Frederick Philip Grove
THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT SURVIVAL
(Folder Miscelaneous Poems no. 11 & Notebook no. 29)

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e-Edition by Gaby Divay
© August 2007

University of Manitoba Libraries	FPG & FrL Collections	University of Manitoba Archives

THE LEGEND OF THE GREAT SURVIVA [1] by Frederick Philip Grove I. On some dead star there lived an anxious race Endowed with glimpses of eternity[2] Which they, by crude endeavours, sought to grace So as to grasp; what was reality. About them, there lived older races, blind To their deep delvings, but like them endowed With something of the sembling of the mind; These cunningly they watched, though awed and cowed. But by and by, as they had much increast And long endured a shifting, furtive life Subsisting on the fruits of west and east, Weak as they were, they faced at last the strife For dominance on their star and soon enslaved Half of the other races for their ends; Half they drove back, much though they fought and raved, Till were divided enemies and friends. Thus, ever fighting, did they slowly spread To the very limits of their sea-girt land. Most other races were in harness led; On barren heights last foes made a last stand. Then did they boldly sail across the sea On floating fragments made into cockle-shells Cut from the hollowed trunks of some tall tree: Them drove the impulse that all doubt dispels. They dipped around the shoulders of the world And reached isle after isle and pitched their tents; And many drowned; a few, by tempests hurled, At last found what they sought, new continents. And there, to their bewildering surprise, They found new races which, much like their own, Had conquered nature under clearer skies And claimed the land in which they had been thrown. This gave new spring to their inventive trend; For they at once resolved that their domain Must know no limit. Foes must break or bend: And foes were all who did not bear their chain. So they, grim purpose in their resolute miens, Set straight to work and forged far-reaching plans And fashioned huge and sinister machines To kill, not individuals, but whole clans. And then, across the continent, they spilled A flood of warriors irresistible. In slaughter had they ever been well skilled: Soon not a foe remained the tale to tell. And on they went -- they were a restless crew -- And sailed each sea and searched each continent And found at last that there was nothing new And faced themselves in sheer bewilderment. For yet awhile they raced about their star In new machines, designed to travel fast On sea and land, in motor-boat and car; But even that pleasure palled and could not last.[3] Then they settled and greatly multiplied And soon filled every plain and every dale But felt ere long like prisoners that are tied And that, not death, but their own birth bewail. For more than ever were they now disturbed By bleak misgivings of their futility Of all their labours; their flight of soul was curbed By a deep sense of life's iniquity. On their own star they had accomplished all That by the body's effort could be done. That star they ruled, but knew its path a fall Of spiral loops into their central sun Where, though to rival with the highest crag They piled their buildings roofed with satiny slate, They knew, their whole world would, like smelter's slag, Float for awhile and then evaporate. Such knowledge had they casually evoked In their researches for the means of fight: Their practice had with theory been yoked; And more acute had ever grown their sight For the minutest changes in their world; And now, since nought remained to be achieved On that dead star which had one time been hurled From out of a fiery womb, they felt aggrieved. Great though their knowledge, variously compiled, Of how things happened, codified as laws And for quick reference carefully filed -- Yet of the mystery that most puzzling was: The mystery they were themselves, they found They knew no more than a few fairy tales Which so-called seers, eager to compound A consolation for the soul that ails Out of desires and longings and cold fears Had forged and fed to them as sacred truth. These, while they had fought with swords & wielded spears, They had accepted in their race's youth. But could not do so now. Thus rose a cry For one to guide and to enlighten them. *** II. And lo, it seemed that from the opened sky Down came a messenger. They kissed the hem Of his cloud-trailing garments, caught his knees And prayed that he should be their king and god And kill despair and soothe anxieties. He walked among them with his feet unshod, And eating from the fruits of ripened fields. He smiled and told them that their lives were brief And like a day that joy and gladness yields For but awhile; the rest was care and grief Unless they were prepared to accept their lot And not to think and strive and overreach Their powers; fastened were they to one spot And to one hour. Thus did he ever teach And pointed to the lilies in the grain And to the birds that haunt the pleasant air Who lived and died and did not think it vain But to exist and to be bright and fair; Nor did they plan and dream the coming day, Nor miss what is, indulging in the whim Of what might be. Of others did he say, "This night his soul will be required of him." But all he taught fell but on barren ground; For it was not at all what they had thought. Too long had they been rocked in toil and moil To admit that all their strivings came to nought. He, to convert them, lived himself a life Of decent, exemplary poverty; He went without a home and wed no wife And ever kept repeating, "Follow me!" Till they, tired of his preaching, at a city's gate Assembled, caught him, and, when at a loss What to do next, inflamed by stirred-up hate, Raised him on high; and nailed him to a cross. Where he did die.                                   *** III.                             