No More Learning

Command the sea and the sea obeyeth thee.
Command the tempest and the tempest becometh a calm. Command the winding course of the Euphrates
And the will of Merodach shall arrest the floods.
Lord, thou art holy ! Who is like unto thee ?
Merodach thou art honored among the gods that bear a name.
ADAM AND EVE IN PARADISE. 35
ADAM AND EVE IN PARADISE. By JOHN MILTON.
[John Milton : English poet ; born in London, December 9, 1608 ; died in London, November 8, 1674. He was graduated from Cambridge, 1629 ; was Latin secretary, 1649-1660. He became totally blind in 1652. At the Restora tion he was proscribed and his works were ordered burnt by the hangman ; but after a time he was left unmolested and spent the last years of his life in quiet literary labors. " Paradise Lost " was issued in 1666, " Paradise Regained " in 1671, and "Samson Agonistes" in 1671. His masque of "Comus" was pub lished in 1634, "Lycidas" in 1637, "L'Allegro" and "Penseroso" in 1646. Among his prose works the " Areopagitica " (1644), advocating the freedom of the press, his work on Divorce, and his "Defense of the English People" (1654) are most famous. His sonnets in the Italian manner are among the finest in the English language. ]
Beneath him, with new wonder, now he views,
To all delight of human sense exposed, — In narrow room Nature's whole wealth ; yea, more !
A Heaven on Earth : for blissful Paradise
Of God the garden was, by him in the east
Of Eden planted. Eden stretched her line
From Auran eastward to the royal towers
Of great Seleucia, built by Gecian kings,
Or where the sons of Eden long before
Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil
His far more pleasant garden God ordained.
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste ;
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold ; and next to life, — Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill Passed underneath ingulfed ; for God had thrown
That mountain, as his garden mould, high raised Upon the rapid current, which, through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst updrawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Watered the garden ; thence united fell
Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears, And now, divided into four main streams,
Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
ADAM AND EVE IN PARADISE.
And country whereof here needs no account ;
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell
How, from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, Roiling on orient pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy error under pendent shades
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Imbrowned the noontide bowers.
Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of various view :
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind, Hung amiable — Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only — and of delicious taste.
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks Grazing the tender herb, were interposed,
Or palmy hillock ; or the flowery lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store, Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose. Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant ; meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills dispersed, or in a lake, That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring. . . .
The Fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind
Of living creatures, new to sight and strange. Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad
In naked majesty, seemed lords of all,
And worthy seemed ; for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, — Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure Severe, but in true filial freedom placed, Whence true authority in men ; though both
Adam and Eve
After an engraving by Aug. Blanchard
ADAM AND EVE IN PARADISE.
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed : For contemplation he and valor formed,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; He for God only, she for God in him.
His fair large front and eye sublime declared Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad ; She, as a veil down to the slender waist,
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Disheveled, but in wanton ringlets waved
As the vine curls her tendrils — which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received Yielded, with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed Then was not guilty shame. Dishonest shame
Of Nature's works, honor dishonorable,
Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind
With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure, And banished from man's life his happiest life, Simplicity and spotless innocence !
So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight Of God or Angel ; for they thought no ill :
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair That ever since in love's embraces met — Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons ; the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade that on a green
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side, They sat them down ; and, after no more toil Of their sweet gardening labor than suffice
To recommend cool Zephyr, and make ease
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite — More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs Yielded them, sidelong as they sat reclined
On the soft downy bank damasked with flowers. The savory pulp they chew, and in the rind,
Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream ; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles
Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems Fair couple linked in happy nuptial league, Alone as they.
88 THE MURDER OF ABEL.
THE MURDER OF ABEL. By V1TTORIO ALFIERI.
