Lord Byron - Delphi Poets Series
Page 142
Ye are both eternal?
Lucifer. Yea!
Cain. And what I have seen —
Yon blue immensity, is boundless?
Lucifer. Aye. 390
Cain. And cannot ye both reign, then? — is there not
Enough? — why should ye differ?
Lucifer. We both reign.
Cain. But one of you makes evil.
Lucifer. Which?
Cain. Thou! for
If thou canst do man good, why dost thou not?
Lucifer. And why not he who made? I made ye not;
Ye are his creatures, and not mine.
Cain. Then leave us
His creatures, as thou say’st we are, or show me
Thy dwelling, or his dwelling.
Lucifer. I could show thee
Both; but the time will come thou shalt see one
Of them for evermore.
Cain. And why not now? 400
Lucifer. Thy human mind hath scarcely grasp to gather
The little I have shown thee into calm
And clear thought: and thou wouldst go on aspiring
To the great double Mysteries! the two Principles!
And gaze upon them on their secret thrones!
Dust! limit thy ambition; for to see
Either of these would be for thee to perish!
Cain. And let me perish, so I see them!
Lucifer. There
The son of her who snatched the apple spake!
But thou wouldst only perish, and not see them; 410
That sight is for the other state.
Cain. Of Death?
Lucifer. That is the prelude.
Cain. Then I dread it less,
Now that I know it leads to something definite.
Lucifer. And now I will convey thee to thy world,
Where thou shall multiply the race of Adam,
Eat, drink, toil, tremble, laugh, weep, sleep — and die!
Cain. And to what end have I beheld these things
Which thou hast shown me?
Lucifer. Didst thou not require
Knowledge? And have I not, in what I showed,
Taught thee to know thyself?
Cain. Alas! I seem 420
Nothing.
Lucifer. And this should be the human sum
Of knowledge, to know mortal nature’s nothingness;
Bequeath that science to thy children, and
‘Twill spare them many tortures.
Cain. Haughty spirit!
Thou speak’st it proudly; but thyself, though proud,
Hast a superior.
Lucifer. No! By heaven, which he
Holds, and the abyss, and the immensity
Of worlds and life, which I hold with him — No!
I have a Victor — true; but no superior.
Homage he has from all — but none from me: 430
I battle it against him, as I battled
In highest Heaven — through all Eternity,
And the unfathomable gulfs of Hades,
And the interminable realms of space,
And the infinity of endless ages,
All, all, will I dispute! And world by world,
And star by star, and universe by universe,
Shall tremble in the balance, till the great
Conflict shall cease, if ever it shall cease,
Which it ne’er shall, till he or I be quenched! 440
And what can quench our immortality,
Or mutual and irrevocable hate?
He as a conqueror will call the conquered
Evil; but what will be the Good he gives?
Were I the victor, his works would be deemed
The only evil ones. And you, ye new
And scarce-born mortals, what have been his gifts
To you already, in your little world?
Cain. But few; and some of those but bitter.
Lucifer. Back
With me, then, to thine earth, and try the rest 450
Of his celestial boons to you and yours.
Evil and Good are things in their own essence,
And not made good or evil by the Giver;
But if he gives you good — so call him; if
Evil springs from him, do not name it mine,
Till ye know better its true fount; and judge
Not by words, though of Spirits, but the fruits
Of your existence, such as it must be.
One good gift has the fatal apple given, —
Your reason: — let it not be overswayed 460
By tyrannous threats to force you into faith
‘Gainst all external sense and inward feeling:
Think and endure, — and form an inner world
In your own bosom — where the outward fails;
So shall you nearer be the spiritual
Nature, and war triumphant with your own.
[They disappear.
ACT III
Scene I. — The Earth, near Eden, as in Act I.
Enter Cain and Adah.
Adah. Hush! tread softly, Cain!
Cain. I will — but wherefore?
Adah. Our little Enoch sleeps upon yon bed
Of leaves, beneath the cypress.
Cain. Cypress! ‘tis
A gloomy tree, which looks as if it mourned
O’er what it shadows; wherefore didst thou choose it
For our child’s canopy?
Adah. Because its branches
Shut out the sun like night, and therefore seemed
Fitting to shadow slumber.
Cain. Aye, the last —
And longest; but no matter — lead me to him.
[They go up to the child.
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks, 10
In their pure incarnation, vying with
The rose leaves strewn beneath them.
Adah. And his lips, too,
How beautifully parted! No; you shall not
Kiss him, at least not now: he will awake soon —
His hour of mid-day rest is nearly over;
But it were pity to disturb him till
‘Tis closed.
