'Gainst all external sense and inward feeling : Think and endure,-and form an inner world In your own bosom-where the outward fails; So shall you nearer be the spiritual

Nature, and war triumphant with your own.

[They disappear.

Our little Enoch sleeps upon yon bed

Of leaves, beneath the cypress.

CAIN.

Cypress! 'tis

A gloomy tree, which looks as if it mourn'd

O'er what it shadows; wherefore didst thou

choose it

For our child's canopy?

ADAH.

Because its branches

Shut out the sun like night, and therefore seem'd

Fitting to shadow slumber.

CAIN.

Ay, the last

And longest; but no matter-lead me to him.

[They go up to the child.

How lovely he appears! his little cheeks,
In their pure incarnation, vying with

The rose leaves strewn beneath them.

ADAH..

And his lips, too,

How beautifully parted! No; you shall not

Kiss him, at least not now: he will awake soon— His hour of mid-day rest is nearly over;

But it were pity to disturb him till

'Tis closed.

CAIN.

You have said well; I will contain My heart till then. He smiles, and sleeps!-Sleep on And smile, thou little, young inheritor

Of a world scarce less young: sleep on, and smile! Thine are the hours and days when both are

cheering

And innocent! thou hast not pluck'd the fruit— Thou know'st not thou art naked! Must the time

Come thou shalt be amerced for sins unknown,

Which were not thine nor mine? But now sleep on!
His cheeks are reddening into deeper smiles,
And shining lids are trembling o'er his long
Lashes, dark as the

cypress which waves o'er them;

Half open, from beneath them the clear blue Laughs out, although in slumber. He must dream

Of what? Of Paradise!-Ay! dream of it,

My disinherited boy! 'Tis but a dream;

For never more thyself, thy sons, nor fathers,
Shall walk in that forbidden place of joy!

ADAH.

Dear Cain! Nay, do not whisper o'er our son
Such melancholy yearnings o'er the past:
Why wilt thou always mourn for Paradise?
Can we not make another?

CAIN.

Where?

ADAH.

Here, or

Where'er thou wilt: where'er thou art, I feel not

The want of this so much regretted Eden.
Have I not thee, our boy, our sire, and brother,
And Zillah-our sweet sister, and our Eve,

To whom we owe so much besides our birth?

CAIN.

Yes-death, too, is amongst the debts we owe her.

ADAH.

Cain! that proud spirit, who withdrew thee hence,
Hath sadden'd thine still deeper. I had hoped
The promised wonders which thou hast beheld,
Visions, thou say'st, of past and present worlds,
Would have composed thy mind into the calm
Of a contented knowledge; but I see

Thy guide hath done thee evil: still I thank him,
And can forgive him all, that he so soon

Hath given thee back to us.

And yet I have approach'd that sun, and seen Worlds which he once shone on, and never more Shall light; and worlds he never lit: methought Years had roll'd o'er my absence.

ADAH.

Hardly hours.