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Tamiel, meanwhile, and Noah, and his Sons,
Went, through that shaded avenue, their way.
And now into the plain they had immerged:
But, as they skirted the last trees that closed,
On either side, the woody screen—behold—
A sheet of light, broad as a cataract,
Fell, like a river from the expanded sky,
Upon their heads; nay, flooded the whole air
Wherein they stood. So they were dazzled all;
And, smitten to the earth, adoring, lay.
Then, having prayed, they cautiously relift
Their fearful eyes; the light had vanished thence,
And round them only was the common day—
Tamiel the Scribe; with Japhet, Shem, and Ham;
But Noah was not.

To their feet they sprang,
In wonder. Had he melted into earth,
Dissolved in that dread flash? Unseen by them,
An Angel had descended, and upborne
The Prophet; on far other business bound,
Than what himself designed. But, ignorant
Of the Divine appointment, and amazed,
His Sons with sorrow stand; unknowing where
Their Sire to seek. Erelong, advancing nigh,
Behold Zateel; and, now by them addressed,
Reports, that not by Adam's Sepulchre
Was Noah, nor about the populous plain
Had been beheld; and, at his counsel, they
Turn back, that to the household they may tell
What had so strangely chanced. So they return.

Groups met them on their way; groups, keen intent
On Sabbath sport: some mocking, as they read
What them Elihu, as they passed, had given.
Anon, they came, where he was seated too,
And uttered their lament; and soon his heart
With sympathy was throbbing, and he rose,
Companion of their griefs. So home they bent,
Anticipating all their mother's woe.

Now saw they Chava, sitting at the door;
She greeted them with smiles.

‘Needs not,’ said she,
‘To tell me of bereavement. In a dream,
Our God hath shewn me all. Be of good cheer.
He for your Father hath decreed a work
In grace abounding, though in darkness veiled.’

In matron calm, sate Chava, as she spake,
And stately beauty; for her mien was grave
With Eve-like majesty; her serious brow
Was like a marble Virtue, broad and high,
With sentiments of Chastity inscribed,
In lines of solemn thought. Zateel she saw,
And welcomed.

‘Stranger, hail; not all unknown,
Since told by Zerah yesterday of thee,
In visit brief; . . beloved by her, to us
Is dear:—and for her sake, I fain would know
More of thy story.’

Then Zateel replied:—
‘Born of the line of Cain, yet well-redeemed,
By mother, but by father come of Seth,
Under the sway of Samiasa long
I lived, beneath parental roof; nor past
Idly my days: I was a child of thought,
And not unnoticed by the thoughtful king,
Who heard, how in that gorgeous capitol,
Mid palaces, and temples, I had fed
My eye's poetic wonder, and had reared
My mind to manhood, and sublime regards.
Thence called to court, that monarch's eloquence
Inflamed my soul, and urged her upward flight.
Together often, we would read the stars,
Or, to the earth returning, speculate
On what like them was splendid, and aloft,
In nature, and in man, and, chiefly, what
Asserted union with the most divine.
—For Cain, when from the presence of the Lord,
As in the faces of the Cherubim
Illustrate, to the land of Naid he fled;
Thereof, well as he might, his angry mind,
And conscience still implacable to soothe,
Resemblance made, and Teraphim before
Bowed down and worshipped; feeling what his need
Of highest aid, who had so deeply sinned;
Yet, doomed to labour, could not raise his soul
To finer contemplation; and to him
These were as gods. Such gods his children carved,
Improving in the arts of diligence,
Of airier mould, of more celestial mien
Inventive; proud of their mechanic skill;
And of their benefactours statues made,
And had them in remembrance, and adored
As demigods. Such false religion brought
(Seducing Adon first, by wiles of love,)
Proud Amazarah to the tents of Seth;
Whose sons apostate on the cunning work
Gazed, wondering; and worshipped, ignorant
Of aught beyond. In superstitious fear,
Grew up the mixèd race: and hireling priests
Inshrined as gods the effigies of men;
And, for their temples, reared them pyramids,
Resembling that mysterious Cone of Fire,
And Cloud, which spheres the living Cherubim;
Who keep the passage of the Tree of Lives,
Lest Man, become in knowledge like to God,
Knowing both good and evil, factious, grow
Immortal in a world of sin, and death
Ope not the gate to knowledge pure, and free.
—Soon Samiasa's penetrating thought
Unveiled the mystery of idolatry,
Imparting still to me whate'er he knew.
Burned he with deed heroic to deserve
Honour divine? . . yea, in heroic deed
Surpassed all predecessors, earthly gods,
Till they became, as they had never been,
Forgotten, and the god alone were he;
Save that his filial piety preserved
The memory of his Sire, . . slain by the scorn
Of wedded Amazarah, then adored—
Apostate Adon. Oft, too, from the tents
Of Seth, would come a missioned preacher forth
Of righteousness; to testify of One,
God of all gods, . . Jehovah, . . over all.
—Anon, he did appoint a solemn day,
And at his bidding many peoples came,
With tributary kings, and royal slaves,
Chariots, and horsemen; warriours old, and young—
The bond, and free—a universal host—
To look on him whose image they adored
Within the Temple of the Pyramis.
The Car, by consecrated Steeds conveyed,
Awaited the humanity divine
Of that great Word, who, for his glory, had
A City, and a Country, with his lip
Established. Forth he came; and that large scene,
A populous Ocean, heaving sumless waves,
Passed into his majestic soul with more
Of majesty; and vaunting speech he spake:—
Then fell from heaven a Voice, a thunder-peal—
An Angel's arm was visibly beheld,
In eloquent action, stretched from out the sky.
Heaven opened, and then shut . . and all was still.
—A pause of wonder. Horrour came on all—
But chief on him. O change, for prone at once
He sank; now beast; in sorrow, and in shame,
Remote; from human dwelling banished far;
Within the Desart of Dudaël hid,
Until the times be finished of his doom.
—Heavily weighed this wonder on my mind,
And soon I saw the truth, and much my heart
Was wearied to behold, how ill his realms,
During this alienation of the King,
His Mother, Amazarah, and her Son,
Azaradel, had swayed, and yet misrule.
Hence sought I solace in this vale of peace;
Beautiful Armon; Arbours consecrate
To ancient piety; where patriarchs dwell,
In humble state; oldest Methuselah,
And Lamech, and the sage Noachidæ.’

