University of Virginia Library

Meantime as one new-risen from the dead,
Unlike his former self, by friend and foe
Unrecognized, came Samiasa nigh
The City of his name—but from the wild
Not free'd, nor from his doom. Nor would he pass
Into the public ways, though sternly urged
By Palal, who there left him for awhile,
Alone within the Desert. There he lay
Three days, a passive brute; but on the fourth
He was a-hungered, and fierce appetite
With bestial rage stirred in him, and he scoured
The Wilderness for food. In fury thus,
A Lion crossed his path—on it he seized,
With more than giant might. Long time they strove
In mutual war, but the ferocious man
Was braver than the merely animal,
And him before the inferior creature quailed—
Even by the teeth asunder rent the jaws,
The noble Lion slain lay by his side;
Anon, stript of its skin, a royal robe
For him who slew it; and of flesh deprived,
Its victor's royal meal.

Now, Sabbath brake,
And Samiasa saw what desperate feat
He had performed, but not with triumph felt;
And earnestly resolved within his breast,
How to regain communion with his kind.
Not that he had not been beheld by man,
But whoso saw him shrank from him in dread,
And he from them in shame, but proudly shewn.

And now rose Noah early, as was wont,
On Sabbath-morn, with Japhet, Shem, and Ham,
To duly visit Adam's sepulchre,
And warn the multitudes upon the plain
Assembled, not for worship but for sport;
And ready found Zateel, and Tamiel come,
To bear them company, and aid the cause
Of piety. No loiterers they, yet were
The Youth, and Scribe arrested in their speed,
To gaze on Japhet's growing handiwork—
The yet unfinished Statue of the Seed
Who should the Serpent bruise—unfinished yet,
Yet all but finished, moulded to that point
Of execution, where alike begins
The Artist's pleasure and the Admirer's both;
Almost adorable, yet something left,
To shew the labour human, not divine.

Brief space for converse, none for censure now;
Noah broceeded forth, and, on each hand,
The frendly train. With Tamiel was the Book
Of Enoch, and with Shem the yearling Lamb.
Along he vales they went; between the hills;
And into that mid vale, which opened wide
Upon the plain, and by the leafy way.
—Forthight into the plain, they now immerge,
Emerging to the people. There, behold,
As on a continent the enormous throng.
Well knew they him. “Ho, ho;—the Prophet comes—
The Ark-builder, and his Sons. Hence, ye profane.”
The scorn of multitudes was in the air,
And everyecho heard it loud, and long.
The noise of waters, when their demon howls
Round some predestined bark, less than that din
Of multitudes, the universal din,
Which made heaven's vault to tremble, as with shout
Titanian. Then surceased heroic spot.

Passed, fearless, on the faithful Man of God:
Followed, in pairs, Japhet with Shem, and Ham
With Tamiel. This was all the preacher's train;
Strong in himself, and with his virtues graced.
I' th' centre of the plain, the Sepulchre
Of the First Man, a pile of unhewn stone,
Stood eminent: the Columns of his Son,
Inscribed with old traditions true, beside;
By their ancestral founder meant to speak,
Ay, of the grave, and of the world beyond.

There Voices had been heard, and Visions seen
By holy men; thence issued Oracles
Of Death, Eternity, and Fate, and God.
—Now as a goal, the rivals in the race
Looked to them for the Crown, afar.

Arrived,
Noah the Altar-Tomb demands; but Ham,
Proud of his Father's patriarchal sway,
Did with no gentle voice rebuke the crowd,
Did with no gentle hand oppose the press.

‘I preach of Peace, and Truth hath its own power;
No might of man it needs, his anger less;
Forbear, my son,’ said Noah. Calm he stood,
And quiet in his greatness; then surveyed
The populous scene.

Frequent, and full the tents;
Plenteous the boards, and manifold; with feast
Burthened, and overflowed with wine, and oil:
Copious were the libations . . Bacchus reigned,
And Mirth allied to Madness. Morning saw
The grape's blood, evening that of man, outpoured.
—Nor wonder: sanguine were his festivals.

