University of Virginia Library

Attended thus, Ham, and Elihu rode:
Serene, Elihu; wonder-stricken, Ham.
As o'er the realm of life Elihu held
Sovran supremacy, and regal rule,
Like One, God made to be with glory crowned,
And set above his works, beneath his feet
All things disposed, in due subjection placed.
Him knew not Samiasa, but conceived
Some attribute divine incarnate in
That image of dominion, and, with knee
Low bent, shewed reverence; eftsoons, bid to rise,
Called by his name, he started at the sound,
But answered not, while on Elihu spake:

‘Discrownèd king, but new enthronèd man;
Here loiter not—the City named from thee
Thy presence needs, which yet 'twill fail to save.
What then? What is it to thee? His task to do
To man is given—the issues are with God.
Behold, I have endowed the Horse with strength,
Have girt his neck with thunder—and can shake
His courage, as he were a grasshopper.
Mount on his back, even thou, and Palal, too;
Palal, in whom faith buds not, though I quench
The glory of these nostrils terrible,
That he may ride in safety. Be it so.’

And as he spake, submiss two Steeds approached,
And pawed with pride the ground, and in their strength
Rejoiced; valiant, as if prepared to meet
Men armed for war, and making mock of fear:
Not them the sword would fright; 'gainst them in vain
Quiver would rattle, glitter spear, and shield.
In haste, then, on their shoulders sprang the King,
And Sophist; nor gave time the rampant steeds;
The ground in rage, and fierceness they devoured—
War-steeds they were; whence come they might not know;
But from afar—hark, sounded clarions loud;
Straightway those battle-horses reared their necks,
Doubting the trumpet's blare with scornful neigh,
Saying ha! ha! and snuffed the distant strife,
The captain's thunder, and the shouting hosts:
Then sought, as if on eagle's wings, what they
Deemed the heroic conflict that they loved.
—But their high Master otherwise decreed.

Till Night, the brave Steeds bore the Wanderers—
And the Stars on the sands looked from the Sky;
A Paradise all Heaven, Earth all a Waste,
Save for the Horsemen twain, in whom Life lived,
Only in them; elsewhere was Life as Death,
Death without Birth, a barren sepulchre.

But lived it in them only? Voices scare
The silent Moon, admiring as she sails,
Like Hades through the Deep of fluid Air—
A ship of Souls, a populous Orb—and long
A Wanderer o'er the desart solitude;
Yet wondering more to hear, or to behold
Vocal, or moving aught, though few, and rare.
Round, and at full, her broad bright beams shed down
A radiance o'er strange group, at distance seen,
Chiefs, and attendants; horsemen, and men armed.

Nor men alone:—a Woman in the midst
Shrieked loud to the deaf wilds, and hearts as deaf,
And wild:—for, obvious in the light, the King
His Brother recognized, Azaradel;
And Sodi; and with them was Edna fair.

Had Sodi, then, by force, and, with the aid
Of sovran power, conveyed, from her far home,
The Maid who scorned his love, here now to sate
Passion grown savage since? No—in his heart,
Once good, ruled vengeful Hate where once reigned Love,
That to the incestuous prince was willing now
To sacrifice fair Object, whom he loathed
Still fair to see, still pure . . a blessèd thing.

Then paused the Twain, to note what there might chance;
A friendly mound of sand concealed their forms,
And weariness had tamed, and hushed their steeds,
So hard had they been ridden. Thus, by chance,
All they o'erheard, unable to contend
With troop so numerous, lawless, bent on ill.

And Edna pleaded for her virgin rights:
‘Men cruel; men profane; why have ye rapt
Me from the vale of peace, and holiness,
From Armon, and the Family of Seth?
Sodi, thou lovedst me once. Can one who loves,
Who loved me ever, seize by force, by fraud,
My innocence, thus—thus—transporting me,
—Whither?’—

Then Sodi answered her, in scorn,
In irony:

‘Edna; to a monarch's arms—
To future honour, and dominion—Say,
Is this not love?’

‘O save me from such love;’
Cried Edna, falling prostrate on the earth,
‘Father of Heaven, oh, save me from such love.’

‘And I will save thee,’ . . Samiasa said, . .
And forth had rushed, but then his Angel came,
Even Phanuel, and stood before him here,
Restraining him with this admonishment—

‘She shall be saved; for God has heard her prayer.’

Then o'er her bent Azaradel, and raised
The dropping maid.

‘Why shouldst thou fear, who love?
Fair Edna, daughter of translated Enoch,
Named from thy mother, thee I saw in tears,
Then loveliest, at Lamech's burial-tide;
Hopeless of other chance, 'twas my despair
Surprised thee, and with seeming violence,
Hath borne thee from the Patriarch's land away—
To Enos bent’

‘Bad city,’ . . then, she cried:
But he:

‘There, with the aid of Tubalcain,
Bride of a Prince, from Amazarah far,
We may both reign, and revel in high joy,
'Till to return it please us, and to wrest
Dominion from her hand, decrepid now,
And hated by the people.’

Here he paused,
As having said too much—but safely more
The traitor might have uttered; for all sense
Had left the Virgin, sunk into a swoon.

‘Ho, Hherem;’ cried Azaradel, . . ‘take charge
Of sleeping Beauty; for without thee, how
Could we for safety answer in these sands?
And if aright I augur, a wild storm
Will waken from the calm of this fair night.’

