[144] "Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the plane trees upon it.—Foster.

[145] "The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs into the Lakes of Sing-su-hay, has abundance of gold in its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer in gathering it."—Description of Tibet in Pinkerton.

[146] "The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue campac flowers only in Paradise."—Sir W. Jones. It appears, however, from a curious letter of the Sultan of Menangeabow, given by Marsden, that one place on earth may lay claim to the possession of it. "This is the Sultan, who keeps the flower champaka that is blue, and to be found in no other country but his, being yellow elsewhere."—Marsden's Sumatra.

[147] "The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the bad, when they approach too near the empyrean or verge or the heavens."—Fryer.

[148] The Forty Pillars; so the Persians call the ruins of Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the purpose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense treasures, which still remain there.—D'Herbelot, Volney.

[149] Diodorus mentions the Isle of Panchai, to the south of Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. This island, or rather cluster of isles, has disappeared, "sunk [says Grandpre] in the abyss made by the fire beneath their foundations."—Voyage to the Indian Ocean.

[150] The Isles of Panchaia.

[151] "The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when digging for the foundations of Persepolis."-Richardson.

[152] "It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich with pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast are stored with gold and precious stones, whose gulfs breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants of whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all other spices and aromatics; where parrots and peacocks are birds of the forest, and musk and civit are collected upon the lands."—Travels of Two Mohammedans.

[153] "With this immense treasure Mamood returned to Ghizni and in the year 400 prepared a magnificent festival, where he displayed to the people his wealth in golden thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain without the city of Ghizni." Ferishta.

[154] "Mahmood of Gazna, or Chizni, who conquered India in the beginning of the 11th century."—See his History in Dow and Sir J. Malcolm.

[155] "It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan Mahmood was so magnificent, that he kept 400 greyhounds and bloodhounds each of which wore a collar set with jewels and a covering edged with gold and pearls."—Universal History, vol. iii.

[156] "The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunae of antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to arise."—Bruce.

[157] "The Nile, which the Abyssinians know by the names of Abey and Alawy or the Giant."—Asiat. Research. vol. i. p. 387.

[158] See Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the sepulchres in Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, covered all over with hieroglyphics in the mountains of Upper Egypt.

[159] "The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves.—Sonnini.

[160] Savary mentions the pelicans upon Lake Moeris.

[161] "The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, like that of a handsome woman overcome with sleep."—Dafard el Hadad.

[162] "That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shining blue, with purple beak and legs, the natural and living ornament of the temples and palaces of the Greeks and Romans, which, from the stateliness of its part, as well as the brilliancy of its colors, has obtained the title of Sultana,"—Sonnini.

[163] Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West Barbary, when he was there, says, "The birds of the air fled away from the abodes of men. The hyaenas, on the contrary, visited the cemeteries," etc.

[164] "Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned dark, till the dawn of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses, which this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets without burial, and who firmly believe that these animals are Falashta from the neighboring mountains, transformed by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in the dark in safety."—Bruce.

[165] "In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood and consumes himself."—Richardson.

[166] "On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave."—From Chateaubriand's Description of the Mahometan Paradise, in his "Beauties of Christianity."

[167] Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that country has always been famous;—hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses.

[168] "The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings, were covered with them."—Bruce.

[169] "The Syrinx or Pan's pipes is still a pastoral instrument in Syria."—Russel.

[170] "Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said (Psalm lxxxi.), 'honey out of the stony rock.'"—Burder's Oriental Customs.

[171] "The River Jordan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and pleasant woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all together."—Thevenot.

[172] The Temple of the Sun at Balbec.

[173] "You behold there a considerable number of a remarkable species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appearance and their attire procured for them the name of Damsels.—Sonnini.

[174] "Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to attend the mosques, are still obliged to execute that duty; nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business they are then about, but pray immediately when the hour alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very place they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a janissary, whom you have to guard you up and down the city, hears the notice which is given him from the steeples, he will turn about, stand still, and beckon with his hand, to tell his charge he must have patience for awhile; when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it on the ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and says his prayers, though in the open market, which, having ended he leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he undertook to convey, and renews his journey with the mild expression of Ghell yelinnum ghell, or Come, dear, follow me."—Aaron Hill's Travels.

[175] The Nucta, Or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt precisely on St. John's day in June and is supposed to have the effect of stopping the plague.

[176] The Country of Delight—the name of a province in the kingdom of Jinnistan, or Fairy Land, the capital of which is called the City of Jewels. Amberabad is another of the cities of Jinnistan.

[177] The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace of Mahomet. See Sale's Prelim. Disc.—Tooba, says D'Herbelot, signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness.

[178] Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, as having seen the Angel Gabriel "by the lote-tree, beyond which there is no passing: near it is the Garden of Eternal Abode." This tree, say the commentators, stands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the Throne of God.

[179] "It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were reckoned in the time of Peisl ben Abi Bordeh, and amounted to the number of one hundred and twenty thousand streams."—Ebn Haukal.

[180] The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exercise. See Castellan, "Moeurs des Ottomans," tom. iii. p. 161.

[181] "This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan Hospital, as I had heard much of their benevolence to all kinds of animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, through age or accident. On my arrival, there were presented to my view many horses, cows, and oxen, in one apartment; in another, dogs, sheep, goats, and monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose on. Above stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, and flat, broad dishes for water, for the use of birds and insects."—Parson's Travels. It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the most timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer to them than to other people.—See Grandpre.

[182] "A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, near Heridwar, which in some places covers whole acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a strong odor."—Sir W. Jones on the Spikenard of the Ancients.

[183] "Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talism, the Mountain of the Talisman, because, according to the traditions of the country, no person ever succeeded in gaining its summit."—Kinneir.

[184] "The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their young by only looking at them."

[185] Oriental Tales.

[186] Ferishta. "Or rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta, from which this is taken, "small coins, stamped with the figure of a flower. They are still used in India to distribute in charity and on occasion thrown by the purse-bearers of the great among the populace."

[187] The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from Agra to Lahore, planted with trees on each side. This road is 250 leagues in length. It has "little pyramids or turrets," says Bernier, "erected every half league, to mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink to passengers, and to water the young trees."

