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

Communing thus, much truth and falsehood mixed
In their discourse, they heard the hunter's voice,
The hunter's voice within the wilderness—
A solitary shout, a lone halloo,
Well answered by the twain, who recognized
Azaradel, the brother of the king,
Usurper of his vacant throne, and worse,
The couch paternal, an incestuous man.
Arrived where now they stood, the audacious heir
Of premature perdition, mate of fiends,
Paused, . . not in wonder, but as having found
Who to his cry responded. Fair of form
As Belial, and attempering arrogance
With much lascivious grace; his presence bore
No stern rebuke, but pleasing dignity
Sate throned in comely pride: yet, couched beneath
That princely semblance, slunk a cruel heart.
An iron crown was girt around his brows,
And with his liquid, and voluptuous mien,
Made contrast strange; a merry eye was his,
A mellow cheek, a nostril dissolute,
A melting lip, yet curled as in contempt
Sportively. Like a morning iris arched
O'er the deep music of a cataract,
The imperial purple glowed about his limbs.
Lofty of stature, and of port erect;
A giant, or a demigod, he stood:
Like a fair hill, fit for an angel's choice,

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When he from some commanding eminence,
Would tell his heavenly errand—now a throne
Whence demons uttered the decrees of hell.

In pride of heart, and strength of sorcery;
Despite the Simoom's, and the Sarsar's rage;
He dared, through the wild desart, to pursue
Behemoth. With a courtly train, he went
Forth from the Cainite palace; and aroused
Earth's biggest born from his enormous lair.
Chief of the ways of God, compact of might
And hugeness . . sinewy, strong, and valourous,
The stormy perils daunted even him;
But man, the fiercer savage urged him out,
And braved the sulphurous whirlwind, and the cold:
Not long;—part, smitten prostrate by the blast,
Lay on the sands unburied, and the rest
Were frozen into monumental ice.
But him his spells, and mother's magic skill,
And the protection of the fiends, preserved;
Although astounded, and well nigh destroyed,
In the convulsion of the elements.
Subsided then, each dissipated sense
Restored;—his shout for help was recognized
Even by the twain whom he encountered now.

O'er whom they hovered soon he understood,
And his bad heart dilated. ‘What, thus low?
Thus with the dust confounded, thou, whose soul
Aspired beyond the visible confine,
Ethereal—after whom were cities named—
And to whose folly men bowed down the knee
In greater folly? Adon, yet they say,
Our father, did resent thy growing pride,
And smote thee thus: howbeit, I maintain,
'Twas from affection to his younger son;
Though he despise both thee, and him alike.’

Thus he, in pleasant vein. To whom replied

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Azaziel. ‘Sweeter than an infant's prayer,
The scorner's depthless voice and hollow gloze.
What reckst thou of things hallowed? fleshly-wise,
Thou lovest to enjoy substantial bliss,
No shadowy dream, like what fair Armon's sons
Would fain withal their souls imparadise.
Scorn they these carnal joys? Once more we'll prove,
Their sense refined not free from pain, like his,
—(It pleases thee, I see it in thine eye,)—
On whom no temporal, or eternal thing
Hath power of change, immaculate in death.’

Then did Azaradel rejoice, and say—
‘'Tis bravely thought, 'twere braver far to do.
My soul upon the present I expend:
For fools who mortify the fleshly mind,
Be that reversional eternity.
And hath it Samiasa come to this?
Less than the dust thou scornedst? less than he
Thou tauntedst with his altogether clay?’

But now with graver brow whereon sate pride,
Its proper throne, Satan the levity
Of their slight parle rebuked.

‘Such style of speech
Suits not the politic, and wary mind.
This present pleasure that thou prizest so,
Thou of our grace enjoyest; as even now
Thy safety in the storm of hot, and cold.
But lo, no tyrants, we no service ask
Unpleasing; such only as gives rein to mirth
Or ere the doing. We have filled thy sense
Topfull of joyaunce, nor from thee withheld
High Amazarah, proudly beautiful—
O how thou lovedst her as sons seld love
The mother of their manhood: How she loves
Thee as seld mothers love the sons they bore.
I mark thy swimming eye, thy purpled cheek

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I see—I feel thy beating heart. 'Tis great
To conquer nature, to be freed from law.’

Then thus Azaradel . . ‘High Lord of Hell,
I've worshipt at thy feet, thy slave for this.
How love the lawless impulse did resist,
Whereto it yielded yet . . the strife . . the strife,
Which it o'ercame, yet never reconciled,
Endless excitement evermore renewed.
But now another boon’—

More had he said,
While the incestuous man voluptuous sighed,
And at infernal feet lascivious sank,
O'ercome with fancy. But his speech had done
What to Azaziel's spear so late had proved
Impracticable. Horrour of the crime,
Wherewith the very dust was animate,
Thrilled Samiasa, and a miracle
Performed, even by a power of wickedness
Subtler than magic. Swifter than at touch
Of spell-rod, or a charming verse; the King
Arose, and o'er his prostrate brother stood
Terribly eminent. Was never yet
His visage marred as now; a thunderstroke
Had not so much disfigured that sublime
Forehead, whereon of old sate thought enthroned,
And yet in ruin there was visible;
Though shaded o'er with horrour dark as Hell:
Not totally obscured . . and thus he spake,
While with new fear the incestuous bit the ground.

‘What, she, whose beauty was so terrible,
Whose courage wooed her merited reward
Of ample realm, and huge metropolis;
Ay, for surpassing bravery, merited
Power, and all adoration, like a god?
What, she, whose speech was like a spell of power,
And spake a country, and a capitol,

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Into immortal life, . . whose lip was scorn,
Whose eye was lightning, and the index of
A spirit like the lightning, but more quick
To dare, and execute? She, who could call
Ghosts from the grave, and spirits from the sky,
As with the thunder's voice? She, to succumb
From all this greatness, condescend to mix
With that which owed her duty . . gratitude
For life bestowed, and nourished, and preserved,
Out of her substance? Adon; O my sire;
If that thou be'st a god, make it appear.
Vengeance on the unfilial. None but he?
Oh, I did check the deep contempt I felt,
Because he was my brother, for the stuff
Whereof he was compact. He, Adon's son?
Child of a fiend, thou progeny of Hell,
I'll tread upon thee as, with iron foot,
Death treads on the cold forehead of the fallen.
He is no son of thine—wherefore restrain
My fury?—Adon; he is no son of thine.
—No, no. I shall grow proud to have performed
A deed so great, and merit deeper doom.
'Tis for the righteous hand, and humble heart,
To recompense His vengeance, who repays.
I bow me to thy will, oh, God of gods.’

So saying, his strength did fail him, and he sank
Into the sands, and like to them became;
Deepest abasement, and pride's mortal wound.

When from amaze recovered, after long
And deadly silence, Satan thus pursued
His wily purpose—

‘Rise, and heed not, King,
The maniac words now hushed; unless thou wouldst
Be like their utterer, a corse—save when
We touch him into mimic life for sport—

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Awake. Arise.’

So by their help he rose.
‘This was no work of yours.’

‘No; for we make
No such wind-instruments, vessels, else void,
Of inspiration. We make Souls indeed,
That have both will, and purpose of their own,
And take some credit for the work they do;
Obstinate Spirits, to resist, and dare,
Like thee, whom in their pleasure we protect.
Thou seest His power, and ours thou knowst—on us
Thy joys depend. Prepare to yield them now;
Or league with us.’

