_Lucifer._ Enough spoken. As the pine In norland forest drops its weight of snows By a night's growth, so, growing toward my ends I drop thy counsels. Farewell, Gabriel!

Watch out thy service; I achieve my will.

And peradventure in the after years, When thoughtful men shall bend their s.p.a.cious brows Upon the storm and strife seen everywhere To ruffle their smooth manhood and break up With lurid lights of intermittent hope Their human fear and wrong,--they may discern The heart of a lost angel in the earth.

CHORUS OF EDEN SPIRITS

(_chanting from Paradise, while ADAM and EVE fly across the Sword-glare_).

Hearken, oh hearken! let your souls behind you Turn, gently moved!

Our voices feel along the Dread to find you, O lost, beloved!

Through the thick-shielded and strong-marshalled angels, They press and pierce: Our requiems follow fast on our evangels,-- Voice throbs in verse.

We are but orphaned spirits left in Eden A time ago: G.o.d gave us golden cups, and we were bidden To feed you so.

But now our right hand hath no cup remaining, No work to do, The mystic hydromel is spilt, and staining The whole earth through.

Most ineradicable stains, for showing (Not interfused!) That brighter colours were the world's forgoing, Than shall be used.

Hearken, oh hearken! ye shall hearken surely For years and years, The noise beside you, dripping coldly, purely, Of spirits' tears.

The yearning to a beautiful denied you Shall strain your powers; Ideal sweetnesses shall overglide you, Resumed from ours.

In all your music, our pathetic minor Your ears shall cross; And all good gifts shall mind you of diviner, With sense of loss.

We shall be near you in your poet-languors And wild extremes, What time ye vex the desert with vain angers, Or mock with dreams.

And when upon you, weary after roaming, Death's seal is put, By the foregone ye shall discern the coming, Through eyelids shut.

_Spirits of the Trees._ Hark! the Eden trees are stirring, Soft and solemn in your hearing!

Oak and linden, palm and fir, Tamarisk and juniper, Each still throbbing in vibration Since that crowning of creation When the G.o.d-breath spake abroad, _Let us make man like to G.o.d!_ And the pine stood quivering As the awful word went by, Like a vibrant music-string Stretched from mountain-peak to sky; And the platan did expand Slow and gradual, branch and head; And the cedar's strong black shade Fluttered brokenly and grand: Grove and wood were swept aslant In emotion jubilant.

_Voice of the same, but softer._ Which divine impulsion cleaves In dim movements to the leaves Dropt and lifted, dropt and lifted, In the sunlight greenly sifted,-- In the sunlight and the moonlight Greenly sifted through the trees.

Ever wave the Eden trees In the nightlight and the noonlight, With a ruffling of green branches Shaded off to resonances, Never stirred by rain or breeze.

Fare ye well, farewell!

The sylvan sounds, no longer audible, Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading Treads out some murmur which ye heard before.

Farewell! the trees of Eden Ye shall hear nevermore.

_River Spirits._ Hark! the flow of the four rivers-- Hark the flow!

How the silence round you shivers, While our voices through it go, Cold and clear.

_A softer Voice._ Think a little, while ye hear, Of the banks Where the willows and the deer Crowd in intermingled ranks, As if all would drink at once Where the living water runs!-- Of the fishes' golden edges Flashing in and out the sedges; Of the swans on silver thrones, Floating down the winding streams With impa.s.sive eyes turned sh.o.r.eward And a chant of undertones,-- And the lotos leaning forward To help them into dreams!

Fare ye well, farewell!

The river-sounds, no longer audible, Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading Treads out some murmur which ye heard before.

Farewell! the streams of Eden Ye shall hear nevermore.

_Bird Spirit._ I am the nearest nightingale That singeth in Eden after you; And I am singing loud and true, And sweet,--I do not fail.

I sit upon a cypress bough, Close to the gate, and I fling my song Over the gate and through the mail Of the warden angels marshalled strong,-- Over the gate and after you.

And the warden angels let it pa.s.s, Because the poor brown bird, alas, Sings in the garden, sweet and true.

And I build my song of high pure notes, Note over note, height over height, Till I strike the arch of the Infinite, And I bridge abysmal agonies With strong, clear calms of harmonies,-- And something abides, and something floats, In the song which I sing after you.

Fare ye well, farewell!

The creature-sounds, no longer audible, Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading Treads out some cadence which ye heard before.

Farewell! the birds of Eden, Ye shall hear nevermore.

_Flower Spirits._ We linger, we linger, The last of the throng, Like the tones of a singer Who loves his own song.

We are spirit-aromas Of blossom and bloom.

