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But soon these boding fancies fled ; Can, by the outward form unfelt,

Nor saw I aught that could forbid Reach and dissolve the soul beneath! My full revealment, save the dread

Of that first dazzle, that unhid Thus having (as, alas, deceived
And bursting glory on a lid

By my sin's blindness, I believed)
Untried in heaven-and even this glare No cause for dread, and those black eyes
She might, by love's own nursing care, There fixed upon me, eagerly
Be, like young eagles, taught to bear. As if the unlocking of the skies
For well I knew the lustre shed

Then waited but a sign from meFrom my rich wings when proudliest How was I to refuse ? how say spread,

One word that in her heart could stir Was, in its nature, lambent, pure, A fear, a doubt, but that each ray And innocent as is the light

I brought from heaven belonged to The glow-worm hangs out to allure

her? Her mate to her green bowerat night. Slow from her side I rose, while she Oft had I, in the mid-air, swept Stood up, too, mutely, tremblingly, Through clouds in which the lightning But not with fear-all hope, desire, slept,

She waited for the awful boon, As in his lair, ready to spring,

Like priestesses, with eyes of fire Yet waked him not--though from my Watching the rise of the full moon, wing

Whose beams-they know, yet cannot A thousand sparks fell glittering !

shunOft too when round me from above Will madden them when looked upon ! The feathered snow (which, for its whiteness,

Of all my glories, the bright crown, In my pure days I used to love) Which, when I last from heaven came Fell like the moultings of Heaven's down, Dove,

I left-see, where those clouds afar So harmless, though so full of bright- Sail through the west—there hangs

Was my brow's wreath, that it would Shining remote, more like a star

Than a fallen angel's coronet-
From off its flowers each downy flake Of all my glories, this alone
As delicate, unmelted, fair,

Was wanting; but the illumined And cool as they had fallen there !

The curls, like tendrils that had grown Nay even with Lilis--had I not

Out of the sun- the eyes, that now Around her sleep in splendour come- Had love's light added to their own, Hung o'er each beauty, nor forgot And shed a blaze, before unknown

To print my radiant lips on some ? Even to themselves - the unfolded And yet, at morn, from that repose, wings, Had she not waked, unscathed and From which, as from two radiant springs, bright,

Sparkles fell fast around, like sprayAs doth the pure, unconscious rose, All I could bring of heaven's array, Though by the fire-tly kissed all Of that rich panoply of charms night?

A cherub moves in, on the day Even when the rays I scattered stole Of his best pomp, I now put on; Intensest to her dreaming soul, And, proud that in her eyes I shone No thrilldisturbed theinsensate frame-- Thus glorious, glided to her arms, So subtle, so refined that flame, Which still(though at a sight so splendid Which, rapidly as lightnings melt Her dazzled brow had instantly The blade within the unharmed Sunk on her breast) were wide extended sheath,

To clasp the form she durst not see!

it yet,



Great God! how could thy vengeance | 'Twere not so dreadful—but, come

light So bitterly on one so bright?

Too shocking 'tis for earth to hearHow could the band, that gave such Just when her eyes, in fading, took charms,

Their last, keen, agonized farewell, Blast them again, in love's own arms? And looked in mine with-oh, that look! Scarce had I touched her shrinking Avenging Power, whate'er the hell frame,

Thou may'st to human souls assign, When-oh most horrible !-I felt The memory of that look is mine! That every spark of that pure flame- In her last struggle, on my brow

Pure, while among the stars I dwelt- Her ashy lips a kiss impressed, Was now by my transgression turnel So withering !-I feel it nowInto gross, earthly fire, which burned, 'Twas fire-but fire, even more unBurned all it touched, as fast as eye blessed Could follow the fierce ravening Than was my own, and like that flame, flashes,

The angels shudder but to name Till there-oh God, I still ask why Hell's everlasting element ! Such doom was hers?-I saw her lie Deep, deep it pierced into my brain,

Blackening within my arms to ashes! Maddening and torturing as it went, Those cheeks, a glory but to see

And here-see here, the mark, the Those lips, whose touch was what stain the first

It left upon my front—burnt in Fresh cup of immortality

By that last kiss of love and sinIs to a new-made angel's thirst! A brand, which even the wreathèd pride Those arms, within whose gentle round, Of these bright curls, still forced aside My heart's horizon, the whole bound By its foul contact, cannot hide ! Of its hope, prospect, heaven was found ! Which, even in this dread moment, fond

As when they first were round me cast, But is it thus, dread ProvidenceLoosed not in death the fatal bond, Can it, indeed, be thus, that she,

But, burning, held me to the last- Who, but for one proud, fond offence, That hair, from under whose dark veil, Had honoured Heaven itself, should be The snowy neck, like a white sail Now doomed-- I cannot speak it-no, At moonlight seen 'twixt wave and Merciful God ! it is not so-wave,

Never could lips divine have said Shone out by gleams – that hair, to save The fiat of a fate so dread. But one of whose long glossy wreaths, Andyet, that look-that look, so fraught I could have died ten thousand deaths! With

than anguish, with All, all, that seemed, one minute since, despairSo full of love's own redolence, That new, fierce fire, resembling nought Now, parched and black, before me lay, In heaven or earth-this scorch I Withering in agony away;

bear! And mine, oh misery! mine the flame, Oh,--for the first time that these knees From which this desolation came- Have bent before thee since my fall, And I the fiend, whose foul caress Great Power, if ever thy decrees Had blasted all that loveliness !

