Since that sad hour, and will remain―

So wills th' offended God-for ever!

It was to yonder star I traced

Her journey up th' illumined waste-
That isle in the blue firmament,
To which so oft her fancy went
In wishes and in dreams before,
And which was now-such, Purity,
Thy blest reward-ordain'd to be

Her home of light for evermore!

Once-or did I but fancy so?—
Even in her flight to that fair sphere,
'Mid all her spirit's new-felt glow,
A pitying look she turn'd below

On him who stood in darkness here;
Him whom, perhaps, if vain regret
Can dwell in Heaven, she pities yet;
And oft, when looking to this dim
And distant world, remembers him.

But soon that passing dream was gone; Farther and farther off she shone,

Till lessen'd to a point, as small

As are those specks that yonder burn-
Those vivid drops of light, that fall

The last from day's exhausted urn.
And when at length she merged, afar,
Into her own immortal star,
And when at length my straining sight
Had caught her wing's last fading ray,
That minute from my soul the light

Of Heaven and love both pass'd away;
And I forgot my home, my birth,
Profaned my spirit, sunk my brow,
And revell'd in gross joys of earth,
Till I became-what I am now!

The Spirit bow'd his head in shame ;

A shame, that of itself would tellWere there not even those breaks of flame, Celestial, through his clouded frame—

How grand the height from which he fell! That holy Shame, which ne'er forgets

What clear renown it used to wear;

Whose blush remains, when Virtue sets,

To show her sunshine has been there.
Once only, while the tale he told,
Were his eyes lifted to behold
That happy stainless star, where she
Dwelt in her bower of purity!
One minute did he look, and then—

As though he felt some deadly pain

From its sweet light through heart and brain— Shrunk back, and never look'd again.

Who was the Second Spirit ?—he

With the proud front and piercing glance

Who seem'd, when viewing Heaven's expanse,

As though his far-sent eye could see

On, on into th' Immensity

Behind the veils of that blue sky,

Where God's sublimest secrets lie?—

His wings, the while, though day was gone,
Flashing with many a various hue

Of light they from themselves alone,
Instinct with Eden's brightness, drew-

A breathing forth of beams at will,

Of living beams, which, though no more
They kept their early lustre, still

Were such, when glittering out all o'er,
As mortal eyelids wink'd before.

'Twas RUBI-once among the prime

And flower of those bright creatures, named Spirits of Knowledge, who o'er Time

And Space and Thought an empire claim'd, Second alone to Him, whose light

Was, even to theirs, as day to night—

"Twixt whom and them was distance far

And wide, as would the journey be

To reach from island star

any

The vague shores of Infinity!

"Twas RUBI, in whose mournful eye

Slept the dim light of days gone by;
Whose voice, though sweet, fell on the ear
Like echoes in some silent place,
When first awaked for many a year;
And when he smiled-if o'er his face
Smile ever shone-'twas like the grace

*The Cherubim.-See Note.

Of moonlight rainbows, fair, but wan,
The sunny life, the glory gone.

Even o'er his pride, though still the same,
A softening shade from sorrow came;
And though at times his spirit knew
The kindlings of disdain and ire,
Short was the fitful glare they threw-
Like the last flashes, fierce but few,
Seen through some noble pile on fire!

Such was the Angel, who now broke
The silence that had come o'er all,
When he, the Spirit that last spoke,
Closed the sad history of his fall;
And, while a sacred lustre, flown

For many a day, relumed his cheek,
And not those sky-tuned lips alone
But his eyes, brow, and tresses, roll'd
Like sunset waves, all seem'd to speak—
Thus his eventful story told :—