Breathing out music that might steal

Heaven from itself, and rapt in prayer That seraphs might be proud to share! Oh, he did feel it-far too well

With warmth that much too dearly
cost;

Nor knew he, when at last he fell,
To which attraction, to which spell,
Love, Music, or Devotion, most
His soul in that sweet hour was lost.

Sweet was the hour, though dearly won,
And pure, as aught of earth could be,
For then first did the glorious sun

Before Religion's altar see Two hearts in wedlock's golden tie Self-pledged, in love to live and dieThen first did woman's virgin brow

That hymeneal chaplet wear, Which, when it dies, no second vow Can bid a new one bloom out thereBlest union! by that angel wove,

And worthy from such hands to come; Safe, sole asylum, in which Love, When fallen or exiled from above,

In this dark world can find a home.

And, though the Spirit had transgressed,

Had, from his station 'mong the blessed, Won down by woman's smile, allowed Terrestrial passion to breathe o'er The mirror of his heart, and cloud God's image, there so bright beforeYet never did that God look down

On error with a brow so mild; Never did justice launch a frown That, ere it fell, so nearly smiled. For gentle was their love, with awe

And trembling like a treasure kept, That was not theirs by holy law, Whose beauty with remorse they saw, And o'er whose preciousness they wept.

Humility, that low, sweet root,
From which all heavenly virtues shoot,
Was in the hearts of both-but most

In Nama's heart, by whom alone Those charms, for which a heaven was lost,

Seemed all unvalued and unknown; And when her Seraph's eyes she caught, And hid hers glowing on his breast,

Even bliss was humbled by the thought,

'What claim have I to be so blessed?' Still less could maid so meek have nursed Desire of knowledge-that vain thirst With which the sex hath all been cursed, From luckless Eve to her who near The Tabernacle stole, to hear The secrets of the Angels-no

To love as her own seraph loved, With Faith, the same through bliss and

woe

Faith that, were even its light removed,

Could, like the dial, fixed remain,
And wait till it shone out again-
With Patience that, though often bowed

By the rude storm, can rise anew, And Hope that, even from Evil's cloud, Sees sunny Good half breaking through!

This deep, relying Love, worth more
In heaven than all a cherub's lore-
This Faith, more sure than aught be-
side,

Was the sole joy, ambition, pride,
Of her fond heart-the unreasoning

Scope

Of all its views, above, below So true she felt it that to hope,

To trust, is happier than to know.

And thus in humbleness they trod,
Abashed, but pure before their God;
Nor e'er did earth behold a sight

So meekly beautiful as they,
When, with the altar's holy light
Full on their brows, they knelt to
pray,

Hand within hand, and side by side,
Two links of love, awhile untied
From the great chain above, but fast
Holding together to the last-
Two fallen Splendors from that tree
Which buds with such eternally,
Shaken to earth, yet keeping all
Their light and freshness in the fall.

Their only punishment (as wrong,

However sweet, must bear its brand), Their only doom was this-that, long

As the green earth and ocean stand, They both shall wander here-the same Throughout all time, in heart and frame

Still looking to that goal sublime, Whose light, remote but sure, they

see

Pilgrims of Love, whose way is Time,

Whose home is in Eternity!
Subject, the while, to all the strife
True love encounters in this life-
The wishes, hopes, he breathes in vain;
The chill, that turns his warmest sighs
To earthly vapour, ere they rise;
The doubt he feeds on, and the pain
That in his very sweetness lies.
Still worse, the illusions that betray
His footsteps to their shining brink;
That tempt him, on his desert way
Through the bleak world, to bend and
drink,

Where nothing meets his lips, alas,
But he again must sighing pass
On to that far-off home of peace,
In which alone his thirst will cease.

All this they bear, but, not the less,
Have moments rich in happiness-
Blest meetings, after many a day
Of widowhood past far away,
When the loved face again is seen
Close, close, with not a tear between
Confidings frank, without control,
Poured mutually from soul to soul;
As free from any fear or doubt

As is that light from chill or stain,
The sun into the stars sheds out,

To be by them shed back again !— That happy minglement of hearts, Where, changed as chymic compounds

are,

Each with its own existence parts,

To find a new one, happier far! Such are their joys-and, crowning all, That blessed hope of the bright hour, When, happy and no more to fall,

Their spirits shall, with freshened power,

Rise up rewarded for their trust

In Him, from whom all goodness springs,

And, shaking off earth's soiling dust From their emancipated wings, Wander for ever through those skies Of radiance, where Love never dies!

