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 veiled from view, or rather shrined

In the clear crystal of a brook;

Which while it hid no single gleam

Of her young beauties made them look

More spirit-like, as they might seem

Thro’ the dim shadowing of a dream.

Pausing in wonder I lookt on,

While playfully around her breaking

The waters that like diamonds shone

She moved in light of her own making.

At length as from that airy height

I gently lowered my breathless flight,

The tremble of my wings all o'er

( For thro’ each plume I felt the thrill )

Startled her as she reached 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

Of that bright face when in the air

Uplooking she beheld me there.

It seemed as if each thought and look

And motion were that minute chained

Fast to the spot, such root she took,

And — like a sunflower by a brook,

With face upturned — so still remained!

In pity to the wondering maid,

Tho’ loath 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 sidelong look the maid was gone —

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 neighboring 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,

When seraph lays are warmed by love,

But wanting that far, far above!—

And looking into eyes where, blue

And beautiful, like skies seen thro’

The sleeping wave, for me there shone

A heaven, more worshipt than my own.

Oh what, while I could hear and see

Such words and looks, was heaven to me?

Tho’ gross the air on earth I drew,

‘ Twas blessed, while she breathed it too;

Tho’ dark the flowers, tho’ dim the sky,

Love lent them light while she was nigh.

Throughout creation I but knew

Two separate worlds — the one, that small,

Beloved and consecrated spot

Where LEA was — the other, all

The dull, wide waste where she was not!

But vain my suit, my madness vain;

Tho’ gladly, from her eyes to gain

One earthly look, one stray desire,

I would have torn the wings that hung

Furled at my back and o'er the Fire

In GEHIM'Spit their fragments flung;—

‘ Twas hopeless all — pure and unmoved

She stood as lilies in the light

Of the hot noon but look more white;—

And tho’ she loved me, deeply loved,

‘ Twas not as man, as mortal — no,

Nothing of earth was in that glow —

She loved 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 gazed at even,

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,

When,— turning to the star whose head

Lookt 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 cast its fire towards the shrine

“Of Him in heaven, the Eternal One!”

So innocent the maid, so free

From mortal taint in soul and frame,

Whom‘ twas my crime — my destiny —

To love, ay, 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 angered — no!— the feeling came

From depths beyond mere anger's flame —

It was a sorrow calm as deep,

A mournfulness that could not weep,

So filled her heart was to the brink,

So fixt and frozen with grief to think

That angel natures — that even I

Whose love she clung to, as the tie

Between her spirit and the sky —

Should fall thus headlong from the height

Of all that heaven hath pure and bright!

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.

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 pronounced when back to heaven

It is their time 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 failed — the spell was broken —

The word unfinisht died away,

And my checkt 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?

No matter where my wanderings were,

So there she lookt, breathed, moved about —

Woe, ruin, death, more sweet with her,

Than Paradise itself, 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;

Tho’ on her gentle brow still hung

The shadow I that morn had thrown —

The first that ever shame or woe

Had cast upon its vernal snow.

My heart was maddened;— in the flush

Of the wild revel I gave way

To all that frantic mirth — that rush

Of desperate gayety 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 —

Whose drops like those of rainbows smile

Upon the mists that circle man,

Brightening not only Earth the while,

But grasping Heaven too in their span!—

Then first the fatal wine-cup rained

Its dews of darkness thro’ my lips,

Casting whate'er of light remained

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 wildfires

That walk this earth when day retires.

Now hear the rest;— our banquet done,

I sought her in the accustomed bower,

Where late we oft, when day was gone

And the world husht, had met alone,

At the same silent, moonlight hour.

Her eyes as usual were upturned

To her loved star whose lustre burned

Purer than ever on that night;

While she in looking grew more bright

As tho’ she borrowed of its light.

There was a virtue in that scene,

A spell of holiness around,

Which had my burning brain not been

Thus maddened would have held me bound,

As tho’ I trod celestial ground.

