Scene I.
THE DESERT.
Cain sleeping , A DA watching him , E NOCH in the
distance .
ADA .
E E sleeps; the mid-day burns o'er him unfelt,
The weariness and weight of grief forgot.
The calm rest of the guiltless, such is his,
For now, the past is not, the present dead,
And the undying worm, remorse, is stilled.
Oh, that it were so! — that he might awake,
Forgetfulness thrown o'er his memory,
Hiding what should in darkness rest!
Alas,
I know it cannot be; yet my weak heart
Feeds upon hope that has become a sin.
The award of God is just, his punishment
Is but begun: those eyes will open, earth
Gladden around him; then shall consciousness
Return, recalling all he was and is.
My path is marked, my duty, and my joy:
The woman's heart is hope; we may outlive
The curse: who bounds the mercy of the Lord?
And when my Cain succumbs, and owns his sin,
Shall he not have forgiveness? till hearts closed
Open to him again, and we shall meet,
Chastened, but happy still. Thou droopest, Enoch!
ENOCH .
Mother! we wander far from home, and none
Will watch me when I sleep.
ADA
I shall watch near thee.
ENOCH .
But Zillah came, and stood beside, and smiled,
And she has left us now.
ADA .
Weep not, my boy!
On a far journey we are bound, to meet
In peace at last, and part no more.
ENOCH .
But, mother!
Shall we again see Zillah? for I know,
Since we have gone, they have not been so happy.
ADA .
Thou shalt behold her. Cain awakens! — no;
But his face writhes with inward pain, which is
The agony of his remorse renewed.
His dreams become realities, he weeps,
The veins are swollen on his brow, his lips
Are quivering till —
CAIN .
My Ada! is it thou?
ADA .
Why look'st thou on me fearfully, enfolding
My arm with thy strong grasp?
CAIN .
I have beheld
The unnamed Spirit of whom our father spake.
ADA .
Cain, for the last time, hear! — I call on thee,
By that child watching for his father's glance,
That shalt light up his own; by thine own Ada,
Whom thou hast loved, or by its memory;
By thy sire bowed down like a stricken tree
To dust by his afflictions; by thy God!
List not to that false spirit; thou hast not
Passed mercy's limit gates. Kneel thou to Him;
The Tempter, shadow-like, shall pass from thee.
CAIN .
Ada! kneel not to me.
ADA .
Has he not wrought
On thee enough of ill? art thou not changed?
Wherefore in this waste desert stand we now
Exiled? our home, that angels watched, forsook,
While he, the Evil One, draws round his toils?
Thine eyes are fixed, as if in vision still.
What art thou, save a presence even as he?
I see thee with mine opened eyes; I saw
Him with my spirit, a form distinct as thine.
I stood upon the heath; it was the night,
But starless; I looked long and yearningly
Toward our home; I heard their evening hymn
Rise with a welcome and appealing sound.
I bless'd their happiness, and felt that I
Might have been happier, that I was driven
To ill, the moulded tool of others' hands.
The voice of Abel called me from behind;
ADA .
Whom?
CAIN .
Him, the One Unknown
I could not move away; I felt that he
Inspired the thought that else had never been.
I saw he was of grade inferior,
A light eclipsed: lightnings filled not his eyes,
His presence showed auguster majesty;
For, like the sun, he drew toward him more
In setting glory. One hand motioned me
To where he stood, and pointed through the space
Which, as the clouds rolled surging back, I saw
Sparkling with distant suns — " Why, cain," — his voice
Thrills through me still, — " why dwell'st thou outcast here?
Strive with the nature that would prostrate thee;
Seek spirits like thine own in those bright worlds:
Rise, follow me."
ADA .
And thou?
CAIN .
I followed him.
ADA .
Even in thy dreams thou liv'st apart from us;
What marvel, thou who hast forsaken God,
That thou no more shouldst own thy human ties?
Thy heart has never loved, or, if it felt,
Thou hast relapsed, as if to mock the nature
That could forget itself in happiness.
Prove that which thou hast lost, for ownest thou
No human joys? — is no weight from the heart
Raised, conscious that another shares its grief,
Until the cup of bitterness is drank,
Even welcomed from the hand that offered it?
