Lilith. The Legend Of The First Woman. Book III. By Ada Langworthy Collier

    Wide through her realm she walked, and glad or lorn
    She mused. So, loitering, it chanced one morn
    When lone she sat upon a mountain height,
    One sudden stood anear, whose dark eyes bright
    Upon her shone. Pallid his face, and red
    His smileless lips. “Who art thou?” Lilith said,
    And faint a hidden pain her hot heart stirred,
    When low, and rarely sweet, his voice she heard.
    She looked, half-pleased–and half in strange surprise
    Shrank ‘neath the gaze of those wild, starry eyes.
    “Oh, dame,” the stranger said, “where waters leap
    Bright glancing down, I rested oft, where steep
    Thy Eden o’er, bare-browed, a peak uprose.
    Naught craving bloom or fruitage–nay, nor those
    Frail joys Adam holds dear. One only boon
    I sought of all his heritage. Fair ‘neath the moon
    I saw thee stand; and all about thy feet
    The night her perfume spilled, soft incense meet.
    Then low I sighed, when grew thy beauty on my sight,
    ‘Some comfort yet remains, if that I might
    From Adam pluck this perfect flower. Some morn–
    If I (some dreamed-of morn, perchance slow-born)
    This flawless bloom, white, fragrant, lustrous, pure
    For ever on my breast might hold secure.’
    Yea, for thy love, through darkling realms of night
    I followed thee, sharing thy fearful flight
    Unseen. Lo, when thy timid heart, behind
    Heard echoing phantom feet upon the wind,
    ‘Twas I, pursuing o’er the day’s last brink;
    Wherefore, I now am here. O Lilith, think
    How over-much I love thee, and how sweet
    Were life with thee! O weary naked feet,
    With me each onward path wilt thou not tread?
    Or, if thou endest here thy quest,” he said,
    “Let me too bide with thee.”
    Made answer low
    Lilith thereto: “Meseems not long ago
    One stood at Eden’s gate like thee. But thy face
    Is darker, red thy lips. Of kingly race
    I know thee. Say, whence comest thou, O prince?”
    “Nay, then,” he sighed, “an outcast I, long since
    From Heaven thrust out; yet now, the curse is past,
    Nor mourn I Heaven lost, if at the last
    Thy love I win. Yea, where thou art, I know
    Is Heaven. And bliss, in sooth” (oh, soft and low,
    He said), “lives ever in thy smile.”
    His speech
    Thus ended. And toward the sandy beach
    He passed. Though long her eyes the stranger sought
    Where curved the distant shore, she saw him not.

    Soft through the trees the mottled shadows dropped
    When Lilith in her pleasance sat. Half-propped
    ‘Gainst mossy trunk her slender length. Her hair
    In sunny web, enmeshed her elbows bare.
    Slowly the breeze swayed the mimosas slight
    As Eblis pushed aside the bent boughs light.
    “O dame,” he said, “it seemeth surely meet
    Earth’s richest gifts to lay at Lilith’s feet;
    Therefore I said ‘unto the fairest one,
    Things loveliest beneath the shining sun
    I bring.’ Since of all crafts in this young earth
    I am true master, unto her whose worth
    So much deserves, I bear this marble sphere,
    Whose hollowed husk, well polished, gleaming clear,
    Hides rarest fruit.” Therewith the globe he showed,
    The half whereof smooth-sparkling was: Half glowed
    With carven work; embossed with pale leaves light,
    And delicately sculptured birds in flight,
    And clustered flowers frail. Lilith drew near
    With beaming eyes, and laid the graven sphere
    Against her smiling lips; o’ertraced the vine
    That circled it with fingers slim. “Mine, mine
    Is it, O prince?” she cried. “I know not why
    Its beauty doth recall the winds’ long sigh
    That surged among the palms.    Methinks is dead
    Some summer-tide, that in its own sweet stead
    Hath left upon the stone its imaging.”
