Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  He had thus posed as a philosopher;

  Then simpered on from God to talk of dress.

  But lo! from all the sea a murmur rose,

  Impressive to the wise because it held

  Meaning beyond the common words of man:

  Yet those upon the deck took little heed;

  They knew it not; but thought it was the wind

  Mournful among the waves. And so they passed.

  Yet I, who had been wise through dying soon,

  Heard and interpreted, and this it was:

  “I have seen God! And who are ye who say,

  With such assurance, that there is no God?

  Again, I ask, Who are ye, and from whence?

  And asking, laugh your littleness to scorn,

  For even your beginnings are not known

  To ye, O small and febrile things, who flash

  in one small instant through your small gamut

  Of feelings insignificant, and whose

  Whole life and knowledge are no more than breath,

  Measured according to my pulsing heart!

  “Did ye then live in those unknown, strange days

  When God and I conversed, and He, abroad

  Upon my seething waters, spoke of you,

  As of some things that were to come at last,

  In some dim future time when this round world

  Was fitted for ye by the hands of Time?”

  The voice was quiet a moment; then again

  It hushed to silence every tinkling wave,

  And thus it spoke:

  — “Listen, and ye shall learn!

  In the abyss of time, when God was young,

  When heaven was one void of holy light,

  When the great stars slept in the future’s womb,

  And human atoms were undreamt of dust,

  There swept from far beyond time’s spaceless sea

  A sound of thunder - ’twas the voice of God,

  And at the sound the solemn light was gapped,

  Dark streakings fled across it, and there grew,

  Amid the calmer light, clots of hot fire,

  As light drew unto light - rotating flames,

  As the pale light of heav’n massed into shapes

  The nebula of unformed suns, and grew

  Smaller, by aeons, casting off loose worlds,

  Their flaming children, which in turn gave birth

  To lesser worlds of fire, and so was born

  The universe of suns and worlds, of which

  This fireless world is part, as is one grain

  Of sand a portion of some mighty waste.

  “Ages passed on; then was I born to life,

  Born into life with the hot blood of fire,

  Floating with thunders on the breath of flames.

  “In infancy and childhood, wrapped in steam,

  I slept through centuries, anon disturbed

  With the fierce tumult by my passions wrought,

  Till after many ages I awoke

  And looked around upon a world of war,

  When great volcanoes - torches for the gods,

  Lit the black dome which canopied the world.

  “Aeons fled onward whilst I fought and learnt,

  And so I came to know of God till we

  Talked many an age of years - He teaching me

  From the surrounding chaos of the world

  Dread lessons writ in storms and roaring fires

  Till, somewhat, I perceived the mighty sense

  Speaking within the tumult of the earth

  Shouting of life on life, of things beyond

  My youthful intellect and younger heart,

  Teaching the waiting lesson; so at last

  Was I prepared to bear my wondrous task.

  “The world had sunk to quietness ere I knew

  The full import of that which ailed in me;

  I scarce could rest in peace, so strange I felt.

  “Pregnant I was - uneasy in my calm,

  Until my time was full for giving birth;

  Then, ‘mid the shakings of a mighty storm,

  I lay convulsed in agony, while winds

  Screamed in terrific unison. On high

  God looked down on me all sorrowing,

  And all unable to give help or ease.

  So through tremendous years of pain, my voice

  Shouted my grief across a quaking sky,

  So that the unavailing winds, all drowned

  Within that star-loud, reverberating sound,

  Seemed but as gentle whispers - purling streams

  Blent in the roar of some stupendous fall.

  And lo: when it was o’er, around my breasts,

  White with the foamy milk of life, there lay

  Upon my midnight waters, vastly grim,

  Ten-thousand times ten-thousand souls new born,

  Like scarcely fallen snow-flakes on dark rocks.

  “Thus was creation now achieved, and so,

  In his right time, man was evolved, and grew

  Into his present shape, with underneath

  His heavier flesh, a soul such as was born

  In that supremely distant time, when man,

  As ye now know him, was undreamt of earth!”

  Some hours of silence followed, while the Sea

  Rested, as though communing with itself,

  Till, in the West, the night soared up on wings

  Of gorgeous colours, that too soon were grey.

  Then, as the dark came down upon the Sea,

  Strange voices called from the surrounding air

  Sadness and want spoke chiefly in their tones,

  Though all were not thus, as thou soon shalt hear.

  Then from the Sea a whisper rose, and said:

  “Hark ye, these be the souls of those who sleep,

  Perchance, in distant countries, while their minds

  Steal out across my waters seeking rest,

  Or wisdom. Yet when they awake have they

  No knowledge nor remembrance, save it be

  Something of which they think as dim-lit dreams.”

  From the surrounding voices one broke clear,

  Despair and doubt in every tone it seemed:

  “Thou Bodyless Thing in the sky,

  Wherefore am I?

  For why so alone?

  Ah! Master of Death,

  For why this mad breath?

