按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
I noted them。 The first green leaf on the hawthorn； the first
spike of meadow grass； the first song of the nightingale； the
green ear of wheat。 I spoke it with the ear of wheat as the sun
tinted it golden； with the whitening barley； again with the red gold spots
of autumn on the beech； the buff oak leaves； and the gossamer dew…weighted。
All the larks over the green corn sang it for me； all the dear swallows； the
green leaves rustled it； the green brookflags waved it； the swallows took it
with them to repeat it for me in distant lands。 By the running brook I
meditated it； a flash of sunlight here in the curve； a flicker yonderon the
ripples； the birds bathing in the sandy shallow； the rush of falling water。
As the brook ran winding through the
meadow； so one thought ran winding through my days。
The sciences I studied never checked it for a moment； nor did the books of
old philosophy。 The sun was stronger than science；
the hills more than philosophy。 Twice circumstances gave me a brief view of
the sea then the passion rose tumultuous as the
waves。 It was very bitter to me to leave the sea。
Sometimes I spent the whole day walking over the hills
searching for it； as if the labour of walking would force it
from the ground。 I remained in the woods for hours； among the
ash sprays and the fluttering of the ring…doves at their nests；
the scent of pines here and there； dreaming my prayer。
My work was most uncongenial and useless； but even then sometimes a
gleam of sunlight on the wall； the buzz of a bee at the window； would bring
the thought to me。 Only to make me miserable； for it was a waste of golden
time while the rich sunlight streamed on hill and plain。 There was a
wrenching of the mind； a straining of the mental sinews； I was forced to do
this； my mind was yonder。 Weariness； exhaustion； nerve…illness often
ensued。 The insults which are showered on poverty； long struggle of labour；
the heavy pressure of circumstances； the unhappiness； only stayed the
expression of the feeling。 It was always there。 Often in the streets of
London； as the red sunset flamed over the houses； the old thought； the old
prayer； came。
Not only in grassy fields with green leaf and running brook did
this constant desire find renewal。 More deeply still with
living human beauty； the perfection of form； the simple fact of
form； ravished and always willravish me away。 In this lies the outcome and
end of all the loveliness of sunshine and green leaf； of flowers； pure
water； and sweet air。 This is embodiment and highest ex…pression； the
scattered； uncertain； and designless loveliness of tree and sunlight brought
to shape。 Through this beauty Iprayed deepest and longest； and down to this
hour。 The shapethe divine idea of that shapethe swelling muscle or the
dreamy limb； strong sinew or curve of bust； Aphrodite or Hercules； it is the
same。 That I may have the soul…life； the soul…nature； let divine beauty
bring to me divine soul。 Swart Nubian； white Greek； delicate Italian；
massive Scandinavian； in all the exquisite pleasure the form gave； and
gives； to me immediately becomes intense prayer。
If I could have been in physical shape like these； how
despicable in comparison I am； to be shapely of form is so
infinitely beyond wealth； power； fame； all that ambition can give； that
these are dust before it。 Unless of the human form； no pictures hold me；
the rest are flat surfaces。 So； too； with
the other arts； they are dead； the potters； the architects；
meaningless； stony； and some repellent； like the cold touch of
porcelain。 No prayer with these。 Only the human form in art
could raise it； and most in statuary。 I have seen so little
good statuary； it is a regret to me； still； that I have is
beyond all other art。 Fragments here； a bust yonder； the
broken pieces brought from Greece； copies； plaster casts； a
memory of an Aphrodite； of a Persephone； of an Apollo； that is
all； but even drawings of statuary will raise the prayer。
These statues were like myself full of a thought； for ever
about to burst forth as a bud； yet silent in the same attitude。
Give me to live the soul…life they express。 The smallest
fragment of marble carved in the shape of the human arm will wake the desire
I felt in my hill…prayer。
Time went on； good fortune and success never for an instant
deceived me that they were in themselves to be sought； only my
soul…thought was worthy。 Further years bringing much suffering；
grinding the very life out； new troubles； renewed insults； loss
of what hard labour had earned； the bitter question： Is it not
