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

Eastward of Eden, lies the Land of Naid;
Where Cain of old the City of Enos built.
Patriarch of Enos, now, was Tubalcain;
Of each expert Artificer in brass,
And iron, whence of keener edge were wrought
Weapons of war, and implements of toil,
Instructor; royal then, and since divine.
And of his state partook his Sister fair,
Naämah, vain, whence told, in after time,
Of Vulcan and of Venus fables lewd:
Zillah their mother, one of Lamech's wives;
—The other Adah, who bare Jubal, sire
Of such as dwelt in tents, and cattle owned,
And Jubal, sire of those who handled harp,
And organ;—Lamech of the line of Cain,
Son of Methusael; who was the son
Of Mehujaël; son of Irad; son
Of Enos, he whose name the City bore.
For when his brother's blood had cried to heaven,
Cain's gracious Judge to him a token gave—
For why should murther murther propagate,
Private, or social? Vengeance is the Lord's;
He will repay. Then, on a swift wild steed,
The first equestrian, Cain with fear escaped
From human tents, and Abel's injured race;
His mother's anguish, and his father's wrath;
And reigned in Naid, sole tyrant, till his death,
Within the capitol that he had built,
And named of his son, Enos; . . who, anon,

Over a race of strong, and mighty men,
Succeeded to his rule. Rooted in earth,
Their labour rigid grew, as grows the oak,
And spread its boughs abroad; . . beneath whose shade
Erelong they dwelt, inventive of new arts,
Laborious arts, though giving grace to life,
And to false woman's beauty treble power
Of fascination, like the subtle snake's;
That charmed the sons of God to union strange.
—Whence men of strength, and science; joining thus
The force of contemplation, with the might
Of quick observance, and experiment:
Empiricism, though gross, yet powerful
Nature to sway, society to form;
But evil in the end, and ruinous,
If true religion guide not, and o'errule.

In regal hall of audience, high enthroned,
Graced with his sister's beauty, and begirt
With warriour, and with noble; whom among
Jabal, and Jubal eminent appeared;
Sate Tubalcain, amidst his counsellours:
And, in the level area of the court,
A Shepherd knelt, in suppliant attitude.
An oaken crook within his hand he bore,
And with a fleecy skin his loins were bound,
Signs of his simple trade; ambassadour
From Abel's children to the sons of Cain.

‘In Adam's, and in God our Father's name,
O king, excuse a shepherd's guileless speech,
If its rude dialect the polished ear
Displease; imploring for a peaceful race,
Whose corn, and oil have failed, that thou their need
Of thine abundance wilt supply, lest them
Famine abolish from the face of earth.’

Thus he. Whereto the crafty Statist crowned:

‘The country where ye sojourn, is it not
Fertile of soil, of so salubrious air,
Nature her part hath done, if man not his?’

‘God,’ said the Shepherd, ‘hath upon the spot
Bestowed his choicest blessings. With small skill
The seed is sown, with little labour reaped:
Whence leisure much have we the flocks to feed
Beside our sacred rivers; while we muse
The stately song, or, under the broad tree,
Or rocky shelter, stories old recount.’

‘Work,’ said the Tetrarch; ‘and ye need not starve:
Or, if your simple hands may not produce
Sufficient store, learn of our skill to make;
Of brass, and iron; harrow, plough, and spade,
Sickle, and scythe: and rear ye food tenfold.
Work; or, if idle, want: strive in your work,
Compete with one another, and surpass.
Know, fond of peace, 'tis Strife divides the earth,
And shall partake its bounties. Now, in war,
Industrious man contends to win the soil;
Now, at the plough, he plants it; then, ordains
Domestic order, and his household keeps;
Running for wealth, and wrestling for command.
One emulation prompts the strong-armed Smith,
The tented Herdsman, and the Harper wise.’

Abashed the Shepherd stood, and groaned in soul.
Then Jabal of his silence vantage seized,
And spake.

‘I know ye will object the name
Of Justice, which forbids extorted wealth:
But can the way ye tread be Virtue's path?
So easy, not the track of vice might be
Or smoother, or her mansion less remote.
Virtue in elevated region dwells,
A steep, and rugged road, moist with the dew
That Labour from his wrinkled forehead sheds,

Scaling the rough ascent. Still hungry want
Must vex the sluggard; him who labour loves
The seasons bless, and in his garner heap
The floor with plenty. To his coffers comes
Gold; and his fields with flocks, and herds abound.
—Attend the times, when ye shall sow, and reap;
Make sharp the sickle; till the glebe with care;
And throw aside your cloak, when at the plough;
Nor let the third sun on your labours rise.
Do thus, and prosper; so the weighty ear
Shall, with majestic bend, nod o'er the plain
On its strong stalk: and, till the spring return,
With its white blossoms; and while heard afar,
A dismal hollow blare, the Bittern fierce
Booms, from the sedgy river's utmost depth;
Ye shall not need to borrow, or to beg.’

He ceased; and, ere the Shepherd could resume,
Jubal took up the taunt.

‘He spake of songs,
And lays ancestral; chaunted on the banks
Of streams, and under shade of tree, and rock;
Songs idle, unelaborate, and mean;
Needing no leisure, yet absorbing it.
Time utterly mis-spent: for diligence
Maketh art perfect; toil completeth skill.
What, though to ditties murmured to your flocks,
Ye have postponed your harvest; yet have ye
Organ, or harp invented; or in song,
Or dance become initiate; such as we,
To ravish sense, have found? Behold, and hear!’

