University of Virginia Library

II. Part the Second. ELIHU.

The Lay of LILITH'S SON; Dreamer of Dreams, Seer of Visions, in the Morning Land.

Therefore, for Lamech's death no grief lament;
But rather triumph greet his happy change.

BOOK THE FOURTH. SIGNS, AND WONDERS

I. The Incarnate

‘Man! where wast thou when Ages I decreed,
And laid for Space foundations? Knowest thou
Of the Beginning; when the Heavens, the Earths,
His filial words, were of the Eternals born?
To thee all void, and formless, and a deep
Of darkness, till thereon the Spirit brood,
And the voiced Light distinction introduce
In Hades, else confusion; and divide
The light from darkness, making day, and night.
Light immaterial first; till, self-evolved,
It shine, and glow, and burn, within, and on,
The earth; and, with the watery element,
Act in construction, previous to the sun.
Where dwelt it, then?—now, dwells?—the Darkness, where?
—Hast thou commanded, since thy days, the Morn;
And caused the Day-spring gild the purple air?
The treasures of the Snow hast thou perceived,
Or those of Hail, for time of wrath reserved;
Of these yet inexperienced? Canst thou tell
Who, for the overflow of Waters, cleaved
Its channel; and divided the fit way
For Lightning of the thunder; that the Rain,
Whereof thou knowest not, may fall from heaven;
In Judgement, and then Blessing; and oft time,
On desart wild, untenanted of man,
To quicken desolation into bloom?
Hence, when to heath, and waste, and far-off isle,
Not habitable, or mountain too sublime
For human feet to tread, the traveller come,
Exploring, and shall see, distant or near;
There, he shall own a God; and laud the hand
Benevolent, the barren bleakest soil
That leaves not, mid frost, snow, and ice, undecked
With vegetation, but prepares a shew
Of Beauty to delight the Wanderer's eye.
—From seas, and rivers; lakes, and rivulets;
With the moist earth; the Clouds, in vapours, rise
To elevate expanse. Hast thou explored
Their secret treasures; searched Life's fountains out?
Hast thou the Centre reached, or have the gates
Of Death to thee been opened? Hast thou seen
The dreamy portals of his shadowy halls?
Or, hast thou soared on high to other orbs,
And taken knowledge of their secret years?
The greater Light, and less; with the bright stars;
Morning, and evening? or their number learned?
Canst thou unrein the Comet, or upbind?
Or travel to Orion? or exchange
Impulse that gives them motion, or the checks
By which the attracting Spirit reins them in?
Canst thou command the Sea, and Earth obey
United influence both of Sun, and Moon?
The Vapours draw from waters, floods from clouds,
Replenishing the earth with great increase
Of flowers, and fruits? or teach the forms of things
The power to separate the beams, and rays,
Whence glow with various hues the works of God?
Settedst thou in the Old Obscure the Plants, and Seeds;
Then gavest to them the Sun, whose beams should call
Their beauty, and their produce, into life?
Madest thou for light the Temple of the Sun?
Or multiplied it sevenfold; and shrined
In floral emblems, vegetable life,
His loving gifts, in grass, and herb, and tree;
Each teeming to the birth, with germs, and seeds
Productive, with progressive growth endued,
With blood, and bone, and brain, and nerve, and skin,
According to their kinds; the types of thine,
As they of thee, in birth, and life, and death;
As thou, in all things, image art of God—
Who wisdom in the human bosom put,
And understanding in the human heart?
—The cunning of thy frame, it is not thine.
The heart itself is his; and unto him
Belongs thy spirit, as thy being doth:
And whatsoe'er, in other creatures, shews
Thyself to thee, a shadow shews of God,
Of higher Wisdom vouches, greater Power;
Both what the seas produce, where great Whales swim,
And what in air soars far above the earth,
Fowl in the heaven's open firmament.
—Behold the Hawk; he by thy wisdom flies—
Whither the summer travels, and due south
Stretches his wings, to men ill seasons leaving—
Or, lo, the Eagle; sure, at thy command,
She hath upmounted, and her nest on high
Made, where she dwells abiding on the rock,
And in the crag her palace fortifies,
Whence with a glance she dooms her far-off prey.
Fed are her young with blood; and where the field
Craves for the slain in battle, there is she.
—Remark the diligent, and frolic Fish:
Play all their work, their labour only sport;
Them moves, not thy volition, but their own;
Their proper mind inspires them, guides, and guards;
