The Project Gutenberg eBook ofLilith

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofLilithThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: LilithAuthor: Ada Langworthy CollierRelease date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24679]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: LilithAuthor: Ada Langworthy CollierRelease date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24679]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

Title: Lilith

Author: Ada Langworthy Collier

Release date: February 23, 2008 [eBook #24679]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LILITH ***

THE LEGEND OF THE FIRST WOMAN

ADA LANGWORTHY COLLIER

BOSTOND. LOTHROP AND COMPANYFRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS

That Eve was Adam’s second wife was a common Rabbinic speculation. Certain commentators on Genesis adopted this view, to account for the double account of the creation of woman, in the sacred text, first in Genesis i. 27, and second in Genesis xi. 18. And they say that Adam’s first wife was named Lilith, but she was expelled from Eden, and after her expulsion Eve was created. Abraham Ecchelensis gives the following account of Lilith and her doings: “There are some who do not regard spectres as simple devils, but suppose them to be of a mixed nature—part demoniacal, part human, and to have had their origin from Lilith, Adam’s first wife, by Eblis, prince of the devils. This fable has been transmitted to the Arabs, from Jewish sources, by some converts of Mohamet from Cabbalism and Rabbinism, who have transferred all the Jewish fooleries to the Arabs. They gave to Adam a wife formed of clay, along with Adam, and called her Lilith, resting on the Scripture: ‘Male and female created He them.’”—Legends of the Patriarchs and Prophets.—Baring Gould.Lilith or Lilis.—In the popular belief of the Hebrews, a female spectre in the shape of a finely dressed woman, who lies in wait for, and kills children. The old Rabbins turned Lilith into a wife of Adam, on whom he begat demons and who still has power to lie with men and kill children who are not protected by amulets with which the Jews of a yet later period supply themselves as a protection against her. Burton in hisAnatomy of Melancholytells us: “The Talmudists say that Adam had a wife called Lilis, before he married Eve, and of her he begat nothing but devils.” A commentator on Skinner, quoted in theEncyclopædia Metropolitana, says that the English wordLullabyis derived from Lilla, abi (begone, Lilith)! In the demonology of the Middle Ages, Lilis was a famous witch, and is introduced as such in the Walpurgis night scene in Goethe’s “Faust.”—Webster’s Dictionary.Our wordLullabyis derived from two Arabic words which mean “Beware of Lilith!”—Anon.Lilith, the supposed wife of Adam, after she married Eblis, is said to have ruled over the city of Damascus.—Legends of the Patriarchs and Prophets.—Baring Gould.

Lilith or Lilis.—In the popular belief of the Hebrews, a female spectre in the shape of a finely dressed woman, who lies in wait for, and kills children. The old Rabbins turned Lilith into a wife of Adam, on whom he begat demons and who still has power to lie with men and kill children who are not protected by amulets with which the Jews of a yet later period supply themselves as a protection against her. Burton in hisAnatomy of Melancholytells us: “The Talmudists say that Adam had a wife called Lilis, before he married Eve, and of her he begat nothing but devils.” A commentator on Skinner, quoted in theEncyclopædia Metropolitana, says that the English wordLullabyis derived from Lilla, abi (begone, Lilith)! In the demonology of the Middle Ages, Lilis was a famous witch, and is introduced as such in the Walpurgis night scene in Goethe’s “Faust.”—Webster’s Dictionary.

Our wordLullabyis derived from two Arabic words which mean “Beware of Lilith!”—Anon.

Lilith, the supposed wife of Adam, after she married Eblis, is said to have ruled over the city of Damascus.—Legends of the Patriarchs and Prophets.—Baring Gould.

From these few and meagre details of a fabled existence, which are all that the author has been able to collect from any source whatever, has sprung the following poem. The poet feels quite justified in dissenting from the statements made in the preceding extracts, and has not drawn Lilith asthere represented—the bloodthirsty sovereign who ruled Damascus, the betrayer of men, the murderer of children. The Lilith of the poem is transferred to the more beautiful shadow-world. To that country which is the abode of poets themselves. And about her is wrapt the humanizing element still, and everywhere embodied in the sweetest word the human tongue can utter—lullaby. Some critics declare that true literary art inculcates a lofty lesson—has a high moral purpose. If poets and their work must fall under this rigorous rule, then alas “Lilith” will knock at the door of public opinion with a trembling hand indeed. If the poem have either moral aim or lesson of any kind (which observe, gentle critic, it is by no means asserted that it has), it is simply to show that the strongest intellectual powers contain no elements adverse to the highest and purest exercise of the affectional nature. That, in its true condition, the noblest, the most cultured intellect, and the loveliest, sublimest moral and emotional qualities, together weave the web that clothes the world’s great soul with imperishable beauty. The possessor of highest intellectual capacity will be also capable of highest developments in the latter qualities. The woman of true intellect is the woman of truest affection. For the rest let Lilith speak, whose life dropped unrecorded from the earliest world. It is the poet’s hope that the chords of the mother-heart universal will respond to the song of the childless one. That in the survival of that one wordlullaby, may be revivified the pathetic figure of one whose home, whose hope, whose Eden passed to another. Whose name living in the terrors of superstitious peoples, now lingers in Earth’s sweetest utterance. That Pagan Lilith, re-baptized in the pure waters of maternal love, shall breathe to heathen and Christian motherhood alike, that most sacred love of Earth still throbbing through its tender lullaby.