For him Beast shed, in rampant sport, the blood
Of beast. Encaged were they on that wide field,
And kept apart awhile, awaiting war
With hunger stern. But now, they lift the doors
The Cells dividing; and, with rush, and bound,
Tiger, and Bear, Leopard, and Buffalo
Are huddled in the midst.

At once, his horns
The furious Bull plied on the sluggish Bear,
And tossed him to the roof. Then, on him sprang
The Tiger, and his dewlap tugged away;
But not himself unwounded, for his head
Was gashed, and ran with gore.

The Leopard slunk
From conflict—but not long. For now the stage
Was entered by Rhinoceros, and on
The spotted animal he came in wrath,
And roused him to the fight. Anon, in death
The lovely lay.

Then with the many-horned
The single 'gan to strive: fight terrible
And horrid: but, with many instruments,
Choice meets confusion oft; while, but with one,
One simple aim drives straight to its effect.

Next, the large Elephants were armed against
Each other—on a sandy islet placed,
Making the middle of an ample lake.
Driven by their Riders, with a mighty shock
They intermingled, their probosces twined
With violent repulsion; till the Brute,
Wiser than man who him abuses so,
His adversary's strength confessed, and turned
Flying, not unpursued, nor unannoyed,
Attacked in rear. Nor further harm had come,
But that on them fierce Tigers were let loose;
And various deaths, with fury, rage, and blood,
Made glad the feasting heart of gazing man.

What wonder, then, at last the feasters bled?
Nay—not the blood of Beasts alone—but Man's,
His blood flowed with each wine-cup. Men were slain
For sport. There gladiator Giants strove;
Strength in each nerve sublimely agonized;
Dilated every muscle, and artery,
Into the majesty of human might;
Defiance in their attitudes, and loured
Courage upon their brows. How beautiful
The human form in extreme energy . .
Soul was in every lineament, and limb:
Fiercely they died. Their spirits went abroad,
Inflamed congenial souls, already inflamed
With banqueting; whence they in heat arose,
Flown with pride, insolence, or vanity,
With madness more than all, and fell in broil.

Away the prophet turned his sickened eye,
And looked into the East; and, in the far
Horizon, sum of all the prospect, saw
The Mount of Paradise. The Cherubim
Still waved the excluding brand of angry flame
Above, around the place once fortunate,
Where bloomed the Tree of Lives, a fiery guard;
A living miracle, and constant sign;
A caution manifest, and visible;
The presence of God's vengeance, to warn man,
If aught might warn, of sin, and truth persuade:
Of more especial note, and greater power,
Than if the bourn of death had been repassed,
For a returning spirit to convince.
—Nor this alone:—but on the hill-side too,
Arose the appointed Ark, the Deluge-ship,
For which the axe had long the forest shorn;
Birds with its terrour scared from their retreat,
And beasts the violated woods expelled:
The labour of a century; and yet
So vast a wonder, though a work of time,
Of such endurance, who beheld it, deemed
That nothing less than miracle performed
Strange fabric so capacious, yet so strong.

And in the sight of all the people there,
Did Noah lift his hand toward Eden gate,
And bade men look upon the present God.
—Shem slew the yearling lamb, and straight disposed
The sacrifice upon that Altar-Tomb:
Then Noah bowed his face before the Lord.

