THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS, 8 l£>oem. By THOMAS MOORE. It happened, after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them elegant and beautiful ; and when the Angels, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamoured of them. The Book of Enoch, chap. vii. sect. 2. LONDON : PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1823. Tff & *Y .16 PREFACE. This Poem, somewhat different in form, and much more limited in extent, was ori- ginally designed as an episode for a work, about which I have been, at intervals, employed during the last two years. Some months since, however, I found that my friend Lord Byron had, by an accidental coincidence, chosen the same subject for a Drama ; and, as I could not but feel the disadvantage of coming after so formidable a rival, I thought it best to publish my humble sketch immediately, with such Vlll PREFACE. alterations and additions as I had time to make, and thus, by an earlier appear- ance in the literary horizon, give myself the chance of what astronomers call an Heliacal rising, before the luminary, in whose light I was to be lost, should appear. As objections may be made, by per- sons whose opinions I respect, to the selection of a subject of this nature from the Scripture, I think it right to remark, that, in point of fact, the subject is not scriptural — the notion upon which it is founded (that of the love of Angels for women) having originated in an erroneous translation by the LXX. of that verse in PREFACE. IX the sixth chapter of Genesis, upon which the sole authority for the fable rests.* The foundation of my story, therefore, has as little to do with Holy Writ as have the dreams of the later Platonists, or the reveries of the Jewish divines ; and, in appropriating the notion thus to the uses of poetry, I have done no more than establish it in that region of fiction, to which the opinions of the most rational Fathers, and of all other Christian theolo- gians, have long ago consigned it. In addition to the fitness of the subject for poetry, it struck me also as capable of affording an allegorical medium, through * See Note. X PREFACE. whicli might be shadowed out (as I have endeavoured to do in the following stories,) the fall of the Soul from its original purity — the loss of light and happiness which it suf- fers, in the pursuit of this world's perishable pleasures — and the punishments, both from conscience and Divine justice, with which impurity, pride, and presumptuous inquiry into the awful secrets of God, are sure to be visited. The beautiful story of Cupid and Psyche owes its chief charm to this sort of " veiled meaning," and it has been my wish (however I may have failed in the attempt) to communicate the same moral interest to the following pages. LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 'Twas when the world was in its prime, When the fresh stars had just begun Their race of glory, and young Time Told his first birth-days by the sun ; When, in the light of Nature's dawn Rejoicing, men and angels met On the high hill and sunny lawn, — Ere sorrow came, or Sin had drawn 'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet ! 2 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. When earth lay nearer to the skies Than in these days of crime and woe, And mortals saw, without surprise, In the mid-air, angelic eyes Gazing upon this world below. Alas, that Passion should profane, Ev'n then, that morning of the earth ! That, sadder still, the fatal stain Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth - And oh, that stain so dark should fall From Woman's love, most sad of all ! One evening, in that time of bloom, On a hill's side, where hung the ray Of sunset, sleeping in perfume, Three noble youths conversing lay; THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 5 And, as they look'd, from time to time, To the far sky, where Daylight furl'd His radiant wing, their brows sublime Bespoke them of that distant world — Creatures of light, such as still play, Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord, And through their infinite array Transmit each moment, night and day, The echo of His luminous word ! Of Heaven they spoke, and, still more oft, Of the bright eyes that charm'd them thence; Till, yielding gradual to the soft And balmy evening's influence — The silent breathing of the flowers — The melting light that beam'd above, As on their first, fond, erring hours, Each told the story of his love, b 2 I THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. The history of that hour unblest, When, like a bird, from its high nest Won down by fascinating eyes, For Woman's smile he lost the skies. The First who spoke was one, with look The least celestial of the three — A Spirit of light mould, that took The prints of earth most yieldingly ; Who, eVn in heaven, was not of those Nearest the Throne, but held a place Far off, among those shining rows That circle out through endless space, And o'er whose wings the light from Him In the great centre falls most dim. Still fair and glorious, he but shone Among those youths th' unheavenliest one - THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. A creature, to whom light remain'd From Eden still, but alter'd, stain'd, And o'er whose brow not Love alone A blight had, in his transit, sent, But other, earthlier joys had gone, And left their foot-prints as they went. Sighing, as through the shadowy Past Like a tomb-searcher, Memory ran, Lifting each shroud that Time had cast O'er buried hopes, he thus began: — b 3 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. 'Twas in a land, that far away Into the golden orient lies, Where Nature knows not night's delay, But springs to meet her bridegroom, Day, Upon the threshold of the skies. One morn, on earthly mission sent, And mid-way choosing where to light, I saw, from the blue element — Oh beautiful, but fatal sight ! — One of earth's fairest womankind, Half veil'd from view, or rather shrin'd In the clear crystal of a brook ; Which, while it hid no single gleam FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. Of her young beauties, made them look More spirit-like, as they might seem Through the dim shadowing of a dream. Pausing in wonder I look'd on, While, playfully around her breaking The waters, that like diamonds shone, She mov'd in light of her own making. At length, as slowly I descended To view more near a sight so splendid, The tremble of my wings all o'er (For through each plume I felt the thrill) Startled her, as she reach'd the shore Of that small lake — her mirror still — Above whose brink she stood, like snow When rosy with a sunset glow. Never shall I forget those eyes ! — The shame, the innocent surprise b 4 J THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Of that bright face, when in the air Uplooking, she beheld me there. It seem'd as if each thought, and look, And motion were that minute chain'd Fast to the spot, such root she took, And — like a sunflower by a brook, With face upturn'd — so still remain'd ! In pity to the wondering maid, Though loth from such a vision turning, Downward I bent, beneath the shade Of my spread wings to hide the burning Of glances, which — I well could feel — For me, for her, too warmly shone ; But, ere I could again unseal My restless eyes, or even steal One side-long look, the maid was gone — FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. Hid from me in the forest leaves, Sudden as when, in all her charms Of full-blown light, some cloud receives The Moon into his dusky arms. 