As ne'er till then, had let their light Escape on any mortal's sight!

In the deep earth-beneath the sea-
Through caves of fire-through wilds of air-
Wherever sleeping Mystery

Had spread her curtain, we were there-
Love still beside us, as we went,
At home in each new element,

And sure of worship every where !

Then first was Nature taught to lay

The wealth of all her kingdoms down At woman's worshipp'd feet, and say,

"Bright creature, this is all thine own!" Then first were diamonds caught-like eyes Shining in darkness-by surprise,

And made to light the conquering way
Of proud young Beauty with their ray.
Then, too, the pearl from out its shell,
Unsightly in the sunless sea
(As 't were a spirit forced to dwell

In form unlovely,) was set free,
And round the neck of woman threw
A light it lent and borrow'd too.
For never did this maid-whate'er

The ambition of the hour-forget
Her sex's pride in being fair,
Nor that adornment, tasteful, rare,

Which makes the mighty magnet, set
In Woman's form, more mighty yet.
Nor was there aught within the range
Of my swift wing in sea or air,
Of beautiful, or grand, or strange,
That, quickly as her wish could change,
I did not seek with such fond care,
That when I've seen her look above
At some bright star admiringly,

I've said, "nay, look not there, my love,
Alas, I cannot give it thee!"

But not alone the wonders found

Through Nature realm-the unveil'd, material, Visible glories that hang round,

Like lights, through her enchanted ground-
But whatsoe'er unseen, ethereal,
Dwells far away from human sense,
Wrapp'd in its own intelligence-
The mystery of that Fountain-head,
From which all vital spirit runs,
All breath of life where'er 't is shed,
Through men or angels, flowers or suns-
The workings of the Almighty Mind,
When first o'er Chaos he design'd
The outlines of this world; and through
That spread of darkness-like the bow,
Call'd out of rain-clouds, hue by hue-

Saw the grand gradual picture grow!-
The covenant with human kind

Which God has made-the chains of Fate
He round himself and them hath twined,
Till his high task he consummate-
Till good from evil, love from hate,
Shall be work'd out through sin and pain,
And Fate shall loose her iron chain,
And all be free, be bright again!

Such were the deep-drawn mysteries,

And some, perhaps, even more profound, More wildering to the mind than these, Which far as woman's thought could sound, Or a fallen outlaw'd spirit reachShe dared to learn, and I to teach. Till-fill'd with such unearthly lore,

And mingling the pure light it brings
With much that Fancy had, before,

Shed in false tinted glimmerings-
The enthusiast girl spoke out, as one,
Inspired, among her own dark race,
Who from their altars, in the sun
Left standing half adorn'd, would run
To gaze upon her holier face.

And, though but wild the things she spoke,
Yet 'mid that play of error's smoke

Into fair shapes by fancy curl'd,
Some gleams of pure religion broke-
Glimpses that have not yet awoke,

But startled the still dreaming world!
Oh! many a truth, remote, sublime,
Which God would from the minds of men
Have kept conceal'd, till his own time,

Stole out in these revealments then-
Revealments dim, that have fore-run,
By ages, the bright, Saving One!!
Like that imperfect dawn, or light

Escaping from the Zodiac's signs,
Which makes the doubtful East half bright
Before the real morning shines!

Thus did some moons of bliss go by-
Of bliss to her, who saw but love
And knowledge throughout earth and sky;
To whose enamour'd soul and eye,
I seem'd, as is the sun on high,

The light of all below, above,
The spirit of sea, land, and air,
Whose influence, felt every where,
Spread from its centre, her own heart,
Even to the world's extremest part-
While through that world her reinless mind

Had now career'd so fast and far, That earth itself seem'd left behind, And her proud fancy unconfined,

Already saw heaven's gates a-jar!

