Page images
PDF
EPUB

Upon the tablets that, of old,

By CHAM were from the deluge saved, All written over with sublime

And saddening legends of th' unbless'd, But glorious Spirits of that time,

And this young Angel's 'mong the rest.

THIRD ANGEL'S STORY.

AMONG the Spirits, of pure flame,

That round th' Almighty Throne abideCircles 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
Diffused into infinity!

First and immediate near the Throne,

As if peculiarly God's own,

The Seraphs stand-this burning sign
Traced on their banner, "Love Divine !"
Their rank, their honours, far above

Even those to high-brow'd Cherubs given,
Though knowing all-so much doth Love
Transcend all knowledge, even in Heaven!

The Seraphim are the Spirits of Divine Love. See Note,

'Mong these was ZARAPH once-and none E'er felt affection's holy fire,

Or yearn'd towards th' 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-
life-breath of his heart!

The

very

Often, when from th' 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 th' effulgence there-
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, even from angels, bring such song!

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, even the most secure,

Beneath his altar may glide in!

So was it with that Angel-such

The charm that sloped his fall along From good to ill, from loving much,

Too easy lapse, to loving wrong.

Even 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 loved steal o'er

The silver waters that lay mute, As loth, by even 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
Had, o'er th' horizon's golden rim,

Into Elysium rollid away!
Of God she sung, and of the mild

Attendant Mercy, that beside
His awful throne for ever smiled,

Ready, with her white hand, to guide

« PreviousContinue »