From desert-girdled cities, of whose pomp
Some solitary wanderer, by the stars
Conducted o'er the burning wilderness,
Has told a doubted tale: as Europe's sons
Describing Mexic', and, in fair Peru,
The gorgeous Temple of the Sun, its priests,
Its virgin, and its fire, forever bright,

Were fablers deem'd, and, for belief, met scorn.
Around while gazing thus, far in the sky
Appear'd what look'd, at first, a moving star;
But, onward, wheeling through the clouds it came,
With brightening splendour and increasing size,
Till within ken a fiery chariot rush'd,

By flaming horses drawn, whose heads shot forth
A twisted, horn-like beam. O'er its fierce wheels
Two shining forms alighted on the mount,
Of mortal birth, but deathless rapt to heaven.
Adown their breasts their loose beards floated, white
As mist by moonbeams silver'd; fair they seem'd,
And bright as angels; fellowship with heaven
Their mortal grossness so had purified.
Lucent their mantles; other than the seer
By Jordan caught; and in the prophet's face
A mystic lustre, like the Urim's, gleamed.

XVII.

Now for the dread tribunal all prepared: Before the throne the angel with the books Ascending kneel'd, and, crossing on his breast His sable pinions, there the volumes spread. A second summons echoed from the trump, Thrice sounded, when the mighty work began. Waved onward by a seraph's wand, the sea Of palpitating bosoms toward the mount In silence roll'd. No sooner had the first Pale tremblers its mysterious circle touched Than, instantaneous, swift as fancy's flash, As lightning darting from the summer cloud, Its past existence rose before the soul, With all its deeds, with all its secret store Of embryo works, and dark imaginings. Amidst the chaos, thoughts as numberless As whirling leaves when autumn strips the woods, Light and disjointed as the sibyl's, thoughts Scatter'd upon the waste of long, dim years, Pass'd in a moment through the quicken'd soul. Not with the glozing eye of earth beheld; They saw as with the glance of Deity. Conscience, stern arbiter in every breast, Decided. Self-acquitted or condemned, Through two broad, glittering avenues of spears They cross'd the angelic squadrons, right, or left The judgment-seat; by power supernal led To their allotted stations on the plain. As onward, onward, numberless, they came, And touch'd, appall'd, the verge of destiny, The heavenly spirits inly sympathized:When youthful saints, or martyrs scarr'd and white, With streaming faces, hands ecstatic clasp'd, Sprang to the right, celestial beaming smiles A ravishing beauty to their radiance gave; But downcast looks of pity chill'd the left. What clench'd hands, and frenzied steps were there! Yet, on my shuddering soul, the stifled groan, Wrung from some proud blasphemer, as he rush'd,

Constrain❜d by conscience, down the path of death,
Knells horrible.-On all the hurrying throng
The unerring pen stamp'd, as they pass'd, their fate.
Thus, in a day, amazing thought! were judged
The millions, since from the ALMIGHTY's hand,
Launch'd on her course, earth roll'd rejoicing.
Whose

The doom to penal fires, and whose to joy,
From man's presumption mists and darkness veil.
So pass'd the day; divided stood the world,
An awful line of separation drawn,

And from his labours the MESSIAH ceased.

XVIII.

By this, the sun his westering car drove low; Round his broad wheel full many a lucid cloud Floated, like happy isles, in seas of gold: Along the horizon castled shapes were piled, Turrets and towers, whose fronts embattled gleam'd With yellow light: smit by the slanting ray, A ruddy beam the canopy reflected; With deeper light the ruby blush'd; and thick Upon the seraphs' wings the glowing spots Seem'd drops of fire. Uncoiling from its staff With fainter wave, the gorgeous ensign hung, Or, swelling with the swelling breeze, by fits, Cast off upon the dewy air huge flakes Of golden lustre. Over all the hill, The heavenly legions, the assembled world, Evening her crimson tint forever drew.

ΧΙΧ.