‘Ye are my gods:—and now,
Give hear unto my boon. Maternal charms
Of Amazarah, most majestical
Of women, wisest, and most amorous,
Please me no more. In Mammon's temple lies
Edna, awaiting visit of the God,
Shrined in my person, not with love, but hate—
Now prosper my attempt, when I descend,
Mid deep of night, in all my deity,
On the expectant virgin.’

‘This we know.—
Now learn from us, that all thine ample realm
Is in revolt, and will confess no right
Hereditary, honour, or command,
Nor regal power; and they have risen wild
'Gainst Amazarah, and her Sorceries,
And him who would be Monarch. Hear us now.
Who would subvert Authority, though bad,
Best serves our aims—'twas for that end we warred
Against the Eternal. With the people, league
'Gainst Amazarah; so thou best mayst curb
Her jealousy of Edna, and secure
Thy new-made joys in peace.’

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‘Ye counsel well.’
‘Then we are thine . . thy refuge, and thy rock.’

So grimly pleased, Azaziel smiled.
‘Behold
A pattern of our power.’

Therewith he shrilled
A subtle sound that pierced the wilderness,
Not long unanswered. Hark, a silver neigh
Articulates the desart of the air,
And thrills the quaking echoes with sweet sounds.
All wanton as a mare in merry May,
A Steed milk-coloured, sudden at his feet,
Kneels in soft duty, beautiful of shape,
And fiery keen of eye, albeit suppressed.

‘Mount,’ said the Demon to the demonised,
‘For she will bear thee well, the desart-born,
Thorough the desart, whose wild perils else
Thou yet wouldst scape not.’

At the word, he sprang
Upon that strange steed's back, and swift away—
Afar—until the extreme Dudael's bounds
He reached; dismounting thence, he sped his way
Now safe, and she into the wild returned.

And Man hath lost his Sabbath-warning now;
For when the Angel of Repentance came
Upon the next, he found the King abased,
Past wakening, now more than ever lapsed
In last humility—extreme, intense,
Not to be broken, a deep slumber, as
Of death, but deadlier. Then the Seraph wept
Angelic tears, and said;—

‘From midst the heavens
I called; when in thy pride, thou walkedst forth
Among the multitudes, a human god:
Called from amidst the heavens audibly.

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Alas; how art thou fallen, Lucifer:
Son of the Morning, how thou fallen art.
Yet, surely God speaks through me. Thou hast now
Of thine abasement found the deepest deep;
More hope, then, bitter suffering shall have end,
And such repentance perfect be anon,
And thou arise more glorious from thy shame,
And as thy fall thine exaltation be.
—But not on earth, On thee the Flood shall fall,
But thou shalt know it not; and all thy frame
Be buried in the Deluge-soil, but thou
Shalt feel it not, and herein shalt be blest—
O Samiasa; wisest Man of men.’

So spake the pitying Seraph, bathed in floods
Of sorrow; sorrow that excels all joy,
In joy. Who feel not, never can be blest;
But the susceptible, albeit to pain.
In love, and pity so watched Phanuel there,
And guarded him the livelong Sabbath through;
And there till Deluge fell, and while it stormed,
Lay Samiasa in that death of death;
The quick soul buried in a sepulchre
Of torpid dust, which mutability
Changed not, supported by supernal Power
Divine. The Seasons did their work—Day, Night
Past o'er,—the Simoom's, and the Sarsar's rage
Altern destroyed, unheeded yet by him,
The spirit's grief absorbing fleshly pain.

II. The Ark

Nor was the Flood delayed. Defended still
From popular tumult in a cloudy shrine,
Noah abode, and ready made the Ark,
He, and his Sons.

At length, from Adam's Vale,

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Elihu came—‘Thus saith the Eternal’—(thus
Elihu spake)—‘thus saith to Noah now,
Even by me. Come thou, and all thy house
Into the Ark, for righteous thee have I
Before me in this generation seen.
Of every clean beast take thou unto thee
By sevens, male, and female; and of beasts
That are not clean by two, these likewise male,
And female; to keep seed alive upon
The face of all the earth. For yet seven days,
And it I'll cause to rain upon the earth:
Days forty, and nights forty, shall it rain;
And every living substance I have made
Will I destroy from off the face of earth.’

He said; and Noah followed then his steps
Into the Vale of Adam, where yet Ham
Abode, with the creation animal.

Anon, forth of that wilderness they came,
With the inferiour creatures, toward the Ark:
The fierce, and gentle, and the wild, and tame,
With the carnivorous, and those that feed
On herbs, and grasses, both of birds, and beasts,
Insects, and reptiles. First, the Quadrupeds
Came in procession: all that nurture well
Their offspring at the breast, resembling thus,
In structure, and in organs, humankind.
The furred, and maned preceded. Lords of all,
The Lion yellow-maned, majestic brute,
Noble of gesture, regal in his gait,
Came, with the queenly Lioness, ahead
Of the innumerable throng, in pairs—
Conscious of great occasion, proudly shewn.
The lynx-like Caracal, but without spots,
More fierce, and savage both of mien, and mind;
Carnivorous, but weak, and following slow
The Lion, on the fragments ever he

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Of his right-royal banquet safely preys:
The Panther and the Jaguar, beautiful
And mighty: the ferocious Ocelot:
The Race Feline, sagacious—fiercest, wildest
Of all the fierce, and wild—passed, with their prey
At peace, in tenderest fellowship, and love.
—Nor was the Mouse, mean creature, yet full oft
Graced with no little elegance of shape,
And stripèd colour, absent; noxious though
To housewife, and to husbandman provoked—
The cautious Mouse, freebooter mild, yet loathed,
Though not unamiable; such the force
Of honest prejudice, no beauty atones
For depredation; none the robber loves.
The Rats too, black or brown, both bold, and fierce,
The granary, barn, and storehouse to assail,
Unnatural, that on each other prey,
Cains of the inferior creatures; and next came
The fox-like Jackalls, hunting in their pack,
Full crying for the chase, a howl so loud,
The forest nobles rouse them at the noise,
And waken at the signal, apt to seize
The timid creatures flying from the yell.

Then came the Race Canine: the Wolf-Dog first;
An intellectual race, docile, and true;
And that Hare-Indian named, a slender sort,
But graceful, and, with light foot, capable
To run unsinking o'er the crusted snow,
In chase of Moose, or Reindeer; with the friend
Of northern hunters, bold, and patient still.
In every nation is the Dog the friend
Of Man, and numberless of breeds as he;
The Bull-Dog, and the Mastiff, and the kind
Who faithful watch their absent masters' wives
Left in their mountain-home, to strangers fierce,
Inimical. The generous graceful Horse—

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The Ass, poetic brute, and dignified
With great associations, patient, still,
And humble; free of spirit yet, and dull
Then only when enslaved; and tractable
In servitude, then only obstinate
When man's a tyrant, cruel, and severe:
The stripèd Zebra, wild, and beautiful,
With skin most glossy smooth, with white, and brown,
Varied the male, with black the female streaked:
The Musk-Deer, and the Fallow, and that One
Since found in Ind, the Axis, on the banks
Of Ganges numerous: tender-eyed Gazelle,
Elastic Deer, light-bounding on the hills:
All these, and more, came trooping of the race
Clothed with soft hair, in meet abundance given,
According to the clime, separate in most,
In some united into prickly spines;
—Witness the snake-fed Urchin, that even here
Into a pointed circle self-involved,
Is girt with spinous armour for defence;
And the quill-armed uneasy Porcupine,
Hystrix, and the Arboreal, loving spring,
With the fasciculated, fretful all;
Raising its spires irate, and stamping earth,
In its defensive armour swelling big;—
But flattened on the Manis into sharp
And pointed scales, and to a shelly coat
Upon the Armadillo, strong of claw.

