{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_Orion_Book_III_Canto_I/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_Orion_Book_III_Canto_I","id":"wikisource_Orion_Book_III_Canto_I","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Orion/Book_III/Canto_I","summary":null,"tags":["Subpages"],"text":"ORION.\n\nCanto the First.\n\nThere is an age of action in the world;\nAn age of thought; lastly, an age of both,\nWhen thought guides action and men know themselves,\nWhat they would have, and how to compass it.\nYet are not these great periods so distinct\nEach from the other,\u2014or from all the rest\nOf intermediate degrees and powers,\nCut off,\u2014but that strong links of nature run\nThroughout, and prove one central heart, wherein\nTime beats twin-pulses with Humanity.\nIn every age an emblem and a type,\nPremature, single, ending with itself,\nOf future greatness in an after-time,\nMay germinate, develope, radiate,\nAnd like a star go out and leave no mark\nSave a high memory. One such is our theme.\n\nThe wisdom of mankind creeps slowly on,\nSubject to every doubt that can retard,\nOr fling it back upon an earlier time;\nSo timid are man's footsteps in the dark,\nBut blindest those who have no inward light.\nOne mind, perchance, in every age contains\nThe sum of all before, and much to come;\nMuch that's far distant still; but that full mind,\nCompanioned oft by others of like scope,\nBelief, and tendency, and anxious will,\nA circle small transpierces and illumes:\nExpanding, soon its subtle radiance\nFalls blunted from the mass of flesh and bone.\nThe man who for his race might supersede\nThe work of ages, dies worn out\u2014not used,\nAnd in his track disciples onward strive,\nSome hairs'-breadths only from his starting point:\nYet lives he not in vain; for if his soul\nHath entered others, though imperfectly,\nThe circle widens as the world spins round,\u2014\nHis soul works on while he sleeps 'neath the grass.\nSo, let the firm Philosopher renew\nHis wasted lamp\u2014the lamp wastes not in vain,\nThough he no mirrors for its rays may see,\nNor trace them through the darkness;\u2014let the Hand\nWhich feels primeval impulses, direct\nA forthright plough, and make his furrow broad,\nWith heart untiring while one field remains;\nSo, let the herald Poet shed his thoughts,\nLike seeds that seem but lost upon the wind.\nWork in the night, thou sage, while Mammon's brain\nTeems with low visions on his couch of down;\u2014\nBreak, thou, the clods while high-throned Vanity,\nMidst glaring lights and trumpets, holds its court;\u2014\nSing, thou, thy song amidst the stoning crowd,\nThen stand apart, obscure to man, with God.\nThe poet of the future knows his place,\nThough in the present shady be his seat,\nAnd all his laurels deepening but the shade.\n\nBut what is yonder vague colossal shape,\nThat like a burdened giant bending moves,\nWith outspread arms groping its upward way\nAlong a misty hill? In the blear shades,\nSad twilight, and thick dews darkening the paths\nWhereon the slow dawn hath not yet advanced\nA chilly foot, nor tinged the colourless air\u2014\nThe labouring figure fades as it ascends.\n\n'T was he, the giant builder-up of things,\nAnd of himself, now blind; the worker great,\nWho sees no more the substance near his hands,\nNor in them, nor the objects that his mind\nDesires and would embody. All is dark.\nIt is Orion now bereft of sight,\nWhose eyes aspired to luminous designs.