    Eblis replied: “On earth, is anything
    More fair? If such thou knowest, Lilith, speak.
    That I, for thee, surely would straightway seek.
    Say, if indeed thou findest anywhere,
    On land or sea, created things so rare?”
    And Lilith answered, “On this earth so round,
    Naught else so lovely anywhere I found.
    So shames it meaner work–so had I said–
    But see yon nodding palm that droops its head
    Low sighing o’er the wave. Bring me a bough
    So feathery-fine. Turn thy white sphere! Now
    On its cold, fair surface, Eblis, canst thou
    Such branches carve, or tender fronds, that we
    Bright waving on the cocoa, these may see?”
    And Eblis wrought till grew upon the stone
    Such airy boughs as on the cocoa shone.
    Then Lilith cried: “Skilled craftsman, proven thou!
    Didst thou, then, make my cocoa-tree? Thy bough
    Pale graven give the grace of its green crown
    When through it night winds gently slip adown.
    No charm of color, nor of change, nor glow
    Of blue noon sky, thy carven work doth show;
    Let dusk bees visit it–or sip the breath
    From thy chill marble buds.” Then, Lilith saith,
    “Eblis hath wroughten noblest on this earth.”
    He answered quick, “Poor bauble, little worth
    To Lilith! Ope thy slighted husk, reveal
    The miracle thy rough rind doth conceal!”

    He touched a hidden spring, and wide apart
    The riven sphere showed its white hollow heart,
    And in the midst a gem; the which he laid
    Within her hand. “Behold,” he said, “I made
    Most fair for thee this lustrous blood-red sard,
    And deftly traced its gleaming surface hard
    With carvings thick of bright acacias slim,
    Pomegranates lush and river-reeds. Its rim
    A spray of leaves enchased, white as with rime
    Night fallen. ‘Slow drags the lagging time,’
    I said, ’till one day shines upon the breast
    Of her, whose perfect beauty worthiest
    It decks, this gem.’ The token, Lilith, take;
    If lovelier there be, for Eblis’ sake
    Keep silent; yet with me, oh Lilith, go
    Awhile from thine own land. Then shall I know
    The gem finds favor in thine eyes.”
    Then she
    Turned from her pleasance and all silently
    Passed to the sea, across the yellow strand
    That, glimmering, ringed her shadowy land.
    “Oh cool,” he said, “the lucent waves that fret
    The barren shore, and curl their scattered spray wet
    ‘Gainst thy hand. Come! my longing pinnace waits
    To bear thee far. Her slender keel now grates
    Upon the beach; and swift her shapely prow
    Will skim the deep, as swallows’ fleet wing. Thou
    Seest! comely and strong it is. For thee
    Its golden sails, its purple canopy.
    With skin of spotted pard, I cushioned it.
    Ere the fresh breeze doth die, light let us flit
    Across the sea. No craft so proud, so staunch,
    Goes glancing through the foam.    I safely launch
    Her now, and speed to fairy isles. Come thou
    With me.”    And glad she crossed the burnished prow;
    And ‘mong the thick furred rugs sat down. “Oh craft,
    Fair fashioned, lightly built, speed far,” she laughed;
    “To other lands bear Lilith safe.”
    As sailed
    They idly on, her slender hand she trailed
    Among the waves, and sudden cried, “Indeed,
    A craft stauncher than thine floats by. What need
    Hath it of helm, or prow, or silken sail,
    Sure harbor finding when the ocean gale
    Fast drives it onward?” A nut she drew, round,
    Rough, coarse-husked, forth from the wave. “Lo, I found,”
    She said, “this boat well built. The cocoa-tree
    Cast it amid the foam. Its pilot free,
    The summer wind; its port, the misty shore
    Of ocean isles. It fades from sight. ‘No more,’
    We say, ‘it sails the wild uncertain main,’
    But when the drifting days are gone, again
    We turn our prow, and reach the barren isles
    Where, stranded as we went, the nut. Now smiles
    Above; a bending tree. Aloud we cry,
    ‘A miracle is wrought!’ We draw anigh.
