FOURTH PHASE

SOUL:

But hark! upon my sense

Comes a fierce hubbub, which would make me fear,

Could I be frighted.

ANGEL:

We are now arrived

Close on the judgment court; that sullen howl

Is from the demons who assemble there.

It is the middle region, where of old

Satan appeared among the sons of God,

To cast his jibes and scoffs at holy Job.

So now his legions throng the vestibule,

Hungry and wild, to claim their property,

And gather souls for hell. Hist to their cry.

SOUL:

HOW sour and how uncouth a dissonance!

DEMONS:

LOW-BORN clods

Of brute earth,

They aspire

To become gods,

By a new birth,

And an extra grace,

And a score of merits.

As if aught

Could stand in place

Of the high thought,

And the glance of fire

Of the great spirits,

The powers blest,

The lords by right,

The primal owners,

Of the proud dwelling

And realm of light,—

Dispossessed,

Aside thrust,

Chucked down,

By the sheer might

Of a despot’s will,

Of a tyrant’s frown. Who after expelling Their hosts, gave,

Triumphant still,

And still unjust,

Each forfeit crown To psalm-droners,

And canting groaners,

To every slave

And pious cheat,

And crawling knave,

Who licked the dust

Under his feet.

ANGEL:

Tis the restless panting of their being;

Like beasts of prey, who, caged within their bars,

In a deep hideous purring have their life,

And an incessant pacing to and fro.

DEMONS:

THE mind bold

And independent,

The purpose free,

So we are told,

Must not think

To have the ascendant.

What’s a saint?

One whose breath

Doth the air taint

Before his death;

A bundle of bones, Which fools adore,

Ha! ha!

When life is o’er,

Which rattle and stink, E’en in the flesh.

We cry his pardon!

No flesh bath he;

Ha! ha!

For it bath died, ‘Tis crucified Day by day, Afresh, afresh,

Ha! ha!

That holy clay,

Ha! ha!

And such fudge,

As priestlings prate, Is his guerdon,

Ha! ha!

Before the Judge,

And pleads and atones For spite and grudge,

And bigot mood,

And envy and hate, And greed of blood.

SOUL:

HOW impotent they are! and yet on earth

They have repute for wondrous power and skill;

And books describe, how that the very face

Of the Evil One, if seen, would have a force

Even to freeze the blood, and choke the life

Of Him who saw it.

ANGEL:

In thy trial-state

Thou hadst a traitor nestling close at home,

Connatural, who with the powers of hell

Was leagued, and of thy senses kept the keys,

And to that deadliest foe unlocked thy heart. therefore is it, in respect of man,

Those fallen ones show so majestical.

But when some child of grace, angel or saint,

Pure and upright in his integrity nature, meets the demons on their raid,

They scud away as cowards from the fight.

Nay oft hath holy hermit in his cell, yet disburdened of mortality,

Mocked at their threats and warlike overtures;

Or, dying, when they swarmed, like flies,

Defied them, and departed to his Judge.

DEMONS:

VIRTUE and vice,

A knave’s pretence,

‘Tis all the same;

Ha! ha!

Dread of hell-fire,

Of the venomous flame,

A coward’s plea.

Give him his price,

Saint though he be,

Ha! Ha!

Fom shrewd good sense

He’ll slave for hi re;

Ha! ha!

And does but aspire

To the heaven above

With sordid aim,

And not for love.

Ha! Ha!

SOUL:

SEE not those false spirits; shall I see

My dearest Master, when I reach His throne?

Or hear, at least, His awful judgment-word

With personal intonation, as I now

Hear thee, not see thee, Angel? Hitherto

All has been darkness since I left the earth;

S hall I remain thus sight bereft all through

My penance time? If so, how comes it then

That I have hearing still, and taste, and touch,

Yet not a glimmer of that princely sense

Which binds ideas in one, and makes them live?

ANGEL:

NOR touch, nor taste, nor hearing hast thou now;

Thou livest in a world of signs and types,
The presentations of most holy truths,

Living and strong, which now encompass thee.

A disembodied soul, thou hast by right

No converse with aught else beside thyself;

But, lest so stern a solitude should load

And break thy being, in mercy are vouchsafed

Some lower measures of perception,

Which seem to thee, as though through channels brought,

Through ear, or nerves, or palate, which are gone.

And thou art wrapped and swathed around in dreams,

Dreams that are true, yet enigmatical;

For the belongings of thy present state,

Save through such symbols, come not home to thee.

And thus thou tell’st of space, and time, and size,

Of fragrant, solid, bitter, musical,

Of fire, and of refreshment after fire;

As (let me use similitude of earth,

To aid thee in the knowledge thou dost ask) –

As ice which blisters may be said to burn.

Nor hast thou now extension, with its parts

Correlative,—long habit cozens thee,—

Nor power to move thyself; nor limbs to move.

Hast thou not heard of those, who, after loss

Of hand or foot, still cried that they had pains

In hand or foot, as though they had it still?

So is it now with thee, who hast not lost

Thy hand or foot, but all which made up man;

So will it be, until the joyous day

Of resurrection, when thou wilt regain

All thou hast lost, new-made and glorified.

How, even now, the consummated Saints

See God in heaven, I may not explicate.

Meanwhile let it suffice thee to possess

Such means of converse as are granted thee,

Though, till that Beatific Vision thou art blind;

For e’en thy purgatory, which comes like fire,

Is fire without its light.

SOUL:

His will be done!

I am not worthy e’er to see again

The face of day; far less His countenance,

Who is the very sun. Nathless, in life,

When I looked forward to my purgatory,

It ever was my solace to believe

That, ere I plunged amid th’ avenging flame,

I had one sight of Him to strengthen me.

ANGEL:

NOR rash nor vain is that presentiment;

Yes,—for one moment thou shalt see thy Lord.

Thus will it be: what time thou art arraigned

Before the dread tribunal, and thy lot

Is cast for ever, should it be to sit

On His right hand among His pure elect,

Then sight, or that which to the soul is sight,

As by a lightning-flash, will come to thee,

And thou shalt see, amid the dark profound,

Whom thy soul loveth, and would fain approach,—

One moment; but thou knowest not, my child,

What thou dost ask: that sight of the Most Fair

Will gladden thee, but it will pierce thee too.

SOUL:

THOU speakest darkly, Angel; and an awe

Falls on me, and a fear lest I be rash.

ANGEL:

THERE was a mortal, who is now above

In the mid glory: he, when near to die,

Was given communion with the Crucified,—

Such, that the Master’s very wounds were stamped

Upon his flesh; and, from the agony

Which thrilled through body and soul in that embrace,

Learn that the flame of the Everlasting Love

Doth burn ere it transform…