LVII.

He saw, and softening every wily word
Spoke in more melting music to her soul,

And o'er her sense as when the fond night bird
Woos the full rose o'erpowering fragrance stole. (6)

Or when the lillies, sleepier perfume, move,
Disturbed by too young sister-fawns, that play
Among their graceful stalks at morn, and love
From their white cells to lip the dews away.

LVIII.

She strove to speak, but 'twas in murmurs low,
While o'er her cheek, his potent spell confessing,
Deeper diffused the warm carnation glow

Still dewy wet with tears her inmost soul confessing.

As the lithe reptile, in some lonely grove,
With fixed bright eye of facinating flame
Lures on by slow degrees the plaining dove,
So nearer-nearer still-the bride and spirit came.

LIX.

"Thou, strong, invisible, invidious sprite,

Now, from my love my peerless mortal shield

What exultation for thy power to night!

Look on thy beauteous charge !-why does she yield?"

LX.

Thus secret he, the pearly bracelet holding,
Lending his lip to accents sweetlier bland
The light that clipt him, half the maid enfolding
Half given-tho' dubious half-her lilly hand.

LXI.

Success seemed his ;-but secret, in the height
And pride of transport; as he set at nought
And taunts her guardian power; infernal light
Shot from his eye, with guilt and treachery fraught.

Haply it was but Nature:-she bestows

Intuitive preception, and while art

O'ertasks himself with guile, loves to disclose

The dark soul in the eye, to warn th' o'ertrusting heart.

LXII.

Zophiel, howe'er the warning came, was foiled
What torments burned in his unearthly breast!
The while her trembling hand-untouched, recoiled,
That, wild, exulting glance, the wily fiend confest.

LXIII.

Faintly he spoke-"Tis Meles' step I here,
Guilty thou know'st him-wilt receive him still ?"—
The rosy blood driven to her heart by fear
She said, in accents faint, but firm, "I will."

LXIV.

The spirit heard; and all again was dark;
Save, as before, the melancholy flame

Of the full moon; and faint, unfrequent spark
Which from the perfume's burning embers came.

That stood in vases round the room disposed; Shuddering and trembling to her couch she crept,Soft oped the door and quick again was closed, And thro' the pale grey moon-light Meles stept.

LXV.

tell

But ere he yet, in haste, could throw aside
His broidered belt and sandals-dread tohunin
Eager he sprang-he sought to clasp his bride-
He stopt-a groan was heard-he gasped and fell

LXVI.

Low by the couch of her who widowed lay
Her ivory hands convulsive clasped in prayer,
But lacking power to move; and when 'twas day,
A cold black corse was all of Meles, there.

END OF THE FIRST CANTO,

NOTES.

(1) Wandered malignant o'er the erring earth.

This passage and, indeed the whole poem, is founded on a belief, prevalent in the earlier ages of christianity, that all nations, except the descendents of Abraham, were abandoned by the Almighty, and subjected to the power of dæmons or evil spirits. Fontenelle in his "Histoire des Oracles" makes the following extract from the works of the Pagan philosopher Porphyry.

66 Auguste déja vieux and songeant à se choisir un successeur, alla consulter l'oracle de Delphes. L'oracle ne répondoit point, quiqu 'Auguste n'épargnât pas des sacrifices. A la fin, cependant, il en tira cette réponse. L'enfant Hebreu à qui tous les Dieux obeissent, me chasse d'ici, and me ronvoie dans les Enfers. Sors de ce temple sans parler."

(2) While friendly shades the sacred rites enshroud.

The captive Jews, though they sometimes outwardly conformed to the religion of their oppressors, were accustomed to practice their own in secret.

(3) When fiercer spirits howled, he but complained.

So Milton.

Others more mild retreated to a silent val

ley singing,

With notes angelical, to many a harp,

Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall.

(4) Weary he fainted thro' the toilsome hours, And then his mystic nature he sustained

On steam of sacrifices, breath of flowers.

Eusebe dans sa "Préparation Evangelique" raporte quantité de passages de Porphyre, où ce philosophe Payen assure que les mauvais démons sont les auteurs des enchantemens, des philtres, et des maléfices; que le mensonge est essentiel à leur nature; qu'ils ne font que tromper nos yeux par des spectres et par des fautômes; qu'ils excitent en nous la plupart de nos passions; qu'ils ont l'ambition de vouloir passer pour des dieux; que leurs corps aëriens se nourissent de fumigations de sang répandu et de la graisse des sacrifices; qu'il n'y a qu'eux qui se mêlent de rendre des oracles, et à qui cette fonction pleine de tromperic soit tombée en partage.

Fontenelle, Histoire des Oracles.

Still true

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