University of Virginia Library

---

65

SECOND SERIES.

MAN AND BEAST.

---

67

I. THE LEGEND OF THE ELEPHANT.

---

69

Sore afraid,
Adam fell prostrate and began to pray.
For every time that Adam fear'd he pray'd,
And every thing he fear'd he worshipt. Grey
And great, this formidable mountain made

---

70

Gravely along the plain its gradual way,
Till over Adam hover'd its huge shade.
Then, in a language lost for ever and aye,
The Mountain to the Man, reproachful, said—
“Dost thou not know me, Adam?”

“Adam,” the Mountain answer'd him, “arise!

---

71

Not at my feet thy place is. Whence this dread?
Alas, when we were still in Paradise
Fast friends were we.” But Adam hung his head,
And mutter'd, “Friends? I know not what that is.
Why dost thou persecute me, and pursue?
Is Paradise a wilderness like this?
I know it not, and thee I never knew.”
“Well didst thou know me once, when we were there,”
The Mountain answer'd, “nor canst thou deny
'Twas thou who gavest me the name I bear.”
But Adam, crouching, cried, “It was not I!
I never gave thee anything at all.
What wouldst thou? worship? sacrifice? roots? grain?
Take, and begone! Mountain, my store is small.”

And sullenly the savage turn'd again
To the hard labour of his daily lot.

---

72

By this the pitying Elephant perceived
That Adam in the desert had forgot
His happier birthplace. The good beast was grieved;
And “Those,” he said, “whom thou rememb'rest not
Remember thee. We could not live bereaved
Of thy loved presence, and from end to end
Of Eden sought thee. When thou didst not come
We mourn'd thee, missing our great human friend,
And wondering what withheld him from his home.
I think the fervour of our fond distress
Melted the battlements of Paradise.
They fell, and forth into the wilderness
We came to find thee. For who else is wise
As thou art? and we hold thee great above
Our greatest. Why hast thou forsaken us
For this drear desert? Was not Eden best?
Unsweet the region thou hast chosen thus!
Yet less forlorn than loss of human love

---

73

Hath left the bowers by love in Eden blest.
So where thou dwellest shall our dwelling be,
Since joy from Eden went when thou wert gone,
And where thou goest we will go with thee.
To tell thee this the others sent me on.”

Adam look'd up alarm'd, and trembling cried,
“What others? Then I am indeed undone!
More Elephants like thee?” The beast replied,
“Alas, hast thou forgotten everyone
Of thine old followers, the blithe beasts that were
Thy folk in Paradise? which for thy sake
We have abandon'd, and are come to share
Thy labour, and near thine our lodging make.
For Man completes us all, whate'er we be,
And to his service faithfully we pledge
Our several forces. Leaves unto the tree
They garment, feathers to the wing they fledge,

---

74

Wings to the bird they bear, and hands to thee,
Belong not more than we for Man were made.
So if thou sufferest we will suffer too,
And if thou toilest we thy toil will aid,
And we will be thy loving servants true,
And thou shalt be our master.”

---

75

---

77

II. THE LEGEND OF THE ASS.

---

79

The Elephant then lifted up on high
His waving trunk, and trumpeted a clear
Sonorous summons. With responsive cry
To that glad signal, all the beasts drew near,
And stood round Adam who was weeping still.
Not one faint word of welcome did he say;
But all to comfort him employ'd their skill,
And each beast gave him some good gift. For they,
When forth from Paradise they went to find
Its unforgotten lord, had brought away

---

80

As many of the treasures left behind
By Man as each could carry.

So that day
(Thanks to the beasts, who had preserved them) he
Some precious fragments of himself at length
Recover'd, and became in some degree
Human again. Proud consciousness of strength
The Lion gave him. Honesty of heart
The Dog. A vigilance that's never dull
The Lynx bestow'd. The Beaver brought him art,
The Eagle aspiration. Tenderness
The Dove contributed, the Elephant
Benign sagacity, the Fox address.
He gain'd a sturdy courage from the Bull:
And, all combining to supply Man's want,
Each beast and bird in tribute bountiful,
Gave Adam something he had lack'd before.

---

81

He took whate'er they gave him, and began,
As gift by gift he gather'd up the store,
Slowly to feel himself once more a man.

