The Judgement of the Flood by John A. Heraud. A New Edition. Revised and Re-Arranged |
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LAMECH, AND ELIHU |
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 | The Judgement of the Flood |  |
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BOOK THE THIRD. LAMECH, AND ELIHU
I. Lamech, and Elihu
Valley of Armon, Vale most beautiful,
Whose verdure is eternal in its bloom;
Skirted with forests wide of oak, and ash;
And graced with waterfall, or mountain flood,
And rock, and cataract, with changes wild,
Yet dear to fancy, and awakening thought.
For, on the mountain's brow, the heroic oak,
With falling cliff,—down from on high in air,
Smit by the thunderbolt, its head in vain
With cloud enwrapt, such havoc to preclude—
A craggy wreck, would, haply, sometimes meet;
And, bowing to the shock, with all his weight
Of mossy bough, and branch, and ample trunk,
Torn from his roots, with crash, and groan descend;
And, from the noisy hill, the foaming floods,
Radiant, and rapid, toward the lake rush on,
Before them driving arm of rock, or tree.
Oft, in the lonely desart of the dark,
The Screech-owls, scared with lightning's angry flame,
Flashed o'er the rocks, scream hideous with affright.
Whose verdure is eternal in its bloom;
Skirted with forests wide of oak, and ash;
And graced with waterfall, or mountain flood,
And rock, and cataract, with changes wild,
Yet dear to fancy, and awakening thought.
For, on the mountain's brow, the heroic oak,
With falling cliff,—down from on high in air,
Smit by the thunderbolt, its head in vain
With cloud enwrapt, such havoc to preclude—
A craggy wreck, would, haply, sometimes meet;
And, bowing to the shock, with all his weight
Of mossy bough, and branch, and ample trunk,
Torn from his roots, with crash, and groan descend;
And, from the noisy hill, the foaming floods,
Radiant, and rapid, toward the lake rush on,
Before them driving arm of rock, or tree.
Oft, in the lonely desart of the dark,
The Screech-owls, scared with lightning's angry flame,
Flashed o'er the rocks, scream hideous with affright.
But thou art gentle, Armon, lovely vale:
Why should the wild alone in Armon dwell,
Where peace domestic roosts with pious men?
There hill, and tree do diadem the plain:
Their stately heads in heaven, their feet imbowered
In shade, and arbour, haunt of loving birds:
And lake, and river glass the blue blue sky,
Or lonely star, that not, athwart the vault,
Darts its strange way in fire, at mid of night;
Old Night who, watching from her dusky car,
With terrour sees, and upward looks no more;
But stedfast in its place, and ordered well,
Still brightly on the watery mirrour smiles.
And of all brooks, thine, Armon, is the sweetest—
Whose waters glide as with volition gifted,
And him who bathes in them baptize with power.
—O Armon, mystic stream; and holy, as
The hill, and vale, . . named of thee, thou of them.
And, though sometimes dark shadow cross the hill,
And clouds conceal the sacred sun in heaven,
While tempest flocks foresee, and hide them straight
From threatening ruin; if the blast have not
O'erthrown their tree beloved, or pleasant grove
Of elm, and stately fir, and left them bare
Of shelter, knowing then not where to flee;
More frequent yet, hill, vale, and tree, and grove,
Rejoice in light, and melody, and love.
The sun will o'er the kindling summits peep,
As measuring, at one survey, leisurely,
His journey to the west, ere he commence
Diurnal travel; while, from fields of dew,
The Herds upraise them with the joyous dawn;
Of wood, and grove with gratulation hailed,
Singing, in chorus, anthems unto God.
Oft, by the sound aroused, the lordly Stag
Quits the low brake; and, high upon the plain,
Stands viewing, pleased, the glittering hills afar.
Soon to old Night an uttermost farewell,
Climbing the northern hill; though oft behind
Disdainful scowl she throw on coming Morn—
Her path by the glad Hours with saffron strewed.
Why should the wild alone in Armon dwell,
Where peace domestic roosts with pious men?
There hill, and tree do diadem the plain:
Their stately heads in heaven, their feet imbowered
In shade, and arbour, haunt of loving birds:
And lake, and river glass the blue blue sky,
Or lonely star, that not, athwart the vault,
Darts its strange way in fire, at mid of night;
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With terrour sees, and upward looks no more;
But stedfast in its place, and ordered well,
Still brightly on the watery mirrour smiles.
And of all brooks, thine, Armon, is the sweetest—
Whose waters glide as with volition gifted,
And him who bathes in them baptize with power.
—O Armon, mystic stream; and holy, as
The hill, and vale, . . named of thee, thou of them.
And, though sometimes dark shadow cross the hill,
And clouds conceal the sacred sun in heaven,
While tempest flocks foresee, and hide them straight
From threatening ruin; if the blast have not
O'erthrown their tree beloved, or pleasant grove
Of elm, and stately fir, and left them bare
Of shelter, knowing then not where to flee;
More frequent yet, hill, vale, and tree, and grove,
Rejoice in light, and melody, and love.
The sun will o'er the kindling summits peep,
As measuring, at one survey, leisurely,
His journey to the west, ere he commence
Diurnal travel; while, from fields of dew,
The Herds upraise them with the joyous dawn;
Of wood, and grove with gratulation hailed,
Singing, in chorus, anthems unto God.
Oft, by the sound aroused, the lordly Stag
Quits the low brake; and, high upon the plain,
Stands viewing, pleased, the glittering hills afar.
Soon to old Night an uttermost farewell,
Climbing the northern hill; though oft behind
Disdainful scowl she throw on coming Morn—
Her path by the glad Hours with saffron strewed.
O'er Armon's groves the spoken doom impends;
Even now awaits. The hour is nigh at hand.
For them hath vile Azaradel betrayed,
The Land of Eden, and its Rivers four;
That, with Methuselah, chief patriarch,
To him are tributary, lord of earth:
Such lords, then, earth acknowledged. Lamech, now,
For Noah's absence sorrowed; wretched man,
With many wounds, on times of evil fallen,
Still stricken in his soul; in spirit poor,
Debased, and e'er afflicted. Now, apart,
He wept, in his despair. Apart he sate,
Alone; for that he would not, now, unite
In holy Festival; . . which, in the plains
Of Armon hence, beneath the cope of heaven,
Methuselah, with all who own his sway,
In presence of the Ark by Noah built,
With celebration, at autumnal tide,
Hold, for the Harvest-Home—a feast of bread
And wine, and of thanksgivings unto God.
Even now awaits. The hour is nigh at hand.
For them hath vile Azaradel betrayed,
The Land of Eden, and its Rivers four;
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To him are tributary, lord of earth:
Such lords, then, earth acknowledged. Lamech, now,
For Noah's absence sorrowed; wretched man,
With many wounds, on times of evil fallen,
Still stricken in his soul; in spirit poor,
Debased, and e'er afflicted. Now, apart,
He wept, in his despair. Apart he sate,
Alone; for that he would not, now, unite
In holy Festival; . . which, in the plains
Of Armon hence, beneath the cope of heaven,
Methuselah, with all who own his sway,
In presence of the Ark by Noah built,
With celebration, at autumnal tide,
Hold, for the Harvest-Home—a feast of bread
And wine, and of thanksgivings unto God.
Not in this festival would Lamech join,
Albeit holy, by his grief withheld;
Grief even as holy—a father's for his son.
Old was this sire in years, but older far
In grief; not yet attained eight hundred years—
In that rare time, by near two centuries
Short of extremest age: so long endured
Life's spring, and summer in primeval world.