Cain. You have said well; I will contain
My heart till then. He smiles, and sleeps! — sleep on,
And smile, thou little, young inheritor
Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and smile! 20
Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering
And innocent! thou hast not plucked the fruit —
Thou know’st not thou art naked! Must the time
Come thou shalt be amerced for sins unknown,
Which were not thine nor mine? But now sleep on!
His cheeks are reddening into deeper smiles,
And shining lids are trembling o’er his long
Lashes, dark as the cypress which waves o’er them;
Half open, from beneath them the clear blue
Laughs out, although in slumber. He must dream — 30
Of what? Of Paradise! — Aye! dream of it,
My disinherited boy! ‘Tis but a dream;
For never more thyself, thy sons, nor fathers,
Shall walk in that forbidden place of joy!
Adah. Dear Cain! Nay, do not whisper o’er our son
Such melancholy yearnings o’er the past:
Why wilt thou always mourn for Paradise?
Can we not make another?
Cain. Where?
Adah. Here, or
Where’er thou wilt: where’er thou art, I feel not
The want of this so much regretted Eden. 40
Have I not thee — our boy — our sire, and brother,
And Zillah — our sweet sister, and our Eve,
To whom we owe so much besides our birth?
Cain. Yes — Death, too, is amongst the debt
s we owe her.
Adah. Cain! that proud Spirit, who withdrew thee hence,
Hath saddened thine still deeper. I had hoped
The promised wonders which thou hast beheld,
Visions, thou say’st, of past and present worlds,
Would have composed thy mind into the calm
Of a contented knowledge; but I see 50
Thy guide hath done thee evil: still I thank him,
And can forgive him all, that he so soon
Hath given thee back to us.
Cain. So soon?
Adah.’Tis scarcely
Two hours since ye departed: two long hours
To me, but only hours upon the sun.
Cain. And yet I have approached that sun, and seen
Worlds which he once shone on, and never more
Shall light; and worlds he never lit: methought
Years had rolled o’er my absence.
Adah. Hardly hours.
Cain. The mind then hath capacity of time, 60
And measures it by that which it beholds,
Pleasing or painful; little or almighty.
I had beheld the immemorial works
Of endless beings; skirred extinguished worlds;
And, gazing on eternity, methought
I had borrowed more by a few drops of ages
From its immensity: but now I feel
My littleness again. Well said the Spirit,
That I was nothing!
Adah. Wherefore said he so?
Jehovah said not that.
Cain. No: he contents him 70
With making us the nothing which we are;
And after flattering dust with glimpses of
Eden and Immortality, resolves
It back to dust again — for what?
Adah. Thou know’st —
Even for our parents’ error.
Cain. What is that
To us? they sinned, then let them die!
Adah. Thou hast not spoken well, nor is that thought
Thy own, but of the Spirit who was with thee.
Would I could die for them, so they might live!
Cain. Why, so say I — provided that one victim 80
Might satiate the Insatiable of life,
And that our little rosy sleeper there
Might never taste of death nor human sorrow,
Nor hand it down to those who spring from him.
Adah. How know we that some such atonement one day
May not redeem our race?
Cain. By sacrificing
The harmless for the guilty? what atonement
Were there? why, we are innocent: what have we
Done, that we must be victims for a deed
Before our birth, or need have victims to 90
Atone for this mysterious, nameless sin —
If it be such a sin to seek for knowledge?
Adah. Alas! thou sinnest now, my Cain: thy words
Sound impious in mine ears.
Cain. Then leave me!
Adah. Never,
Though thy God left thee.
Cain. Say, what have we here?
Adah. Two altars, which our brother Abel made
During thine absence, whereupon to offer
A sacrifice to God on thy return.
Cain. And how knew he, that I would be so ready
With the burnt offerings, which he daily brings 100
With a meek brow, whose base humility
Shows more of fear than worship — as a bribe
To the Creator?
Adah. Surely, ‘tis well done.
Cain. One altar may suffice; I have no offering.
Adah. The fruits of the earth, the early, beautiful,
Blossom and bud — and bloom of flowers and fruits —
These are a goodly offering to the Lord,
Given with a gentle and a contrite spirit.
Cain. I have toiled, and tilled, and sweaten in the sun,
According to the curse: — must I do more? 110
For what should I be gentle? for a war
With all the elements ere they will yield
The bread we eat? For what must I be grateful?
For being dust, and grovelling in the dust,
Till I return to dust? If I am nothing —
For nothing shall I be an hypocrite,
And seem well-pleased with pain? For what should I
Be contrite? for my father’s sin, already
Expiate with what we all have undergone,
And to be more than expiated by 120
The ages prophesied, upon our seed.
