Poems (Gifford)/The Building of the Mansion
THE BUILDING OF THE MANSION.
They said the earl would build a splendid house
That in the country round for many a mile
Would stand unrivalled, and the work began,
But oh! not beautiful the work appeared.
Soon was that spot of normal quiet stirred
To strange commotion and unloveliness;
Huge piles of dull material lay about
In wild disorder, and the well-kept lawn
Was cut with marring wheel-marks far around.
There rose the clang of heavy iron tools,
And ugly laden trucks lumbered about
With noisy rumble; and a black engine puffed,
And hissed, and groaned, and shrieked, and steamed, and smoked.
No sign was there of shelter or repose,
Save here a temporary shed, and there
A wooden hut,—no things of beauty they.
A lofty scaffolding was soon upreared,
Then came the spoiling of the well-known hall,
That had to us of such great import seemed;
The roof was ruthlessly torn off, the walls
Dismantled, and the crescent portico
Thrown ignominiously upon the ground.
That in the country round for many a mile
Would stand unrivalled, and the work began,
But oh! not beautiful the work appeared.
Soon was that spot of normal quiet stirred
To strange commotion and unloveliness;
Huge piles of dull material lay about
In wild disorder, and the well-kept lawn
Was cut with marring wheel-marks far around.
There rose the clang of heavy iron tools,
And ugly laden trucks lumbered about
With noisy rumble; and a black engine puffed,
And hissed, and groaned, and shrieked, and steamed, and smoked.
No sign was there of shelter or repose,
Save here a temporary shed, and there
A wooden hut,—no things of beauty they.
A lofty scaffolding was soon upreared,
Then came the spoiling of the well-known hall,
That had to us of such great import seemed;
The roof was ruthlessly torn off, the walls
Dismantled, and the crescent portico
Thrown ignominiously upon the ground.
Oh, desecration! Oh, unheard contempt!
From time to time we visited that scene,
Haunted by happy memories, and looked
With ever-growing interest, though for long
We saw increased confusion, not a glimpse
Of destined grandeur; and the scaffolding,
Unsightly and unstable, shook with tread
Of hurrying feet, and here and there a part
Was shifted oft, and there was ceaseless change.
Sometimes we threaded the intricacies
That grew within, stepping with dubious feet
O'er parted beams, and tottering planks, and floors
Bestrewn with rubble, brickbats, sawdust, all
Rough things incongruous with dignity;
And to our untaught minds so much seemed wrong,
In the whole scheme we could not understand.
Again, again we questioned with ourselves,
"Can this be adaptation right and wise?"
From time to time we visited that scene,
Haunted by happy memories, and looked
With ever-growing interest, though for long
We saw increased confusion, not a glimpse
Of destined grandeur; and the scaffolding,
Unsightly and unstable, shook with tread
Of hurrying feet, and here and there a part
Was shifted oft, and there was ceaseless change.
Sometimes we threaded the intricacies
That grew within, stepping with dubious feet
O'er parted beams, and tottering planks, and floors
Bestrewn with rubble, brickbats, sawdust, all
Rough things incongruous with dignity;
And to our untaught minds so much seemed wrong,
In the whole scheme we could not understand.
Again, again we questioned with ourselves,
"Can this be adaptation right and wise?"
And yet we cherished faith of purpose true
Controlling the disorder, and the din,
And there was music in the dissonance
Of workmen's voices and activity
Betokening hope, and promise, and success.
So varied were the men, varied their tools,
Varied their methods and their lesser aims,
Yet all pressed on toward one common end,
The fair ideal of the architect,
Who, with authority of untold wealth,
Watched, counselled, ordered, and directed all
According to a plan he knew full well,
And he had well conceived. We never saw
That master-builder, seldom did the men,
And little could they guess his full intent;
Yet slowly, surely it was evident
That strength and beauty grew, and we believed
That a fair building should ere long stand forth
In grand completeness.
In grand completeness.Then there came a day
When bit from bit the scaffolding was torn
And thrown upon the ground, then cleared away.
Then could we tell of perfecting within
And rare embellishment and furnishing,
Till we beheld the hall and all around
In perfect order, the last vestige gone
Of tumult and confusion; and 1t stood
Fit habitation for its noble lord,
The rendezvous of many a worthy guest,
The admiration of the country round.>*
And surely, surely rises for our Lord
A living habitation; He shall bring
To full perfection all His purposes
Inspired by such divine beneficence
As yet we dimly know, though He has told.
Himself the Master-Builder, great and wise,
Appoints, adapts, directs, and furthers all
With infinite resources, though so oft
We marvel at His will, and say, "How long?"
Or, "How can these things be that seem so strange?"
Controlling the disorder, and the din,
And there was music in the dissonance
Of workmen's voices and activity
Betokening hope, and promise, and success.
So varied were the men, varied their tools,
Varied their methods and their lesser aims,
Yet all pressed on toward one common end,
The fair ideal of the architect,
Who, with authority of untold wealth,
Watched, counselled, ordered, and directed all
According to a plan he knew full well,
And he had well conceived. We never saw
That master-builder, seldom did the men,
And little could they guess his full intent;
Yet slowly, surely it was evident
That strength and beauty grew, and we believed
That a fair building should ere long stand forth
In grand completeness.