Dim yet were Lamech's eyes; for they too oft
With tears had been acquainted, to maintain
Their native brightness: his uncurlèd hair
Was over-grey, and on his shoulders drooped
In tresses long; which down his breast he drew,
And mingled with the remnants of his beard;
Shorn of its pomp of hair, a scanty grace.
Silent he sate, low bent; as musing, mute,
Heedless of interruption: and of garb,
Save for one single garment, naked else;
Caring for nought but what was in his mind.
Fast by, as by a tomb reared on a plain,
Did flow the murmuring stream; and bloom around
Green shrub, and bower; and, at high noon, the flocks
From solar heat retire; and, every night,
The lone bird breathe in shades melodious doubt.
Unconscious he of all, in grief intense,
Only these thoughts conceiving—sighs, not words.
‘Happy wert thou, O Adam; . . for thy God
Albeit holy, by his grief withheld;
Grief even as holy—a father's for his son.
Old was this sire in years, but older far
In grief; not yet attained eight hundred years—
In that rare time, by near two centuries
Short of extremest age: so long endured
Life's spring, and summer in primeval world.
Dim yet were Lamech's eyes; for they too oft
With tears had been acquainted, to maintain
Their native brightness: his uncurlèd hair
Was over-grey, and on his shoulders drooped
In tresses long; which down his breast he drew,
And mingled with the remnants of his beard;
Shorn of its pomp of hair, a scanty grace.
Silent he sate, low bent; as musing, mute,
Heedless of interruption: and of garb,
Save for one single garment, naked else;
Caring for nought but what was in his mind.
Fast by, as by a tomb reared on a plain,
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Green shrub, and bower; and, at high noon, the flocks
From solar heat retire; and, every night,
The lone bird breathe in shades melodious doubt.
Unconscious he of all, in grief intense,
Only these thoughts conceiving—sighs, not words.
Provided thee a son; another seed,
Instead of Abel whom Cain slew, and thus,
To thee, himself; unsonned of both, at once.
But Seth was in thine image, like thyself,
Appointed sire of many; thou, of all.
And yet, alas for Seth; condemned to prove
What strife with doomèd earth hath man to wage,
Ere it to him will render aught of good.
Hence was his first-born named. O Enosh, thou
Wert even as Abel; happy in thy heart,
For thou wert good, and evil might not irk
A pious spirit by the Truth made free.
And, ah, to listen to thy lips inspired,
Rapt into heaven the soul, though bruised, or broken;
And made the dimmest spot, and hardest chance,
A paradise, a mean of happiness:
So faith can conquer what subdues the flesh.
Friends made he to him of the holy Prayers;
Angels of light, for him, with glowing speed,
They sought the throne of Grace; and wooed, from Love
Divine, a worshipful inheritance,
A sacred fellowship of holy men,
A peaceful brotherhood of charity.
By Cainan well expressed, his first born son,
Right-worthy image of a worthy sire:
To whom, as a possession, earth was given;
Bought by submission, by obedience won.
Glad to the labour of the field went he,
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And, in the intervals of labour, prayed,
Or meditated on sublimest themes.
So revelations opened on his soul,
Glimpses of heaven: for which, in his son's name,
He lauded God; and offered, as a hymn,
The boy, Mahalaleel; and taught him how
To sing thy glory, Maker of the World.
Then, were Religion, Law, and Government,
By Contemplation ordered, and his son,
Jared, held high command. A ruler he,
O'er many tribes; like a descended god,
A priest, a king. Soon, competition rose;
Contest for rule, and battle for reward:
And men, once calling on Jehovah's name,
Profaned the solemn word; and Seth, and Cain
Were covenant together. It is done—
Children, begotten of unlawful beds,
Witnessed their parents' wickedness. But, then,
The righteous was prevented, and with God
Had rest. For honourable age stands not
In length of time, nor by the numerous years
Is measured. Wisdom is grey hair to men;
And an unspotted life, that is old age.
Young Enoch pleasèd God, and was beloved;
And, living among sinners, was by him
Translated; taken speedily away,
Lest haply errour might pervert his mind,
Or guile bewitch from honesty his soul.
O why was I not taken from among
The wicked; for to me may never come
Due honour as of old? Methuselath
To me may never leave what Jared left
To him; nor to my son may I bequeath
Rule unimpaired. O Noah, O my son;
Of Consolation named; for sore I felt
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And looked to thee for aidance in my toil.
Nor vainly—with good hope by thee performed,
In Cainan's power, and spirit, the daily task.
Then came to thee the Word of the Most High,
Judging the earth; . . whence rose the mighty pile,
To swim the Deluge threatened to o'erflow.
Ah me; . . and whither, now, hast thou gone hence?
With sorrow to the grave my head is bowed,
And my soul feeds on ashes, and on dust.’
Alas, for Lamech. Even now the cloud,
Late but hand-size, develops to a storm.
—Shrieks loud, and long break his abstraction up;
And Zerah, by his side who still had sate,
Unseen, in filial love observing him,
Starts to her feet—
Late but hand-size, develops to a storm.
—Shrieks loud, and long break his abstraction up;
And Zerah, by his side who still had sate,
Unseen, in filial love observing him,
Starts to her feet—
‘O father, whence that wail?’
But then in rushed Zateel with weapon bare,
Blood-stained, and cried, . .
Blood-stained, and cried, . .
‘Here stand I, to defend
Thee, Lamech, now. Yonder, my work is done.’
Thee, Lamech, now. Yonder, my work is done.’
‘What work, Zateel?’
‘O Zerah, may the God
Of Adam pardon what, this day, his children
Have shed of blood, upcrying from the ground.
—Far o'er the plains, the faithful Sons of God,
In presence of the Cherubim, were spread;
Offering the holy feast of Bread, and Wine,
For Harvest well accomplished; with the shout,
And song of praise, and supplicating prayers.
There were the tribes of Seth, of Enosh there;
The tribes of Cainan, and Mahalaleel;
Of Jared, Enoch, and Methuselah;
And thine, O Lamech: sons, and daughters both;
With their sons, and their daughters; in their tribes,
And in their generations, ordered right.
Midst all, upstood Methuselah; and blessed
The multitudes; and cried aloud to God;
And blessed the bread, and wine, and hallowed them:
Partaken soon of all with joy of heart.
When, hark, the yell of onset; and the men
Of Naid, and Enos; by Azaradel,
With numbers from the City of the Wild,
Enforced, and guided; skirt the peopled plain:
And, driving in the outer circle, make
Huge massacre of man, and woman; boy,
And girl; the aged, and the infant; slain,
Without remorse, or pity. What I could,
I did, with this good sword, to stay the slaughter;
While of the inner ranks as many as might
Fled, and sought refuge: some even in the Ark;
Before which stood Methuselah, as guard;
With Japhet, Shem, and Ham. Then I sped hither;
To thee, and Zerah.’
‘O Zerah, may the God
Of Adam pardon what, this day, his children
Have shed of blood, upcrying from the ground.
—Far o'er the plains, the faithful Sons of God,
In presence of the Cherubim, were spread;
Offering the holy feast of Bread, and Wine,
For Harvest well accomplished; with the shout,
And song of praise, and supplicating prayers.
There were the tribes of Seth, of Enosh there;
The tribes of Cainan, and Mahalaleel;
Of Jared, Enoch, and Methuselah;
And thine, O Lamech: sons, and daughters both;
With their sons, and their daughters; in their tribes,
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Midst all, upstood Methuselah; and blessed
The multitudes; and cried aloud to God;
And blessed the bread, and wine, and hallowed them:
Partaken soon of all with joy of heart.
