"But when again, in sunny pride, "Thou walk'st through Eden, let me glide, "A prostrate shadow, by thy side

"Oh happier thus than without thee!"

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 goneGone, 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;
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!

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 angels, their different orders, &c. &c. The Curds, too (as Hyde mentions in his Appendix), have a book, which contains all the rites of their religion, and which they call Sohuph Sheit, or the Book of Seth.

In the same manner that Seth and Cham are supposed to have preserved these memorials of antediluvian knowledge, Xixuthrus is said in Chaldæan 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 columns or tablets of Seth, which he supposes to be the same with the pillars of Mercury, or the Egyptian Thoth. - Pantheon. Egypt. lib. v. сар. 5.

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

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 abideCircles 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 2, as if most his own,

The Seraphs stand 3—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!

3 The Seraphim, or Spirits of Divine Love. There appears to be, among writers on the East, as we 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 ditermine the precedence in favour of that order of spirits. "Cherubim, i. e. Propinqui Angeli, qui se. Deo propriis quam alii accedunt: nam Charab est i. q. Karab, appropene quare." (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.: s "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, arg 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.

'Mong these was ZARAPH once-and none E'er felt affection's holy fire,

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!

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 preyThat 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 dieAnd, 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 earth

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

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,
Seem'd 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 blest?"
Still less could maid, so meek, have nurs'd
Desire of knowledge-that vain thirst,
With which the sex hath all been curs'd,
From luckless EVE to her, who near
The Tabernacle stole to hear
The secrets of the angels: no-

To love as her own Seraph lov'd,
With Faith, the same through bliss and woe-
Faith, that, were even its light remov'd,
Could, like the dial, fix'd remain,
And wait till it shone out again ;-
With Patience that, though often bow'd
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 loreThis Faith, more sure than aught beside, Was the sole joy, ambition, pride Of her fond heart-the' unreasoning scope Of all its views, above, belowSo true she felt it that to hope,

To trust, is happier than to know. And thus in humbleness they trod, Abash'd, 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, 3
Shaken to earth, yet keeping all

Their light and freshness in the fall.

Cabbala. They are called by various names, Pity, Beauty, &c. &c.; and their influences are supposed to act through certain canals, which communicate with each other.

9 The reader may judge of the rationality of this Jewish system by the following explanation of part of the machinery. -"Les canaux qui sortent de la Miséricorde et de la Force,

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 lov'd face again is seen
Close, close, with not a tear between-
Confidings frank, without control,
Pour'd 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, chang'd as chymic compounds are, Each with its own existence parts,

To find a new one, happier far!

et qui vont aboutir à la Beauté, sont chargés d'un grand nombre d'Anges. Il y en a trente-cinq sur le canal de la Miséricorde, qui recompensent et qui couronnent la vertu des Saints," &c. &c. For a concise account of the Cabalistic Philosophy, see Enfield's very useful compendium of Brucker.

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 freshen'd 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 inhabitants-
Who shine where'er they tread, and yet
Are humble in their earthly lot,
As is the way-side violet,

That shines unseen, and were it not
For its sweet breath would be forgot-
Whose 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 strain-
Whose 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

"Tis ZARAPH and his bride we see; And call young lovers round, to view The pilgrim pair, as they pursue

Their pathway towards eternity.

"On les représente quelquefois sous la figure d'un arbre l'Ensoph qu'on met au-dessus de l'arbre Sephirotique ou des Splendeurs divins, est l'Infini.”—L'Histoire des Juifs, liv. ix. 11.

SCEPTICISM.

ERE Psyche drank the cup, that shed
Immortal Life into her soul,
Some evil spirit pour'd, 'tis said,

One drop of Doubt into the bowl

Which, mingling darkly with the stream,

To Psyche's lips-she knew not whyMade even that blessed nectar seem As though its sweetness soon would die.

A JOKE VERSIFIED.

"COME, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life,

"There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake

"It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife ”— "Why, so it is, father-whose wife shall I take?"

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

PURE as the mantle, which, o'er him who stood
By JORDAN'S stream, descended from the sky,
Is that remembrance, which the wise and good
Leave in the hearts that love them, when they
die.

So pure, so precious shall the memory be,
Bequeath'd, in dying, to our souls by thee-
So shall the love we bore thee, cherish'd warm
Within our souls through grief, and pain, and
strife,

Be, like ELISHA's cruise, a holy charm,
Wherewith to "heal the waters" of this life!

TO JAMES CORRY, ESQ.

ON HIS MAKING ME A PRESENT OF A WINE STRAINER.

Brighton, June, 1825. THIS life, dear Corry, who can doubt?Resembles much friend Ewart's wine, When first the rosy drops come out,

How beautiful, how clear they shine!

And thus awhile they keep their tint,

So free from even a shade with some, That they would smile, did you but hint, That darker drops would ever come.

1 A wine-merchant.