Ada Langworthy Collier - Lilith

And wayward paths o’erflecked with shimmering shades,

And tangled dells, and wilding pleasances,

Hung moist with odors strange from scented trees.

Sweet sounds o’erbrimmed the place; and rare perfumes,

Faint as far sunshine, fell ’mong verdant glooms.

In that fair land, all hues, all leafage green

Wrapt flawless days in endless summer-sheen.

Bright eyes, the violet waking, lifted up

Where bent the lily her deep, fragrant cup;

And folded buds, ’gainst many a leafy spray—

The wild-woods’ voiceless nuns—knelt down to pray.

There roses, deep in greenest mosses swathed,

Kept happy tryst with tropic blooms, sun-bathed.

No sounds of sadness surged through listening trees:

The waters babbled low; the errant bees

Made answer, murmurous; nor paled the hue

The jonquils wore; nor chill the wild breath grew

Of daisies clustered white in dewy croft;

Nor fell the tasseled plumes as satin soft

Upon the broad-leaved corn. Sweet all the day

O’erflowed with music every woodland way;

And sweet the jargonings of nested bird,

When light the listless wind the forest stirred.

Straight as the shaft that ’gainst the morning sun

The slender palm uprears, the Fairest one—

The first of womankind—sweet Lilith—stood,

A gracious shape that glorified the wood.

About her rounded shoulders warm and bare,

Like netted sunshine fell her lustrous hair;

The rosy flush of young pomegranate bells

Dawned on her cheeks; and blue as in lone dells

Sleep the Forget-me-nots, her eyes. With bent

Brows, sullen-creased, swart Adam gazed intent

Upon a leopard, crouched low in its place

Beneath his feet. Not once in Lilith’s face

He looked, nor sought her wistful, downcast eyes

With shifting shadows dusk, and strange surprise.

“O, Love,” she said, “no more let us contend!

So sweet is life, anger, methinks, should end.

In this, our garden bright, why dost thou claim

Ever the highest place, the noblest name?

Freely to both our Lord gave self-same sway

O’er living things. Love, thou art gone astray!

Twin-born, of equal stature, kindred soul

Are we; like dowed with strength. Yon stars that roll

Their course above, down-looking on my face,

See yours as fair; in neither aught that’s base.

Thy wife, not handmaid I, yet thou dost say,

‘I first in Eden rule.’ Thou, then, hast sway.

Must I, my Adam, mutely follow thee?

Run at thy bidding, crouch beside thy knee?

Lift up (when thou dost bid me) timid eyes?

Not so will Lilith dwell in Paradise.”

“Mine own,” Adam made answer soft, “ ’twere best

Thou didst forget such ills in noontide rest.

Content I wake, the keeper of the place.

Of equal stature? Yea! Of self-same grace?

Nay, Love; recall those lately vanished eves,

When we together plucked the plantain leaves;

Yon leopard lowly stretched at my command

Its lazy length beneath my soothing hand.

At thee she snarled, disdaining half, to sheathe

’Neath thy soft pleading eyes her milk-white teeth.

Oft, Love, in other times, in sheltered nook,

We scattered pearly millet by the brook.

Lo thine lay barren in the sand. Quick mine

Upspringing sifts o’er pale blooms odors fine:

Hateful thy chidings grow; each breeze doth bring

Ever thy plaints—thy fretful murmuring.

These many days I weary of thy sighs;

Know, Lilith, I alone rule Paradise.”

Thereat he rose, and quick at every stride

The fawning leopard gambolled at his side.

So fell the first dark shadow of Earth’s strife.

With coming evil all the winds were rife.

Lone lay the land with sense of dull loss paled.

The days grew sick at heart; the sunshine failed;

And falling waters breathed in silvery moan

A hidden ail to starlit dells alone—

As sometimes you have seen, ’neath household eaves,

’Mong scents of Springtime, in the budded leaves,

The swallows circling blithe, with slant brown wing,

Home-flying fleet, with tender chattering,

And all the place o’errun with nested love—

So have you come, when leaves hung crisp above

The silent door. Yet not again, I ween,

Those shining wings, cleaving the air, have seen

Nor heard the gladsome swallows twittering there—

Only the empty nests, low-hung and bare,

Spake of the scattered brood.—So lonely were

To Lilith grown her once loved haunts. Nor fair

The starlit nights, slow-dropping fragrant dew,

Nor the dim groves when dawn came shifting through.

Far ’mong the hills the wood-doves’ moan she heard,

Or in some nearer copse, a startled bird;

Or the white moonshine ’mong green boughs o’erhead

Wrought her full heart to tears. “Sweet peace,” she said,

“Alas—lies slain!”

With musing worn, she brake

At last her silence, and to Adam spake:

“Beyond these walls I know not what may be—

Islands low-fringed, or bare; or tranquil sea,

Spaces unpeopled, wastes of burning sands,

Green-wooded belts, enclasping summer lands,

Or realms of dusky pines, or wolds of snow,

Or jagged ice-peaks wrapt in purple glow,

Or shadowy oceans lapped in fadeless sheen—

Yet there were Paradise, were Lilith queen.

To dally with my lord I was not meant;

To soothe his idle whims, above him bent,

Warm in my milk-white arms, lull his repose,

Nor deep in subtle kisses drown his woes.

Wherefore, since here no more dwells love, I fly

To seek my home in other lands. For why

Should Lilith wait since Adam’s empty state

More dear he holds than Lilith desolate?”

But answer soft made Adam at the word,

For faint his dying love, yet coldly stirred

Its ashen cerements: “Nay, love, our home

Within these garden walls lies safe. Wouldst roam

Without? Sweet peace, by loss, wilt thou restore

One little loss, or miss it evermore?”

“In goodly Eden, Adam, safely bide,

But I, for peace, nor love, nor life,” she cried,

“Submit to thee. Unto our Lord I own

Allegiance true; my homage his alone.

Oft have I watched the mists athwart yon peaks,

Pursuing oft past coves and winding creeks,

Have thought to touch their shining veil outspread,

In happy days ere Love, alas, was dead;

So now, farewell! Ere the new day shall break

Adown their gleaming track, my way I take.”

She turned; but ere the gate that looked without

She reached, one fleeting moment paused in doubt

Upon a river’s brink. In one swift glance

All coming time she saw. A weird romance

Wherein she traced great peoples yet unborn,

New springing cycles, strange lands cleft with tarn

Or pleasant vale, and green plains stretching far,

And quiet bays, and many a shingly bar,

And troubled seas, with bitter perils past,

And elfin shapes that jeering flitted fast

With scornful faces, leering lips that smiled,

Or bursts of laughter through that vision wild.

Uncertain, then, she stood, half loth to turn.

“Against yon deepening sky, how dimly burn

The stars, new-lit. Dear home, thou art so fair!”

She fondly sighed.

Then sudden she was ’ware

The angel near her paused, whose watchful care

Guards Eden’s peaceful bounds. Serene, his air

So tender-sweet, so pure the gentle face,

She scarce dared look upon its subtle grace.

Sad were his eyes; his words, rebuking, fell

Soft as the moonshine clear, in sleeping dell.

“My sister, go not hence, lest these gates bar