
A cobbler-narrator declares that no wild bird or beast has trodden the lonely mountain way he has climbed, and that even the tireless chymist, laboring nightly over mercury, salt, and sulphur in the Athanor to complete the Philosophic Work, cannot find what he seeks. The narrator, a poor, half-literate groundling burdened daily with trade and household cares, has nonetheless walked the mountains and found "the May" — a spring-time of glancing sunshine, glowing flowers, singing birds, and leaf-scented showers. Having seen God at play among the dews and lilies of this Eternal May, he no longer fears the Turba. He proclaims that he has found the ever-fadeless garden and learned the secrets and signs of the whole sky, working the Magnum Opus of holy Alchemy. He claims mastery of the salt Impress of Saturn, Luna's Form, Mercury's sharp Flagrat, Mars' ruddy storm, the young child Venus, and Jupiter's pure might, saying he haunts the sacred Houses and reads the dooms of night. The magical Triangles have revealed to him their light and corporiety, their bitterness and gold; he has seen God in the garden and on the Tree, dying to bring Adam back into Liberty. For this he is mocked: men call him crazy, and the pastor accuses him of overturning the doctrines taught by Martin Luther, burning his books with curses and warning good Christians to shun him as they would flee hell. The astrologers and learned chymists jeer, asking what this child can teach them of their Alchemy. He has suffered drought and hunger, met lions in his way, and been wounded in the houses of friends — yet still he has found the May. He closes by calling on "thou Magus" to hearken, to make his love sure, to give worship to the Artist and keep his pattern pure, and to labor in the lubet. The narrator prays that this Magus become a Champion and likewise find the May at last, foretelling that the two magical Triangles shall at last be made one, that Adam shall return to Paradise, and the Mighty Work be done — when the meek, holy servants shall see their God at play, and he urges the great Master to hasten the time when all men find the May.
By Sheila Kaye-Smith · Genre: Poetry, Spiritual Poetry, Mystical Literature · 831 words
The wild fowl hath not seen it, / No vulture flown so high, / The lion's whelp hath not trodden, / Nor the fierce lion passed by, / The crags and the abysses / Of that most lonely way, / Which windeth in the mountains, / And leadeth to the May.
The chymist labours nightly, / No travail will he shirk, / If he can hope to finish / The Philosophic Work. / Mercury, salt, and sulphur, / In Athanor are they, / But through their transmutation / He cannot find the May.
mysticism · spirituality · historical fiction · philosophical fiction · religious themes · German setting · biography · 17th century · spiritual awakening · theological · contemplative · intellectual
The Song of Jacob Boehme is listed on Textopian as a poem by Sheila Kaye-Smith, dated Date unknown.
This source record anchors work identity, reading entry points, and catalog context for checking claims about the work.