    Behold, the cocoa, towering, doth spring
    Forth from the brown nut’s heart. About it cling
    Sweet odors faint; and far stars trembling peep.
    When through its bowers cool the breezes creep.
    Strong, indeed, thy boat, well builded! I wis
    There be yet other craft as firm, Eblis,
    That o’er these trackless waters boldly glide.
    Brave Nautilus afar, doth fearless ride,
    With sails of gossamer. So, too, doth spread,
    To summer airs, his silken gleaming thread,
    The water-spider fleet, free sailor true
    That in the sunshine floats, beneath the blue,
    Glad skies. And through the deep, all sparkling, slip
    A thousand insect-swarms, that, rippling, dip
    Amid the merry waves. Bright voyagers
    That roam the sultry seas! Look, the wind stirs
    Our creaking sails! Thy pinnace flying o’er
    The ocean’s swell, fast leaves the fading shore;
    Yet faster still the Nautilus sails by,
    And darts the spider quick. And swifter fly
    The insect-fleets among the foam; yet think
    Not when among the billows wild doth sink
    Thy bounding boat, I fear. Nor would I slight
    Thy skill, that made it strong, and swift, and light,
    And trimmed it gayly, for my sake.”
    Now near
    A jutting shore Prince Eblis drew, where sheer
    The brown rocks rose. And just beyond, a slim
    Beach of white sand curved to the ocean’s brim.
    Thereto he came, and high upon the strand
    Drew the boat’s keel. “Welcome, fair queen, to land
    That Eblis rules,” he said. “I fain would show
    Thee what thou hast not seen in the warm glow
    Of thy glad home. This blighted shore of mine
    No verdure hath, nor bloom, nor fruits that shine
    ‘Mong drooping boughs.    Far inland gloom lone peaks
    O’er blackened meads; or from their bare cones leaps
    Gaunt, crackling flame; or crawl like ashen veins
    The smouldering fires across the stricken plains.
    Deep in these yawning caves black shadows lie
    That shall be lifted never more. Come, I
    Enter! Know thou what treasure by the sea
    I gathered other time.” Therewith showed he
    Hid ‘mong the high heaped rocks a dusky grot
    Where never sunshine fell. A dismal spot
    Where dank the sea-weeds coiled and cold the air
    Swept through. And stooping, Eblis downward rolled
    Before her webs of woven stuff, in fold
    Of purple sheen, enwrought with flecks of gold.
    Great wefts of scarlet and of blue, thick strewn
    With pearls, or cleft with discs of jacinth stone;
    And drifts of silky woof and samite white,
    And warps of Orient hues. Eblis light
    Wound round her neck a scarf of amber. Wide
    Its smooth folds sweeping flowed; and proud he cried,
    “Among these hills, in the still loom of night,
    I wrought for Lilith’s pleasing, all. And bright
    Have spun these webs, in blended morning hues
    And noontide shades and trail of silver dews–
    Hereon have set fair traceries of cloud-shine
    And tints of the far vales. The textures fine
    Glow with sweet thoughts of thee. And otherwhere
    Hast thou such fabrics seen, or colors rare
    As these?” Dawned in her eyes a swift delight,
    And low she cried, “Oh, wondrous is the sight,
    And much it pleaseth me. But yet,” she said,
    “Beside my knee one morn, its hooded head
    A Hag� reared. Its gliding shape so near
    To subtler music moved, than my dull ear
    Could catch. Its velvet skin I gently strake,
    Watching the light that o’er its heaped coils brake
    In glittering waves. Within its small, wise glance,
    Flame silent slept, or quick in baleful dance
    Before my startled gaze quivering did wake.
