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To Aziel turning then, “Traitor!” he cried,
“Arise;” and the repentant-one stood up.
“Ay,—look around thee; for the last hour this
In which shalt thou see light! Look round thee well:
Behold the glories of this once dark vault;
Brighter than sunshine now: of our own strength,
And growing majesty alone the growth:
And still, as we in power, in brightness to wax,
Till heaven it shall outshine. In thy deep gloom,
Remember the great glory thou hast lost:
In solitude, remember the bright host
Of god-becoming Spirits, among whom
Once wert thou happy; and with whom, for aye,—
Faithful, hadst been so: in thy silence of death,
Call back their ether-shaking hymns of joy
For some great victory; but recall thou, too,
The tempest of their execrating yell
Against the traitor. Demi-gods,—to the height,
Lift now your voices: tell him the strong love
Faith bears to treason: for the last sound that
Which e'er shall greet him. To eternity
Let its echoes beat upon him!”

Like the din
Of a great world exploding,—all its seas,
Mountains, and continents, and mighty heart
Of ever-during granite, in a cloud
Of flame and fire-dust roaring through the sky,—
Burst from the millions instantly a yell
That made the adamant quiver: every voice
Of all that living ocean hooted him:
All eyes shot fire against him: every hand
Pointed the finger of scorn.

While thus at height
The tumult raged,—against the far-off sides,
And lofty roof re-thundering, like great waves
On cliffs precipitous,—Satan lift the arm,
And every voice was hushed. As if intent,
When the great war of echoes should be stilled,
Some thought new risen to speak,—awhile he stood,
Gloomy, and mute: yet, when, in dying gasps,
Faint, and more faint,—with lengthening pause between,—
The clamor sank,—and one drear muttering,
Its last death-rattle, ceased,—still mute stood he:
For, as the silence deepened,—more and more
Gathering in strength,—again the hated voice
Of supplication he heard. With sudden wrath
Inflamed to the height, furiously then he signed;
And instantly beside Beelzebub,
Three powerful Spirits appeared; and, following him,
Toward the condemned-one moved.

Firmly stood he;
With countenance uplifted, sorrow-marked,
Repentant, praying aloud; acknowledging
His punishment deserved; yet timidly
Asking for strength to endure it.

At those words,
Fiercer than ever, from the millions burst
The uproar. Had his Essence been as flesh,
To atoms had they rent him: but, behold!
Even at the instant when the four dread Powers
Stood nigh, about to bear him to his doom;
And while at highest raged the tempest of hate,
Till roof and floor all trembled,—suddenly,—
As, on the gloom of midnight, breaks heaven's bolt,
Earth and sky firing—so, through that bright vault,
Pitch-blackness, as from Night's artillery shot,
Broke forth, and blotted all! The thunder of rage
Ceased in a moment; terror infinite
Crushing them; for a Presence then was felt,
Since loss of heaven, unknown; by sin-defiled,
Never to be endured. A thought-swift death
Appeared to have smitten all things: light seemed dead;
Voice dead; even echo dead. Spirit itself,
Dead seemed, or dying: power gone,—thought congealed;—
Life but a dream in death!

Down to the floor,
Like seared leaves dropped the shuddering host of hell;
All save the one doomed victim. Firmly he,
Serenely stood, nay, even hopingly:
For, through his whole Essential, like the ray
Of sunshine piercing mist,—a beam he felt,
As of heaven's radiance, shooting: breath of heaven
Appeared to fan him: voices seem to speak,
Exhorting him for pardon still to pray
Of his offended Maker,—for that He
Surely All Merciful as Almighty was,
And would in pity hear. His trembling voice,
Then he lift up, and cried;—“Oh God! oh God!
Merciful,—ever Merciful I know Thee now!
Thou hast seen my misery; hast heard my prayer;
Has sent me hope of pardon! Oh, once more,
Though but far-off, let me have glimpse of heaven!
From these Fallen Spirits let me be released;
And in some peaceful region of the sky,
Live ages of repentance: till,—my sin
Made lighter by Thy grace,—to heaven again,—
Though in remotest part, I may return;
Still to repent, and pray: but hoping still,
In lapse of ages, that repentance and prayer,—
Thy mercy aiding,—may my sin blot out;
And once more, purified, with angels pure,
I may stand nigh the throne; and, as of old,
Oh rapture! feel Thy presence!....And for these,
These miserable,—blind and ignorant,
They know not what they do,—All Merciful,
On them have mercy!”

Mid that awful hush,—
As flame of a lone taper, in dark night,
Spreads o'er a waste of sea,—so through the host
Spread round his low clear voice: and, though in all,
Life faint as shadow seemed, yet, on the ear,
Distinct fell every word, as falls the plash
Of water drop, from cavern's echoing roof,
Slow dropping upon stone. But fury none
Kindled they now,—all passion quenched in dread.
As the tranced body in the coffin hears,
Powerless to speak, or stir,—so they the words
Of the repentant heard; yet sign gave none.
Still, gathering fervor, kindling with high hope,
Went on the voice; but, as awe-paralyzed,
In a moment ceased; and gravelike silence fell.