To swim—to fly—to leap—to climb—to crawl,
According to their needs; in sea, or air,
Up cataract, or palm tree, or on shore.
Some, when the streams are dry in which they dwelt,
In search of water migrate o'er dry land,
Or in the night for food; oft time in shoals
Banded, with leaders marshalled rational.
With what nice judgement, they direct the blow
Against the insect: lo, from peril how
In mud they hide them; and, when storms approach,
Sink to the bottom, to the surface soar,
As wishing to avoid, or to enjoy,
The agitation of impending change.
Colours, and sounds distinguish they; and burn
With love of mate, of offspring, and of kind.
Some sleep in herds, appointing first their watch,
While on the rocks they sun themselves at ease—
A peaceful race—a happy social tribe;
Various of bulk, but still the huger size,
In consciousness of power, the more serene;
Fearless of death, in pleasure living still,
And dying in a moment, with least pain;
Heirs of an element, wherein but they
May none exist, and made for their delight,
In motion slow, or swift, free from the change,
And influence of seasons, creatures bright;
Bright, as if woven of beams; amber of hue,
Or golden—azure, and green—and of all tints—
Making the deep a marvel. Knowest thou,
How they were framed to balance, to adjust,
Their weight against the waters; to divide
Their way therein? to see—to hear—to breathe
The fluid pregnant with the air of life?
Or how they choose to wander, or prefer
Local abode? or from the sea saline,
Against descending currents persevere
To the selected stream; there to depose
Their eggs in fitting beds, by bank, or shore?
—Of them may man tranquillity of mind,
And abstinence of appetite, be taught;
Wise, if he learn. From God their wisdom is;
Who giveth will, and wisdom even to forms,
So brief, and so minute, the straining eye
Discerns not parts, nor motion. Beauty, also,
He grants, and Music to the higher kinds:
The Birds of plumage glorious, rich of song;
Whose home is in the air, and there their road,
Wherein they cross the ocean, visiting
East, west, north, south; the ends of heaven, and earth.
Learn wisdom, too, of them; for ne'er have they
Absurdly done, nor ever folly known—
Accomplished in their nature, to the bourn
Of their perfection come; while thou hast yet
To rise to thine by labour, and by death—
Needing redemption. Sinless are their ways,
Having affections, nor unapt to judge,
And act on thought, reflective, and enrapt;
And, with their numbers various, and how sweet,
Awaking meditation in thy mind,
And ecstasy of feeling in thy heart.
Yet fierce of these are some, on raven bent;
But most are gentle. So of Cattle too—
And all were thus, till Evil, made by man,
Was found in Nature; to correct in him
Fatal result, and mortal tendency.
—But in the coming age, when blessèd Life
Shall Death have conquered; then, will peace return
To all creation; both to man, and beast.
For unto thee hath God dominion given
Over the inferiour kinds. Wherefore he made
Thee in his image, that even thou shouldst rule
Over the fish of the capacious sea,
Over the fowl of the expanded air,
Over the cattle, and o'er all the earth,
And over every creeping thing thereon:
Blessed to be fruitful, and to multiply;
And to replenish, and subdue the earth.
—And Bird, and Beast to thee, O Ham, shall come;
From brake, and den; in desart, and in air;
In quiet majesty, and peaceful might;
Come, as of old to Adam, to be named
Of him in Eden; and as yet again,
They shall with Man abide, when He, who made,
Shall re-create the Heavens, and the Earth.
—Thine with their restoration reconciles;
Nature advanced to Spirit; when with all,
Even as with Shem, the Godhead shall abide.
Thrice blessèd be Jehovah, God of Shem;
By Ham, and Shem, and Japhet; for to them,
His incommunicable Name is given,
The knowledge of himself. On earth shall be
His Residence divine—his Mercy-Seat—
And spread his glory o'er the Cherubim.
Of human seed becomes, of human loins
His Incarnation grows—the Son of Shem,
Pacific Victor; Lord of Heaven, and Earth;
In whom the fulness of all lands convenes,
The consummation of the Age to come.’
Thus spake the Incarnate; and was borne away.
Now, when the Thunder, and the Voice had ceased,
Together with the noise of winds, and wings;
Up from the ground, where, prostrate, they adored,
Methuselah, with Noah, and his sons,
Rose; and lo, none was with them: save there lay,
His face on earth, the corse of Lamech dead.