(From "Abel. ")
[Count Vittorio Alfieri, one of the greatest of Italian dramatists, was born at Asti, in Piedmont, January 17, 1740. Of good birth and independent means, he traveled extensively in Europe, and after the successful production of his first play, " Cleopatra " (1775), devoted himself to dramatic composition. While in Florence he met the Countess of Albany, wife of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, and passed many years in her society in Alsace and Paris, and at the outbreak of the French Revolution returned to Italy and died at Florence, October 8, 1803. He was buried in the church of Santa Croce, between the tombs of Machiavelli and Michelangelo, where a beautiful monument by Canova covers his remains. Alfieri left twenty-one tragedies and six comedies, besides five odes on American Independence, various sonnets, and a number of prose works. Included among his tragedies are " Saul," " Philip II. ," " Orestes," and " Mary Stuart. "]
Envy —
Why tremble, O youth, why thus fixedly stare,
While fiercely is beating thy heart, on the wound Which is made doubly sore by the chilling despair Of the snakes which entwine like ivy, around
deign, thou'rt fearless, and fain wouldst be there, Where joy never ending certainly found,
deign of the waters transparent to think,
Which make those men happy supremely, who drink.
Cain —
who art thou who in these accents strange
Addressest me Are there upon the earth
Men that we know not of Remove my doubts,
pray thee tell me who thou art but use language that doth more resemble mine,
That more easily may understand it. Envy —
Thou son of Adam, by thy speech know thee. 'Twas not sufficient for thy father then
To get himself expelled, with so much shame, From that terrestrial lovely Paradise,
Where with multitudes of others dwell For him 'twas not enough? he furthermore Must keep his own son in deep ignorance Of the great good thus lost, and take away The slightest chance of e'er regaining
Envy, Cain, Death.
it ?
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THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Cain —
What dost thou say ? There was a Paradise On earth ? and from it Adam banished was ? And he from his own son so vast a good Conceals, and hinders ?
Envy — Harsh and unjust father, He envies his own son that happiness,
Of which he was unworthy. There, beyond
The banks of the great river, I was standing
Envy —
. . .
With this my mother dear : and thence I saw
(For those who dwell there all things see and know) Thee as a fugitive, thy father's dwelling
Leaving, and hither coming . . .
Cain —
This know of me, whilst I
Upon that further shore, all things are easy. There, matters distant or not understood,
Or things impossible, are words unknown : Brothers and sisters numerous are we,
And sons and fathers ; there to every man
Is coupled one like me ; as thou hast seen
Eve with thy father live. — I pity took
Upon thy ignorance ; and therefore came
As far as this to meet thee. Do but try
To cross the limpid waves, and thou'lt become Straightway like me ; and there, if thou so will Possessor of my beauty thou mayst be
As may, if please, divide with thee Each of the many things that possess Collected in that happy place together.
Cain —
How possible that my dear father,
Who loves us so, could cruelly conceal
So vast good Thou with thy words dost wake Within my heart contrast wonderful.
Thy beauty moves me much the flatt'ring hope Of thee thy sweet discourse, the like of which
never heard before yes, am moved By all in thee but how can abandon Ungratefully those dear ones to the toil Of ceaseless labor, whilst pass myself An idle life at ease amid delights
We're not alike. To us, the happy and perpetual dwellers
How canst thou
:
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;
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;
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;
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it
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THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Envy —
Thou thinkest well. Slave, then, and suffer thou, Fatigue thyself, and sweat. Meanwhile another Will occupy thy place before thee there.
Cain —
Another? who?
Envy — Thou'rt very blind.
Cain — Perchance,
Is there but room for one ?
Envy — For one alone
Of Adam's sons a passage there is granted :
Concealed from thee, but not from all . . . Cain —
O what,
What chill again pervades me ! horrible
The doubt Ifeel . . .
Envy — The thing is manifest,
I perceive thy every thought :
Not doubtful :
Yes, Adam to his Abel all revealed, But hid from thee . . .
Cain — Envy —
For him reserves he. Cain —
What hear I
And the place
Madness ! That thick mist Which so obscured my eyesight suddenly
I now behold the source
Of that unknown and indistinct fierce impulse,
Which, at the sight, and even at the name
Of Abel, thrilled me through, from time to time. Envy —
Thou now dost know it all. Only take care
Lest Abel should anticipate thy steps.
