Ah! why?

Yet let me not retain thee-fly!

My pangs can be but brief; but thine would be
Eternal, if repulsed from heaven for me.

Too much already hast thou deign'd
To one of Adam's race!

Our doom is sorrow: not to us alone,
But to the spirits who have not disdain'd

To love us, cometh anguish with disgrace.

The first who taught us knowledge hath been hurl'd From his once archangelic throne

Into some unknown world:

For me.

And thou, Azaziel! No-
Thou shalt not suffer woe

Away! nor weep!

Thou canst not weep; but yet

May'st 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,
Save in our ark, or let me be no more!

Noah. Peace, child of passion, peace!
If not within thy heart, yet with thy tongue
Do God no wrong!

Live as he wills it-die, when he ordains,
A righteous death, unlike the seed of Cain's.
Cease, or be sorrowful in silence; cease

To weary Heaven's ear with thy selfish plaint. Wouldst thou have God commit a sin for thee? Such would it be

To alter his intent

For a mere mortal sorrow. Be a man!

And bear what Adam's race must bear, and can.
Japh. Ay, father! but when they are gone,
And we are all alone,

Floating upon the azure desert, and

The depth beneath us hides our own dear land,
And dearer, silent friends and brethren, all
Buried in its immeasurable breast,

Who, who, our tears, our shrieks, shall then command?
Can we in desolation's peace have rest?
Oh God! be thou a God, and spare

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.

Noah. Silence, vain boy! cach word of thine's a crime.

Angel! forgive this stripling's fond despair.

Raph. Seraphs! these mortals speak in passion:

Ye!

Who are, or should be, passionless and pure,

May now return with me.

Sam.

It may not be:

We have chosen, and will endure.

Shorn as ye are of all celestial power,

And aliens from your God,

Japh.

Farewell!

Alas! where shall they dwell? Hark, hark! Deep sounds, and deeper still, Are howling from the mountain's bosom : There's not a breath of wind upon the hill, Yet quivers every leaf, and drops each blossom: Earth groans as if beneath a heavy load. Noah. Hark, hark! the sea-birds cry ! In clouds they overspread the lurid sky, And hover round the mountain, where before Never a white wing, wetted by the wave, Yet dared to soar,

Even when the waters wax'd too fierce to brave. Soon it shall be their only shore,

And then, no more!

Japh.

The sun the sun!

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 !
The clouds return into the hues of night,
Save where their brazen-colour'd edges streak
The verge where brighter morns were wont to break.
Noah. And lo! yon flash of light,

The distant thunder's harbinger, appears!
It cometh! hence, away!

Leave to the elements their evil prey!

Hence to where our all-hallow'd ark uprears
Its safe and wreckless sides!

Japh. Oh, father, stay!

Leave not my Anah to the swallowing tides!

Noah. Must we not leave all life to such? Begone!

Japh.

Not I.

Noah.

Then die

With them!

How darest thou look on that prophetic sky,
And seek to save what all things now condemn,
In overwhelming unison

With just Jehovah's wrath!

Japh. Can rage and justice join in the same path? Noah. Blasphemer! darest thou murmur even now? Raph. Patriarch, be still a father! smooth thy brow:

Thy son, despite his folly, shall not sink: He knows not what he says, yet shall not drink With sobs the salt foam of the swelling waters; But be, when passion passeth, good as thou, Nor perish like heaven's children with man's daughters.

[unite Aho. The tempest cometh; heaven and earth For the annihilation of all life.

Unequal is the strife

Between our strength and the Eternal Might!

Sam. But ours is with thee; we will bear ye
To some untroubled star,

Where thou and Anah shalt partake our lot:

And if thou dost not weep for thy lost earth Our forfeit heaven shall also be forgot.

far

Anah. Oh! my dear father's tents, my place of

birth,

And mountains, land, and woods! when ye are not, Who shall dry up my tears?

Aza. Thy spirit-lord. Fear not; though we are shut from heaven, Yet much is ours, whence we can not be driven. Raph. Rebel! thy words are wicked, as thy

deeds

Shall henceforth be but weak: the flaming sword,
Which chased the first-born out of Paradise,
Still flashes in the angelic hands.

Aza. It cannot slay us: threaten dust with death,
And talk of weapons unto that which bleeds.
What are thy swords in our immortal eyes?
Raph. The moment cometh to approve thy
strength;

And learn at length

How vain to war with what thy God commands:
Thy former force was in thy faith.

Enter Mortals, flying for refuge.

Chorus of Mortals.

The heavens and earth are mingling-God! oh God! What have we done? Yet spare!

Hark! even the forest beasts howl forth their prayer!
The dragon crawls from out his den,

To herd, in terror, innocent with men ;
And the birds scream their agony through air
Yet, yet, Jehovah! yet withdraw thy rod