vol. 3, p. 173
from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society
vol. 3 (1875-1878)

Legend

  • HPB note
  • HPB highlighted
  • HPB underlined
  • HPB crossed out
  • <Editors note>
  • <Archivist note>
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engрус


< Telegrams From the Stars (continued from page 3-172) >

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The Coming Pope

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<Untitled> (An exchange says a family)

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A Cry from India

Cold gods of fretted stone !
By jungle shade—by Ganges’ holy stream,
Arise! appease, explain, this hell-fringed dream,
That haunts our foodless zone.

Fear’d car of Juggernaut !
Whose worshipp’d wheels, e’en roll so slowly, proud,
O’er quick-kissed ground, where bends the frenzied crowd,
Hast thou no harvest brought ?

Fond fire, unceasing—true !
Eternal light of India’s scented day,—
Oh ! mock us not, for thy rapt flames display
A beauteous, barren view !

Stray clouds, new manna rain !
Sweet mornings, breathe a fruit-creating dew !
With men, O angels! yield an interview,
And soothe this ten-edged pain !

No birds, or cymbal sound,
No boatman’s psalm adown the winding creek
Can call the rose-bloom to the starveling’s cheek,
Whilst men, with thorns, are crowned !

Weak baby-wailings, blend
With mother’s wilder, far-extending cries ;
Quaint, dead-march music, rumbles in the skies :
The famine pains extend !

Great Power ! unseen of man !
Oh ! smile away the plague, and haste to bless :
Raise frightened palm-groves in the wilderness,
Nor purge with harshest fan.

Blow ! spicy, eastern gales !
Call forth the soft rain’s holy overflow :
Oh ! consecrate your whispers—and bestow
Grand speech to friendly sails.

Glide ! ships of Tarshish ! glide,
O’er oceans, hallowed by our flag and fame :
Bear forth rich off’rings in Britannia’s name,
Be charity our pride.

Stay not to test the creed,
Or urge a rude comparison of skin,
The merciful themselves now mercies win,
And golden is the deed.

Bloom ! sable mulberry !
Creep amber shadows ! through the orange plain ;
Take life, O sacred green ! blush fruit again,—
Burst into majesty  !

Sad chords of Moslem song,
Steal out in broader love and melody ;
O India ! our love comes laden unto thee !
Tho choice gifts of the strong.

John T. Marklby
3, Crawthorn-street, Peterborough.


Dreams

Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes;
When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic quakes ;
Confounds a medley of disjointed things –
A court of cobblers, and a mob of kings.

<John Dryden>

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A Ghost Story by Wilky Collins

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Queen Victoria and the Spiritual Phenomena

...

  1. The Coming Pope by unknown author
  2. An exchange says a family by unknown author
  3. A Cry from India by Markley, John T.
  4. Dreams by unknown author, Spiritual Scientist, Boston, Mass., December 14, 1876, Vol. V., No. 15, p. 164. From the Pen and Plow.
  5. A Ghost Story by Wilky Collins by unknown author
  6. Queen Victoria and the Spiritual Phenomena by unknown author