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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!

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 goneGone, 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 abideCircles 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)

“Then ne'er, my spirit-love, divide,

In life or death, thyself from me;

Till the far-circling radiance be
Diffused into infinity!
First and immediate near the Throne,
As if peculiarly God's own,
The Seraphs' stand- -this burning sign
Traced on their banner, “Love Divine !"
Their rank, their honours, far above

Even to those high-brow'd Cherubs given, Though knowing all-so much doth Love

Transcend all knowledge, even in heaven! '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!

’T was first at twilight, on the shore

Of the smooth sea, he heard the lute And voice of her he loved 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 smiled,

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 day-light's dying ray,
Thought 't was a voice from out the wave,
An echo that some spirit gave
To Eden's distant harmony,
Heard faint and sweet beneath the sea !

Often, when from the Almighty brow

A lustre came too bright to bear, And all the seraph ranks would bow

Their heads beneath their wings, nor dare

To look upon the effulgence thereThis 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,

The 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 every buoyant tone,

Such love as only could belong
To the blest angels, and alone

Could, even from angels, bring such song! Alas, that it should e'er have been

The same in heaven as it is here, Where nothing fond or bright is seen,

But it hath pain and peril near Where right and wrong so close resemble,

That what we take for yirtue's thrill Is often the first downward tremble

Of the heart's balance into ill-
Where Love hath not a shrine so pure,

So holy, but the serpent, Sin,
In moments even the most secure,

Beneath his altar may glide in!
So was it with that Angel—such

The charm that sloped his fall along
From good to ill, from loving much,

Too easy lapse, to loving wrong.-
Even so that amorous Spirit, bound
By beauty's spell, where'er 't was found,
From the bright things above the moon,

Down to earth's beaming eyes descended, Till love for the Creator soon

In passion for the creature ended!

Quickly, however, to its source,
Tracking 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 tribute 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 raised, like one beatified,
Those eyes, whose light seem'd rather given

To be adored than to adoreSuch eyes as may have look'd from heaven,

But ne'er were raised to it before !

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1 The Seraphim are the Spirits of Divine Love.-See Note.

The language of their native sphere, Which they had else forgotten here.

How then could Zaraph fail to feel

That moment's witcheries ?-one so fair Breathing out music that might steal

Heaven from itself, and rapt in prayer

That seraphs might be proud to share ! Oh, he did feel it-far too well

With warmth that much too dearly costNor knew he, when at last he fell, To which attraction, to which spell, Love, Music, or Devotion, most

His soul in that sweet hour was lost.

Sweet was the hour, though dearly won,

And pure, as aught of earth could be, For then first did the glorious sun

Before Religion's altar see
Two hearts in wedlock's golden tie
Self-pledged, in love to live and die-
Then first did woman's virgin brow

That hymeneal chaplet wear,
Which, when it dies, no second vow

Can bid a new one bloom out thereBless'd union ! by that angel wove,

And worthy from such hands to come; Safe, sole asylum, in which Love, When fallen or exiled from above,

In this dark world can find a home.

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 lore-
This Faith, more sure than aught beside,
Was the sole joy, ambition, pride,
Of her fond heart—the unreasoning scope

Of all its views, above, below-
So 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,'
Shaken to earth, yet keeping all
Their light and freshness in the fall.
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.

And, though the Spirit had transgressid,
Had, from his station 'mong the bless’d,
Won down by woman's smile, allow'd

Terrestrial passion to breathe o'er
The mirror of his heart, and cloud

God's image, there so bright beforeYet never did that God look down

On error with a brow so mild; Never did justice launch a frown

That, ere it fell, so nearly smiled. For gentle was their love, with awe

And trembling like a treasure kept,
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 bless'a ?
Still less could maid so meek have nursed
Desire of knowledge--that vain thirst,
With which the sex hath all been cursed,
From luckless Eve to her who near
The Tabernacle stole, to hear
The secrets of the Angels-no-

To love as her own seraph loved,
With Faith, the same through bliss and woe-

Faith that, were even its light removed,

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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, changed as chymic compounds are,
Each with its own existence parts,

To find a new one, happier far!
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 !

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 't were 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,
In heaven's reflection, not their own
Should we e'er meet with aught so pure,
So perfect here, we may be sure

There is but one such pair below;
And, as we bless them on their way
Through the world's wilderness, may say,

“There Zaraph and his Nama go.'

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,

1

NOTES.

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PREFACE, p. 295, line 21.

