BOOK THIRD.

SECTION I.

Again ten circles have passed, and thrice ten circles of the earth about the sun; and the boy who proffered grapes, and the infant folded in a mother’s warm embrace, have grown to manhood. The young earth, like young life, passed through many a change in thrice ten years and ten; and, from its teeming loins sent forth a still increasing multitude to worship the great First Cause. Upon every hill an altar smoked; and knowledge, with power to command the laws to which all matter is subdued, had not wholly passed from among the sons of men. Not yet were cities built, nor language confounded, nor the land parceled out among hostile clans, to be worried and made desolate; but the herd and the chase still supplied the simple wants which luxury has debased. In all the arts of that rude time; to run; to cleave the briny sea, a strong swimmer; to throw the spear; to draw the bow, certain of its mark; to know the signs which divide the day and fix the watches of the night; to call each tree and flower, beast and bird, by the name which Adam gave; the youths were well instructed, and poured a flood of joy into hearts which marked, from year to year, their growth in excellence and in strength.

SECTION II.

The youngest, Ariel, his mother most loved; for he was mild of temper, and of a make which would have shamed the Apollo, cut by hands skilled to search out the hidden springs of manly beauty, and cunningly transform the ideal into a reality, to stand forever a wonder before the eyes of men. His auburn locks, parted on either side, fell thick, and rested upon his shoulders; and upon his brow, fairer than woman, sat intellect, softened and refined to express the hopes and sorrows, the sweet delights and bitter ills, which God gave a heritage to Adam and his seed when he drove out the sinning pair from Paradise. Tall, he stood like a cedar upon Lebanon. His eyes, large and lustrous, in color his mother’s and heaven’s, seemed ever dreaming of a life which, cradled upon earth, had elsewhere its happiness; and the long brown lashes that veiled their intenser light, shadowed with melancholy a face which else had been too bright. In childhood, he wept over tales of that fair land lost by his first ancestors; and sought on every side, through the sombre wood, and along the flowery mead, and up the streams to their sources amid the valleys of the hills, for some trace of a glory half-extinct which might lead him onward to its walls, guarded by flame; then, weary and sad, he would stand by the sea, and look out across its waters, and strain his eyes to find a new earth, and catch a glimpse of that strange fire which, under the rule of night, mellows the waves, and makes their path more enticing than the walks of Arcady the blest, or the garden in which Italia’s poet subdued Ruggerio to a witch’s love. Thus found by his mother, after long search, he would rest his head upon her knees, and repeat his hopes and disappointments, while she, softly chiding, wiped his tears away. Growing toward manhood, he, unwillingly and slow, now doubting and now believing, put off his childish faith, and sought for and found a rest more perfect, and more noble far, than that paradise which fled before the knowledge of evil and of good.

SECTION III.

Tubal, the eldest born, was mightier than his brother. Less tall, strong, he stood like Hercules leaning on his club. His lusty shoulders seemed made to bear the weight of any ill which time and the first sin might engender to crush the sons of Adam; and his foot was firmer than the rock. Within his broad breast, capacious, the wildest passions, love and hate, and jealousy and ambition, raged and crouched obedient to a will which held them bound, nor loosed its hold but to fulfill its purpose. His hair curled close, nor played in dalliance with the wanton air. His eyes, blacker than the night which covered Egypt when the chosen were oppressed, burned fierce; and within their depths lay hidden cunning, and power, and the determination to complete what cunning prompts and power may well perform. His nostrils swelled with triumphs not yet won; and on his lips, compressed, and on his swarthy brow, courage had stamped its signet. He loved the chase, and the boar pursued beyond the mountains which barred his father’s steps, and rose a barrier never passed till he burst through to conquer new fields, boundless, and rich in all the wealth of his rude life. Action was his rest; and to him plain fact was beautiful enough, nor sought he, in vain imaginings, to work out of strong matter kindred unto himself, forms of excellence which live only in a poet’s brain, to curse the possessor. His father loved him, for when a boy he drew his father’s bow, and threw his father’s spear, laughed at fatigue, and scorned the pleasures of quiet contemplation which, with his brother, stole half the days away. In him was small obedience, even from his birth; self-willed, he threw off his mother’s hand as a steed of high mettle, untamed, flings at the bit; and thus he grew, a Titan in his passions as a Titan in his make.

SECTION IV.