Happy enthusiast! still, oh still,
Spite of my own heart's mortal chill,
Spite of that double-fronted sorrow,
Which looks at once before and back,
Beholds the yesterday, the morrow,

And sees both comfortless, both black-
Spite of all this, I could have still
In her delight forgot all ill;
Or, if pain would not be forgot,
At least have borne and murmur'd not.
When thoughts of an offended Heaven,
Of sinfulness, which I even I,

1 It is the opinion of some of the Fathers, that the know ledge which the heathens possessed of the Providence of God, a future state, and other sublime doctrines of Christianity, was derived from the premature revelations of these fallen angels to the women of earth.-See Note

While down its steep most headlong driven,—
Well knew could never be forgiven,

Came o'er me with an agony
Beyond all reach of mortal woe,-
A torture kept for those who know,
Know every thing, and, worst of all,
Know and love virtue while they fall!—
Even then her presence had the power

To sooth, to warm,-nay, even to blessIf ever bliss could graft its flower

On stem so full of bitternessEven then her glorious smile to me

Brought warmth and radiance, if not balm, Like moonlight on a troubled sea,

Brightening the storm it cannot calm. Oft, too, when that disheartening fear, Which all who love beneath the sky Feel, when they gaze on what is dear

The dreadful thought that it must die!
That desolating thought, which comes
Into men's happiest hours and homes
Whose melancholy boding flings
Death's shadow o'er the brightest things,
Sicklies the infant's bloom, and spreads
The grave beneath young lovers' heads!
This fear, so sad to all-to me

Most full of sadness, from the thought
That I must still live on, when she
Would, like the snow that on the sea
Fell yesterday, in vain be sought-
That Heaven to me the final seal

Of all earth's sorrow would deny, And eternally must feel

The death-pang, without power to die!
Even this, her fond endearments-fond
As ever twisted the sweet bond

"Twixt heart and heart-could charm away:
Before her look no clouds would stay,
Or, if they did, their gloom was gone,
Their darkness put a glory on!
There seem'd a freshness in her breath,
Beyond the reach, the power of death!
And then, her voice-oh, who could doubt
That 't would for ever thus breathe out
A music, like the harmony
Of the tuned orbs, too sweet to die!
While in her lip's awakening touch
There thrill'd a life ambrosial-such
As mantles in the fruit steep'd through
With Eden's most delicious dew-
Till I could almost think, though known
And loved as human, they had grown
By bliss, celestial as my own!

But 't is not, 't is not for the wrong,

The guilty, to be happy long;

And she, too, now, had sunk within
The shadow of a tempter's sin-
Shadow of death, whose withering frown
Kills whatsoe'er it lights upon-
Too deep for even her soul to shun
The desolation it brings down!
Listen, and if a tear there be
Left in your hearts, weep it for me

"T was on the evening of a day,
Which we in love had dream'd away;

In that same garden, where, beneath
The silent earth, stripp'd of my wreath,
And furling up those wings, whose light
For mortal gaze were else too bright,
I first had stood before her sight;
And found myself-oh, ecstasy,

Which even in pain I ne'er forget-
Worshipp'd as only God should be,

And loved as never man was yet! In that same garden we were now,

Thoughtfully side by side reclining, Her eyes turn'd upward, and her brow With its own silent fancies shining. It was an evening bright and still

As ever blush'd on wave or bower,
Smiling from Heaven, as if nought ill
Could happen in so sweet an hour.
Yet, I remember, both grew sad

In looking at that light-even she,
Of heart so fresh, and brow so glad,
Felt the mute hour's solemnity,
And thought she saw, in that repose,
The death-hour not alone of light,
But of this whole fair world-the close
Of all things beautiful and bright-
The last grand sun-set, in whose ray
Nature herself died calm away!

At length, as if some thought, awaking
Suddenly, sprung within her breast-
Like a young bird, when day-light breaking
Startles him from his dreamy nest-
She turn'd upon me her dark eyes,

Dilated into that full shape
They took in joy, reproach, surprise,
As if to let more soul escape,
And, playfully as on my head
Her white hand rested, smiled and said:

"I had, last night, a dream of thee,

Resembling those divine ones, given,
Like preludes to sweet minstrelsy,
Before thou camest, thyself, from heaven.