Nor are the bearded, and the whiskered tribe
Here wanting, bristly race. The Ape, and Goat—
The bearded Goat came with the beardless Sheep,
Unhorned, and horned, clad or with wool or hair,
A various race, and gentle; with the Lamb,
Sacred for worship, innocent as love,
Or hope in infancy, and without spot,
Meek creature, blameless martyr, man to save—

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The Buffalo, and Bison, larger Ox,
Of forehead broad, and high, with withers huge,
Shaggy with hair, a black and woolly mane,
Short-horned, brief-tailed, short-legged and muscular—
The Wild Ox, and the Zebu, and the Yak,
The Musk Ox, race cornute, and ruminant,
Dew-lapped, robust, yet elegant of form—
The Aurochs, and the Arni. Mild the Cow,
Domestic, useful, yielding of her milk
For human needs. Man's burthens bears full oft
The serviceable Ox, and for man's food
Treads out the corn; ungrateful he who seeks
The brute to muzzle, to such labour tasked.
—Callous of breast, and knee, the timid Hares
Come leaping; and the Camels, desart-born,
And in the desart faithful friends of man:
As long he travels o'er the unbounded waste,
His water-cruise, and scrip half spent, and gone;
His burthen-bearers through the lonely wilds;
—O grief; though by the pang of thirst constrained,
To slay the loved companion of such toils,
For the refreshing stream by nature kept
In wallet at the stomach provident.—
And Llamas ruminant, yet with the hoof
Unparted, like the Camel, and, like him,
Provided against thirst with water-pouch,
Also unhorned, long necked, and small of head,
Mobile of upper lip, and straightly backed;
A rampant race, for precipices formed
To scale, and to descend, wild, bright of eye.
The Otter, found by river, and by lake;
A skilful fisher, for the finny spoil
Avid, and fierce, and nourished by such food;
Or by the sea, a bright, and beauteous thing,
Of polished black, or silvery white of hue:
Parental love its passion, pining oft

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To death for loss of offspring, on the spot
Whence it was taken dying. Small the tribe
With it came on. But larger followed now:
The tuskèd Hippopotamus, uncouth
And heavy—slow on land, but, in the flood,
Bold, active, skilful to attack, and sink
Boats on the river, perilous to man;
But not the Deluge might his race survive,
Save in the pair that enter now the Ark:
The Sea-Horse, living both on sea, and land,
On icy island, and in ocean cave;
And Seal, inhabitant of caves, and coasts
By the sea side—a roamer of the deep;
Yet them had Deluge utterly destroyed,
If not protected thus from its dread swoop.

In fellowship, and friendship with their Prey,
Walked the Devourers the smooth plain along,
And up the sacred hill, into the Ark,
Appointed for their rescue by high Heaven.

Then followed the Oviparous broods, egg-sprung—
Solicitude parental needed not:
Of life tenacious—cold, and stern, and harsh,
Of blood, and face and voice, yet mild of deed,
And disposition; dwellers by the sea,
Or in it, rivers, and their banks—the marsh—
The pool—the lovers of the wet, and moist;
The Tortoise, Lizard, and the Crocodile.
Nor fierce, nor cruel, see the Crocodile,
With mouth beyond his ears, enormous gasp,
Dreadful with lipless teeth, with fiery eyes,
Like to the burnished eyelids of the morn,
As if in rage lit up, beneath a brow
Wrinkled in frowns for ever, terrible;
Proud of his scales which close him as a seal,
So near together, air scarce intervenes;
Sporting along the deep, beneath him boil

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The waves like to a cauldron, and the sea
Froths as with unguents, while his glowing path
Makes hoary the great waters, wrought with foam.
Yet need it was that from the Deluge storm
He should be rescued, though devoid of fear,
Created to look down exalted things,
And hold high rule—a monarch over all
Children of Pride, who misesteem of God.
A sympathetic race, by hunger wrought
Only to fury; now he glides, in peace,
To refuge from such storm as even he
Might not escape. With him the Lizard race
Came on, both emerald, and of golden hue;
The changeable Chamelion—nor declined
To join the train the pleasing Basilisk,
Or Little King, whose agitated crest,
And crown erect, speak satisfaction, while,
With motion light, he glances, and reflects
Light various coloured from his polished scales.

The Serpent tribe succeed. Nor feet, nor wings,
To them belong; yet nimble as a shaft
Shot from a hunter's bow, they move along
Upon the summits of the highest trees,
And round their trunks, and branches as they come,
Twisting, and then untwisting flexibly,
In rapid sportiveness: of every size
And thickness, but all scaled; yet in the head
A vulnerable race: elastic, strong,
And brilliant both of frame, and hue. Here are
The Serpent of the Sea; the Viper, green,
And yellow; with the Boa, and the Snake;
The Insects, and the Worms. The wingèd Flies,
Gaudy of hues, and varied in their forms,
Swarm in the sunlight, and, as of themselves,
Do make a radiant atmosphere of flowers,
In noiseless motion, the soul's images;

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Ants, Bees, and Beetles, Spiders, Wasps, and Gnats,
Not mean, though small, in will as free as gods:
Some luminous with light of life, brief tribe,
In the shut Ark lit up their faery lamps,
Stars of its night, and made it like a heaven,
Beautiful Insects, living but to shine.

The Sloths were there, tree-climbers. Those not saved,
Were glad at first to hear the tempest storm,
And quickened with new life. The winds might blow,
The strong trees bow; the branches did but wave,
And meet to form a pathway for their march:
Till the wild rain subdued them, and o'ertopped
The forests, and the mountains. Saved in vain
The Megatherium, and the Mastodon—
And huger tribes, yet by the Flood o'erthrown;
Hence found in barren tracts, in sand, and ice.
The traveller to the Frozen Ocean bent,
Shall pass o'er mountains high, through valleys deep,
Guided by tiny brooks, and arid plains,
Where not a shrub appears; last to the gulf
Shall come, and in the crystal mass detect
Carcase of Walrus—and soon after trace
The giant Mammoth through the melting ice;
Till, at the length, the plane of its support,
Inclining, let it fall, by its own weight,
Upon a bank of sand—for ages lost,
Discovered only then, perhaps there laid
Embedded since the Deluge which I sing.

Then came the Birds that fly, perch, walk, or swim:
For each hath on the globe its proper site.
Highest in air the Birds of Prey upsoar,
On trees the Insessorial station hold,
Midway 'twixt air, and earth; on earth itself
The Gallinaceous tribes nest, feed, and walk,
Their wings for flight unsuited; fens among

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And marshes, haunt the Waders; and on brook
And lake and river float the Swimmer race:
All these are here; for even the ocean brood
Flood would destroy, and shipwreck of a world.
All these, according to their several kinds,
Their classes, orders, and their families.

The Condor, and the Vulture Californ,
Both large of bulk; one caruncled of beak,
And void of comb, but both with ruff of down,
Female, and male, about the neck ornate.
Dwellers in air upon the peak of snow;
Nor from such height descending save brought down
By hunger; when with beak, and talons they
Subdue their victim, next to banquet fall,
Till gorged, their wings avail not for the flight,
Then on them comes the hunter, and with ease,
Surprising with the lasso, them secures.