‘Fear not;’ said Hherem, coming from the train,
‘God-born.’—

‘God-born?’ demurred Azaradel:—
‘Adon's a god to them who so believe;
But not to me.’

‘Not he thy sire.’

‘Who then?—
What, thou?’

‘Now, heed the tale which I will tell—
Fit place, and time, the Desart, and the Night,
For such revealing. 'Tis the Mystery
Of Amazarah. Sit we down, awhile,
About this Fountain in the Wilderness.’

So down they sate in circle; Hherem, then,
To willing listeners thus his tale pursued.

‘When Cain from her by name of Wisdom known
Departed in his anger, and his heart
Set on stern Beauty, such as Fury wears:
The Spirit whom he mated, then, conceived
Vision how Murther followed hard on Theft;
And the Fiend burned to example the bad league.
Eve's first-born solemnized the marriage-rite,
And shed abroad the sacramental wine,
That made it holy, from the living tree.
Glad I beheld it pour from out the cup,
Then dashed the void vain vessel to the ground.
—Once I was beautiful, as Woman is—
How beautiful, when in the Tiger's form
Or Lion's, in the life of wrath, keen wrought
By hunger, I was limbed, and in each limb
Shewed life in motion—beautiful, when in
The human heart I found a templed ark,
Wherein my laws were hidden. Beautiful
I seemed to Cain, till Conscience waked his soul
To fear, and in the mirrour of his dread
Changed my aspect to satyrane, and vile!
Upon the manèd Steed, he flew afar—
I followed, all as fast. Now Enos rose,
And was enlarged; and Wealth increased, and lust
Of Lucre, that divinest appetite
Which pleases most thy avaricious soul,
The noblest attribute, Azaradel.
Beauty in women, Majesty in men
Had birth, and being, and dominion won;
And straight the Spirit of Pride from the Abyss,
Walked in its ways; finding a home, and shrine,
A Temple in the City, and was adored
Under the name of Mammon, haughty god,
And heartless, heaping-up for self-good only
Wealth, or Opinion, careful of none else—
And, ay, at many a hearth was welcome he,
In more familiar guise—and in the house
Of royal Lamech dwelt, and had high speech
With Zillah fair, and Adah beautiful.
—I saw him there, and knew the sports he played;—
Ah, present then was I, when Lamech breathed
His dread for them he slew, in Adah's ear,
And Zillah's. There between the Twain he stood,
Trembling; the reeking weapon in his hand,
The witness of his guilt. With drooping mien,
Zillah that story heard, and in her soul
Felt the cold hand of death, and with the touch
Thrilled, shuddering, terrour-stricken, awe-subdued—
But Adah was of bolder strain, and she
Cheered him with hope, and of resources spake,
Such as but women find, when perils throng,
To break successfully their dædal net.—
Like them their daughters:—fair Naamah, soft,
Soft as her mother, Zillah;—Adah's child
Was Amazarah, brave and brilliant maid;
For Adah to god Mammon listened pleased,
And her the Power compressed, whence issue grew,
The glorious Queen, whose daring waked to Love
Adon, soon slain by Amazarah's scorn—
Her scorn?—Ope, now, thine ears, Azaradel.
Her scorn?—Thou doubtest well, my Son, my Son,
Thy godship sprung of Adon. Not of thee
Was he the Sire. I wooed her, in her scorn:
I—deity—wooed her, the daughter of
A deity—preferred accepted claims—
And thou—nay, start not—for there comes of this
What will to thee do service.’—

Then loud laughed
Azaradel, exclaiming—

‘Speak it out’—
And Hherem said:

‘When to that City thou
Arrivest with this thy charge, there I'll repeat
The Legend I have told, while sitting now
About the Fountain in the Wilderness;
And thou, in right of thy descent, shalt claim
Honours divine, as both by sire, and dam
Divinely sprung—God Mammon thou shalt be,
Made visible, revealed to mortal sense;
And this shall be thy Bride, by Oracle,
Destined, within the Temple of the Power,
To bless thy bed, shrined in the Secret Place.’

Then rose the Prince, and all who there on him
Attended, with the feint of Hherem glad;
And made for Enos with what speed they might.

And Samiasa spake, while Palal heard:
‘My heart was bursting in me while the Fiend
Lied in my Brother's ear. But 'tis to him
Appointed to degrade me; and a spell
Was on me while he lied, and still remains.
Yet do I feel my own good Angel nigh.
Palal, save for his word, that Edna's prayer
Was answered, and the assurance that I feel,
He who sustains all power owns will to save
Her innocence . . fair Edna's innocence . .
My trust in him had given my single might
Success against those hosts. Moreover, He
Who rules the tribes of animals, and lent
Us safety in the steeds we now bestride,
Imposed on me high duty, to return
Unto the City of my Name, where aid
Of mine was wanted. Nor may I presume
To change in aught the tasks appointed me.’

‘I know not,’ answered Palal, ‘aught of word
Angelic; but dispute not thy resolve.
'Tis Wisdom to escape, with utmost speed,
The desart-wild, for human dwelling-place.’

With that, the Sophist, and the King spurred on
Their rested steeds, swift o'er the sands conveyed.