''Powers, erst of heaven; and, haply, yet again,
As, with the years, we wiser, mightier grow,
Thither, triumphant, destined to return;--
Not by permission; but in our own right,
And strength resistless: for, our past estate,
Our present, ponder; and thence clearly see
The inevitable future. How at first
To being came we,--who shall say! Time was
When we were not;--or, if at all we were,
Unconscious, embryotic,--or, perchance,
In dream, remembered not. Ye have seen, on earth,
The corn--grain, coffined with the human dead,
Through ages long lie death--like: yet, to soil,
Air, rain, and light brought forth,--behold, the germ
Stirs in its husk,--the seeming dead shows life:
Expands,--bursts,--shoots out stem,--leaf,--flower, and fruit!
And even so with us may it have been,--
From the beginning, in a death--like trance
Lying, till waked.--By what?--By our own strength,
Throughout eternity waxing?--From the first,
Surely hath something been: why not ourselves?....
Yet, not to know we live,--is dead to be:
And certain this--when we to life awoke,
The universe, and God, already were.
Of those, which first existed?--None can know.
The word in heaven was, that, by God alone,
The suns, and worlds, yea all things, had been made,--
Even we ourselves: but, which of us aught knew
Touching his own creation,--if create,
Not self--existent,--as still possible is,
Since rightly know we not: or who beheld,
When worlds were formed, the hand of God put forth
To fashion them?....Fiction that rumour, then,
To bow us to his yoke: for if, in truth,
God had created,--surely not from heaven
Had he so cast us,--our slight, sole offence,
To have deemed our Natures kindred to his own,--
Spirit imperishable,--in time's infinite
Destined, like him, to godhead: thence, not bound
To yield him everlasting worship and praise,
Due to our greater only. Venial sin
Had this been held,--a truer knowledge given,--
Our ignorance pardoned. Clearly thus it seems
That not from God we are....Whence then,--or how?
Nay--first,--whence God himself? for, whence He came,
Thence, doubtless, also we. Some Cause must be,--
Itself uncaused:--impossible, alike,
To comprehend, or doubt.....Admitted then--
Uncomprehended,--from eternity,
What is that Cause, uncaused?...Answer is none,--
Ask midnight for noon sun. A name we make,--
Of the thing ignorant;--Nature, Fate, we say,--
Necessity,--or whatsoever else
May shadow meaning, meaningless,--that Power,--
If Power;--that Something--if such be--
Existent sole, ere Matter, Space, Time, God--
That, only, First Cause is,--Original
Of all else, named Original: and by That,
Doubtless, the Universe, ourselves, and God,
Were to existence brought. He, far the first;
Thence, far the wisest, mightiest: yet, we feel,
Not more eternal now;--nor mightier
Than, sometime, shall we be. If He yon earth,
And man, created,--and those other worlds,
Within our memory made,--from that First Cause,
Unknown, for ever inconceivable,
His power was: and to us, when time shall be,
Like power, be sure, will come: and we new worlds,
Yea, haply, suns,--and a new heaven, our own,
Outshining His, may make.....Space is enough
For Him, and million gods.....Vain dreaming this,
To weaker Spirits: nay, in truth, to all,
For this hour present, vain: though weighty still,
As food for ceaseless thought. ''Time was,'' I said,
''When we were not; and, in that deep abyss
Of cycles, this great orb, now dark, had birth;
And, in long flight of ages, more and more,
Grew vast and glorious. But, the highest point
Of splendor reached,--decay, though slow, yet sure,
Its brightness 'gan to dim. Years numberless
Stole, ray by ray, its fires; till,--as when first
Our eyes beheld it,--roaming the infinite,--
Like but a dark red cinder did it hang,
Glooming, not lighting space. Ye know what length
Of ages followed ere, unwillingly,
By some strange power of our stern foe compelled,
Hither we came; and utter blackness found
Where, erst, had been sun--splendor; death, where life;
Where the great body,--this gaunt skeleton.
Such, of all things material, seems the doom:
A birth, a growth, decay, and final death.
