George Eliot

“ It was the region long inhabited By all the race of Seth; and Jubal said, "Here have I found my thirsty soul's desire, Eastward the hills touch heaven, and evening's fire Flames through deep waters, I will take my rest, And feed anew from my great mother's breast, The sky-clasped Earth, whose voices nurture me As the flowers' sweetness doth the honey-bee." He lingered wandering for many an age, And, sowing music, made high heritage For generations far beyond the Flood For the poor late-begotten human brood Born to life's weary brevity and perilous good. ”

“ The pliant clay he moulded as he would, And laughed with joy when 'mid the heat it stood Shaped as his hand had chosen, while the mass That from his hold, dark, obstinate, would pass, He drew all glowing from the busy heat, All breathing as with life that he could beat With thundering hammer, making it obey His will creative, like the pale soft clay. Each day he wrought and better than he planned, Shape breeding shape beneath his restless hand. (The soul without still helps the soul within, And its deft magic ends what we begin.) ”

“ Such patience have the heroes who begin, Sailing the first toward lands which others win. Jubal must dare as great beginners dare, Strike form's first way in matter rude and bare, And, yearning vaguely toward the plenteous choir Of the world's harvest, make one poor small lyre. He made it, and from out its measured frame Drew the harmonic soul, whose answers came With guidance sweet and lessons of delight Teaching to ear and hand the blissful Right, Where strictest law is gladness to-the sense, And all desire bends toward obedience. ”

“ The hollow vessel's clang, the clash, the boom, Like light that makes wide spiritual room And skyey spaces in the spaceless thought, To Jubal such enlarged passion brought, That love, hope, rage, and all experience, Were fused in vaster being, fetching thence Concords and discords, cadences and cries That seemed from some world-shrouded soul to rise, Some rapture more intense, some mightier rage, Some living sea that burst the bounds of man's brief age. ”

“ And on the mountains in thy wandering Thy feet were beautiful as blossomed spring, That turns the leafless wood to love's glad home, For with thy coming Melody was come. This was thy lot, to feel, create, bestow, And that immeasurable life to know From which the fleshly self falls shrivelled, dead, A seed primeval that has forests bred. It is the glory of the heritage Thy life has left, that makes thy outcast age: Thy limbs shall lie dark, tombless on this sod, Because thou shinest in man's soul, a god, Who found and gave new passion and new joy That nought but Earth's destruction can destroy. ”

“ Then from the east, with glory on his head Such as low-slanting beams on corn-waves spread, Came Jubal with his lyre: there 'mid the throng, Where the blank space was, poured a solemn song, Touching his lyre to full harmonic throb And measured pulse, with cadences that sob, Exult and cry, and search the inmost deep Where the dark sources of new passion sleep. Joy took the air, and took each breathing soul, Embracing them in one entranced whole, Yet thrilled each varying frame to various ends, As Spring new-waking through the creature sends Or rage or tenderness ”

“ Such Tubal-Cain. But Jubal had a frame Fashioned to finer senses, which became A yearning for some hidden soul of things, Some outward touch complete on inner springs That vaguely moving bred a lonely pain, A want that did but stronger grow with gain Of all good else, as spirits might be sad For lack of speech to tell us they are glad. Now Jabal learned to tame the lowing kine, And from their udders drew the snow-white wine That stirs the innocent joy, and makes the stream Of elemental life with fulness teem ”

“ "New voices come to me where'er I roam, My heart too widens with its widening home: But song grows weaker, and the heart must break For lack of voice, or fingers that can wake The lyre's full answer; nay, its chords were all Too few to meet the growing spirit's call. The former songs seem little, yet no more Can soul, hand, voice, with interchanging lore Tell what the earth is saying unto me: The secret is too great, I hear confusedly. ”

“ The aged man adust upon the bank— Whom no eye saw— at first with rapture drank The bliss of music, then, with swelling heart, Felt, this was his own being's greater part, The universal joy once born in him. But when the train, with living face and limb And vocal breath, came nearer and more near, The longing grew that they should hold him dear; Him, Lamech's son, whom all their fathers knew, The breathing Jubal —him, to whom their love was due. ”

“ Thy gifts to give was thine of men alone: 'Twas but in giving that thou couldst atone For too much wealth amid their poverty."— The words seemed melting into symphony, The wings upbore him, and the gazing song Was floating him the heavenly space along, Where mighty harmonies all gently fell Through veiling vastness, like the far-off bell, Till, ever onward through the choral blue, He heard more faintly and more faintly knew, Quitting mortality, a quenched sun-wave, The All-creating Presence for his grave. ”

“ His flesh cried out to live with living men, And join that soul which to the inward ken Of all the hymning train was present there. Strong passion's daring sees not aught to dare: The frost-locked starkness of his frame low-bent, His voice's penury of tones long spent, He felt not; all his being leaped in flame To meet his kindred as they onward came Slackening and wheeling toward the temple's face: He rushed before them to the glittering space, And, with a strength that was but strong desire, Cried, "I am Jubal, I! ”

