Poems (Hooper)/A Legend of the Centuries
A LEGEND OF THE CENTURIES.
Au commencement, Dieu vit un jour dans l'espace.
In the beginning God beheld one day
Iblis approach him: "Seek'st thou pardon?" "Nay,"
Answered the Evil. "Then, what wouldst thou have?"
The fiend, enrobed in night, this answer gave:
"Let us each strive to make the fairest thing."
"Lo! I consent," said the Eternal King.
"I'll," said the rebel, "change what thou hast wrought;
Thou shalt give life to that which I have brought,
And each shall breathe his genius on the thing
The other one, his opponent, shall bring."
"So be it; take—what wouldst thou?" Thus God said.
"Give me the stag's horns and the horse's head."
"Take;" but the monster hesitated still—
"The antelope's horns were better." "Have thy will."
He sought his cave and wrought, then raised his brow:
"Hast done already?" "No!" "What wouldst thou now?"
"The elephant's eyes, O King, the bull's strong neck."
"Take." And again the crawler spake: "I seek
The ostrich's swift foot, the crab's smooth shell,
The serpent's rings, the chamois' thighs as well."
"Take." And as bees move in their guarded cell,
Were heard strange passings to and fro in Hell.
No gaze could pierce the hiding cloud to know
What work was done in that dark cave below.
Suddenly Iblis turned to God and spake:
"Give me the hue of gold," and God said, "Take!"
And, roaring like a bull led to be slain,
The demon bent him to his work again.
The hammers strange tempestuous lightnings shed,
His eyes like furnaces flamed in his head,
The fire rushed from his nostrils with the roar
Of those great floods that desolate the shore
In the pale season when the storks take wing.
God said, "What needst thou still?" "The tiger's spring."
"Take!" said the Being, with supreme disdain.
"Aid me!" cried Iblis to the hurricane.
The forge flamed; from his brow the great drops fell;
Writhing, he bent, and, 'neath the vaults of Hell,
Naught could be seen except a dull red glow
Purpling the demon workman's fearful brow.
The hurricane, a fiend, too, aided. Then there came
Again that Voice from out the heights supreme:
"What wouldst thou more?" The mighty pariah said,
Lifting his monstrous, melancholy head:
"The lion's chest, the eagle's wing;" and, lo!
From out His elements, God cast below
To him who forged pride and rebellion
The eagle's wing, the broad chest of the lion.
The demon recommenced his secret task.
"What hydra shapes he then?" the pale stars ask:
The world awaited, grave and full of care,
The giant this colossus was to bear.
Sudden was heard, amidst sepulchral Night,
The last death-rattle of exhausted might.
Etna, grim workshop of the toiler curst,
Flamed, and asunder Hell's vast ceiling burst,
And, 'mid a pallid, supernatural light,
Iblis flung forth the grasshopper to sight.
The fearful cripple, wingéd and yet lame,
Beheld his work and saw it without shame—
Abortion being the custom of the shade.
From the eternal wreck he raised his head;
Crossing his arms, he cried, with arrogant brow
And sneering laugh, "Master, 'tis Thy turn now!"
And he who dared for God to spread a snare
Continued: '"Thou hast given what was most rare
In elephant and ostrich, and, behold!
To gild the whole, Thou gav'st the hue of gold—
The choicest gifts of eagle, horse, and snake;
And now material for what Thou shalt make,
I give Thee, in my turn. Lo! it is here."
God, for whom e'en the plots of Hell are clear,
Held forth His awful Hand, all bathed in light,
And Iblis gave the spider from the night.
Iblis approach him: "Seek'st thou pardon?" "Nay,"
Answered the Evil. "Then, what wouldst thou have?"
The fiend, enrobed in night, this answer gave:
"Let us each strive to make the fairest thing."
"Lo! I consent," said the Eternal King.
"I'll," said the rebel, "change what thou hast wrought;
Thou shalt give life to that which I have brought,
And each shall breathe his genius on the thing
The other one, his opponent, shall bring."
"So be it; take—what wouldst thou?" Thus God said.