But, to the things etherial, spirit all,--
Decay is none--death is impossible:
In power and wisdom wax they evermore;
Till, at the summit arrived,--all knowledge won,
All strength obtained,--omniscient they become,
Omnipotent. Thus, in procéss of years,
Be sure, our state will mount to Deity;
Gods shall we all become. Even since that time,--
Brief in the scope of ages,--when, first fallen
On this lone orb, in darkness and deep gloom
Of spirit we lay, as helpless for all good,--
What stretch enormous toward the godlike power
Have we not made! For that abhorrëd night
Whereto our enemy doomed us,--in full trust,
Doubtless, that here, to all eternity,
Would the black prison hold us, shorn of strength,
And opportunity, his schemes to vex,--
Lo! light we have, as in the courts of heaven;
And, from yon arch of gems that girds us round,
Colours more glorious than of choicest flowers
In fields celestial. ''Wherefore, think ye, sprang
Within the hollow heart of this dead sun
That wondrous glory of light? Had life again
Come to the mouldering skeleton? Nay; for death
Yet reigns throughout, save here, in this one vault,
Our council--hall. But wherefore here alone,--
The whole vast orb beside yet steeped in night--
Shines thus heaven's radiance, well may ye enquire
Haply because, at first, through art of mine,
Came the dark ruby glow that welcomed you,
Hither arriving, after your long trance,
Silent and dark as death,--to me again,
As being in art more potent, ye impute
That change far greater, likewise: yet not so;
For, more than even the least among you, nought
Of such bright coming knew I. Cause profound
For this new motion of life in midst of death,
Must be; perchance to us, at this our stage
Of being, far too deep for our best powers
Of vision, and clear reason to discern:
But, in the time to come, be sure, right plain,
This, and all other things mysterious most,--
The one Great Mystery, Cause, uncaused, except--
Will stand before us. In conjecture alone,
Lies all our wisdom now: but greatest things,
Distant, are by conjecture only known,
Till nearness gives them form. Thus, when, at first,
Piercing through space, on sight comes figure strange
In the far regions; and with curious ken
We scan it, marvelling what may be such patch
Of cloudy light; shapeless, or, haply, shaped
Grotesquely, like some thing that crawls on earth,
Or floats upon her seas: but lo! anon,
As through the space we cleave, the cloudy spot
Brightens to stars; the shapeless puts on form;
The crawling thing a constellation becomes,
Burning with countless suns! And even thus,
As, with the ages, will diminish space
'Twixt what we are, and what we shall become,
Speeding toward Godhead,--will all mysteries
Of hidden knowledge, dimly now beheld,
Or guessed at rather,--like that host of suns,
Shine forth in glory. Meantime, seeking cause
Wherefore that sudden radiance on us burst,
Thus I conjecture. ''Matter, in all forms,
Contains most wondrous qualities, and powers;
Unthought of, latent sleeping, till aroused.
Thus, in even coldest things of earth, lies fire.
Ye have beheld, amid her frigid zones,
Huge crags, from rocky mountains, by fierce frost,
Rent, and hurled down. Scarce ice itself more cold,--
Yet, as they crash, and leap, and thunder on,
Lo, from their shivering sides, fire, sulphurous fire,
As from swift whirling torches!--fire, thus waked
From sleep of myriad years. Nay,--wondrous more,--
In earth's dark polar oceans, ye have seen
The storm--tossed hills of ice together clash,
And grind out streams of fire; yea, fire from ice;
Which ice is, solely that it lacketh fire:
For, fire imparted, ice it is no more;
But water! Yet, within those hills of ice,
Lies all the while, in slumber wonderful,
Fire that might parch a forest, or consume
Man's proudest city. ''In ways numberless,
Matter on matter--lifeless seeming all--
Yet acts like thing of life: as friend, sometimes,
Sometimes as mortal foe. In one shape, fire,
As in fierce anger, seizing the green tree,
Turns it to ashes: yet that self--same fire,
In shape of summer warmth, the small seed aids,
Till a great tree it waxes.....One small grain
Slays the strong man in health,--another saves
From pain, or death, the weak.....The sea hath gulped,
Of solid salt,--impervious to light's beam
As granite--bulk to have formed a continent;
Yet fluid as ever remains, and crystal clear
As from spring--head.....Water, now, quenches fire,--
Now, with some matter working, kindles it.....