    Fair is thy woof, soft woven, yet the snake
    Out-dazzles it. The beetle that doth boom
    Its dull life out among the tangled gloom,
    Lift his wide wing above thy weft, or trail
    His splendor there, and thy poor web will pale;
    Yea, the red wayside lily that doth snare
    The girdled bee, is softer still, more fair
    Than finest woven cloth.” But tenderly
    She smoothed the gleaming folds. “Much pleaseth me,
    Natlhess,” she said, “such loveliness.” Then brought
    He tapestries of fleeces fine, well wrought
    In colors soft as woodland mosses’ tinge,
    Or glow of autumn blooms: Heavy with fringe
    Of downward sweeping gold; arras, where through
    Showed mottled stripes, or arabesques of blue,
    Broad zones of red, and tender grays, and hue
    Of dropping leaves. “Lilith,” he said, “when rolled
    The storm-tossed billows round these caves, behold
    I spun these daintily. ‘Twere hard to find
    Such twisted weft or woven strand.” “Oh, kind,”
    She said, “is Eblis, unto whom I fain
    Would give due thanks. His gorgeous train
    But yesterday I saw the peacock spread;
    Bright in the sun gleamed his small crested head;
    His haughty neck wrinkled to green and blue,
    And since I needs must truly speak, I knew
    Not color rich as his: and I have seen
    The curious nest among the branches green,
    The busy weaver-bird plaits of thick leaves,
    And in and out its pliant meshes weaves;
    And since thou sayest ’twere hard to match thy fine,
    Strong, woven fabrics, watch the weaver twine
    His cunning wefts. Though still,” she said, “think not
    I scorn thy gifts, Prince Eblis; for I wot
    Their worth is greater than my tongue can say.”
    Then Eblis deeper in the cave led her a little way,
    And showed a stately screen of such fine art
    One almost felt the breeze that seemed to part
    The pictured boughs. And o’er the stirless lake
    Dreamed the swift, wimpling waters sudden brake
    Among the willows on its brink–and flowers
    Of scarlet, shining-clean from summer showers;
    And Eblis said, “Cold praise a friend should spare
    This picture true. Certain naught else will dare
    Vie with such beauty.”
    Archly Lilith took
    The rose from her bright hair, and lightly shook
    The dewdrop from its heart. “I loving, touch,”
    She said, “these petals smooth. O, Eblis, such
    Give to thy painted blooms; give its cool sheen
    Of morningtide, the mossy, lush leaves green
    That fold it round. Give its faint, fragrant breath,
    When with the fickle breeze it dallieth.
    Nay, fairer still my rose than gilded screen,
    Though it be limned with perfect art, I ween.”
    Thereat smiled Eblis bitterly. “I bring
    One parting gift,” he said, “a dainty thing;
    Perchance in other time it will recall
    One who strove long and patiently through all
    These days to win thy praise.” An oval plane
    Of crystal gave he her; of fleck or stain
    Clear-gleaming. Of ivory carven fine
    The frame. And when she looked, “Divine,”
    He laughed, “the beauty it enshrines. Canst claim
    Aught else is fairer?” And Lilith again
    Gazed in the glass, her face beholding there,
    Her pink flushed cheeks, her yellow streaming hair.
    Quick came her breath. “O prince,” she slowly said,
    “Fair is the stranger. Bid those lips so red
    Speak once to Lilith. For methinks the voice
    Of such in music flowed. Let me rejoice
    Therein.” “O glorious counterfeit!” cried
    He. “Lovelier is not on this earth wide!
    Behold, sweet Lilith, ’tis thine own pure face
    That lends my happy mirror perfect grace
    It else had not. Bid thou thine image speak!
    No other happiness I elsewhere seek,
    If the soft tale she whispers be of me.”