[188] The Baya, or Indian Grosbeak.—Sir W. Jones.

[189] "Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus: the flower is larger than that of the white water-lily, and is the most lovely of the nymphaeas I have seen."—Mrs. Graham's Journal of a Residence in India.

[190] "Cashmere (says its historian) had its own princes 4000 years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar would have found some difficulty to reduce this paradise of the Indies, situated as it is within such a fortress of mountains, but its monarch, Yusef-Khan, was basely betrayed by his Omrahs."—Pennant.

[191] Voltaire tells us that in his tragedy, "Les Guebres," he was generally supposed to have alluded to the Jansenists. I should not be surprised if this story of the Fire worshippers were found capable of a similar doubleness of application.

[192] The Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separates the shores of Persia and Arabia.

[193] The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side of the Gulf.

[194] A Moorish instrument of music.

[195] "At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have towers for the purpose of catching the wind and cooling the houses.—Le Bruyn.

[196] "Iran is the true general name for the empire of Persia.—Asiat. Res. Disc. 5.

[197] "On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the Koran is usually inscribed.—Russel.

[198] There is a kind of Rhododendros about Trebizond, whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence drives people mad;"—Tournefort.

[199] Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers, upon the right side, as a badge of sovereignty "—Hanway.

[200] "The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, is situated in some dark region of the East."—Richardson.

[201] Arabia Felix.

[202] "In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a large room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessamines, and honeysuckles, make a sort of green wall; large trees are planted round this place, which is the scene of their greatest pleasures."—Lady M. W. Montagu.

[203] The women of the East are never without their looking-glasses. "In Barbary," says Shaw, "they are so fond of their looking-glasses, which they hang upon their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even when after the drudgery of the day they are obliged to go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat's skin to fetch water."—Travels.

[204] "They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on the lustre of those stones (emeralds), he immediately becomes blind."—Ahmed ben Abdalaziz, Treatise on Jewels.

[205] "At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes so hot, that the people are obliged to lie all day in the water."—Marco Polo.

[206] This mountain is generally supposed to be inaccessible. Struy says, "I can well assure the reader that their opinion is not true, who suppose this mount to be inaccessible." He adds, that "the lower part of the mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark, the middlemost part very cold, and like clouds of snow, but the upper regions perfectly calm."—It was on this mountain that the Ark was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, and part of it, they say, exists there still, which Struy thus gravely accounts for:—"Whereas none can remember that the air on the top of the hill did ever change or was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to be the reason that the Ark has endured so long without being rotten."—See Carreri's Travels, where the Doctor laughs at this whole account of Mount Ararat.

[207] In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Zal (a celebrated hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair,) comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent;—he, however, manages it in a less romantic way by fixing his crook in a projecting beam.—See Champion's Ferdosi.

[208] "On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea, are rock-goats."—Niebuhr.

[209] "They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it."—Grose's Voyage.

[210] "They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated in the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary."—Hanway.

[211] The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was dark used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air which in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars."—Baumgarten.

[212] "Within the enclosure which surrounds his monument (at Gualior) is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, concerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the chewing of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice."—Narrative of a Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq.

[213] "It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile equal to a good wagon-load is collected. The sight of these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension."—Oriental Field Sports, vol. ii.

[214] "The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod Tree of Councils; the first, from the idols placed under its shade; the second, because meetings were held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain to supply the use of mirrors."—Pennant.

[215] The Persian Gulf.—"To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf."—Sir W. Jones.

[216] Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. "The Indians when they pass the promontory throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea to secure a propitious voyage."—Morier.

[217] "The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the daytime and from the loftiest trees at night."—Russel's "Aleppo."

[218] In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, "The dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust."

[219] The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed.

[220] The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm-tree, which grows in the heart of the forests, may be classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy summit. The sheath which then envelopes the flower is very large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the report of a cannon."— Thunberg.

[221] "When the bright scimitars make the eyes of our heroes wink."—The Moallakat, Poem of Amru.

[222] Tahmuras, and other ancient Kings of Persia; whose adventures in Fairy-land among the Peris and Divs may be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his descendants.

[223] This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River from the "cedar-saints" among which it rises.

[224] This mountain is my own creation, as the "stupendous chain," of which I suppose it a link, does not extend quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf.

[225] These birds sleep in the air. They are most common about the Cape of Good Hope.

[226] "There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, called Kohe Gubr, or the Guebre's mountain. It rises in the form of a lofty cupola, and on the summit of it, they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence or Deeves or Sprites, and many marvellous stories are recounted of the injury and witchcraft suffered by those who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it."—Pottinger's "Beloochistan."

[227] The Ghebers generally built their temples over subterraneous fires.

[228] "At the city of Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Seat of Religion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush Kudu or Fire Temple (which, they assert, has had the sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster) in their own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty-five rupees each man."—Pottinger's "Beloochistan."

[229] Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Guebres there are some who boast their descent from Rustam."—Stephen's Persia.

[230] See Russel's account of the panther's attacking travellers in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon.

[231] "Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon the tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves."— Richardson.

[232] In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by Lord, "the Daroo," he says, "giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness."

[233] "Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun.'—Rabbi Benjamin.

[234] A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and the ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of a resplendent yellow color."— Russel's "Aleppo."

[235] It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, that when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles like fire."—Travels of Two Mohammedans.

[236] A kind of trumpet;—it "was that used by Tamerlane, the sound of which is described as uncommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at a distance of several miles."—Richardson.

[237] "Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of Ohod."—Universal History.

[238] "They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all full of ashes."— Thevenot.

[239] "The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy is though it had been the face of a clear and still lake."—Pottinger.

[240] "A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of that name."—"The wind which blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end of the month."—Le Bruyn.

[241] "The Biajus are of two races: the one is settled on Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themselves the original possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gypsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon.

[242] "The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar."—Hassequist.

[243] "Last of all she took a guitar, and sang a pathetic air in the measure called Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers."—Persian Tales.

[244] "The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages with music."—Harmer.

[245] "The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red Sea, commonly called Babelmandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on account of the danger of the navigation and the number of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished; which induced them to consider as dead, and to wear mourning for all who had the boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean."—Richardson.

