Poems of Progress

by Lizzie Doten

It is an allegorical description of the progress of a soul from the Valley of Superstition and Traditional Theology to the highest mountain peaks of Natural Philosophy and Spiritual Revelation. He is strengthened and encouraged in his progress by the voices “of the loved ones gone before.” At length, in the higher regions of metaphysical reasoning and abstract philosophy, he encounters the demon Doubt—a representative of popular Theology and traditional authority. This Doubt endeavors to make him distrust reason, and render a blind credence to mere authority. In the struggle with the demon the great Truth flashes with a realizing sense upon the soul, that by its inherent nature it is older than all forms of Truth, and one with God himself. In the strength of this conviction he conquers, and the demon is slain.

Thus “The Inner Mystery” is revealed, and the unfolding of the spiritual perceptions follows as a legitimate result.

“According to Fichte, there is a Divine Idea pervading the visible universe; which visible universe is indeed but its symbol and sensible manifestation, having in itself no meaning, or even true existence, independent of it. To the mass of men this Divine Idea lies hidden; yet to discern it, to seize it, and live wholly in it, is the condition of all genuine virtue, knowledge, freedom, and the end, therefore, of all spiritual effort in every age.”—Carlyle.

In the valley, where the darkness
Dropped its poisonous vapors on my head,
Where the night winds moaned and murmured,
Like the voices of the troubled dead,
Groping, stumbling, weary and alone,
Did I make the earth my bed,
And my pillow was a stone.

O, that slumber!
It was long, and dark, and deep,
Till a voice cried, “Come up hither!”
And I started from my sleep.

“Whither?” cried I; and it answered,
“Come up hither! for the day is dawning;
Through the gates of amethyst and amber
Shines the kindling glory of the morning.”

Gazing upward,
I beheld assurance of the day;
Hopeful-hearted,
O’er the mountain-path I took my way.
’Mid the pine trees
Did I hear life’s drowsy pulses start,
Swinging, singing,
Making sweet, but mournful music,
Thrilling, filling,
All the lonely places of my heart.

Then the embers of the morning,
Smouldering on night’s funeral pyre,
Kindling into sudden brightness,
Lit the mountain-peaks with fire;
And the quickened heart of Nature
Answered from her Memnon lyre.
Eager, earnest, still ascending,
Toward the glories of the day,
I could hear that voice my steps attending,
With the matin-hymn of Nature blending,
Ever crying, “Come up hither!”
And I followed in the way.

Bright the sky glowed with celestial splendor,
Like the light of love from God’s own eyes;
And the lofty mountains seemed to tender
Back their crowns of glory to the skies.
Far above me,
In the hights so terrible and grand,
I could see the glaciers gleaming
In the hollow of the mountain’s hand.
Flashing, dashing,
From the steeps the foaming cataract poured,
Over pathways
Which the mighty avalanche had scored.
Dim and ghostly
Rose the silvery clouds of wreathéd spray,
Rainbow-mantled,
Vanishing in upper air away.
Elfin shadows
O’er my lonely pathway leaped and played,
As the pine trees
Dreamily their murmuring branches swayed.
All the air seemed filled with voices,
Which I ne’er had thought to hear again;
And I fled, to leave behind me,
Sounds of pleasure close allied to pain.
Upward, onward, did I speed my way,
Nearer to the perfect source of day.
Awed by beauty and by terror,
Tearful, prayerful, did I sink,
Where the tender, blue-eyed gentian
Bloomed upon the glacier’s brink.