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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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ZOPHIEL; 
 
 THE BRIDE OF SEVEN. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE, 
 
 (MA RIA GO WEN BROOKS.) 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 ZADEL BARNES GUSTAFSON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MEG, A PASTORAL," AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 - - - - 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 
 
 1879. 
 
 
% 
 
 Copyright, 1879, 
 
 By LEE AND SHEPARD. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Maria del Occidente 
 
 Preface to the Second American Edition . 
 
 Advertisement 
 
 Note to the Second Edition . - % - 
 
 Preface 
 
 To Robert Southey, Esq 
 
 Sonnet to the Memory of Maria del Occidente 
 
 PAGE 
 
 iii 
 
 xlvii 
 
 li 
 
 li 
 
 liii 
 
 lv 
 
 lvii 
 
 ZOPHIEL. 
 Canto First : Grove of Acacias 
 Canto Second : Death of xVltheetor 
 Canto Third : Palace of Gnomes 
 Canto Fourth : The Storm 
 Canto Fifth : Zameia 
 Canto Sixth : Bridal of Helon 
 
 Ode to the Departed 
 Farewell to Cuba 
 Notes to Zoehiel: — 
 
 Canto First 
 
 Canto Second . 
 
 Canto Third 
 
 Canto Fourth 
 
 Canto Fifth 
 
 Canto Sixth 
 
 3 
 
 39 
 
 81 
 
 119 
 
 137 
 
 175 
 
 191 
 
 201 
 
 205 
 
 213 
 229 
 
 242 
 
 249 
 
 258 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 \ 
 
 " My purpose had now become fixed; and, despite of the night I had 
 passed, my appearance, though pale, was calm to those around me: but, if 
 the soul which now warms me be eternal, the remembrance of that day, so 
 calm to those around me, will continue to the latest eternity. ... I next 
 looked over a small trunk of papers. From time to time they have been 
 saved, when my imagination was under the influence of a strong but vague 
 hope that I should one day or other be loved and renowned, and live 
 longer than my natural life in the history of the country of my fore- 
 fathers, and in that where I first beheld the light. Now, 1 said, no mor- 
 tal shall smile at the fancies of lonely Idomen." 
 
 Idomen ; or, The Vale of Yitmuri. 
 
 IN Cuba, near Limonal, on the San Patricio cof- 
 fee-estate Cafetal Hermita, stand, now crum- 
 bling in picturesque decay, the ruins of a small 
 Grecian temple, where, some thirty years ago, the 
 very passion-flower of womanly genius exhaled 
 itself away. The flight of steps leading to this 
 little temple is overgrown with clambering vines, 
 that mingle their dark leaves and gay flowers 
 across the deserted entrance. The path leading 
 to it is an avenue of stately palms, whose matted 
 
IV MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 leafage completely shelters the way from the sun ; 
 while the straight shafts of the palms, wound 
 about with ipomoea and convolvuli, have the ap- 
 pearance of themselves putting forth the rich blos- 
 soms of these vines. 
 
 The little temple is bowered in a labyrinth of 
 orange-trees, cocoas, and palms, the mango and 
 rose-apple, the ruddy pomegranate and shady tam- 
 arind; while the coffee-fields spread away in al- 
 ternate tessellation of white flowers and scarlet 
 berries. 
 
 A traveller thus alludes to this fair retreat : " I 
 have often passed it in the still night, when the 
 moon was shining brightly, and the leaves of 
 the cocoa and palm threw fringe-like shadows on 
 the walls and floor, and the elfin lamps of the 
 cocullos swept through the windows and the door, 
 casting their lurid and mysterious light on every 
 object, while the air was laden with the mingled 
 perfumes of the coffee-wreaths and orange-flowers, 
 the tuberose and night-blooming cereus ; and have 
 thought no fitter birthplace could be found for the 
 images she created. " 
 
 Here, in the retirement of the rarely-disturbed 
 repose and beauty of Hermita, lived and passed 
 away, almost unheard and unnoticed, " Maria del 
 Occidente," one of earth's great singers, whose 
 numbers, having always grace and sweetness, 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 have often also the majesty and the fervid pathos 
 wrung in a narrower tide from Mrs. Caroline Nor- 
 ton by her passionate sense of her own wrongs, 
 and from Mrs. Browning by her yearning compas- 
 sion over others' woes. 
 
 And, to crown these gifts, Maria del Occidente 
 had a pure recognition of the Infinite design as 
 manifested through the mysterious passion of love, 
 which, in its full, simple, unabashed expression, 
 makes her "Zophiel" among the bravest and the 
 most modest of the creations of genius. 
 
 Eighty-two years ago, in the town of Medford, 
 Mass., she was little Maria Gowen, a baby girl 
 around whom no special hopes were clustered, and 
 whose baby brows foreshadowed neither the glory 
 nor the sorrows of the poet's purple-fruited laurel. 
 
 She was born and bred American ; but it is not 
 unlikely that the blood of the Welsh bards, from 
 whom she claimed lineage, may have tinctured the 
 fine current of her veins. Her short life of only 
 fifty years was one of comparatively little outward 
 incident : yet these, mostly of her own shaping, 
 indicate the dignity and strength of her character, 
 and mark her stainless wifehood and her devoted 
 motherhood. But her poems, especially her great 
 work "Zophiel," show that her mental and spirit- 
 ual life was a passionately vivid aeon of intense 
 experiences ; and beneath the strong music of her 
 
VI MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. 
 
 verse breathes ever the cry of the conscious ispla- 
 tion of great gifts, the supreme longing for com- 
 plete human sympathy. 
 
 In all the individual utterances of high desire 
 or passionate feeling throughout " Zophiel," it is 
 her own soul, imprisoned by fate, yet liberated 
 by genius, that pleads, yet heroically endures. 
 "Zophiel" was first published entire in London by 
 Kennett, under the care and fostering of Robert 
 Southey, who, in "The Doctor," quotes from the 
 sixth canto of " Zophiel : " — 
 
 " The bard has sung, God never formed a soul 
 
 Without its own peculiar mate, to meet 
 Its wandering half, when ripe, to crown the whole 
 
 Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most complete. 
 
 " But thousand evil things there are that hate 
 
 To look on happiness : these hurt, impede, 
 And, leagued with time, space, circumstance, and fate, 
 
 Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine and pant and bleed. 
 
 "And as the dove to far Palmyra flying 
 
 From where her native founts of Antioch beam, 
 
 Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, 
 Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; 
 
 " So many a soul o'er life's drear desert faring — 
 Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed — 
 
 Suffers, recoils : then, thirsty and despairing 
 
 Of what it would, descends, and sips the nearest draught." 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. Vll 
 
 And adds, " So sings Maria del Occidente, the 
 most impassioned and most imaginative of all 
 poetesses." "The London Quarterly Review," 
 with restricted appreciation, admitted Southey's 
 praise, after substituting the word "fanciful" for 
 "imaginative." Charles Lamb, with that peculiar 
 conceit which we may term the obsolete character- 
 istic of great men, enforced by the potent thrall of 
 "Zophiel," rose from the reading of it with these 
 words : " Southey says it is by some Yankee 
 woman : as if there had ever been a woman capa- 
 ble of any thing so great ! " 
 
 With all that can be gleaned from reviews 
 and the brief contemporaneous sketches which 
 followed the publication of this work, and were 
 revived with some slight additions at her death, 
 her life is involved in great obscurity, which I 
 have found it difficult to penetrate, and have been 
 able to disperse only in faint and narrow lines, 
 even after the continued and earnest effort and 
 research of several years. 
 
 Her single prose story "Idomen," of which I 
 shall speak later, is undoubtedly autobigraphical ; 
 and within the limits of that vivid little sketch are 
 the chief clews to the exceptional experiences of 
 her private history. Her father was a gentleman 
 of literary tastes and cultivation, intimate with the 
 Harvard professors. Nowhere do I find any men- 
 
Vlll MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 tion of her mother. Rufus Wilmot Griswold, in 
 "The Encyclopedia of American Literature" of 
 1856, in "The Female Poets" (1853), and in 
 "The Southern Literary Messenger" (1839), gives 
 the most adequate sketch of our author's life. He 
 knew and corresponded with her in her later 
 years ; and says, that, when only nine years old, lit- 
 tle Maria Gowen's poetic temperament and power 
 were clearly indicated by her avid committal to 
 memory "of passages from 'Comus,' 'Cato,' and 
 the ancient classics." That she became a student 
 of wide and accurate learning is disclosed in her 
 works; the notes of " Zophiel " alone being a 
 groundwork of erudition, as thickly sprinkled with 
 occult bits of thought, research, and profound 
 study, as the tunic and tresses of an odalisque with 
 gems. 
 
 On the death of her father, she was engaged, at 
 the early age of fourteen, to Mr. Brooks, a wealthy 
 Boston merchant, and soon after married to him ; 
 and, after reverses of fortune resulting in poverty, 
 she turned her attention to the definite expression 
 of her genius, and at twenty had written a poem 
 in seven cantos, which was never published. In 
 1820 she issued the little volume, "Judith and 
 Esther, and Other Poems, by a Lover of the Fine 
 Arts," whose genuine poetic worth met with some 
 appreciation. In 1823, becoming a widow, she 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. IX 
 
 went to Cuba, making her home with a relative, 
 and there wrote the first canto of " Zophiel, or 
 The Bride of Seven," publishing it in Boston in 
 1825. After the death of an uncle, a Cuban 
 planter, whose property, left to her, placed her in 
 easy circumstances as the possessor of a fixed in- 
 come, she returned to the United States, and lived 
 near Dartmouth College, where her son, Capt. 
 Horace Brooks of the United-States army, was 
 then studying, and where she made studious use 
 of the Dartmouth-College Library. In 1830 she 
 went with a brother to Paris, and in London met 
 Washington Irving, who most kindly encouraged 
 her in the production of her poem. But it was 
 with Southey, at Keswick, where she passed the 
 spring of 183 1, that she entered into that strong 
 and sympathetic friendship which fed her pure 
 aspiration with the appreciation and hope that kin- 
 dle and assure. 
 
 Fortunately I can swell these slender outlines 
 with some brief testimony from persons still living, 
 to whom I would here express my grateful ac- 
 knowledgments. 
 
 In 1872, her son, then stationed at Fort M'Hen- 
 ry, Baltimore, Md., wrote to me as follows : — 
 
 " I received your note, addressed to the Rev. C. Brooks, 
 Medford, through my cousin Mrs. Ellen Parker of Boston. 
 I have no papers of my mother's near me, nor can I at pres- 
 
X MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. 
 
 ent get at them. I have, however, a fine miniature done by 
 a young artist (at the time it was taken), which is probably 
 the best likeness that can now be obtained, and which I will 
 forward to you. . . . When I was in Cuba in 1846, the little 
 dilapidated temple (built to gratify my mother by her brother) 
 on the San Patricio coffee-estate, in which most of ' Zophiel ' 
 was written, was still standing ; also a monument — a granite 
 base surmounted by a marble cross — at Limonal, not far 
 from Matanzas, erected by me, at mothers request, over my 
 two brothers. There is her resting-place by their side. I 
 cut her name upon the marble with my own hand, to corre- 
 spond with the inscription which mother placed over her 
 sons." 
 
 In July, 1872, I wrote to him, begging him to 
 send me the picture of his mother, and requesting 
 fullest particulars of her life and death, her char- 
 acter and peculiarities, and all details and inci- 
 dents of interest. To this Col. Brooks replied : — 
 
 " Fort M 'Henry. 
 
 " The first peculiarity of my mother was that she wrote a 
 round and remarkably plain hand, which I do not, and which 
 you must excuse, for the reason that I seldom write for pub- 
 lication. I will send the miniature. I have but one copy of 
 'Judith and Esther,' which I fear to part with, as I know not 
 where to get another. My changeable life has prevented my 
 keeping any thing safely. I cannot at present get at any 
 papers of my mother's, and do not know that there are any 
 left such as you might desire. 
 
 u The little temple (of which I have no picture, nor of the 
 monument) was built about 1825, and my mother died about 
 1845. I recollect it when a boy, as a pretty little toy at the 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XI 
 
 end of a beautiful avenue, four rows deep, of palms inter- 
 spersed with orange-trees and many other tropical plants. 
 It was a charming spot, and illustrates mother's admiration 
 .of the picturesque. 
 
 " Whatever charm there may be in ' Zdphiel,' and what- 
 ever talent it may portray, much undoubtedly is due to the 
 surroundings of the miniature temple where the poem was 
 imagined, and its verse constructed, by a nature as passionate 
 as the name of the flower would indicate which she always 
 wore in her hair, — the only simple adornment of naturally 
 thick and beautiful tresses. 
 
 " A lady of position recently visited this fort, and spoke 
 to me of recollecting my mother's peculiarity of dressing 
 always in white, even to white-silk stockings and slippers : 
 en dame blanche probably originated in some similar pecul- 
 iarity. My mother's special characteristic was individuality. 
 She generally succeeded in her endeavors. 
 
 " For instance, she applied to have me sent to West Point, 
 and sent me to Washington in 1S29 with letters, <Scc. The 
 appointment was promised, but by some influence was over- 
 ruled. She then took me to Hanover, N.H., with a view to 
 my entering Dartmouth College. In the mean time she 
 went with her Quebec brother to Europe, where she visited 
 Southey, and by his advice and protection got out a London 
 edition of 'Zdphiel.' She was introduced to Lafayette, who 
 was so pleased with her, that he urged to know if he could 
 be of any service to her. ' Yes,' said she : ' you can get my 
 son into W r est Point.' L T pon this Lafayette wrote to Ber- 
 nard, our then chief engineer ; and the appointment of a 
 cadet came to me. 
 
 " Southey was undoubtedly much interested in the Ameri- 
 can authoress ; for when, after his death, I visited his family, 
 they asked for the correspondence as their right, and I sub- 
 sequently sent several letters to them." 
 
Xll MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 Upon receipt of this letter, with the promised 
 portrait of his mother, I wrote again, thanking him 
 for the use of it, and saying that the completion 
 of this tribute still depended greatly upon him, 
 which I explained as follows : — 
 
 " Since my last letter to you I have heard from Richard 
 Hengist Home of London, who has cordially interested 
 himself to gain information in this matter. He has obtained 
 a hint from Robert Browning, and is in communication with 
 Alfred Tennyson. Mr. Home is an indefatigable worker, a 
 man of brilliant abilities, with a wide and intimate acquaint- 
 ance among distinguished men and women. Our own ven- 
 erable poet Longfellow, during a recent visit at his home in 
 Cambridge, told me that the most important step in my 
 effort to write effectively of your mother was to secure the 
 examination of her private papers. I told him what you had 
 written about their being difficult of access ; but he seemed 
 to feel sure you would overcome all difficulties, or put me in 
 the way of doing so. If you cannot obtain the papers your- 
 self, will you not tell me where they are, or authorize me to 
 get them myself? I need hardly assure you that I will take 
 the utmost care of them, and use your confidence with the 
 delicacy due to it and to her memory. I entreat this favor 
 of you in your mother's name, since it is for her sake." 
 
 Col. Brooks very kindly sent me his copy of 
 "Judith and Esther," and also of " Idomen," and 
 continued his account : — 
 
 " My mother was quite a linguist. She read and wrote 
 fluently in French, Spanish, and Italian ; she also sang many 
 son^s in these tongues. She was a hard student, and a 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. Xlll 
 
 woman of much research, and very particular to obtain her 
 authority from the original ; and often attempted, with the 
 assistance of some friend, the translation of obscure lan- 
 guages. I remember that she kept by her a Persian gram- 
 mar, and often referred to it. She was also quite an artist, 
 and several pieces painted by her in water-colors were hang- 
 ing up about her rooms. She had a remarkable memory ; 
 and many curious facts she had stored in her mind, in scraps 
 of poetry she had learned in her youth. 
 
 " Indeed, her mind took a poetical current from its earli- 
 est years. She had a remarkably beautiful form. I have 
 heard her say, that when young, before the days of flowing 
 skirts, when dresses were scant, she often felt ashamed of 
 herself on account of what are now considered curves of 
 beauty being then too well defined. She was a constant 
 attendant at church, and always earned with her an English 
 edition of the services of the church ; but she detested all 
 cant and hypocrisy. She was very particular about her own 
 language, disliked all interpolations, and always referred to 
 Johnson and Walker. It was delightful to hear her con- 
 verse. Her knowledge of present and past events, and of the 
 prominent characters of history, was astonishing. She would 
 tell anecdotes of persons so varied and interesting, that her 
 quiet and unassuming conversation was sought and listened 
 to by many distinguished persons. 
 
 " I remember of her travelling with her brother several 
 miles in order to see an Indian chief, and get the precise 
 accent and signification of an Indian word." 
 
 In 1874 I wrote again to Col. Brooks, then in 
 Presidio, San Francisco, with reference to his 
 mother's private letters and papers ; offering to re- 
 lieve him from all inconvenience and expense by 
 
XIV MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 sending a responsible person for them, if he would 
 consent, and designate their abiding-place. To 
 this he replied substantially as before, that they 
 were scattered about, he hardly knew where him- 
 self ; that no one but he could "unravel the con- 
 dition of affairs," and it was impossible for him to 
 come East at present. 
 
 In the intervals between this correspondence 
 with the son I met with the most cordial response 
 in other directions of inquiry. In July, 1872, I 
 received the following kind letter from her niece, 
 Mrs. Ellen Parker of Boston : — 
 
 " Your letter to the Rev. Mr. Brooks was sent to me, I 
 being a niece of Maria del Occidente ; and I thought it the 
 best way to assist you in the beautiful work you think of 
 undertaking to forward your letter to Col. Horace Brooks, 
 her only remaining son, and he, of course, would have in 
 his possession what you would require. In all my life, I 
 never passed more than a few months in the society of my 
 aunt, Mrs. Brooks ; but to my girlish vision she always ap- 
 peared a being of the most romantic loveliness and grace. 
 She always dressed in white or gray, wearing transparent 
 sleeves, through which her beautiful arms were seen ; and 
 her hands were almost always covered in white-kid gloves. 
 She seemed to reverence her own personal charms, and felt 
 it a duty to preserve her own sweetness. When past the 
 meridian of life, her hair and teeth were as beautiful as those 
 of a young girl. I should say that a keen sense of truth 
 and justice, and the most delicate perceptions and actual 
 worship of beauty, were the predominant traits of her char- 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XV 
 
 acter. I regret that I have nothing in my possession which 
 would assist you." 
 
 The Rev. Alfred Brooks (brother of the late 
 Rev. Charles Brooks of New-England fame as the 
 " Father of Normal Schools"), to whom I wrote, 
 supposing him to be a relative of the poetess, — in 
 which supposition I was mistaken, — interested 
 himself most kindly to open a way for me ; and it 
 is to him I owe the foregoing graceful letter from 
 Mrs. Parker, as well as my first letter from Col. 
 Brooks, and the perusal of one from Miss Lucy 
 Osgood, who, in mentioning a visit of Mrs. Maria 
 Gowen Brooks to Medford, says, " I have a dim 
 recollection of a lady walking out at odd hours, 
 and dressed in white at odd seasons, and of being 
 told that she was Mrs. Brooks, of the Gowen fam- 
 ily, a poetess. She and her family soon disap- 
 peared ; and I afterward found, chiefly through a 
 long respectful article in one of the English re- 
 views, that we had had a flower of genius among 
 us, and in our stupidity knew it not." 
 
 By another Medford lady — Miss Eunice Hall, 
 who frequently saw her — Mrs. Brooks is described 
 as "a very handsome lady, winning manners, 
 purest blonde complexion, blue eyes, abundant 
 pale golden hair, who wrote poetry, and sang very 
 sweetly." 
 
 Mr. Edwin P. Whipple wrote me, — 
 
XVI MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 " When I was young (about nineteen, I think) I happened 
 to board in the same house where Mrs. Brooks resided, and 
 had many opportunities of being acquainted, through her 
 conversation, with the trials and disappointments of her life 
 as a woman, and as a woman of letters. I had a great re- 
 gard for her personally, and a warm admiration for her 
 genius. . . . There was a certain sweetness and softness in 
 her voice, which I remember; and on all topics of literature, 
 in which she was widely versed, she was tolerant and just. 
 I regret that I cannot find, in hunting among my papers, any 
 review of the poems of this strangely-neglected woman of 
 genius. I must have written many. I did all I could to 
 extend her fame. I concurred with Dr. Griswold in all his 
 attempts to make her striking merits as a poet admitted by 
 her countrymen and countrywomen. It was all useless. 
 The American people seemed to be joined in a conspiracy 
 not to read 'Zophiel,' in spite of Southey and 'The Quarterly 
 Review,' and in spite of the endeavors of American critics 
 who took a just pride in the genius of their countrywoman." 
 
 As woman, wife, mother, poet, and friend, in 
 every relation of life, and in its details of dress, 
 appearance, and manner, Maria del Occidente 
 seems to have been a being of the most singular 
 and attractive interest. 
 
 In 1876 I had some correspondence with the 
 Southey family and the Coleridges. Their letters, 
 without exception, were kind, and full of desire to 
 assist me ; but they were unable to furnish much 
 new material. 
 
 From one of these letters, written by the Rev. 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XV11 
 
 Derwent Coleridge, I quote : " Maria del Occidente 
 does indeed deserve to be honorably remembered 
 among the first poets of her native land. It is 
 difficult to recover memorials of a life that is sunk 
 beneath the stream of Lethe. A copy of her 
 * Zophiel ' was presented to my dear sister, Sara 
 Coleridge, by Mr. Bancroft, the American minister, 
 in 1834, and is now in my house." The wife of 
 Rev. Derwent Coleridge pushed inquiry for me 
 among the Southeys, and sent the following from 
 Mrs. Herbert Hill, a daughter of Robert Southey : 
 " I fear I can give no account of Mrs. Brooks that 
 will be of any use to her biographer and friend. 
 I have no personal recollection of her, having been 
 away from home during her stay at Keswick ; but 
 I well remember how full of her charms the letters 
 were that I received from home at that time. 
 Herbert has looked through my father's ' Life and 
 Correspondence/ and has copied out the only 
 thing worth stating;" which was from the "Se- 
 lection of Southey's Letters," edited by J. W. 
 Warter. 
 
 Keswick, Oct. 13, 1833. 
 My dear Mrs. Bray, — . . . Has " Zophiel" fallen in 
 your way ? Probably not ; for books which have only their 
 own merit to introduce them make their way slowly, if they 
 make it at all. The authoress, who calls herself Maria del 
 Occidente, is a widow, by name Mrs. Brooks, a New-Eng- 
 lander by birth, of Welsh extraction. She married, — or, to 
 
XV111 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 speak in this case more correctly, was married, — when 
 almost a child, to a person at least thrice her own age, and 
 as little suited to her in other respects as in years. He left 
 her with two sons, one of whom is now an officer in the 
 American army; the other settled as a planter in Cuba, where 
 most of "Zdphiel" was written. Mrs. Brooks, I doubt not, 
 always has been, and still is, haunted by the feeling, that, if 
 she had been mated with one capable of esteeming and lov- 
 ing her as she deserved to be esteemed and loved, she would 
 have been one of the happiest of God's creatures. In ap- 
 pearance and manners she is one of the gentlest and most 
 feminine of women. Her poem is, in the foundation, the 
 story of Tobias and Raguel's daughter ; yet it is a most 
 original composition, highly fanciful, and passionate in the 
 highest degree. It has the fault of not being always per- 
 spicuous ; but that any person who has read few, if any, of 
 our elder poets, and certainly never studied any of them, 
 nor looked upon poetry as an art, should be so free from the 
 vices of modern diction, and possess so much of elder sim- 
 plicity and beauty and strength, is most remarkable. Alto- 
 gether the poem is the effusion of a heart whose fervor 
 neither time nor untoward fortune has cooled ; and of an 
 inspiration so vivid, that it almost believes in its own crea- 
 tions. There is a song in the last canto which is more 
 passionate than any I can call to mind in any language, and 
 in my judgment far, very far, superior to Sappho's celebrated 
 ode. 
 
 I give also, somewhat abridged, the following 
 interesting letter from Southey's son-in-law and 
 literary editor, the Rev. John Wood Warter, who 
 was over seventy-one years of age at the time this 
 quaint and readable letter was written : — 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XIX 
 
 "I have deferred answering your letter till I had tried to 
 find out if any letters of Maria del Occidente were in posses- 
 sion of the Southey family. By this morning's post I have 
 a letter from my brother-in-law, the Rev. Cuthbert Southey, 
 in which he states that there are none, adding that he well 
 remembers her visit to Keswick. My lamented wife, Edith 
 May Southey (Southey's eldest daughter), knew and liked 
 her. At Southey's sale she requested me to buy the manu- 
 script of ' Zophiel ; ' which I did, and it is before me now. 
 We received more than one little parcel from her, of guava- 
 jelly, and two book-screens which are now on my mantel- 
 piece. I rather suspect more is known of her than you 
 suspect. Probably she may allude to herself in that stanza 
 quoted in ' The Doctor.' It was generally believed that she 
 was married, when a mere child, to an elderly man at least 
 thrice her own age ; but I have only picked this up from 
 private letters, and can state nothing on authority. Southey 
 often spoke of her, as did my wife, as of a gentle, pensive 
 person, quite different from what might have been expected 
 from the gifted and impassioned author of ' Zophiel.' She 
 won the regard of all the household during the few weeks of 
 her stay at Keswick. Since I received your letter I have 
 carefully read through ' Zophiel ' again, and think it as won- 
 derfully clever as ever; but it was ill adapted to the English 
 taste, which had been surfeited with ' Don Juan ' and Moore. 
 The manuscript is perhaps the greatest scrawl you ever 
 saw. I regret I am unable to give you more information ; 
 but you may depend upon it, it is to be found either in 
 1 Kuba ' (as she pronounced Cuba), or about Matanzas. Most 
 of my American correspondents are past and gone. The 
 late Jared Sparks, his wife and family, visited me here some 
 years ago. He, too, has been gathered in. He brought to 
 my daughters autographs from Longfellow." 
 
XX MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 The following letter was written by Richard 
 Hengist Home in answer to inquiries about Mrs. 
 Brooks : — 
 
 " With regard to Maria 'del Occidente, I perfectly recol- 
 lect reading a review, in one of our quarterlies, of her poem, 
 in conjunction with several others, most of whom seem to 
 wither beside her burning spirit. I agree with what Southey 
 said of her superiority to all other poetesses, my dear friend 
 and correspondent Miss E. D. Barrett (afterward Mrs. 
 Browning) not having appeared at that time. You are 
 aware that the latter was also a star from the West, and 
 either born in the West Indies, or of parents born there. I 
 fear what you want concerning Maria Brooks is scarcely 
 attainable now. Twenty years ago, when I went to Austra- 
 lia, I could probably have helped you. Miss Mitford, Mrs. 
 Browning, Charlotte Bronte, Mrs. Hemans, and Miss Lan- 
 don (L. E. L.), could most likely have told you more or less 
 of Mrs. Brooks. So could Jordan (of ' The Gazette'), Leigh 
 Hunt, Robert Bell, and others ; but, alas ! all these and more 
 young literary friends are gone. By the by, it is possible 
 that in Bell's edition of the ' British Poets ' you may find 
 her mentioned. In case you have not the work, I will look 
 into it the next time I am in the British-Museum Library ; 
 and, if there be any thing worth copying out, I will send it 
 to you. Tennyson and Browning may have known some- 
 thing of her." 
 
