Argument of a Projected Poem to be called "The Seven Nights of Creation"
The Devil each night of the seven days of creation works in emulation of the Creator and produces baneful things—fogs, poisonous plants, venomous creatures, etc.—and at last tries to make a man in imitation of Adam. He fails, recognizes his failure, and is obliged to own that his power cannot rival that of the Creator, and that evil is less powerful than good.
Lo! what is this I make! Are these his limbs,
Bent inward, tottering 'neath the body's weight?
The body crutched by hairy spider-arms,
Surmounted by a face as who should say,
Why has thou made me? wherefore hast thou breathed
Spirit in this foul body? Let me be!
The piteous visage puckers with its woe,
The strange black lips are working with a cry—
A cry and protest. Lo! the wrinkled palms
Are stretched forth helplessly and beat the dark.
So did not my great foe when he was made.
I saw his eye glow with the sense of power,
I saw all wild things crouch beneath that eye;
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