Saturday, 11 March 2023

Good Reading: "The Sphinx" by Ralph W. Emerson

The Sphinx is drowsy,

⁠          Her wings are furled:

Her ear is heavy,

⁠          She broods on the world.

"Who'll tell me my secret,

⁠          The ages have kept?—

I awaited the seer

⁠          While they slumbered and slept:—

 

"The fate of the man-child,

⁠          The meaning of man;

Known fruit of the unknown;

⁠          Dædalian plan;

Out of sleeping a waking,

⁠          Out of waking a sleep;

Life death overtaking;

⁠          Deep underneath deep?

 

"Erect as a sunbeam,

⁠          Upspringeth the palm;

The elephant browses,

⁠          Undaunted and calm;

In beautiful motion

⁠          The thrush plies his wings;

Kind leaves of his covert,

⁠          Your silence he sings.

 

"The waves, unashamèd,

⁠          In difference sweet,

Play glad with the breezes,

⁠          Old playfellows meet;

The journeying atoms,

⁠          Primordial wholes,

Firmly draw, firmly drive,

⁠          By their animate poles.

 

"Sea, earth, air, sound, silence,

⁠          Plant, quadruped, bird,

By one music enchanted,

⁠          One deity stirred,—

Each the other adorning,

⁠          Accompany still;

Night veileth the morning,

⁠          The vapor the hill.

 

"The babe by its mother

⁠          Lies bathèd in joy;

Glide its hours uncounted,—

⁠          The sun is its toy;

Shines the peace of all being,

⁠          Without cloud, in its eyes;

And the sum of the world

⁠          In soft miniature lies.

 

"But man crouches and blushes,

⁠          Absconds and conceals;

He creepeth and peepeth,

⁠          He palters and steals;

Infirm, melancholy,

⁠          Jealous glancing around,

An oaf, an accomplice,

⁠          He poisons the ground.

 

"Out spoke the great mother,

⁠          Beholding his fear;—

At the sound of her accents

⁠          Cold shuddered the sphere:—

'Who has drugged my boy's cup?

⁠          Who has mixed my boy's bread?

Who, with sadness and madness,

⁠          Has turned my child's head?'"

 

I heard a poet answer

⁠          Aloud and cheerfully,

'Say on, sweet Sphinx! thy dirges

⁠          Are pleasant songs to me.

Deep love lieth under

⁠          These pictures of time;

They fade in the light of

⁠          Their meaning sublime.

 

"The fiend that man harries

⁠          Is love of the Best;

Yawns the pit of the Dragon,

⁠          Lit by rays from the Blest.

The Lethe of Nature

⁠          Can't trance him again,

Whose soul sees the perfect,

⁠          Which his eyes seek in vain.

 

"To vision profounder,

⁠          Man's spirit must dive;

His aye-rolling orb

⁠          At no goal will arrive;

The heavens that now draw him

⁠          With sweetness untold,

Once found,—for new heavens

⁠          He spurneth the old.

 

"Pride ruined the angels,

⁠          Their shame them restores;

Lurks the joy that is sweetest

⁠          In stings of remorse.

Have I a lover

⁠          Who is noble and free?—

I would he were nobler

⁠          Than to love me.

 

"Eterne alternation

⁠          Now follows, now flies;

And under pain, pleasure,—

⁠          Under pleasure, pain lies.

Love works at the centre,

⁠          Heart-heaving alway;

Forth speed the strong pulses

⁠          To the borders of day.

 

"Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits;

⁠          Thy sight is growing blear;

Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx,

⁠          Her muddy eyes to clear!"

The old Sphinx bit her thick lip,—

⁠          Said, "Who taught thee me to name?

I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow;

⁠          Of thine eye I am eyebeam.

 

"Thou art the unanswered question;

⁠          Couldst see thy proper eye,

Alway it asketh, asketh;

⁠          And each answer is a lie.

So take thy quest through nature,

⁠          It through thousand natures ply;

Ask on, thou clothed eternity;

⁠          Time is the false reply."

 

Uprose the merry Sphinx,

⁠          And crouched no more in stone;

She melted into purple cloud,

⁠          She silvered in the moon;

She spired into a yellow flame;

⁠          She flowered in blossoms red;

She flowed into a foaming wave:

⁠          She stood Monadnoc's head.

 

Thorough a thousand voices

⁠          Spoke the universal dame;

"Who telleth one of my meanings

⁠          Is master of all I am."

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