The dreadful- how can it be told? Such pain, such anguish to relate Is o'er again to feel, behold! But, charg'd as 'tis, my heart must speak Its sorrow out, or it will break! Some dark misgivings had, I own, Pass'd for a moment through my breastFears of some danger, vague unknown, To one, or both - something unblest To happen from this proud request. But soon these boding fancies fled;

--

Nor saw I aught that could forbid My full revealment, save the dread Of that first dazzle, when, unhid, Such light should burst upon a lid Ne'er tried in heaven;- and even this glare She might, by love's own nursing care, Be, like young eagles, taught to bear. For well I knew, the lustre shed From cherub wings, when proudliest spread, Was, in its nature, lambent, pure,

And innocent as is the light

The glow-worm hangs out to allure

Her mate to her green bower at night. Oft had I, in the mid-air, swept

Through clouds in which the lightning slept, As in its lair, ready to spring,

Yet wak'd it not though from my wing A thousand sparks fell glittering!

Oft too when round me from above

The feather'd snow, in all its whiteness,

Fell, like the moultings of heaven's Dove,'

So harmless, though so full of brightness,
Was my brow's wreath, that it would shake
From off its flowers each downy flake
As delicate, unmelted, fair,
And cool as they had lighted there.
Nay ev'n with LILIS - had I not
Around her sleep all radiant beam'd,
Hung o'er her slumbers, nor forgot
To kiss her eye-lids, as she dream'd?
And yet, at morn, from that repose,
Had she not wak'd, unscath'd and bright,
As doth the pure, unconscious rose,
Though by the fire-fly kiss'd all night?
Thus having-as, alas, deceived
By my sin's blindness, I believ'd-
No cause for dread, and those dark eyes
Now fix'd upon me, eagerly
As though the' unlocking of the skies
Then waited but a sign from me—
How could I pause? how ev'n let fall
A word, a whisper that could stir
In her proud heart a doubt, that all

I brought from heaven belong'd to her?
Slow from her side I rose, while she
Arose, too, mutely, tremblingly,
But not with fear-all hope, and pride,
She waited for the awful boon,
Like priestesses, at eventide,

Watching the rise of the full moon,
Whose light, when once its orb hath shone,
Twill madden them to look upon!

Of all my glories, the bright crown,

Which, when I last from heaven came down,
Was left behind me, in yon star

That shines from out those clouds afar, -
Where, relic sad, 'tis treasur'd yet,

The downfallen angel's coronet!

Of all my glories, this alone

Was wanting:
but the' illumin'd brow,
The sun-bright locks, the eyes that now
Had love's spell added to their own,
And pour'd a light till then unknown;
The' unfolded wings, that, in their play,
Shed sparkles bright as ALLA's throne;
All I could bring of heaven's array,
Of that rich panoply of charms
A Cherub moves in, on the day
Of his best pomp, I now put on;
And, proud that in her eyes I shone
Thus glorious, glided to her arms;

The Dove, or pigeon which attended Mahomet as his Familiar, and was frequently seen to whisper into his ear. was, if I recollect

one of that select number of animals (including also the ant Somon, the dog of the Seven Sleepers, &c.) which were thought by the Prophet worthy of admission into Paradise.

The Moslems have a tradition that Mahomet was saved (when he hit himself in a cave in Mount Shur) by his pursuers finding the nauth of the cave covered by a spider's web, and a nest built

Which still (though, at a sight so splendid, Her dazzled brow had, instantly,

Sunk on her breast,) were wide extended

To clasp the form she durst not see!?
Great Heaven! how could thy vengeance light
So bitterly on one so bright?

How could the hand, that gave such charms,
Blast them again, in love's own arms?
Scarce had I touch'd her shrinking frame
When oh most horrible! I felt
That every spark of that pure flame-

Pure, while among the stars I dwelt-
Was now, by my transgression, turn'd
Into gross, earthly fire, which burn'd,
Burn'd all it touch'd, as fast as eye

Could follow the fierce, ravening flashes;
Till there-oh God, I still ask why
Such doom was hers?-I saw her lie

Blackening within my arms to ashes!
That brow, a glory but to see —

Those lips, whose touch was what the first Fresh cup of immortality

Is to a new-made angel's thirst!
Those clasping arms, within whose round-
My heart's horizon - the whole bound
Of its hope, prospect, heaven was found!
Which, even in this dread moment, fond

As when they first were round me cast,
Loos'd not in death the fatal bond,

But, burning, held me to the last!
All, all, that, but that morn, had seem'd
As if Love's self there breath'd and beam'd,
Now, parch'd and black, before me lay,
Withering in agony away,

And mine, oh misery! mine the flame,
From which this desolation came;-

I, the curst spirit, whose caress

Had blasted all that loveliness!

