“She never loved me since I went with thee
To sacrifice among the hills:  she smelt
The holy smoke, and could no more divine
Till the new moon.  I saw her ghost come up;
It had a snake with a red comb of fire
Twisted about its waist,—­the doggish head
Lolled on its shoulder, and so leered at me. 
‘This woman might be wiser,’ quoth the ghost;
’Shall there be husbands for her found below,
When she comes down to us?  O, fool!  O, fool! 
She must not let her man go forth, to leave
Her desolate, and reap the whole world’s scorn,
A harvest for himself.’  With that they passed.”

He said, “My crystal drop of perfectness,
I pity thee; it was an evil ghost: 
Thou wilt not heed the counsel?” “I will not,”
Quoth she; “I am loyal to the Highest.  Him
I hold by even as thou, and deem Him best. 
Sir, am I fairer than when last we met?”

“God add,” said he, “unto thy much yet more,
As I do think thou art.”  “And think you, sir,”
Niloiya saith, “that I have reached the prime?”
He answering, “Nay, not yet.”  “I would ’t were so,”
She plaineth, “for the daughters mock at me: 
Her locks forbear to grow, they say, so sore
She pineth for the master.  Look you, sir,
They reach but to the knee.  But thou art come,
And all goes merrier.  Eat, my lord, of all
My supper that I set, and afterward
Tell me, I pray thee, somewhat of thy way;
Else shall I be despised as Adam was,
Who compassed not the learning of his sons,
But, grave and silent, oft would lower his head
And ponder, following of great Isha’s feet,
When she would walk with her fair brow upraised,
Scorning the children that she bare to him.”

“Ay,” quoth the Master; “but they did amiss
When they despised their father:  knowest thou that?”

“Sure he was foolisher,” Niloiya saith,
“Than any that came after.  Furthermore,
He had not heart nor courage for to rule: 
He let the mastery fall from his slack hand. 
Had not our glorious mother still borne up
His weakness, chid with him, and sat apart,
And listened, when the fit came over him
To talk on his lost garden, he had sunk
Into the slave of slaves.”

“Nay, thou must think
How he had dwelt long, God’s loved husbandman,
And looked in hope among the tribes for one
To be his fellow, ere great Isha, once
Waking, he found at his left side, and knew
The deep delight of speech.”  So Noah, and thus
Added, “And therefore was his loss the more;
For though the creatures he had singled out
His favorites, dared for him the fiery sword
And followed after him,—­shall bleat of lamb
Console one for the foregone talk of God? 
Or in the afternoon, his faithful dog,
Fawning upon him, make his heart forget
At such a time, and such a time, to have heard
What he shall hear no more?