 Later he adds, — 
 
 " I enclose Browning's reply with regard to Mrs. Brooks : 
 'As to Maria del Occidente, I know the name, but never 
 remember hearing it from my wife. You revive old impres- 
 sions in me that there is real worth in her poetry, judging 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXI 
 
 from the echoes rather than the veritable voice, which I 
 never heard ; and I wonder that I can give you no sort of 
 account of the lady.' " 
 
 In this letter Mr. Home very kindly sent a 
 charming sonnet, never before published, which, 
 especially in its closing lines, is in deep sympa- 
 thy with the abrupt catastrophe of "Idomen;" and 
 for this reason I have selected it as being pecul- 
 iarly tender and fitting for the inscription-page of 
 this volume. My paper on " Maria del Occi- 
 dente" (of which the present writing is in part a 
 reconstruction) in the " Harper's Magazine " for 
 January, giving Mr. Home's sonnet shorter by 
 one line than it now appears, elicited from him a 
 very kind letter, enclosing a revision of the son- 
 net with the missing line supplied ; concerning 
 which I cannot forbear quoting, somewhat at my 
 own expense : " You will be amused when I tell 
 you the cause of this additional line originated in 
 your use of a word intended for what the Span- 
 iards and Italians would call an 'affectionate 
 diminutive/ — i.e., my 'charming little sonnet.' 
 As all sonnets should be conventionally of the 
 same size, I was suddenly induced to count the 
 lines, and discovered that what I had intended as 
 a kind of elegiac sister to your ' Maria del Occi- 
 dente ' had lost one leg ! Perhaps I did not call 
 it a sonnet ! " But he did ! 
 
XXI 1 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 Early in 1876 I made one more appeal to Col. 
 Brooks, reiterating my desire for the possession of 
 his mother's papers. He replied that no one but 
 himself could possibly find them if any existed ; 
 that since her death he had " been through the old 
 Mexican war, the new Mexican war, the Kansas 
 war, and the Rebellion : so you can imagine what 
 changes have taken place, and how my effects are 
 scattered. I gave a copy of 'Zophiel' to Adju- 
 tant-Gen. Townsend, who will lend it to you, I 
 think. If I go East this summer, I will endeavor 
 to look up her papers ; but I still doubt if any 
 thing of importance could be found. You must 
 know that I feel very grateful to you," &c. 
 
 On my application for it, Gen. E. D. Townsend 
 at once placed his copy of "Zophiel" at my dis- 
 posal. 
 
 "Zophiel, or The Bride of Seven," is an Ori- 
 ental epic. The foundation is the story of Sara, 
 Raguel's daughter, of the Median city of Ecba- 
 tane, as given in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chap- 
 ters of the book of Tobit, in the Apocrypha. 
 Sara, a beautiful and good maiden, is bitterly 
 reproached because "she had been married to 
 seven husbands, whom Asmodeus, the evil spirit, 
 had killed before they had lien with her." Un- 
 happy in being the cause of so many deaths, and 
 suffering from the reproaches, Sara prays for 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XX111 
 
 death, but that, if she must continue to live, some 
 mercy and pity may be shown her. In answer to 
 this prayer the angel Raphael was sent to bring 
 Tobias to the house of Raguel, wdiere Sara should 
 be riven to him to be his wife. Nothing: daunted 
 bv the father's confession concerning Sara's seven 
 bridegrooms, Tobias entreats for an immediate mar- 
 riage ; and, the evil spirit Asmodeus being over- 
 come by a peculiar spell, the predestined nuptials 
 take place. Upon this foundation the author of 
 " Zophiel" enlarges, mingling the dramatic move- 
 ment, situations, and passionate climaxes created 
 by her own affluent imagination, with the rich 
 imagery and action of ancient myth. 
 
 With the threefold quality of the highest order 
 of genius, the intuitive, perceptive, and creative, 
 she detaches whatever she uses from its original 
 source, and so imbues it with her own meaning, 
 so individualizes it with her own inspiration, that 
 it enters into a new crystallization. 
 
 The plot of the poem clearly indicates its 
 author's purpose, — to show how the passion of 
 love affects individual fate, moulding and swaying 
 both human and angelic nature. The scenery of 
 the drama is painted, the characters are chosen, 
 the circumstances for their development selected, 
 to this end ; and no expression of individual 
 opinion however appreciative, and no review or 
 
XXIV MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 criticism however capable, can be so adequate an 
 act of justice as the republication of the poem 
 itself. For those lovers of literature who have 
 not leisure for its more studious pursuit I have 
 prepared the following prose sketch of the scenes 
 and movement of " Zophiel," in the hope that it 
 may be a welcome facilitation to their understand- 
 ing and enjoyment of its beauties. 
 
 The author's notes to " Zophiel/' which are well 
 worth reading, independent of the beautiful poem 
 they elucidate, — and which were originally printed 
 not only in groups at the close of each canto, but 
 scattered through the cantos themselves, the text 
 being plentifully defaced with asterisks, daggers, 
 and numerals, — have been re-arranged, and placed 
 by themselves at the close of the book, with such 
 designation of page, verse, and line, as will not 
 only enable the reader to find any passage referred 
 to with facility, but, when found, to enjoy it free 
 from the intrusiveness of mechanical signs. 
 
 Concerning these notes I quote from the preface 
 of the original edition : — 
 
 ' ; One or two short articles in journals of this country 
 object to this poem as being difficult to understand ; but 
 those who make the objection probably read it hastily, and 
 confused themselves by looking from the verses to the notes, 
 and back again, thus distracting the attention. It will be 
 better to read the story as it was composed, without refer- 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXV 
 
 ence to explanations or comments till the whole is finished. 
 The notes can be read afterwards with equal advantage. 
 Indeed, they are merely added to show how much authority 
 exists for every incident and allusion of a narrative im- 
 agined under the influence of soft luxuriant tropical scenery, 
 where the writer drew solely from nature, and had access 
 to no books at all relative to the subject. 'Zophiel,' if 
 read in the manner proposed, will be found as simply ar- 
 ranged, and as easy to comprehend, as the tales of ' Arabian 
 Nights,' or any common novel." 
 
 For my own part, I would suggest that the notes 
 to one canto at a time should be read first, and 
 without alternately looking from the verse to the 
 notes, and thereafter the canto to which the notes 
 so read refer ; and I think it will be found that the 
 delicate significances and shades of meaning thus 
 imparted to the first reading of each canto will 
 richly repay the reader's care. 
 
 The Asmodeus, Raguel, Sara, Raphael, and 
 Tobias of the apocryphal story are respectively 
 the Zopliiel, Zorah, Egla, Hariph, and Helon of 
 the poem. 
 
 " Zophiel " opens with a strange appeal, in a 
 mood both brave and desolate. As in mournful 
 prescience of the lack of wide recognition she was 
 to experience, the singer, from the solitude of her 
 little temple, salutes the "shade of Columbus," 
 her Cymbrian ancestors, the bards of Mona, and 
 the "spirits who hovered o'er the Euphrates 
 
XXVI MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 stream " before the first waking of Eve, seeming 
 to entreat an audience of these. 
 
 The first canto, "A Grove of Acacias," con- 
 tains something of the argument of the whole 
 poem, introduces the " bride of seven," and gives 
 the first act in the sixfold tragedy. 
 
 One day, w T hile Egla is reclining in the grove, 
 she is joined by her mother Sephora, who entreats 
 Egla to choose a husband, or to permit one to be 
 chosen for her. Egla, in reply, tells Sephora of 
 the visit of an old man in the wood (the same who 
 appears under the name Hariph in the progress of 
 the poem), who foretold to her the bridegroom who 
 would one day come to her from the Euphrates, 
 impressing his prophecy by revealing himself as 
 the angel Raphael for an instant before vanish- 
 ing. Sephora discredits not Egla, but the vision ; 
 dreads the fading of Egla's youth and beauty, and 
 beseeches her not to waste them upon a " thought- 
 love." 
 
 Egla yields a sorrowful yet gentle obedience to 
 her mother's persuasions, and is left to sleep in her 
 acacian bower. 
 
 Into the Lethean hush of these Persian woods 
 enters ZopJiiel, a fallen but powerful angel, the 
 most majestic conception of this poem. He sees 
 the faint flame where Zorah, Egla's father, sacri- 
 fices in the wood ; and, brooding over the lost joys 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXVU 
 
 of heaven, he apostrophizes ambition in a strong 
 outburst of eloquent despair. Approaching the 
 bower, and believing that he sees a /'faithful 
 angel " in the beautiful sleeper, he turns to depart, 
 but is arrested by a sigh from Egla ; perceives 
 that she is but a mortal maiden, though so fair ; 
 and in the yearning of his naturally loving soul, 
 intensified by banishment, resolves to. win her love 
 for himself. 
 
 At length, on the night set apart for the mar- 
 riage of Egla with Meles, the reluctant girl retires 
 to her chamber, and prays for a submissive spirit to 
 do her parents' will. From this melancholy devo- 
 tion she is roused by the coming of Zophiel, who, 
 revealing his supernal beauty, entreats for her con- 
 fidence with every exquisite art of tenderness ; but 
 Egla, by pure virginal instinct, detects treachery 
 in Zophiel's appeal, resists his powerful spell, and 
 re-affirms her acceptance of Meles in obedience to 
 her parents. Zophiel vanishes, and Meles enters, 
 only to be mysteriously slain at the bridal bedside. 
 
 Neither in "The Loves of the Angels'' nor in 
 " Lalla Rookh " does Thomas Moore's flowing 
 measure equal the musical cadences of " Zophiel ; " 
 and there is greater beauty of scene and bloom 
 lavished on the single acacian bower where Zo- 
 phiel wistfully watches over Egla's sleep than on 
 the whole journey of the beautiful Lalla. In the 
 
XXV111 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 Choric Song of Tennyson's " Lotos-Eaters/' the 
 mosaic detail of sensuous description, though as deli- 
 cate, is not so thoughtful, nor so warm in feeling. 
 
 Sardius, the young king of Media, learning the 
 manner of his favorite Meles' death, detains Egla 
 in his palace in strict but kind restraint, which is 
 jealously observed by Philomars. This character, 
 limned in three verses, is one of the darkest and 
 strongest pictures of the human fiend to be found 
 in literature. 
 
 Egla's dress, when sent for to " evening ban- 
 quet " with King Sardius, is something more than 
 a superb festal toilet : it is the artistic expression 
 of her nature and situation, modestly yet con- 
 sciously chosen by her to be such. In every 
 scene, under every test, Egla's charm is one with 
 her goodness, and every soul that is moved by her 
 beauty is moved higher. 
 
 Byron and Swinburne have a language-magic 
 something like that in which this toilet 1 and ban- 
 quet scene are described ; but neither so infuse 
 their description of woman's beauty with that 
 intenser loveliness of the spirit which makes the 
 body the breath and picture of the soul. In the 
 second canto, after several gay courtiers have 
 dared and met the doom of Meles, at the thresh- 
 old of Egla's chamber, Altheetor, a very beautiful 
 
 1 See Canto Second, pp. 53, 54. 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXIX 
 
 youth of Sardius' court, of a nature pure and high 
 as it is ardent, falls ill, pines secretly for Egla, 
 and becomes another victim of Zophiel's jealous 
 wrath. 
 
 In the third and fourth cantos, " Palace of the 
 Gnomes" and " The Storm," we have a descrip- 
 tion of celestial and inframundane scenery and 
 drama, and the spiritual proportions of Zophiel 
 come into full relief. 
 
 In the first scene of "The Palace of the 
 Gnomes" Zophiel and Phraerion sit conversing 
 among the moonlighted ruins on the banks of the 
 lotos-broidered Tigris. The description of the 
 scene around them is delicate as an ivory-paint- 
 ing, and bright and iris-tinted as that structure 
 of aerial fancies, "The House of Clouds." 1 
 
 The characters of Zophiel and Phraerion are con- 
 trasted with an admirable penetration ; Phraerion 
 being the beautiful, gentle, languid spirit, to whom 
 the haunts of the most rare and fragrant flowers 
 and dews, and the secrets of their precious distil- 
 lations, are known. In nothing but the softness 
 of love is he a companion for the strong, restless, 
 suffering Zophiel ; but the latter, formed for in- 
 tensest love and friendship, and bereft of heaven 
 and its companionships, in his loneliness draws the 
 mild Phraerion to him by the little link of love 
 
 1 Mrs. E. B. Browning. 
 
XXX MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 that is possible to their differing natures, and 
 cherishes him with that pathetic fidelity which is 
 conscious of giving an ocean in exchange for a rill. 
 Nevertheless, this complex and very human Zo- 
 phiel coerces the pleasure-loving, shrinking Phrae- 
 rion to serve him by conducting him through all 
 the tortures and horrors of a subterranean jour- 
 ney ; for these spirits are formed to feel unspeak- 
 able pangs from ordinary contact with material 
 substances of earth and wave. 
 
 At the submarine palace of the gnome Ta- 
 hathyam Zophiel obtains a crystal spar, in which 
 one drop of the elixir which perpetuates life is 
 enclosed. 
 
 With this between his lips, and his fragile guide 
 Phraerion clasped to his breast, he sets out to 
 return from the sea-deeps to the earth's surface. 
 The most violent submarine storm engages all his 
 supernatural powers ; and the precious spar, — con 
 taining the potent crystal drop which is to perpet- 
 uate for Zophiel the youth and beauty of Egla, — 
 for the possession of which so much has been en- 
 dured, is dashed from his lips, and whelmed in an 
 ocean-gulf, into whose vortex he may not plunge 
 without remaining an eternity. The two storm- 
 spent sprites emerge "near Lybia's coast," only to 
 encounter a terrific earth-storm, in whose relentless 
 fury Zophiel perceives the malignant purpose of 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXXI 
 
 an evil spirit more powerful than himself. He 
 lends all his strength and care to shelter the deli- 
 cate Phraerion ; but at last, in the storm's climax, 
 both are dashed " prostrate on the sands." 
 
 Though there are glimpses of the "Inferno" in 
 "Zophiel," the story does not lead through its 
 scenes. Yet the great likeness in kind and quality 
 between the genius of the "melancholy Floren- 
 tine" and that revealed in "Zophiel" could not 
 escape the student of both poets. In scope and 
 plot the "Inferno" and "Zophiel" are scarcely to 
 be compared : there is too much unlikeness of 
 attempt. But the soul-current vitalizing each of 
 these poems is the warm and brilliant, passionate 
 and profound, tide of a like inspiration. In the 
 plot of " Zophiel " the stream flows necessarily 
 between nearer banks, but proves its identity of 
 source by the floating flower, the golden sand, the 
 tint and depth and lustre that flow from no lesser 
 springs. 
 
 In the tenth canto of the " Inferno," the dis- 
 course between Dante and "Farinata degli Uberti" 
 and Cavalcanti, and the accessories of the situa- 
 tion, are, in their dark sublimity, wonderfully like 
 the scene of recrimination between Zophiel and 
 the fiend in "The Storm," though the likeness is 
 in the power and feeling rather than in the situa- 
 tion. 
 
XXX11 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 It is in "The Storm " (fourth canto) that the 
 genius of Milton is matched in quality, if not in 
 scope, and his Satan is distanced by the spiritual 
 majesty of Zophiel and the "sombre being" who 
 copes with him in the tempest. Here is no effort 
 to impress with physical loathsomeness and hor- 
 ror ; here is stature, but with concealing robe ; 
 a sombre presence of mystic power and beauty, 
 infused with evil, and impressive by the distinc- 
 tively spiritual significance of the vision. In the 
 first book of " Paradise Lost," Milton's present- 
 ment of Satan, though a grand is a somewhat 
 coarse appeal to our physical perceptions of the 
 horrible. He lies upon the burning flood, serpent 
 in form, a coiling bulk of horrors, "floating many 
 a rood." This startles and oppresses. The im- 
 pressiveness of spiritual power, when for evil, lies 
 in the obscuring of the physical bulk and de- 
 formity; in the veiled mystery from which projects 
 the vague, incalculable dark essence and malig- 
 nant intent. 
 
 In the eighth book of "Paradise Lost" a com- 
 mon and low conception of love's passion is sug- 
 gested to Adam by angelic lips, which is redeemed 
 by a counter utterance of the same angel a little 
 farther on. But, in Zophiel himself, — though 
 fallen from his angelic state, and therefore less 
 perfect than Adam before his fall, — love has an 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXX111 
 
 ideally pure expression. Though he slays Egla's 
 bridegiooms, he is eager to dare and do and suffer 
 to the limits of his nature's vast endowments, only 
 for the sake of preserving and blessing the charm- 
 ing being whom he cannot hope to embrace, — 
 the simplest, innocent movement of whose breast 
 is watched by him with reverence. In book ninth 
 of " Paradise Lost," Satan's " compassing the 
 earth," though a more comprehensive journey, is 
 told less impressively, and with less of poetic 
 beauty, than is the similar but shorter journey of 
 Zophiel and Phraerion to the palace of the Gnome. 
 
 After the conflict between the spirits in "The 
 Storm " is past, Zophiel seeks Phraerion in his 
 covert. Embracing, they rise into the air, and, 
 mantling themselves in the morning mists, flee 
 toward Media to Egla's grove. Beneath them, 
 as they pass, two travellers by the Tigris pause 
 in delighted wonder at the sweet odors which the 
 flight of the unseen spirits has fanned from many 
 fields of flowers. 
 
 These travellers are the youth Helon, and Ha- 
 riph (the angel Raphael), — the same who, in the 
 disguise of an old man, foretold her bridegroom 
 to Egla in her acacian retreat, and now in this 
 same disguise is leading Helon, unawares, to his 
 predestined bride. As (in the beginning of the 
 fifth canto, u Zamei*a") they converse together, 
 
XXXIV MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. 
 
 Helon relates a dream of the preceding night, 
 which saddens him with vague longing, in which 
 he saved from fearful and imminent death a maiden 
 of celestial grace and beauty. The incidents of 
 this dream are afterward realized between him and 
 Erfa in the sixth canto. 
 
 o 
 
 As they journey on they come upon a remark- 
 able group resting beneath a projecting rock. 
 These are the Princess Zamei'a (the fugitive wife 
 of white-haired, polygamic, pagan Imlec), her slave 
 Neantes, and a little Ethiop boy. Zamei'a is sleep- 
 ing, drugged by the compassionate Neantes. She 
 is portrayed as travel-worn and passion-wasted, but 
 marvellously beautiful still, with the dark charm 
 of Syrian women. While she sleeps, Neantes re- 
 lates the history of her first meeting with Meles 
 while making sacrifice at the fanes of Mylitta, the 
 Assyrian Venus, according to the Babylonian cus- 
 tom ; of the instant and lasting love she conceived 
 for him ; of their secret meetings in her palace by 
 the Euphrates, where Meles climbs her garden- 
 wall by means of a ladder woven of her silken 
 girdles. There is all the tenderness, and pas- 
 sionate self-immolation to love, of Romeo and 
 Juliet, between these lovers ; only that Zamei'a 
 is sincere, while Meles seeks only himself in seek- 
 ing her, and warily takes care of himself, and soon 
 forsakes. Zamei'a, in despair, wastes almost unto 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. XXXV 
 
 death, until Neantes prepares a letter which is to 
 deceive ZameTa into supposing thai: Meles is de- 
 tained on embassy by the king, but will return by 
 "the gathering of the date." Twice Neantes re- 
 sorts to this deception in order to save her life and 
 reason. At last Zamei'a hears from Imlec the 
 news that he is returning, and would have her 
 prepare to receive him. Frantic between her 
 starved, despairing love for absent Meles and 
 her loathing for the returning Imlec, she, with 
 Neantes, departs by night, casting some of her 
 dipt black tresses braided with jewels into the 
 Euphrates, that it may lead to the idea of her 
 death by drowning. 
 
 The description of the temple and rites of 
 Mylitta is identical in fact with the same related 
 by Herodotus,' Guignant, and others; but in the 
 verse of " Zophiel " it is so refined of the com- 
 moner conceptions of such a rite, and is invested 
 with so much seriousness and beauty as having an 
 impersonal and simply sacrificial significance, that 
 merely sensual appreciation must recoil chilled 
 as from the pure nakedness of a statue. The 
 whole movement of this canto, its glow and form 
 and finish, are as replete with beauty as the 
 richest measures of Byron when Byron's impulse 
 was — as it sometimes was — noble and pure, and 
 is wholly without the trail of reckless license that 
 
XXXVI MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 creeps through some of his fairest creations. The 
 limpid flowing song of Mrs. Browning's "Swan's 
 Nest among the Reeds " is recalled, not by any 
 analogy of scope or motif ; but the soft and vivid 
 delicacy of feeling and expression is the same. 
 
 The yet unsubsided wave of what has gone 
 before, and the imminence of the last crisis, is 
 immediately felt in the first verses of " The Bridal 
 of Helon" (the sixth and last canto), where occurs 
 the ardent complaint which Southey quotes with 
 such admiring delight in " The Doctor." 
 
 Egla, in the soft twilight solitude of her acacia- 
 grove, muses as she tunes her lute, longing for 
 Zophiel's presence: — 
 
 " Softly heaving 
 The while her heart, thus from its inmost core 
 Such feelings gushed, to Lydian numbers weaving, 
 As never had her lip expressed before : — 
 
 SONG OF EGLA. 
 
 Day in melting purple dying, 
 Blossoms all around me sighing, 
 Fragrance from the lilies straying, 
 Zephyr with my ringlets playing, 
 
 Ye but waken my distress : 
 
 I am sick of loneliness. 
 
 Thou to whom I love to hearken. 
 Come ere night around me darken : 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. XXXV11 
 
 Though thy softness but deceive me, 
 Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee. 
 
 Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent : 
 
 Let me think it innocent ! 
 
 Save thy toiling; spare thy treasure: 
 All I ask is friendship's pleasure : 
 Let the shining ore lie darkling; 
 Bring no gem in lustre sparkling: 
 
 Gifts and gold are nought to me : 
 
 I would only look on thee ; 
 
 Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling, 
 Ecstasy but in revealing ; 
 Paint to thee the deep sensation, 
 Rapture in participation. 
 
 Yet but torture, if comprest 
 
 In a lone, unfriended breast. 
 
 Absent still ? Ah, come and bless me ! 
 
 Let these eyes again caress thee. 
 
 Once, in caution, I could fly thee : 
 
 Now I nothing could deny thee. 
 In a look if death there be, 
 Come, and I will gaze on thee ! " 
 
 Southey declared this poem to be not only 
 equal, but superior, to Sappho's famous " Ode to 
 Aphrodite/' There is in places a strange like- 
 ness of emotion and power in the two ardent 
 adjurations. Here is the Sapphic hymn as the 
 New-England poet -philosopher, Thomas Went- 
 worth Higginson, gracefully translates it : — 
 
XXXV111 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 " Beautiful, throned, immortal Aphrodite ! 
 Daughter of Zeus ! beguiler, I implore thee 
 Weigh me not down with weariness and anguish, 
 
 thou most holy ! 
 
 Come to me now, if ever thou in kindness 
 Hearkenedst my words ; and often hast thou hearkened, 
 Heeding, and coming from the mansions golden 
 Of thy great Father, 
 
 Yoking thy chariots, borne by thy most lovely 
 Consecrated birds, with dusky-tinted pinions, 
 Waving swift wings from utmost heights of heaven, 
 Through the mid ether : 
 
 Swiftly they vanished, leaving thee, O goddess ! 
 Smiling, with face immortal in its beauty, 
 Asking what I suffered, and why in utter longing 
 
 1 had dared call thee ; 
 
 Asking what I sought thus hopeless in desiring, 
 'Wildered in brain, and spreading nets of passion, 
 Alas ! for whom ? and saidst thou, ' Who has harmed 
 thee, 
 O my poor Sappho ? 
 
 * Though now he flies, ere long he shall pursue ; 
 Fearing thy gifts, he too, in turn, shall bring them : 
 Loveless to-day, to-morrow he shall woo thee, 
 Though thou shouldst spurn him.' 
 
 Thus seek me now, O holy Aphrodite ! 
 Save me from anguish; give me all I wish for, — 
 Gifts at thy hand ; and thine shall be the glory, 
 Sacred protector ! " 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDEXTE. XXXIX 
 
 Thus Sappho, praying to love's source ; while 
 Egla entreats only a lover : yet Egla's song is 
 tenderer music. Sappho desires gifts, her own 
 happiness, and to be love-compelling : Egla seeks 
 only permission to completely love and bless. 
 Her passion and its prayer are diviner than Sap- 
 pho's, and the song which breathes them is a more 
 penetrating strain, reminding of the tender human 
 woe of the foreboding Willow Song of Desdemona, 
 and the lily maid of Astolat's Song of Love and 
 Death. 
 
 A guardian spirit, perceiving the dangerous 
 situation of Egla, hovers near her at the same 
 moment that Zophiel, just returning from the 
 fruitless subterranean journey and storm-conflict 
 related in the third and fourth cantos, approaches 
 her ; listens in transport to the song ; at whose 
 close, with tender sighs, she breathes his name. 
 At this moment, when Zophiel is about to reveal 
 himself, Zamei'a, crazed with jealous hatred of Egla 
 on account of the desertion and death of Meles, 
 darts forward, and falls dead in the attempt to kill 
 Egla. 
 
 Forced to witness at her very feet Zamei'a's 
 passionate death, and weary of the long scene of 
 horrors of which she is the innocent cause, Erfa 
 prepares to take her own life. Helon, her pre- 
 destined bridegroom, frustrates her design. Their 
 
xl MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 betrothal follows. Zophiel, while this transpires, 
 is withheld in the wood in vain struggle with the 
 "dark Being of the Storm," but escapes, and 
 reaches Egla's bridal chamber only in time to be 
 repelled by the "insufferable perfume fire " of the 
 burning contents of the carneol box, given long 
 ago to Helon, for the protection of this very hour, 
 by Hariph, who hurls the wretched Zophiel away, 
 and discloses himself to the bridal pair as the 
 angel Raphael. 
 
 Raphael then seeks Zophiel with wish and 
 word of heavenly pity, consolation, and hope. 
 
 The review of this poem at the time of its 
 appearance, both in England and America, did 
 what seemed like a reluctant sort of justice. 
 Though the ocean rolled between us and the 
 mother -country, and though by every principle 
 of government, national hope and endeavor, we 
 were sharply divided from her, still our gods in 
 literature had been and were her gods, — Shak- 
 speare, Spenser, and Milton. A country with a 
 young civilization and a young literature, we did 
 not expect and were not prepared to meet a reve- 
 lation of American genius ranking with the great 
 poets of the world. Even Mr. Griswold, the per- 
 sonal friend and admirer of Maria del Occidente, 
 waited for the English verdict before speaking 
 half his mind. 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. xli 
 
 The faults found in " Zophiel " were notably of 
 that class which are blemishes or charms accord- 
 ing to the mental temperament impressed. It was 
 inevitably subjected to coarse as well as to noble 
 interpretation ; yet the least sympathetic apprecia- 
 tion acknowledged its greatness and distinctive 
 originality, while a certain element peculiar to a 
 past era in British criticism was curiously betrayed 
 in an uncomfortable astonishment, a sort of blank 
 and vexed amazement, that so majestic a strain 
 could have risen in skies that did not immediately 
 arch over Shakspeare's isle. "And all this," said 
 "The London Quarterly/' in closing a short but 
 keen tribute of admiration, "out of a coffee-plan- 
 tation in Cuba ! " 
 
 From Maria del Occidente's miscellaneous works 
 two only are selected for this volume, — "The Ode 
 to the Departed/' written to her son Edgar, and 
 one of the most heroically tender lamentations ever 
 written; and "The Farewell to Cuba," which has 
 the grace and coloring of a tropic flower. 
 
