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Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 3

Lissea Vara

page 21

This poem is of course partly of the causal plane, or astral, through which much true inspiration comes from spiritual levels, via the subconscious, during sleep, and in waking hours, the production of such a work being almost automatic. So far as any 'thinking it out' is concerned, a great part of my work is produced in this way. The verses partly explain themselves, and embody the wakening of the maiden or woman consciousness in man, wakened in a sense by his higher self, 'the fairy prince,' and by and in which he contacts his divine muse, the 'Sleeping Princess' whose permanent inspiration gives him 'Genius,' the inspirative spiritual glory always being female for a man—the Christian would say the Holy Spirit quite correctly. The idea is found in all great religions and legends based on truth, such as the ancient Semitic story of the Goddess Syndara and Elias, or Syndaraelia and Jesrac, whence springs our childrens' fairy tale of Cindarella and the Prince; the glass slippers which only she can wear, symbolising the clearness of new and inspired spiritual sight, and the marriage of Princess to Prince, of intuititive love to masculine intelligence, of female to male spirit. The Sleeping Beauty is another 'fairy tale' from ancient sources illustrating this divine theme. Or we may put it this way: man's becoming one with his higher spiritual self, 'a Prince,' contacts Syndaraelia, the Princess,' spiritual, personal and universal, (also present in his wife or true love on earth), and is evermore inspired by Her, as it were awake in his heart and mind. For without Her, as without woman, we men can achieve nothing, while with Her we can achieve to the highest spiritual genius in Music, Poetry, Literature, Art, Invention, or Science, as our line may be, or in all of these, which, with universal and solar-planetary, or Galactic knowledge, constitute the Theo-Thea unal science of Cosmology wherein one is a qualified student and teacher of Eternity and the Eternal, and a speaker and writer of the supreme and sublime—Love's all—as prophets and poets are, and as all men one day may become, by women and women alone, here and on high.

Reincarnation is touched on once in these verses, a fact for many people besides theosophists.

They conclude with a picture of the disciple of wisdom, adept in knowledge and in expression of knowledge, giving all praise to eternal and divine 'Woman,' the 'hilarious' one, and holiest we know in heaven and earth, muse and cause of all good things in man.

Lissea Vara and the Fair Prince

"Sweet Lissea, give me Thy heart and hand,"
Implored the tall, fair prince of fairyland,
"For I have loved Thee, Lissie, from a child."
She listened to her lover strong and mild,
Then suddenly and exquisitely smiled—
Into this world was born a fairy child,
Who doth not think as other people do,
Yet is ostensibly the same as you
And other are, humans of Hulugu,
Or followers of Him, men call Yesu,
Also a beautiful, mild mannered Prince,
Folk sometimes so forget; 'tis so long since:
page 22 Yet in my well-remembered fairyland
Reality of Heaven walks hand in hand
With oft sung unreality of earth;
Who can compare that worth with this unworth,
Save one who cometh of the fairy birth?
Knowing how Lissie kisses in the dark,
Mother beloved ere Rava made His mark
In space, and round that Plumb Peg wove a 'world,'
A Sun and System, strung, suitably pearled,
For Her Perfection's Necklace, ever whirled
About the centre spin of Pthan-Amt-Ar,
A fourth-dimensional Sun and unseen Star,
Fairies know well, for so Mine 'Ain folk' are,
Not fools unknowing, but wise folks knowing well
The strange, sweet things, which few but poets tell,
These having drunk from that deep, moonlit well
Called 'Midnight Wisdom,' green as Amarel,
And blue as Sapphire with Devotion's Truth,
From whence those drinking, fearless, find full youth,
Through clay grows old and senile; Ne'er again
To look on life as do their fellow Men,
But rather as do folk from fairyland.
Little fair Lady, laughing on my hand,
Putting firm pressure on my willing pen,
Thou art sweet muse to all Thy gentlemen;
Thou, having come dost often come again,
Beautiful as a Rainbow, or a Star
Seen through pearl mist, who Pierre Chatelar,
Who died for Mary, knew equally well,
—We, who remember, why, then, should we tell
The supra-lovely, extra-secret things?
Which Triple Queens have told to Fourfold Kings,
While round Them flit the rainbow fairy wings
Of little 'Philistines' of Phyllis fair—
There is more round us in this common air
Than some fools wot of—Phyllissea fair,
Queen, poets' Partner, doth Thy poet dare
To dedicate to Thee these words, this air,
These denser lines and verse, unworthy Thee;
To publishing these same thus openly
In world unwaked of doubly doubting men?
My little Deva of Devalachen,
I do so dare! Fenella, o'er this fen
Shine Thy soft Light, no dancing 'Wullie Whusp.'
Lo, the Pole Star Shines, balanced on bicusp
Of 'Snow White's' very ancient arctic Bear;
My Love's a Queen! Laughter is everywhere!
O, Love, O Star of Love, truly I dare.
Pierrette of stars, Thy Pierrot, clad in yellow,
Earth's motley, Columbine—
Thy Clown, Thine, 'Punchinello.'