CHORUS OF EDEN SPIRITS.

(Chanting from paradise, while ADAM and Eve fly across the

Sword-glare)

Harken, oh harken! let your souls behind you

Turn gently moved!

Our voices feel along the Dread to find you,

O lost, beloved !

Through the thick-shielded and strong-marshalled

angels,

They press and pierce:

Our requiems follow fast on our evangels,

Voice throbs in verse.

We are but orphaned spirits left in Eden

God gave us golden cups, and we were bidden

A time ago.

To feed you so.

But now our right hand hath no cup remaining,

No work to do.

The mystic hydromel is spilt, and staining

The whole earth through.

Most ineradicable stains, for showing

(Not interfused!)

That brighter colours were the world's foregoing,

Than shall be used.

Harken, oh harken! ye shall harken surely

For years and years,

The noise beside you, dripping coldly, purely,

Of spirits' tears.

The yearning to a beautiful denied you,

Shall strain your powers.

Ideal sweetnesses shall over-glide you,

Resumed from ours.

In all your music, our pathetic minor
Your ears shall cross;

And all good gifts shall mind you of diviner,

With sense of loss.

We shall be near you in your poet-languors

And wild extremes,

What time ye vex the desert with vain angers,

Or mock with dreams.

And when upon you, weary after roaming,

Death's seal is put,

By the foregone ye shall discern the coming,
Through eyelids shut.

Spirits of the trees.

Hark! the Eden trees are stirring,

Soft and solemn in your hearing !

Oak and linden, palm and fir,
Tamarisk and Juniper,

Each still throbbing in vibration
Since that crowning of creation
When the God-breath spake abroad,
Let us make man like to God!
And the pine stood quivering
As the awful word went by,
Like a vibrant music-string
Stretched from mountain-peak to sky.
And the platan did expand
Slow and gradual, branch and head;
And the cedar's strong black shade
Fluttered brokenly and grand.
Grove and wood were swept aslant
In emotion jubilant.
Voice of the same, but softer.

Which divine impulsion cleaves
In dim movements to the leaves

Dropt and lifted, dropt and lifted
In the sunlight greenly sifted,-
In the sunlight and the moonlight
Greenly sifted through the trees.
Ever wave the Eden trees
In the nightlight and the noonlight,
With a ruffling of green branches
Shaded off to resonances,

Never stirred by rain or breeze..
Fare ye well, farewell!
The sylvan sounds, no longer audible,
Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading

Treads out some murmur which ye heard before.

Farewell! the trees of Eden

Ye shall hear nevermore.

River-spirits.

Hark! the flow of the four rivers

Hark the flow!

How the silence round you shivers,
While our voices through it go,

Cold and clear.

A softer voice.

Think a little, while ye hear,
Of the banks

Where the willows and the deer
Crowd in intermingled ranks,
As if all would drink at once
Where the living water runs!-
Of the fishes' golden edges
Flashing in and out the sedges;
Of the swans on silver thrones,
Floating down the winding streams
With impassive eyes turned shoreward

And a chant of undertones, -
And the lotos leaning forward
To help them into dreams.

Fare ye well, farewell!
The river-sounds, no longer audible,
Expire at Eden's door.

Each footstep of your treading
Treads out some murmur which ye heard before.
Farewell! the streams of Eden,
Ye shall hear nevermore.

Bird-spirit.

I am the nearest nightingale

That singeth in Eden after you;
And I am singing loud and true,
And sweet,-I do not fail.
I sit upon a cypress bough,

Close to the gate, and I fling my song
Over the gate and through the mail
Of the warden angels marshalled strong, -

Over the gate and after you!
And the warden angels let it pass,
Because the poor brown bird, alas,

Sings in the garden, sweet and true.
And I build my song of high pure notes,
Note after note, height over height,
Till I strike the arch of the Infinite,
And I bridge abysmal agonies
With strong, clear calms of harmonies, -
And something abides, and something floats,
In the song which I sing after you.

Fare ye well, farewell!

The creature-sounds, no longer audible,
Expire at Eden's door.
Each footstep of your treading

Treads out some cadence which ye heard before.

Farewell! the birds of Eden,

Ye shall hear nevermore.

Flower-spirits.

We linger, we linger,

The last of the throng,

Like the tones of a singer

Who loves his own song.

We are spirit-aromas

Of blossom and bloom.
We call your thoughts home as
Ye breathe our perfume,-
To the amaranth's splendour
Afire on the slopes;
To the lily-bells tender,
And grey heliotropes;
To the poppy-plains keeping
Such dream-breath and blee
That the angels there stepping
Grew whiter to see:
To the nook, set with moly,
Ye jested one day in.
Till your smile waxed too holy
And left your lips praying:
To the rose in the bower-place,
That dripped o'er you sleeping:
To the asphodel flower-place,
Ye walked ankle-deep in!
We pluck at your raiment,
We stroke down your hair,
We faint in our lament
And pine into air.

Fare yé well, farewell!
The Eden scents, no longer sensible,