The same rich wreath was on thy brow,
Dazzling as if of star-light made;

And these wings, lying darkly now,

Like meteors round thee flash'd and play'd.

All bright as in those happy dreams

Thou stood'st, a creature to adore
No less than love, breathing out beams,
As flowers do fragrance, at each pore!

Sudden I felt thee draw me near

To thy pure heart, where, fondly placed, I seem'd within the atmosphere

Of that exhaling light embraced;

And, as thou held'st me there, the flame
Pass'd from thy heavenly soul to mine,
Till-oh, too blissful-I became,

Like thee, all spirit, all divine.

Say, why did dream so bright come o'er me,
If, now I wake, 't is faded, gone?
When will my Cherub shine before me

Thus radiant, as in heaven he shone !

"When shall I, waking, be allow'd

To gaze upon those perfect charms, And hold thee thus, without a cloud,

A chill of earth, within my arms?

"Oh what a pride to say-this, this Is my own Angel-all divine, And and dazzling as he is,

pure,

And fresh from heaven, he's mine, he's mine!

"Think'st thou, were LILIS in thy place,

A creature of yon lofty skies,
She would have hid one single grace,

One glory from her lover's eyes?

"No, no-then, if thou lov'st like me, Shine out, young Spirit, in the blaze Of thy most proud divinity,

Nor think thou'lt wound this mortal gaze.

"Too long have I look'd doating on

Those ardent eyes, intense even thusToo near the stars themselves have gone, To fear aught grand or luminous.

"Then doubt me not-oh, who can say

But that this dream may yet come true,

And my blest spirit drink thy ray

Till it becomes all heavenly too?

"Let me this once but feel the flame
Of those spread wings, the very pride
Will change my nature, and this frame
By the mere touch be deified!"

Thus spoke the maid, as one, not used
To be by man or God refused-
As one, who felt her influence o'er

All creatures, whatsoe'er they were,
And, though to heaven she could not soar,
At least would bring down heaven to her!

Little did she, alas, or I

Even I, whose soul, but half-way yet
Immerged in sin's obscurity,
Was as the planet where we lie,

O'er half whose disk the sun is set-
Little did we foresee the fate,

The dreadful-how can it be told? Oh God! such anguish to relate

Is o'er again to feel, behold!

But, charged as is, my heart must speak
Its sorrow out, or it will break!

Some dark misgivings had, I own,

Pass'd for a moment through my breast-
Fears of some danger, vague, unknown,
To one, or both-something unbless'd
To happen from this proud request.
But soon these boding fancies fled;
Nor saw I ought that could forbid
My full revealment, save the dread
Of that first dazzle, that unhid
And bursting glory on a lid
Untried 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 my rich 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 his lair, ready to spring,

Yet waked him not-though from my wing
A thousand sparks fell glittering!

Oft too when round me from above

The feather'd snow (which, for its whiteness, In my pure days I used to love)

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 fallen there!
Nay even with LILIS-had I not
Around her sleep in splendour come-
Hung o'er each beauty, nor forgot

To print my radiant lips on some?
And yet, at morn, from that repose,

Had she not waked, unscathed and bright, As doth the pure, unconscious rose,

Though by the fire-fly kiss'd all night?
Even when the rays I scatter'd stole
Intensest to her dreaming soul,

No thrill disturb'd the insensate frame-
So subtle, so refined that flame,
Which, rapidly as lightnings melt

The blade within the unharm'd sheath,
Can, by the outward form unfelt,
Reach and dissolve the soul beneath!