A. L. C.

Broideriesand ancient stuffs that some queenWore; nor gems that warriors’ hilts encrusted;Nor fresh from heroes’ brows the laurels green;Nor bright sheaves by bards of eld entrustedTo earth’s great granaries—I bring not these.Only thin, scattered blades from harvests gleanedErewhile I plucked, may happen thee to please.So poor indeed, those others had demeanedThemselves to cull; or from their strong, firm handsDown dropped about their feet with careless laugh,Too broken for home gathering, these strands,Or else more useless than the idle chaff.But I have garnered them. Yet, lest they seemUnworthy, and so shame Love’s offering,Amid the loose-bound sheaf stray flowers gleam.And fairer seeming make the gift I bring,Lilies blood-red, that lit the waving field,And now are knotted through the golden grain.Thou wilt not scorn the tribute I now yield,Nor even deem the foolish flowers vain.So take it, and if still too slight, too smallIt seem, think ’tis a bloom that grew anear,In other Springtime, the old garden wall.(That pale blue flower you will remember, dear.The heedless world, unseeing, passed it by,And left it to the bee and you.) Then say,“Because the hands that tended it are nighNo more, and little feet are gone awayThat round it trampled down the beaded grass,Sweeter to me it is than musky sprayOf Southland; and dearer than days that passIn other summer-tides.” This simple songRead so, dear heart; Nay, rather white-souled one,Think ’tis an olden echo, wandered longFrom a low bed where ’neath the westering sunYou sang. And if your lone heart ever said“Lo, she is gone, and cannot more be mine,”Say now, “She is not changed—she is not wed,—She never left her cradle bed. Still shineThe pillows with the print of her wee head.”So, mother-heart, this song, where through still ringsThe strain you sang above my baby bed,I bring. An idle gift mayhap, that clingsAbout old days forgotten long, and dead.This loitering tale, Valeria, take.Perchance ’tis sad, and hath not any mirth,Yet love thou it, for the weak singer’s sake,And hold it dear, though yet is little worth,This tale of Elder-world: of earth’s first prime,Of years that in their grave so long have lain,To-day’s dull ear, through poets’ tuneful rhymeNo echo hears, nor mocking friar’s strain.

July17, 1884.

LILITH.

