Lilith / The Legend of the First Woman

by Ada Langworthy Collier

“Calm morn in Eden streaked the skies with red,
And flushed the waiting hills above the grassy bed
Where Adam, joyless, saw new rise the sun,
Unwinding golden webs night-vapors spun
Athwart low meads. Slow, droning murmurs sent
The waking bees, with bloom and fragrance blent.
Unheeded poured her music blithesome Day
The reedy brooks beside and shallows gray.
For lone to Adam seemed the place, and cold;
The landscape dumb, as one aneath the mould.
For Lilith’s sake, no more was Eden fair.
Bloomless the days, the nights bowed down with care.
Oft pacing pathways dim, he saw the gleam
Of strange-faced flowers beside the purling stream,
Or toyed with circling leaves; or plucked the grass,
And watched through rifted trees the clouds o’erpass;
Wide roaming, heard the waters idly break
Far ’gainst the curving beach.
“And grieving, spake,
‘Oh, sweet with thee each hour—each wilding way,
And sweet the memory of each gathered spray.
Could you not wait, dear love? Or come once more?
Yea, ’till you come, vain doth great Nature pour
Her richest gifts.’ He paused, and heard alone
Respondent fall, the wood-dove’s plaintive moan,
And the spent winds among the scented glades.
Moss-couched beneath the glinting forest shades,
He gazed, when shadows o’er the hills crept light,
Quick vanishing, like phantom fingers white,
Until on mead, and mere, and sounding shore
Eden found voice, sad plaining, ‘Never-more!’
Long time he pondered on blue peaks remote
When slow, as stranded ships that listless float,
Moved by the sunset clouds. Or the white rack
Swept o’er the garden walls.
“‘Would I their track
Might take,’ he said, ‘Lilith, so long you stay.
Whom my soul follows sorrowing—alway.’
Thus ever mourned he, comfortless; that so
In after days the Master, in the glow
Of morning-tide, the mother of the race
Gave for his solacement.
“Oh, fair the face
Young Eve bent o’er his sleep. Ere down the glade
The startled fawn leaps swift, her glance dismayed
Questions the hunter, mute. Such eyes—so brown,
So soft, so winning, shy—that looked adown
When Adam waked. Like vagrant tendrils, tossed
Dark hair about her brows. And quaintly crossed
Her hands upon her breast. Less red the dart
That deepest cleaves the folded rose’s heart,
Than her round cheeks. Not hers the regal air
Of Lilith lost, the white arms, lissom, bare,
The slender throat; the elbows dimpled deep, whereto
Might scarcely reach Eve’s head.
“Yet soft, as through
Some pleasant dream, the summer’s spicy air
Stirs odorous ’mong seaward gardens fair,
In southland hid; so, gently, Eve straightway
To Adam’s life unbidden came, to stay
Forever there. Sure entrance then made she
Into that heart untenanted by thee.
“So, to some olden house, from whose shut doors
One went erewhile, another comes. Its floors
All empty sees. The lowly threshold worn,
The moss-grown roof, the casements left forlorn.
Amid the shadows round about him stands,
Missing the footsteps passed to other lands,
And whispers tenderly, ‘Since here no more
The owner bides, what harm if on the floor
I pass? Good chance it were the clambering vine
About the porch with fingers deft to twine—
To draw the curtains, ope the door. For who
May know how soon these paths untended, through,
He comes again, with weary, way-worn feet,
Who made aforetime, other days so sweet.
Wherefore, I enter now. For whose dear sake
These vacant rooms, white, fragrant, clean, I make.
And when, world-wearied, he returns, we twain
Perchance together bide. Nor part again.’
So Eve found refuge. Tender love, the spell
Whereby she ruled. Peaceful the pair did dwell.
Fast fled the happy years, till softly laid
In her glad arms the babe—a winsome maid.”
He ended there. Between them silence deep
Fell, as they journeyed. And the furthest steep
They crossed, that o’er their shadow-world rose high.
Then saw they level plains, their home, anigh.
And now, seeking her pleasance once again,
They came to their own land. But all in vain
His care. Silent she was, and oft did grieve,
Till Eblis wrathful cried: “Because this Eve
Adam holds dear, art mourning? Still dost yearn
To mate his sordid soul? Or wouldst thou turn
From summer land to Eden walls?
“The man
Belike, ne’er loved thee. So is it young Eve can
His pulses sway. Is she not passing fair?
Her fancies wild, it is her daily care
To bend beneath his ever fickle will.
Red-lipped and soft, she deftly rules him still,
Though he wist not. Yet sweeter Lilith’s frown
Than archest smile she wears. Great Soul! The crown
Thou bearest of fadeless life. For fleeting dreams
In Paradise, beside the winding streams,
Wilt thou resign such boon? Thou art, in sooth,
Of mold too firm for Adam’s love. In truth
A prince—though fallen—consorts best with thee
Say which were wise, with Eden’s lord to be,
Or, shining high, the purer soul, the star
That fadeless burns, and Eblis lights afar?
Were it not grand through endless spaces hurled
With me to drive, above a shrinking world
Our chariot, wide?
“For I foresee when dawn
Dark days upon our foes, and hope is gone.
Wherefore, my Lilith, now, as seems thee good,
Make choice.” Thereat she, turning where she stood,
With kisses hung about his neck, and smiled,
Crying, “Thine, Eblis, thine!” So were they reconciled.