‘He hath not left us yet . . the Comforter . .
He heareth yet man's prayer, and answereth.
—How like is man unto this altar-tomb.
This fleshly pile is but a sepulchre,
Where the soul sleeps, ere the affectionate will
Bow down, and offer up the human heart,
The heart, and all its faculties to God—
A sacrifice devout. The vital spark,
Then, sends He forth in whom life's issues are,
And kindles man into a holy life,
Whose issues in good words, and works restored,
Human becomes divine—Man walks with God,
As Enoch once on earth, in Eden now.
—And walk ye thus, ye sons of God, and men?
Walk ye as man with man, even? On the soil
Ye trail your slime; and taint, and crush the flowers
That deck the bosom of your mother—Earth.
Ye soar not; ye aspire not: ye trace not
Your lineage from on high; and, strong in soul,
Claim fellowship with angels as your right;
But ask a brotherhood of worms, and call
The grovelling reptile, sister. Ye restrain
Within its fleshly nook the spirit of man,
Tame her ambition down to appetite,
Then quarrel for a sty. Therefore, from you
The insulted angels have gone back to heaven,
To talk with Wisdom, and commune with God.
They hold no converse with corporeal sense:
Of other strain are they; and so is man.
—Behold, I speak a proverb . . dust to dust . .
Of dust ye are, to dust ye do return—
Your souls are ashes; not one ember left,
My breath may kindle. Oh, the breath of God
Is extinct in the life of man. Hear, heaven:
Earth, wonder. There Death bideth—Death-in-Life
Walks, a day spectre, in the sun's broad beams,
Till cold obstruction melt his fetters off,
And rank corruption in God's nostrils reek.
—Bow down the knee: lie prostrate in the dust:
Thou camest out thence; it clipt thee like a womb.
Remit thee to thy native quarry—man.
Thy spirit is gone forth. Bow down, and wait
Till God reanimate thy sluggard clay,
And make thee what thou wert . . a living soul.
—The Sculptour, sembling his own form extern,
Maketh a thing of beauty unto sight;
Yet though he carve a mind upon the brow,
It wants not only life's variety,
But life. The mighty Artist of the sky
Stamped his own image on the soul of man,
Himself a living spirit, bade him live.
Keep ye his image whole? keep ye it in
The beauty of holiness 'twas shadowed from?
No; ye defile it, mutilate, destroy.
Oh, right: oh, truth: oh, peace: oh, liberty.
—Hear me, O Enoch. Waft aside the flames,
That veil thy being from us; and descend,
In glory visible; and call aloud,
That man may hear, and be convinced, and live.
Yet why should man disturb thy holy rest
Thy Sabbath is eternal. Yet thou speakest.
Thou dwellest still with us. Thy Testament
Survives. This Book endures;—rich legacy,
Memorial wake of thy departure hence;
Who wast not; for God took thee to himself.
—Believe, oh, man; and live. The Day—the Day
Cometh—the morning goeth forth: for pride
Hath budded; violence, and evil earth
Do fill. But Judgement cometh, and an End.
The End is come. It watcheth for thee. Lo:
The Day of trouble, and destruction; not
The founding of the hills, but their uprending,
Darkles the jealous heaven, from east to west.
Silence shall brood, at eve, o'er Nature's heart,
An incubus on a forgotten grave:
Repent ye—’

More the man of God had said;
But, then, advanced the Rephaim, giant-twins;
Strong, as the oak; and, as the cedar, tall;
Valiant, as eagles; headlong, as a flood.
Strange brood of discord.—Could essential heaven
Blend with embracement earthly, spawning forth,
As from the slime impregned with summer's sun,
Monsters forbid, whence mind idolatrous
Its gross imaginings might incarnate;
Abortive, and abominable births
Of spirit on sense begot; till spirit become
Degraded unto what it blends withal;
Which its capacious vision might have raised
Unto the High, and Holy One, who doth
Dwell in his own eternal energy,
Yet deign to shrine him in the contrite soul?
—Born in one hour, doubling the labour-pang;
With iron courage them their mother bore,
Stern daughter of the stern, seed of the strong:
With amazonian scorn, the bitterness,
Though as of death, yea, and of death, she 'sdained;
And, when her travail was o'erpast, had joy
More than a mother's—her own dauntless joy,
A victor's or a stoic's over pain.

As she was wandering from the wanderer's land,
On quest of booty, in the robber's trade;
With rival anguish from her iron womb,
'Twas in a cavern wild, they rent their way,
Wherein she refuge sought with savage beasts
Unterrified; for with their nature hers
Held sympathy. Hyæna, there, was lodged,
With Elephant, and Hippopotamus,
And Unicorn; war each with other waged,
And of the conquered still the victor made
His eager meal; no fear yet touched that heart
Incapable of trembling. There she lay,
And the wise Elephant more feeling shewed,
Than she acknowledged. On her state forlorn
The meditative brute compassion took,
Admonished well by nature; shielding her,
And with her sharing his diurnal food,
Till with the giant-twins she travelled forth.