[246] "I have been told that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly appears."—Pennant.

[247] "They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat, or Babylonian pigeon."—Travels of certain Englishmen.

[248] "The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them."—Harris.

[249] The meteors that Pliny calls "faces."

[250] "The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates."—Brown.

[251] A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients, Ceraunium, because it was supposed to be found in places where thunder had fallen. Tertullian says it has a glittering appearance, as if there had fire in it; and the author of the Dissertation of Harris's Voyages, supposes it to be the opal.

[252] "The Guebres are known by a dark yellow color, which the men affect in their clothes."—Thevenot.

[253] "The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of the skin of the sheep of Tartary."—Waring.

[254] A frequent image among the oriental poets. "The nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, and rent the thin veils of the rose-bud, and the rose."—Jami.

[255] "Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable color to silk."—Remarks on the Husbandry of Bengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indian names of this flower.—Sir W. Jones. The Persians call it Gul.—Carreri.

[256] "In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or for travellers.—Ebn Haukal.

[257] The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, who are called "the Searchers of the Grave" in the "Creed of the orthodox Mahometans" given by Ockley, vol. ii.

[258] "The Arabians call the mandrake 'the devil's candle,' on account of its shining appearance in the night."—Richardson.

[259] For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Upper Egypt, where it is said there are many statues of men, women, etc., to be seen to this day, see Perry's "Views of the Levant."

[260] Jesus.

[261] The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their great Prophet, was thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, the flame turned instantly into "a bed of roses, where the child sweetly reposed."—Tavernier.

[262] "The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, and the Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as a trumpet for blowing alarms or giving signals: it sends forth a deep and hollow sound."— Pennant.

[263] "The finest ornament for the horses is made of six large flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places of the Indies."—Thevenot.

[264] "The angel Israfll, who has the most melodious voice of all God's creatures."—Sale.

[265] "In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan several sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbor themselves, whose being washed out of the covert by the overflowings of the river, gave occasion to that allusion of Jeremiah, he shall come up like a lion from the smelling of Jordan."—Maundrell's "Aleppo."

[266] "This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of lutes, that they can never be tuned while it lasts."—Stephen's Persia.

[267] "One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian Gulf is a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is circular, and at night very luminous, resembling the full moon surrounded by rays."—Mirza Abu Taleb.

[268] Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a concretion of the tears of birds.—See Trevoux, Chambers.

[269] "The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire."—Struy.

[270] "The application of whips or rods."—Dubois.

[271] Kempfer mentions such an officer among the attendants of the King of Persia, and calls him "formae corporis estimator." His business was, at stated periods, to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regulation-girdle whose limits it was not thought graceful to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of shape, they were reduced by abstinence till they came within proper bounds.

[272] "Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon the Nilab, which he called Attock, which means in the Indian language Forbidden; for, by the superstition of the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to cross that river."—Dow's Hindostan.

[273] "The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never afflicted with sadness or melancholy; on this subject the Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the following distich:—

"'Who is the man without care or sorrow, (tell) that I may rub my hand to him.

"'(Behold) the Zingians, without care and sorrow, frolicsome with tipsiness and mirth.'"

[274] The star Soheil, or Canopus.

[275] "The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The Turks kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head it mimics them when they say their prayers."—Hasselquist.

[276] "As you enter at that Bazar, without the gate of Damascus, you see the Green Mosque, so called because it hath a steeple faced with green glazed bricks, which render it very resplendent: It is covered at top with a pavilion of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque was made in that place, because Mahomet being come so far, would not enter the town, saying it was too delicious."—Thevenot.

[277] Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was afterwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World.

[278] "The rose of Kashmire for its brilliancy and delicacy of odor has long been proverbial in the East."—Foster.

[279] "Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing melody."—Song of Jayadeva.

[280] "The little isles in the Lake of Cachemire are set with arbors and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall."—Bernier.

[281] "The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Mahommetans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal to the Lake."—Forster.

[282] "The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their remaining in bloom."—See Pietro de la Valle.

[283] "Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I believe a particular species."—Ouseley.

[284] A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or Memoirs of Jehan- Guire, where there is an account of the beds of saffron-flowers about Cashmere.

[285] "It is the custom among the women to employ the Maazeen to chant from the gallery of the nearest minaret, which on that occasion is illuminated, and the women assembled at the house respond at intervals with a ziraleet or joyous chorus."—Russel.

[286] "The swing is a favorite pastime in the East, as promoting a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates."— Richardson.

[287] At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, and girls, with music, dances, etc."—Herbert.

[288] "An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having remarked that a current of water made some of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they detached some of them, and being charmed with the delightful sound they emitted, constructed King or musical instruments of them,"—Grosier.

[289] In the wars of the Divs with the Peris, whenever the former took the latter prisoners, "they shut them up in iron cages, and hung them on the highest trees. Here they were visited by their companions, who brought them the choicest odors."—Richardson.

[290] In the Malay language the same word signifies women and flowers.

[291] The capital of Shadukiam.

[292] "Among the birds of Tonquin is a species of goldfinch, which sings so melodiously that it is called the Celestial Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated with beautiful colors, but when it flies they lose all their splendor."—Grosier.

[293] "As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to rest, they are called by the French 'les ames damnees.'"—Dalloway.

[294] "You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs and flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not in his constant heart for more than the sweet breath of his beloved rose."—Jami.

[295] "He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or talisman, through which he ruled over the elements and spirits of all denominations."—Wilford.

[296] "The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the Arabs El Herrez, from the supposed charm they contain."—Jackson.

[297] "A demon, supposed to haunt woods, etc., in a human shape."— Richardson.

[298] The name of Jehan-Guire before his accession to the throne.

[299] "Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the brightest gold color."—Sir W. Jones.

[300] "This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delightful on earth, and the delicious odor of its blossoms justly gives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the God of Love."—Id.

[301] "The Malayans style the tuberose (polianthes tuberosa) Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night."—Pennant.

[302] The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which Zamara is one of the ancient names), "when not engaged in war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day in playing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flowers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the country, mostly prevails,"—Marsden.

[303] "The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu or rose-apple) is called Amrita, or immortal, and the mythologists of Tibet apply the same word to a celestial tree, bearing ambrosial fruit."—Sir W. Jones.