BOOK V.

And Lilith oft to Paradise returned,
For fierce within her, bitter hatred burned,
And better, dearer, seemed revenge than aught
She else desired. The coppice oft she sought,
Much hoping direful evil might be wrought
Upon the love that bloomed in Eden.
Wide
Oft strayed fair Eve; the little maid, beside,
Plucking the lotus; or by sedgy moats,
From ribbed papyrus broad, frail fairy boats
Deft fashioning. Or Adam, watching, smiled,
With flowery wreaths engarlanding the child.
And laughed the pair, intent on pleasant toil,
When blithe the child upheaped her fruity spoil—
Great globes of red and gold. Or roguish face
O’er feathery broods, or in the further space
To count the small blue eggs, she sportive bent;
And far her restless feet swift glancing went.
It chanced one day she watched the careless flight
Of vagrant butterflies, that circled light
Uncertain, high, above a copse rose-wreathed;
Then soft down-dropping, gaudy wings they sheathed
Beside a darkling pool. The copse anear
With yellow buds was strewn. And softly here
She crept, deeming her little half-shut hand
Might snare the fairest of that gleaming band.
Yet ere she touched it, wide its wings outspread
In flight.

And still she, swift pursuing, sped
Among the groves, till wearied, slept the maid
Deep in the mid-day shadows, lowly laid.