As soon as thou hast reached the other shore, I'll meet thee, and be thine : but I may not
Go with thee to the crossing : and meanwhile,
To strengthen thee in thy design, observe
What I will do. — Now, mother, just to give him A little sample of our happy race,
Has disappeared :
Which he will find beyond those waters, say, Would it not fitting be to let him see
The sudden apparition of a fine
Well-chosen troop of them ?
Death — Do as thou will'st, Dear daughter.
Envy — Thou shalt see, Cain, presently A handsome people, and harmonious dances
!
THE MURDER OF ABEL. 41
To dulcet notes danced nimbly, which thy heart Will ravish. — Now, dear brothers, swiftly come ; Appear as rapidly as flies my thought.
[Strikes her foot on the ground. The different Choruses of musi cians and dancers immediately appear on every side.
Death, Envy, Cain, Chorus of Male and Female Dancers; Chorus ofMale and Female Singers.
Chorus.
His cheeks shall both be overflowed With tears, with sweat his brow, To whom it is not granted now
Into our joyous land to press : But he who in our bright abode
His happy feet can plant, Has written down in adamant
His full eternal happiness.
Right-hand Chorus.
In this drear place of misery,
How sad the fate of hapless man,
Condemned by cruel destiny
To earn his food as best he can !
Left-hand Chorus.
The man who here doth dwell, we know, Amanlikeone ofusisnot:
He has been struck a deadly blow, Which utterly has changed his lot.
All.
He who the apple tasted ne'er,
Shall he not all life's pleasures share ?
A voice.
He shall not lose them, no, no, no. — Thou, who of the rigid
Ignored prohibition Nothing dost know;
O come to the frigid
Glad stream of fruition,
And drown there each woe.
THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Man shall not lose anew The rights that are his due.
All.
He shall not lose them, no, no, no.
A woman's voice in the Chorus. Thou son of Adam, come where we
Are living in a feast eternal,
Which equaleth the life supernal In its supreme felicity.
Thou ne'er hast seen the sun's rays blend So brilliantly as there ;
Thou ne'er hast seen from Heaven descend Such manna sweet and fair,
As in that place thou'lt see :
A man's voice.
There only doth the stream o'erflow With milk of whitest hue ;
There on each tree and hedge doth grow The purest honey dew,
Man's nutriment to be.
The two voices.
Thou son of Adam, come where we
Are living in a feast eternal,
Which equaleth the life supernal In its supreme felicity.
All.
Thou son of Adam, come where we Are living in felicity.
Quick, quick ! Make haste ! Away ! If thou shouldst long delay,
Another, with a step less slow,
Before thee will arrive there soon.
If thou dost know how vast the boon,
Thou wilt not lose no, no, no. Death, Cain, Envt.
Envy —
Do thou awake from out thy stupor, Cain,
Thou hast both seen and heard then naught remains For me, but as pledge of faith, to give thee
a
:
it,
THE MURDER OF ABEL.
My hand. Come, take it.
[As she touches his hand, she disappears with her mother.
Cain.
Cain —
— What frightful chill has pierced my heart ! my blood Appears to stagnate there, all frozen . . . O,
What dreadful flame has now succeeded it !
I follow thee, for fear that villain Abel
Should first arrive there.
Cain and Abel [turning towards the river]. Abel — Cain! what is't I see? Cain [running towards him with his pickax] —
Ah, traitor ! dost thou come from there ? I soon
Will punish thee. —
Abel [flying backwards] Help, mother, help me, help ! Cain [following him, and disappearing from view] —
Fly as thou mayst, I'll overtake thee soon.
Ah, Ipray thee, stay . . .
Cain, Abel.
Cain —
Come, villain, come ! [Dragging him by the hair.
Abel —
What have I
Cain —
Thy final vital breath.
Abel — Ah, hear thou me !
O my dear brother, pity ! done ? . . .