We call your thoughts home,--as Ye breathe our perfume,-- To the amaranth's splendour Afire on the slopes; To the lily-bells tender, And grey heliotropes; To the poppy-plains keeping Such dream-breath and blee That the angels there stepping Grew whiter to see: To the nook, set with moly, Ye jested one day in, Till your smile waxed too holy And left your lips praying: To the rose in the bower-place, That dripped o'er you sleeping; To the asphodel flower-place, Ye walked ankle-deep in.

We pluck at your raiment, We stroke down your hair, We faint in our lament And pine into air.

Fare ye well, farewell!

The Eden scents, no longer sensible, Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading Treads out some fragrance which ye knew before.

Farewell! the flowers of Eden, Ye shall smell nevermore.

[_There is silence. ADAM and EVE fly on, and never look back. Only a colossal shadow, as of the dark Angel pa.s.sing quickly, is cast upon the Sword-glare._

SCENE.--_The extremity of the Sword-glare._

_Adam._ Pausing a moment on this outer edge Where the supernal sword-glare cuts in light The dark exterior desert,--hast thou strength, Beloved, to look behind us to the gate?

_Eve._ Have I not strength to look up to thy face?

_Adam._ We need be strong: yon spectacle of cloud Which seals the gate up to the final doom, Is G.o.d's seal manifest. There seem to lie A hundred thunders in it, dark and dead; The unmolten lightnings vein it motionless; And, outward from its depth, the self-moved sword Swings slow its awful gnomon of red fire From side to side, in pendulous horror slow, Across the stagnant ghastly glare thrown flat On the intermediate ground from that to this.

The angelic hosts, the archangelic pomps, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, rank on rank, Rising sublimely to the feet of G.o.d, On either side and overhead the gate, Show like a glittering and sustained smoke Drawn to an apex. That their faces shine Betwixt the solemn clasping of their wings Clasped high to a silver point above their heads,-- We only guess from hence, and not discern.

_Eve._ Though we were near enough to see them shine, The shadow on thy face were awfuller, To me, at least,--to me--than all their light.

_Adam._ What is this, Eve? thou droppest heavily In a heap earthward, and thy body heaves Under the golden floodings of thine hair!

_Eve._ O Adam, Adam! by that name of Eve-- Thine Eve, thy life--which suits me little now, Seeing that I now confess myself thy death And thine undoer, as the snake was mine,-- I do adjure thee, put me straight away, Together with my name! Sweet, punish me!

O Love, be just! and, ere we pa.s.s beyond The light cast outward by the fiery sword, Into the dark which earth must be to us, Bruise my head with thy foot,--as the curse said My seed shall the first tempter's! strike with curse, As G.o.d struck in the garden! and as HE, Being satisfied with justice and with wrath, Did roll his thunder gentler at the close,-- Thou, peradventure, mayst at last recoil To some soft need of mercy. Strike, my lord!

_I_, also, after tempting, writhe on the ground, And I would feed on ashes from thine hand, As suits me, O my tempted!

_Adam._ My beloved, Mine Eve and life--I have no other name For thee or for the sun than what ye are, My utter life and light! If we have fallen, It is that we have sinned,--we: G.o.d is just; And, since his curse doth comprehend us both, It must be that his balance holds the weights Of first and last sin on a level. What!

Shall I who had not virtue to stand straight Among the hills of Eden, here a.s.sume To mend the justice of the perfect G.o.d, By piling up a curse upon his curse, Against thee--thee?

_Eve._ For so, perchance, thy G.o.d, Might take thee into grace for scorning me; Thy wrath against the sinner giving proof Of inward abrogation of the sin: And so, the blessed angels might come down And walk with thee as erst,--I think they would,-- Because I was not near to make them sad Or soil the rustling of their innocence.

_Adam._ They know me. I am deepest in the guilt, If last in the transgression.

_Eve._ Thou!

_Adam._ If G.o.d, Who gave the right and joyaunce of the world Both unto thee and me,--gave thee to me, The best gift last, the last sin was the worst, Which sinned against more complement of gifts And grace of giving. G.o.d! I render back Strong benediction and perpetual praise From mortal feeble lips (as incense-smoke, Out of a little censer, may fill heaven), That thou, in striking my benumbed hands And forcing them to drop all other boons Of beauty and dominion and delight,-- Hast left this well-beloved Eve, this life Within life, this best gift between their palms, In gracious compensation!

_Eve._ Is it thy voice?

Or some saluting angel's--calling home My feet into the garden?

_Adam._ O my G.o.d!

I, standing here between the glory and dark,-- The glory of thy wrath projected forth From Eden's wall, the dark of our distress Which settles a step off in that drear world-- Lift up to thee the hands from whence hath fallen Only creation's sceptre,--thanking thee That rather thou hast cast me out with _her_ Than left me lorn of her in Paradise, With angel looks and angel songs around To show the absence of her eyes and voice, And make society full desertness Without her use in comfort!

_Eve._ Where is loss?

Am I in Eden? can another speak Mine own love's tongue?