What guilty spirit, in what shrubbery dim,
Heard not the stirring summons of that hymn?
But two: they fell for Heaven no grace imparts
To those who hear not for their beating hearts..
A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover-
O! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over)
Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known?
*Unguided Love hath fallen-'mid "tears of perfect moan
He was a goodly spirit-he who fell:
A wanderer by moss-y-mantled well-
A gazer on the lights that shine above-
A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love:
What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,
And looks so sweetly down on Beauty's hair-
And they, and ev'ry mossy spring were holy
To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.
The night had found (to him a night of wo)
Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo-
Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,
And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie.
Here sate he with his love-his dark eye bent
With eagle gaze along the firmament:
Now turn'd it upon her-but ever then
It trembled to the orb of EARTH again.
"Ianthe, dearest, see! how dim that ray!
How lovely 'tis to look so far away!
living love to cherish for the dead, and which, in some minds, resembles the delirium of opium. The passionate excitement of Love and the buoyancy of spirit attendant upon intoxication are its less holy pleasures-the price of which, to those souls who make choice of "Al Aaraaf" as their residence after life, is final Jeath and annihilation.
*There be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon.-Milton
She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
I left her gorgeous halls-nor mourn'd to leave.
That eve-that eve-I should remember well-
The sun-ray dropp'd, in Lemnos, with a spell
On th' Arabesque carving of a gilded hall
Wherein I sate, and on the draperied wall-
And on my eye-lids-O the heavy light!
How drowsily it weigh'd them into night!
On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran
With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan :
But O that light!—I slumber'd-Death, the while,
Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle
So softly that no single silken hair
Awoke that slept-or knew that he was there.
The last spot of Earth's orb I trod upon
*Was a proud temple call'd the Parthenon-
More beauty clung around her column'd wall
†Than ev❜n thy glowing bosom beats withal,
And when old Time my wing did disenthral
Thence sprang I-as the eagle from his tower,
And years I left behind me in an hour.
What time upon her arry bounds I hung
One half the garden of her globe was flung
Unrolling as a chart unto my view-
Tenantless cities of the desert too!
Ianthe, beauty crowded on me then,
And half I wish'd to be again of men."
"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee-
It was entire in 1687--the most elevated spot in Athens.
+ Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows
Than have the white breasts of the Queen of Love.-Marlowe.
And greener fields than in yon world above, And woman's loveliness-and passionate love."
"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft
*Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,
Perhaps my brain grew dizzy-but the world
I left so late was into chaos hurl'd-
Sprang from her station, on the winds apart,
And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.
Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar
And fell-not swiftly as I rose before,
But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'
Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!
Nor long the measure of my falling hours,
For nearest of all stars was thine to ours-
Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,
A red Dædalion on the timid Earth.
"We came-and to thy Earth-but not to us
Be given our lady's bidding to discuss:
We came, my love; around, above, below,
Gay fire-fly of the night we come and go,
Nor ask a reason save the angel-nod
She grants to us, as granted by her God-
But, Angelo, than thine grey Time unfurl'd
Never his fairy wing o'er fairier world!
Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes
Alone could see the phantom in the skies,
When first Al Aaraaf knew her course to be
Headlong thitherward o'er the starry sea-
But when its glory swell'd upon the sky,
As glowing Beauty's bust beneath man's eye,
* Pennon-for pinion.-Milton.
We paus'd before the heritage of men,
And thy star trembled-as doth Beauty then!"
Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away
The night that waned and waned and brought no day. They fell for Heaven to them no hope imparts
Who hear not for the beating of their hearts.
FAIR river in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty-the unhidden heart-
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;
But when within thy wave she looks-
Which glistens then, and trembles-
Why, then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies-
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.
KIND solace in a dying hour!
Such, father, is not (now) my theme→
I will not madly deem that power
Of Earth may shrive me of the sin
Unearthly pride hath revell'd in-
I have no time to dote or dream:
You call it hope-that fire of fire!
It is but agony of desire:
If I can hope-Oh God! I can
Its fount is holier-more divineI would not call thee fool, old man, But such is not a gift of thine.
Know thou the secret of a spirit
Bow'd from its wild pride into shame.
O yearning heart! I did inherit
Thy withering portion with the fame, The searing glory which hath shone Amid the Jewels of my throne, Halo of Hell! and with a pain Not Hell shall make me fear again— O craving heart, for the lost flowers And sunshine of my summer hours! The undying voice of that dead time, With its interminable chime,
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