{The Book of Orm 1870}

93

V.

SONGS OF SEEKING.

Songs of Seeking, day by day
Sung while wearying on the way,—
Feeble cries of one who knows
Nor whence he comes, nor whither goes,                               [1:4]
Yet of his own free will doth wear
The bloody Cross of those who fare
Upward and in sad accord,—                                                  [1:7]
The footsore Seekers of the Lord.

 

95

V.

SONGS OF SEEKING.

I.

O THOU whose ears incline unto my singing,
Woman or man, thou surely bearest thy burden,
And I who sing, and all men, bear their burdens.

Even as a meteor-stone from suns afar,
I fell unto the ways of life and breathed,
Wherefore to much on earth I feel a stranger.

I found myself in a green norland valley,
A place of gleaming waters and gray heavens,
And weirdly woven colours in the air.

A basin round whose margin rose the mountains
Green-based, snow-crown’d, and windy saeters midway,
And the thin line of a spire against the mountains.

Around were homes of peasants rude and holy,                                     96
Who look’d upon the mountains and the forests,
On the waters, on the vapours, without wonder;

Who, happy in their labours six days weekly,
Were happy on their knees upon the seventh.
But I wonder’d, being strange, and was not happy.

For I cried: “O Thou Unseen, how shall I praise Thee—
How shall I name Thee glorious whom I know not—
If Thou art as these say, I scarce conceive thee.                                    [7:3]

“Unfold to me the image of Thy features,
Come down upon my heart, that I may know Thee;”—
And I made a song of seeking, on a mountain.

97

II.

QUEST.

As in the snowy stillness,
          Where the stars shine greenly
     In a mirror of ice,
The Reindeer abideth alone,
And speedeth swiftly
From her following shadow
          In the moon,—
I speed for ever
From the mystic shape
That my life projects,
And my soul perceives;                                                             [1:11]
And I loom for ever
Through desolate regions
Of wondrous thought,
And I fear the thing
That follows me,
And cannot escape it
          Night or day.

     Doth Thy wingëd lightning                                                      98
Strike, O Master!
The timid Reindeer
          Flying her shade?
Will Thy wrath pursue me,
Because I cannot
Escape the shadow
          Of the thing I am?

I have pried and pondered,
          I have agonized,
I have sought to find Thee,
          Yet still must roam,
Affrighted, fleeing Thee,
Chased by the shadow
Of the thing I am,
Through desolate regions
Of wondrous thought!

99

III.

THE HAPPY EARTH.

Sweet, sweet it was to sit in leafy Forests,
In a green darkness, and to hear the stirring
Of strange breaths hither and thither in the branches;

And sweet it was to sail on crystal Waters,
Between the dome above and the dome under,
The Hills above me, and the Hills beneath me;                                       [2:3]

And sweet it was to watch the wondrous Lightning
Spring flashing at the earth, and slowly perish
Under the falling of the summer Rain.

I loved all grand and gentle and strange things,—
The wind-flower at the tree-root, and the white cloud,
The strength of Mountains, and the power of Waters.

And unto me all seasons utter’d pleasure:
Spring, standing startled, listening to the skylark,
The wild flowers from her lap unheeded falling;

And Summer, in her gorgeous loose apparel;                                   100 [6:1]
And Autumn, with her dreamy silver eyebrows;                                    [6:2]
And Winter, with his white hair blown about him.

Yea, everywhere there stirred a deathless beauty,
A gleaming and a flashing into change,
An under-stream of sober consecration.

Yet nought endured, but all the glory faded,
And power and sweet and sorrow were interwoven;                             [8:2]
There was no single presence of the Spirit.

101

IV.

O UNSEEN ONE!

Because Thou art beautiful,
Because Thou art mysterious,
     Because Thou art strong,
Or because Thou art pitiless,
Shall my soul worship Thee,                                                       [1:5]
     O thou Unseen One?                                                            [1:6]

As men bow to monarchs,
As slaves to their owners,
     Shall I bow to Thee?
As one that is fearful,
As one that is insolent,                                                                [2:5]
     Shall I pray to Thee?