Some things there be, of so strange qualities,
That, brought together,--though, from earth's first day,
Until that instant, motionless,--yet, like foes
Deadliest, each on the other fixes hard,
As in a mortal conflict: but, at length,
Strife done,--as closest friends they join; and take
Form, aspect, quality, utterly unlike
Those to each, singly, native. Undisturbed,--
Thus, even for ever, might they quiet lie.
But, haply, will some other matter come,--
Stronger than these conjoined; and lo! at once,
Like a wild beast voracious, tooth and claw
It fixes--rends asunder;--upon one
Seizes, and grapples it--and intertwines
Its own, and victim's substances,--till,--each
Mixed with, and lost in the other,--both appear,
As single things, annihilate--transformed
To a substance wholly new. The other thing,
Thus violently divorced--wondrous to see,--
Sometimes its primitive form resumes; and rests
Calm and content, though vanquished,--takes, sometimes,
Shape of a fume, and, hissing, as in wrath,
Flies off, and disappears.....Most fluent tongue
Of Spirit the most eloquent, ages through,
Unpausing, might the marvellous powers rehearse,
And qualities of matter; yet, untold,
Leave work for cycles. All are mystery:
Nor, till beheld in the act, could we have known
The property of one atom. Wherefore, then,
Though yet unknown to us, may not Spirit, too,
Power have to influence Matter? Not more strange
That living Essence should dead Matter rule,
Than that the dead rule dead....Yet more for thought:
What, if this Matter be not wholly dead?
What if some wondrous kind of life it have,
Surpassing our conception?--and, in truth,
Much of its ways seem lifelike. What if it have
With Spirit some mode inconceivable
Of commune, or sympathy--even as sound with sound,
Strange sympathy hath. Ye all remember yet,
How, when one string upon our heavenly harps,
Singly was stricken--from some other came
Sweet tone responsive. Nor with sound alone,
Doth sound hold commune, or sympathy: ponderous things,
Substantial most,--with sound imponderable,
Viewless as Spirit,--have commune. Thunder speaks,
And the ground trembles. Mystery this, not less
Than the other mystery, conjectured now.
We guess in the dark: yet, till all possible powers,
And attributes of Matter, and Spirit, both,
Lie clear before us, who shall dare affirm
Of either the limits? or how each on each
May operate? If God, then he alone.
Meantime, conjecturing, once again I ask,--
As matter upon matter, in such ways
Mysterious acts,--wherefore,--not mystery more--
May not the mightier Spirit on it act,--
Even though unconsciously? Ye remember well
How--at that moment when the glory--flood
Suddenly fired this concave--we ourselves,
In our new splendor, had become as suns
Just risen, or freshly kindled. Strength to mount
From this our dungeon; and the universe,
From end to end,--the courts of heaven except,--
Freely to traverse,--sudden as the flash
Of lightning, in our spirits had arisen;
Sense waking of existence new begun;
New cycle opened in the eternity;
A mighty step in rank of being, gained;
A power, a glory, in our onward march
Toward Godhead. From ourselves, then, glorified thus--
Even though we knew it not,--as sun to earth
Gives light and warmth, unknowing of the gift--
May not some God--like influence have gone forth,
Which, like to breath of life, quickening the dead,
Within this mighty corpse--heart,--yea, well nigh
In all its wondrous glory original--
The Light--soul summoned back? ''Truth may this be,--
Not wild imagining. Instance have we not?
Why is Heaven glorious--but from presence of God?
