The Ascent of Man. Mathilde Blind

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      "Peace on earth and good will unto Men!"

      Came the tidings borne o'er wide dominions;

      The glad tidings thrilled the world as when

      Spring comes fluttering on the west wind's pinions,

      When her voice is heard

      Warbling through each bird,

      And a new-born hope

      Throbs through all things infinite in scope.

      "Peace on earth and good will!" came the word

      Of the Son of Man, the Man of Sorrow —

      But the peace turned to a flaming sword,

      Turned to woe and wailing on the morrow

      When with gibes and scorns,

      Crowned with barren thorns,

      Gashed and crucified,

      On the Cross the tortured Jesus died.

      And the world, once full of flower-hung shrines,

      Now forsakes old altars for the new,

      Zeus grows faint and Venus' star declines

      As Jehovah glorifies the Jew,

      He whom – lit with awe —

      God-led Moses saw,

      Graving with firm hand

      In his people's heart his Lord's command.

      Holding Hells and Heavens in either hand

      Comes the priest and comes the wild-eyed prophet,

      Tells the people of some happier land,

      Terrifies them with a burning Tophet;

      Gives them creeds for bread

      And warm roof o'erhead,

      Gives for life's delight

      Passports to the kingdom, spirit-bright.

      And the people groaning everywhere

      Hearken gladly to the wondrous story,

      How beyond this life of toil and care

      They shall lead a life of endless glory:

      Where beyond the dim

      Earth-mists Seraphim,

      Love-illumined, wait —

      Hierarchies of angels at heaven's gate.

      Let them suffer while they live below,

      Bear in silence weariness and pain;

      For the heavier is their earthly woe,

      Verily the heavenlier is their gain

      In the mansions where

      Sorrow and despair,

      Yea, all moan shall cease

      With the moan of immemorial seas.

      And to save their threatened souls from sin,

      Save them from the world, the flesh, the devil,

      Men and Women break from bonds of kin

      And in cloistered cell draw bar on evil,

      Worship on their knees

      Sacred Images,

      And all Saints above,

      The Madonna, mystic Rose of love.

      Mystic Rose of Maiden Motherhood,

      Moon of Hearts immaculately mild,

      Beaming o'er the turbulent times and rude

      With the promise of her blessèd Child:

      Whom pale Monks adore,

      Pining evermore

      For the heaven of love

      Which their homesick lives are dying of.

      But the flame of mystical desires

      Turns to fury fiercer than a leopard's,

      Holy fagots blaze with kindling fires

      As the priests, the people's careful shepherds,

      In Heaven's awful name,

      Set the pile on flame

      Where, for Conscience' sake,

      Heretics burn chaunting at the stake.

      Subterranean secrets of the prison,

      Throbs of anguish in the crushing cell,

      Torture-chambers of the Inquisition

      Are the Church's antidotes to Hell.

      Better rack them here,

      Mutilate and sear,

      Than their souls should go

      To the place of everlasting woe.

      And a lurid universal night,

      Lit by quenchless fires for unquenched sages,

      Thick with spectral broods that shun the light,

      Looms impervious o'er the stifled ages

      Where the blameless wise

      Fall a sacrifice,

      Fall as fell of old

      The unspotted firstlings of the fold.

      And the violent feud of clashing creeds

      Shatters empires and breaks realms asunder;

      Cities tremble, sceptres shake like reeds

      At the swift bolts of the Papal thunder;

      Yea, the bravest quail,

      Cast from out the pale

      Of all Christendom

      By the dread anathemas of Rome.

      And like one misled by marish gleams

      When he hears the shrill cock's note of warning,

      Europe, starting from its trance of dreams,

      Sees the first streak of the clear-eyed morning

      As it broadening stands

      Over ravaged lands

      Where mad nations are

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