Worthy was she of Cain's intrepid line,
Her ancestor. Of mingled stock derived
Was their bad sire; the unseemly fruit of one
Of Seth's degenerate, and apostate sons
With a fair atheist of the murtherer's race;
Hence, rather in their veins lascivious blood
Than purer stream might revel; purer once,
Now worse pollute, I ween: entire in guilt,
Redemptionless, and lost in loss itself,
Without what natural grace to that might cleave,
Maugre its lapse from God's supernal grace,
Whence Nature's is: lost unto both; abandoned
Unto the powers of evil utterly.
—Fierce they advanced, and seemed as they might claim
Lineage, (if not the origin to be,)
Of whom the old poets fabled; the huge sons
Of Ouranus and Tella, in whose womb
They grew to godhood, and brake prison thence,
Armed for rebellion 'gainst the Ancestral Power.

Urged by the fiend within them, and the hell;
Furious they came, and raised the loud long shout,
At once derision, and defiance: proud
Of strength, and bulk, and confident in bone.
From mere disdain they smote the man of God,
He should more force to reason yield than might,
And deem with words religious to subdue.

Noah was silent, not from wrath, but ruth;
With pity scorn, with patience spite repaid.
Before him leaped his Sons. Then tumult rose,
Loud clamour, and the cry of blood. Blood flowed.
More had been shed; but, on the mountain-skirts
Of that apparent continent, silence crept,
And awe increased.

'Twas the habitual hush
Wherewith mysterious horrour cowed their souls,
Whene'er that Presence on their wonder came,
Who entered now; with slow, and solemn step,
And uncompanioned in his greatness. On
He came. Wild his array: a lion's hide
Hung o'er his shoulders broad, and on his breast
Down flowed the shaggèd mane; the face-skin frowned,
Hollows for eyes, the maw without a tooth,
And terrible in its deficiencies.
Bare was his knee, and hairy all the leg,
And every limb enlarged, and clothed with hair.
—Look not upon his countenance: ye must;
But dare not look again, although ye would.
That gaze is savage, and each lineament;
Yet, in their madness, undefined command
Of no barbarian grace is eloquent.
A memory lingered there of loftier days,
Haunting, with shadowy gleam, his brow's proud curve;
Till grew his aspect spectral, and his eye
Flashed fitfully, even as a paly ghost
Flitting athwart a place of sepulchres;
Or underneath a once triumphal arch,
A ruin now loved by the shades of eld.
—Profuse, his locks, like a wild horse's mane,
Free of the winds, compact of massy curls,
Shaded his ears with ringlets dusk as night,
And with his beard fantastic circlets blent,
Like a vine flourishing in a wilderness,
Hanging its tendrils loose on thorny brake,
And briary underwood—so bearded he.
Where his large forehead loured, his ample locks
Disparted; and upcoiled, like serpents, back
From eyebrows huge, that, like two promontories,
Horrid with crag, suspense, the flashing orbs
Encaved. Now, like a blasted oak, or tower
Magnificent, scathed by heaven's lightning shaft,
He stood. Atlas he seemed, groaning beneath
The universal weight, a world of woe,
A penal universe, and he condemned
To the aye-during burthen for his sins;
A penance, but magnanimously borne.

Of all that throng, but One might look on him;
And he in admiration, how intense,
Gazed, sword-supported; beautiful in youth;
The attraction of all eyes. Amazement strange
Guided fond vision to that monument,
More perfect in such quiet attitude
Than ever statue was; and recognized
The valourous Boy who rushed into the fray,
A timely aid to Noah, and his Sons,
Oppressed by numbers. Of the giant-twins,
One had on Tamiel seized, and from his grasp
Essayed to wrench the Book. The youth, Zateel,
Did wound the robber hand; did save from death
The weaponless, and undefended scribe;
And from the impious, and profane destroyer,
Rescued the sacred tome. Then gradual stole
That hush of horrour toward him, and his ear
Soon caught his neighbour's whisper—‘'Tis the king
Of streams,.'tis Samiasa’—for among
The crowd was Palal; and by him the name
Was uttered to Zateel. Anon, declined
Sudden his sword; and fixed its point in earth.
In graceful admiration on its hilt
He leaned, and thus intently watched advance
The Monarch Maniac with emotion deep.
Deep in that pause his meditations were;
On the King's lips expectant still he gazed,
Breathless. He knew how eloquent they were.
Once, when they spake, were sages wont to blush,
And pause for answer. Nor less potent now.
And much he trembled, when these words he heard.