Little deems our young blooming sleeper, there,
The germs of an eternal misery
To myriads is within him! better ‘twere
I snatched him in his sleep, and dashed him ‘gainst
The rocks, than let him live to — —
Adah. Oh, my God!
Touch not the child — my child! thy child! Oh, Cain!
Cain. Fear not! for all the stars, and all the power
Which sways them, I would not accost yon infant
With ruder greeting than a father’s kiss. 130
Adah. Then, why so awful in thy speech?
Cain. I said,
‘Twere better that he ceased to live, than give
Life to so much of sorrow as he must
Endure, and, harder still, bequeath; but since
That saying jars you, let us only say —
‘Twere better that he never had been born.
Adah. Oh, do not say so! Where were then the joys,
The mother’s joys of watching, nourishing,
And loving him? Soft! he awakes. Sweet Enoch!
[She goes to the child.
Oh, Cain! look on him; see how full of life, 140
Of strength, of bloom, of beauty, and of joy —
How like to me — how like to thee, when gentle —
For then we are all alike; is’t not so, Cain?
Mother, and sire, and son, our features are
Reflected in each other; as they are
In the clear waters, when they are gentle, and
When thou art gentle. Love us, then, my Cain!
And love thyself for our sakes, for we love thee.
Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,
And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, 150
To hail his father; while his little form
Flutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain!
The childless cherubs well might envy thee
The pleasures of a parent! Bless him, Cain!
As yet he hath no words to thank thee, but
His heart will, and thine own too.
Cain. Bless thee, boy!
If that a mortal blessing may avail thee,
To save thee from the Serpent’s curse!
Adah. It shall.
Surely a father’s blessing may avert
A reptile’s subtlety.
Cain. Of that I doubt; 160
But bless him ne’er the less.
Adah. Our brother comes.
Cain. Thy brother Abel.
Enter Abel.
Abel. Welcome, Cain! My brother,
The peace of God be on thee!
Cain. Abel, hail!
Abel. Our sister tells me that thou hast been wandering,
In high communion with a Spirit, far
Beyond our wonted range. Was he of those
We have seen and spoken with, like to our father?
Cain. No.
Abel. Why then commune with him? he may be
A foe to the Most High.
Cain. And friend to man.
Has the Most High been so — if so you term him? 170
Abel. Term him! your words are strange to-day, my brother.
My sist
er Adah, leave us for awhile —
We mean to sacrifice.
Adah. Farewell, my Cain;
But first embrace thy son. May his soft spirit,
And Abel’s pious ministry, recall thee
To peace and holiness![Exit Adah, with her child.
Abel. Where hast thou been?
Cain. I know not.
Abel. Nor what thou hast seen?
Cain. The dead —
The Immortal — the Unbounded — the Omnipotent —
The overpowering mysteries of space —
The innumerable worlds that were and are — 180
A whirlwind of such overwhelming things,
Suns, moons, and earths, upon their loud-voiced spheres
Singing in thunder round me, as have made me
Unfit for mortal converse: leave me, Abel.
Abel. Thine eyes are flashing with unnatural light —
Thy cheek is flushed with an unnatural hue —
Thy words are fraught with an unnatural sound —
What may this mean?
Cain. It means — I pray thee, leave me.
Abel. Not till we have prayed and sacrificed together.
Cain. Abel, I pray thee, sacrifice alone — 190
Jehovah loves thee well.
Abel. Both well, I hope.
Cain. But thee the better: I care not for that;
Thou art fitter for his worship than I am;
Revere him, then — but let it be alone —
At least, without me.
Abel. Brother, I should ill
Deserve the name of our great father’s son,
If, as my elder, I revered thee not,
And in the worship of our God, called not
On thee to join me, and precede me in
Our priesthood — ‘tis thy place.
Cain. But I have ne’er 200
Asserted it.
Abel. The more my grief; I pray thee
To do so now: thy soul seems labouring in
Some strong delusion; it will calm thee.
Cain. No;
Nothing can calm me more. Calm! say I? Never
Knew I what calm was in the soul, although
I have seen the elements stilled. My Abel, leave me!
Or let me leave thee to thy pious purpose.
Abel. Neither; we must perform our task together.
Spurn me not.
Cain. If it must be so — — well, then,
What shall I do?
Abel. Choose one of those two altars. 210
Cain. Choose for me: they to me are so much turf
And stone.
Abel. Choose thou!
Cain. I have chosen.
Abel.’Tis the highest,
And suits thee, as the elder. Now prepare
Thine offerings.
Cain. Where are thine?
Abel. Behold them here —
The firstlings of the flock, and fat thereof —
A shepherd’s humble offering.