[304] Sweet Basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in churchyards.

[305] "In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary."—Asiat. Res.

[306] "The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare branches."—Hasselquist.

[307] An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goat and other animals that graze upon it.

[308] The myrrh country.

[309] "This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea."—Wilford.

[310] "A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be constantly playing."—Richardson.

[311] "The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree."—See Brown's Illustr. Tab. 19.

[312] "The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. They account for this phenomenon in a most whimsical manner. They say that as the sun rises from behind the Kohi Qaf (Mount Caucasus), it passes a hole perforated through that mountain, and that darting its rays through it, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this temporary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth is again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the mountain, and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real morning."—Scott Waring.

[313] "In the centre of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, one of the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shan Jehan, constructed a spacious garden called the Shalimar, which is abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into a canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through its centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water-works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar."—Forster.

[314] "The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them."—Ali Yezdi.

[315] "From him I received the following little Gazzel, or Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that delightful valley over the various parts of India."—Persian Miscellanies.

[316] "The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile (attached to the Emperor of Morocco's palace) are unequalled, and mattresses are made of their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon."—Jackson.

[317] "On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond."—Mariti.

[318] "These is a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy Land."— Thevenot. In some of those countries to the north of India vegetable gold is supposed to be produced.

[319] "These are the butterflies which are called in the Chinese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such shining colors, and are so variegated, that they may be called flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced in the finest flower-gardens."—Dunn.

[320] "The Arabian women wear black masks with little clasps prettily ordered."—Carreri. Niebuhr mentions their showing but one eye in conversation.

[321] "The golden grapes of Casbin."—Description of Persia.

[322] "The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, pomegranates," etc.—Elphinstone.

[323] "We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and talked with the son of our Mehmaundar about our country and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting account; that city and its 100,000 gardens," etc.—Ib.

[324] "The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the world; the pride of the Malay islands."—Marsden.

[325] "A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians tokmekshems, signifying sun's seed."—Description of Persia.

[326] "Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose-leaves in conserve, with Iemon of Visna cherry, orange flowers," etc.—Russel.

[327] "Antelopes cropping the fresh berries of Erac."—The Moallakat, Poem of Tarafa.

[328] "Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vessels which the fishermen and divers bring up from it are sold at an immense price in China and Japan."—See Kempfer.

[329] Persian Tales.

[330] The white wine of Kishma.

[331] "The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest ruby that was ever seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered the value of a city for It, but the king answered he would not give it for the treasure of the world."—Marco Polo.

[332] The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating down the Ganges on the Nymphaea Nelumbo.—See Pennant.

[333] Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths.—See Ebn Haukal.

[334] "The Indian Syrinda, or guitar."—Symez.

[335] "Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building of Shah Allum's) in the cornice are the following lines in letters of gold upon a ground of white marble—'If there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this.'"—Franklin.

[336] "Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the mountain tops while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil."—Song of Jayadera.

[337] "The Nison or drops of spring rain, which they believe to produce pearls if they fall into shells."—Richardson.

[338] For an account of the share which wine had in the fall of the angels, see Mariti.

[339] The Angel of Music.

[340] The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground.

[341] "The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the sides of porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which were only perceptible when the vessel was full of some liquor, They call this species Kia-tsin, that is, azure is put in press, on account of the manner in which the azure is laid on."—"They are every now and then trying to discover the art of this magical painting, but to no purpose."—Dunn.

[342] An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be father to Abraham. "I have such a lovely idol as is not to be met with in the house of Azor."—Hafiz.

[343] Kachmire be Nazeer.—Forster.

[344] Jehan-Guire mentions "a fountain in Cashmere called Tirnagh, which signifies a snake; probably because some large snake had formerly been seen there."—"During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this fountain, which is about twenty coss from the city of Cashmere. The vestiges of places of worship and sanctity are to be traced without number amongst the ruins and the caves which are interspersed in its neighborhood."—Toozek Jehangeery.—v. Asiat. Misc. vol. ii.

[345] "On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine earth, which shelters the building from the great quantity of snow that falls in the winter season. This fence communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refreshing coolness in the summer season, when the tops of the houses, which are planted with a variety of flowers, exhibit at a distance the spacious view of a beautifully checkered parterre."—Forster.

[346] "Two hundred slaves there are, who have no other office than to hunt the woods and marshes for triple-colored tortoises for the King's Vivary. Of the shells of these also lanterns are made."—Vincent le Blanc's Travels.

[347] This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damascena, is, according to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the Last Day's approach.

Another of the signs is, "Great distress in the world, so that a man when he passes by another's grave shall say, Would to God I were in his place!"—Sale's Preliminary Discourse.

[348] "On Mahommed Shaw's return to Koolburga (the capital of Dekkan), he made a great festival, and mounted this throne with much pomp and magnificence, calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. I have heard some old persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sultan Mamood Bhamenee, describe it. They say that it was in length nine feet, and three in breadth; made of ebony covered with plates of pure gold, and set with precious stones of immense value. Every prince of the house of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made a point of adding to it some rich stones; so that when in the reign of Sultan Mamood it was taken to pieces to remove some of the jewels to be set in vases and cups, the jewellers valued it at one corore of oons (nearly four millions sterling). I learned also that it was called Firozeh from being partly enamelled of a sky-blue color which was in time totally concealed by the number of jewels."— Ferishta.



THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS.



PREFACE.

The Eastern story of the angels Harut and Marut and the Rabbinical fictions of the loves of Uzziel and Shamchazai are the only sources to which I need refer for the origin of the notion on which this Romance is founded. In addition to the fitness of the subject for poetry, it struck me also as capable of affording an allegorical medium through which might be shadowed out (as I have endeavored to do in the following stories) the fall of the Soul from its original purity[1]—the loss of light and happiness which it suffers, in the pursuit of this world's perishable pleasures—and the punishments both from conscience and Divine justice with which impurity, pride, and presumptuous inquiry into the awful secrets of Heaven are sure to be visited—The beautiful story of Cupid and Psyche owes its chief charm to this sort of "veiled meaning," and it has been my wish (however I may have failed in the attempt) to communicate to the following pages the same moral interest.