Wert Thou a demigod,
Wert Thou an angel,
     Lip-worship might serve;
To Thee, most beautiful,                                                             102
Wondrous, mysterious,
     How shall it avail?

Thou art not a demigod,
Thou art not a monarch,—
     Why should I bow to Thee?
I am not fearful,
I am not insolent,—                                                                    [4:5]
     Why should I pray to Thee?

O Spirit of mountains!                                                                [5:1]
Strong Master of Waters!
     Strange Shaper of clouds!                                                     [5:3]
When these things worship Thee,                                                [5:4]
I too will worship Thee,
     O Maker of Men!

103

V.

WORLD’S MYSTERY.

The World was wondrous round me— God’s green World—
A world of gleaming waters and green places,                                                 [1:2]
And weirdly woven colours in the air.

Yet evermore a trouble did pursue me—
A hunger for the wherefore of my being,
A wonder from what regions I had fallen.

I gladdened in the glad things of the World,
Yet crying always, “Wherefore, and oh, wherefore?
What am I? Wherefore doth the world seem happy?”                                     [3:3]

I saddened in the sad things of the World,
Yet crying, “Wherefore are men bruised and beaten?
Whence do I grieve and gladden to no end?”

104

VI.

THE CITIES.

I took my staff and wandered o’er the mountains,
And came among the heaps of gold and silver,
The gorgeous desolation of the Cities.

My trouble grew tenfold when I beheld
The agony and burden of my fellows,
The pains of sick men and the groans of hungry.

I saw the good man tear his hair and weep;
I saw the bad man tread on human necks
Prospering and blaspheming; and I wondered.                                      [3:3]

The silken-natured woman was a bond-slave;
The gross man foul’d her likeness in high places;
The innocent were heart-wrung; and I wondered.                                 [4:3]

The gifts of earth are given to the base;
The monster of the Cities spurned the martyr;
The martyr died, denying; and I wondered.                                           [5:3]

105

VII.

THE PRIESTS.

Three Priests in divers vestments passed and whispered:
“Worship the one God, stranger, or thou diest;
Yea, worship, or thy tortures shall be endless.”

I cried, “Which God, O wise ones, must I worship?”
And neither answer’d, but one showed a Picture,
A fair Man dying on a Cross of wood.

And this one said, “The others err, O stranger!
Repent, and love thy brother,—’tis enough!
The Doom of Dooms is only for the wicked.”

I turned and cried unto him, “Who is wicked?”
He vanish’d, and within a house beside me
I heard a hard man bless his little children.

My heart was full of comfort for the wicked,                                         106
Mine eyes were cleared with love, and everywhere
The wicked wore a piteousness like starlight.

I felt my spirit foul with misconceivings,
I thought of old transgressions and was humble,                                    [6:2]
I cried: “O God, whose doom is on the wicked!                                   [6:3]

“Thou art not He for whom my being hungers!
The Spirit of the grand things and the gentle,
The strength of mountains and the power of waters!”

And lo! that very night I had a Vision.

107

VIII.

THE LAMB OF GOD.
 

1.

I saw in a vision of the night
The Lamb of God, and it was white;
White as snow it wander’d thro’                                                 [1:3]
Silent fields of harebell-blue,
Still it wandering fed, and sweet
Flower’d the stars around its feet.

2.

I heard in vision a strange voice
Cry aloud, “Rejoice! rejoice!
Dead men rise and come away,
Now it is the Judgment Day!”
And I heard the host intone
Round the footstool of the Throne.

3.

Then the vision pained my sight,
All I saw became so bright—
All the Souls of men were there,                                                 108
All the Angels of the air;
God was smiling on His seat,
And the Lamb was at His feet.

4.