Oh, hadst thou owned, these ties, weak though they be,
Far happier thou than torturing thyself
With thoughts that make thee wretched.
CAIN .
Who seeks ill?
Who chooses ashes that has tasted fruits?
Would I not change to aught save that I am
To flee from my own thought? but who may strive
With life? I was thrown back upon myself.
I saw the illusion, how we are allured
To live from dread of death. I felt my spirit
Bound to weak wants, in yielding weaker made.
These are the thoughts that wither up my life,
Powerless to rule them or to change.
ADA
Alas,
The ordinance of the knowledge-tree, whose fruits
Are ashes! Well has God withheld it from us.
CAIN .
Ada! thou err'st, and speak'st with woman's weakness.
It is the aspiration of all life
Save Godhead's; yea, his own, unless He knoweth
His origin ineffable. No, Ada!
It is our bounded power that crushes us;
To see and feel injustice, while we bear
The oppression in our hearts.
ADA .
Alas, that man
Should judge against the Highest, yea, condemn!
It is not thou dost speak, but he who makes thee
Thus glory in thy guilt.
CAIN .
But thou shalt not
Watch strifes thou couldst not heal. I will not stand
Between thee and thy boy, o'ershadowing
The happiness he draws from thee; or take thee
From homes to both endeared. But never more
Will I meet them, or hear their voices mount
Upward in prayer, like incense-clouds, to heaven
Why has not God created me as they,
Knowing I was not happy with the power
To mould me to his will? I am a leaf
Tossed on the waters without guide nor hope;
I am as one ordained to stand apart,
To question Him, impelling me to deeds
I loathe when done.
ADA .
Cain! fearfully the powers
Of good and ill contend in thee: oh, turn
To Him who can allay the storm.
CAIN .
Wouldst thou,
Exiled from all who love thee, waste thy life
With me in the desert? wouldst thou teach thy child,
Thine only child, to grow up brute-like, till
His rage shall turn on thee? to wear thy days
Hearing the self acousing fratricide?
Or see him sink in apathy, brooding hate
To thee and thine? Thy love would but recall
The widow left in tears; thy child, the son
I rendered fatherless.
ADA .
What wouldst thou, Cain?
A fearful purpose lightens in thine eye
CAIN .
Ada! this bosom owns its sacrifice
Of agony while offering thee its last,
Sole proof of love. Lo, yonder tents afar!
Go, Ada! take thy child with thee, he is young,
And will forget me; never let him hear
Who was his sire. Nay, look not thus on me,
For, by the living God thou worshippest,
Thou shalt not change me! by thy life I swear,
By our past loves, thou shalt not further on
ADA .
Have thy words meaning? Human are thy looks?
Thy lips are quivering, and nature fails thee
In this unnatural strife. Dost thou forsake me,
Thou, Cain! in my distress? by all most dear,
Alas, what is or was — by our young days —
Recall them but awhile — then look on me!
By Enoch's life! Kneel by thy mother, child!
Look on thy desolate wife! oh, let her live,
Whose life dwells but in thee; thou couldst not bear
The burden of another death. Alas!
He has no human feeling.
ENOCH .
Mother! rise.
Father! she lies as still as Abel when —
CAIN .
Bring water from the rock! — she will awake.
God! these beginnings are of greater strifes,
The drops of thy all-burning vial poured
On a heart scorched already. Thou frail thing,
Too soon succumbing; thou, unequal all
To burdens laid on thee; yea, thou hast loved me,
Too rough support for softness such as thine.
I could not give to thee the happiness
I have not. Even now, could I feel hope
Of change, a lightening of the apathy
Chilling this bosom, I would press thee there;
But to behold thee daily dying thus, —
It shall not be! — from that crime I am freed
Farewell! — and now how lonely wilt thou be!
One last embrace! — those eyes behold me not,
Yea, never shall they open on me more;
And now the bitterness of death is past.
ENOCH .
My father, stay thy steps! He hears me not,
But I have brought the water in this shell,
My mother!
ADA .
Is he gone? — oh God! he is gone.