Then at the organ Jubal took his seat,
While one the harp assumed: and, as their hands
Waked from the chords, else dumb, sciential sound;
Their voices to the mind expressed the sense
Of intricatest harmony; on air,

From the vibrating string, or sounding tube,
In undulations borne: and what stood by
Moved to the music—chief, the human heart,
Taught by the trembling nerves of pleasure near.
—Like harmony, with that which aye subsists
Nature, and Man between; that unison
Which mingles still the human, and divine:
The low, a symbol of the lofty still,
Prophetic type of that whereto it soars.
'Twas as if Life were made to know itself
Through Feeling; erst unknown, unfelt; or but
In such degree, so of that rapture short,
As worthless with that ecstasy compared.
And forthwith, from the purlieus of the court,
Groups of fair damsels flew into the midst;
In wanton measures, threading many a maze
Of motion, kindling amourous desire.

II. The Shield of L amech

‘As when, from under roof domestic,’—thus
They sang—‘a Son goes forth in ripened years,
Conscious of power, to mingle in the race
Of public competition; Man went forth,
Out of the Garden of Delights, that would,
With unremitting bliss, have lulled the soul
To indolence; proud of his liberty,
And brave to battle in the field, wherein
Salvation might be won, and Heaven obtained.

‘There had he been in idlesse well content,
Within an arbour evermore reclined,
To listen to the descant of the bird,
Morning, and evening; or the murmuring brook;
Or breezes making vocal the green boughs:
Nor known what fountain in his soul of song
He might unseal, that should their warbling shame;
The broken-hearted nightingale, entranced,

On the excelling lyre, by music slain.
—Music; he knows her now, he feels her too;
She kindles, she inspires him, she transports,
And to a better Paradise exalts.
She tells of love; and wooes to soft delight,
To rapturous bliss, the lovely, and the young:
Their glowing eyes, their panting bosoms own,
Their melting hands, their sparkling feet confess,
Their dreams acknowledge, her persuasive power.
She heaps the board, o'erflows the generous wine,
The feast inflames, and gives the banquet joy.
Heroes she makes: War revels, and exults;
And, while she sings, glows beautiful in blood.

‘Not without labour is such art attained,
Nor without praise the artist who attains.
By labour, food, from its concealment drawn,
Strengthens the human heart; and wine, expressed
From the luxuriant grape, the human face
Enlightens. Sweetly to man's listening mind,
High on green bough supported, dusky winged,
Shrills the Cicada's note the livelong day;
While he, complacent, views the millet's ears
Spring bristly with much grain; and, on the vine,
The crude grape ripen in young summer's smile,
The produce of his toil: or—when the thorn
Burns in its glory, yet is not consumed—
The dainty food of goat, or tender flesh
Of infant heifer, or of savoury kid,
Partakes, imbowered in cool; and the brimmed cup,
With dark, and piquant liquor mantling up,
Commends to his pleased lip; and laughs for joy.
—Nor less his joy, when the Autumnal god,
Upon the harvest, in fresh showers descends—
He feels the wheat the creature of his skill,
Whose culture only causes it to be;
Soon, if his providence neglect, extinct:

No second year beyond the harvest sees
Spontaneous produce from the fallen ear;
But, by his tendance nourished, it repays
The earth-tiller, with even more than daily bread;
With rights, and manners; sciences, and arts.

‘For this, that it may flourish, and abound,
Man hastes by day-break to resume the plough;
Its peaceful course still followed by the race
Of Rooks, each eager with short flights to be
The nighest, seizing on the fresh-turned Worm:
They, for the larvæ of the Dor-beetle,
Old mossy grass fields visit, by the scent
Discovered, feeding at the roots of grass;
Destructive tribe, deep in the soil immured.
—Nor shall the song forget to celebrate,
Who, first, into a liquid ore, dissolved
Iron, or brass; thence moulded into tools,
Or what might be in metal fused, or graved.
Hence, fields are cultured; and hence, fields are fought.
The ploughshare, and the pruning-hook we leave—
Hail, to the sword, and spear; hail, glorious arms;
Hail, helm, and casque:—but doubly hail, the shield,
The Shield which Tubalcain for Lamech wrought.
Had Lamech, in his lust, a man, and youth,
Not slain; the second homicide?—As yet,
War had not been: and he his Wives bespake,
Adah, and Zillah; for he greatly feared—
‘Lo, I have to my wounding slain a man,
Yea, and a young man to my periling.
Was Cain avengèd sevenfold? Then, sure,
Shall Lamech be with seventy, and seven.’
Thus solaced he his terrour: but, anon,
The Avengers rose in wrath, and sought his life;
And it returned. ‘All creatures are preserved,’
Lamented he, ‘from perilous approach.
While the unsitting Cock boasts golden hues;

The Hen-bird obvious to the preyer's view,
Or beast, or bird, or man, hath Nature hid
In plumage dull, or coloured like the ground.
Thus cowers the Lark, and squatting Partridge, while
The robber Hawk unconscious hovers o'er.
Or, if both sexes boast like gaudy tints,
Swan, Falcon, Raven, Owl, are strong to strive.
How strong of wing the Pigeon of the wood,
To flee the Hawk; and him despise not too
The agile Swallows, as they clamour round?
Thick hedge, and bush protect the warbling tribes;
Redbreast, and Wren; Linget, and Nightingale:
The Crake, and Quail, long grass, and standing corn.
And him, the Hawk, the brilliance of his eye
Provides with meat. Even for the Cuckoo brood
Cares Nature, and permits an alien nest
Receive them, lest the mother's cry provoke
Despoilers, and direct them where they lie.
Is man less worth than these, that no defence
Avails him, when the wrath of multitudes
Burns against One? How hopeless he alone.’
—Then said his Son, the hero of the forge,
Said Tubalcain; ‘I will an Ægis make,
Of metal most approved, that shall protect
My father's person from all weapon's dint.’
—Soon he began the labour. At the forge
The anvil groans beneath the hammer's stroke,
And the strong fire dissolves the roaring mass,
Gold, brass, or steel. Orb within orb, he forms
The massy buckler; nor his sire's defence
Alone considered: mindful to display
A workman's skill; o'er all its wondrous disk,
The storied shield, impenetrable frame,
Bears the traditions of the days of old.
—First, round the ample verge, a river rolled;
That river which from Eden journied first,