II. Burial of Lamech

Seven days from Lamech's death were passed in sorrow.
The day then dawning was decreed to do
Exequial rites to the forsaken shrine,
The temple of his body; of worshipper
Now void, but not of God. For, as on wilds,
Once cultivated, once the abodes of men,
Altars in ruin picturesque survive,
By Saint, or Idol o'er-presided still;
Thus, with our flesh, or buried, or cast out,
His Providence remains, preparing it
For restoration incorruptible.
Therefore, o'er corse, and sepulchre, the Sun,
Regardless of the dead, still rises, sets,
As when the wept-for such vicissitude
Found grateful; hence, the waves dance in their joy
Over the drowned. Air freshens yet, the fields
Laugh, and the flowers do vaunt their dewy charms;
Though day by day, and hour by hour, Time dooms
And slays his thousands: for in earth, and sea
The human seed, in much dishonour sown,
Corrupts but to requicken gloriously.
O Death is kingly, and high state affects:
Quiet, and placid; of uncertainty
Untroubled, and, with destiny at one;
In independence of the illusive hours,
Crowns the pale corse what mystic majesty.
—Thus now, up from his bed with health aglow,
The Sun arises at this autumn tide,
Rejoicing o'er the golden sheaves of corn.
Hues sport in clouds, whose fleecy skirts are checked
With silvery tints of light, and glancing shade;
While the round orb awakes on the blue hills,
And the wild Deer play in his dewy beams,
And the birds sing their pæans: chief, the Lark,
His grassy couch forsaking, hymns the gate
Of everlasting heaven; but, heard on earth
At intervals, the speckled warbler's song
Wafts on the breeze; the pious Shepherd's joy,
His sinless flock unfolding, early risen.
—At later hour, that Shepherd pipes along
The hills, unconscious: pensively, the Peasant
Unlatches his lone wicket; and his flask
The Housewife fills, as he his ripping scythe
Sharpens in preparation; while his Dog
Expects his homely crust. As wont, the Cock
Rouses the barn; nor Partlet wakes alone,
With all her scarce-fledged brood; but eke the Maid
That, laughing underneath the shady elm,
Fills, for the dairy, swift the frothy pail,
Milched from the patient Cow. Thus Life proceeds;
While to the grave a patriarch's corse is borne—
Nor cares the Woodman, as he cleaves the oak
In the deep forest, whom amongst mankind
Grim Death hath felled; and, on the daisied green,
The frolic Children, chasing Butterflies,
And principled in every limb with life,
Dream not of death; its terrours unconceived.

