My sister Adah.—­All the stars of heaven,
  The deep blue noon of night, lit by an orb
  Which looks a spirit, or a spirit’s world—­
  The hues of twilight—­the sun’s gorgeous coming—­
  His setting indescribable, which fills
  My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold
  Him sink, and feel my heart flow softly with him
  Along that western paradise of clouds
  The forest shade—­the green bough—­the bird’s voice—­
  The vesper bird’s, which seems to sing of love,
  And mingles with the song of cherubim,
  As the day closes over Eden’s walls:—­
  All these are nothing, to my eyes and heart,
  Like Adah’s face.

Lucifer’s speech, at the close of the act is perhaps too Miltonic to be absolutely original.  Returning to earth, we have a pastoral, of which Sir Egerton Brydges justly and sufficiently remarks, “The censorious may say what they will, but there are speeches in the mouth of Cain and Adah, especially regarding their child, which nothing in English poetry but the ‘wood-notes wild’ of Shakespeare, ever equalled.”  Her cry, as Cain seems to threaten the infant, followed by the picture of his bloom and joy, is a touch of perfect pathos.  Then comes the interview with the pious Abel, who is amazed at the lurid light in the eyes of his brother, with the spheres “singing in thunder round” him—­the two sacrifices, the murder, the shriek of Zillah—­

    Father!  Eve! 
  Adah!  Come hither!  Death is in the world;

Cain’s rallying from stupor—­

    I am awake at last—­a dreary dream
  Had madden’d me,—­but he shall never wake: 

the curse of Eve; and the close—­[Greek:  meizon ae kata dakrua]

  CAIN.  Leave me.

  ADAH.  Why all have left thee.

  CAIN.  And wherefore lingerest thou?  Dost thou not fear?

  ADAH.  I fear
        Nothing, except to leave thee.

* * * * *

  CAIN.  Eastward from Eden will we take our way.

  ADAH.  Leave! thou shalt be my guide; and may our God
        Be thine!  Now let us carry forth our children.

  CAIN.  And he who lieth there was childless.  I
        Have dried the fountain of a gentle race. 
        O Abel!

  ADAH.  Peace be with him.

  CAIN.  But with me!

Cain, between which and the Cenci lies the award of the greatest single performance in dramatic shape of our century, raised a storm.  It was published, with Sardanapalus and The Two Foscari in December, 1821, and the critics soon gave evidence of the truth of Elze’s remark—­ “In England freedom of action is cramped by the want of freedom of thought.  The converse is the case with us Germans; freedom of thought is restricted by the want of freedom in action.  To us this scepticism presents nothing in the least fearful.”