‘Well done, young man: preserve, Zateel, for aye,
The Scripture that aye-present doth preserve
The God of gods to memory. I forgot
Him once, who to remember him had cause.
The Spirit which deified me was from Him,
Whom I rejected, and straightway became
A God-abandoned man, unto himself
Abandoned, and that self-sufficient strength
Whence he presumed, but which on trial failed,
And ever must. Hearken, ye fond of strength,
Who have disturbed my oraisons—(ye might
Have worshipped with me.)—Mark yon hill's proud crest;
'Tis obvious to the mount of Paradise,
And to the glorious vision there displayed,
Glorious in terrour. There, it is my wont,
'Scaped from the Desart and the Fiend, to come,
Even with the day-spring of the sabbath morn,
And look on Eden, and its fiery guard,
And watch for the uprising of the sun,
The kindling of the hills whence goeth he,
Fresh as a racer anxious for the crown—
How bright, how high. Of all created things
Yon ardour is most like a deity.
Shall dim, and puny man, then, call his soul
The standard of perfection, and contemn,
Vain of his own originality,
His Maker's image, and invent a new,
Better, or worse, he recks not? Only He
Who made him what he is, can make him more.
—Man's semblance is Death's shadow; for his soul
Is murtherous, abject, cruel, and corrupt.
Witness, ye heroes. Ye do well to boast
Of thews, and sinews; and in force of limb
Triumph, and in the courage of your hearts:
Impulse, though blind, hath joy, which ye obey,
And is derived divinely. 'Tis heaven's life
Abused, meant to beget new life, and deeds,
Wherein heaven-guided piety might trace
Symbol humane of Origin divine.
By you Death conquers; life, crushed in the germ,
Limps, issueless—foredone. The human form
Erect . . divine . . lies prostrate, lies defaced.
Approach it . . lo, the fragrance, and the flower
Have left the withered stalk, and barren stem.
Of its once comeliness no grace remains;
Its strength is weakness, and its glory shame.
There is no beauty, excellence, in death.
The eye . . term it the presence of the mind . .
Is all-extinguished. Things that it perceived,
Phantasm, or substance, shadowy qualities,
Visions that Fancy made her own, and built
A gorgeous world thereof; her world, and this,
Into inanimate gloom they fade away.
This erst was her dominion . . her's, and man's.
Now narrow is his dwelling; dark, and lorn;
Within a populous, yet silent land:
He dwells alone within a quiet house,
Alone, yet crowded in his solitude.
No moon, nor sun may visit it. Within
A desolate, and dreary realm it lies;
The realm of winter. Silence, and the night
Only inhabit there. Heaven-moulded from
Returns to Chaos. Blood cries from the ground.
—Witness, ye rulers of the fettered earth:
Ye do well also. Triumph in your crowns,
Your sceptres; those of thorn, of iron these:
Ye conquer, then enslave. Man's attitude,
Lost unto freedom, and in soul abashed,
Vails its bold front, and crouches at your feet,
As ye were gods. Children of men, be warned.
Lo, ye, worse slavery, enchain yourselves;
Your passions labour at the tyrant's forge,
And mould the links of avarice, and lust.
—Witness, ye elements: and testify,
Ye worshippers of earth. To God alone
Do homage. Dost thou bow the coward knee
To power? is power divine? Why yield it, man?
One boasts the attribute, and many quail;
Straightway, a demigod is he; yet him
The thunder daunteth. Ye succumb to fear,
And make out of your fear a deity.
So, when the tempest doth pass by, ye see
A demon in its blackness, hear a fiend
In its loud roar; and cry them mercy. Ye
Have power, had ye knowledge, o'er the winds;
Nay, all the elements were slaves to you,
And would perform your bidding, were ye brave.
Were but your virtue adequate to dare,
Ye might restore the never-changing spring
Of Paradise; and win companionship
With angels, as of old; and satisfy
The craving soul with everlasting truth:
And thus, indeed, become like unto God;
Knowing all things, and ruling all, by love.
—But now ye conquer, and are conquered: now,
Hark—the poor man, and feeble testifies
'Gainst your oppression; while God listeneth,
Yea, while Jehovah listeneth, to avenge.
For her right sceptre Equity hath lost,
(In whom God's Image is the most express,)
And unto gods, which are no gods, ye pay
What is not due, from wantonness of will:
But Him, the True, and Faithful, ye defraud
Of due obedience, gratitude, and love.
His sabbaths ye reject, his wrath despise.’

