Part 2

_Lucifer._ Well, and if it be! I CHOSE this ruin, I elected it Of my will, not of service. What I do, I do volitient, not obedient, And overtop thy crown with my despair My sorrow crowns me. Get thee back to heaven, And leave me to the earth, which is mine own In virtue of her ruin, as I hers In virtue of my revolt! Turn thou from both That bright, impassive, passive angelhood, And spare to read us backward any more Of the spent hallelujahs!

_Gabriel._ Spirit of scorn, I might say, of unreason! I might say, That who despairs, acts; that who acts, connives With God's relations set in time and space; That who elects, assumes a something good Which God made possible; that who lives, obeys The law of a Life-maker ...

_Lucifer._ Let it pass! No more, thou Gabriel! What if I stand up And strike my brow against the crystalline Roofing the creatures,--shall I say, for that, My stature is too high for me to stand,-- Henceforward I must sit? Sit _thou_!

_Gabriel._ I kneel.

_Lucifer._ A heavenly answer. Get thee to thy heaven, And leave my earth to me!

_Gabriel._ Through heaven and earth God's will moves freely, and I follow it, As colour follows light. He overflows The firmamental walls with deity, Therefore with love; his lightnings go abroad, His pity may do so, his angels must, Whene'er he gives them charges.

_Lucifer._ Verily, I and my demons, who are spirits of scorn, Might hold this charge of standing with a sword 'Twixt man and his inheritance, as well As the benignest angel of you all.

_Gabriel._ Thou speakest in the shadow of thy change. If thou hadst gazed upon the face of God This morning for a moment, thou hadst known That only pity fitly can chastise: Hate but avenges.

_Lucifer._ As it is, I know Something of pity. When I reeled in heaven, And my sword grew too heavy for my grasp, Stabbing through matter, which it could not pierce So much as the first shell of,--toward the throne; When I fell back, down,--staring up as I fell,-- The lightnings holding open my scathed lids, And that thought of the infinite of God, Hurled after to precipitate descent; When countless angel faces still and stern Pressed out upon me from the level heavens Adown the abysmal spaces, and I fell Trampled down by your stillness, and struck blind By the sight within your eyes,--'twas then I knew How ye could pity, my kind angelhood!

_Gabriel._ Alas, discrowned one, by the truth in me Which God keeps in me, I would give away All--save that truth and his love keeping it,-- To lead thee home again into the light And hear thy voice chant with the morning stars, When their rays tremble round them with much song Sung in more gladness!

_Lucifer._ Sing, my Morning Star! Last beautiful, last heavenly, that I loved! If I could drench thy golden locks with tears, What were it to this angel?

_Gabriel._ What love is. And now I have named God.

_Lucifer._ Yet, Gabriel, By the lie in me which I keep myself, Thou'rt a false swearer. Were it otherwise, What dost thou here, vouchsafing tender thoughts To that earth-angel or earth-demon--which, Thou and I have not solved the problem yet Enough to argue,--that fallen Adam there,-- That red-clay and a breath,--who must, forsooth, Live in a new apocalypse of sense, With beauty and music waving in his trees And running in his rivers, to make glad His soul made perfect?--is it not for hope, A hope within thee deeper than thy truth, Of finally conducting him and his To fill the vacant thrones of me and mine, Which affront heaven with their vacuity?

_Gabriel._ Angel, there are no vacant thrones in heaven To suit thy empty words. Glory and life Fulfil their own depletions; and if God Sighed you far from him, his next breath drew in A compensative splendour up the vast, Flushing the starry arteries.

_Lucifer._ What a change! So, let the vacant thrones and gardens too Fill as may please you!--and be pitiful, As ye translate that word, to the dethroned And exiled, man or angel. The fact stands, That I, the rebel, the cast out and down, Am here and will not go; while there, along The light to which ye flash the desert out, Flies your adopted Adam, your red-clay In two kinds, both being flawed. Why, what is this? Whose work is this? Whose hand was in the work? Against whose hand? In this last strife, methinks, I am not a fallen angel!

_Gabriel._ Dost thou know Aught of those exiles?

_Lucifer._ Ay: I know they have fled Silent all day along the wilderness: I know they wear, for burden on their backs, The thought of a shut gate of Paradise, And faces of the marshalled cherubim Shining against, not for them; and I know They dare not look in one another's face,-- As if each were a cherub!

_Gabriel._ Dost thou know Aught of their future?

_Lucifer._ Only as much as this: That evil will increase and multiply Without a benediction.

_Gabriel._ Nothing more?

_Lucifer._ Why so the angels taunt! What should be more?

_Gabriel._ God is more.

_Lucifer._ Proving what?

_Gabriel._ That he is God, And capable of saving. Lucifer, I charge thee by the solitude he kept Ere he created,--leave the earth to God!

_Lucifer._ My foot is on the earth, firm as my sin.

_Gabriel._ I charge thee by the memory of heaven Ere any sin was done,--leave earth to God!

_Lucifer._ My sin is on the earth, to reign thereon.

_Gabriel._ I charge thee by the choral song we sang, When up against the white shore of our feet The depths of the creation swelled and brake,-- And the new worlds, the beaded foam and flower Of all that coil, roared outward into space On thunder-edges,--leave the earth to God!