'Twas maddening!-but now hear even worse

Had death, death only, been the curse

I brought upon her-had the doom

But ended here, when her young bloom
Lay in the dust and did the spirit
No part of that fell curse inherit,

"Twere not so dreadful-but, come near-
Too shocking 'tis for earth to hear
Just when her eyes, in fading, took

Their last, keen, agonis'd farewell,

And look'd in mine with-oh, that look!
Great vengeful Power, whate'er the hell
Thou mayst to human souls assign,
The memory of that look is mine!-

by two pigeons at the entrance, with two eggs unbroken in it, which made them think no one could have entered it. In consequence of this, they say, Mahomet enjoined his followers to look upon pigeons as sacred, and never to kill a spider."- Modern Universal History, vol. i.

2" Mohammed (says Sale), though a prophet, was not able to bear the sight of Gabriel, when he appeared in his proper form; much less would others be able to support it."

But is it thus, dread Providence-
Can it, indeed, be thus, that she,
Who, (but for one proud, fond offence,)
Had honour'd heaven itself, should be
Now doom'd-I cannot speak it—no,
Merciful ALLA! 'tis not so-
Never could lips divine have said
The fiat of a fate so dread.

And yet, that look-so deeply fraught
With more than anguish, with despair-
That new, fierce fire, resembling nought

In heaven or earth-this scorch I bear!Oh-for the first time that these knees

Have bent before thee since my fall, Great Power, if ever thy decrees

Thou couldst for prayer like mine recall, Pardon that spirit, and on me,

On me, who taught her pride to err, Shed out each drop of agony

Thy burning phial keeps for her! See, too, where low beside me kneel

Two other outcasts, who, though gone And lost themselves, yet dare to feel

And pray for that poor mortal one.
Alas, too well, too well they know
The pain, the penitence, the woe
That Passion brings upon the best,
The wisest, and the loveliest.-
Oh, who is to be sav'd, if such

Bright, erring souls are not forgiven;
So loth they wander, and so much

Their very wand'rings lean towards heaven!

Again, I cry, Just Power, transfer

That creature's sufferings all to me-
Mine, mine the guilt, the torment be,
To save one minute's pain to her,
Let mine last all eternity!"

He paus'd, and to the earth bent down
His throbbing head; while they, who felt
That agony as 'twere their own,

Those angel youths, beside him knelt,
And, in the night's still silence there,
While mournfully each wand'ring air

Play'd in those plumes, that never more
To their lost home in heaven must soar,
Breath'd inwardly the voiceless prayer,
Unheard by all but Mercy's ear-
And which if Mercy did not hear,
Oh, God would not be what this bright
And glorious universe of His,
This world of beauty, goodness, light,
And endless love, proclaims He is!

Not long they knelt, when, from a wood
That crown'd that airy solitude,
They heard a low, uncertain sound,
As from a lute, that just had found
Some happy theme, and murmur'd round
The new-born fancy, with fond tone,
Scarce thinking aught so sweet its own!
Till soon a voice, that match'd as well
That gentle instrument, as suits
The sea-air to an ocean-shell

(So kin its spirit to the lute's), Tremblingly follow'd the soft strain, Interpreting its joy, its pain,

And lending the light wings of words To many a thought, that else had lain Unfledg'd and mute among the chords.

