Part 4

“Call, call to your mate, happy bird, and she shall call to you again; but, where is he who should call to me, in this my bridal hour? Erix, my love, my life, my soul’s sole hope!”

SECTION V.

The sound of merry horns, of laughter, and of shout, came leaping through the wood, and the fair maid started like a fawn, like a fawn tracked by the hunter, when it first scents its pursuer in the breeze; and hastening to the strand, she knit the robe of sables about her waist, and it fell down as before, concealing no excellence above the girdle. Fresh from the wave, she stood gazing, with hope and expectation her handmaids, who with nimble fingers adorned her, and covered her all over with tints from the blushing east. Her hair, long and damp, thick sown with pearly brine, showed gemmed; and parted lip, and flashing eye, the very tell-tales of passion, betrayed the beatings of her heart, her fears and her desire. When, in an after age, the poet wove this story into mythologic fable, he called her Venus, the Aphrodite, born of the foam of the sea; and the sculptor caught her as she stood, her feet like flocks of wool, the right advanced, the left raised at the heel, rushing, moving, white, and fair.

SECTION VI.

And now, far within the leafy vista, was seen approaching, descending toward the strand, a troop of maidens and young men. Crowned with chaplets of roses and the fruitful vine, they came on dancing, to shout and laughter, and the sound of merry horns; and he who led them was taller than the rest, herculean; and from his back hung a boar’s hide, and about his loins were girded the skins of foxes and of wolves, spoils of the chase. In his hand he held a bow, which he drew proudly at the sun; elated with the nearness of his supremest bliss. Child of the forest, greater than the sun, immortal, thou shall live when all of matter hath wholly passed away; draw then, thy bow, aspiring, if thou wilt; it is thy soul, conscious of its superiority, stirring within thee.

On, on; love gives fleetness to his feet. “Zella, Zella,” calling to his mate. And again the shout, the laughter, and the sound of merry horns; and again, “Zella, Zella,” calling to his mate.

But Zella called not to him again. Her heart was upon her tongue, and she could not speak; her strength had left her knees, and she stood transfixed; while “Zella, Zella,” sprang from every lip, echoed through the wood, and died afar off, amid the murmurs of the sea. Again, “Zella, Zella;” again the shout, the laughter, and the sound of merry horns; and Erix clasped the loved one to his breast.

“Zella!”

“Erix!”

“Now, may the ruler of the heavens and good earth so bless me, as I love thee, my soul’s choice! Closer, closer, my heart of hearts; thus twining, thus growing, no storm shall divide us; but, with equal step, we will move right onward through life, and beyond life, to gather new strength and a new glory, in a hereafter.”

SECTION VII.

The band of youths and fair maids danced around them, hand in hand, singing, “To the Mighty Giver of all good, praise. He sends the blossom and the fruit, praise. From Him come all our joys, praise. He made the day, and the night, with all her train of ever-burning fires, the fairest labor of His hand, praise. The sun is His servant, the moon His daughter, praise. He gave us the earth, with all its beauty of hill and valley, of water and of wood, praised be forever His holy name. Oh, happy, happy day! oh, happy, happy hour! Open, ye heavens! and let love from on high descend upon these two, brooding; that they may live, from generation to generation, renewed and renewing, to the end of time. Holy, holy, holy, is this compact instituted in the beginning. Now are ye of one flesh; hearts the same, wills the same, desires the same; of one body, of one mind. Praise Him, praise Him, praise the Mighty Giver of all good!”

Then hastening to the sea, they took up water, briny water, in shells, and poured it upon the lovers, and baptized them into a new life, and cast their chaplets upon them and covered them with flowers; still dancing, still singing: “The divided part has become old, put it off; the present is bright with every hope, enjoy it; the future shall be what you may make it, be not wanting; oh, happy, happy, happy pair! As ye are, so we would be; ever drinking draughts of pleasure through each revolving year.”

SECTION VIII.

