University of Virginia Library

His Sons thus Noah taught. By this they heard
Hubbub—a day of sport.—Scene different far
From that deep grove of peace, and quiet hearth,
Where all domestic charities embraced,
They quitted even now. The mountains rang,
Their summits heard the voice of multitudes.
From 'twixt the hills,—just where the hollow clasped
Their deep foundations, and the base inclosed,
As from an elbow of the embracing arm
Of that calm vale,—escaped the extended plain,
A verdant level. At a mountain's foot,
A man, clothed in a linen vest, reposed,
Having a writer's inkhorn by his side;
And on his thigh he wrote. A book of skin
Spread on the grassy slope, and upon tile
His ready pencil its contents transcribed;
—O'ershadowed from the day's increasing heat,
By a tall Plantain; that was planted there
By Nature's self, upon the mountain's side,
Just by a river's source. And round about
Were Maples, Elms, and Cedars—shelter meet,
Not for man only, but for beast, and bird;
Their very boughs, how fitted for the grasp
Of the plumed groups; that in their foliage hide,
And nestle; guarded from the heat of noon,
And the night-chills; they, and their tender young.

‘Tamiel,’ said Noah, ‘wherefore dost thou here?’—
Him answered thus the Scribe, ‘Behold, and read.’
The Prophet then the Words of Enoch read,
And wondered, and enquired, ‘Why writest thou this?’
Then thus the Scribe—

Mine office is to do,
Not speak; yet, Prophet, will I speak to thee,
For thou art worthy, and thine eye hath power.
—Smitten with keen conviction, young Zateel,
Turned to the tents of Seth, hath, from the mouth
Of patriarchal wisdom, truth imbibed,
Through faith received, and blest with Zerah's love;
Zerah, of Lamech old the youngest child,
Thy sister, Noah; and they spake of Enoch,
Whom, in the prime of life, the eternal God
Rapt from the sinful earth.—‘His spirit bides:
His Prophecy is written,’ Lamech said;
‘The Book is as a spark that none may quench.’
‘But who,’ said old Methuselah, ‘shall compel
Vain man to turn thereon reluctant eye?
To take the enduring spark into his soul,
And kindle up the vision of his mind?’
—Then cried Zateel, ‘Young am I; may I speak?
For multitude of years should ever teach.
Shall I give utterance to the spirit within me?
And to the inspiring wish wherewith I burn?
Give me the Book.’—And he went forth therewith,
And to my hand transferred, and gave in charge
What now I do; that, on this day of sport,
Hallowed to nobler purposes, the sons
Of folly, haply, may be lured to pause,
Curious, and questioning; when unto each
The Words of Enoch on the tile impressed
I give, that it may be to them for good,
Or evil. And Elihu, here with me,
The best, and youngest of thy Father's Sons,
Is ministrant upon this embassy;
And even now has followed, with the Writ,
A Scorner, to win from him by mild words
Acceptance.’

‘God, Elihu, thee reward;’
Said Noah; ‘and mayst thou, Zateel, rejoice,
In the bride of thy youth; worthy art thou
Of Lamech's daughter. No ill-mated pair
Will thou, and Zerah be, as some have been,
Whence the gigantic brood of force, and fraud—
Rise, Tamiel, come; and bring the Book along.
I'll shout the Words of Enoch in their ears:
Yea, I will also prophesy: and thou
Write down my words, and add them unto his;
That they, who hear not, may behold. His voice,
From heaven, shall speak to them; and mine, on earth.’

The Scribe obeyed, and rose, and girt his loins;
And all, together, left the shaded hill,
Yet, even along the public road, awhile
Walked by a leafy border; for the sides
Were fringed with Chestnut, beautiful of wood,
Lovely of leaf, sublime of attitude,
Crowded with fruit, immingled with the pomp
Of Walnut trees; a forest avenue.

Here by Elihu were they met, returning
From his religious errand, warm with zeal,
And blushing in the beauty of his youth,
Beaming ingenuous grace. Noah embraced
His brother, youngest, dearest; and, with tears,
His work applauded. Brief discourse then had
Of what himself designed, to him replied
Elihu, the most lovely.

‘Take the Book,
For witness to the people, thou, and Tamiel;
I shrine the Law of Him whose Name is in me,
On fleshly Tables, in this Ark, my Heart—
Nor do I hold in vain the ready pen
Of the instructed Scribe; then well may I
His place assume, and to the passer give,
Writ by this hand, from faithful memory,
The Laws of Love, and Duty. To your tasks;
And I'll to mine.’

So, gladsome, parted they:—
Elihu, the most lovely—O how lovely
Elihu was, hoar Lamech, in thine eyes—
A happy father, Lamech, whenso he
Looked on Elihu, worn with woe before—
Elihu, the most lovely, on his way
Rejoicing went.

Whom meets he now? A friend—
Yet not with friendly cheer; . . . for, in strange guise
Of gladiator, scarce is recognized
The playmate of his boyhood.

‘Whither hence,
Son of the Son of sage Methuselah,
Heir of the living Patriarch, Sodi; thus,
And now, even on this day of holy rest?’

‘Of holy rest?’ said Sodi; ‘better taught
Than once, I know—I wish—no day of rest.
Labour achieved, fit sequent sport relax
Thought toilsome, and perplexed with doubt.’

‘Faith clears,’
Elihu said, ‘the drumly stream of doubt.’

‘I have no Faith,’ cried Sodi.
‘Woe is me,’
Elihu then,—‘art thou apostate grown?
O, for this day suspend thy purposed sport,
And in repose of mind, and sabbath calm,
Find Reason for thy Faith; and Faith will flower
Upon that stem, a voluntary crown.’