To water, and refresh that garden blest,
Where Adam wooed fair Eve; whence parted, it
Into four heads divided; as they flowed,
Each marking out the limits of a land,
Upon the expanse, and surface of that round.
Lo, at the junction of two rivers stands
A horseman; it is Cain. The fiery steed
Rears at the opposition; and his rider,
With terrour wild, clings to his hairy neck,
While he attempts the passage. Nor in vain:
For, on the further bank, a City stands;
And Cain, with his son Enos, manifest,
There exercise authority, and power.
And, now, the artist Irad celebrates
On that emblazoned field. Of the wild Ass
The tamer he; and therewith he explored
Desert, and wilderness; and such report
Brought home, as since in Amazarah burned,
And in Dudäel built metropolis,
For glory unexcelled. How beautiful
The Ass which, at his bidding, bowed the head
Obedient, and stood still; else swift of foot:
That he might mount upon her streakèd back;
Else silver white; and there in silver wrought.
And who is he, yon orator, who stands
In action eloquent? 'Tis Mehujaël—
Persuasion hovers o'er that multitude,
A radiant angel, seconding his speech;
And keen Conviction, girt as if for speed,
Hastens from man to man; with ardent lips,
And confidential whisper, others' torch
Enkindling with the light she bears herself.
—Of God spake Mehujaël, and proclaimed
The destiny of man; the doom of earth;
Of labour still inventive, still in want.
The evil Mildew eats the stalks of Corn,

And idle Thistle chokes the dying field,
With burrs, and prickly weeds soon overgrown.
What then?—the land with many a harrow work,
Noise-off the birds, and prune the shading boughs.
To human labour must the soil submit,
And Paradise in every spot appear:
For skill shall make a garden of the earth.
—This lore Methusael learned, and well he knew
That earth had charms, and life might be enjoyed,
And should be, since the grave her secrets hid.
Was Death not Hades; dark, and shadowy?
For him the Olive flourished, and the Vine;
For him floods teemed with fish, and air with fowl,
And earth with fruits, and flesh of many kinds.
There sculptured, lo, he revels, as in life
He reveled; with the wine-cup in his hand
Raised high; as if he said—‘Life, if not brief,
Is tedious, or, it may be, both; and death
Remediless. None comes from Hades back.
Chance-born, the dead are as they ne'er had been:
For breath is smoke, the heart-pulse but a spark,
Body to ashes, spirit to air returns;
Time buries names, and man forgets man's works.
Life passes like a cloud, like morning mist—
Its end fast sealed, it ne'er again begins.
Come on, then: let us taste the present good;
Let us with costly wines regale our youth,
With ointments, and the vernal blossoms seize,
And crown our brows with rose-buds, ere they fade.’
—Thus, round the generous board, in jovial mood
Methusael seemed, in festival elate:
And Lamech there, his son, partook his joy;
Eftsoons with terrour paled. For then it was,
The feasters cried;—‘Let none of us depart,
Without his share of our voluptuous mirth;
In every place be tokens of our joy;

This is our portion, and our lot is this.
The poor, though righteous, man who would not scorn?
Why not oppress? the widow who would spare?
Who reverence the grey hair of ancient men?
Strength be the law of Justice; weak to be,
Is to be worthless. Who shall us upbraid?
Lie we in wait for him, though he profess
Knowledge divine, instructed child of God:
Enough, he doth reprove our very thoughts.
O hateful to behold, his life is not
Like other men's; 'tis of another make.
By him as counterfeits we are disesteemed.
Presumptuous: boasts he God, as of his sire?
Prove we his words. He hath pronounced the Just
Blest in his end. See we what then shall chance.
Is he the son of God? him God will help,
And sure deliver from the hands of foes.’
—Thus saying, they arise. Lo, where they haste;
With song, and dance; so livelily his hand,
The artist's hand, hath on the metal traced
The merry crew, the gazer deems they move.
Anon, an old Man, and his Son they meet,
Beside a tent, in prayer; derived from Seth;
But sojourners within the land of Naid,
And with its dwellers leagued by nuptial league;
Yet was the stock they sprang from not forgot
By them, in pious act, or who beheld:
And wanton mischief doomed them to the death.
'Twas Lamech smote them; hence his fear, and hence
The Avengers rose in wrath.

‘Now fears he not—
The shield of Tubalcain o'ershadows him:
The sway of Enos, and the toil of rule,
Left to his sons; . . himself in shades retired,
Far from the city to the plains of Naid;
Adah, and Zillah, comfort, and delight

Methusael's son, even Lamech. Woods, and groves
Are conscious of their loves; and rocks, and caves:
The flowing rivers murmur with their sighs.
—Nor deem exempt from labour their delight:
For art invents new pleasures, and they toil
For new enjoyments, worthy highest song,
Were song not worthy now of highest praise.

‘Song was in Heaven the solace of the gods,
Innumerable ages of repose,
Ere it was known on earth to mortal men:
An inspiration, actual breath divine;
Or lyric rapture, human, yet from heaven;
Brought by the Heroic Angels, when they came,
The prefects, and their hosts, on Ardis down,
And sware, defying all Superior Power,
They would, O Men, your daughters beautiful
Crown with a race, celestially derived.’

Thus sang they, and with fable ended thus:
With fable; but, in coloured light, expressed,
Not without shadow, truth transcending sense.
Even like those who then together sang,
When the bright Stars were born, for very joy—
Seth's sons, by merit called the Sons of God,
Forsaking Armon, lost their high estate,
By woman lured among the tents of Cain.

III. The Prediction

Confused, the Shepherd hearkened; and beheld
The wanton sport; and had ere long been left
Alone within the hall; . . for now the Court
Prepared to rise, contemptuous of his suit;
But a loud voice from Speaker, yet unseen,
Insult arrested.