The morn had ushered in a new year, when Tubal and his brother went forth to worship upon the neighboring mountains, and offer up a sacrifice in acknowledgment of mercies past, of mercies present, and of mercies yet to come. From the sea a mist rolled inward, and covered all the land, and covered the forest wide, and crept up the hill-sides, and hung about their tops, and curled over, descending like a glory, to be lost in the space beyond. Bathed in cloud, seeing their path dimly, they walked hand in hand, loaded with gifts of the chase, and of the vine, and pure water, and sweet-scented wood. Ariel found a new beauty in the thick vapor which shut out the heavens, and so stilled the song of the trees that, listening, he believed he could hear the very mist singing, as it moved onward upon its errand of fruitfulness and health; but Tubal saw power, and felt his strength grow within him, and, invigorated, stood erect, and trod more proudly the earth which he claimed as his own. As they ascended the higher grounds, and climbed the steeps which led upward to the temple they had chosen, the cloud grew thinner, and the light increased, and they halted, silent, and bowed their heads, and pressed their lips to the mountain-side, and kissed God’s foot-prints—there seen, clear and radiant, as they are now to be seen impressed, eternal, upon the granite which, in the far North, lifts its head a mark to the returning mariner, who—far out upon the ocean—hails the beacon with all the joy of home. Then rising, they mounted quickly to the summit, round, and fair with its own flood, and standing, gazed. Gazed upon the cloud spread out beneath their feet, a vast expanse of silver water, covering land and sea; gazed upon the hill-tops which rose above the flood, as isles sleeping upon the bosom of a quiet lake; gazed upon the heavens, serenely blue, over-arching all; and gazed upon the sun, red and huge, struggling with the mist, till its rays, released, flashed upon the isles, and lighted up the heavens, and so wrought that the deep cloud, mastered by their heat, broke from its fastenings, and rolled in masses, and, rifted, opened cavernous, and showed, first the crowning tufts of the forest-trees, and then the lower boughs, and then the plain, reeking with moisture, and then the sea, bright and dancing, until the last wreath of feathery vapor ascending, vanished.

SECTION V.

“For this, it is enough to have lived; thy works, O God, are wondrous fair!” said Ariel.

Tubal, turned away, silent; and casting his offerings upon the ground, threw up the heavy sward in piles high and broad, which he fashioned into a rude altar; then covering it thick with wood, found near at hand, he called unto his brother, and together they laid upon it the chase, the grapes, and the branches sweet-scented and laving, prayed.

“We thank thee, Father, for thy mercies past, thy mercies present, and thy mercies yet to come.”

“I thank thee for strength,” said Tubal.

“I thank thee for the comeliness of this earth,” said Ariel.

“Give me power to rule my fellow-men.”

“Give me knowledge to win thy love.”

“Give me honor, and obedience, with fear—”

“Give me humility, and trust, with faith—”

—“and may my will be a law unto many.”

—“and may my walk be good in thy sight.”

“Father, I thank thee for these limbs; this body, so perfect in its make—”

“Father, I thank thee for this life, so full of all excellence—”

—“clothe it with majesty.”

—“clothe it with purity.”

“Grant that I may live in the speech of generations far removed.”

“Grant that I may live in the hearts of generations far removed.”

“Bless, O God, my purpose.”

“Bless, O God, my father.”

“Strengthen, O God, my hands”—

“Strengthen, O God, my mother”—

—“so that they may well perform what thou hast given them to do.”

—“so that she may well perform what thou hast given her to do.”

“And accept, O God, these gifts, the fruit of thy bounty, by us acknowledged and adored.”

SECTION VI.

Upon the brothers, thus ending, a light, greater than the sun, fell suddenly and smote them blind; and as they lay, prostrate with excessive dread, they heard a voice, soft as the movement of a gentle wind, saying, “Even as ye have asked, ye shall receive;” and then came silence, and darkness with the light of day; and slowly rising, fearful, they found the altar, with its gifts, all consumed. And where the altar stood, a glowing pool of metal burned, and hissed, and bubbled, and ran down the hill-side a thread of fire. Tubal, curious, doubting, with cautious step drew near; and as the metal cooled, and changed from white to red, from red to black, observed it narrowly, and beat upon it, and found it malleable, and broke it, and took it in his hands still warm, and held it out in triumph to his brother.

