By that most precious hair, between Whose golden clusters the sweet wind Of Paradise so late hath been,

And left its fragrant soul behind! By those impassioned eyes, that melt Their light into the inmost heart, Like sunset in the waters, felt

As molten fire through every part,— I do implore thee, oh most bright

And worshipped Spirit, shine but o'er My waking wondering eyes this night, This one blest night-I ask no more '' Exhausted, breathless, as she said These burning words, her languid head Upon the altar's steps she cast, As if that brain-throb were its lastTill, startled by the breathing, nigh, Of lips, that echoed back her sigh, Sudden her brow again she raised, And there, just lighted on the shrine, Beheld me-not as had blazed

Around her, full of light divine, In her late dreams, but softened down Into more mortal grace-my crown Of flowers, too radiant for this world, Left hanging on yon starry steep; My wings shut up, like banners furled, When Peace hath put their pomp to sleep;

Or like autumnal clouds, that keep Their lightnings sheathed, rather than

mar

The dawning hour of some young starAnd nothing left but what beseemed

The accessible, though glorious mate Of mortal woman-whose eyes beamed Back upon hers, as passionate: Whose ready heart brought flame for flame,

Whose sin, whose madness was the same, And whose soul lost, in that one hour, For her and for her love-oh more Of Heaven's light than even the power Of Heaven itself could now restore! And yet that hour!

The Spirit here Stopped in his utterance, as if words Gave way beneath the wild career Of his then rushing thoughts-like chords,

Midway in some enthusiast's song,
Breaking beneath a touch too strong-
While the clenched hand upon the brow
Told how remembrance throbbed there
now;

But soon 'twas o'er-that casual blaze
From the sunk fire of other days,
That relic of a flame, whose burning
Had been too fierce to be relumed,
Soon passed away, and the youth,
turning

To his bright listeners, thus re-
sumed :-

Days, months elapsed, and, though what

most

On earth I sighed for was mine, all,— Yet-was I happy? God, thou know'st Howe'er they smile, and feign, and boast,

What happiness is theirs, who fall! 'Twas bitterest anguish--made more keen

Even by the love, the bliss, between Whose throbs it came, like gleams of hell

In agonizing cross-light given Athwart the glimpses they who dwell In purgatory catch of heaven! The only feeling that to me

Seemed joy, or rather my sole rest From aching misery, was to see

My young, proud, blooming Lilis blest

She, the fair fountain of all ill

To my lost soul-whom yet its thirst Fervently panted after still,

And found the charm fresh as at first!-

To see her happy-to reflect

Whatever beams still round me played
Of former pride, of glory wrecked,
On her, my Moon, whose light I made,
And whose soul worshipped even my
shade-

This was, I own, enjoyment—this
My sole, last lingering glimpse of bliss.
And proud she was, bright creature !–
proud,

Beyond what even most queenly stirs In woman's heart, nor would have bowed

That beautiful young brow of hers

The mystery of that Fountainhead,
From which all vital spirit runs,
All breath of life where'er 'tis shed,
Through men or angels, flowers or

suns

The workings of the Almighty Mind,
When first o'er Chaos he designed
The outlines of this world; and through
That spread of darkness, like the bow,
Called out of rain-clouds, hue by hue-
Saw the grand gradual picture grow!-
The covenant with human-kind

Which God has made-the chains of
Fate

He round himself and them hath twined,

Till his high task he consummateTill good from evil, love from hate, Shall be worked out through sin and pain,

And fate shall loose her iron chain,
And all be free, be bright again!
Such were the deep-drawn mysteries,
And some, perhaps, even more pro-
found,

More wildering to the mind than these, Which-far as woman's thought could sound,

Or a fallen outlawed spirit reach-
She dared to learn, and I to teach.
Till-filled with such unearthly lore,
And mingling the pure light it brings
With much that Fancy had, before,

Shed in false tinted glimmerings-The enthusiast girl spoke out, as one

Inspired, among her own dark race, Who from their altars, in the sun Left standing half adorned, would run To gaze upon her holier face. And, though but wild the things she spoke,

Yet, 'mid that play of error's smoke

Into fair shapes by fancy curled, Some gleams of pure religion brokeGlimpses that have not yet awoke,

But startle the still dreaming world!

1 It is the opinion of some of the Fathers, that the knowledge which the heathens possessed of the providence of God, a future state, and other sublime doctrines of Christianity, was derived from the premature revelations of these fallen angels to the women of earth.

Clemens Alexandrinus is one of those who suppose that the knowledge of such sublime doctrines

driven,

Well knew could never be forgiven,

Came o'er me with an agony Beyond all reach of mortal woe,A torture kept for those who know, Know everything, and, worst of all, Know and love virtue while they fall! Even then her presence had the power To soothe, to warm,-nay, even to bless

If ever bliss could graft its flower

On stem so full of bitternessEven then her glorious smile to me Brought warmth and radiance, if not balm,

Like moonlight on a troubled sea, Brightening the storm it cannot calm.