Among the doctrines or notions derived by Plato from the East, one of the most natural and sublime is that which inculcates the pre-existence of the soul and its gradual descent into this dark material world from that region of spirit and light which it is supposed to have once inhabited and to which after a long lapse of purification and trial it will return. This belief under various symbolical forms may be traced through almost all the Oriental theologies. The Chaldeans represent the Soul as originally endowed with wings which fall away when it sinks from its native element and must be re-produced before it can hope to return. Some disciples of Zoroaster once inquired of him, "How the wings of the Soul might be made to grow again?"

"By sprinkling them," he replied, "with the Waters of Life."

"But where are those Waters to be found?" they asked.

"In the Garden of God," replied Zoroaster.

The mythology of the Persians has allegorized the same doctrine, in the history of those genii of light who strayed from their dwellings in the stars and obscured their original nature by mixture with this material sphere; while the Egyptians connecting it with the descent and ascent of the sun in the zodiac considered Autumn as emblematic of the Soul's decline toward darkness and the re-appearance of Spring as its return to life and light.

Besides the chief spirits of the Mahometan heaven, such as Gabriel the angel of Revelation, Israfil by whom the last trumpet is to be sounded, and Azrael the angel of death, there were also a number of subaltern intelligences of which tradition has preserved the names, appointed to preside over the different stages of ascents into which the celestial world was supposed to be divided.[2] Thus Kelail governs the fifth heaven; while Sadiel, the presiding spirit of the third, is also employed in steadying the motions of the earth which would be in a constant state of agitation if this angel did not keep his foot planted upon its orb.

Among other miraculous interpositions in favor of Mahomet we find commemorated in the pages of the Koran the appearance of five thousand angels on his side at the battle of Bedr.

The ancient Persians supposed that Ormuzd appointed thirty angels to preside successively over the days of the month and twelve greater ones to assume the government of the months themselves; among whom Bahman (to whom Ormuzd committed the custody of all animals, except man) was the greatest. Mihr, the angel of the 7th month, was also the spirit that watched over the affairs of friendship and love;—Chur had the care of the disk of the sun;—Mah was agent for the concerns of the moon;—Isphandarmaz (whom Cazvin calls the Spirit of the Earth) was the tutelar genius of good and virtuous women, etc. For all this the reader may consult the 19th and 20th chapters of Hyde, "de Religione Veterum Persarum," where the names and attributes of these daily and monthly angels are with much minuteness and erudition explained. It appears from the Zend-avesta that the Persians had a certain office or prayer for every day of the month (addressed to the particular angel who presided over it), which they called the Sirouze.

The Celestial Hierarchy of the Syrians, as described by Kircher, appears to be the most regularly graduated of any of these systems. In the sphere of the Moon they placed the angels, in that of Mercury the archangels, Venus and the Sun contained the Principalities and the Powers;—and so on to the summit of the planetary system, where, in the sphere of Saturn, the Thrones had their station. Above this was the habitation of the Cherubim in the sphere of the fixed stars; and still higher, in the region of those stars which are so distant as to be imperceptible, the Seraphim, we are told, the most perfect of all celestial creatures, dwelt.

The Sabeans also (as D'Herbelot tells us) had their classes of angels, to whom they prayed as mediators, or intercessors; and the Arabians worshipped female angels, whom they called Benab Hasche, or, Daughters of God.

[1] The account which Macrobius gives of the downward journey of the Soul, through that gate of the zodiac which opens into the lower spheres, is a curious specimen of the wild fancies that passed for philosophy in ancient times.

[2] "We adorned the lower heaven with lights, and placed therein a guard of angels."—Koran, chap. xli.



THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS

'Twas when the world was in its prime, When the fresh stars had just begun Their race of glory and young Time Told his first birth-days by the sun; When in the light of Nature's dawn Rejoicing, men and angels met On the high hill and sunny lawn,— Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn 'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet! When earth lay nearer to the skies Than in these days of crime and woe, And mortals saw without surprise In the mid-air angelic eyes Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane Even then the morning of the earth! That, sadder still, the fatal stain Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth— And that from Woman's love should fall So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour, On a hill's side where hung the ray Of sunset brightening rill and bower, Three noble youths conversing lay; And, as they lookt from time to time To the far sky where Daylight furled His radiant wing, their brows sublime Bespoke them of that distant world— Spirits who once in brotherhood Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood, And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,[1] Creatures of light such as still play, Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord, And thro' their infinite array Transmit each moment, night and day, The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft, Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence; Till yielding gradual to the soft And balmy evening's influence— The silent breathing of the flowers— The melting light that beamed above, As on their first, fond, erring hours,— Each told the story of his love, The history of that hour unblest, When like a bird from its high nest Won down by fascinating eyes, For Woman's smile he lost the skies.

The First who spoke was one, with look The least celestial of the three— A Spirit of light mould that took The prints of earth most yieldingly; Who even in heaven was not of those Nearest the Throne but held a place Far off among those shining rows That circle out thro' endless space, And o'er whose wings the light from Him In Heaven's centre falls most dim.[2]

Still fair and glorious, he but shone Among those youths the unheavenliest one— A creature to whom light remained From Eden still, but altered, stained, And o'er whose brow not Love alone A blight had in his transit cast, But other, earthlier joys had gone, And left their foot-prints as they past. Sighing, as back thro' ages flown, Like a tomb-searcher, Memory ran, Lifting each shroud that Time had thrown O'er buried hopes, he thus began:—

FIRST ANGEL'S STORY.

'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,[3] 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'S[4] pit 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,[5] 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:—

SECOND ANGEL'S STORY.

You both remember well the day When unto Eden's new-made bowers ALLA convoked the bright array Of his supreme angelic powers To witness the one wonder yet, Beyond man, angel, star, or sun, He must achieve, ere he could set His seal upon the world as done— To see the last perfection rise, That crowning of creation's birth, When mid the worship and surprise Of circling angels Woman's eyes First open upon heaven and earth; And from their lids a thrill was sent, That thro' each living spirit went Like first light thro' the firmament!

