This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1882 Excerpt: ... and left Broods of angelic dreams attesting all That by the unassisted mind of man Could be conceived of immortality; Saw Truth in open daylight face to face, And would have loved and understood her too, Had he not thought Knowledge so beautiful. Orm. These are but heathen prophets! Spirit. Even so--Pass on. Mark ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1882 Excerpt: ... and left Broods of angelic dreams attesting all That by the unassisted mind of man Could be conceived of immortality; Saw Truth in open daylight face to face, And would have loved and understood her too, Had he not thought Knowledge so beautiful. Orm. These are but heathen prophets! Spirit. Even so--Pass on. Mark yonder Figure standing crowned, A sword upon his thigh, and near his breast A harp of burning gold. His dexter hand Clutches the sword, and the impetuous blood Seems black'ning to the nails; but his blue eyes Look downward on a phantom in the gulf--A pale Youth swinging by the hair of gold To the black branches of a forest tree. Orm. Tis the lost King of Israel! Spirit. Speak to him! Thy voice will stir him, tho' he sees thee not. Orm. Speak, Shade of Israel!... Across his face There flits a gleam like starlight upon snow: He stirs, and flings his arms around his harp. Spirit Of David. I was a burning and a shining Light, Yet I projected darkness wheresoe'er I wandered crown'd. I slew, and slaying prayed. Like to a storm of music I swept on, Sounding the trumpet of an angry Lord; But lastly, in the darkness knelt I down, And wept above my gold-haired Absalom, And touched my harp, and sighing fell to sleep, With downward drooping head and ruinous hair, And fingers feeling blindly for the sword; But swooning, smote the harp-strings unaware, And like a strain of peaceful sound, my Soul Slipt thro' my fingers out upon the strings, There linger'd faintly many nights and days, And in sad cadence glided up to God. Orm., Enough! I sicken when I gaze upon him--He darken'd that he sought, the Light Divine. No further. Yonder in their dark array I see the black-brow'd builders of the Law; At whose dark footstools, moveless in the gloom, The pallid Prophets c...
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Add this copy of The Book of Orm to cart. $60.62, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2016 by Palala Press.
