Of which they hold the keys! God's curse on Christendom! THE LORD GOD Hush, traitor, thou blasphemest. If things once were so, 'Twas in a darkened age, the night of long ago. None now believe in Hell. SATAN Or Heaven. Forgive it, Lord, I spoke it in my haste. See, I withdraw the word. Thy Christendom is wise, reformed. None buy nor sell Seats now at Thy right hand, (_aside_) grown quite unsaleable. None now believe nor tremble--Yet is their sin as sore. Lord, hear me to the end. Thou dravest me out of yore An exile from Thy sight, with mission to undo And tempt Man to his death. I had fallen from Heaven's blue By reason of my pride. Thou wouldst have service done Unreasoning, on the knees, as flowers bend to the Sun, Which withers them at noon, nor ask of his white fires Why they consume and slay. I had fallen by my desires Which were too large for one not God, because I would Have shewn Thee the truth bare, in no similitude As a slave flattering speaks and half despises him He fawns on, but in love, which stands erect of limb Claiming an equal part, which reasons, questions, dares, And calls all by its name, the wheat wheat, the tares tares, The friend friend, the foe foe. Thou wast displeased at this, And deemed I envied Man his portion in Thy bliss, The Man that Thou hadst made and in Thy royal faith Held worthy of all trust, Thy lord of life and death, One to be proved and tried, as gold is tried by fire, And fare the purer forth. Of me Thou didst require The sad task of his tempting. I, forsooth, must sue And prompt to evil deeds, make the false thought seem true, The true thought false, that he, thus proved, thus tried, might turn And hurl me a dog's word, as Jesus did, in scorn "Get thee behind Me, Satan!" To this penance chained I bowed me in despair, as Thou, Lord, hadst ordained, Cast out from Thee and cursed. It was a rueful task For one who had known _Thee_ to wear the felon's mask And tempt this piteous child to his base sins of greed, His lusts ignoble, crimes how prompt in act and deed, To urge him to rebellion against God and good Who needed none to urge. His savage simian blood Flamed at a word, a sign. He lied, he thieved, he slew, By instinct of his birth. No virtue but he knew Its countervice and foil, without my wit to aid. No fair thought but he chose the foul thought in its stead. Ah sad primaeval race! Thou saidst it was not Man This thing armed with the stone which through thy forests ran, Intent to snare and slay. Not Man the senseless knave Who struck fire from his flint to burn Thy gorses brave, Thy heaths for his lean kine, who, being the one unclean, Defiled thy flower-sweet Earth with ordure heaps obscene To plant his rice, his rye. Not Man, saidst Thou, because He knew not of Thy way nor had he learned Thy laws, And was stark savage still. Not Man? Behold to-day