‘Sons of Adam, hear.
Have mercy on the Brethren, as your God

Was merciful to Cain, who slew their sire.’
—All turned, awe-stricken. Gradually revealed
Out from the air, the contour of a man
Appeared, as if a god, or angel stept,
Far forth the mystic hiding of his power,
The visible into. Beheld of all,
A venerable man, and yet not old,
Solemn of attitude, erect, unmoved;
Heroic form; awaiting who should speak,
Stood Noah, Prophet of the Most High God.

But none that apparition might address,
Except Naämah, of her beauty vain,
Like a young ash in bloom. Her wanton lips
No awe might check, no virtue might controul.
How delicately beautiful—as foam
On the wild ocean, and as sportive too:
Even in anger sportive, whenas waves
Toss high the slender bark, while suddenly
The moon is hid in heaven, and through the gloom
Thunders laugh loud—such was Naämah now.
As in a vale of pleasant bowers, o'erhung
With an aërial fleet of stormy clouds,
Conscious of gathering darkness, the bold oaks
Bend down to greet the shock; so men to her
Bow, as in worship, to avert what ire
Lours on her brow, else marble, so serene—
Or haply waiting, till far-faring winds
The squadron meet, and lead to other skies;
Rejoices then the vale, escaped from wreck,
And fair uprise her oaks in light renewed:
Thus smiling, she the Man of God bespake.

‘Pleasant surprise thy sudden coming was—
Fair jest thy words implied; that Cain's, forsooth,
Should pity Abel's race. We pity them:
Seed of the strong, we pity, and contemn
The children of the feeble. Corn, and oil—

Have they not flocks, and herds? or have they grown
So tender, they would spare a lambkin's life?
Less brave, then, than their father; for when he
Held sacrifice with Cain, not well content
With earth's first fruits, the firstlings of his flock
He slew upon the altar of his God.
Blood chose he as an offering; for his own;
And yet his own was offered. Death, since then,
On Life hath feasted; so hath Life on Death.
Go: kill and eat.’

Tears trenched the Shepherd's cheek,
When this he heard. Deep feeling, like the Nile,
River since known, and symbol of past Flood,
O'erflowed; and scarce, by fortitude restrained,
Permitted brief reply.

‘God gave to man
Each herb seed-bearing on the face of earth,
Each tree wherein is fruit that yieldeth seed
For meat, as to the beasts of earth he gave,
And to the fowls of air, and creeping things,
Every green herb. For holy rite reserved,
To make atonement with offended Heaven,
The sinless creatures roam, unfearing death.’

Whereto the Tetrarch. ‘To the Teraphim
We offer, like our father, of earth's fruits
Acceptable, whereby we spare our flocks,
And not the less our harvests they increase.
And, by the Teraphim, we will not bear
With other worship, blasphemous, profane.
Hence; glad to scape with life: so, linger not.’

Then Noah lifted up his voice, and spake.
‘Hear ye the words of the Omnipotent.
—With Chavah, and my sons, one eve I sate,
In social converse, at our frugal meal;
When, lo, three Men, for such the Strangers seemed,
Approached, not long unwelcomed, and became

Guests at our board, as travellers from afar.
Anon, of things far off we 'gan discourse,
And then to reason high on holiest themes;
As speech of distance will wake highest thoughts.

‘Survey,’ they said, ‘this world; a Paradise
Within an Eden, starry realm of space;
But greater far those things that are concealed:
Whence mind, and its dominion; . . and the law
That animates, and beats in every pulse
Of the all-teeming earth, which aye revolves
In ceaseless agony, producing aye.
And man is of these twain, and knowledge would
Of both, but can of neither, unless he
Become what he would know; and one is Life,
And one is Death; unique, or else impure.
'Tis in his will to choose, in Adam's was,
When God to him o'er earth dominion gave:
In sign whereof, two Trees he did appoint;
One called the Tree of Lives, the other named
Of Knowledge, and of Death; thus bidding him:
—Abstain from this, freely of that partake,
As he would live, and in God's love abide,
And knowing nought, know all. True wisdom this,
Not understood—till before human sight
God brought the Creatures; then Man felt the power
Whereof God spake, and gave them each a name,
According to its nature. Coupled they;
He was alone, and perfect in himself,
Awing the brute, yet awed himself of God.
They gambolled in the love-sport, like with like;
He held with a Superior high commune;
Not all unequal to such colloquy:
Or with himself discoursed, till thought grew big
For utterance, and wished companionship.
Then he discerned his insufficiency,

(Yet innocent, albeit deserving nought,
Having his being of Almighty grace;)
And what was good before became not good.
—These things return upon us as a dream,
As of the sleep he waked from, when thou, Eve,
Clad in thy beauty, burnedst on Adam's gaze.
He was not what he had been, yet was blest,
Beyond conception blest. What he desired
Had being, love-created, made for love.
‘Eve,’ he exclaimed, ‘flesh of my flesh thou art,
Bone of my bone.’ . . nor knew how he should quit
His heavenly Father, when he prophesied,
That therefore man should willingly forsake
Father, and mother, and his wife prefer,
More amiable, relation closer still.
—Her thus in virgin innocence he wooed—
‘Our proper bliss is to enjoy what God
Created, but enjoyment temperance needs,
Else none; and chief in kind, and in degree,
Moral delight; of sensual much eschew,
Evil, effect of sin, and cause of death.
For the capacity of sense hath bounds,
Being, as its object, finite; sated soon,
And lost all relish in excess. For this,
Test of our temperance, yon Tree hath God
Prohibited, of knowledge, and of death,
Of good and evil, . . evil the abuse.
But of our spiritual faculties
How infinite the scope, and only can
With what is infinite be satisfied;
Knowledge of God, to love whom is to know.’
—In such discourse, reposed they underneath
The Tree of Lives; whose umbrage broad, and cool,
Them there imparadised, and felt this truth—
To be is far more noble than to know.
Ah, all must be, what they would know aright;