better to leap into the sea？ These； too； have made no
impression； constant still to the former prayer my mind endures。
It was my chief regret that I had not endeavoured to write these things； to
give expression to this passion。 I am now trying； but I see that I shall
only in part succeed。
The same prayer comes to me at this very hour。 It is now less
solely associated with the sun and sea； hills； woods； or
beauteous human shape。 It is always within。 It requires no waking； no
renewal； it is always with me。 I am it； the fact of my existence expresses
it。After a long interval I came to the hills again； this time by the coast。
I found a deep hollow on the side of a great hill； a green concave opening
to the sea； where I could rest and think in perfect quiet。 Behind me were
furze bushes dried by the heat； immediately in front dropped the steep
descent of the bowl…like hollow which received and brought up to me the
faint sound of the summer waves。 Yonder lay the immense plain of sea； the
palest green under the continued sunshine； as though the heat had evaporated
the colour from it； there was no distinct horizon； a heat…mist inclosed it
and looked farther away than the horizon would have done。 Silence and
sunshine； sea and hill gradually brought my mind into the condition of
intense prayer。 Day after day； forhours at a time； I came there； my
soul…desire always the same。 Presently I began to consider how I could put
a part of that prayer into form； giving it an object。 Could I bring it into
such a shape as would admit of actually working upon the lines it indicated
for any good ？
One evening； when the bright white star in Lyra was shining
almost at the zenith over me； and the deep concave was the more
profound in the dusk； I formulated it into three divisions。
First； I desired that I might do or find something to exalt the
soul； something to enable it to live its own life； a more
powerful existence now。 Secondly； I desired to be able to do something for
the flesh； to make a discovery or perfect a method by which the fleshly body
might enjoy more pleasure； longer life； and suffer less pain。 Thirdly； to
construct a more flexible engine with which to carry into execution the
design of the will。 I called this the Lyra prayer； to distinguish it from
the far deeper emotion in which the soul was alone
concerned。
Of the three divisions； the last was of so little importance
that it scarcely deserved to be named in conjunction with the
others。 Mechanism increases conveniencein no degree does it
confer physical or moral perfection。 The rudimentary engines
employed thousands of years ago in raising buildings were in
that respect equal to the complicated machines of the present
day。 Control of iron and steel has not altered or improved the
bodily man。 I even debated some time whether such a third
division should be included at all。 Our bodies are now conveyed
all round the world with ease； but obtain no advantage。 As they start so
they return。 The most perfect human families of ancient times were almost
stationary； as those of Greece。 Perfection of form was found inSparta； how
small a spot compared to those continents over which we are now taken so
quickly！ Such perfection of form might perhaps again dwell； contented and
complete in itself； on such a strip of land as I could see between me and
the sand of the sea。 Again； a watch keeping correct time is no guarantee
that the bearer shall not suffer pain。 The owner of the watch may be
soulless； without mind…fire； a mere creature。 No benefit to the
heart or to the body accrues from the most accurate mechanism。
Hence I debated whether the third division should be included。
But I reflected that time cannot be put back on the dial； we
cannot return to Sparta； there is an existent state of things；
and existent multitudes； and possibly a more powerful engine；
flexible to the will； might give them that freedom which is the
one； and the one only； political or social idea I possess。 For
liberty； therefore； let it be included。
For the flesh； this arm of mine； the limbs of others gracefully moving； let
me find something that will give them greater per…
fection。 That the bones may be firmer； somewhat larger if that would be an
advantage； certainly stronger； that the cartilage and sinews may be more
enduring； and the muscles more powerful； something after the manner of those
ideal limbs and muscles sculptured of old； these in the flesh and real。 That
the organs of the body may be stronger in their action； perfect； and
lasting。 That the exterior flesh may be yet m