THE DRUNKARD

* And she ran and he ran till they came to the Bridge of One Hair, and she got over but the giant couldn't.
OLD FAIRY TALE.

* Fac me cruce inebriari
Et cruore Filii. POPE INNOCENT III.

* If bodies delight thee, praise God for them.
S. AUGUSTINE.

* All things are lawful. S. PAUL.

Christ and the Stoic, walking; a crowd; a drunkard. Christ speaketh:

THAT drunkard, in the fading light
Capering along a lofty wall . . .
The crowd say, Stoic (they are right!):
"If he were sober, he would fall."

. . . So you fear visionary things?
Dream-miracles illustrious?
The splendours of strange, purple kings,
The pomps of Elagabalus?

Gold griffins and green malachite,
And vessels carved of porphyry?
Lest, stumbling to the left or right,
Like Elagabalus you die?

Vainly you know the pathway wide
Enough to walk, not more or less . . .
The gulf that holds you terrified
To be nought else than nothingness!

Cast down your eyelids; do not look
Where far, fantastic heavens gleam,
Merrier than any story-book
And madder than a madman's dream.

Your sober, calculating feet
Will fail you on the fearful ridge . . .
Go, plant them flatly in the street,
Leave Me alone to face the bridge,

Who on the small, sharp, single hair
Strung tight across the blank inane,
Run forth unfaltering, free from care,
Made drunken with My cup of pain.