\nThe sun and moon and stars are blotted out,\nWith their familiar glories, which become\nHenceforth like chronicles remote. The earth\nForbids him to cleave deep and trace her roots,\nAnd veins, and quarries: Whose wide purposes\nAre narrowed now into the safest path:\nWhose lofty visions are all packed in his brain,\nAs though the heavens no further could unfold\nTheir wonders, but turned inward on themselves;\nLike a bright flower that closes in the night\nFor the last time, and dreams of by-gone suns\nNe'er to be clasped again: Thou art reduced\nTo ask for sympathy and to need help;\nStooping to pluck up pity from all soils\u2014\nBitterest of roots that round pride's temple grow\u2014\nLosing self-centred power, and in its place\nPressed with humiliation almost down:\nWhose soul had in one passion been absorbed,\nWhich, though illimitable in itself,\nProfound and primal, yet had wrapped him round\nBeyond advance, or further use of hand,\nPurpose and service to the needy earth:\nWhose passion, being less than his true scope,\nHad lowered his life and quelled aspiring dreams,\nBut that it led to blindness and distress,\nSelf-pride's abasement, more extensive truth,\nA higher consciousness and efforts new.\n\nIn that dark hour when anguished he awoke,\nOrion from the sea-shore made his way,\nFeeling from cliff to cliff, from tree to tree,\nGuided by knowledge of the varied tracks\nOf land,\u2014the rocks, the mounds of fern, the grass,\nThat 'neath his feet made known each spot he passed,\u2014\nHill, vale and woodland; till he reached the caves,\nOnce his rude happy dwelling. All was silent.\nRhexergon and Biastor were abroad,\nSearching the jasper quarries for a lynx\nThat had escaped the wreck. Deeply he sighed.\nThe quiet freshness came upon his heart,\nNot sweetly, but with aching sense of loss.\nHe felt his way, and listened at the cave\nOf Akinetos, whom he heard within\nSing to himself. And Akinetos rose,\nPerceiving he was blind, and with slow care\nRolled forth a stone, and placed him by his side.\n\nOrion's tale soon closed; its outward acts\nAnd sad results, were all that he could speak:\nThe rest writhed inwardly, and,\u2014like the leads\nThat sink the nets and all the struggles hide,\nTill a strong hand drags forth the prize,\u2014his words\nKept down the torment, uttered all within\nIn hurrying anguish. Yet the clear, cold eye,\nGrey, quiet, steady, of the Great Unmoved,\nSaw much of this beneath, and thus he spake.\n\n\"My son, why wouldst thou ever work and build,\nAnd so bestir thyself, when certain grief,\nMischief, or error, and not seldom death,\nFollows on all that individual will\nCan of itself attain. I told thee this;\nNor for reproach repeat it, but to soothe\nThy mind with consciousness that not in thee\nWas failure horn. Its law preceded thine:\nIt governs every act, which needs must fail\u2014\nI mean, give place\u2014to make room for the next.\nEach thinks he fails, because he thinks himself\nA chain and centre, not a link that runs\nIn large and complex circles, all unknown.\nSit still. Remain with me. No difference\nWill in the world be found: 'twill know no change,\nBe sure. Say that an act hath been ordained?\nSome hand must do it: therefore do not move:\nAn instrument of action must be found,\nAnd you escape both toil and consequence,\nWhich run their rounds with restless fools; for ever\nOne act leads to another, and disturbs\nMan's rest, and Reason\u2014which foresees no end.\"\n\n\"I feel that thou art wise\" Orion said;\n\"The worker ever comes to thee cast down!\nWho with alacrity would frame, toil, build,\nIf he had wisdom in results, like thee?\nWould Strength life's soil upheave, though close it clung,\nAnd heavy, like a spade that digs in clay,\nTherein to plant roots certain not to grow?\nOh miserable man! Oh fool of hope!\nAll I have done has wrought me no fixt good,\nBut grief more bitter as the bliss was sweet,\nBecause so fleeting. Why did Artemis\nMe from my rough and useful life withdraw?\nO'er wood and iron I had mastery,\nAnd hunted shadows knowing they were shades.\nSince then, my intellect she filled, and taught me\nTo hunt for lasting truth in the pale moon.\nSuch proved my love for her; and such hath proved\nMy love for Merope, to me now lost.