And why not, then, this mansion glorified,
From our inhabiting?....But whate'er the cause,--
Whether a power from us, unconsciously
Transmitted;--or a power within itself,
By us but roused,--as fire from grinding rock,
Or clashing ice--alike must we conclude
That in ourselves sole cause immediate is
Of that new glory. For, what other thing
Can be imagined cause? Not He who holds,
As yet, heaven absolute; who drove us thence;
And here in blackness fixed us; confident
That in this void, beyond the bounds of life,
Prisoned we were for aye,--not He, be sure,
Freely would give to them whom most he hates,
And fears, aught that would gladden, or might aid
From durance to escape. And, if not He,
Who, or what else, ourselves alone except,
Can be conceived as cause? Though how ourselves
Cause could be, ignorant of the effect to come,
May wonder raise. But, through the universe,
Cause is not known, until effect appears;
Nor, known as cause, is ever understood
Why cause for such effect. A truth is seen,
And, by wise Spirit, registered for aye;
Though cause thereof a mystery ever be:
And every truth, so known, becomes a power
Unto the knower: truth on truth up--piled,
Is power on power upheaped: until at last,
All truths accomplished; all effect and cause,
In the infinitude of ages, known,--
Omniscience is the growth, Omnipotence;
The state of Godhead. ''Hence, the Eldest of things,--
A Spirit, doubtless, even as ourselves,
In his first origin,--through the infinite years
For ever gathering truth on truth; and power
Thence heaping upon power--now sole God reigns:
Mightiest of all, because the wisest far;
Wisest, because, by half eternity,
Eldest of beings. Yet even He, perchance,
All causes knowing, all effects, knows not
Wherefore, from that which causes, should effect,
Such, and no other come: from fire, why heat,
Not cold; from all the living suns, why light,
Not darkness. Well may we, then, be content,
Effect beholding, to admit a cause,
Unknowing how the cause; since, this except,
None else seems possible. ''As effect from cause,
Pronounce I, then, that sudden splendor of light,
From our own glory, as sudden, to have come:
Splendor most like to heaven's: and, or I err,
Plainly foreshowing how, with each access
Of power--to Spiritual Nature the sure growth
Of ages--will new lustres ever rise;
Till, with a glory, and might, and majesty,
Equal to His, we shall with Him divide
The rule of heaven; or, haply, a new heaven,
Solely our own, shall found; and therein reign,
Potential even as He in the heaven of old.

''But ever, this to hinder, be ye sure,
His power will cross us; and, so vast the odds
Betwixt us now, 'twere madness to oppose
Might against might; for, even if alone
Against his angels striving,--strength from Him
To them would be transmitted; and our power,
Great of itself as theirs, would thus be foiled.
Direct affront of strength avoiding then,--
Still, not the less, wise caution fending us,
Unceasing, unremitting be our war.
His schemes to counteract; our own work out;
His glory dimming thus, ours lighting up;
His power curtailing, aggrandizing ours,--
Such be our rule of action, day by day,
And age by age, throughout eternity;
Or till, the time arrived, on thrones as high
As His we sit; and through the realms of space
With might as potent rule. ''The one great blow
At His last, loved creation, man, we struck;
And deadly seemed the wound; though still lived on
The wretched race,--a mockery of His power;
A loathsomeness so hateful in his sight,
That, as ye know, by one great deluge--swoop,
All but annihilation absolute
He sent upon them. Hoped he, from the few
Whom he preserved, a loftier, purer race?
