_
As the yellow toad, that spits its poison chilly,
As the tiger, in the jungle crouching stilly,
As the wild boar, with ragged tusks of anger,
As the wolf-dog, with teeth of
glittering
clangour,
As the vultures, that scream against the thunder,
As the owlets, that sit and moan asunder,
Thus,--and thus!
Elizabeth Browning
_ So let us die,
When God's will soundeth the right hour of death.
_Earth Spirits._ And bringer of the curse upon all these.
_Eve._ O Spirits! by the gentleness ye use
In winds at night, and floating clouds at noon,
In gliding waters under lily-leaves,
In chirp of crickets, and the settling hush
A bird makes in her nest with feet and wings,--
Fulfil your natures now!
_Earth Spirits._ Agreed, allowed!
We gather out our natures like a cloud,
And thus fulfil their lightnings! Thus, and thus!
Hearken, oh hearken to us!
_First Spirit._
As the storm-wind blows bleakly from the norland,
As the snow-wind beats blindly on the moorland,
As the simoom drives hot across the desert,
As the thunder roars deep in the Unmeasured.
As the torrent tears the ocean-world to atoms,
As the whirlpool grinds it fathoms below fathoms,
Thus,--and thus!
_Second Spirit.
_
As the yellow toad, that spits its poison chilly,
As the tiger, in the jungle crouching stilly,
As the wild boar, with ragged tusks of anger,
As the wolf-dog, with teeth of
glittering
clangour,
As the vultures, that scream against the thunder,
As the owlets, that sit and moan asunder,
Thus,--and thus!
_Eve._ Adam! God!
_Adam._ Cruel, unrelenting Spirits!
By the power in me of the sovran soul
Whose thoughts keep pace yet with the angel's march,
I charge you into silence--trample you
Down to obedience. I am king of you!
_Earth Spirits._
Ha, ha! thou art king!
With a sin for a crown,
And a soul undone!
Thou, the antagonized,
Tortured and agonized,
Held in the ring
Of the zodiac!
Now, king, beware!
We are many and strong
Whom thou standest among,--
And we press on the air,
And we stifle thee back,
And we multiply where
Thou wouldst trample us down
From rights of our own
To an utter wrong--
And, from under the feet of thy scorn,
O forlorn,
We shall spring up like corn,
And our stubble be strong.
_Adam.
