The serpent's voice less subtile than her kiss, Ye cannot die, Shall pass away, While ye shall fill with shrieks the upper sky For perishable clay, Whose memory in your immortality . Shall long outlast the sun which gave them day. Think how your essence differeth from theirs In all but suffering! Why partake The agony to which they must be heirs Born to be plough'd with years, and sown with cares, I hear the voice which says that all must die, An ocean is prepared, The deep shall rise to meet heaven's overflow. Few shall be spared, It seems; and, of that few, the race of Cain And the eternal Lord In vain would be implored For the remission of one hour of wo, Let us resign even what we bave adored, And meet the wave, as we would meet the sword, If not unmoved, yet undismay'd, And, when the fatal waters are allay'd, And yours to live forever: But which is best, a dead eternity, 1 would not keep this life of mine in clay Nor see ye lose a portion of his grace, Find still. And as your pinions bear ye back to heaven, Think that my love still mounts with thee on high, Samiasa! And if I look up with a tearless eye, 'Tis that an angel's bride disdains to weep- Anah. And must I lose thee too, Oh, my heart! my heart! Thy prophecies were true, And yet thou wert so happy too! The blow, though not unlook'd for, falls as new; But yet depart! Ah, why? Yet let me not retain thee-fly! My pangs can be but brief; but thine would be Too much already hast thou deign'd Our doom is sorrow: not to us alone, Into some unknown world: And thou, Azaziel! No Thou shalt not suffer wo For me. Away! nor weep! Thou canst not weep; but yet Mayst suffer more, not weeping: then forget Her, whom the surges of the all-strangling Deep Can bring no pang like this. Fly! Fly! Being gone, 'twill be less difficult to die. Japh. Oh say not so! Father! and thou, archangel, thou! Surely celestial Mercy lurks below That pure severe serenity of brow: Let them not meet this sea without a shore, Noah. Peace, child of passion, peace! Live as he wills it-die, when he ordains, To alter his intent For a mere mortal sorrow. Be a man! And bear what Adam's race must bear, and can. Floating upon the azure desert, and The depth beneath us hides our own dear land, Who, who, our tears, our shrieks, shall then command? Yet while 'tis time! Renew not Adam's fall: Mankind were then but twain, But they are numerous now as are the waves And the tremendous rain, Whose drops shall be less thick than would their graves, Were graves permitted to the seed of Cain. [crime! Noah. Silence, vain boy! each word of thine's a Angel! forgive this stripling's fond despair. Raph. Seraphs! these mortals speak in passion: Ye! Who are, or should be, passionless and pure, Then from this hour, Shorn as ye are of all celestial power, And aliens from your God, Farewell! Japh. Alas! where shall they dwell? Hark, bark! Deep sounds, and deeper still, Are howling from the mountain's bosom: Yet dared to soar, Even when the waters waxed too fierce to brave. Soon it shall be their only shore, He riseth, but his better light is gone; And a black circle, bound His glaring disk around, Proclaims earth's last of summer days hath shone! Save where their brazen-coloured edges streak The distant thunder's harbinger, appears! It cometh! hence, away, Japh. Oh, father, stay! Leave not my Anah to the swallowing tides! Noah. Must we not leave all life to such? Begone! How dar'st thou look on that prophetic sky, |