THE DESERT.
Cain sleeping , A DA watching him , E NOCH in the
distance .
ADA .
E E sleeps; the mid-day burns o'er him unfelt,
The weariness and weight of grief forgot.
The calm rest of the guiltless, such is his,
For now, the past is not, the present dead,
And the undying worm, remorse, is stilled.
Oh, that it were so! — that he might awake,
Forgetfulness thrown o'er his memory,
Hiding what should in darkness rest!
Alas,
I know it cannot be; yet my weak heart
Feeds upon hope that has become a sin.
The award of God is just, his punishment
Is but begun: those eyes will open, earth
Gladden around him; then shall consciousness
Return, recalling all he was and is.
My path is marked, my duty, and my joy:
The woman's heart is hope; we may outlive
The curse: who bounds the mercy of the Lord?
And when my Cain succumbs, and owns his sin,
Shall he not have forgiveness? till hearts closed
Open to him again, and we shall meet,
Chastened, but happy still. Thou droopest, Enoch!
ENOCH .
Mother! we wander far from home, and none
Will watch me when I sleep.
ADA
I shall watch near thee.
ENOCH .
But Zillah came, and stood beside, and smiled,
And she has left us now.
ADA .
Weep not, my boy!
On a far journey we are bound, to meet
In peace at last, and part no more.
ENOCH .
But, mother!
Shall we again see Zillah? for I know,
Since we have gone, they have not been so happy.
ADA .
Thou shalt behold her. Cain awakens! — no;
But his face writhes with inward pain, which is
The agony of his remorse renewed.
His dreams become realities, he weeps,
The veins are swollen on his brow, his lips
Are quivering till —
CAIN .
My Ada! is it thou?
ADA .
Why look'st thou on me fearfully, enfolding
My arm with thy strong grasp?
CAIN .
I have beheld
The unnamed Spirit of whom our father spake.
ADA .
Cain, for the last time, hear! — I call on thee,
By that child watching for his father's glance,
That shalt light up his own; by thine own Ada,
Whom thou hast loved, or by its memory;
By thy sire bowed down like a stricken tree
To dust by his afflictions; by thy God!
List not to that false spirit; thou hast not
Passed mercy's limit gates. Kneel thou to Him;
The Tempter, shadow-like, shall pass from thee.
CAIN .
Ada! kneel not to me.
ADA .
Has he not wrought
On thee enough of ill? art thou not changed?
Wherefore in this waste desert stand we now
Exiled? our home, that angels watched, forsook,
While he, the Evil One, draws round his toils?
Thine eyes are fixed, as if in vision still.
What art thou, save a presence even as he?
I see thee with mine opened eyes; I saw
Him with my spirit, a form distinct as thine.
I stood upon the heath; it was the night,
But starless; I looked long and yearningly
Toward our home; I heard their evening hymn
Rise with a welcome and appealing sound.
I bless'd their happiness, and felt that I
Might have been happier, that I was driven
To ill, the moulded tool of others' hands.
The voice of Abel called me from behind;
ADA .
Whom?
CAIN .
Him, the One Unknown
I could not move away; I felt that he
Inspired the thought that else had never been.
I saw he was of grade inferior,
A light eclipsed: lightnings filled not his eyes,
His presence showed auguster majesty;
For, like the sun, he drew toward him more
In setting glory. One hand motioned me
To where he stood, and pointed through the space
Which, as the clouds rolled surging back, I saw
Sparkling with distant suns — " Why, cain," — his voice
Thrills through me still, — " why dwell'st thou outcast here?
Strive with the nature that would prostrate thee;
Seek spirits like thine own in those bright worlds:
Rise, follow me."
ADA .
And thou?
CAIN .
I followed him.
ADA .
Even in thy dreams thou liv'st apart from us;
What marvel, thou who hast forsaken God,
That thou no more shouldst own thy human ties?
Thy heart has never loved, or, if it felt,
Thou hast relapsed, as if to mock the nature
That could forget itself in happiness.
Prove that which thou hast lost, for ownest thou
No human joys? — is no weight from the heart
Raised, conscious that another shares its grief,
Until the cup of bitterness is drank,
Even welcomed from the hand that offered it?