'Tis not in words to tell the power, The despotism that, from that hour, Passion held o'er me — day and night I sought around each neighbouring spot, And, in the chase of this sweet light, My task, and heaven, and all forgot — All, but the one, sole, haunting dream Of her I saw in that bright stream. Nor was it long, ere by her side I found myself, whole happy days, Listening to words, whose music vied With our own Eden's seraph lays, io THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. When seraph lays are warm'd by love, But, wanting that, far, far above ! — And looking into eyes where, blue And beautiful, like skies seen through The sleeping wave, for me there shone A heaven, more worshipp'd than my own. Oh what, while I could hear and see Such words and looks, was heaven to me ? Though gross the air on earth I drew, 'Twas blessed, while she breath'd it too ; Though dark the flowers, though dim the sky, Love lent them light, while she was nigh. Throughout creation I but knew Two separate worlds — the one, that small, Belov'd, and consecrated spot Where Lea was — the other, all The dull, wide waste, where she was not ! FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. But vain my suit, my madness vain ; Though gladly, from her eyes to gain One earthly look, one stray desire, I would have torn the wings, that hung Furl'd at my back, and o'er that Fire Unnam'd in heaven their fragments flung ; - 'Twas hopeless all — pure and unmov'd She stood, as lilies in the light Of the hot noon but look more white ; — And though she lov'd me, deeply lov'd, 'Twas not as man, as mortal — no, Nothing of earth was in that glow — She lov'd me but as one, of race Angelic, from that radiant place She saw so oft in dreams — that Heaven, To which her prayers at morn were sent, And on whose light she gaz'd at even, 12 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Wishing for wings, that she might go Out of this shadowy world below, To that free, glorious element ! Well I remember by her side Sitting at rosy even-tide, Wlien, — turning to the star, whose head Look'd out, as from a bridal bed, At that mute, blushing hour, — she said, " Oh ! that it were my doom to be " The Spirit of yon beauteous star, " Dwelling up there in purity, " Alone, as all such bright things are ; — " My sole employ to pray and shine, " To light my censer at the sun, " And fling its fire towards the shrine " Of Him in heaven, the Eternal One !' FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. So innocent the maid — so free From mortal taint in soul and frame, Whom 'twas my crime — my destiny — To love, aye, burn for, with a flame, To which earth's wildest fires are tame. Had you but seen her look, when first From my mad lips the' avowal burst ; Not angry — no — the feeling had No touch of anger, but most sad — It was a sorrow, calm as deep, A mournfulness that could not weep, So fill'd the heart was to the brink, So fix'd and frozen there — to think That angel natures — even I, Whose love she clung to, as the tie Between her spirit and the sky — Should fall thus headlong from the height Of such pure glory into sin — 14 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. The sin, of all, most sure to blight, The sin, of all, that the soul's light Is soonest lost, extinguish'd in ! That, though but frail and human, she Should, like the half-bird of the sea, Try with her wing sublimer air, While I, a creature born up there, Should meet her, in my fall from light, From heaven and peace, and turn her flight Downward again, with me to drink Of the salt tide of sin, and sink ! That very night — my heart had grown Impatient of its inward burning ; The term, too, of my stay was flown, And the bright Watchers # near the throne, * See Note. FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. 15 Already, if a meteor shone Between them and this nether zone, Thought 'twas their herald's wing returning ;- Oft did the potent spell- word, given To Envoys hither from the skies, To be pronounc'd, when back to heaven It is their hour or wish to rise, Come to my lips that fatal day; And once, too, was so nearly spoken, That my spread plumage in the ray And breeze of heaven began to play — When my heart fail'd — the spell was broken - The word unfinish'd died away, And my check'd plumes, ready to soar, Fell slack and lifeless as before. How could I leave a world, which she, Or lost or won, made all to me, 16 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Beyond home — glory — every thing? How fly, while yet there was a chance, A hope — aye, even of perishing Utterly by that fatal glance ! No matter where my wanderings were, So there she look'd, mov'd, breath'd about — Woe, ruin, death, more sweet with her, Than all heaven's proudest joys without ! But, to return — that very day A feast was held, where, full of mirth, Came, crowding thick as flowers that play In summer winds, the young and gay And beautiful of this bright earth. And she was there, and 'mid the young And beautiful stood first, alone ; Though on her gentle brow still hung The shadow I that morn had thrown — FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. The first, that ever shame or woe Had cast upon its vernal snow. My heart was madden'd — in the flush Of the wild revel I gave way To all that frantic mirth — that rush Of desperate gaiety, which they, Who never felt how pain's excess Can break out thus, think happiness — Sad mimicry of mirth and life, Whose flashes come but from the strife Of inward passions — like the light Struck out by clashing swords in fight, Then, too, that juice of earth, the bane And blessing of man's heart and brain — That draught of sorcery, which brings Phantoms of fair, forbidden things — 18 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Whose drops, like those of rainbows, smile Upon the mists that circle man, Bright'ning not only Earth, the while, But grasping Heaven, too, in their span ! — Then first the fatal wine-cup rain'd Its dews of darkness through my lips, Casting whate'er of light remain'd To my lost soul into eclipse, And filling it with such wild dreams, Such fantasies and wrong desires, As, in the absence of heaven's beams, Haunt us for ever — like wild-fires That walk this earth, when day retires. Now hear the rest — our banquet done, I sought her in the' accustom'd bower, Where late we oft, when day was gone, And the world hush'd, had met alone, At the same silent, moonlight hour. FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. i« I found her — oh, so beautiful ! Why, why have hapless Angels eyes? Or why are there not flowers to cull, As fair as Woman, in yon skies ? Still did her brow, as usual, turn To her lov'd star, which seem'd to burn Purer than ever on that night ; While she, in looking, grew more bright, As though that planet were an urn From which her eyes drank liquid light. There was a virtue in that scene, A spell of holiness around, Which would have — had my brain not been Thus poison'd, madden'd — held me bound, As though I stood on God's own ground. Ev'n as it was, with soul all flame, And lips that burn'd in their own sighs, c 2 20 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. I stood to gaze, with awe and shame — The memory of Eden came Full o'er me when I saw those eyes ; And tho' too well each glance of mine To the pale, shrinking maiden prov'd How far, alas, from aught divine, Aught worthy of so pure a shrine, Was the wild love with which I lov'd, Yet must she, too, have seen — oh yes, 'Tis soothing but to think she saw — The deep, true, soul-felt tenderness, The homage of an Angel's awe To her, a mortal, whom pure love Then plac'd above him — : far above — And all that struggle to repress A sinful spirit's mad excess, Which work'd within me at that hour, When — with a voice, where Passion shed FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. 