\nI will remain here: I will build no more.\"\n\nHe paused; but Akinetos was asleep.\nWherefore Orion at his feet sank down,\nTired of himself, of grief, and all the world,\nAnd also slept. Ere dawn he had a dream:\n'T was hopeful, lovely, though of no clear sense.\nHe said \"Methinks it must betoken good;\nSome help from Artemis, who may relent,\nAnd think of me as one she sought to lift\nTo her own sphere of purity; or, indeed,\nSome God may deem me worthy of a fate\nBetter than that which locks up all design\nIn pausing night. Perchance, the dream may bode\nThat Merope shall be to me restored,\nAnd I see nature through her death-deep eyes,\nAnd know the glorious mysteries of the grave,\nWhich through extremes of blissful passion's life\nMethought I saw. Oh wherefore am I blind?\"\n\"Abandon all such hopes of Merope\"\nMurmured the Great Unmoved: \"her truth was strong,\nFirst to herself, and through herself to thee,\nWhile that it lasted; but that's done and gone.\nHow should she love a giant who is blind,\nAnd sees no beauty but the secret heart\nPanting in darkness? That is not her world.\"\nOrion rose erect. \"I will go forth:\nI may find aid, or cause some help to come\nThat shall restore my sight.\" The sage replied,\n\"Thou'st seen enough already, and too much\nFor happiness.\" \"I know,\" Orion sighed,\nThat what thou say'st is wise\u2014\" and went his way.\n\nNow was each step a new experiment;\nWithin him all was care; without, all chance;\nDark doubts sat in his brain; danger prowled round.\nHe wandered lost and lone, and often prayed,\nStanding beside the tree 'neath which he slept,\nAnd would have offered pious sacrifice,\nBut that himself a victim blindly strayed.\nHis forehead's dark with wrinkles premature\nOf vexing action; his cheek scored all down\nWith debts of will that never can be paid;\nChagrin, pain, disappointment, and wronged heart.\nAt length, one day, some shepherd as he passed,\nWith voice that mingled with the bleat of lambs,\nCried \"Seek the source of light!\u2014begin anew!\"\n\nOn went he thinking, pausing, listening,\nTill sounds smote on his ear, whereby he knew\nThat near the subterranean palace gates\nWhich for Heph\u00e6stos he of iron had framed,\nHis feet approached. He entered there, and found\nBrontes, the cyclops, whom he straight besought\nHis shoulders to ascend, and guide his course\nEastward, to meet the Morning as she rose.\n'T was done. Their hazy forms erewhile we saw.\n\nAnd where was Merope? The cruel deed\nHer sire had compassed for Orion's fall,\nSmote through her full breast, and at every beat\nEntered her heart; nor settled there, but coursed\nThrough all her veins in anguish. Her despair\nWas boundless, many days, until her strength\nWorn with much misery and the need of sleep,\nGave way, and slumber opened 'neath her soul,\nLike an abyss. The deed, beyond recall,\nWas done. She woke, and thought on this with grief.\nThe cruel separation, and the loss\nOf sight, had been completed. Nothing now\nOf passion past remained but memory,\nWhich soon grew painful; and her thoughts oft turned\nFor some relief, to listen to the songs\nThat minstrels sung, sent by the youthful king\nOf Syros, rich in pastures and in corn.\nBeardless he was, dwarf-shaped, and delicate,\nFreckled and moled, with saffron tresses fair;\nYet were his minstrels touched with secret fires,\nAnd beauty was the theme of all their lays.\nOf her they sung\u2014sole object of desire\u2014\nAnd with rare presents the pale king preferred\nHis suit for Merope. Her sire approved;\u2014\nInvited him;\u2014he came;\u2014and Merope\nWith him departed in a high-beaked ship;\nAnd as it sped along, she closely pressed\nThe rich globes of her bosom on the side\nO'er which she bent with those black eyes, and gazed\nInto the sea that fled beneath her face.