Fragments from a poem by Mr. de Porry, from Marseille
Open to my claims, oh! Veils of the Sanctuary!
May the bad tremble, the good shine under the light of the chandelier!
Move my chest before the sacred clarity
In a bright beam spear heading verity!
And you, oh! Thinkers of the contemporary fights,
You promise us light and give us night,
Which in false dreams, and frivolous illusions,
You incessantly rock the human afflictions,
Assembly of the wise, of trembling pride,
A woman’s voice will confuse your drive!
The God you wish to vanish from creation,
To which helplessly you intend an explanation,
Trying vain systems to figure its essence,
Irrespectively revealing to your conscience;
And the one given to honest thinking,
While in a loud voice denying Him, will in secret be proclaiming!
Everything is born, grows and changes at His preference;
He is the supreme basis and the Eternal Existence;
It all rests in Him: material and spiritual; Remove His breath – that is the death sidereal!
One day the atheist said: Oh! God is a fantasy;
Daughter of chance, life is the wait only;
The world which receives the being so early,
Is solely governed by necessity;
If death extinguishes our lively feelings,
The abyss of nothing claims the beings;
Immutable nature in its course eternal,
It collects our remains in its heart, maternal.
Let us enjoy the moments given by fate;
May our illuminated heads, roses coronate!
There is only one God: pleasure in our insanities,
Let us dare the wrath of uncertain destinies!
But as soon as your conscience, internal nemesis,
Criticizes you, oh! Mad one, the intoxicating guiltiness,
he poor repelled by your gesture, inhumane,
The crime staining your hands, insane,
It will be from the dark seal of the blind matter
That in your heart sparks the light which disowner
Your crimes before your anxious sight,
Turning you hateful, how terrible, to your own plight.
Then, from the Sovereign who your audacity still
Wants to deny, you will endless feel
The oppression, harassment, and despite your effort,
Revealing in you, through the screams of remorse!
Avoiding the humans, full of inquietudes,
In the forest you seek the dark solitude;
You think, through the savage mazes that you follow,
To escape from that God, always your shadow!
The tiger sleeps over the prey, in pieces;
The bloody man wakes in the scathing darkness;
Scared looks, in shiny terror
His body trembles under a cold sweat cover; A dry sinister rumor harms the hearing;
Ferocious spectra surrounds, groaning.
His voice confessing, terrible flawed,
Exclaims in horror: Thank you God!
Remorse, the eternal executioner of conscience,
Revealing in God our immortal essence;
It frequently turns a criminal
Through regret, in glorious sacrificial;
Separating humans from brute creatures,
Remorse is the flame that the soul matures;
Through its spur the being regenerated
In the scale of good becomes more elevated.
Yes, truth shines and from the arrogant nonbeliever
The audacity is repelled by its splendor.
Then pantheism comes, trying to produce
From a silly argument a stunning juice.
“Oh mortals, fascinated by a laughable dream,
Where are you going to find the invisible Grand-Being?
There, before your eyes, the Grand-Whole;
Its essence in everything, it summarizes the world;
God shines in the Sun, greens the verdure,
Roars of the volcano, of the storm thunder,
Sprouts in the gardens, murmurs in the wind strong,
Kindly whisper through the birds’ songs,
In thin air diaphanous fabrics tinting,
It is Him that moves us, our organs keeping
Thinking through us, and the most diverse
Beings are Him; at last, that is God: the universe!”
Oh! God manifest Himself so contrary!
He is lamb and wolf, dove and serpent! So vary
He becomes, turn by turn, rock, plant, and animal;
His nature bonds and melts good and evil;
He goes through the whole scale, from brute to archangel, Is light and mud, antithetical arrange and eternal!
He is brave and coward, little and vast,
Truthful and false, immortal and past!
At the same time victim and oppressor, tyrannize;
Cultivating virtue rolls over crime;
La Mettrie and Plato in one single epithelium,
Socrates and Melito, Nero and Marco Aurelius,
A servant of glory and ignominies!
