| in chaos; until they,
            The creatures proud of their poor clay,
      Shall perish, and their bleached bones shall lurk
            In caves, in dens, in clefts of mountains, where
      The deep shall follow to their latest lair;
            Where even the brutes, in their despair,
      Shall cease to prey on man and on each other,
        And the striped tiger shall lie down to die
      Beside the lamb, as though he were his brother;                  180
                 Till all things shall be as they were,
             Silent and uncreated, save the sky:
                    While a brief truce
             Is made with Death, who shall forbear
           The little remnant of the past creation,
         To generate new nations for his use;
           This remnant, floating o'er the undulation
             Of the subsiding deluge, from its slime,
         When the hot sun hath baked the reeking soil
             Into a world, shall give again to Time                    190
             New beings--years, diseases, sorrow, crime--
         With all companionship of hate and toil,
                       Until----
    _Japh._ (_Interrupting them_).
                        The eternal Will
                Shall deign to expound this dream
                Of good and evil; and redeem
                    Unto himself all times, all things;
                    And, gathered under his almighty wings,
                        Abolish Hell!
                And to the expiated Earth
                Restore the beauty of her birth,                       200
                  Her Eden in an endless paradise,
                Where man no more can fall as once he fell,
                And even the very demons shall do well!
    _Spirits_. And when shall take effect this wondrous spell?
    _Japh._ When the Redeemer cometh; first in pain,
                        And then in glory.
    _Spirit_. Meantime still struggle in the mortal chain,
               Till Earth wax hoary;
      War with yourselves, and Hell, and Heaven, in vain,
               Until the clouds look gory                              210
      With the blood reeking from each battle-plain;
      New times, new climes, new arts, new men; but still,
      The same old tears, old crimes, and oldest ill,
      Shall be amongst your race in different forms;
               But the same moral storms
        Shall oversweep the future, as the w |