The Judgement of the Flood :: :: University of Virginia Library

And when these days were ended, Lamech spake;
‘O that to me no children had been born.
The Comfort of my work is rapt away;
I know not whither; even like Enoch gone,
Perhaps with God, but still to Lamech lost.
O that to me no children had been born.
All slain, slain, slain, by Murther's cruel hands;
All—and their families—their little ones—
Their wives—sons—daughters; withered, past away,
Like visions of the night. Ah, I have dreamed
That I had children. 'Twas a lying dream:
I waked, and found I was a barren man.
And well I was so; for had I not been,
They had been martyred. So they were; they were.
O that the sap of life had been dried up
Within me; and the marrow of my bones
Perished, from the beginning of my days;
Or they had ne'er begun. Yea; cursèd be
The day that hailed me first: and on the night
When it was said, a man-child is conceived,
Be malediction. Let it see no dawn:
But be for ever lost to blessèd light;
Not only of the sun, but moon, or star.
Why died I not beneath my mother's heart?
Then, had I now been still; been quiet now:
I should have slept: then, sweet repose were mine;
With Patriarchs, and with Prophets—Adam, Seth,
Enosh, and Cainan; with Mahalaleel,
And Jared; and, perhaps, with Enoch too:
With kings, who built them places desolate;
With princes, who had gold, and houses full
Of silver. There, the wicked cease from troubling,
The weary be at rest—the prisoners, there,
Unheard the oppressor's voice: the small, and great;

The servant, master-free; there rest together.
O in the many chambers of the grave,
There dwell high thoughts, and populous memories;
There are my treasures hid, there let me go.’

Then Japhet answered:
‘Wherefore wouldst thou leave
Even us who love thee? Are not we thy sons,
Sons of thy son, even Noah? Let us be
In place of whom thou grievest.’

But Lamech cried—
‘O God, that thou wouldst grant me my request;
Spare not, destroy me. Is he Man, who would
Teach to my grey hairs wisdom? Have I erred?
Would he reprove the desperate? Teach me then—
Submiss am I to learn—thou sage to teach—
Why should I not loathe life? Why should I wish
To live for ever? Are the days of Man
Aught else but vanity? and is there not
A time appointed, when reward shall be?
And shall I not complain; and not express
Anguish of spirit, bitterness of soul?’