HPB-SB-3-65

T i

vol. 3, p. 65

H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks

from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society

vol. 3 (1875-1878)

Legend

SBT, DT

• HPB note
• HPB highlighted
• HPB underlined
• HPB crossed out
• <Editors note>
• <Archivist note>
• Lost or unclear
• Restored

<<   ☰   >>

eng • рус

THE TEMPLAR'S MAGAZINE.

Snow upon the Mountains

Why should mountains hold the snow On each lofty crest, While the peaceful vales below Smile in beauty dressed? Summer’s lavish wealth of bloom Scattered o’er the plains, While the Winter's chilling gloom On the summit reigns. Yet they lift their arms on high To the shining Heaven, Clasp the clouds that hurry by From the tempest driven, And detained within their hold In that strong embrace. Spreads the snow its mantling fold O’er the mountain’s face. But when Summer’s burning heat Parches all the plain, Sprinkling round the mountain’s feet, Ask they aid in vain? No,—a thousand crystal rills From the melting snow, Bear the treasures of the hills To the vales below. Riches thus for time of need, Do the mountains keep. With abundant stores to feed Vales that round them sleep. Watching o’er their deep repose, Thus each summit towers, On its brow eternal snows, At its feet are flowers. Why should souls of noblest worth Strive with deep distress, Feel the heaviest grief of earth On their spirits press ; Drink the bitter cup of woe, Feel the fiercest pain, Are those ills that wait below Poured on them in vain ? O they win the smile of Heaven, Firm and faithful found, Blessings from their sorrows given Fall on all around. Careless hearts are warmed to life, Wandering feet recalled, As they struggle through the strife, Faint, but unappalled. On their brows the chilling snow Of sorrow’s storms may lie, But they watch the Heaven’s glow With unfaltering eye. Sympathy and love they give From their hearts’ deep showers, Bright around their footsteps live Faith and Hope's sweet flowers.

The Lost Pleiad

Lost sister of the clustered seven. Or hidden on the plains of heaven. So that to man’s uplifted eye No answering star point fills the sky ; Lost to the music of the spheres, Struck from the scroll of heavenly peers Lost to the calm that contemplates, That nothing feels, nor loves, nor hates ; Passionless ever gliding on, Could’st thou mortal nature don, Leave thy throne of light afar Thou ruling spirit of a star, All thine inspirations check To sigh upon a mortal neck ? Lost, since to one of earthly mould A burning love is shown and told. Found, by the earthborn, found and kneeling He, in thee a spirit greets ; Found, and loved, away concealing All a woman's love he meets : No half passion failing soon, A heaven lay set to jarring tune, But an eternal bond that never Man or spirit more can sever. Found, Sterope, and thy heart Must know of love the bliss, the smart. Must feel a new and inborn pleasure, Deep in thy soul no words can measure, Must learn the pain of mortal love Undreamed of in thy course above, Must try life’s gold and its alloy, For earth contains no unmixed joy. Is’t better thus—or calmly steering On thy night car space careering Knowing—ruling—all a Mind But Soul-less as the passing wind ? Or with mortal love be toying, Or a mortal mate enjoying, All a mortal’s joys increasing And a mortal’s bonds releasing, Lifting him above his earth And teaching him a higher worth Then all his hard earned lore can give, How in perfect calm to live ? Lost, or found, the step is taken, Let not pride old thoughts awaken, Make the best of thy strange choice, In a human shape rejoice, And the faults thou wilt discover In thy new and grosser lover Treat them gently, grieve nor pine, Thou art his and he is thine. Washington, D.C. T.H.E. Thomas H. Evans.

Predictions in French History

In France, throughout the sixteenth century, every principal event was foretold successively, with an accuracy that still shocks and confounds us. Francis I., who opens the century (and by many is held to open the book of modern history, as distinguished from the middle or feudal history), had the battle of Pavia foreshown to him, not by name, but in its results—by his own Spanish captivity ; by the exchange of his own children upon a Spanish frontier river of Spain ; finally, by his own disgraceful death, through an infamous disease, conveyed to him under a deadly circuit of revenge.

After this, and we believe a little after the brief reign of Francis II., arose Nostradamus, the great prophet of the age. All the children of Henry II. and of Catherine of Medici, one after the other, died in circumstances of suffering and horror, and Nostradamus pursued the whole with ominous allusions. Charles IX., though the authorizer of the Bartrolomew Massacre, was the least guilty of his party, and the only one who manifested a dreadful remorse. Henry III., the last of the brothers, died, as the reader will remember, by assassination. During the seige of Paris, in 1589, a Dominican monk, named Jacques Clément, excited by the declamations of the Liguers, assassinated Henry at St. Cloud.