Pureas an angel’s dream shone Paradise.Blue mountains hemmed it round; and airy sighsOf rippling waters haunted it. Dim glades,And wayward paths o’erflecked with shimmering shades,And tangled dells, and wilding pleasances,Hung moist with odors strange from scented trees.Sweet sounds o’erbrimmed the place; and rare perfumes,Faint as far sunshine, fell ’mong verdant glooms.In that fair land, all hues, all leafage greenWrapt flawless days in endless summer-sheen.Bright eyes, the violet waking, lifted upWhere bent the lily her deep, fragrant cup;And folded buds, ’gainst many a leafy spray—The wild-woods’ voiceless nuns—knelt down to pray.There roses, deep in greenest mosses swathed,Kept happy tryst with tropic blooms, sun-bathed.No sounds of sadness surged through listening trees:The waters babbled low; the errant beesMade answer, murmurous; nor paled the hueThe jonquils wore; nor chill the wild breath grewOf daisies clustered white in dewy croft;Nor fell the tasseled plumes as satin softUpon the broad-leaved corn. Sweet all the dayO’erflowed with music every woodland way;And sweet the jargonings of nested bird,When light the listless wind the forest stirred.Straight as the shaft that ’gainst the morning sunThe slender palm uprears, the Fairest one—The first of womankind—sweet Lilith—stood,A gracious shape that glorified the wood.About her rounded shoulders warm and bare,Like netted sunshine fell her lustrous hair;The rosy flush of young pomegranate bellsDawned on her cheeks; and blue as in lone dellsSleep the Forget-me-nots, her eyes. With bentBrows, sullen-creased, swart Adam gazed intentUpon a leopard, crouched low in its placeBeneath his feet. Not once in Lilith’s faceHe looked, nor sought her wistful, downcast eyesWith shifting shadows dusk, and strange surprise.“O, Love,” she said, “no more let us contend!So sweet is life, anger, methinks, should end.In this, our garden bright, why dost thou claimEver the highest place, the noblest name?Freely to both our Lord gave self-same swayO’er living things. Love, thou art gone astray!Twin-born, of equal stature, kindred soulAre we; like dowed with strength. Yon stars that rollTheir course above, down-looking on my face,See yours as fair; in neither aught that’s base.Thy wife, not handmaid I, yet thou dost say,‘I first in Eden rule.’ Thou, then, hast sway.Must I, my Adam, mutely follow thee?Run at thy bidding, crouch beside thy knee?Lift up (when thou dost bid me) timid eyes?Not so will Lilith dwell in Paradise.”“Mine own,” Adam made answer soft, “’twere bestThou didst forget such ills in noontide rest.Content I wake, the keeper of the place.Of equal stature? Yea! Of self-same grace?Nay, Love; recall those lately vanished eves,When we together plucked the plantain leaves;Yon leopard lowly stretched at my commandIts lazy length beneath my soothing hand.At thee she snarled, disdaining half, to sheathe’Neath thy soft pleading eyes her milk-white teeth.Oft, Love, in other times, in sheltered nook,We scattered pearly millet by the brook.Lo thine lay barren in the sand. Quick mineUpspringing sifts o’er pale blooms odors fine:Hateful thy chidings grow; each breeze doth bringEver thy plaints—thy fretful murmuring.These many days I weary of thy sighs;Know, Lilith, I alone rule Paradise.”Thereat he rose, and quick at every strideThe fawning leopard gambolled at his side.So fell the first dark shadow of Earth’s strife.With coming evil all the winds were rife.Lone lay the land with sense of dull loss paled.The days grew sick at heart; the sunshine failed;And falling waters breathed in silvery moanA hidden ail to starlit dells alone—As sometimes you have seen, ’neath household eaves,’Mong scents of Springtime, in the budded leaves,The swallows circling blithe, with slant brown wing,Home-flying fleet, with tender chattering,And all the place o’errun with nested love—So have you come, when leaves hung crisp aboveThe silent door. Yet not again, I ween,Those shining wings, cleaving the air, have seenNor heard the gladsome swallows twittering there—Only the empty nests, low-hung and bare,Spake of the scattered brood.—So lonely wereTo Lilith grown her once loved haunts. Nor fairThe starlit nights, slow-dropping fragrant dew,Nor the dim groves when dawn came shifting through.Far ’mong the hills the wood-doves’ moan she heard,Or in some nearer copse, a startled bird;Or the white moonshine ’mong green boughs o’erheadWrought her full heart to tears. “Sweet peace,” she said,“Alas—lies slain!”With musing worn, she brakeAt last her silence, and to Adam spake:“Beyond these walls I know not what may be—Islands low-fringed, or bare; or tranquil sea,Spaces unpeopled, wastes of burning sands,Green-wooded belts, enclasping summer lands,Or realms of dusky pines, or wolds of snow,Or jagged ice-peaks wrapt in purple glow,Or shadowy oceans lapped in fadeless sheen—Yet there were Paradise, were Lilith queen.To dally with my lord I was not meant;To soothe his idle whims, above him bent,Warm in my milk-white arms, lull his repose,Nor deep in subtle kisses drown his woes.Wherefore, since here no more dwells love, I flyTo seek my home in other lands. For whyShould Lilith wait since Adam’s empty stateMore dear he holds than Lilith desolate?”But answer soft made Adam at the word,For faint his dying love, yet coldly stirredIts ashen cerements: “Nay, love, our homeWithin these garden walls lies safe. Wouldst roamWithout? Sweet peace, by loss, wilt thou restoreOne little loss, or miss it evermore?”