Satan Absolved: A Victorian Mystery. Blunt Wilfrid Scawen

didst make us pure, as Thou Thyself art pure.

      Yet was there seed of ill – What Spirit may endure

      The friction of the Spirit? Where two are, Strife is.

      Thou gavest us mind, thought, will; all snares to happiness.

The Lord God

      Unhappy blinded one. How sinnedst thou? Reveal.

Satan

      Lord, through my too great love, through my excess of zeal.

      Listen. Thy third Creation…

The Lord God

      Ha! The Earth! Speak plain.

      Now will I half forgive thee. What of the Earth, of men?

      Was that not then the best, the noblest of the three?