The Judgement of the Flood by John A. Heraud. A New Edition. Revised and Re-Arranged |
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| I. | I. Azaradel |
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 | The Judgement of the Flood |  |
I. Azaradel
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,
When he from some commanding eminence,
Would tell his heavenly errand—now a throne
Whence demons uttered the decrees of hell.
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,
334
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.
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.’
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
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.’
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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?’
‘'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.
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
I see—I feel thy beating heart. 'Tis great
To conquer nature, to be freed from law.’
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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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’—
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.
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,
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.’
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,
337
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.
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—
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—
Awake. Arise.’
The maniac words now hushed; unless thou wouldst
Be like their utterer, a corse—save when
We touch him into mimic life for sport—
338
So by their help he rose.
‘This was no work of yours.’
‘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.’
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.’
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.’
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.’
‘Then we are thine . . thy refuge, and thy rock.’
So grimly pleased, Azaziel smiled.
‘Behold
A pattern of our power.’
‘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.
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.’
‘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.
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;—
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.
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.’
I called; when in thy pride, thou walkedst forth
Among the multitudes, a human god:
Called from amidst the heavens audibly.
340
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.
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.
| The Judgement of the Flood | |