Pierce the faint stars' concentric rings,-
The burden of his glory flung

In broken lights upon our wings.

[The chant dies away confusedly, and LUCIFER enters.

Luc. Now may all fruits be pleasant to thy lips, Beautiful Eve! The times have somewhat changed Since thou and I had talk beneath a tree,

Albeit ye are not gods yet.

Eve.

My right hand strongly.
And we have love to lose.

Adam! hold

It is Lucifer

I' the name of God,

Adam.
Go apart from us, O thou Lucifer!
And leave us to the desert thou hast made
Out of thy treason. Bring no serpent-slime
Athwart this path kept holy to our tears,
Or we may curse thee with their bitterness.

Luc. Curse freely! curses thicken. Why, this Eve
Who thought me once part worthy of her ear,
And somewhat wiser than the other beasts,-
Drawing together her large globes of eyes,
The light of which is throbbing in and out
Their stedfast continuity of gaze,-

Knots her fair eyebrows in so hard a knot,

And, down from her white heights of womanhood,
Looks on me so amazed,—I scarce should fear
To wager such an apple as she plucked,
Against one riper from the tree of life,

That she could curse too-as a woman may---
Smooth in the vowels.

Eve.

So-speak wickedly!
I like it best so. Let thy words be wounds,-
For, so, I shall not fear thy power to hurt:
Trench on the forms of good by open ill-
For, so, I shall wax strong and grand with scorn,
Scorning myself for ever trusting thee

As far as thinking, ere a snake ate dust,

He could speak wisdom.

Luc.

Our new gods, methinks,

Deal more in thunders than in courtesies:
And, sooth, mine own Olympus, which anon
I shall build up to loud-voiced imagery,

[Aside.

From all the wandering visions of the world,-
May show worse railing than our lady Eve
Pours o'er the rounding of her argent arm.
But why should this be? Adam pardoned Eve.
Adam. Adam loved Eve. Jehovah pardon both!
Eve. Adam forgave Eve-because loving Eve.
Luc. So, well. Yet Adam was undone of Eve,
As both were by the snake. Therefore forgive,
In like wise, fellow-temptress, the poor snake--
Who stung there, not so poorly!

Eve.

Hold thy wrath,

Beloved Adam! let me answer him;

For this time he speaks truth, which we should hear
And asks for mercy, which I most should grant,
In like wise, as he tells us-in like wise!
And therefore I thee pardon, Lucifer,
As freely as the streams of Eden flowed,
When we were happy by them. So, depart;
Leave us to walk the remnant of our time
Out mildly in the desert. Do not seek
To harm us any more or scoff at us,
Or ere the dust be laid upon our face
To find there the communion of the dust
And issue of the curse. -Go.

Adam.

At once, go.

Luc. Forgive! and go! Ye images of clay, Shrunk somewhat in the mould,-what jest is this? What words are these to use? By what thought Conceive ye of me? Yesterday—a snake!

To-day-what?

Adam.

Eve.

A strong spirit.

A sad spirit.

Thou! The prodigy

Adam. Perhaps a fallen angel.-Who shall say?
Luc. Who told thee, Adam?

Adam.

Of thy vast brows and melancholy eyes,

Which comprehend the heights of some great fall.

I think that thou hast one day worn a crown

Under the eyes of God.

Luc.

And why of God?

Adam. It were no crown else. Verily, I think Thou'rt fallen far. I had not yesterday

Said it so surely; but I know to-day

Grief by grief, sin by sin!

Luc.

A crown, by a crown.

Adam. Ay, mock me! now I know more than I knew: Now I know thou art fallen below hope

Of final re-ascent.

Luc.

Adam.

Because?

Because

A spirit who expected to see God,

Though at the last point of a million years,
Could dare no mockery of a ruined man

Such as this Adam.

Luc.

Who is high and bold

Be it said passing!—of a good red clay
Discovered on some top of Lebanon,
Or haply of Aornus, beyond sweep

Of the black eagle's wing! A furlong lower
Had made a meeker king for Eden.

