Scene XI.

EARTH — THE GRAVE OF ADA .

CAIN .

And is it here thou liest, Ada! wife,
Sharer of all my earliest hopes and thoughts,
When they were worthy thee, when I was like thee.
Oh, how I loved thee then! and now returns
That love, and I am all I should have been.
Thou hearest not, nor seest; thine ear is closed,
Oppressive earth lies heavy on thy heart
Oh, that thou couldst behold me kneeling here,
Imploring thee to trust me yet again!
Where art thou who wast with me and so late?
Thy cherished flowers droop o'er thee; thou art dead,
For they are withered! — Ada, thou, mine own,
Thou liest beneath in stony lifelessness!
Open, great mother Earth! thine infinite womb,
Take to his last rest thy abandoned son!
Hide me from day, from God's eye looking on
My naked heart let me in darkness dwell.

Oh, thou mysterious and almighty death!
Unseen thou comest, but thy presence felt
Is as the lightning stroke. The life that breathed,
Thought, felt, is stilled; the eyes are closed whose light
Was our own being, dwelt on till became
A portion of ourselves, passed flower-like,
Hidden and buried in the wormy earth,
Ourselves to follow. Wonderful is death!

Yet will I see thee, Ada! from thy grave
I will raise thee — yet hold — wake not the dead!
Thou didst pollute her, living, thy hands stained
With Abel's blood; thou slewest her in spirit,
As in the body; ye are now conjoined;
Ye flew to God upon the wings of faith.
The spirits that he loved he will renew,
Reopening Eden's gates, unforfeited
Oh, that my soul's remorse atonement were
To purify my life! — A calm lies on me
I have not felt since boyhood. Yet one more
Embrace, all-senseless earth! Now, to my father.