Then I heard a voice—“’Tis done!
Blest be those whom God hath won!”
And the loud hosannah grew,
And the golden trumpets blew,
And around the place of rest
Rose the bright mist of the Blest.

5.

Then suddenly I saw again,
Bleating like a thing in pain,
The Lamb of God;—and all in fear
Gazed and cried as it came near,
For on its robe of holy white
Crimson blood-stains glimmer’d bright.
                                                                                                  109

6.

O the vision of the night!                                                             [6:1]
The Lamb of God! the blood-stains bright!
In quiet waters of the skies
It bathed itself with piteous eyes—
Vainly on its raiment fell
Cleansing dews ineffable!

7.

All the while it cried for pain,
It could not wash away the stain—
All the gentle blissful sky
Felt the trouble of its cry—
All the streams of silver sheen
Sought it vain to make it clean.                                                   [7:6]

8.

Where’er it went along the skies
The Happy turned away their eyes;
Where’er it past from shore to shore                                           110
All wept for those whose blood it bore—
Its piteous cry filled all the air,
Till the dream was more than I could bear.                                  [8:6]

9.

And in the darkness of my bed
Weeping I awakenëd—
In the silence of the night,
Dying softly from my sight,
Melted that pale Dream of pain
Like a snow-flake from my brain.                                               [9:6]

111

IX.

DOOM.

Master, if there be Doom,
     All men are bereaven!
If, in the universe,
One Spirit receive the curse,
     Alas for Heaven!
If there be Doom for one,
Thou, Master, art undone.

Were I a Soul in heaven,
     Afar from pain,
Yea, on Thy breast of snow,
At the scream of one below
     I should scream again.
Art Thou less piteous than
The conception of a Man?

112

X.

GOD’S DREAM.

I hear a voice, “How should God pardon sin?
How should He save the sinner with the sinless?
That would be ill: the Lord my God is just.”

Further I hear, “How should God pardon lust?
How should He comfort the adulteress?
That would be foul: the Lord my God is pure.”

Further I hear, “How should God pardon blood?
How should the murtherer have a place in heaven
Beside the innocent life he took away?”

And God is on His throne; and in a dream
Sees mortals making figures out of clay,
Shapen like men, and calling them God’s angels.

And sees the shapes look up into His eyes,                                           113
Exclaiming, “Thou dost ill to save this man;                                           [5:2]
Damn Thou this woman, and curse this cut-throat, Lord!”

God dreams this, and His dreaming is the world;
And thou and I are dreams within His dream;
And nothing dieth God hath dreamt or thought.

114

XI.

FLOWER OF THE WORLD.

Wherever men sinned and wept,
I wandered in my quest;
At last in a Garden of God
I saw the Flower of the World.

This Flower had human eyes,
Its breath was the breath of the mouth;
Sunlight and starlight came,
And the Flower drank bliss from both.

Whatever was base and unclean,
Whatever was sad and strange,
Was piled around its roots;
It drew its strength from the same.

Whatever was formless and base
Pass’d into fineness and form;
Whatever was lifeless and mean                                                  115
Grew into beautiful bloom.

Then I thought, “O Flower of the World!                                    [5:1]
Miraculous Blossom of things,
Light as a faint wreath of snow
Thou tremblest to fall in the wind.

“O beautiful Flower of the World,
Fall not nor wither away;
He is coming—He cannot be far—
The Lord of the Flow’rs and the Stars.

And I cried, “O Spirit divine!
That walkest the Garden unseen,
Come hither, and bless, ere it dies,
The beautiful Flower of the World.”

116

XII.

O SPIRIT!

Weary with seeking, weary with long waiting,
I fell upon my knees, and wept, exclaiming,
“O Spirit of the grand things and the gentle!

“Thou hidest from our seeking—Thou art crafty—
Thou wilt not let our hearts admit Thee wholly—
But believing hath a core of unbelieving—                                             [2:3]

“A coward dare not look upon Thy features,
But museth in a cloud of misconceiving;
The bravest man’s conception is a coward’s.

