To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban
Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"

Up rose the maiden in the yellow night, The single-mooned eve! - on Earth we plight Our faith to one love and one moon adore The birthplace of young Beauty had no more. As sprang that yellow star from downy hours, Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers, And bent o’er sheeny mountain and dim plain Her way — but left not yet her Therasæan * reign.

PART II.

High on a mountain of enamell'd head
Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees
With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"
What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven
Of rosy head, that towering far away
Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray

Of sunken suns at eve at noon of night,

While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light

* Therasæa, or Therasea, the island mentioned by Seneca, which, in a moment, arose from the sea to the eyes of astonished mariners.

Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,
Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
Of molten stars* their pavement, such as fall
Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall
Of their own dissolution, while they die
Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.

A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down,
Sat gently on these columns as a crown
A window of one circular diamond, there,
Look'd out above into the purple air,

And rays from God shot down that meteor chain
And hallow'd all the beauty twice again,
Save when, between th' Empyrean and that ring,
Some eager spirit flapp'd his dusky wing.
But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen
The dimness of this world: that grayish green
That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave
Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave -
And every sculptur'd cherub thereabout
That from his marble dwelling peeréd out,
Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche
Achaian statues in a world so rich?

* Some star which, from the ruin'd roof

Of shak'd Olympus, by mischance did fall. — Milton.

Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis *
From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss
Of beautiful Gomorrah! † Oh! the wave
Is now upon thee but too late to save!

Sound loves to revel in a summer night:
Witness the murmur of the gray twilight
That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco,‡
Of many a wild star-gazer long ago
That stealeth ever on the ear of him
Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim.
And sees the darkness coming as a cloud-

Is not its form-its voice most palpable and loud? §

But what is this? - it cometh and it brings A music with it- 't is the rush of wings

* Voltaire, in speaking of Persepolis, says, "Je connois bien l'admiration qu'inspirent ces ruines-mais un palais erigé au pied d'une chaine des rochers sterils peut il être un chef d'œuvre des arts!"

+"Oh! the wave"-Ula Deguisi is the Turkish appellation; but, on its own shores, it is called Bahar Loth, or Almotanah. There were undoubtedly more than two cities engulfed in the "dead sea." In the valley of Siddim were five, - Adrah, Zeboin, Zoar, Sodom, and Gomorrah. Stephen of Byzantium mentions. eight, and Strabo thirteen (engulfed) —but the last is out of all reason.

It is said [Tacitus, Strabo, Josephus, Daniel of St. Saba, Nau, Maundrell, Troilo, D'Arvieux] that after an excessive drought, the vestiges of columns, walls, etc, are seen above the surface. At any season, such remains may be discovered by looking down into the transparent lake, and at such distances as would argue the existence of many settlements in the space now usurped by the "Asphaltites." Eyraco-Chaldea.

I have often thought I could distinctly hear the sound of the darkness as it stole over the horizon.

A pause and then a sweeping, falling strain
And Nesace is in her halls again.

From the wild energy of wanton haste

Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart;
And zone that clung around her gentle waist
Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
Within the centre of that hall to breathe
She paus'd and panted, Zanthe! all beneath,
The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair
And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there!

*

Young flowers were whispering in melody

To happy flowers that night—and tree to tree;
Fountains were gushing music as they fell
In many a star-lit grove, or moon-lit dell;
Yet silence came upon material things

Fair flowers, bright waterfalls, and angel wings -
And sound alone that from the spirit sprang
Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:

"Neath blue-bell or streamer

Or tufted wild spray

That keeps, from the dreamer,
The moonbeam away †—

* Fairies use flowers for their charactery. Merry Wives of Windsor.

† In Scripture is this passage: "The sun shall not harm thee by day, nor the moon by night." It is perhaps not generally known that the moon, in Egypt, has the effect of producing blindness to those who sleep with the face exposed to its rays, to which circumstance the passage evidently alludes.

Bright beings! that ponder,
With half-closing eyes,

On the stars which your wonder
Hath drawn from the skies,

Till they glance thro' the shade, and
Come down to your brow

Like eyes of the maiden

Who calls on you now Arise! from your dreaming In violet bowers,

To duty beseeming

These star-litten hours

And shake from your tresses

Encumber'd with dew

The breath of those kisses
That cumber them too ·
(O! how, without you, Love!
Could angels be blest?)

Those kisses of true love

That lull'd ye to rest! Up! shake from your wing Each hindering thing: The dew of the night

It would weigh down your flight ;

And true love caresses

O! leave them apart!

They are light on the tresses,

But lead on the heart.