When,-turning to the star, whose head
Look'd 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,
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 heav'n, the' Eternal One!'

So innocent the maid, so free

From mortal taint in soul and frame,
Whom 'twas my crime-my destiny-

To 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 anger'd-no- -the feeling came
From depths beyond mere anger's flame-
It was a sorrow, calm as deep,

A mournfulness that could not weep,
So fill'd her heart was to the brink,
So fix'd and froz'n with grief, to think
That angel natures—that ev'n I,
Whose love she clung to, as the tie
Between her spirit and the sky-
Should fall thus headlong from the height
Of all that heav'n hath pure and bright!

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,

Thought 'twas their herald's wing returning. Oft did the potent spell-word, giv'n

To Envoys hither from the skies,

To be pronounc'd, when back to heav'n
It is their time 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 And breeze of heav'n began to play;

When my heart fail'd-the spell was brokenThe word unfinish'd died away, And my check'd plumes, ready to soar, Fell slack and lifeless as before.

How could I leave a world which she,
Or lost or won, made all to me?
No matter where my wand'rings were,

So there she look'd, breath'd, mov'd about

1 I have already mentioned that some of the circumstances of this story were suggested to me by the eastern legend of the two angels, Harut and Marut, as given by Mariti, who says that the nutnor of the Taalim founds upon it the Mahometan prohibition of wine. I have since found that Mariti's version of the tale (which

Woe, ruin, death, more sweet with her, Than Paradise itself, without!

But, to return-that very day

A feast was held, where, full of mirth,
Came-crowding thick as flow'rs that play
In summer winds-the young and gay
And beautiful of this bright earth.
And she was there, and 'mid the young
And beautiful stood first, alone;
Though on her gentle brow still hung

The shadow I that morn had thrown-
The first, that ever shame or woe
Had cast upon its vernal snow.
My heart was madden'd; - in the flush
Of the wild revel I gave way

To all that frantic mirth-that rush
Of desp'rate gaiety, which they,
Who never felt how pain's excess
Can break out thus, think happiness!
Sad 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 bane And blessing of man's heart and brainThat draught of sorcery, which brings Phantoms of fair, forbidden thingsWhose drops, like those of rainbows, smile Upon the mists that circle man, Bright'ning not only Earth, the while,

But grasping Heav'n, too, in their span!Then first the fatal wine-cup rain'd

Its dews of darkness through my lips,' Casting whate'er of light remain'd

To my lost soul into eclipse; And filling it with such wild dreamsSuch fantasies and wrong desires, As, in the absence of heav'n'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 bow'r,
Where late we oft, when day was gone,
And the world hush'd, had met alone,

At the same silent, moonlight hour.
Her eyes, as usual, were upturn'd
To her lov'd star, whose lustre burn'd
Purer than ever on that night;
While she, in looking, grew more bright,
As though she borrow'd of its light.

differs also from that of Dr. Prideaux, in his Life of Mahomet, is taken from the French Encylopédie, in which work, under the head "Arot et Marot," the reader will find it.

The Bahardanush tells the fable differently

There was a virtue in that scene,

A spell of holiness around,

Which, had my burning brain not been

Thus madden'd, would have held me bound, As though I trod celestial ground.

Ev'n as it was, with soul all flame,

And lips that burn'd in their own sighs,
I stood to gaze, with awe and shame-
The 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 prov'd
How far, alas, from aught divine,
Aught worthy of so pure a shrine,

Was the wild love with which I lov'd,
Yet must she, too, have seen-oh yes,
Tis soothing but to think she saw
The deep, true, soul-felt tenderness,
The homage of an Angel's awe
To her, a mortal, whom pure love
Then plac'd above him—far above —
And all that struggle to repress
A sinful spirit's mad excess,
Which work'd within me at that hour,

When, with a voice, where Passion shed
All the deep sadness of her pow'r,
Her melancholy power-I said,
Then be it so; if back to heaven
I must unlov'd, unpitied fly,
Without one blest memorial giv'n

To soothe me in that lonely sky;
One look, like those the young and fond
*Give when they're parting-which would be,
Ev'n in remembrance, far beyond

All heav'n 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 too purely fond to fear me'Or, if that boon be all too much,

Ev'n 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 stirr'd,
And tremble for their home on high.
Thus be our parting-cheek to check-
One minute's lapse will be forgiv'n,
'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 flow'rs beneath
The scorching of the south-wind's breath:
But when I nam'd-alas, too well,

I now recall, though wilder'd then, —

Instantly, when I nam'd 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 exclaim'd Unknowing what I did, inflam'd, And lost already, on her brow

I stamp'd one burning kiss, and nam'd The mystic word, till then ne'er told To living creature of earth's mould! Scarce was it said, when, quick as thought, Her lips from mine, like echo, caught The holy sound-her hands and eyes Were instant lifted to the skies, And thrice to heav'n she spoke it out

With that triumphant look Faith wears, When not a cloud of fear or doubt,

A vapour from this vale of tears,
Between her and her God appears!