Oh, hadst thou owned, these ties, weak though they be,
Far happier thou than torturing thyself
With thoughts that make thee wretched.
CAIN .
Who seeks ill?
Who chooses ashes that has tasted fruits?
Would I not change to aught save that I am
To flee from my own thought? but who may strive
With life? I was thrown back upon myself.
I saw the illusion, how we are allured
To live from dread of death. I felt my spirit
Bound to weak wants, in yielding weaker made.
These are the thoughts that wither up my life,
Powerless to rule them or to change.
ADA
Alas,
The ordinance of the knowledge-tree, whose fruits
Are ashes! Well has God withheld it from us.
CAIN .
Ada! thou err'st, and speak'st with woman's weakness.
It is the aspiration of all life
Save Godhead's; yea, his own, unless He knoweth
His origin ineffable. No, Ada!
It is our bounded power that crushes us;
To see and feel injustice, while we bear
The oppression in our hearts.
ADA .
Alas, that man
Should judge against the Highest, yea, condemn!
It is not thou dost speak, but he who makes thee
Thus glory in thy guilt.
CAIN .
But thou shalt not
Watch strifes thou couldst not heal. I will not stand
Between thee and thy boy, o'ershadowing
The happiness he draws from thee; or take thee
From homes to both endeared. But never more
Will I meet them, or hear their voices mount
Upward in prayer, like incense-clouds, to heaven
Why has not God created me as they,
Knowing I was not happy with the power
To mould me to his will? I am a leaf
Tossed on the waters without guide nor hope;
I am as one ordained to stand apart,
To question Him, impelling me to deeds
I loathe when done.
ADA .
Cain! fearfully the powers
Of good and ill contend in thee: oh, turn
To Him who can allay the storm.
CAIN .
Wouldst thou,
Exiled from all who love thee, waste thy life
With me in the desert? wouldst thou teach thy child,
Thine only child, to grow up brute-like, till
His rage shall turn on thee? to wear thy days
Hearing the self acousing fratricide?
Or see him sink in apathy, brooding hate
To thee and thine? Thy love would but recall
The widow left in tears; thy child, the son
I rendered fatherless.
ADA .
What wouldst thou, Cain?
A fearful purpose lightens in thine eye
CAIN .
Ada! this bosom owns its sacrifice
Of agony while offering thee its last,
Sole proof of love. Lo, yonder tents afar!
Go, Ada! take thy child with thee, he is young,
And will forget me; never let him hear
Who was his sire. Nay, look not thus on me,
For, by the living God thou worshippest,
Thou shalt not change me! by thy life I swear,
By our past loves, thou shalt not further on
ADA .
Have thy words meaning? Human are thy looks?
Thy lips are quivering, and nature fails thee
In this unnatural strife. Dost thou forsake me,
Thou, Cain! in my distress? by all most dear,
Alas, what is or was — by our young days —
Recall them but awhile — then look on me!
By Enoch's life! Kneel by thy mother, child!
Look on thy desolate wife! oh, let her live,
Whose life dwells but in thee; thou couldst not bear
The burden of another death. Alas!
He has no human feeling.
ENOCH .
Mother! rise.
Father! she lies as still as Abel when —
CAIN .
Bring water from the rock! — she will awake.
God! these beginnings are of greater strifes,
The drops of thy all-burning vial poured
On a heart scorched already. Thou frail thing,
Too soon succumbing; thou, unequal all
To burdens laid on thee; yea, thou hast loved me,
Too rough support for softness such as thine.
I could not give to thee the happiness
I have not. Even now, could I feel hope
Of change, a lightening of the apathy
Chilling this bosom, I would press thee there;
But to behold thee daily dying thus, —
It shall not be! — from that crime I am freed
Farewell! — and now how lonely wilt thou be!
One last embrace! — those eyes behold me not,
Yea, never shall they open on me more;
And now the bitterness of death is past.
ENOCH .
My father, stay thy steps! He hears me not,
But I have brought the water in this shell,
My mother!
ADA .
Is he gone? — oh God! he is gone.
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