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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374130" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tekel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WHEN on the West broke light from out the East, <br>Then from the splendour and the shame of Rome-- <br>Renouncing wealth and pleasure, game and feast, <br>And all the joys of his polluted home, <br>Desiring not the gifts his world could give, <br>If haply he might save his soul and live-- <br>Into the desert's heart a man had come. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His God had died for love of him, and he <br>For love of God would die to all of these <br>Sweet sins he had not known for sins, and be <br>Estranged for evermore from rest and ease; <br>His days in penance spent might half atone <br>For the iniquity of days bygone, <br>And in the desert might his soul find peace. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Crossing wide seas, he reached an alien land: <br>By mighty harbours and broad streams he passed <br>Into an arid, trackless waste of sand, <br>And journeying ever faster and more fast, <br>Left men behind, and onward still did press <br>To a ruined city in the wilderness, <br>And there he stayed his restless feet at last. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>There stood long lines of columns richly wrought, <br>Colossal statues of forgotten kings, <br>Vast shadowy temples, court within dim court, <br>Great shapes of man-faced beasts with wide firm wings; <br>And in and out each broken colonnade <br>The bright-eyed, swift, green-gleaming lizards played, <br>In that still place the only living things. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But when the moon unveiled her still, white face, <br>And over sand and stone her glory shed-- <br>Another life awoke within the place, <br>And great beasts stalked, with silent heavy tread, <br>Through pillared vista, over marble floor, <br>And the stern menace of the lion's roar <br>Made horrible the city of the dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Like a great bird soft sinking on its nest, <br>Too lightly to disturb its tender brood, <br>The night, with dark spread wings and cloudy breast, <br>Sank on the desert city's solitude <br>As he drew near. The shadows grew more dense, <br>The silence stronger; weariness intense <br>Fell on him then, and only rest seemed good. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He passed between tall pillars' sculptured gloom, <br>And entered a deserted, lightless fane, <br>And knew not if it temple were, or tomb, <br>But slept and slept, till over all the plain <br>The level sunbeams spread, and earth was bright <br>With morning's radiant resurrection-light; <br>Then he awoke, refreshed and strong again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Through empty courts he passed, and lo! a wall <br>Whereon was imaged all the languid grace <br>Of fairest women, and among them all <br>Shone like a star one lovely Eastern face: <br>Undimmed by centuries the colours were, <br>Bright as when first the painter found her fair, <br>And set her there to glorify the place. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>All he had fled from suddenly drew near, <br>And from her eyes a challenge seemed down-thrown; <br>'Ah, fool!' she seemed to say, 'what dost thou here? <br>How canst thou bear this stern, sad life alone, <br>When I--not just this face that copies me, <br>But I myself--stretch arms and lips to thee, <br>From that same world whose joys thou hast foregone?' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His heart leaped up like flame--she was so fair; <br>Then with a start he hid his eyes and fled <br>Into the hotness of the outer air. <br>His pulse beat quickly. 'Oh, my God!' he said, <br>'These be the heart made pure, and cleansèd brain! <br>I vow to Thee to never look again <br>On women, real or painted, quick or dead!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So lest within the city he should find, <br>To tempt his soul, still some accursèd thing, <br>He left the palaces and courts behind, <br>Found a green spot, with date-palms and a spring <br>And built himself a rough stone shelter there <br>And saw no more the face, so strange and fair <br>That had begot such vain imagining. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He tilled the patch of land, and planted seeds <br>Which from his own far country he had brought; <br>And, caring little for his body's needs, <br>Strove still by blind belief to strangle thought, <br>By ceaseless penance to deny desire, <br>To quench in prayer and fast all human fire, <br>And wrest from Heaven the blessings that he sought. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And there peace found him, and he dwelt alone, <br>And gladly gave his life to God. Behind <br>Lay the long dim arcades of graven stone; <br>Before him lay the desert, burning blind <br>Sometimes with the dread dance of its own sand, <br>That wildly whirled in shadowy columns, fanned <br>By the hot breath of the fierce desert wind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Each day passed by as had passed other days, <br>And days gone by were as the days to come, <br>Save that on some days he was wild with praise, <br>And weak with vigil and with fast on some; <br>And no man saw he for long months and years, <br>But ever did he penance with hot tears, <br>And but for prayer and praise his lips were dumb. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Sometimes at first, when spent with watch and prayer, <br>He saw again the Imperial City's towers, <br>Where, in a mist of music and sweet air, <br>Thais and Phryne crowned his cup with flowers-- <br>He saw the easeful day, the festal night, <br>The life that was one dream of long delight, <br>One rose-red glow of rapture and fair hours. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He heard old well-remembered voices cry, <br>'Come back to us! Think of the joys you miss; <br>Each moment floats some foregone rapture by, <br>A cup, a crown, a song, a laugh, a kiss! <br>Cast down that crown of thorns, return, and be <br>Once more flower-crowned, love-thrilled, wine-warmed, and see <br>The old sweet life--how good a thing it is!