Eve
It was the sixth dawn. Still the Fiat Lux
resounded in the deep
expanse of air;
it was the calm awakening of the world
within the cradle of time.
It was the dawn,
and the Creator, with his sovereign hand,
circled with gauze of topaz and of rose,
fit for the chaste brow of a bride, the chaste
brow of the morn.
The golden waves of the primeval light
rippled on the unsubstantial air,
and lifting modestly her veil the spring,
the gentle spring, resplendently adorned,
went forth among the virgin fields of earth,
freshening the flowers with her beating wings.
The blue mount, yielding up its granite peak
to the caresses of the clouds whose fleece
is scattered through the infinite of air,
unfolded over emerald fields the abundant
kirtle of its wild and quiet woods,
and a curtain of moving foliage,
cascading verdurous
into the gorges,
gave shade and freshness to the grottoes hung
with sweet red roses and white jessamine.
The tangled wood, presentient of the day,
peopled its bosky haunts with murmurous sound;
through the midst of trembling reeds and rushes,
frolicksome, the joyous water sped.
On the flowers the angel of the mist
scattered pearly moisture from his wings,
and Aurora floated on the air,
enveloped in her gauzy topaz robe.
It was the nuptial hour. The earth lay sleeping,
virginal, beneath the bashful veil,
and to surprise her with his amorous kisses
the royal sun inflamed the firmament.
It was the nuptial hour. All the waters
of the streams, the fountains and the seas,
preluding in ineffable harmony,
quired a measure from the Song of Songs.
The sacred incense of the fragrancy
effused abroad by all the flower-cups
floated on the zephyrs with it fraught,
that to the music of their wings rehearsed
a concert and of kisses and of sighs;
and as many birds of canorous strain
as soar in the diaphanous heights of air
poured forth their harmonies upon the wind
and unleashed the torrent of their songs.
It was the nuptial hour. Nature still
bedazzled by her issuing forth from chaos,
intoxicated with her youth and beauty,
sacred and virginal,
veiling her face in poetry and mystery,
offered, upon earth's thalamus of roses,
herself to man.
Man! . . . There in the deep
and innermost recesses of the wood,
where the shadow of the gentle palm
was mildest and the mossy carpet most soft
and the lemon-tree most rich and fragrant;
where the flowers crowded loveliest
and by the breeze and by the brook was borne
the most of perfume and the most of murmur;
where the warbling of the nightingales
was sweetest, and the mourning of the doves,
and the hesitating twilight spread
its fairest veils,
there man lay sleeping,
there in his dwelling-place, in Paradise.
The spotless world
was born in grandeur and serenity;
God looked upon creation
and saw that it was good.
Bathed in splendour, saturate with dawn,
in the hallowed quiet of that hour,
in the sleeping shadow of that palm,
in the lap of that beflowered sward,
Adam lay, his manly head at rest
on his strong arm,
and on the wanton breeze his gentle locks
dishevelled strayed; and yet his lofty brow
predestined to the crown, his noble face
august with beauty in the midst of sleep,
reflected an austere and sombre sorrow.
The morning zephyr gently eddying
caressed his brow, and his breast softly rose
and softly fell;
and yet there issued from his parted lips
a breath that was as though he breathed a sigh.
Did he suffer? . . . The Creator
alone in that retreat was with the sleeper.
He was the first of men, the moment was
the first of his existence, and already
the voice of suffering faltered on his lips.
The vast void palpitated all about,
yet he was solitary. Solitude
transformed the sovereign into an outcast . . .
Then it was the hand of the Creator
stretched forth and touched an instant Adam's side.
...
Suave, indistinct, sidereal, hovering,
like the light vapour rising from the foam,
like the white beam of the moon that goes
wandering through a rack of shadowy mist,
chaste emanation, most chaste and serene,
issuing from the lily's virgin chalice,
living pearl of the fair dawn of day,
light forerunner of the light to come
and gathered into the voluptuous form
of a new being quickening into life,
white and luminous a figure rose
by the side of Adam, sleeping Adam.
The first of womankind! Effulgent sky
that with thy light didst bathe this firstling morn,
hast thou beheld from that time forth to now,
among the vast throng of humanity's daughters,
one more entrancing, gracious, perfect than
that first of womankind?
The selfsame hand that garmented the earth
with blue horizons,
the fields with emerald,
with snow the mountain's summit and its slopes
with deepest green;
that same which from the waves of the dark sea
strikes plumes of shining foam
and crowns with rainbow and with mist the swift
and savage cataract;
that selfsame which imbues with magic colours
the flowers and the feathers of the birds;
that same which to such beauty paints the clouds
of crimson, gold and opal that compose
the distant prospects of the evening sky;
that same which in the crystal dome of air
suspends the frigid moon's opacous globe
and to the glorious zenith lifts on high
the diadem of the day-dispensing sun;
that same which, spreading the transparent veil
of the wide firmament, left on heaven's face,
as though forgotten by its fingers of light,
the radiant dust of stars;
that same from which perennially outpours
the stintless prodigies of mighty nature;
the hand of the Eternal God of beauty,
oh first of womankind . . . that same made thee!