21 All the deep sadness of her power, Her melancholy power — I said, " Then be it so — if back to heaven " I must unlov'd, unpitied fly, " Without one blest memorial given " To sooth me in that lonely sky — " One look, like those the young and fond " Give when they're parting — which would be, " Ev'n in remembrance, far beyond " All heaven hath left of bliss for me ! " A minute on this trembling arm, " And those mild eyes look up to mine " Without a dread, a thought of harm ! " To meet but once the thrilling touch " Of lips that are too fond to fear me — c 3 22 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. " Or, if that boon be all too much, " Ev'n thus to bring their fraarance near me ! " Nay, shrink not so — a look — a word — " Give them but kindly and I fly ; " Already, see, my plumes have stirr'd, " And tremble for their home on high. " Thus be our parting — cheek to cheek — " One minute's lapse will be forgiven, " And thou, the next, shalt hear me speak " The spell that plumes my wing for heaven !" While thus I spoke, the fearful maid, Of me, and of herself afraid, Had shrinking stood, like flowers beneath The scorching of the south-wind's breath : But when I nam'd — alas, too well, I now recall, though wilder'd then, — FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. Instantly, when I nam'd the spell, Her brow, her eyes uprose again, And, with an eagerness, that spoke The sudden light that o'er her broke, " The spell, the spell ! — oh, speak it now, " And I will bless thee !" she exclaim'd- Unknowing what I did, inflani'd, And lost already, on her brow I stamp'd one burning kiss, and nam'd The mystic word, till then ne'er told To living creature of earth's mould ! Scarce was it said, when, quick as thought, Her lips from mine, like echo, caught The holy sound — her hands and eyes Were instant lifted to the skies, And thrice to heaven she spoke it out With that triumphant look Faith wears, When not a cloud of fear or doubt, c 4 !4 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. A vapour from this vale of tears, Between her and her God appears ! That very moment her whole frame All bright and glorified became, And at her back I saw unclose Two wings, magnificent as those . That sparkle round the' Eternal Throne, Whose plumes, as buoyantly she rose Above me, in the moon-beam shone With a pure light, which — from its hue, Unknown upon this earth — I knew Was light from Eden, glistening through ! Most holy vision ! ne'er before Did aught so radiant — since the day When Lucifer, in falling, bore The third of the bright stars away* — * See Note. FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. : Rise, in earth's beauty, to repair That loss of light and glory there ! But did I tamely view her flight ? Did not /, too, proclaim out thrice The powerful words that were, that night, — Oh ev'n for heaven too much delight ! — Again to bring us, eyes to eyes, And soul to soul, in Paradise ? I did — I spoke it o'er and o'er — I pray'd, I wept, but all in vain ; For me the spell had power no more, There seem'd around me some dark chain Which still, as I essay'd to soar, Baffled, alas, each wild endeavour : Dead lay my wings, as they have lain Since that sad hour, and will remain — So wills the' offended God — for ever ! 26 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. It was to yonder star I trac'd Her journey up the' illumin'd waste — That isle in the blue firmament, To which so oft her fancy went In wishes and in dreams before, And which was now — such, Purity, Thy blest reward — ordain'd to be Her home of light for evermore ! Once — or did I but fancy so? — Ev'n in her flight to that fair sphere, Mid all her spirit's new-felt glow, A pitying look she turn'd below On him who stood in darkness here ; Him whom, perhaps, if vain regret Can dwell in heaven, she pities yet; FIRST ANGEL'S STORY. And oft, when looking to this dim And distant world, remembers him. But soon that passing dream was gone; Farther and farther off she shone, Till lessen'd to a point, as small As are those specks that yonder burn — Those vivid drops of light, that fall The last from day's exhausted urn. And when at length she merg'd, afar, Into her own immortal star, And when at length my straining sight Had caught her wing's -last fading ray, That minute from my soul the light Of heaven and love both pass'd away ; And I forgot my home, my birth, Profan'd my spirit, sunk my brow, 8 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. And revelPd in gross joys of earth, Till I became — what I am now !" The Spirit bow'd his head in shame ; A shame, that of itself would tell — Were there not ev'n those breaks of flame, Celestial, through his clouded frame — How grand the height from which he fell ! That holy Shame, which ne'er forgets What clear renown it us'd to wear ; Whose blush remains, when Virtue sets, To show her sunshine has been there. Once only, while the tale he told, Were his eyes lifted to behold That happy stainless star, where she Dwelt in her bower of purity ! THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 29 One minute did he look, and then — As though he felt some deadly pain From :'ts sweet light through heart and brain- Shrunk back, and never look'd again. Who was the Second Spirit? — he With the proud front and piercing glance — Who seem'd, when viewing heaven's expanse, As though his far-sent eye could see On, on into the' Immensity Behind the veils of that blue sky, Where God's sublimest secrets lie? — His wings, the while, though day was gone, Flashing with many a various hue Of light they from themselves alone, Instinct with Eden's brightness, drew — 50 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. A breathing forth of beams at will, Of living beams, which, though no more They kept their early lustre, still Were such, when glittering out all o'er, As mortal eye-lids wink'd before. 'Twas Rubi — once among the prime And flower of those bright creatures, nam'd Spirits of Knowledge *, who o'er Time And Space and Thought an empire claim'd, Second alone to Him, whose light Was, ev'n to theirs, as day to night — 'Twixt whom and them was distance far And wide, as would the journey be To reach from any island star The vague shores of Infinity ! * The Cherubim. — See Note. THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS, 'Twas Rubi, in whose mournful eye Slept the dim light of days gone by ; Whose voice, though sweet, fell on the ear Like echoes, in some silent place, When first awak'd for many a year ; And when he smil'd — if o'er his face Smile ever shone — 'twas like the grace Of moonlight rainbows, fair, but wan, The sunny life, the glory gone. Ev'n o'er his pride, though still the same, A softening shade from sorrow came ; And though at times his spirit knew The kindlings of disdain and ire, Short was the fitful glare they threw — Like the last flashes, fierce but few, Seen through some noble pile on fire ! 32 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Such was the Angel, who now broke The silence that had come o'er all, When he, the Spirit that last spoke, Clos'd the sad history of his fall ; And, while a sacred lustre, flown For many a day, relum'd his cheek, And not those sky-tun'd lips alone But his eyes, brow, and tresses, roll'd Like sunset waves, all seem'd to speak - Thus his eventful story told : — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. " You both remember well the day When unto Eden's new-made bowers, He, whom all living things obey, Summon'd his chief angelic powers To witness the one wonder yet, Beyond man, angel, star, or sun, He must achieve, ere he could set His seal upon the world, as done — To see that last perfection rise, That crowning of creation's birth, When, mid the worship and surprise Of circling angels, Woman's eyes First open'd upon heaven and earth ; 4 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. And from their lids a thrill was sent, That through each living spirit went Like first light through the firmament ! Can you forget how gradual stole The fresh-awaken'd breath of soul Throughout her perfect form — which seem'd To grow transparent, as there beam'd That dawn of Mind within, and caught New loveliness from each new thought ? Slow as o'er summer