The Monarch ceased. Forth stept an Oratour,
Fluent, and pert; armed with proof rhetoric
'Gainst truth, and reason; with bland sophistry,
To lull the one to acquiescent pause,
Silence the other, contemptuous, or abashed,
And thus even for a while o'er both prevail.
But they have their own hour, their own good time,
Sure victors; and their conquests shall abide
Eternal in the heavens. God shall award
Their amaranthine wreath; himself divulge
Their deathless fame through infinite expanse.

The voice of Samiasa had aroused
The torpid awe his presence did impose:
Thus will the sunny breeze of spring awake
The icy stream, until it gradual gush,
As if again the Spirit o'er its face
Moved, as of old, o'er darkness, when the void
Of nature did conceive with life, and form.
Part lifted up their eyes, and dared his look,
And hurried breathing became audible,
Sound half afraid of its own entity.
Then from the press forth stept the Oratour:
Curious in phrase, and nice of attitude;
His accents modulating, and his hand,
And features timing to the expressive turn,
The swelling cadence, and the solemn fall
Of his discourse elaborate; but to the ear
Easy, and flowing, like a river's lapse,
With not a pebble to obstruct its step,
But for the music, as it gently glides
Unto the naiad's cells, in the calm depths
Of the unfathomable ocean. Thus:

‘Submissive to the shadow of thy power,
As to the substance once, to thee, O king,
Grant that thy servant, Rumel, may reply.
Think not I wrestle with thee for the crown
Of eloquence; for who may strive with thee?
And what am I? . . thy sometime worshipper.
High on the throne of thine imperial state,
Too bright for earth, like a divinity,
Thou satest, exalted, . . One. The dazzled sight
Swam in thy presence; therein pride was not:
Erect humanity forgot itself,
Bated a cubit of its stature; yea,
In prostrate adoration kissed the dust.
A happy realm thy habitation was,
And in no earthly paradise thou dwelt.
Celestial fortunes thy companions were,
And they accompanied thy goings-forth,
And glory heralded thy comings-in;
And thou wert perfect in thy majesty,
And in thy spirit thou wert excellent;
And thy dominion was o'er shore, and sea;
The limits of thine empire who could tell?
The heaven scarce seemed to circumscribe thy sway.
To thee the Founder of the pyramid,
The co-eternal rival of the sky,
The deep-based column of the firmament,
Enslaved his mighty art, and built for thee.
And nations did adore within its gate,
Hero, and sage, youth, beauty, childhood, eld;
And with the myriads who worshipped there,
Thy servant worshipped with a grateful heart,
And willing to thy service would return.
Thou didst look down from thy sublime repose,
And, from amid excessive glory, smile
Great approbation, and ennobling joy;
And thine acceptance was far more than wealth,
Thy grace than treasure. Honour in thy hand,
And in thy voice abounded length of days.
Then they found favour in thy sight whom now
Thine anger doth rebuke. Wherefore art wroth?
O thou, our king, and god. Wherein have we
So grievously offended, thou withdrawest
Into thy mystic nature's solitude,
And art not unto men for many days?
Then, reincarnate in this strange disguise,
Comest forth, afflicting fancy with wild fear,
Speaking to us a language all unknown;
Ah, how unlike the native dialect
Which made thy former days, and fortunate,
A full-orbed diapason of rich sounds.’

