Still fair and glorious, he but shone Among those youths the unheavenliest

one

A creature to whom light remained
From Eden still, but altered, stained,
And o'er whose brow not Love alone
A blight had, in his transit, sent,
But other, earthlier joys had gone,
And left their foot-prints as they

went.

Sighing, as through the shadowy Past, Like a tomb-searcher, Memory ran, Lifting each shroud that time had cast O'er buried hopes, he thus began :—

FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. "TWAS in a land, that far away

Into the golden orient lies, Where Nature knows not Night's delay, But springs to meet her bridegroom, Day,

Upon the threshold of the skies. One morn, on earthly mission sent, And midway choosing where to light, I saw from the blue element

Oh beautiful, but fatal sight !One of earth's fairest womankind, Half veiled from view, or rather shrined

In the clear crystal of a brook ;1

Which, while it hid no single gleam Of her young beauties, made them look More spirit-like, as they might seem Through the dim shadowing of a dream.

In pity to the wondering maid,

Though loth from such a vision turning,

Downward I bent, beneath the shade Of my spread wings, to hide the burning

Of glances which-I well could feel-
For me, for her, too warmly shone ;
But ere I could again unseal
My restless eyes, or even steal
One side-long look, the maid was
goue-

Hid from me in the forest leaves,

Sudden as when, in all her charms Of full-blown light, some cloud receives The moon into his dusky arms. 'Tis not in words to tell the power, The despotism, that, from that hour, Passion held o'er me-day and night

I sought around each neighbouring spot,

And, in the chase of this sweet light,

My task, and Heaven, and all forgotAll but the one, sole haunting dream Of her I saw in that bright stream.

Listening to words, whose music vied
With our own Eden's seraph lays,
When seraph lays are warmed by love,
But wanting that, far, far above !-
And looking into eyes where, blue
And beautiful, like skies seen through
The sleeping wave, for me there shone
A heaven more worshipped than my

own.

Oh what, while I could hear and see Such words and looks, was heaven to me?

Though gross the air on earth I drew, 'Twas blessed, while she breathed it too; Though dark the flowers, though dim the sky,

Love lent them light, while she was nigh.

Throughout creation I but knew Two separate worlds--the one, that small,

Beloved and consecrated spot Where Lea was-the other, all

The dull wide waste, where she was not!

But vain my suit, my madness vain; Though gladly, from her eyes to gain One earthly look, one stray desire,

I would have torn the wings that hung Furled at my back, and o'er that Fire Unnamed in heaven their fragments flung ;

'Twas hopeless all-pure and unmoved She stood, as lilies in the light Of the hot noon but look more

white;

And though she loved me, deeply loved,
'Twas not as man, as mortal-no,
Nothing of earth was in that glow-
She loved me but as one of race
Angelic, from that radiant place
She saw so oft in dreams-that heaven,
To which her prayers at morn were
sent,

And on whose light she gazed at even,

It is the opinion of Kircher, Ricciolus etc. (and was, I believe, to a certain degree, that of Origen), that the stars are moved and directed by intelligences or angels who preside over them. Among other passages from Scripture in support of this notion, they cite those words of the Book of Job, When the morning stars sang together;' upon which Kircher remarks, 'Non de materia

Wishing for wings that she might go
Out of this shadowy world below,
To that free glorious element !
Well I remember by her side
Sitting at rosy eventide,
When,-turning to the star, whose head
Looked out as from a bridal bed,
At that mute blushing hour,—she said,
'Oh that it were my doom to be

The spirit of yon beauteous star,1
Dwelling up there in purity,
Alone, as all such bright things are ;-
My sole employ to pray and shine,
To light my censer at the sun,
And cast its fire towards the shrine
Of Him in Heaven, the Eternal One!'
So innocent the maid-so free

From mortal taint in soul and frame, Whom 'twas my crime-my destinyTo love, ay, burn for, with a flame To which earth's wildest fires are tame.

Had you
but seen her look when first
From my mad lips the avowal burst!
Not angry-no-the feeling had
No touch of anger, but most sad-
It was a sorrow, calm as deep,
A mournfulness that could not weep,
So filled the heart was to the brink,
So fixed and frozen there-to think
That angel natures-even I,
Whose love she clung to, as the tie
Between her spirit and the sky-
Should fall thus headlong from the
height

Of such pure glory into sin.
That very night my
heart had grown
Impatient of its inward burning;
The term, too, of my stay was flown,
And the bright Watchers near the

throne

Already, if a meteor shone

Between them and this nether zone,

libus intelligitur.'-Itin. i. Isagog. Astronom, See also Caryl's most wordy commentary on the same text.

2 The watchers, the offspring of Heaven.'Book of Enoch. In Daniel also the angels are called watchers: 'And behold, a watcher and an holy one came down from heaven.'-iv. 13.

returning ;

Oft did the potent spell-word, given
To envoys hither from the skies,
To be pronounced, when back to heaven
It is their hour or wish to rise,
Come to my lips that fatal day;

And once, too, was so nearly spoken, That my spread plumage in the ray Aud breeze of heaven began to playWhen my heart failed, the spell was broken,

The word unfinished died away,

Of the wild revel I gave way To all that frantic mirth, that rush Of desperate gaiety, which they Who never felt how pain's excess Can break out thus, think happinessSad mimicry of mirth and life, Whose flashes come but from the strife Of inward passions, like the light Struck out by clashing swords in fight.