When, hark, the yell of onset; and the men
Of Naid, and Enos; by Azaradel,
With numbers from the City of the Wild,
Enforced, and guided; skirt the peopled plain:
And, driving in the outer circle, make
Huge massacre of man, and woman; boy,
And girl; the aged, and the infant; slain,
Without remorse, or pity. What I could,
I did, with this good sword, to stay the slaughter;
While of the inner ranks as many as might
Fled, and sought refuge: some even in the Ark;
Before which stood Methuselah, as guard;
With Japhet, Shem, and Ham. Then I sped hither;
To thee, and Zerah.’
While he spake, Elihu
Appeared before them, saying;
Appeared before them, saying;
‘O my father;
The youngest, and the sole-left of thy sons
Kneels for thy blessing. Bless me, O my father.’
The youngest, and the sole-left of thy sons
Kneels for thy blessing. Bless me, O my father.’
While Lamech wondered, sad Zateel replied;
‘Art thou, Elihu, spared? Then, praise the Lord,
The Merciful. O Lamech, pardon me—
I sought to shield thy heart from a new blow,
That well might break it; now, thou knowest all.
The day was ordered so, the tribe of Lamech
Lay, as the last in time, the last in rank;
Where massacre began, nor paused an instant,
Till all were sacred to the wanton sword.’
‘Art thou, Elihu, spared? Then, praise the Lord,
The Merciful. O Lamech, pardon me—
I sought to shield thy heart from a new blow,
That well might break it; now, thou knowest all.
The day was ordered so, the tribe of Lamech
Lay, as the last in time, the last in rank;
Where massacre began, nor paused an instant,
Till all were sacred to the wanton sword.’
‘Alone scaped I to tell,’ Elihu said:
‘Nor thus had scaped, but that the plague was stayed,
By miracle divine. Before the Ark,
Whither had fled the people, Japhet stood,
With Shem, and Ham, and old Methuselah.
—‘Approach not,’ cried the aged Patriarch;
‘For know, my Death produceth the outbreak
Of what ye dread; and only by my death
New victims ye may reach. Away, fond men—
Slay me, and from the heavens the Floods descend,
In sudden vengeance; and from earth shall rise;
Deep call to deep, and heaven to earth reply.’
—As smitten with conviction of these words,
The Cainites paused, in superstitious fear;
And saw increase in splendour, as in wrath,
The Cherubim; and glow, with fiercer fire,
The flashing Sword; whence darted terrour forth:
Terrour so terrible, the enemy
Fled as before the Angel of the Lord.
In heaps they fled, and of each other made
Havoc; as, in their fear together thronged,
Either by other's death his life preserved.’
‘Nor thus had scaped, but that the plague was stayed,
By miracle divine. Before the Ark,
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With Shem, and Ham, and old Methuselah.
—‘Approach not,’ cried the aged Patriarch;
‘For know, my Death produceth the outbreak
Of what ye dread; and only by my death
New victims ye may reach. Away, fond men—
Slay me, and from the heavens the Floods descend,
In sudden vengeance; and from earth shall rise;
Deep call to deep, and heaven to earth reply.’
—As smitten with conviction of these words,
The Cainites paused, in superstitious fear;
And saw increase in splendour, as in wrath,
The Cherubim; and glow, with fiercer fire,
The flashing Sword; whence darted terrour forth:
Terrour so terrible, the enemy
Fled as before the Angel of the Lord.
In heaps they fled, and of each other made
Havoc; as, in their fear together thronged,
Either by other's death his life preserved.’
While thus spake they; Lamech, in silence deep,
As it were death, and prostrate as in slumber,
Clasped Earth; seeking, perhaps, within her bosom
To sleep, as in a mother's would a child;
And answer none returned to sigh, or word,
Heedless of sympathy, and scorning comfort.
—Soon Japhet, Shem, and Ham came there to him;
And wept to see him weep not; wept aloud,
But vainly. Ne'ertheless, with him they stayed,
And sate about him seven days, and nights;
And oftentimes Methuselah repaired,
To help them in the labour of their love;
But, when they saw his grief was great, forbore
With words to wound him; and in silence watched.
As it were death, and prostrate as in slumber,
Clasped Earth; seeking, perhaps, within her bosom
To sleep, as in a mother's would a child;
And answer none returned to sigh, or word,
Heedless of sympathy, and scorning comfort.
—Soon Japhet, Shem, and Ham came there to him;
And wept to see him weep not; wept aloud,
But vainly. Ne'ertheless, with him they stayed,
And sate about him seven days, and nights;
And oftentimes Methuselah repaired,
To help them in the labour of their love;
But, when they saw his grief was great, forbore
With words to wound him; and in silence watched.
86
II. Lamech's Lamentation
And when these days were ended, Lamech spake;
‘O that to me no children had been born.
The Comfort of my work is rapt away;
I know not whither; even like Enoch gone,
Perhaps with God, but still to Lamech lost.
O that to me no children had been born.
All slain, slain, slain, by Murther's cruel hands;
All—and their families—their little ones—
Their wives—sons—daughters; withered, past away,
Like visions of the night. Ah, I have dreamed
That I had children. 'Twas a lying dream:
I waked, and found I was a barren man.
And well I was so; for had I not been,
They had been martyred. So they were; they were.
O that the sap of life had been dried up
Within me; and the marrow of my bones
Perished, from the beginning of my days;
Or they had ne'er begun. Yea; cursèd be
The day that hailed me first: and on the night
When it was said, a man-child is conceived,
Be malediction. Let it see no dawn:
But be for ever lost to blessèd light;
Not only of the sun, but moon, or star.
Why died I not beneath my mother's heart?
Then, had I now been still; been quiet now:
I should have slept: then, sweet repose were mine;
With Patriarchs, and with Prophets—Adam, Seth,
Enosh, and Cainan; with Mahalaleel,
And Jared; and, perhaps, with Enoch too:
With kings, who built them places desolate;
With princes, who had gold, and houses full
Of silver. There, the wicked cease from troubling,
The weary be at rest—the prisoners, there,
Unheard the oppressor's voice: the small, and great;
The servant, master-free; there rest together.
O in the many chambers of the grave,
There dwell high thoughts, and populous memories;
There are my treasures hid, there let me go.’
‘O that to me no children had been born.
The Comfort of my work is rapt away;
I know not whither; even like Enoch gone,
Perhaps with God, but still to Lamech lost.
O that to me no children had been born.
All slain, slain, slain, by Murther's cruel hands;
All—and their families—their little ones—
Their wives—sons—daughters; withered, past away,
Like visions of the night. Ah, I have dreamed
That I had children. 'Twas a lying dream:
I waked, and found I was a barren man.
And well I was so; for had I not been,
They had been martyred. So they were; they were.
O that the sap of life had been dried up
Within me; and the marrow of my bones
Perished, from the beginning of my days;
Or they had ne'er begun. Yea; cursèd be
The day that hailed me first: and on the night
When it was said, a man-child is conceived,
Be malediction. Let it see no dawn:
But be for ever lost to blessèd light;
Not only of the sun, but moon, or star.
Why died I not beneath my mother's heart?
Then, had I now been still; been quiet now:
I should have slept: then, sweet repose were mine;
With Patriarchs, and with Prophets—Adam, Seth,
Enosh, and Cainan; with Mahalaleel,
And Jared; and, perhaps, with Enoch too:
With kings, who built them places desolate;
With princes, who had gold, and houses full
Of silver. There, the wicked cease from troubling,
The weary be at rest—the prisoners, there,
Unheard the oppressor's voice: the small, and great;
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O in the many chambers of the grave,
There dwell high thoughts, and populous memories;
There are my treasures hid, there let me go.’