“Wherefore, O wherefore, art Thou veil’d and hidden?
The world were well, and wickedness were over,
If Thou upon Thy throne were one thing certain.”

And lo! that very night I had a Vision.

[Notes:
Alterations in the 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’:
Introductory verse:
v. 1, l. 4: Nor whence he comes, nor whither goes.
v. 1, l. 7: Upward and on in sad accord,—

Part I:
v. 7, l. 3: If Thou art as these say, I scarce conceive Thee.

Part II of ‘Songs of Seeking’ - ‘Quest’ - was originally published in ‘North Coast and other Poems’ (1867) as the third part of the poem, ‘Celtic Mystics’. The notes to the original version list the changes in the 1870 version.
Alterations in the 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’:
v. 1, l. 11: And my Soul perceives;
v. 3, l. 2: I have agonised,

Part III:
v. 2, l. 3: The Hills above me and the Hills beneath me;
v. 6, l. 1: And Summer, in her gorgeous loose apparel,
v. 6, l. 2: And Autumn, with her dreamy drooping lashes;
v. 8, l. 2: And power and joy and sorrow were interwoven;

Part IV of ‘Songs of Seeking’ - ‘O Unseen One!’ - was originally published in ‘North Coast and other Poems’ (1867) as the fourth part of the poem, ‘Celtic Mystics’. The notes to the original version list the changes in the 1870 version.
Alterations in the 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’:
v. 1, l. 5: Shall my Soul worship Thee,
v. 1, l. 6: O Thou Unseen One?
v. 2, l. 5: As one that is slavish,
v. 4, l. 5: I am not slavish,—
v. 5, l. 1: O Spirit of Mountains!
v. 5, l. 3: Strange Shaper of Clouds!
v. 5, l. 4: When these things worship Thee

Part V:
v.1, l. 2: A World of gleaming waters and green places,
v. 3, l. 3: What am I? Wherefore doth the World seem happy?'

Part VI:
v. 3, l. 3: Prospering and blaspheming: and I wondered.
v. 4, l. 3: The innocent were heart-wrung: and I wondered.
v. 5, l. 3: The martyr died, denying: and I wondered.

Part VII:
v. 6, l. 2: I thought of old transgressions and was humble;
v. 6, l. 3: I cried, ‘O God, whose doom is on the wicked!

Part VIII:
v. 1, l. 3: White as snow it wander’d through
v. 6, l. 1: O the vision of the night;
v. 7, l. 6: Sought in vain to make it clean.
v. 8, l. 6: Till the Dream was more than I could bear.
v. 9, l. 6: Like a snow-flake from thy brain.

Part IX of ‘Songs of Seeking’ - ‘Doom’ - was originally published in ‘North Coast and other Poems’ (1867) as the sixth part of the poem, ‘Celtic Mystics’. The notes to the original version list the changes in the 1870 version.

Part X of ‘Songs of Seeking’ - ‘God’s Dream’ - was originally published in ‘North Coast and other Poems’ (1867) as the seventh part of the poem, ‘Celtic Mystics’. The notes to the original version list the changes in the 1870 version.
Alterations in the 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’:
v.5, l. 2: Exclaiming, “Thou didst ill to save this man;

Part XI:
v. 5, l. 1: Then I thought, ‘O Flower of the World,

Part XII:
v. 2, l. 3: Believing hath a core of unbelieving— ]

117

VI.

THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL.

Thou who the Face Divine wouldst see,
Think,—couldst thou bear the sight, and be?
O waves of life and thought and dream,
Darkening in one mysterious Stream,
Flow on, flow loudly; nor become
A glassy Mirror sad and dumb,
Whereon for evermore might shine
The dread peace of the Face Divine!—
Children of earth whose spirits fail,
Revere the Face, but bless the Veil!                                                  [1:10]

 

119

VI.

THE LIFTING OF THE VEIL.

I.

ORM’S VISION.

