The Spiralling Stair

Many a desolate and distant land,
Ruled by a wild and furious man,
I've scaled, and would scale still,
Oft with, yet more often without my will;
As when struck with sad and ill fortune,
I seek amendments, or to renew my boon.
So was once, when of my caravan lost,
I straggled to one worn and distant post,
Through a desert, where with clouds of sand,
Were kept away the rays of sun from the land.
I should not paint the desert brown; nay, white,
And the colour of skin; all that met my sight
Was monotonous and bleak; the kind of place,
To give birth to harsh and conquering race.
As there I did seek their hospitality,
I was shown all they had, the porverty,
That is like a pride, and the form of vanity
That wears a lack like a thorned crown,
And coarse wool like a queenly gown.
I was brought to a tent; we supped in silence,
And slowly, slowly, feeling their suspense,
I glared my misty, steaming tea, asking,
What of it, whence comes all their stammering;
And what they said, I shall now recount,
For the manifold reader, a brief account,
For your information, or entertainment,
As in your easy life you seek amusement:

The oldest of all, the wily sage,
The methusalem of the race crowned with age,
He leant to my ear, and sternly spoke,
Words with stark terror adorned did evoke;
"Of my line I am last, yet hope my word,
Shall on the various and ignorant fall like a sword,
And what I once believed, which I still hold true,
Shall from your memory and account spring anew."
"In this world many a beauty I've seen,
In the states of bliss and paradise I've been,
The tower and the spiralling stair,
I have climbed with a youthful dare;
And there with my arrogance topped,
To the mansions of the gods I came and knocked,
And asked loudly, whence my life,
Of which I am proud, with might and power rife,
Should have its meaning, and telling purpose?
Upon saying this, I saw how a shadow arose,
And there in the mellow moonlight-gleam,
With flickering hand, he showed me this scene."
"From my father's line I am cursed, from Adam
To me and you, we are but a flock of lost lamb,
From our purpose lost, of meaning devoid,
Unnecessary, in wrong work employed;
That from Adam since, a vainglorious son
That had from his tracing fingers ran,
No right law had followed, and that the sin,
That hanged its weight upon our kin,
Was the same, and that I would him atone,
In blood I'd bathe, carry it all alone,
Though each and all his singular law,
Should follow till atoned was the single flaw."
"Since those spiralling stairs I've left,
That law and weight in my heart I've kept,
Some passions abjured, others embraced,
Bastions of wrong and mighty razed;
Judged and been judged, and in its bliss,
I shiver from the touch of his icy kiss."
There he stopped, and then did elaborate,
The verdict, of his and of my fate,
And gradually, I came to feel the chill,
And as he fixed his eyes to me, I felt his will.
"You visitor from a distant place,
Is it but coincidence you'd visit our race?
Do you not too, keep the law in me,
Though your life be short, your faith empty?"

I heard the words, and my spine did shiver,
In my easy chair I did tremble and quiver,
And when the foams of my cup did rise,
I could not from it wrench my eyes.
A hand moved, two men were at my side,
And to my questioning glance they replied,
"Hurry, hurry, and drink that bitter cup,
Drink your fill before your time is up;
Have you not heard, you will not leave,
And no cavalry shall bring you reprieve."
To this spot I leave the reader, let him,
Imagine how his own lips meet the rim,
What knowledge or terror, or both,
Shall overcome him who sups the broth;
Were I judged, or do I judge? I shan't tell,
Before the austere times shall ring the bell,
And down from those spiralling stairs,
I shall return to tie up my untied affairs.