 In speaking of " Zophiel," Mr. Griswold says, 
 " Zophiel seems to us the finest fallen angel that 
 has come to us from the hand of a poet. Milton's 
 outcasts from heaven are utterly depraved, and 
 abraded of their glory ; but Zophiel has traces of 
 his original virtue and beauty, and a lingering 
 hope of restoration to the presence of the Divin- 
 
xlii MARIA DEL OCCIDENTS. 
 
 ity." He adds, " There were, at the time of the 
 publication of ■Zophiel' in Boston (1834), too few 
 readers among us of sufficiently cultivated and in- 
 dependent taste to appreciate a work of art which 
 time or accident had not commended to the popu- 
 lar applause. At the end of a month, only about 
 twenty copies had been sold ; and, in a moment of 
 disappointment, Mrs. Brooks caused the remainder 
 of the impression to be withdrawn from the mar- 
 ket. This poem has, therefore, been very little 
 read in this country; and even the title of it would 
 have remained unknown to the common reader of 
 elegant literature but for occasional allusions to it 
 by Southey and other foreign critics." 
 
 Being desirous of having a full edition of her 
 works, including "Idomen," published, Mrs. Brooks 
 authorized Mr. Griswold to " offer gratuitously her 
 copyrights to an eminent publishing-house for that 
 purpose. In the existing condition of the copy- 
 right laws, which should have been entitled i Acts 
 for the Discouragement of a Native Literature? 
 she was not surprised that the offer was declined, 
 though indignant that the reason assigned should 
 have been that they were ' of too elevated a char- 
 acter to sell.' " 
 
 Writing to Mr. Griswold soon afterward, she 
 observed, " I do not think any thing from my 
 humble imagination can be too elevated, or elevated 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. xliii 
 
 enough, for the public as it really is in these North- 
 American States. ... In the words of poor Spurz- 
 heim, uttered to me a short time before his death 
 in Boston, I solace myself by saying, 'Stupidity! 
 stupidity ! the knowledge of that alone has saved 
 me from misanthropy.' " 
 
 In 1844, about a year before her death, she wrote 
 to Mr. Griswold, " When I have written out my 
 1 Vistas del Infierno ' and one other short poem, I 
 hope to begin the penning of the epic of which 
 I have so often spoken to you, — ' Beatriz, the Be- 
 loved of Columbus ; ' but when or whether it will 
 be finished, Heaven alone can tell." 
 
 In allusion to this letter, Mr. Griswold says, "I 
 have not learned whether this poem was written ; 
 but, when I heard her repeat passages of it, I 
 thought it would be a nobler work than 'Zophiel.' ' 
 
 At the time of her death (in 1845) Air. Griswold 
 wrote, "She w r as one of the most remarkable 
 women that ever lived. To great attainments in 
 literature she joined a powerful and original genius, 
 and a character of singular energy and individ- 
 uality. Both in England and the United States, 
 she has been considered, by those who have read 
 her writings thoughtfully, as unmatched among 
 poets of her sex. 
 
 "'Zophiel' is one of the few compositions des- 
 tined for durable fame. It is one of the most origi- 
 
xliv MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 nal, passionate, and harmonious works of imagina- 
 tion ever conceived; and there breathes through 
 the whole the vital life of genius. 
 
 " Silently and surely her genius will work its way 
 into the great public heart, and her fame grow 
 with time ; and I cannot conceive of the period 
 when an American, reviewing the causes which 
 have conduced to place his country in a proud in- 
 tellectual position, and assisted in giving to it the 
 immortality which springs from literature, shall 
 cease to regard with peculiar gratitude and admira- 
 tion the name of the authoress of 'Zophiel." 
 
 Yet embarking solely upon its own merits, with- 
 out herald and without plaudit, this great poem, 
 receiving but a brief salute, was suffered to pass, 
 as a ship sets sail, into the mists of obscurity, and, 
 fading from sight, to fade even from remembrance. 
 But at last, let us hope, those mists are parted, and 
 the waters of her native shores shall lap, w T ith 
 waves of welcome and sweet loudening recogni- 
 tion, the long-hidden bark. 
 
 In a letter expressing cordial sympathy with my 
 work, and great pleasure at the republication of 
 Mrs. Brooks's poems, my beloved friend, Mr. John 
 Greenleaf Whittier, says, "When a young man, I 
 read 'Zophiel,' — a most remarkable poem, — and 
 have never forgotten it. The impassioned song 
 which Southey praised so highly is a perfect gem. 
 
MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. xlv 
 
 If * Zophiel ' is published now, it will be appreciated 
 as it deserves to be." 
 
 The authoress of " Zophiel " wrote one prose 
 tale, — " Idomen ; or, The Vale of Yumuri." Its 
 scenery is tropical and Cuban, — a glowing bit of 
 tapestry upon which the action is wrought in rich 
 but more sombre tints. 
 
 Mr. Griswold, who was her personal friend, and 
 probably knew her private history, declares, " ' Ido- 
 men' contains little that is fictitious except the 
 names of the characters. The account which 
 Idomen gives of her own history is literally true, 
 except in relation to an excursion to Niagara, 
 which occurred, but in a different period of the 
 author's life. ' Idomen ' will possess an interest 
 and value as a psychological study independent of 
 that which belongs to it as a record of the experi- 
 ence of so eminent a poet." 
 
 My own research has shown me that it is un- 
 doubtedly autobiographical, and in some sense a 
 confession ; and in this light it cannot be read but 
 with the deepest sympathy and reverent interest. 
 The same great capacity for intense, passionate 
 devotion of love, which animates her verse, is re- 
 vealed in this little heart-history ; and there is the 
 same evidence of a grandly-endowed nature under- 
 
xlvi MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 going almost complete spiritual deprivation in an 
 uncongenial companionship. 
 
 As a psychological study, and as a work of art, 
 "Idomen" has a beauty and separateness such as 
 attaches to Allston's " Monaldi," to Moore's " Epi- 
 curean," to the "Atala" of Chateaubriand, or to 
 "Vathek," the "Sorrows of Werther," and "Paul 
 and Virginia." 
 
 Since the foregoing was written, I have had the 
 good fortune to learn further particulars of the 
 personal history of Maria del Occidente, which 
 will be given in my forthcoming edition of " Wo- 
 men " (now in press), and which corroborate Mr. 
 Griswold's statement as to its autobiographical 
 
 character 
 
 ZADEL BARNES GUSTAFSON. 
 
 February, 1879. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO THE SECOND AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 {Published for the benefit of the Polish Exiles.) 
 Boston: Hilliard, Gray, & Co., 1834. 
 
 It is now more than three years since this poem was 
 prepared for the press ; and while employed about its 
 notes, in Paris, during the winter immediately succeeding 
 the late Revolution, the writer conceived a design of pub- 
 lishing it as a slight assistance to the Polish cause, — a 
 cause at that time so fashionable, that private ladies of 
 rank and character performed at public concerts for the 
 purpose of increasing a fund for the oppressed but " no- 
 bles Polonais." On the evening of the 2d of March, 
 1 83 1, such a concert was attended, and the tickets sold 
 for a napoleon each. Praiseworthy as it was, alas that 
 such a cause should have required such assistance ! 
 
 Poland fell ; and the fashion of befriending her, like 
 other fashions, soon passed away. " It is of no use," said 
 almost every one, " to try and befriend a country that is 
 entirely fallen." But how can a country be no more 
 while her children still exist? or how can a cause be ex- 
 tinct while those who engaged in defending it are still 
 
 xlvii 
 
xlviii PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 alive, and still willing to struggle ? Men there are who 
 come thousands of miles to an unknown country, and 
 endure all the misery and scorn that attend poverty and 
 dependence, rather than to join the armies of their op- 
 pressors, or than even to use their swords as mere merce- 
 naries against nations that never wronged them. 
 
 Whatever may be the future fate of magnanimous but 
 betrayed Poland, many of her persecuted defenders suffer 
 for the necessaries of life in the bosom of this prosperous 
 community. The feeling awakened by their arrival has 
 burned for a moment. May it not pass away like a flame 
 of straw kindled on a rock ! 
 
 The arrival of Polish exiles will soon cease to be a 
 novelty ; but it is melancholy to reflect that their suffer- 
 ings and wants must continue. To be able to relieve 
 even the slightest of such afflictions will be sufficient 
 compensation to the composer of the following cantos. 
 
 It is the design of the writer to get out as many edi- 
 tions, for the purpose already said, as she can find either 
 means or friends to engage in ; but how many that will 
 be rests at present with the great Director of human and 
 individual circumstance. 
 
 It may be well to mention here, that the labor of the 
 publisher is undertaken on reasonable terms. The present 
 edition consists of five hundred copies. After every ex- 
 pense is paid, a balance of two hundred and fifty dollars, 
 or perhaps rather more, will remain at the disposal of 
 the Polish Committee : that is, if all the copies are pur- 
 chased ; if gentlemen possessed both of humanity, and 
 a love for the fine arts, are willing to give (either for the 
 
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. xlix 
 
 poem or the object of its publication) the same small 
 sum so often paid for the spectacle of a new melodrama, 
 or the airs of a musical debutante. 
 
 For those (and of such certainly there are many) who 
 are diffident of their own opinion, and dislike to purchase 
 or even to read a book unless previously and highly rec- 
 ommended, it may not be amiss to observe that no poeti- 
 cal work ever written in the New World has received 
 greater praise in Europe than the Oriental story, or poem, 
 now presented. In proof of this assertion, passages from 
 popular English works, as well as many private letters, can 
 be brought forward if necessary. 1 
 
 There was a time when every Roman artist was content 
 to rest his reputation on Grecian taste and encomiums. 
 Such a time is still present to Americans in regard to 
 their "Alma Mater," at least so far as concerns either 
 poetry, painting, sculpture, architecture, or music. 
 
 The elms and oaks of liberty and utility are growing so 
 strong and fast in this rich land of corn and forest-trees, 
 that little sun or moisture can be spared for " arts, a tribe 
 of sensitives. ' r When any aspirant or artist, therefore, 
 believes himself possessed of the power of imitating his 
 Creator by giving material semblance to forms already 
 existing in his own "world of ideas," he generally suc- 
 ceeds in reaching the other continent, the land of his 
 forefathers ; and on the approbation obtained in that 
 
 1 A very favorable notice appeared last autumn (soon after Zophiel appeared in 
 London) in Fraser's Magazine. A late work called The Doctor, reviewed in the 
 British Quarterly, mentions Zophiel, or the Bride of Seven, as the " most passion- 
 ate and imaginative of any poem ever written by a female." 
 
1 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 land depends in a great degree his future success and 
 reputation. As instances of this may be mentioned Ben- 
 jamin West, Greenough, and, indeed (with few excep- 
 tions), every American who has distinguished himself 
 either by forms of beauty or the embodiment of beautiful 
 conceptions. 
 
 To return a moment to the poem in question : Mr. 
 Southey and others think it will take a permanent place 
 among such English works as are thought worth preserv- 
 ing : if that should be the case, it will probably owe its 
 preservation to the nature and treatment of its subject ; 
 or, in other words, to its originality. 
 
 Chateaubriand, in his noble poem "Les Martyrs," has 
 introduced angels as presiding over the various passions 
 of his enchanting mortals ; but, in English, Milton, Byron, 
 and Moore are, it is believed, all who have attempted to 
 depict those sometimes erring yet celestial messengers 
 as existing in friendly intercourse with beings of earth. 
 From neither of these masters is " Zophiel " a copy. 
 
 MARIA GOWEN BROOKS. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT AND NOTE. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Any member of the Polish Committee, or competent 
 agent for the relief of suffering Polish exiles, can see the 
 exact amount of the expenses of publication from an 
 estimate made by Messrs. Hilliard, Gray, & Co. ; and, 
 provided such an agent will dispose of any specified 
 number of volumes, he can retain an overplus of at least 
 half he receives for the immediate relief of such as it is 
 intended to benefit. 
 
 NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 It was thought by a friend of the Polish sufferers, who 
 was so good as to interest himself in the publication of 
 this work, that some religious persons might object to the 
 following stanza, which occurs near the beginning of the 
 first canto : — 
 
 u Blest were those days ! Can these dull ages boast 
 Aught to compare ? Though now no more beguile, 
 Chained in their darkling depths, the infernal host, 
 
 Who would not brave a fiend to share an angel's smile ? 
 
 The reader is requested to consider these lines as 
 merely the expression of a passing emotion, occasioned 
 by a sudden thought of the exquisite pleasure that must 
 be felt in looking, if it were possible, at a creature entirely 
 superior to mortals, and coming from the abodes of per- 
 fection. M. G. B. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In finishing "Zophi el," the writer has endeavored to 
 adhere entirely to that belief (once prevalent among the 
 fathers of the Greek and Roman churches) which sup- 
 poses that the oracles of antiquity were delivered by 
 demons or fallen angels, who wandered about the earth, 
 formed attachments to such mortals as pleased them best, 
 and caused themselves, in many places, to be adored as 
 divinities. 
 
 In endeavoring to give authority for the incidents of 
 the story, all quotations from the sacred writings have 
 been scrupulously avoided ; and the beings introduced 
 are to be considered only as Phoebus, Zephyr, &c, under 
 other names. 
 
 Most of the systems of ancient philosophy, either West- 
 ern or Oriental, suppose beings similar to the angels of 
 the fathers, and differ from the Mosaic account only in 
 being more full and explicit. Justin Martyr and others 
 supposed that even Homer borrowed from Hebraic rec- 
 ords and traditions, and found in his Avritings the creation 
 of the world, the Tower of Babel, and the angels cast out 
 of heaven. Hesiod's beautiful allegory of " Love calling 
 
 liii 
 
liv PREFACE. 
 
 order from chaos " l may, it is said, be traced to the same 
 source. 
 
 The fact of the actual existence of such beings as an- 
 gels, it is for others to question : according to all that is 
 related of them, they are creatures superior in power, but 
 endued with wishes and propensities nearly resembling 
 those of mortals ; and, in their attributes, corresponding 
 almost entirely with those deities which they are thought 
 by the fathers to have personated, and which have ever 
 
 been a subject for poetry and fable. 
 
 M. G. B. 
 
 1 Vide Brucker's Historia Philosophise. 
 
TO 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 O laurelled bard ! how can I part, 
 Those cheering smiles no more to see, 
 
 Until my soothed and solaced heart 
 Pours forth one grateful lay to thee ? 
 
 Fair virtue tuned thy youthful breath, 
 And peace and pleasure bless thee now ; 
 
 For love and beauty guard the wreath 
 That blooms upon thy manly brow. 
 
 The Indian leaning on his bow, 
 
 On hostile cliff, in desert drear, 
 Cast with less joy his glance below 
 
 When came some friendly warrior near ; 
 
 The native dove of that warm isle 
 
 Where oft with flowers my lyre was drest, 
 
 Sees with less joy the sun a while 
 
 When vertic rains have drenched her nest, - 
 
lvi TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. 
 
 Than I, a stranger, first beheld 
 
 Thine eye's harmonious welcome given 
 
 With gentle word, which, as it swelled, 
 Came to my heart benign as heaven. 
 
 Soft be thy sleep as mists that rest 
 On Skiddaw 7 's top at summer morn ! 
 
 Smooth be thy days as Derwent's breast 
 When summer light is almost gone ! 
 
 And yet for thee why breathe a prayer? 
 
 I deem thy fate is given in trust 
 To seraphs, who by daily care 
 
 Would prove that Heaven is not unjust. 
 
 And treasured shall thine image be 
 
 In memory's purest, holiest shrine, 
 While truth and honor glow in thee, 
 
 Or life's warm quivering pulse is mine. 
 
 MARIA GOWEN BROOKS. 
 Keswick, April 18, 1831- 
 
SONNET 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE. 
 
 By the Author of " Orion." 
 
 We gaze into blue depths of Western skies, 
 Where Cuba sleeps 'neath stars and starlike suns : 
 The splendor brims and overfills our eyes, 
 Till earth's dark sandglass stops, or scarcely runs. 
 We note, amidst the host, one special light : 
 Our thoughts then melt toward the eternal Giver 
 Of pure infinitude to mortal sight : 
 We look again ; that light is gone forever ! 
 Where hath it gone ? where hath its glory fled ? 
 Is the world struck with blindness, or with error ? 
 Who saw it as we saw it ? what delight or terror 
 Can picture its bright throne among the dead? 
 Alas for that soul's fire ! — lost, shot astray, 
 Leaving few records in our night or day ! 
 
 RICHARD HENGIST HORNE. 
 Sept. 12, 1872. 
 
 lvii 
 
"ZOPHIEL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BRIDE OF SEVEN." 
 
CANTO FIRST. 
 
 GROVE OF ACACIAS. 
 
ZOPHIEL. 
 
 GROVE OF ACACIAS. 
 
 Shade of Columbus ! here thy relics rest ; 
 
 Here, while these numbers to the desert ring, 
 The selfsame breeze that passes o'er thy breast 
 
 Salutes me as with panting heart I sing. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Madoc ! my ancient fathers' bones repose 
 
 Where their bold harps thy country's bards inwreathed ; 
 And this warm blood once coursed the veins of those 
 
 Who flourished where thy first faint sigh was breathed. 
 
 m. 
 
 Heroes departed both ! if still ye love 
 
 These realms to which on earth ye oped the way, 
 
 Amid the joys that crown your deeds above 
 One moment pause, and deign to bless my lay. 
 
 3 
 
ZOPHIEL. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Spirits who hovered o'er Euphrates' stream 
 When the first beauteous mother of our race 
 
 First oped her mild eyes to the new light-beam, 
 And in the lucid wave first saw her own fair face, 
 
 Did then yon ocean in its bosom press 
 These western solitudes ? or are they new 
 
 Only to men ? Was this sweet wilderness, 
 This distant world, then visited by you? 
 
 If ye then knew, or haply if ye here 
 
 Come wandering now, oh, listen ! nor refuse 
 
 Your unseen harps a moment to my ear. 
 
 Of one like you I'd sing : whisper my trembling Muse ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Rest in my wild retreat ! The solar fires 
 
 Tell on this glowing cheek their fervid powers ; 
 
 Yet 'tis the ocean's breath my lip respires, 
 
 Grown fragrant in its course o'er thousand shrubs and 
 flowers. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The time has been — this holiest records tell*— 
 When restless spirits raised a war in heaven. 
 
 Great was the crime ; and, banished thence, they fell 
 To depths unknown, yet kept the potence, given 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 5 
 
 For nobler use, to tempt the hapless race 
 - Of feeble mortals, who but form a grade 
 Twixt spirits and the courser of the chase. 
 
 Man, thing of heaven and earth, why thou wert made 
 
 Ev'n spirits knew not ; yet they loved to sport 
 With thy mysterious mind, and lent their powers 
 
 The good to benefit, the ill to hurt. 
 
 Dark fiends assailed thee in thy dangerous hours ; 
 
 But better angels thy far perils eyed, 
 
 And often, when in heaven they might have staid, 
 Came down to watch by some just hero's side, 
 
 Or meet the aspiring love of some high-gifted maid. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Blest were those days ! Can these dull ages boast 
 Aught to compare ? Though now no more beguile, 
 
 Chained in their darkling depths, the infernal host, 
 
 Who would not brave a fiend to share an angel's smile ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 Twas then there lived a captive Hebrew pair. 
 
 •In woe the 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 
 
ZOPHIEL. 
 
 X. 
 
 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. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Yet, not perverted, would my words imply 
 The impulse given by heaven's great Artisan, 
 
 Alike to man and worm, mere spring, whereby 
 
 The distant wheels of life, while time endures, roll on, 
 
 But the collective attributes that fill 
 
 About the soul their all-important place ; 
 
 That feed her fires, empower her fainting will, 
 And write the God on feeble mortal's face. 
 
 XII. 
 
 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 piteous sighed to see that pain returned. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Or if perchance, though formed most just and pure, 
 
 Amid their virtue's wild luxuriance hid, 
 Such germs all mortal bosoms must immure, 
 
 Which sometimes show their poisonous heads unbid, — 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 
 
 If haply such the fair Judean finds, 
 
 Self-knowledge wept the abasing truth to know ; 
 And innate pride, that queen of noble minds, 
 
 Crushed them indignant ere a bud could grow. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 And such, even now, in earliest youth are seen ; 
 
 But would they live, with armor more deform 
 Their breasts made soft by too much love must screen : 
 
 "The bird that sweetest sings can least endure the 
 storm." 
 
 xv. 
 
 And yet, despite of all, the starting tear, 
 
 The melting tone, the blood suffusive, 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. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And this at intervals, in language bright, 
 
 Told her blue eyes ; though oft the tender lid 
 
 Drooped like a noonday lily, languid, white, 
 And trembling, all save love and lustre, hid : 
 
8 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Then, as young Christian bard had sung, they seemed 
 Like some Madonna in his soul, so sainted ; 
 
 But, opening in their energy, they beamed 
 x\s tasteful Grecians their Minerva painted : 
 
 While o'er her graceful shoulders' milky swell, 
 
 Silky as those on little children seen, 
 Yet thick as Indian fleece, her ringlets fell, 
 
 Nor owned Pactolus' sands a brighter sheen. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And now, full near, the hour unwished for drew, 
 When Sephora had hoped to see her wed, 
 
 And, for 'twould else expire, impatient grew 
 
 To renovate her race from beauteous Egla's bed. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 None of their kindred lived to claim her hand ; 
 
 But stranger-youths had asked her of her sire 
 With gifts and promise fair. He could withstand 
 
 All save her tears ; and, hearkening her desire, 
 
 Still left her free : but soon her mother drew 
 From her a vow, that, when the twentieth year 
 
 Its full fair finish o'er her beauty threw, 
 If what her fancy fed on came not near, 
 
 She would entreat no more, but to the voice 
 Of her light-giver hearken \ and her life 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 
 
 And love, all yielding to that kindly choice, 
 
 Would hush each idle wish, and learn to be a wife. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Now oft it happed, when morning task was done, 
 And lotted out for every household maid 
 
 Her light and pleasant toil, ere yet the sun 
 Was high, fair Egla to a woody shade 
 
 Loved to retire. Acacias here inclined 
 
 Their friendly heads, in thick profusion planted, 
 
 And with a thousand tendrils clasped and twined ; 
 And when, at fervid noon, all nature panted, 
 
 Inwoven with their boughs, a fragrant bower, 
 
 Inviting rest, its mossy pillow flung ; 
 And here the full cerulean passion-flower, 
 
 Climbing among the leaves, its mystic symbols hung. 
 
 xx. 
 
 And though the sun had gained his utmost height, 
 
 Just as he oped its vivid folds at dawn, 
 Looked still that tenderest, frailest child of light, 
 
 By shepherds named "the glory of the morn." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Sweet flower ! thou'rt lovelier even than the rose : 
 The rose is pleasure, — felt and known as such ; 
 
 Soon past, but real ; tasted while it glows : 
 
 But thou, too bright and pure for mortal touch, 
 
IO ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Art like those brilliant things we never taste 
 Or see, unless with Fancy's lip and eye, 
 
 When, maddened by her mystic spells, we waste 
 Life on a thought, and rob reality. 
 
 xxn. 
 
 Here, too, the lily raised its snow-white head ; 
 
 And myrtle-leaves, like friendship when sincere, 
 Most sweet when wounded, all around were spread ; 
 And, though from noon's fierce heat the wild deer fled, 
 
 A soft warm twilight reigned impervious here. 
 
 xxm. 
 
 Tranquil and lone in such a light to be, 
 
 How sweet to sense and soul ! the form recline 
 
 Forgets it e'er felt pain ; and Reverie, 
 
 Sweet mother of the Muses, heart and soul are thine ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 This calm retreat one summer day she sought, 
 And sat to tune her lute : but all night long 
 
 Quiet had from her pillow flown \ and thought, 
 Feverish and tired, sent forth unseemly throng 
 
 Of boding images. She scarce could woo 
 One song reluctant, ere, advancing quick 
 
 Through the fresh leaves, Sephora's form she knew, 
 And duteous rose to meet ; but fainting, sick, 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. II 
 
 Her heart sank tremulously in her. Why 
 Sought out at such an hour, it half divined ; 
 
 And seated now beside, with downcast eye 
 
 And throbbing pulse, she met the pressure kind, 
 
 And warmly given : while thus the matron, fair, 
 
 Though marred by grief and time, with soothing word, 
 
 Solicitous, and gently serious air, 
 
 The purpose why she hither came preferred. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Egla, my hopes thou knowest, though exprest 
 Not oft, lest they should pain thee. I have dealt 
 
 Not rudely with thy fancies, yet my breast 
 Retains the wish most vehemently felt. 
 
 " Know, I have marked that when the reason why 
 Thou still wouldst live in virgin state thy sire 
 
 Has prest thee to impart, quick in thine eye 
 
 Semblance of hope has played ; fain to transpire, 
 
 " Words seemed to seek thy lip ; but the bright rush 
 Of heart-blood eloquent alone would tell, 
 
 In the warm language of a rebel blush, 
 
 What thy less treacherous tongue had guarded well. 
 
 xxvi. 
 
 " Is the long frequent day spent lonely here ? 
 Or haply, rather, hath some stranger youth — 
 
12 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Then, Egla, see my heart I " — " O mother dear ! 
 Distrust my wisdom, but regard my truth. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Long time ago, while yet a twelve-years' child, 
 These shrubs and vines new-planted near this spot, 
 
 I sat me, tired with pleasant toil, and whiled 
 Away the time with lute, and often thought 
 
 " Of the lost land thou lovest : every scene 
 
 Which thou so oft, when I had climbed thy knee, 
 
 Wouldst sing of, weeping, through my mind had been 
 In fair succession ; when from yon old tree 
 
 " I heard a piteous moan. Wondering, I went 
 And found an aged man : worn and oppressed 
 
 He seemed with toil, and said, in whispers faint, 
 ' O little maiden, how I am distressed ! 
 
 " ' I sink for very want. Give me, I pray, 
 
 A drop of water and a cake : I die 
 Of thirst and hunger ; yet my sorrowing way 
 
 May tread once more, if thou my need supply.' 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " A long time missing from thy gentle arms, 
 It chanced that day was sent me, in the shade, 
 
 New bread, a cake of figs, and wine of palms, 
 Mingled with water, sweet with honey made. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 13 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 i These brought I to him ; tried to raise his head ; 
 
 Held to his lip the cup ; and, while he quaffed, 
 Upon my garment wiped the tears that sped 
 
 Adown his silvery beard, and mingled with the draught. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " When, gaining sudden strength, he raised his hand, 
 And in this guise did bless me : i Mayst thou be 
 
 A crown to him who weds thee ! In a land 
 Far distant dwells a captive. Hearken me, 
 
 " c And choose thee now a bridegroom meet. To-day 
 O'er broad Euphrates' steepest banks a child 
 
 Fled from his youthful nurse's arms : in play 
 Elate he bent him o'er the brink, and smiled 
 
 " ' To see their fears who followed him. But who 
 The keen, wild anguish of that scene can tell? 
 
