‘ 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:—
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