In what lone region of the earth

These pilgrims now may roam or dwell,

God and the Angels, who look forth To watch their steps, alone can tell, But should we, in our wanderings,

Meet a young pair, whose beauty

wants

But the adornment of bright wings

To look like heaven's inhabitantsWho shine where'er they tread, and yet Are humble in their earthly lot, As is the wayside violet,

That shines unseen, and were it not For its sweet breath would be forgotWhose hearts in every thought are one, Whose voices utter the same wills, Answering as Echo doth, some tone Of fairy music 'mong the hills, So like itself, we seek in vain Which is the echo, which the strainWhose piety is love-whose love,

Though close as 'twere their souls' embrace,

Is not of earth, but from above

Like two fair mirrors, face to face, Whose light, from one to the other thrown,

Is heaven's reflection, not their ownShould we e'er meet with aught so pure, So perfect here, we may be sure

There is but me such pair below; And, as we bless them on their way Through the world's wilderness, may

say,

'There Zaraph and his Nama go.'

So, on he capered, fearless quite,

Thinking himself extremely clever, And waltzed away with all his might, As if the frost would last for ever.

Just fancy how a bard like me, Who reverence monarchs, must have trembled,

To see that goodly company

At such a ticklish sport assembled.

Nor were the fears, that thus astounded
My loyal soul, at all unfounded;
For, lo! ere long, those walls so massy
Were seized with an ill-omened drip-
ping,

And o'er the floors, now growing glassy,
Their Holinesses took to slipping.

The Czar, half through a Polonaise,

Could scarce get on for downright stumbling;

And Prussia, though to slippery ways

So used, was cursedly near tumbling.

Yet still 'twas who could stamp the floor most,

Russia and Austria 'mong the foremost. And now, to an Italian air,

This precious brace would hand in hand go;

Now-while old . . . .3 from his chair, Intreated them his toes to spare—

Called loudly out for a fandango.

3 Louis.

Who, bursting into tears, exclaimed,

'A thaw, by Jove !-we're lost, we're lost!

Run, F1 a second Waterloo
Is come to drown you-sauve qui peut

Why, why will monarchs caper so

In palaces without foundations? Instantly all was in a flow:

When in some urchin's mouth, alas! It melts into a shapeless mass!

Crowns, fiddles, sceptres, decora-
tions;

Those royal arms, that looked so nice,
Cut out in the resplendent ice;
Those eagles, handsomely provided
With double heads for double deal-
ings-

How fast the globes and sceptres glided
Out of their claws on all the ceilings!
Proud Prussia's double bird of prey,
Tame as a spatch-cock, slunk away;
While-just like France herself, when

she

Proclaims how great her naval skill isPoor...2 drowning fleurs-de-lys

Imagined themselves water-lilies. And not alone rooms, ceilings, shelves,

But still more fatal executionThe Great Legitimates themselves

Seemed in a state of dissolution. The indignant Czar-when just about To issue a sublime Ukase'Whereas, alllight must be kept out'

Dissolved to nothing in its blaze. Next Prussia took his turn to melt, And, while his lips illustrious felt The influence of this southern air,

Some word like 'Constitution,' long Congealed in frosty silence there, Came slowly thawing from his tongue.

While lapsing by degree,
And sighing out a faint adieu
To truffles, salmis, toasted cheese,
And smoking fondus, quickly grew
Himself into a fondu too;-
Or, like that goodly King they make
Of sugar, for a twelfth-night cake,

1 France.

gone!

And nothing now was seen or heard But the bright river, rushing on,

Happy as an enfranchised bird, And prouder of that natural ray, Shining along its chainless wayMore proudly happy thus to glide

In simple grandeur to the sea,
Than when in sparkling fetters tied,
And decked with all that kingly pride
Could bring to light its slavery!

Such is my dream—and, I confess,
I tremble at its awfulness.
That Spanish dance-that southern
beam-

But I say nothing-there's my dreamAnd Madame Krudener, the sheprophet,

May make just what she pleases of it.

FABLE II.

THE LOOKING-GLASSES.

Proem.

WHERE Kings have been by mobelections

Raised to the throne, 'tis strange to see What different and what odd perfections Men have required in royalty. Some liking monarchs large and plumpy, Have chosen their Sovereigns by the weight;

Some wished them tall; some thought your dumpy,

Dutch-built the true Legitimate.3 The Easterns, in a Prince, 'tis said, Prefer what's called a jolter-head ;4

2 Louis's.