And to know good, or evil is to be.
Whence sin, and whence redemption . . How redeemed?
By labour, and by death. For knowledge made
Man's nakedness ashamed of its own need,
Which hiding, from the Sacramental Tree
Its ample leaves they plucked. Aiming at what
Was His sole property who formed the heart,
They learned their wants, but not their remedy.
Discovery vain, till he, whose frown they feared,
Made manifest the love they dared to doubt,
As if the liberty of choice were not
Sufficient pledge of bounty. O forewent
Was reason then; false oracle believed,
Of knowledge without power; that God, and Man,
Made twain, until the Woman's Seed atone;
Better ambition justified, and man
With his celestial Father reconciled.
—Though as by fire; for who will not believe,
Must try experience, though it torture him.
Doubt if ye will, in order to believe,
But not to doubt; much less believe, to doubt;
But, and in faith, both doubt ye, and believe.
Men prove that fire will burn, by feeling it;
Yet he who feels to prove, must have believed,
That he should prove it, first, by feeling it.
—And why should Man doubt God, but to believe
The Adversary, false oracle, whose sense
Is double?’

There I answered; ‘True, my lord,
Of such false faith iniquity abounds.’
—Then spake again the Elder of the Three.
‘My Spirit shall not alway strive with Man,
For he of flesh as spirit is compact:
One hundred years, and twenty be his term.
His wickedness is great; and, in his heart,
Is each imagination of his thoughts

Evil unmixed, unchanged. Me it repents,
That I have made him; yea, it grieves my heart.
Whom I created, him will I destroy,
Even from the face of earth; both man, and beast,
And creeping thing, and fowl that wings the air.
That I have made them it repenteth me.
But in my eyes, thou, Noah, hast found grace:
Know, therefore, that the End of all flesh is
Come up before me; for the earth is filled
With violence through them: and lo, I will
Destroy them, with the earth. Make thee an Ark;
Of gopher wood, pitched inside, and without;
Three hundred cubits long, and fifty broad,
And thirty high; with rooms three stories up;
A window, and a door, set in the side.
For lo, I bring, even I, a Flood on earth
Of waters; for destruction of all flesh,
Wherein is breath of life, from under heaven:
And every thing that is in earth shall die.’
—So saying, they departed suddenly,
Or vanished; and we knew too late that we
Gods unawares, or angels entertained.’—

Thus, while spake Noah, o'er that lawless group
Passion, or influence, held attention mute:
But now it passed, or changed; and they exclaimed,
‘Ha! thou art Noah? Not to us unknown
The fame of what thou speakest. Pity though,
Prophets, who would save others, show small skill
In what themselves concerneth. Knowst thou now,
While thou art idling here, thy proper hearth
Protection needs; for that the sword of war
Hath entered Armon; and thy wife, and sons,
Thine aged fathers, call in vain for aid
On Noah's name, vaticinator vain?’

Whereto the Prophet, ‘He who brought me here

Will take me hence, if so his wisdom will.
Hither not of myself I came; for, as
Walking upon this Sabbath-morning forth,
To worship with my Sons at Adam's Tomb,
And thence to preach to the assembled throng,
Concerning the completion of that Ark
Appointed me to build, howe'er ye scorn;
A hand invisible seized by the hair,
And without pain conveyed me where I stand,
So soon, I may not count the time elapsed.
—Repent, or ye shall perish: and, in sign
Of my commission, learn; since ye refuse
The sons of Abel needful corn, and oil;
Your Seed-time, and your Harvest, they shall fail:
Your Cold, and Heat, shall strange mutation know:
Summer, and Winter; Day, and Night; shall cease.’

The Prophet's curse was spoken. Uproar wild,
And rout succeeded; but that unseen cloud,
Which him before concealed, now girt not him
Alone, but in its ample folds embraced
The Shepherd, too; and safely from that hall
They passed invisible—the righteous twain.

Now, sailing on the broad Erythræan sea
Were they. 'Twas past the noon, and from the shade
The herd had driven his flock; yet broad the sun
Shone o'er the billows. Fair the sight of beams
Reflected; grateful were the breezes cool;
And sweet to look upon the ancient trees,
Along the fringèd shore: while, in frail bark,
They voyaged to the Land of Abel's race.
So long they voyaged, that behind the hills
They saw the sun decline, and felt the gale
Of coming night blow coolly o'er the waves;
While rested sea-birds on the rocks about,
And silence slept upon the shores around.

—But deem not that in silence voyaged they;
Sweet commune long they held, and Noah thus
Instructed Hori, (such the shepherd's name.)

‘Fear not, although your corn, and oil have failed;
For he who took away, can give again;
Or if not, will permit that you supply
Your need with substitution, though of what
Is dedicated to the holiest use.
Nor take to heart that this the scoffing sons
Of evil dared to urge, nor do it not.
For man is lord of all the things of earth . .
All places, times . . his mind both place, and time.
Thus too, of Sacrifices be it said,
It is the soul that fits them, or unfits;
And fruits, and kine may both in turn be ill,
Be good: nor was the sacrifice of Cain
Refused, because the produce of the soil
On which he laboured; but on that account
Had been the more acceptable, if offered
With willing heart devout. Atonement may
With corn, and grape, earth's fruits, in liquid wise,
Or solid, as of bread, and wine, be shewn,
A bloodless sacrament; as well as by
The blood of bulls, or goats; or sheep, or rams.
All equally significant of this—
That man is not sufficient to himself,
On this hand, or on that; or earth, or heaven:
Needing both food, and raiment; would he live,
And have defence from Nature in her wrath.
This, physically, bestial sacrifice
Declares not only, but provides; and thus
Redeems the body into life again,
Ay, and well-being. But what thus is done,
For perishable flesh; in higher guise,
The human spirit asks, and shall obtain—
Even spiritual food, and covering,

