University of Virginia Library

“Thus, in the hearing of you all, I spake.
How think you, then, that traitor hath performed
The task he undertook,—easy to do,
And pleasant, with that superhuman maid:
A trifle seeming; but, 'twixt God and us,
Matter momentous. Her with sin to soil,
His duty was,—that so, with one light stroke,
God's whole great foolish scheme we might destroy;
Blighting the root whence, in due time, should come,
That wondrous flower, Messiah. Yet, not so
Wrought that foul recreant. Us to serve, he went;
But, God to serve, remained! Beholding still
How pure she stood, though after temptings strong,—
As nought I doubted,—by the forceful arm
Of the lust-maddened Sethos, I resolved
She should be fouled; and that way should the scheme
For a Messiah fail. Daring the gaze
Of all heaven's spies,—the form then I assumed
Of Moses; and, by subtle story, lured
The silly maiden at my side to go,
Even unto Pharaoh's palace. Thither come,—
To the great chamber of state, wherein no foot
Would dare to intrude, I led her: hastened then,
In form a serving man,—to Sethos told
Who had arrived,—into her presence straight
Conducted him, and left,—mad for his prey
As hungriest tiger. At that moment fell
First shade of darkness. As the augury
Of full success I hailed it; and, at once,
Down to earth's centre shot. All fear soon past
Of eye suspicious peering,—I returned,—
Triumph expecting; but reverse soon found.
Gone was the maiden; all untouched, all pure,
As when I thither led her. Of herself,
Through that unearthly blackness, well I knew,
Never could she have passed; and Spirit of heaven
None felt I near: but, following on her track,—
Easily known by the celestial air
That floats around her,—soon, through the thick gloom,
Like to a star amid black fog, a beam
Of gliding light I spied; and, drawing near,
Beheld the maiden, riding on her mule;
And, close before her, a small globe of fire,
Self-moving, as it seemed: but, nigher come,
Soon I descried the mover,—that vile thing,—
That traitor,—that apostate,—that mean wretch,
Who now before you trembles. Fired with wrath,
That instant had I, with a mighty blast,
Driven him from face of earth; and to her fate
Led back the maiden; but that, suddenly,
The presence of some greater Powers of heaven
I felt, not far; and feared lest their keen eyes
Such open act should see; and therein read
Our secret business. Him, the traitor wretch,
They must have seen: yet, if his purpose all
They had perceived,—some token, even though faint,
Of their approval, surely had they shown.
Me they saw not; nor those who to my side
Had come,—Beelzebub, and Moloch; we,
Invisible, looked on; and others, too,
Of our companions, who soon gathered round;
All burning, with one terrible storm to hurl
The miscreant to perdition; but withheld
By a wise caution. Nor through eye alone
His treason knew we; but his craven voice
Heard wailing out repentance for his sin,—
His sin, ye mark, against the despot Power,
The Almighty tyrant, who that heaven, once ours,
By right, and not by sufferance, snatched away;
And drove us to the ghastly Infinite
Of a long dead Creation. Nay, even prayer
For pardon,—or what likest such appeared,—
Came from him, like a howl of agony
From man in the death-torment: his vile deed,
His treachery 'gainst us, the one sole thought
That comfort gave him. Burning with just wrath,
We followed; and from darkness to full sun
Beheld the virgin led; and from our snare
Set free. Then, we the pleased apostate marked;
His dolorous musings heard; how from our wrath,
Best might he 'scape; yet how, if but one look,
Approving, Heaven would grant him,—even our worst,
Gladly would he defy. But such proud thought
Soon ended we: for, when those powers of heaven
Withdrawn we felt,—upon him poured we then;
And, shuddering, dumb, as there ye see him still,
Hither enforced him. Angels, Demi-gods,
Lift up your voices: tell him with your curse,
How faith loves treachery.”

At the word, went up,
Loud as a thousand thunders loosed at once,
Howlings of execration and fierce hate,
That the vast hollow shook. Like rays converged
From suns unnumbered to one burning point,
On that poor Spirit glared the fiery eyes
Of all Hell's millions. The enormous din,
Like great waves seemed to bury him: yet, calm
And patient stood he; saying to himself;
“I did the right: I did as gracious God
Would have approved, had I not lost for aye
All claim on his regard. For sin toward Him,
Punishment I deserve; and even from them
Who led me to that sin, let punishment come!
All is my due; and all will I endure.”