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The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;

These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime
The image of Eternity the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime

The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers they to me.
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror 'twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane

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as I do here.

II. INCANTATION.

(From Manfred.)

When the moon is on the wave,
And the glow-worm in the grass,
And the meteor on the grave,
And the wisp on the morass;
When the falling stars are shooting,
And the answer'd owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still
In the shadow of the hill,
Shall my soul be upon thine,

With a power and with a sign,

Though thy slumber may be deep,

Yet thy spirit shall not sleep;

There are shades which will not vanish,
There are thoughts thou canst not banish;
By a power to thee unknown,

Thou canst never be alone;

Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
Thou art gather'd in a cloud;
And for ever shalt thou dwell
In the spirit of this spell.

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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 mourn'd

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 seem'd
Fitting to shadow slumber.

Cain.

And longest; but no matter

Ay, the last

lead me to him.

[They go up to the child.

How lovely he appears! his little cheeks,
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

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Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and smile!
Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering
And innocent! thou hast not pluck'd 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
Of what? Of Paradise!

Ay! 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.

Adah.

Where?

Here, or

Where'er thou wilt: where'er thou art, I feel not
The want of this so much regretted Eden.
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 debts 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

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.
Adah.

So soon?

'Tis scarcely

Two hours since ye departed: two long hours
To me, but only hours upon the sun.

Cain. And yet I have approach'd that sun, and seen Worlds which he once shone on, and never more

Shall light; and worlds he never lit: methought
Years had roll'd o'er my absence.

Adah.

Hardly hours.

Cain. The mind, then, hath capacity of time, And measures it by that which it beholds, Pleasing or painful; little or almighty.

I had beheld the immemorial works

Of endless beings; skirr'd extinguish'd worlds;
And, gazing on eternity, methought

I had borrow'd 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.

Jehovah said not that.

Cain.

Wherefore said he so?

No: He contents Him

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.

Even for our parents' error.

Cain.

Thou know'st

What is that

To us? they sinn'd, 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

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
Atone for this mysterious, nameless sin
If it be such a sin to seek for knowledge?

Adah. Alas! thou sinnest now, my Čain: thy words Sound impious in mine ears.

Cain.
Adah.

Though thy God left thee.

Cain.

Then leave me!

Never,

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

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 toil'd, and till'd, and sweaten in the sun, According to the curse: must I do more?

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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

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

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