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JAPHET (interrupting them).
Shall deign to expound this dream
Unto himself all times, and things;
And to the expiated carth
Her Eden in an endless paradise, Where man no more can fall as once he fell, And even the very demons shall do well!
And when shall take effect this wondrous spell?
When the Redeemer cometh; first in pain, And then in glory.
Meantime still struggle in the mortal chain,
Till earth wax hoary;
War with yourselves, and hell, and heaven, in vain,
Until the clouds look gory
With the blood recking from each battle plain;
Save the slight remnant of Seth's seed-
Exempt for future sorrow's sake from death
None shall remain ;
Must e beneath the desolating waters;
Beings even in death so fair.
And to the universal human cry
The universal silence shall succeed!
So perish all
These petty foes of Heaven who shrink from Heli! [The Spirits disappear, soaring upwards
New times, new climes, new arts, new men; but still God hath proclaim'd the destiny of earth;
The same old tears, old crimes, and oldest ill,. Shall be amongst your race in different forms;
But the same moral storms
Shall oversweep the future, as the waves
Hark! hark! already we can hear the voice
The winds, too, plume their piercing wings!
Their flashing banners, folded still on high.
Save to the spirits' all-pervading eye.
Thy death is nearer than thy recent birth:
The wave shall break upon your cliffs; and shells,
Where could he rest them, while the whole space brings
And loudly lift each superhuman voice
1 "And there were giants in those days, and after; mighty men, which were of old men of repown."—Genesis.
My father's ark of safety hath announced it
No sign yet hangs its banner in the air;
A void: without man, time, as made for man,
1 The Book of Enoch, preserved by the Ethiopians, is said by them to be anterior to the flood.
From him who shed the first, and that a brother's!
AHOLIBAMAH (interrupting him).
And wouldst thou have her like our father's foe
Whate'er our God decrees,
Soft lights which were not mine? Aholibamah!
What! hath this dreamer, with his father's ark,
And bid those clouds and w sters take a shape Distinct from that which we and all our sires Have seen them wear on their eternal way? Who shall do this?
He whose one word produced them
Who heard that word?
The universe, which leap'd To life before it. Ah! smilest thou still in scorn? Turn to thy seraphs; if they attest it not, They are none.
Not ye in all your glory can redeem
What He who made you glorious hath condemn'd.
Oh father! say it not.
If that thou wouldst avoid their doom, forget That they exist; they soon shall cease to be, While thou shalt be the sire of a new world, And better.
Let me die with this, and them!
Thou shouldst for such a thought, but shalt not; He Who can, redeems thee.
And why him and thee, More than what he, thy son, prefers to both?
Ask Him who made thee greater than myself
Enter RAPHAEL the Archangel.
Whose seat is near the throne,
What do ye here?
Is thus a seraph's duty to be shown
When earth must be alone?
In glorious homage with the elected "seven." Your place is heaven.
The first and fairest of the sons of God,
That earth by angels must be left untrod?
Jehovah's footsteps not disdain her sod!
Adoring Him in his least works display'd; Watching this youngest star of his dominions:
And as the latest birth of His great word,
And wherefore speak'st thou of destruction near?
Had Samiasa and Azaziel been
In their true place, with the angelic choir,
Written in fire
They would have seen
And not inquired their Maker's breath of me.
A part of sin;
And even the spirits' knowledge shall grow less As they wax proud within;
For blindness is the first-born of excess.
When all good angels left the world, ye stay'd, Stung with strange passions, and debased
By mortal feelings for a mortal maid; But ye are pardon'd thus far, and replaced With your pure equals: Hence! away! away! Or stay,
And lose eternity by that delay!
And thou! if earth be thus forbidden In the decree
To us until this moment hidden,
Dost thou not err as we
In being here?
I came to call ye back to your fit sphere,
Let us still walk the stars. True, earth must die!
Rather than longer worship dared endure!
Seraphs! less mighty than that mightiest one,
And think if tempting man can compensate
Long have I warr'd,
Long must I war
With him who deem'd it hard
To be created, and to acknowledge Him
Made him as sun to a dependent star,
I loved him-beautiful he was: oh Heaven! Save His who made, what beauty and what power Was ever like to Satan's! Would the hour
In which he fell could ever be forgiven!
With him, or with his God, is in your choice:
In all but suffering! Why partake
Let them fly!
I hear the voice which says that all must die, Sooner than our white-bearded patriarchs died; And that on high
An ocean is prepared,
While from below
The deep shall rise to meet heaven's overflow. Few shall be spared,
It seems; and, of that few, the race of Cain Must lift their eyes to Adam's God in vain. Sister! since it is so,
And the eternal Lord
In vain would be implored
For the remission of one hour of woe,
And wailing less for us than those who shall
And, when the fatal waters are allay'd,
And yours to live for ever:
But which is best, a dead eternity,
I would not keep this life of mine in clay
Nor see ye lose a portion of His grace,
And as your pinions bear ye back to heaven, Think that my love still mounts with thee on high,
And if I look up with a tearless eye,
'Tis that an angel's bride disdains to weepFarewell! Now rise, inexorable deep!
And must we die?
And must I lose thee too,
Oh, my heart! my heart!
Thy prophecies were true,
And yet thou wert so happy too!
The blow, though not unlook'd for, falls as new;
But yet depart!
Yet let me not retain thee-fly!
My pangs can be but brief: but thine would be
Too much already hast thou deign'd
The first who taught us knowledge hath been hurl'd
And thou, Azaziel! No-
May'st suffer more, not weeping: then forget Her whom the surges of the all-strangling deep Can bring no pang like this. Fly! fly! Being gone, 't will be less difficult to die.
Oh say not so!
Father! and thou, archangel, thou! Surely celestial mercy lurks below
That pure severe serenity of brow:
Let them not meet this sea without a shore, Save in our ark, or let me be no more!
Peace, child of passion, peace!
If not within thy heart yet with thy tongue
Live as he wills it-die, when he ordains,
To alter his intent
For a mere mortal sorrow. Be a man!
Ay, father! but when they are gone,
And we are all alone,
Floating upon the azure desert, and
The depth beneath us hides our own dear land,
Who, who, our tears, our shrieks, shall then command?
Oh, God! be thou a god, and spare
Renow not Adam's fall:
Mankind were then but twain,
But they are numerous now as are the waves
Whose drops shall be less thick than would their grave.