Fathers (and their opinion has been followed by all

the theologians, down from St. Thomas to Caryl and An erroneous translation by the LXX. of that verse in the Lightfoot,“) the term “Sons of God," must be undervixth chapter of Genesis, etc.

stood to mean the descendants of Seth, by Enos--a The error of these interpreters (and, it is said, of family peculiarly favoured by Heaven, because with the old Italic version also) was in making it oi Ayye- them men first began to “call upon the name of the dou tou Jsov, “the Angels of God," instead of “the LORD"--while, by “the daughters of men,” they Sons”—a mistake which, assisted by the allegorising suppose that the corrupt race of Cain is designated. comments of Philo, and the rhapsodical fictions of The probability, however, is, that the words in ques. the Book of Enoch,' was more than sufficient to af- tion ought to have been translated “the sons of the fect the imaginations of such half-Pagan writers as nobles or great men,” as we find them interpreted in Clemens Alexandrinus, Tertullian, and Lactantius, the Targum of Onkelos (the most ancient and accuwho, chiefly, among the Fathers, have indulged rate of all the Chaldaic paraphrases,) and as, it apthemselves in fanciful reveries upon the subject. The pears from Cyril, the version of Symmachus also greater number, however, have rejected the fiction rendered them. This translation of the passage rewith indignation. Chrysostom, in his twenty-second moves all difficulty, and at once relieves the Sacred Homily upon Genesis, earnestly exposes its absurd- History of an extravagance, which, however it may ity;? and Cyril accounts such a supposition as eyyus suit the imagination of the poet, is inconsistent with uwplas, “ bordering on folly." According to these all our notions, both philosophical and religious.

1 It is lamentable to think that this absurd production, of of heresies, classes this story of the Angels among the numwhich we now know the whole from Dr. Laurence's trans-ber, and says it deserves only to be ranked with those ficlation, should ever have been considered as an inspired or tions about gods and goddesses, to which the fancy of the authentic work. See the Preliminary Dissertation, prefixed Pagan poets gave birth :-"Sicuti et Paganorum et Poetato the Translation.

rum mendacia asserunt deos deasque transformatos nefanda 2 One of the arguments of Chrysostom is, that Angels are conjugia commisisse.”—De Hæres. Edit. Basil. p. 101. no where else, in the Old Testament, called “Sons of God,”- 4 Lightfoot says, “ The sons of God, or the members of but his commentator, Montfaucon, shows that he is mis- the Church, and the progeny of Seth, marrying carelessly taken, and that in the Book of Job they are so designated, and promiscuously with the daughters of men, or brood of (c. i. v. 6.) both in the original Hebrew and the Vulgate, Cain," etc. I find in Pole that, according to the Samaritan though not in the Septuagint, which alone, he says, Chry- version, the phrase may be understood as meaning "the sostom read.

Sons of the Judges.”-Šo variously may the Hebrew word, 3 Lib. ii. Glaphyrorum.-Philæstrius, in his enumeration Elohim, be interpreted.

G

66

a brook.

Page 295, line 81.

the agency of these spiritual creatures, The quesTransmit each moment, night and day,

tions “de Cognitione Angelorum” of St. Thomas, The echo of His luminous word !

where he examines most prolixly into such puzzling Dionysius (De Cælest. Hierarch.) is of opinion, points as “ whether angels illuminate each other," that when Isaiah represents the Seraphim as crying whether they speak to each other,” etc. etc. The out “one unto the other,” his intention is to describe Thesaurus of Cocceius, containing extracts from those communications of the divine thought and will

, almost every theologian that has written on the subwhich are continually passing from the higher orders ject—The 9th, 10th, and 11th chapters, sixth book, of the angels to the lower :-ola kai avtoustous Icora- of l'Histoire des Juifs,” where all the extraordinary τους Σεραφίμ οι θεολογοι φασιν έτερον προς τον έτερον κε

reveries of the Rabbins' about angels and demons κραγεναι, σαφως εν τουτω, καθαπερ οιμαι, δηλουντες, οτι | are enumerated-The Questions attributed to St. των θεολογικων γνωσεων οι πρωτοι τοις δευτεροις μετα

Athanasius—The Treatise of Bonaventure upon the Sidoagi.-See also in the Paraphrase of Pachymer folio of Suarez de Angelis," where the reader will

Wings of the Seraphim?--and, lastly, the ponderous upon Dionysius, cap. 2. rather a striking passage, in which he represents all living creatures as being, find all that has ever been fancied or reasoned, upon in a stronger or fainter degree, " echoes of God.”' a subject which only such writers could have con

trived to render so dull.
Page 296, line 19.

