University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

A Druidical Grove. Enter Caffa, attended by Lucifer.
CAFFA.
But tell me—fear you not the Judgment Day?

LUCIFER.
I fear it not. Why should I fear that Day?

CAFFA.
The evil spirits thou hast ruined—will they
Not be condemned with thee that Day?

LUCIFER.
They will!
And I rejoice to think that those whom God
Created over me, shall be brought down,
By my superior wisdom, into Hell—
There to remain, until their punishment
Has taught them how they should have thanked the God
Of Heaven, for making them so far above
That Spirit, whom their ignorance shall make
Their own victorious King!

CAFFA.
Oh! Satan! thou
Art viler than I thought!

LUCIFER.
How vile? Have I
Not spoken truth? Is it not on the Scroll?
Will I not be an Instrument in God's
Great hands to scourge the offender down to Hell?
I will be then obeying His commands.
Will that be vile? I will be better than
They are! Why, then, should I not be restored
As soon as they? nay, even before?

CAFFA.
Thou art
A cunning snake—a mystery—a doubt!
But cunning as thou art, I am no bird
To rush into thy jaws! Ah! fix thy gaze,
And charm me as thou wilt; but thou wilt find
I am Hell-proof! This was an Angel's gift!
And I defy thee! Conquer him by this;
And I will do His will, so help me, God!
Now, do thy worst!

LUCIFER.
By Hell! a noble soul!
But I will trap him, noble as he is!
Yes! I will ransack Hell for vilest means
To ruin his soul! [Aloud.]
Why, what's the matter now?
Have I offended thee? Pray, pardon me!

[Kneeling.
CAFFA.
Since thou art conquered by my will, if thou
Dost feel remorse—I pardon thee. Arise!

[He rises.
LUCIFER.
This is my throne. Thou art a stranger here.
Misfortune makes us friends. Give me thy hand.
We are the only beings that could fall;
And, as we are both wanderers from our Home—
Met here by accident—let us unite,
Till we have found the Path of Peace, which leads
The stricken mourner to his Home again—
The Home of Happiness—that Home of Joy,
Where all the flowery Pastures lie—where Spring
Forever reigns—where Winter never comes—
Where living waters flow—where luscious fruits
Forever grow—where Day forever shines;
And where the soul, immortal as its God,
Forever dwells, rejoicing as it grows—
Filled with the plenitude of boundless bliss.

CAFFA.
That Satan is a Rhapsodist, I know:
But how it is that you can be restored,
Is more than I can see. It seems to me
The more impossible the more I see
Of thee.

LUCIFER.
There's nothing so with God. All things
Are possible with Him. Nor is it half
So strange as to believe that Man was once
The highest Angel in the realms of rest.
But it is so. What Angel ever called
The Lord his Father? None but Man.

CAFFA.
Well! well!
What do you call Him then?

LUCIFER.
Look on thy Scroll.
Jehovah-Elohim—that is His name.

CAFFA.
Satan! thou art no fool.

LUCIFER.
Give me the Scroll.

CAFFA.
What wilt thou do with it?

LUCIFER
(aside).
Entrap thy soul.
[Aloud.
Keep it as a memorial of our love.

CAFFA.
It is for this that I would keep it too—
In memory of the one who gave it me.
It is my title deed to lands in Heaven.
Were I to give it thee, I would lose all,
Save what thou hast—the heritage of Hell!
Then ask no more—it was an Angel's gift—
That Angel came from Heaven; that Heaven is mine.
Nay, rather ask me for myself—for what
Were self, without the hopes of being more?
This is that hope—nay, more—the priceless right
To Heaven, with Heaven's own seal attached to it.
That many-gated City of pure gold—
The Jasper-walled Jerusalem above—
Where sings the immortal Nightingale,
Whose golden song doth ravish Angels' ears—
Whose tones are poured out of his pregnant throat
On eloquent persuasion on the soul,
Like sparkling jewels scattered round about,
In prodigal profusion, from the brows
Of Angels, dancing with the Seraphim
In careless ecstasy around God's throne.
The music of the living streams is there—
More sweet to me than all the joys of earth;
For there the air is laden down with balm—
The breath of the immortal Amaranth,
Which blossoms ever more, refreshing Heaven—
On whose celestial, never-withering leaves
The Angels lie while resting from their joys—
Such joys as never bring regret, but are
The harbingers of greater ones to come.
Theirs, then, is happiness indeed—delights
Which end not in the making—but are born
Forever from the bosom of pure Love.
This, then, is Heaven indeed—not such as Man
Can see in Woman's smile—though it be pure—
The April dawn of vestal modesty—
(The nearest Heaven of anything on earth)—
But an eternal, ever-variant Heaven,
The mother of as many ever-variant joys,
Which shall forever rhapsodize the soul,
Making Eternity an endless hour—
An ecstasy forever to be spent.

LUCIFER.
By Hell! the Scroll has taught him more of Heaven
Than I can tell! His soul draws strength from it
To baffle all mine arts—never to be
Subdued till it is taken from his hand!
But how? How now shall it be mine? This wise,—
I will fall down and worship him. By Heaven!
Give me the Scroll and I will worship thee!

CAFFA.
We are forbidden, by the Word of God,
To worship any one but God. Farewell!

[Exeunt severally.