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“ And thou, the next, shalt hear me speak
“The spell that plumes my wing for hea
While thus I spoke, the fearful maid
I now recall, though wilder'd then,-
Her brow, her eyes uprose again, And with an eagerness, that spoke The sudden light that o'er her broke, “The spell, the spell ?---ob, 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 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 vapour from this vale of tears,
Between her and her God appears!
That sparkle round the Eternal 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
Did aught so radiant--since the day
But did I tamely view her fight?
Did not 1, too, proclaim out thrice
Again to bring us, eyes to eyes,
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
In wishes and in dreams before,
Her home of light for evermore !
Once---or did I but fancy so?
Evin in her flight to that fair sphere,
On hini 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.
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 :
A shame, that of itself would tell Were there not ev'n those breaks of flame, Celestial, through his clouded frame,
How grand the height from which he fell ; That holy Shame, which ne'er forgets What clear renown it us’d 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
As though he felt some deadly pain
Who was the Second Spirit?-he
With the proud front and piercing glance;
Flashing with many a various hue Of light they from themselves alone,
Instinct with Eden's brightness, drew; A breathing forth of beams at will,
Of living beams, which, though no more They kept their early lustre, still