Thou could'st for prayer like mine 'Twas maddening, 'twas—but hear even recall,

Pardon that spirit, and on me, Had death, death only, been the curse On me, who taught her pride to err, I brought upon her-had the doom

Shed out each drop of agony But ended here, when her young

Thy burning phial keeps for her! Lay in the dust, and did the spirit See, too, where low beside me kneel No part of that fell curse inherit, Two other outcasts, who, though gono




And lost themselves, yet dare to feel To many a thought that else had lain

And pray for that poor mortal one. Unfledged and mute among the Alas, too well, too well they know

chords. The pain, the penitence, the woe That Passion brings down on the best, All started at the sound—but chief The wisest and the loveliest.

The third young Angel, in whose face, Oh, who is to be saved, if such Though faded like the others, grief

Bright erring souls are not forgiven ? Had left a gentler, holier trace; So loth they wander, and so much As if, even yet, through pain and ill, Their very wanderings lean towards Hope had not quit him-as if still heaven !

Her precious pearl in sorrow's cup, Again I cry, Just God, transfer

Unmelted at the bottom lay, That creature's sufferings all to me

To shine again, when, all drunk up, Mine, mine the guilt, the torment be

The bitterness should pass away. To save one minute's pain to her,

Chiefly did he, though in his eyes Let mine last all eternity !

There shone more pleasure than sur

prise, Turn to the wood, from whence that

sound He paused, and to the earth bent down

Of solitary sweetness broke, His throbbing head; while they, who Then listening, looked delighted round felt

To his bright peers, while thus it That agony as 'twere their own,

spoke :Those angel youths, beside him knelt, Come, pray with me, my seraph love, And, in the night's still silence there,

My angel-lord, come pray with me; While mournfully each wandering air In vain to-night my lip hath strove Played in those plumes, that never more To send one holy prayer aboveTo their lost home in heaven must soar, The knee may bend, the lip may move, Breathed inwardly the voiceless prayer, Unheard by all but Mercy's ear

But pray I cannot without thee !

I've fed the altar in my bower And which if Mercy did not hear, Oh, God would not be what this bright I've sheltered it from wind and shower,

With droppings from the incense tree; And glorious universe of his, But dim it burns the livelong hour, This world of beauty, goodness, light, As if, like me, it had no power And endless love, proclaims He is !

Of life or lustre, without thee! Not long they knelt, when, from a wood

A boat at midnight sent alone That crowned that airy solitude,

To drift upon the moonless sea,

A lute, whose leading chord is gone, They heard a low, uncertain sound,

A wounded bird, that hath but one As from a lute, that just had found Some happy theme, and murmured Imperfect wing to soar upon, round

Are like what I am without thee! The new-born fancy-with fond tone,

"Then ne'er, my spirit-love, divide, Like that of ringdove o'er her brood

In life or death, thyself from me; Scarce thinking aught so sweet its own! But when again, in sunny pride, Till soon a voice that matched as well

Thou walk'st through Eden, let me glide, That gentle instrument, as suits

A prostrate shadow, by thy sideThe sea-air to an ocean-shell

Oh, happier thus than without thee! (So kin its spirit to the lute's), Tremblingly followed the soft strain, The song had ceased, when from the Interpreting its joy, its pain,

wood And lending the light wings of words Where curving down that airy height, It reached the spot on which they

THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. stoodThere suddenly shone out a light

AMONG the Spirits, of pure flame, From a clear lamp, which, as it blazed

That round the Almighty Throne Across the brow of one who raised

abideThe flame aloft (as if to throw

Circles of light, that from the same Its light upon that group below),

Eternal centre sweeping wide, Displayed two eyes, sparkling between

Carry its beams on every side The dusky leaves, such as are seen

(Like spheres of air that waft around By fancy only, in those faces,

The undulations of rich sound), That haunt a poet's walk at even,

Till the far-circling radiance be Looking from out their leafy places

Diffused into infinity! Upon his dreams of love and heaven. First and immediate near the Throne 'Twas but a moment,the blush, brought The Seraphs stand—this burning sign,

As if peculiarly God's own,
O’er all her features at the thought
Of being seen thus late, alone,

Traced on their banner, ‘Love Divine ! By any but the eyes she sought,

Their rank, their honours, far above Had scarcely for an instant shone

Even those to high-browed Cherubs Through the dark leaves when she given, was gone

Though knowing all-so much doth Gone, like a meteor that o'erhead

Love Suddenly shines, and, ere we've said,

Transcend all knowledge, even in

heaven ! • Look, look, how beautiful !'-'tis fled.

