University of Virginia Library

“Ye all have seen, in heart of earth's great rocks,
Firm-bedded shell, or reptile,—there encased
Myriads of ages past;—and there to lie
Prisoned through all the myriads yet to come,—
Even as those, in the rock's iron heart
Fast locked, be this great secret in you locked.
Whate'er may be the cause,—his dimmer sight,
Or slacker watchfulness,—or our new power
His eye to evade,—alike our victory.
But rather in our godhead-growing strength,
True cause I see: for, ne'er before hath slept
His vigilance; every act of ours, and thought,
Till now, plain shown, as, to inferior eye,
Mountains in sunshine: and still plain had been,
Not to Him only, but to that keen Power,
His messenger, that such a foe was nigh,
His secret listening,—had not new-born strength
Of hell's archangel baffled their sharp glance,
As mail of proof the sword-point.

“What saidst thou,
Beelzebub, as doubtful?—‘perhaps, 'gainst Heaven
A great stroke hath been stricken; or, perhaps,
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?’....Yea, even thus,
Saidst thou, thy triumph questioning: but I say,
'Gainst heaven a great stroke hath been stricken: we
From God have won: his watchful eye have mocked:
Nor fear that, seeing, he hath blindness feigned,
So to deceive, and harm us. Be thou sure,
His thunder would he put within our power,
Freely as such great secret. Better guard
Than his, be ours; else, all that we have won,
And more, will soon be lost. What now remains,
Is, of this secret such wise use to make,
As surest, swiftest, will to ruin bring
This folly of Omniscience: topple down
That wondrous structure of Redemption,—based
On less than moonbeam's shadow, or the sound
Of a past wind,—on mortal's holiness!
Why, even at first,—in utmost purity
To their flesh-nature possible,—slight the bait,
Simple the words that led them to their fall.
A savoury apple the first woman lured
To disobedience; and that woman's tears
Moved man to share her sin! Such appetite,
Such puny love-qualm, 'gainst command of God,
Resistless proved,—even when his very voice
The word had spoken; solemn warning given,
And Death pronounced as punishment,—what hope
Can veriest folly hold, that, 'gainst the storm
Of those fierce appetites, the heritage
Of all from woman born, they can make stand;
No special warning given; no punishment
By voice of God announced,—but moral law,
Solely, from sin restraining;—barrier slight,
'Gainst passion's gush, as, 'gainst the bursting spring,
Weak hand of childhood. What, when all those lusts,
Love, pride, ambition, avarice, thirst of power,—
In their young years perchance now sleeping,—come
Like ravenous lions on them,—what will then
Cold moral law avail? or love of good,
Taught to their infancy? or wisest word
Of Moses, them admonishing? As well
Might the dry stubble stand against the fire,
As flesh 'gainst such assault. And ours must be,
The passions to arouse; the sparks to strike:
Gently, at first, to fan; then, more and more,
Blow into fury; till the flames go up,
And utterly consume them! So shall God
His wisdom find but folly; and our might,
On his feel pressing; toward equality
Aye mounting; and, by sure procéss, ordained
As high, at length, to stand. Proud hope, perchance,
Deemed by the feeble; but, by Spirits strong,
Sure destiny felt; the necessary end,
By law of Nature. What, at first, were suns?
Think ye that all at once,—like sparks shot out
From the fire-saturate ether,—they appeared,
In blaze of their full glory? Them, indeed,
We saw not at their birth; but well may judge,
From growth of later orbs,—yon earth, and moon,
And other worlds,—how, from beginnings small;
From matter orderless, unshaped, and cold,—
Through cycles of the ages numberless,
Slowly progressing,—form, law, order, light,
They by degrees took on: till, finally,
As we behold them now, at point supreme
Of splendor stood they. These, indeed, will fade,—
Or may,—as this hath; such the law appears
For all material: but, as well ye know,
To Spirits is no decay; still on they speed,
Higher and mightier waxing, till,—like suns
To fullest glory attained,—at the last height
Of Godhead they arrive,—Omnipotent,
Omniscient, Omnipresent, evermore!
Such, be ye sure, our final destiny.
Meantime, a Spirit elder far than we,
God now; and, therefore, beyond all compare,
Our mightier,—stands against us; and long time
Subdued hath held us; and long time will hold,
If we occasion lose, by which to gain
Advantage, whatsoe'er. That youth, and maid,
Far more than Moses, and the Egyptian king,
Our mark, henceforth, must be: for, greater far,
God's scheme, the race entire of man to save,
Than, from his bondage, Israel: far more great
Our triumph, then, if we his purpose balk.
And, haply, may we. Yet too young, perchance,
By riches, rank, or power, to be seduced,—
Though these, too, may be tried,—that mortal snare
To all of flesh,—and chiefly in life's spring,—
The carnal appetite, must be awaked;
Stirred into warmth; blown then into a flame;
And, that accomplished, up in smoke will fly
Their simple holiness: and God's great hope
From them to bring Messiah, will lie dead
In the dry ashes. But, for task like this,
Not Powers the mightiest need we,—though the aim
Greatest, and final end momentous most,—
Spirits of gentle nature, in such war,
More potent than the powerful; for, soft word,
The melting eye, the amorous look and tone,
The form of beauty, and the air of grace,—
Weapons more potent far, in passion's storm,
Than wisdom most profound; or argument,
Though voiced with thunder. Come ye then, ye twain,
Gentlest of all meek Spirits erst in heaven,
Aziel, and Zuriel.”

Instantly there stood,
At the right hand of Satan, two fair shapes,
Before him bending. Smiling, on them looked
The Majesty of Hell; then, in soft tone,
And condescending, thus.

“To you we give,
Task not unpleasant, those young hearts to snare
With love's soft witchery: the beauteous maid
Thou, Aziel, take; thou, Zuriel, the youth.
By day and night your utmost cunning try
Their souls to enter; all their thoughts to sway;
Their blood to fire; their reason to confuse.
Beauty of form and face, beyond compare
Of mortal loveliness, may ye put on;
With voices may ye speak, so musical,
That sweetest tones of woman,—following them,
Would grate man's ear: with so rich eloquence
May ye assail them, that the choicest strains
Of earthly orator, or loftiest bard,
Were, after it, dull babble. Soul, and sense,
Assault ye then: with amorous thoughts, the soul;
With all can please the eye, and charm the ear,
And stir up passion, war upon the sense.