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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, This world of beauty, goodness, light, As if, like me, it had no power

But dim it burns the livelong hour, And endless love, proclaims He is!

Df 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 meglide, That gentle instrument, as suits

A prostrate shadow, by thy side The 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,

woodAnd lending the light wings of words Where curving down that airy height,

a

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, Tracking 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 above the moon; of song, that from her lips still gushed,

As if unequal to the tide Down to earth's beaming eyes descended,

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 This twilight world of hope and fear,

Which they had else forgotten here. 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 light of that love-staris mixed !- fair

cost;

woe

Breathing out music that might steal Even bliss was humbled by the thought,

Heaven from itself, and rapt in prayer • What claim have I to be so blessed ?' That seraphs might be proud to share ! Still less could maid so meek have nursed Oh, he did feel it-far too well

Desire of knowledge—that vain thirst With warmth that much too dearly With which the sex hath all been cursed,

From luckless Eve to her who near Nor knew he, when at last he fell, The Tabernacle stole, to hear To which attraction, to which spell, The secrets of the Angels-00Love, Music, or Devotion, most To love as her own seraph loved,

His soul in that sweet hour was lost. With Faith, the same through bliss and Sweet was the hour, though dearly won, Faith that, were even its light re

And pure, as aught of earth could be, moved,
For then first did the glorious sun Could, like the dial, fixed remain,
Before Religion's altar see

And wait till it shone out again-
Two hearts in wedlock's golden tie With Patience that, though often bowed
Self-pledged, in love to live and die- By the rude storm, can rise anew,
Then first did woman's virgin brow And Hope that, even from Evil's cloud,
That hymeneal chaplet wear,

Sees sunny Good half breaking Which, when it dies, no second vow through !

Can bid a new one bloom out there- This deep, relying Love, worth more Blest union ! by that angel wove,

In heaven than all a cherub's loreAnd worthy from such hands to come; This Faith, more sure than aught beSafe, sole asylum, in which Love,

side, When fallen or exiled from above, Was the sole joy, ambition, pride, In this dark world can find a home. Of her fond heart—the unreasoning

scope And, though the Spirit had trans- Of all its views, above, below. gressed,

So true she felt it that to hope, Had, from his station ’mong the blessed, To trust, is happier than to know. Won down by woman's smile, allowed

Terrestrial passion to breathe o'er And thus in humbleness they trod, The mirror of his heart, and cloud Abashed, but pure before their God;

God's image, there so bright before- Nor e'er did earth behold a sight Yet never did that God look down So meekly beautiful as they,

On error with a brow so mild ; When, with the altar's holy light Never did justice launch a frown Full on their brows, they knelt to That, ere it fell, so nearly smiled.

pray, For gentle was their love, with awe Hand within hand, and side by side,

And trembling like a treasure kept, Two links of love, awhile untied That was not theirs by holy law, From the great chain above, but fast Whose beauty with remorse they saw, Holding together to the lastAnd o'er whose preciousness they Two fallen Splendors from that tree wept.

Which buds with such eternally, Humility, that low, sweet root, Shaken to earth, yet keeping all From which all heavenly virtues shoot, Their light and freshness in the fall. Was in the hearts of both-but most

In Nama's heart, by whom alone Their only punishment (as wrong, Those charms, for which a heaven was However sweet, must bear its brand), lost,

Their only doom was this-that, long Seemed all unvalued and unknown; As the green earth and ocean stand, And when her Seraph's eyes she caught, They both shall wander here—the same

And hid hers glowing on his breast, | Throughout alltime, in heartand frame

a

see

Still looking to that goal sublinie, Rise up ren arded for their trust
Whose light, remote but sure, they In Him, from whom all goodness

springs, Pilgrims of Love, whose way is Time, And, shaking off earth's soiling dust Whose home is in Eternity !

From their emancipated wings, Subject, the while, to all the strife Wander for ever through those skies True love encounters in this life- Of radiance, where Love never dies ! The wishes, hopes, he breathes in vain; The chill

, that turns his warmest sighs In what lone region of the earth To earthly vapour, ere they rise ;

These pilgrims now may roam or The doubt he feeds on, and the pain

dwell, That in his very sweetness lies. God and the Angels, who look forth Still worse, the illusions that betray

To watch their steps, alone can tell, His footsteps to their shining brink; But should we, in our wanderings, That tempt him, on his desert way

Meet a young pair, whose beauty

wants Through the bleak world, to bend and drink,

But the adornment of bright wings

To look like heaven's inhabitants Where nothing meets his lips, alas, But he again must sighing pass

Who shine where'er they tread, and yet On to that far-off home of peace,

Are humble in their earthly lot, In which alone his thirst will cease.

As is the wayside violet,

That shines unseen, and were it not All this they bear, but, not the less, For its sweet breath would beforgotHave moments rich in happiness-- Whose hearts in every thought are one, Blest meetings, after many a day

Whose voices utter the same wills, Of widowhood past far away,

Answering as Echo doth, some tone When the loved face again is seen Of fairy music ’mong the hills, Close, close, with not a tear between - So like itself, we seek in vain Confidings frank, without control, Which is the echo, which the strainPoured mutually from soul to soul ; Whose piety is love-whose love, As free from any fear or doubt

Though close as 'twere their souls' As is that light from chill or stain, embrace, The sun into the stars sheds out, Is not of earth, but from above

To be by them shed back again !- Like two fair mirrors, face to face, That happy minglement of hearts, Whose light, from one to the other Where, changed as chymic compounds thrown, are,

Is heaven's reflection, not their ownEach with its own existence parts, Should we e'er meet with aught so pure,

To find a new one, happier far ! So perfect here, we may be sure Such are their joys-and. crowning all, There is but one such pair below;

That blessed hope of the bright hour, And, as we bless them'on their way When, happy and no more to fall, Through the world's wilderness, may Their spirits shall, with freshened say, power,

• There Zaraph and his Nama go.'

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