Mary and Her Admirers

Speaking In Tongues
Guided by Voices

Brian Spalding

Mary and Her Admirers

(An Imitation of Pushkin's ŤGavriiliadať)

Copyright Š Brian Spalding, 2001

Nabokov's lepidoptery,

The painter Ingres' violin,

King George the Fifth's philately,

Gladstone's keen interest in sin

(And ladies needful of reform),

Show odd pursuits are quite the norm

For men whom, in their wonted sphere,

None would suspect of being queer.

Old Dodgson, better known as Carroll,

Wrote hushed-up mathematics works;

One MP on the Common lurks

At night dressed only in a barrel;

And my no-less-quaint quirkiness is ...

Saving souls of Hebrewesses;

Especially, sweet girl, those who

Are young and beautiful ... and near,

In short, those who are just like you.

May I save yours tonight, my dear?

Imagine ... I'm an angel winging

Towards you, praising, harping, singing,

Of Father, Son and Holy Ghost,

The Trinity, backed by a host

Of Seraphim, impressive friends.

Must you not then think well of me,

And so, before our meeting ends,

Admit closer propinquity?

The Holy G. (think it not strange)

Delights such matters to arrange.

Sixteen years old, modest, demure,

Dark-browed; beneath her linen dress

Twin girlish mounds of which th'allure

She's innocent unconsciousness;

Her future femininity

Obscured by veiled virginity;

Soft lips, and perfect pearly rows

Of teeth which her sweet smiling shows...

These are my present poem's theme.

But whence, young lady, springs a flush

To your cheeks? Nay, you need not blush;

For, though it otherwise might seem,

Maria is the female Jew

Of whom I'm speaking now, not you.

Far from Jerusalem, that city

Of (for those times) emancipation,

Bright lights, and parvenues sans pity

For innocents, she dwelt. Temptation

Assailed her not. Her maiden beauty

Led her to deviate from duty

Not one iota (Yes, that's Greek;

But Aramaic I don't speak).

In equal humble innocence,

Her husband, wrinkled, grey-haired, old,

His incandescence long grown cold,

Was more concerned with counting pence

Earned by his joinery than by

Joining in joy with her. But why

Labour the point? The man was good

With spirit-level, saw and plane.

The customers well understood

His simpleness and, in the main,

Were satisfied. He too; but she?

Not quite. Modern psychology

Would find it easy to excuse

Any dissent from her; but news

Of such knowledge had not yet reached

The countryside in which her flower

Un-watered, unadmired, must cower,

Until ... some barrier is breached.

Too bad she's tended by a man

So laggard with his wat'ring can!

Thank God then that Almighty God,

More Jupiter than Jahveh, looked

From Heaven down. There's nothing odd

About an artist who gets hooked;

And, once in love with his creation,

Succumbs to self-congratulation.

(In my small way I also know it:

(Each poem's perfect... to its poet!)

All-wise, He chose this untilled field

To bless in such a way as never

(The Greeks would say: Well, hardly ever!)

To humankind He had revealed.

'Tis night, the hillside-dappling sheep,

Like sweet Maria, are asleep.

She sleeps: she dreams; and what a dream!

For her, the heavens open wide.

T'wards her the gifts of glory stream,

While myriad angels swoop and glide.

Archangels ogle; seraphim

Hosannas shout, while cherubim

Cover their ears with trembling wings,

With such volume the massed choir sings.

Back-lighted by a gilt-edged cloud,

With no propulsion but its own,

Approaches now Th' Eternal Throne.

Sweeping aside the fawning crowd

Of angels with His shining sword,

He comes, Her Master, Husband, Lord,

And speaks (Maria scarce believes

(Her ears!): "Thou, My most beautiful

Creation; distant fruit of Eve's

And Adam's apple-orchard; full

Possessor, in my Chosen Race,

Of finest figure, fairest face,

Of Beauty's elements the sum:

Be ready: soon Thy Groom will come.

Think not the Grecian gods are dead:

As much Zeus as He am I,

Who laid down laws in Sinai.

When I my Ten Commandments said,

They surely were not meant for Me;

Or, while I so decide, for Thee,

"Who, happiest hope of Israel,

Shall share with Me immortal powers

And lovers' mortal bliss as well.

Thine be the glory, for these hours.

Thee, bondmaid, serf, my slave most lowly...