Can you forget how gradual stole The fresh-awakened breath of soul Throughout her perfect form—which seemed To grow transparent as there beamed That dawn of Mind within and caught New loveliness from each new thought? Slow as o'er summer seas we trace The progress of the noontide air, Dimpling its bright and silent face Each minute into some new grace, And varying heaven's reflections there— Or like the light of evening stealing O'er some fair temple which all day Hath slept in shadow, slow revealing Its several beauties ray by ray, Till it shines out, a thing to bless, All full of light and loveliness.

Can you forget her blush when round Thro' Eden's lone, enchanted ground She lookt, and saw the sea—the skies— And heard the rush of many a wing, On high behests then vanishing; And saw the last few angel eyes, Still lingering—mine among the rest,— Reluctant leaving scenes so blest? From that miraculous hour the fate Of this new, glorious Being dwelt For ever with a spell-like weight Upon my spirit—early, late, Whate'er I did or dreamed or felt, The thought of what might yet befall That matchless creature mixt with all.— Nor she alone but her whole race Thro' ages yet to come—whate'er Of feminine and fond and fair Should spring from that pure mind and face, All waked my soul's intensest care; Their forms, souls, feelings, still to me Creation's strangest mystery!

It was my doom—even from the first, When witnessing the primal burst Of Nature's wonders, I saw rise Those bright creations in the skies,— Those worlds instinct with life and light, Which Man, remote, but sees by night,— It was my doom still to be haunted By some new wonder, some sublime And matchless work, that for the time Held all my soul enchained, enchanted, And left me not a thought, a dream, A word but on that only theme!

The wish to know—that endless thirst, Which even by quenching is awaked, And which becomes or blest or curst As is the fount whereat 'tis slaked— Still urged me onward with desire Insatiate, to explore, inquire— Whate'er the wondrous things might be That waked each new idolatry— Their cause, aim, source, whenever sprung— Their inmost powers, as tho' for me Existence on that knowledge hung.

Oh what a vision were the stars When first I saw them born on high, Rolling along like living cars Of light for gods to journey by![6] They were like my heart's first passion—days And nights unwearied, in their rays Have I hung floating till each sense Seemed full of their bright influence. Innocent joy! alas, how much Of misery had I shunned below, Could I have still lived blest with such; Nor, proud and restless, burned to know The knowledge that brings guilt and woe.

Often—so much I loved to trace The secrets of this starry race— Have I at morn and evening run Along the lines of radiance spun Like webs between them and the sun, Untwisting all the tangled ties Of light into their different dyes— The fleetly winged I off in quest Of those, the farthest, loneliest, That watch like winking sentinels,[7] The void, beyond which Chaos dwells; And there with noiseless plume pursued Their track thro' that grand solitude, Asking intently all and each 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 chase, Of these resplendent heirs of space, Oft did I follow—lest a ray 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 Exultingly 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 yet this 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 changed, My heart, soul, senses turned below; And he who but so lately ranged Yon wonderful expanse where glow Worlds upon worlds,—yet found his mind Even in that luminous range confined,— Now blest the humblest, meanest sod Of the dark earth where Woman trod! In vain my former idols glistened From their far thrones; in vain these ears To the once-thrilling music listened, That hymned 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, even yet, that thralled My spirit in his burning ties; And less, still less could it be called That grosser flame, round which Love flies Nearer and near till he dies— No, it was wonder, such as thrilled At all God's works my dazzled sense; The same rapt wonder, only filled With passion, more profound, intense,— A vehement, but wandering fire, Which, tho' nor love, nor yet desire,— Tho' thro' all womankind it took Its range, its lawless lightnings run, Yet wanted but a touch, a look, To fix it burning upon One.

Then too the ever-restless zeal, The insatiate curiosity, To know how shapes so fair must feel— To look but once beneath the seal Of so much loveliness and see What souls belonged to such bright eyes— Whether as sunbeams find their way Into the gem that hidden lies, Those looks could inward turn their ray, And make the soul as bright as they: All this impelled my anxious chase. And still the more I saw and knew Of Woman's fond, weak, conquering race, The intenser still my wonder grew. I had beheld their First, their EVE, Born in that splendid Paradise, Which sprung there solely to receive The first light of her waking eyes. I had seen purest angels lean In worship o'er her from above; And man—oh yes, had envying seen Proud man possest of all her love.

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 zeal to know, Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe; Which, tho' from heaven all pure it came, Yet stained, misused, brought sin and shame On her, on me, on all below!

I had seen this; had seen Man, armed As his soul is with strength and sense, By her first words to ruin charmed; His vaunted reason's cold defence, Like an ice-barrier in the ray Of melting summer, smiled away. Nay, stranger yet, spite of all this— Tho' by her counsels taught to err, Tho' driven 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, Which by her bewildering smile he lost— So quickly was the wrong forgiven— Had I not heard him, as he prest The frail, fond trembler to a breast Which she had doomed to sin and strife, Call her—even then—his Life! his Life![8] Yes, such a love-taught name, the first, That ruined Man to Woman gave, Even in his outcast hour, when curst By her fond witchery, with that worst And earliest boon of love, the grave! She who brought death into the world There stood before him, with the light Of their lost Paradise still bright Upon those sunny locks that curled Down her white shoulders to her feet— So beautiful in form, so sweet In heart and voice, as to redeem The loss, the death of all things dear, Except herself—and make it seem Life, endless Life, while she was near! Could I help wondering at a creature, Thus circled round with spells so strong— One to whose every thought, word, feature. In joy and woe, thro' right and wrong, Such sweet omnipotence heaven gave, To bless or ruin, curse or save?

Nor did the marvel cease with her— New Eves in all her daughters came, As strong to charm, as weak to err, As sure of man thro' praise and blame, Whate'er they brought him, pride or shame, He still the unreasoning worshipper, And they, throughout all time, the same Enchantresses of soul and frame, Into whose hands, from first to last, This world with all its destinies, Devotedly by heaven seems cast, To save or ruin as they please! Oh! 'tis not to be told how long, How restlessly I sighed to find Some one from out that witching throng, Some abstract of the form and mind Of the whole matchless sex, from which, In my own arms beheld, possest, I might learn all the powers to witch, To warm, and (if my fate unblest Would have it) ruin, of the rest! Into whose inward soul and sense, I might descend, as doth the bee Into the flower's deep heart, and thence Rifle in all its purity The prime, the quintessence, the whole Of wondrous Woman's frame and soul! At length my burning wish, my prayer— (For such—oh! what will tongues not dare, When hearts go wrong?—this lip preferred)— At length my ominous prayer was heard— But whether heard in heaven or hell, Listen—and thou wilt know too well.

