120. The Married and the Single
A Fragment from St. Gregory Nazianzen.
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{202}
AS, when the hand some mimic form would paint, |
| It marks its purpose first in shadows faint, |
| And next, its store of varied hues applies, |
| Till outlines fade, and the full limbs arise; |
| So in the earlier school of sacred lore |
| The Virgin-life no claim of honour bore, |
| While in Religion's youth the Law held sway, |
| And traced in symbols dim that better way. |
| But, when the Christ came by a Virgin-birth,— |
| His radiant passage from high heaven to earth,— |
| And, spurning father for His mortal state, |
| Did Eve and all her daughters consecrate, |
| Solved fleshly laws, and in the letter's place |
| Gave us the Spirit and the Word of Grace, |
| Then shone the glorious Celibate at length, |
| Robed in the dazzling lightnings of its strength, {203} |
| Surpassing spells of earth and marriage vow, |
| As soul the body, heaven this world below, |
| The eternal peace of saints life's troubled span, |
| And the high throne of God, the haunts of man. |
| So now there circles round the King of Light |
| A heaven on earth, a blameless court and bright, |
| Aiming as emblems of their God to shine, |
| Christ in their heart, and on their brow His Sign,— |
| Soft funeral lights in the world's twilight dim, |
| Loving their God, and ever loved by Him. |
Ye countless multitudes, content to bow |
| To the soft thraldom of the marriage vow! |
| I mark your haughty step, your froward gaze, |
| Gems deck your hair, and silk your limbs arrays; |
| Come, tell the gain which wedlock has conferr'd |
| On man; and then the single shall be heard. |
The married many thus might plead, I ween; |
| Right glib their tongue, full confident their mien:— |
| "Hear all who live! to whom the nuptial rite |
| Has brought the privilege of life and light. |
| We, who are wedded, but the law obey |
| Stamp'd at creation on our blood and clay, {204} |
| What time the Demiurge our line began, |
| Oped Adam's side, and out of man drew man. |
| Thenceforth let children of a mortal sod |
| Honour the law of earth, the primal law of God. |
"List, you shall hear the gifts of price
that lie |
| Gathered and bound within the marriage-tie. |
| What taught the arts of life, the truths which sleep |
| In earth, or highest heaven, or vasty deep? |
| What fill'd the mart, and urged the vessel brave |
| To link in one fair countries o'er the wave? |
| What raised the town? what gave the type and germ |
| Of social union, and of sceptre firm? |
| What the first husbandman, the glebe to plough, |
| And rear the garden, but the marriage vow? |
"Nay, list again! Who seek its kindly
chain, |
| A second self, a double presence gain; |
| Hands, eyes, and ears, to act or suffer here, |
| Till e'en the weak inspire both love and fear,— |
| A comrade's sigh, to soothe when cares annoy, |
| A comrade's smile, to elevate his joy. {205} |
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"Nor say it weds us to a carnal life,
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When want is urgent, fears and vows are rife. |
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Light heart is his, who has no yoke at home, |
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Scant prayer for blessings, as the seasons
come; |
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But wife, and offspring, goods which go or
stay, |
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Teach us our need, and make us trust and
pray. |
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Take love away, and life would be defaced, |
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A ghastly vision on a howling waste, |
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Stern, heartless, reft of the sweet spells
which swage |
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The throes of passion, and which gladden age. |
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No child's sweet pranks, once more to make us
young; |
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No ties of place about our heart-strings
flung; |
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No public haunts to cheer; no festive tide |
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When harmless mirth and smiling wit preside; |
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A life which scorns the gifts by heaven
assign'd, |
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Nor knows the sympathy of human kind. |
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"Prophets and teachers, priests and
victor kings,
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Deck'd with each grace which heaven-taught
nature brings, |
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These were no giant offspring of the earth, |
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But to the marriage-promise owed their birth:—
{206} |
| Moses and Samuel, David, David's Son, |
| The blessed Tishbite, the more blessed John, |
| The sacred Twelve in apostolic choir, |
| Strong-hearted Paul, instinct with seraph fire, |
| And others, now or erst, who to high heaven aspire. |
| Bethink ye; should the single state be best, |
| Yet who the single, but my offspring blest? |
| My sons, be still, nor with your parents strive: |
| They coupled in their day, and so ye live." |
Thus marriage pleads. Now let her rival speak— |
| Dim is her downcast eye, and pale her cheek; |
| Untrimm'd her gear; no sandals on her feet; |
| A sparest form for austere tenant meet. |
| She drops her veil her modest face around, |
| And her lips open, but we hear no sound. |
| I will address her:—"Hail, O child of Heaven, |
| Glorious within! to whom a post is given |
| Hard by the Throne where angels bow and fear, |
| E'en while thou hast a name and mission here, |
| O deign thy voice, unveil thy brow and see |
| Thy ready guard and minister in me. |
| Oft hast thou come heaven-wafted to my breast, |
| Bright Spirit! so come again, and give me rest." {207} |
... "Ah, who has hither drawn my backward
feet, |
| Changing for worldly strife my lone retreat? |
| Where, in the silent chant of holy deeds, |
| I praise my God, and tend the sick soul's needs; |
| By toils of day, and vigils of the night, |
| By gushing tears, and blessed lustral rite. |
| I have no sway amid the crowd, no art |
| In speech, no place in council or in mart. |
| Nor human law, nor judges throned on high, |
| Smile on my face, and to my words reply. |
| Let others seek earth's honours; be it mine |
| One law to cherish, and to track one line, |
Straight on towards heaven to press with single
bent, |
To know and love my God, and then to die con-
tent." |
. . .
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Oxford.
1834. |