"Give me the stag's horns and the horse's head."
"Take;" but the monster hesitated still—
"The antelope's horns were better." "Have thy will."
He sought his cave and wrought, then raised his brow:
"Hast done already?" "No!" "What wouldst thou now?"
"The elephant's eyes, O King, the bull's strong neck."
"Take." And again the crawler spake: "I seek
The ostrich's swift foot, the crab's smooth shell,
The serpent's rings, the chamois' thighs as well."
"Take." And as bees move in their guarded cell,
Were heard strange passings to and fro in Hell.
No gaze could pierce the hiding cloud to know
What work was done in that dark cave below.
Suddenly Iblis turned to God and spake:
"Give me the hue of gold," and God said, "Take!"
And, roaring like a bull led to be slain,
The demon bent him to his work again.
The hammers strange tempestuous lightnings shed,
His eyes like furnaces flamed in his head,
The fire rushed from his nostrils with the roar
Of those great floods that desolate the shore
In the pale season when the storks take wing.
God said, "What needst thou still?" "The tiger's spring."
"Take!" said the Being, with supreme disdain.
"Aid me!" cried Iblis to the hurricane.
The forge flamed; from his brow the great drops fell;
Writhing, he bent, and, 'neath the vaults of Hell,
Naught could be seen except a dull red glow
Purpling the demon workman's fearful brow.
The hurricane, a fiend, too, aided. Then there came
Again that Voice from out the heights supreme:
"What wouldst thou more?" The mighty pariah said,
Lifting his monstrous, melancholy head:
"The lion's chest, the eagle's wing;" and, lo!
From out His elements, God cast below
To him who forged pride and rebellion
The eagle's wing, the broad chest of the lion.
The demon recommenced his secret task.
"What hydra shapes he then?" the pale stars ask:
The world awaited, grave and full of care,
The giant this colossus was to bear.
Sudden was heard, amidst sepulchral Night,
The last death-rattle of exhausted might.
Etna, grim workshop of the toiler curst,
Flamed, and asunder Hell's vast ceiling burst,
And, 'mid a pallid, supernatural light,
Iblis flung forth the grasshopper to sight.
The fearful cripple, wingéd and yet lame,
Beheld his work and saw it without shame—
Abortion being the custom of the shade.
From the eternal wreck he raised his head;
Crossing his arms, he cried, with arrogant brow
And sneering laugh, "Master, 'tis Thy turn now!"
And he who dared for God to spread a snare
Continued: '"Thou hast given what was most rare
In elephant and ostrich, and, behold!
To gild the whole, Thou gav'st the hue of gold—
The choicest gifts of eagle, horse, and snake;
And now material for what Thou shalt make,
I give Thee, in my turn. Lo! it is here."
God, for whom e'en the plots of Hell are clear,
Held forth His awful Hand, all bathed in light,
And Iblis gave the spider from the night.
God took the spider—placed it far and high
In the dim vault that was not yet the sky;
Then on the animal He fixed His gaze,
Dread with the splendor of supernal rays.
The monster, late so small, beneath His eyes
Grew suddenly to vast and wondrous size,
But the Eternal gaze changed not the while.
A strange dawn wandered o'er the creature vile,
The frightful form a lustrous globe became,
The knotted claws were changed to orbs of flame,
The outstretched legs to rays of light were turned,
And through the shadows blinding splendors burned.
Dazzled, the demon crouched—the work was done—
And of the spider God had made the sun!
Victor Hugo.
In the dim vault that was not yet the sky;
Then on the animal He fixed His gaze,
Dread with the splendor of supernal rays.
The monster, late so small, beneath His eyes
Grew suddenly to vast and wondrous size,
But the Eternal gaze changed not the while.
A strange dawn wandered o'er the creature vile,
The frightful form a lustrous globe became,
The knotted claws were changed to orbs of flame,
The outstretched legs to rays of light were turned,
And through the shadows blinding splendors burned.
Dazzled, the demon crouched—the work was done—
And of the spider God had made the sun!
Victor Hugo.