    And Lilith answered gravely, “I know thee,
    Eblis. Master indeed of all crafts thou–
    Red Sard, and marble sphere, and agile prow
    Of pinnace light well wroughten were by thee
    And decked full fair. And, beauteous to see,
    Fine woven weft and web, and the tall screen
    O’errun with painted bloom, crystal, with gleam
    Of Lilith’s face–thou madest these. Mayhap
    Beetle and asp likewise didst tint–didst wrap
    The green about my rose, and richly fringe
    My cocoa-tree, or peacock’s train didst tinge
    With dazzling hues. Methought thou wert a prince,
    But now Lilith should humbly kneel, since
    Thou art far higher than she deemed, if thou
    Madest these wondrous things.” And lowly now
    As she would kneel, she drew anigh. But he
    Cried, shrinking, “Nay, I made them not.” And she
    Low questioned, “Eblis, tell me who then, did make
    Them all. Who set the creeping hooded snake
    And stealthy pard within the thorny brake,
    And spread the sea, and wreathed the waterfall
    With foam? Who reared the hoar hills, towering tall
    Above the lands?” With eyes wild flashing, low
    He groaned: “O Lilith, ask me not. My foe
    He was–he is. Trembles with wrath my frame
    If I but faintly breathe his awful name.”
    Lilith replied, “Meseemeth, master true
    Of every craft is He.”
    Forth the two
    From that drear cavern passed. Ere the water’s brim
    They gained, he plucked the wilding reeds, that slim
    Stood by a brook. “My pipe I make, one strain
    Harmonious to wake. Nor yet again
    Shalt thou such fresh notes hear. Music like mine
    Methinks thou hast not known in any time.”
    He laid his pipe unto his lips, and blew
    A blast, wild, piercing, sweet. The far hills through
    It rung. And softer fell, yet wild and clear.
    It ceased. With drooping eyes, “Once I did hear
    A song as wildly clear, as sad,” she said,
    “In mine own realm.” And as she spoke, dark dread
    The sky grew with a coming storm. “Oh, haste,”
    He cried; “seek refuge ere this dreary waste
    Reeks with the rain!” And fast they sped
    Back to his ocean-cave. There safe, o’erhead
    They watched the piling clouds. With angry roar
    The baffled billows broke upon the rocks. O’er
    Them rushed the shrieking storm. Wild through the grot
    Wandered the prisoned wind, a troubled ghost that sought
    Repose. Or low did moan, and trembling, wail,
    Like some sore-hearted thing that hideth, pale,
    And dare not front the day; and wilder still,
    In chords melodious, swelled or sank, until
    She sighed, “Oh, this weird harp among the caves,
    Strange players hath! For loud as one that raves,
    It rises. Now more sweetly fade away
    Its mellow notes than thy thin pipes.” “One day,”
    He said, “mayhap my strain may please, when wind
    Doth not outpipe my slighted reeds. Unkind
    Thou art.” “The storm is past; to mine own land
    I would return,” she said.    And Eblis o’er the strand
    Led her. And homeward silent turned his prow
    That swiftly through the swirling waves did plow.
    But when they parted, Eblis mused, “I know
    No gift soever winneth her, rich though
    It be and seemly. Into this pure soul,
    Through fear of ill, I enter; or by goal
    Of future gain before it set.”
    So came
    He to her pleasance yet again. A flame
    Leaped high above a brazier that he bore,
    Its sweet, white, scented wood quick lapping o’er.
    With darkened face Eblis above her hung.
    “This hath, than my poor pipe, a keener tongue,”
    Smileless and stern, he said. “Oh, dame,
    List how the wild, crisp, crackling ruby flame
    Eats through the tender boughs. A trusty knave
    It is, that serves me well, and loud doth rave
    As tiger caged. When I do set it free,
    With angry fangs leaps on its prey. But see,
    It now sleeps harmlessly, till Eblis calls
    His faithful servant back. Lilith, when falls
    The red fire at thy feet, dost fear?” “Nay, nay,”
    She cried, and drew her white neck up.    “A way
    To tame it thou hast found. Believe me, since
    It is thy slave I too will bind it, prince.