Of quality divine, . . the Right, and True.
And this, methinks, less carnally were shewn,
In simpler rites expressed, by corn, or grape,
Such as Cain offered, or by them in what,
By art of man, has been from them produced;
Both bread, and wine; the latter rather, since
This Art is even a symbol, and a seal,
A part of the Redemption: shewing thus,
The soul is truly furnished, as it would,
With power, and wisdom; knowledge meet to save,
Food of the soul, at once, and clothing, too.
Hence, all these rites the Lord of all permits,
That none be superstitious. Hence, dread not
To put your holy things to common use,
But rather seek to use your common things
As holy. Make the business of life
Religious; every deed, and word, and thought:
Then, will each aspiration be a prayer,
Discourse a priestly lecture; nay, the act,
The simple act of dressing when you rise,
A pledge of reconciliation with your God;
Each common meal, a sacramental feast.’

Conversing thus, and charmed with such discourse,
Time passed them swiftly; and, on moonlight seas,
With Hori, Noah sailed afar away;
Forgot the vale of Armon, native vale.
O God was careful of his prophet, then;
Withdrawn from peril, destined soon to fall
Upon that spot, though consecrated long.
But not as yet had it descended there,
Albeit the prince of Enos so declared—
For not of execution but design,
Soon to be put in act, the Tetrarch spake,
Anticipating what he loved to think.
O impious: but the evil was delayed

By higher hand. For his voluptuous Sire,
Of the Death-Angel summoned, was perforce
To Hades borne; though there no pleasures be,
And Adah there, and Zillah, had in vain,
(Were they not old, and beautiful as once,)
Sought to delight the king in youth renewed.
There are the days cut off, the years deprived,
The residue of years. No more beheld
The dwellers of the world; departed, thence,
Is age, and as a shepherd's tent removed:
No praise hath it, no laud for God, or man.
No celebration utters silent Death:
No hope awaits, who to the pit descend.
Alas, and soon must all that shadowy bourn
Seek, nor return. For Time himself will soon
Take the unstable ocean for a throne;
And, riding in his fulgent chariot forth,
Rein his white steeds, or lash them into foam,
Till the waves seethe; and, then, at him will Death
Grin ghastily—at him—a desperate smile—
Death—as that ravenous banquet were his last,
Unless he gorge his famine on himself,
Like the hyæna, eating his own bones.

IV. Samiasa and Palal

And now, the Angel who had Noah borne,
The Angel of Repentance, Phanuel,
A mandate, in reply to his request,
Received from Archangelic Michael,
Regent of Manhood, and of Virtue Prince,
Guardian of Nations, and the Guide of Kings;
Once Samiasa's, ere, in selfish pride,
He had unto himself a god become;
Thence to his evil genius was resigned.
—For gentle Phanuel, pitying his estate,

From the Most High, with earnest prayer, desired
Permission, on each seventh recurring day,
To minister to his despair, and pour
The balm of healing through his smitten soul.
For this, with incense at the gate of heaven,
He stood, and at the altar ministered
His golden vial's acceptable odour.—
There Michael came;

‘Me God hath charged,’ he said,
‘O Phanuel meek, with answer to thy prayer.
The terrible thunder of his Word hath sworn,
'Tis granted to thy importunity.
Far in the wilds, beyond Dudaël far,
The miserable Monarch, now not man,
Dwells with the savage of the Desart wild,
Himself a savage wilder; doom severe:
A beast, but uncompanioned, and unstalled;
Wet with the dews of heaven; desolate
Of human habits, as of human heart.
Far other spirit rules his spirit now,
Than once; Hherem, the Cursed of the Accursed,
Whom Hell's own gorge heaved forth, abominable.
—In lofty disbelief, and wilful pride,
When first the Primogenial Parents plucked
That fatal fruit from the Sciential Tree;
Then Hherem, with ignoble aim, possessed
The inferior creatures, a substantial form;
And quickened with his rage the bestial soul,
The creeping thing, and bird that wings the air:
Whence enmity between the kinds; . . the weak,
Prey to the stronger, in earth, air, and sea.
The nobler fellows of the Fiend aspired
At quarry nobler far, the souls of men;
And scorned his sensual taste irrational.
Yet of immortal men there are, content
To share their nature with the prostrate brute,

Earth's erect animals, and vainly proud,
As the gay Peacock of his gorgeous plumes.
Not such the Monarch's sin. 'Twas too intense
A consciousness of immortality,
Of spiritual vigour; rebel pride
Of reason, of the human will divine,
That sought presumptuously to rival God.
The sin of Adam, sin of Lucifer:
For which the Sons of Adam undergo
Probation; whence the Devils are condemned
Without reprieve, and destitute of hope,
Incapable of change, repenting not.
Emptied of his humanity the King,
And even deprived its shape, and form extern;
That he might feel, of grace divine, and free,
He was a human creature; and might know,
The attributes, whereof he waxed too proud,
Were the good gifts of Him who made him great,
And glorious in intelligence, and power,
And ruleth o'er the realties of earth.
—Now, Phanuel, to thy prayer this boon is given;
That the blest Sabbath, day of hallowed rest,
Duly administer, to his estate,
From direst punishment repose, and brief
Immunity from demon prevalence.’

When this he heard, glad Phanuel's praises rose,
In angel-hymns, to Mercy's sapphire throne.
Away he sped into the wilderness,
Upon his joyful errand; and now came
Into the extreme Dudaël, where it bounds
Upon the land of Naid; and there discerned
The fallen King, commanded by the Fiend:
The human drooped to brutish, the sublime
Spirit to shape ignoble; quadruped,
And prostrate; every attribute of soul
Convert to abject quality; each sense,

To bestial uses, piteously subdued.
—Soon he the Demon's charms dismissed, and o'er
The seeming brute proclaimed—

‘In part fulfilled
The Season of Repentance.’