Then Japhet answered:
‘Wherefore wouldst thou leave
Even us who love thee? Are not we thy sons,
Sons of thy son, even Noah? Let us be
In place of whom thou grievest.’
‘Wherefore wouldst thou leave
Even us who love thee? Are not we thy sons,
Sons of thy son, even Noah? Let us be
In place of whom thou grievest.’
But Lamech cried—
‘O God, that thou wouldst grant me my request;
Spare not, destroy me. Is he Man, who would
Teach to my grey hairs wisdom? Have I erred?
Would he reprove the desperate? Teach me then—
Submiss am I to learn—thou sage to teach—
Why should I not loathe life? Why should I wish
To live for ever? Are the days of Man
Aught else but vanity? and is there not
A time appointed, when reward shall be?
And shall I not complain; and not express
Anguish of spirit, bitterness of soul?’
A solemn thought then sate on Japhet's brow:
‘O God, that thou wouldst grant me my request;
Spare not, destroy me. Is he Man, who would
Teach to my grey hairs wisdom? Have I erred?
Would he reprove the desperate? Teach me then—
Submiss am I to learn—thou sage to teach—
Why should I not loathe life? Why should I wish
To live for ever? Are the days of Man
Aught else but vanity? and is there not
A time appointed, when reward shall be?
And shall I not complain; and not express
Anguish of spirit, bitterness of soul?’
‘A happy man is he whom God corrects;
Therefore despise not chastening divine.
Speaketh not God in dreams? Here, watching thee-
Thought was tumultuous; visionary, night;
Deep sleep on all had fallen; and none beheld,
Or heard, beside myself, the fearful Thing:
For lo, a Spirit passed before my face.
I trembled, my bones rattled horribly;
My flesh crept, and its hair all bristled up:
I could not choose but gaze—and It stood still—
That Shape, if shape it were; for what its form
Discern I might not. But an Image stood
Before me, silent: then, I heard a Voice—
88
The Almighty?—Man, in best estate, be pure
In his Creator's presence? Angels he
With folly charges; and is man exempt,
Dwelling in clay, and founded in the dust;
Crushed ere the moth, and perished ere the eve;
His beauty first departed, and devoid
Of wisdom; mind with body even decayed?’
—Then be not wroth: commit thy cause to God.
Thy seed he can increase; thine offspring yet
Perpetuate, like the verdure of the earth;
And save thee from the grave till latest age,
A shock of corn in season fully ripe.’
‘I know it, of a truth;’—then, Lamech cried—
‘Even so the unwritten word of Enoch saith,
Tradition sacred, that no flesh shall be
Before its Maker just. Were I to say,
That I am perfect, I were proved perverse;
Nay, grant me perfect, the Supreme destroys
The pious, and the impious both alike;
For what avails the excellence of dust?
Hence is my soul aweary of my life;
For he hath given the earth into the grasp
Of wicked men . . the blessed land of trees
And herbs, and fruits, and waters, . . hill, and vale,
Though holy. God; thou hidest in thy heart
Decree divine; I sin, thou markest me;
Am wicked, and woe to me; righteous, yet
My head I may not lift; yet shall I die
89
And what advantage have I over him?
Are we not equal? Equal are the dead,
Nor look on light for ever. Meanwhile, he,
With meat, and drink; with plunder, rapine, lust,
Wealth, and good days; hath been made arrogant:
But the poor saint has sorrowed, while he lived,
And died in trouble; going to the land
Of darkness, and the shadowy vale of Death;
The shadowy vale of Death, of order void;
And where the very light as darkness is—
Let me alone, and soothe me as I may.’
The passages here and elsewhere referred to as “the unwritten word of Enoch,” are to be found in the pseudo Ethiopian prophecy; and which is thus used on the hypothesis of its including some traditions of Enoch, though not the genuine Book of the patriarch; such genuine Book being subsequently given in this poem, as supposed to be revealed by inspiration to the Poet.
‘Art thou as Adam, first-created man,
Or wast thou made before the hills, and hast
The Almighty's secret heard? Or hast thou quaffed,
Like Enoch, wisdom from the fount of God,
With whom the spirit of instruction dwells,
And power, and the souls of those who sleep
In righteousness? Sayest thou, that he destroys
The perfect, that of thee may none infer
Aught other from the doom on thee divulged?
But gave not Enoch to Methuselah
The word of wisdom? Blessèd—blessèd all
The righteous; blessèd they, for unto them
Shall mercy come, and utter might accrue,
And sinners be delivered. Would my eyes
Were clouds of water, and my tears might flow,
Like to the rain that Noah hath foretold
The world shall overwhelm; then, might I weep
What woes shall seize the wicked. To the wise
The earth was given; neither need they fear
The sinner's strength. Breaks in the oppressor's ears
A dreadful sound; late by the Cainite heard,
When he his hand stretched out against his God.
90
And lays of fraud foundation; and acquires
Silver, and gold. His riches shall depart;
His chambers be subverted. Woe to him,
Who to his neighbour renders recompense
Of evil.—Woe unto the proud of power,
Who feedeth on the glory of the corn,
And drinketh at the sources of the spring;
To him shall be denied Life's Fountain pure,
Nor of the Tree of Life shall he partake.
Woe to the crafty; to the simple, woe—
Contemplatists of earth, effeminate,
And clad like women, gorgeously, and vain:
Like water, shall their falsehood flow away,
And folly. Woe to him, the obdured in heart—
The stained with blood, the witnesser of lies,
To him who worships idols, or who makes.
But wait in hope, ye righteous; in the day
Of suffering, your posterity shall soar
Like eagles, and your nests be built on high,
Safe in the rocks; and, in the rocky clefts,
From sight ungodly be securely hid.
—Therefore, prepare thy heart; and stretch thy hands
Toward thy God, O Lamech:—put away
Whate'er offence be thine; so unto thee
Shall restoration come; thy griefs forgot;
Or but remembered as the waters are,
When passed away. Then, clearer than the noon
Shall be thine age, more glowing than the morn.’
‘Heard I not Enoch? Am not even I
Son of Methuselah, sire of thy sire?
91
On earth, she might inhabit; though of old
She came to dwell among the sons of men,
Ere Cain forsook her presence. Banished thus,
She to her throne returned, her heavenly seat,
Amidst the angels; Sister-spouse of him,
The Secret, and Elect, whose name was named,
Even in the dwelling of the Holy Ones,
Ere that the sun, and starry signs were made.
Since then, of all mankind, she thee hath chose
To visit only, and with thee hath vowed
To live, and die. Better it thee befits,
Pity to shew to sorrow, than rebuke.
The arrows of the Almighty are within,
O, and their poison drinks my spirit up.
But wherefore should I be to thee, as one
Whose slipping feet are like a lamp despised
To him who walks at ease? Yet well I know,
That Wisdom unto thee hath not yet shewn
The palace of her treasure; nor declared
The secret path thereto, by lion's whelps
Untrod as yet, by lion never passed,
Known to no fowl, by vulture's eye unseen;
Since thou not knowest, that who would seek out this,
Must rise to higher wisdom, than concerns
Life natural, or spiritual life;
Whereof experience none hath yet been had.
Yet ask the beasts, and they shall teach thee true;
The fowls of air shall tell thee;—earth, and sea,
With voice oracular, avouch—with Him
Abides the Soul of every living thing,
The breath of all mankind—All-wise is he,
And his alike deceiver, and deceived.
Herein is wisdom; whoso knows her ways,
He can declare, that good, and evil both
Befall the righteous, and the wicked, too.