seas we trace The progress of the noontide air, Dimpling its bright and silent face Each minute into some new grace, And varying heaven's reflections there — Or, like the light of evening, stealing O'er some fair temple, which all day SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. Hath slept in shadow, slow revealing Its several beauties, ray by ray, Till it shines out, a thing to bless, All full of light and loveliness. Can you forget her blush, when round Through Eden's lone, enchanted ground She look'd — and at the sea — the skies - And heard the rush of many a wing, By God's command then vanishing, And saw the last few angel eyes, Still lingering — mine among the rest, — Reluctant leaving scene so blest ? From that miraculous hour, the fate Of this new, glorious Being dwelt For ever, with a spell-like weight, Upon my spirit — early, late, n 2 56 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Whate'er I did, or dream' d, or felt, The thought of what might yet befall That splendid creature mix'd with all. — Nor she alone, but her whole race Through ages yet to come — whate'er Of feminine, and fond, and fair, Should spring from that pure mind and face, All wak'd my soul's intensest care ; Their forms, souls, feelings, still to me God's most disturbing mystery ! It was my doom — ev'n from the first, When summon' d with my cherub peers, To witness the young vernal burst Of Nature through those blooming spheres, Those flowers of light, that sprung beneath The first touch of the' Eternal's breath — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 57 It was my doom still to be haunted By some new wonder, some sublime And matchless work, that, for the time Held all my soul, enchain'd, enchanted, And left me not a thought, a dream, A word, but on that only theme ! The wish to know — that endless thirst, Which ev'n by quenching is awak'd, And which becomes or blest or curst, As is the fount whereat 'tis slak'd — Still urg'd me onward, with desire Insatiate, to explore, inquire — Whate'er the wondrous things might be, That wak'd each new idolatry — Their cause, aim, source from whence they sprung, Their inmost powers, as though for me Existence on that knowledge hung, n 3 8 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Oh what a vision were the stars, When first I saw them burn on high, Rolling along, like living cars Of light, for gods to journey by ! They were my heart's first passion — days And nights, unwearied, in their rays Have I hung floating, till each sense Seem'd full of their bright influence. Innocent joy ! alas, how much Of misery had I shunn'd below, Could I have still liv'd blest with such ; Nor, proud and restless, burn'd to know The knowledge that brings guilt and woe ! Often — so much I lov'd to trace The secrets of this starry race — Have I at morn and evening run Along the lines of radiance spun, Like webs, between them and the sun, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. Untwisting all the tangled ties Of light into their different dyes — Then fleetly wing'd I off, in quest Of those, the farthest, loneliest, That watch, like winking sentinels, The void, beyond which Chaos dwells, And there, with noiseless plume, pursued Their track through that grand solitude, Asking intently all and each What soul within their radiance dwelt, And wishing their sweet light were speech, That they might tell me all they felt. Nay, oft, so passionate my chace Of these resplendent heirs of space, Oft did I follow — lest a ray Should 'scape me in the farthest night — Some pilgrim Comet, on his way d 4 40 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. To visit distant shrines of light, And well remember how I sung Exulting out, when on my sight New worlds of stars, all fresh and young, As if just born of darkness, sprung ! Such was my pure ambition then, My sinless transport, night and morn ; Ere this still newer world of men, And that most fair of stars was born Which I, in fatal hour, saw rise Among the flowers of Paradise ! Thenceforth my nature all was chang'd, My heart, soul, senses turn'd below ; And he, who but so lately rang'd Yon wonderful expanse, where glow Worlds upon worlds, yet found his mind Ev'n in that luminous range confin'd, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 41 Now blest the humblest, meanest sod Of the dark earth where Woman trod ! In vain my former idols glisten'd From their far thrones ; in vain these ears To the once-thrilling music listen' d, That hymn'd around my favourite spheres — To earth, to earth each thought was given, That in this half-lost soul had birth ; Like some high mount, whose head's in heaven, While its whole shadow rests on earth ! Nor was it Love, ev'n yet, that thrall'd My spirit in his burning ties ; And less, still less could it be call'd That grosser flame, round which Love flies Nearer and nearer, till he dies — No, it was wonder, such as thrill'd At all God's works my dazzled sense ; 42 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. The same rapt wonder, only fill'd With passion, more profound, intense, — A vehement, but wandering fire, Which, though nor love, nor yet desire, Though through all womankind it took Its range, as vague as lightnings run, Yet wanted but a touch, a look, To fix it burning upon One. Then, too, the ever-restless zeal, The' insatiate curiosity To know what shapes, so fair, must feel — To look, but once, beneath the seal Of so much loveliness, and see What souls belong'd to those bright eyes — WTiether, as sun-beams find their way Into the gem that hidden lies, Those looks could inward turn their ray, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. To make the soul as bright as they ! All this impell'd my anxious chace, And still the more I saw and knew Of Woman's fond, weak, conquering race, The' intenser still my wonder grew. I had beheld their First, their Eve, Born in that splendid Paradise, Which God made solely to receive The first light of her waking eyes. I had seen purest angels lean In worship o'er her from above ; And man — oh yes, had envying seen Proud man possess'd of all her love. I saw their happiness, so brief, So exquisite — her error, too, 14 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. That easy trust, that prompt belief In what the warm heart wishes true ; That faith in words, when kindly said, By which the whole fond sex is led — Mingled with (what I durst not blame, For 'tis my own) that wish to know, Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe ; Which, though from heaven all pure it came, Yet stain'd, misus'd, brought sin and shame On her, on me, on all below ! I had seen this ; had seen Man — arm'd As his soul is with strength and sense — By her first words to ruin charm'd ; His vaunted reason's cold defence, Like an ice-barrier in the ray Of melting summer, smil'd away ! Nay — stranger yet — spite of all this — Though by her counsels taught to err, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 4; Though driv'n from Paradise for her, (And with her — that, at least, was bliss) Had I not heard him, ere he crost The threshold of that earthly heaven, Which by her wildering smile he lost — So quickly was the wrong forgiven — Had I not heard him, as he prest The frail, fond trembler to a breast Which she had doom'd to sin and strife, Call her — think what — his Life ! his Life ! * Yes — such the love-taught name — the first, That ruin'd Man to Woman gave, Ev'n in his out-cast hour, when curst, By her fond witchery, with that worst And earliest boon of love — the grave ! * Chavah, the name by which Adam called the woman after their transgression, means "Life." — See Note. 46 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. She, who brought death into the world, There stood before him, with the light Of their lost Paradise still bright Upon those sunny locks, that curl'd Down her white shoulders to her feet — So beautiful in form, so sweet In heart and voice, as to redeem The loss, the death of all things dear, Except herself — and make it seem Life, endless Life, while she was near ! Could I help wondering at a creature, Enchanted round with spells so strong — One, to whose every thought, word, feature, In joy and woe, through right and wrong, Such sweet omnipotence heaven gave, To bless or ruin, curse or save ? SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 47 Nor did the marvel cease with her — ■ New Eves in all her daughters came, As strong to charm, as weak to err, As sure of man through praise and blame, Whate'er they brought him, pride or shame, Their still unreasoning worshipper — And, wheresoe'er they smil'd, the same Enchantresses of soul and frame, Into whose hands, from first to last, This world with all its destinies, Devotedly by heaven seems cast, To save or damn it, as they please ! Oh, 'tis not to be told how long, How restlessly I sigh'd to find Some one, from out that shining throng, Some abstract of the form and mind 48 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Of the whole matchless sex, from which, In my own arms beheld, possest, I might learn all the powers to witch, To warm, and (if my fate unblest Would have it) ruin, of the rest ! Into whose inward soul and sense I might descend, as doth the bee Into the flower's deep heart, and thence Rifle, in all its purity, The prime, the quintessence, the whole Of wondrous Woman's frame and soul ! At length, my burning wish, my prayer, — (For such — oh what will tongues not dare, When hearts go wrong? — this lip preferr'd)- At length my ominous prayer was heard — But whether heard in heaven or hell, Listen — and you will know too well. SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. There was a maid, of all who move Like visions o'er this orb, most fit To be a bright young angel's love, Herself so bright, so exquisite ! The pride, too, of her step, as light Along the unconscious earth she went, Seem'd that of one, born with a right To walk some heavenlier element, And tread in places where her feet A star at every step should meet. 'Twas not alone that loveliness By which the wilder'd sense is caught — Of lips, whose very breath could bless — Of playful blushes, that seem'd nought But luminous escapes of thought — Of eyes that, when by anger stirr'd, Were fire itself, but, at a word ;o THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Of tenderness, all soft became As though they could, like the sun's bird, Dissolve away in their own flame — Of form, as pliant as the shoots Of a yoimg tree, in vernal flower ; Yet round and glowing as the fruits That drop from it in summer's hour — 'Twas not alone this loveliness That falls to loveliest woman's share, Though, even here, her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess ' Enough to make all others fair — But 'twas the Mind, sparkling about Through her whole frame — the soul, brought out To light each charm, yet independent Of what it lighted, as the sun That shines on flowers, would be resplendent Were there no flowers to shine upon — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 'Twas this, all this, in one combin'd, The' unnumber'd looks and arts that form The glory of young woman-kind, Taken hi their first fusion, warm, Ere time had chill'd a single charm, And stamp'd with such a seal of Mind, As gave to beauties, that might be Too sensual else, too unrefin'd, The impress of divinity ! 'Twas this — a union, which the hand Of Nature kept for her alone, Of every thing most playful, bland, Voluptuous, spiritual, grand, In angel-natures and her own — Oh this it was that drew me nigh One, who seem'd kin to heaven as I, My bright twin sister of the sky — E 2 52 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. One, in whose love, I felt, were given The mix'd delights of either sphere, All that the spirit seeks in heaven, And all the senses burn for here ! Had we — but hold — hear every part Of our sad tale — spite of the pain Remembrance gives, when the fix'd dart Is stirr'd thus in the wound again — Hear every step, so full of bliss, And yet so ruinous, that led Down to the last, dark precipice, "Where perish'd both — the fall'n, the dead ! From the first hour she caught my sight, I never left her — day and night Hovering unseen around her way, And mid her loneliest musings near, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. I soon could track each thought that lay, Gleaming within her heart, as clear As pebbles within brooks appear; And there, among the countless things That keep young hearts for ever glowing, Vague wishes, fond imaginings, Love-dreams, as yet no object knowing — Light, winged hopes, that come when bid, And rainbow joys that end in weeping, And passions, among pure thoughts hid, Like serpents under flow'rets sleeping — 'Mong all these feelings — felt where'er Young hearts are beating — I saw there Proud thoughts, aspirings high — beyond Whate'er yet dwelt in soul so fond — Glimpses of glory, far away Into the bright, vague future given, e 3 54 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. And fancies, free and grand, whose play, Like that of eaglets, is near heaven ! With this, too — what a soul and heart To fall beneath the tempter's art ! — A zeal for knowledge, such as ne'er Enshrin'd itself in form so fair Since that first, fatal hour, when Eve, With every fruit of Eden blest, Save only one, rather than leave That one unknown, lost all the rest. It was in dreams that first I stole With gentle mastery o'er her mind — In that rich twilight of the soul, When Reason's beam, half hid behind The clouds of sense, obscurely gilds Each shadowy shape that Fancy builds — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 'Twas then, by that soft light, I brought Vague, glimmering visions to her view — Catches of radiance, lost when caught, Bright labyrinths, that led to nought, And vistas, with a void seen through — Dwellings of bliss, that opening shone, Then clos'd, dissolv'd, and left no trace — All that, in short, could tempt Hope on, But give her wing no resting-place; Myself the while, with brow, as yet, Pure as the young moon's coronet. Through every dream still in her sight, The' enchanter of each mocking scene, Who gave the hope, then brought the blight, Who said ' Behold yon world of light,' Then sudden dropt a veil between ! e 4 56 T HE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. At length, when I perceiv'd each thought, Waking or sleeping, fix'd on nought But these illusive scenes, and me, The phantom, who thus came and went, In half revealments, only meant To madden curiosity — When by such various arts I found Her fancy to its utmost wound, One night — 'twas in a holy spot, Winch she for pray'r had chos'n — a grot Of purest marble, built below Her garden beds, through which a glow From lamps invisible then stole, Brightly pervading all the place — Like that mysterious light the soul, Itself unseen, sheds through the face — There, at her altar while she knelt, And all that woman ever felt. SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 5 When God and man both claim'd her sighs • Every warm thought, that ever dwelt, Like summer clouds, 'twixt earth and skies, Too pure to fall, too gross to rise, Spoke in her gestures, tones and eyes, — Thus, by the tender light, which lay Dissolving round, as if its ray Was breath'd from her, I heard her say : — " Oh idol of my dreams ! whate'er " Thy nature be — : human, divine, " Or but half heav'nly — still too fair, " Too heavenly to be ever mine ! " Wonderful Spirit, who dost make " Slumber so lovely, that it seems " No longer life to live awake, " Since heaven itself descends in dreams, i THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. " Why do I ever lose thee ? why— " When on thy realms and thee I gaze — " Still drops that veil, which I could die, " Oh gladly, but one hour to raise ? " Long ere such miracles as thou " And thine came o'er my thoughts, a thirst " For light was in this soul, which now " Thy looks have into passion nurs'd. " There's nothing bright above, below, " In sky — earth — ocean, that this breast " Doth not intensely burn to know, " And thee, thee, thee, o'er all the rest ! " Then come, oh Spirit, from behind " The curtains of thy radiant home, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 59 " Whether thou would' st as God be shrin'd, " Or lov'd and clasp'd as mortal, come ! " Bring all thy dazzling wonders here, " That I may waking know and see — " Or waft me hence to thy own sphere, " Thy heaven or — aye, 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 ! 