Page 297, line 89.
One of earth's fairest womankind,
Half veil'd from view, or rather shrined

Then first the fatal wine-cup rain'd, etc.
In the clear chrystal

Some of the circumstances of this story were sug. This is given upon the authority, or rather accord- gested to me by the Eastern legend of the two angels, ing to the fancy, of some of the Fathers, who sup- Harut and Marut, as it is given by Mariti, who says, pose that the women of earth were first seen by the that the author of the Taalim founds upon it the Maangels in this situation; and St. Basil has even made hometan prohibition of wine. The Bahardanush tells it the serious foundation of rather a rigorous rule the story differently. for the toilet of his fair disciples ; adding, ikavov yap

Page 297, line 105. εστι παραγυμνουμενον καλλος και υιους θεου προς ηδονην γοητευσαι, και ως ανθρωπους δια ταυτην αποθνησκον

Why, why have hapless angels eyes ? tas, Ivrtovs atodešai.—De Vera Virginitat. tom. i. p.

Tertullian imagines that the words of St. Paul, 747. edit. Paris. 1618.

"Woman ought to have a veil on her head, on ac

count of the angels,” have an evident reference to the Page 296, line 115.

fatal effects which the beauty of women once proThe Spirit of yon beauteous star.

duced upon these spiritual beings. See the strange It is the opinion of Kircher, Ricciolus, etc. (and passage of this Father (de Virgin. Velandis,) beginwas, I believe, to a certain degree, that of Origen) that ning “Si enim propter angelos,” etc. etc. where his the stars are moved and directed by intelligences or

editor Pamelius endeavours to save his morality, at angels who preside over them. Among other pas- " excussat” for “ excusat.

the expense of his latinity, by substituting the word

Such instances of indesages from Scripture in support of this notion, they cite those words of the Book of Job, “When the corum, however, are but too common throughout the morning stars sang together.”—Upon which Kircher Fathers, in proof of which I need only refer to some remarks, “ Non de materialibus intelligitur.” Itin. 1. passages in the same writer's treatise, “ De Anima," – Isagog. Astronom. See also Caryl's most wordy to the Second and Third Books of the Pædagogus of Commentary on the same text.

Clemens Alexandrinus, and to the instances which

La Mothe le Vayer has adduced from Chrysostom in Page 297, line 33.

his Hexameron Rustique, Journée Seconde. And the bright Watchers near the throne.

1 The following may serve as specimens "Les anges “The Watchers, the offspring of Heaven.”—Book ne savent point la langue Chaldaique: c'est pourquoi ils ne of Enoch. In Daniel also the angels are called portent point à Dieu les oraisons de ceux qui prient dans cette watchers :-“And behold, a watcher and an holy one euses; car l'Ange de la mort, qui est chargé de faire mourir

langue. Ils se trompent souvent; ils font des erreurs dangercame down from heaven." iv, 13.

un homme, en prend quelquefois un autre, ce qui cause de grands désordres.

Ils sont chargés de chanPage 297, line 81

ter devant Dieu le cantique, Saint, Saint est le Dieu des

armées ; mais ils ne remplissent cet office qu'une fois le Then, too, that juice of earth, etc. etc.

jour, dans une semaine, dans un mois, dans un an, dans un

siècle, ou dans l'éternité. L'Ange qui luttoit contre Jacob For all that relates to the nature and attributes of le pressa de le laisser aller, lorsque l'Aurore parut, parce angels, the time of their creation, the extent of their que c'étoit son tour de chanter le cantique ce jour-là, ce knowledge, and the power which they possess, or qu'il n'avoit encore jamais fait."

2 This work (which, notwithstanding its title, is, probacan occasionally assume, of performing such human bly, quite as dull as the rest) I have not, myself, been able functions as eating, drinking, etc. etc. I shall refer to see, having searched for it'in vain through the King's Lithose who are inquisitive upon the subject to the fol- brary at Paris, though assisted by the zeal and kindness of

M. Langles and M. Vonpradt, whose liberal administration lowing works :--The Treatise upon the Celestial of that most liberal establishment, entitles them-not only Hierarchy written under the name of Dionysius the for the immediate effect of such conduct, but for the useful Areopagite, in which, among much that is heavy and and civilizing example it holds forth—to the most cordial

gratitude of the whole literary world. trifling, there are some sublime notions concerning 3 Corinth xi. 10. Dr. Macknight's Translation.

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