And now came forth the aged of the tribe, slow descending from the wood, and embraced them and blessed them; “Be fruitful and multiply—swear.” And Erix and Zella stretched out their hands toward heaven and swore, by the light, and by the orbs of the air, and by the ocean, far-rounding, illimitable, infinite, and by the solid earth, and by Him who moved upon the face of the waters and begat this glory, to be forever one. “What you receive, I will receive; what you reject, I will reject; your breath is my breath, and even as we are now, so death shall find us; leaving all else to cleave unto each other.”

The dance, the shout, the sound of merry horns, pointed to the grot, and Erix and Zella led the way. He, with head erect and willing feet, proud of his victory; she, with downcast eyes and halting gait, irresolute, resolved, like a coy maid, half-refusing, like a wife, wholly trusting, while youth and maiden, paired, in a long line, came sweeping after. And now they sway, first to the right then to the left, with measured step, beating upon the glad earth the bridal-song.

“Receive, receive thy children, Paradise, garden new found, not lost to us forever.”

“Who are these that come, beautiful with joy?”

“Receive, receive thy children, Paradise, garden new found, not lost to us forever.”

“Who are these that knock, pressing to tread upon holy ground?”

“Thy children, father; thy children, mother; open wide the gates that they may enter in. Praised be thy name, oh Adam! praised be thy name, oh Eve! these are thy offspring, joined as ye were joined, by the hand of God; open wide the gates that they may enter in.”

The grot received them, echoing; and shout, and laughter, and the sound of many horns, held riot over a feast of fruit, and the chase, and water from the brook, till the day went out and night crept slowly in, and stars spotted the sky, and the white pigeon descended nestling, timidly, to its couch, and arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and turned round and round; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling to its mate—and she, called to him again.

BOOK SECOND.

SECTION I.

Ten circles have passed; ten circles of the earth about the sun; what are ten circles to life before the flood! The night is just yielding to the day, and in the farthest east streaks of gray light lie floating, dividing the ocean from the sky. How quiet the earth is; and seems to breathe, long and deep, in its huge slumber, not yet awakened. The murmur of the sea is infinite, ceaseless, and breaks, and returns, and breaks, in regular cadence upon the shore; ever speaking the same words—eternity and power. The sea and silent stars, which look down, twinkling, from heaven’s pavement, alone are watchful. How quiet the earth is! The owl sits moping upon her perch in some tall pine, and the wolf, whose cry, whetted by hunger, pierced the shades of night, gorged and reeking, has hastened to his lair. The dew, like rain, is upon the grass and all herbage, and hangs, globular, from every leaf. An incense rises, the incense of the morning, and fills the air; now known only to the wise and the poor, beloved of God. Hour most sweet; when day salutes the night, and night kisses day, to part and meet again.

SECTION II.

At such an hour, Erix and Zella shook sleep from their eyelids and came forth, ready for the chase. Her hair no longer floated unbound, but, as became the matron, was twisted into a knot and confined with strings of coral, fashioned by the hand whose soft caress she returned with joys unspeakable. Upon her drooping shoulders, white and bare, rests a quiver well filled; and a belt of tiny sea-shells interwoven with fibres of the lichen, crosses transversely her breast, now full and rounded to completion. Sandals are upon her feet, and a tunic of shaggy hide covers her from the waist to the knee; all else, the morning air, invigorating, embraces. Thus seen, the poet of an after age, changed his story, and called her Dian, ruler of the night; and sang her praises in verse set to the babbling of brooks, the music of the wood, and sylvan sports. Erix, large, erect, perfect in manly beauty, with limbs well knit, proportional, combining activity and strength, was less incumbered than his mate, and carried, as his sole weapon, an ashen spear, charred and hardened at the point by fire. His was the front of Jove, the pagan, not yet won from mortality by intellect, or raised above mere matter, to express the soul’s labors and ambitions. And first, low bending, rose the morning prayer.

SECTION III.