92
In the dominions of sublunar life,
Such pregnant instance in these days have we,
Divine interposition needs prevent,
And he, who first created, now destroy.
They do remove the landmarks; and compel
Flocks not their own away, whereof they feed—
Afar they drive the orphan's Ass, and take
The widow's Ox in pledge; themselves meanwhile,
Like the Onagras of the desart, prey
Upon the needy, yet in their own fields
Reap every one his corn, and gather in
His vintage. This our eyes have seen; and how
The murtherer, rising with the day, hath slain
The poor; and, in the night, is as a thief.
Did He not now permit the robber band
To slay my offspring, children of the Just?
For is he not Jehovah? and besides,
There is no God but he. He formed the light,
And darkness he produced. Peace is his work,
And evil he creates. Be silent, clay.
—Yet will I trust in thee. Crush not, O God,
A withered leaf, thus driven to and fro.
My purposes are broken, with the heart
Which thought them; and for me the light is brief,
Anxious awaiting darkness, and the grave.
Corruption, welcome; thou my father art—
Hail, worm; my mother, and my sister thou.
Yet earth hides not my blood; nor God rejects
A father's tears. He knows my prayer is pure.’
III. Lamech's Resignation
Thus Lamech spake: grief brought him to a pause.
So long they argued, that the day was gone:
Unmarked the sunset, though most beautiful;
But night was glorious. In that orient clime,
Heaven kissed the earth, so nigh to her embrace;
And broad as bright the stars, and the round moon
Was larger than the sun to other lands,
And like to moons the planets, worlds indeed.
Seemed to the upward gazer, as he lay
Supine, that with the people of those orbs
He might converse; that voices might be pealed
From sphere to sphere, communicant of mind.
Day hath no pomp like this: so splendid nought,
And nought so shadowy soft—so like a dream,
And yet so real—all so hushed, and deep;
Holily breathless, awfully serene.
With look intense up to the sacred Night,
(That there displayed to him the Universe,
The choral echo, image multiform
Of that divinest Word, which, filially,
Affirming the great Being, and his own,
Pronounced Beginning in Eternity,
And spake the heavens, and earths to wonderous birth;)
Ham there reclined adoring, silently:
His steady soul collected in that act
Of worship pure. Slow, then, to thought restored,
Utterance scarce conscious murmured, like a gush
Of waters from a fountain in a vale,
In sweetest undertones, yet not unheard
In whispers by the children of the hills;
Or like the mellowed sounds of ocean's roar,
That comes in sighs to far, and lofty cliff,
Whereon the traveller, looking o'er the main,
Stretches his length, else dizzy with the height.
—Thus deep his soul; thus distant from the sense,
The emotions lowly syllabled by Ham—
So long they argued, that the day was gone:
Unmarked the sunset, though most beautiful;
93
Heaven kissed the earth, so nigh to her embrace;
And broad as bright the stars, and the round moon
Was larger than the sun to other lands,
And like to moons the planets, worlds indeed.
Seemed to the upward gazer, as he lay
Supine, that with the people of those orbs
He might converse; that voices might be pealed
From sphere to sphere, communicant of mind.
Day hath no pomp like this: so splendid nought,
And nought so shadowy soft—so like a dream,
And yet so real—all so hushed, and deep;
Holily breathless, awfully serene.
With look intense up to the sacred Night,
(That there displayed to him the Universe,
The choral echo, image multiform
Of that divinest Word, which, filially,
Affirming the great Being, and his own,
Pronounced Beginning in Eternity,
And spake the heavens, and earths to wonderous birth;)
Ham there reclined adoring, silently:
His steady soul collected in that act
Of worship pure. Slow, then, to thought restored,
Utterance scarce conscious murmured, like a gush
Of waters from a fountain in a vale,
In sweetest undertones, yet not unheard
In whispers by the children of the hills;
Or like the mellowed sounds of ocean's roar,
That comes in sighs to far, and lofty cliff,
Whereon the traveller, looking o'er the main,
Stretches his length, else dizzy with the height.
—Thus deep his soul; thus distant from the sense,
The emotions lowly syllabled by Ham—
‘Far hyaline of light; dwells not in thee
The Eternal? Stars, how high are ye; how high
That height above you; far above that height,
The throne of the All-Holy. Say, can He
Look, from that elevation, through blue sky,
Or darkened cloud—(for sometimes even thy smooth,
O Sea of Glass, storms wrinkle, and obscure
Mirrour so placid now)—and from the heaven,
Whose circuit he inhabits, stoop to judge?
So sinners deem yon deep expanse a veil
That hides them from his eyes, and him from theirs.
Yet with good things their houses who hath filled,
If not the bounteous Maker? Who but he
Shall their foundations with the Flood destroy?
Make then to him thy prayer; and he shall raise
The humble, and restore the meek of heart.
Pride was not made for man; and what may boast
In presence of the Eternal? Lo—behold,
Radiant the stars; though lofty, yet be they
Not pure in the Eyes of Him who made them so.
Not pure, all sin, though all sin not alike;
And sorrow waits on sin, just punishment.
Hence, righteously, the righteous are condemned
To months of pain, and nights of weariness.
Thus God is justified; and, in the end,
Will doubtless vengeance take for the oppressed;
Though ill it man beseems to call to him
For justice on his fellow, who himself
Is yet imperfect, and deserving wrath.
—Attend we then in patience, and in faith,
That equitable state, which saint, and sage
Shall recompense; unanxious of what doom
May crush the worser sinner—rather hope
In mercy his redemption, that to us,
Coming to all, compassion may be sent.
For, from the gulf that separates too oft
Success from human merit, soars a voice,
Announcing difference in man, and beast,
Whose aims aye prosper to their destined end.
Difference in kind, no less than in degree;
Ay, and a contradiction in ourselves,
Creation elsewhere knows not; Mind, and Will
Diverse in law, and choice; and what the sense
Affects too mean to satisfy the soul:
Whence an enigma all the world without;
Fortune, and circumstance; whereof the word,
That may the riddle solve, is then pronounced
Whene'er the human feels itself divine;
Set free from sense, and free from accident,
Immortal; giving Nature's transiency
Permanent attributes, like to its own;
Beauty, and Order; Harmony, and Law;
Motive, and deep Significance sublime;
Yea, and Existence—testifying thus
To its own being—its eternity—
And oracling a promise of a state
Continuous; and adapted to content,
And to employ each organ, pre-assured,
Anticipant, prophetic of its use,
In region suited to its highest aim;
Whereof credential Enoch gave to man,
Who walked with God in groves of Paradise.
—With Him, the Woman's Seed, the One foredoomed
To sway the kingdom of the skies, the Hour
Abides, that shall reveal the treasures hid,
And kings, and warriours from their couches raise,
The teeth of sinners break, and from their thrones
The mighty hurl. The Light of Nations he;
The Rock whereon the holy shall depend;
The Hope of troubled hearts. Before the world,
He was; and, in the presence of our God,
The portion of the righteous has preserved;
Himself their lot, and life. When he appears,
None shall be saved by silver, or by gold;
Nor by escape, or flight; nor shall there be
Iron for war, or mail-coat for the breast.
But blessèd they who trust in the Elect;
For them the light of everlasting life
Is as the sun, and a perpetual day;
For darkness shall be scattered, and destroyed,
And they shall magnify the name of God,
For his long-suffering to a guilty world,
And for the glory for the good prepared.’
The Eternal? Stars, how high are ye; how high
94
The throne of the All-Holy. Say, can He
Look, from that elevation, through blue sky,
Or darkened cloud—(for sometimes even thy smooth,
O Sea of Glass, storms wrinkle, and obscure
Mirrour so placid now)—and from the heaven,
Whose circuit he inhabits, stoop to judge?
