And whose soul lost, in that one hour,

For her and for her love-oh more Of Heaven's light than even the power

Of Heaven itself could now restore !

For light was in this soul, which now

Thy looks have into passion nursed. “There 's nothing bright above, below,

In sky-earth-ocean, that this breast Doth not intensely Jurn to know,

And thee, thee, thee, o'er all the rest ! “ Then come, oh Spirit, from behind

The curtains of thy radiant home, Whether thou wouldst as God be shrined,

Or loved and class'd as mortal, come! “Bring all thy dazzling wonders here,

That I may waking know and seeOr waft me hence to thy own sphere,

Thy heaven or—ay, even that with thee! “Demon or God, who hold'st the book

Of knowledge spread beneath thine eye, Give me, with thee, but one bright look

Into its leaves, and let me die ! “ By those ethereal wings, whose way

Lies through an element, so fraught With floating Mind, that, as they play,

Their every movement is a thought! “By that most precious hair, between

Whose golden clusters the sweet wind Of Paradise so late hath been,

And left its fragrant soul behind !

And yet the hour !

The Spirit here Stopped in his utterance, as if words Gave way beneath the wild career

Of his then rushing thoughts—like chords, Midway in some enthusiast's song, Breaking beneath a touch too strong. While the clench'd hand upon the brow Told how remembrance throbb’d there now ! But soon 't was o'er—that casual blaze From the sunk fire of other days, That relic of the flame, whose burning

Had been too fierce to be relumed, Soon pass'd away, and the youth, turning

To his bright listeners, thus resumed :

“By those impassion'd eyes, that melt

Their light into the inmost heart, Like sunset in the waters, felt

As molten fire through every part, “I do implore thee, oh most bright

And worshipp'd Spirit, shine but o'er My waking wondering eyes this night,

This one bless'd night-I ask no more!

Days, months elapsed, and, though what most

On earth I sigh'd for was mine, all,
Yet-was I happy? God, thou know'st
Howe'er they smile, and feign, and boast,

What happiness is theirs, who fall !
'T was bitterest anguish—made more keen

Even by the love, the bliss, between Whose throbs it came, like gleams of hell

In agonizing cross-light given Athwart the glimpses they who dwell

In purgatory catch of heaven! The only feeling that to me

Seem'd joy, or rather my sole rest From aching misery, was to see

My young, proud, blooming Lilis bless'd She, the fair fountain of all ill

To my lost soul-whom yet its thirst
Fervidly panted after still,

And found the charm fresh as at first !-
To see her happy—to reflect

Whatever beams still round me play'd Of former pride, of glory wreck'd,

On her, my Moon, whose light I made,

And whose soul worshipp'd even my shade-This was, I own, enjoyment—this My sole, last lingering glimpse of bliss. And proud she was, bright creature !-proud,

Beyond what even most queenly stirs
In woman's heart, nor would have bow'd

That beautiful young brow of hers
To aught beneath the First above,
So high she deem'd her Cherub's love!

Exhausted, breathless, as she said
These burning words, her languid head
Upon the altar's steps she cast,
As if that brain-throb were its last-
Till, startled by the breathing, nigh,
Of lips, that echoed back her sigh,
Sudden her brow again she raised,

And there, just lighted on the shrine,
Beheld me—not as I had blazed

Around her, full of light divine,
In her late dreams, but soften'd down
Into more mortal grace-my crown
Of flowers, too radiant for this world,

Left hanging on yon starry steep ;
My wings shut up, like banners furl'd,
When Peace hath put their pomp to sleep;

Or like autumnal clouds, that keep Their lightnings sheathed, rather than mar The dawning hour of some young starAnd nothing left but what beseem'd

The accessible, though glorious mate Of mortal woman—whose eyes beam'd

Back upon her's, as passionate : Whose ready heart brought flame for flame,

Whose sin, whose madness was the same,

Then, too, that passion, hourly growing

Stronger and stronger-to which even Her love, at times, gave way—of knowing

Every thing strange in earth and heaven;
Not only what God loves to show,
But all that He hath seal'd below
In darkness for man not to know-
Even this desire, alas, ill-starr'd

And fatal as it was, I sought
To feed each minute, and unbarr'd

Such realms of wonder on her thought,

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 brightThe last grand sun-set, in whose ray Nature herself died calm away!

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 bless If 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. Of, 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 soughtThat Heaven to me the final seal

Of all earth's sorrow would deny, And I 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 dewTill 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 sinShadow 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;

At length, as if some thought, awaking

Suddenly, sprung within her breastLike 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 ?

And pure,

“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 dazzling as he is, 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 't is, my heart must speak
Its sorrow out, or 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 coronetOf 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!

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!

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 dweltWas 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!

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 beTo save one minute's pain to her,

Let mine last all eternity!

'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,

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