Oft, too, when that disheartening fear, Which all who love beneath yon sky Feel, when they gaze on what is dearThat dreadful thought that it must

die!

That desolating thought, which comes Into men's happiest hours and homes; Whose melancholy boding flings Death's shadow o'er the brightest things, Sicklies the infant's bloom, and spreads The grave beneath young lovers' heads! This fear, so sad to all-to me

Most full of sadness, from the thought That I must still live on, when she Would, like the snow that on the sea Fell yesterday, in vain be soughtThat Heaven to me the final seal

Of all earth's sorrow would deny, And I eternally must feel

The death-pang, without power to

die!

Even this, her fond endearments-fond As ever twisted the sweet bond "Twixt heart and heart-could charm

Of the tuned orbs, too sweet to die!
While in her lip's awakening touch
There thrilled a life ambrosial-such
As mantles in the fruit steeped through
With Eden's most delicious dew-
Till I could almost think, though known
And loved as human, they had grown
By bliss, celestial as my own!
But 'tis not, 'tis not for the wrong,
The guilty, to be happy long;
And she, too, now, had sunk within
The shadow of a tempter's sin-

Too deep for even her soul to shuu The desolation it brings down!

Listen, and if a tear there be
Left in your hearts, weep it for me.

Twas on the evening of a day,
Which we in love had dreamed away;
The silent earth, stripped of my wreath,
In that same garden, where, beneath
For mortal gaze were else too bright,
And furling up those wings, whose light
I first had stood before her sight;
And found myself-oh, ecstasy,

Which even in pain I ne'er forgetWorshipped as only God should be,

And loved as never man was yet! In that same garden we were now,

Thoughtfully side by side reclining, Her eyes turned upward, and her brow With its own silent fancies shining.

It was an evening bright and still

As ever blushed on wave or bower, Smiling from Heaven, as if nought ill

Could happen in so sweet an hour. Yet, I remember, both grew sad

In looking at that light-even she, Of heart so fresh, and brow so glad,

Felt the mute hour's solemnity, And thought she saw, in that repose, The death-hour not alone of light, But of this whole fair world-the close

Of all things beautiful and brightThe last grand sunset, in whose ray Nature herself died calm away!

At length, as if some thought, awaking Suddenly, sprung within her breast

Like a young bird, when daylight breaking

Startles him from his dreamy nestShe turned upon me her dark eyes, Dilated into that full shape They took in joy, reproach, surprise, As if to let more soul escape, And, playfully as on my head Her white hand rested, smiled and said:

'I had, last night, a dream of thee, Resembling those divine ones, given, Like preludes to sweet minstrelsy, Before thou cam'st, thyself, from heaven.

'The same rich wreath was on thy brow, Dazzling as if of starlight made; And these wings, lying darkly now, Like meteors round thee flashed and played.

'All bright as in those happy dreams Thou stood'st, a creature to adore No less than love, breathing out beams, As flowers do fragrance, at each pore! 'Sudden I felt thee draw me near To thy pure heart, where, fondly placed,

I seemed within the atmosphere

Of that exhaling light embraced ; 'And, as thou held'st me there, the flame Passed from thy heavenly soul to mine,

Till-oh, too blissful-I became,

Like thee, all spirit, all divine. 'Say, why did dream so bright come o'er

me,

If, now I wake, 'tis faded, gone? When will my Cherub shine before me Thus radiant, as in heaven he shone? 'When shall I, waking, be allowed

To gaze upon those perfect charms, And hold thee thus, without a cloud, A chill of earth, within my arms? 'Oh what a pride to say, This, this Is my own Angel-all divine, And pure, and dazzling as he is, And fresh from heaven, he's mine, he's mine!

Think'st thou, were Lilis in thy place, A creature of yon lofty skies, She would have hid one single grace, One glory from her lover's eyes?

'No, no: then, if thou lov'st like me, Shine out, young Spirit, in the blaze Of thy most proud divinity,

Nor think thou'lt wound this mortal

gaze.

'Too long have I looked doating on

Those ardent eyes, intense even thusToo near the stars themselves have gone, To fear aught grand or luminous.

'Then doubt me not-oh, who can say But that this dream may yet come true,

And my blest spirit drink thy ray

Till it becomes all heavenly too?

'Let me this once but feel the flame

Of those spread wings, the very pride Will change my nature, and this frame By the mere touch be deified!'

Thus spoke the maid, as one not used
To be by man or God refused-
As one, who felt her influence o'er

All creatures, whatsoe'er they were, And, though to heaven she could not