Here paused Zateel, his tale of marvel ended.

‘Ah me,’ said Chava then: ‘Each from his house,
Shem, Ham, and Japhet, in this trial-time,
Come, with their Brides, to guard their father's hearth;
Living but for one purpose, with intense
And common interest, waiting for the End,
And to the world's affairs indifferent.
What is to them the wealth of herds, and flocks,
Or house, or land, or social garniture,
Within doors, or without, doomed soon to cease?
Devote to God, obedient to his word,
The ministers of judgement to mankind:
Service sublime, but awful; thrilling them
With the still horrour, that o'erwhelms the soul,
Inspired with resolution terrible;
Or rapture, wrought to tears of ecstasy.
—Ye know not of their feelings, who ne'er heard
The voice of God; ne'er wound the spirit's chords
To such high pitch of heavenly harmony,
As may that sacrifice of self sustain,
Of all heroic virtues painfullest,
Which deeds of high emprise, and duties hard
To flesh and blood, demand of pious minds.
But chief to woman's heart, to pity's touch
Made tender as the eye-ball,—is the thought
Of thine approaching destiny, O world;
Of power to break, if elevated not
Above regards of earth, and mortal things.’

Thus Chava spake; and rose, severely sad;
And led, in silent gravity, her guests
Within her hospitable porch; thence, to
A chamber, wherein sate, in serious talk,
Espoused to her three Sons, three Virgins fair.

'Twas by divine command, that Noah bade
His Sons take Wives unto them, from among
The most devout of Armon's sainted maids.
—Long, Japhet, hadst thou loved Ahama well;
Dear as the piercing ether of those orbs,
That in her form created beauty first,
By giving knowledge, to the gazing heart,
Of image shadowing so well the dream
Of vernal fancy—child of young desire.
—Born of the tribe of Enoch, in her soul
Was memory of that immortal hope,
Which his translation shed o'er all his race,
And set them holily apart for heaven,
As worthy of their sire. Ahola, too,
And Leilah, the espoused of Ham, and Shem;
Lovely, and passing beautiful, were they,
Of Seth's race, and of Jared's, pure, unmixed;
Daughters, and sons of God, their parentage;
Fit brides for the Restorers of the World—
High characters, beyond what ever yet,
In poem, or in drama, were set forth,
For precept, or example; persons high,
And wonderous past all wonder, worthiest
Of holiest song, and verse most numerous.
Yet hath no poet yet essayed the theme,
By its supernal greatness terrified;
Nor now had I so dauntless seized the harp,
But that, O Wisdom, to this argument
Thy voice incited me, while yet a child,
As once it came to Samuel, in the days
When Open Vision was not, and the word
Of great Jehovah, seldom heard, was dear:
And I, like him, made answer, ‘Here am I;’
Yet wist not whence it came, and thrice deceived—
But now I know it rightly; and, can say,
‘Speak, for thy servant heareth;’ and will now,
For thus am I enjoined, tell every whit,
And nought from Eli hide, or Israel.

Me yet it doth befit not to portray,
In sensual wise, attractions feminine,
Though on my visions lovelily rise ye,
Leilah, Ahola, and Ahama fair.
And rather ye those graces would affect
Invisible, belonging to the soul,
Than these which the voluptuary lauds.
These let the Cainite sing: but not for such
I dare the epic song, that sings of you,
And Noah's Sons; . . the piety of Shem;
The zeal of Ham; and Japhet's energy,
And skill.

Thou, Japhet! wert enlarged, and thee
Did after-ages deify, and name
Oldest of things. Bard Homer was thy Son.
The benediction of thy Father's lips
Was on thee, like a birthright; and of thee
Nations were born, and peoples of all tongues.
Thou dwelledst in tents not thine. War did thy work,
And peace, and He who is the Prince of Peace.