My Soul had a vision,
And in my Soul’s vision
The Veil was lifted,
     And the Face was there!

There was no portent
Of fire or thunder,
The wind was sleeping,
And above and under                                                                 [2:4]
     All things lookt fair.
And the change came softly
     Unaware:
On a golden morrow                                                                  120
The Veil was lifted,
And yea! the ineffable Face was there.

My Soul saw the vision
     From a silent spot—
Nay, of its likeness
     Ask me not—
How should my Soul fathom
The formless features?
Gaze at the Master
     How should it dare?
Only I flutter’d
To my knees and mutter’d
     A moan, a prayer—
Silent, ineffable,
Gazing downward,
     The Face was there!

This let me whisper:
It stirred not, changed not,
Tho’ the world stood still, amazed;                                        121 [4:3]
But the Eyes within it,
Like the eyes of a painted picture,
Met and followed
     The eyes of each that gazed.

122

II.

THE FACE AND THE WORLD.

Then my Soul heard a voice
     Crying—“Wander forth
O’er hill and valley,
     O’er the earth—
Behold the mortals
     How they fare—
Now the great Father
     Grants their prayer;
Now every spirit
     Of mortal race,
Since the Veil is lifted,
     Beholds the Face!

I awoke my body,
And up the mountains,
With the sweet sun shining,                                                    123 [2:3]
     I wander’d free—
And the hills were pleasant,
Knee-deep in heather,
And the yellow eagle
     Wheel’d over me—
And the streams were flowing,
And the lambs were leaping
     Merrily!

But on the hill-tops
The shepherds gather’d,
Up-gazing dreamily
     Into the silent air,
And close beside them
The eagle butcher’d
The crying lambkin,
     But they did not see, nor care.
I saw the white flocks of the shepherds,
Like snow wind-lifted and driven,                                               124
     Blow by, blow by!
And the terrible wolves behind them,
As wild as the winds, pursuing
     With a rush and a tramp and a cry!

I passed the places
     Of ice and snow,
And I saw a Hunter
Lying frozen,—
His eyes were sealëd—
     He did not know;
Drinking his heart’s-blood,
Not looking upward,
Sat the soot-black raven
     And the corby crow.

Then I knew they linger’d,
Tho’ the Veil was lifted,                                                             [5:2]
     Death and Decay,
And my Spirit was heavy                                                            125
     As I turned away;
But my Spirit was brighter
As I saw below me
The glassy Ocean
     Glimmering,
With a white sail dipping
Against the azure
     Like a sea-bird’s wing—
And all look’d pleasant,
     On sea and land,
The white cloud brooding,
And the white sail dipping,
And the village sitting
     On the yellow sand.

And beside the waters
My Soul saw the fishers
Staring upward,
     With dumb desire,
Tho’ a mile to seaward,                                                        126 [6:5]
With the gulls pursuing,
Shot past the herring
     With a trail like fire;
Tho’ the mighty Sea-snake                                                         [6:9]
With her young was stranded
In the fatal shallows
     Of the shingly bay—
Tho’ their bellies hunger’d,—                                                    [6:13]
What cared they?

Hard by I noted
Little children,
Toddling and playing
     In a field o’ hay—
The Face was looking,
But they were gazing
At one another,
     And what cared they?
But one I noted,
A little Maiden,                                                                          127
Look’d up o’ sudden
     And ceased her play,
And she dropt her garland
And stood upgazing,
With hair like sunlight,
     And face like clay.

All was most quiet
     In the air,
Save the children’s voices
And the cry of dumb beasts,—
’Twas a weary Sabbath
     Everywhere—
Each soul an eyeball,
     Each face a stare;—
And I left the place,
     And I wander’d free,
And the Eyes of the Face
     Still followed me!

