After Paradise or Legends of Exile With Other Poems: By Robert, Earl of Lytton (Owen Meredith) |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
 | After Paradise or Legends of Exile |  |
67
I. THE LEGEND OF THE ELEPHANT.
69
One day when Adam, as he dug the ground,
Lifted his forehead to wipe off the sweat
That dript upon his labour, gazing round
He saw (and at that sight his fear was great)
A mountain moving toward him.
Lifted his forehead to wipe off the sweat
That dript upon his labour, gazing round
He saw (and at that sight his fear was great)
A mountain moving toward him.
Sore afraid,
Adam fell prostrate and began to pray.
For every time that Adam fear'd he pray'd,
And every thing he fear'd he worshipt. Grey
And great, this formidable mountain made
Gravely along the plain its gradual way,
Till over Adam hover'd its huge shade.
Then, in a language lost for ever and aye,
The Mountain to the Man, reproachful, said—
“Dost thou not know me, Adam?”
Adam fell prostrate and began to pray.
For every time that Adam fear'd he pray'd,
And every thing he fear'd he worshipt. Grey
And great, this formidable mountain made
70
Till over Adam hover'd its huge shade.
Then, in a language lost for ever and aye,
The Mountain to the Man, reproachful, said—
“Dost thou not know me, Adam?”
“Mountain, nay,”
The Man replied, “nor did I ever see
A mountain move, as thou dost. Yesterday
I met a mountain, but 'twas unlike thee,
Far larger, and it lay athwart my track,
Nor moved altho' I bent to it my knee,
So on I pass'd over the mountain's back.
Was that a sin? So many sins there be!
And art thou come to punish it, alack,
By marching on mine own back over me?”
The Man replied, “nor did I ever see
A mountain move, as thou dost. Yesterday
I met a mountain, but 'twas unlike thee,
Far larger, and it lay athwart my track,
Nor moved altho' I bent to it my knee,
So on I pass'd over the mountain's back.
Was that a sin? So many sins there be!
And art thou come to punish it, alack,
By marching on mine own back over me?”
“Adam,” the Mountain answer'd him, “arise!
Not at my feet thy place is. Whence this dread?
Alas, when we were still in Paradise
Fast friends were we.” But Adam hung his head,
And mutter'd, “Friends? I know not what that is.
Why dost thou persecute me, and pursue?
Is Paradise a wilderness like this?
I know it not, and thee I never knew.”
“Well didst thou know me once, when we were there,”
The Mountain answer'd, “nor canst thou deny
'Twas thou who gavest me the name I bear.”
But Adam, crouching, cried, “It was not I!
I never gave thee anything at all.
What wouldst thou? worship? sacrifice? roots? grain?
Take, and begone! Mountain, my store is small.”
71
Alas, when we were still in Paradise
Fast friends were we.” But Adam hung his head,
And mutter'd, “Friends? I know not what that is.
Why dost thou persecute me, and pursue?
Is Paradise a wilderness like this?
I know it not, and thee I never knew.”
“Well didst thou know me once, when we were there,”
The Mountain answer'd, “nor canst thou deny
'Twas thou who gavest me the name I bear.”
But Adam, crouching, cried, “It was not I!
I never gave thee anything at all.
What wouldst thou? worship? sacrifice? roots? grain?
Take, and begone! Mountain, my store is small.”
And sullenly the savage turn'd again
To the hard labour of his daily lot.
By this the pitying Elephant perceived
That Adam in the desert had forgot
His happier birthplace. The good beast was grieved;
And “Those,” he said, “whom thou rememb'rest not
Remember thee. We could not live bereaved
Of thy loved presence, and from end to end
Of Eden sought thee. When thou didst not come
We mourn'd thee, missing our great human friend,
And wondering what withheld him from his home.
I think the fervour of our fond distress
Melted the battlements of Paradise.