“Hail Father, Creator; Thou who gavest into our hands the earth, with its fullness; all hail! Thy children, fashioned after thine own excellence, we stand, rejoicing. Greater than the earth are we; greater than the sea, that vast stream which compasses all land, forever proclaiming thy praises; greater than the orbs of day and night; greater than the elements, thy ministers; for thou didst speak unto our fathers, and didst promise to raise the seed of Adam higher than the angels. The thunder serves us, obedient to thy will; and the quick lightning; and the clouds, pregnant with rain. In the air we find thy mercies, and every tree, and every flower speaks of thee. Accept, accept our great gratitude; and keep us, even as thou keepest all else.”

Again low bending, and Erix and Zella, light of foot, passed onward to the chase.

SECTION IV.

They skirt the wood, and narrowly inspect the dewy grass, to find new foot-prints of beast or heavy bird, seeking, with returning light, their accustomed food. No fairy ring, no shape of naiad or of dryad, no gnome, no sprite, met their pure vision, to turn them from their way; for not yet had the mind of man built up a superstition unto itself, and peopled the clefts of the earth, the water, and the air, giving to nothingness forms innumerable. Truth was too near and palpable, to be lost in imagination; to be moulded and cast anew, so changed as not to know itself; and poetry, the juggler and soul’s cheat, lay hid in matter, where God placed it, to be drawn thence for other purposes than those of error. It was not until man forgot his origin, that he sought out a new creator, even Beauty, the prime element in all God’s works, and so wrought with it, as to give strange life to all that is, and is not.

The wily hunters, skilled in their life’s trade, turn on every side, observe the lower boughs, fresh cropped, imitate the call of birds, the cry of deer, peer through the thick underwood which stood here and there in clumps, and plunged into the forest upon a trail which promised success.

SECTION V.

The sylva before the flood! Huge, aspiring, with arms reaching outward many a rood, each monarch stood; the traveler and man of science, he whose name now fills the world, never found, in his many rounds in search of knowledge, even in southern climes, such offspring of earth, air, water, and the sun; and Australia, with its wondrous herbage, sometimes cloud-capped, stand dwarfed and small to the life with which God, in his first joy, clothed his work. The poet, too, and writer of the Comedies, whose soul was bitter hell, saw not in heaven, nor beneath, nor in the orb between, a wood so vast, so majestic, and so beautiful. Trees, the growth of many a revolving year, lay mouldering; not prostrated by the tornado, nor driven from their seat by floods of water and of rock, which leave their track seamed, as one might plough a furrow in the field, but fallen through age, and draped with moss of the liveliest green, softer to the touch than a woman’s lip. The vine crept from limb to limb, and threw out its tendrils joyously; now hanging in mid air, and now, a parasite, twisting about the trunk of some gnarled oak, adding to strength its sister loveliness; while flowers, broad and tall, with petals like masts, and of a hue more delicate than that which opens to the garish sun, spotted the ground as stars spot the sky. The air pressed heavy, damp, laden with aromatic odors, as to one standing beneath the swelling arches of some old temple, raised in the middle-age by hands whose labors Michelett has transferred to historic prose, more lasting than the stone which was to them a religion and a worship. No voice broke the general stillness, save the sound of distant water, floating upon the breathings of the wood, just reaching the ear, now heard and now lost, as a maid calling to her lover. Amid such excellence, the excellence of a primeval age, before man and the seasons had marred earth’s face, Erix and Zella hunted.

SECTION VI.

The two moved on, like gods, hastening to outrun the growing light, and to make their sport before high noon should steal its freshness from their path. So, long after, but less large, less strong, less fleet, and less beautiful, did the twin creations of pure intellect, Apollo and his mate, pursue the boar in Tempe; while the herdsman who sat afar off, upon some high rock, watching his wealth, veiled his face in wonder and in fear.

