Whate'er the wondrous things might be, Their cause, aim, source from whence they sprung, Their inmost powers, as though for me Oh what a vision were the stars, Of light, for gods to journey by! Of misery had I shunn'd below, Could I have still liv'd blest with such; Nor, proud and restless, burn'd to know The knowledge that brings guilt and woe! Often---so much I lov'd to trace Of light into their different dyes-- Then fleetly wing'd I off, in quest What soul within their radiance dwelt, And wishing their sweet light were speech, That they might tell me all they felt. Nay, oft, so passionate my chace Should 'scape me in the farthest night; Some pilgrim Comet, on his way To visit distant shrines of light, And well remember how I sung Exulting out, when on my sight New worlds of stars, all fresh and young As if just born of darkness, sprung! Such was my pure ambition then, My sinless transport, night and morn; Ere this still newer world of men, And that most fair of stars was born Which I, in fatal hour, saw rise Among the flowers of Paradise! Thenceforth my nature all was chang'd, My heart, soul, senses turn'd below; And he who but so lately rang'd Yon wonderful expanse, where glow Worlds upon worlds, yet found his mind Ev'n in that luminous range confin'd, Now blest the humblest, meanest sod Of the dark earth where woman trod! In vain my former idols glisten'd From their far thrones; in vain these ears To the once thrilling music listen'd, That hymn'd around my favorite spheres? To earth, to earth each thought was given That in this half-lost soul had birth; Like some high mount whose head's in heaven While its whole shadow rests on earth! Nor was it Love, ev'n yet, that thrall'd And less, still less could it be call'd Nearer and nearer, till he dies; No, it was wonder, such as thrill'd With passion, more profound, intense, A vehement, but wandering fire,. To fix it burning upon One. Then to the ever-restless zeal, To know what shapes, so fair, must feel; Those looks could inward turn their ray, I had beheld their First, their Eve, I had seen purest angels lean In worship o'er her from above; And man-oh yes, had envying seen I saw their happiness, so brief, So exquisite-her error, too, That easy trust, that prompt belief In what the warm heart wishes true; That faith in words, when kindly said, By which the whole fond sex is led; Mingled with (what I durst not blame, For 'tis my own) that wish to know; Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe; Which, though from heaven all pure it came, Yet stain'd, misus'd, brought sin and shame On her, on me, on all below! I had seen this; had seen Man-arm'd As his soul is with strength and senseBy her first words to ruin charm'd ; His vaunted reason's cold defence, Like an ice-barrier in the ray Of melting summer, smil'd away! Nay, stranger yet-spite of all this Though by her counsels taught to err, Though driv'n from Paradise for her, (And with her that, at least, was bliss) Had I not heard him, ere he crost The threshold of that earthly heaven, |