THE GENIE OF OLD * 



BY JAMES BURKE. 



WHEN THE AGES diverged from Eternity's stream, 

 And rolled forth at his feet near the margin sublime, 



Mortal Man was subdued by a prescient dream 

 As he gazed at events through the vistas of Time. 



There he saw each event disappear as it sped, 

 Gathered in by a Spirit which stood by the way, 



Near the gates of a fane consecrate to the dead, 



And illumined by the soft mellow light of their day. 



Near at hand, rugged rocks broke the current's descent 

 Till in wide-spreading fury, it seethed and hissed; 



Clouds of vapor with sunshine prismatic were blent, 

 Till they arched the black pool in a rainbow of mist. 



And this turmoil of vision went on to the end, 



Save at intervals bright where in reaches of Peace, 



The atonement of Love caused rebellion to bend, 

 And commanded the uproar of passsion to cease. 



This chiara-oscura meant Freedom of Will, 



Breaking off from the law that 'tis wrong to be proud ; 



' Twas the first page of story, concocting to kill, 

 And the Genius of Kecord emerged from the cloud. 



As a seed from the garden of Heaven he came, 



Where the acts of the Lord are the flowers of the field ; 



But the spirits of darkness, afraid of his name, 

 Had resolved on his fall by the powers they wield. 



So they siezed, ere it rooted, the genitive thing 

 And enclosed in a bottle the luminous grain, 



Then they sealed up the flask with a magical ring, 

 And consigned it sunk low to the depths of the Main. 



*A well known ancient fable pressed into service, 