There was a maid, of all who move Like visions o'er this orb most fit. To be a bright young angel's love— Herself so bright, so exquisite! The pride too of her step, as light Along the unconscious earth she went, Seemed that of one born with a right To walk some heavenlier element, And tread in places where her feet A star at every step should meet. 'Twas not alone that loveliness By which the wildered sense is caught— Of lips whose very breath could bless; Of playful blushes that seemed naught But luminous escapes of thought; Of eyes that, when by anger stirred, Were fire itself, but at a word Of tenderness, all soft became As tho' they could, like the sun's bird, Dissolve away in their own flame— Of form, as pliant as the shoots Of a young tree, in vernal flower; Yet round and glowing as the fruits, That drop from it in summer's hour;— 'Twas not alone this loveliness That falls to loveliest women's share, Tho' even here her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess Enough to make even them more fair— But 'twas the Mind outshining clear Thro' her whole frame—the soul, still near, To light each charm, yet independent Of what it lighted, as the sun That shines on flowers would be resplendent Were there no flowers to shine upon— 'Twas this, all this, in one combined— The unnumbered looks and arts that form The glory of young womankind, Taken, in their perfection, warm, Ere time had chilled a single charm, And stampt with such a seal of Mind, As gave to beauties that might be Too sensual else, too unrefined, The impress of Divinity!

'Twas this—a union, which the hand Of Nature kept for her alone, Of every thing most playful, bland, Voluptuous, spiritual, grand, In angel-natures and her own— Oh! this it was that drew me nigh One, who seemed kin to heaven as I, A bright twin-sister from on high— One in whose love, I felt, were given The mixt delights of either sphere, All that the spirit seeks in heaven, And all the senses burn for here.

Had we—but hold!—hear every part Of our sad tale—spite of the pain Remembrance gives, when the fixt dart Is stirred thus in the wound again— Hear every step, so full of bliss, And yet so ruinous, that led Down to the last, dark precipice, Where perisht both—the fallen, the dead!

From the first hour she caught my sight, I never left her—day and night Hovering unseen around her way, And mid her loneliest musings near, I soon could track each thought that lay, Gleaming within her heart, as clear As pebbles within brooks appear; And there among the countless things That keep young hearts for ever glowing— Vague wishes, fond imaginings, Love-dreams, as yet no object knowing— Light, winged hopes that come when bid, And rainbow joys that end in weeping; And passions among pure thoughts hid, Like serpents under flowerets sleeping:— 'Mong all these feelings—felt where'er Young hearts are beating—I saw there Proud thoughts, aspirings high—beyond Whate'er yet dwelt in soul so fond— Glimpses of glory, far away Into the bright, vague future given; And fancies, free and grand, whose play, Like that of eaglets, is near heaven! With this, too—what a soul and heart To fall beneath the tempter's art!— A zeal for knowledge, such as ne'er Enshrined itself in form so fair, Since that first, fatal hour, when Eve, With every fruit of Eden blest Save one alone—rather than leave That one unreached, lost all the rest.

It was in dreams that first I stole With gentle mastery o'er her mind— In that rich twilight of the soul, When reason's beam, half hid behind The clouds of sleep, obscurely gilds Each shadowy shape that Fancy builds— 'Twas then by that soft light I brought Vague, glimmering visions to her view,— Catches of radiance lost when caught, Bright labyrinths that led to naught, And vistas with no pathway thro';— Dwellings of bliss that opening shone, Then closed, dissolved, and left no trace— All that, in short, could tempt Hope on, But give her wing no resting-place; Myself the while with brow as yet Pure as the young moon's coronet, Thro' every dream still in her sight. The enchanter of each mocking scene, Who gave the hope, then brought the blight, Who said, "Behold yon world of light," Then sudden dropt a veil between!

At length when I perceived each thought, Waking or sleeping, fixt on naught But these illusive scenes and me— The phantom who thus came and went, In half revealments, only meant To madden curiosity— When by such various arts I found Her fancy to its utmost wound. One night—'twas in a holy spot Which she for prayer had chosen—a grot Of purest marble built below Her garden beds, thro' which a glow From lamps invisible then stole, Brightly pervading all the place— Like that mysterious light the soul, Itself unseen, sheds thro' the face. There at her altar while she knelt, And all that woman ever felt, When God and man both claimed her sighs— Every warm thought, that ever dwelt, Like summer clouds, 'twixt earth and skies, Too pure to fall, too gross to rise, Spoke in her gestures, tones, and eyes— Then, as the mystic light's soft ray Grew softer still, as tho' its ray Was breathed from her, I heard her say:—

"O idol of my dreams! whate'er "Thy nature be—human, divine, "Or but half heavenly—still too fair, "Too heavenly to be ever mine!

"Wonderful Spirit who dost make "Slumber so lovely that it seems "No longer life to live awake, "Since heaven itself descends in dreams,

"Why do I ever lose thee? why "When on thy realms and thee I gaze "Still drops that veil, which I could die, "Oh! gladly, but one hour to raise?

"Long ere such miracles as thou "And thine came o'er my thoughts, a thirst "For light was in this soul which now "Thy looks have into passion burst.

"There's nothing bright above, below, "In sky—earth—ocean, that this breast "Doth not intensely burn to know, "And thee, thee, thee, o'er all the rest!

"Then come, oh Spirit, from behind "The curtains of thy radiant home, "If thou wouldst be as angel shrined, "Or loved and claspt as mortal, come!

"Bring all thy dazzling wonders here, "That I may, waking, know and see; "Or waft me hence to thy own sphere, "Thy heaven or—ay, even that with thee!

"Demon or God, who hold'st the book "Of knowledge spread beneath thine eye, "Give me, with thee, but one bright look "Into its leaves and let me die!

"By those ethereal wings whose way "Lies thro' an element so fraught "With living Mind that as they play "Their every movement is a thought!

