ZOPHIEL.

CANTO I.

I.

THE time has been-this holiest records say-
In punishment for crimes of mortal birth,
When spirits banished from the realms of day
Wandered malignant o'er the nighted earth. (1)

And from the cold and marble lips declared,
Of some blind-worshipped-earth-created god,
Their deep deceits; which trusting monarchs snared
Filling the air with moans, with gore the sod.*

Yet angels doffed their robes in radiance dyed,
And for a while the joys of heaven delayed,
To watch benign by some just mortal's side-
Or meet th' aspiring love of some high gifted maid.†

*The god who conducted the Hebrews sent a malignant spirit to speak from the mouth of the prophets, in order to deceive king Achab.

It is useless to note this stanza, as two well-known poems have lately been founded on the same passage of the Pentateuch to which it alludes.

Blest were those days!-can these dull ages boast Aught to compare? tho' now no more beguileChain'd in their darkling depths th' infernal hostWho would not brave a fiend to share an angel's smile?

II.

'Twas then there lived a captive Hebrew pair;
In woe th' embraces of their youth had past,
And blest their paler years one daughter-fair
She flourished, like a lonely rose, the last

And loveliest of her line. The tear of joy-
The early love of song-the sigh that broke
From her young lip-the best-beloved employ-
What womanhood disclosed in infancy bespoke.

A child of passion-tenderest and best
Of all that heart has inly loved and felt;
Adorned the fair enclosure of her breast-
Where passion is not found, no virtue ever dwelt.

Yet not, perverted, would my words imply
The impulse given by Heaven's great Artizan
Alike to man and worm-mere spring, whereby

The distant wheels of life, while time endures, roll on

But the collective ministry that fill

About the soul, their all-important place-
That feed her fires-empower her fainting will-
And write the god on feeble mortals face.

III.

Yet anger, or revenge, envy or hate

The damsel knew not: when her bosom burned

And injury darkened the decrees of fate,

She had more pitious wept to see that pain returned.

Or if, perchance, tho' formed most just and pure,
Amid their virtue's wild luxuriance hid,

Such germ all mortal bosoms must immure
Which sometimes show their poisonous heads unbid-

If haply such the lovely Hebrew finds,

Self knowledge wept th' abasing truth to know,
And innate pride, that queen of noble minds,
Crushed them indignant ere a bud could grow.

IV.

And such-ev'n now, in earliest youth are seen-
But would they live, with armour more deform,
Their love-o'erflowing breasts must learn to screen :
"The bird that sweetest sings can least endure the

storm."

V.

And yet, despite of all the gushing tear

The melting tone-the darting heart-stream-proved, The soul that in them spoke, could spurn at fear

Of death or danger; and had those she loved

Required it at their need, she could have stood,
Unmoved, as some fair-sculptured statue, while
The dome that guards it, earth's convulsions, rude
Are shivering-meeting ruin with a smile.

VI.

And this, at intervals in language bright
Told her blue eyes; tho' oft the tender lid
Like lilly drooping languidly; and white
And trembling-all save love and lustre hid.

Then, as young christian bard had sung, they seemed
Like some Madonna in his soul-so sainted;
But opening in their energy—they beamed
As tasteful pagans their Minerva painted;

While o'er her graceful shoulders' milky swell,
Like those full oft on little children seen
Almost to earth her silken ringlets fell

Nor owned Pactolus' sands more golden sheen.