Then a great storm gathered across the sky; and a voice said, "Cain, where is thy brother?"
Cain trembled with fear; for he knew it was the voice of God. But he raised his wicked face towards the heavens and cried, "Why should I know? Am I my brother's keeper?"
And the voice said, "Thou art thy brother's keeper."
Then God put a brand upon the brow of Cain, and drove him forth into the wilderness, to be a fugitive and a vagabond.
STATUE OF CAIN. (Giovanni Dupre.)
THE CURSE OF CAIN.
O, the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing!—
Like the tempest that withers the blossoms of spring,
Like the thunder that bursts on the summer's domain,
It fell on the head of the homicide Cain.
And, lo! like a deer in the fright of the chase,
With a fire in his heart, and a brand on his face,
He speeds him afar to the desert of Nod,—
A vagabond, smote by the vengeance of God!
All nature, to him, has been blasted and banned,
And the blood of a brother yet reeks on his hand;
And no vintage has grown, and no fountain has sprung,
For cheering his heart, or for cooling his tongue.
The groans of a father his slumber shall start,
And the tears of a mother shall pierce to his heart,
And the kiss of his children shall scorch him like flame,
When he thinks of the curse that hangs over his name.
—Knox.