I'll raise, embrace, caress, in holy

Love; and, sealing thus your fate,

Your womb My Seed shall impregnate."

That said, a golden cloud again

Obscures His Throne; a second swarm,

Of harpists in dress uniform,

Strikes up the Popular Refrain:

"Thou art our God, the only One;

Whate'er it is, Thy Will be Done!"

Amazed, aghast, Maria stares.

The faces of the heav'nly host

Look back on hers (which it appears

Almighty God now favours most)

With reverence, the homage due

To her He's chosen. One or two

Regard her looks appraisingly,

As though to say: 'Were He not He,

Or we as free as Lucifer

(The Lucky Devil! Where's he now?),

Not bound always to scrape and bow,

We too might chance our arm with her.'

One Archangel, gold-haired, and blue

Of eye, just stared. Maria too

Has noticed him, his stature, stance,

Resplendent robe, the helmet's plume,

And feels his fascinated glance

Stir something in her. (What? Her womb?

God moves in a mysterious

Wonderful way!) The serious,

Shame-fac'd, yes, almost callow, gaze

Of this wing-wearing courtier sways

As ne'er before Maria's heart

(Be proud, Archangel Gabriel!

And wise; then all may turn out well.)

Both smile .... But now it's time to part

The pair, lest they in love should fall.

She is but dreaming, after all.

At dawn Maria woke, yet long

Re-played that magic-lantern dream,

With tight-closed eyes. Can it be wrong

To wish as real what did but seem?

Gabriel seemed alive to her;

And she confessed she did prefer

Him to the One to Whom was due

Her total worship. That she knew;

But so it happens oft: the wives

Of generals, worthy but old,

Fall for their adjutants, I'm told.

What's to be done? That Fate contrives

Inexorably thus to shame us

Is known to sage and ignoramus.

Another truth that's known to all:

When first there courses through our veins

The burning lava that we call

Young love, and feel the searing pains

Of pent-up amorous desire

Burning like subterranean fire,

Unquenchable except by one

Still unattainable ... we run

To seek the solace of a friend

Who listens to our oft-told tale,

Who duly nods at each detail,

And lends his ear for us to bend.

Those who for cooling comfort pant

Seek out, and find, a confidant.

It's much the same in later years:

When the volcano long has ceased

Erupting; when smooth cheeks which tears

Once moistened now are dry and creased;

When joys divine like birds have flown

To other climes; beauty we've known

Is nothing if not plainness now,

Peering at which we wonder how

We ever could have felt desire

For her, or him ... why, then we strive

A tepid warmth still to revive,

Sitting with old friends by the fire

For confidential hours because ...

It helps recall how once love was.

Since Man's in God's own image made,

It is no wonder He too tries,

When His Composure's disarrayed,

To have a hearer. The All-Wise

(And also All-Afire, All-Captured,

By that descendant so enraptured

Of Eve whom He had first created,

By prayers and tedious praise o'er-sated)

Needs now His swelling love t'express

In psalm, in song, in purple prose

To someone who like feelings knows

(Though not in such Divine Excess!):

And in His Wisdom thinks to tell

His tale to guile-less Gabriel.

"I've ruled in Heaven", says the Lord,

"Since well before the World began;

But Rulers can be deathly bored.

Just now, I'd rather be a man

(Though wings would come in handy), or

(Do you speak French?) a ' pluie d'or ',

A bull, a satyr, anything

That can maiden Maria bring

(And with her, her virginity;

You, Gabriel, can't guess what thirst

I feel to be the very first)

Into closest proximity.

So go; you've done such things before;

Announce what lies for her in store."

It's true the archangel had done

Divine errands of like intent

Not once but many times; so one

More trip should cause no discontent.

This time, though, personal attraction

(That dream, then.... was it fict or faction?)

Lessened his eagerness to do

What the Almighty asked him to.

Like, later, young Cesario

To woo Orsino's lady love

With hand on sleeve and heart in glove

And cheeky tongue to her he'd go.

We've learnt in church the public part

Not what went on in Gabriel's heart.

Meanwhile, Satan, God's steady foe,

Whose list'ning posts are never closed,

Had exercised his 'need to know';

Foresaw that this fair Jewess posed

A threat to him: she could give birth

To one who denizens of earth

Might save from what, God knows, they well

Deserved: to die and go to hell.

Dangers he courted though; and saw

Much merit in the situation

Offered by God's infatuation.