     At the good Priest’s cottage                                                 128
The gray-hair’d grandsire
Lay stiff in the garden—
     For his Soul had fled—
And I cried in passing,
“Oh ye within there,
Come forth in sorrow
     And bury your dead.”
With his flock around him
Praying bareheaded,
The pale Priest, kneeling
     All gaunt and gray,
Answer’d, “Look upward!
Leave the dead to heaven!
God is yonder!
     Behold, and pray!”

I was sick at heart
     To hear and see,
And to feel the Face                                                                   129
     Still following me.                                                                [10:4]                      
And all seemed darkening,
     And my heart sank down,—
As I saw afar off
     A mighty Town—
When with no warning,
Slowly and softly
     The beautiful Face withdrew,
And the whole world darken’d,
And the silence deepen’d,
And the Veil fell downward
     With a silver glimmer of dew.
And I was calmer
As, slowly and sweetly,
Gather’d above me
     Mysterious Light on Light,—
And weary with watching
I lay and slumber’d
In the mellow stillness                                                                 130
     Of the blessëd night.

 

. . When my Soul awaken’d
     In the lonely place,
The Veil was lifted,
     And, behold! the Face—
And sick, heart-weary,
     Onward I ran,
Thro’ fields of harvest                                                               [11:7]
Where the wheat hung wither’d,
     Unreapt by man;
And a ragged Idiot
Went gibbering gaily
     Among the wheat,
In moist palms rubbing
The ears together;
And he laugh’d, and beckon’d
     That I should eat.

     At the city gateway                                                                131
The Sentinels gather’d,
Fearful and drunken
     With eyes like glass—
Look up they dared not,
Lest, to their terror,
Some luminous Angel
     Of awe should pass;
And my Soul passed swiftly
     With a prayer,
And entered the City:—
Still and awful
     Were street and square.
’Twas a piteous Sabbath
     Everywhere—
Each soul an eyeball,
     Each face a stare.

In pale groups gather’d
     The Citizens,
The rich and poor men,                                                              132
The lords, the lepers
     From their loathsome dens.
There was no traffic,
The heart of the City
     Stood silently;
How could they barter,
How could they traffic,
     With the terrible Eyes to see.
Nay! each man brooded
     On the Face alone,                                                             [13:13]
Each Soul was an eyeball,
     Each Shape was a stone;
And I saw the faces,
     And some were glad,
And some were pensive,
     And some were mad;
But in all places,
     Hall, street, and lane,—
’Twas a frozen pleasure,                                                             133
     A frozen pain.

I passed the bearers
     Of a sable bier,
They had dropt their burthen                                                     [14:3]
     To gaze in fear;
From under the trappings
     Of the death-cloth grand,
With a ring on the finger,
Glimmer’d the corpse’s
     Decaying hand.
I passed the bridal,
     Clad bright and gay,
Frozen to marble
     Upon its way.

Freely I wandered
     Everywhere—
No mortal heeded                                                                      134
The passing footstep,
Palace and hovel
     Were free as the mountain air.
Aye! softly I enter’d                                                                  [15:7]
     The carven court of stone,
And the fountains were splashing,
And the pale King sitting
     Upon his jewell’d throne—
And before him gather’d
The Frail and Sickly,
     The Poor and Old;
And he open’d great coffers,
And gave thence freely
     Fine gear and gold,—
Saying, “’Tis written,
Who giveth freely
Shall in sooth be blessëd
     Twenty-fold!”
But he look’d not upward,
And seem’d unconscious                                                           135
Of the strange Eyes watching
     O’er sea and land;
Yet his eyelids quiver’d,
And his eyes looked sidelong,                                                  [15:27]
And he hid in his bosom
     A blood-stained hand;
But the beggar people
Let the gold and raiment
Lie all unheeded;
     While with no speech,
Upward they lifted
Their wild pale features,
For the Face was mirror’d
     In the eyes of each.

