A DRAMA OF EXILE.
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Adam. God, there is power in Thee! I make appeal Unto Thy Kingship. Eve.There is pity in Thee, O sinned against, great God!—My seed, my seed, There is hope set on Thee—I cry to Thee, Thou mystic seed that shalt he!—leave us not In agony beyond what we can hear, And in debasement below thunder-mark For Thine arch-image,—taunted and perplext By all these creatures we ruled yesterday, Whom Thou, Lord, rulest alway. O my Seed, Through the tempestuous years that rain so thick Betwixt my ghostly vision and Thy face, Let me have token! for my soul is bruised Before the serpent's head. [A vision of Christ appears in the midst of the zodiac, which pales before the heavenly light. The Earth Spirits grow greyer and fainter. Christ. Lo, I am here! Adam. This is God!—Curse us not, God, any more. Eve. But gazing so—so—with omnific eyes, Lift my soul upward till it touch Thy feet! Or lift it only,—not to seem too proud,—To the low height of some good angel's feet,—For such to tread on, when he walketh straight, And Thy lips praise him. Christ.Spirits of the earth, I meet you with rebuke for the reproach And cruel and unmitigated blame Ye cast upon your masters. True, they have sinned; And true, their sin is reckoned into loss For you the sinless. Yet, your innocence, Which of you praises? since God made your acts Inherent in your lives, and bound your hands With instincts and imperious sanctities, From self-defacement? Which of you disdains These sinners, who, in falling, proved their height Above you, by their liberty to fall?