Thus were three full leagues passed over, through the windings of the wood; he, crushing the flowers beneath his feet, she, just bending their drooping heads, when Erix descried a noble stag standing upon the bank of a sweet pool, of narrow round, which, embosomed in the forest, slept peaceful, and mirrored in its face the moving foliage and the blue sky above. With head depressed, the deer had caught his own image in the water, and stood threatening with mimic war his shadowy antagonist, returning thrust for thrust. Poor beast! Now strain the nerve and put forth thy utmost speed, for no shadows threaten at thy back, but death, with feet swifter than the wind. With one loud shout the forest rang, and then, clear as the notes of bugle or of flute, played to the listening morn, burst forth the hunter’s song; for not yet had the gin and pit, and stealth cowardly creeping upon its prey, debased the chase, and dishonored with cheat and trick man’s highest sport; but room was given and a chance for life, to the course before the flood.

SECTION VII.

See, the east is glowing with golden-tinted light, and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

See, the incense rises from every dewy leaf; and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

The air floats, balmy, o’er hill, and wood, and lake; and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

The spear stands, impatient, by the wall; the bow, unstrung, lies mourning at the door; while the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

Hark! The horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

Awake, then, awake; for the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight; and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

Now press the foot, and watchful be the eye, for the spear is in the hand, and the arrow on the string, and the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

Away, and away, in a race against the sun; while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

Of the strong, we are the strongest, and of the fleet, we are the fleetest; while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

The game flies, scudding athwart the forest path, while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

The wolf howls defiance, and hastens to his lair; the deer, suspicious, scents the coming storm; the lion’s deep growl comes rolling up the glen, while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.

Then press the foot, and watchful be the eye; for the spear is in the hand, and the arrow on the string; and the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight; and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.

SECTION VIII.

With one bound the stag cleared the narrow pool, and with head erect, his branching antlers resting upon his back, fled onward; swifter than the wind that, in winter’s dreary reign, under the stars of cold December, drives fierce and cutting through the gorge which, in the farthest north, divides the granite hills sheer to their base, while the song poured thickening upon his rear—sounds of victory and pursuit. Thus, with nostrils wide distended and smoking flanks, he led his foes through many a double and straight reach, now holding to the cover of the wood, and with sure eye, passing beneath gnarled oaks, and through hanging vines, and boughs interlocked blacker than night, and now, seeking the open plain, where the sea rolled inward to find its limit. There the voice of his pursuers no longer urged him on, or was lost in that greater voice to which he had fled as to a refuge; and he rested, trembling, upon the rim of the ocean, his fetlocks laved by its flaky foam, and looking out upon it, sobbing, in search of a safety which the water as the land denied. So, in the race of life, the unfortunate, hunted by its ills, with hope crushed out, stand upon its utmost verge, gazing, and find no joy beyond, till death strikes them through, to perish and be forgotten.

Short time was given, for Erix and Zella, side by side, keeping ever, like fate, to their fixed end, soon issued from the wood, and with voice and gesture urged their prey to a new flight. The game, now driven to his last shift, stilled his coward heart, turned and stood at bay; but Zella, unwilling thus to close the morning’s sport, drew an arrow to its head, and sent the weapon whirring, to glance and fall far out at sea. Enraged with such acts, the stag sprang forward, striking on either side; and as Erix, yielding, strove to take him by the horns, leaped as far as Apollo’s horses leaped, in that great story told by the Greek whose song civilized the world. Like a bolt, winged, he sped through the whistling air, when Zella, quick turning, with a shaft more fleet, smote him, mid-way, quite through his bursting heart. Upon a scented bank, deep within the wood, mossy, curling over the stream which there, trickling, smooth, and quiet, hastened to kiss the sea, the poor beast fell, and groaned his life away; and the warm sun danced and flickered, as if in very joy of the beauty it had made, through the tall trees, and around the climbing vines, and across the green leaves, and upon the silent water, mocking at death, and laughing at the spoil which changes but to create again.

SECTION IX.