And noted, with a loud guffaw:

While love-sick God from rule withdrew,

The world went on ... and no-one knew!

What of Maria, Joseph's sad

And, as she felt, forgotten spouse?

For her (note this!) her husband had

A garden planted so from house

She could retire unnoticed and

Enjoy the scents and sights he'd planned

For her delight. A carpenter

He was simply: his love for her,

He showed but through the things he made

Or garnered: palms beside a brook,

A sheltered walk. These she now took

No notice of; but in their shade

Prayed she might once again recapture

That dream of archangelic rapture.

Answers to prayers oft surprise.

Some think the History of Visions

Proves most spring from a source which lies

Within the suppliant whose decision

It is to make what's wished-for seen...

Splendid, or fearsome, or obscene.

Whatever critics think of it,

It was an angel's opposite

Maria saw above her: twined

Around a branch, a shining snake

Whose head hypnotically swayed

So when it spoke: 'Be not afraid',

She could no fleeing footstep take;

But asked, in wonder: 'How? And who?'

Though that it Satan was she knew.

The snake's kaleidoscopic beauty,

Its eye-beams passionate and sly

So pleased ... to Mary it seemed duty

A (dang'rous) dialogue to try.

"I know you, serpent. You misled

Poor Eve, enticing her to tread

The path which brought us all to sin.

And why? To prove that you could win

A woman over, whereby you

All her and Adam's progeny

Drowned in abysmal misery,

To show you could God's deeds undo.

I shrink in horror from your shame.

Can't you, a little, do the same?"

"It was not thus, though priests deceive

For their own ends", the serpent said.

"Please hear, and, if you will, believe:

I SAVED Adam and Eve, who'd led

'Till then a less-than human life.

Adam's companion was no wife;

Nor he a husband. Why? God knows.

Quite literally; for He chose

To keep His new creation, Eve,

As private worshipper, and let

Poor Adam dig and delve and sweat

Day-long, so he would gladly leave

His partner free to be, at night,

Not his, no, no, but His delight."

Maria: "No! Disgraceful! Lies!"

The Devil: "But He was in love."

Maria: "Silence! I despise

You." Devil: "But no-one's above

The laws of Nature. Even God

Must bend to them. Were it not odd

If He Who in His image made

(Or said He did ... don't be afraid ...

I say but truth ...) the human race

Did not, when surfeited with praise

From Heaven's hangers-on, seek ways

Just to admire a pretty face;

And, if its owner were inclined,

Its body to himself to bind?"

Satan's persuasive, there's no doubt.

Maria in the garden, lonely,

Uncomfortable, wanted out.

"Why should I listen? Slander only

It is ... Yet I could claim protection.

Did not Lord God in my direction

Look favorably? Even gave

A special promise to his 'slave'?

Well then, why not allow the snake,

Whom God, I do suppose, created,

To end the story he's related

And of it a whole hist'ry make?

Making well-mannered conversation

Deserves, for sure, no condemnation.

By her demeanour thus invited,

The serpent lowers to the ground

His scaly elegance. Excited,

E'en fascinated, in profound

And unaccustom'd feelings' sway,

She stares, his audience ... and prey.

"What Moses wrote was mainly lies",

He said, "Although that's no surprise.

Who pays the piper calls the tune

Is what we all, devil or saint,

Strong macho man or female faint,

Must come to terms with late or soon;

And, told but once, smart Mosie knew

What words and acts to say and do.

It's foolish, but I never learned

To fudge or trim; but what I see

I say. No wonder my name's spurned

By those who like their history

To prove... that God's a gentleman;

And on our side; indeed His plan

Is centred on our very nation

(Hebrew, or Russian, or Croatian)

Which, being virtuous and strong,

Will triumph over ev'ry foe

De-da de-da... I'm sure you know

The line. It's popular, but wrong.

I'm hated, outcast, just because

I've always told it as it was.

And how was it in Eden? Well,

Not much too different from here

And now; for ... it's plain truth I tell ...

Thy beauty Man and God revere.

The laws of natural selection

Have in your case produced ... perfection!

Thy modest smile entrances all;

A simple word from thee can call

A horde of Adams to thy feet

As supplicants, to love, adore,

Serve, sacrifice, and so much more

Wouldst thou but grant what they entreat;

But, as with Eve in Eden, man

Is absent from th'Almighty's plan.