Without, stooped Lilith. And with fingers swift,
Among the leaves she oped a small green rift,
That she might see the child. The hedge was wet
With starry blooms. Whereto her hand she set
When she awaked, seeing each dainty frond
Of fragrant ferns, dusk mirrored in the pond.
The child came near the copse, much wondering:
From glossy stems the smooth leaves sundering.
And stooping o’er the rift, she saw there, low
Against the hedge, a face like drifted snow,
And soft eyes, blue as violets show
Above the brooks; and hair that downward rolled
Upon the ground in glittering strands of gold.
Mute stood the maid, naught fearing, but amazed.
Then nearer drew, and lingering, she gazed
In those blue orbs. And smiling as she knelt,
The stranger quickly loosed her shining belt
Of gems. Flawless each stone whose pallid gleam
Lit silent nooks, or slept by far-off stream
Unheeded—pale pearls with shimmering light,
From distant oceans plucked, blue sapphires bright,
And diamonds rosy-cold, and burning red
The rubies fine, and yellow topaz shed
Its sultry glow, jasper, dull onyx white,
Sardonyx, rare chalcèdon, streaked with light.
Against her white breast that bright zone she laid,
Then stretched it, flashing forth, toward the maid,
And clasped it round her throat.
A luring strain
She sung, sweet as the pause of summer rain.
So soft, so pure her voice, the child it drew
Still nearer that green rift; and low there-through
She laughing stroked the down-bent golden head
With her soft baby hands. And parting, spread
The silken hair about her little face,
And kissed the temptress through the green-leaved space.
Whereat fell Lilith snatched the babe and fled,
Crying, as swift from Eden’s bounds she sped,
And like a fallen star shone on her breast
The child, “At last! at last! thy peaceful rest
Ere long will cease. O helpless mourn, frail Eve,
Uncomforted. O hapless mother, grieve,
Since Lilith far from thee thy babe doth bear!
She leaves thy loving arms, thy tender care.
Nor canst thou follow anywhere my flight,
When far we go athwart the falling night.
Ah, little babe, close-meshed in yellow hair
Thou liest pale! Fear not, thou art so fair,
Much comfort lives in thee.”
So ended she,
And onward, hostile lands among, passed fleet
Blue solitudes afar, till paused her feet,
Where highest ’mong hoar climbing peaks, uprose
A mountain crest.
It was the third day’s close.
In those untrodden ways there was no sound,
No sight of living thing, the barren heights around.
No hum of insect life, no whirring wing of bird.
Bare rocks alone, all fissured, blotched and blurred
As with red stain of battle-fields unseen.
Far, far below, still vales were shining green.
And leaping downward swift, a mountain stream
Crept soft to sleep, where meadow grasses dream.
Wan, wayworn, there, the babe upon her knee,
Lilith sat down. “O Eve,” she said, “on me
The child smiles sweet! Fondle her silken hair
If now thou canst, or clasp her small hands fair.
Thou hast my Paradise. Lo, thine I bear
Afar from thee. See, then! Its transient woe
Thy babe e’en now forgets; and sweet and low
It babbles on my knee. In sooth, not long
Endure her griefs, and through my crooning song
She kisses me, recalling not the place
Whence she has come. Nay, nor her mother’s face.”
Long time stayed Lilith in that land. More calm
Each day she grew, for soft, like healing balm,
The child’s pure love fell on her sin-sick soul.
Now oft among the crags, fleet-footed, stole
The maid, or lightly crossed the fertile plain.
And blithesome sang among the growing grain
That brake in billowy waves about her feet.
But when the wheat full ripened was, and sweet,
She plucked and ate. Thereat a shadowy pain,
A sense of sorrow, stirred that childish brain,
She wist not why. For it did surely seem
Before her waking thought, with pallid gleam
Of other days, dim pictures passed; of wood
And stream, beyond these mountain rims. And stood,
It seemed, midway a garden wide, a tree that bright
Like silver gleamed, and broad boughs light
Uplifted. Like ripened wheat the fruit thereon,
When low the westering sun upon it shone.
Then slow the maid did turn, and silent stand
At Lilith’s side. And o’er that mountain land,
Down-looking, mused. Or lifted pensive eyes,
And gaze that questioned if in any wise
She might perceive the land she longing sought;
But of its stream, or garden, saw she naught.
Thereat Lilith with white lips drew more near,
And clasped in her lithe arms the child so dear.
And once again fled swift, a shadowy shape,
Across green fields. And heard, through silence, break
A voice she could not hush, that loudly wailed,
“My babe! Give me my babe!”
And Lilith paled,
And listening, heard, borne ever on the wind,
The tread of feet fast following behind.
Then westward turned, where once among new ways
With Eblis she had trod in other days,
When far they wandered. Thitherward she bent
Her timid steps, the babe upon her breast,
Until with travel worn her noontide rest
She took. And now a land of alien blooms
About them lay, outwafting strange perfumes.
And quaint defiles, that sloped behind a bay;
And level fields; and curly vines that lay
Thick clustered o’er with unripe fruit; and bent
Above them fragrant limes and spicy scent
Of citron and of myrtle all the place
Made sweet, and ’mid the trees, an open space
They saw.
Not far away a broad lagoon
Burned like a topaz ’neath a crescent moon,
For day was parting. Even-tide apace
Drew on, and chill the night dews filled the place.
Upon the waters dusky shadows clung,
And ashen-gray the broad leaves drooping hung;
Low ’mong the marish buds lay one that made
Against the sudden dusk a duskier shade—
Despairing arms upflinging to the sky,
Smiting the silence with unheeded cry—
“O mother, childless! Wife—of all bereft!
Alas, my babe, not even thou art left
To comfort me, in these last hopeless days,
Shut out from Paradise. Through unknown ways
I sought thee sorrowing. Oh, once again,
My Adam, come! Is not this gnawing pain
Of punishment enow, that thou unkind
Art grown? Ah, never more shall I thee find?
Alas, I ever was but weak. Alone
I cannot live. Come but again, mine own.
No longer leave me mourning, desolate.
In tears I call thee. Oh, in tears I wait
Thy sweet, forgiving kiss!”
Ended she so
Her plaint. And ’mong the glistening leaves hid low,
Lilith yet fiercer clasped the child
When that lorn mother, tear-stained, weeping, wild,
Poured forth her woe.
As one that wakes to life
From peaceful dreams, leaps quick amid the strife
Of morning hours, so now the maid to pass
From Lilith’s arms strove hard. And loosed her clasp,
And turned her shadowed face with plaintive moan
And fond beseeching eyes, where lay her mother lone.
But Lilith hardening, seized the child again,
And from her ears shut out the mother’s pain
With wilful hands.
So passed she quick away.
Across the dusky path, low fallen, lay
Pale Eve, till clear she saw the dawn’s pure ray,
And as she looked, the voice of one she heard
Anigh. Her heart to sudden joy was stirred.
“Rise up, mine own,” he said, “no more apart
We walk.” Then she arose, and cried, “Dear heart,
Close hold me. So! Methinks I dreamed we were
Parted long time.”
So went, the exiled pair
From home thrust out, together—everywhere.
And oft they journeyed on with sufferings spent
To distant lands. And oft with labor bent
Recalled the olden home, with brimming eyes,
Hemmed in by mountains blue—lost Paradise.

