But, if you rue it after, blame not me. The spirit of her life I am employ'd in such; but you perceive I am almost enamor'd of her, as Of old the angels of her earliest sex. 3.. And when the spring comes with her host Of flowers, that flower beloved the most Shrinks from the crowd that may confuse Her heavenly odor and virgin hues. 4. Pluck the others, but still remember Enter CESAR. Cas. (singing.) The wars are all over, The steed bites the bridle, But his armor is rusty, And the veteran grows crusty, He drinks-but what's drinking? A mere pause from thinking! No bugle awakes him with life-and-death call CHORUS. But the hound bayeth loudly, The boar's in the wood, And the falcon longs proudly To spring from her hood: On the wrist of the noble She sits like a crest, And the air is in trouble With birds from their nest Cæs. Oh! shadow of glory! Dim image of war! But the chase hath no story, Since Nimrod the founder Who made the woods wonder When the lion was young, In the pride of his might, Then 'twas sport for the strong To embrace him in fight; To go forth, with a pine For a spear 'gainst the mammoth, At the foaming behemoth; CHORUS. But the wars are over, Have sought their home: They are happy, and we rejoice; Let their hearts have an echo from every voice: [Exeunt the Peasantry, singing. AHOLIBAMAH. Anah. I love Azzaiel more than My sister, though -oh, too much! What was I going to say? my heart grows impious. Anah. But, Aholibamah, I love our God less since his angel loved me: Which are not ominous of right. Aho. Then wed thee Unto some son of clay, and toil and spin! Chorus of Spirits of the Earth.-Chorus of Mortals. Marry, and bring forth dust! PART I. SCENE I. Anah. I am glad he is not. I can not outlive him, Will one day hover o'er the sepulchre Of the poor child of clay which so adored him, A woody and mountainous district near Mount Ara- His grief will be of ages, or at least' rat.-Time, Midnight. Enter ANAH and AHоLIBAMAH. Mine would be such for him, were I the seraph, Rather say, Aho. Anah. OUR father sleeps: it is the hour when they Of Earth, and love her as he once loved Anah. Who love us are accustom'd to descend Through the deep clouds o'er rocky Ararat : How my heart beats! Albeit thou watchest with "the seven Though through space infinite and hoary Before thy bright wings worlds be driven, Yet hear! Oh! think of her who holds thee dear! Thou canst not tell,-and never be Except in love, and there thou must Acknowledge that more loving dust Ne'er wept beneath the skies. Thou walk'st thy many worlds, thou see'st The face of him who made thee great, As he hath made me of the least Of those cast out from Eden's gate: Oh hear ! For thou hast loved me, and I would not die That thou foget'st in thine eternity Her whose heart death could not keep from o'erflowing For thee, immortal essence as thou art! An Eden kept afar from sight, Though sometimes with our visions blent. Which tells me we are not abandon'd quite.- My own Azaziel! be but here, And leave the stars to their own light. Samiasa! Whereso'er Thon rulest in the upper air Or warring with the spirits who may dare Who made all empires, empire; or recalling Whose tenants dying, while their world is falling, I call thee, I await thee, and I love thee. If that thy spirit down to mine may move thee, Though I be form'd of clay, More bright than those of day Thine immortality can not repay My love. There is a ray • The archangels, said to be seven in number. In me, which, though forbidden yet to shine, I feel was lighted at thy God's and thine. It may be hidden long: death and decay Our mother Eve bequeath'd us-but my heart Defies it: though this life must pass away, Is that a cause for thee and me to part? Thou art immortal-so am I: I feel I feel my immortality o'ersweep All pains, all tears, all time, all fears, and peal, I know not, nor would know; That secret rests with the Almighty giver With him if he will war with us: with thee I can share all things, even immortal sorrow; For thou hast ventured to share life with me, And shall I shrink from thine eternity? No! though the serpent's sting should pierce m through, And thou thyself wert like the serpent coil And curse thee not; but hold Thee in as warm a fold Japh. Irad. Japh. But she loves thee not. Alas! Irad. And proud Aholibamah spurns me also. Find joy in such a thought? Canst thou Nor joy nor sorrow, She loves another. Japh. Irad. Irad. But evil things will be thy foe the more Japh. I must proceed alone. Irad. No, neither, Irad: Then peace be with thee! In love with love, too, which perhaps deserved it; The sweeping tempest through its groaning boughs; Of my mind overworn. The earth's grown wicked, I have some cause to think A change at hand, and an o'erwhelming doom Anah! Japh. What other? No; her sister. That I know not; but her air, The elements; this bosom, which in vain If not her words, tells me she loves another. For being happy, If I could rest. And so would I Irad. Hath beat for thee, and then will beat more vainly, Noah. What doth he there? It is an evil spot What would'st thou there? Wherefore so? Strange sounds and sights have peopled it with All evil things are powerless on the man terrors. I must go with thee. Irad, no; believe me Japh. Shem. To the tents of the father of the sisters? Noah. No; to the cavern of the Caucasus. [Exeunt NOAH and SHEM SCENE III. Japh. By the approaching deluge! by the earth Which will be strangled by the ocean! by The Mountains.-A Cavern, and the Rocks of The deep which will lay open all her fountains! The heaven which will convert her clouds to seas, Caucasus. Japh. (solus.) Ye wilds, that look eternal; and And the Omnipotent who makes and crushes! thou cave Which seem'st unfathomable; and ye mountains, So varied and so terrible in beauty; Here, in your rugged majesty of rocks And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone In perpendicular places, where the foot Of man would tremble, could he reach them-yes, Thou unknown, terrible, and indistinct, Why weep'st thou ? Japh. For earth and all her children. Ha! Ha! Ha! [Spirit vanishes. Japh. How the fiend mocks the tortures of a world, Perhaps even hours, ye will be changed, rent, hurl'd The coming desolation of an orb, Before the mass of waters; and yon cave, On which the sun shall rise and warm no life! Shall have its depth search'd by the sweeping wave, Sleep too upon the very eve of death! That I must live beyond ye? Where shall be Nearest the stars? And can those words "no more," Of yet quick myriads of all life? How much Breath will be still'd at once! All beauteous world! Why should they wake to meet it? What is here, Spirit. The abbhorr'd race Which could not keep in Eden their high place; Of knowledge without power, Of death! Not slow, not single, not by sword, nor sorrow, Nor years, nor heart-break, nor time's sapping motion, Shall they drop off. Behold their last to-morrow! And no breath, Save of the winds, be on the unbounded wave! Shall lift its point to save. Or show the place where strong despair hath died For the expected ebb which cometh not; Destroy'd! Another element shall be the lord Children of dust be quench'd; and of each hue Shall nought remain Unchanged, nor of the level plain; Cedar and pine shall lift their tops in vain: And sea and sky And night by night, thy number'd days and nights. Look vast and lifeless in the eternal eye I cannot save thee, cannot save even her Such as-Oh God! and canst thou- [He pauses. |