60 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. " By that most precious hair, between " Whose golden clusters the sweet wind " Of Paradise so late hath been, " And left its fragrant soul behind ! " 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 blest night — I ask no more !" Exhausted, breathless, as she said These burning words, her languid head SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 6 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 rais'd, And there, just lighted on the shrine, Beheld me — not as I had blaz'd 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 sheath'd, rather than mar The dawning hour of some young star — S2 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. And nothing left, but what beseem'd The' accessible, though glorious mate Of mortal woman — whose eyes beam'd Back upon hers, as passionate ; Whose ready heart brought flame for flame, Whose sin, whose madness was the same, And whose soul lost, in that one hour, For her and for her love — oh more Of heaven's light than ev'n the power Of heav'n itself could now restore ! And yet that hour !" The Spirit here Stopp'd in his utterance, as if words Gave way beneath the wild career Of his then rushing thoughts — like chords, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 65 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 'twas o'er — that casual blaze From the sunk fire of other days, That relic of a flame, whose burning Had been too fierce to be relum'd, Soon pass'd away, and the youth, turning To his bright listeners, thus resum'd : — " Days, months elaps'd, 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 ! 'Twas bitterest anguish — made more keen Ev'n by the love, the bliss, between 64 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 blest — 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 ev'n my shade — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. e< This was, I own, enjoyment — this My sole, last lingering glimpse of bliss. And proud she was, bright creature ! — proud, Beyond what ev'n 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 ! 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 — !6 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Ev'n 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, 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 !" SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 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 'twere a spirit, forc'd 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, f 2 ts THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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's 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, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 69 All breath of Life, where'er 'tis 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 hath made — the chains of Fate He round himself and them hath twin'd, 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 ! f 3 70 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Such were the deep-drawn mysteries, And some, perhaps, ev'n more profound, More wildering to the mind than these, Which — far as woman's thought could sound, Or a fall'n, outlaw'd spirit reach — She dar'd 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 Inspir'd, 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 SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 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, * It is the opinion of some of the Fathers, that the knowledge which the Heathens possessed of the Pro- vidence of God, a Future State, and other sublime doc- trines of Christianity, was derived from the premature revelations of these fallen angels to the women of earth. — See Note. F 4 72 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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, Ev'n 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, unconfin'd, Already saw heaven's gates a-jar ! SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 75 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 — ev'n L, 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, 74 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Know every thing, and, worst of all, Know and love virtue while they fall ! — Ev'n then, her presence had the power To soothe, to warm, — nay, ev'n to bless — If ever bliss could graft its flower On stem so full of bitterness — Ev'n 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 ; SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 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 I eternally must feel The death-pang, without power to die ! Ev'n 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, 76 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 'twould for ever thus breathe out A music, like the harmony Of the tim'd orbs, too sweet to die ! While in her lip's awakening touch There thrill'd a life ambrosial — such As mandes in the fruit steep'd through With Eden's most delicious dew — Till I could almost think, though known And lov'd as human, they had grown By bliss, celestial as my own ! But 'tis not, 'tis not for the wrong, The guilty, to be happy long ; SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. And she, too, now, had sunk within The shadow of her tempter's sin — Shadow of death, whose withering frown Kills whatsoe'er it lights upon — Too deep for ev'n her soul to shun The desolation it brings down ! Listen, and, if a tear there be Left in your hearts, weep it for me. 'Twas 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; 78 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. And found myself — oh, ecstacy, Which ev'n in pain I ne'er forget — Worshipp'd as only God should be, And lov'd 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 — ev'n 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, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 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, smil'd and said : ■ — " I had, last night, a dream of thee, " Resembling those divine ones, given, so THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS, " Like preludes to sweet minstrelsy, " Before thou cam'st, 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 plac'd, " I seem'd within the atmosphere " Of that exhaling light embrac'd ; SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 8 " And, as thou heldst 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, 'tis faded, gone? Ci 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, i s 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 (Jivine, J2 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. " And pure, 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'stlike 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 ev'n thus — " Too near the stars themselves have gone, " To fear aught grand or luminous. SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. " 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 us'd To be by man or God refus'd — 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 brine; down heaven to her ! 