face,
O fairest of the daughters, thy fair face;
For, lo! the bridegroom standeth with the robe
Of thy betrothal! “—­and he took her locks
In his two hands to part them from her brow,
And laid them on her shoulders; and he said,
“Sweet are the blushes of thy face,” and put
The robe upon her, having said, “Behold,
I have repented me; and oft by night,
In the waste wilderness, while all things slept,
I thought upon thy words, for they were sweet.

“For this I make thee free.  And now thyself
Art loveliest in mine eyes; I look, and lo! 
Thou art of beauty more than any thought
I had concerning thee.  Let, then, this robe,
Wrought on with imagery of fruitful bough,
And graceful leaf, and birds with tender eyes,
Cover the ripples of thy tawny hair.” 
So when she held her peace, he brought her nigh
To hear the speech of wedlock; ay, he took
The golden cup of wine to drink with her,
And laid the sheaf upon her arms.  He said,
“Like as my fathers in the older days
Led home the daughters whom they chose, do I;
Like as they said, ’Mine honor have I set
Upon thy head!’ do I. Eat of my bread,
Rule in my house, be mistress of my slaves,
And mother of my children.” 
                            And he brought
The damsel to his father, saying, “Behold
My wife!  I have betrothed her to myself;
I pray you, kiss her.”  And the Master did: 
He said, “Be mother of a multitude,
And let them to their father even so
Be found, as he is found to me.” 
                                 With that
She answered, “Let this woman, sir, find grace
And favor in your sight.” 
                          And Japhet said,
“Sweet mother, I have wed the maid ye chose
And brought me first.  I leave her in thy hand;
Have care on her, till I shall come again
And ask her of thee.”  So they went apart,
He and his father to the marriage feast.

BOOK IX.

The prayer of Noah.  The man went forth by night
And listened; and the earth was dark and still,
And he was driven of his great distress
Into the forest; but the birds of night
Sang sweetly; and he fell upon his face,
And cried, “God, God!  Thy billows and Thy waves
Have swallowed up my soul.

“Where is my God? 
For I have somewhat yet to plead with Thee;
For I have walked the strands of Thy great deep,
Heard the dull thunder of its rage afar,
And its dread moaning.  O, the field is sweet,—­
Spare it.  The delicate woods make white their trees
With blossom,—­spare them.  Life is sweet; behold
There is much cattle, and the wild and tame,
Father, do feed in quiet,—­spare them.

“God! 
Where is my God?  The long wave doth not rear
Her ghostly crest to lick the forest up,
And like a chief in battle fall,—­not yet. 
The lightnings pour not down, from ragged holes
In heaven, the torment of their forked tongues,
And, like fell serpents, dart and sting,—­not yet. 
The winds awake not, with their awful wings
To winnow, even as chaff, from out their track,
All that withstandeth, and bring down the pride
Of all things strong and all things high—­