\n\nThe blindness of their leader, and his woe,\nNow had Rhexergon and Biastor learnt,\nAnd thoughts of plunder cried out for revenge,\nWhich on \u0152nopion they proposed to wreak,\nAnd make good pastime round his ruined throne.\n\"Revenge is useless\" Akinetos said:\n\"It undoes nothing, and prevents repentance\nWhich might advantage others.\" Both replied,\n\"Thou speakest truth and wisdom;\" and at eve\nDeparted for the city, bent to choose\nSome rebel chieftains for their aid, or slaves,\nOr robbers who inhabited the rocks\nNorth of the isle. A great revenge they vowed.\n\nSwift down the misty eastern hill, whose top\nThrough broken vapours, swooning as they creep\nAlong the edges into the wide heavens,\nShews Morn's first ruddy gleam, a shape uncouth,\nAnd lumbering forward in half-falls and bounds,\nComes with tossed arms! The Cyclops hoar with rime,\nHis coarse hair flying, through the wet woods ran,\nAnd in the front of Akinetos' cave\nShouting with gladness and resounding life,\nPerformed a hideous but full-hearted dance.\n\"Dance, rocks and forests! Akinetos dance!\nThe Worker and the Builder hath his sight!\nHo! ho! come forth\u2014with either eye he sees!\nCome forth, O Akinetos\u2014laugh ye rocks!\"\n\nA shadow o'er the face of him who sat\nWithin that cave, passed,\u2014lightly wrinkling\nThe ledge-like brow, which, though of granite, smoothed\nNot vexed, by ocean's tempests, now relaxed,\nAs it would say \"I pity this return\nOf means for seeking fresh distress;\"\u2014and then,\nThe broad great features their fixed calm resumed.\n\n'T was thus Orion fared; and this the scene.\nFast through the clouds retiring, the pale orb\nOf Artemis a moment seemed to hang\nSuspended in a halo, phantom-like,\nOver a restless sea of jasper fire,\nWhile bending forward tow'rds the eastern mount,\nShe gazed and hearkened. Soon the fervent voice\nOf one who prayed beneath amid the mist,\nRose thrilling on the air; and onward slow\nHer car its voyage held, and waned more pale\nAnd distant, as the prayer ascended heaven.\n\n\"Eos! blest Goddess of the Morning, hear\nThe blind Orion praying on thy hill,\nAnd in thine odorous breath his spirit steep,\nThat he, the soft gold of thy gleaming hand\nPassing across his heavy lids, sealed down\nWith weight of many nights, and night-like days,\nMay feel as keenly as a new-horn child,\nAnd, through it, learn as purely to behold\nThe face of nature. Oh restore my sight!\"\n\nHis prayer paused tremulous. O'er his brow he felt\nA balmy beam, that with its warmth conveyed\nDivine suffusion and deep sense of peace\nThroughout his being; and amidst a pile,\nFar in the distance, gleaming like the bloom\nOf almond trees seen through long floating halls\nOf pale ethereal blue and virgin gold,\nA Goddess, smiling like a new-blown flower,\nOrion saw! And as he gazed he wept.\nThe tears ran mingling with the morning dews\nDown his thick locks. At length once more he spake.\n\n\"Blest Eos! mother of the hopeful star,\nWhich I, with sweet joy, take into my soul;\nStar-rays that first played o'er my blinded orbs,\nE'en as they glance above the lids of Sleep,\nWho else had never known surprise, nor hope,\nNor useful action; Golden Visitant,\nSo lovely and benign, whose eyes drive home\nNight's foulest ghosts, and men as foul; who bring'st\nNot only my redemption, but who art\nThe intermediate beauty that unites\nThe fierce Sun with the Earth, and moderates\nHis beams with dews and tenderness and smiles;\nO bird-awakener! giver of fresh life,\nNew hopes, or to old hopes new wings,\u2014receive\nWithin thy care, one who with many things\nIs weary, and though nought in energy\nAbated for good work, would seek thine aid\nTo some fresh course and service for his hand;\nOf peace meantime, and steadfast truth, secure!\"","title":"Orion/Book III/Canto I","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":2553}