All started at the sound-but chief
The third young Angel, in whose face,
Though faded like the others, grief

Had left a gentler, holier trace;
As if, even yet, through pain and ill,
Hope had not fled him-as if still
Her precious pearl, in sorrow's cup,
Unmelted at the bottom, lay,
To shine again, when, all drunk up,
The bitterness should pass away.
Chiefly did he, though in his eyes
There shone more pleasure than surprise,
Turn to the wood, from whence that sound
Of solitary sweetness broke;

Then, listening, look delighted round

To his bright peers, while thus it spoke:

The song had ceas'd, when, from the wood
Which, sweeping down that airy height,
Reach'd the lone spot whereon they stood-
There suddenly shone out a light
From a clear lamp, which, as it blaz'd
Across the brow of one, who rais'd
Its flame aloft (as if to throw
The light upon that group below),
Display'd two eyes, sparkling between
The dusky leaves, such as are seen
By fancy only, in those faces,

That haunt a poet's walk at even,
Looking from out their leafy places

Upon his dreams of love and heaven. Twas but a moment - the blush, brought O'er all her features at the thought

Of being seen thus, late, alone,

By any but the eyes she sought,

Had scarcely for an instant shone

Through the dark leaves, when she was gone

Gone, like a meteor that o'erhead Suddenly shines, and, ere we've said, "Behold, how beautiful!"-'tis fled.

Yet, ere she went, the words, "I come,
"I come, my NAMA," reach'd her ear,
In that kind voice, familiar, dear,
Which tells of confidence, of home,-

Of habit, that hath drawn hearts near, Till they grow one,-of faith sincere, And all that Love most loves to hear;

1 Seth is a favourite personage among the Orientals, and acts a Conspicuous part in many of their most extravagant romances. The Syrians pretended to have a Testament of this Patriarch in their possession, in which was explained the whole theology of is, their different orders, &c. &c. The Curds, too (as Hyde entions in his Appendix), have a book, which contains all the rites of their religion, and which they call Sohuph Sheit, or the Bxk of Seth.

In the same manner that Seth and Cham are supposed to have preserved these memorials of antediluvian knowledge, Xixuthrus isud in Chaldean fable to have deposited in Siparis, the city of The Sun, those monuments of science which he had saved out of the waters of a deluge. See Jablonski's learned remarks upon these columne or tablets of Seth, which he supposes to be the same with the pillars of Mercury, or the Egyptian Thoth.- Pantheon. Egypt, lib. v. cap. 5.

The Musulmane, says D'Herbelot, apply the general name. Moxarrebun, to all those Spirits "qui approchent le plus près le Tre." Of this number are Mikail and Gebrail.

A music, breathing of the past,

The present, and the time to be,
Where Hope and Memory, to the last,
Lengthen out life's true harmony!

Nor long did he, whom call so kind
Summon'd away, remain behind;
Nor did there need much time to tell

What they-alas, more fall'n than he From happiness and heaven - knew well, His gentler love's short history!

Thus did it run-not as he told

The tale himself, but as 'tis grav'd Upon the tablets that, of old,

By SETH' were from the deluge sav'd, All written over with sublime

And sadd'ning legends of the' unblest, But glorious Spirits of that time,

And this young Angel's 'mong the rest.

THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. AMONG the Spirits, of pure flame,

That in the' eternal heavens abide-
Circles of light, that from the same

Unclouded centre sweeping wide,
Carry its beams on every side.
Like spheres of air that waft around
The undulations of rich sound,
Till the far-circling radiance be
Diffus'd into infinity!

First and immediate near the Throne
Of ALLA, as if most his own,

The Seraphs stand3- this burning sign
Trac'd on their banner, "Love divine!"
Their rank, their honours, far above

Ev'n those to high-brow'd Cherubs given, Though knowing all; - so much doth love Transcend all Knowledge, ev'n in heaven! 'Mong these was ZARAPH once-and none E'er felt affection's holy fire,

3 The Seraphim, or Spirits of Divine Love.

There appears to be, among writers on the East, as well as among the Orientals themselves, considerable indecision with regard to the respective claims of Seraphim and Cherubim to the highest rank in the celestial hierarchy. The derivation which Hyde assigns to the word Cherub seems to determine the precedence in favour of that order of spirits :-"Cherubim, i. e. Propinqui Angeli, qui sc. Deo propius quam alii accedunt; nam Charab est i. q. Karab, appropinquare." (P. 263.) Al Beidawi, too, one of the commentators of the Koran, on that passage, "the angels, who bear the throne, and those who stand about it," (chap. xl.) says, "These are the Cherubim, the highest order of angels." On the other hand, we have seen, in a preceding note, that the Syrians place the sphere in which the Seraphs dwell at the very summit of all the celestial systems; and even, among Mahometans, the word Azazil and Mocarreboun (which mean the spirits that stand nearest to the throne of Alla) are indiscriminately applied to both Seraphim and Cherubim.