Then, too, that juice of earth, the bane1 And blessing of man's heart and brain

1 For all that relates to the nature and attributes of angels, the time of their creation, the extent of their knowledge, and the power which they possess, or can occasionally assume, of performing such human functions as eating, drinking, etc. etc., I shall refer those who are inquisitive upon the subject to the following works: -The Treatise upon the Celestial Hierarchy, written under the name of Dionysius the Areopagite, in which among much that is heavy and trifling, there are some sublime notions concerning the agency of these spiritual creatures; the questions de Cognitione Angelorum of St. Thomas, where he examines most prolixly into such puzzling points as whether angels illuminate each other,' 'whether they speak to each other,' etc. etc.; the Thesaurus of Cocceius, containing extracts from almost every theologian that has

Phantoms of fair, forbidden thingsWhose drops, like those of rainbows, smile

Upon the mists that circle man, Brightening not only earth, the while, But grasping heaven, too, in their span!

Then first the fatal wine-cup rained2 Its dews of darkness through my lips, Casting whate'er of light remained

To my lost soul into eclipse, And filling it with such wild dreams, Such fantasies and wrong desires, As in the absence of heaven's beams, Haunt us for ever, like wild-fires'

That walk this earth when day retires.

Now hear the rest-our banquet done,

I sought her in the accustomed bower, Where late we oft, when day was gone, And the world hushed, had met alone, At the same silent moonlight hour. I found her-oh, so beautiful!

Why, why have hapless angels eyes ?3

written on the subject; the 9th, 10th, and 11th chapters, sixth book, of l'Histoire des Juifs, where all the extraordinary reveries of the Rabbius about angels and demons are enumerated; the questions attributed to St. Athanasius; the treatise of Bonaventure upon the Wings of the Seraphim; and lastly, the ponderous folio of Suarez de Angelis, where the reader will find all that has ever been fancied or reasoned, upon a subject which only such writers could have contrived to render so dull.

2 Some of the circumstances of this story were suggested to me by the Eastern legend of the two angels, Harut and Marut, as it is given by Mariti, who says that the author of the Taalim founds upon it the Mahometan prohibition of wine. The Bahardanush tells the story differently.

3 Tertullian imagines that the words of St.

Or why are there not flowers to cull,
As fair as woman, in yon skies?
Still did her brow, as usual, turn
To her loved star, which seemed to burn
Purer than ever on that night;
While she, in looking, grew more
bright,

As though that planet were an urn From which her eyes drank liquid light.

There was a virtue in that scene,

A spell of holiness around, Which would have had my brain not been

Thus poisoned, maddened—held me bound,

As though I stood on God's own ground.

Even as it was, with soul all flame, And lips that burned in their own sighs,

I stood to gaze, with awe and shameThe memory of Eden came

Full o'er me when I saw those eyes; And though too well each glance of mine To the pale shrinking maiden proved How far, alas, from aught divine, Aught worthy of so pure a shrine,

Was the wild love with which I loved, Yet must she, too, have seen-oh yes, 'Tis soothing but to think she sawThe deep, true, soul-felt tenderness

The homage of an angel's awe
To her, a mortal, whom pure love
Then placed above him-far above-
And all that struggle to repress
A sinful spirit's mad excess,
Which worked within me at that hour,
When-with a voice, where Passion
shed

All the deep sadness of her power,
Her melancholy power-I said,
'Then be it so-if back to heaven

I raust unloved, unpitied fly,

Paul, 'Woman ought to have a veil on her head, on account of the angels,' have an evident reference to the fatal effects which the beauty of women once produced upon these spiritual beings, See the strange passage of this Father (de Virgin. Velandis), beginning, Si enim propter angelos,' etc., where his editor Pamelius endeavours to save his morality, at the expense of his Latinity, by substituting the word 'excussat' for 'excusat.'

Without one blest memorial given

To soothe me in that lonely skyOne look like those the young and fond Give when they're parting, which would be,

Even in remembrance, far beyond

All heaven hath left of bliss for me!

| ‘Oh, but to see that head recline

A minute on this trembling arm, And those mild eyes look up to mine Without a dread, a thought of harm! To meet but once the thrilling touch

Of lips that are too fond to fear me, Or, if that boon be all too much,

Even thus to bring their fragrance near me !

Nay, shrink not so-a look-a word Give them but kindly and I fly; Already, see, my plumes have stirred,

And tremble for their home on high. Thus be our parting-cheek to cheekOne minute's lapse will be forgiven, And thou, the next, shalt hear me speak The spell that plumes my wing for heaven!'

While thus I spoke, the fearful maid,
Of me and of herself afraid,
Had shrinking stood, like flowers be-
neath

The scorching of the south wind's breath;

But when I named--alas, too well

I now recall, though wildered then,— Instantly, when I named the spell,

Her brow, her eyes uprose again, And, with an eagerness that spoke The sudden light that o'er her broke, "The spell, the spell!-oh, speak it now

And I will bless thee!' she exclaimed. Unknowing what I did, inflamed, And lost already, on her brow

Istamped one burning kiss, and named

Such instances of indecorum, however, are but too common throughout the Fathers; in proof of which I need only refer to some passages in the same writer's treatise, De Anima, to the Second and Third Books of the Pædagogus of Clemens Alexandrinus, and to the instances which La Mothe le Vayer has adduced from Chrysostom in his Herameron Rustique, Journée Seconde.