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

‘Fools bury, fools embalm, fools burn their dead.
Fling them forth to the plains: and let the bird
Not shun them, nor the beast, as if abhorred,
And doomed to hell; but, as sweet morsels, eat,
And worthy entrance into worlds of bliss.
The feathered tribes may bear them then aloft,
Their pastimes to partake, and bathe in air;
And the four-footed creatures on the hills,
And in the forests, and by banks of streams,
Teach them new pleasures, and delightful sports.
What murmur? ha! ha! ha!’

And then he laughed,
So wild, and loud, and long, that all the rocks,
And burial places, in that field of graves,
Echoed the bitter mockery of that laugh.
Loud pealed the same from Jared's sepulchre;
Mahalaleel's replied to his dread mirth;
Cainan's that laugh resounded; and the vault
Of Enosh was alive with that mad voice;
And Seth's twin-pillared temple of repose
Was wakened with the hoarse profanity;
And Adam's tomb reverberated deep
The cachinnation; strange, and hollow tones
Of laughter, and of blasphemy prolonged.
—And well that scorn succeeded to allay
The growing tumult, which had else arisen,
And, in that prophet's infidelity,
Found reason 'gainst the judgement that pronounced
Their prejudices void; and, in their stead,
Proposed what all abhorred. But, in that pause,
A power, unfelt before, the savage swayed;
And change in his aspect, and form produced,
Whence wonder died of awe:—a gazing corse,
Not uninformed of life, but seized, and fixed

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In catalepsy, senseless—speechless—blind;
Though glaring, as restored to sudden sight.
But blind he stood a swarthy monument,
Gigantic; for his hue was as the night;
Burned by the sun, and clime where he was born,
With fervency intense; his flesh was coal,
And his blood fire, black with excessive heat.
And he was huge of size; his limbs were cast
In mould Titanian, shrivelled yet, and shrunk
From what they might have been; by indolence
Enfeebled, such as, in the wilderness,
Weakens the human rival of the brute.
Held by the charm whose spell he could not break,
He stood enrapt; and, though unwilling, spake
Words, which, though true, and because true, the more
He disbelieved.

‘Laugh, Spirits of the Dead,
Laugh, laugh; and, like the impatient battle-steed,
Cry ha! ha! to derision. Laugh; ay, laugh.
Came not the Foe your Children to subdue?
Came not the sons of mischief forth, to seek
A quarrel, and, with insult, to shed blood?
Laughed not your God in heaven as they came,
And beckoned to the Angel of the Air,
Whose sword, and symbol is the hairy Star;
Whereof none knows but He, who measured out
The appointed ages of its mystic course,
That it should wing its fiery way to earth,
And lash it with a scourge? Make from the wreck
Of worlds. The void, and formless deep returns:
Such as it was, ere moved the Spirit there;
Ere the quick fiat of his strong right hand
The Light created; when the Sun leapt forth;
And, with his left begotten, rose the Moon;
While, with his speed, were kindled the bright Stars.
—And shall I curse whom He in heaven hath blessed,

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Who lies not, nor repents? What charm is there,
Or what enchantment, 'gainst the sons of God?
Here divination fails. But, from the heights
Of Armon, I behold the sacred Ship,
Walking the waters o'er the drownèd world;
How lovelily—alone—a goodly tent,
A blessèd bark, none curse but the accursed;
And blessèd he who blesseth it, and them.’