Eve, gentle, modest, as are you,

Of Destiny as unaware,

With Adam lived as siblings do

Who unemotionally care,

Kindly enough, but without strong

Feeling or zest. They walked along

The river bank; watched dragon-flies

Hover and dart; saw fishes rise;

Were sheltered by the fronded palm,

Yet untouched by the plenitude

Of earthly lovelinesses strewed

Around them; needing not the calm

Nature on sinners can bestow,

Useless to those who no sin know.

Life was a boring business.

He delved; she span; both yawned a lot;

At each day's end would, grateful, bless

Nightfall; then dreamless sleep; forgot,

For a few hours ... monotony.

What say you? Is not tyranny

The name for God's imposed regime?

His gift to Adam now did seem

To Him excessive. True, He'd given

Eve as a help-meet; but, for pleasure,

Adam had now too little leisure,

Being by some work-ethic driven.

Better that He, in course of duty

Enjoy poor Adam's partner's beauty.

Maria, that's your situation:

Heaven, or prison? Difference

There's not. Whether abject prostration

Or mincing mouthings fit His Sense

Of Divine Need, prayers or praise,

You will provide ... for untold days,

Not daring one swift sidelong glance

At Gabriel, whose golden lance

Glisters invitingly, whose cloak

To be enveloped in were bliss

Ineffable ... Dream not of this;

Around you crones and dotards croak.

So enviable is your fate

As Great Jehovah's next ... ex-mate!

I could go on, call up the stench

Of incense, and at boring length

Attempt through true accounts to wrench

You from His grasp. Too little strength

Is mine. Instead I'll say how Eve

I did, in far-off times, relieve.

All know the What; but not the Why.

That bitten apple (symbol true

Of what my chosen pair should do)

Evoked, helped on a bit by me,

A vision seen by all six eyes

Of what beneath our clothing lies,

Which, being just by this set free,

Revealed what I, all else above,

Relish ... the sacred world of Love.

Yes, sacred. Satan now I'm called

But once was known as Lucifer⁽¹⁾.

Light did I carry, 'till, appalled,

To see how men and gods prefer

Darkness, I draped o'er it a shade.

Since then I've better progress made

Giving to scientists small hints

Of where to find Nature's footprints.

Sometimes I loose a lightning blast

(Yet-unborn Newton's in my aim)⁽²⁾

Whereafter nothing's quite the same.

All protest, yet agree at last;

Until, that is, another stroke

(Einstein maybe?) clinches the joke⁽³⁾.

Than Science though, my leaning's more

To Love, which sacred is indeed.

Let prudes its vagaries deplore;

My followers adopt this creed;

All humans have the happy urge

With others of their kind to merge,

Exchanging pleasures (sometimes pains

Add piquancy); and no-one gains

From abstinence. In years to come,

When theocratic power is weaker

Humanity from me will seek a

Wiser guidance. Then I'll sum

My wisdom up in this equation:

Compassion's one with copulation.

Where was I? Apples? Vision? Yes!

They saw each other clear at last;

Her beauty; his; their nakedness.

Surely some wisp of wisdom passed

From me to them. I watched as love

Kindled and flared, like flames above

A burning forest. To the trees

Indeed they hastened; on their knees,

Sun-dappled and by palm-frond shade

Half-hid, with fearful finger-tips,

All mounds and hollows, cheeks and lips,

Each item the first Man and Maid

Were made of, they did so explore

The Maid would soon be maid no more.

Adam, who'd once named all the beasts,

Must innovate again: these mounds

Miraculous? He'd call them "breasts".

This cleft where deep delight abounds?

One name alone could not express

Its teeming treasury: no less

Than twenty he'd that day invent

Before his fecund power was spent.

Here was a brave, a new-found land⁽⁴⁾,

Unmapped, unnamed; an untilled soil

Which he, long used to delver's toil

Must cultivate with his own hand,

And Eve's, who equally desired

The end to which both now aspired.

He's tender; yet his clumsiness

Something fragile indeed does break;

But she, disclaiming all distress,

Does this as a good omen take.

Henceforth they'll share both pain and pleasure.

She's sacrificed her virgin treasure,

A bauble merely, now well lost;

For what it bought a trifling cost.

God's prohibition quite dismissed,

Now Adam's adamant: on course

He is t'attain the one true source

Of pleasure. He's prime hedonist;

While she, product of Adam's bone,

Gives joy to him... and takes her own.

