"And thou, the next, shalt hear me speak "The spell that plumes my wing for heaven!" While thus I spoke, the fearful maid Had shrinking stood, like flowers beneath I now recall, though wilder'd then,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, inflam'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 creatures 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 Were instant lifted to the skies, eyes And thrice to heaven she spoke it out With that triumphant look Faith wears, When not a cloud of fear or doubt, A vapour from this vale of tears, That sparkle round the' Eternal Throne, Did aught so radiant--since the day But did I tamely view her flight? Did not 1, 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 th' offended God---for ever! It was to yonder star I trac'd Once---or did I but fancy so? Ev'n in her flight to that fair sphere, On him who stood in darkness here; And oft, when looking to this dim But soon that passing dream was gone; 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, And revell'd in the joys of earth, Till I became--what I am now!" The spirit bow'd his head in shame : Whose blush remains, when Virtue sets, Once only, while the tale he told, As though he felt some deadly pain From its 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; expanse, As though his far-sent eye could see Behind the veils of that blue sky, Of living beams, which, though no more They kept their early lustre, still с |