PART I.
A small dell, open on one side to the surrounding country. An altar-mound of green turf. Adam and Eve standing beside it, a lamb lying at their feet.
EVE.
Adam, the hour is nigh!
And this green mound,
Smooth in its surface as the o’erhanging sky,
And starred around
With flowers of all bright hues,
(Bright though not born in Paradise)
Seems meet for any sacrifice
Our God, and earth’s, may choose!
ADAM.
Oh! woman, proud to know, yet little knowing;
Blind to the ills from thy first error flowing;
Doting on whatsoe’er
Is in its aspect fair,
And even now, amidst thy spirit’s grieving,
Visions of beauty weaving;
Dismiss that care;
With me, thy wretched lord of dust, prepare
Again to view that FORM,
(Not mild as when He woke me with his breath,
Again to hear that VOICE,
(Oh! not to rejoice,)
A Voice as of the winds and waves in storm,
Speaking alone of Death!
The doom He comes to show,
The apprehended woe,
We faint because we know not, and yet fear to know.
EVE.
Adam, look not so pale;
I know that He is strong, and we, I feel are weak,
Reeds that the elements of earth may break,
And he hath heavenly ones but not to wreak
His vengeance on the fallen and the frail.
Adam, look not so pale!
This quiet, sunny dell,
Wherein, save we ourselves, but pure things dwell,
Gay glittering insects, flowers with beauty bowed,
And trees that shelter them a stately crowd,
And yonder brook flowing so bright and fleet,
And this our offering Lamb that nestles at our feet,
May all thy fears dispel:
Not for a work of wrath not for despair,
He bade us wait him in a spot so fair.
ADAM.
Thy language hath no echo. From the earth,
And from the clouds, yea, from mine own wrung soul,
And the bright watchers that around us roll,
There breaks no answering gleam, there comes not forth
One oracle of trust
To the poor child of dust!
I ask them of my doom yet unrevealed;
I bid them tell me what is death? and whence/
But the sweet stars are mute, the clouds are sealed,
Silent and happy in their innocence.
Eve, hear’st thou aught?
EVE.
I hear the leaves stirred by the passing breeze,
As to a sound of showers;
I hear the brook make answer to the trees,
And the bee greet the flowers.
Murmurs of happy breath,
That whisper nought of death!
ADAM.
Nor aught discern’st thou?
EVE.
I see the firmament high, and stretched abroad
As if in likeness of the power of God!
I see the mountains rearing each tall brow,
Blue and far distant at their feet a sea!
Midway, wide forests wrapt in gorgeous gloom,
Nearer, green plains smiling in sunny bloom,
And here, this dell and thee.
ADAM.
Oh will not HE be seen!
EVE.
(wildly)-I see-She prostrates herself on the earth, Adam does the same.
PART II.
The same dell; the lamb lying on the altar-mound, dead and bleeding. Eve weeping over it.
ADAM.
AND this is death! And now I look upon
What I must one day feel! The Lamb hath paid
Its innocent life for mine; but some day’s sun
Will see me like it, in cold stillness laid.
I know that I am strong that guilt and fear
Have not worn out my majesty of soul;
King am I to the world’s extremest sphere;
Sire shall I be of sons beyond control,
Save of the Mightiest! Wood and plain are mine,
And the plumed birds that cleave the golden air;
But I must die filled with breath divine
Like the poor beast that poured its life-blood there!
Myriads will tread the earth I tread alone,
Fruitful, and fair, and glorious, and free,
They too will die they too by sin o’erthrown,
Will breathe the curse of dying men on me!
EVE.
But will all life thus close?
Must blood flow from each breast,
Mingled with groans, and sobs, and bitter throes,
Before it lies at rest?
Shall I o’er thee
As o’er this Lamb, weep for thy form defaced?
Wilt thou o’er me?
The flowers that Eden graced
Changed in their aspect and similitude;
Ev’n there the rose grew pale,
Its fair leaves fell, or floated on the gale,
And the far-scented violet drooped subdued!
The lily’s silver bell
Became a silent cell,
Wherein no wild bee would its music pour;
And many another flower,
At night, or ‘neath a shower,
Shut its bright eye, and opened it no more!
Oh was not this too death?
A yielding up of life and breath
That nothing could restore?
As their’s dropped from its stem
May not our being close?
May we not die like them,
In beauty? in repose?
ADAM.
‘Twould be death still; the ending of all life,
Mournful or glad;
Less painful unaccompanied by strife,
But not less sad;
Death, though disguised as sleep, yet bears from sight
All thought, all love, and love’s sweet image light;
It is a bright path to a darksome land;
A violent deed done by a gentle hand;
‘Tis death! a night
Without a promised morrow!
Unblest unbright
Lacking ev’n hope, the single star of sorrow!
EVE.
Adam, the sun hath set,
And half our task is unaccomplished yet.
Adam kindles a fire on the altar-mound, on which the lamb is gradually consumed.
ADAM.
‘Tis ended! and afar, beyond our gaze,
Floats off the smoke of our FIRST SACRIFICE,
The first of thousands that in after days
Will bleed and burn,
Telling the tale of our lost Paradise!
Bidding earth learn
By a perpetual rite, and penal sign,
The curse of sin, the power of wrath Divine;
And multitudes discern,
A MEANING and a MYSTERY therein,
Yet deeper and from that, strong comfort win!
(Mary Jane Jewsbury)
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