'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory, and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When, in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,—
Ere sorrow came, or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heav'n her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies

Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw, without surprise,
In the mid-air, angelic eyes

Gazing upon this world below.

Alas, that Passion should profane,

Ev'n then, the morning of the earth! That, sadder still, the fatal stain

Should fall on hearts of heav'nly birthAnd that from Woman's love should fall So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One ev❜ning, in that primal hour,

On a hill's side, where hung the ray Of sunset, bright'ning rill and bow'r,

Three noble youths conversing lay; And, as they look'd, from time to time,

To the far sky, where Daylight furl'd His radiant wing, their brows sublime Bespoke them of that distant worldSpirits, who once, in brotherhood

Of faith and bliss, near ALLA stood,

And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown

The wind that breathes from ALLA's throne;--
Creatures of light, such as still play,

Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And through their infinite array,
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke, and, still more oft, Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence; fill, yielding gradual to the soft

And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flow'rs,

The melting light that beam'd above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest
When, like a bird, from its high nest

Won down by fascinating eyes,
For Woman's smile-he lost the skies!

The First who spoke, was one with look
The least celestial of the three-
A Spirit of light mould, that took

The prints of earth most yieldingly;
Who, ev'n in heav'n, was not of those

Nearest the Throne, but held a place Far off, among those shining rows

That circle out through endless space, And o'er whose wings the light from Him In Heaven's bright centre falls most dim.

Still fair and glorious, he but shone
Among those youths th' unheavenliest one-
A creature, to whom light remain'd
From Eden still, but alter'd, stain'd,
And o'er whose brow not Love alone
A blight had, in his transit, cast,
But other, earthlier joys had gone,

And left their foot-prints as they pass'd. Sighing, as back through ages flown,

Like a tomb-searcher, Mem'ry ran, Lifting each shroud that Time had thrown 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 bent,'

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;

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.

Pausing in wonder I look'd on,

While, playfully around her breaking