Come ! far away indeed From that much-longed-for river shalt thou breathe
My brother, do thou hearken !
Cain — No, that good
Which was my due, but which I ne'er received, Shall ne'er be thine. Perfidious one, behold, Around thee look ; this is the desert waste,
From which I fled, and where thou leftest me : Thy last looks never shall behold those waters Which thou, in thy disloyal thoughts, didst deem As crossed already : here, upon this sand,
Thou soon shalt lie a corpse.
Abel— But, O my God!
What means all this ? at least explain thy words : I understand thee not : explain, and hear me ; Thou afterwards mayst slay me at thy will,
But hear me first, I pray.
Cain — Say on.
Abel — But tell me,
Inwhat have Ioffended thee ? . . . Alas!
THE MURDER OF ABEL.
How can I speak to thee, if fierce and stern
Thou standest o'er me ? neck and nostrils swollen; Looks full of fire and blood ; thy lips, thy face All livid ; whilst thy knees, thine arms, thy head Are moved convulsively by trembling strange ! — Pity, my brother : calm thyself : and loosen
Thy hold upon my hair a little, so
That I may breathe.
Cain — I never fancied, Abel, That thou wouldst be a traitor.
Abel — I am not. My father knows it; and thou too.
Cain — My father ? Ne'er name him : father of us both alike,
And just, I deemed him, and I was deceived.
Abel —
What sayest thou ? Dost doubt his love ?
thou scarce Hadst gone away from us this morning, when, Anxious for thee, with mortal sorrow filled,
My father straightway sent me on thy track . . .
Cain —
Perfidious ones,
I know it all ; to me This was a horrible, undoubted proof
Of my bad brother and my still worse father. I know it all ; the veil has fallen ; the secret Has been revealed to me : and I'm resolved That thou shalt ne'er be happy at my cost.
Abel —
Cain, by that God who both of us created,
And who maintains us, I entreat of thee,
Explain thyself : what is my fault ? what secret Has been revealed to thee ? upon my face,
And in my eyes, and words, and countenance,
Does not my innocence reveal itself ?
I happy at thy cost ? O, how could Abel
Be happy if thou'rt not ? Ah, hadst thou seen me, When I awoke, and found thee not beside me
This morning ! Ah, how sorely did I weep!
And how our parents wept ! The livelong day Have I since then consumed, but fruitlessly,
In seeking thee and sadly calling thee,
But never finding thee ; although I heard
Thy voice in front of me from time to time,
In the far distance answering : and I
Went ever further on in search of thee,
Cain — Abel—
I'm so no more.
THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Up to yon river ; over whose broad waves
I feared that thou, who art a swimmer bold, Hadst crossed . . .
Cain — And of that river darest thou, Foolhardy one, a single word to speak ?
I well believe thou fearedst, if I crossed
That thou wouldst have forever lost the hope
Of crossing thyself. Thou darest, too,
To mingle truth and falsehood and assert That replied to thee But now the end
Of every wicked art has come in vain
Thou soughtest to anticipate my steps
Thou seest that have caught thee just in time Nor river, nor the light of heaven shalt thou E'er see again. I'll kill thee fall thou down
Abel-
Keep back thy ax do not strike me See,
fall before thee, and embrace thy knees.
Keep back thy ax, pray thee Hear thou me The sound of this my voice, in yonder fields,
Has soothed thee oftentimes, when much incensed, Now with the stubborn clods, now with the lambs, But thou wast ne'er so angry as thou'rt now.
Dear brother of my heart . .
But shall ever be so thou art too pledge to thee my innocence: swear
By both our parents have never heard One word about this river nor can fathom Thy accusations.
Cain — Can there be such malice, Such craftiness, at such tender age
All this dissembling makes me madder still Vile liar .
Abel— Cain —
Die now. Abel —
Cain — Abel—
What! thou call'st thy Abel, liar? Embrace me first.
hate thee.
Strike, thou wilt have so but have not deserved it.
Still love thee.