That very moment her whole frame
All bright and glorified became,
And at her back I saw unclose
Two wings, magnificent as those

That sparkle around ALLA's Throne,
Whose plumes, as buoyantly she rose

Above me, in the moon-beam shone With a pure light, which-from its hue, Unknown upon this earth-I knew Was light from Eden, glist'ning through! Most holy vision! ne'er before

Did aught so radiant-since the day
When EBLIS, in his downfal, bore

The third of the bright stars away.
Rise, in earth's beauty, to repair
That loss of light and glory there!

But did I tamely view her flight?
Did not I, too, proclaim out thrice
The pow'rful words that were, that night,
Oh ev'n for heaven too much delight!—
Again to bring us, eyes to eyes,

And soul to soul, in Paradise?

I did I spoke it o'er and o'er

I pray'd, I wept, but all in vain;

For me the spell had pow'r no more.

There seem'd around me some dark chain

Which still, as I essay'd to soar,

Baffled, alas, each wild endeavour: Dead lay my wings, as they have lain Since that sad hour, and will remain

So wills the' offended God- for ever!

It was to yonder star I trac'd
Her journey up the' illumin'd 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?

Ev'n 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 merg'd, 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 heav'n and love both pass'd away; And I forgot my home, my birth,

Profan'd 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 ev'n those breaks of flame, Celestial, through his clouded frame

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

The' unblench'd renown it us'd 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.

Behind the veils of that blue sky,
Where ALLA's grandest 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.
"Twas RUBI - once among the prime

And flow'r of those bright creatures, nam'd Spirits of Knowledge', who o'er Time

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

Was, ev'n to theirs, as day to night;
"Twixt whom and them was distance far

And wide, as would the journey be
To reach from any island star

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 awak'd from many a year;

And when he smil'd, if o'er his face
Smile ever shone, 'twas like the grace
Of moonlight rainbows, fair but wan,
The sunny life, the glory gone.
Ev'n o'er his pride, though still the same,
A soft'ning 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,

Clos'd the sad hist'ry of his fall; And, while a sacred lustre, flown

For many a day, relum'd his checkBeautiful, as in days of old; And not those eloquent lips alone

But every feature seem'd to speak· Thus his eventful story told :

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 the' Immensity

The Kerubiim, as the Mussulmans call them, are often joined indiscriminately with the Asrafil or Seraphim, under one common

SECOND ANGEL'S STORY.

"You both remember well the day, When unto Eden's new-made bow'rs, ALLA convok'd the bright array

Of his supreme angelic pow'rs, To witness the one wonder yet, Beyond man, angel, star, or sun,

name of Azazil, by which all spirits who approach near the throne of Alla are designated.

He must achieve, ere he could set

His seal upon the world, as done

To see that last perfection rise,

That crowning of creation's birth, When, 'mid the worship and surprise Of circling angels, Woman's eyes

First open'd upon heav'n and earth; And from their lids a thrill was sent, That through each living spirit went, Like first light through the firmament!

-

Can you forget how gradual stole
The fresh-awaken'd breath of soul
Throughout her perfect form - which seem'd
To grow transparent, as there beam'd
That dawn of Mind within, and caught
New loveliness from each new thought?
Slow as o'er summer seas we trace

The progress of the noontide air,
Dimpling its bright and silent face
Each minute into some new grace,

And varying heav'n's reflections thereOr, like the light of ev'ning, stealing O'er some fair temple, which all day Hath slept in shadow, slow revealing Its several beauties, ray by ray, Tell it shines out, a thing to bless, All full of light and loveliness.

Whate'er I did, or dream'd, or felt, The thought of what might yet befall That matchless creature mix'd with all.Nor she alone, but her whole race

- whate'er

Through ages yet to come-
Of feminine, and fond, and fair,
Should spring from that pure mind and face,
All wak'd my soul's intensest care;
Their forms, souls, feelings, still to me
Creation's strangest mystery!

C'est un fait indubitable que la plupart des anciens philoshes, soit Chaldéens, soit Grees, nous ont donné les astres comme Betent soutenu que les astres, qui nous éclairent, n'étoient

le chars, ou même les navires, des Intelligences qui les conCent Pour les Chars, cela se lit partout; on n'a qu'ouvrir Pline, St. Clement," &c. &c.- Mémoire Historique, sur le Sabiisme,

par M. Fot RMONT.

A belief that the stars are either spirits or the vehicles of spirits, The common to all the religions and heresies of the East. Kircher

It was my doom-ev'n from the first,
When witnessing the primal burst
Of Nature's wonders, I saw rise
Those bright creations in the skies,-
Those worlds instinct with life and light,
Which man, remote, but sees by night,-
It was my doom still to be haunted

By some new wonder, some sublime
And matchless work, that, for the time
Held all my soul, enchain'd, enchanted,
And left me not a thought, a dream,
A word, but on that only theme!