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. But yesternight ‘Arise!’
The stern voice cried. ‘Stay not at all. For lo,
I wait not. Lest I scourge thee sorely, go!’
Ah, Eve, though long upon my heart I wore
This jewel rare, behold, I now restore
Thine own!”
Then Eve cried loud, “Ere my heart break,
Give me my babe! Where is she, for whose sake
I sorrowed all these years—the little maid?”
She said, through tender sobs.
And Lilith laid
Apart upon her breast her garment, dyed
In blended hues. And stooping at Eve’s side,
Gave back the child.
As one that ending quest
Most perilous, safe harbor sees—at rest
Among green hills—and enters glad therein,
So Lilith was.
So passed she once again
Into her land.
But Eve, like rain
Long pent, upon the child poured swiftly down
Sweet kisses. And again, twixt laugh and frown
Divided, smoothed the baby face, and through
Her fingers soft the silken hair she drew,
And kissed again.
And with a vague surprise
Recalled the stranger’s smile, the mournful eyes,
Much marveling whence she fared. And said, “As pale
She seemed as bramble-blooms in Eden’s vale.”

When homeward Adam came, the child she set
Upon his knee, saying, “Erewhile I met
An angel. So to me she seemed, as there
She stood. So tall, so yellow-haired, so fair;
And lo, she brought again the babe.”
Therewith
She ended low. “Doubtless an angel, love, sith
So you deem her,” he replied. And mused on all
Eve told.
And watching, saw a shadow fall
Upon the child. And later, did recall
Those words, sad pondering “so fair, so tall.”
But nothing uttered.