The Caracarra, darkly beautiful,
And dignified of walk; inhabitant
Of tree, and bush, and preying upon all;
Also the Vulturine, of attitude
Erect, like eagles, in their prime of pride.
—The gorgeous Harpy, short of wing, robust
Of leg, and strong of beak, and talons curved,
To prey on larger kinds, a crested bird,
Imperial but ferocious, sternly wild,
Boldly destructive, fearing not or man,
Or beast; but rare, else with tremendous power
'Twould rule alone—even as it loves to live,
Far in the solitary depth, and gloom
Of thickest forests, perched on tree aloft,
In voiceless, and in motionless repose—
Sans rival, or sans subject, species sole.

The Owl—the snowy Owl—nocturnal bird,
Untufted, small of ear, and large of eye;
Hairy of leg even to the very claw;

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Of plumage soft, close, thick; meet armour warm
For arctic region, burying even the beak
Within the feathery disks: the Eagle-Owl,
Plumèd of head, with beak, and back, and leg,
Covered with plumage, sable-fawn of hue;
Singular bird, and lover of the dark,
By day in dusk, and solitary place
Retires he, waiting twilight, silent perched,
In all the unconscious gravity of sleep,
The type of Wisdom. Him thus sadly set
The smaller birds attack, in hate, or sport,
With wanton insult: teazed, but not awaked,
About his dusk retreat the dreaming Owl
Shuffles from spot to spot, or standing fixed,
His plumage ruffles, changes attitude,
Grotesque display: meanwhile his opening eyes,
And shutting, mirth provoke; yet then his beak,
Hissing, or clattering, would premonish well
Of wrath reserved for sunset, when, with eye
And ear capacious to detect slight sound
Of rustling leaf, or herbage, he wings forth
On the poor bird retiring to its nest,
Or tiny creature to its burrow bound.
Stern, and terrific, in the wilderness,
His sudden shout by moonlight, to the lone
Traveller benighted there, from slumber roused,
Startled with screams, suppressed, and suffocate.
Of humbler grade the Barn-Owl, friend of man,
Defence of cornfield, and of granary
From rodent swarms: but now in mutual peace
With their small prey. And these, even with the Fowl
The farmer would protect, come on in groups
Associate, nor unaccompanied
With household feelings to the poet dear.

The Linnet, and the Finch; and chief, that One
Gorgeous of lengthened tail, and bright of hue:

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The Starling, Hornbill, and the Humming-Bird:
The Blackbird, and the Crows, with bill prolonged;
The Toucan, broad as well—a feathered sylph;
The Cockatoos, with rose crest falling back,
Or sulphur upward curved, of plumage white;
And the Macaws, all hues: the Parrot tribe
Magnificent, Bird-Monkies, but with voice
Human sometimes, in mockery of speech:
The Meleagris beautifully wild,
Increasing in its splendour with its years—
Strutting it came, obstreperous in pomp,
Of self-importance full. The gorgeous Fowl,
Whose plumage in a tropic sun presents
An orb of many colours, and his crest
A jewellery tiara, blue, and green,
Crowning the gracefullest of crownèd heads:
The Bird of Gold, with long and archèd tail,
Varied with scarlet, white, and dusky brown,
A princely bird: the Silver Pheasant, too,
A hardier race, though elegant of form,
And hue, and attitude; also the kind
With ring-encircled neck. With them came on
The Crested Partridge, the Raloul, and Grous,
With Tinamous, and Francolins, and Quails,
A graceful brood, and various. There too were
The Plaintive Turtles, of Love's Queen loved Birds—
Aye-coupled, ever-wooing, ever-wed;
Heard in the season of that pleasant time,
When the birds sing, and flowers appear on earth,
And puts the fig-tree forth her verdant figs,
And with the tender grape the vines are fragrant,
The winter past, the rain all gone, and over:
The Pigeon, bearer of the word of man,
Epistolary, through the air afar,
And specially renowned for all who love
The story of the Deluge, as 'twas sung

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By Musah, the great poet, skilled in lore
Of Mitzraim, leader thence of Israel
Through Sea, and Cloud unto the promised land.
Thrice Noah sent the Pigeon from the Ark
He enters now; the second time she found
Rest for her sole; but to the Patriarch brought
The branch of olive back—then Noah knew
The waters were abated from the earth;
Hence seven days after, when he let her free,
No more returned, she made the air her home.

The scarlet Ibis, mythologic bird,
And sacred, with its slender long-arched bill
And scalèd legs, and plumage brilliant, walked,
Inviting worship by its stateliness:
The Anser, whose migrations shall invade
The silent desolation of the pole,
Countries unknown, by icy barriers shut
From human vision; with the queenly Swan,
Pure white, and sable both, and tame, and wild;
And Cereopsis, and the humbler Duck,
Yet beautiful full oft, with hues of green,
And violet, and brown, with ornament
Of crescent, and of undulating lines,
Embellished on the neck, and breasts, and cheeks.

Birds of all climes—both of the East, and West—
Of England, native land. Birds of the air
I breathe; sweet are ye, and I raise, like you,
Both morn, and even, hallelujahs high,
That ye found rescue once, and were restored
To hymn the Highest, in the ear of man,
Singing your guileless loves, from death redeemed.
Dear birds of England, of her woods, and groves,
Her fields, and running rivers, hills, and vales,
Streamlets, and brooks. The Blackbird, largest kind,
Of all thy Birds of Song, my native land;
Whose notes are out before the leaves, and woo

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His partner to embraces, ere the frost
Has melted from the fields, and boast his young
Even in the March-wind's eye. The Song-thrush next,
No summer bird alone, he winter charms:
The Missel-Bird, the Red-wing, and that One
Who builds on heaths: the Starling, hardy tribe;
The docile Bullfinch; both of human words
Articulant: the Goldfinch, gay of hue;
The lavish Chaffinch, and the Greenfinch strong:
The Linnet sweet, and curious in his lay;
The Twite, a sojourner, all mirth, and glee;
The Sky-Lark, who builds deepest, highest soars,
And sings as he upward flies; the Wood-Lark, too,
The rival of the Nightingale; and thou,
O Nightingale, wert there, whom, as a type
Of my sage theme, these epic numbers oft
Have honourably mentioned. Thou wert, too,
Saved in the Ark, and, with the Wood-Lark, triedst
Thy skill; while Noah listened, and his Sons,
And Chavah, and her Daughters, to the strife.
Also were there sweet birds of humbler type:
The Titlark, finely feathered, and the free
Redbreast, familiar, shrill of melody;
The Redpole, winter race, and emigrant;
The small Redstart, and shy; the common Wren,
A tiny minstrel, high, and bold of song;
The Yellow-Hammer, and the Reed-Sparrow;
And he who haunts the hedges: and the Bird
That comes in barley-seed-time, and departs
In Spring—brief visitant unto the land
I love; even like this song of mine, which now
The present for the past must quit again,
And England leave for Eden.

