breast
Welled up full notes of music; but they found
No harp string yet unbroken in the heart
Of fair Daleria. Oh, are the wings
Of every guardian angel folded up,
That they may leave no drop of love, or hope,
In their soft wavings, on her snowy brow?
Have heaven and earth forsaken? Is there no
Invisible hand wherein her own may rest
For one brief moment, till it lead her back
From the dark waters?
Now her fair lips move,
And let us listen to the words they speak.
"'Tis o'er, 'tis o'er, and I am strong again.
The tempter hath no power; my heart is rock—
I could walk on, o'er deserts and wide plains
Of burning heat, and faint or falter not.
Yes, e'en this weight of gloom, that nigh hath pressed
My erring feet to ruin, is a shield
With which to win the victory; and now
I would not loose the slightest tic that binds
The burden of my grief. I glorify
The trial, till it seems the furnace hot
Wherein my heart's pure gold was purified.
Yes, yes, I feel so strong, that. were the love
I would have died for; now all, all my own,
I could tear every clasping from my soul,
And cast it, with no sigh, or tear, into
Oblivion's waters deep. Ah yes, methinks
The wrestler with the heart, the weary one,
Who fights fierce battles with the giant will,
And comes off victor, wins a glory-crown,
Starr'd with more jewels than the spirit does
That ne'er hath felt temptation—as the oak
Gathers new strength and root with tempests, till
It sways not with the storm.
"Oh, earth is fair!
The blue sky hath its stars, the fair earth, flowers,
The waters, pearls, the forest, sweetest birds,
The clouds, rich treasures of the tinkling rain,
The day its sunshine, and the night its moon,
The humblest bud, a dewdrop, or a heart
Brimful of odors. If no nook nor spot,—
No object of dear Nature is bereft
Wholly of beauty, sure the human heart,
The mightiest of them all, can not be left
Without a flower. or star, or gem, or bird,
To keep it vital. No, ah no, it has
Ten thousand blessings left; and I will tear
From my dim eyes the mantle full of dust,
And go, untrembling. through the change that lies
Between me and the path that slopes away
Toward the high city of eternal peace.