  Which Thou could’st allay,

  Nor lengthen my stay

  Upon this drear planet of stone.”

  ’Twas thus the Sea replied:

  “Thou art alone

  Because by loneliness thou shalt be taught

  The hideous solitude which Sin doth cast

  About the soul. Thy present loneliness

  May serve to save thy soul from future woe;

  So bear it as thou canst.

  “As for thy breath,

  Learn now to temper thy hot soul with strength

  From the surrounding air. Curtail all vice,

  And work to strengthen that which was thy will,

  Thus make this stony planet prove a joy,

  Because upon it thou shalt work, through hope,

  To further knowledge and the joy of peace.

  “Thou askest why thou art. I cannot tell,

  Save that it be God’s Will; and only He

  In the whole breadth of space can answer thee.

  “Now pass thee on with mind intent to live

  So that thou shalt attain to peace at last.”

  Scarcely had the Sea finished when I heard,

  From the encircling silence, one sad voice:

  “O, Sea, I have been lonely

  For years afar from thee!

  Dumb ‘mid an earless People, I strove to speech, in vain.

  I had been better served had I

  But held my peace as life passed by,

  And silence borne my pain!

  I spoke about God’s boun
ty,

  But sneers were all my gain;

  I held out hope with both my hands;

  I sang of God’s glad Wonder-Lands,

  Yet it was all in vain!”

  It ceased, and through the stillness that befell

  The Sea made answer so my soul was glad:

  “To only the unthinking mind appears

  The thought that he who casts himself on spears

  Has failed. I tell you he has won

  The highest prize; I care not where he aimed!

  For, you must know, ’tis he who leads the van

  Weak souls may follow after one such man!”

  In the succeeding quietness, low I caught

  A quick, sweet sob of gladness, and I knew

  That one beweighted heart within the world

  Was saved from failure’s burden. While great Hope

  Thrilled in the soul of one who had been sore;

  Revivifying faith to greater life.

  And now the voice of one a-dying crept

  Sadly across the night to me. It seemed

  Full of a sadness, past all comforting:

  “Must it be adieu, O, Sea,

  Must it be adieu?

  The very thought is pain to me,

  Yet, from thy quivering blue,

  I seem to hear thy sad assent,

  For whispers come from thee,

  (Soft as the weeping of the dew,

  Like sorrowing voices sadly blent,)

  Telling that it must be -”

  The voice trailed off to silence, and the Sea

  Thus made reply in a most saddened voice:

  “Full well I share thy grief - To-morrow’s dawn

  Shall steal across my breast and find thee not:

  O, bitter are all partings! Yet they serve

  But to enhance our love. Pray thou to God

  That we shall meet some other time, elsewhere,

  If not upon this world.

  “Now comfort thee!

  And fear not death; it is thy greatest friend,

  Its pain is but the birth to fuller life,

  And after that again to life more vast,

  Until thou hast attained to the Last Life.

  Where thou shalt breathe deep life beyond relief.

  Ah! now good-bye - good-bye! God grant thee speed

  Through the strange birth of death - through all thy deaths!”

  Sadly an answer wailed across the Sea:

  “When I am dead, O, Sea,

  As a strange mist upon thy breast

  Shall I float back to thee,

  Out from the great and dark unrest

  Of all eternity!”

  The Sea’s voice, singing sadly, then replied:

  “Dear piteous soul,

  Be comforted!

  When thou art dead

  (Though multitudes of ages roll)

  My old, sad heart

  Shall dream of thee,

  Who feeleth now death’s bitter smart;

  And if thou should’st come back to me

  How gladly would my billows cry

  Their joy to thee

  Who art about to die!

  “Be comforted! Be comforted!

  When thou art dead,

  I shall still dream of thee

  When thou hast long forgotten me!”

  In sadness and in doubt now spoke the soul:

  “After my death, if all alone I tread

  My ghostly way along thy lonely coasts,

  Wilt thou still know me? Or Shall I be lost

  Unto thy sight, and seem no more than mist

  Floating upon thy fringe, hair dipt in spume?”

  In deep emotion spoke the Sea thuswise:

  “Thou, who dost love me so, I cannot tell,

  Save that it seems to me thy very love

  Shall show thy soul to me amid the mists:

  Then shall I take thee to my heart till thou

  Art comforted enough to go to God.

  “Ah! then, indeed, thou shalt begin to learn

  That love as mine and thine is cold as death,

  Beside the passion that God has for souls!”

  The Ocean ceased from speaking, and the soul

  Slid down upon the Sea to rest, while far

  From some benighted land a sound of bells,

  Ringing a solemn knell, told of some death;

  And the vast Sea in sympathy replied

  With the deep beatings of its mighty heart.

  And from far down a sound of singing rose,

  As though a wondrous requiem were sung

  A requiem full of sadness; but with hope

  Sounding most splendidly among its notes.