They fell, and forth into the wilderness
We came to find thee. For who else is wise
As thou art? and we hold thee great above
Our greatest. Why hast thou forsaken us
For this drear desert? Was not Eden best?
Unsweet the region thou hast chosen thus!
Yet less forlorn than loss of human love
Hath left the bowers by love in Eden blest.
So where thou dwellest shall our dwelling be,
Since joy from Eden went when thou wert gone,
And where thou goest we will go with thee.
To tell thee this the others sent me on.”
To the hard labour of his daily lot.
72
That Adam in the desert had forgot
His happier birthplace. The good beast was grieved;
And “Those,” he said, “whom thou rememb'rest not
Remember thee. We could not live bereaved
Of thy loved presence, and from end to end
Of Eden sought thee. When thou didst not come
We mourn'd thee, missing our great human friend,
And wondering what withheld him from his home.
I think the fervour of our fond distress
Melted the battlements of Paradise.
They fell, and forth into the wilderness
We came to find thee. For who else is wise
As thou art? and we hold thee great above
Our greatest. Why hast thou forsaken us
For this drear desert? Was not Eden best?
Unsweet the region thou hast chosen thus!
Yet less forlorn than loss of human love
73
So where thou dwellest shall our dwelling be,
Since joy from Eden went when thou wert gone,
And where thou goest we will go with thee.
To tell thee this the others sent me on.”
Adam look'd up alarm'd, and trembling cried,
“What others? Then I am indeed undone!
More Elephants like thee?” The beast replied,
“Alas, hast thou forgotten everyone
Of thine old followers, the blithe beasts that were
Thy folk in Paradise? which for thy sake
We have abandon'd, and are come to share
Thy labour, and near thine our lodging make.
For Man completes us all, whate'er we be,
And to his service faithfully we pledge
Our several forces. Leaves unto the tree
They garment, feathers to the wing they fledge,
Wings to the bird they bear, and hands to thee,
Belong not more than we for Man were made.
So if thou sufferest we will suffer too,
And if thou toilest we thy toil will aid,
And we will be thy loving servants true,
And thou shalt be our master.”
“What others? Then I am indeed undone!
More Elephants like thee?” The beast replied,
“Alas, hast thou forgotten everyone
Of thine old followers, the blithe beasts that were
Thy folk in Paradise? which for thy sake
We have abandon'd, and are come to share
Thy labour, and near thine our lodging make.
For Man completes us all, whate'er we be,
And to his service faithfully we pledge
Our several forces. Leaves unto the tree
They garment, feathers to the wing they fledge,
74
Belong not more than we for Man were made.
So if thou sufferest we will suffer too,
And if thou toilest we thy toil will aid,
And we will be thy loving servants true,
And thou shalt be our master.”
Adam said
Nothing. A mist that, melting, turn'd to dew
Was in his eyes. He could not speak a word.
That wretched savage grovelling in the dust,
Whose rebel will had disobey'd the Lord,
Whose coward heart had lost both love and trust,
Whose dull despair had from his blinded eye
Effaced the Past, and to the Present left
Nothing but degradation utterly
Of nobler reminiscences bereft,
What could he answer?
Nothing. A mist that, melting, turn'd to dew
Was in his eyes. He could not speak a word.
That wretched savage grovelling in the dust,
Whose rebel will had disobey'd the Lord,
Whose coward heart had lost both love and trust,
Whose dull despair had from his blinded eye
Effaced the Past, and to the Present left
Nothing but degradation utterly
Of nobler reminiscences bereft,
What could he answer?
75
Nothing did he say;
But sank down silent on the desert earth,
And, sinking, flung the rough-hewn flint away,
Wherewith he had been digging its hard dearth.
Then closer to the gentle beast he crept,
And hid his face between his hands, and wept.
But sank down silent on the desert earth,
And, sinking, flung the rough-hewn flint away,
Wherewith he had been digging its hard dearth.
Then closer to the gentle beast he crept,
And hid his face between his hands, and wept.
| After Paradise or Legends of Exile | |