Dreams [20]
and there rose two vast mounds.
I said to God, "They are very mighty."
God said, "Ay, exceeding great."
And I listened.
God asked me what I was listening to.
And I said, "A sound of weeping, and I hear the sound of strokes, but I cannot tell whence it comes."
God said, "It is the echo of the wine-press lingering still among the coping-stones upon the mounds. A banquet-house stood here."
And he called me to come further.
Upon a barren hill-side, where the soil was arid, God called me to stand still. And I looked around.
God said, "There was a feasting-house here once upon a time."
I said to God, "I see no mark of any!"
God said, "There was not left one stone upon another that has not been thrown down." And I looked round; and on the hill-side was a lonely grave.
I said to God, "What lies there?"
He said, "A vine truss, bruised in the wine-press!"
And at the head of the grave stood a cross, and on its foot lay a crown of thorns.
And as I turned to go, I looked backward. The wine-press and the banquet- house were gone; but the grave yet stood.
And when I came to the edge of a long ridge there opened out before me a wide plain of sand. And when I looked downward I saw great stones lie shattered; and the desert sand had half covered them over.
I said to God, "There is writing on them, but I cannot read it."
And God blew aside the desert sand, and I read the writing: "Weighed in the balance, and found--" but the last word was wanting.
And I said to God, "It was a banquet-house?"
God said, "Ay, a banquet-house."
I said, "There was a wine-press here?"
God said, "There was a wine-press."
I asked no further question. I was very weary; I shaded my eyes with my hand, and looked through the pink evening light.
Far off, across the sand, I saw two figures standing. With wings upfolded high above their heads, and stern faces set, neither man nor beast, they looked out across the desert sand, watching, watching, watching! I did not ask God what they were, for I knew what the answer would be.
And, further and yet further, in the evening light, I looked with my shaded eyes.
Far off, where the sands were thick and heavy, I saw a solitary pillar standing: the crown had fallen, and the sand had buried it. On the broken pillar sat a grey owl-of-the-desert, with folded wings; and in the evening light I saw the desert fox creep past it, trailing his brush across the sand.
Further, yet further, as I looked across the desert, I saw the sand gathered into heaps as though it covered something.
I cried to God, "Oh, I am so weary."
God said, "You have seen only one half of Hell."
I said, "I cannot see more, I am afraid of Hell. In my own narrow little path I dare not walk because I think that one has dug a pitfall for me; and if I put my hand to take a fruit I draw it back again because I think it has been kissed already. If I look out across the plains, the mounds are burial heaps; and when I pass among the stones I hear them crying aloud. When I see men dancing I hear the time beaten in with sobs; and their wine is living! Oh, I cannot bear Hell!"
God said, "Where will you go?"
I said "To the earth from which I came; it was better there."
And God laughed at me; and I wondered why he laughed.
God said, "Come, and I will show you Heaven."
...
And partly I awoke. It was still and dark; the sound of the carriages had died in the street; the woman who laughed was gone; and the policeman's tread was heard no more. In the dark it seemed as if a great hand lay upon my heart, and crushed it. I tried to breathe and tossed from side to side; and then again I fell asleep, and dreamed.
God took me to the edge of that world. It ended. I looked down. The gulf, it seemed to me, was fathomless, and then I saw two bridges crossing it that both sloped upwards.
I said to God, "Is there no other way by which men cross it?"
God said, "One; it rises far from here and slopes straight upwards.
I asked God what the bridges' names were.
I said to God, "They are very mighty."
God said, "Ay, exceeding great."
And I listened.
God asked me what I was listening to.
And I said, "A sound of weeping, and I hear the sound of strokes, but I cannot tell whence it comes."
God said, "It is the echo of the wine-press lingering still among the coping-stones upon the mounds. A banquet-house stood here."
And he called me to come further.
Upon a barren hill-side, where the soil was arid, God called me to stand still. And I looked around.
God said, "There was a feasting-house here once upon a time."
I said to God, "I see no mark of any!"
God said, "There was not left one stone upon another that has not been thrown down." And I looked round; and on the hill-side was a lonely grave.
I said to God, "What lies there?"
He said, "A vine truss, bruised in the wine-press!"
And at the head of the grave stood a cross, and on its foot lay a crown of thorns.
And as I turned to go, I looked backward. The wine-press and the banquet- house were gone; but the grave yet stood.
And when I came to the edge of a long ridge there opened out before me a wide plain of sand. And when I looked downward I saw great stones lie shattered; and the desert sand had half covered them over.
I said to God, "There is writing on them, but I cannot read it."
And God blew aside the desert sand, and I read the writing: "Weighed in the balance, and found--" but the last word was wanting.
And I said to God, "It was a banquet-house?"
God said, "Ay, a banquet-house."
I said, "There was a wine-press here?"
God said, "There was a wine-press."
I asked no further question. I was very weary; I shaded my eyes with my hand, and looked through the pink evening light.
Far off, across the sand, I saw two figures standing. With wings upfolded high above their heads, and stern faces set, neither man nor beast, they looked out across the desert sand, watching, watching, watching! I did not ask God what they were, for I knew what the answer would be.
And, further and yet further, in the evening light, I looked with my shaded eyes.
Far off, where the sands were thick and heavy, I saw a solitary pillar standing: the crown had fallen, and the sand had buried it. On the broken pillar sat a grey owl-of-the-desert, with folded wings; and in the evening light I saw the desert fox creep past it, trailing his brush across the sand.
Further, yet further, as I looked across the desert, I saw the sand gathered into heaps as though it covered something.
I cried to God, "Oh, I am so weary."
God said, "You have seen only one half of Hell."
I said, "I cannot see more, I am afraid of Hell. In my own narrow little path I dare not walk because I think that one has dug a pitfall for me; and if I put my hand to take a fruit I draw it back again because I think it has been kissed already. If I look out across the plains, the mounds are burial heaps; and when I pass among the stones I hear them crying aloud. When I see men dancing I hear the time beaten in with sobs; and their wine is living! Oh, I cannot bear Hell!"
God said, "Where will you go?"
I said "To the earth from which I came; it was better there."
And God laughed at me; and I wondered why he laughed.
God said, "Come, and I will show you Heaven."
...
And partly I awoke. It was still and dark; the sound of the carriages had died in the street; the woman who laughed was gone; and the policeman's tread was heard no more. In the dark it seemed as if a great hand lay upon my heart, and crushed it. I tried to breathe and tossed from side to side; and then again I fell asleep, and dreamed.
God took me to the edge of that world. It ended. I looked down. The gulf, it seemed to me, was fathomless, and then I saw two bridges crossing it that both sloped upwards.
I said to God, "Is there no other way by which men cross it?"
God said, "One; it rises far from here and slopes straight upwards.
I asked God what the bridges' names were.