University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Adam, Eve, Seth.
[The three mothers, with their children; Sunim on one side, Selima and Eman on the other.]
Selima.
I will join them;
So will I enter too.—

Eve.
My child, my Selima,
I'll not be parted from thee; but alas!
I scace believe it yet.

First Mother.
Come hither, Sunim.

Second Mother.
What is't I see?

Third Mother.
Is that our father Adam!

Adam.
Oh my lov'd Seth! Go thou before them, son.

Seth
[To the three Mothers.]
Turn not your faces thus on me; avert
Those looks;—they mar all pow'r of speech.
[The first covers her face, the second turns aside, and the third leans upon her young child.
The bitter sorrows I unravel now,
My heart hath been acquainted with too long.
Adam this day, this day shall Adam die.
Before the sun shall to yon cedars slope
His course declining,—he shall die. Th'angel
Of death already hath he seen; agen
That angel shall return; and when the rock,
Which to the bow'r stands neighb'ring, shall be rent,
Adam shall be no more.—There, there's his grave.
—O turn, ye mothers, turn your eyes from thence;
Nor look thus earnest on my father's grave.

Adam.
What voice is that which strikes upon my ear,
Amid these groans distinguishably loud?
They're not familiar sounds:—they come not
From Eman's voice, nor Selima's; nor yet
From any of the mothers.

Seth.
O my father,
In thy last moments taste of comfort yet.—
That voice is Sunim's voice;—thy son is found;
Sunim is found.

Adam.
Alas! full well I know,
In all my life, my Seth hath ne'er deceiv'd me;
Would he deceive me in the hour of death,
And cheat my senses with a gleam of joy?
—My son! my dearest son, for me, alas!
No more of joy remains on earth.

Seth.
My father!

Adam.
But wherefore then keeps Sunim silence now?
O let me hear his voice.

Seth.
Excess of grief
Choaks up all utt'rance.

Adam.
Let him come nearer,
That I may lay my hands upon his hair,
And feel his countenance.

Seth.
Thy child is here.

Adam.
[To Sunim, who embraces his knees.]
Yes,—I perceive thee now; thou art my boy.

Sunim.
I am thy Sunim.

Adam.
Seek thy mother, child.

Eve.
[To Sunim.]
Thy brother, rather; for alas! my son,
Thou hast no mother now.

Seth.
O dread decree
Of death pronounc'd;—leave me, my Sunim, now—
I will be with thee soon.—O my father,
Since hopes are now no more, and grief extreme
Hath reach'd its height, I must,—I must inform thee
The sun declines apace, and the tall cedars
Fade on the eye:—Oh father, father, bless us.

Adam.
The sun already at the cedar's forest!
—Come then, O death, approach; I wait thee now.
—O my lov'd children, how shall I pour forth
My blessings on ye? I! by whose first sin
God's malediction fell on all the earth:—
May your Creator bless you.

All.
We conjure thee,
O father, bless us.

Adam.
Blessing is far from me;
I cannot give it:—Pains unfelt before,
And thousand deadly thoughts of bitter anguish,
Croud on my mind:—e'en now before me rise
The blest ideas of my early days,
And form a contrast that o'erwhelms my soul.
The thought of immortality once more
Springs on my mind, and makes me shudder.—Ha!
—Where am I now? 'tis darkness now no more,
And sight returns agen but to behold
The champain vast distain'd with reeking blood.
Ye ghastly dead, look not with hideous glare
On me.—I hear your cries, O blood of man!
Pale murder'd man:—O dreadful, horrid blood,
Change, change thy purple course, far far from me.
O may the mountains hide thy stains for ever.
—See, see! what mother's that? she beats her breast
All frantic with despair:—her piercing cries
Ascend to heav'n;—and lo, that infant child,—
Death hangs upon his trembling lips: alas!
It was her only child.—See mangled limbs,
And there a trunkless head;—away, away,
Ye fearful objects hence.—Alas, my children,
With pity's soft concern behold your father,
And kindly lead him from those plains of woe.

Seth.
O gracious heav'n, if these my trembling hands
Lift up to thee, if this my bursting heart,
Which shares each deadly pang, that wrings the breast
Of my dear father Adam—

Adam.
My son, my Seth,
Art thou so near me, child? I heard thy voice;
—A sudden calmness overspreads my soul.

Seth.
Eternal pow'rs! He smiles:—Come near him all:
Haste Eve and Eman, Sunim, Selima,
Come all; and ye, ye mothers too, approach,
And tenderly behold this smile, his last.
Behold us, father, here together all
Collected round thee:—O bless us, bless us!

Adam.
Come hither, children,—here;—where art thou Seth?—
Come nearer yet, that I may gently lay
My right hand upon thee; and on thy head,
My faithful Eman, let me place this other:
Let Selima join Eman, Sunim Seth.
Come hither, mothers; bring your children here,
That Eve, with me, may pour her blessings on you.

[They all kneel.
Eve.
[Kneeling behind.]
Let me, O Adam, take thy blessing too.

Adam.
Eve, my best half, wouldst thou, my partner dear,
That I should bless thee too? Alas, 'tis all
Thy Adam now has left to give thee. Thou,
Mother of nations, shortly after me
Created, after me shalt shortly die.
Behold my grave.

Eve.
O Adam, my lov'd lord!
Thy words I feel are now the words of heav'n.

[She rises and supports Adam.
Adam.
I bless you all, my children; and with you,
The children of your children; all mankind.
May God, your father, your creator God,
Who from the earth form'd man, and in that clay
Breath'd an immortal soul; that aweful God,
Who oft, with gracious condescension,
Hath deign'd t'appear before me; who himself
Hath blest me, who hath judg'd me; that dread God,
The king of kings, almighty and eternal,
Sweeten the bitter cup of mortal life:
O may the thought of death and dissolution
Serve but to waken, in the humble mind,
The longings after immortality!
May you so taste the blessings of this earth,
As the parch'd trav'ller, at the limpid rill,
Who slacks his thirst, and strait pursues his journey!
May your souls rise above this earthly spot,
Rich in the love of wisdom and of virtue!
And may you all, with humble resignation,
Learn the importance of your labours here,
And reap the price hereafter! Children all
Love one another, for ye all are breth'ren.
And may the general good of social life
Make up your study and delight on earth.
May there be born amongst you men like Seth,
Still to recal your sluggish minds to God;
And when all-gracious God, in his due time,
Shall send amongst you him who shall unlock
The gates of heav'n, that holy blest Redeemer,
Into whose hands I render up my spirit;
With holy homage lift your eyes to God,
And thank the wisdom that created you;
Be humble and adore;—yet know, my children,
Ye are but dust, and shall to dust return.

[A noise is heard.
Seth.
Hark, the rock shakes!

Eve.
O Adam!

Seth.
Now agen
It shakes, and every shock grows stronger.

Adam.
My judge, my God, behold me here!—O death,
O death, I feel thee now:—I die.

[The rock breaks.