So sinners deem yon deep expanse a veil
That hides them from his eyes, and him from theirs.
Yet with good things their houses who hath filled,
If not the bounteous Maker? Who but he
Shall their foundations with the Flood destroy?
Make then to him thy prayer; and he shall raise
The humble, and restore the meek of heart.
Pride was not made for man; and what may boast
In presence of the Eternal? Lo—behold,
Radiant the stars; though lofty, yet be they
Not pure in the Eyes of Him who made them so.
Not pure, all sin, though all sin not alike;
And sorrow waits on sin, just punishment.
Hence, righteously, the righteous are condemned
To months of pain, and nights of weariness.
Thus God is justified; and, in the end,
Will doubtless vengeance take for the oppressed;
Though ill it man beseems to call to him
For justice on his fellow, who himself
Is yet imperfect, and deserving wrath.
—Attend we then in patience, and in faith,
That equitable state, which saint, and sage
Shall recompense; unanxious of what doom
May crush the worser sinner—rather hope
In mercy his redemption, that to us,
Coming to all, compassion may be sent.
For, from the gulf that separates too oft
Success from human merit, soars a voice,
Announcing difference in man, and beast,
95
Difference in kind, no less than in degree;
Ay, and a contradiction in ourselves,
Creation elsewhere knows not; Mind, and Will
Diverse in law, and choice; and what the sense
Affects too mean to satisfy the soul:
Whence an enigma all the world without;
Fortune, and circumstance; whereof the word,
That may the riddle solve, is then pronounced
Whene'er the human feels itself divine;
Set free from sense, and free from accident,
Immortal; giving Nature's transiency
Permanent attributes, like to its own;
Beauty, and Order; Harmony, and Law;
Motive, and deep Significance sublime;
Yea, and Existence—testifying thus
To its own being—its eternity—
And oracling a promise of a state
Continuous; and adapted to content,
And to employ each organ, pre-assured,
Anticipant, prophetic of its use,
In region suited to its highest aim;
Whereof credential Enoch gave to man,
Who walked with God in groves of Paradise.
—With Him, the Woman's Seed, the One foredoomed
To sway the kingdom of the skies, the Hour
Abides, that shall reveal the treasures hid,
And kings, and warriours from their couches raise,
The teeth of sinners break, and from their thrones
The mighty hurl. The Light of Nations he;
The Rock whereon the holy shall depend;
The Hope of troubled hearts. Before the world,
He was; and, in the presence of our God,
The portion of the righteous has preserved;
Himself their lot, and life. When he appears,
None shall be saved by silver, or by gold;
96
Iron for war, or mail-coat for the breast.
But blessèd they who trust in the Elect;
For them the light of everlasting life
Is as the sun, and a perpetual day;
For darkness shall be scattered, and destroyed,
And they shall magnify the name of God,
For his long-suffering to a guilty world,
And for the glory for the good prepared.’
Thus counselled Ham; and Lamech thus replied:
‘I know the Eternal my Redeemer is—
Surviving all things, and transcending dust.
With frame renewed, and in immortal flesh,
God shall I see; mine eye shall see him then,
Estranged no more—my Advocate, my Judge.
My heart consumes within me at the thought:
I pant to stand before him. Then will I
His mercy implore, my sins acknowledging;
This chiefly; that with murmuring discontent,
On stubborn earth my brow's sweat I bestowed,
Regarding not herein creating Love,
That willed all pleasures, or of body, or mind,
Should be by labour earned; suspending thus
Fatal indulgence, and obliging man
To wake sublimer faculties, to war
Successfully with nature, by the might
Of ghostly power. The families of men
Had reared them habitations on the earth;
Founding their cities on the rocky steeps,
Or in vale-hollows, sacred to their sons,
Named by their names, or honoured with their own—
Nay—even won them from the fearful wilds.
Hence I, the eighth from Adam, had to seek
Remoter dwelling, for a later race,
In soil yet virgin of the plough, or spade.
—Herein, aright considered, mercy was,
That Life in me might be developed full;
Moral, and intellectual. Spirit acts,
Nor can be idle; or if idle, dies.
Hence speculation evermore suggests
Inquiry, and new knowledge; to erect
System on fact; then only edified
Secure, when theory is built on truth.
Hence Reason (by like spiritual act
As Nature is subdued, ere for the frame
Of outward life provision may be made,)
Must hold like war with Nature, on a stage
Of nobler conflict; in her strongest holds
Of low propensity, or feeling high;
Ere right intelligence may rule; and Will,
Admonished in the members, to a Will
Superiour yield, and it in act express,
In practice, as in precept, still supreme.
—Oh, as in seasons past that I were now;
Then God was with me—then my children were.
He breaketh down that none can build again;
He shutteth; none can open: he withholds
The waters; they dry up: he sends them out;
And they the earth o'erturn. Speed, God of doom—
Make ready, as a king prepared for war.
Shake, from the oppressor's vine, the grape unripe;
And, as the olive, cast his flower away:
Let not the dew lie on the wicked branch,
Let it not come to verdure. Rise—arise—
Blood of the righteous; from the earth ascend,
And cry in heaven before him. Yet, oh spare
The innocent—so that thy work, great God,
Perish not utterly from off the earth.
Perish therefrom who have offended thee;
But be the upright stablished, as a plant,
To flourish, and bear seed, for evermore.’
‘I know the Eternal my Redeemer is—
Surviving all things, and transcending dust.
With frame renewed, and in immortal flesh,
God shall I see; mine eye shall see him then,
Estranged no more—my Advocate, my Judge.
My heart consumes within me at the thought:
I pant to stand before him. Then will I
His mercy implore, my sins acknowledging;
This chiefly; that with murmuring discontent,
On stubborn earth my brow's sweat I bestowed,
Regarding not herein creating Love,
That willed all pleasures, or of body, or mind,
Should be by labour earned; suspending thus
Fatal indulgence, and obliging man
To wake sublimer faculties, to war
Successfully with nature, by the might
Of ghostly power. The families of men
Had reared them habitations on the earth;
Founding their cities on the rocky steeps,
Or in vale-hollows, sacred to their sons,
Named by their names, or honoured with their own—
Nay—even won them from the fearful wilds.
97
Remoter dwelling, for a later race,
In soil yet virgin of the plough, or spade.
—Herein, aright considered, mercy was,
That Life in me might be developed full;
Moral, and intellectual. Spirit acts,
Nor can be idle; or if idle, dies.
Hence speculation evermore suggests
Inquiry, and new knowledge; to erect
System on fact; then only edified
Secure, when theory is built on truth.
Hence Reason (by like spiritual act
As Nature is subdued, ere for the frame
Of outward life provision may be made,)
Must hold like war with Nature, on a stage
Of nobler conflict; in her strongest holds
Of low propensity, or feeling high;
Ere right intelligence may rule; and Will,
Admonished in the members, to a Will
Superiour yield, and it in act express,
In practice, as in precept, still supreme.
—Oh, as in seasons past that I were now;
Then God was with me—then my children were.
He breaketh down that none can build again;
He shutteth; none can open: he withholds
The waters; they dry up: he sends them out;
And they the earth o'erturn. Speed, God of doom—
Make ready, as a king prepared for war.
Shake, from the oppressor's vine, the grape unripe;
And, as the olive, cast his flower away:
Let not the dew lie on the wicked branch,
Let it not come to verdure. Rise—arise—
Blood of the righteous; from the earth ascend,
And cry in heaven before him. Yet, oh spare
The innocent—so that thy work, great God,
Perish not utterly from off the earth.
