Page:The poems of George Eliot (Crowell, 1884).djvu/473

Rh Then God called Michaël, him of pensive brow,

Snow-vest and flaming sword, who knows and acts:

"Go bring the spirit of Moses unto me!"

But Michaël with such grief as angels feel,

Loving the mortals whom they succor, pled:

"Almighty, spare me; it was I who taught

Thy servant Moses; he is part of me

As I of thy deep secrets, knowing them."

Then God called Zamaël, the terrible,

The angel of fierce death, of agony

That comes in battle and in pestilence

Remorseless, sudden or with lingering throes.

And Zamaël, his raiment and broad wings

Blood-tinctured, the dark lustre of his eyes

Shrouding the red, fell like the gathering night

Before the prophet. But that radiance

Won from the heavenly presence in the mount

Gleamed on the prophet's brow and dazzling pierced

Its conscious opposite: the angel turned

His murky gaze aloof and inly said:

"An angel this, deathless to angel's stroke."

But Moses felt the subtly nearing dark:

"Who art thou? and what wilt thou?" Zamaël then:

"I am God's reaper; through the fields of life

I gather ripened and unripened souls

Both willing and unwilling. And I come

Now to reap thee." But Moses cried.

Firm as a seer who waits the trusted sign:

"Reap thou the fruitless plant and common herb—

Not him who from the womb was sanctified

To teach the law of purity and love."

And Zamaël baffled from his errand fled.