Thus having (as, alas, deceived
By my sin's blindness, I believed)

No cause for dread, and those black eyes
There fix'd upon me, eagerly

As if the unlocking of the skies

Then waited but a sign from me-How was I to refuse? how say

One word that in her heart could stir
A fear, a doubt, but that each ray

I brought from heaven belong'd to her?
Slow from her side I rose, while she
Stood up, too, mutely, tremblingly,
But not with fear-all hope, desire,

She waited for the awful boon,
Like priestesses, with eyes of fire

Watching the rise of the full moon, Whose beams--they know, yet cannot shunWill madden them when look'd upon! Of all my glories, the bright crown, Which, when I last from heaven came down,

I left-see, where those clouds afar

Sail through the west-there hangs it yet, Shining remote, more like a star

Than a fallen angel's coronet

Of all my glories, this alone

Was wanting-but the illumined brow,
The curls, like tendrils that had grown
Out of the sun-the eyes, that now
Had love's light added to their own,
And shed a blaze, before unknown

Even to themselves-the unfolded wings,
From which, as from two radiant springs,
Sparkles fell fast around, like spray-
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,
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 God! 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!
Those cheeks, 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 arms, within whose gentle 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,
Loosed not in death the fatal bond,

But, burning, held me to the last-
That hair, from under whose dark veil,
The snowy neck, like a white sail
At moonlight seen 'twixt wave and wave,
Shone out by gleams-that hair, to save
But one of whose long glossy wreaths,
I could have died ten thousand deaths!-
All, all, that seem'd, one minute since,
So full of love's own redolence,
Now, parch'd and black, before me lay,
Withering in agony away;

And mine, oh misery! mine the flame,
From which this desolation came-
And I the fiend, whose foul caress

Had blasted all that loveliness!

"T was madd'ning, 't was-but 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,

"T were not so dreadful-but, come near-
Too shocking 't is for earth to hear-
Just when her eyes, in fading, took

Their last, keen, agonized farewell,

And look'd in mine with-oh, that look!
Avenging Power, whate'er the hell
Thou may'st to human souls assign,
The memory of that look is mine!-
In her last struggle, on my brow
Her ashy lips a kiss impress'd,
So withering!-I feel it now-

'T was fire-but fire, even more unbless'd
Than was my own, and like that flame,
The angels shudder but to name,
Hell's everlasting element !

Deep, deep it pierc'd into my brain, Madd'ning and torturing as it went,

And here-see here, the mark, the stain It left upon my front-burnt in By that last kiss of love and sinA brand, which even the wreathed pride Of these bright curls, still forced aside By its foul contact, cannot hide!

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 God! it is not so-

Never could lips divine have said
The fiat of a fate so dread.

And yet, that look-that look, so 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 recal, 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 down on the best,
The wisest and the loveliest.—
Oh, who is to be saved, if such

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

Their very wanderings lean tow'rds heaven! Again I cry, Just God, 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 paused, and to the earth bent down
His throbbing head; while they, who felt
That agony as 't were their own,

Those angel youths, beside him knelt,
And, in the night's still silence there,
While mournfully each wandering 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,
Like that of ring-dove o'er her brood-
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 Unfledged 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 quit 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 :

"Come, pray with me, my seraph love,
My angel-lord, come pray with me;
In vain to-night my lip hath strove
To send one holy prayer above-
The knee may bend, the lip may move,
But pray I cannot without thee!

"I've fed the altar in my bower

With droppings from the incense-tree; I've shelter'd it from wind and shower, But dim it burns the livelong hour,

As if, like me, it had no power

Of life, or lustre, without thee!

"A boat at midnight sent alone
To drift upon the moonless sea,
A lute, whose leading chord is gone,
A wounded bird, that hath but one
Imperfect wing to soar upon,

Are like what I am without thee! "Then ne'er, my spirit-love, divide, In life or death, thyself from me;

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 ceased, when from the wood-
Where curving down that airy height,
It reach'd the spot on which they stood-
There suddenly shone out a light
From a clear lamp, which, as it blazed
Across the brow of one who raised
The flame aloft (as if to throw
Its 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. "T was 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,
"Look, look, how beautiful!"—'t is 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!

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 fallen 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 't is graved Upon the tablets that, of old,

By Cham were from the deluge saved, All written over with sublime

And saddening 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 round the Almighty Throne abide-
Circles of light, that from the same
Eternal centre sweeping wide,
Carry its beams on every side
(Like spheres of air that waft around
The undulations of rich sound,)