14 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Little did she, alas, or I — Ev'n I, whose soul, but half-way yet Immerg'd 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, charg'd as 'tis, 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 unblest To happen from this proud request. SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. s But soon these boding fancies fled ; Nor saw I aught 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 ev'n 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, a 3 86 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Yet wak'd 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 ev'n with Lilis — had I not Around her sleep in splendor 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 wak'd, unscath'd and bright, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. As doth the pure, unconscious rose, Though by the fire-fly kiss'd all night ? Ev'n when the rays I scatter'd stole Intensest to her dreaming soul, No thrill disturb'd th' insensate frame — So subtle, so refin'd 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, deceiv'd By my sin's blindness, I believ'd) 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 — a 4 38 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 shun — Will 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 fall'n angel's coronet — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. Of all my glories, this alone Was wanting — but the' illumin'd 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 Ev'n 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 90 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 Black'ning within my arms to ashes ! SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. « 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, ev'n in this dread moment, fond As when they first were round me cast, Loos' d 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 ! — - 92 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 ! 'Twas madd'ning, 'twas — 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, 'Twere not so dreadful — but, come near — Too shocking 'tis for earth to hear — SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. Just when her eyes, in fading, took Their last, keen, agoniz'd 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 imprest, So withering ! — I feel it now — 'Twas fire — but fire, ev'n more unblest 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 sin — 94 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. A brand, which ev'n the wreathed pride Of these bright curls, still forc'd 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, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 95 Great Power, if ever thy decrees Thou could'st for prayer like mine recall, 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 out-casts, 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 sav'd, if such Bright, erring souls are not forgiven ; So loth they wander, and so much Their very wanderings lean tow'rds heaven ! 96 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 paus'd, and to the earth bent down His throbbing head ; while they, who felt That agony as 'twere 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 heav'n must soar, Breath'd inwardly the voiceless prayer, Unheard by all but Mercy's ear — And which if Mercy did not hear, SECOND ANGEL'S STORY. 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,) H 98 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 Unfledg'd 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, eVn 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, THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 ! h 2 00 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. " 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 ceas'd, 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 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. loi From a clear lamp, which, as it blaz'd Across the brow of one, who rais'd 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. 'Twas 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 !" — 'tis fled. h 3 102 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 fall'n than he From happiness and heaven — knew well, His gentler love's short history ! THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 103 Thus did it run — not as he told The tale himself, but as 'tis grav'd Upon the tablets that, of old, By Cham were from the deluge sav'd, 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. h 4 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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) Till the far-circling radiance be Diffus'd into infinity ! First and immediate near the Throne, As if peculiarly God's own, The Seraphs * stand — this burning sign Trac'd on their banner, " Love Divine !" The Seraphim are the Spirits of Divine Love. — See Note. THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. Then- rank, their honours, far above Ev'n those to high-brow'd Cherubs given, Though knowing all — so much doth Love '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 ! 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 there — 06 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. This 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, ev'n from angels, bring such song ! THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 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 virtue'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, ev'n the most secure, Beneath his altar may glide in ! So was it with that Angel — such The charm, that slop'd his fall along From good to ill, from loving much, Too easy lapse, to loving wrong. — 108 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Ev'n so that am'rous Spirit, bound By beauty's spell, where'er 'twas 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 ! 'Twas first at twilight, on the shore Of the smooth sea, he heard the lute And voice of her he lov'd steal o'er The silver waters, that lay mute, As loth, by ev'n 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 THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 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 smil'd, Ready, with her white hand, to guide His bolts of vengeance to their prey — That 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 no THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Those lulling waters where he lay, Watching the day-light's dying ray, Thought 'twas a voice from out the wave, An echo, that some spirit gave To Eden's distant harmony, Heard faint and sweet beneath the sea ! 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 die And, while her lute hung by her, hush'd, As if unequal to the tide THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 1 Of song, that from her lips still gush'd, She rais'd, like one beatified, Those eyes, whose light seem'd rather given To be ador'd than to adore — Such eyes, as may have look'd from heaven, But ne'er were rais'd to it before ! Oh Love, Religion, Music — all That's left of Eden upon earth — The only blessings, since the fall Of our weak souls, that still recall A trace of their high, glorious birth — How kindred are the dreams you bring ! How Love, though unto earth so prone, Delights to take Religion's wing, When time or grief hath stain'd his own ! How near to Love's beguiling brink, Too oft, entranc'd Religion lies ! 112 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. While Music, Music is the link They both still hold by to the skies, 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 cost- Nor 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. THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 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-pledg'd, 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 there — Blest union ! by that Angel wove, And worthy from such hands to come ; Safe, sole asylum, in which Love, When fall'n or exil'd from above, In this dark world can find a home. And, though the Spirit had transgress'd, Had, from his station 'mong the blest 114 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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 before — Yet 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 smil'd. 