“In goodly Eden, Adam, safely bide,But I, for peace, nor love, nor life,” she cried,“Submit to thee. Unto our Lord I ownAllegiance true; my homage his alone.Oft have I watched the mists athwart yon peaks,Pursuing oft past coves and winding creeks,Have thought to touch their shining veil outspread,In happy days ere Love, alas, was dead;So now, farewell! Ere the new day shall breakAdown their gleaming track, my way I take.”She turned; but ere the gate that looked withoutShe reached, one fleeting moment paused in doubtUpon a river’s brink. In one swift glanceAll coming time she saw. A weird romanceWherein she traced great peoples yet unborn,New springing cycles, strange lands cleft with tarnOr pleasant vale, and green plains stretching far,And quiet bays, and many a shingly bar,And troubled seas, with bitter perils past,And elfin shapes that jeering flitted fastWith scornful faces, leering lips that smiled,Or bursts of laughter through that vision wild.Uncertain, then, she stood, half loth to turn.“Against yon deepening sky, how dimly burnThe stars, new-lit. Dear home, thou art so fair!”She fondly sighed.Then sudden she was ’wareThe angel near her paused, whose watchful careGuards Eden’s peaceful bounds. Serene, his airSo tender-sweet, so pure the gentle face,She scarce dared look upon its subtle grace.Sad were his eyes; his words, rebuking, fellSoft as the moonshine clear, in sleeping dell.“My sister, go not hence, lest these gates barLilith forever out. From peace afar,Anger and pride shall lead through distant waysThy feet reluctant, in the evil days.All is decreed. At yonder southern gateBehold! waits even now my princely mate.Thou can’st not tell which hath in our far landThe highest place. Nay; nor, indeed, whose handHath grasped the noblest fame; nor yet divineWhose brows enwound with honor, brightest shine.In pleasant labor lurks no thought of pain;The greatest loss oft brings the noblest gain;The heart’s warm pulse feels not one throb of strife,And Love is holiest crown of human life.Ere thou didst sleep, beyond the rim of nightI heard a voice that sang. The carol light,Scarce earth-born seemed. So sweet the matchless strain,Its cadence weird, lowly to breathe again,Wrapt echo, listening, half forgot; and o’erAnd o’er, as joyous birds unprisoned soar,The free notes rose. And in the silence wide,Across the seas, across the night, I cried:O sinless soul, whose clear voice blithely rings’Gainst the blue verge of stars! ’Tis Lilith singsThe happy song of love. O Love! the tintOf light divine thou wearest. Thou hast no hintOf storm or turmoil, or of Sin’s rough ways,Whose feet to heaven climb, through darkest maze.Ah, Lilith, sure the love that basely weighs,That stoops to count its gifts, and hoarding, says,‘Such and so many, these indeed are mine;I hold my treasure dear, nor covet thine;’This is not love; ’tis Thrift in borrowed dress,Deceiving thee. Love giveth free largessWith open hand, clean as the whitest day;Yea, that it gave, forgetteth it straightway.Beyond these walls dwells bliss that lives not here?When thou hast bartered peace, outshining clearAnd storm-tossed wide, art wildly driven hence,The outer world gives thee no recompense.Each shining sphere that trembles in blue spaceHath orbit true—its own familiar place.Nor doth the planet pale that gems the nightReel wanton down, the smallest star to smite.No twining vine, tendril, or springing shootEre taught thee so; for bud and leaf and rootDoth its best self lift upward into light,Yet climbing still, scorns not the sacred rightThat shrines its fellow.“So pattering rainsThe dark roots drink—and healthful juice slow drainsDeep ’neath the mould; and with their secret toilBear stainless, leaf and flow’r above the soil.Noblest the soul that self hath most forgot;Strongest the self which hath most humbly wrought;Purest the soul that in full light serene,Unquestioning, enwrapt, God’s field doth glean.I have seen worlds far hence; thy tender feetBleeding, will tread their stony ways. And sweetIs love. And wedded love, grown cold and rude,More bitter-seeming makes dull solitude.Security is sweet; and light and warmThe young heart beats, close shut from every harm.”“Yet,” Lilith answered slow, “in that still nightEre He, the garden’s Lord, passed from our sight,Hast thou forgot his words? ‘Lo this fair spotMade for your pleasance; see ye mar it not,Oh, twin-born pair! So richly dight with graceOf soul and stature; unto whom the placeI give. Together rule. Bear equal swayO’er all that live herein.’ Hath Lilith soughtA solitary reign? Hath she in aughtOffended? Nay; ’tis Adam who doth breakThe compact. Therefore, unhindered let me takeMy way far hence. I shall not vex his soulWith fretful plaints, where unknown stars shall roll,Far, far away,” she sighed.“Yet ere these boundsThy feet pass, linger. Lilith, list glad soundsThat greet thine ear. Slow cycles will pass onAnd in the time-to-be-bright years, grow wan;Old planets fade, new stars shall dimly burn,But not to Eden’s peace shalt thou return.Oft from thy yearning heart glad hope shall fail.Thy fruit of life lift bloom all sere and pale.Certain, small comfort bides, when joy is gone,In Great or Less. Grim Sorrow waits to lead thee on.Sorrow! Thou hast not seen her pallid face.In thy most troubled dream she had no place”—“Nay, I depart,” she said, with lips grown chill.“Fearless and free, exiled, but princess still.”“I may not hinder thee,” the Angel sighed;“No soul unwilling here may ever bide.”Slow swung the verdant gates neath saddest eyes.Lilith forever lost fair Paradise.