In that land long time
They lingered. And the child slow faded, till
One day Eve frighted cried, “See, Adam, still
She lies! Ah, little one, unseal those eyes!
Rouse but awhile, ere waning daylight flies!”
For she discerned not yet its doom, nor knew
The hour was near.
But Adam, parting, drew
Beneath the thorn, lest he might see the child.
And all the lone hours through Eve, babbling, smiled
Adown. And blew her warm breath o’er the cheeks
So wan. “The night grows cold,” she said. “Sleep creeps
Dull on my babe. The night grows cold and chill,”
She said.
Nor dreamed aneath those lids closed still,
The death film hung.
A wind uprose, and swept
Among the dry leaves heaped, where lowly slept
The child. Cold grew the night and colder, till
Against the east the dawn glowed daffodil,
Above dun wolds white with new-fallen snow.
So rose the day and widened into morning glow
With rosy tints o’erstreaked, and faintly blurred
With flecks of cloud.
Still lay the child, nor stirred.
Dumb Eve looked down, nor knew Death’s pallid masque,
And strove to wake the maid. In vain. Her task
Was done. And as she gazed, a gentle grasp
Soft loosed the dead from that cold mother’s clasp,
And Lilith laid the babe in its chill bed—
Straightened the limbs, and kissed the little head.
And o’er the sleeper, kneeling, she did lean.
Forth from her breast she drew, close folded, green,
A sheath of leaves, bright shining, lustrous—wet
With tears—that in those waxen hands she set.
Then those shut leaves oped slow. And low and frail
Bloomed ’mid the tintless snows a snow-drop pale.
Soft Lilith said, “For this pale sleeper’s sake,
O Eve, one kiss bestow. E’en thou canst take
Pity on me. For thee new, happy days await,
But I—I am forever desolate.
For thee fresh love will bloom above this mould;
For thee, in coming years, pure lips unfold;
But I—no more, no more, shall feel the warm
Breath ’gainst my breast. Nay, nor the baby arm
Soft clasping me. Nor see the feet that pass
Like falling music, through the waving grass.
Therefore, one pardoning kiss give e’er I go
To my own land, beyond this realm of snow.”
And Eve, uprising, took the hand she gave,
And weeping, kissed; and parted by that grave.

Stood Adam, after-time, by that small mound.
Low at their feet a sheaf of leaves Eve found,
Wherein white flowers shone. “Oh, like,” she said,
“To this was one abloom within the bed
Where lies the child. And fair, O, passing fair,
She was, and tall, with yellow gleaming hair,
And cheeks soft flushed as fresh pomegranate bells;
And dewy eyes, like violets in the dells,
Who came. So, silent passed that stranger fair
Who loved our babe. And e’er I well was ware,
She vanished.”
Otherwhiles, “Of alien race
She was,” Eve said. “A princess, with a face
Surpassing fair, who trod the pathway bright
Among the mists, beyond the rim of night
To her own land.”
And oft in after-time,
When Cain had lain in her young arms, and chime
Of voices round her came, and clasp of hands,
And thick with baby faces bloomed the lands,
Eve silent sat, remembering that one child
Among the snowdrops, in a Northern wild.
And Lilith dwelt again in her own land;
With Eblis still strayed far. And hand in hand
They talked; the while her phantom brood in glee
Laughed overhead. Then looking on the sea,
Low voiced, she sang. So sweet the idle song,
She said, “From Paradise, forgotten long,
It comes. An elfin echo that doth rise
Upward from summer seas to bending skies.
In coming days, from any earthly shore
It shall not fail. And sweet forever more
Shall make my memory. That witching strain
Pale Lilith’s love shall lightly breathe again.
And Lilith’s bitter loss and olden pain
O’er every cradle wake that sweet refrain.
My memory still shall bloom. It cannot die
While rings Earth’s cradle-song—sweet lullaby.”

Slow passed dim cycles by, and in the earth
Strange peoples swarmed; new nations sprang to birth.
Then first ’mong tented tribes men shuddering spake
Dread tales of one that moved, an unseen shape,
’Mong chilling mists and snow. A spirit swift,
That dwelt in lands beyond day’s purple rift.
Phantom of presage ill to babes unborn,
Whose fast-sealed eyes ope not to earthly morn.
“We heard,” they cried, “the Elf-babes shrilly scream,
And loud the Siren’s song, when lightnings gleam.”
Then they that by low beds all night did wake,
Prayed for the day, and feared to see it break.