Breathless, her whisper'd words of love

Scarce audible, open she lies;

Then feels the very Earth to move⁽⁵⁾

As he, her human lover, dies,

(Or seems to) lost, unloosed, in her;

Who, also dumb-struck, cannot stir

Until (proving he lives) hot tears

Moisten her cheek and mix with hers.

Now falls upon the panting pair

A scented blossom-petal shower,

Which covers them and fills the air

With sweetness 'stilled from flower on flower.

A gift from then-young Mother Earth

Who, Death being banished, senses Birth.

Oh, blessed day! Th'exultant groom

Caressed his bride from dawn till night-

-fall, open-eyed e'en in the gloom

For fear of losing the delight

And lustre which now filled the leisure

Of both as one; whose new-found pleasure

(You know the story) God cut short.

He chose their mission to abort

Now He could not alone control

Their trajectory; for He knew

I, Satan, gave some guidance too.

The Jealous must have always sole

Command; the crew must pay the price:

Ejection from that Paradise

Forever, where had He permitted,

They could have lived in innocence

And joy. What crime had they committed?

They'd seen, and valued; had the sense

To take advice, and that to choose

Which life-ward led, the rest refuse.

That the advice they chose was mine

Was of their judgement a good sign.

Youth, they decided, had some rights

To passion, ecstasy, and tears,

To smiles and kisses, frowns and fears;

To mingle suff'ring with delight.

Adam absolved me in the end;

And Eve remained my life-long friend.

The snake fell silent. Fascinated

And Satan-struck, Maria pondered:

"Could it have been as he related?

What is love then? I've always wondered.

Some say without it life is naught;

The bliss it brings not to be bought

By virtue's worth, or wealth, or fame.

Yet still, to me, it's just a name".

Such pictures have been painted in

Her young impressionable mind

By Satan's tale that she's inclined

Copying them to think no sin.

As though of this she'd made admission,

Before her ... a new apparition.

The snake has gone, his place now taken

By a fair youth, handsome as ... well ...

Though she must surely be mistaken ...

There was a hint of Gabriel.

This one was as a human clad,

(Oh! such allure his dark eyes had

No words were needed to convey

Convincingly with her what way

He'd have, should her consent empower

Him) One hand seeks beneath her dress

And touches ... Ah! what giddiness!

The other holds a scented flower,

Proffered, but held just out of reach

As though by teasing he would teach.

Teach what? Do what? Maria, dazed

By novelty on novelty,

By this new tempter's tricks amazed,

Is seized by curiosity.

Her pondered questions perhaps he'd,

Responsive to her inner need,

First recognise and then resolve,

Her doubts enlightening dissolve.

A flush, but not a flush of shame,

Showing she'll let him have his will

Should he (does he?) desire it still,

Her maiden cheeks now sets aflame,

He grasps; she cries; sweet seconds pass;

Then both fall, giggling, to the grass.

[Dear, dearest friend, as I write this

Thoughts of our own young days revive.

Forgive me. I must reminisce

Of you, whose girlhood beauty I've

Rehearsed repeatedly. My pen

You first gave life to. That was when

I pressed, at evening, my knee

'Gainst yours. Your mother could not see

How hidden by the table drapes

My fingers searched for yours, and found

Them. How my heart, yours too, did pound!

They started thus, my boyhood scrapes,

Adventures, pranks, not always kind.

Sins too, with shame I call to mind.

I taught, you learned alas, deceit.

Your home precepts were over-strict;

I let you think that them to cheat

Was pardonable; sadly tricked

You were by me, myself also.

When we our parting ways did go,

Alone, both drained the bitter cup

Inscribed: 'Deny; then cover up'.

Your beauty passing years now hide;

Your paler lips less often smile.

Yet do not our lost love revile;

Let not past passion be denied.

Our natures made us then so live;

Recall, and, if you can, forgive.]

Old Nick, Father, Grand-Dad of sin,

Of Mary's lapse the architect,

Her enemy, allowed to win

By Heaven's hard-t'excuse neglect

A victory against the odds,

Seducing thus Almighty God's

Selected spouse, for fun or spite,

Glory at once; for soon your light

Will fade. Already twilight brings

Chill air. In silence, Mary lies,

Exhausted, shuddering; her eyes

Fast closed, until by whirr of wings

Wakened, sees standing over her

In splendour proud ... God's messenger!

Aghast, her hands fly to her face,

Ashamed by him to be so found.

