Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 69, No. 423, January 1851

For man hath been provided, which shall free
From death his doom – yea, gain lost Eden back to thee.'

VIII

"Although thy disobedience hath brought down
The wrath of justice; and the penalty
Are pangs by sickness brought, and misery's frown,
And toil – and, finally, that thou shalt die;
Yet will I help in thine extremity.
In the mid garden, as thou know'st, there grows
The Tree of Life, and thence shall preciously,
One day, an oil distil, of power to close
Sin's bleeding wounds, and soothe man's sorrows to repose.

IX

"That promise hath been since a star of light,
When stumbled on the mountains dark my feet;
Hath cheered me in the visions of the night,
And made awaking even to labour sweet;
But now I feel the cycle is complete,
And horror weighs my spirit to the ground.
Haste to the guarded portals, now 'tis meet,
And learn if, even for me, may yet be found
That balsam for this else immedicable wound.

X

"Thine errand to the Angel tell, and He
(Fear not, he knows that edict from the Throne)
Will guide thy footsteps to the Sacred Tree,
Which crowns the Garden's midmost space alone:
Thy father's utmost need to him make known;
And ere life's pulsing lamp be wasted quite,
Bring back this Oil of Mercy; – haste, be gone;
Haste thee, oh haste! for my uncertain sight,
Fitful, now deems it day, and now is quenched in night."

XI

Seth heard; and like a swift, fond bird he flew,
By filial love impelled; yea, lessened dread
Even of the guardian Fiery Angel knew —
And through the flowery plains untiring sped —
And upwards, onwards to the river-head —
Where, high to heaven, the verdant barriers towered
Of Eden; when he sank – o'ercanopied
With sudden lightning, which around him showered,
And in its vivid womb the midday sun devoured.

XII

And in his ear and on his heart was poured,
While there entranced he lay, an answer meet;
And, gradually, as Thought came back restored,
Uprising, forth he hied with homeward feet.
Sweet to the world's grey Father, oh how sweet
His coming on the nearest hill-top shone!
For now all feebly of his heart the beat
Returned; and of his voice the faltering tone,
Meeting the listener's ear, scarce made its purpose known.

XIII

"Beloved father!" thus 'twas through his grief
Impassioned spake the son, "it may not be,
Alas! that, for thy misery's relief
Wells now the promised balsam from Life's Tree.
And must I say farewell – yea, part with thee? —
Droop not thus all despairing: breath may fail,
And days and years and ages onward flee
Ere that day dawn; but Thou its beams shalt hail,
And earth give up its dead, and Life o'er Death prevail.

XIV

"Astounding are the visions I have seen:
The clouds took shapes, and turned them into trees
And men and mountains; and the lands between
Seemed cities, dun with crowds; and on the seas
Dwelt men, in arks careering with the breeze;
And shepherds drave their flocks along the plain;
And generations, smitten with disease,
Passed to the dust, on which tears fell like rain;
Yet fathers, in their sons, seemed age grown youth again!

XV

"And the wide waters rose above the tops
Of the high hills, and all looked desolate —
Sea without shore! Anon appeared the slopes,
Glowing with blossoms, and a group elate
Eying an arch, bright with earth's future fate,
In heaven; and there were wanderings to and fro;
And, while beneath the multitudes await,
Tables, by God's own finger written, show
The Law by which He wills the world should walk below:

XVI