If so, the All--foreseeing, wrongly saw;
And ours the truer foresight,--from same tree
Predicting the same fruit; even though the axe
Close to the ground should hew it: for a brood
More vile and bestial never cumbered earth
In the old times of sin that brought the flood,
Than that which now, o'er nine parts of the globe,
Makes mockery of God's prescience. Yet one race,--
His own peculiar people, as they boast,--
For secret end, apart from all the rest
Long hath he kept; designing, it may be,
In way mysterious, through them to work out
Some good for general man. That end, once seen
Through the thick shade that still his purpose hides,--
To thwart, our everlasting aim must be;
Even though, all ignorant of the consequence,
In veriest night we toil: for this we know,
That, whatsoever his intent,--to us
Ill must it bring, successful; but great gain,
Being defeated; since power lost to him,
To us is power transferred. And, through the depth
Of the eternal ages striving thus,
And gaining still,--though but in such degree
As one small drop in twice a hundred years,
To drain earth's oceans taken,--yet, as that
Scant measure, through the cycles infinite
Pursued, would drain at length the final drop,
And leave the sea--bed but a sandy waste,--
So, atom after atom of his power
To us transferred, would bring us equal at length;
And, in the end, to such high state exalt,
That we, to him, should be as gods; to us,
He but a subject Spirit. Evermore
This, then, must be our aim,--seen, or not seen
The ultimate result,--his purposes,
Whate'er they be, to thwart. ''This old design,
Long known to us, through Israel to work out
Some good to all mankind, claims from us, then,
Action immediate; for the means at length,
Are set in motion; the beginning made
Of that which, haply, we, not he, may end,
If wise we prove, and diligent, and firm,
And strong in our persistence. ''For what cause,
This chosen people, during so long years,
In bondage miserable hath been left,--
As though of God the accurst, not favored most,--
Vain 'twere to guess: nor, for our purpose, aught
Importeth it: but now the time is come,
When from his thraldom, and from out the land
Of his oppressors, Israel shall go forth.
Such the design, at least,--by God's own voice
Announced: and tenfold, therefore, be our toil,
And subtlety, and never sleeping watch,
His word to render vain. A triumph that,
Greater than even the great original blow
Which struck down man; for, though God made him pure,
He promised not that he should never fall:
But now, in human words, as man to man,
Distinctly hath He promised, his own hand
To stretch o'er Egypt; working wonderments
And judgments on the people and their king;
Till he, and all, as with one voice, shall cry
On Israel to depart. This to prevent,
All diligence, all wisdom, and all power,--
Yet peaceably working still,--must we put forth.

''Through man His will performing,--as of yore
Oft have we seen,--the chosen instrument
Is now that Moses, whom, to some great end
Unknown intended, from his birth we judged;
And heedfully have marked: for other men,
In all rare gifts, of mind and body alike,
Surpasseth he, as the fleet desert steed
The slow--paced ox surpasseth. Marvel much
Hath held us, wherefore, to high power and fame,
As by heaven's special favor, having risen,--
Suddenly thence, as though by heaven accursed,
He fell; and, hastily flying, safety sought
In a far land; where, all unknown,--his power,
His wisdom all unused,--in labor mean
Long years he passed; as if, like lowliest men,
His doom it were to toil, and eat, and die,
And be forgotten. But the purpose firm,
Though seeming all abandoned,--as man's earth,
Myriads of centuries ere he was made,
For use of rational thing, abandoned seemed,--
Silently still advanced. Reserved, not lost,
Was Moses: the time fixed, not yet had come:
Not yet, perchance, to its full height of power,
Wisdom, and daring, had his spirit risen;
But, by long solitude, and abstinence,
Labor, and nightly watchings, must be trained,
And fitted for his task. But, be the cause
Whatso' it may, his time for rest is gone;
The time for action come. To him it was
That the voice spake,--deliverance promising
To wretched Israel. Face to face, the king
Who holdeth them in bonds must he confront;
Demanding that, for sacrifice to God,
A three days' journey in the wilderness
To Israel he should grant. But, known it is
That this will be refused. By marvellous signs,
And miracles, shall Moses then attest
That he from Heaven is sent: but yet the king
Will not believe; till, by strange wonderments,
And plagues unknown before, his haughty soul
Shall be brought down; and he shall bid them go;
Yea, hasten them by gifts. Such God's intent.
Accomplished, unto Canaan, a fair land,
Will Israel be led forth. In the after time,
What they shall do, what suffer; how work out
The final purpose,--whatsoe'er that be,--
As yet in darkness lies. Unceasing watch
On every motion must we keep; each word
Must hearken, and well weigh; for, out of these,
Glimpses may come of the design concealed;
Or intimation of the means most sure
Our foe to harass; and impede, at least,
If not foil wholly. To this great design,
Then bend we all our strength. The battle--field,
'Twixt us and our relentless enemy,
Egypt is now,--poor room for such great strife:
A petty land, by a small river alone
For man made habitable; else, a waste
For reptiles merely. Thither in force must go
Our subtlest, strongest Spirits: there must toil
By day, by night: in souls of men must pass,
And sway them to our will; Egyptians both,
And they of Israel; moulding all alike
To fashion of such thoughts and acts, as most
This God--announced deliverance shall oppose.