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 THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 115 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, Ev'n bliss was humbled by the thought — - " What claim have I to be so blest ?" Still less could maid, so meek, have nurs'd Desire of knowledge — that vain thirst, With which the sex hath all been curs'd, From luckless Eve to her, who near The Tabernacle stole to hear The secrets of the angels — no — To love as her own Seraph lov'd, With Faith, the same through bliss and woe — Faith, that, were ev'n its light remov'd, Could, like the dial, fix'd remain, And wait till it shone out again — i 2 lie THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. With Patience that, though often bow'd By the rude storm, can rise anew, And Hope that, ev'n 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 trusty 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, THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 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, * An allusion to the Sephiroths or Splendors of the Jewish Cabbala, represented as a tree, of which God is the crown or summit. — See Note. 3 118 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. 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, THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. 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. All this they bear, but, not the less, Have moments rich in happiness — Blest meetings, after many a day Of widowhood past far away, When the lov'd face again is seen Close, close, with not a tear between — 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 ! — i 4 120 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. That happy minglement of hearts, Where, chang'd 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 ! In what lone region of the earth These Pilgrims now may roam or dwell, THIRD ANGEL'S STORY. God and the Angels, who look forth To watch their steps, alone can tell. But should we, in our wanderings, 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 — 122 THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. Whose piety is love, whose love, Though close as 'twere 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, Is 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." NOTES, NOTES. Preface, p. xi. An erroneous translation by the LXX. of that verse in the sixth Chapter of Genesis, 8fc. The error of these interpreters (and, it is said, of the old Italic version also,) was in making it ol AfyeXot ra ftss, " the Angels of God," instead of " the Sons" — a mistake, which, assisted by the allegorizing comments of Philo, and the rhapsodical fictions of the Book of Enoch *, was more than sufficient to affect the ima- ginations of such half- Pagan writers as Clemens Alex- andrinus, Tertullian, and Lactantius, who, chiefly, among the Fathers, have indulged themselves in fan- * It is lamentable to think that this absurd production, of which we now know the whole from Dr. Laurence's translation, should ever have been considered as an inspired or authentic work. — See the Preliminary Dissertation prefixed to the Translation. 126 NOTES. ciful reveries upon the subject. The greater number, however, have rejected the fiction with indignation. Chrysostom, in his twenty-second Homily upon Ge- nesis, earnestly exposes its absurdity * ; and Cyril accounts such a supposition as efjvi; pupta*;, " border- ing on folly." f According to these Fathers (and their opinion has been followed by all the theologians, down from St. Thomas to Caryl and Lightfoot J,) the * One of the arguments of Chrysostom is, that Angels are no where else, in the Old Testament, called " Sons of God," — but his commentator, Montfaucon, shows that he is mistaken, and that in the Book of Job they are so designated, (c. 1. v. 6.) both in the original Hebrew and the Vulgate, though not in the Septuagint, which alone, he says, Chrysostom read. t Lib. ii. Glaphyrorum. — Philaestrius, in his enume- ration of heresies, classes this story of the Angels among the number, and says it deserves only to be ranked with those fictions about gods and goddesses, to which the fancy of the Pagan poets gave birth : — " Sicuti et Paga- " norum et Poetarum mendacia adserunt deos deasque " transformatos nefanda conjugia commisisse." — De Hseres. Edit. Basil, p. 101. f Lightfoot says " The sons of God, or the members of the Church, and the progeny of Seth, marrying carelessly and promiscuously with the daughters of men, or brood of Cain, &c." I find in Pole that, according to the Samaritan version, the phrase may be understood as meaning " the Sons of the Judges." — So variously may the Hebrew word, Elohim, be interpreted. NOTES. 127 term " Sons of God," must be understood to mean the descendants of Seth, by Enos — a family pecu- liarly favoured by heaven, because with them, men first began " to call upon the name of the Lord" — while, by " the daughters of men," they suppose that the corrupt race of Cain is designated. The probability, however, is, that the words in question ought to have been translated " the sons of the " nobles or great men," as we find them interpreted in the Targum of Onkelos, (the most ancient and ac- curate of all the Chaldaic paraphrases,) and, as it appears from Cyril, the version of Symmachus also rendered them. This translation of the passage re- moves all difficulty, and at once relieves the Sacred History of an extravagance, which, however it may suit the imagination of the poet, is inconsistent with all our notions, both philosophical and religious. Page 3. Transmit each moment, night and day, The echo of His luminous tvord! Dionysius (De Ccelest. Hierarch.) is of opinion, that when Isaiah represents the Seraphim as crying out " one unto the other," his intention is to describe 128 NOTES. those communications of the Divine thought and will, which are continually passing from the higher orders of the angels to the lower : — oia, y.ai avtsc, ts? %eoto,t8<; SfflaffltjW. ol &so\oyoi ojj' emfaveiav. NOTES. 147 Page 113. 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 there. In the Catholic church, when a widow is married, she is not, I believe, allowed to wear flowers on her head. The ancient Romans, honoured with a " co- rona pudicitiae," or crown of modesty, those who entered but once into the marriage state. Page 115. Her, who near The Tabernacle stole to hear The secrets of the Angel. Sara. Page 117. Two fallen Splendors. The Sephiroths are the higher orders of emana- tive being, in the strange and incomprehensible sys- tem of the Jewish Cabbala. They are called by various names, Pity, Beauty, &c. &c. ; and their in- fluences are supposed to act through certain canals, 148 NOTES. which communicate with each other. The reader may judge of the rationality of the 6ystem by the following explanation of part of the machinery: — " Les canaux qui sortent de la Misericorde et de la Force, et qui vont aboutir a la Beaute, sont charges d'un grand nombre d'Anges. II y en a trente-cinq sur le canal de la Misericorde, qui recompensent et qui couronnent la vertu des Saints, &c. &c." — For a concise account of the Cabalistic Philosophy, see Enfield's very use- ful compendium of Brucker. Page 117. From that tree Which buds ivith such eternally. " On les repr^sente quelquefois sous la figure d'un arbre .... l'Ensoph qu'on met au-dessus de l'arbre Sephirotique ou des Splendeurs divins, est lTnfini." — L'Histoire des Juifs, liv, ix. 11. Irf>NDON: Printed by A. & R. 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