But while at gaze, in solemn silence, men
And angels stood, and many a quaking heart
With expectation throbb'd; about the throne
And glittering hill-top slowly wreathed the clouds,
Erewhile like curtains for adornment hung,
Involving Shiloh and the seraphim
Beneath a snowy tent. The bands around,
Eyeing the gonfalon that through the smoke
Tower'd into air, resembled hosts who watch
The king's pavilion where, ere battle hour,
A council sits. What their consult might be,
Those seven dread spirits and their LORD, I mused,
I marvell'd. Was it grace and peace?—
-or death?
Was it of man?-Did pity for the lost
His gentle nature wring, who knew, who felt
How frail is this poor tenement of clay?*-
Arose there from the misty tabernacle
A cry like that upon Gethsemane ?—
What pass'd in JESUS' bosom none may know,
But close the cloudy dome invested him;
And, weary with conjecture, round I gazed
Where, in the purple west, no more to dawn,
Faded the glories of the dying day.

Mild twinkling through a crimson-skirted cloud,
The solitary star of evening shone.
While gazing wistful on that peerless light,
Thereafter to be seen no more, (as, oft,

In dreams strange images will mix,) sad thoughts
Pass'd o'er my soul. Sorrowing, I cried, "Farewell,
Pale, beauteous planet, that displayest so soft

*For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.-HEB. iv. 15.

Amid yon glowing streak thy transient beam,
A long, a last farewell! Seasons have changed,
Ages and empires roll'd, like smoke, away,
But thou, unalter'd, beamest as silver fair
As on thy birthnight! Bright and watchful eyes,
From palaces and bowers, have hail'd thy gem
With secret transport! Natal star of love,
And souls that love the shadowy hour of fancy,
How much I owe thee, how I bless thy ray!
How oft thy rising o'er the hamlet green,
Signal of rest, and social converse sweet,
Beneath some patriarchal tree, has cheer'd
The peasant's heart, and drawn his benison!
Pride of the west! beneath thy placid light
The tender tale shall never more be told,
Man's soul shall never wake to joy again:
Thou sett'st forever,-lovely orb, farewell!"

xx.

Low warblings, now, and solitary harps Were heard among the angels, touch'd and tuned As to an evening hymn, preluding soft To cherub voices; louder as they swell'd, Deep strings struck in, and hoarser instruments, Mix'd with clear, silver sounds, till concord rose Full as the harmony of winds to heaven; Yet sweet as nature's springtide melodies To some worn pilgrim, first with glistening eyes Greeting his native valley, whence the sounds Of rural gladness, herds, and bleating flocks, The chirp of birds, blithe voices, lowing kine, The dash of waters, reed, or rustic pipe, Blent with the dulcet, distance-mellow'd bell, Come, like the echo of his early joys. In every pause, from spirits in mid air, Responsive still were golden viols heard, And heavenly symphonies stole faintly down.

XXI.

Calm, deep, and silent was the tide of joy That roll'd o'er all the blessed; visions of bliss, Rapture too mighty, swell'd their hearts to bursting; Prelude to heaven it seem'd, and in their sight Celestial glories swam. How fared, alas! That other band? Sweet to their troubled minds The solemn scene; ah! doubly sweet the breeze Refreshing, and the purple light to eyes But newly oped from that benumbing sleep Whose dark and drear abode no cheering dream, No bright-hued vision ever enters, souls For ages pent, perhaps, in some dim world Where guilty spectres stalk the twilight gloom. For, like the spirit's last seraphic smile, The earth, anticipating now her tomb, To rise, perhaps, as heaven magnificent, Appear'd Hesperian: gales of gentlest wing Came fragrance-laden, and such odours shed As Yemen never knew, nor those blest isles In Indian seas, where the voluptuous breeze The peaceful native breathes, at eventide, From nutmeg groves and bowers of cinnamon. How solemn on their ears the choral note Swell'd of the angel hymn! so late escaped The cold embraces of the grave, whose damp Silence no voice or string'd instrument

Has ever broke! Yet with the murmuring breeze
Full sadly chimed the music and the song,
For with them came the memory of joys
Forever past, the stinging thought of what
They once had been, and of their future lot.
To their grieved view the passages of earth
Delightful rise, their tender ligaments
So dear, they heeded not an after state,
Though by a fearful judgment usher'd in.
A bridegroom fond, who lavish'd all his heart
On his beloved, forgetful of the Man
Of many Sorrows, who, for him, resign'd
His meek and spotless spirit on the cross,
Has marked among the blessed bands, array'd
Celestial in a spring of beauty, doom'd
No more to fade, the charmer of his soul,
Her cheek soft blooming like the dawn in heaven.
He recollects the days when on his smile
She lived; when, gently leaning on his breast,
Tears of intense affection dimm'd her eyes,
Of dove-like lustre.-Thoughtless, now, of him
And earthly joys, eternity and heaven
Engross her soul.-What more accursed pang
Can hell inflict? With her, in realms of light,
In never-dying bliss, he might have roll'd
Eternity away; but now, forever

Torn from his bride new-found, with cruel fiends,
Or men like fiends, must waste and weep. Now, now
He mourns with burning, bitter drops his days
Misspent, probation lost, and heaven despised.
Such thoughts from many a bursting heart drew
forth

Groans, lamentations, and despairing shricks,
That on the silent air came from afar.