'Mong these was Zaraph once-and none Yet, ere she went, the words, “I come,

E'er felt affection's holy fire,
I come, my Nama,' reached her ear,
In that kind voice, familiar, dear,

Or yearned towards the Eternal One, Which tells of confidence, of home,

With half such longing, deep desire. Of habit, that hath drawn hearts near,

Love was to his impassioned soul

Not, as with others, a mere part
Till they grow one-of faith sincere,
And all that Love most loves to hear !

Of its existence, but the whole

The very life-breath of his heart ! A music, breathing of the past,

Often, when from the Almighty brow The present, and the time to be,

A lustre came too bright to bear, Where Hope and Memory, to the last,

And all the seraph ranks would bow Lengthen out life's true harmony !

Their heads beneath their wings, nor

dare Nor long did be, whom call so kind To look upon the effulgence thereSummoned away, remain behind ; This Spirit's eyes would court the blaze Nor did there need much time to tell (Such pride he in adoring took),

What they—alas, more fallen than he And rather lose, in that one gaze, From happiness and heaven-knew well, The power of looking than not look ! His gentler love's short history! Then, too, when angel voices sung

The mercy of their God, and strung Thus did it run-not as he told Their harps to hail, with welcome sweet,

The tale himself, but as 'tis graved The moment, watched for by all eyes, Upon the tablets that, of old,

When some repentant sinner's feet By Cham were from the deluge saved, First touched the threshold of the All written over with sublime

skies, And saddening legends of the unblest Oh then how clearly did the voice But glorious spirits of that time, Of Zaraph above all rejoice ! And this young Angel's 'mong the Love was in every buoyant tone, rest.

Such love as only could belong

To the blest angels, and alone

All this she sung, and such a soul Could, even from angels, bring such Of piety was in that song, song!

That the charmed Angel, as it stole Alas, that it should e'er have been Tenderly to his ear, along

The same in heaven as it is here, Those lulling waters, where he lay Where nothing fond or bright is seen, Watching the day-light's dying ray,

But it hath pain and peril near- Thought 'twas à voice from out the Where right and wrong so close re- wave, semble,

An echo that some spirit gave That what we take for virtue's thrill To Eden's distant harmony, Is often the first downward tremble Heard faint and sweet beneath the sea !

Of the heart's balance into ill-
Where Love hath not a shrine so pure, fracking that music's melting course,

Quickly, however, to its source,
So holy, but the serpent, Sin,
In moments even the most secure,

He saw upon the golden sand
Beneath his altar may glide in !

Of the sea-shore a maiden stand,

Before whose feet the expiring waves So was it with that Angel-such

Flung their last tribute with a sighThe charm that sloped his fall along As, in the East, exhausted slaves From good to ill, from loving much,

Lay down the far-brought gift, and Too easy lapse, to loving wrong:

dieEven so that amorous Spirit, bound

And, while her lute hung by her, By beauty's spell, where'er 'twas found,

hushed, From the bright things abovethe moon,

As if unequal to the tide Down to earth's beaming eyes de Of song, that from her lips still gushed, scended,

She raised, like one beatified, Till love for the Creator soon

Those eyes, whose light seemed rather In passion for the creature ended ! given

To be adored than to adore'Twas first at twilight, on the shore Such eyes as may have looked from Of the smooth sea, he heard the lute

heaven, And voice of her he loved steal o'er

But ne'er were raised to it before ! The silver waters, that lay mute,

Oh Love, Religion, Music-all
As loth, by even a breath, to stay

That's left of Eden upon earth-
The pilgrimage of that sweet lay;
Whose echoes still went on and on,

The only blessings, since the fall

Of our weak souls, that still recall Till lost among the light that shone

A trace of their high glorious birthFar off beyond the ocean's brim

How kindred are the dreams you bring! There, where the rich cascade of day Had, o'er the horizon's golden rim,

How Love, though unto earth so

prone, Into Elysium rolled away!

Delights to take Religion's wing, Of God she sung, and of the mild

When time or grief hath stained his Attendant Mercy, that beside

own ! His awful throne for ever smiled,

How near to Love's beguiling brink, Ready with her white hand, to guide

Too oft, entranced Religion lies ! His bolts of vengeance to their prey-While Music, Music is the link That she might quench them on the way! They both still hold by to the skes, Of Peace-of that Atoning Love,

The language of their native sphere, Upon whose star, shining above

Which they had else forgotten here. This twilight world of hope and fear,

The weeping eyes of Faith are fixed How then could Zaraph fail to feel So fond, that with her every tear That moment's witcheries-one so

The lightof that love-staris mixed !- fair

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