98
But be the upright stablished, as a plant,
To flourish, and bear seed, for evermore.’
Thus ended Lamech: and all had relapsed
Into like silence, utter and intense,
As the deep stillness that was broken then,
When grief found words which else had madness found;
But here Elihu interposed, with speech
Of wonderous wisdom, though the youngest there;
And whereof, in the end, more wonder grew:
Such great event, and high result ensued.
Into like silence, utter and intense,
As the deep stillness that was broken then,
When grief found words which else had madness found;
But here Elihu interposed, with speech
Of wonderous wisdom, though the youngest there;
And whereof, in the end, more wonder grew:
Such great event, and high result ensued.
IV. Lamech's Death
‘Father belovèd, God is merciful.
Hath he not, for thy sake, Elihu spared?
That, even till Noah do return, a son
May for his absence comfort, and their loss
Whose cruel doom I weep. Oh, I had spoke
Ere this; and with my grief thy grief relieved;
But that, of youth admonished, I was fain
Years should teach wisdom. But there is in man
A spirit, and the inspiration of
The Almighty knowledge gives; of matter full,
And as with wine, am I constrained to speak.
Yea, now esteem me in God's stead to thee;
A Mediatour, but of clay composed,
Whose terrour need not make thee sore afraid.
—Think not, O Father, that the Highest seeks
Occasion to afflict, who loveth all
The creatures he hath made: yet, sooth to say,
Greater than man, he stoops not to account,
Or, if he speaks, man's understanding fails.
In dreams, in visions of the night, when sleep
Deepens on men; in slumberings on the bed;
Them hath he visited, himself revealed.
In sorrows also, tempering human pride,
He chastens even with life-abhorring pain,
And flesh-consuming agony, the soul
He would from hell deliver. Oft hath he
To such his Angel sent, interpreting
The grievous visitation merciful,
Instructing how uprightly thence to walk,
And thus avoid the need of lesson hard.
So worketh God with man. And why? that light
His life shall see, who loved the darkness erst,
Because his deeds were evil, now are good.
And shall we say, it nothing profiteth
Man should delight his soul with God? Be far
From God injustice. For his works, shall man
Abide the eternal Judgement; nor may he
Arraign decree divine. From whom hath God
His charge o'er earth derived; and who for him
The universe disposed? Let him but will,
The spirit, and breath of man should be recalled;
All flesh shall perish, and return to dust.
When he gives quiet, who can trouble make?
He hides his face—who can behold the same
Of nations, or of men? Befits us well
To say, that we have borne due chastisement,
And will offend no more. For none may claim
More righteousness than what to God belongs,
And think no profit to be cleansed from sin.
—What can it profit thee?—Nay, rather, him?
Look to the heaven—behold the clouds aloft;
Thou sinnest? well: 'gainst Him what doest thou?
Art righteous? what receives He thence from thee?
Thee—others—it may hurt, or may avail;
But the Most High how can it move, or reach?
Yet may his work be seen, even though from far—
But who can understand it, or know Him?
'Tis wisdom, not to question, but adore.’
Hath he not, for thy sake, Elihu spared?
That, even till Noah do return, a son
May for his absence comfort, and their loss
Whose cruel doom I weep. Oh, I had spoke
Ere this; and with my grief thy grief relieved;
But that, of youth admonished, I was fain
Years should teach wisdom. But there is in man
A spirit, and the inspiration of
The Almighty knowledge gives; of matter full,
And as with wine, am I constrained to speak.
Yea, now esteem me in God's stead to thee;
A Mediatour, but of clay composed,
Whose terrour need not make thee sore afraid.
—Think not, O Father, that the Highest seeks
Occasion to afflict, who loveth all
The creatures he hath made: yet, sooth to say,
Greater than man, he stoops not to account,
Or, if he speaks, man's understanding fails.
99
Deepens on men; in slumberings on the bed;
Them hath he visited, himself revealed.
In sorrows also, tempering human pride,
He chastens even with life-abhorring pain,
And flesh-consuming agony, the soul
He would from hell deliver. Oft hath he
To such his Angel sent, interpreting
The grievous visitation merciful,
Instructing how uprightly thence to walk,
And thus avoid the need of lesson hard.
So worketh God with man. And why? that light
His life shall see, who loved the darkness erst,
Because his deeds were evil, now are good.
And shall we say, it nothing profiteth
Man should delight his soul with God? Be far
From God injustice. For his works, shall man
Abide the eternal Judgement; nor may he
Arraign decree divine. From whom hath God
His charge o'er earth derived; and who for him
The universe disposed? Let him but will,
The spirit, and breath of man should be recalled;
All flesh shall perish, and return to dust.
When he gives quiet, who can trouble make?
He hides his face—who can behold the same
Of nations, or of men? Befits us well
To say, that we have borne due chastisement,
And will offend no more. For none may claim
More righteousness than what to God belongs,
And think no profit to be cleansed from sin.
—What can it profit thee?—Nay, rather, him?
Look to the heaven—behold the clouds aloft;
Thou sinnest? well: 'gainst Him what doest thou?
Art righteous? what receives He thence from thee?
Thee—others—it may hurt, or may avail;
But the Most High how can it move, or reach?
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But who can understand it, or know Him?
'Tis wisdom, not to question, but adore.’
Elihu thus. Even as he spake; the Youth,
Beautiful ever, glowed more beautiful.
Whoso beheld him, saw a mystery
In his composure, and his youthfulness:
Nor seemed his youth as of few years, but as
Of dateless, and unchanged eternity;
Even as the form of Wisdom, ere the hills
Begotten, yet new always in all ages;
Simple, and childlike, to the child a child,
To youth a youth appears; howbeit to age
Not old, but blooming fresh, as in the day
Of her espousals; and with growing charms,
Yet undiscovered, smiling, when the grave
Imprisons flesh, to set the spirit free.
Beautiful ever, glowed more beautiful.
Whoso beheld him, saw a mystery
In his composure, and his youthfulness:
Nor seemed his youth as of few years, but as
Of dateless, and unchanged eternity;
Even as the form of Wisdom, ere the hills
Begotten, yet new always in all ages;
Simple, and childlike, to the child a child,
To youth a youth appears; howbeit to age
Not old, but blooming fresh, as in the day
Of her espousals; and with growing charms,
Yet undiscovered, smiling, when the grave
Imprisons flesh, to set the spirit free.
Softened to tears, hereat old Lamech wept:
‘Elihu, still hast thou a prophet been,
Though youngest of my sons, and now the sole.
More wisdom yet this day hath dwelt in thee,
Than in all former days, though ever wise.
And who am I, that should contend with God?
Nay, shall I answer him who speaks in thee?
Once have I spoken, and again: but now,
I lay my hand upon my mouth. I know,
Thou canst do every thing, O Lord, my God;
And that no thought from thee can be withheld.
Grief from my heart hath utterance wrung of things
Not understood, too wonderful for me:
But even herein I find, that it was good
For me to be afflicted: wiser hence,
Now know I what I cannot know; and where
Experience ends; and whence Faith upward soars.
Faith? even by hearing of the ear it hath
Come hitherto; but now, as with the eye,
It sees the Eternal. Dazzled with the gaze,
How vile seem I; abhorrent to myself—
Great God; in dust, and ashes I repent.’
‘Elihu, still hast thou a prophet been,
Though youngest of my sons, and now the sole.
More wisdom yet this day hath dwelt in thee,
Than in all former days, though ever wise.
And who am I, that should contend with God?
Nay, shall I answer him who speaks in thee?
