Tubal, the eldest born, was mightier than his brother. Less tall, strong, he stood like Hercules leaning on his club. His lusty shoulders seemed made to bear the weight of any ill which time and the first sin might engender to crush the sons of Adam; and his foot was firmer than the rock. Within his broad breast, capacious, the wildest passions, love and hate, and jealousy and ambition, raged and crouched obedient to a will which held them bound, nor loosed its hold but to fulfill its purpose. His hair curled close, nor played in dalliance with the wanton air. His eyes, blacker than the night which covered Egypt when the chosen were oppressed, burned fierce; and within their depths lay hidden cunning, and power, and the determination to complete what cunning prompts and power may well perform. His nostrils swelled with triumphs not yet won; and on his lips, compressed, and on his swarthy brow, courage had stamped its signet. He loved the chase, and the boar pursued beyond the mountains which barred his father’s steps, and rose a barrier never passed till he burst through to conquer new fields, boundless, and rich in all the wealth of his rude life. Action was his rest; and to him plain fact was beautiful enough, nor sought he, in vain imaginings, to work out of strong matter kindred unto himself, forms of excellence which live only in a poet’s brain, to curse the possessor. His father loved him, for when a boy he drew his father’s bow, and threw his father’s spear, laughed at fatigue, and scorned the pleasures of quiet contemplation which, with his brother, stole half the days away. In him was small obedience, even from his birth; self-willed, he threw off his mother’s hand as a steed of high mettle, untamed, flings at the bit; and thus he grew, a Titan in his passions as a Titan in his make. SECTION IV.