XXII.

As, when from some proud capital that crowns
Imperial Ganges, the reviving breeze
Sweeps the dank mist, or hoary river fog
Impervious mantled o'er her highest towers,
Bright on the eye rush BRAHMA's temples, capp'd
With spiry tops, gay-trellised minarets,
Pagods of gold, and mosques with burnish'd domes,
Gilded, and glistening in the morning sun,
So from the hill the cloudy curtains roll'd,
And, in the lingering lustre of the eve,
Again the SAVIOUR and his seraphs shone.
Emitted sudden in his rising, flash'd
Intenser light, as toward the right hand host
Mild turning, with a look ineffable,
The invitation he proclaim'd in accents
Which on their ravish'd ears pour'd thrilling, like
The silver sound of many trumpets heard
Afar in sweetest jubilee; then, swift
Stretching his dreadful sceptre to the left,
That shot forth horrid lightnings, in a voice
Clothed but in half its terrors, yet to them
Seem'd like the crush of heaven, pronounced the
doom.

The sentence utter'd, as with life instinct,
The throne uprose majestically slow;
Each angel spread his wings; in one dread swell
Of triumph mingling as they mounted, trumpets,
And harps, and golden lyres, and timbrels sweet,
And many a strange and deep-toned instrument

Of heavenly minstrelsy unknown on earth,
And angels' voices, and the loud acclaim
Of all the ransom'd, like a thunder-shout.
Far through the skies melodious echoes roll'd,
And faint hosannas distant climes return'd.

XXIII.

Down from the lessening multitude came faint
And fainter still the trumpet's dying peal,
All else in distance lost; when, to receive
Their new inhabitants, the heavens unfolded.
Up gazing, then, with streaming eyes, a glimpse
The wicked caught of Paradise, whence streaks
Of splendour, golden quivering radiance shone,
As when the showery evening sun takes leave,
Breaking a moment o'er the illumined world.
Seen far within, fair forms moved graceful by,
Slow-turning to the light their snowy wings.
A deep-drawn, agonizing groan escaped
The hapless outcasts, when upon the LORD
The glowing portals closed. Undone, they stood
Wistfully gazing on the cold, gray heaven,
As if to catch, alas! a hope not there.
But shades began to gather; night approach'd
Murky and lowering: round with horror roll'd
On one another, their despairing eyes
That glared with anguish: starless, hopeless gloom
Fell on their souls, never to know an end.
Though in the far horizon linger'd yet

A lurid gleam, black clouds were mustering there;
Red flashes, follow'd by low muttering sounds,
Announced the fiery tempest doom'd to hurl
The fragments of the earth again to chaos.
Wild gusts swept by, upon whose hollow wing
Unearthly voices, yells, and ghastly peals
Of demon laughter came. Infernal shapes
Flitted along the sulphurous wreaths, or plunged
Their dark, impure abyss, as sea-fowl dive
Their watery element.-O'erwhelmed with sights
And sounds appalling, I awoke; and found
For gathering storms, and signs of coming wo,
The midnight moon gleaming upon my bed
Serene and peaceful. Gladly I survey'd her
Walking in brightness through the stars of heaven,
And blessed the respite ere the day of doom.

HADAD'S DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY

OF JERUSALEM.

"Tis so;-the hoary harper sings aright; How beautiful is Zion!-Like a queen, Arm'd with a helm, in virgin loveliness, Her heaving bosom in a bossy cuirass, She sits aloft, begirt with battlements And bulwarks swelling from the rock, to guard The sacred courts, pavilions, palaces,

Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods
Which tuft her summit, and, like raven tresses,
Waved their dark beauty round the tower of
David.

Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers,
The embrasures of alabaster shine;

Hail'd by the pilgrims of the desert, bound
To Judah's mart with orient merchandise.
But not, for thou art fair and turret-crown'd,
Wet with the choicest dew of heaven, and bless'd
With golden fruits, and gales of frankincense,
Dwell I beneath thine ample curtains. Here,
Where saints and prophets teach, where the stern
law

Still speaks in thunder, where chief angels watch,
And where the glory hovers, here I war.

UNTOLD LOVE.*

THE soul, my lord, is fashion'd-like the lyre.
Strike one chord suddenly, and others vibrate.
Your name abruptly mention'd, casual words
Of comment on your deeds, praise from your
uncle,

News from the armies, talk of your return,
A word let fall touching your youthful passion,
Suffused her cheek, call'd to her drooping eye
A momentary lustre; made her pulse
Leap headlong, and her bosom palpitate.
I could not long be blind, for love defies
Concealment, making every glance and motion,
Silence, and speech a tell-tale-

These things, though trivial of themselves, begat Suspicion. But long months elapsed,

Ere I knew all. She had, you know, a fever.
One night, when all were weary and at rest,
I, sitting by her couch, tired and o'erwatch'd,
Thinking she slept, suffer'd my lids to close.
Waked by a voice, I found her never, Signor,
While life endures, will that scene fade from me,-
A dying lamp wink'd in the hearth, that cast,
And snatched the shadows. Something stood be-

fore me

In white. My flesh began to creep. I thought
I saw a spirit. It was my lady risen,
And standing in her night-robe with clasp'd hands,
Like one in prayer. Her pallid face display'd
Something, methought, surpassing mortal beauty.
She presently turn'd round, and fix'd her large,
wild eyes,

Brimming with tears, upon me, fetched a sigh,
As from a riven heart, and cried: "He's dead!
But, hush!-weep not,-I've bargain'd for his
soul,-

That's safe in bliss!"-Demanding who was dead,
Scarce yet aware she raved, she answer'd quick,
Her Cosmo, her beloved; for that his ghost,
All pale and gory, thrice had pass'd her bed.
With that, her passion breaking loose, my lord,
She pour'd her lamentation forth in strains
Pathetical beyond the reach of reason.
"Gone, gone, gone to the grave, and never knew
I loved him!"-I'd no power to speak, or move.—
I sat stone still,-a horror fell upon me.
At last, her little strength ebb'd out, she sank,
And lay, as in death's arms, till morning.

*From "Demetria."

SCENE FROM HADAD.

The terraced roof of ABSALOM's house by night; adorned with vases of flowers and fragrant shrubs; an awning over part of it. TAMAR and HADAD.

Tam. No, no, I well remember-proofs, you said, Unknown to MOSES.

Had. Well, my love, thou know'st
I've been a traveller in various climes;
Trod Ethiopia's scorching sands, and scaled
The snow-clad mountains; trusted to the deep;
Traversed the fragrant islands of the sea,
And with the wise conversed of many nations.
Tam. I know thou hast.

Had. Of all mine eyes have seen,
The greatest, wisest, and most wonderful

Is that dread sage, the Ancient of the Mountain.
Tum. Who?

Had. None knows his lineage, age, or name:

his locks

Are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
Beam with the wisdom of collected ages.
In green, unbroken years he sees, 't is said,
The generations pass, like autumn fruits,
Garner'd, consumed, and springing fresh to life,
Again to perish, while he views the sun,
The seasons roll, in rapt serenity,

And high communion with celestial powers.

Some say 'tis SHEM, our father, some say ENOCH, And some MELCHISEDEK.

Tam. I've heard a tale

Like this, but ne'er believed it.

Had. I have proved it.

Through perils dire, dangers most imminent,

Seven days and nights, mid rocks and wildernesses,
And boreal snows, and never-thawing ice,
Where not a bird, a beast, a living thing,
Save the far-soaring vulture comes, I dared
My desperate way, resolved to know or perish.
Tam. Rash, rash adventurer!
Had. On the highest peak

Of stormy Caucasus there blooms a spot
On which perpetual sunbeams play, where flowers
And verdure never die; and there he dwells.
Tam. But didst thou see him?
Had. Never did I view
Such awful majesty: his reverend locks
Hung like a silver mantle to his feet;

His raiment glistered saintly white, his brow
Rose like the gate of Paradise; his mouth
Was musical as its bright guardians' songs.
Tam. What did he tell thee? O! what wisdom

Lest some dark minister be near us now.