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But his soul answered, 'Nay, I am content; <br>Ye call in vain; the desert shuts me in. <br>Your flowers are sere, your wine with gall is blent, <br>Your sweets have all the sickening taste of sin; <br>Such sin I expiate with ceaseless pain, <br>And world and flesh and devil strive in vain <br>Back from its sanctuary my soul to win. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Fair are the Imperial City's towers to see? <br>I seek the City with the streets of gold. <br>Beside the lilies God has grown for me <br>Faint are the roses that your fingers hold. <br>Ear hath not heard the music I shall hear, <br>Eye hath not seen the joys that shall appear, <br>Nor heart conceived the things I shall behold.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>After long days a stranger halted there, <br>For some far distant monastery bound. <br>The hermit fed and lodged, nor could forbear <br>To tell his guest what rest his soul had found <br>How with the world he long ago had done, <br>How the hard battle had been fought and won, <br>And he found peace, pure, perfect and profound. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The stranger answered, 'Thou hast watched an hour, <br>But many hours go to make up our day, <br>And some of these are dark with fateful power, <br>And Satan watches for our souls alway; <br>The spirit may be willing, but indeed <br>The flesh is weak, and so much more the need <br>To pray and watch, my brother, watch and pray.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The Roman bowed his head in mute assent, <br>And, having served the stranger with his best, <br>Bade him God-speed, and down the way he went-- <br>Gazed sadly after, but within his breast <br>A pale fire of resentment sprang to flame <br>Was he not holy now, and void of blame, <br>And certain of himself, and pure, and blest? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That night a new-born desolation grew <br>Within his heart as he made fast the stone <br>Against the doorway of his hut, and knew <br>How more than ever he was now alone. <br>He was in darkness, but the moon without <br>Made a new tender daylight round about <br>The hut, the palms, the plot with millet sown. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Hark!--what was that?--For many months and years <br>He had not heard that faint uncertain noise, <br>Broken, and weak, and indistinct with tears-- <br>A voice--a human voice--a woman's voice. <br>'Oh, let me in,' it wailed, 'before I die! <br>Oh, let me in, for Holy Charity! <br>For see--my life or death is at thy choice!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Unthinking, swift he rolled the stone away: <br>There stood a woman, trembling, shrinking, thin; <br>Her pale hair by the moon's white light looked grey, <br>And grey her hands and grey her withered skin. <br>'Oh, save me--lest I die among the beasts <br>Who roam, and roar, and hold their fearful feasts! <br>Oh, save me,' she besought him, 'let me in!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Troubled, he answered, 'Nay, I have a vow <br>Never again a woman's face to see!' <br>'But, ah,' she cried, 'thy vow is broken now, <br>For at this moment thou beholdest me. <br>I cannot journey farther. Help!' she said, <br>'Or I before the dawning shall be dead, <br>And thou repent to all eternity!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His soul was gentle and compassionate. <br>'Thou shalt not perish--enter here,' he said; <br>'My vow is broken, and thy need is great.' <br>She staggered forward to the dry leaf bed, <br>And sank upon it, cold and still and white. <br>'Perhaps she may not live until the light,' <br>He thought, and lifted up her drooping head, </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And gave her wine from out a little store <br>Which he had kept untouched since first he came; <br>He rolled the stone again before his door <br>To keep the night air from her wasted frame; <br>And, though his vow was broken, somehow knew <br>That he was doing what was right to do, <br>Yet felt a weight of unacknowledged blame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And many a day he tended her and fed; <br>But ever after that first night's surprise <br>With earnest vigilance he held his head <br>Averted, and downcast he kept his eyes. <br>His vow, though broken once, was still his law; <br>He looked upon her face no more, nor saw <br>Her whom he cared for in such kindly wise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She never spoke to him, nor he to her-- <br>That she was sick and sad was all he knew; <br>He never asked her what her past days were, <br>Nor of the future, what she meant to do. <br>So dwelt they, till the full moon's yellow light <br>Flooded the world once more. Then came the night <br>Which all his life had been a prelude to. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The stone was moved a little from the door, <br>And near it he was kneeling rapt in prayer <br>Upon the cold uneven earthen floor; <br>The moonbeams passed him by, and rested where <br>The woman slept--her breathing soft and slow, <br>With rhythmic cadence even, restful, low, <br>Stirring the stillness of the cool night air </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His prayer being ended, as he turned to rest, <br>He chanced to let his eyes fall carelessly <br>Upon the figure that the moon caressed, <br>The woman that his care had not let die. <br>And now no more he turned his face aside, <br>But gazed, and gazed, and still unsatisfied <br>His eager look fed on her, hungrily. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>On her? On whom? The suppliant he had saved, <br>Thin, hollow-cheeked and sunken-eyed had been, <br>With shrunken brow whereon care-lines were graved, <br>With withered arms, dull hair, and fingers lean. <br>'Has my blind care transformed her so?' he said; <br>For she was gone, and there lay in her stead <br>The loveliest woman he had ever seen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The rags she wore but made her seem more sweet, <br>Since in despite of them she was so fair; <br>The rough brown leaves quite covered up her feet, <br>But left one ivory arm and shoulder bare, <br>The other lay beneath the little head, <br>And over all the moonlit couch was spread <br>The sunlight-coloured wonder of her hair. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He could not move, nor turn away his gaze: <br>How long he stood and looked he could not guess. <br>At last she faintly sighed, and in her face <br>Trembled the dawn of coming consciousness; <br>The eyelids quivered, and the red lips stirred, <br>As if they tried to find some sweet lost wo </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And then her eyelids lifted, and he met <br>Full in his dazzled eyes the glorious light <br>Of eyes that he had struggled to forget <br>Since he had broken from their spells of might-- <br>The Eastern eyes that from the painted wall <br>Had lightened down upon him, to enthral <br>Senses and soul with fetters of delight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He knew her now, his love without a name, <br>Who in his dreams had looked on him and smiled, <br>And almost back to his old world of shame <br>His unconsenting manhood had beguiled! <br>There was no world now any more. At last <br>He knew that all--his future, present, past-- <br>In her sole self was fused and reconciled. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The moments fled as in a dream divine: <br>Fire filled his veins--there beat within his brain <br>The madness that is born of love or wine; <br>And her eyes gleamed--softened and gleamed again, <br>And in those stormy seas he gazed, until <br>Her beauty seemed the whole vast night to fill, <br>And all, save her, seemed valueless and vain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then, with her eyes still deep in his, she rose <br>And moved towards him, and a wave of bliss <br>Flooded his sense with the wild joy that goes <br>Before a longed-for, almost granted kiss, <br>And slowly she drew nearer to his side-- <br>Then, with a smile like mid-June's dawn, she sighed, <br>And turned to him, and laid her hand on his. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And at the touch, all he had deemed effaced-- <br>All the heart-searing passions of his past-- <br>Surged up, and their destroying wave laid waste <br>The ordered garden of his soul. At last <br>The spell of silence broke, and suddenly <br>The man's whole heart found voice in one low cry, <br>As round her perfect head his arms he cast-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And did not clasp her, for his foiled arms crossed <br>Only upon his own tumultuous breast! <br>His wrecked heart, tempest driven, passion tossed, <br>Beat fierce against his own hand on it pressed. <br>As on June fields might fall December frost, <br>In one cold breath he knew that she was lost-- <br>Eternally foregone and unpossessed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For even as he clasped she had seemed to melt, <br>And fade into the misty moonlit air; <br>His arms were empty, yet his hand still felt <br>The touch of her hand that had rested there: <br>But she was gone, with all her maddening grace-- <br>The solitude and silence, in her place, <br>Like a chill searching wind crept everywhere. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Silence--at first. Then suddenly outbroke <br>A little laugh. And then, above, around, <br>A hideous peal of laughter, shout on shout, <br>Re-echoing from sky, and air, and ground; <br>And in his devastated soul had birth <br>A horrid echo of that demon mirth, <br>And with his human voice he swelled its sound. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Tricked, fooled!' he laughed. 'We laugh, the fiends and I, <br>They for their triumph, I to feel my fall! <br>From snares like these is no security, <br>In desert wild or close-built city wall: <br>And since I must be tempted, let me go <br>And brave the old temptations that I know; <br>Not these, that are but phantoms after all-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Phantoms, not living women, warm and real, <br>As the fair Roman women were. And yet <br>The phantom only is my soul's ideal, <br>Longed for through all the years and never met <br>Till now; and only now to make hell worse-- <br>To fan my fires of infinite remorse <br>With the cold wind of infinite regret. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Back to the world, the world of love and sin! <br>For since my soul is lost, I claim its price! <br>Prayers are not heard. The God I trusted in <br>Has failed me once--He shall not fail me twice! <br>No more of that wild striving and intense <br>For irrecoverable innocence-- <br>No more of useless, vain self-sacrifice! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Life is too potent and too passionate, <br>Against whose force I all these years have striven <br>In vain, in vain! Our own lives make our Fate; <br>And by our Fate our lives are blindly driven! <br>There is no refuge in the hermit's cell <br>From memories enough to make a hell-- <br>Of chances lost that might have made a heaven!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Back to his world he went, and plunged anew <br>Into the old foul life's polluted tide; <br>But ever in his sweetest feast he knew <br>A longing never to be satisfied: <br>This strange wild wickedness, that new mad sin, <br>Might be the frame to find her picture in; <br>And if that failed, some other must be tried. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And in the search, soul, body, heart, and brain <br>Were blasted and destroyed, and still his prize, <br>Ever untouched, seemed always just to gain, <br>And just beyond his reach shone Paradise. <br>So followed he, too faithfully, too well, <br>Through death, into the very gate of hell, <br>The love-light of those unforgotten eyes!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Nesbit">Edith Nesbit</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374130" data-title="Tekel de Edith Nesbit" data-description="WHEN on the West broke light from out the East, 
Then from the splendour and the shame of Rome-- 
Renouncing wealth and pleasure, game and feast, 
And all the joys of his polluted home, 
Desiring not the gifts his world could give, 
If haply he mi..."></div>
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