Prometheus - Christ
LASHED to the planet, glaring at the sky,
An eagle at his heart—the Pagan Christ!
Why is it, Mystery? O, dumb Darkness, why
Have always men, with loving hearts themselves,
Made devils of their gods?
The whirling globe
Bears round man's sweating agony of blood,
That Might may gloat above impotent Pain!
Man's soul is dual—he is half a fiend,
And from himself he typifies Almighty.
O, poison-doubt, the answer holds no peace:
Man did not make himself a fiend, but God.
Between them, what? Prometheus stares
Through ether to the lurid eyes of Jove—
Between them, Darkness!
But the gods are dead-
Ay, Zeus is dead, and all the gods but Doubt,
And Doubt is brother devil to Despair!
What, then, for us? Better Prometheus' fate,
Who dared the gods, than insect unbelief—
Better Doubt's fitful flame than abject nothingness!
O, world around us, glory of the spheres!
God speaks in ordered harmony—behold!
Between us and the Darkness, clad in light,—
Between us and the curtain of the Vast,—two Forms,
And each is crowned eternally—and One
Is crowned with flowers and tender leaves and grass,
And smiles benignly; and the other One,
With sadly pitying eyes, is crowned with thorns:
O Nature, and O Christ, for men to love
And seek and live by—Thine the dual reign—
The health and hope and happiness of men!
Behold our faith and fruit!—
What demon laughs?
Behold our books, our schools, our states,
Where Christ and Nature are the daily word;
Behold our dealings between man and man,
Our laws for home, our treaties for abroad;
Behold our honor, honesty, and freedom,
And, last, our brotherhood! For we are born
In Christian times and ruled by Christian rules!
[...] Read more
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Added by Poetry Lover
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