Softstealing through the shade, and skirting swiftThe walls of Paradise, through night’s dark riftLilith fled far; nor stopped lest deadly snareOr peril by the wayside lurked.The airGrew chill. Loud beat her heart, as through the windEchoed, unseen, pursuing feet, behind.Adown the pathway of the mist she passed,And reached a weird, strange land at last.When morning flecked the dappled sky with red,And odors sweet from waking flowers were shed,Lilith beheld a plain, outstretching wide,With distant mountains seamed.Afar, a silvery tideThe blue shore kissed. And in that tropic glowDim islands shone, palm-fringed, and low.In nearer space, like scarlet arrows flewStrange birds, or ’mong the reedy fens, or throughTall trees, of unknown leafage, glancing, went.Now Lilith seaward passed, and stooping, bentHer hollowed hand above the wave, and quaffed;For she was spent with wanderings wide. Loud laughedShe then, beholding on that silent shoreRare shells, that still faint in their pink lips boreWild ocean-songs; and precious stones, that brightThat dim sea’s marge, deep in the land of nightThick strewed.Then glad, she lifted shining eyes,Loud crying there, “O Lilith, now arise,Great queen-triumphant! See how wildly fairBefore me lies my realm! And from its airSoft, sensuous, new life as ruddy wine,My spirit drinks. Nor beauty so divineHath Eden’s self. Look, where upon the sandsThe garish mosses spread with dainty hands,Like goblin network fine, each fairy frond.And dusky trees shut in broad fields beyond,And hang long trembling garlands, age-grown-gray,From topmost boughs adown, athwart the day;And sweet amid these wilds, bright dewy bellsRing summer chimes. And soft in fragrant dells,’Mong tender leaves, great spikes of scarlet flauntAbout the pools—the errant wild bees’ haunt—And thick with bramble-blooms pink petals starred,And dew-stained buds of blue, the velvet sward.Scarce ripple stirred the sea; and inland wendFar bays and sedgy ponds; and rolling rivers bend.A land of leaf and fruitage in the glowOf palest glamours steeped. And far and lowGreat purple isles; and further still a rimOf sunset-tinted hills, that softly dimShine ’gainst the day. “O world, new found,” she said,“With treasures heaped and odors rare, ’mong flowers shed,For whose dear sake I came o’er flinty ways,And paths with danger fraught; ’mong brambly sprays,With bleeding feet, and shoulders thorn-pierced deep.But perils past, fade fast. And I will weepMy Eden lost no more.” And sweet and lowAs one who dreams, she said, “For now I knowThese mountain heights, these level plains, are mine.”She ceased, and inland quickly turned. “Fair shineStrange fruits thick-set, or blossoms lightly tossedLow at my feet.” Therewith, a dusk globe, crossedWith golden bands, from bent boughs, stripped she. ThroughThe gleaming sphere its nectrous juices drew,And thirsting cried—as one grown drunken: “MineThese fruits unknown, in thorny combs that shine,Or gray-green spikes that glow, dull on the sands.Fain would I pluck, out-reaching eager hands,Save that a marvel grows of ruddier rindOut-flinging fruity breath upon the wind,Beneath harsh spines half-hid. Nor drainsMy wilful spouse such nectars fine. Nor gainsHis patient care the fruitage rare, these plainsThat heaps unheeded. Nay, nor bearded grainsGolding this goodly land, where Lilith reigns.”So passed the glad years on, and o’er her home—Its woods and mountains, its clear streams—to roam,She loved. The inmost throb of Nature’s heartShe felt amid the grass. Each daintiest partOf Nature’s work she knew; each gain, each loss.And reverent watched on high the starry crossGleaming, mute symbol in that southern domeOf One—the Promised One—of days to come.The rifted sea-shell on the shingly beachShe scanned, pitying each inmate gone. EachNamed. ’Mong beetling crags, the sea-bird’s home,Light-footed, went. Or, idly, in the foamUnder the cocoa-palms, her fingers dipped,Much marveling to see where featly slippedBeneath the waves scaled creatures, crimson-dyedOr luminous: Barred-yellow, purple pied,Rose-tinted, opaline, or dight with stain,Rich as the rainbow streaks, when through the rainThe Sun’s kiss falls. Much wondered she when brightBy sedgy pools, flamingoes stalked. And lightThe startled ostrich bent his headlong flightO’er desert bare. And on the woody heightTrooped zebras, velvet-brown. The date’s green crestBeneath, the peaceful camels lay at rest.And slender-straight camelopards the boughsDown-drew, the lush-green leaves thereon to browse.Or oft ’mong oozy bogs, or through the fens,Fearless she went, when low, ’mong reedy densThe water-courses by, huge creatures slept,Or in the jungles spotted panthers crept,And in the thickets deadly serpents woundLike blossomed wreaths, their coils upon the ground.All forms of life she saw; with tenderest careUplifting humblest sprays, or blooms most rare.Pierced the deep heart of Nature’s subtlest lore,Touched highest knowledge, probed the inmost coreOf hidden things. She tracked each circling worldAnd the wide sweep of billows lightly curled.Each page the Master writ she read, close furledIn lotus blooms, or, ’mong the storm-clouds whirled;Or traced, star-lettered, on the flaming scrollThe night unwinds toward the southern pole.And sometimes wiling idle days, she woveIn quaint device, gems from her treasure-trove,Rare garlanded, or set in flashing zoneSoft emerald, sapphire pale, and many a stoneOut-gleaming amethyst. Her yellow hairAmong, the glinting diamonds shone. And thereThe sultry topaz burned. And laughing, twinedShe round her bare white throat red rubies shrinedIn pearls.Or she among the haunts would roveThat sheltered island birds; or in the grove,Or ’mong the rocky cliffs, where dainty nestsThey fashioned swift. She scaled the seaward crests,And on the sands piled turtle eggs, when allAbout hoarse-shrieked the water-fowl, or callOf plovers fell among the tangled glens,Or lonely bitterns’ boom came o’er the fens.So traversed she her realm, when mangoes greenBaobabs by, showed freshest hues; and sheenOf silver touched acacias slight; and loneThe solitary aloes, dreamed. The moanOf that far sea against the shore brake soft.And through that blossom-burdened land as oftShe roamed and far, sweet sped the passing days.Till one dawned fairest, in whose noon-tide hazeSweet slumbering she lay; and dreamed-steeped still,Half conscious, caught the tinkle of a rillIn far-off Paradise. More silver clearAcross her thoughts, as once she loved to hear,Rippled the waters, low against the stonesWhere poised gemmed dragon-flies; and sudden moansShook ’mong blue flags. Waked, vague unrestAnd tender yearning rose within her breast,And longing love, that she ne’er more might still.When late upon her parting day smiled chill,Pensive she gazed upon the darkling land,With lingering feet o’er-passed the shining strand,And silent sat on an o’erhanging ledge,The sea o’erlooking. Far the horizon’s edgeAthwart her gaze a rim of blue hills cleft,Whereat she sighed. “So rose, ere I them left,So smiled, the dim hills round my Eden home.But I—wherefore recall, when far I roam,Dreams vanished—gone? And now since long time deadIs that fair past, I fain would lay it lowWhere soft about it memories sweet may blowAs summer winds the fallen leaves among.”Then passed her tender thoughts, and loud and gladAs our morn wakens, strong that yesternight slept sad,She sang. The song triumphant upward swelled,Unsorrowed by soft dreams or thoughts of eld—As fresh the full, free, mellow notes did riseAs the blithe skylark’s strain, anear the skies:High, high, bold Eagle, soar;I watch thy flight, above thy craggèd rock.Below thee, torrents roar,Down-bursting wild with angry shockUpon the vales. O proud bird, free,My spirit, mounting, follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.O Sea—O Sea so wide!Far roll thy waves ere yet they find thy shore.I hear thy sullen tideBreak ’neath the beetling cliffs with muffled roar.Afar, afar, O moaning Sea,My roving soul still follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.O Whirlwind black—O strong!Thy scorching breath fierce burns the crouching landAnd thou dost sweep alongThe raveled clouds. O Whirlwind, see—My spirit rising, follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.Nay, nay! My dauntless soul,Still higher than thy wing, O Eagle, soars,And wider still than rollThy waves, and further than thy shores,My spirit flees—O Sea—O SeaNo more it follows, follows thee.Whirlwind, more strong than thouMy soul, that fearless leaps to thine embraceAnd thy stern, wrinkled browDoth tender touch and soothingly,And vassal art thou still to me,That no more, Whirlwind, follows thee.Swift changed her mood, and darkened in her face.As sometimes in an open, sunny placeThe sudden dusks o’er crinkling waters run,So fell her thoughts to music. And as oneThat grieves, she sang. That lay—soft, weirdly clear,The babbling waves made murmurous pause to hear:Fair land (she sang), O sun-steeped realm of mine,The Sun, thy lover, hath his farewell kiss.I only pineWhile dim stars shine.Strong is thy Day-god! yet his parting kissFalls soft upon thy faltering lips. O land,Thou hast a blissI ever miss.Fast comes the night, and warm, for thy dear sake,The shadows curtain dusk, thy lonely rest.I only wakeMy plaint to make.Fair land, my lover cold, doth careless takeFrom my shut lips his flight. Here leaves me loneMy moan to make,My heart to break.She ceased. But still the song did float and fade,As failing sunshine soft, in woodland glade.And Lilith, listening, heard—so wild, so shrill,Yet dream-like, far, again that tinkling rillIn Paradise. And o’er her spirit sweptA sadness bitter-sweet, as ’neath the green palms creptThe wind, low-sighing, faint. As from lone nestA bird torn pinion lifts, striving to soarTo shelter safe, so, Edenward once moreTurned Lilith’s drooping thoughts.Uprose she then,And brooding, homeward slowly went again.

