University of Virginia Library

‘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.’

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.

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.’

‘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.’

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.

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.