The forming force is also the fulminea!
Against its own essence sharpens the eternal blades,
Turn to paradise and casts in hades,
Invokes the nothingness and to its own injury,
Against its own essence, raises the voice in fury!
Oh! A thousand times no, such dogma, monstrous,
It could never be born from such a heart, so virtuous.
Immerse in remorse, where crime expiates,
The daring author that madness indoctrinates,
At the heart of pleasure, he felt scared
Of the image of God who wanted denied;
And to send Him away, blasphemy of profanes!
He bonded Him to this world and to his vein.
At least the atheist squeezed in the plight,
Daring to deny God, does not degrade His Might!
God that this human race incessantly reaches out for,
God, that although unknown we have to adore,
You are the beginning and the end to all:
However, to reach you, what is the path after all?
It will not be through Science, ephemeral mirage
That fascinates our minds, with its brilliant image
Always frustrating the feeble aspiration,
Vanishing through the hands, mistaken comprehension.
Wise men, you collect debris over debris,
And your vain systems, like the thunders, flee!
That one God that nobody can see before passing away,
Whose essence contains an incredible sway,
But who loves His children gently,
And cannot be understood but through unity!
Ah, to unite to Him, find Him again one day,
The soul needs to fly, as love would pray.
To the winds, let us throw pride and disbelief;
God will prepare the paths of belief.
His infinite love has never sent away
A soul who has sincerely come his way,
Leaving behind wealth and liking,
Aspiring to become one with His pure Being.
But God, who loves the humble, the decent,
Who expels from His heart the proud tyrant,
Hiding from the wise, giving away to the prudent,
He does not share like the lover, inclement.
And to please Him one needs to uphold
A firm disaffection against the illusions of the world.
Fortunate the children who in their loneliness
Give themselves to the good, to the beautiful, to the truthfulness.
Happy the fair man, entirely tight
To the triple flash of the first light!
In the middle of the affliction, in their turbulent flow,
In the closed circle of this world, low,
Like the oasis flower of the deserted,
The treasure of faith to His soul is uncovered;
And God, occult, invades the minds,
Giving a strange happiness to humankind.
A prudent man then accepts his destiny,
And from the unbreakable calm, he keeps Divinity.
When the starry night surrounds him
He sleeps in peace, feeding the dreams
That fulfills his heart, a heavenly
Sample of the supreme balmy.
Does your soul, thirsty of truth,
Want to dive from the whole into the depth?
Like a painter, it starts from the mind
The masterpiece that the brush glides,
The Eternal takes everything from nature,
Not confusing Himself with His creature,
The receiving intelligence, light from above,
Is free to fail or elevate to God.
The whole from His mind and word
Each creation comes from Him... and works,
In a circle bounded by immutable decrees,
The chosen destinies, the aims to be.
Like the artist, God thinks before creation,
Like him, what is produced may face termination.
Yes, inextinguishable source of beings, diverse,
And of the globes sown in the immense universe,
God, in His eternal life and unstoppable Might,
Transmit to His creation the spark of light.
Made by the artist, the book and the painting,
Idle works, imperfect remaining,
But the word cast by the Almighty
Points out, achieving its own actuality.
Incessantly transforming, never perishable,
It projects from the metal to the spirit, invisible.
The creating Verb sleeps in the plant,
In the animal it dreams, in man it stands;
It steps up and down and up again,
Shining in creation, glittering the whole plan,
On the wavy ether it forms the immense chain,
Starting from the rock, the archangel attains.
Abiding by the laws of individual organizations
Each germen attracts or repels the Author of creation,
Whether to the good or to the evil thrown.
The intelligent being climbs or falls on its own.
Well, if man in the atmosphere of evil
Is taken by crime to the animal level,
The pure man an angel becomes, and that angel,
Climbing step by step may turn into an archangel.
Raised to his throne, the archangel, now divinity,
Will preserve his personality
Or even melt with the Omnipotence
That can assimilate such a pure essence.
