University of Virginia Library

“But, from the subtle Power who this hath learned,
Fittest it were ye learn it. Come thou, then,
Mightiest of all, save one, amid the hosts
That strive 'gainst Heaven; at my right hand come thou,
Beelzebub; and, of thy victory,
And of our enemy's purpose unto man,
To all aloud declare: so shall the voice
Of universal hell give honor and praise,
To him who first, beneath the all-seeing eye,
Unseen hath stood; and of his secrets heard,—
Himself all secret.”

Ere the word was done,
At the right hand of Satan,—suddenly
As bursts a flame volcanic,—stood the shape
High towering of the demon! As, through fumes,
Sulphurous, and pestilential,—the foul reek
From bed of smouldering earthquake;—or through clouds
Of fiery sand-storm, whirlwind-rapt, that sweep
O'er wastes of Afric, and whole caravans
'Neath a dry deluge bury,—the great sun,—
Though dimmed, and westering low,—still gloriously,—
Firing all round the dusky canopy,—
Flames on his throne sublime,—so, though by sin
Clouded and fouled, with half heaven's brightness yet
Lingering about him, the proud angel shone.
But, in his bowing form,—as greeted him
A loud acclaim which all the concave shook,—
Humble he seemed; or as by praise oppressed,
Conscious of undeserving; though, the while,
Worthy of all, self-deemed. Long time he paused,
Like one who diffident feels; of words unsure;
Or fearful, when a vast assembly waits,
Lest he should fail: with downcast eyes he stood:
And in deep silence all the myriads gazed,
Great things expecting. His huge form, at length,
Proudly he lifted; and his mighty voice
So loud sent forth, that past even farthest rank
Of listening spirits it rolled.

“Gods yet to be,—
Nay, gods already,—even as earth's small seed,
A flower, or even, perchance, a stately tree,
Essentially is,—the future in the now
Existent, though unseen,—would that my words,
To your expectance equal all might be!
But our great leader,—ever, as ye know,
Just, nay, o'er generous, merit to applaud,—
My humble triumph, with praise undeserved
So hath exalted, that the petty truth,
Seen in its nakedness,—like a poor stem,
Of branch, and leaf, and flower bereft,—may show
Mean, and unworthy. Ne'ertheless, my speech
The truth shall fit: with words I will not gild,—
Like yonder miserable race of man,—
Mere lead, to show like gold. Perchance, 'gainst Heaven
A great stroke hath been stricken; or, perchance,
Against a shadow: we from God have won;
Or have by him been mocked:—his watchful eye
We have evaded,—or, with cunning deep,
Seeing, he blind hath seemed; in hope, may be,
So to deceive, and harm us. But, of this,
Judge ye when ye shall hear.

“My task on earth,—
As well ye know,—is, evermore to keep
Espial on that Moses, chosen by God
For the deliverance speedy of the race,
Whom, ages long, content he hath beheld,
Groaning in bondage;—such the government,
Incomprehensible, of him, All Wise,
By fawning angels named! Nigh that strange man,
No moment intermitted, have I watched;
Striving his thoughts to sway, his passions fire;
That, thus, from strict obedience to our foe,
Might he be lured; and, thence, unworthy found,
Might be cast off; and, falling, God's whole scheme
For Israel's freedom, through him to be wrought,
Might bring to nothing. Haply, not all vain
Hath been my striving; though, as yet, to the eye,
Unmoved he stands. 'Tis not the first storm-breath
That fells the oak; nor have temptations first,
Though strong, him shaken. But, by blast on blast,
The great tree is torn up; and wile on wile
Him luring evermore,—from God, at length,
In God's despite, may draw him. Victory great,
So we can win it! Meantime, other stroke,
And greater far, invites us.

“Through all earth,
Ye know how loathsome, in the sight of heaven,
This dust-race hath become: and some great burst
Of anger from their irritated God,
Long have ye looked for: second flood, perchance,
Or pestilence, or world-consuming fire;
Or other stroke, destruction absolute
Bringing on earth, and all that in it is.
So in our folly deemed we: but, behold!
For wrath, expected; and for vengeance, due,—
Love, and forgiveness, to the whole bad race,
God willeth; and Redemption unto all!
What that redemption is, and how to come,
As yet we know not; but, of this be sure,—
Man's fall forgiven,—and man unto his God
Reconciled wholly,—by what means soe'er,—
To us will be defeat, and endless shame;
To our great foe, triumph for evermore;
And, even to that poor earth-seed, victory
O'er us, the sons of heaven! All conquests past,
'Neath this foul shame would be obliterate:
Hell's glories would go out, like trodden fire;
And that poor clod the trampler! To the last,
With all our strength, wisdom, and diligence,
'Gainst this new scheme, Redemption, must we fight.
Successful, it o'erwhelms us; baffled, lifts
Toward godhead, farther than in ages, else,
By due course, had we risen. Foreknowing then,
Better our hope to cross it.

“But, ye ask,
‘Who knows? and how? and what the thing foreknown?
Plain words shall answer.

“Constant at my task,
O'er Moses to keep watch,—from Pharaoh's court,
To Goshen, like his shadow followed I.
A house he entered; and therein beheld
A damsel, beautiful beyond compare
Of mortal beauty, else. Such charms, methought,
Might even an angel snare;—how, then, could he,
A thing of flesh, resist? Well as I might,—
For still some Spiritual armour fences him;
Its weak points viewless yet,—into his soul
Strove I hot love to shoot; but failed: for, lo!
As if in presence of a Being divine,
All holy rapture seemed he,—woman's charms
Unfelt, unlooked on,—so all thought and sense,
In feeling of some mystery seemed lost,
Touching that maiden, and design of God,
Through her to be accomplished. Well I guessed
The working of his spirit; and, erelong,
His voice, and act proclaimed it; for he went,
And, reverently bending, took her hand,
And to his forehead pressed it: rising then,
On her bowed head he laid his palm, and spake.
‘Blessëd art thou, fair virgin! and, of God,
Above all women favored! Whatsoe'er
The end unknown designed,—through thee will come
Good unto thousands: to our people all,
Perchance, unspeakable blessing: for a voice,
Though wordless, telleth, that the present hand
Of the Most High is on thee; some great thing
Through thee to accomplish.’

“Other words he spake,
And she made answer,—needless to tell now.
Anon appeared a youth; in form and face,
Beauty of man exceeding, even as she
Exceeded all of woman. At the door
He stood, fearing to enter: but she went,
And took him by the hand, and led him in:
And, when to Moses she had brought him, said,
That he it was who, as already told;
In the due time, her husband would become.
Ev'n as on her with rapture he had looked,
So now on him gazed Moses, standing mute,
Again in wonder lost. But, on their knees,
His blessing craving, sank the twain; and thus
A blessing prayed he.

“‘On these chosen ones,
Oh, God of Israel, look! I feel, I feel,
That Thine alone they are; in all their ways;
In life, in death! These Temples pure, Oh God,
Hallow for ever: let no breath of sin
Enter within them; that,—thy purpose high
Through them accomplished here,—in robes of light
At Thy right hand in glory may they sit,
Thee praising and adoring evermore!’