Such was the birth of iron; and in the air, above, beneath, on either side, far off and near, came music, and the brothers listened, mute with wonder, to a song prophetic of the metal and its uses.

SECTION VII.

Clink, clank.

The crackling of flame, playing with the air that fanned it, swept past.

Glowing, flashing.

Not speech, but sounds inarticulate, in strains wild, sturdy and noble as their subject, filled the ears of Ariel and his brother, to be interpreted as we interpret the voices of matter, miscalled dumb.

Clashing, clanging.

And there was a rushing to and fro of many feet, while the furnace roared with a pouring as of breath in hot haste.

Bubble, bubble—muffled, dull and deep.

The anvil rings, and blow on blow is given.

Sharp and quick.

Then the forging, and the grinding, and the filing, and the whetting, with the shock of blade on blade, till the clatter of that smithy, mingling and dividing, mellowed, rose sweeter than the notes fabled of the sun, when he with his first rays smote upon the head of Memnon in wonder-loving Egypt; or the song heard by the wandering Greek hard by Charibdis, enticing the listening mariner to his death.

Aha! aha! thou hast found a new life, and a new action, greatest of metals.

Who are ye, who thus welcome me with a hymn of glory?

We are the light, the eldest born, begotten in love, in love to endure forever.

We were present at thy beginning, and saw the hand which moulded thee with fire.

We saw the joy of thy young days, and acknowledge thee a child of God, like unto ourselves.

We know thy offices, and the laws which rule thee, liquid or congealed, obedient to God’s will.

In the depths of the earth wert thou engendered, and didst dwell in darkness for this hour.

From the center didst thou spring upward, and wert poured through all the veins of matter, to strengthen and complete.

But now thou art born into a new life, and art appointed to build and destroy.

Another, mightier than thyself, shall shape thee, and thou shall be his bondsman until thy work is done.

In the furnace and at the forge shall thy true worth be tried, and every good by heaven blessed, by thee be multiplied.

Then sing the praise of iron; the sturdy and noble iron—

Clink, clank;

Glowing, flashing;

Clanging, clashing;

Sharp and quick;

With the grinding, and the filing, and the whetting, and the shock of blade on blade; while the clatter of the smithy ringing, cries, it is mine to civilize.

SECTION VIII.

The brothers hastened from the mount, and descending, bore homeward the new-found metal with dances, and with shouts, which called Erix and Zella to meet them, and to listen, with growing eyes and a faith equal to their own, to the marvelous tale of the light which fell from heaven, and their blindness and the voice within them, and the altar burned, and the molten pool, and the strange wild music which they heard, until a knowledge entered into them of the gift they had received.

“Father, my prayer is answered,” said Tubal, and quick, to make his knowledge sure, the four built up the first rude forge, and piled it high with wood, and put fire to it, and, as it burned, cast in the metal, which they watched until it reddened and flashed, coruscating. Then Tubal drew the metal forth, and beat it between two stones, and flattened it, and, twisting, gave it ever new forms, while Erix, with Ariel and his mother, stood admiring, and reasoned of its uses. And thus did Tubal work with cunning and with strength, from day to day, until he had won the skill to fashion the metal to his will; to arm his arrows and his spear, and devise new weapons for the chase. He soon found out the way of beating iron upon itself, nor lacked the wit of many inventions to aid his labor; and the ponderous sledge wielded by his arms, black with soot, from morn to eve resounded along the heaving sea, which knew no heavier din when, long after, Vulcan forged beneath Ætna. His tribe stood around him thick, and wondered at his work, and learned of him; and when, as time rolled on, the elders told his story to their sons, they called him the father of all who worked in metal.