Adown the pathway of the mist she passed,And reached a weird, strange land at last.When morning flecked the dappled sky with red,And odors sweet from waking flowers were shed,Lilith beheld a plain, outstretching wide,With distant mountains seamed.Afar, a silvery tideThe blue shore kissed. And in that tropic glowDim islands shone, palm-fringed, and low.In nearer space, like scarlet arrows flewStrange birds, or ’mong the reedy fens, or throughTall trees, of unknown leafage, glancing, went.Now Lilith seaward passed, and stooping, bentHer hollowed hand above the wave, and quaffed;For she was spent with wanderings wide. Loud laughedShe then, beholding on that silent shoreRare shells, that still faint in their pink lips boreWild ocean-songs; and precious stones, that brightThat dim sea’s marge, deep in the land of nightThick strewed.Then glad, she lifted shining eyes,Loud crying there, “O Lilith, now arise,Great queen-triumphant! See how wildly fairBefore me lies my realm! And from its airSoft, sensuous, new life as ruddy wine,My spirit drinks. Nor beauty so divineHath Eden’s self. Look, where upon the sandsThe garish mosses spread with dainty hands,Like goblin network fine, each fairy frond.And dusky trees shut in broad fields beyond,And hang long trembling garlands, age-grown-gray,From topmost boughs adown, athwart the day;And sweet amid these wilds, bright dewy bellsRing summer chimes. And soft in fragrant dells,’Mong tender leaves, great spikes of scarlet flauntAbout the pools—the errant wild bees’ haunt—And thick with bramble-blooms pink petals starred,And dew-stained buds of blue, the velvet sward.Scarce ripple stirred the sea; and inland wendFar bays and sedgy ponds; and rolling rivers bend.A land of leaf and fruitage in the glowOf palest glamours steeped. And far and lowGreat purple isles; and further still a rimOf sunset-tinted hills, that softly dimShine ’gainst the day. “O world, new found,” she said,“With treasures heaped and odors rare, ’mong flowers shed,For whose dear sake I came o’er flinty ways,And paths with danger fraught; ’mong brambly sprays,With bleeding feet, and shoulders thorn-pierced deep.But perils past, fade fast. And I will weepMy Eden lost no more.” And sweet and lowAs one who dreams, she said, “For now I knowThese mountain heights, these level plains, are mine.”She ceased, and inland quickly turned. “Fair shineStrange fruits thick-set, or blossoms lightly tossedLow at my feet.” Therewith, a dusk globe, crossedWith golden bands, from bent boughs, stripped she. ThroughThe gleaming sphere its nectrous juices drew,And thirsting cried—as one grown drunken: “MineThese fruits unknown, in thorny combs that shine,Or gray-green spikes that glow, dull on the sands.Fain would I pluck, out-reaching eager hands,Save that a marvel grows of ruddier rindOut-flinging fruity breath upon the wind,Beneath harsh spines half-hid. Nor drainsMy wilful spouse such nectars fine. Nor gainsHis patient care the fruitage rare, these plainsThat heaps unheeded. Nay, nor bearded grainsGolding this goodly land, where Lilith reigns.”