 He bent him o'er the brink, and in their view, 
 But ah ! too far beyond their aid, he fell. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " ' They wailed ; the long torn ringlets of their hair 
 Bestrewed the ambient gale ; deep rolled the stream, 
 
 And swallowed the fair child : no succor there ! 
 They, women, — whither look ? — who to redeem 
 
14 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " ' What the fierce waves were preying on ? When, lo ! 
 
 Approached a stranger boy. Aside he flung, 
 Quick as a thought, his quiver and his bow ; 
 
 And, parted by his limbs, the sparkling billows sung. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " ' They clung to an old palm and watched, nor breath 
 Nor word dared utter ; while the refluent blood 
 
 Left on each countenance the hue of death ; 
 
 Oped lip and far-strained eye spoke worse than death 
 endured. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " ' But down the flood the dauntless boy appeared, 
 Now rising, plunging, in the eddy whirled, 
 
 Mastering his course ; but now a rock he neared, 
 
 And, closing o'er his head, the dark, deep waters curled. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 " ' Then Hope groaned forth her last, and to despair 
 Yielded with shrieks ; but ere the echo wild 
 
 Had ceased to thrill, restored to light and air, 
 
 He climbs, he gains the rock, and holds alive the child ! 
 
 xxxv. 
 
 " ( Now mark what chanced ! That infant was the son 
 Of Babylonia's sovereign : soon was placed 
 
 Before his throne the youth who so had won 
 From death the royal heir. A captive graced 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 1 5 
 
 " ' All o'er with nature's gifts just dawning, brave, 
 And panting for renown, blushing and praised, 
 
 The stripling stood, and, closely pressed, would crave 
 Nought but a place mid warlike men : yet raised 
 
 " ' To his full wish, the kingly presence leaving, 
 
 So light with airy hope, his graceful feet 
 Scarce touched the marble as he trod ; while, heaving 
 
 With plans to please his sire, his heart more warmly 
 beat. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 " ' But, when his mother heard, she wept, and said, 
 
 " If he, our only child, be far away, 
 Or slain in war, how shall our years be stayed? 
 
 Friendless and old, where is the hand to lay 
 
 u c u Q ur wn i te hgjj-g j n tne earth? " So, when her fears 
 He saw would not be calmed, he did not part, 
 
 But lived in low estate to dry her tears, 
 
 And crushed the full ripe wish at his exulting heart.' 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " The old man ceased : ere I could speak, his face 
 Grew more than mortal fair ; a mellow light, 
 
 Mantling around him, filled the shady place ; 
 
 And, while I wondering stood, he vanished from my 
 sight. 
 
l6 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " This I had told ; but shame withheld, and fear 
 
 Thou'dst deem some spirit guiled me, — disapprove, - 
 
 Perchance forbid my customed wandering here. 
 But, whenceso'er the vision, I have strove 
 
 " Still vainly to forget. I've heard thee mourn 
 Kindred afar, and captive : oh ! my mother, 
 
 Should he, my heaven announced, exist, return, 
 And meet me here, lost ! — wedded to another ! " 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 Then Sephora answered, " In the city where 
 
 Our distant kindred dwell, blood has been shed. 
 
 Fond dreamer, had thy visioned love been there, 
 Ere now he's sleeping with the silent dead. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Or doth he live, he knows not, would not know, 
 (Thralled, dead to thee, in some fair Syrian's arms,) 
 
 Who pines for him afar in fruitless woe, 
 
 And wastes upon a thought-love life and charms. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " 'Tis as a vine of Galilee should say, 
 
 i Culterer, I reck not thy support : I sigh 
 
 For a young palm-tree of Euphrates \ nay, 
 Or let me him intwine, or in my blossom die.' 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 1 7 
 
 XLII. 
 
 "Thy heart is set on joys it ne'er can prove, 
 And, panting ingrate, scorns the blessings given. 
 
 Hope not from dust-formed man a seraph's love, 
 Or days on earth like to the days of heaven ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " But to my theme. Maiden, a lord for thee, 
 And not of thee unworthy, lives and glows. 
 
 Nay, chase the dread that in thy looks I see, 
 Nor make it taste of anguish to disclose 
 
 " What well might be delight. Rememberest thou, 
 When to the altar by thy father reared, 
 
 As we went forth with sacrifice and vow, 
 A victim-dove escaped, and there appeared 
 
 " A stranger? Quickly from his shrilly string 
 He let an arrow glance ; and to a tree 
 
 Nailed fast the little truant by the wing, 
 
 And brought it, scarcely bleeding, back to thee. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " His voice, his mien, the lustre of his eye, 
 
 And pretty deed he had done, were theme of praise, 
 
 Though blent with fear that stranger should espy 
 Thy lonely haunts. When in the sunny rays 
 
1 8 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " He turned and went, with black locks clustering bright 
 Around his pillar neck, — ' 'Tis pity he/ 
 
 Thou saidst, ' in all the comeliness and might 
 Of perfect man, — 'tis pity he should be 
 
 " i But an idolater ! How nobly sweet 
 
 He tempers pride with courtesy ! A flower 
 
 Drops honey when he speaks. His sandalled feet 
 Are light as antelope. He stands a tower.' 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " That very stranger sought thy sire, and swore, 
 For the much love that day conceived for thee, 
 
 To be a false idolater no more. 
 
 1 Tis Meles, late returned from embassy 
 
 " To distant courts, and loved by the young King 
 
 Of Media. Bethink thee, Egla : muse 
 Upon the good, union like this may bring 
 
 On thee and thine. Yet, if thy soul refuse, 
 
 " We will not press thee. Weep, if t be thy will, 
 Even on the breast that nourished thee, and ne'er 
 
 Distrest thee or compelled : this bosom still, 
 
 E'en shouldst thou blight its dearest hopes, will share, 
 
 " Nay, bear, thy pains. But sooner in the grave 
 'Twill quench my waning years, if reckless thou 
 
 Of what I not command, but only crave, 
 Canst see me pine, and disregard thy vow." 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 19 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Then Egla : " Think not, kindest, I forget, 
 
 Who have received such love, how much is due 
 
 From me to thee. The Mede I'll wed ; but yet — 
 Why will these tears gush forth ? — thus — in thy pres- 
 ence too ! " 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Sephora held her to her heart the while 
 
 Grief had its way ; then saw her gently laid, 
 
 And bade her, kissing her blue eyes, beguile 
 Slumbering the fervid noon. Her leafy bed 
 
 Breathed forth o'erpowering sighs; increased the heat; 
 
 Sleepless had been the night. Her weary sense 
 Could now no more. Lone in the still retreat, 
 
 Wounding the flowers to sweetness more intense, 
 
 She sank. Thus kindly Nature lets our woe 
 
 Swell till it bursts forth from the o'erfraught breast, 
 
 Then draws an opiate from the bitter flow, 
 
 And lays her sorrowing child soft in the lap of rest. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Now all the mortal maid lies indolent, 
 
 Save one sweet cheek, — which the cool velvet turf 
 Had touched too rude, though all with blooms besprent, — 
 
 One soft arm pillowed. Whiter than the surf 
 
 That foams against the sea-rock looked her neck 
 By the dark, glossy, odorous shrubs relieved, 
 
20 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 That, close inclining o'er her, seemed to reck 
 What 'twas they canopied ; and quickly heaved, 
 
 Beneath her robe's white folds and azure zone, 
 Her heart yet incomposed ; a fillet through 
 
 Peeped softly azure ; while with tender moan, 
 As if of bliss, Zephyr her ringlets blew 
 
 Sportive : about her neck their gold he twined ; 
 
 Kissed the soft violet on her temples warm, 
 And eyebrow just so dark might well define 
 
 Its flexile arch, throne of expression's charm. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 As the vexed Caspian, though its rage be past, 
 And the blue smiling heavens swell o'er in peace, 
 
 Shook to the centre by the recent blast, 
 
 Heaves on tumultuous still, and hath not power to cease ; 
 
 So still each little pulse was seen to throb, 
 
 Though passion and its pain were lulled to rest ; 
 
 And ever and anon a piteous sob 
 
 Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast. 
 
 Save that, a perfect peace was sovereign there 
 O'er fragrance, sound, and beauty ; all was mute : 
 
 Only a dove bemoaned her absent fere, 
 
 Or fainting breezes swept the slumberer's lute. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 21 
 
 LI. 
 
 It chanced that day, lured by the verdure, came 
 
 Zophiel, a spirit sometimes ill, but, ere 
 He fell, a heavenly angel. The faint flame 
 
 Of dying embers on an altar where 
 
 Zorah, fair Egla's sire, in secret bowed 
 
 And sacrificed to the great unseen God, 
 While friendly shades the sacred rites enshroud, 
 
 The spirit saw. His inmost soul was awed, 
 
 And he bethought him of the forfeit joys 
 
 Once his in heaven. Deep in a darkling grot 
 
 He sat him down, the melancholy noise 
 
 Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought. 
 
 LII. 
 
 When fiercer spirits howled, he but complained 
 Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth. 
 
 His heaven-invented harp he still retained, 
 
 Though tuned to bliss no more, and had its birth 
 
 Of him, beneath some black, infernal clift, 
 
 The first drear song of woe ; and torment wrung 
 
 The restless spirit less when he might lift 
 
 His plaining voice, and frame the like as now he sung. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " Woe to thee, wild ambition ! I employ 
 
 Despair's low notes thy dread effects to tell : 
 
22 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Born in high heaven, her peace thou couldst destroy ; 
 And, but for thee, there had not been a hell ! 
 
 " Through 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 through all her veins the subtle fire, 
 The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath ; 
 
 To lot of higher beings learnt to aspire, 
 
 Dared to attempt, and doomed the world to death. 
 
 " The 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 colors, 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 ; 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 23 
 
 By mighty works he swells his narrow day, 
 And reigns for ages o'er the world he loves. 
 
 " Yet what the price ? With stings that never cease 
 Thou goad'st him on ; and when too keen the smart, 
 
 His highest dole he'd barter but for peace, 
 Food thou wilt have, or feast upon his heart." 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Thus Zdphiel still ; though 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 starlight again their wings unfurled. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And now, regretful of the joys his birth 
 
 Had promised, deserts, mounts, and streams he crossed, 
 To find, amid the loveliest spots on earth, 
 
 Faint semblance of the heaven he had lost. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 And oft, by unsuccessful searching pained, 
 Weary he fainted through the toilsome hours ; 
 
 And then his mystic nature he sustained 
 On steam of sacrifices, breath of flowers. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 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 trembling lips, or traced her mystic lines. 
 
24 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 And now he wanders on from glade to glade 
 
 To where more precious shrubs diffuse their balms ; 
 
 And gliding through the thickly- woven shade, 
 Where the soft captive lay in all her charms, 
 
 He caught a glimpse. The colors in her face, 
 Her bare white arms, her lips, her shining hair, 
 
 Burst on his view. He would have flown the place, 
 Fearing some faithful angel rested there, 
 
 Who'd see him, 'reft of glory, lost to bliss, 
 Wandering, and miserably panting, fain 
 
 To glean a joy e'en from a place like this : 
 
 The thought of what he once had been was pain 
 
 Ineffable. But what assailed his ear? 
 
 A sigh ! Surprised, another glance he took ; 
 Then doubting, fearing, softly 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 or heaven ! 
 Oh, could I quaff for aye that fragrant breath ! 
 
 Couldst thou, or being like to thee, be given 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 2$ 
 
 " 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. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " But, oh, severest curse ! I cannot be 
 In what I love blest e'en the little span 
 
 (With all a spirit's keen capacity 
 For bliss) permitted the poor insect, man. 
 
 LX. 
 
 "The few I've seen, and deemed of worth to win, 
 Like some sweet floweret, mildewed in my arms, 
 
 Withered to hideousness as foul 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 lowering fate. Fair, ay, 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. 
 
26 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " She has fallen to sleep in grief; haply been chid, 
 Or by rude mortal wronged. So let it prove 
 
 Meet for my purpose : 'mid these blossoms hid, 
 I'll gaze, and, when she wakes, with all that love 
 
 " And art can lend come forth. He who would gain 
 A fond, full heart, in love's soft surgery skilled, 
 
 Should seek it when 'tis sore ; allay its pain 
 
 With balm by pity pressed : 'tis all his own so healed ! 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " She may be mine a little year, e'en fair 
 
 And sweet as now. Oh respite ! while possessed 
 
 I lose the dismal sense of my despair : 
 But then — I will not think upon the rest ! 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " And wherefore grieve to cloud her little day 
 Of fleeting life ? What doom from power divine 
 
 I bear eternally ! Pity ! — away ! 
 
 Wake, pretty fly ! and, while thou mayst, be mine, 
 
 " Though but an hour ; so thou supply'st thy looms 
 With shining silk, and in the cruel snare 
 
 Seest the fond bird intrapped, but for his plumes, 
 To work thy robes, or twine amidst thy hair." 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 2J 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 To whisper softly in her ear he bent, 
 
 But draws him back restrained : a higher power, 
 
 That loved her, and would keep her innocent, 
 Repelled his evil touch. And from her bower, 
 
 To lead the maid, Sephora comes : the sprite, 
 Half baffled, followed, hovering on unseen, 
 
 Till Meles, fair to see, and nobly dight, 
 
 Received his pensive bride. Gentle of mien, 
 
 She meekly stood. He fastened round her arms 
 
 Rings of refulgent ore ; low and apart 
 Murmuring, " So, beauteous captive ! shall thy charms 
 
 For ever thrall and clasp thy captive's heart." 
 
 LXV. 
 
 The air's light touch seemed softer as she moved 
 
 In languid resignation : his black eye 
 Spoke in quick glances how she was approved, 
 
 Who shrank reluctant from its ardency. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Twas sweet to look upon the goodly pair 
 In their contrasted loveliness. Her height 
 
 Might almost vie with his : but heavenly fair, 
 Of soft proportion, she, and sunny hair ; 
 
 He cast in manliest mould, with ringlets murk as night. 
 
28 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 And oft her drooping and resigned blue eye 
 She'd wistful raise to read his radiant face : 
 
 But, then, why shrunk her heart? — a secret sigh 
 
 Told her it most required what there it could not trace. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Now fair had fallen the night. The damsel mused 
 At her own window, in the pearly ray 
 
 Of the full moon : her thoughtful soul infused 
 Thus in her words, left lone a while to pray : — 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " What bliss for her who lives her little day 
 In blest obedience, like to those divine, 
 
 Who to her loved, her earthly lord can say, 
 
 * God is thy law, most just, and thou art mine ! ' 
 
 "To every blast she bends in beauty meek, — 
 Let the storm beat, his arms her shelter kind, — 
 
 And feels no need to blanch her rosy cheek 
 With thoughts befitting his superior mind. 
 
 " Who only sorrows when she sees him pained, 
 Then knows to pluck away pain's keenest dart ; 
 
 Or bid love catch it ere its goal be gained, 
 And steal its venom ere it reach his heart. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 29 
 
 " Tis the soul's food : the fervid must adore. 
 
 For this the heathen, unsufficed with thought, 
 Moulds him an idol of the glittering ore, 
 
 And shrines his smiling goddess, marble-wrought. 
 
 " What bliss for her, even in this world of woe, 
 
 O Sire who mak'st yon orb-strewn arch thy throne ; 
 
 That sees thee in thy noblest work below 
 Shine undefaced, adored, and all her own ! 
 
 " This I had hoped ; but hope too dear, too great, 
 Go to thy grave ! — I feel thee blasted now. 
 
 Give me fate's sovereign, well to bear the fate 
 
 Thy pleasure sends : this, my sole prayer, allow ! " 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Still fixed on heaven, her earnest eye, all dew, 
 Seemed, as it sought amid the lamps of night 
 
 The God her soul addressed ; but other view, 
 Far different, sudden from that pensive plight 
 
 Recalled her. Quick as on primeval gloom 
 Burst the new day-star when the Eternal bid, 
 
 Appeared, and glowing filled the dusky room, 
 As 'twere a brilliant cloud. The form it hid 
 
 Modest emerged, as might a youth beseem, — 
 Save a slight scarf, his beauty bare, and white 
 
 As cygnet's bosom on some silver stream ; 
 Or young Narcissus, when, to woo the light 
 
30 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Of its first morn, that floweret open springs : 
 And near the maid he comes with timid gaze, 
 
 And gently fans her with his full-spread wings, 
 Transparent as the cooling gush that plays 
 
 From ivory fount. Each bright prismatic tint 
 Still vanishing, returning, blending, changing, 
 
 About their tender mystic texture glint 
 
 Like colors o'er the full-blown bubble ranging 
 
 That pretty urchins launch upon the air, 
 And laugh to see it vanish ; yet, so bright, 
 
 More like — and even that were faint compare — 
 As shaped from some new rainbow. Rosy light, 
 
 Like that which pagans say the dewy car 
 
 Precedes of their Aurora, clipped him round, 
 
 Retiring as he moved; and evening's star 
 Shamed not the diamond coronal that bound 
 
 His curly locks. And, still to teach his face 
 Expression dear to her he wooed, he sought ; 
 
 And in his hand he held a little vase 
 
 Of virgin gold, in strange devices wrought. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Love-toned he spoke : " Fair sister, art thou here 
 With pensive looks — so near thy bridal bed — 
 
 Fixed on the pale cold moon ? Nay, do not fear : 
 To do thee weal o'er mount and stream I've sped. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 3 1 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " Say, doth thy soul, in all its sweet excess, 
 
 Rush to this bridegroom, smooth and falsehood-taught ? 
 Ah, no ! thou yield'st thee to a feared caress, 
 
 And strugglest with a heart that owns him not. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " Send back this Meles to Euphrates : there 
 Is no reluctance. Withering by that stream, 
 
 Tell him there droops a flower that needs his care. 
 But why, at such an hour, so base a theme? 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " I'll tell thee secrets of the nether earth 
 
 And highest heaven ! Or dost some service crave ? 
 
 Declare thy bidding, best of mortal birth : 
 I'll be thy winged messenger, thy slave ! " 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Then softly Egla : " Lovely being, tell, 
 
 In pity to the grief thy lips betray 
 The knowledge of— say, with some kindly spell 
 
 Dost come from heaven to charm my pains away? 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Alas ! what know'st thou of my plighted lord ? 
 
 If guilt pollute him, — as, unless mine ear 
 Deceive me in the purport of thy word, 
 
 Thou mean'st to imply, — kind spirit, rest not here, 
 
32 z6phiel. 
 
 " But to my father hasten, and make known 
 The fearful truth. My doom is his command : 
 
 Writ in heaven's book, I guard the oath I've sworn, 
 Unless he will to blot it by thine hand." 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " Oaths sworn for Meles little need avail," 
 Zdphiel replies : " Ere morn, if't be thy will, 
 
 To Lybian deserts he shall tell his tale : 
 
 I'll hurl him, at thy word, o'er forest, sea, and hill ! 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 " But soothe thee, maiden ! be thy soul at peace ! 
 
 Mine be the care to hasten to thy sire, 
 And null thy vow. Let every terror cease : 
 
 Perfect success attends thy least desire." 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Then, lowly bending with seraphic grace, 
 The vase he proffered full ; and not a gem 
 
 Drawn forth successive from its sparkling place 
 But put to shame the Persian diadem. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 While he, "Nay, let me o'er thy white arms bind 
 These orient pearls, less smooth. Egla, for thee, 
 
 My thrilling substance pained by storm and wind, 
 I sought them in the caverns of the sea. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 33 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " Look ! here's a ruby : drinking solar rays, 
 I saw it redden on a mountain tip. 
 
 Now on thy snowy bosom let it blaze : 
 Twill blush still deeper to behold thy lip. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " Here's for thy hair a garland : every flower 
 That spreads its blossoms, watered by the tear 
 
 Of the sad slave in Babylonian bower, 
 
 Might see its frail bright hues perpetuate here. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " For morn's light bell, this changeful amethyst ; 
 
 A sapphire for the violet's tender blue ; 
 Large opals for the queen-rose zephyr-kist ; 
 
 And here are emeralds of every hue, 
 For folded bud and leaflet, dropped with dew. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " And here's a diamond, culled from Indian mine 
 To gift a haughty queen : it might not be : 
 
 I knew a worthier brow, sister divine, 
 
 And brought the gem ; for well I deem for thee 
 
 " The ' arch-chymic sun ' in earth's dark bosom wrought 
 To prison thus a ray, that when dull Night 
 
 Frowns o'er her realms, and Nature's all seems nought, 
 She whom he grieves to leave may still behold his light." 
 
34 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Thus spoke he on, while still the wondering maid 
 Gazed as a youthful artist : rapturously 
 
 Each perfect, smooth, harmonious limb surveyed 
 Insatiate still her beauty-loving eye. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 For Zdphiel wore a mortal form ; and blent 
 In mortal form, when perfect, Nature shows 
 
 Her all that's fair enhanced. Fire, firmament, 
 
 Ocean, earth, flowers, and gems, — all there disclose 
 
 Their charms epitomized : the heavenly power 
 To lavish beauty, in this last work, crowned ; 
 
 And Egla, formed of fibres such as dower 
 Those who most feel, forgot all else around. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 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 
 Wooes the full rose, o'erpowering fragrance stole ; 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Or when the lilies, sleepier perfume, move, 
 Disturbed by two young sister-fawns, that play 
 
 Among their graceful stalks at morn, and love 
 From their white cells to lap the dew away. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 35 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 She strove to speak, but 'twas in murmurs low ; 
 
 Her tender cheek the spirit's thrall expressing 
 In deeper hues of its carnation glow ; 
 
 Her dewy eye her inmost soul confessing. 
 
 xc. 
 
 As the lithe reptile in some lonely grove, 
 With fixed bright eye, of fascinating flame, 
 
 Lures on by slow degrees the plaining dove, 
 
 So nearer, nearer still, the bride and spirit came. 
 
 XCL 
 
 Success seemed his ; but secret, in the height 
 
 Of exultation, as he braved the power 
 Which baffled him at morn, a subtle light 
 
 Shot from his eye, with guilt and treachery fraught. 
 
 xcn. 
 
 Nature upon her children oft bestows 
 
 The quick, untaught perception, and, while Art 
 
 O'ertasks himself with guile, loves to disclose 
 
 The dark thought in the eye, to warn the o'er- trusting 
 heart. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Or haply 'twas some airy guardian foiled 
 
 The sprite. What mixed emotions shook his breast, 
 
 When her fair hand, ere he could clasp, recoiled ! 
 The spell was broke ; and doubts and terrors prest 
 
36 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Her sore. While Zophiel : " Meles' step I hear ! — 
 He's a betrayer ! — wilt receive him still?" — 
 
 The rosy blood driven to her heart by fear, 
 She said, in accents faint but firm, " I will." 
 
 xcrv. 
 
 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, 
 
 xcv. 
 
 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 through the pale gray moonlight Meles stept. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 But ere he yet with haste could throw aside 
 His broidered belt and sandals, dread to tell, 
 
 Eager he sprang ; he sought to clasp his bride ; 
 He stopt ; a groan was heard ; he gasped, and fell 
 
 xcvii. 
 
 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 corpse was all of Meles there ! 
 
CANTO SECOND. 
 
 DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Sardius, in his pavilion, alone with Altheetor. — Description of the pavilion. 
 — Sardius sends a detachment of his guards in search of Meles. — Egla 
 and her parents are brought before the king to answer for the murder of 
 Meles. — Egla relates the manner of Meles' death ; is retained at the 
 palace, and invited to banquet with Sardius and his princes. — Sardius 
 determines to espouse Egla, but delays his purpose at the entreaty of 
 Idaspes. — Egla is commanded, on pain of the death of her father, to 
 receive as bridegroom whomever the king may appoint. — Alcestes, 
 Ripheus, Philomars, and Rosanes, seek her chamber, and die in succes- 
 sion. — Sickness and death of Altheetor. — Sorrow of Zophiel. — Egla 
 and her parents sent back to their home. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 
 
 Soon over Meles' grave the wild flower dropt 
 Its brimming dew ; nor far where Tigris' spray 
 
 Leaps to the beam, in life's sweet blossom cropt, 
 Four others, fair as he, were snatched from day. 
 
 Bridegrooms like him, they knew his fate, yet, bent 
 On their desires, resolved that fate to brave : 
 
 So, in succession, each a victim went, 
 
 Borne from the bridal chamber to the grave, 
 
 II. 
 
 Low liest thou, Meles ! and 'tis mine to know, 
 By light of song, the darkly hidden power 
 
 That closed thy bland but wily lip, and show, 
 In flowing verse, what followed thy death-hour. 
 
 in. 
 
 Noon slept upon thy grave, and Media's king 
 Had sat him down, from court and harem far, 
 
 39 
 
40 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 With a young boy who knew to touch the string 
 Of the sweet harp, and wage the ivory war 
 
 On painted field. The fainting breezes played 
 
 Among the curling clusters of his hair ; 
 Through myrtle blooms and berries, white and red, 
 
 O'er the cool space of a pavilion, fair 
 
 As fond Ionian artist might devise : 
 
 Twelve columns, ivory white, support a dome, 
 
 Painted to emulate the dark blue skies 
 
 When seamen watch the stars, and sigh, and think of 
 home ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 And in the midst Night's goddess (to the sight 
 More softly beauteous for a pictured moon 
 
 That mantles her in pale, mysterious light) 
 Comes stealing to the arms of her Endymion. 
 
 v. 
 
 On six fair pedestals, ranged two by two 
 Like Leda's sons, the smiling pillars stood ; 
 
 As, each by either's side, they rose to view, 
 
 Spotless from limpid bath in some deep, dusky wood, 
 
 Draining their dripping locks. In either space 
 Between, three lattices, with blossoms bowered, 
 
 Alternate with three pictured scenes had place ; 
 And all who saw believed some god empowered 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 41 
 
 The gifted hand that spread their tints. In one, 
 Far from the Grecian camp, his rage profound 
 
 Soothing, with lyre in hand, sat Thetis' son, 
 
 Beside the ocean-wave that darkly dashed around. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Upon the next young Myrrha's form appears. 
 
 Guilt, fear, repentance, blanch her cheek of love, 
 While, tender, beauteous, shuddering, drowned in tears, 
 
 She flies the day, and hides in Saba's deepest grove. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A peerless third the bride of love displays, 
 
 . Psyche, with lamp in hand ; blest, while unknown 
 The cause that gave her bliss ; now daring rays 
 The mystery pierce, and all her pleasures flown. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Beneath that dome reclined the youthful king 
 Upon a silver couch, and soothed to mood 
 
 As free and soft as perfumes from the wing 
 Of bird that shook the jasmines as it wooed, 
 
 Its fitful song the mingling murmur meeting 
 Of marble founts of many a fair device, 
 
 And bees that banquet, from the sun retreating, 
 In every full, deep flower that crowns his paradise. 
 
42 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 IX. 
 
 While gemmy diadem thrown down beside, 
 
 And garment at the neck plucked open, proved 
 His unconstraint, and scorn of regal pride, 
 • When, thus apart retired, he sat with those he loved. 
 
 x. 
 
 One careless arm around the boy was flung, 
 
 Not undeserving of that free caress, 
 But warm and true, and of a heart and tongue 
 
 To heighten bliss, or mitigate distress. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Quick to perceive, in him no freedom rude 
 
 Reproved full confidence : friendship, the meat 
 
 His soul had starved without, with gratitude 
 
 Was ta'en ; and her rich wine crowned high the ban- 
 quet sweet. 
 