Or yearn'd towards the' Eternal One, With half such longing, deep desire. Love was to his impassion'd soul

Not, as with others, a mere part Of its existence, but the whole

The very life-breath of his heart!
Oft, when from ALLA's lifted brow

A lustre came, too bright to bear,
And all the seraph ranks would bow,
To shade their dazzled sight, nor dare
To look upon the' effulgence there-
This Spirit's eyes would court the blaze
(Such pride he in adoring took),
And rather lose, in that one gaze,

The power of looking, than not look!
Then, too, when angel voices sung
The mercy of their God, and strung
Their harps to hail, with welcome sweet,
That moment, watch'd for by all eyes,
When some repentant sinner's feet

First touch'd the threshold of the skies,
Oh then how clearly did the voice
Of ZARAPH above all rejoice!
Love was in ev'ry buoyant tone-

Such love, as only could belong
To the blest angels, and alone

Could, ev'n from angels, bring such song!

Alas, that it should e'er have been
In heav'n as 'tis too often here,
Where nothing fond or bright is seen,

But it hath pain and peril near;—
Where right and wrong so close resemble,
That what we take for virtue's thrill
Is often the first downward tremble
Of the heart's balance unto ill;
Where Love hath not a shrine so pure,
So holy, but the serpent, Sin,
In moments, ev'n the most secure,
Beneath his altar may glide in!

So was it with that Angel-such

The charm, that slop'd his fall along, From good to ill, from loving much,

Too easy lapse, to loving wrong.— Ev'n so that amorous Spirit, bound By beauty's spell, where'er 'twas found, From the bright things above the moon Down to earth's beaming eyes descended, Till love for the Creator soon

In passion for the creature ended.

"Twas first at twilight, on the shore

Of the smooth sea, he heard the lute And voice of her he lov'd steal o'er

The silver waters, that lay mute, As loth, by even a breath, to stay The pilgrimage of that sweet lay, Whose echoes still went on and on, Till lost among the light that shone

Far off, beyond the ocean's brim —

There, where the rich cascade of day Had, o'er the' horizon's golden rim,

Into Elysium roll'd away!

Of God she sung, and of the mild
Attendant Mercy, that beside
His awful throne for ever smil'd,

Ready, with her white hand, to guide His bolts of vengeance to their prey That she might quench them on the way! Of Peace of that Atoning Love, Upon whose star, shining above This twilight world of hope and fear, The weeping eyes of Faith are fix'd So fond, that with her every tear

The light of that love-star is mix'd!All this she sung, and such a soul

Of piety was in that song,
That the charm'd Angel, as it stole
Tenderly to his ear, along

Those lulling waters where he lay,
Watching the daylight's dying ray,
Thought 'twas a voice from out the wave,
An echo, that some sea-nymph gave
To Eden's distant harmony,

Heard faint and sweet beneath the sea

Quickly, however, to its source,
Tracing that music's melting course,
He saw, upon the golden sand
Of the sea-shore, a maiden stand,
Before whose feet the' expiring waves
Flung their last offering with a sigh-
As, in the East, exhausted slaves

Lay down the far-brought gift, and die—
And, while her lute hung by her, hush'd,
As if unequal to the tide

Of song, that from her lips still gush'd,
She rais'd, like one beatified,

Those eyes, whose light seem'd rather given
To be ador'd than to adore-

Such eyes, as may have look'd from heaven, But ne'er were rais'd to it before?

Oh Love, Religion, Music '-all

That's left of Eden upon earthThe only blessings, since the fall Of our weak souls, that still recall

A trace of their high, glorious birthHow kindred are the dreams you bring!

How Love, though unto earth so prone, Delights to take Religion's wing,

When time or grief hath stain'd his own! How near to Love's beguiling brink,

Too oft, entranc'd Religion lies!

While Music, Music is the link

They both still hold by to the skies,

1 "Les Egyptiens disent que la Musique est Sœur de la Religion." -Voyages de Pythagore, tom. i. p. 422.