Within and Without

Name: Within and Without
Author: George MacDonald

George MacDonald

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To L. P. M. D.

Receive thine own; for I and it are thine.
Thou know’st its story; how for forty days—
Weary with sickness and with social haze,
(After thy hands and lips with love divine
Had somewhat soothed me, made the glory shine,
Though with a watery lustre,) more delays
Of blessedness forbid—I took my ways
Into a solitude, Invention’s mine;
There thought and wrote, afar, and yet with thee.
Those days gone past, I came, and brought a book;
My child, developed since in limb and look.
It came in shining vapours from the sea,
And in thy stead sung low sweet songs to me,
When the red life-blood labour would not brook.

What life it is, and how that all these lives do gather—
With outward maker’s force, or like an inward father.
Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia

Part I

Go thou into thy closet; shut thy door;
And pray to Him in secret: He will hear.
But think not thou, by one wild bound, to clear
The numberless ascensions, more and more,
Of starry stairs that must be climbed, before
Thou comest to the Father’s likeness near,
And bendest down to kiss the feet so dear
That, step by step, their mounting flights passed o’er.
Be thou content if on thy weary need
There falls a sense of showers and of the spring;
A hope that makes it possible to fling
Sickness aside, and go and do the deed;
For highest aspiration will not lead
Unto the calm beyond all questioning.

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At the Back of the North Wind
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Lilith
Fair warning, this reads like a fever dream about death and forgiveness, not an adventure. But if you'll follow Mr. Vane through a mirror and let a raven who's also a librarian talk you into lying down among the sleepers, its strangeness gets under your skin for good.
Phantastes
Strange in the best way: you follow Anodos into fairy land and the story moves like a dream, one image sliding into the next, including a shadow that attaches itself to him and dims everything he loves. If you need tight plot, skip it; if you like wandering, it lingers for years.

To L. P. M. D.

Part I

Go thou into thy closet; shut thy door;
And pray to Him in secret: He will hear.
But think not thou, by one wild bound, to clear
The numberless ascensions, more and more,
Of starry stairs that must be climbed, before
Thou comest to the Father’s likeness near,
And bendest down to kiss the feet so dear
That, step by step, their mounting flights passed o’er.
Be thou content if on thy weary need
There falls a sense of showers and of the spring;
A hope that makes it possible to fling
Sickness aside, and go and do the deed;
For highest aspiration will not lead
Unto the calm beyond all questioning.

Mais de George MacDonald

At the Back of the North Wind

You spend time with Diamond, a gentle, grave little boy who rides through the night in the North Wind’s hair, while London poverty and fairy-tale strangeness sit side by side. It’s dreamy, episodic, and sometimes frankly sad, but its kindness toward lonely, overlooked people stays with you.

Lilith

Fair warning, this reads like a fever dream about death and forgiveness, not an adventure. But if you'll follow Mr. Vane through a mirror and let a raven who's also a librarian talk you into lying down among the sleepers, its strangeness gets under your skin for good.

Phantastes

Strange in the best way: you follow Anodos into fairy land and the story moves like a dream, one image sliding into the next, including a shadow that attaches itself to him and dims everything he loves. If you need tight plot, skip it; if you like wandering, it lingers for years.