 What sire Altheetor owned 'twere hard to trace : 
 
 A beautiful Ionian was his mother. 
 Some found to Sardius semblance in his face, 
 
 Who never better could have loved a brother. 
 
 . XII. 
 
 But now the ivory battle at its close, 
 
 " Go to thy harp/ said Sardius : " 'twere severe 
 
 To keep thee longer thus." Then, as he rose, 
 "Where's our ambassador? Call Meles here." 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 43 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Altheetor said, " Alas ! my prince, the chase 
 Detains him long ; and yet from peril sure 
 
 Tis deemed he fares : nay, those there are who trace 
 His absence to some sylvan paramour. " 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Let him be sought," said Sardius. No delay 
 
 Mocked that command; but vestige, glimpse, nor 
 breath 
 
 Was gleaned, till sadly, on the seventh day, 
 A band returned with tidings of his death. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Sardius was sad upon his audience-seat. 
 
 Then spoke old Philomars : " Remember well, 
 O king ! without the city, had retreat 
 
 Two of those captives of a race so fell, 
 
 " Thy father and my lord would rid the earth, 
 Root, branch, and bud, and gave the task to me ; 
 
 But two escaped the sword, and so had birth 
 Another serpent. This, O prince ! to thee 
 
 " Was told, and to complete the work I craved : 
 But thou didst check my zeal with angry mood, 
 
 And saidst, ' If any trembling wretch be saved, 
 Let him live on : there's been enough of blood. 1 
 
44 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " We've traced Lord Meles to that serpent's den, 
 And seen him in the vile earth murdered lie : 
 
 Yet wherefore grieves the greatest king of men? 
 This only is the fruit of clemency." 
 
 xvi. 
 
 Then Sardius spoke (as on the earth he cast, 
 
 While grief gave anger place, his full dark eye) : — 
 
 "Whoe'er has done this deed has done his last ! 
 
 Soldier, priest, Jew, or Mede, by Belus he shall die." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Then brought they Zorah in, misfortune's pride ; 
 
 His venerable locks with age were white : 
 He cheered his trembling partner at his side, 
 
 Reposing on his God, befall him as it might. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Young Egla marked him stand so firm and pale ; 
 
 Looked in her mother's face, — 'twas anguish there ; 
 Then gently threw aside her azure veil, 
 
 And in an upward glance sent forth to heaven a prayer 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then prostrate thus : " O monarch, seal my doom ! 
 
 Thy sorrow for Lord Meles' death I know. 
 Take then thy victim, drag me to his tomb, 
 
 And to his manes let my life-blood flow ! 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 45 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Oh ! by the God who made yon glowing sun, 
 And warmed cold dust to beauty with his breath, 
 
 By all the good that e'er was caused or done, 
 
 Nor I nor mine have wrought thy subject's death. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Yet think not I would live. Alas ! to me 
 No warrior of my country e'er shall come ; 
 
 And forth with dance and flowers and minstrelsy 
 I go to bid no brother welcome home. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Sad from my birth, — nay, born upon that day 
 When perished all my race, — my infant ears 
 
 Were opened first with groans ; and the first ray 
 I saw came dimly through my mother's tears. 
 
 " Pour forth my life, a guiltless offering 
 
 Most freely given ! But let me die alone ! 
 
 Destroy not those who gave me birth ! O king ! 
 I've blood enough : let it for all atone ! " 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 She traced it on her hand, through the soft skin 
 Meandering seen. Without, that hand was white 
 
 As drops for infant lip ; the palm within 
 Faintly carnationed, as of Amphitrit', 
 
46 z6phiel. 
 
 The fond Ionians fancied the pure shell 
 Chosen by that loved goddess for a car, 
 
 While o'er her feet dissolving foam-wreaths fell 
 In kisses : so they dreamed, in little bark afar. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Egla had ceased : her pure cheeks' heightened glow, 
 Her white hands clasped, blue veil half fallen down, 
 
 Fair locks and gushing tears, stole o'er him so, 
 That Sardius had not harmed her for his crown. 
 
 Yet, serious, thus fair justice' course pursued, 
 As if to hide what look and tone revealed : — 
 
 " What lured a Median to thy solitude ? 
 
 How came his death? and who his corse concealed?" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 'Twas thus she told her tale : " A truant dove 
 Had flown. I strayed a little from the track 
 
 That winds in mazes to my lonely grove, 
 
 But heard a hunter's voice, and hastened back. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Lord Meles saw ; and with a slender dart 
 Fastened the little flutterer to a tree 
 
 By the white wing, with such surpassing art, 
 'Twas scarcely wounded when returned to me. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 47 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Thankful I took ; but, taught to be afraid 
 
 Of stranger's glance, retired : my mother sighed, 
 
 And trembling saw. Yet soon our dwelling's shade 
 The Median sought, and claimed me for a bride. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " But when reluctant to my humble room 
 I had retired, was spread a fragrance there, 
 
 Like rose and lotus shaken in their bloom ; 
 
 And something came and spoke, and looked so fair, 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " It seemed all fresh from heaven. But soon the thought 
 Of things that tempt to sorcery in the night 
 
 Made me afraid. It fled, and Meles sought 
 His bridal bed : the moon was shining bright : 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " I saw his bracelets gleam, and knew him well ; 
 
 But, ere he spoke, was breathed a sound so dread, 
 That fear enchained my senses like a spell ; 
 
 And, when the morning came, my lord was dead. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " And then my mother, in her anxious care, 
 Concealed me in a cave, that long before 
 
 Saved her from massacre, and left me there 
 To live in darkness till the search was o'er 
 
4§ ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " Her fears foretold. So in that cavern's gloom 
 
 Alone upon the damp bare rock I lay 
 Like a deserted corse ; but that cold tomb 
 
 Soon filled with rosy mists, like dawn of day, 
 
 " Which, half dispersing, showed the same fair thing 
 
 I saw before ; and with it came another, 
 More gentle than the first, — and helped it bring 
 
 Fresh flowers and fruits, — in semblance like a brother. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " They spread upon the rock a flowery couch, 
 
 And of a sparkling goblet bade me sip, 
 For that they saw me cold : I dared not touch, 
 
 But, 'mid the sweet temptation, .closed my lip ; 
 
 " And from their grateful warmth and looks so fair 
 I turned away, and c hrank. Of their intent 
 
 I do not know to tell, or what they were, 
 
 But feared and doubted both, and, when they went, 
 
 " Fled trembling to my home, content to meet 
 The sternest death injustice might prepare, 
 
 Ere trust my weakness in that dark retreat 
 To such strange peril as assailed me there." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 She ceased, and now, in palace bade to stay, 
 Awaits the royal pleasure ; but no more, 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 49 
 
 Though strictly watched and guarded all the day, 
 To that stern warrior's threats was given o'er, — 
 
 Dark Philomars, strong in his country's cause ; 
 
 But harder than his battle-helm his heart : 
 Born while his father fought, and nursed in wars, 
 
 Pillage and fire his sports, to kill his only art. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 And, when he sacked a city, he could tear 
 The screaming infant from its mother's arms, 
 
 Dash it to earth, and, while 'twas weltering there, 
 With demon grasp impress her shuddering charms ; 
 
 Then, as she faints with shrieks and struggles vain, 
 
 Coolly recall her with the ruffian blow ; 
 And look, and pause, insatiate of her pain ; 
 
 Then gash her tender throat, and see the life-blood flow. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 O Nature I can it be ? The thought alone 
 Chills the quick pulse : Belief retires afar ; 
 
 Reason grows angry ; Pity breathes a groan ; 
 
 And each distrusts the truth : yet " such things are." 
 
 re ! — nay, in this late age ! God, canst thou view 
 ine image so debased? The bard in grief 
 Thinks o'er the creed of fiends ; sees what men do ; 
 And, wondering, scarce rejects the wild belief. 
 
50 z6phiel. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Night came ; and old Idaspes, all alone 
 With Sardius, had retired ; but why so late 
 
 He wakes, with his white hairs, may not be known ; 
 And still the captives tremble for their fate. 
 
 But, when the old man went, that gentle boy 
 Altheetor sat by his loved master's couch ; 
 
 And fervent pleadings for their lives employ 
 
 His lips that else had sung. The while his touch 
 
 Thrilled o'er his lyre, gay Meles' early blight 
 
 Passed from the prince's thought : the transient gloom 
 Was to his soul just as some bird of night 
 Had flitted 'cross the moon, when, full and bright, 
 
 She o'er his garden shone in the sweet month of bloom. 
 
 xxxvu. 
 
 Of late his harem tired : if suns were there, 
 He did not burn, but sickened in their rays ; 
 
 And snow-white Egla, mild and chaste and fair, 
 Came o'er his fancy, as in sultry days 
 
 Soft clouds appear, when travellers bare the brow, 
 And, faint and panting, bless the timely shade, 
 
 And breathe the cool refreshment : so e'en now 
 Refreshed his languid soul the softly-imaged maid. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 51 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Or as some youth waked from the vine's excess, 
 Parched and impure, forgets the joys it gave, 
 And flies the fair Bacchante's wild caress 
 
 For some lone Naiad's grot, and cools him in the 
 wave. 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 Or as some graceful fawn, o'erspent with play, 
 
 Faints in the beam, and, where deep shades invite, 
 
 Flies, all impatient of the burning day, 
 
 And wooes the lily's shade to hide him from its light. 
 
 XL. 
 
 So felt the king : nor sleeping quite, nor waking, 
 As wildering o'er his lids the zephyrs sweep, 
 
 Whole beds of purple hyacinths forsaking ; 
 And, when sweet revery gave place to sleep, 
 
 He dreamed of baths, or beds of flowers and dew, 
 
 Or sculptured marbles, as at Cnidos seen ; 
 But still, with fair long locks, and veil of blue, 
 Another form would blend with every view, 
 
 With visionary grace and heavenly eye and mien. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 The smile of morning woke Idaspes' care ; 
 
 And Egla, dubious if its light might bring 
 Or weal or woe to her, was bid prepare 
 
 To sit at evening banquet with the king. 
 
52 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Then came an ancient dame, skilled in those arts 
 Employed by Beauty's daughters to enchain 
 
 Or lightly touch the soft voluptuous hearts 
 
 Of youths that seem, as they, of curl and eyebrow vain : 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And, pouring perfumes in the bath, she told 
 
 Wild tales of a Chaldean princess, loved 
 By the fair sprite Eroziel, who, of old, 
 
 Taught all those trims to heighten beauty, proved 
 
 By Lydian, Median, Perse, and Greek ; with black 
 To tip the eyelid ; stain the finger ; deck 
 
 The cheek with hues that languor bids it lack ; 
 And how he taught to twine the arms and neck 
 
 With wreaths of gems, or made or found by him, 
 Or his enamoured brothers, when they bore 
 
 Love for the like, and many a secret dim 
 
 That nature would conceal, from charmed recesses 
 tore. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 This story o'er, the dainty maids were fain 
 To take the white rose of her hand, and tip 
 
 Each taper finger with a ruddy stain 
 To make it like the coral of her lip. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 53 
 
 XLV. 
 
 But Egla this refused them, and forbore 
 
 The folded turban twined with many a string 
 
 Of gems ; and, as in tender memory, wore 
 
 Her country's simpler garb to meet the youthful king. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Day o'er, the task was done ; the melting hues 
 Of twilight gone, and reigned the evening gloom 
 
 Gently o'er fount and tower : she could refuse 
 
 No more, and, led by slaves, sought the fair banquet- 
 room; 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 With unassured yet graceful step advancing, 
 The light vermilion of her cheek more warm 
 
 For doubting modesty ; while all were glancing 
 
 Over the strange attire that well became such form. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 To lend her space the admiring band gave way : 
 The sandals on her silvery feet were blue ; 
 
 Of saffron tint her robe, as when young Day 
 
 Spreads softly o'er the heavens, and tints the trembling 
 dew. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Light was that robe as mist ; and not a gem 
 
 Or ornament impedes its wavy fold, 
 Long and profuse ; save that, above its hem, 
 
 'Tvvas broidered with pomegranate-wreath in gold ; 
 
54 z6phiel. 
 
 And, by a silken cincture broad and blue 
 In shapely guise about the waist confined, 
 
 Blent with the curls, that, of a lighter hue, 
 Half floated, waving in their length behind : 
 
 The other half, in braided tresses twined, 
 
 Was decked with rose of pearls, and sapphires' azure 
 too, 
 
 Arranged with curious skill to imitate 
 
 The sweet acacia's blossoms, just as live 
 And droop those tender flowers in natural state ; 
 
 And so the trembling gems seemed sensitive, 
 
 And, pendent sometimes, touch her neck, and there 
 Seem shrinking from its softness as alive ; 
 
 And o'er her arms, flower-white and round and bare, 
 Slight bandelets were twined of colors five, 
 
 Like little rainbows seemly on those arms : 
 None of that court had seen the like before ; 
 
 Soft, fragrant, bright, — so much like heaven her charms, 
 It scarce could seem idolatry to adore. 
 
 Li. 
 
 He who beheld her hand forgot her face ; 
 
 Yet in that face was all beside forgot : 
 And he who, as she went, beheld her pace, 
 
 And locks profuse, had said, " Nay, turn thee not/ 1 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 55 
 
 LII. 
 
 Placed on a banquet-couch beside the king, 
 'Mid many a sparkling guest no eye forbore ; 
 
 But, like their darts, the warrior-princes fling 
 
 Such looks as seemed to pierce, and scan her o'er and 
 o'er : 
 
 Nor met alone the glare of lip and eye, — 
 
 Charms, but not rare : the gazer stern and cool, 
 
 Who sought but faults, nor fault or spot could spy : 
 In every limb, joint, vein, the maid was beautiful ; 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Save that her lip, like some bud-bursting flower, 
 Just scorned the bounds of symmetry perchance, 
 
 But by its rashness gained an added power, 
 Heightening perfection to luxuriance. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 But that was only when she smiled, and when 
 Dissolved the intense expression of her eye ; 
 
 And, had her spirit-love first seen her then, 
 He had not doubted her mortality. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And could she smile for that a stranger hung 
 O'er her fair form, and spoke to her of love ? 
 
 Where is the youth who scorned a court, and sprung 
 Amid Euphrates' waves, as told her in her grove ? 
 
$6 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Haply she did, and for a while forgot 
 
 Those dark acacias, where so oft was wept 
 
 Her lone, uncertain, visionary lot ; 
 
 Yet where an angel watched her as she slept. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 When light, love, music, beauty, all dispense 
 
 Their wild commingling charms, who shall control 
 
 The gushing torrent of attracted sense, 
 
 And keep the forms of memory and of soul ? 
 
 LVII. 
 
 O theme of rapture, honored Constancy ! 
 
 Invoked, hoped, sworn, but rare ! have we perchance 
 To thank the generous breast that nurtures thee 
 
 For thy dear life, when saved? or fate or circum- 
 stance ? 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " Thy fragrant form, as the tall lily white, 
 Looks full and soft, yet supple as the reed 
 
 Kissing its image in the fountain light, 
 
 Or ostrich' wavy plume." So speaks the Mede, 
 
 While, bending o'er her banquet-couch, he breathes 
 Her breath, whose fragrance wooes that near advance ; 
 
 Plays with her silken tresses' wandering wreaths, 
 And looks, and looks again with renovated glance. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 57 
 
 LDC. 
 
 But, ever watchful, to his prince's side 
 Came old Idaspes, — he alone might dare 
 
 To check the rising transport, ere its tide 
 
 Arose too high to quell, — and thus expressed his care, 
 
 Whispering in murmurs first : " At last, O king ! 
 
 Thy subjects breathe ; the cries of slaughter cease ; 
 And happy laborers bless thee, as they bring 
 
 Forth from thy smiling fields the fruits of peace. 
 
 " Their wounds just healing over, wouldst thou rush 
 Upon thy doom and theirs ? What bitter tears 
 
 Must flow if thou shouldst fall ! what blood must gush ! 
 Wait till the cause of Meles' fate appears ; 
 
 " And, ere this dangerous beauty be thy bride, 
 Let him who loves thee best come forth and prove 
 
 The peril flrst. ,, Alcestes rose beside, 
 
 And said, " O prince ! to prove my faith and love, 
 
 " I'll dare as many deaths as on the sod 
 
 Without the falling rose of leaves has strown ; 
 
 And, if bland Meles fell by rival god, 
 
 So let me fall ; and live the pride of Media's throne." 
 
58 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Egla, o'erwhelmed with shame, distaste, and fear, 
 Could of remonstrance utter not a breath, 
 
 Ere fixed Idaspes' whisper met her ear, — 
 
 "One word impassive seals thy father's death" 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And, while Alcestes' bolder glances stray 
 O'er the fair trembler to his monarch dear, 
 
 Not one distrustful whispering came to allay 
 The sudden joy with slightest shade of fear. 
 
 A dark-haired priestess, well he knew, of late 
 Had Meles loved ; and, for the mystery 
 
 That hung so darkly o'er his early fate, 
 
 Looked for no deadlier cause than wounded jealousy. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 And for the story of the cave, he deemed 
 That lone, and in the dark, the frighted maid 
 
 Had gained a respite from her tears, and dreamed ; 
 Or haply framed the tale but to evade 
 
 Some feared result. But, be it as it might, 
 
 The thoughtless king accedes ; and, ere the day 
 
 Again had dawned, dead, ghastly to the sight, 
 Before his bridal door the tall Alcestes lay. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 59 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 So died the youth. But little might avail 
 
 His sacrifice ; for Sardius, who forbore 
 His purpose but a while, contemned the tale, 
 
 And madly spoke thus, ere the day was o'er : — 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " Ask of Alcestes' manes, did he die 
 
 By angry god or mortal's traitorous hand ? 
 
 Whoe'er will draw to light this mystery, 
 
 Shall live the captain of my choicest band" 
 
 LXV. 
 
 That promise claimed Ripheus : he desired 
 
 No dearer boon ; yet haply panted, less 
 By maddening thought of love and beauty fired 
 
 Than to a rival court to prove his fearlessness. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 He had*grasped the wily Parthian in the fight ; 
 
 Leapt on the wounded tiger in the chase ; 
 And oft his mother, vain in her delight, 
 
 Boasted she owed him to a god's embrace. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 So he relied on that ; and fickle chance 
 Conspired with the deceit, until his doom 
 
 Was rushed upon. But still his bold advance 
 Some caution guarded. To the fatal room 
 
60 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 He came, and first explored with trusty blade ; 
 
 But, soon as he approached the fatal bride, 
 Opened the terrace-door, and, half in shade, 
 
 A form, as of a mortal, seemed to glide. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 He flew to strike ; but baffling still the blow, 
 And still receding from the chamber far, 
 
 It lured him on ; and in the morning low 
 And bloody lay the form, which not a scar 
 
 Before had e'er defaced. Dismay profound 
 Gave place to doubt ; for, as by mortal hand 
 
 And mortal weapon made, the wound was found, 
 
 And heard had been the clash that snapped his dinted 
 brand. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Then came, with rage renewed, rough Philomars, 
 (For gentle bridegroom's office most unmeet 
 
 Of all,) and craved, in guerdon of his scars, 
 Permission to drag forth the deep deceit 
 
 He charged upon the daughter of the Jew, 
 
 Whose life provoked his thirst ; and pledged him, rife 
 
 With ancient hate, to bring her fraud to view, 
 Or pay the bold aspersion with his life. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 6 1 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Led from the bridal room a deep arcade, 
 
 And paths of flowers ; and fountains, often graced 
 
 With bathing beauty, now reflect the shade 
 
 Of warriors tall and grim with helm and corselet 
 braced. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 They guard each pass, so that a bird in vain 
 
 An outlet to his airy rounds might seek : 
 And Philomars stalked o'er the floor, with pain - 
 
 Stifling the rage which yet he dared not wreak ; 
 
 And muttering 'twixt clinched teeth, "At last, young 
 witch, 
 Ends thy career ! " then he, with careful touch 
 Of his proved sword, examined every niche ; 
 
 Then to the bride approached, and would have pierced 
 her couch. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Not Eva, lovelier than the tints of air, 
 
 Crouching amid the leaves lest heaven should see 
 
 That form, all panting 'neath her yellow hair, 
 
 E'er looked more fair, or trembled more, than she. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But the pale blaze of every fragrant lamp 
 
 That moment died, as if a sudden gust 
 Of thick cold air had gushed from cavern damp ; 
 
 And, groping in the darkness, vainly curst 
 
62 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 And struggled Philomars. Twas his last breath 
 
 That Egla heard, the suffocating noise 
 Of the one lengthened pang that gave him death : 
 
 She swooned upon her couch, but might not know the 
 cause. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 The young Rosanes came at early morn 
 To view the corse, that lay in piteous case, 
 
 Grasping the sword its hand at eve had drawn, 
 The last fierce frown still stiff upon its face. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And thus the youth (in dress of horseman dight) : — 
 " Art dead, old wolf? If ever, since his reign, 
 
 Pluto was grateful, take his thanks to-night ; 
 
 For who has sent down more to people his domain ? 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " But prithee, soldier, when the nether coasts 
 Receive thy soul, less grim and angry be, 
 
 Lest the fair sun be clouded o'er with ghosts 
 
 That rush again to earth to 'scape the sight of thee ! " 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Rosanes of the painted eyebrow vain, 
 
 To gain report for wit and valor strove ; 
 Rearing his Parthian courser on the plain, 
 
 And boasting, at the feast, of Naiad's love : 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 63 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 And round his neck an amulet he wore 
 
 Of many a gem in mystic mazes tied ; 
 And, mad for much applause, not long forbore 
 
 To name his wishes for the dangerous bride. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Enough to tell, he shared the common fate 
 
 Of those whose rash adventurous zeal could dare 
 
 The spirit-guarded couch. But, oh ! thy state, 
 
 Altheetor, generous boy ! best claims the minstrel's 
 care. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 When Media's last king died a tumult rose, 
 And all Idaspes' prudence scarce procured 
 
 To keep the youthful Sardius from his foes ; 
 And, ere his father's throne was yet secured, 
 
 Upon a terrace while Altheetor hung 
 
 About the prince, who carelessly carest, 
 A well-aimed arrow glanced : the stripling sprung, 
 
 Stood like a shield, and let it pierce his breast. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 But sage Pithoes knew the healing good 
 Of every herb : he plucked the dart away, 
 
 And stopped the rich effusion of his blood 
 As at his monarch's feet the boy exulting lay ; 
 
64 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Drew forth from scrip an antidotal balm, 
 
 And, ere the venom through life's streams could creep, 
 Bestowed — for death's convulsions — dewy calm, 
 
 And steeped each throbbing vein in salutary sleep. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 But now Altheetor's sick. The kindly draught, 
 The bath of bruised herbs, were vainly tried ; 
 
 While his young breath seemed as it fain would waft 
 His soul away, so piteously he sighed. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Above his couch were hung his sword and lyre, 
 His polished bow, and javelin often proved 
 
 In the far chase, where once in faith and fire 
 
 He fared beside to guard and watch the prince he loved. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 His fragrant locks, thrown backward from his brow, 
 Displayed its throbbing pulse : ah ! how rebelled 
 
 That heart, the seat of truth ! Beside him now 
 One languid hand the good Pithoes held, 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And looked, and thought, and bent his brow in vain ; 
 
 Then, in the sadness of his baffled skill, 
 Resigned the boy to fate ; then thought again, 
 
 Was there no hidden cause for such consuming ill ? 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 65 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Still o'er the couch he casts his gentle eyes, 
 And brings fresh balm ; but all is unavailing. 
 
 Altheetor faintly breathes his thanks, and sighs, 
 As if his guiltless life that moment were exhaling. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 'Twas long he had not spoke : now heaved his breast ; 
 
 And now, despite of shame, a tear was straying 
 From the closed, quivering lid. Some grief supprest, 
 
 Some secret care, upon his life was preying. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 So came a glimpse across Pithoes' thought ; 
 
 And, in obedience to the doubt, he said, ■ — 
 " Tis strange, Altheetor, thou hast never aught 
 
 Asked or expressed of the fair captive maid ; 
 
 " For it was thou who forced the crowd to yield, 
 When she was rudely dragged, on audience-day, 
 
 And gently loosed from Philomars's shield 
 A lock of her fair hair he else had torn away. 
 
 xc. 
 
 " Sardius believed and loved her ; would have wed ; 
 
 But old Idaspes, doubtful 'twas some god, 
 That, amorous of her charms, laid Meles dead, 
 
 A while restrained the king, who saw, unawed, 
 
66 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " The gay Alcestes from her chamber fair 
 
 Thrown dead and black. Ripheus, too, lies low ; 
 
 Old Philomars spoke his last curses there ; 
 And young Rosanes ne'er his silver bow 
 
 " Shall draw again. And yet the king is fixed 
 In his resolve to wed : some power divine, 
 
 Envying our peace, impels ; or she has mixed, 
 By magic skill, some philtre with his wine. 
 
 xci. 
 
 " Or there's in her blue eye some wicked light 
 That steadily allures him to his doom. 
 
 She's bidden to the feast again to-night, 
 And good Idaspes' countenance in gloom 
 
 " Is fallen ; in vain he strives ; his silver hairs 
 Rise with the anguish at his heart's true core : 
 
 While the impatient, reckless Sardius swears 
 
 By Baal, whate'er betides, to wait but three days more. 
 
 xcn. 
 
 " Nor soldier, prince, or satrap, more appear 
 Vaunting their fealty firm with flattering breath ; 
 
 But each speaks low, as if some god were near, 
 In silent anger singling him for death. " 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 6? 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Now o'er Altheetor's face what changes glistened 
 
 As ear and open lip drank every word ! 
 He raised him from his couch, he looked, he listened, 
 
 Reviving, renovating, as he heard. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 O'er cheek and brow a lively red was rushing, 
 While half he felt his dark eye could not tell ; 
 
 Then (spent the pang of hope) cold dews were gushing 
 From brow again turned pale. He drooped ; he fell 
 
 Faint on his pillow. Unsurprised and calm, 
 
 Soon to restore, the good Pithoes knew : 
 He saw what fever raged, and knew its balm ; 
 
 Spoke comfort to his charge ; and for a while withdrew. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 What in his breast revolved I cannot tell : 
 To seek Idaspes' aid his steps were bent ; 
 
 And when 'twas midnight, as by sudden spell 
 Restored, to bridal room Altheetor went. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 Touching his golden harp to prelude sweet, 
 Entered the youth so pensive, pale, and fair ; 
 
 Advanced respectful to the virgin's feet, 
 
 And, lowly bending down, made tuneful parlance there. 
 
68 z6phiel. 
 
 xcvn. 
 
 Like perfume soft his gentle accents rose, 
 And sweetly thrilled the gilded roof along : 
 
 His warm devoted soul no terror knows, 
 And truth and love lend fervor to his song. 
 
 xcvm. 
 
 She hides her face upon her couch, that there 
 
 She may not see him die. No groan ! — she springs, 
 
 Frantic between a hope-beam and despair, 
 
 And twines her long hair round him as he sings. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 Then thus : " O being, who unseen but near 
 Art hovering now, behold and pity me ! 
 
 For love, hope, beauty, music, all that's dear, 
 Look — look on me, and spare my agony ! 
 
 c. 
 
 " Spirit ! in mercy, make not me the cause, 
 The hateful cause, of this kind being's death ! 
 
 In pity kill me first ! He lives ! he draws — 
 
 Thou wilt not blast? — he draws his harmless breath ! " 
 
 ci. 
 
