 | The Tower of Babel |  |
54
SCENE II.
—The tents of Aran. Same morning and hour as in Scene I. The topmost circles of the Tower visible in the distance, with Ararat beyond. Noema. Irad.IRAD.
Nay, mother, let me go! I see the Tower
Rising and rising higher and higher each day;
And every morn I wake, I can descry
More and still more of its great head. What harm
To see it near, more than to see it far?
NOEMA.
I would thou couldst not see it, far or near.
It is a cursëd thing, and some dread morn
Or angry night will topple down and be
For its projectors grave and monument.
What, Irad, if thou stood'st beneath it then?
IRAD.
I am not frightened, mother.
NOEMA.
Would thou wert!
But in the breast of each male whelp that breathes,
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Which stamps on Earth, and brandishes its pride
Full 'gainst the face of Heaven. Oh, I think,
Not Adam surely, but fell Lucifer,
Was the first father of the race, and left
His rebel poison in the womb of Eve,
To taint all later sons. In vain our meek
And trembling dispositions do conceive,
Foster, and suckle them. Our daughters take
The impress of their mothers; but our boys,
Since cast in the superb Archangel's die,
Consort with terror!
IRAD.
Then, I may go, mother.
NOEMA.
No, Irad, no; indeed thou mayst not go.
Think, darling, think, though thou mayst know no fear,
Thou leav'st a mother's fluttering heart at home,
Startled by every breeze, lest it should bring
Destruction on thy pretty head, and leave
Me worse than widowed!
IRAD.
Then I will not go.
Nay, weep not, mother. I will sail my boat
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Returning to thee shortly.
NOEMA.
Bless thee, child!
For if thou hast the male ferocity,
Thou hast the true male gentleness no less.
Thus should it be. The noblest men still are
Tough as the bole, but tender as the leaves;
And whilst the strangling hurricane in vain
Writhes round their trunk, one little tearful cloud
Or kissing zephyr stirs their foliage.
Go to the river, then; but, Irad, heed
Thou still dost keep the shallows.
IRAD.
O yes, mother!
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