George MacDonald

Rampolli George MacDonald

Before all the wondrous shows of the widespread space around him, whatliving, sentient thing loves not the all-joyous light, with its colours, its raysand undulations, its gentle omnipresence in the form of the wakening Day?The giant world of the unresting constellations inhales it as the innermostsoul of life, and floats dancing in its azure flood; the sparkling, ever-tranquilstone, the thoughtful, imbibing plant, and the wild, burning, multiform beastworld inhales it; but more than all, the lordly stranger with the meaning eyes, the swaying walk, and the sweetly closed, melodious lips. Like a king overearthly nature, it rouses every force to countless transformations, binds andunbinds innumerable alliances, hangs its heavenly form around every earthlysubstance. Its presence alone reveals the marvellous splendour of thekingdoms of the world. Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies theworld, sunk in a deep grave; waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of thebosom blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, andmingle with the ashes.-The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, thedreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arisein gray garments, like an evening vapour after the sunset. In other regions thelight has pitched its joyous tents: what if it should never return to its children, who wait for it with the faith of innocence?What springs up all at once so sweetly boding in my heart, and stills thesoft air of sadness? Dost thou also take a pleasure in us, dusky Night? Whatholdest thou under thy mantle, that with hidden power affects my soul?Precious balm drips from thy hand out of its bundle of poppies. Thouupliftest the heavy-laden pinions of the soul. Darkly and inexpressibly are wemoved: joy-startled, I see a grave countenance that, tender and worshipful, inclines toward me, and, amid manifold entangled locks, reveals the youthfulloveliness of the Mother. How poor and childish a thing seems to me nowthe light! how joyous and welcome the departure of the day!-Didst thou notonly therefore, because the Night turns away from thee thy servants, strew inthe gulfs of space those flashing globes, to proclaim, in seasons of thyabsence, thy omnipotence, and thy retu