 Still lives Altheetor ; still unguarded strays 
 One hand o'er his fallen lyre ; but all his soul 
 
 Is lost, — given up : he fain would turn to gaze, 
 But cannot turn, so twined. Now all that stole 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 69 
 
 Through every vein, and thrilled each separate nerve, 
 Himself could not have told, all wound and clasped 
 
 In her white arms and hair. Ah ! can they serve 
 
 To save him ? " What a sea of sweets ! " he gasped ; 
 
 But 'twas delight : sound, fragrance, all were breathing. 
 
 Still swelled the transport : "Let me look — and thank," 
 He sighs, celestial smiles his lip inwreathing : 
 
 " I die — but ask no more," he said, and sank — 
 
 Still by her arms supported — lower — lower — 
 As by soft sleep oppressed : so calm, so fair, 
 
 He rested on the purple tapestried floor, 
 It seemed an angel lay reposing there. 
 
 en. 
 
 Egla bent o'er him in amaze ; a while 
 
 Thanked God, the spirit, and her stars (so much 
 
 Like life his gently closing lids and smile) ; 
 Then felt upon his heart. Ah ! to that touch 
 
 Responds no quivering pulse : 'tis past. Then burst 
 Her grief thus from her inmost heart that bleeds : — 
 
 " Nay, finish, fiend unpitying and accurst ! 
 
 Finish, and rid me too of life, and of thy deeds ! " 
 
 cm. 
 
 She hid her face in both her hands ; and when, 
 At length, looked up, a form was bending o'er 
 
 The good, the beauteous boy. With piteous ken 
 It sought her eye, but still to speak forbore. 
 
JO ZOPHIEL. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 A deep unutterable anguish kept 
 
 The silence long ; then from his inmost breast 
 The spirit spoke : " Oh ! were I him so wept, 
 
 Daughter of earth, I tell thee, I were blest. 
 
 cv. 
 
 " Couldst thou conceive but half the pain I bear, 
 Or agent of what good I fain would be, 
 
 I had not — added to my deep despair 
 
 And heavy curse — another curse from thee. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 " I've loved the youth since first to this vile court 
 I followed thee from the deserted cave. 
 
 I saw him in thy arms, and did not hurt : 
 
 What could I more ? Alas ! I could not save. 
 
 cvn. 
 
 " He died of love, — of the o'er-perfect joy 
 Of being pitied, prayed for, prest by thee ! 
 
 Oh ! for the fate of that devoted boy 
 I'd sell my birthright to eternity ! 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 " I'm not the cause of this thy last distress. 
 
 Nay ! look upon thy spirit ere he flies ! 
 Look on me once, and learn to hate me less," 
 
 He said ; and tears fell fast from his immortal eyes. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. /I 
 
 CIX. 
 
 Her looks were on the corse. No more he said. 
 
 Deeper the darkness grew ; 'twas near the dawn : 
 And chilled and sorrowing through the air he sped, . 
 
 And in Hircania's deepest shades, ere morn, 
 
 Was hidden 'mid the leaves. Low moaned the blast, 
 And chilly mists obscured the rising sun : 
 
 So bitter were his tears, that, where he past, 
 Was blighted every flower they fell upon. 
 
 ex. 
 
 Wild was the place, but wilder his despair : 
 
 Low shaggy rocks that o'er deep caverns scowl 
 
 Echo his groans : the tigress in her lair 
 
 Starts at the sound, and answers with a growl. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 The day wore on : the tide of transport through, 
 He listened to the forest's murmuring sound, 
 
 Until his grief alleviation drew 
 
 From the according horrors that surround. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 And thus at length his plaintive lip expressed 
 
 The mitigated pang : 'tis sometimes so 
 When grief meets genius in the mortal breast, 
 
 And words most deeply sweet betray subsided woe. 
 
72 z6phiel. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 "■ Thou'rt gone, Altheetor : of thy gentle breath 
 Guiltless am I, but bear the penalty ! 
 
 Oh ! is there one to whom thy early death 
 Can cause the sorrow it has caused to me ? 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 " Cold, cold, and hushed, is that fond, faithful breast : 
 Oh ! of the breath of God too much was there ! 
 
 It swelled, aspired ; it could not be comprest, 
 But gained a bliss frail nature could not bear. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 " O good and true beyond thy mortal birth ! 
 
 What high-souled angel helped in forming thee ? 
 Haply thou wert what I had been, if earth 
 
 Had been the element composing me. 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 " Banished from heaven so long, what there transpires 
 This weary exiled ear may rarely meet. 
 
 But it is whispered that the Unquelled desires 
 Another Spirit for each forfeit seat 
 
 " Left vacant by our fall. That Spirit placed 
 
 In mortal form must every trial bear 
 'Midst all that can pollute ; and, if defaced 
 
 But by one stain, it may not enter there. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 73 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 " Though all the earth is winged, from bound to bound ; 
 
 Though heaven desires, and angels watch and pray, 
 To see their ranks with fair completion crowned, — 
 So few to bless their utmost search are found, 
 
 That half in heaven have ceased to hope the day ; 
 And pensive seraphs' sighs o'er heavenly harps resound. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 " And when, long wandering from his blissful height, 
 One like to thee some quick-eyed Spirit views, 
 
 He springs to heaven, more radiant from delight, 
 
 And heaven's blue domes ring loud with rapture at the 
 news. 
 
 cxix. 
 
 " Yet oft the being by all heaven beloved 
 (So doubtful every good in world like this) 
 
 Some fiend corrupts ere ripe to be removed, 
 
 And tears are seen in eyes made but to float in bliss. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 "Thou'lt take, perchance, Altheetor, (who so pure 
 That may if thou mayst not?) 'mid the bright throng, 
 
 My high, my forfeit place : love would secure 
 Its prize, so killed thee ere below too long. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 " Decay shall ne'er thy perfect form defile, 
 
 Nor hungry flame consume. In dews I'll steep 
 
74 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Thy limbs, and thou shalt look upon the pile 
 As gentle as a maiden fallen asleep 
 
 " 'Mid musings of ideal bliss, and making 
 Of her wild hopes, lit up by fancy's beam, 
 
 A fairer lover than may woo her waking, 
 
 Blest to her wish alone in soft ecstatic dream. 
 
 cxxn. 
 
 " And I will steal thee, when the perfumes rise 
 
 Around the cassia-wood in smoky wave : 
 I'll shroud thee in a mist from mortal eyes, 
 
 And gently lay thee in some sparry cave 
 
 " Of Paros ; there seek out some kindly Gnome, 
 And see him ('mid his lamps of airy light), 
 
 By wondrous process done in earth's dark womb, 
 
 Change thee, smile, lip, hair, all, to marble pure and 
 white. 
 
 cxxm. 
 
 " O my loved Hyacinth ! when as a god 
 
 I hurled the disk, and from thy hapless head 
 
 The pure sweet blood made flowers upon the sod, 
 'Twas thus I wept thee, — beautiful, but dead, 
 
 " Like all I've loved ! — Oriel, false fiend, thy breath 
 Guided my weapon : come ! most happy thou 
 
 If my pain please. I mourn another death : 
 
 Come with thy insect wings ; I'll hear thy mockery 
 now. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 75 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 " Thou didst not change his blood to purple flowers ; 
 
 Thy poisonous breath can blight, but not create : 
 Thou canst but hover o'er Phraerion's bowers, 
 
 And claim of men the honors of his state. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 " Thou kill'st my Hyacinth ; but yet a beam 
 Of comfort still was mine : I saw preserved 
 
 His beauty all entire, and gave a gleam 
 
 Of him to a young burning Greek. So served 
 
 " Thy crime a worthy cause : for, long inspired 
 With a consuming wish, that Grecian's heart, 
 
 Lost to repose, so caught what it desired ; 
 
 And soon the chiselled stone glowed with a wondrous 
 art." 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 While thus the now half-solaced Zdphiel brings 
 Food to his soul, passed o'er his gloomier mood : 
 
 He shakes his ringlets, spreads his pinions, springs 
 From that rude seat, and leaves the mazy wood. 
 
 cxxvii. 
 
 That morn o'er Ecbatane rose pale and slow : 
 
 Thick lingering night-damps clog the morning's breath, 
 
 And veiled the sun that rose with bloody glow, 
 
 As if great Nature's heart bled for the recent death. 
 
?6 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 White-haired Idaspes from the fatal room 
 
 Bade his own slaves love's loveliest victim bring, — 
 
 Fresh, fair, but cold, - — and in that lurid gloom 
 
 Set forth the funeral couch, and showed him to the 
 king; 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 And drew away the tunic from the scar 
 
 Seen on his cold white breast. "And is it thou?" 
 
 He said : " when Treachery wings her darts afar, 
 What faithful heart will be presented now ? 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! that ever these old eyes 
 
 Should see Altheetor thus ! Where is there one, 
 
 When lowly in the earth Idaspes lies, 
 
 Will love and guard his prince as thou hast done?" 
 
 cxxxi. 
 
 Sardius believed he slept ; but, undeceived, 
 Soon as he found that faithful heart was cold, 
 
 He turned away his radiant brow, and grieved, 
 And at that moment freely would have sold 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 The diadem, that from his locks he tore, 
 
 For that one life. Idaspes watched his mood, 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. JJ 
 
 And (ere the first fierce burst of grief was o'er, 
 While lost Altheetor's every pulse) pursued 
 
 With guardian skill the kindly deep design : 
 
 He probed the king's light changeful heart, and gained 
 
 A promise that the maid of Palestine, 
 
 Until twelve moons had o'er his garden waned, 
 
 Should live in banishment from court. So, sent 
 To muse" in peace upon her unknown love 
 
 (So long announced), dejected Egla went 
 With all her house, and seeks her own acacia-grove. 
 
 Cuba: Pueblo Nuevo, June, 1827. 
 
CANTO THIRD. 
 
 PALACE OF GNOMES. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Midnight. — Zophiel and Phraerion sit conversing together near a ruin on 
 the banks of the Tigris. — Zophiel laments his former crimes ; speaks 
 of a change in his designs ; dwells on the purity of his love for Egla ; 
 and expresses a wish to preserve her life and beauty beyond the period 
 allotted to mortals. — Phraerion is induced to lead the way to the palace 
 of Tahathyam. — Palace and banquet of Gnomes. — Zophiel, by force 
 of entreaty and promise, obtains from Tahathyam a drop of the elixir of 
 life. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 
 
 Tis now the hour of mirth, the hour of love, 
 
 The hour of melancholy : Night, as vain 
 Of her full beauty, seems to pause above, 
 
 That all may look upon her ere it wane. 
 
 II. 
 
 The heavenly angel watched his subject star, 
 O'er all that's good and fair benignly smiling : 
 
 The sighs of wounded love he hears from far ; 
 
 Weeps that he cannot heal, and wafts a hope beguiling. 
 
 in. 
 
 The nether earth looks beauteous as a gem : 
 
 High o'er her groves in floods of moonlight laving, 
 The towering palm displays his silver stem, 
 
 The while his plumy leaves scarce in the breeze are 
 waving. 
 
 81 
 
82 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The nightingale among his roses sleeps ; 
 
 The soft-eyed doe in thicket deep is sleeping ; 
 The dark-green myrrh her tears of fragrance weeps ; 
 
 And every odorous spike in limpid dew is steeping. 
 
 .Proud prickly cerea, now thy blossom 'scapes 
 Its cell, brief cup of light, and seems to say, — 
 
 " I am not for gross mortals : blood of grapes, 
 
 And sleep, for them I — Come, Spirits, while ye may 1 " 
 
 VI. 
 
 A silent stream winds darkly through the shade, 
 And slowly gains the Tigris, where 'tis lost. 
 
 By a forgotten prince of old 'twas made, 
 
 And, in its course, full many a fragment crost 
 
 Of marble fairly carved ; and by its side 
 Her golden dust the flaunting lotus threw 
 
 O'er her white sisters, throned upon the tide, 
 
 And queen of every flower that loves perpetual dew. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Gold-sprinkling lotus, theme of many a song 
 
 By slender Indian warbled to his fair ! 
 Still tastes the stream thy rosy kiss, though long 
 
 Has been but dust the hand that placed thee there. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 83 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The little temple where its relics rest 
 
 Long since has fallen : its broken columns lie 
 
 Beneath the lucid wave, and give its breast 
 A whitened glimmer as 'tis stealing by. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Here cerea, too, thy clasping mazes twine 
 
 The only pillar time has left erect : 
 Thy serpent arms embrace it as 'twere thine, 
 
 And roughly mock the beam it should reflect. 
 
 x. 
 
 An ancient prince, in happy madness blest, 
 Was wont to wander to this spot, and deemed 
 
 A water-nymph came to him, and carest 
 
 And loved him well : haply he only dreamed. 
 
 But on the spot a little dome arose, 
 
 And flowers were set that still in wildness bloom ; 
 And the cold ashes that were him repose 
 
 Carefully shrined in this lone ivory tomb. 
 
 XL 
 
 It is a place so strangely wild and sweet, 
 That spirits love to come ; and now upon 
 
 A moonlight fragment Zdphiel chose his seat, 
 In converse close with soft Phraerion, 
 
84 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Who on the moss beside him lies reclining, 
 
 O'erstrewn with leaves from full-blown roses shaken 
 
 By nightingales, that, on their branches twining, 
 The livelong night to love and music waken. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Phraerion, gentle Sprite ! nor force nor fire 
 He had to wake in others doubt or fear : 
 
 He'd hear a tale of bliss, and not aspire 
 
 To taste himself; 'twas meet for his compeer. 
 
 xrv. 
 
 No soul-creative in this being born 
 Its restless, daring, fond aspirings hid : 
 
 Within the vortex of rebellion drawn, 
 
 He joined the shining ranks- — as others did. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Success but little had advanced ; defeat 
 
 He thought so little, scarce to him were worse ; 
 
 And, as he'd held in heaven inferior seat, 
 Less was his bliss, and lighter was his curse. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 He formed no plans for happiness ; content 
 To curl the tendril, fold the bud ; his pain 
 
 So light, he scarcely felt his banishment. 
 
 Zophiel, perchance, had held him in disdain ; 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 85 
 
 But, formed for friendship, from his o'erfraught soul 
 'Twas such relief his burning thoughts to pour 
 
 In other ears, that oft the strong control 
 
 Of pride he felt them burst, and could restrain no more. 
 
 Zdphiel was soft, but yet all flame : by turns 
 Love, grief; remorse, shame, pity, jealousy, 
 
 Each boundless in his breast, impels or burns : 
 His joy was bliss, his pain was agony. 
 
 And mild Phraerion was of heaven ; and there 
 
 Nothing imperfect in its kind can be : 
 There every form is fresh, soft, bright, and fair, 
 
 Yet differing each with that variety — 
 
 Not least of miracles — which here we trace, 
 And wonder, and admire the cause that formed 
 
 So like, and yet so different every face, 
 
 Though of the selfsame clay, by the same process 
 warmed. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Order is heaven's first law." But that obeyed, 
 The planets fixed, the Eternal Mind, at leisure, 
 
 A vast profusion spread o'er all it made, 
 
 As if in endless change were found eternal pleasure. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Harmless Phraerion, formed to dwell on high, 
 Retained the looks that had been his above ; 
 
86 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 And his harmonious lip and sweet blue eye 
 
 Soothed the fallen seraph's heart, and changed his 
 scorn to love ; 
 
 Who, when he saw him in some garden pleasant, 
 Happy, because too little thought had he 
 
 To place in contrast past delight with present, 
 Had given his soul of fire for that inanity. 
 
 xrx. 
 
 But, oh ! in hira the Eternal had infused 
 The restless soul that doth itself devour, 
 
 Unless it can create ; and fallen, misused, 
 
 But forms the vast design to mourn the feeble power. 
 
 xx. 
 
 In plenitude of love, the Power benign 
 Nearer itself some beings fain would lift, 
 
 To share its joys, assist its vast design 
 
 With high intelligence : oh dangerous gift ! 
 
 xxi. 
 
 Superior passion, knowledge, force, and fire 
 
 The glorious creatures took ; but each, the slave 
 
 Of his own strength, soon burnt with wild desire, 
 And basely turned it 'gainst the hand that gave. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 87 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But Zophiel, fallen sufferer, now no more 
 
 Thought of the past : the aspiring voice was mute 
 
 That urged him on to meet his doom before, 
 And all dissolved to love each varied attribute. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Come, my Phraerion, give me an embrace ! " 
 
 He said. " I hope a respite of repose 
 Like that respiring from thy sunny face, — 
 
 Even the peace thy guileless bosom knows. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Rememberest thou that cave of Tigris, where 
 We went with fruits and flowers and meteor light, 
 
 And the fair creature, on the damp rock, there 
 
 Shivering and trembling so ? Ah ! well she might ! 
 
 " False were my words, infernal my intent, 
 Then, as I knelt before her feet, and sued ; 
 
 Yet still she blooms, uninjured, innocent, 
 
 Though now for seven long months by Zophiel watched 
 and wooed ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Gentle Phraerion, 'tis for her I crave 
 
 Assistance : what I could have blighted then 
 
 'Tis now my only care to guard and save \ 
 Companion, then, my airy flight again. 
 
88 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Conduct me to those hoards of sweets and dews 
 Treasured — in haunts to all but thee unknown — 
 
 For favorite Sprites ; teach me their power and use ; 
 And whatso'er thou wilt of Zophiel be it done ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Throughout fair Ecbatane the deeds I've wrought 
 Have cast such dread, that of all Sardius' train 
 
 I doubt if there be one, from tent or court, 
 
 Who'll try what 'tis to thwart a Spirit's love again. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " My Egla, left in her acacia-grove, 
 
 Has learnt to lay aside that piteous fear 
 
 That sorrowed thee ; and I but live to prove 
 A love for her as harmless as sincere. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Inspirer of the arts of Greece, I charm 
 Her ear with songs she never heard before ; 
 
 And many an hour of thoughtfulness disarm 
 
 With stories culled from that vague, wondrous lore 
 
 " But seldom told to mortals, — arts on gems 
 Inscribed that still exist ; but hidden so, 
 
 From fear of those who told, that diadems 
 
 Have passed from brows that vainly ached to know ; 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 89 
 
 " Nor glimpse had mortal, save that those fair things, 
 
 Loved ages past like her I now adore, 
 Caught from their Angels some low whisperings, 
 
 Then told of them to such as dared not tell them 
 more ; 
 
 " But toiled in lonely nooks far from the eye 
 
 Of shuddering, longing men ; then, buried deep, 
 
 Till distant ages bade their secrets lie, 
 
 In hopes that time might tell what their dread oaths 
 must keep. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Egla looks on me doubtful, but amused ; 
 
 Admires, but, trembling, dares not bid me stay : 
 Yet hour by hour her timid heart more used 
 
 Grows to my sight and words ; and when a day 
 
 I leave her, for my needful cares, at leisure 
 
 To muse upon and feel her lonely state, 
 At my returning, though restrained her pleasure, 
 
 There needs no Spirit's eye to see she does not hate. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Oft have I looked in mortal hearts to know 
 How Love, by slow advances, knows to twine 
 
 Each fibre with his wreaths, then overthrow 
 
 At once each stern resolve. The maiden's mine ! 
 
90 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " Yet have I never pressed her ermine hand, 
 
 Nor touched the living coral of her lip ; 
 Though, listening to its tones, so sweet, so bland, 
 
 I've thought — oh impious thought ! — who formed 
 might sip ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Most impious thought ! Soul, I would rein thee in, 
 E'en as the quick-eyed Parthian quells his steeds ; 
 
 But thou wilt start, and rise, and plunge in sin, 
 
 Till gratitude weeps out, and wounded reason bleeds. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " Soul, what a mystery thou art ! not one 
 Admires, or loves, or worships virtue, more 
 
 Than I ; but passion hurls me on, till, torn 
 
 By keen remorse, I cool, to curse me and deplore. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 " But to my theme. Now in the stilly night 
 I hover o'er her fragrant couch, and sprinkle 
 
 Sweet dews about her, as she slumbers light, — 
 
 Dews sought with toil, beneath the pale stars' twinkle, 
 
 " From plants of secret virtue. All for lust 
 
 Too high and pure my bliss : her gentle breath 
 
 I hear, inhale, then weep (for, oh ! she must ; 
 That form is mortal, and must sleep in death). 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 91 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " And oft, when nature pants, and the thick air, 
 Charged with foul particles, weighs sluggish o'er, 
 
 I breathe them all : that deep disgust I bear, 
 To leave a fluid pure and sane for her. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " How dear is this employ ! how innocent ! 
 
 My soul's wild elements forbear their strife ; 
 While, on these harmless cares pleased and intent, 
 
 I hope to save her beauty and her life 
 
 ~ iS For many a rapturous year. But mortal ne'er 
 Shall hold her to his heart : to me confined, 
 
 Her soul must glow ; nor ever shall she bear 
 That mortal fruit for which her form's designed. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " No grosser blood, commingling with her own, 
 Shall ever make her mother. Oh ! that mild, 
 
 Sad glance I love, that lip, that melting tone, 
 Shall ne'er be given to any mortal's child. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " But only for her Spirit shall she live, 
 
 Unsoiled by earth, fresh, chaste, and innocent ; 
 
 And all a Spirit dares, or can, I'll give : 
 
 And sure I thus can make her far more blest, 
 
9 2 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " Framed as she is, than mortal love could do : 
 For more than mortal's to this creature given ; 
 
 She's spirit more than half; her beauty's hue 
 Is of the sky, and speaks my native heaven. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " But the night wanes : while all is bright above/' 
 He said, — and round Phraerion, nearer drawn, 
 
 One beauteous arm he flung, — u first to my love : 
 We'll see her safe ; then to our task till dawn." 
 
 XL. 
 
 Tis often thus with Spirits, when retired 
 Afar from haunts of men : so they delight 
 
 To move in their own beauteous forms attired ; 
 
 Though like thin shades or air they mock dull mortals' 
 sight. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Well pleased Phraerion answered that embrace ; 
 
 All balmy he with thousand breathing sweets 
 From thousand dewy flowers. " But to what place," 
 
 He said, "will Zdphiel go? who danger greets 
 
 " As if 'twere peace. The Palace of the Gnome, 
 Tahathyam, for our purpose most were meet ; 
 
 But then the wave so cold and fierce, the gloom, 
 The whirlpools, rocks that guard that deep retreat ! 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 93 
 
 " Yet there are fountains which no sunny ray 
 
 E'er danced upon ; and drops come there at last 
 
 Which for whole ages, filtering all the way, 
 
 Through all the veins of earth in winding maze have 
 passed. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " These take from mortal beauty every stain, 
 And smooth the unseemly lines of age and pain, 
 
 With every wondrous efficacy rife : 
 Nay, once a Spirit whispered of a draught, 
 Of which a drop, by any mortal quaffed, 
 
 Would save for terms of years his feeble flickering life." 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " A Spirit told thee it would save from death 
 
 The being who should taste that drop ? Is't so ? 
 
 dear Phraerion ! for another breath 
 
 We have not time ! Come, follow me : we'll go 
 
 "And take one look ; then guide me to the track 
 Of the Gnome's palace. There is not a blast 
 
 To stir the sea-flower : we will go and back 
 
 Ere morn. Nay, come : the night is wasting fast." 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " My friend, O Zdphiel ! only once I went : 
 
 Then, though bold Antreon bore me, such the pain, 
 
 1 came back to the air so racked and spent, 
 
 That for a whole sweet moon I had no joy again. 
 
94 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " What sayst thou ? — back at morn ? The night, a day 
 
 And half the night that follows it, alas ! 
 Were time too little for that fearful way ; 
 
 And then such depths, such caverns, we must pass !" 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " Nothing, beloved Phraerion ! I know how 
 
 To brave such risks, and, first, the path will break, 
 
 As oft I've done in water-depths ; and thou 
 Need'st only follow through the way I make." 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 The soft Flower-Spirit shuddered, looked on high, 
 And from his bolder brother would have fled ; 
 
 But then the anger kindling in that eye 
 He could not bear. So to fair Egla's bed 
 
 Followed, and looked ; then, shuddering all with dread, 
 
 To wondrous realms unknown to men he led ; 
 
 Continuing long in sunset course his flight, 
 
 Until for flowery Sicily he bent ; 
 Then, where Italia smiled upon the night, 
 
 Between their nearest shores chose midway his de- 
 scent. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 The sea was calm, and the reflected moon 
 Still trembled on its surface : not a breath 
 
 Curled the broad mirror. Night had past her noon. 
 How soft the air ! how cold the depths beneath ! 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 95 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 The Spirits hover o'er that surface smooth ; 
 
 Zophiel's white arm around Phraerion twined 
 In fond caress, his tender fears to soothe ; 
 
 While either's nearer wing, the other's crossed behind. 
 
 L. 
 
 Well pleased, Phraerion half forgot his dread, 
 
 And first, with foot as white as lotus-leaf, 
 The sleepy surface of the waves essayed ; 
 
 But then his smile of love gave place to drops of grief. 
 
 LI. 
 
 How could he for that fluid dense and chill 
 
 Change the sweet floods of air they floated on ? 
 
 E'en at a touch his shrinking fibres thrill; 
 But ardent Zophiel, panting, hurries on, 
 
 And (catching his mild brother's tears, with lip 
 That whispered courage 'twixt each glowing kiss) 
 
 Persuades to plunge : limbs, wings, and locks they dip : 
 Whate'er the other's pains, the lover felt but bliss. 
 
 in. 
 
 Quickly he draws Phraerion on, his toil 
 
 Even lighter than he hoped : some power benign 
 
 Seems to restrain the surges, while they boil 
 'Mid crags and caverns, as of his design 
 
96 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Respectful. That black, bitter element, 
 
 As if obedient to his wish, gave way : 
 So, comforting Phraerion, on he went ; 
 
 And a high craggy arch they reach at dawn of day, 
 
 Upon the upper world ; and forced them through 
 That arch the thick, cold floods, with such a roar 
 
 That the bold Sprite receded, and would view 
 The cave before he ventured to explore. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Then, fearful lest his frighted guide might part, 
 And not be missed, amid such strife and din, 
 
 He strained him closer to his burning heart, 
 And, trusting to his strength, rushed fiercely in. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 On, on, for many a weary mile they fare, 
 
 Till thinner grew the floods, long, dark, and dense, 
 
 From nearness to earth's core ; and now a glare 
 Of grateful light relieved their piercing sense ; 
 
 As when, above, the sun his genial streams 
 
 Of warmth and light darts mingling with the waves 
 
 Whole fathoms down ; while, amorous of his beams, 
 Each scaly monstrous thing leaps from its slimy caves. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And now Phraerion, with a tender cry, — 
 Far sweeter than the land-bird's note, afar 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 97 
 
 Heard through the azure arches of the sky, 
 By the long-baffl.ed, storm-worn mariner, — 
 
 " Hold, Zdphiel ! rest thee now : our task is done. 
 
 Tahathyam's realms alone can give this light ! 
 Oh ! though 'tis not the life-awakening sun, 
 
 How sweet to see it break upon such fearful night ! " 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Clear grew the wave, and thin ; a substance white 
 The wide expanding cavern floors and flanks : 
 
 Could one have looked from high, how fair the sight ! 
 Like these the dolphin on Bahaman banks 
 
 Cleaves the warm fluid in his rainbow tints, 
 While even his shadow on the sands below 
 
 Is seen, as through the waves he glides and glints 
 
 Where lies the polished shell, and branching corals 
 grow. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 No massive gate impedes ; the waves in vain 
 Might strive against the air to break or fall ; 
 
 And, at the portal of that strange domain, 
 
 A clear, bright curtain seemed, or crystal wall. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The Spirits pass its bounds, but would not far 
 Tread the slant pavement, like unbidden guest ; 
 
 The while, on either side, a bower of spar 
 Gave invitation for a moment's rest. 
 
ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 And, deep in either bower, a little throne 
 Looked so fantastic, it were hard to know 
 
 If busy Nature fashioned it alone, 
 
 Or found some curious artist here below. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Soon spoke Phraerion : " Come, Tahathyam, come ! 
 
 Thou knowest me well. I saw thee once to love, 
 And bring a guest to view thy sparkling dome, 
 
 Who comes full fraught with tidings from above." 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Those gentle tones, angelically clear, 
 
 Past from his lips, in mazy depths retreating 
 
 (As if that bower had been the cavern's ear) 
 Full many a stadia far, and kept repeating 
 
 As through the perforated rock they pass, 
 Echo to echo guiding them : their tone 
 
 (As just from the sweet Spirit's lip) at last 
 Tahathyam heard, where on a glittering throne 
 
 He solitary sat. 'Twas many a year 
 
 Ere such delightful, grateful sound had blest 
 
 His pleasured sense ; and with a starting tear, 
 Half joy, half grief, he rose to greet his guest : 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 99 
 
 LXII. 
 
 First sending through the rock an answering strain 
 To give both Spirits welcome where they wait, 
 
 And bid them haste ; for he might strive in vain, 
 Half-mortal as he was, to reach that gate 
 
 For many a day. But in the bower they hear 
 His bidding, and, from cumbrous matter free, 
 
 Arose, and to his princely home came near 
 With such spiritual strange velocity, 
 
 They met him, just as by his palace-door 
 
 The Gnome appeared, with all his band, elate 
 
 In the display of his resplendent store 
 To such as knew his father's high estate. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 His sire, a Seraph, framed to dwell above, 
 Had lightly left his pure and blissful home 
 
 To taste the blandishments of mortal love ; 
 And from that lowly union sprang the Gnome, 
 
 Tahathyam, first of his compeers, and best : 
 He looked like heaven, fair semi-earthly thing ! 
 
 The rest were born of many a maid carest 
 After his birth, and chose him for their king. 
 
100 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 He sat upon a car (and the large pearl 
 
 Once cradled in it glimmered, now, without) 
 
 Bound midway on two serpents' backs, that curl 
 In silent swiftness as he glides about. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 A shell, 'twas first in liquid amber wet ; 
 
 Then, ere the fragrant cement hardened round, 
 All o'er with large and precious stones 'twas set 
 
 By skilful Tsaveven, or made or found. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 The reins seemed pliant crystal (but their strength 
 Had matched his earthly mother's silken band), 
 
 And, flecked with rubies, flowed in ample length 
 Like sparkles o'er Tahathyam's beauteous hand. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 The reptiles, in their fearful beauty, drew, 
 
 As if from love, like steeds of Araby : 
 Like blood of lady's lip their scarlet hue ; 
 
 Their scales so bright and sleek, 'twas pleasure but to 
 
 see. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 With open mouths, as proud to show the bit, 
 
 They raise their heads, and arch their necks (with eye 
 
 As bright as if with meteor fire 'twere lit), 
 
 And dart barbed tongues 'twixt fangs of ivory. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. IOI 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 These, when the quick-advancing Sprites they saw 
 Furl their swift wings, and tread with angel grace 
 
 The smooth fair pavement, checked their speed in awe, 
 And glided far aside as if to give them space. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 The Gnome alighted with a pleasing pride, 
 And, in like guise, to meet the strangers bent 
 
 His courteous steps ; the while on either side 
 Fierce Aishalat and Pshaamayim went ; 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Bright Ramaour followed on, in order meet ; 
 
 Then Nahalcoul and Zotzaraven, best 
 Beloved, save Rouamasak of perfume sweet ; 
 
 Then Talhazak and Marmorak : the rest, 
 
 A crowd of various use and properties, 
 
 Arranged to meet their monarch's wishes, vie 
 
 In seemly show to please the strangers' eyes, 
 
 And show what could be wrought without or soil or 
 sky. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 And Zophiel, though a Spirit, ne'er had seen 
 
 The like before ; and, for he had to ask 
 A boon almost as dear as heaven, his mien 
 
 Was softness all. But 'twas a painful task 
 
102 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 To his impatience thus the time to wait 
 Due to such welcome, all his soul possest 
 
 With thoughts of Egla's lone, unguarded state ; 
 While still he smiled, restraining his request. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But fond Phraerion looked on him, and knew 
 How Zophiel suffered in this smooth delay : 
 
 So toward the princely Gnome he gently drew 
 
 To tell what lured them to these depths from day ; 
 
 And said, " O king ! this humble offering take : 
 How hard the task to bring, I need not tell : 
 
 Receive the poor, poor gift, for friendship's sake ! " 
 Tahathyam took a yellow asphodel, 
 
 A deep-blue lotus, and a full moss-rose, 
 
 And then spoke out, " My Talhazak, come hither ; 
 
 Look at these flowers, cropt where the sunbeam glows ; 
 Crust them with diamond ; never let them wither ! " 
 
 Lxxrv. 
 
 Then soon Phraerion : " Monarch, if 'tis truth 
 
 Thou hast (and that 'tis false sweet powers forfend !) 
 
 A draught whose power perpetuates life and youth, 
 Wilt thou bestow one drop upon my friend? " 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. IO3 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Then Zophiel could no more withhold, but knelt, 
 And said, " O sovereign ! happier far than I ! 
 
 Born as thou wert, and in earth's entrails pent, 
 Though once I shared thy father's bliss on high. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " One only draught ! and if its power I prove, — 
 By thy sweet mother, to an Angel dear, — ■ 
 
 Whate'er thou wilt, of all the world above, 
 
 Down to these nether realms I'll bring thee every year. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " Thy tributary slave, I'll scorn the pain, 
 
 Though storms and rocks my feeling substance tear. 
 Tahathyam, let me not implore in vain : 
 
 Give me the draught, and save me from despair." 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Tahathyam paused, as if the bold request 
 He liked not to refuse, nor wished to grant ; 
 
 Then, after much revolving in his breast, — 
 " What of this cup can an Immortal want ? 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 " My Angel sire for many a year endured 
 The vilest toils, deep hidden in the ground, 
 
 To mix this drink ; nor was't at last procured 
 
 Till all he feared had happed : death's sleep profound 
 
104 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " Seized my fair mother. I had shared her doom, 
 Mortal, like her he held than heaven more dear ; 
 
 But by his chemic arts he robbed the tomb, 
 And fixed my solitary being here, 
 
 " As if to hide from the Life-giver's eye, 
 Of his presumptuous task, untried before, 
 
 The prized success, bidding the secret lie 
 Forever here. I never saw him more 
 
 " When this was done. Yet what avails to live, 
 From age to age, thus hidden 'neath the wave ? 
 
 Nor life nor being have I power to give ; 
 And here, alas ! are no more lives to save. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " For my loved father's sight in vain I pine. 
 
 Where is the bright Cephroniel? Spirit, tell 
 But how he fares, and what thou ask'st is thine." 
 
 Fair hope from ZdphieTs look that moment fell. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 The anxious Gnome observed, and soon bethought 
 
 How far his exile limited his will ; 
 And, half divining why he so besought 
 
 Gift worthless save to man, continued still 
 
 His speech : " Thou askest much : should I impart, 
 Spirit, to thee, what my great father fain 
 
 Would hide from heaven, and what, with all his art, 
 Even the second power desires in vain ? 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. IO5 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " All long, but cannot touch : a sword of flame 
 Guards the life-fruit once seen. Yet, Spirit, know 
 
 There is a service : do what I shall name, 
 And let the danger threaten : I'll bestow. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " But first partake our humble banquet, spread 
 Within these rude walls, and repose a while," 
 
 He said ; and to the sparry portal led 
 
 And ushered his fair guests with hospitable smile. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 High towered the palace and its massive pile, 
 Made dubious if of nature or of art, 
 
 So wild and so uncouth ; yet all the while 
 
 Shaped to strange grace in every varying part. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And groves adorned it, green in hue, and bright 
 
 As icicles about a laurel-tree ; 
 And danced about their twigs a wondrous light : 
 
 Whence came that light so far beneath the sea ? 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Zdphiel looked up to know ; and, to his view, 
 
 Scarce seemed less vast than day's the vault that bent 
 
 In lofty arch, its soft, receding blue 
 
 As of the sky, with tender cloudlets sprent ; 
 
106 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 And in the midst an orb looked as 'twere meant 
 To shame the sun, it mimicked him so well. 
 
 But, ah ! no quickening, grateful warmth it sent : 
 Cold as the rock beneath, the paly radiance fell. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Within, from thousand lamps the lustre strays, 
 Reflected back from gems about the waif ; 
 
 And from twelve dolphin shapes a fountain plays, 
 Just in the centre of the spacious hall. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 But whether, in the sunbeam formed to sport, 
 These shapes once lived in suppleness and pride, 
 
 And then, to decorate this wondrous court, 
 Were stolen from the waves, and petrified, 
 
 Or moulded by some imitative Gnome, 
 
 And scaled all o'er with gems, they were but stone, 
 Casting their showers and rainbows 'neath the dome, 
 
 To man or angel's eye might not be known. 
 
 xc. 
 
 No snowy fleece in these sad realms was found ; 
 
 Nor silken ball, by maiden loved so well : 
 But, ranged in lightest garniture around, 
 
 In seemly folds, a shining tapestry fell. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. IO7 
 
 XCI. 
 
 And fibres of asbestos, bleached in fire, 
 
 And all with pearls and sparkling gems o'erflecked, 
 
 Composed of that strange court the rich attire ; 
 
 And such the cold, fair form of sad Tahathyam decked. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Of marble white the table they surround, 
 
 And reddest coral decked each curious couch, 
 
 Which softly yielding to their forms was found, 
 And of a surface smooth and wooing to the touch. 
 
 xcm. 
 
 Of sunny gold and silver like the moon 
 
 Here was no lack ; but if the veins of earth, 
 
 Torn open by man's weaker race, so soon 
 
 Supplied the alluring hoard, or here had birth, 
 
 That baffling, maddening, fascinating art, 
 
 Half told by Sprite most mischievous, that he 
 
 Might laugh to see men toil, then not impart, 
 The guests left uninquired : 'tis still a mystery. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 Here were no flowers ; but a sweet odor breathed 
 
 Of amber pure : a glistening coronal 
 Of various-colored gems each brow inwreathed, 
 
 In form of garland, for the festival. 
 
108 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 All that the shell contains most delicate, 
 
 Of vivid colors, ranged and dressed with care, 
 
 Was spread for food, and still was in the state 
 Of its first freshness : if such creatures rare 
 
 Among cold rocks, so far from upper air, 
 By force of art might live and propagate, 
 
 Or were in hoards preserved, the Muse cannot declare. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 But here, so low from the life -wakening sun, 
 However humble, life was sought in vain ; 
 
 But, when by chance or gift or peril won, 
 
 'Twas prized and guarded well in this domain. 
 
 xcvii. 
 
 Four dusky Spirits, by a secret art 
 
 Taught by a father thoughtful of his wants, 
 
 Tahathyam kept for menial toil apart ; 
 
 But only deep in sea were their permitted haunts. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 The banquet-cups, of many a hue and shape, 
 Bossed o'er with gems, were beautiful to view ; 
 
 But, for the madness of the vaunted grape, 
 Their only draught was a pure, limpid dew, 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. IO9 
 
 To Spirits sweet : but these half-mortal lips 
 
 Longed for the streams that once on earth they quaffed ; 
 And, half in shame, Tahathyam coldly sips, 
 
 And craves excuses for the temperate draught. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 "Man tastes," he said, "the grapes' sweet blood that 
 streams 
 
 To steep his heart when pained : when sorrowing, he 
 In wild delirium drowns the sense, and dreams 
 
 Of bliss arise to cheat his misery." 
 
 Nor with their dews were any mingling sweets 
 Save those, to mortal lip, of poison fell : 
 
 No murmuring bee was heard in these retreats ; 
 The mineral clod alone supplied their hydromel. 
 
 ci. 
 
 The Spirits, while they sat in social guise, 
 Pledging each goblet with an answering kiss, 
 
 Marked many a Gnome conceal his bursting sighs, 
 And thought death happier than a life like this. 
 
 en. 
 
 But they had music : at one ample side 
 Of the vast area of that sparkling hall, 
 
 Fringed round with gems that all the rest outvied, 
 In form of canopy was seen to fall 
 
IIO ZOPHIEL. 
 
 The stony tapestry, over what at first 
 
 An altar to some deity appeared ; 
 But it had cost full many a year to adjust 
 
 The limpid crystal tubes that 'neath upreared 
 
 Their different lucid lengths ; and so complete 
 Their wondrous rangement, that a tuneful Gnome 
 
 Drew from them sounds more varied, clear, and sweet, 
 Than ever yet had rung in any earthly dome, — 
 
 cm. 
 
 Loud, shrilly, liquid, soft : at that quick touch 
 
 Such modulation wooed his angel-ears, 
 That Zdphiel wondered, started from his couch, 
 
 And thought upon the music of the spheres. 
 
 civ. 
 
 Tahathyam marked ; and, casting down the board 
 A wistful glance to one who shared his cheer, 
 
 " My Ragasycheon," said he : at his word 
 
 A Gnome who knew what strains his prince would 
 hear 
 
 cv. 
 
 Arose, like youth's soft dawn in form and face, 
 And than his many feres more lightly dressed ; 
 
 Yet, unsurpassed in beauty and in grace, 
 Silken-haired Ragasycheon soon expressed 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. Ill 
 
 The feelings rising at his master's heart, 
 
 Choosing such tones as when the breezes sigh 
 
 Through some lone portico, or, far apart 
 
 From ruder sounds of mirth, in the deep forest die. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 Preluding low in notes that faint and tremble, 
 Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep ; 
 
 While such sensations in the soul assemble 
 As make it pleasure to the eyes to weep. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 Is there a heart that ever loved in vain, 
 
 Though years have thrown their veil o'er all most dear, 
 That lives not each sensation o'er again 
 
 In sympathy with sounds like those that mingle here ? 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Still the fair Gnome's light hands the chime prolong ; 
 
 And, while his utmost art the strain employs, 
 Cephroniel's softened son in gushing song 
 
 Poured forth his sad, deep sense of long-departed joys. 
 
 cix. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 my Phronema ! how thy yellow hair 
 Was fragrant, when, by looks alone carest, 
 
 1 felt it, wafted by the pitying air, 
 
 Float o'er my lips, and touch my fervid breast ! 
 
112 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 How my least word lent color to thy cheek ! 
 
 And how thy gentle form would heave and swell, 
 As if the love thy heart contained would break 
 
 That warm pure shrine where Nature bade it dwell ! 
 
 We parted : years are past, and thou art dead : 
 Never, Phronema, shall I see thee more ! 
 
 One little ringlet of thy graceful head 
 Lies next my heart : 'tis all I may adore. 
 
 Torn from thy sight, to save a life of gloom, 
 Hopes unaccomplished, warmest wishes crost, 
 
 How can I longer bear my weary doom ? 
 Alas ! what have I gained for all I lost ? 
 
 ex. 
 
 The music ceased, and from Tahathyam passed 
 
 The mournful ecstasy that lent it zest ; 
 But tears adown his paly cheek fell fast, 
 
 And sprinkled the asbestos o'er his breast. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Then thus : " If but a being half so dear 
 
 Could to these realms be brought, the slow distress 
 
 Of my long solitude were less severe, 
 And I might learn to bear my weariness. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 "There's a nepenthic draught, which the warm breath 
 Of mortals, when they quaff, keeps in suspense, 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 113 
 
 Giving the pale similitude of death 
 
 While thus chained up the quick perceptive sense. 
 
 " Haply 'twere possible. — But to the shrine, 
 Where like a god I guard Cephroniel's gift ! " 
 
 Soon through the rock they wind : the draught divine 
 Was hidden by a veil the king alone might lift. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Cephroniel's son, with half-averted face 
 
 And faltering hand, that curtain drew, and showed, 
 
 Of solid diamond formed, a lucid vase ; 
 And warm within the pure elixir glowed, 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 Bright red, like flame and blood (could they so meet), 
 
 Ascending, sparkling, dancing, whirling, ever 
 In quick perpetual movement ; and of heat 
 So high, the rock was warm beneath their feet 
 (Yet heat in its intenseness hurtful never), 
 
 Even to the entrance of the long arcade 
 
 Which led to that deep shrine in the rock's breast, 
 
 As far as if the half- angel were afraid 
 
 To know the secret he himself possessed. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 Tahathyam filled a slip of spar with dread, 
 
 As if stood by and frowned some power divine ; 
 
 Then trembling, as he turned to Zdphiel, said, 
 " But for one service shalt thou call it thine. 
 
114 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 " Bring me a wife, as I have named the way, 
 (I will not risk destruction save for love !) 
 
 Fair-haired and beauteous like my mother : say, 
 Plight me this pact ; so shalt thou bear above, 
 
 " For thine own purpose, what has here been kept 
 Since bloomed the second age, to Angels dear. 
 
 Bursting from earth's dark womb, the fierce wave swept 
 Off every form that lived and loved ; while here, 
 
 Deep hidden here, I still lived on and wept." 
 
 cxvii. 
 
 Then Zdphiel, pitying his emotion : " So 
 I promise, — nay, unhappy prince, I swear 
 
 By what I dare not utter, — I will go 
 
 And search, and one of all the loveliest bear 
 
 " Away, the while she sleeps, to be thy wife ; 
 
 Give her nepenthic drink, and through the wave 
 Brave hell's worst pains to guard her gentle life. 
 
 Monarch ! 'tis said : now give me what I crave ! 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 "Tahathyam Evanath, son of a sire 
 
 Who knew how love burns in a breast divine, 
 
 If this thy gift sustain, one vital fire, 
 
 Sigh not for things of earth; for all earth's best are 
 thine." 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 115 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 He took the spar : the high-wrought hopes of both 
 
 Forbade delay. So to the palace back 
 They came. Tahathyam faintly pressed, nor loath 
 
 Saw his fair guests depart to wend their watery track. 
 
 Cuba : Pueblo Nuevo, July, 1828. 
 
CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The gloom that precedes a tempest near Carthage. — Zophiel and Phrae- 
 rion returning from the palace of Gnomes. — Zophiel loses the piece of 
 spar which contains his invaluable elixir, and narrowly escapes being 
 sucked down by a whirlpool. — Zophiel and Phraerion emerge from the 
 sea, and rest a moment in the deserts nearest Carthage : they attempt 
 to pursue their course toward Media. — The storm increases. — Zophiel 
 meets a spirit who detains and reproaches him. — Phraerion seeks shel- 
 ter. — Zophiel and Phraerion return to Media. 
 
THE STORM. 
 
 Over that coast whither wronged Dido fled 
 
 From brother's murderous hand low vapors brood, 
 
 But all is hushed ; and reigns a calm as dread 
 As that fell Roman's, who, like wolf pursued, 
 
 In after-times upon a fragment sate 
 
 Of ruined Carthage, his fierce eye at rest ; 
 
 While, hungry, cold, and spent, he mocked at fate, 
 
 And fed on the revenge deep smouldering in his breast. 
 
 But now that city's turrets frown on high ; 
 
 And from her distant streets is heard the shriek 
 Of frenzied mothers, uttered as they fly 
 
 From where with children's blood their guilty altars 
 reek. 
 
 in. 
 
 But far, far off, upon the sea's expanse, 
 The very silence has a shriek of fear ; 
 
 119 
 
120 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 And, 'cross the sight, thick shadows seem to glance ; 
 And sounds like laughter ring, yet leave the ear 
 
 In racking doubt if it has heard such peal, 
 
 Or if 'twas but affrighted fancy spoke : 
 Past that suspense, and, lesser pain to feel, 
 
 As giant rends his chains, the bursting tempest woke. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Alas for the poor pilot at his prow, 
 
 Far from the haven ! Will his Neptune save ? 
 
 The Muse no longer hears his frantic vow, 
 
 But follows her fair Sprites still deep beneath the wave. 
 
 v. 
 
 Soon through the cavern the receding light 
 Refused its beam. Zophiel, with toil severe, 
 
 But bliss in view, through the thrice murky night 
 Sped swiftly on. A treasure now more dear 
 
 He had to guard than boldest hope had dared 
 To breathe for years : but rougher grew the way ; 
 
 And soft Phraerion, shrinking back, and scared 
 
 At every whirling depth, wept for his flowers and day, 
 
 Shivered, and pained, and shrieking, as the waves 
 Wildly impel them 'gainst the jutting rocks : 
 
 Not all the care and strength of Zophiel saves 
 His tender guide from half the wildering shocks 
 
THE STORM. 121 
 
 He bore. The calm, which favored their descent, 
 And bade them look upon their task as o'er, 
 
 Was past ; and now the inmost earth seemed rent 
 With such fierce storms as never raged before. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Of a long mortal life had the whole pain, 
 
 Essenced in one consummate pang, been borne, 
 
 Known, and survived, it still would be in vain 
 
 To try to paint the pains felt by these Sprites forlorn. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Power that made, intending them for bliss, 
 And gave their thrilling organs but to bless, 
 
 Had they been formed for such a world as this, 
 
 Had kindly dulled their powers, and made their tor- 
 tures less. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The precious drop, closed in its hollow spar, 
 Between his lips Zdphiel in triumph bore. 
 
 Now earth and sea seem shaken ! Dashed afar, 
 He feels it part ; 'tis dropped ; the waters roar. 
 
 IX. 
 
 He sees it in a sable vortex whirling 
 
 Formed by a cavern vast, that, 'neath the sea, 
 
 Sucks the fierce torrent in ; and, madly furling 
 
 His wings, would plunge : one moment more, and he, 
 
 Sucked down, in earth's dark womb must wait eternity. 
 
122 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 " Pursue no farther ! — stop, alas ! for me, 
 If not thyself! " Phraerion's shrieks accost 
 
 Him thus : " Who, Zdphiel, shall protect for thee 
 
 The maid thou lov'st? Hear ! stop ! or all are lost ! " 
 
 XI. 
 
 The verge, the verge, is near. Must such a state, 
 
 Seraph, be thine? No ! sank the spar within ; 
 But the shrill warning reached him through the din 
 
 Of waves. Back, back, he struggles, ere too late ; 
 
 And the whole horror of the avoided fate 
 Shot through his soul. The wages of his sin 
 
 He felt, for once, were light, and clasped his shrieking 
 mate; 
 
 XII. 
 
 Who thus entreats : " Up ! to earth's pleasant fields ! 
 
 O Zdphiel, all this torture's for thy pleasure ! " 
 Twined in his arms, the baffled Seraph yields, 
 
 And flies the hungry depth that gorged his dearest 
 treasure. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What added torment — gained ; then snatched away, — 
 Pressed to his heart, — and then to feel it riven 
 
 From heart and hand, while bearing it to-day 
 With joy complete as if recalled to heaven ! 
 
THE STORM. 123 
 
 XIV. 
 
 That which to own was perfect transport — lost ! 
 
 Yet still (to urge a dangerous course contending, 
 And the fierce passions which his bosom crost, 
 
 For pity, or some other hope, suspending), 
 
 Resisting all, he forced a desperate way : 
 His gentle fere, with plaints no longer vain, 
 
 Clung closer to his neck, nor ceased to pray 
 To be restored to sun and flowers again. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Thus, all intwined, they rose again to air, 
 
 Near Lybia's coast. Black clouds, in mass deform, 
 
 Were frowning ; yet a moment's calm was there, 
 As if had stopped to breathe a while the storm. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Their white feet pressed the desert sod ; they shook 
 From their bright locks the briny drops : nor staid 
 
 Zdphiel on ills, present or past, to look ; 
 For, weary as he was, his lonely maid 
 
 Came to his ardent soul in all her charms : 
 Unguarded she, what being might molest 
 
 Even now ? His chilled and wounded substance warms 
 But at the thought, the while he thus addrest 
 
124 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 The shivering Sprite of flowers : " We must not stay : 
 
 All is but desolation here, and gloom. 
 Up ! let us through the air, nor more delay. 
 Nay, droop not now : a little more essay, 
 
 I'll bear thee forward to thy bower of bloom, 
 
 "And on thy roses lay thee down to rest. 
 
 Come through the desert ! banquet on thy store 
 Of dews and sweets ! Come, warm thee at my breast ! 
 
 On ! through the air, nor think of danger more. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " As grateful for the service thou hast done 
 I live, though lost the object of our task, 
 
 As if were still possessed the treasure won ; 
 And all thou wouldst of Zophiel freely ask. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " The Gnome, the secret path, the draught divine, 
 I know. Tahathyam sighs beneath the wave 
 
 For mortal bride : valor and skill are mine : 
 He may again bestow what once he gave." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Thus Zophiel, renovated, though the air 
 
 Was thick and dull, with just enough of hope 
 
 To save him from the stupor of despair, 
 
 Too much disdained the pains he felt to droop. 
 
THE STORM. 125 
 
 XX. 
 
 But soft Phraerion, smarting from his toil, 
 To buffet not a tempest was in plight ; 
 
 And Egla's lover saw him shrink, recoil, 
 And beg some nearer shelter for the night : 
 For now the tempest, bursting in its might, 
 
 Raged fiercely round, and made him fain to rest 
 In cave or tomb. But Zophiel gently caught him, 
 
 Sustained him firmly at his fearless breast, 
 
 And 'twixt Euphrates and the Tigris brought him ; 
 
 XXL 
 
 Then paused a moment o'er a desert drear 
 Until the thunder-clouds around him burst ; 
 
 His flights renewed, and wished for Media near. 
 But stronger grows the gale : what Sprites accurst 
 
 Ride on the tempest? Warring elements 
 Might not alone such ardent course impede : 
 
 The wretched Spirit from his speed relents 
 
 With sense like mortal bosom when they bleed. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Loud and more loud the blast : in mingled gyre 
 Flew leaves and stones, and with a deafening crash 
 
 Fell the uprooted trees : heaven seemed on fire, — 
 Not, as 'tis wont, with intermitting flash, 
 
126 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 But, like an ocean all of liquid flame, 
 
 The whole broad arch gave one continuous glare ; 
 While through the red light from their prowlings came 
 
 The frighted beasts, and ran, but could not find a lair. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Rest, Zdphiel, rest ! " Phraerion cries. "The surge 
 
 Was lesser pain : I cannot bear it more. 
 Beaten in seas so long, we but emerge 
 
 To meet a fiercer conflict on the shore ! " 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Then Zdphiel : " There's a little grot on high ; 
 
 The wild doves nestle there ; it is secure : 
 To Ecbatane but for an hour I'll fly, 
 
 And come for thee at morn : no more endure. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 " Nay, wilt not leave me? Then I'll bear thee through 
 As lately through the whirling floods I bore." 
 
 Still closer clinging, to his bosom grew 
 
 The tender Sprite : " Then bear ; I can no more," 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He said, and came a shock as if the earth 
 
 Crashed 'gainst some other planet : shivered brands 
 
 Whirl round their heads ; and (shame upon their birth !) 
 Both Sprites lay mazed and prostrate on the sands. 
 