Had he observed that hot embrace?

The Devil, rising from the ground,

Surprised a bit but not abashed,

Says: 'Gabriel, you have gate-crashed

A private do. Don't get excited;

You def'nitely were not invited.

Go back to Heav'n; praise the Lord;

Play on your harp; and no more trouble

The peace of a contented couple.

When you're away, they'll not be bored.'

But Gabriel, with frowning glance

Of jealousy holds up his lance;

But, ere he throws it, speaks: 'Thou mad

Vain demon, who would violate

Maria, whom nothing that's bad

Can touch, still less contaminate;

Rebellious slave, be off, or feel

The sting of this revenging steel.'

Satan's reply? A vicious head-

Butt to the nose. Gabriel bled

Profusely; dropped down on one knee

With hand on mouth and narrowed eyes;

Then, taking Satan by surprise,

Stood up and dealt a one-two-three

Which nearly knocked the Devil out.

A clumsy clinch closes the bout.

Neither can break the other's grip.

They roll entwined about the field.

No bitten ear nor chin-split lip

Makes Archangel or Devil yield.

They try out ev'ry dirty trick

To Hell or Heaven known; are quick

To learn new wrinkles from each other.

Necessity, invention's mother,

Works overtime; each racks his brains

To find new ways the rules to break

And, as reward, advantage take

By giving more than getting pains.

Maria, in her ring-side seat,

Is torn: who will? should? whom? defeat?

Do you remember, lads, how we

When school was over, in the spring,

Made with our fist- and knee-blows free;

And saw no wrong, when floundering

Together on the playing-field.

In making our opponents yield

By blows not accident'lly dealt

Decidedly below the belt.

Just so our weary combatants:

The Devil pulls th'Archangel's hair

In handfuls out. Maria's stare

Of horror as he groans and pants

Spurs Gabriel to new endeavour:

He'll win her now, he knows, or never.

He yields; beats thrice upon the ground

With one free arm; cries: 'Mercy, please.

She's yours. Let her in Hell be crowned

Your queen, your spouse, your ...' Hearing these

Admissions of final defeat,

Satan, Lord (so-called) of Deceit,

Releases Gabr'el, sees him slump

An abject, almost life-less lump

Of fallen-angel-hood; indeed

Stands over him in triumph, calls

Him lily-livered, one who licks

God's ... No! He's not! He's one who kicks

Satan quite smartly in the ... All's

By this reversed; and turns out well.

Satan can scarce crawl back to hell.

Of this fast fur'ous fight the prize,

Maria's watched with bated breath,

And now turns her victor'ous eyes

To him who risked for her ... not death,

(For he's immortal) but what's worse

Defeat, and the Almighty's curse.

Her hero now before her stands,

Wipes blood and spittle from his hands,

Picks up his helmet, smooths its plume,

(His wounds heal fast; his hair re-grows)

So he his archangelic pose

Can soon with confidence resume.

He wilts a little when he sees,

Once more, how beautiful she is;

And blushes, just remembering

His near-till-then forgotten duty;

Begins the practised song to sing

God wrote for him: 'Innocent beauty,

Of womankind the blessed best,

Thou shalt bring forth at My behest

A son who all mankind shall save,

Triumphing over Hell and Grave.

I add to this Annunciation

Some words never before confessed:

Through thee, with thee, I too am blessed.'

Thus ran His Self-Congratulation

Which Gabriel, who'd learned by heart,

Prompted to play the father's part.

He knelt before her. God had said

He should; but the Divine Commands

Did not say he should lay his head

In her sweet lap, or kiss her hands,

Or gaze with love at those dark eyes,

Or seeing tell-tale colour rise

Suffusing even her white throat

And neck .... From here he himself wrote

The script in fine impromptu fashion.

Her tenderness inspired the text;

Each move, responded to, the next

Dictated. Thus, propelled by passion,

The play progressed; and, after one

'Please don't', the closing act was done.

But what will say Jealous Almighty

God? What do? And what should she?

Take comfort Mary; the first flighty

Girl you are not; these things can be

Managed quite easily; for males

Are totally deceived by tales

No woman of experience

Would credit; and shy innocence

Is a whole wardrobeful of covers

For assignations, letters, lies,

That female kindness can devise

To soothe and satisfy their lovers.

A husband with contentment glows

Who of his rival nothing knows.

