English

Midst this fiery woe, —
Struck suddenly, as out of vertical space, —
Once more the blazing swordstar shewed in Heaven;
Which many, fearful, deemed, if brandished then
By the same hand as first, would cleave in twain
Their self accursed sphere, and hurl its dust,
With them, for aye, into the deadly void.

Near and more near on waves of light it rode,
Swiftly triumphing, and with blinding beam,
Till full above the centre of the orb —
The conflagration of the sphere self-quelled,

How changed from that bright orb
The rolling skies had erst rejoiced to see;
Whereto the orient sun was wont to send,
As to some eaglet orb that loved the light,
His earliest beam to wake his welcomer —
Signal to all of worship! Now, alas!
Cloaked in impenetrable night it glode
A black abomination through the skies,
A reptile world abhorred of all and shunned.
Then fire was used for light, and each one bare
With him a pitchy torch which reeked of hell;
Supplied by those deceptive guests who now —

No sooner came
I to the seat, in right opposal placed,
To that despotic empress, than they urged
Me to revivify the hateful frame —
The incarnation of that fleshly hell,
I had, for her sake whom I loved, destroyed; —
But once for all their quest refused; whereat,
The throned one brake her sceptre in her wrath,
And cried, — Have done with him! I own him not,
And have forsworn him. Let him die his death.

Thereto I answered not — within myself
Secretly praying but that God would make

Wide o'er the waters rose a wail of woe
With a fierce shout of exultation twined —
For chained to a dark rock, rough and high, the sea
Was loathly yielding back to land, — there stood —
Arrayed in Paradisal purity
Alone, that meek and innocent angel-maid; —
The monster wading greedily through the waves,
Her to devour; — the angels, some aghast,
Exulting some; her sister as half-dead
Fell fainting from her seat; the light alone
Of falling stars, with blinks of lightning mixed,
Lamping the red horizon fitfully.

First to speak
Was one, the last who lapsed from pure estate.

Be this the god ye serve? — The god ye sware
That we should this day see? — Our god, said they.

And are we bound to adore him who have passed
Through your mysterious rules and on us ta'en
His worship by the oath of fire?

Ye are,
In tones of hate replied the spirit chief,
By whom that wise one told of, late, was lost —
There standing as the hierophant of hell; —
Behold, ye are before him — bow the knee.

Arise, he cried,
Sternly. And wherefore? said the angel guest; —
In wise and happy idlesse, half divine,
Those live who how to spend their life know best;
Our rest is contemplation: worship our
Sole work. The weak alone unceasingly
Devote themselves to action; but for us,
We mightiest are in rest. This eve return —
And I will show thee that we worship here.

What more, in speech, hath never been divulged;
But neither was it much. Away he turned —
His heart assaulted by a storm of thought.

No matter, now;
Rejoined the angel monarch, smiling bright
On her confederated beguilers round:
Who smoothly sanctioned every pearly word
That beauteous and imperial rebel spake; —
My temple is my heart. My seat is fixed
Here in the midst of friends; and by this crown —
Each gem a sacred talisman of power,
Or amulet protective from all harm, —
Wrought by the spirits of the elements
And wondrously endowed, — I swear, and be
The oath, as death, irrevocable — I,
The dull alliance ye design abjure.

There is a love! 't is not the wandering fire
That must be fed on folly, or expire;
Gleam of polluted hearts, the meteor-ray
That fades, as rises Reason's nobler day;
But passion made essential , holy, bright;
Like the raised dead, our dust transform'd to light;
But, the rich foretaste of a loftier clime,
Friendship of souls, in heaven scarce more sublime!
Earth has its pangs for all; its happiest breast
Not his who meets them least, but bears them best.
Life must be toil! yet oh, that toil how drear,

So Wisdom made her favourite wise of heart,
And led the loved one through all holy spheres
And dwellings of seraphic bliss, and homes
Of perfect pleasure — even as the sun
Wades through the golden waters of the world
Up to the top point of the tower of Time,
Then steep descends — down to the lowest nook
Of furthest space, where earth spins round like clay
Upon the potter's wheel, the orb where bode
The last of happy beings, and the first
Of wretched creatures — semimortal man —
Whose clay was tempered with a lymph divine,

These, by divine permission, to myself
Such secretly confided, to the end
Which ye ere long shall wot of, presently
Seceded, — yet remained on outward terms
With their unshaken brethren as before,
But oh! the absolute excellence was gone,
The plane of pure perfection broken through;
It was as though some galaxy of stars
Had sunk and left a horrid rent in Heaven,
A ragged flaw athwart the sapphirine floor,
A foul chaotic chasm.

Still further spread
As from some central and impulsive point