SECTION IX

Ariel went dreaming on his way; nor sought to rival his brother at the forge, nor questioned the right which he assumed to rule among his fellow-men. He acknowledged his brother’s worth, and knew him to be the completest man to meet the stern necessities of life—to lay deeply in that new age a strong foundation upon which others were to build, for good or ill, through many a revolving year, the politics of the earth. To himself it was given to see the future in its action; and it passed before him so distinct and bright, that Zella, sitting at his side, oft turned away with fear, as his tongue grew eloquent over a tale of greatness and of sorrow still hidden within the womb of time. Thrice blessed is he who knows his work and does it; who learns in early youth that the practical is the only good, nor chases phantoms, till, the harvest past, he turns a poor gleaner upon another’s steps, and begs from bounty what should be his of right. But Ariel had other hopes, not willed, but given for a purpose, to which he was bound as the winged chorister is bound to the melody which springs unbidden from its throat. He lived in the ideal, and strove to grasp the mysterious laws by which the world within acts upon the world without. The soul’s own greatness to all of God’s labor a greatness gives, which lesser spirits never know; and the soul’s beauty is poured upon all matter, as the setting sun, in ripe October, pours a purple flood of departing light upon the gorgeous landscapes of my native North. This Ariel knew; and when he listened to the voices of the sea, of the wood, and of the lesser herbage, growing; to the sighing of the air, and the creaking, and the grating of bough on bough, rocked by the wind; he believed that all were parts of one great hymn, whose interpreter was within, and, combined, would a language give more perfect to express the soul’s griefs and joys, the loveliness and magnitude of God’s labors, than that which Adam, articulate, invented.

SECTION X.

Thus Ariel mused, and in his walks under the silent moon, watched close, to catch the notes which rose from every point of earth; and sitting with his mother, to whom he opened his whole heart, talked of this wisdom. And thus, one quiet eve, when the star which ushers in and leads off day’s hours, then called God’s love, now changed to the queen in Paphos worshiped, was just dipping beneath the western hills, and the wind slow rising set outward to the sea, these two, the mother and the son, went forth to drink new draughts of the knowledge he had found, and kept hidden from all else save her whose soul was like unto his own. She leaned upon his shoulder as a loved support, and they passed, mingling in sweet converse, along the wooded paths to the stream which flowed noiseless, and now dark beneath the forest shades, close by the bank upon which she had rested from the chase, and with Erix recounted the endless good with which heaven had blessed the earth.

“This water, so silent, yet speaks.”

“In sadness,” said Zella.

“For the day and for the night it has a several voice.”

“And does the sorrow which comes to us, a heritage of Eden, fall also here?”

“Mother, the star now hidden behind the western hills, its sister orbs, this earth, this wood, and water running, all speak to the soul according to its wisdom. Has sadness no beauty; grief no love? As darkness follows light, so joy and sorrow interchange, to make life perfect. This marvel of our God, in which strength and weakness strive to one end, were incomplete, did not thy tears, like fallen rain glittering in the sun, give brightness to the smile that hastens to drive thy tears away. In matter is to be found the sure interpreter of God’s will, and the purpose for which he made such excellence of earth and sky, with man, the chiefest excellence of all; and I watch to catch the secret which unlocks this knowledge, and will give to me, and to thee, my mother, the fullness of that glory which in the beginning was breathed into Adam, a living soul!”

SECTION XI.

As he spoke the wind sighed deeply along the silent stream, and the reeds there growing upon its sedgy bank gave forth sounds multitudinous, separate and commingled.

“List, mother!”

The symphony, at first low, scarce audible, dying, sprang to life again, and rose in notes æolic, flooding the air.

“It is this, mother, this that I would win; the common language of every created thing.”

We are the wind, whistling, piping, sounds melodious in the ear of night.

And there was a rustling as of forest leaves; and a murmuring, as of water running; while from the reedy grass came other voices,

Shrill and clear.

We are they with whom God wrought, in his six days of labor.

Then the swelling, round and full,

Sliding, springing,

Turning, beating.

Streams of pleasure,

Without measure,

And the movement quick and pure,

Now increasing,

Now diminishing,

Now combining,

Now resolving,

In sweet concord antiphonal, said that they were harmony.

“My prayer is answered, mother; for I have found the bond which binds heart to heart.”

Then Zella laid her head upon Ariel’s bosom, and in very gladness, wept; and confessed that life and death, her evil and her good, no longer were a mystery.

We are the law by which all things live, and move, and have their being.

And Ariel put out his hands, and plucked, and blew upon the reeds; and again the wind sighed along the silent stream; and again the grass there growing, waving, gave forth other sounds;

Brighter,

Higher,

More ecstatic;

Fiercer, fiercer, fiercer yet;

As if a Titan had strung his lyre to a new creation, or the fingers of a god swept the strings.

It is finished; and to man is given the art to rule the airs of heaven.

They turned, while yet the sledge fell heavy by the beating sea, and Erix wound a horn of joy, calling, then wound, then called, and wound and called again, and the echoes answered, calling;

[Conclusion in our next.]