    Should Lilith fear? Unfaltering, these eyes
    Have watched when rushing storm-clouds heaped the skies,
    And the black whirlwind, with loud, deafening roar,
    Beat the torn waves; or whirled against the shore
    The tumbling billows, with fierce lips that bit
    The shrinking land. And the wreathed lightnings split
    The cloud with thunder dread: or wildly burst
    Upon the sea the water-spout. Shall first
    She fear thy flame, who feared not these?” “Fit mate
    Art thou for Eblis,” answered he. “His fate
    Share, great-souled one. Thou wouldst not meanly shrink,
    Though his strong heart did fail. O Lilith, think!
    The crown of clustered worlds thou mayest find,
    If thou with him who loveth thee wilt bind
    Thy life.” “Nay, far happier seems to me
    Than eagle caged, the wild lark soaring free,”
    She said. And through her rose-pleached alleys strayed
    They to the sea. And tender music made
    That guileful voice; yet slow his wooing sped
    Those summer days. But when were dead
    And brown the crisping leaves, “Oh, love,” he said,
    “Of all the centuries, thou rarest bloom,
    Thy shut heart open wide. Its sweet perfume,
    Though I should die, fain would I parting drink.
    Sleeps yet thy love? From me no longer shrink,
    My Lilith. Oh, lift up thy tender eyes;
    In their blue depths doth happy morning rise;
    ‘Tis night if they be closed.”
    She softly sighed;
    And ancient strife recalling, thus replied:
    “When dwelt a prince discrowned, well satisfied?
    And fallen, loving, still art thou a prince,
    And otherwhiles might sorrow bring me, since
    It might hap thou wouldst much desire her realm,
    Were Lilith thine; for princes seize the helm
    When Love lies moored, and bid the shallop seek
    Across the waves new lands. But Love is weak,
    And so, alas, the craft upon the sands
    Is dashed, while one, on-looking, wrings her hands.
    Such days I have outlived. Like Adam, thou
    Perchance will seek to bind the loosed. Then how
    (If one hath drunken wine of liberty)
    Shall she, athirst, rejoice; no longer free,
    Be glad?”
    “My love,” he said, “large-hearted lives,
    Full dowers thee, and royal bounty gives,
    Nor knoweth law, save Lilith’s wish alone.”
    “Why, then,” she answered, “on the polished stone
    That fronts yon hill, write, Eblis, in full day,
    That other time we read it clear, and say,
    ‘Hereon are graven all those early vows
    We whispered low aneath the summer boughs,’
    Write every word. That so the stone shall be
    Ever a witness mute twixt thee and me.
    Then shall I know thou seekest in me no thrall
    For after-days, if thou make compact. All
    Thou hast said, write now.”
    Then on the stone,
    As she had said, graved Eblis, and thereon
    Did set his seal. So wedded they: and hand
    In hand the wide world roamed. Or in her land
    Abode. And oft, of hours, ere yet on earth
    He walked, she questioned.    Or he loosed with mirth
    Her yellow hair, down-streaming o’er his arm;
    And ‘gainst his cheek her breath came sweet and warm;
    As through his dusky locks caressing played
    Her fingers slim; and shadows, half afraid,
    She saw in his wild eyes.
    Or paths remote
    They trod, watching the white clouds rise and float
    Athwart the sky. Or by the listless main,
    Or ‘neath the lotus bough, slow paced the twain.
    Or dragon-trees spread their cool leafy screen.
    And faint crept odors through the mangroves green,
    Where paused the pair upon the sandy shore.
    Love-tranced, unheeded, swiftly passed them o’er
    Glad summer days: till one hour softly laid
    At Lilith’s feet a fair, lone babe, that strayed
    From distant Dreamland far. So might one deem
    That looked upon its face. Or, it might seem
    From other climes, a rose-leaf blown apart,
    Down-fluttered there, to gladden Lilith’s heart.