1822.]. 
And¥star by star, and universe by universe 
Shafl tremble in the balance, till the great 
Conflict shall cease, if ever it shall cease, 
Which it ne’er shall, till he or 1be quench’d! 
And what can quench our immortality, 
Or mutual and irrevocable hate? 
Weare now about to be relieved from 
the dangerous sophistry and impious 
acclamations of Satan, the effects of 
which, however fatal they proved to 
Cain, we do not much apprehend on the 
mind of a sober reader. The church is 
in no danger from these. With some 
words of diabolical advice from his in- 
structor, Cain is returned to-the face of 
the earth, and the second act concludes. 
The opening of the third and last act 
presents a scene of tenderness and 
beauty, powerfully contrasted with the 
horrors of its close. Cain and Adah 
stand over their little Enoch, who sleeps 
beneath a cypress. The restless and 
unhappy spirit of the father mourns 
over his innocent boy. 
; Sleep on 
And smile, thou little, young inheritor 
Of a world scarce less young—sleep on, 
and smile— 
Thine are the hours and days when both 
are cheering, 
And innocent! thou hast not pluck’d the 
fruit— 
Thou know’st not thou art naked! 
the time 
Come thou shalt be amerced for sins un- 
known, 
Which were not thine nor mine? But now 
sleep on. 
His cheeks arereddening into deeper smiles, 
And shining lids are trembling o’er his long 
Lashes, dark as the cypress which waves 
o’er them, 
Half open, from beneath them the clear blue 
Must 
Laughs out, altho’ in slumber. He must 
_> dream— 
Of what? Of Paradise! Ay! dream of it, 
My disinterested boy! Tis buta dream; 
For never more thyself, thy sons, nor 
fathers 
Shall walk in that forbidden place of joy. 
The dark discontent of the father’s 
temper gives additional effect to these 
beautiful touches of natural affection. 
The proud spirit, which nothing else 
can tranquillize, is melted into tender- 
ness by the presence of the lovely in- 
fant. Whilst the parents converse near 
him, the child opens his eyes upon his 
mother, who joyfully exclaims— 
Soft! he awakes! swect Enoch ! 
Oh Cain! look on him ; see how full of life, 
Of strength, of bloom, of beauty and of joy; 
How like to me—how like to thee, when 
gentle, 
For then we are all alike ; is’t not so, Cain? 
Cain, a Mystery, by the Right Hon. Lord Byron. 
13 
Mother, and sire, and son, our features are 
Reflected in each other ; as they are 
In the clear waters, when they are gentle; 
and 
When thou art gentle. 
Cain! 
And love thyself for our sakes, for we love 
thee— 
Look ! how he laughs and stretches forth 
his arms, 
And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, 
To hail his father; while his little form 
Flutters as wing’d with joy. Talk net of 
ain ! 
The childless cherubs well might envy thee 
The pleasures of a parent! Bless him, Cain! 
As yet he hath no words to thank thee, but 
His heart will, and thine own, too. 
Cain. Bless, thee, boy ! 
If that a mortal blessing may ayail thee, 
To save thee from the serpent’s curse. 
Love us, then, my 
Adah then departs with her child, 
and the catastrophe approaches. Abel 
enters, and beseeches his brother to join 
him in sacrificing to Jehovah. Cain 
excuses himself, but, soothed by his 
brother’s affectionate entreaties, con- 
sents to choose one of two altars erected 
by Abel. The latter offers up a first- 
ling of the flock and the fat thereof ; 
and addresses a humble prayer. Cain 
gathers a few fruits, and, standing erect, 
accompanies his sacrifice with a very 
sullen and stubborn remonstrance. 
Spirit! whate’er or wheresoe’er thou art, 
Omnipotent it may be—and, if good, 
Shown in the exemption of thy deeds from 
evil, 
Jehovah upon earth, and God in heaven ! 
And it may be with other names, because 
Thine attributes seem many, as thy works : 
If thou must be propitiated with prayers, 
Take them! If thou must be induced with 
altars, 
And soften’d with asacrifice, receive them! 
Two beings here erect them unto thee. 
If thou loy’st blood, the shepherd’s shrine, 
which smokes 
On my right hand, hath shed it for thy 
service 
In the first of his flock, whose limbs now 
reek 
In sanguinary incense to thy skies. 
Or if the sweet and blooming fruits of earth 
And milder seasons, which the unstain’d 
turf 
I spread them on, now offers in the face 
Of the broad sun which ripen’d them may 
seem 
Good to thee, inasmuch as they have not 
Suffer’d in limb or life, and rather form 
A sample of thy works, than supplication 
To lookon ours! If ashrine without victim 
Andaltar without gore, may win thy favour, 
Look on it! And for him who dresseth ae 
e 