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Thus into
The Ark were entered Bird and Beast; nor lacked
The Phœnix, bird of ages; nor, I ween
That wondrous Hippogriff, whom antient fame
Spake near the sources of the ocean born,
Straight leaving earth for heaven, or dwelling on
The mount, he smote with his impatient foot,
That raised the Hippocrene; thereafter he,
Bellerophon cast off, soared to the skies,
By Jove among the constellations placed.
Well ween I the poetic animal
Stayed not behind, but in the mystic Ark,
Bare heavenly Fancies on his wingèd back,
Divinely moving to the sound of song;
A sacred courser, taught there, and preserved
For such, among the future race of men,
As with ambitious soul would visit heaven,
And bring therefrom celestial airs to earth,
For human voices to repeat enrapt.
And while the heart of man was thus poured forth,
Spirit divine upon the Cherubim
Descended glorious, and his mind became
The chariot of its God. And so was sung,
Not uninspired, the harmony which kept
The kinds now reconciled in bands of love,
Link joined on link, throughout the wonderous chain
Of regular gradation, shading oft
Resemblance into difference, multitudes,
And tribes of animals, diverse of shape,
But beauteous all to the instructed eye;
Nor was forgotten that prophetic time,
When Eden's peace shall reign once more on earth,
And the meek Lamb with the fierce Wolf repose,
The Lion, and the Leopard, and the Kid;
—But still the dust shall be the Serpent's meat.

Straight from the wilderness, whence hand Divine

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Led Man to Eden, and along the Vale
Of Armon, and across the common plain,
Even to the Mount of Paradise, defiled
The Living Circle, infinite degrees—
From the most perfect of all animals,
The articulated, sensible of nerve,
Strong, persevering, swift, and diligent,
Docile, long-living, various in pursuit,
Sagacious for set ends, to such as are
But as self-moving plants, whose lowest groups
Pass to the vegetable kinds, immersed
In mass insentient. Hence, into itself
The living circle upward aye returns:
White-blooded race compact of scattered parts,
Threaded with nerves together, gifted but
To taste—to touch—to see; and the clothed tribes
That, having no distinction in the sense,
Breathe yet, and concentrate a nervous mass,
And circulate the blood; the groups affine
Of vertebrated life, that bodily
Connects the inferiour Animal with Man.

Such was the long array: a throng so huge,
That, passing from yon Antre to the Ark,
Where they were safely stalled, from morn to eve,
From earliest morn to latest eve, seven days
They took in their progression. Such the time
Was granted, that the wicked might be warned,
Even on the eve of Judgement, if they would.
—And now the inferiour creatures all have passed
Into the place of refuge. But proud man
Seeks none in his repentance, doomed to die.

And thus within the Ark was furnished all;
Not only ranged the race of animals,
According to their kinds, but Enoch's Book
Had Shem deposited, rightly preserved
For the instruction of the World restored;

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And Japhet of his art the workmanship
Contributed, for ornament, those forms
Prophetic, by his God-directed hand
Sculptured.—Sage Brouma, of the mystic line
Of Magog, who Japetan energy
Inherited, and over Asia
Carried successful arms, and over Ind
Diffused the arts; of doctrine authour he
Braminical, and Scythian creeds, and rites
Of wise mythology o'er Egypt spread,
Phœnicia, Greece, and Asian continent;
That group symbolic, too, which shewed the Roman,
Brave son of Japhet's race, victorious o'er
The servile seed of Canaan, realm of slaves;
Their petty princes, from the earliest time,
The tributary vassals of the land
And monarchy of old Assyria,
From Asshur sprung, the second son of Shem.
In later ages, fled the Canaanite
From Joshua's conquering arms; the remnant left,
Expelled by David, were in Africa
Found of the she-wolf's foundlings, vanquished soon,
And to their sway subdued. There, too, was he,
Great Alexander, Victor of the East,
Who made encroachment on the lines of Shem—
By Aristotle taught, the sage on whom
Thy mantle, Plato, fell, but worn reversed.
Yet peaceful meaning had the oracle,
No less than warlike, by its prophecy
Of Japhet's dwelling in the tents of Shem.
This Portugal, this England, Holland, France
May witness; Japhet's race, part settled now
In Ind, and bringing there to realms once dark
The light of Truth. And Commerce vouches, too,
The passage by the Cape to orient climes,
And by thy straits, Magellan. Crowning all

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The figure of Messiah, central form,
Gave meaning to the statues, and the Ark
Made radiant with the glory of his brow.
But all were beautiful, and when released
From that their place of refuge, and beheld
By the new world, with admiration smote
Hearts, who their purpose understood but ill,
And bent to worship blind religious zeal,
That soon to mere idolatry declined.
—So in abuse corrupt the best of things,
Their origin forgotten; and, abased,
Conduce to foreign ends, and evil aims.

The Hedge-Sparrow.

The Aberdivine, called in Sussex the Barley Bird.

III. Noah's Vision

Thus Noah's work was done. Wearied with toil,
At the down-going of the seventh eve,
Deep sleep fell upon Noah, as he lay
Within a tent, preserving duteous watch
About the appointed Ark. Even as grew
The Prophet's frame insentient, all the more
His inner sight was opened, and his soul
Had vision of high heaven. 'Twas noon of night;
The Sun was absent, but the Moon shone out
And ay the world of Stars. From orb to orb,
Was singing heard in answering echo-hymns.
One to another, in his hearing, called
The Watchers, to make ready; for the Thrones
Were planted, and their witness in the court
Was summoned, to be rendered when the Judge,
Antient of Days, should sit. Straightway the floor
Divided in the midst, and Noah's eye
Pierced upward; or his liberated soul
Soared thither. Up he soared, and soared until
He saw celestial palace opened wide,
Both walled, and paved with crystal stones, on ground

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Of crystal, and the roof flashed sparkling down;
And, in a sky of water, floated there
Seraphic ardours, and about the walls
Burned flame, and blazed its portal all with fire:
Alternate heat of fire, and cold of ice
Amazed with fear who entered. On, and on,
Trembling with terrour, the winged Patriarch sped,
And to more spacious habitation still
Arrived; with tongues of fire surrounded; each
Vocal, like storms so loud, with words of zeal,
In praise, and prayer: a glorious place, and vast,
Majestic, and magnificent, and bright,
Excelling all report of magnitude
And splendour: fiery floor, and wall, and roof;
Lightning, and star-light interpenetrant,
With ceiling, and with pavement all ablaze.
—He dazzled looked, and saw a great white Throne,
And Him who sat thereon; Antient of Days,
In garment white as snow, and of his head
The hair was purest white. So was his Throne,
The fiery flame white in its purity;
A living throne by Cherubim up-borne,
Wheeling self-moved in orbs of burning fire:
And from before him issued fiery streams,
And from beneath the effulgent Throne of Life,
Rivers of flame impetuous gushed, and foamed,
And from too near approach warned off, and kept,
With voice of hymn, and anthem, song, and psalm,
The thousand thousands ministering to him.
Yea, myriads of myriads stood there,
In the full presence of his Majesty,
With veils upon their faces, for the light
More mighty than the sun, more white than snow.

And Noah saw two Books—two sealèd Books,
And they were opened; and another Book—

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The Book of Life. The Dead, both small and great,
In terrour watched their opening; for the Sea
Gave up her dead; and Death, and Hades both
Delivered up their dead—and all were there.

So sate the Judge, for grand assize prepared:
And, at his side, was One to minister,
Whom, but for the great glory of his face,
That dazzled even prophetic dreamer's eye,
Noah had deemed Elihu's very self;
But now in doubt, for even the Lord of Doom,
Antient of Days, himself like semblance cast
From the bright radiance; but it came in rays,
And those so keen, no sight could scrutiny
Aspect of person whence such emanate,
And bring report of likeness sure. Nought sure
Was there and then, but that great Doom approached,
Nay, was then sitting; and the midst One was
The Angel of the Judgement. On his left,
Stood the strong form of Death, a seraph armed,
With brow severe—the form of Death, and Time;
Not like the Spectre on the Pale Horse, seen
By Japhet in his vision, but more like
The Archangel who foretold the coming Doom
To Noah, from the rainbow, standing on
The earth, and on the sea. He gazed again,
And even from him Elihu's countenance,
Only less gracious, sterner, and in frowns,
Looked out. In front of the mysterious Three,
(Like those who once partook of Noah's board,
Travellers, and guests, yet glorious now as gods,)
The Accusers—Satan, and Azaziel—stood.