From the sands,
Upon his feet upstarted Samiasa;
Naked as Adam, in his innocence.
Still wild of feature, but his heart was calm:
Well Phanuel knew, he was no Savage there,
And hailed the Monarch to a Man restored;
Then, with angelic care, as well befits
A covering Cherub, cast o'er his bare limbs,
Majestic in their order, and design,
A fleecy mantle; skin of a slain Lamb,
Which, on an Altar in the Wilderness,
An unhewn rock, they had, in sacrifice,
To the Eternal offered, thus atoned.

And, with the King, the Fiend, too, was released,
And straight away to hell in triumph went,
And mingled with the world; . . a traitor foul.
Nor to his charge came back on other days,
Albeit on Samiasa yet came back
The spell; suspended only, not dissolved,
Though less severely binding on his soul,
And leaving space for hope.

Thus fared the King;
Yet not, even on the blessèd Sabbath-day,
Would Samiasa to the world return;
Till, by much meditation, he had fixed
His spirit in most resolved humility.
—Long wandering, in search of some lone cave,
Where, as an eremite, he could, with prayer,
And abstinence, completely purge his soul
Of pride, and passion; lust, and appetite;

He came, where Gihon bounds the sable land,
Beyond the broad Erythræan; where abode
A Cainite colony, . . by Kael ruled,
A prophet blind, and scornful, and profane.

Wild scene the spot he chose—an ample bay;
But, all about the shores, dark earth was riven
With sulphur; and dread thunder scorched the fields:
For inland, though not far, a mountain rose
Volcanic, from below precipitous,
Circled above with wood, stern, craggy, wild;
Wherein, from summit to its utmost base,
A central chasm of fire perpetual burned,
Like incense in a censer, in a cup
Of large contents, vast of circumference,
Preserved; a crater deep, and broad; its sides
With thicket covered, harbour for the Boar;
Its bottom spread into a treacherous plain,
Where cattle, unconscious all of peril, grazed;
And leading, by a passage in the midst,
To one more spacious; by a rocky way,
Milelong descent, with ashes strown; and pools
Corrosive, bitter, salter than the sea,
And boiling like witch-cauldrons. Hence arose; . .
After due warnings given to those without,
In rumblings audible, and visible smoke,
And demonstrations palpable of stones,
Red-hot, projected wide; . . eruption dire
Of flaming ruin, terribly diffused.
Cloud, then, on cloud was piled, sulphureous film;
White of the whitest; in the massiest wreaths;
Far o'er the mountain, an enormous height:
Columns of stones, and ashes, intermixed;
And burning lava, pouring down the hill;
And often deep-red blaze ascending high,
Midst the huge volumes of that atmosphere,

Surmounting, mountainous, the mountain's self;
And, sometimes, with a summer storm increased;
Vapours of rain; sulphur, and mineral;
Together blent, and swelling to more bulk.
Then was the fountain of the fire unsealed,
And up it rushed; so passing high, and bright,
That wonder died of fear, or fear of wonder,
As either had possession precedent,
And waited change. Then, tempest rode athwart,
In sable chariot, and with shadow veiled,
Pillar of flagrant sheen in folded shrine;
Or, clearing thence away, revealed at large;
New-tinted with reverberated light
From the white clouds aloft, . . whose many hues
With the pale levin-flash contrasted well.

Like an extinguished crater, stood aby,
A hollow . . cineritious, cavernous,
Fire-eaten. Large it was—a sulphur mine,
By Nature excavated, high, and deep;
And templed in the rocks. Here hid, adored
The sanable, and royal penitent;
And made it sacred. With an iron style,
The craggy walls he pictured, graving there
Religious symbols, hieroglyphic signs—
Mythi of mixèd creeds, and systems new,
And mystic speculations, still begot
By indefatigable faculty
Of fancy, on the still productive mind.
—Not like the race of Cain, a labouring tribe
Of handicrafts mechanic, were the sons
Of the apostate; but from reason judged
Things physical, and gross, yet not aright:
For not of nature cared they to enquire—
Idle, though curious—and conceived strange laws,
She knew not of, her goings-on to rule;
Deciding ignorant, and as of time

Eternity discoursing, or as it
Describing time: or, daring there to soar
Where no experience ventures; region high
Of pure abstraction, beyond earth, or heaven . .
World of void forms. Thus, of such phantasies
These sculptures were, mysterious. There, behold,
Adam in Chaos struggling, ere Day was;
Conception dim, yet bodily expressed:
And, on the other side, he had portrayed
The Universe in Deity contained,
And Order pre-existent—state obscure;
High thoughts, and visions of a gifted mind.

Thus occupied, One found him whom he knew,
Palal; his father's friend, and with his sire
Acquainted, ere apostate. Palal had,
A traveller, come to Armon; lover he
Of wisdom. Vainly, ere then, he looked, in all
The ways of men, for the image of his own
Excellent spirit; and, the impress liking not
Of others, so was tempted ill to deem
The signet, and its manifold device:
Yet, having heard, or read, the Soul of Man
Was in the Image of the Almighty made,
Thought, as its model, that it must be good:
Nay, that the all-wise Maker would not mar
His likeness, with distorted workmanship;
Like a mad limner, merry at his mirrour,
Copying his own grimace: and thence inferred,
False man had broken, in some mysterious wise,
The seal, intrusted to him at his birth,
Of the divine resemblance. Thus in all
Imperfect, yet not equally defaced—
He in the land of his nativity
Conceived it most defective; but among
The Shepherd seed of Abel, . . or the sons

