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The frosted Sun, half shaded by a cloud,
Set like a crescent, during harvest time;
Red as a bloody banner in the air.
—Zateel and Hori stood alone, within
The Vale of Abel's Sacrifice, and Death.
‘Here are the altars, Hori,’ said Zateel:
And Hori, pensive, murmured, ‘Which is Abel's?’
‘This,’ he replied;—‘by memory arboured round
With flowers; but now they all are dead, as he
For whom love planted them.’
Both, pausing, mused;
But Hori spake at last. ‘It is the season,
And suits my mood, Zateel. More rude was Cain
Than winter. Wherefore smote he, like a blast,
The lovely and the loving?’
Sadly looked
Zateel, while thus he answered: ‘Cain was tempted.
Wisdom had left him; but his Fury came
To Cain, deep musing, and dissatisfied
With toil, with sickness, and with threatened death.
The Tempter came; and both high commune held
On good, and evil; freedom, and fixed fate;
God, and creation; man, and his dominion;
The heavens, and this dim earth. Spiritual Law
With Nature strove; and, with creative force,
Resurgent from the human soul, wrought out
The form desired, from quarry, newly bewn,
Of the material elements around,
And in the very flesh—the heart—of man.

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Hence labour, and hence pain: and much of both,
By circumstantial evil, is required
For its removal; but far more the flesh
Demands, for that in it the spirit lives,
And works, and by it, and a law creates
Against its own, in organ sensuous,
Which, but for spiritual influence, were as none,
Blind, tasteless, deaf, intactual, nor of smell
Sagacious. Of this double task, had Cain
Toil so extreme in conquering the first,
(Else flesh had wanted life) that, in his person,
The harder labour had not time to prosper.’