And all these tragic successions of events are still to be read more or less dimly prefigured in verses of which we will not here discuss the dates. Suffice it that many authentic historians attest the good faith of the prophets.

Manifestations

In 1706-7, the Rev. Mr. Hughes, of Jesus College, Cambridge, communicated to the Rev. Mr. Bonwicke, the following “ unusual story : ”—

One Mr. Shaw, formerly of St. John’s College, and late minister of Souldern, within twelve miles of Oxford, as he was sitting one night by himself, smoking a pipe and reading, observed somebody to open the door ; he turned back, and saw one Mr. Nailor, a fellow collegian, an intimate friend, and who had been dead five years, came into the room. The gentleman came in exactly the same dress and manner that he used at college. Mr. Shaw was something surprised at first, but recollecting himself, he desired him to s it down, upon which Mr. N. drew a chair and sat by him ; and they had a conference of about an hour an a half. He told him that “ he was sent to give him warning of his death, which would be in a very short time ; ” and, if I mistake not, he added that his death would be sudden. He mentioned likewise several others of St. John’s, particularly the famous Auchard, who is since dead. Mr. S. asked him if he could not give him another visit : he answered no, alleging that “ his time allotted was but three days, and that he had others to see, who were at a great distance.” Mr. Shaw had a great desire to inquire about his present condition, but was afraid to mention it, not knowing how it would be taken. At last, he expressed himself in this manner, “ Mr. N., how is it with you in the other world ? ” He answered, with a brisk and cheerful countenance, “ Very well.” Mr. Shaw proceeded : “ Are there any of our old friends with you ? ” He replied‘ “ Not one.” After their discourse was over, he took his leave and went out. Mr. Shaw offered to go with him out of the room ; but he beckoned with his hand that he should stay where he was, Mr. Nailor seemed to turn into the next room, and so went off. This Mr. Shaw the next day made his will, the conference having so far affected him ; and not long after, being taken with an apoplectic fit while he was reading the divine service, he fell out of his desk, and died immediately after. He was ever looked upon to be a pious man and a good scholar ; only, some object that he was inclinable to melancholy. He told this story himself to Mr. Groves, fellow of St. John’s, and a particular friend of his.

Mr. G., upon his return to Cambridge, met with one of his college, who told him that Mr. Auchard was dead, who was particularly mentioned by Mr. Shaw. He kept the business secret, till, hearing of Mr. Shaw’s own death, he told the whole story. He is a person far enough from inventing such a story ; and he tells it in all companies without any manner of variation. We are mightily divided about it at Cambridge, some heartily embracing it, and others rejecting it as a ridiculous story, and the effect of spleen and melancholy. For my own part, I must acknowledge, myself one of those who believe it, having not met with anything yet sufficient to invalidate it. As to the little skeptical objections that are generally used upon this occasion, they seem to be very weak in themselves, and will prove of dangerous consequences, if applied to matters of a more important nature.

Mr. Turner, writing to Mr. Bonwicke, of Cambridge, within the next fortnight, says : “ There is a circumstance relating to the story of the apparition, which adds great confirmation to it; which I suppose Mr. Hughes did not tell you. There is one Mr. Cartwright, member of Parliament for Northamptonshire, a man of good credit and integrity, an intimate friend of Mr. Shaw’s, who told the same story with. Dr: Groves (which he had from Mr. Shaw), at the Archbishop of Canterbury’s table ; but he says further, that Mr. Shaw told him of some, great revolutions in state, which he will not discover, being either obliged to silence by Mr. Shaw, or concealing them upon some prudent and politic reasons.”

A Reminder

Sir Walter Long’s widow (Aubrey relates) did make a solemn promise to him on his death-bed, that she would not marry after his decease ; but not long after, one Sir — Fox, a very beautiful young gentleman, did wi^. her love ; so that, notwithstanding her promise aforesaid, she married him. They were at Wraxal, where the picture of Sir Walter hung over the parlor-door, as it doth now at Draycot. As Sir — Fox led his bride by the hand from the church (which is near to the house) into the parlor, the string of the picture broke, and the picture fell on the lady’s shoulder, and cracked in the fall. (It was painted on wood, as the fashion was in those days.) This made her ladyship reflect on her promise, and drew some tears from her eyes.

We quote the above from Mr. Russell Smith’s nice reprint of Aubrey’s Miscellanies, 4th edition, 1857. The editor adds the following note ; “ This story may be true in all its details, except the name of the lady, who was a daughter of Sir W. Long: she married Somerset Fox, Esq.

...

Editor's notes