_Eve._ Speak on still, Christ! Albeit thou bless me not In set words, I am blessed in hearkening thee-- Speak, Christ! CHRIST. Speak, Adam! Bless the woman, man! It is thine office. _Adam._ Mother of the world, Take heart before this Presence! Lo, my voice, Which, naming erst the creatures, did express (God breathing through my breath) the attributes And instincts of each creature in its name, Floats to the same afflatus,--floats and heaves Like a water-weed that opens to a wave,-- A full leaved prophecy affecting thee, Out fairly and wide. Henceforward, arise, aspire To all the calms and magnanimities, The lofty uses and the noble ends, The sanctified devotion and full work, To which thou art elect for evermore, First woman, wife, and mother! _Eve._ And first in sin. _Adam._ And also the sole bearer of the Seed Whereby sin dieth. Raise the majesties Of thy disconsolate brows, O well-beloved, And front with level eyelids the To-come, And all the dark o' the world! Rise, woman, rise To thy peculiar and best altitudes Of doing good and of enduring ill, Of comforting for ill, and teaching good, And reconciling all that ill and good Unto the patience of a constant hope,-- Rise with thy daughters! If sin came by thee, And by sin, death,--the ransom-righteousness, The heavenly life and compensative rest Shall come by means of thee. If woe by thee Had issue to the world, thou shalt go forth An angel of the woe thou didst achieve, Found acceptable to the world instead Of others of that name, of whose bright steps Thy deed stripped bare the hills. Be satisfied; Something thou hast to bear through womanhood, Peculiar suffering answering to the sin,-- Some pang paid down for each new human life, Some weariness in guarding such a life, Some coldness from the guarded, some mistrust From those thou hast too well served, from those beloved Too loyally some treason; feebleness Within thy heart, and cruelty without, And pressures of an alien tyranny With its dynastic reasons of larger bones And stronger sinews. But, go to! thy love Shall chant itself its own beatitudes After its own life-working. A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad; A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich; A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest. Such a crown I set upon thy head,--Christ witnessing With looks of prompting love--to keep thee clear Of all reproach against the sin forgone, From all the generations which succeed. Thy hand which plucked the apple I clasp close, Thy lips which spake wrong counsel I kiss close, I bless thee in the name of Paradise And by the memory of Edenic joys Forfeit and lost,--by that last cypress tree, Green at the gate, which thrilled as we came out,