for all the stars, and all the power
Which sways them, I would not accost yon infant
With ruder greeting than a father's kiss.
Which sways them, I would not accost yon infant
With ruder greeting than a father's kiss.
Byron
110
For what should I be gentle? for a war
With all the elements ere they will yield
The bread we eat? For what must I be grateful?
For being dust, and grovelling in the dust,
Till I return to dust? If I am nothing--
For nothing shall I be an hypocrite,
And seem well-pleased with pain? For what should I
Be contrite? for my father's sin, already
Expiate with what we all have undergone,
And to be more than expiated by 120
The ages prophesied, upon our seed.
Little deems our young blooming sleeper, there,
The germs of an eternal misery
To myriads is within him! better 'twere
I snatched him in his sleep, and dashed him 'gainst
The rocks, than let him live to----
_Adah_. Oh, my God!
Touch not the child--my child! _thy_ child! Oh, Cain!
_Cain_. Fear not!
for all the stars, and all the power
Which sways them, I would not accost yon infant
With ruder greeting than a father's kiss. 130
_Adah_. Then, why so awful in thy speech?
_Cain_. I said,
'Twere better that he ceased to live, than give
Life to so much of sorrow as he must
Endure, and, harder still, bequeath; but since
That saying jars you, let us only say--
'Twere better that he never had been born.
_Adah_. Oh, do not say so! Where were then the joys,
The mother's joys of watching, nourishing,
And loving him? Soft! he awakes. Sweet Enoch!
[_She goes to the child_.
Oh, Cain! look on him; see how full of life, 140
Of strength, of bloom, of beauty, and of joy--
How like to me--how like to thee, when gentle--
For _then_ we are _all_ alike; is't not so, Cain?
Mother, and sire, and son, our features are
Reflected in each other; as they are
In the clear waters, when _they_ are _gentle_, and
When _thou_ art _gentle_. Love us, then, my Cain!
For what should I be gentle? for a war
With all the elements ere they will yield
The bread we eat? For what must I be grateful?
For being dust, and grovelling in the dust,
Till I return to dust? If I am nothing--
For nothing shall I be an hypocrite,
And seem well-pleased with pain? For what should I
Be contrite? for my father's sin, already
Expiate with what we all have undergone,
And to be more than expiated by 120
The ages prophesied, upon our seed.
Little deems our young blooming sleeper, there,
The germs of an eternal misery
To myriads is within him! better 'twere
I snatched him in his sleep, and dashed him 'gainst
The rocks, than let him live to----
_Adah_. Oh, my God!
Touch not the child--my child! _thy_ child! Oh, Cain!
_Cain_. Fear not!
for all the stars, and all the power
Which sways them, I would not accost yon infant
With ruder greeting than a father's kiss. 130
_Adah_. Then, why so awful in thy speech?
_Cain_. I said,
'Twere better that he ceased to live, than give
Life to so much of sorrow as he must
Endure, and, harder still, bequeath; but since
That saying jars you, let us only say--
'Twere better that he never had been born.
_Adah_. Oh, do not say so! Where were then the joys,
The mother's joys of watching, nourishing,
And loving him? Soft! he awakes. Sweet Enoch!
[_She goes to the child_.
Oh, Cain! look on him; see how full of life, 140
Of strength, of bloom, of beauty, and of joy--
How like to me--how like to thee, when gentle--
For _then_ we are _all_ alike; is't not so, Cain?
Mother, and sire, and son, our features are
Reflected in each other; as they are
In the clear waters, when _they_ are _gentle_, and
When _thou_ art _gentle_. Love us, then, my Cain!