In grand completeness.Then there came a day
When bit from bit the scaffolding was torn
And thrown upon the ground, then cleared away.
Then could we tell of perfecting within
And rare embellishment and furnishing,
Till we beheld the hall and all around
In perfect order, the last vestige gone
Of tumult and confusion; and 1t stood
Fit habitation for its noble lord,
The rendezvous of many a worthy guest,
The admiration of the country round.>*
And surely, surely rises for our Lord
A living habitation; He shall bring
To full perfection all His purposes
Inspired by such divine beneficence
As yet we dimly know, though He has told.
Himself the Master-Builder, great and wise,
Appoints, adapts, directs, and furthers all
With infinite resources, though so oft
We marvel at His will, and say, "How long?"
Or, "How can these things be that seem so strange?"
Temples have been demolished, customs changed,
And types have passed away; and even now
So much, that we deem needful and divine,
And that we fain would guard as beautiful
Is touched by spoilers, and essential things
Are nigh to vanishing. Yet know we well,
Within the visible outworks, that appear
Without or form or comeliness, it grows,—
That holy temple for the Master's praise,—
Though not with observation. It may be
Oft amid noisy clamorous scenes where we
Cannot discern the unity of aim,
And what we see is rugged shapelessness,
And much must surely be ere long destroyed.
Through toil and pain it grows, hid from the gaze
Of those without, and strange to those within;
But yet it grows, it grows, and it shall grow,
Until ere long the last touch shall be put.
And often cheerily the builders greet,
And oft are they heard singing, for they see
Sure progress through apparent hindrances,
And know that nought shall fail. And ours may be
Some happy, e'en if humble, part to haste
The glad fulfilment of our Lord's designs,
For that the Master hath so bidden us.
And types have passed away; and even now
So much, that we deem needful and divine,
And that we fain would guard as beautiful
Is touched by spoilers, and essential things
Are nigh to vanishing. Yet know we well,
Within the visible outworks, that appear
Without or form or comeliness, it grows,—
That holy temple for the Master's praise,—
Though not with observation. It may be
Oft amid noisy clamorous scenes where we
Cannot discern the unity of aim,
And what we see is rugged shapelessness,
And much must surely be ere long destroyed.
Through toil and pain it grows, hid from the gaze
Of those without, and strange to those within;
But yet it grows, it grows, and it shall grow,
Until ere long the last touch shall be put.
And often cheerily the builders greet,
And oft are they heard singing, for they see
Sure progress through apparent hindrances,
And know that nought shall fail. And ours may be
Some happy, e'en if humble, part to haste
The glad fulfilment of our Lord's designs,
For that the Master hath so bidden us.
Then, though the tottering systems that enshrine,
And foster, and yet hide that wondrous growth
Fall short of satisfaction, though they oft
Seem far from beautiful, and shake and shift,
And some are falling even now; and though
Scoffers are asking oft, and all in vain,
For explanation, shall we be dismayed?
Or need we fear? Shall we take care to prop
That which we need no more? Or, shall we stay
The real building that we may adorn
That which is destined soon to pass away!
Nay, to the work! The scaffolding but serves
A worthy purpose for a little while;
Then may it be discarded, cast aside
As needed nevermore. What matters it?
The last removal shall reveal the things
For which we look with untold eagerness,—
Things which through ages of unmeasured bliss
Cannot be shaken, and they shall remain.
And foster, and yet hide that wondrous growth
Fall short of satisfaction, though they oft
Seem far from beautiful, and shake and shift,
And some are falling even now; and though
Scoffers are asking oft, and all in vain,
For explanation, shall we be dismayed?
Or need we fear? Shall we take care to prop
That which we need no more? Or, shall we stay
The real building that we may adorn
That which is destined soon to pass away!
Nay, to the work! The scaffolding but serves
A worthy purpose for a little while;
Then may it be discarded, cast aside
As needed nevermore. What matters it?
The last removal shall reveal the things
For which we look with untold eagerness,—
Things which through ages of unmeasured bliss
Cannot be shaken, and they shall remain.
May we not then, with calm, implicit trust
In Him, who hath all blessedness devised,
Lift up our heads when earth and heaven shall shake,
And stars shall fall, and desolations come,
Assured (because the Master hath Himself so said)
That, when these things begin to come %o pass,
The consummation of our highest hopes
Is surely drawing nigh?
Is surely drawing nigh?Our Lord shall come
Into His temple to be glorified
In all His saints, to be admired in those
Who have believed, and are made one in Him.
Yes, we shall know Him living in His own,
His everlasting glory manifest.
In Him, who hath all blessedness devised,
Lift up our heads when earth and heaven shall shake,
And stars shall fall, and desolations come,
Assured (because the Master hath Himself so said)
That, when these things begin to come %o pass,
The consummation of our highest hopes
Is surely drawing nigh?
Is surely drawing nigh?Our Lord shall come
Into His temple to be glorified
In all His saints, to be admired in those
Who have believed, and are made one in Him.
Yes, we shall know Him living in His own,
His everlasting glory manifest.