ut 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 thou