With the Face pursuing
I wandered onward,
     Heart-sick, heart-sore,
And entered the fretted
     Cathedral door;                                                                     136
And I found the people
Huddled together,
Hiding their faces
     In shame and sin,
For thro’ the painted                                                                [16:10]
Cathedral windows
The Eyes of Wonder
     Were looking in!
And on the Altar                                                                      [16:14]
The wild Priest, startled,
Was gazing round him
     With sickly stare,
And his limbs were palsied,
And he moaned for mercy—                                                   [16:19]
More wonder-stricken
     Than any there.

Then I fell at the Altar,
     And wept, and murmur’d,
“My Soul, how fares it,                                                               137
     This day, with thee?—                                                        [17:4]
Art thou contented
     To live and see,
Or were it better
     Not to be?”
And my pale Soul whisper’d:
“Like a band that holdeth                                                         [17:10]
And keepeth from growing
     A goodly tree,—
A terror hath me—
I feel not, stir not—
’Twere surely better
     Not to be!”

 

Then a rush of visions
     Went wildly by—                                                                [18:2]
My Soul beheld the marble World,
     And the luminous Face on high.
And methought, affrighted,                                                         138
     That the mortal race
Built cover’d cities
     To hide the Face;
And gather’d their treasures
     Of silver and gold,
And sat amid them
     In caverns cold;
And ever nightly,
When the Face of Wonder
     Withdrew from man,
Many started,
And hideous revel
     Of the dark began.
And men no longer
Knew the common sorrow,
The common yearning,
     The common love,
But each man’s features
Were turn’d to marble,
Changelessly watching                                                               139
     The Face above—
A nameless trouble
     Was in the air—
The heart of the World
Had no pulsation—
’Twas a piteous Sabbath
     Everywhere!

140

III.

ORM’S AWAKENING.

I awoke.                                                                                    [1:1]

                    And rising,
     My Soul look’d forth—
’Twas the dewy darkness,
And the Veil was glittering
     Over the earth;
But afar off eastward
The Dawn was glimmering,
     All silver pale,
And slowly fading
With a mystic tremor,
The Lights gleam’d beautiful
     In the wondrous Veil.
Yea, Dawn came cheerly,                                                         [2:13]
And the hill-tops brighten’d,
And the shepherds shouted,                                                        141
     And a trumpet blew,                                                            [2:16]
And the misty Ocean
Caught silver tremors,
With the brown-sail’d fish-boats
     Glimmering thro’—                                                              [2:20]
And the City murmur’d
As I ran unto it,
And my heart was merry,
     And my fears were few;
And singing gaily
The lark rose upward,
Its brown wings gleaming
     With the morning dew!

[Notes:
Alterations in the 1884 edition of ‘The Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan’:
Introductory verse:
v. 1, l. 10: Beware the Lifting of the Veil!

Part I:
v. 2, l. 4: Above and under
v. 4, l. 3: Though the world stood still, amazed;

Part II:
v. 2, l. 3: With the sweet sun shining
v. 5, l. 2: Though the Veil was lifted,
v. 6, l. 5: Though a mile to seaward,
v. 6, l. 9: Though the mighty Sea-snake
v. 6, l. 13: Though their bellies hunger’d—
v. 10, l. 4: Still following me,
v. 11, l. 7: Through fields of harvest
v. 13, l. 13: On the Face alone:
v. 14, l. 3: They had dropped their burthen
v. 15, l. 7: Aye! softly I entered
v. 15, l. 27: And his eyes look’d sidelong,
v. 16, l. 10: For through the painted
v. 16, l. 14: And on the Altar,
v. 16, l. 19: And he moaned for mercy,
v. 17, l. 4: This day, with thee?
v. 17, l. 10: ‘Like a band that holdest
v. 18, l. 2: Went wildly by!

Part III:
v. 1, l. 1: [verse break omitted] I AWOKE. And rising,
v. 2, l. 13: Yea, Dawn came cheerily,
v. 2, l. 16: And a trumped blew, [obvious typo]
v. 2, l. 20: Glimmering through— ]

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The Book of Orm continued

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The Book of Orm Contents