“ Then while the soul its way with sound can cleave, And while the arm is strong to strike and heave, Let soul and arm give shape that will abide And rule above our graves, and power divide With that great god of day, whose rays must bend As we shall make the moving shadows tend. ”

“ Am I not thine alone, a dear dead bride Who blest thy lot above all men's beside? Thy bride whom thou wouldst never change, nor take Any bride living, for that dead one's sake? Was I not all thy yearning and delight, Thy chosen search, thy senses' beauteous Right, Which still had been the hunger of thy frame In central heaven, hadst thou been still the same? ”

“ Many a date-palm grew, And shook out clustered gold against the blue, While Jubal, guided by the steadfast spheres, Sought the dear home of those first eager years, When, with fresh vision fed, the fuller will Took living outward shape in pliant skill ”

“ Jubal sat lonely, all around was dim, Yet his face glowed with light revealed to him: For as the delicate stream of odor wakes The thought-wed sentience, and some image makes From out the mingled fragments of the past, Finely compact in wholeness that will last, So streamed as from the body of each sound Subtler pulsations, swift as warmth, which found All prisoned germs and all their powers unbound, Till thought self-luminous flamed from memory, And in creative vision wandered free. ”

“ But strength that still on movement must be fed, Inspiring thought of change, devices bred, And urged his mind through earth and air to rove For force that he could conquer if he strove, For lurking forms that might new tasks fulfil And yield unwilling to his stronger-will. ”

“ When Cain was driven from Jehovah's land He wandered eastward, seeking some far strand Ruled by kind gods who asked no offerings Save pure field-fruits, as aromatic things, To feed the subtler sense of frames divine That lived on fragrance for their food and wine: Wild joyous gods, who winked at faults and folly, And could be pitiful and melancholy. ”

“ The generations of our race shall win New life, that grows from out the heart of this, As spring from winter, or as lovers' bliss From out the dull unknown of unwaked energies." Thus he resolved, and in the soul-fed light Of coming ages waited through the night, Watching for that near dawn whose chiller ray Showed but the unchanged world of yesterday ”

“ The song shall spread and swell as rivers do, And I will teach our youth with skill to woo This living lyre, to know its secret will; Its fine division of the good and ill.. So shall men call me sire of harmony, And where great Song is, there my life shall be." Thus glorying as a god beneficent, Forth from his solitary joy he went To bless mankind. ”

“ In Cain's young city none had heard of Death Save him, the founder; and it was his faith That here, away from harsh Jehovah's law, Man was immortal, since no halt or flaw In Cain's own frame betrayed six hundred years, But dark as pines that autumn never sears His locks thronged backward as he ran, his frame Rose like the orbed sun each morn the same, Lake-mirrored to his gaze; and that red brand, The scorching impress of Jehovah's hand, Was still clear-edged to his unwearied eye, Its secret firm in time-fraught memory. ”

“ Then with such blissful trouble and glad care For growth. within unborn as mothers bear, To the far woods he wandered, listening, And heard the birds their little stories sing In notes whose rise and fall seem melted speech— Melted with tears, smiles, glances —that can reach More quickly through our frame's deep-winding night, And without thought raise thought's best fruit, delight. ”

“ until one height Showed him the ocean stretched in liquid light, And he could hear its multitudinous roar, Its plunge and hiss upon the pebbled shore: Then Jubal silent sat, and touched his lyre no more. ”

“ And for their roofs and garments wealth untold Lay everywhere in grasses and broad leaves: They labored gently, as a maid who weaves Her hair in mimic mats, and pauses oft And strokes across her hand the tresses soft, Then peeps to watch the poised butterfly, Or little burthened ants that homeward hie. ”

“ Come, let us. fashion acts that are to be, When we shall lie in darkness silently, As our young brother doth, whom yet we see Fallen and slain, but reigning in our will By that one image of him pale and still. ”

“ Even the she-wolf with young, on rapine bent, He caught and tethered in his mat-walled tent, And cherished all her little sharp-nosed young Till the small race with hope and terror clung About his footsteps, till each new-reared brood, Remoter from the memories of the wood, More glad discerned their common home with man. ”

“ There comes a night when all too late The mind shall long to prompt the achieving hand, The eager thought behind closed portals stand, And the last wishes to the mute lips press Buried ere death in silent helplessness. ”

“ Then bursting like some shield-broad lily red, Sudden and near the trumpet's notes out-spread, And soon his eyes could see the metal flower, Shining upturned, out on the morning pour Its incense audible; could see a train From out the street slow-winding on the plain With lyres and cymbals, flutes and psalteries, While men, youths, maids, in concert sang to these With various throat, or in succession poured, Or in full volume mingled. ”

“ For Lamech's sons were heroes of their race: Jabal, the eldest, bore upon his face The look of that calm river-god, the Nile, Mildly secure in power that needs not guile. ”

“ Then, as the metal shapes more various grew, And, hurled upon each other, resonance drew, Each gave new tones, the revelations dim Of some external soul that spoke for him: ”

“ He said, "My happy offspring shall not know That the red life from out a man may flow When smitten by his brother." True, his race Bore each one stamped upon his new-born face A copy of the brand no whit less clear ”