Dæmonic Love
Man
was
made
of
social
earth,
Child
and
brother
from
his
birth;
Tethered
by
a
liquid
cord
Of
blood
through
veins
of
kindred
poured,
Next
his
heart
the
fireside
band
Of
mother,
father,
sister,
stand;
Names
from
awful
childhood
heard,
Throbs
of
a
wild
religion
stirred,
Their
good
was
heaven,
their
harm
was
vice,
Till
Beauty
came
to
snap
all
ties,
The
maid,
abolishing
the
past,
With
lotus-wine
obliterates
Dear
memory's
stone-incarved
traits,
And
by
herself
supplants
alone
Friends
year
by
year
more
inly
known.
When
her
calm
eyes
opened
bright,
All
were
foreign
in
their
light.
It
was
ever
the
self-same
tale,
The
old
experience
will
not
fail,—
Only
two
in
the
garden
walked,
And
with
snake
and
seraph
talked.
But
God
said;
I
will
have
a
purer
gift,
There
is
smoke
in
the
flame;
New
flowerets
bring,
new
prayers
uplift,
And
love
without
a
name.
Fond
children,
ye
desire
To
please
each
other
well;
Another
round,
a
higher,
Ye
shall
climb
on
the
heavenly
stair,
And
selfish
preference
forbear;
And
in
right
deserving,
And
without
a
swerving
Each
from
your
proper
state,
Weave
roses
for
your
mate.
Deep,
deep
are
loving
eyes,
Flowed
with
naphtha
fiery
sweet,
And
the
point
is
Paradise
Where
their
glances
meet:
Their
reach
shall
yet
be
more
profound,
And
a
vision
without
bound:
The
axis
of
those
eyes
sun-clear
Be
the
axis
of
the
sphere;
Then
shall
the
lights
ye
pour
amain
Go
without
check
or
intervals,
Through
from
the
empyrean
walls,
Unto
the
same
again.
Close,
close
to
men,
Like
undulating
layer
of
air,
Right
above
their
heads,
The
potent
plain
of
Dæmons
spreads.
Stands
to
each
human
soul
its
own,
For
watch,
and
ward,
and
furtherance
In
the
snares
of
nature's
dance;
And
the
lustre
and
the
grace
Which
fascinate
each
human
heart,
Beaming
from
another
part,
Translucent
through
the
mortal
covers,
Is
the
Dæmon's
form
and
face.
To
and
fro
the
Genius
hies,
A
gleam
which
plays
and
hovers
Over
the
maiden's
head,
And
dips
sometimes
as
low
as
to
her
eyes.
Unknown,
—
albeit
lying
near,
—
To
men
the
path
to
the
Dæmon
sphere,
And
they
that
swiftly
come
and
go,
Leave
no
track
on
the
heavenly
snow.
Sometimes
the
airy
synod
bends,
And
the
mighty
choir
descends,
And
the
brains
of
men
thenceforth,
In
crowded
and
in
still
resorts,
Teem
with
unwonted
thoughts.
As
when
a
shower
of
meteors
Cross
the
orbit
of
the
earth,
And,
lit
by
fringent
air,
Blaze
near
and
far.
Mortals
deem
the
planets
bright
Have
slipped
their
sacred
bars,
And
the
lone
seaman
all
the
night
Sails
astonished
amid
stars.
Beauty
of
a
richer
vein,
Graces
of
a
subtler
strain,
Unto
men
these
moon-men
lend,
And
our
shrinking
sky
extend.
So
is
man's
narrow
path
By
strength
and
terror
skirted,
Also
(from
the
song
the
wrath
Of
the
Genii
be
averted!
The
Muse
the
truth
uncolored
speaking),
The
Dæmons
are
self-seeking;
Their
fierce
and
limitary
will
Draws
men
to
their
likeness
still.
The
erring
painter
made
Love
blind,
Highest
Love
who
shines
on
all;
Him
radiant,
sharpest-sighted
god
None
can
bewilder;
Whose
eyes
pierce
The
Universe,
Path-finder,
road-builder,
Mediator,
royal
giver,
Rightly-seeing,
rightly-seen,
Of
joyful
and
transparent
mien.
'Tis
a
sparkle
passing
From
each
to
each,
from
me
to
thee,
Perpetually,
Sharing
all,
daring
all,
Levelling,
misplacing
Each
obstruction,
it
unites
Equals
remote,
and
seeming
opposites.
And
ever
and
forever
Love
Delights
to
build
a
road;
Unheeded
Danger
near
him
strides,
Love
laughs,
and
on
a
lion
rides.
But
Cupid
wears
another
face
Born
into
Dæmons
less
divine,
His
roses
bleach
apace,
His
nectar
smacks
of
wine.
The
Dæmon
ever
builds
a
wall,
Himself
incloses
and
includes,
Solitude
in
solitudes:
In
like
sort
his
love
doth
fall.
He
is
an
oligarch,
He
prizes
wonder,
fame,
and
mark,
He
loveth
crowns,
He
scorneth
drones;
He
doth
elect
The
beautiful
and
fortunate,
And
the
sons
of
intellect,
And
the
souls
of
ample
fate,
Who
the
Future's
gates
unbar,
Minions
of
the
Morning
Star.
In
his
prowess
he
exults,
And
the
multitude
insults.
His
impatient
looks
devour
Oft
the
humble
and
the
poor,
And,
seeing
his
eye
glare,
They
drop
their
few
pale
flowers
Gathered
with
hope
to
please
Along
the
mountain
towers,
Lose
courage,
and
despair.
He
will
never
be
gainsaid,
Pitiless,
will
not
be
stayed.
His
hot
tyranny
Burns
up
every
other
tie;
Therefore
comes
an
hour
from
Jove
Which
his
ruthless
will
defies,
And
the
dogs
of
Fate
unties.
Shiver
the
palaces
of
glass,
Shrivel
the
rainbow-colored
walls
Where
in
bright
art
each
god
and
sibyl
dwelt
Secure
as
in
the
Zodiack's
belt;
And
the
galleries
and
halls
Wherein
every
Siren
sung,
Like
a
meteor
pass.
For
this
fortune
wanted
root
In
the
core
of
God's
abysm,
Was
a
weed
of
self
and
schism:
And
ever
the
Dæmonic
Love
Is
the
ancestor
of
wars,
And
the
parent
of
remorse.