So passed the glad years on, and o’er her home—Its woods and mountains, its clear streams—to roam,She loved. The inmost throb of Nature’s heartShe felt amid the grass. Each daintiest partOf Nature’s work she knew; each gain, each loss.And reverent watched on high the starry crossGleaming, mute symbol in that southern domeOf One—the Promised One—of days to come.

The rifted sea-shell on the shingly beachShe scanned, pitying each inmate gone. EachNamed. ’Mong beetling crags, the sea-bird’s home,Light-footed, went. Or, idly, in the foamUnder the cocoa-palms, her fingers dipped,Much marveling to see where featly slippedBeneath the waves scaled creatures, crimson-dyedOr luminous: Barred-yellow, purple pied,Rose-tinted, opaline, or dight with stain,Rich as the rainbow streaks, when through the rainThe Sun’s kiss falls. Much wondered she when brightBy sedgy pools, flamingoes stalked. And lightThe startled ostrich bent his headlong flightO’er desert bare. And on the woody heightTrooped zebras, velvet-brown. The date’s green crestBeneath, the peaceful camels lay at rest.And slender-straight camelopards the boughsDown-drew, the lush-green leaves thereon to browse.Or oft ’mong oozy bogs, or through the fens,Fearless she went, when low, ’mong reedy densThe water-courses by, huge creatures slept,Or in the jungles spotted panthers crept,And in the thickets deadly serpents woundLike blossomed wreaths, their coils upon the ground.All forms of life she saw; with tenderest careUplifting humblest sprays, or blooms most rare.Pierced the deep heart of Nature’s subtlest lore,Touched highest knowledge, probed the inmost coreOf hidden things. She tracked each circling worldAnd the wide sweep of billows lightly curled.Each page the Master writ she read, close furledIn lotus blooms, or, ’mong the storm-clouds whirled;Or traced, star-lettered, on the flaming scrollThe night unwinds toward the southern pole.And sometimes wiling idle days, she woveIn quaint device, gems from her treasure-trove,Rare garlanded, or set in flashing zoneSoft emerald, sapphire pale, and many a stoneOut-gleaming amethyst. Her yellow hairAmong, the glinting diamonds shone. And thereThe sultry topaz burned. And laughing, twinedShe round her bare white throat red rubies shrinedIn pearls.Or she among the haunts would roveThat sheltered island birds; or in the grove,Or ’mong the rocky cliffs, where dainty nestsThey fashioned swift. She scaled the seaward crests,And on the sands piled turtle eggs, when allAbout hoarse-shrieked the water-fowl, or callOf plovers fell among the tangled glens,Or lonely bitterns’ boom came o’er the fens.So traversed she her realm, when mangoes greenBaobabs by, showed freshest hues; and sheenOf silver touched acacias slight; and loneThe solitary aloes, dreamed. The moanOf that far sea against the shore brake soft.And through that blossom-burdened land as oftShe roamed and far, sweet sped the passing days.Till one dawned fairest, in whose noon-tide hazeSweet slumbering she lay; and dreamed-steeped still,Half conscious, caught the tinkle of a rillIn far-off Paradise. More silver clearAcross her thoughts, as once she loved to hear,Rippled the waters, low against the stonesWhere poised gemmed dragon-flies; and sudden moansShook ’mong blue flags. Waked, vague unrestAnd tender yearning rose within her breast,And longing love, that she ne’er more might still.When late upon her parting day smiled chill,Pensive she gazed upon the darkling land,With lingering feet o’er-passed the shining strand,And silent sat on an o’erhanging ledge,The sea o’erlooking. Far the horizon’s edgeAthwart her gaze a rim of blue hills cleft,Whereat she sighed. “So rose, ere I them left,So smiled, the dim hills round my Eden home.But I—wherefore recall, when far I roam,Dreams vanished—gone? And now since long time deadIs that fair past, I fain would lay it lowWhere soft about it memories sweet may blowAs summer winds the fallen leaves among.”Then passed her tender thoughts, and loud and gladAs our morn wakens, strong that yesternight slept sad,She sang. The song triumphant upward swelled,Unsorrowed by soft dreams or thoughts of eld—As fresh the full, free, mellow notes did riseAs the blithe skylark’s strain, anear the skies:

High, high, bold Eagle, soar;I watch thy flight, above thy craggèd rock.Below thee, torrents roar,Down-bursting wild with angry shockUpon the vales. O proud bird, free,My spirit, mounting, follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.

O Sea—O Sea so wide!Far roll thy waves ere yet they find thy shore.I hear thy sullen tideBreak ’neath the beetling cliffs with muffled roar.Afar, afar, O moaning Sea,My roving soul still follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.

O Whirlwind black—O strong!Thy scorching breath fierce burns the crouching landAnd thou dost sweep alongThe raveled clouds. O Whirlwind, see—My spirit rising, follows thee,Still follows thee, still follows thee.

Nay, nay! My dauntless soul,Still higher than thy wing, O Eagle, soars,And wider still than rollThy waves, and further than thy shores,My spirit flees—O Sea—O SeaNo more it follows, follows thee.

Whirlwind, more strong than thouMy soul, that fearless leaps to thine embraceAnd thy stern, wrinkled browDoth tender touch and soothingly,And vassal art thou still to me,That no more, Whirlwind, follows thee.

Swift changed her mood, and darkened in her face.As sometimes in an open, sunny placeThe sudden dusks o’er crinkling waters run,So fell her thoughts to music. And as oneThat grieves, she sang. That lay—soft, weirdly clear,The babbling waves made murmurous pause to hear:

Fair land (she sang), O sun-steeped realm of mine,The Sun, thy lover, hath his farewell kiss.I only pineWhile dim stars shine.

Strong is thy Day-god! yet his parting kissFalls soft upon thy faltering lips. O land,Thou hast a blissI ever miss.

Fast comes the night, and warm, for thy dear sake,The shadows curtain dusk, thy lonely rest.I only wakeMy plaint to make.

Fair land, my lover cold, doth careless takeFrom my shut lips his flight. Here leaves me loneMy moan to make,My heart to break.

She ceased. But still the song did float and fade,As failing sunshine soft, in woodland glade.And Lilith, listening, heard—so wild, so shrill,Yet dream-like, far, again that tinkling rillIn Paradise. And o’er her spirit sweptA sadness bitter-sweet, as ’neath the green palms creptThe wind, low-sighing, faint. As from lone nestA bird torn pinion lifts, striving to soarTo shelter safe, so, Edenward once moreTurned Lilith’s drooping thoughts.Uprose she then,And brooding, homeward slowly went again.

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