Then said the Antient One. ‘I have looked on earth:
Flesh wholly hath its way corrupted there:
And now the End of all before me comes,

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Yet fit that each Accuser first be heard,
And Witnesses, that Mercy may find hope
Of palliation, rescue, and redeem.’

Hereat rose Satan: and, behold, to him
A Roll came flying, a huge Volume; swift
It came, and darkened where it flew. Soon seized,
The Fiend unfolded, and displayed its breadth,
And length—and then exclaimed,

‘Behold—behold—
The Book of Curses. On this side, and that,
Writ are transgressions manifold. All crimes
By all have been committed on the earth:
Even at his hearth whom thou hast favoured so,
Sin, well thou knowest, is found. In every house,
This Roll should enter, and remain, and burn:
That were the fitting end—a flood of fire,
Utterly to consume, and not of water,
Only to cleanse, and that but outwardly—
The Doom of Fire, let it come on the World.’

This said, from midst the Throne a Voice commanded,
To give the Roll of Accusation up;
Right willingly obeyed. Azaziel next
Was loud in menace.

‘Wherefore Fire alone?
Why not Annihilation? Why should Fire
Be? Let the Elements dissolve—for all
Is evil—Wherefore Nothing not?’

‘To be,’
It was replied, ‘is good; and not to be
Nor good, nor evil. What I make is good.
Where are the Witnesses?’

Then slow approached,
By Michael, and by Phanuel, on each side
Supported, the decrepit, withered form
Of melancholy Earth. In tears she came,
Before the Judge, and wept—and only wept—

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Words found no way—tears only—only tears.
So she retired; those twain first having said:
‘Our words are written in the Opened Books,
Whence judged are all the dead, according to
The things which there are written, and the works
That they have done. Well-speed the Book of Life.’

Then followed all the Planets, and the Stars,
With the bright Moon herself; and testified
Of worship—and the Night also came on;
She, too, had votaries, but no worshippers,
Atheists, who doubted of her being even,
Whose badge they wore, and, haply, of their own.
Then came the Orb of Ocean, like a wheel
Instinct with life, cherubic; and his globe,
Else watery pure, was dotted o'er with blood—
Blood shed in war unrighteous, robbery,
And murther, and the trade in human flesh,
To slavery forced or sold, no terms premised
Of mutual good, protection, or what else
For service should be rendered. Next appeared
The Heavens, and the full Air; for they had heard
Wails, sighs, and curses sore. The hirèd Man
Had toiled but for the wind, and with the east
His belly had been filled; and 'mong the poor
The Labourer was numbered. Wife, and child
Sobbed loud, and loud in execration shrieked;
Whence the sad Airs had borne, upon their wings,
Their lamentations to the ear of God:
For all are Angels, and can sympathize
With human sorrow; sacred Messengers;
Appointed Ministers of will divine;
Spirits, both felt, and feeling. And the Seas,
And Heavens have potent Spirits; and the Moon,
The Stars, and Clouds; Thunder, and Lightning, too;
And Angels dwell in Frost, and rule in Hail;
Snow hath a Spirit, solitary he,

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And vapourous; Mist, also, gorgeous still,
Summer or winter, or by day or night—
The glittering Dews, and the baptizing Rain.

These rose before the Judge, and with them rose
The Spirit of the Deep; and witness bore,
That he into his bosom had received
Methuselah, descending through the earth,
By earthquake; and, according to his charge,
Had broken up the Fountains of the Abyss,
And one revealed to air, upboiling thus,
And visible, impatient to expect
Heaven's Windows opening, and their Spirits thence
Co-operant descending. Nature next,
Complained of outrage, not in groves, and glens,
But violation in the heart, and flesh
Of reprobated man; and after her
Came Hherem, and reported sensual crimes,
Akin to brute, and worse. Dim Hades last,
And Hell, presented from their storehouse, Wrongs,
And ghosts of Misery, and shades of Guilt,
Madness, and Apathy, and Fear, and Wo;
And worst the evil Tongue, and evil Heart;
Malice, and Envy, and licentious Thoughts;
And passions, Love and Lust, Horrour and Hope;
Fancy, and Understanding; Reason, too,
Gone wild in speculation, and in act
Lost in the sense; and Sense itself; and Sin
And Death—a multitude of phantasies
Thronging: and Plagues substantial—Famine real,
Spiritual Famine, hunger of the soul,
And of the heart, and Thirst—eternal Thirst:
And Will perverse, Perdition, and blind Hate,
Anarchy, Chaos, and the Second Death.

There was the world's first martyr, Abel; nor
Was absent Cain, his brother. Him had God
Repentance granted, blest him to become

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The Father of a People, and to found
Arts, and a city, polities, and arms;
Defective, yet the best imperfect man,
Heroic though, and virtuous, might achieve.
Then Cain bowed down his face before the Throne,
Unconscious yet of transit from the Deep—
If yet such was, whereof I cannot tell—
Exclaiming thus—

‘And has my Lord come down
To Hades, seeking him he lost? Thy face
To me is turned again, whom long I've known
The Reconciled, since to my carnal heart
That sign miraculous was once vouchsafed.
I do confess my sin, and will repeat
Thy mercies in the hearing of the ear
Of the great congregation. Of old time
Thou broughtst to me thy Sister, and thy Bride,
Eternal Wisdom; that, in hours of toil,
I might with her be solaced, whose delights
Were with the sons of Adam. Often she
Met me when at my work, and from the ground
Allured my upward gaze, and taught me how
To sweeten labour, by deriving thence
Knowledge, and prescience, whether of the soil,
Or of the seasons, moving so my heart
To piety, and worship of the heavens.
With Abel she disported too, and drew
The Veil from the Invisible for him;
Hence he had visions often wished by me,
Produce of leisure, such as I desired,
Yet wanted faith to win, mid earthly cares,
And habits firmly fixed. Yet ne'ertheless
Would thoughts grow on my mind, erroneous thoughts;
Of God in anger, who had doomed the ground,
To task the sweat of man, and sacrifice
Demanded, knowing not the spotless Lamb

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Was an accepted body; purified
Of appetites, and lusts; and consecrate
To truth, in danger, and in death devote.
Then came to me a Form like to thy own,
Sterner, but beautiful; a Fury, clad
In radiance of angelic loveliness;
And words of wisdom spake, and knowledge deep,
And argument sublime, of all that Death
Should teach the soul. O fool, who then forgot
With Life dwells Wisdom, with true Being, Truth;
All else illusion, unsubstantial, vain.
How, then, he led me into Hades' realms,
Avoiding yet this better Paradise,
And what he shewed me there of phantoms fond,
Brood of the idle brain, thou knowest well;
Nor would it profit to repeat at large
Void fancies—dreamy lies. Thus then, seduced
From Wisdom in my anger, I returned;
And, in the Fury wrath enslaved me to,
My brother smote—and perished. Hence from me
Men learned to slay the Brethren, (all are such,)
In duel, or in war; till needs at length
A flood of waters stay the flood of crime.
Meantime, old Wisdom parted from the world,
And here awaited thee, thy Sister-Bride;
Whom late I found again, when, Angel-met,
I left my wearied flesh, as travelling home
From Adam's burial in too deep despair,
And gained what ne'er I hoped—a home indeed.’