Once have I spoken, and again: but now,
I lay my hand upon my mouth. I know,
Thou canst do every thing, O Lord, my God;
And that no thought from thee can be withheld.
Grief from my heart hath utterance wrung of things
Not understood, too wonderful for me:
But even herein I find, that it was good
For me to be afflicted: wiser hence,
Now know I what I cannot know; and where
Experience ends; and whence Faith upward soars.
Faith? even by hearing of the ear it hath
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It sees the Eternal. Dazzled with the gaze,
How vile seem I; abhorrent to myself—
Great God; in dust, and ashes I repent.’
‘And God’ . . Elihu said . . ‘hath looked on thee,
And seen thy sorrow, to compassionate—
The Merciful. Hence was I sent to thee;
To utter words of comfort, to reveal
The purposes of Wisdom. He forgives
What grief imagines lest the heart should break;
Climbing for solace to the Throne of God,
In daring question; and meet answer finds.
Thy sins are pardoned, and thine end shall be
That of the righteous. But behoves it first,
That Noah should return. And lo, he comes.
A blessèd death shall thine, O Lamech, be.’
And seen thy sorrow, to compassionate—
The Merciful. Hence was I sent to thee;
To utter words of comfort, to reveal
The purposes of Wisdom. He forgives
What grief imagines lest the heart should break;
Climbing for solace to the Throne of God,
In daring question; and meet answer finds.
Thy sins are pardoned, and thine end shall be
That of the righteous. But behoves it first,
That Noah should return. And lo, he comes.
A blessèd death shall thine, O Lamech, be.’
Then Lamech looked, and saw his Son aby,
Led by Methuselah, in solemn talk—
Oldest of men; image herein express,
Antient of Days, of thee. Mysterious Man;
Nay, an embodied mystery, in his
Identity, to whoso him bethinks,
How hard on earth that absolute to hit,
Of all relations head: wisest, or best;
Or worst, or simplest; in extreme degree:
Knowing it is, yet what, or where unknown:
In all that is, inferring, elsewhere, is
Still something more, above it, or below;
Wiser, or better; worse, or simpler, still.
Oldest of Men—the Abstract Sublime of Age—
Like an Idea in its Purity
To contemplation, worthy thought's high mood;
By fancy deemed Old Age Impersonate;
A patriarch indeed. And well expressed
The venerable man, the kingly priest,
To fleshly eye, proportions visible
Of dignity; in sinews, thews, and limbs;
Majestic height, expanse of chest, and breadth
Of shoulders, and of back; surmounted with
A head magnificent as that of Jove,
Sculptured by that old sculptour's hand, who, taught
Of Homer's song, that ancientest of heads
With manliest beauty, most luxuriant hair,
And beard august, elaborate, and profuse,
Invested, with ambrosial locks adorned.
—Melchizedek he might have seemed, the priest
Of the Most High, who met, with bread, and wine,
(Refreshment for himself, and wearied troops,)
Abram returned from rout of Elam's king,
Chedorlaomer; and those other kings,'
In Siddim's slimy vale, who battle waged,
And won, but to be lost again to him,
The Father of the Faithful. He pursued
The victors unto Dan; by Salem's prince
In Saveh's royal dale, on his return,
Blessed. Priestly monarch, sacramental type;
Whose priesthood of eternal Order was,
And he a priest for ever, as would seem;
Fatherless, motherless, without descent,
Having beginning none of days; nor end
Of life: to him, as to his greater, gave
Abram the tenth of spoil, Similitude
Divine, whose blessings rest on Abraham's sons;
Not of the flesh, according to the faith.
—Him might have seemed Methuselah; whose death
Seemed distant still—his life fore-doomed to end
But with the world, which now by right were his,
Subdued beneath his patriarchal sway;
Had evil, and rebellion not forbid:
Whence doom shall be pronounced.
Led by Methuselah, in solemn talk—
Oldest of men; image herein express,
Antient of Days, of thee. Mysterious Man;
Nay, an embodied mystery, in his
Identity, to whoso him bethinks,
How hard on earth that absolute to hit,
Of all relations head: wisest, or best;
Or worst, or simplest; in extreme degree:
Knowing it is, yet what, or where unknown:
In all that is, inferring, elsewhere, is
Still something more, above it, or below;
Wiser, or better; worse, or simpler, still.
Oldest of Men—the Abstract Sublime of Age—
Like an Idea in its Purity
To contemplation, worthy thought's high mood;
By fancy deemed Old Age Impersonate;
A patriarch indeed. And well expressed
The venerable man, the kingly priest,
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Of dignity; in sinews, thews, and limbs;
Majestic height, expanse of chest, and breadth
Of shoulders, and of back; surmounted with
A head magnificent as that of Jove,
Sculptured by that old sculptour's hand, who, taught
Of Homer's song, that ancientest of heads
With manliest beauty, most luxuriant hair,
And beard august, elaborate, and profuse,
Invested, with ambrosial locks adorned.
—Melchizedek he might have seemed, the priest
Of the Most High, who met, with bread, and wine,
(Refreshment for himself, and wearied troops,)
Abram returned from rout of Elam's king,
Chedorlaomer; and those other kings,'
In Siddim's slimy vale, who battle waged,
And won, but to be lost again to him,
The Father of the Faithful. He pursued
The victors unto Dan; by Salem's prince
In Saveh's royal dale, on his return,
Blessed. Priestly monarch, sacramental type;
Whose priesthood of eternal Order was,
And he a priest for ever, as would seem;
Fatherless, motherless, without descent,
Having beginning none of days; nor end
Of life: to him, as to his greater, gave
Abram the tenth of spoil, Similitude
Divine, whose blessings rest on Abraham's sons;
Not of the flesh, according to the faith.
—Him might have seemed Methuselah; whose death
Seemed distant still—his life fore-doomed to end
But with the world, which now by right were his,
Subdued beneath his patriarchal sway;
Had evil, and rebellion not forbid:
Whence doom shall be pronounced.
With Noah, now,
Came on that reverend Sage; in all the pomp
Of many years; and told, in solemn wise,
Of Lamech's grief; and soon to Lamech's arms
His Son beloved presented. In embrace
Mutual they stood; and, though in sorrow, both
Were glad, as the survivors of a wreck,
Long to each other lost, and late restored.
But Lamech's gladness was the greater far;
And, like a sluice unbarred, in deluge rushed,
And brake what it o'erflowed—a father's heart.
So, when for answer to his greeting sought
Noah; behold, from that enraptured face,
The spirit had passed; but left its likeness there,
In that entranced expression it had fixed;
The last the features wore, by death impressed—
In death how lovely. Not grown rigid yet,
But life-like; only softer than in life;
Life's lingering look; and, if of motion void,
Only reluctant to forsake its shrine,
That aspect of paternal ecstasy.
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Of many years; and told, in solemn wise,
Of Lamech's grief; and soon to Lamech's arms
His Son beloved presented. In embrace
Mutual they stood; and, though in sorrow, both
Were glad, as the survivors of a wreck,
Long to each other lost, and late restored.
But Lamech's gladness was the greater far;
And, like a sluice unbarred, in deluge rushed,
And brake what it o'erflowed—a father's heart.
So, when for answer to his greeting sought
Noah; behold, from that enraptured face,
The spirit had passed; but left its likeness there,
In that entranced expression it had fixed;
The last the features wore, by death impressed—
In death how lovely. Not grown rigid yet,
But life-like; only softer than in life;
Life's lingering look; and, if of motion void,
Only reluctant to forsake its shrine,
That aspect of paternal ecstasy.
END OF THIRD BOOK.
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