Erix took Zella’s hand in his and drew her toward him, nothing loth, till their lips met; then praised her skill: then pressed again her lips—then praised—then pressed—while Zella returned the pressure with many a toy beside. Thus rejoicing in a mutual love, they sought, with slow step and halting, the mossy bank, where lay in the sunlight, as if asleep, the game of late so fleet, and sat them down to rest, and drink new draughts of pleasure, and count over the endless good with which Heaven had blessed the earth.

“List, dearest, list! how softly upon the ear, in sweetest cadence, falls the song of the deep salt sea!” said Erix.

“And the air which hears it, glad to be thus freighted, floats inward, murmuring, to tell it to the hills,” said Zella.

“And the hills repeat it, whispering.”

“And the trees catch it; and through the live-long day, and through the night, over the whole broad land, play with it, and toss it from bough to bough, till it has become a language of its own,” said Zella.

“It is the voice of this earth.”

“It is the voice of its great joy.”

“And has praised from the beginning, and will praise unto the end, the hand which made it,” said Erix.

“The sunlight hears it, and moves merrily to the measure upon every quivering leaf, now leaping upward to gild the topmost twig, and now chasing shadows upon the ground beneath.”

“See, where it streams through the openings of the wood, and rests upon this water, smiling! Yes, the sunlight hears it, and grows brighter with each draught of a music so divine.”

“The flowers open to it; and there, upon that slope, bending gently toward our feet, proud of their colors penciled by the light, stand thick—”

“And wonder, and drink deep of the strains which extol their beauty and their glory, as they extol the beauty and the glory of all else,” said Erix. “Oh the song of the sea, of the deep, salt sea, with the air floating inward, and the hills beyond, and the trees, and the sunlight, and the flowers thick set upon the slope, gently bending downward toward our feet, and this mossy bank, and the pearly brook between—upon such a morn as this, in such a place as this, Adam found his Eve.”

“And upon such a morn as this, in such a place as this, Eve gave to Adam a love new-created, unknown to the courts trod by angels’ feet, and which has raised her daughters above cherub and seraph, to do and to suffer for their soul’s choice,” said Zella.

“Zella!”

“Erix!”

Now let the voice of the earth’s joy, the sun, and herbage speaking, the mossy bank, the flowery slope, and pearly brook between, bold revel, for a passion, blushing like the morn, pure as the marble which grew beneath the hands of Praxitiles, without stain or blemish, strong as the strongest, weak as the weakest, even love, is here present, and rules supreme.

SECTION X.

Erix and Zella, he bearing upon his broad shoulders a burden light—the noble game they had hunted to its death—returned homeward along the sounding beach, nor made deep foot-prints in the yielding sand. Unwearied, lithe, in sheer exuberance of life, they chased the retiring waves, then turning, fled to be themselves pursued; till young Ocean, pleased, shook his giant limbs, and like a lion by a child subdued, rolled at their feet, and roared, and beat, in his great heart, the measure to this hymn, which they, alternating, sang.

“Almighty Lord, Maker of the Earth, in loveliness beyond compare hast thou fashioned it.”

“Almighty Lord, the maker of our joys, in goodness beyond compare hast thou fashioned them.”

“Thou didst build the hills, and crown them with thy glory; and they praise forever thy holy name.”

“Thou didst fix the foundations, and form the running streams; and they praise forever thy holy name.”

“Thou didst plant the forests, and clothe them with thy beauty; and they praise forever thy holy name.”

“The plain is thine, with all its life, and, with voices infinite, praises forever thy holy name.”

“The air is thine, and within its bosom bears bounties innumerable, to praise forever thy holy name.”

“Praise in the pattering rain.”

“Praise in the gentle dew.”

“Perfume and color.”

“Form and motion.”

“All praise forever thy holy name.”

“Thine is the sea, and thou lov’st it.”

“And the sea loves thee, its Maker, in return.”

“The breezy morn.”

“The ruddy eve.”

“The strength of high noon.”

“The quietude of night.”

“All speak of thee, Almighty Lord, the furnisher of our joys.”

“And praise forever thy holy name.”

SECTION XI.