FOUNDED ON THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE IN
GENESIS, CHAP. VI.
'And it came to pass . . .that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.'.
And woman wailing for her demon lover.'
|RAPHAEL, the Archangel.|
|MEN||NOAH and his Sons.|
Chorus of Spirits of the Earth. -- Chorus of Mortals.
A woody and mountainous district near Mount Ararat.
-- Time, midnight.
Enter ANAH and AHOLIBAMAH.
Anah. Our father sleeps: it is the hour
Who love us are accustomd to descend Through the deep clouds o'er rocky Ara-rat: --
How my heart beats!
Aho. Let us proceed upon Our invocation.
Anah. But the stars are hidden.
Aho. So do I, but not with fear Of aught save their delay.
Anah. My sister, though
I love Azaziel more than -- oh, too. much! What was I going to say ? my heart grows impious.
Aho. And where is the impiety of loving
Anah. But, Aholibamah, 11 I love our God less since his angel loved me:
This cannot be of good: and though I know not
That I do wrong, I feel a thousand fears Which are not ominous of right.
Aho. Then wed thee
Unto some son of clay, and toil and spin!
There's Japhet loves thee well, hath loved thee long:
Marry, and bring forth dust!
Anah. I should have loved
Azaziel not less, were he mortal; yet
I am glad he is not. I can not outlive
Will one day hover o'er the sepulchre
Of the poor child of clay which so adored him,
As he adores the Highest, death becomes
Less terrible; but yet I pity him:
His grief will be of ages, or at least
Mine would be such for him, were I the seraph,
And he the perishable.
Aho. Rather say,
That he will single forth some other daugh-ter
Of Earth, and love her as he once loved
Anah. And if it should be so, and she loved him,
Better thus than that he should weep for me.
Aho. If I thought thus of Samiasa's love, All seraph as he is, I'd spurn him from me.
But to our invocation! -- 'T is the hour.
From thy sphere!
Whatever star contain thy glory:
|In the eternal depths of heaven||39|
Though through space infinite and hoary
Before thy bright wings worlds be driven,
Oh I think of her who holds thee dear!
And though she nothing is to thee,
Yet think that thou art all to her.
Thou canst not tell, --and never be Such pangs decreed to aught save me, -- The bitterness of tears.
|Eternity is in thine years,||50|
With me thou canst not sympathise,
Except in love, and there thou must
Acknowledge that more loving dust
Ne'er wept beneath the skies.
Thou walk'st thy many worlds, thou seest The face of him who made thee great,