Oh what a vision were the stars,
When first I saw them burn on high,
Rolling along, like living cars

Of light, for gods to journey by!!
They were my heart's first passion-days
And nights, unwearied, in their rays
Have I hung floating, till each sense
Seem'd full of their bright influence.
Innocent joy! alas, how much

Of misery had I shunn'd below,
Could I have still liv'd blest with such;

Nor, proud and restless, burn'd to know The knowledge that brings guilt and woe. Often so much I lov'd to trace

The secrets of this starry race-
Have I at morn and evening run
Along the lines of radiance spun
Like webs, between them and the sun,
Untwisting all the tangled ties
Of light into their different dyes-
Then fleetly wing'd I off, in quest
Of those, the farthest, loneliest,
That watch, like winking sentinels,2
The void, beyond which Chaos dwells;
And there, with noiseless plume, pursued
Their track through that grand solitude,

has given the names and stations of the seven archangels, who were by the Cabala of the Jews distributed through the planets.

2 According to the cosmogony of the ancient Persians, there were four stars set as sentinels in the four quarters of the heavens, to watch over the other fixed stars, and superintend the planets in their course. The names of these four sentinel stars are, according to the Boundesh, Taschter, for the east; Satevis, for the west; Venand, for the south; and Haftorang, for the north.

Asking intently all and each

What soul within their radiance dwelt, And wishing their sweet light were speech, That they might tell me all they felt.

Nay, oft, so passionate my chase
Of these resplendent heirs of space,
Oft did I follow-lest a ray

Should 'scape me in the farthest nightSome pilgrim Comet, on his way

To visit distant shrines of light, And well remember how I sung

Exultingly, when on my sight

New worlds of stars, all fresh and young, As if just born of darkness, sprung!

Such was my pure ambition then,

My sinless transport, night and morn,
Ere yet this newer world of men,

And that most fair of stars was born
Which I, in fatal hour, saw rise
Among the flow'rs of Paradise!
Thenceforth my nature all was chang'd,

My heart, soul, senses turn'd below;
And he, who but so lately rang'd

Yon wonderful expanse, where glow
Worlds upon worlds,-yet found his mind
Ev'n in that luminous range confin'd,-
Now blest the humblest, meanest sod
Of the dark earth where Woman trod!
In vain my former idols glisten'd

From their far thrones; in vain these ears
To the once-thrilling music listen'd,

That hymn'd around my favourite spheresTo earth, to earth each thought was giv'n,

That in this half-lost soul had birth;

Like some high mount, whose head's in heav'n, While its whole shadow rests on earth!

Nor was it Love, ev'n yet, that thrall'd
My spirit in his burning ties;
And less, still less could it be call'd
That grosser flame, round which Love flies
Nearer and nearer, till he dies—
No, it was wonder, such as thrill'd

At all God's works my dazzled sense;
The same rapt wonder, only fill'd

With passion, more profound, intense,-
A vehement, but wand'ring fire,
Which, though nor love, nor yet desire,-
Though through all womankind it took
Its range, as lawless lightnings run,
Yet wanted but a touch, a look,
To fix it burning upon One.

Then, too, the ever-restless zeal,

The' insatiate curiosity

To know how shapes, so fair, must feelTo look, but once, beneath the seal

Of so much loveliness, and see What souls belong'd to such bright eyes. Whether, as sun-beams find their way Into the gem that hidden lies,

Those looks could inward turn their ray, And make the soul as bright as they : All this impell'd my anxious chase,

And still the more I saw and knew
Of Woman's fond, weak, conqu'ring race,
The' intenser still my wonder grew.

I had beheld their First, their EVE,
Born in that splendid Paradise,
Which sprung there solely to receive
The first light of her waking eyes.
I had seen purest angels lean
In worship o'er her from above;
And man-oh yes, had envying seen
Proud man possess'd of all her love.

I saw their happiness, so brief,
So exquisite, her error, too,
That easy trust, that prompt belief

In what the warm heart wishes true;
That faith in words, when kindly said,
By which the whole fond sex is led —
Mingled with-what I durst not blame,

For 'tis my own— that zeal to know, Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe; Which, though from heav'n all pure it came, Yet stain'd, misus'd, brought sin and shame On her, on me, on all below!

I had seen this; had seen Man, arm'd,
As his soul is, with strength and sense,
By her first words to ruin charm'd ;

His vaunted reason's cold defence,
Like an ice-barrier in the ray
Of melting summer, smil'd away.
Nay, stranger yet, spite of all this —

Though by her counsels taught to err,
Though driv'n from Paradise for her,
(And with her that, at least, was bliss,)
Had I not heard him, ere he crost

The threshold of that earthly heav'n, Which by her wildering smile he lost

So quickly was the wrong forgiv'n!— Had I not heard him, as he prest The frail, fond trembler to a breast Which she had doom'd to sin and strife, Call her-ev'n then-his Life! his Life!' Yes, such the love-taught name, the first, That ruin'd Man to Woman gave, Ev'n in his outcast hour, when curst By her fond witchery, with that worst And earliest boon of love, the grave!

1 Chavah, or, as it is in Arabic, Havah (the name by which Adam called the woman after their transgression), means “Life.