Meanwhile, to her own realm Lilith long since Was come, glad greeting Eblis. "O my prince, I have most bravely done. Our foes full sore Are smitten now. My guerdon o'er and o'er Thou wilt bestow, I ween, in kisses warm As my own southland's breath. For I great harm Have wrought that hated pair. With feeble moan Lies Eve in a far land, thrust out. Alone, Deserted. And whence angered Adam flies I know not. Nay, nor what new world his eyes Behold. Nor even if he live. "But see! Sleeps on my breast the babe--Eve's babe. And she Shall know no more its tender, sweet caress, Soft medicining woe. The wilderness Uncheered by love, is hers." And by the sea, Peaceful abode, long time content, the three, Save that the child unmurmuring drooped. Then oft above her Lilith, singing, stooped, Striving to wake the baby smiles again About her wee, warm mouth. Vain wiles! And vain Her loving skill. All still she lay, and pale. As one at sea pines for a lonely vale Besprent with cuckoo flowers; the faint wild breath Of cradled buds, among the cloven elms, and saith, 'I shall not see that place beyond the seas, Nor any more pluck red anemones In windless nooks.' So seemed the child, and frail As one that weeps above dead joys. Then pale Grew Lilith as those wasting lips she pressed And kissed the filmy eyes, and kissing, blessed The child. But Eblis touched the hand so worn, The faded, wasted face. "Happy, thou mother lorn, Unseeing her," he said. "This fragile thing To-day lies on thy breast. To-morrow's wing Hath brushed it from thy sight." Low Lilith sighed: "My Eblis, is this death?" And louder cried, "But thou art wise, and sure some hidden way From this sore hap canst find. O Eblis, say, Hast thou no spell whereby the child may live? O love, my realm thy recompense I give, If she be healed." "Nay; not Archangel's craft Stays fleeting life, or turns Death's nimble shaft," He said. "Yet if," she mused, "I laid again The child in young Eve's arms, like summer rain, The mother's love may yet restore again This shriveled life. And yet, must I resign The babe? Alas, my little one! Nay, mine No more!" Weeping she ceased. But after, bore The child far northward; the exiled pair o'er Many lands long seeking. Till from a crest Of barren hills Lilith looked down. At rest, The twain she saw, for it was eventide. And low they spoke of hidden snares beside Their unknown path, since unaware fared they Into this hostile spot. The dim wolds lay All bare beneath chill stars. And far away Were belts of pine, and dingy ocean shore, Like wrinkled lip. Cold was the land, and hoar With wintry rime. Near by, its leafless boughs A thorn bush bent, with withered berries red. At sight thereof Adam, rejoicing, said, "My Eve, bide here. From yonder friendly tree The ripe fruit I will pluck and bring to thee." "Oh, leave me not! This solitude I fear; The land about is chill," she said, "and drear It seems to me." But Adam answered, "Nay, Sore famished art thou, and not far away It is--nor long I stay." So parted he. Not long alone was Eve. Upstarted she Dismayed. A woman, most exceeding fair, Beside her stood, with coils of yellow hair, And blue eyes, calm as sleep among the hills' Dim lakes. Eve, frighted, shrank. As mountain rills, Sweet fell the stranger's words. "My sister, one Is here that glad salutes thee. And since done Is now my quest, and here my journey ends, I bring a goodly gift. For elsewhere wends My pathway, Eve. "Beside a coppice green, Brighter than gold, purer than silver sheen, In a fair garden, once a jewel shone. With it, compared in all the world, no stone. And low the Master set it shining clear Against the hedge, saying, 'When she draws near She will perceive on whom I do bestow This moteless gem, that fellow doth not know.' "Now I without the copse that day was hid. Soft shone the jewel, as the moon amid The blue. And in the garden I saw thee, Where in the midst stood a fair wheaten tree As emerald green. Its ears, as rubies red, Fragrant as breath of musk, its odors spread. And white its shining grains as rifted snow. I looked again. And in thy fair hand, lo, Full ripe bright gleamed the yellow wheaten grain. Thou saidst, 'Though I did eat, I live. No pain Hath marred this pleasant feast.' "Then I the more Desired thy gem. 'All things most goodly pour On Eve their gifts. But I am famished lone,' I said. And still against the hedge the stone Rayed like a frozen tear the pure Night shed-- The which with trembling hand I seized, and fled Afar. "But now upon my soul weighs sore A dream. A voice called loud, 'Straightway restore To Eve that which is hers; lest I, that bright Set it against the hedge, will quench its light. Yea, I will crumble it and quickly smite It into dust e'en from thy hand.' Mine eyes I careless closed.