Caressingly, like an importunate child,
Adam approach'd the Ass, whose shaggy head
He fondled. “Gentle are thy looks and mild,
Hast thou not brought me any gift?” he said.
The Ass replied, “My gift is all unfit
To offer thee.” Adam was vext, and frown'd.
The Ass resumed “I am ashamed of it,

---

82

Although in Paradise this gift I found.
No other beast to take it had a mind,
And if I had not pick'd it from the ground
I think it would have there been left behind.”

But Adam, as his wont it was, chose wrong

---

83

For what the Ass (with a prophetic sense
Perchance of his own need of it ere long)
Had saved from Eden was Benevolence.
When thus partition'd between Man and Beast,
Benevolence its primal beauty lost;
And Adam's portion proved to be the least
Benignant, tho' he fancied it the most.
This fraction of Benevolence began,
When mingled with Man's character, alas,
To be Stupidity; and, scorn'd by Man,
'Tis Patience that has rested with the Ass.

---

85

III. THE LEGEND OF THE DEAD LAMBS.

---

87

Death, tho' already in the world, as yet
Had only tried his timorous tooth to whet
On grass and leaves. But he began to grow
Greedier, greater, and resolved to know
The taste of stronger food than such light fare.
To feed on human flesh he did not dare,
Till many a meaner meal had slowly given
The young destroyer strength to vanquish even
His restless rival in destruction, Man.
Meanwhile, on lesser victims he began
To test his power: and in a cold Spring night

---

88

Two weanling Lambs first perish'd from his bite.
The bleatings of their dam at break of day
Drew to the spot where her dead Lambkins lay
The other beasts. They, understanding not,
In wistful silence round that fatal spot
Stood eyeing the dead Lambs with looks forlorn.

So on his breast
He laid their little bodies, and again
Set forward, follow'd o'er the frosty plain

---

89

By his bewilder'd flocks. And in dismay
They held their peace. That was a silent day.
At night he laid the dead Lambs on the grass.
That night still colder than the other was,
And when the morning broke there were two more
Dead Lambs to carry. Adam took the four,
And in his arms he bore them, no great way,
Till eventide. That was a sorrowful day.

But, ere the next, two other Lambkins died,
Frost-bitten in the dark. Then Adam tried
To carry them, all six. But the poor Sheep
Said, “Nay, we thank thee, Adam. Let them sleep!
Thou canst not carry them. 'Tis all in vain.
We fear our Lambkins will not wake again.
And, if they wake, they could not walk—for see,
Their little legs are stiffen'd. Let them be!”

---

90

So Adam left the Lambs. And all the Herd
Follow'd him sorrowing, and not a word
Was spoken. Never until then had they
Their own forsaken. That was the worst day.

Eve said to Adam, as they went along,
“Adam, last night the cold was bitter strong.
Warm fleeces to keep out the freezing wind
Have those six Lambkins thou hast left behind;
But they will never need them any more.
Go, fetch them here! and I will make, before
This day be done, stout garments for us both,
Lest we, too, wake no more.” Said Adam, loth
To do her bidding, “Why dost thou suppose
Our Lambs will nevermore have need of those
Warm fleeces? They are sleeping.” But Eve said,
“They are not sleeping, Adam. They are dead.”
“Dead? What is that?” “I know not. But I know

---

91

That they no more can feel the north wind blow,
Nor the sun burn. They cannot hear the bleat
Of their own mothers, cannot suffer heat
Or cold, or thirst or hunger, weariness
Or want, again.” “How dost thou know all this?”
Ask'd Adam. And Eve whisper'd in his ear,
“The Serpent told me.” “Is the Serpent here?
If here he be, why hath he,” Adam cried,
“No good gift brought me?” Adam's wife replied,
“The best of gifts, if rightly understood,
He brings thee, and that gift is counsel good.
The Serpent is a prudent beast; and right!
For we were miserably cold last night,
And may to-night be colder; and hard by
Those dead Lambs in their woolly fleeces lie,
Yet need them not as we do. They are dead.
Go, fetch them hither!”

---

92

---

93

IV. THE LEGEND OF EVE'S JEWELS.

---

95

The woman smiled, “Behold me!
Am I not fair already?” “Who hath told thee
That thou art fair?” the Serpent ask'd. Again
Eve smiled, and answer'd, “Adam.” “Ah, but when?”