The sweet pallor of the lily opening
with dawn
and the chaste radiance of the moon at full
bestowed on the enchantment of her face
their purity and light. The taintless lips
than which the reddest rose is not more red,
that gaze in whose wide-open lustrous eyes
the spirit shines,
and over the white neck,
apparelling voluptuously her spells,
the cascade of her luxuriant tresses
pouring down in waves of flowing curls.
Her chaste nakedness shone forth, her lips
smiled and her breath
perfumed the air;
and there was kindled by her gazing eyes
an unutterable light that mingled
with the uncertain twilight of the dawn. . . .
Eve was the flowering soul of Paradise.
And all about her then there was a stir
of rich and joyous life;
all nature trembling, even as a lover
the trembling virgin, clasped her tenderly.
For her the breezes and the foliage sang
the song of their melodious murmuring,
sang it to the rhythm of living waters
rolling their sonorous and crystal torrents.
Gentle zephyrs, wafting to and fro,
saturated with their scents her tresses,
fleeting murmurs sighed upon the air,
and the warbling of the nightingales
was sweeter, and the mourning of the doves;
and all the while the roses, rapturous,
moist already with the celestial dew,
bathed with fragrant essences her feet
and then drooped down towards her with their kisses.
The sun was almost risen; dawn was breaking,
and in the peaceful shadow of the palm
quietly Adam slept. The passing breeze
brushed with caressing wing the majestic brow
and a smile trembled on the parted lips.
Eve looked on him,
her hand upon her troubled heart, her eyes,
her sovereign eyes already languishing,
moist and fraught with love;
and little by little, tremulous, distraught,
feeling within her overpowered breast
the fervid palpitating of her heart,
and feeling that her being was possessed
by some ineffable resistless power
that down towards the gentle sleeper's lips
impelled her own,
she stooped to him. . . .
And suddenly
a quivering kiss was heard, and Paradise
trembled with love. . . .
And the sun at that instant raised his brow!
resounded in the deep
expanse of air;
it was the calm awakening of the world
within the cradle of time.
It was the dawn,
and the Creator, with his sovereign hand,
circled with gauze of topaz and of rose,
fit for the chaste brow of a bride, the chaste
brow of the morn.
The golden waves of the primeval light
rippled on the unsubstantial air,
and lifting modestly her veil the spring,
the gentle spring, resplendently adorned,
went forth among the virgin fields of earth,
freshening the flowers with her beating wings.
The blue mount, yielding up its granite peak
to the caresses of the clouds whose fleece
is scattered through the infinite of air,
unfolded over emerald fields the abundant
kirtle of its wild and quiet woods,
and a curtain of moving foliage,
cascading verdurous
into the gorges,
gave shade and freshness to the grottoes hung
with sweet red roses and white jessamine.
The tangled wood, presentient of the day,
peopled its bosky haunts with murmurous sound;
through the midst of trembling reeds and rushes,
frolicksome, the joyous water sped.
On the flowers the angel of the mist
scattered pearly moisture from his wings,
and Aurora floated on the air,
enveloped in her gauzy topaz robe.
It was the nuptial hour. The earth lay sleeping,
virginal, beneath the bashful veil,
and to surprise her with his amorous kisses
the royal sun inflamed the firmament.
It was the nuptial hour. All the waters
of the streams, the fountains and the seas,
preluding in ineffable harmony,
quired a measure from the Song of Songs.
The sacred incense of the fragrancy
effused abroad by all the flower-cups
floated on the zephyrs with it fraught,
that to the music of their wings rehearsed
a concert and of kisses and of sighs;
and as many birds of canorous strain
as soar in the diaphanous heights of air
poured forth their harmonies upon the wind
and unleashed the torrent of their songs.
It was the nuptial hour. Nature still
bedazzled by her issuing forth from chaos,
intoxicated with her youth and beauty,
sacred and virginal,
veiling her face in poetry and mystery,
offered, upon earth's thalamus of roses,
herself to man.
Man! . . . There in the deep
and innermost recesses of the wood,
where the shadow of the gentle palm
was mildest and the mossy carpet most soft
and the lemon-tree most rich and fragrant;
where the flowers crowded loveliest
and by the breeze and by the brook was borne
the most of perfume and the most of murmur;
where the warbling of the nightingales
was sweetest, and the mourning of the doves,
and the hesitating twilight spread
its fairest veils,
there man lay sleeping,
there in his dwelling-place, in Paradise.
