HPB-SB-5-42: Difference between revisions

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{{Style P-No indent|called up in dreams a man into the vestibule of heaven, saying, “Come thou hither and see the glory of My house.” And to the servants who stood around His throne He said: “Take him, undress him from his robes of flesh; cleanse his vision, and put a new breath into his nostrils, only touch not with any change his human heart, the heart that weeps and trembles.” It was done, and with a mighty angel for his guide, away from the terraces of heaven they wheeled into endless space. And the poet tells how they passed through eternities of twilight which revealed but were not revealed; how they passed suns and systems quickening under prophetic motions from God; how a cry arose that systems more mysterious, that worlds more billowy, other heights and other depths were coming, were nearing, were at hand. Then the man sighed, and stopped, shuddered, and wept. His overladen heart uttered itself in tears, and he said, “Angel, I will go no farther, for the spirit of man acheth with this infinity. Insufferable is the glory of God. Let me lie down in the grave and hide me from the persecution of the Infinite, for end, I see, there is none.” And from all the listening stars that shone around issued a choral voice—“The man speaks truly; end is there none that ever yet we heard of.” Then the angel threw up his glorious hands to the heaven of heavens, saying, “End is there none to the universe of God. Lo! also, there is no beginning.”}}

{{Style P-Poem|poem=The swallow’s nest of mud beneath the eaves

Holds not the white swan’s golden feathered brood.

If thou wouldst make thy thoughts, O man, the home I

Where other minds may habit, build it large.

Make its vast roof translucent to the skies

And let the upper glory dawn thereon,

Till morn and evening, circling round, shall drop

Their jewelled plumes of sun-flames and of stars.

Build thou that home upon a mountain-top

Where all the free winds shall have space to blow.

Open its casements to the East and West,

To North and South, to Greece and Palestine.

Let all sweet flowers bloom in its green retreats;

Let every wild-bird find sweet welcome there;

And everything that shares the breathing joy

Of universal air and earth, be free

Of thy well-ordered empire, and inlay

With precious gems, with diamond and white pearl,

And blood-red ruby, and green emerald,

The sumptuous pavement till it shines afar

Like the Apocalyptic shrine, whose walls

Of massive light from Earth and Sun received

All varying lustres, and diffused their beams.

Fresco its inner halls with all that Art

E’er pictured of the beautiful, but still

Let nature freely come to see that Art

Hath rightly drawn her perfect loveliness.

Pill the grand halls with statues of old time,

Let Gods and Demi-gods and Heroes range

With Goddesses and Graces. Let the Saints,

And Seers, and Sages, and the valiant throng

Of modern Heroes, and the fever young

And ever tuneful Poets of all climes,

And Hierophants of all religions, have

Their place among them, some in silver carved,

Some in the Parian marble; some in gold;

Each symbolising that interior truth

Or outward use he lived, taught, acted, sung

Or sought to live, or act, or sing, that men,

Fired by that pure ideal, may become

Gods, and the Earth a new-born Paradise.

Let Dante sing from out his Middle Age;

And Machiavelli, with his subtle skill

Unveil the craft of Tyrants; nor forget

The richly-flowered muse of Camoens;

Or love-lays born of Europe’s loyal heart

Chanted by Troubadours in sweet Provence.,

Gather the ripe fruit of all Sciences

Until thy plenteous board gleams rich and rare

With clustered branches of Hesperian gold.

Let every Art stand in its perfect form,

And preach the Gospel of Invention to

The eager intellect. “More Light! More Light!”

Be this thy motto; yoke the patient years

To plough the fallow fields of History

For buried treasures, gems and precious coins,

And marbles, that shall come from out the dust

To tell how beautiful Antiquity

Sat on her ivory throne; how looked, how spake

The Hero-ages of departed time.

Then, when thy mind grows like the purple East

With dawn-fires from the Sun of light, go forth,

And, in that rich and eminent domain,

Gather together all sweet Charities,

And bid them dwell with thee. In that fair home

Let Freedom rule, and, having won the world

In winning its transcendent essence, give

That world, thy heart, thy life away in love.}}