---

96

He ask'd. And, this time sighing as she smiled,
She said, “Before the birth of our first child.”
“I thought so,” said the Serpent. “Long ago!”
Eve's eyes grew tearful. She replied, “I know
It was but yesterday I chanced to trace
Reflected in a mountain pool the face
That he had praised; and I was satisfied
That certainly, unless the water lied,
Adam was right.” “Was right,” the Serpent said,
“So was last summer sweet.” “Doth beauty fade?”
Eve murmur'd. “Ay, with youth,” said he. “And thou
Canst make me young again?” “Not that. But how,
When young no more, to make thee fair again
I know a way.” “What way?” said Eve. “Explain!”
“It is,” he answer'd, “by adorning thee.”
“And what wouldst thou adorn me with?” said she.
“Myself!” he whisper'd.

---

97

And at her ear again the Serpent said,

---

98

“By the bright blaze of thine adornment, see
What in the years to come thy sex shall be!
Mere female animal, much weaker than
The male its master, not the Queen of Man,
Scarce even his mate, that sex was born; but more
Than it was born shall it become. Such store
Doth in it lurk of secret subtilty,
Such seed of complex life, as by-and-by
Shall grow into full Woman; and, when grown,
The Woman shall avenge, tho' she disown,
The Female, her forgotten ancestress.
Mother of both, my glittering caress
Now wakes beneath thy bosom's kindled snow
Whole worlds of Womanhood in embryo!
A penal law controls Man's fallen state.
It's name is Progress: and, to stimulate
That progress to its destin'd goal, Decay,
Woman, with growing power, shall all the way

---

99

Its course accompany—from happiness
And ignorance to knowledge and distress;
From careless impulse to contrived device;
From spontaneity to artifice;
From simple to sophisticated life;
From faith to doubt, and from repose to strife.
Whilst, still as Progress doth its prey pursue,
The weaker shall the stronger-born subdue,
Man subjugating first those monsters grim
Whose strength is more than his; then, Woman him;
Tho' he born weaker than most beasts, and she
Born weaker even that man's own weakness, be.
So shall the Feminine Force that set him on
Still keep him going till his course be done.
Far hath he yet to travel his long way,
But thou hast started him. And on the day
He lost that Paradise he ne'er had won,
Here was his progress, thanks to thee, begun.

---

100

That was Man's first step forward. I perceive
He (thanks again to thee) is on the eve
Of yet another. Good advice to him
Thou gavest, whence he got his winter trim,
So warm and stout. But at that fleecy coat
The beasts, his unprogressive friends, I note,
Begin to look suspiciously askance.
And thence do I predict his next advance.
'Twixt Man and Beast the inevitable strife
Must needs enforce 'twixt Man and Man a life
More artificial. And therefrom shall rise
The Future Woman; form'd to civilize,
Corrupt, and ruin, raise, and overthrow
Cycles of social types that all shall owe
To her creative and destructive sway
Their beauty's blossom, and their strength's decay.
Behold, then, in thyself the primal source
Of Human Progress, and its latest force!

---

101

For, since from thee shall thy fair daughters, Eve,
A subtler sex than all thy sons receive,
Their beauty shall complete what thine began,
Thou crown'd Queen Mother of the Queens of Man!”

---

103

V. THE LEGEND OF FABLE.

---

105

With many a plume and tuft of brilliant dye,
And blushing berries twined in belt and tress,
Eve on her clothing had begun to try
What ornament could add to usefulness
From day to day. But, as the days went by,
The more she prized her borrow'd charms, the less
She loved their owners who, approving not
Those pilfer'd splendours, with resentful eye
Beheld them all. For out the secret got,
How from the bodies of the dead were torn
The garments Eve and Adam gloried in:

---

106

And to the beasts, who were as they were born,
It seem'd a scandal and a sort of sin
That their own wool and fur should thus be worn
By limbs not theirs. “Let each defend his skin!”
They said to one another.

In those days
There was a little animal Eve yet
Loved passing well; for it had pleasant ways,
Was smooth, and soft, and sleek, and seem'd to set
A grateful store on her capricious praise.
Curl'd in her lap 'twould nestle without fear,
And let her stroke its back and bosom white,
Until to Eve this beast became so dear
That in its confidence she took delight.
But, when the Herd discover'd that her dress
Was stolen from their plunder'd kith and kin,
Eve's little favourite fear'd each fresh caress
Her hand bestow'd on it, and felt within

---

107

Its frighten'd heart a sharp mistrustfulness,
For “If she took a fancy to my skin?”
The creature mused. And ever from that date
Its thoughts and looks were all alert to find
Some means whereby it might escape the fate
Whose horrid prospect hover'd vague behind
Eve's fondling fingers. Once, when peering round,
Inquisitively careful to explore
All nooks and corners till such means were found,
It spied a heap of fish-bones on the floor.
Then, from Eve's lap down-sliding to the ground,
It roll'd itself among them o'er and o'er
Till it became a Porcupine. And “How
To guard my skin,” it chuckled, “nevermore
Need I henceforth take any pains, for now
My skin it is that will henceforth guard me!”

