A youth, impelled by a burning thirst
for knowledge
To roam to Sais, in fair Egypts
land,
The priesthoods secret learning
to explore,
Had passed through many a grade
with eager haste,
And still was hurrying on with fond
impatience.
Scarce could the Hierophant impose
a rein
Upon his headlong efforts.
What avails
A part without the whole?
the youth exclaimed;
Can there be here a lesser
or a greater?
The truth thou speakst of,
like mere earthly dross,
Ist but a sum that can be
held by man
In larger or in smaller quantity?
Surely tis changeless, indivisible;
Deprive a harmony of but one note,
Deprive the rainbow of one single
color,
And all that will remain is naught,
so long
As that one color, that one note,
is wanting.
While thus they converse held, they
chanced to stand
Within the precincts of a lonely
temple,
Where a veiled statue of gigantic
size
The youths attention caught.
In wonderment
He turned him toward his guide,
and asked him, saying,
What form is that concealed
beneath yon veil?
Truth! was the answer.
What! the young man cried,
When I am striving after
truth alone,
Seekest thou to hide that very truth
from me?
The Godheads self
alone can answer thee,
Replied the Hierophant. Let
no rash mortal
Disturb this veil, said he,
till raised by me;
For he who dares with sacrilegious
hand
To move the sacred mystic covering,
He-said the Godhead-
Well?-will see
the truth.
Strangely oracular, indeed!
And thou
Hast never ventured, then, to raise
the veil?
I? Truly not! I
never even felt
The least desire.-Ist
possible? If I
Were severed from the truth by nothing
else
Than this thin gauze-
And a divine decree,
His guide broke in. Far
heavier than thou thinkest
Is this thin gauze, my son.
Light to thy hand
It may be-but most weighty
to thy conscience.
The youth now sought his home, absorbed
in thought;
His burning wish to solve the mystery
Banished all sleep; upon his couch
he lay,
Tossing his feverish limbs.
When midnight came,
He rose, and toward the temple timidly,
Led by a mighty impulse, bent his
way.
The walls he scaled, and soon one
active spring
Landed the daring boy beneath the
dome.
Behold him now, in utter solitude,
Welcomed by naught save fearful,
deathlike silence,-
A silence which the echo of his
steps
Alone disturbs, as through the vaults
he paces.
Piercing an opening in the cupola,
The moon cast down her pale and
silvery beams,
And, awful as a present deity,
Glittering amid the darkness of
the pile,
In its long veil concealed, the
statue stands.
With hesitating step, he now draws
near-
His impious hand would fain remove
the veil-
Sudden a burning chill assails his
bones
And then an unseen arm repulses
him.
Unhappy one, what wouldst
thou do? Thus cries
A faithful voice within his trembling
breast.
Wouldst thou profanely violate
the All-Holy?
Tis true the oracle
declared, Let none
Venture to raise the veil till raised
by me.
But did the oracle itself not add,
That he who did so would behold
the truth?
Whateer is hid behind, Ill
raise the veil.
And then he shouted: Yes!
I will behold it!
Behold
it!
Repeats in mocking tone the distant
echo.
He speaks, and, with the word, lifts
up the veil.
Would you inquire what form there met his eye?
I know not,-but, when day appeared,
the priests
Found him extended senseless, pale as death,
Before the pedestal of Isis statue.
What had been seen and heard by him when there
He never would disclose, but from that hour
His happiness in life had fled forever,
And his deep sorrow soon conducted him
To an untimely grave. Woe to that man,
He warning said to every questioner,
Woe to that man who wins the truth by guilt,
For truth so gained will neer reward its
owner.
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