Even as it was, with soul all flame

And lips that burned in their own sighs,

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 proved

How far, alas! from aught divine,

Aught worthy of so pure a shrine,

Was the wild love with which I loved,

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 placed above him — far above —

And all that struggle to repress

A sinful spirit's mad excess,

Which workt within me at that hour,

When with a voice where Passion shed

All the deep sadness of her power,

Her melancholy power — I said,

“Then be it so; if back to heaven

“I must unloved, unpitied fly.

“Without one blest memorial given

“To soothe me in that lonely sky;

“One look like those the young and fond

“Give when they're parting — which would be,

“Even in remembrance far beyond

“All heaven hath left of bliss for me!

“Oh, but to see that head recline

“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 too purely fond to fear me —

“Or if that boon be all too much,

“Even thus to bring their fragrance near me!

“Nay, shrink not so — a look — a word —

“Give them but kindly and I fly;

“Already, see, my plumes have stirred

“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 named — alas, too well,

I now recall, tho’ wildered then,—

Instantly, when I named 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 exclaimed —

Unknowing what I did, inflamed,

And lost already, on her brow

I stampt one burning kiss, and named

The mystic word till then ne'er told

To living creature of earth's mould!

Scarce was it said when quick a 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,

A vapor 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 around ALLA'S 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 thro’!

Most holy vision! ne'er before

Did aught so radiant — since the day

When EBLIS in his downfall, bore

The third of the bright stars away —

Rise in earth's beauty to repair

That loss of light and glory there!

But did I tamely view her flight?

Did not I too proclaim out thrice

The powerful words that were that night,—

Oh even 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 prayed, I wept, but all in vain;

For me the spell had power no more.

There seemed around me some dark chain

Which still as I essayed to soar

Baffled, alas, each wild endeavor;

Dead lay my wings as they have lain

Since that sad hour and will remain —

So wills the offended God — for ever!

It was to yonder star I traced

Her journey up the illumined 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 — ordained to be

Her home of light for evermore!

Once — or did I but fancy so?—

Even in her flight to that fair sphere,

Mid all her spirit's new-felt glow,

A pitying look she turned below

On him who stood in darkness here;

Him whom perhaps if vain regret

Can dwell in heaven she pities yet;

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 lessened 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 merged, 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 past away;

And I forgot my home, my birth,

Profaned my spirit, sunk my brow,

And revelled in gross joys of earth

Till I became — what I am now!

The Spirit bowed his head in shame;

A shame that of itself would tell —

Were there not even those breaks of flame,

Celestial, thro’ his clouded frame —

How grand the height from which he fell!

That holy Shame which ne'er forgets

The unblenched renown it used 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!

One minute did he look and then —

As tho’ he felt some deadly pain

From its sweet light thro’ heart and brain —

Shrunk back and never lookt again.

Who was the Second Spirit? he

With the proud front and piercing glance —

Who seemed when viewing heaven's expanse

As tho’ his far-sent eye could see

On, on into the Immensity

Behind the veils of that blue sky

Where ALLA'S grandest secrets lie?—

His wings, the while, tho’ day was gone,

Flashing with many a various hue

Of light they from themselves alone,

Instinct with Eden's brightness drew.

‘ Twas RUBI — once among the prime

And flower of those bright creatures, named

Spirits of Knowledge,who o'er Time

And Space and Thought an empire claimed,

Second alone to Him whose light

Was even 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

To vague shores of Infinity

‘ Twas RUBI in whose mournful eye

Slept the dim light of days gone by;

Whose voice tho’ sweet fell on the ear

Like echoes in some silent place

When first awaked for many a year;

And when he smiled, if o'er his face

Smile ever shone,‘ twas like the grace

Of moonlight rainbows, fair, but wan,

The sunny life, the glory gone.

Even o'er his pride tho’ still the same,

A softening shade from sorrow came;

And tho’ 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 thro’ some noble pile on fire!

Such was the Angel who now broke

The silence that had come o'er all,

When he the Spirit that last spoke

Closed the sad history of his fall;

And while a sacred lustre flown

For many a day relumed his cheek —

Beautiful as in days of old;

And not those eloquent lips alone

But every feature seemed to speak —

Thus his eventful story told:—