plumage of such reds
As not the sunset hath, such purples as no throne,
Not even in heaven, showeth,--hardly, Lord, Thine own;
Such azures as the sea's, such greens as are in Spring
The oak trees' tenderest buds of watched-for blossoming,
Such opalescent pearls as only in Thy skies
The lunar bow revealeth to night's sleep-tired eyes.
Behold them, Lord of Beauty, Lord of Reverence,
Lord of Compassion, Thou who meetest means to ends,
Nor madest Thy world fair for less than Thine own fame,
Behold Thy birds of joy lost, tortured, put to shame
For these vile strumpets' whim. Arise, or cease to be
Judge of the quick and dead! These dead wings cry to Thee!
Arise, Lord, and avenge!

THE ANGELS

We wait upon Thy word.

(_The Lord God covereth His face._)

SATAN

Thou hearest them, Lord God.

THE LORD GOD

Good Satan, I have heard.
Thou art more just than I--alas, more just than I.

THE ANGELS

Behold the Lord God weepeth.

THE ANGEL OF PITY

What eyes should be dry
If for a crime eyes weep? This crime transcendeth crime.
And the Lord God hath pity--in His own good time.

THE LORD GOD

Alas, the time is late. I do repent Me sore
The wrong I did thee, Satan, in those griefs of yore.
The wrong I did the Earth. Yet is Eternity
A long day for atonement. Thou thyself shalt be
My instrument here of wrath to purge this race of Man
And cast him on Time's dunghill, whence he first began.
What, Angel, is thy counsel? Shall we unseal again
The fountains of the heavens, send our outpoured rain,
And flood him with new waters? Shall it be by fire?
Shall we embraize the earth in one vast funeral pyre
By impact of a star? let loose a sulphurous wind?
Belch rocks from the Earth's bowels? Shall we strike Man blind
With an unbearable light? Shall we so shake the hills,
The plains, that he fall palsied, grind him in the mills
Of a perpetual hail, importune him with snow,
Scourge him with noise unceasing, or the glutinous flow
Of a long pestilent stench? Speak, Satan, all thy thought,
Thou who the traitor knowest. How may he be brought
Best to annihilation?

SATAN

Lord, by none of these,
Thy floods, Thy flames, Thy storms were puerilities.
He hath too large a cunning to be taken thus.
He would outride Thy waves, o