  A certain time passed on, and then a voice

  From some long distant shore came o’er the Sea

  Most hopeless in its sadness. And it seemed

  It moaned in hollow notes this epitaph:

  “Sleep thou in thy bed of clay,

  In that darkness where no light

  Comes to wake thee from thy rest,

  Comes to wake thy lasting night:

  Shut from gleam of earthly day

  Slumber on, for so ’tis best!

  “One brief moment it may seem

  Ere a trumpet’s note shall sound,

  And thy rested soul shall rise

  From its bed of clay embound,

  From that long and silent dream

  To a Judgment in the skies!”

  Somewhat impatient, then exclaimed the Sea:

  “Much nonsense is contained within such lines!

  There is no need for judgment. Thou shalt live

  In many lives among thy deeds until

  Thou shalt attain to the Last Life. How then

  Shalt thou need judging when thou art involved

  ?or evermore in all that thou hast worked,

  Both good and harmful?

  “Nay, there is no need

  Of judgment; for thou mightest quite as well

  Talk of such things to one who has prepared

  A bed of holly thorns on which to sleep,

  His punishment’s assured. Leave him alone!

  “Likewise, hath one prepared a couch of peace,

  There is no need for judgment. He is sure

  Of a most joyous sleep. Leave him alone!

  “Thus art thou making to thyself a bed,

  For all eternity, compact of deeds,

  On which to lie. And whether, or not, thy rest

  Be peaceful doth depend upon thyself!

  “Thou weavest thine own shroud, or thine own robe,

  The death of joy, or greater bliss of life.

  “’Tis all a matter for thine own concern,

  For thou thyself must suffer thine own harm;

  Likewise, enjoy all good that thou hast worked

  Throughout all time.

  “So, truly, shalt thou learn

  That thine own deeds are thy remorseless judges!”

  Soul:- “O, Sea,

  I cannot e’er agree

  With thy strange teachings, which seem blasphemy

  To me!”

  Sea:- “Some judgment of the kind

  Thou holdest in thy mind

  Why must

  Distrust

  Still torture humankind?”

  Soul:- “O, Sea,

  It seems to me

  All mankind shall be judged

  And weighed;

  It shall not be delayed;

  Nor past the book of sin

  Can any human win,

  Nor any record from its page be smudged!”

  Sea:- “O, soul,

  With pondering

  Upon the final goal-

  With much long wondering

  I tired, to slumbering,

  And in my sleep I dreamed

  Thy Judgment Day had come

  With its tremendous sum

  Of threatened misery,

  And this is how it seemed

>   As I lay sleepily -”

  Soul:- “One moment, Sea!

  Art speaking seriously?

  Thou speakest with such zest,

  Methinks thou has some jest

  Lurking within thy breast!”

  The Sea spoke not awhile; but rested, and began:

  “’Twas in my dreams I heard a trumpet’s note

  Come ringing down the aisles of time in throbs

  The last, long bugle-call sound o’er the world,

  A clang’rous, threatening bray that shivered through

  And through my soul.

  “My heartbeats seemed to cease

  As from the heaving earth I saw drive up

  The misty forms of long-forgotten dead.

  Forgotten now no longer, fast they came,

  Piecemeal and limbless - dreadful in their shrouds;

  But growing every moment into shape

  As flying limbs came jostling through the air

  In anxious haste to take a rightful place.

  “Thus, as I watched, came to them face and form;

  But lo! unheard, unthought of thing, their clothes

  Had failed to resurrect, and thus each one

  Stood naked on the earth, while that bold sun

  Looked down with brazen face upon it all,

  And smiled, an awesome, wicked smile, as though

  It all along had known, foreseen that this

  Should be; that these poor dames and gentlemen

  Should stand unclothed in punishment to see

  Their manifold transgressions written large

  Upon each others naked breasts; so thus

  Each man, each woman, knew the others worth

  At once, for all time, in a single glance.

  “I saw them look and then attempt to hide

  Their nakedness. No use! They had no clothes!

  And god looked grimly down from that white throne.

  “Then, like a thunder-peal, His voice rang out

  To those poor shiv’ring corpses: —— —— —’”Let the dead

  Make haste their dead to bury from Mine eyes;

  For sure am I that this offends My sight!’

  “At once each wakeful corpse began to throw

  The moist brown earth upon a neighbour’s head,

  And each, retaliating, cast it back,

  Until a plain of heaving, rolling mould

  Ran undulating where awhile before

  Had stood those shame-faced corpses. And above,

  God smiled a stern and bitter smile as He

  Watched their endeavour, all their pitiful toil

  To hide each other from themselves and Him.

  “And yet, methought the sternness of His smile

  Had something in it tender, as He grasped

  The grim, pathetic humour of it all.

  “And then I waked, and knew it for a dream

  A dream to me - a nightmare to the world

  Who swallow that which Reason doth reject.”

  The Sea ceased from its humour, and the soul,