Already the archangel's flown

To Heaven, where impatiently

His Master waits, Who's seldom known

Feelings of such intensity.

'Tell me the news. I know it's good

Of course.' 'I did all that I could,'

Gabriel said, 'To smooth Thy way.'

'And she?' 'Is ready, I would say,

To do her God-commanded duty.'

Contented by these tidings, God

Gave one Jove-like Homeric nod,

And winged toward His just-won beauty.

(Who thought Greek deities died long

Before Christ's era were quite wrong.)

Drunk with the dizzy day's sensations,

'Mid rumpled sheets Maria rests

And recollects. Imagination's

Mixed with truth: her thighs and breasts

Feel still those touches, strokings, kisses,

Bringers of ne'er-before-known blisses,

Bestowed by whom? By Gabriel!

But by his fore-runner as well.

Did that love seem to her so pure

Only because he was the first

To sense and slake her maiden thirst?

She weighed them both; and was not sure;

And felt only again that fire,

Was coursing through her veins ... desire.

In dreams feelings take living shape.

So now: her naked need for love,

Whether disguised as ruse or rape,

Incarnate is. A broad-winged dove,

White-feathered, from the azure skies

To her majestically flies

And on her open lap alights ...

A knowing dove who swift excites

With strutting claw and head and beak

The lady as though he would play

With her as toy, then tool, then prey.

But who? The answer's near to seek

And find: at the acts's apogee,

She cries, surrendering: " 'Tis He!"

The dove covers possessively

Her tear-stained visage with his wing

And slumbers; as indeed does she;

And in her dream hears angels sing

Hosannahs, canticles of joy,

Foretelling to what blessed boy

She will in God's good time give birth

To be His living self on Earth.

She wakes; the dove has flown away.

By tiredness made contemplative,

Maria draws no negative

Conclusion from her busy day,

Finding only the order odd:

"First Devil; angel next; last God!"

In due time, God makes public his

Paternity of the Jewess's

Offspring; th' official story is

Promoted by all Holinesses

Patriarchs and cardinals.

Although good husband Joseph calls

The lad his son, and lets him play

At hamm'ring nails in wood all day,

We Bible-readers all know better.

But what of Gabriel's later flights?

Was he claiming paternal rights?

And when He in the desert met a

Tempter, was Christ told: "MY son

Your are. MY will be done"?

Amen, amen. So let it be.

This story I now dedicate

To you, Archangel, deputy

Of God, whose exploits to relate

Respectfully I've done my best.

Now, may I make of you request?

I was until quite recently

A heretic: propriety

In love affairs was not my mode;

The friend of ruffians and rakes,

What some called sins I called mistakes;

My soul I to the Devil owed,

On sinning happily hell-bent.

But now I'm ready to repent.

I've met a lady named Elena,

She's my Maria, Adam's Eve.

All other women, should I gain a

Prize like her, I'll gladly leave.

She is for me whom Fate intended,

From Heaven's height to earth descended.

Would she but bend to be my wife,

I'd love her to the end of life.

Teach me then, Gabriel, to charm

As you did, one of highest worth;

Make winsome my weak words; let mirth

And merriment defence disarm;

So at the altar-rail we both

(And soon!) will stand to pledge our troth.

My greying hair grants little time.

She's young, attractive. Tell her then

I'll be her Joseph; say that I'm

Accustomed to the ways of men

And women also; I shall be

Content if she, though good to me,

Is sometimes good to others too

(Not many; just a hand-picked few).

She shall have all my worldly wealth

To squander on her friends; although

Of that I'd rather nothing know.

Let her be generous by stealth.

Will you do this, Great Gabriel,

My soul I'll not to Satan sell.

1. On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.

Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend...

He reached a middle height, and at the stars,

Which are the brain of heaven, he looked

(George Meredith, 1828-1909)

2. Nature, and Nature's laws, lay hid in night.

God said: "Let Newton be!" and all was light."

(Alexander Pope, 1688-1744)

3. It did not last: the Devil howling: "Ho!

"Let Einstein be!" restored the status quo.

(John Squire, 1884-1958)

4. Licence my roving hands, and let them go

Before, behind, between, above, below.

Oh my America! My new-found-land,

My kingdom, safliest when with one man mann'd.

(John Donne, 1571-1631; Elegies, no.19, Going to Bed)

5. But did thee feel the earth move?

(Ernest Hemingway, 1898-1961; For Whom the Bell Tolls)