‘No rest—no rest—my soul may know no rest:’
Said Sodi then; ‘for Edna beautiful,
Daughter of Enoch's widow—(well I deem,
Him dead, and not translate)—hath scorned the suit
Of this sad heart. No pause—lest I should think,
And think of her. So to the children, now,
Of men I turn; and, in their whirlwind joys,
Make shipwreck of remembrance. I would die
Unto my former life, and live a new.’

Then o'er Elihu's brow, though lovelily,
Virtue passed grave as thought, and ploughed a frown,
Like to a wrinkle as of age, yet not
Impairing or his youth, or loveliness;
While thus, in words well-weighed, he counsel gave:—

‘I have known sorrow; for to me hath grief
Descended from my Father. What wouldst thou?
Pour out thy heart to God—as then I did,
What time Hope died within me, looking fixed
Upon the State of Man; so framed my heart,
For public ill to grieve it; as is thine,
To mourn thy own.—

‘It was a Sabbath-morn:
Behind the Wild where God once Adam made,
Praying, I knelt; my face hid in my hands;
For I was keeping of my Father's flocks;
When, raising thus my brow, behold, I saw
A cluster, as of flowers dropped from the sun,
Spring upward from a root that had been dead.
Last night they were not there; but now they shone
In Heaven's great Eye, as its earth-images,
A glorious family. With wonder touched,
I hailed the yearly miracle, and blessed
The floral resurrection. Nigh I drew:
'Twas but as 'twere the entrance to a Grove
Of thorn, and thistle, and like prickly plants,
Briar, and bramble, and deciduous shrub.
There put the Cistus evergreen its bloom
Out at the dawn; to perish ere eve come;
But, on the morrow, fresh renewed to boast
A constant crown in sure succession worn.
—Making, with either hand, a middle path,
All Sun-flowers I passed through; the willow-leaved,
The spear-shaped, with the giant, and the dwarf—
Profusely set in either hedge; with Sloe,
Wild Plum, and Cherry; some in bloom, some fruit,
Some with white berries, like the Hawthorn; some
With red embellished; some with Lily decked;
Some white of leaf, with flower of yellow crowned.
At length, I near approached a natural Bower,
Wildly arranged, and by no human art;
All Roses—white and red, or pale or deep,
Both few and many leavèd; Cinnamon,
Musk Rose, and pendant Eglantine; and all
Wonderful in their beauty. Glorious show
Of breathing luxury, and conscious love,
Warmed into blushes by the Seraph's kiss,
Whose ardent Spirit manifests the sun.
I entered:—in the midst an Altar seemed
Blended of sensitive Acacias—
The grey smooth trunks rose joyaunt, to support
Those many flowers, each like a little globe,
And all endowed with feeling, and quick life;
And, verily, it was a sentient shrine,
That from profane adorer shrank away.
—Would it from me, who had apart retired,
To voluntary commerce with my God,
Even from my Mother's womb? Oh in its life,
Life I beheld. It was, even as I was—
And felt, even as I felt. Its sense might say,
Methought, as mine might—though in voice more soft,
So soft that Angels were sole audience fit—
‘I AM:’ and boast itself ‘an Image there,
An Echo of the Eternal; Being true.’
'Twas as an Oracle to me; whence, trembling,
I laid my hand upon it; that it might
Admonish me, my presence there was known;
And I might question it, in thought; and thence,
In thought, receive responses. Lo, at once,
Appeared a queenly Shape behind that shrine,
Female of form, in beauty masculine,
So lovelily majestic, that no words
Can paint her, nought of womankind compare.’

Elihu paused in transport. Sodi, then,
Cried,—‘Was it Edna?’

Then Elihu said:
‘No mortal Name, but Wisdom's very self;
I saw—I loved—but was too dazed to woo.
‘Fear not,’ said she, ‘I come to be your Bride.
Of old, was my delight among the Sons
Of Adam; and, with Cain, and Abel both,
I the Beginning of His Way discoursed,
Who is from Everlasting. Thou hast heard,
How Cain from me in anger went astray;
And, with the Voice of Blood 'gainst him that cried,
I soared to Heaven. But Heaven is in the Heart
Of all the Pious. Thou hast felt me there;
And where Self-conscious Being is, am I.
Thou art: I am. And thou shalt wed with me,
Over this living Altar.’ Straight with this,
She reached her royal hand that Altar o'er,
And placed it within mine; the other she raised,
Sky-ward; and solemnly pronounced her vow:
‘True as God liveth, I am ever thine.”

‘What then?’ asked Sodi.
Thus Elihu spake:
‘My sense swam blind, . . and when I looked again,
I was alone—the Blessèd One had gone.’

Then Sodi laughed.
‘No visionary Form;
I want the real Edna—not a dream.
Hence to the Life where occupation is,
That drives out thought. There Wisdom may be found,
True Wisdom . . that abides, and may be known . .
Such Wisdom as in Amazarah lives,
Queen of the City of the Wilderness,
Wisest of women; and the fairest, too,
Of all Cain's daughters; whom the Sons of Seth,
Such as have grown to knowledge, with the tribes
Of men, in Samiasa's Capitol
Obey. Me rules her magic sway henceforth.
The Games await me. Loose me: let me go.’

Bad Sodi from his bosom the embrace
Of good Elihu cast; and left him there,
A weeping statue. Long he wept; then, prayed;
And peace called to his spirit, and was calm—
Next, hastened to the spot where Tamiel sate,
Performing there the office of the Scribe.