III. The Blind Prophet

Now, in the rear; high seated on a car,
Drawn by two Leopards; Kaël came enthroned:
Of a barbaric army chief adored.
Prince of a savage tribe, that dwelt beyond
The far Erythræan Sea; once immigrant;
From Naid, and Enos for their crimes exiled;
And, free from government, thenceforth declined
From lawless human to mere animal;
Half brute, but not half angel; and yet men,
If but as idiots. Hence, into their souls
Glimpses of reason flashed an awful light,
More piercing made by the surrounding gloom.
So had they superstitions; and from Death,
And from the Dead, were visited of dreams,
Acceptable to Faith—high faculty,
By weakness to credulity reduced,
Yet even in weakness to be reverenced.
For them, strange meaning had the closing Year;
Since on its Last Day, at the mid of night,
The ghosts of the departed wont appear
To friends, and relatives; . . who ready made
For spiritual visitants their house,
And set the room in order, and prepared
Water to purify, and wine to welcome,
The traveller from worlds transcending this; . .
Whose coming they awaited all the night,
Until the hour appointed; then held they
Communion with their guests invisible—
Which whoso failed to do might vengeance fear.
Such vengeance fell on Kaël. Lightning smote
His eyes, and so they withered; and his frame,
Convulsed with the quick flash, in agony,
Shrunk; and, for sickness, he was cast abroad,
Into the fields where corses had been strewn,
As one already dead, or doomed to die,
Left with dry bones to perish. What great Power
Preserved the abandoned wretch? More helpless he
Than unprotected babe; yet he returned
Even from the Place of Skeletons, to health
Restored; and, by the people, thence believed
With spirits, and demons, in the haunted fields,
Communion to have held; whence, in their fear,
Him they avoided, till by priestly hands
Made pure, and then as prophet him esteemed.
—Such Kaël was; whose inspiration, now,
Armies awaited, to decide dispute
Of rituals vain: and he, with writhings torn,
Prelude of unintelligible sounds,
And other signs of ecstasy, at length
Was of clear speech delivered; thus it ran.
‘Repent, or ye shall perish, who refuse
The sons of Abel needful corn, and oil.
Your Seed time, and your Harvest, they shall fail;
Your Cold, and Heat, shall strange mutation know;
Summer, and Winter; Day, and Night; shall cease.’
Scarce were the words pronounced, ere flashed on high
Steel in his rival's hand, a Cainite chief,
The second victor in the chariot race;
Descending soon into the prophet's breast,
A sudden stroke, and mortal in its aim.
Back Kaël fell. But, in his driver's hand,
The scourge resounded; and, with wondrous speed,
The leopard pair fly thence, like wingèd steeds:
So, when disturbed, they frightened bear their prey,
Else on the spot devoured, to lonely place,
Glutting their raven with the carcase meal.
Thus ceased the impious games; and, from the graves,
Those wicked hosts, in wild confusion, fled;
Awed with strange fear, presaged from that event.

IV. Signs of the Seasons

Fair, at the close of this tumultuous day,
Art thou, O Moonlight, on this field of death;
Reposing here where mortal flesh decays,
Even at the portal of Eternity,
While, in the myrtle walks of Paradise,
The virgin spirit contemplates its bliss.
Sweet are the breezes that now cool our brows,
Erewhile with wrong inflamed; soft breathe ye round
These peaceful beds; and soft, ye honey dews,
Drop on the rocks, and fitting soil prepare
For vegetation. Mallow, purple-streaked,
And Asphodel with yellow flowrets, bloom
Where'er the dead are pillowed. Weep, ye Trees,
Shed your dishevelled leaves o'er the calm vale
Of their deep slumber. Willow, Ash, and Birch,
With heads suspended, mourn—and hang your fruit,
Ye laden Fig trees, to the hallowed ground.
Or rather let the mountain Cypress, with
The Poplar, and the Fir, of spiral form,
And floating foliage, point, like Faith, to God,
Nature's own obeliskal monuments,
Raising their arms to heaven, while they deplore
Their brethren of the earth. But chief the Pine,
In his perpetual green of solemn hue,
His shape pyramid, his aroma sweet,
And his wind-shaken branches' hollow moan,
Symbol of grief, and immortality.
Also, thou Yew, whose years outlast the tomb,
And on the wreck of temples flourish still.
Osier, Oak, Vinestock, Laurel evergreen,
And Myrtle; Violet pale, and meek Primrose;
Ivy, and Olive; with the Jessamine,
Heartsease, and Holly; Honeysuckle, too,
With Palm, and Cedar, consecrate with life
Thy garden, Death. Thus, at extremest South,
The sepulchre of nature, Winter's tree,
Rich in perfume, perennial, shades with green
Valleys of snow, and territorial ice,
Mountain, and promontory, frozen isles,
And floods of crystal, and wide tracts of snow,
Even by the Petrel, and the Penguin shunned;
Left all to loneliness, and sullen gloom,
Save gleam of star, or moon, or meteor wild.
For Thou, who madest, givest to the soul
Lift, in the regions whither she is gone—
There morning from the orient aye looks down
Upon the laughing sea, that hyaline
By saints in spiritual vision seen;
And in the Eternal Presence she subsists.
Thus to the Patriarchs came serenest peace;
But on the race of Cain prediction fell.

