"You see naught now," said Zillah then, fair child,
The daughter of his eldest, sweet as day.
But Cain replied, "That Eye, I see it still."
And Jubal cried (the father of all those
That handle harp and organ): “I will build
A sanctuary;" and he made a wall of bronze,
And set his sire behind it. But Cain moaned,
"That Eye is glaring at me ever."

Henoch cried:

"Then must we make a circle vast of towers,
So terrible that nothing dare draw near;
Build we a city with a citadel;

Build we a city high, and close it fast."
Then Tubal-Cain (instructor of all them
That work in brass and iron) built a tower,
Enormous, superhuman. While he wrought,
His fiery brothers from the plain around
Hunted the sons of Enoch and of Seth;
They plucked the eyes out of whoever passed,
And hurled their arrows even to the stars.
They set strong granite for the canvas wall,
And every block was clamped with iron chains.
The walls were thick as mountains. On the door
They graved: "Let not God enter here." This

done,

And having finished to cement and build,

In a stone tower they set him in the midst.

66

Is the Eye gone?" quoth Zillah, tremblingly. But Cain replied, "Nay, it is even there."

Then added, "I will live beneath the earth,
As a lone man within his sepulchre.

I will see nothing; will be seen of none.”
They digged a trench, and Cain said:
enough,"

""Tis

And he went down alone into the vault;
But when he sat, so ghost-like, in his chair,
And they had closed the dungeon o'er his head,
The Eye was in the tomb, and fixed on Cain.

VICTOR HUGO

Translation from the Dublin University Magazine

6

METHUSELAH

In the Talmud are found innumerable quaint and interesting legends, most of which point some moral. Amongst the many concerning Methuselah is the following:

One day, Methuselah, who had already passed his four hundred and sixtieth year, sat under the shade of his vine and fig-tree. A long day wellspent in useful labor had left him pleasantly weary, and he rested in the cool of the evening. Over the distant hills the fast-sinking sun cast a rosy glow, birds sleepily chirped as they sought their nests, and the lowing of cattle emphasized the peacefulness of the scene. But in all this calm the heart of Methuselah was not satisfied. Although blest with length of years beyond the ordinary mortal lot, he feared Death-he longed for eternal life.

Suddenly all sounds ceased, and, raising his eyes to discover the cause of the sudden stillness, Methuselah saw a radiant Presence, which he instinctively felt was a messenger of the Lord.

66

'What willst Thou with me?" he cried.

66 The Lord hath commanded that thou shalt build a house for thee and thine," replied the Angel. "Let it be strong to withstand the tooth of time, and firm to resist the elements, and beautiful to be a joy to future generations."

"A house! I to build a house! Will not the Lord first grant me to know how much longer I shall live?"

66

Still five hundred years shalt thou dwell in peace and happiness with thy kindred."

"But five hundred years! And Death then claims me! Of what avail, pray, to build a house for others to enjoy when I shall have so little use of it?"

The Angel spake no word, but disappeared as silently as he had appeared. Long into the night Methuselah sat and pondered, and ever he repeated, Only five hundred years more! do in such a short time? space."

'Tis

What can a man

but a breathing

The Angel never again appeared. The five hundred years passed, Methuselah was gathered to his fathers, and still the house remained unbuilt. Instead of leaving behind him a token of his thought for others, he left only the memory of a long life lived selfishly.

'Tis but a legend, but the moral is there like the meat in a nut. Well have the poets praised agèd men who plant orchards, the fruit of which they can never hope to eat, but which their children will enjoy. Were we never to do any work but such of which we alone might reap the benefit, the world would, indeed, be a dreary place. We dare not live for ourselves alone. Only he who forgets himself and works for the good of others is truly happy.

ANONYMOUS

7

THE SONG OF LAMECH

Hearken to me, ye mothers of my tent!
Ye wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech!
Adah, let Jubal hither lead his goats;
And Tubal-cain, O Zillah, hush his forge;
Naamah her wheel shall ply beside, and thou,
My Jubal, touch, before I speak, the string;
Yea, Jubal, touch, before I speak, the string;
Hear ye my voice, belovèd of my tent;
Dear ones of Lamech, listen to my speech.

For Eve made answer, Cain, my son, my own,
Oh, if I cursed thee, O my child, I sinned,
And He that heard me, heard and said me nay;
My first, my only one, thou shalt not go!"
And Adam answered also, "Cain, my son,
He that is gone forgiveth—we forgive:
Rob not thy mother of two sons at once;
My child, abide with us and comfort us."

Hear ye my voice, Adah and Zillah, hear;
Ye wives of Lamech, listen to my speech.

For Cain replied not. But an hour more sat
Where the night through he sat; his knit brows

seen,

Scarce seen amid the foldings of his limbs.

But when the sun was bright upon the field,
To Adam still and Eve still waiting by,
And, weeping, lifted up his voice and spake.

Cain said, "The sun is risen upon the earth;
The day demands my going, and I go.
As you from Paradise, so I from you;
As you to exile, into exile I;

My father and my mother, I depart.
As betwixt you and Paradise of old,
So betwixt me, my parents, now, and you,
Cherubim I discern, and in their hand
A flaming sword that turneth every way
To keep the way of my one tree of life.
Yet not, O Adam, and O Eve, fear not;
For He that asked me, ' Where is Abel?' He
Who called me cursed from the earth, and said,
'A fugitive and vagabond thou art,'

He also said, when fear had slain my soul,

There shall not touch thee man nor beast. Fear

not.'

Lo, I have spoke with God, and He hath said,
'Fear not '-so let me go as He hath said."

Cain also said (O Jubal, touch thy string),
Moreover, in the darkness of my mind,