Visions were thine, wherein thy sculptile mind
Saw shadows of the future, sent by God,
And straight impressed them on chaotic mass,
As with a signet. To thy skill divine,
(Such art was Terah's, too, in sequent time,)
The stoic marble was as potter's clay;
Save that its sterner volume yielded not
To change, unequally diminishing
Harmonious symmetry, proportion bland,
Compacting solids, till the substance be
Conflict of dry, and moist, receding that,
And this remaining on the vantage ground,
Like parted friends turned mutual enemies.
—There, as they came from thy foreshewing hand,
As thy creative seal had shaped them first,
Free from the infirmity of accident,
Stood they; enduring forms, immutable.

Sublime in peace, and tranquil as a god,
Reposing in his own beatitude,
Stood Brouma;—on his forehead a bright star,
And in his quiet hand the bloodless spear,
Twined with the harmless serpent, as in sport,
Life in its eye intelligent. Nor free
The pedestal, but mystically wrought.
The three-fold serpent's animating clasp,
The mundane egg, the wonderous trident coiled,
And clipt the flambeau. Symbols these of Life,
And Death, and of two worlds, Ocean, and Earth;
With pyramid, and obelisk, between,
Like flame aspiring toward its source in Heaven.
From Nile to Ganges,—from the flood of Ind,
The bay of Ormus, to the Caspian lake—
Was his dominion, with the Isles of Greece;
Philosopher, and Hero.

Slave of slaves;
Galled with his chain, yet crafty as his sire;
Ignoble; vengeful, but not valiant; nor
Flushed with the shame which valour would have felt,
(The freeborn;) smit to ground his ebon brow,
That veiled the demon scowl which, burning, lurked
Within his bloodshot orbs, like death, unseen;
The Heraclite, beneath a warrior's foot,
Crouched desperate: less than a worm in soul;
Burrowing his dagger in the guilty loam,
Fearing to smite, and impotent to wound.
Far off appeared his buckler cloven in twain,
With this inscription on one moiety,
‘Twice-fallen,’ and on the other, ‘Fugitive.’
—Prankt in the toga, stood the victor chief;
A curved disdain upon his upper lip,
Swoln anger in his nose; while, on his crest,
The new-bathed eagle, as on mountain winds,
Vailed his broad vans, composed his fulmined beak,
And calmed that eye whence lightning had gone forth.

Lo, the Pellean Conquerour, who wept
For worlds to win. He at two Sages' feet
Heard wisdom, and drank-in the words of Truth;
Whose voice was as the Night bird-melodist's,
Strangled almost with its own melody,
Gurgling up sweetness till it satiate,
Creative of the mysteries of sound,
Of combinations intricate, and strange;
Nor these alone. There sate the Warriour,
Pondering with awe upon the shadows vast,
Which, flashing on the mind's eye through the ear,
Were spoken, by the plastic energy
Of philosophic genius, into life—
And, like the Genius of Philosophy,
Stood Plato eloquent. The marble spake;
Those marble lips seemed uttering liquid speech:
And his broad forehead, conscious of the soul,
Dilated with conceptions, and confessed
Power to make worlds, how populous; . . wherein
The pupil hero might indeed enact
Perpetual conquest. Lo, the incipient spark
Kindled in his ambitious heart, and it
Heaved; and all arteries were inflamed—all nerves
Braced, like bowstrings; each muscle swoln to pain;
The foot advanced—one steel-clenched fist grasped air,
The other clutched with violence his brows.
Hence, when his introverted eye returned
To this gross world, it palled upon his soul,
Deficient in variety, and change,
To satisfy the essential cravings there,
The thirst, the hunger of the immortal mind,
Capacious of the Universe, and God.

White as the foam, the billowy marble heaves;
Waves climb in wrath the beetling rock as white,
But, checked, anon retire. A Lion there
Awed Neptune's wildness, and the maiden Queen,
He guarded on the summit, royally
Disputed his dominion, and opposed
Her sceptre to his trident. At her feet
A Virgin sate, and from the Ocean-god
Took tribute. All the pedestal was wrought
With surge—sea without shore; and thereon sailed,
Brave as an amazon, and beautiful,
Her bosom teeming with intrepid birth,
A lonely Ship, in sovran loneliness;
‘Vasco,’ the legend on her prow inscribed.
Her course was toward the orient, and the sun
Rose in the far horizon, like a shield.
What further might be sculptured none perceived;
Obvious the front, the niche inclosed the rest.

Around the chamber where they stood, were raised
The Sculptures of thy hand—unfinished One—
A work prophetic of the Wonderful,
That Prince of Peace, whose fire should in far time
Descend on his strong race, baptizing them
With heavenly power, to win the holy seats.

On them gazed Tamiel, and Zateel, awhile,
And wise communion with their Artist held;
While Chava, and her Daughters beautiful,
Prepared, for travel, with them, to the tents
Of Lamech, and the sage Methuselah;
Afar within the valley; to consult
Of Noah's absence, and provision make,
For what might follow, in a time of fear.