BOOK THE FIFTH. THE CHILDREN OF ABEL

I. Junia and Nain

Meantime, in peace, and blessedness reposed
The far Erythræan Isle; and stern farewell,
O Abel, to thy children, Famine's fiend
Pronounced; then, winged his way to distant shores.
—Now, from the beach, two Maidens fair behold
The fresh awakened sun from ocean rise,
Dallying awhile with the crisped billows' mirth;
Whose foam, else white, is tinted with a blush
From his salute; and, dimpled by the breath
Of the young breezes, breaks upon the waves
In sparkling smiles, innumerous, to hail
His resurrection from the apparent sea.
Of Love the maidens talked; nor were defiled,
For love was here religion—sinless—pure.
Of Love, and Hori, Junia talked with Nain,
The shepherd's sister; no ungrateful theme,
Yet not from sorrow free; since Junià
Pines that the youth, for whom her heart was sad,
Met not her virgin love. To him the stars
Had beauty far more excellent than all
The daughters of his land; and the bright moon
Was as a golden goblet full of wine,
A garland of renown, and on his soul
Shed inspiration, glory, life, and power.
Song him delighted too. The youth was wont
To mould the sea-shell to an instrument
Of music; and therefrom the tones extract,
Accordant with the feelings of his heart,
The thoughts of his high soul. And much he loved
The solitude of ocean's shore, to muse,
And mark the poetry magniloquent
Of wave, and wind embracing. Hark; she hears—
Junia—the murmur of the shepherd's shell.
And, with her fairy finger, hushes now
The lips of her companion; both concealed
Behind a crag of rock, where well they list,
Unseen, the lay of Hori. Thus he sang:
Thus closed his song. Deep thrilled with bliss the soul
Of Junia, as she heard; and Nain exclaimed
Aloud with joy; and both, discovered so,
Were found of Hori: With a trembling lip,
His Sister he saluted with a kiss;
And to his bosom clasped his blushing Bride.