I'll not resist Cain —
—And yet, his weeping, and his juvenile
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THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Candor, which true appears, the sweet accustomed Sound of his voice, restrain me : and my arm
And anger fall. — But, shall a foolish pity
Rob me forever of my property ? . . .
Alas ! what to resolve ? what do ?
Abel — What say'st thou
Apart ? Turn towards me : look at me : in vain Thou hid'st from me thy face : amidst thy fierce And dreadful ravings, from thy moistened eye Gleamed there upon me just one passing ray
Of love fraternal and of pity. Take,
I pray thee, pity on my tender youth,
And on thyself. O ! dost thou think that God Can afterwards take pleasure in thy prayers,
Or gifts, if with the blood of thine own brother He sees thee dyed ? And then our excellent Unhappy mother, wouldst thou rob her thus
Of both her sons ? for, certainly, if thou Shouldst slay me, thou wouldst never dare again To show thyself before her. Ah, just think How that unhappy one can live without us : Think too . . .
Cain — Ah, brother ! thou dost rend my heart :
I pardon thee : in this
Embrace . . . What do I? and what said I? Base one,
Rise, then, arise :
Thy tears are but a juggle : and not doubtful Thy treason is ; thou dost not merit pardon ; I will not pardon thee.
Abel — What see I? Fiercer Dost thou become than ever ?
Cain — I become
What I should be to thee. Come now what may ; The good denied me, none shall have instead. — No more of pardon, no more pity ; thou
Hast now no brother, father, mother more.
My eye is dimmed already with thick blood :
I see a monster at my feet. Now, die !
What holds me back ? What seizes on my arm ? What voice is thundering ?
Abel — God sees us. Cain—
Methinks I hear Him : now methinks I Pursuing me in fearful wise : already
I see my own ensanguined ax fall down Upon my guilty head with crashing sound !
God? see Him,
THE MURDER OF ABEL. 47
Abel—His senses he has lost. Sad sight ! I tremble . . . From head to foot . . .
Cain — Thou, Abel, do thou take This ax ; and strike with both thy hands, upon My head. Why dost thou tarry ? now behold,
I offer no defense : be quick, and slay me :
Slay me ; for in no other way canst thou Escape my fury, which is fast returning : I pray thee then, make haste.
Abel — What do I hear ? That I should strike thee ? Why, if I still love thee As much as ever ? Calm thyself : become
Thyself again : let's both our father seek :
He waits for thee . . .
Cain —
Go now with thee ?
The mention of his name Fiercer than ever wakens all my rage.
Hast thou betrayed.
My father ? to my father I understand : thyself
Once more then, die thou, die. [Strikes him. Abel— Alas! . . . I feel
My strength depart . . . O mother ! . . .
Cain — What, O what
,j,
[Flies.
Have I now done ? his blood spurts o'er my face !
He falls ; he faints . . . Where hide myself ? 0 Heavens ! What have I done ? Accursed ax, begone
Forever from my hand, my eyes . . . What hear I ?
Alas ! already doth the thund'ring voice
Of God upon me call . . . O where to fly ?
There, raves my father in wild fury . . . Here,
My dying brother's sobs . . . Where hide myself ?
I fly.
Abel [dying], then Adam.
Ah dreadful pain ! . . . 0, how my blood
Is running down ! . . .
Adam — Already towards the west
The sun approaches fast, and I as yet
Have found them not ! The livelong day have I And Eve consumed in searching for them both, And all without success . . . But this is surely
The track of Abel : Abel —
Alas ! help, help ! . . . O mother ! . . . Adam —
[Advances.
O, what hear I
I will follow it
?
18
THE MURDER OF ABEL.
Sobs of a human being, like the wails
Of Abel! . . . Heavens ! what see Ithere ? a stream Ofblood? . . . Alas! abody furtheron? . . . Abel! My son, thou here? . . . Uponthy body Let me at least breathe forth my own last breath !
Abel —
My father's voice, methinks . . . O ! is it thou ? . . . My eyes are dim, and ill I see . . .