Is it not possible, by sin and grief

Soh!

(To give the things your names) that spirits should rise Instead of falling?

Adam.

Most impossible.

The Highest being the Holy and the Glad,

Whoever rises must approach delight

And sanctity in the act.

Luc.
Ha, my clay-king!
Thou wilt not rule by wisdom very long
The after generations. Earth, methinks,
Will disinherit thy philosophy

For a new doctrine suited to thine heirs;
Classing these present dogmas with the rest
Of the old-world traditions-Eden fruits
And saurian fossils.

Eve.

Speak no more with him,

Beloved! it is not good to speak with him
Go from us, Lucifer, and speak no more:

We have no pardon which thou dost not scorn,
Nor any bliss, thou seest, for coveting,

Nor innocence for staining. Being bereft,
We would be alone.-Go.

Luc.

Ah! ye talk the same,

All of you-spirits and clay-go, and depart!

In Heaven they said so; and at Eden's gate,—
And here, reiterant, in the wilderness!

None saith, Stay with me, for thy face is fair!
None saith, Stay with me, for thy voice is sweet!
And yet I was not fashioned out of clay.
Look on me, woman! Am I beautiful?
Eve. Thou hast a glorious darkness.
Luc.

Eve. I think no more.

Luc.

Nothing more?

False Heart-thou thinkest more!

Thou canst not choose but think, as I praise God,
Unwillingly but fully, that I stand

Most absolute in beauty. As yourselves

Were fashioned very good at best, so we

Sprang very beauteous from the creant Word

Which thrilled around us- God Himself being moved

When that august work of a perfect shape,
His dignities of sovran angelhood,
Swept out into the universe,-divine

With thunderous movements, earnest looks of goas,
And silver-solemn clash of cymbal wings :-

Whereof was I, in motion and in form,

A part not poorest. And yet, yet, perhaps,
This beauty which I speak of, is not here,

As God's voice is not here; nor even my crown--
I do not know. What is this thought or thing
Which I call beauty? is it thought, or thing?

Is it a thought accepted for a thing?

Or both? or neither?-a pretext—a word?
Its meaning flutters in me like a flame
Under my own breath: my perceptions reel
For evermore around it, and fall off,

As if it too were holy.

Adam. The essence of all beauty, I call love. The attribute, the evidence, and end,

The consummation to the inward sense,

Of beauty apprehended from without,

I still call love. As form, when colourless,
Is nothing to the eye; that pine-tree there,
Without its black and green, being all a blank;
So, without love, is beauty undiscerned

In man or angel. Angel! rather ask

What love is in thee, what love moves to thee,
And what collateral love moves on with thee;
Then shalt thou know if thou art beautiful.

Luc. Love! what is love? I lose it. Beauty and love! I darken to the image. Beauty-Love!

[He fades away, while a low music sounds.

Adam. Thou art pale, Eve.

Eve.

The precipice of ill

Down this colossal nature, dizzies me

And, hark! the starry harmony remote

Seems measuring the heights from whence he fell.
Adam. Think that we have not fallen so.

And aspiration, by the love and faith,
We do exceed the stature of this angel.

By the hope

Eve. Happier we are than he is, by the death! Adam. Or rather, by the life of the Lord God! How dim the angel grows, as if that blast

Of music swept him back into the dark.

[The music is stronger, gathering itself into uncertain articulations. Eve. It throbs in on us like a plaintive heart,

Pressing, with slow pulsations, vibrative,

Its gradual sweetness through the yielding air,
To such expression as the stars may use,

Most starry-sweet, and strange! With every note
That grows more loud, the angel grows more dim,
Receding in proportion to approach,

Until he stand afar,-a shade.

Adam.

Now, words.

SONG OF THE MORNING STAR TO LUCIFER.

He fades utterly away and vanishes, as it proceeds.

Mine orbed image sinks

Back from thee, back from thee,

As thou art fallen, methinks,

Back from me, back from me.
O my light-bearer,

Could another fairer

Lack to thee, lack to thee?

Ai, ai, Heosphoros !