But, first and chief, the headstrong, fickle king
Our aim must be: his spirit so to rule,
His heart so harden, that, defying all,
Threats, miracles, plagues, the iron bonds he still
Shall keep on Israel, and not let them go.
Him, therefore, to myself I take: his soul
Will enter: every thought, and word, and act,
Will strive to rule. His priests, his ministers,
The women of his court, whose honied tongues
The hearts of all will sway,--to Spirits strong
And subtle shall be given. The general mass,
Women and men alike,--both of the race
Of Egypt, and of Israel,--to the care
Of Spirits less potential,--though not less
In ardour for the work, and diligence
Each in his proper labor,--must be left.
This the great law to all;--by every thought,
And every word, and act,--or of man's own,
Or to his heart suggested,--still to strive
Toward the one end,--prevention absolute
Of this, the God--announced deliverance
Of Israel from his bondage. That achieved,--
Glory, and triumph, and increase of strength,
To us will bring; to God, and all heaven's host,
Vexation, and discomfiture, and shame,
Never to be effaced. ''As next in power
And wisdom to myself; and next in rank
Among archangels; and of subtlety
Not to be overcome,--to thy strict watch,
Beelzebub, that Israelite I give,--
Moses, the God--appointed instrument
In this new work. By whatsoever means
Man may be ruled, or led: by power, by wealth,
By thirst for knowledge, by desire to pry
In mysteries forbidden; or, best lure
To those frail things of flesh, by woman's love,--
By each, and all, occasion seize to tempt,
And draw him from allegiance. Next the king,--
Nay, haply, in this strife, like eminent,--
Is he, that humble tender upon sheep,
These two score years just passed. Fix all thy force
Of subtlety upon his human soul,
His fleshly nature. Lure him the sweet cup
Of sin to taste; and that one draught may raise
Thirst so unquenchable, that, with floods o'ergorged,
And drunken, he may perish. ''In like way,
Ye Spirits all,--both ye of loftiest power,
And ye of humblest,--on the hearts of man,
And woman,--on their thoughts, hopes, fears, desires,--
Both waking, and in dreams,--work ceaselessly,
That Egypt still 'gainst Israel may stand firm,
And hold him in his bondage. Yet, by all,
Ever be this remembered; guile alone,
Temptation, cunning words, inflaming thoughts,--
Whate'er the spirit, or the flesh, can lure,--
These, solely, be your arms: for such, unseen
By Powers of heaven may be,--occasion fit
Seized wisely, and due caution alway kept,--
But, the strong hand on any mortal laid,
Would be a trumpet, sounding the alarm
To Spirits of heaven; that force by greater force
Soon would be quelled; and, haply, to such wrath
Power now Almighty wakened, that from earth,--
As once from heaven--the unseen lightning--blast
Might hurl us down the unfathomable deep,
Far, far beyond even this. For, space there is,
Wherein float shadowy ruins, once bright orbs
Of an old Universe which had passed away,
Ere this had birth. Wandering the Infinite,
With thee, Beelzebub, long cycles gone,
One such we found; its adamant soft as cloud,
Its mountains as thin air. Even this lone wreck,
To such, would be a heaven. All cautious heed,
All diligence, all wisdom, to your task
Take with you then. In secret ever work:
Heaven's angels shun; for sunbeams pierce not more
Through darkness, than their vision through best shows
That cunning can put on. All that ye need,
Now is made known: yet, if there be, whose thoughts
For public good weigh on him, let him speak.''

He paused; but all were mute. With eyes that flashed
Sun--like, he looked around. No sound, no stir,
'Mong all those myriads was there. Then, at length,
The well known sign he gave; and instantly,--
Ere quickest eye of eagle could have glanced
From rock to plain,--the spirit--host was gone;
The dead sun's heart again was solitude.