_Lucifer._ My woe is on the earth, to curse thereby.

_Gabriel._ I charge thee by that mournful Morning Star Which trembles ...

_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 spacious 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: God 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 God-breath spake abroad, _Let us make man like to God!_ 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 impassive eyes turned shoreward 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 pass, 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 passing 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 God'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 God, On either side and overhead the gate, Show like a glittering and sustainèd 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 pass 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 God 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: God 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 assume To mend the justice of the perfect God, By piling up a curse upon his curse, Against thee--thee?

_Eve._ For so, perchance, thy God, 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 God, 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. God! 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 benumbèd 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 God! 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?

_Adam._ Because with _her_, I stand Upright, as far as can be in this fall, And look away from heaven which doth accuse, And look away from earth which doth convict, Into her face, and crown my discrowned brow Out of her love, and put the thought of her Around me, for an Eden full of birds, And lift her body up--thus--to my heart, And with my lips upon her lips,--thus, thus,-- Do quicken and sublimate my mortal breath Which cannot climb against the grave's steep sides But overtops this grief.

_Eve._ I am renewed. My eyes grow with the light which is in thine; The silence of my heart is full of sound. Hold me up--so! Because I comprehend This human love, I shall not be afraid Of any human death; and yet because I know this strength of love, I seem to know Death's strength by that same sign. Kiss on my lips, To shut the door close on my rising soul,-- Lest it pass outwards in astonishment And leave thee lonely!

_Adam._ Yet thou liest, Eve, Bent heavily on thyself across mine arm, Thy face flat to the sky.

_Eve._ Ay, and the tears Running, as it might seem, my life from me, They run so fast and warm. Let me lie so, And weep so, as if in a dream or prayer, Unfastening, clasp by clasp, the hard tight thought Which clipped my heart and showed me evermore Loathed of thy justice as I loathe the snake, And as the pure ones loathe our sin. To-day, All day, beloved, as we fled across This desolating radiance cast by swords Not suns,--my lips prayed soundless to myself, Striking against each other--"O Lord God!" ('Twas so I prayed) "I ask Thee by my sin, "And by thy curse, and by thy blameless heavens, "Make dreadful haste to hide me from thy face "And from the face of my beloved here "For whom I am no helpmeet, quick away "Into the new dark mystery of death! "I will lie still there, I will make no plaint, "I will not sigh, nor sob, nor speak a word, "Nor struggle to come back beneath the sun "Where peradventure I might sin anew "Against thy mercy and his pleasure. Death, "O death, whatever it be, is good enough "For such as I am: while for Adam here, "No voice shall say again, in heaven or earth, "_It is not good for him to be alone_."

_Adam._ And was it good for such a prayer to pass, My unkind Eve, betwixt our mutual lives? If I am exiled, must I be bereaved?

_Eve._ 'Twas an ill prayer: it shall be prayed no more; And God did use it like a foolishness, Giving no answer. Now my heart has grown Too high and strong for such a foolish prayer, Love makes it strong and since I was the first In the transgression, with a steady foot I will be first to tread from this sword-glare Into the outer darkness of the waste,-- And thus I do it.

_Adam._ Thus I follow thee, As erewhile in the sin.--What sounds! what sounds! I feel a music which comes straight from heaven, As tender as a watering dew.

_Eve._ I think That angels--not those guarding Paradise,-- But the love-angels, who came erst to us, And when we said 'GOD,' fainted unawares Back from our mortal presence unto God, (As if he drew them inward in a breath) His name being heard of them,--I think that they With sliding voices lean from heavenly towers, Invisible but gracious. Hark--how soft!

CHORUS OF INVISIBLE ANGELS.

_Faint and tender._

Mortal man and woman, Go upon your travel! Heaven assist the human Smoothly to unravel All that web of pain Wherein ye are holden. Do ye know our voices Chanting down the Golden? Do ye guess our choice is, Being unbeholden, To be hearkened by you yet again?

This pure door of opal God hath shut between us,-- Us, his shining people, You, who once have seen us And are blinded new! Yet, across the doorway, Past the silence reaching, Farewells evermore may, Blessing in the teaching, Glide from us to you.

_First Semichorus._ Think how erst your Eden, Day on day succeeding, With our presence glowed. We came as if the Heavens were bowed To a milder music rare. Ye saw us in our solemn treading, Treading down the steps of cloud, While our wings, outspreading Double calms of whiteness, Dropped superfluous brightness Down from stair to stair.

_Second Semichorus._ Or oft, abrupt though tender, While ye gazed on space, We flashed our angel-splendour In either human face. With mystic lilies in our hands, From the atmospheric bands Breaking with a sudden grace, We took you unaware! While our feet struck glories Outward, smooth and fair, Which we stood on floorwise, Platformed in mid-air.

_First Semichorus._ Or oft, when Heaven-descended, Stood we in our wondering sight In a mute apocalypse With dumb vibrations on our lips From hosannas ended, And grand half-vanishings Of the empyreal things Within our eyes belated, Till the heavenly Infinite Falling off from the Created, Left our inward contemplation Opened into ministration.