sweetness more intense,

She sank. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe
Swell 'til it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast;
Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow,
And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap to rest.

XXVII.

Now all the mortal maid lies indolent
Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf
Had touched too rude, tho' all the blooms besprent,
One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf

That foams against the sea-rock, looked her neck,
By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved,
That close inclining o'er her seemed to reck
What 'twas they canopied; and quickly heaved

Beneath her robe's white folds and azure zone,
Her heart yet incomposed; a fillet thro'
Peeped brightly azure, while with tender moan
As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew

Sportive;—about her neck their gold he twined,
Kissed the soft violet on her temples warm,
And eye brow—just so dark might well define
Its flexile arch;—throne of expression's charm.

XXVIII.

As the vexed Caspian, tho' its rage be past
And the blue smiling heavens swell o'er in peace,
Shook to the centre, by the recent blast,
Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease.

So still each little pulse was seen to throb
Tho' passion and its pains were lulled to rest,
And "even and anon" a pitious sob
Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast. [FN#12]

[FN#12] This effect is very observable in little children, who for several hours after they have cried themselves to sleep, and sometimes even when a smile is on their lips, are heard, from time to time, to utter sobs.

XXIX.

Save that 'twas all tranquillity; that reigned
O'er fragrance sound and beauty; all was mute—
Save when a dove her dear one's absence plained
And the faint breeze mourned o'er the slumberer's lute.

XXX.

It chanced, that day, lured by the verdure, came
Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere
He sinned, a heavenly angel. The faint flame
Of dying embers, on an altar, where

Raguel, fair Egla's sire, in secret vowed
And sacrificed to the sole living God,
Where friendly shades the sacred rites enshround;—(2)
The fiend beheld and knew; his soul was awed,

And he bethought him of the forfeit joys
Once his in Heaven;—deep in a darkling grot
He sat him down;—the melancholy noise
Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought.

XXXI.

When fiercer spirits, howled, he but complained (3)
Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth,
His heaven-invented harp he still retained
Tho' tuned to bliss no more; and had its birth

Of him, beneath some black infernal clift
The first drear song of woe; and torment wrung
The spirit less severe where he might lift
His plaining voice—and frame the like as now he sung:

XXXII.

"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ
Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell,
Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy,
And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.

"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,—
Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And stright were fiends;—hurled from the shrinking field,
They waked in agony to wait the change.

"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire
The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,
To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,—
Dared to attempt—and doomed the world to death.

"Thy thousand wild desires, that still torment
The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt,
But perished;—feverish hope—drear discontent,
Impoisoning all possest—Oh! I have felt

"As spirits feel—yet not for man we mourn
Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he,
That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return,
And sleeps at evening; save by aid of thee,

"Fame ne'er had roused, nor song her records kept
The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life,
The pencil's colours,—all in earth had slept,
Now see them mark with death his victim's strife.

"Man found thee death—but death and dull decay
Baffling, by aid of thee, his mastery proves;—
By mighty works he swells his narrow day
And reigns, for ages, on the world he loves.

"Yet what the price? with stings that never cease
Thou goad'st him on; and when, too keen the smart,
He fain would pause awhile—and signs for peace,
Food thou wilt have, or tear his victim heart."

XXXIII.

Thus Zophiel still,—"tho' now the infernal crew
Had gained by sin a privilege in the world,
Allayed their torments in the cool night dew,
And by the dim star-light again their wings unfurled."

XXXIV.

And now, regretful of the joys his birth
Had promised; deserts, mounts and streams he crost,
To find, amid the loveliest spots of earth,
Faint likeness of the heaven he had lost.

And oft, by unsuccessful searching pained,
Weary he fainted thro' the toilsome hours;
And then his mystic nature he sustained
On steam of sacrifices—breath of flowers. (4)

XXXV.

Sometimes he gave out oracles, amused
With mortal folly; resting on the shrines;
Or, all in some fair Sibyl's form infused,
Spoke from her quivering lips, or penned her mystic lines. [FN#13]

[FN#13] This passage merely accords with the belief that the responses of the ancient oracles were spoken by fiends, or evil spirits. We need only look into the "New Testament for a confirmation of the power which such beings were supposed to possess of speaking from the lips of mortals."

XXXVI.

And now he wanders on from glade to glade
To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms,
And gliding thro' the thick inwoven shade
Where the young Hebrew lay in all her charms,

He caught a glimpse. The colours in her face—
Her bare white arms—her lips—her shining hair—
Burst on his view. He would have flown the place;
Fearing some faithful angel rested there,

Who'd see him—reft of glory—lost to bliss—
Wandering and miserably panting—fain
To glean a scanty joy—with thoughts like this—
Came all he'd known and lost—he writh'd with pain

Ineffable—But what assailed his ear,
A sigh?—surprised, another glance he took;
Then doubting—fearing—gradual coming near—
He ventured to her side and dared to look;

Whispering, "yes, 'tis of earth! So, new-found life
Refreshing, looked sweet Eve, with purpose fell
When first sin's sovereign gazed on her, and strife
Had with his heart, that grieved with arts of hell,

"Stern as it was, to