Deep then was Samiasa's agony.
He rent his hair in bitterness of soul,
And cast himself upon the unpitying earth,
In more than phrenesy; and there he sate,
Sublime in misery, and great in grief.

‘A god indeed; look I not like a god,
A very god? This is my heaven. Behold
My cloudy throne; this bare ground is my sky:
These locks my glory, and this skin the robe
Of majesty divine. Hero, and sage,
Monarchs of earth; bow down, and worship here—
My hand grasps lightning. Hark—the thunder peals.
Earth's centre is my footstool. Thither plunge,
To do me homage; as becomes a god
Of state like mine, exalted thus, so high;
A deity so jealous, and so proud.—
Let gods themselves come to it, and adore.
There is no god but God.—No god but He
Who reigns in heaven. He is the God of Heaven,
And Earth. Jehovah, He is God alone.
And He shall break in pieces mighty men,
When he ariseth to shake terribly
The earth; . . then shall ye seek the rocky clefts,
And climb the ragged summits of the rocks,
For fear of him, and of his majesty.
All hands be faint, and each man's heart shall melt;
For He shall come upon ye suddenly,
In the roar of many waters, and the rushing
Of many floods. Earth shall be drunk therewith;
And reel, as if with wine. Jehovah, He
Is God—Jehovah, He is God alone.
He did create the heavens, and stretch them out;
He spread forth earth, provides what cometh thence.
'Tis He who giveth breath to man thereon,
And spirit unto them who walk therein.’

Great fear fell on that multitude: abashed,
And silent, they retired; and, one by one,
Sought each man out his dwelling; and, ere long,
On that immeasurable plain was left
None, but the King, and Noah, and his Sons.

‘Prophet, and prince, have pity on my sins;
Pray to thy God for me:’ . . the Monarch cried.
‘If I should pray, would he be merciful?’—

‘Have we not daily instance?’ Noah said:
‘Whence, but from mercy, are the wicked spared?
And what am I, that in his sight I should
Find such abundant grace? Have faith, and live.’

What Christian knows not, in the hour, and power
Of darkness, with what cheering influence
The light of truth beams on his troubled soul,
From Holy Writ reflected, if aright
Read in the spirit, and thus understood?
Even the world's Saviour, in the agony
Of crucifixion sharp, such solace found;
And in the psalmist's words exclaimed aloud,
Unto the God who had forsaken him.—

Will it not soothe torn Samiasa's soul,
To hear the Scripture read that Enoch wrote?
So deems the king; and, straightway, down they sate,
And at his bidding, then, the Man of God
Right audibly the Oracle intoned,
The Bible of the World before the Flood.

'Twas by the Tomb of Adam that they sate,
Against Seth's pillars, which about the place
Were as a temple reared, and sacred made.
A grove of Pines, wherein they were retired—
The sea-green Pines, laden with yellow fruit,
And both in harmony with Earth, and Heaven.

Vans of the tempest; do your thunders sleep?
Spread ye abroad, like eagles’; cleave the rocks,
And break the mountains to your might opposed.
Heave up ye earthquakes; be ye heard, and felt;
Shake ye the solid ground, and the great sea,
As with the throes of childbirth.—Element
Of Fire; encircle, clip me in with flame:
Till I be like to you.—They have past by.

Come Spirit of the Eternal, co-eterne;
And of the dædal universe divine,
The choral soul, the prime intelligence.
Come Dove celestial; who, with procreant wing,
Broodest o'er Hades ere that light became;
Pervadest Nature's constant travail still;
Impregnedst old prophets' hearts with wondrous seeds,
Whose autumn time will garner; . . yea, whose power
O'ershadowed her whom generations bless—
The Virgin-Mother of the Holy Thing,
Messiah, God incarnate—uncreate.
Thou, with the Father, from eternity;
And with the Son, adorable; descend,
Essence of essence, into my shut mind;
A still small voice, such as Elijah heard;
Make it thy temple, there light up thy shrine,
Thine altar be my heart, and there dwell thou;
That I may utter oracles aright,
Of old by Enoch written, scribe inspired.