Had. You wrong them. They are bright intelligences,

Robb'd of some native splendour, and cast down,
"T is true, from heaven; but not deform'd and foul,
Revengeful, malice-working fiends, as fools
Suppose. They dwell, like princes, in the clouds;
Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;
Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,
With stones inestimable studded so,
That sun or stars were useless there.
Tam. Good heavens!

Had. He bade me look on rugged Caucasus,
Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken,
Naked and wild, as if creation's ruins
Were heaped in one immeasurable chain
Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms

Of everlasting winter. But within
Are glorious palaces and domes of light,
Irradiate halls and crystal colonnades,

Vaults set with gems the purchase of a crown,
Blazing with lustre past the noontide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
Tam. Unheard-of splendour!

Had. There they dwell, and muse,
And wander; beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky,
Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.
Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea
And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles,
They study nature's secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.

Tam. Are they beautiful,

And powerful far beyond the human race?

Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it.
When

The sage described them, fiery eloquence
Flow'd from his lips; his bosom heaved, his eyes
Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme,
Like one who feels a deity within.

Tam. Wondrous! What intercourse have they with men ?

Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man, But oft with woman.

Tam. Ha! with woman?

And Moses, darkly.

Tam. How do they appear?
How manifest their love?

Had. Sometimes 't is spiritual, signified
By beatific dreams, or more distinct
And glorious apparition. They have stoop'd
To animate a human form, and love
Like mortals.

Tam. Frightful to be so beloved!

Who could endure the horrid thought! What makes
Thy cold hand tremble? or is't mine
That feels so deathy?

Had. Dark imaginations haunt me
When I recall the dreadful interview.

Tam. O, tell them not: I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deign'd!

Tam. Forswear

My Maker! love a demon!

Had. No-O, no

[lo!

My thoughts but wander'd. Oft, alas! they wander.
Tam. Why dost thou speak so sadly now? And
Thine eyes are fix'd again upon Arcturus.
Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star.
Hath it the power
To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?
[He appears lost in thought.

Tell me, ascribest thou influence to the stars?
Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st

thou of the stars?

Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night.

Had. Like palace lamps! Thou echoest well thy grandsire.

Woman! the stars are living, glorious,
Amazing, infinite!

Tam. Speak not so wildly.

I know them numberless, resplendent, set
As symbols of the countless, countless years
That make eternity.

Had. Eternity!

O! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!
Had ye endured like those great sufferers,
Like them, seen ages, myriad ages roll;
Could ye but look into the void abyss
With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,
Then mightst thou name it, name it feelingly.

Tam. What ails thee, HADAD? Draw me not
so close.

Had. TAMAR! I need thy love-more than thy love

Tam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us "Tis late-I cannot, must not linger. [part[Breaks from him, and exit.

Had. Loved and abhorr'd! Still, still accursed! [He paces twice or thrice up and down, with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence.] O! where,

In the illimitable space, in what
Profound of untried misery, when all

His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill
With life and beauty yonder infinite,
Their radiant journey run, forever set,

Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning? [Exit.

ARTHUR'S SOLILOQUY.*

HERE let me pause, and breathe a while, and wipe These servile drops from off my burning brow. Amidst these venerable trees, the air

Seems hallow'd by the breath of other times.-
Companions of my fathers! ye have mark’d
Their generations pass. Your giant arms
Shadow'd their youth, and proudly canopied
Their silver hairs, when, ripe in years and glory,
These walks they trod to meditate on heaven.
What warlike pageants have ye seen! what trains
Of captives, and what heaps of spoil! what pomp,
When the victorious chief, war's tempest o'er,
In Warkworth's bowers unbound his panoply!
What floods of splendour, bursts of jocund din,
Startled the slumbering tenants of these shades,
When night awoke the tumult of the feast,
The song of damsels, and the sweet-toned lyre!
Then, princely PERCY reigned amidst his halls,
Champion, and judge, and father of the north.
O, days of ancient grandeur! are ye gone?
Forever gone? Do these same scenes behold
O, that I knew my fate! that I could read
His offspring here, the hireling of a foe?
The destiny which Heaven has mark'd for me!

From "Percy's Masque."