Yet some that loved him wept And kept alive his sayings, adding much That he had never said, yes, were adept At twisting words so as hard hearts to touch With meanings that seemed new though they were old; And all, in listening, were overjoyed: They had been right! Thus is it ever: Gold Is all too fine unless with tin alloyed. And time went by; for yet a few more years Remained deluded the now ancient race By that old tale which ever reappears In new disguise of varied time and place, The story of a life not of their star For which each ending life had never been But a brief prelude mirroring from far Uranian bliss purged of all things terrene. Till one old man who had heard the master's voice And loved him drew the cloaking veil aside And showed that there was but a single choice, Between the truth and falsehood.                                                      God had died, Thus did he say. Once, by kind impulse stirred,[4] he had created them and all their star; He had seen them thrive and seen how they incurred The penalty of stopping at the bar Of their own great and too complete success Within the limits of the gift he gave. "Had that gift somewhat greater been or less, "You would not know or would not mind the grave. "But when his heaven with your groans did shake, "He thought how little effort he had spent " On his creation and resolved to make "Himself a trial of his experiment; "And he descended. What he lived of life, "He but submitted to as a brief test, "Without possessions, offspring, house, or wife, "And then grimly decided death was best." "He did not die!" they cried. 'For he was killed!' "And do you think," said he, by dense crowds hemmed, "You could have killed him had he not so willed? "No! He was God and died! Life stands condemned! "Would he who wiser was than any of you "Have said, with death before him, "Follow me!" "Would he have cried to you, 'Be born anew!' "Unless he had preferred not thus to be?" Henceforth the old man went about to preach And spread the gospel till, from shore to shore, He caught their ears; for he knew how to reach That sense in them which none stirred before: The sense that life, as lived by them, was wrong; And that that reason of which they had been proud Was nought but mockery. Everywhere a throng Of listeners followed him, a frantic crowd. And as his words took root, all merriment Came to an end on that revolving star. Communities dissolved; no thought was spent But on the meaning of the avatar.[5] The bond that men and women bound was cleft: They lived in deserts and as celibates, In contemplation of what life was left As to be borne, a burden, without mates. And when one died, they feasted, grave and grey, Because life was ended, and he merged Once more in nothingness, his body clay For which it had, at God's commandment, surged. *** IIII. Thus in a generation that great race Was so reduced in number that but a few, And they the very young, lived in the face Of their great star. Of these not many knew What was the cause of their bewilderment. They looked about and saw their great sun rise Exultantly within the firmament; They saw their moons traverse their darkened skies; Saw rivers leaping from their mountain cliffs, The blue sea curl and fawn upon its shore; And shortly ventured out in tiny skiffs Once more their wood-girt lake-lands to explore; And marvelled at their world, wide and complex, Beyond their grasp, and wondrous to behold. And soon within them stirred the pulse of sex: Maids seemed like goddesses, for none were old; And youths seemed gods of a diviner cast Than they, the maidens -- love a miracle Such as could not have been within the past, Or all the world had yielded to its spell.                                   *** V. Meanwhile of older races there came forth From mountain heights and swamps and barren lands, From east and west and south and frozen north, The remnants, once fought back, of spotted bands: Of musk and deer, ape, and camelopard, Of tiger, lion, puma, bear, jaguar. None was there now their progress to retard; And soon anew they had spread wide and far. And most of the inferior forms of life That had at one time slyly been enslaved Reverted soon to type; the arts of strife hoof and claw relearned, they soon were saved. Thus, for a spell, the star was paradise Once more as it had been in some past. The race of conquerrors grew passing wise, Bestirred itself and managed to outlast The great and serious crisis that had come By dint of using what they had of brains, Not to bewail that they were weak and numb, But for their enemies to forge new chains.                                *** VI. Such, up to two, three thousand years ago, Had been their fate and history in brief. God had looked on and watched; and, glad to know That active fight to tedium gave relief, Improved the order of their commonwealth By a slight change; for ever was his aim To keep life lived, so that, when he by stealth Looked in upon, he found it still the same: A spectacle for gods: with birth and death In pain and suffering both man and beast; These counterpoised by pride of flesh and breath Which foamed and bubbled as the brook with yeast; And above all the strivings of the mind, So cunningly devised that it at once Made a seer and a being blind, A being wise that knows himself a dunce: It urges him to spend himself in search For the deep essence and the truth exact: His love he crystallises in a church; His science finds, not truth, but barren fact. Facts are the limits that from within define How far his giant ignorance extends; Behind the facts, there runs the uncrossed line Dividing them from never-thought-out ends. Science remains the glory of all youth;[6] Wisdom the burden of all wistful age. Age winks and shrugs and questions, "What is truth?" And sadly looks as birds look from a cage. *** VII. The change He wrought was but a trifling one. He made youth wiser than drooping old age; Made them despise whatever age had done And with contempt look on their pilgrimage. Now is there war between the young and old, And different idols love they, different gods: Long will the race that star possess and hold, For chaos thrives where blinding passion prods. Notebook 29 & Miscellaneous Poems 11