Of Seth, fond of high meditation, on the crest
Of loftiest mountain, holding with the sky
Communion planetary, . . least of all;
As having least departed from the pure
Religion of first nature, and of God,
By Adam taught. He journied to enquire
Of all they knew, and practised; that he might,
In the virtuous, and the wise, made manifest,
Catch glimpses of the Godhead, and compare
With the judicial standard in his soul.
They asked him of his country, and its ways:
The appetite of curiosity
Grew keener, the more food; till, in return
Of courtesy, at his departure, he
Took, under his protection, two of the most
Importunate to his own land, that they
Might witness what they sought, and bear report
Unto their brethren; Adon of the twain
Was one—the other to the fold returned
In time—but Adon not until the last,
As will be told. The Shepherd knew him not.
—Also, when Adon won a crown, and realm
With Amazarah; Palal would his court
Visit, in intervals of travel, oft,
And what he had seen, and heard, discourse; and, ay,
His knowledge, thus imparted, was as power
To Samiasa, when, for war arrayed,
He went to conquer nations, and to rule.

Now, in his many wanderings, Palal came
Unto the Land of Gihon, where he found
Dethronèd Samiasa. He had seen
Each country watered by the rivers four;
Had traced the course of Pison; and had gazed
On onyx, gold, and bdellium in the hills,
And streams of Havilah;—and he had sped
On the swift billows of the Hiddekel,

And caught the Tigers on its dreamy banks.

High theme, and wonderous, had the twain to tell
Each to the other; nor was wanting, then,
Different opinion to raise argument,
The seasoning of discourse. From their proud height,
Had Palal's speculations of mankind
Fallen earthward; by experience taught, he deemed
That only thence, through organs of the flesh,
Might man gain knowledge; which, abstracting far,
The dædal to ideal elevate
Raised, and refined, from complex to the pure.
For, on the face of universal earth,
No Open Vision lingered to instruct
The sophist, how unto the pious soul
Came revelations of another world:
Creed this, which stood in contrast with the dim,
And high-wrought theorizing of the king.
—Hence argued they; till, wearied out with words,
Thus Samiasa answered.

‘I perceive,
No common ground of logic have we got,
To edify a structure sure for both.
Nor may I listen calmly, and permit
That Nature should usurp the Spirit's throne,
And Reason's; who is law, dominion, power:
For as her sceptre is, or straight, or bent;
So they become. And individual lapse
Maketh a slippery path, where many fall;
And if in each her image be debased,
What matter codes? The reinless desart steed,
Less wild—less rude, than self-ungoverned Man.
And wherefore? Know, the steed is guided still
By Nature's law; is guided, and controuled:
But, as a spirit, Man is free to quit
Her rule, and limit, with unfettered will.
—In private virtue public good consists;

With private virtue public good declines:
This truth my father felt. Could he, for shame,
A God-forsaking, God-forsaken man,
Teach godliness, without which virtue fails,
Wanting Faith's index in the night of storms?
And what could I, whose crude conceptions spurned
Their cradle; and, for liberty, and light
Impatient ever, sought to seal themselves
In living characters, or monuments
Of lasting fame, upon the external world;
In verse, or statue, or elaborate picture;
Giving words wings, stone eloquence, and colour
Thought's visible creations? Ay, give ear:
Words are oft winged—how, then, is summed the soul?—
And, in the effulgence of our essences,
The breathing thoughts are kindled, whence they came;
Like eaglets, with the beak in thunder clothed,
The eye arrayed in lightning from the sun:
And there, in that substantial fire, all forms
External, all the images of sense,
Are alchemized, and turned into its kind;
And, thence effused, are emanations thence,
Of it, and from it; and aspire beyond
The limits of their origin; and bear,
Within their plumes, strength to intrude within
All substances, and essences, and orbs,
Material, intellectual; Hell, and Heaven;
And stamp them with their impress. If our words
Have such prerogative; what then the soul,
Whereof they breathe, and burn? Can that be doomed
To eternal durance, never to go forth
Of its clay prison, and the fleshly nook
'Tis pent in? Lo, its freedom cometh. All
The elements expect it, and all worlds—
Its signet is upon them, and shall be;
Its knowledge shall increase—its power command:

The bodily, which veils it, shall give way;
And it shall be itself, for evermore;
Of its own pleasure, both to will, and do;
And what its dwelling may be, and how bright,
Man's loftiest faculty may not conceive,
Till franchised from corporeal servitude;
And then it shall inherit a demesne,
Essential, endless, infinite, divine.’

With that he rose, on his companion's lips
Imposing silence; proposition brief
Soon making, that together they should seek
Man's haunts again. Anon, for travel girt,
They left that rocky lair; ascending, gained
A summit, and looked out on sea, and sky:
A glorious prospect. Calm old ocean lay,
Beneath the ancient heaven. Awhile, they gazed
On the pacific deep, and silent clouds.
Tears Samiasa wept; then turned aside
His steps toward the desart, by that way
To reach the world—a wider wilderness.
It was the Sabbath when they thus commenced
Their journeying: but, at eve, fell on the King
His mystic doom. Amazed, and terrified,
Then Palal would have fled; but Phanuel swift
Descended; and, arrayed in human form,
Thus startling not the sceptic's prejudice,
Appeared, as their companion; and, that week,
Walked with them, till the Sabbath came again;
When Samiasa unto Palal told
All his disastrous state, and pity won:
Wherefore the Sophist yet with him remained,
The solace of his wanderings through the wilds.

Still Phanuel tended them, invisibly;
And, once assuming his angelic shape,
To Samiasa said—

‘Befits it thee,

Full penance be accomplished in thy heart—
Not yet thy degradation is complete,
Which done thy soul is saved. Hence, what awaits
Thy sad experience, both of thee, and thine,
Will task endurance sternly. Be thou warned.
So may the Sire of Spirits thee restore,
In mercy, to that Reason which He is;
As I therefore will intercessant pray.’
—And, with this sad farewell, the Seraph went.

END OF SECOND BOOK.