Whereto the Antient One. ‘In three-fold wise,
And three-fold dispensation, hath the Age,
Now consummate, made manifest the Truth,
Whereof I am the Life. Thus He who spurned
At prohibition, that he might approve
Knowledge of evil, was from Eden sent;
And Cain, transgressing, was exiled to Naid;

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And sons of God, betrayed by carnal love,
Daughters of Men in marriage who conjoined,
Accumulating guilt, shall earth cast out
To Hades, first baptized within the waves
Of utter Deluge, where-above shall soar
The Ark, expectant of the World Restored.’

Only not there was Uriel. And it seemed
To Noah in his Vision, Satan rose,
And spake in taunting wise. ‘Of man was I,’
He said, ‘the Watcher, and Ambition hurled
Me from my former place, my archial seat.
Sure, He who rules the day may rather brood
High thoughts, conceiving like emprize, more like
To prosper. Be it given me to tempt
The Seraph, I would prove his faith perverse.’

Straight Word returned to him, ‘A lie is in
Thy mouth, and be the Seraph's faith approved.’

So Satan on his mission passed away;
And, in his place, came on a Spirit stern,
Over the seven celestial Cataracts
Prime Watcher. ‘The dread Angel of the Deep’—
Exclaimed he—‘cries, for answer to my sphere;
How long? how long?’ Hereat the Souls of Men,
Complaining of oppression when on earth,
Took up the cry—‘How long? O Lord, how long?
Speed justice, God of gods, and King of kings.
Avenge our blood, the blood that still is shed
Of righteous men—haste, Lord; let judgement haste.’

Then rose the Antient One, who made the days,
The Eternal of the ages, terrible
In indignation, terrible in wrath.
—‘Have I not sworn? and cometh not even now
The Seraph of the hairy Star, whose course
The dispensation of the time completes,
Of Uriel now expected, with his Orb,

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And the round Moon's, in dread conjunction met,
Whence Deluge shall descend? For he hath heard
The Almighty Oath whereby the heavens were hung,
Ere the worlds were that orb the eternal depth—
And the firm earth was founded on the flood,
And from the secret fountains of the hills,
Rivers, from time's beginning to his end,
Issued in ceaseless motion, and flow on,
For ever and for ever. By its power,
The sea, and his deep bed, were formed; and fixed
The limitary sands that should restrain
His fury; and therefrom the great abyss
Received her strength, to keep her stated place,
Aye irremoveable. Thereby the Sun,
And Moon, and Stars are ordered, and obey
Unswerving high command; also the Winds,
The Thunders, and the Lightnings, Hail, and Frost,
Treasures of Dew, and Snow, and Rain, reserved
For Judgement, and for Mercy—by this Oath
Are they established, guided, and preserved.
—Have I not sworn? hear, and record the Oath.
Thus saith Jehovah; I created Man,
And will destroy him from the face of earth,
Both Man, and Beast, and creeping things, and fowls
Of air, whom it repents me I have made;
But in my eyes hath Noah favour found.’

Hereat, into the circle sudden came
Cherubic Chariot, and received at once
The Thronèd One, and Wisdom his espoused,
Who at his feet had there been sitting;—while
Hymn hymeneal rose, as they were borne,
Ascending from mid Hades to high Heaven,
Thus; ‘Holy; holy; holy; Father; God;
Who gave to Adam Law. Hosanna; Son
Divine; who Truth to righteous Abel shewed;
And Hallelujah to the Spirit sing,

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Who dwelt with Seth, and unto Enosh taught
Jehovah's Name. Elohim holiest,
Who but Jehovah our Eloah is?
Hath he not heard the Spirit, and the Bride?
Thrice holy he—Eternal—Wise, and Good.’

Then Noah woke. One hour it wanted yet
Of dawn; yet up he rose, and called his Sons,
Ready to make the Ark for coming doom.

IV. The Cherubim

How sweetly breathes the Angel of the Morn—
How beautiful the smile upon his face;
And as he whispers in the rising breeze,
What music in the mercy of his voice,
The dewy tones compassionate: the drops,
That hang the leaves, and grasses, are the tears
Wept from the eyes of Pity. Lovelily,
To him who looks his last upon her face,
Beams the great mother; and his heart is touched
With sympathies celestial—nay, divine.
Nor Earth less sympathizes, and her Sons,
Who in the sight of Heaven had found grace,
Feel in their souls her passion; and come forth
To tend yon mystic Ark, that shall for her
Preserve a race alive; while she, baptized,
Wash off corruption, dying to be born
Anew . . to her old glory, nay, to more,
Redeemed, so that no spot upon her orb
Should be that was not holy, capable
Of consecration, or even needing none.
—Noah with Chava, mid their duteous Sons,
Each with his Bride, stood at the guarded door
Of the appointed Ark, and thence they gazed
For the last morn on the devoted Earth.

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Then in the presence of the Cherubim,
Even on that Mount their Sacrifice they lay,
Accepted soon of that enkindling Cone,
That fiery pillar, templed wherein dwelt
The Image of the Majesty Divine;
While on their faces the Noachidæ
Adoring fell; and thus the Patriarch prayed:

‘God of our Fathers; God of Adam; God
Of Abel; God of Seth, and Enosh; hear.
Hear, God of Cainan, and Mahalaleel,
Of Jared, Enoch, and Methuselah.
O God of Lamech: listen to our prayer.
—Wisdom of old with thee pronounced the Light,
And Laws Eternal to the Worlds prescribed,
Thy making. Wilt thou mar what thou hast made,
And, o'er the fair face of thy Universe,
Bid Ruin pass in Deluge, like the Deep
Ere Order was? Have Mercy yet on Earth:
Mercy on Man who in her bosom dwells.
—But Doom is said, and none may refuge find
Save in the Ark, and only Eight Souls there,
Of all Mankind. There comfort thou our Souls,
O God of Consolation: comfort us,
For the destruction of our Brethren; for
The peril which will threat us round about—
And for the doubts that may perplex our souls.
Save us, deliver us, from out the Flood,
And set our feet upon the ample round
Of earth again. Save us, deliver us—
O by the Sorrows of our Sire forgiven:
O by the Blood of Abel: by the Truth
Of Seth; and Enoch's Immortality.
We pray thee; we intreat thee; we implore.
Us guard—us guide—and from the waters bring.
So that Creation perish not, for lack
Of Man to contemplate her countenance,

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And call upon the works of thy great hand,
The Sun, and Moon, and Stars, and Heaven, and Earth,
And the wide Sea, to praise and magnify
Thy Wisdom, and thy Power, and thy Love.’

Such was the prayer of Noah, while the Fire
From the immediate Cherubim replied,
And kindled into flame the Sacrifice,
That on that hill, as on an Altar, lay;
And when it was consumed, the Eight arose
Cheered, but yet felt a sadness in their joy.