"By that bright, wreathed hair, between "Whose sunny clusters the sweet wind "Of Paradise so late hath been "And left its fragrant soul behind!

"By those impassioned eyes that melt "Their light into the inmost heart, "Like sunset in the waters, felt "As molten fire thro' every part—

"I do implore thee, oh most bright "And worshipt Spirit, shine but o'er "My waking, wondering eyes this night "This one blest night—I ask no more!"

Exhausted, breathless, as she said These burning words, her languid head Upon the altar's steps she cast, As if that brain-throb were its last—-

Till, startled by the breathing, nigh, Of lips that echoed back her sigh, Sudden her brow again she raised; And there, just lighted on the shrine, Beheld me—not as I had blazed Around her, full of light divine, In her late dreams, but softened down Into more mortal grace;—my crown Of flowers, too radiant for this world, Left hanging on yon starry steep; My wings shut up, like banners furled, When Peace hath put their pomp to sleep; Or like autumnal clouds that keep Their lightnings sheathed rather than mar The dawning hour of some young star; And nothing left but what beseemed The accessible, tho' glorious mate Of mortal woman—whose eyes beamed Back upon hers, as passionate; Whose ready heart brought flame for flame, Whose sin, whose madness was the same; And whose soul lost in that one hour For her and for her love—oh more Of heaven's light than even the power Of heaven itself could now restore! And yet, that hour!—

The Spirit here Stopt in his utterance as if words Gave way beneath the wild career Of his then rushing thoughts—like chords, Midway in some enthusiast's song, Breaking beneath a touch too strong; While the clenched hand upon the brow Told how remembrance throbbed there now! But soon 'twas o'er—that casual blaze From the sunk fire of other days— That relic of a flame whose burning Had been too fierce to be relumed, Soon passt away, and the youth turning To his bright listeners thus resumed:—

Days, months elapsed, and, tho' what most On earth I sighed for was mine, all— Yet—was I happy? God, thou know'st, Howe'er they smile and feign and boast, What happiness is theirs, who fall! 'Twas bitterest anguish—made more keen Even by the love, the bliss, between Whose throbs it came, like gleams of hell In agonizing cross-light given Athwart the glimpses, they who dwell In purgatory[9] catch of heaven! The only feeling that to me Seemed joy—or rather my sole rest From aching misery—was to see My young, proud, blooming LILIS blest. She, the fair fountain of all ill To my lost soul—whom yet its thirst Fervidly panted after still, And found the charm fresh as at first— To see her happy—to reflect Whatever beams still round me played Of former pride, of glory wreckt, On her, my Moon, whose light I made, And whose soul worshipt even my shade— This was, I own, enjoyment—this My sole, last lingering glimpse of bliss. And proud she was, fair creature!—proud, Beyond what even most queenly stirs In woman's heart, nor would have bowed That beautiful young brow of hers To aught beneath the First above, So high she deemed her Cherub's love!

Then too that passion hourly growing Stronger and stronger—to which even Her love at times gave way—of knowing Everything strange in earth and heaven; Not only all that, full revealed, The eternal ALLA loves to show, But all that He hath wisely sealed In darkness for man not to know— Even this desire, alas! ill-starred And fatal as it was, I sought To feed each minute, and unbarred Such realms of wonder on her thought As ne'er till then had let their light Escape on any mortal's sight!

In the deep earth—beneath the sea— Thro' caves of fire—thro' wilds of air— Wherever sleeping Mystery Had spread her curtain, we were there— Love still beside us as we went, At home in each new element And sure of worship everywhere!

Then first was Nature taught to lay The wealth of all her kingdoms down At woman's worshipt feet and say "Bright creature, this is all thine own!" Then first were diamonds from the night, Of earth's deep centre brought to light And made to grace the conquering way Of proud young beauty with their ray.

Then too the pearl from out its shell Unsightly, in the sunless sea, (As 'twere a spirit, forced to dwell In form unlovely) was set free, And round the neck of woman threw A light it lent and borrowed too. For never did this maid—whate'er The ambition of the hour—forget Her sex's pride in being fair; Nor that adornment, tasteful, rare, Which makes the mighty magnet, set In Woman's form, more mighty yet. Nor was there aught within the range Of my swift wing in sea or air, Of beautiful or grand or strange, That, quickly as her wish could change, I did not seek, with such fond care, That when I've seen her look above At some bright star admiringly, I've said, "Nay, look not there, my love,[10] "Alas, I can not give it thee!"

But not alone the wonders found Thro' Nature's realm—the unveiled, material, Visible glories, that abound Thro' all her vast, enchanted ground— But whatsoe'er unseen, ethereal, Dwells far away from human sense, Wrapt in its own intelligence— The mystery of that Fountainhead, From which all vital spirit runs, All breath of Life, where'er 'tis spread Thro' men or angels, flowers or suns— The workings of the Almighty Mind, When first o'er Chaos he designed The outlines of this world, and thro' That depth of darkness—like the bow, Called out of rain-clouds hue by hue[11] Saw the grand, gradual picture grow;— The covenant with human kind By ALLA made—the chains of Fate He round himself and them hath twined, Till his high task he consummate;— Till good from evil, love from hate, Shall be workt out thro' sin and pain, And Fate shall loose her iron chain And all be free, be bright again!

Such were the deep-drawn mysteries, And some, even more obscure, profound, And wildering to the mind than these, Which—far as woman's thought could sound, Or a fallen, outlawed spirit reach— She dared to learn and I to teach. Till—filled with such unearthly lore, And mingling the pure light it brings With much that fancy had before Shed in false, tinted glimmerings— The enthusiast girl spoke out, as one Inspired, among her own dark race, Who from their ancient shrines would run, Leaving their holy rites undone, To gaze upon her holier face. And tho' but wild the things she spoke, Yet mid that play of error's smoke Into fair shapes by fancy curled, Some gleams of pure religion broke— Glimpses that have not yet awoke, But startled the still dreaming world! Oh! many a truth, remote, sublime, Which Heaven would from the minds of men Have kept concealed till its own time, Stole out in these revealments then— Revealments dim that have forerun, By ages, the great, Sealing One![12] Like that imperfect dawn or light[13] Escaping from the Zodiac's signs, Which makes the doubtful east half bright, Before the real morning shines!