Thus, more than one archangel in celestial magnificence
Has united with God through love, pure excellence.
But others, envy of the Sovereign glory,
Fascinated by pride, father of human fury,
Wished to question God’s enterprises,
Diving into the night of His devises;
Instead of reducing them to dust with his Might,
That God just burned them with the shine of his light.
Then, transformed, errant in the universe,
Always frightened by devouring remorse,
Those lost angels by their gesture of incredulity
Dare no longer show up at the doors of the heavenly.
And sharpening the bestial spurs, in embarrassment,
Throw the rebel soul into the infernal punishments,
While the pure man, finished ordeals,
Elevate to paradise, through the trials.
All those multiple worlds in the infinitude
Harming your eyes in their beatitude.
May the universal surge roll in space
Of worlds and beings, altogether in a wave.
Those world united, luminous focus,
Are celestial vessels, fabulous
Ships wandering in space, far distant residences,
Courts of light of graduated intelligences.
There are horrible worlds and happy globes,
In the latter ones reign sovereign judges,
Three Divine principles: honor, love and justice,
Cementing the social fabric, with no greed.
Eternally loved by its inhabitants,
Constitute the guarantee of venture, constant.
Other turning worlds, insolent vertigoes,
Followed what the sinful angels impose.
Those worlds, authors of their own disgrace,
Replaced God’s spotless laws by their own trace.
And in their soil by a mad storm swept,
The impure crowd of creatures regret.
Our novice globe, in its first steps,
Until now fluctuates between those two paths.
Affront the moral and nature itself,
When a world of crime goes beyond the belt;
When the peoples dive into thundering pleasures,
Closing their ears to the voice of the foretellers;
When the divine verb, in its lightest tone,
Is muted in this world blind and lone,
Then, from the omnipotent the boiling wrath
Falls onto the guilty one, leads to his death.
Avenger archangel, with powerful wings,
Hit the impious ground... oceans whimpering,
Huge growing waves surpassing the faces,
Devastating the soil, waters precipitate;
Roar and explode in flames rotund volcanoes,
In space dispersing the world’s residues.
The Sovereign Being, whose revenge explodes, Breaking the impure globe that no longer believes.
Our petty Earth is a region of trials
Where the just suffers for his renewal;
By purifying his heart, tears
Prepare his way to a better sphere.
Thus, the numb dream not in vain
Takes us is in a trip of inebriating dream.
In a flash like move, we are led
To a shiny star, in light interweaved,
Where we believe errant in vast plains,
Inhabited by wise men;
We see that globe illuminated by stars,
White, blue and red, whose auroras
Cross-space with their varied shades,
Painting the fields with their grades.
If you keep in this word a virtuous
Heart you will go to that globe, sumptuous,
Where there is joy and peace,
Where wisdom lives and eternal happiness releases.
Yes, your soul sees those radiant states,
Which heavens favors, decorating feasts,
Where the creature depurates and gradually elevates,
While wickedness recedes in its mad lanes,
From its evil kingdom turning around its jewels,
From circle to circle it falls among the unfaithful.
Mirror reflecting the image of the universe,
Our soul foresees these fates, diverse.
Soul, this energy that drives the senses,
That promptly obeys its minimum wishes,
Like a vase of clay containing a flame
Whose heat the fragile prison annihilates -
The soul that keeps the memory of the past ways
And sometimes may read the future, far away Is not a sudden spark of fire, the vital.
You, yourself, you understand that the soul is immortal.
In the sidereal regions, in whole eternity
Keeping the constancy and its own identity,
No, the soul does not die, only transports,
And from shelter to shelter it always exhorts.
From the exterior world secluded, our soul
May conquer a superior know,
And intoxicated by the dream, magnetic,
May possess another vision, and the gift prophetic.
Instantly freed from the terrestrial harnesses,
Easily cover the celestial vastness.
It is agile; from a sudden leap to the firmament climbs,
Sees through the bodies and reads the minds.