Not without tears, the Patriarch's family
Gazed on the doomèd World. In Noah's breast,
The venerable Chava hid her face,
In grief extreme; and very sad it was
For thee, Ahama; though with Japhet blest,
To leave so bright an orb: and, Leila; thou
Wert sorrowful exceedingly; nor thou,
Ahola; mightst restrain the gushing heart:
Loved earth, and her inhabitants, and those
So near, and dear, friends, parents, kin beloved,
Brother, and sister, and the playmate blithe,
And generous acquaintance, all foredoomed.
Nor were, be sure, Zateel, and Zerah far—
There partings were of such, for they had come
To take eternal farewells: for not all
Were evil, though not favoured so with grace,
As patrial Noah to regenerate
The renovated world; yet were they blest
With patience, and with resignation meek,
To meet the coming Judgement, and what doom
Might God appoint them. These, with ardent lips,
And feelings all mysterious, and too deep,
Stood by the place of refuge with the saved;
Nor end had been to their embrace, but then
Elihu came, and, interposing aid,

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Soothed the afflicted, and the downcast raised:
Within his arms he brought the Tables erst
To Enoch given, by him to Eden borne,
And from its gates so late promulged anew
With such effect. Them to the hands of Ham
Elihu did confide, with strict command,
Within that Ark securely to enshrine
For preservation. These the Tables were
Of which tradition tells, by Ham preserved
From deluge, and in Mitzraim since laid up
In temples, though concealed by hireling priests,
But not from Musah, skilled in Mitzraim's lore—
To whom on Sinai they were renewed.

Now slow, though unreluctant, went in faith
Into the Ark, sage Noah, and his Wife,
And Shem, and Ham, and Japhet, with their Brides;
Then on them fast he shut secure the door,
And the world vanished from their veilèd eyes.

As for the rest, they to the Cherubim,
All save Elihu, bowed adoring down.
He, to the hill returned, transfigured stood,
Person divine, amidst the fiery cone,
In glory ineffable by me—yet I,
(The Poet, gifted by the Spirit's Voice,
To summon from the vastiest Deep the Dead,
Those who aforetime disobedient were
In Noah's days, when Patience, heavenly throned,
Delayed the doom that God had fain recalled,
Had Man permitted Mercy to prevail,)
Looked with my spiritual eye on Paradise,
Heard with my spiritual ear her harmonies,
And saw the great array of Cherubim:
The cloudy column fast outflashing fire,
With the four-facèd creatures pillared there,
As in a temple of the elements,
Throned on the summit of the sacred hill,

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And bickering, as with lightning. And they spake,
As with the voice of thunder, but in songs
And rythmic dialogues. Fierce was the fire,
And vehement the sound of their discourse.
Such cloud the body is wherein we live,
Such fire the spirit, which, enkindled right,
Shall fain consume it, burning out thereby
Corruption, purging out the dross of sin.
Such cloud of smoke, as from a furnace sped—
Such flame, as of a burning lamp,—were seen
By Abram, when the sun declined, and him
A horrour of great darkness fell around;
Such Musah in the Holy Bush surprised—
Such, in a pillar both of cloud and fire,
With Israel in the Wilderness along,
Went night and day, and found, at last, abode
Within the Holiest, the Glory there.

There, overhovered by the Seraphim,
Elihu stood, between the Cherub twain,
And on the waiting and expectant Ark,
Looked down, and blessed it with uplifted hands.
Next, and more inward, amid Myrtle groves,
Were Horses with their Riders, in a vale,
A velvet bottom, mid the sacred hills
Of Eden; whom erst Phanuel heard enquire
The Angel, touching earth, then sitting still:
But now the storm was speeding, which that calm
So ominously threatened. Swift they came,
And went, the Cherub-steeds; and went, and came,
And then stood still: and then away—away,
On errand strange; and shouted choral hymns,
And anthems, all too loud for mortal ear,
In dreadful quire: and then returned again,
And chaunted epode, terrible, and wild.
And there were Chariots too, with harnessed Steeds
Of many colours; red, and black, and bay,

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Grisled, and white—the chariots of the Lord,
Spirits of Fire—his ready messengers,
Between the mountains, waiting for his voice,
To send them forth to the four ends of heaven;
And there the Horses, too, that Japhet saw,
In vision. He that bare the Crownèd One,
Who had the bow, and went to conquer forth—
The White Horse: He that bare the Sworded One,
Commissioned to take peace from earth away—
The Red Horse: He that bare the Balancer,
Who scanned the slanting scales with sceptic eye—
The Black Horse: He that bare the Name of Death,
Whom Hades followed, Famine and dread War,
And Beasts to slaughter Man, and Pestilence—
The Pale Horse.

And the Vision frighted me—
Frighted the more, since Satan I beheld
Fall from the sun, of Uriel thence cast down,
Defeated by his brightness; while soft sounds
Sighed from beneath, above, and all around,
‘How art thou fallen, starry Lucifer.’
Then seemed, as 'twere, the Future, yet unborn,
Rose from the germ; expanding:—and, from far,
To the mid air, wherein, suspended, swam
The falling deity, up from the deep
Floated the form of an unbodied Man,
Paul, the Apostle, rapt to the Third Heaven.
There, for awhile, delayed; to look upon
That Majesty obscured, but not destroyed.
And thus the Saint addressed the Demon-Prince:

‘Satan, or Zeus; Archangel of the Light,
The fluid Light, whereof a part became
The firmamental Heavens—thy primal realm,
Whose cosmic ether filled unmeasured space;
Knewst not, thou wert create, when Mystery,
(Whose Deep obscure thy Being's womb had been)

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Of Darkness older than thyself, remained,
Beyond thy limits, separate, distinct,
A barrier that no beam might penetrate?
—That Darkness but Light absolute, intense,
Whose glory blinded thine intelligence.
Over the cycles of unfolding Time,
Thou thence didst hold dominion. Day was thine,
And so was Night, where wander all the earths,
Conglobed of luminous matter, swayed by thee,
God of the worlds, Usurper. But a secret,
Wherewith still nature groaneth, big with travail,
Hath aye been uttered by Promethean souls,
Threatened but not revealed. Deliverance comes,
But not by thee, whom Fate thus overrules,
Down-falling.’

Having spoken, upward sped
The Saint upon his flight;—and downward still
Satan descended, shadows hiding him,
Fogs, vapours. But at length were these dispelled:
And far beyond the myrtle-groves I saw,
Astonied, further in, just by the Tree
Of Lives,—(a Templed Shade, wherein reposed
Enoch, awaiting yet translation thence,
To place more heavenly, to yet higher heaven;)
A glorious tree, and fruitful; at whose foot,
River of Life, ran, eloquently sweet,
A spiritual stream,—seven Angels stand
With Trumpets, all prepared for instant sound:
And an Archangel over them, with wings
Outspread, sublime, and with a golden voice
Of music, like melodious thunder-peals,
Calling aloud, and not unechoed then
Nine-fold; Wo—wo—wo. Straight the Trumpets blew
A blast so high, and deep, and broad, and long,
Heaven shook, and the great Earth; and all that Mount
Of Paradise was shaken. And forth rushed

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Seven angry Ones, seraphic, terrible,
Like gods, with vials in their giant hands,
Brim-full of wrath—brim-full of wrath—and they
Soared up, and made toward earth, right by the way
Where the strong Watchers of heaven's Cataracts
High station held.—Straightway the Archangel stood
Within the Rainbow, he whom Noah saw
In vision; and his hand was lifted up
To swear—but terrour made me blind, and deaf.

The Veil for me was drawn awhile, then closed.
A calm broods on my soul, and on my mind,
As I return unto the common world,
Yet full of mystery to the sage, and saint;
An Epos it, in mythic characters
Composed by hand divine, Creator pure;
Whom with this hymn I worship—His own gift,
With humble heart contrite, with holy fear—
Not unbaptized with water, nor with Fire.