The spotless world
was born in grandeur and serenity;
God looked upon creation
and saw that it was good.
Bathed in splendour, saturate with dawn,
in the hallowed quiet of that hour,
in the sleeping shadow of that palm,
in the lap of that beflowered sward,
Adam lay, his manly head at rest
on his strong arm,
and on the wanton breeze his gentle locks
dishevelled strayed; and yet his lofty brow
predestined to the crown, his noble face
august with beauty in the midst of sleep,
reflected an austere and sombre sorrow.
The morning zephyr gently eddying
caressed his brow, and his breast softly rose
and softly fell;
and yet there issued from his parted lips
a breath that was as though he breathed a sigh.
Did he suffer? . . . The Creator
alone in that retreat was with the sleeper.
He was the first of men, the moment was
the first of his existence, and already
the voice of suffering faltered on his lips.
The vast void palpitated all about,
yet he was solitary. Solitude
transformed the sovereign into an outcast . . .
Then it was the hand of the Creator
stretched forth and touched an instant Adam's side.
...
Suave, indistinct, sidereal, hovering,
like the light vapour rising from the foam,
like the white beam of the moon that goes
wandering through a rack of shadowy mist,
chaste emanation, most chaste and serene,
issuing from the lily's virgin chalice,
living pearl of the fair dawn of day,
light forerunner of the light to come
and gathered into the voluptuous form
of a new being quickening into life,
white and luminous a figure rose
by the side of Adam, sleeping Adam.
The first of womankind! Effulgent sky
that with thy light didst bathe this firstling morn,
hast thou beheld from that time forth to now,
among the vast throng of humanity's daughters,
one more entrancing, gracious, perfect than
that first of womankind?
The selfsame hand that garmented the earth
with blue horizons,
the fields with emerald,
with snow the mountain's summit and its slopes
with deepest green;
that same which from the waves of the dark sea
strikes plumes of shining foam
and crowns with rainbow and with mist the swift
and savage cataract;
that selfsame which imbues with magic colours
the flowers and the feathers of the birds;
that same which to such beauty paints the clouds
of crimson, gold and opal that compose
the distant prospects of the evening sky;
that same which in the crystal dome of air
suspends the frigid moon's opacous globe
and to the glorious zenith lifts on high
the diadem of the day-dispensing sun;
that same which, spreading the transparent veil
of the wide firmament, left on heaven's face,
as though forgotten by its fingers of light,
the radiant dust of stars;
that same from which perennially outpours
the stintless prodigies of mighty nature;
the hand of the Eternal God of beauty,
oh first of womankind . . . that same made thee!
The sweet pallor of the lily opening
with dawn
and the chaste radiance of the moon at full
bestowed on the enchantment of her face
their purity and light. The taintless lips
than which the reddest rose is not more red,
that gaze in whose wide-open lustrous eyes
the spirit shines,
and over the white neck,
apparelling voluptuously her spells,
the cascade of her luxuriant tresses
pouring down in waves of flowing curls.
Her chaste nakedness shone forth, her lips
smiled and her breath
perfumed the air;
and there was kindled by her gazing eyes
an unutterable light that mingled
with the uncertain twilight of the dawn. . . .
Eve was the flowering soul of Paradise.
And all about her then there was a stir
of rich and joyous life;
all nature trembling, even as a lover
the trembling virgin, clasped her tenderly.
For her the breezes and the foliage sang
the song of their melodious murmuring,
sang it to the rhythm of living waters
rolling their sonorous and crystal torrents.
Gentle zephyrs, wafting to and fro,
saturated with their scents her tresses,
fleeting murmurs sighed upon the air,
and the warbling of the nightingales
was sweeter, and the mourning of the doves;
and all the while the roses, rapturous,
moist already with the celestial dew,
bathed with fragrant essences her feet
and then drooped down towards her with their kisses.
The sun was almost risen; dawn was breaking,
and in the peaceful shadow of the palm
quietly Adam slept. The passing breeze
brushed with caressing wing the majestic brow
and a smile trembled on the parted lips.
Eve looked on him,
her hand upon her troubled heart, her eyes,
her sovereign eyes already languishing,
moist and fraught with love;
and little by little, tremulous, distraught,
feeling within her overpowered breast
the fervid palpitating of her heart,
and feeling that her being was possessed
by some ineffable resistless power
that down towards the gentle sleeper's lips
impelled her own,
she stooped to him. . . .
And suddenly
a quivering kiss was heard, and Paradise
trembled with love. . . .
And the sun at that instant raised his brow!
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