XXXII.

"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ

Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell,
Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy,
And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.

"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,—

Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And straight were fiends;-hurled from the shrinking
field,

They waked in agony to wail the change.

"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire

The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,
To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,—
Dared to attempt-and doomed the world to death.

"Thy thousand wild desires, that still torment
The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt,
But perished;-feverish hope-drear discontent,
Impoisoning all possest-Oh! I have felt

"As spirits feel-yet not for man we mourn
Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he,

That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return,
And sleeps at evening; save by aid of thee,

"Fame ne'er had roused, nor song her records kept The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life,

The pencil's colours,—all in earth had slept,
Now see them mark with death his victim's strife.

"Man found thee death-but death and dull decay
Baffling, by aid of thee, his mastery proves ;-
By mighty works he swells his narrow day
And reigns, for ages, on the world he loves.

"Yet what the price? with stings that never cease
Thou goad'st him on; and when, too keen the smart,
He fain would pause awhile-and sighs for peace,
Food thou wilt have, or tear his victim heart."

ХХХІІІ.

Thus Zophiel still,-" tho' now the infernal crew
Had gained by sin a privilege in the world,
Allayed their torments in the cool night dew,
And by the dim star-light again their wings unfurled."

XXXIV.

And now, regretful of the joys his birth

Had promised; deserts, mounts and streams he crost, To find, amid the loveliest spots of earth,

Faint likeness of the heaven he had lost.

4*

And oft, by unsuccessful searching pained,
Weary he fainted thro' the toilsome hours;
And then his mystic nature he sustained
On steam of sacrifices-breath of flowers. (4)

XXXV.

Sometimes he gave out oracles, amused
With mortal folly; resting on the shrines;
Or, all in some fair sibyl's form infused,

Spoke from her quivering lips, or peuned her mystic lines.*

XXXVI.

And now he wanders on from glade to glade
To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms,
And gliding thro' the thick inwoven shade
Where the young Hebrew lay in all her charms,

He caught a glimpse. The colours in her faceHer bare white arms-her lips-her shining hairBurst on his view. He would have flown the place; Fearing some faithful angel rested there,

*This passage merely accords with the belief that the responses of the ancient oracles were spoken by fiends, or evil spirits. We need only look into the "New Testament for a confirmation of the power which such beings were supposed to possess of speaking from the lips of mortals."

Who'd see him-reft of glory-lost to bliss-
Wandering and miserably panting-fain

To glean a scanty joy-with thoughts like this-
Came all he'd known and lost-he writh'd with pain

Ineffable-But what assailed his ear,

A sigh-surprised, another glance he took;
Then doubting-fearing-gradual coming near-
He ventured to her side and dared to look;

Whispering, " yes, 'tis of earth! So, new-found life Refreshing, looked sweet Eve, with purpose fell When first sin's sovereign gazed on her, and strife Had with his heart, that grieved with arts of hell,

"Stern as it was, to win her o'er to death!—
Most beautiful of all in earth, heaven,
Oh! could I quaff for aye that fragrant breath
Couldst thou, or being likening thee, be given

"To bloom forever for me thus-still true
To one dear theme, my full soul flowing o'er,
Would find no room for thought of what it knew—
Nor picturing forfeit transport, curse me more. (5)

"But oh! severest pain !-I cannot be In what I love, blest ev'n the little span(With all a spirit's keen capacity

For bliss) permitted the poor insect man.

XXXVII.

"The few I've seen and deemed of worth to win
Like some sweet flowret mildewed, in my arms,
Withered to hidiousness-foul ev'n as sin—
Grew fearful hags; and then with potent charm*

"Of muttered word and harmful drug, did learn
To force me to their will. Down the damp grave
Loathing, I went at Endor, and uptorn
Brought back the dead; when tortured Saul did crave,

"To view his pending fate. Fair-nay, as this Young slumberer, that dread witch; when, I arrayed In lovely shape, to meet my guileful kiss

She yielded first her lip. And thou, sweet maid—
What is't I see?-a recent tear has strayed

And left its stain upon her cheek of bliss.

* One of the most striking absurdities in the lately-dispelled superstition of witchcraft, is the extreme hidiousness and misery usually ascribed to such as made use of the agency of evil spirits. I have therefore made it the result of an unforeseen necessity: no female can be supposed to purchase, voluntarily, the power of doing mischief to others at the price of beauty and every thing like happiness on her own part.