So in this unapproachable condition

---

108

Secure it lived: for its security
Was even the same as Man's was—Arm'd Suspicion.

Suspicion everywhere! No peace could be
On earth henceforth. To war suspicion led.
Long ages is it since that war began,
And seas of blood have been on both sides shed,
Yet still it lasts. In servitude to Man
Some captived beasts survive. The Dog is one.
But, just because the Dog to Man is true,
From his approach his former comrades run,
Deeming him traitor to their cause. Some few
(The fiercest and the savagest alone)
An intermittent and unequal strife
Around their dens in desert lands pursue,
And they and Man are enemies for life.
Nor they and Man alone: for, confidence
Once gone, the beasts upon each other prey'd

---

109

Like beasts, without the plausible pretence
Of good intentions by Man's nature made
For his bad doings in the grim campaign
'Twixt him and them. This so revolted her,
That Justice from the world-wide battle-plain
Fled blushing. Pity's flight was tardier:
But, after lingering long in vain appeal
From heart to heart, she follow'd Justice too,
Where only bloodstains left behind reveal
The paths whereby she fled from mortal view.

And they, the gentle Beasts of Paradise
That were Man's once familiar intimates,
Far from the menace of his murderous eyes
Whither, O whither are they gone? The gates
Of Paradise are shut for ever, and there
No refuge for Man's victims, nor for him,
Remains on earth. But, from the bowers that were

---

110

With Eden lost, the pitying Seraphim
Sow'd in the waste one seed. A forest fair
Sprang from it—giant trees of lusty limb,
Long vaults of bloom and verdure never bare,
Where forms, half-bird half-blossom, flash and swim
From bough to bough, and, husht in windless air,
Soft shadows flutter from the whisperous wings
Of half-awaken'd dreams; while all things there
Seem slowly turning into other things,
As, down the bowery hollows to the brim
Of immemorial seas, melodious springs
From undiscoverable sources bear
Primeval secrets.

Deep into the dim
But deathless shelter of that blest repair
Those gentle beasts departed, and became
Forthwith imperishably fabulous.

---

111

For History, that doth so loud proclaim
And with such curiosity discuss
Man's perishable life and course unstable,
Of them and theirs knows nothing, and the name
Of their unfading Forest Home is Fable.

Far off, and ever farther off from us,
That Forest and the dwellers in it seem,
As far and farther on we travel fast,
And more and more like a remember'd dream
Becomes the glimmering wonder of the Past.
But, o'er a wingèd and four-footed folk
Whose unsophisticated nature yields
Spontaneous service to her even yoke,
There Justice reigns revered; there Pity shields
An else defenceless flock; and there do they
Their joint tribunal hold, where every cause
That in this human world hath gone astray,

---

112

And honest trial miss'd, by lovelier laws
Than ours is welcomed to impartial test,
All cases pleaded, be they what they may,
All rights establish'd, and all wrongs redress'd.
How far away it seems, how far away!

To him who tells these tales such chance befell
Once on a time: and in that Forest old

---

113

('Tho' how he enter'd it he cannot tell)
With one whose face he may no more behold
Or there or here, he was beguiled to dwell
Full many a month. But few of his own kind,
Among the folk who there safe dwelling have,
To greet him or to guide him did he find.
Of these, the wisest was a Phrygian slave,
The holiest Assisi's tender Saint.
Phœdrus upon the borders of the land
Sat listening; and to him came echoes faint
From voices far within. His careful hand
On tablets smooth deliberately wrote
In unimpulsive verse, correctly plann'd,
All that thus reach'd him from a source remote.
But there, without restraint, from place to place
And led by none, tho' follow'd by a band
Of Loves and Graces whose light steps kept pace
With his inimitably varied lay,

---

114

Free-footed went the witty Fabulist
Of social France. And there our English Gay,
Methodically playful, neither miss'd
Nor much advanced his unadventurous way.

---

115