II. Michael, and Azaziel

III. The First Rain

IV. Vale of Adam

‘Hence was the dust derived, whereof the Sire
Of Heaven, and Earth first moulded flesh of Man;
Then breathed into his nostrils breath of life,
That he became a living soul. Awhile,
Within these wilds he wandered, innocent,
And unrepining; and forsaken not
By him who made him, and, with thoughts divine,
Led to aspire, and warranted to hope;
Till in a cultivated garden set,
To dress it, and to keep it, lord of all.
Then he beheld how lovely Order was,
And how rude Nature put on novel charms,
When unto Law obedient, God's, or man's,
Trained by his will, and nurtured to his use.
But, ah, that blest estate he forfeited;
Living, not Knowing, he preferred to die,
Though by well living he had known all things,
And known all without evil, or delay.
Thence to the ground whence he was taken, Man,
Remanded, was by labour doomed to win
What Love had given, had he not doubted Love:
But that same Love it was, appointed now
Labour to Man; to call the spirit forth
Wherewith had God inspired him; to subdue
Chaotic Nature, and impose what form
His heaven-derived Intelligence decrees,
And so regain the life which he hath lost.
—Thus Man by Wisdom shall dominion use,
To govern, or evade all powers perverse,
Or rebel unto his supremacy,
And substitute them for his force of limb;
And by his knowledge of them, and the might
Which knowledge gives, rise into blest estate
Of leisure, and ability to rear
Moral, and intellectual edifice;
Wherein, as in a temple, he may dwell,
With happiness, as to the present life,
And feel the Eternal, like an altar-flame,
Descending, in a cloud of glory, down
Into his soul, and charming it midway,
To meet it in the air, and guide to God.
—Not that the state of nature is not good,
For He who made it then beheld it so;
But that 'tis chiefly good, because it hath
Capacity of better, which to work
Is, under God, the privilege of man.
Beautiful on this silent wilderness,
Their cataract of light, the moon, and stars
Shed, like a sea; but few the forest paths
That feel their influence, few their shadows know.
Sublime, the sun at noon to burnished gold
Turns, with alchemic touch, the branches high,
That shine into the heaven; which, again,
Shines down on them, reciprocally bright:
But all within is as a dreary cave,
Scarce speckled, even at noon, with Uriël.
Still desolation spreads; bare rocks, and sand;
Nor visit there the seasons. Spring ne'er makes
The crevices of rocks to teem with life;
Nor hath the Summer beauty to bring forth;
Nor Autumn aught to garner: well it were
Might Winter's influence cool its scorching sands,
But they may thirst in vain. The unlaboured earth
Is hidden with the multitude of trees;
The untaught rivers, in no channels kept,
Drown, with perpetual flood, plains fertile else,
And to unhealthy moist convert the dry.
Vain the warm sun, vain climate of the south,
Vain soil prolific, that, with idle growth,
And rank luxuriance, vegetation clothes,
And chokes the wood, and covers blessèd earth
With useless shrubs, and herbs, and noxious weeds—
Unfit for habitance, or nourishment.
To life unfriendly, breathes the stagnant air;
With putrid exhalations water teems;
And earth, encumbered, feels not sun, nor wind.
—Not there the brute gains vigour, though so wild.
And of the wild free denizen, and lord;
Dwarfed in his bulk, nor various in his kind,
Nor numerous, though undestroyed by man:
While the less noble tribes of creeping things
Increase, and multiply, and grow in strength
And size; the active principle of life
Its force expending on inferiour forms,
Offensive, monstrous, poisonous, and strange.
Only the birds, set free by gift of wing
From the controul of earth, howe'er it change,
Preserve their beauty, and their dazzling hue;
Yet with less various note, less pleasing song,
In the too-silent ear of solitude,
No man to listen, they attune their loves.
—Man, elsewhere, taught by Wisdom diligence,
Makes habitable what were desart else;
And with fertility, and beauty clothes,
For use, and ornament, the mended earth:
And, while he works, redeems from fleshly coil
The soul which animates it, and acquits
Some faculty from its imprisonment;
Till his perfection be accomplished quite
In revelation full, and use of all.
And One shall come, who, in the sight of men,
Shall the divinity of perfect man
Illustrate, and identify: and He
The Word, and Will of God shall incarnate,
For Man's atonement, and instruction both.
His soul he shall possess in liberty,
Made free by truth, and purity of life;
And thence of all things shall he knowledge have,
And earth to him, and water shall submit;
And air, and fire acknowledge him divine;
And life, and death await upon his word;
And miracle on his creative will;
Who shall to Man ensample meet bequeath,
What, in the consummation of the age,
Shall crown him Monarch of the Elements.
—Meantime, shall many, though imperfect each,
Each in his several faculty complete,
Like functions of humanity set forth;
So that in all the whole may be expressed,
The want of one by other still supplied,
And that of many sometimes by the one;
But still by each his imperfection felt—
Nay, all—and over land, and ocean wailed;
So loud that heaven, and hell shall hear the moan.
Yet fear ye not; for peace shall come at last.’

BOOK THE SIXTH. THE PREPARATION

I. Vale of Abel

II. Animals

III. Edna, and Azaradel

What did they in the silent Wilderness?

IV. Ham, and Elihu