THE STORM. 127 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The delicate Phraerion sought a cave 
 
 Low-browed, and, crouching down 'mid trailing snakes 
 And slimy worms (things that would hide to save 
 
 Their loathsome lives), hearkens the roar, and quakes. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But Zdphiel, stung with shame, and in a mood 
 Too fierce for fear, uprose ; yet, ere for flight 
 
 Served his torn wings, a form before him stood, 
 In gloomy majesty. Like starless night 
 
 A sable mantle fell in cloudy fold 
 
 From its stupendous breast ; and, as it trod, 
 
 The pale and lurid light at distance rolled 
 Before its princely feet receding on the sod. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 'Twas still as death, save that the thunder spoke 
 In mutterings low and far : a look severe 
 
 Seemed as preluding speech ; but Zdphiel broke 
 The silence first : " Why, Spirit, art thou here ? " 
 
 XXX. 
 
 It waved its hand, and instantaneous came 
 
 A hissing bolt with new impetus back : 
 Darts round a group of verdant palms the flame, 
 
 That, being pointed to them, blasted black. 
 
128 z6phiel. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " O source of all my guilt ! at such an hour " 
 (The mortal-lover said) " thine answer there 
 
 I need not read : too well I know thy power 
 In all I've felt and feel. But has despair 
 
 " Or grief or torment e'er made Zdphiel bow? 
 
 Declare me that, nor spend thine arts in vain 
 To torture more : if, like a miscreant, now 
 
 I bend to thee, 'tis not for dread of pain ; 
 
 " That I can bear. Yet bid thy legions cease 
 Their strife. Oh ! spare me this resistance rude 
 
 But for an hour ; let me but on in peace ; 
 So shall I taste the joy of gratitude, 
 
 "Even to thee." — " The joy ? " then first with scorn 
 Replied that sombre being : " dream'st thou still 
 
 Of joy ? — a thing accursed, demeaned, forlorn, 
 As thou art? Is't for joy thou mock'st my will? 
 
 "Canst thou taste pleasure? banished, crushed, debased." 
 
 " I can, betrayer ! dost thou envy me ? 
 But leave me to my wrongs, and I can taste 
 
 Even yet of heaven, spite of my fall and thee. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " But that affects not thee : thine insults spare 
 But for an hour ; leave me to go at will 
 
THE STORM. 1 29 
 
 Only till morn, and I will back, and bear 
 
 Whate'er thou wilt. What ! dost obstruct me still? 
 
 " Thine armies dim, and shrouded in the storm, 
 Then I must meet, and, weary thus and torn, 
 
 Essay the force of an immortal arm, 
 Lone as I am, until another morn 
 
 " Shall shame both them and thee to thine abode. 
 
 There, on the steam of human heart-blood, spilt 
 By priest or murderer, make repast ; or brood 
 
 Over the vile creations of thy guilt. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " Waste thy life-giving power on reptiles foul, 
 
 Slow, slimy worms, and poisonous snakes ; then watch, 
 
 Like the poor brutes that here for hunger prowl, 
 To mar the beauty that thou canst not match ! " 
 
 xxxrv. 
 
 Thus he : the other folded o'er its breast 
 
 Its arms, and stood as cold and firm the while 
 
 As if no passion stirred, save that expressed 
 Its pale, pale lip a faint, ferocious smile. 
 
 xxxv. 
 
 While, blent with winds, ten thousand agents wage 
 
 The strife anew ; and Zophiel, fain to fly, 
 But foiled, gave up to unavailing rage, 
 
 And strove and toiled and strove, but could not mount 
 on high. 
 
I30 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Then thus the torturer : " Hie thee to the bed 
 Of her thou lov'st ; pursue thy dear design ; 
 
 Go dew the golden ringlets of her head ! 
 
 Thou wait'st not, sure/ for any power of mine. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " Yet better were the duties, Spirit dull, 
 Of thine allegiance ! Win her o'er to me, 
 
 Take all thou canst, — a pleasure brief but full, 
 Vain dreamer, if not mine, she's lost to thee ! " 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 "Wilt thou, then, hurt her? Why am I detained? 
 
 O strength once serving 'gainst the powers above ! 
 Where art thou now?" Thus Zdphiel; andjie strained 
 
 His wounded wings to mount, but could not move. 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 Then thus the scorner : " Nay, be calm ! I'll still 
 The storm for thee : hear ! it recedes ; 'tis ended. 
 
 Yet, if thou dream'st success awaits thee, ill 
 
 Dost thou conceive of boundless power offended. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Zdphiel, bland Sprite, sublime Intelligence, 
 Once chosen for my friend, and worthy me, 
 
 Not so wouldst thou have labored to be hence 
 Had my emprise been crowned with victory. 
 
THE STORM. 131 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " When I was bright in heaven, thy seraph eyes 
 Sought only mine. But he who every power 
 
 Beside, while hope allured him, could despise, 
 Changed and forsook me in misfortune's hour. ,, 
 
 XLII. 
 
 " Changed and forsook thee ? This from thee to me, 
 Once noble Spirit ! Oh ! had not too much 
 
 My o'er-fond heart adored thy fallacy, 
 
 I had not now been here to bear thy keen reproach/ ' 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Zophiel replied. " Fallen, wretched, and debased, 
 E'en to thy scornful words' extent, my doom 
 
 Too well I know, and for what cause displaced ; 
 But not from thee should the remembrance come ! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Forsook thee in misfortune ? At thy side 
 
 I closer fought as peril thickened round ; 
 Watched o'er thee fallen : the light of heaven denied 
 
 But proved my love more fervent and profound. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Prone as thou wert, had I been mortal- born, 
 And owned as many lives as leaves there be, 
 
 From all Hyrcania by his tempest torn, 
 
 I had lost them, one by one, and given the last for 
 thee. 
 
132 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 " Pain had a joy ; for suffering could but wring 
 Love from my soul, to gild the murky air 
 
 Of our first rude retreat ; while I, fond thing ! 
 Still thought thee true, and smiled upon despair. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Oh ! had thy plighted pact of faith been kept, 
 Still unaccomplished were the curse of sin : 
 
 'Mid all the woes thy ruined followers wept, 
 
 Had friendship lingered, hell could not have been. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " But when to make me thy first minister 
 Came the proposal, when thy purpose burst 
 
 Forth from thy heart's black den disclosed and bare, 
 Then first I felt alone, and knew myself accurst. 
 
 " Though the first seraph formed, how could I tell 
 The ways of guile ? What marvel I believed, 
 
 When cold ambition mimicked love so well, 
 
 That half the sons of heaven looked on, deceived ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " Ambition thine ; to me the Eternal gave 
 So much of love, his kind design was crost : 
 
 Held to thy heart, I thought thee good as brave, 
 Nor realized my guilt till all was lost. 
 
THE STORM. 1 33 
 
 L. 
 
 " Now, writhing at my utmost need, how vain 
 
 Are ZdphieTs tears and prayers ! Alas ! heaven-born, 
 
 Of all heaven's virtues doth not one remain? 
 Pity me once, and let me now be gone ! " 
 
 LI. 
 
 " Go ! " said the cold detainer with a smile 
 That heightened cruelty ; " yet know from me 
 
 Thy foolish hopes but lure thee on a while 
 To wake thy sense to keener misery." 
 
 LH. 
 
 " O skilled in torment ! spare me, spare me now ! " 
 Chilled by a dread foreboding, Zdphiel said ; 
 
 " But little time doth waning night allow." 
 
 He knelt ; he wept : calm grew the winds ; he fled. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 The clouds disperse. His heavenly voice he sent 
 In whispers through the caves : Phraerion, there 
 
 In covert loathed, to that low music lent 
 
 His soft, quick ear, and sprang to join his fere. 
 
 liv. 
 
 Soon through the desert, on their airy way, 
 
 Mantled in dewy mists, the Spirits prest, 
 And reached fair Media ere the twilight gray 
 
 Recalled the rose's lover to his- nest. 
 
134 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LV. 
 
 But on the Tigris' winding banks, though night 
 Still lingers round, two early mortals greet 
 
 The first faint gleam with prayer, and bathed and dight 
 As travellers came forth. The morn rose sweet, 
 
 And rushing by them, as the Spirits past, 
 In tinted vapors while the pale star sets : 
 
 The younger asked, " Whence are these odors cast 
 The breeze has waked from beds of violets? " 
 
 Cuba : Pueblo Nuevo, August, 1828. 
 
CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 ZAMEIA. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Morning. — Helon and Hariph travelling along the banks of the Tigris. — 
 Helon is sorrowful in consequence of a dream of the preceding night ; 
 receives a box from Hariph. — Helon and Hariph see the princess 
 Zameia. — Neantes relates the story of Zameia ; her appearance in the 
 temple of Mylitta ; her love for Meles ; the falsehood and dereliction of 
 Meles ; her sufferings ; her escape from the garden of Imlec. 
 
ZAMEIA. 
 
 I. 
 
 How beauteous art thou, O thou morning Sun ! 
 
 The old man, feebly tottering forth, admires 
 As much thy beauty, now life's dream is done, 
 
 As when he moved exulting in youth's fires. 
 
 IL 
 
 The infant strains his little arms to catch 
 The rays that glance about his silken hair ; 
 
 And Luxury hangs her amber lamps to match 
 
 Thy face when turned away from bower and palace fair. 
 
 in. 
 
 Sweet to the lip the draught, the blushing fruit ; 
 
 Music and perfumes mingle with the soul ; 
 How thrills the kiss, when feeling's voice is mute ! 
 
 And light and beauty's tints enhance the whole. 
 
 *37 
 
138 z6phiel. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet each keen sense were dulness but for thee : 
 Thy ray to joy, love, virtue, genius, warms. 
 
 Thou never weariest : no inconstancy 
 
 But comes to pay new homage to thy charms. 
 
 v. 
 
 How many lips have sung thy praise ! how long ! 
 
 Yet, when his slumbering harp he feels thee woo, 
 The pleasured bard pours forth another song, 
 
 And finds in thee, like love, a theme forever new. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thy dark-eyed daughters come in beauty forth 
 
 In thy near realms ; and, like their snow-wreaths fair, 
 
 The bright-haired youths and maidens of the North 
 Smile in thy colors when thou art not there. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Tis there thou bid'st a deeper ardor glow, 
 
 And higher, purer reveries completest ; 
 As drops that farthest from the ocean flow, 
 
 Refining all the way, from springs the sweetest. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Haply sometimes, spent with the sleepless night, 
 
 Some wretch, impassioned, from sweet morning's breath 
 
 Turns his hot brow, and sickens at thy light ; 
 
 But Nature, ever kind, soon heals, or gives him death. 
 
zameia. 139 
 
 IX. 
 
 Fair Sun, no goodlier shape thy smiles this morn 
 Caressed than Helon's, as he came from far, 
 
 A broidered scarf for girdle, closely drawn, 
 
 And sandals on his feet, like Parthian messenger. 
 
 x. 
 
 The youth's brown ringlets in the loving beam 
 
 Hung changeful, bright, and crisp : his neck, his bust, 
 
 Have thousand beauties all their own, and seem 
 Not only moulded to proportion just, 
 
 But all his form, slightly attenuate, 
 
 As best bespeaks activity, exprest 
 Something unseen ; as if might emanate 
 
 Excess of soul through the material breast, 
 
 That heaved and panted 'neath his garment blue 
 (Which fell but to the knee) ; and, all about, 
 
 A warmth — a mystic charm — seemed breathing through 
 Each viewless pore, and circling him without. 
 
 XI. 
 
 His youthful cheek was bronzed ; and, though his eye 
 Was of no vaunted hue, successive came 
 
 Of war and chase the quick variety ; 
 
 But oftener tenderness lent there her gentlest flame. 
 
I4O ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XII. 
 
 His sinewy arms were bare, and at his back 
 
 A bow and quiver held their airy place : 
 Like some young hunter in the tiger's track 
 
 He moved, with dart in hand, all symmetry and grace. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But though (as rosy mists dispersed around, 
 
 And birds sang sweet, and glistening meadows bloomed) 
 
 He met with passing joy the sight and sound, 
 
 Yet Sadness o'er his face full soon her reign resumed. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Nor this escaped an old man at his side, 
 
 Whose looks told tales of many years : but fair 
 
 He was, and for a youth beseeming guide ; 
 Not Casius* peaks were whiter than his hair. 
 
 xv. 
 
 On hair or robe nor spot nor stain was seen, 
 
 Though earth had been his bed, and dust his path : 
 
 Cool looked he in the sun, and pure and clean, 
 As if in marble hall, and fresh from recent bath. 
 
 xvi. 
 
 And so he spoke : " Why, Helon, art thou thus 
 Silent and sad? The desert way we've past 
 
 Has been a path of founts and flowers to us ; 
 
 Yet, at our wandering's close, I view thy brow o'er- 
 cast." 
 
ZAMEIA. 141 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Then Helon said, " What cause for joy have I, 
 Even were the uncertain dross we seek for found ? 
 
 Who now regards my gentle mother's sigh 
 
 While I am far? and what reward has crowned 
 
 " My father's worth and truth ? Alas ! our God, 
 
 Who sits rejoicing in his mystery 
 And boundless power, I fear may not accord 
 
 The least of his regards to them or me. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Forsake but him, and palaces unfold 
 
 Their hospitable gates to me and mine : 
 Now, for a beggar's hoard, a little gold, 
 
 I go a wanderer forth, the last of all my line. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " I gave up every youthful hope ; nay, more, 
 
 Would give up life as freely as a sigh : 
 For, if old Oran live, and should restore 
 
 The treasure sought, our dwindled line must die. 
 
 xx. 
 
 " Why beats this heart ? why is this arm so strong ? 
 
 Soon, to a little earth dissolved again, 
 Shall ever pen of scribe, or harper's song, 
 
 Declare that one like Helon ere has been ? 
 
142 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " My sire and mother dead, around their tombs 
 I like a ghost must linger, loving nought : 
 
 Oh ! if to this our God his faithful dooms, 
 
 Cast, cast me to the flames, and save me from the 
 thought ! " 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The old man looked upon him, marked his pain, 
 And love and pity mingled with that look ; 
 
 For on his youthful brow was swoln the vein, 
 And like the fevered sick his pulses shook. 
 
 Yet on he spoke : " Still might I, warm with life, 
 Back to the queen of cities ; take my place ; 
 
 Choose from the bowers of Babylon a wife ; 
 
 And bless my mother's eyes with a new blooming race, 
 
 " That else is lost. What though the fair I take 
 E'en from Mylitta's fanes? Women may be 
 
 Inthralled by love, and often will forsake 
 All other gods for love's idolatry." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The old man turned and uttered, " Do I hear 
 From Helon this ? Some evil thing, some Sprite, 
 
 While darkness reigned, has whispered in thine ear, 
 And tempted thee, in visions of the night." 
 
ZAMEIA. I43 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Some evil thing ! " returned the youth in mood 
 More vehement. " If evil things can give 
 
 Dreams such as mine, let me turn foe to good, 
 And make a God of Evil while I live ! " 
 
 xxv. 
 
 "Make thee a God of Evil? " Hariph said : 
 " Too daring boy, the ambient viewless air 
 
 Teems with a race that hovers o'er thy head : 
 
 Woe to thy heart and thee if some find entrance there ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " From childhood nurtured 'neath the Baalic willow, 
 
 Where every breeze respires idolatry, 
 Thy soul, even as thy lip Euphrates' billow, 
 
 Has drank pollution, spite of Heaven and me." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Pollution ! Hariph, could such being beam " 
 (So Helon spoke) " as from a fearful death 
 
 I saved last night (ah ! why was't but a dream?) 
 She would not be unworthy, though her breath 
 
 " Had been derived from Pagan sorcerer, 
 Priest of the Cnidian fanes, or priest of fire : 
 
 The signet of high heaven impressed on her 
 
 Gives to oblivion these, and stamps her heavenly sire ! " 
 
144 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The old man turned, and cast upon the boy 
 (Who for his fervor spoke in impious guise) 
 
 An anxious glance ; but yet a secret joy, 
 
 The while he thus reproved, seemed hidden in his eyes. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Thy doubts and words are guilty ! Tis not given 
 To son of mortal (though he even may be 
 
 O'erwatched and well beloved by those of heaven) 
 To know what beings sway his destiny. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Thy dream was good ; but, lest thyself undo 
 All that is done, I tell thee, youth, beware ! 
 
 Curb thine impatience ; keep thy God in view, 
 Nor murmur at the cup his wisdom may prepare. 
 
 " Virtue ! how many as a lowly thing, 
 
 Born of weak folly, scorn thee ! but thy name 
 
 Alone they know : upon thy soaring wing 
 
 They'd fear to mount ; nor could thy sacred flame 
 
 " Burn in their baser hearts : the biting thorn, 
 The flinty crag, flowers hiding, strew thy field ; 
 
 Yet blest is he whose daring bides the scorn 
 
 Of the frail easy herd, and buckles on thy shield. 
 
ZAMEIA. 145 
 
 " Who says thy ways are bliss, trolls but a lay 
 
 To lure the infant : if thy paths to view 
 Were always pleasant, Crime's worst sons would lay 
 
 Their daggers at thy feet, and from mere sloth pursue. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Nor deed nor prayer nor suffering of the just 
 Is ever lost " (he said ; his clear eye flashed) : 
 
 " Tempt not the powers that love thee, more ! " Then first 
 The youth felt awe, and dropped his lids abashed. 
 
 XXXIL 
 
 Still Hariph spoke : " If ever thou shouldst live 
 
 To be in danger from a potent Sprite, 
 Recall me to thy mind ; take what I give, 
 
 And burn whate'er it holds, with perfume, in his sight." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Helon received a little box composed 
 
 Of carneol ; and the sunbeams, as they rushed 
 
 Through the transparent hollow gem, disclosed 
 
 What seemed a serpent's heart, but dried and crushed. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 Then bent they near a thicket, side by side, 
 Their friendly way, nor more in words exprest ; 
 
 But often Helon looked upon his guide, 
 
 And seemed communing with his inmost breast. 
 
I46 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Warm grew the clay ; and now, as if to mock 
 Their sight, with sudden wind the river swept. 
 
 They turn a mossy, dark, projecting rock, 
 
 And start ; for 'neath its crags a woman slept, 
 
 Pallid and worn, but beautiful and young, 
 
 Though marked her charms by wildest passion's trace : 
 Her long round arms, over a fragment flung, 
 
 From pillow all too rude protect a face 
 
 Whose dark and high-arched brows gave to the thought 
 To deem what radiance once they towered above ; 
 
 But all its proudly beauteous outline taught 
 
 That anger there had shared the throne of love. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 Rich are her robes, but torn and soiled ; and gleams 
 Above her belt a dagger set with gems : 
 
 Her long black hair, 'scaped from its braiding, streams, 
 Black as a serpent, to her garments' hems. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Black as a serpent. — Daughters of the woods, 
 You see him 'mid Mechaceba's roses, while 
 
 Your light canoes upon the vernal floods 
 Are thrown to bear you to some floating isle, 
 
ZAMEIA. 147 
 
 Where sleeping bisons sail upon the tide : 
 
 There, while through golden-blossomed nenuphar 
 
 Your arrows pierce some tall flamingo's side, 
 
 He rears his white -ringed neck, and watches you from 
 far. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Her sandalled feet were scarred, and drops of blood 
 Still rested fresh on them, by tooth of thorn 
 
 Expressed ; and, let day's eye look where it would, 
 'Twere hard to find such beauty so forlorn. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Near on the moss lay one who seemed her guide ; 
 
 A mule among the herbs his pittance took ; 
 A little slave of Ethiope, at her side, 
 
 Sat watching o'er them all with many a sorrowing look. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Helon drew back, but only half suppressed 
 
 The cry surprise propelled. " What strange mischance 
 
 Brings to the desert these? " While so addressed 
 Hariph, the one on earth awoke beneath their glance, 
 
 And laid his finger on his lip in fear, 
 
 And on the sleeper gazed : she did not stir. 
 
 Then, wiping from his sunken eye a tear, 
 He fell before their feet, a suppliant for her. 
 
14^ ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Then Helon thus : " Distrust us not, but tell 
 Why thou art here, and who is that soft dame ? 
 
 Thyself, thine accent, and her garb, speak well 
 That from the City of the Dove ye came." 
 
 XLII. 
 
 "I'm one," he said, "by cruel man designed 
 The doubtful faith, in absence, to protect 
 
 Of hearts as wayward as the desert wind ; 
 
 And which, despite of all, love only can subject. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " To care of women nurtured from a boy, 
 Stranger, in me a suffering wretch you see 
 
 Ripened to age, but in that soft employ 
 
 A princess' only guard, but frail and weak as she. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Our silken limbs, by biting brambles torn, 
 
 Have felt the noontide heat and drenching rain ; 
 
 And that bright maid, for love and pleasure born, 
 
 Breathes to the desert-blast her burning sighs in vain. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " Yet have we lived adorers of that Power 
 
 Which to the death-reaped world a race supplies 
 As numerous as the stars of midnight skies, 
 
 Or desert sands, or dust from every flower 
 
 That blossoms by the stream that flowed from Paradise. 
 
zame'ia. 149 
 
 XLVL 
 
 " Divine Mylitta, child of light, and that 
 
 Which from dark nothing formed the teeming earth ; 
 
 Of that which on the circling waters sat, 
 
 And warmed, and charmed, and ranged, till Nature 
 sprang to birth ! — 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Divine Mylitta, kindler of the flames 
 
 That light life's lamp I in duteousness to thee 
 
 I brought this gem, this sun of Syrian dames ; 
 
 But, now thy slave and Love's, thou mock'st her 
 misery." 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then Helon spoke : " Has any wretch, more fell 
 Than he who first his hurtful arts essayed 
 
 On her of Paradise, done this ? Nay, tell 
 Thy tale ; and take, if we can lend thee, aid." 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " Then listen, stranger ; but for Belus' sake 
 Let her sleep on who hath such need of rest," 
 
 Zamei'a's guardian said ; " for, when awake, 
 The flames of Tartarus are in her breast. 
 
 L. 
 
 " She sat and raved last eve in the pale light 
 
 Till the fair moon she looked on seemed to shrink 
 
 From her distress : fearing some spell or blight, 
 I drew her to this grot, and drugged her drink." 
 
I50 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Then softly near to her wild couch he drew, 
 Twining the tendrils o'er her, as he can, 
 
 To save from sun as they had saved from dew ; 
 Then sat him on the rock, and thus his story ran ; 
 
 Ln. 
 
 " The warrior Imlec by Euphrates' side 
 
 Received his birth : there haply still he thrives ; 
 
 And, when he took Zameia for a bride, 
 
 His beard was white, and he had many wives. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " Now, when I tell thee her inconstancy, 
 Let thoughts of pity mingle with the blame 
 
 'Tis just to cast upon adultery, 
 
 And scorn and coldness to the nuptial flame. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " There's oft which, were it known, might wash away 
 Full half the stain of guilt : fame will not heed 
 
 The train of lesser truths, but drags to day, 
 
 And shows the shuddering world, all bare and black, 
 the deed. 
 
 LV. 
 
 " There were who said that Imlec's life was vile, 
 Even when possessed of all her blooming charms : 
 
 How could she else than loathe, who knew the while 
 He came exhausted from an Ethiop's arms? 
 
ZAMEIA. I 5 I 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " Whate'er the cause, she ever would rebel : 
 
 Yet, when increased, her loathing pleased him best ; 
 
 And, for caprice or love, it so befell, 
 He built for her, apart from all the rest, 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " A precious palace, and a garden fair, 
 And gave to me the charge, from every ill 
 
 To keep and guard her well ; nor ever dare, 
 
 Unless it wronged his love, to cross in aught her will. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " So she had founts and birds, and gems and gold ; 
 
 And care of these and her was given to me ; 
 And Imlec (in his youth a warrior bold) 
 
 Beyond the Indus went on embassy. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " Do all I could, she sullen grew, and sad, 
 And very oft the public streets would see, 
 
 And oft (alas ! what days of fear I had !) 
 Her deep disgust for Imlec spoke to me. 
 
 LX. 
 
 " I knew his jealousy, and was afraid ; 
 
 For, if there fell upon her fame a breath 
 (While treating with the Indian king he staid), 
 
 I had been charged to answer it with death. 
 
152 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " What could I ? Bland Mylitta, patroness 
 
 Of rich Assyria and her glowing fair, 
 I sought ; but no propitious sign might bless 
 
 The milk-white doves and flowers of beauty rare 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " I daily brought : the goddess scorned my pains, 
 And turned from all my gifts her heavenly eyes ; 
 
 For yet the princess never, at her fanes, 
 
 Of her young charms had made the sacrifice 
 
 " Required of every Babylonian dame, 
 
 Whoe'er her lord or sire. This was my care ; 
 
 And, when the opening of the roses came, 
 
 With many a votive wreath I led Zameia there. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " Oh ! it was sweet to see in marble pure 
 
 The semblance of the goddess while she smiled, 
 
 As, in her own eternal power secure, 
 
 She watched the movements of her light-winged child. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 " Nor e'er had icy marble la'en such charm ; 
 
 Save that the deity once, in a dream, 
 Came to her sculptor all alive and warm, 
 
 And gave him power to catch each glow and gleam. 
 
ZAMEIA. 153 
 
 LXV. 
 
 " And seemed her lip to deeper pleasure changing, 
 While to her temple rushed the adoring crowd, 
 
 And groups, almost as fair as she, arranging 
 
 Their offerings at her feet, in soft submission bowed. 
 
 lxvi. 
 
 " The tender breeze, that, sighing all about, 
 Their musky locks with roses woven greets, — 
 
 Now whispering through the myrtle-groves without, 
 Now fainting with variety of sweets. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 (i A fairer scene warm Syria never shall 
 
 Behold, nor ever had beheld before. 
 Full many a stranger thronged the festival ; 
 
 And here, whate'er their god, how could they but 
 adore ? 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 " But of the gentle votarists, some in tears, 
 And lips amidst their adoration quivering, 
 
 While a soft horror in their look appears, 
 
 Do all they could, with fear and doubt were shivering. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " Some, formed for faith and tenderest constancy, 
 But to avert Heaven's anger sought the place, 
 
 And breathe for absent lord the blameless sigh, 
 And shudder at the stranger's rude embrace. 
 
154 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " Some, in whose panting hearts the natural void 
 Had never yet been filled, all in a glow 
 
 Of dubious hope, their fervid thoughts employed 
 In picturing all they wished a moment might bestow. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " Full in the midst, and taller than the rest, 
 Zameia stood distinct ; and not a sigh 
 
 Disturbed the gem that sparkled on her breast : 
 Her oval cheek was heightened to a dye 
 
 " That shamed the mellow vermeil of the wreath 
 Which in her jetty locks became her well, 
 
 And mingled fragrance with her sweeter breath ; 
 The while her haughty lips more beautifully swell 
 
 " With consciousness of every charm's excess ; 
 
 While with becoming scorn she turned her face 
 From every eye that darted its caress, 
 
 As if some god alone might hope for her embrace. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " Soon one, in dress of noble Median, came 
 Fresh from repose and from the tfath ; and he 
 
 To the warm fancy of so proud a dame, 
 
 Might well, as then he looked, be deemed a deity. 
 
ZAMEIA. 155 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " The tall Zamei'a, seen from all apart, 
 
 Fixed his black eye ; and, as its glance she caught, 
 The opening lip, the involuntary start, 
 
 Spoke more than words. The stranger saw, and sought. 
 
 lxxiv. 
 
 " And, when the priest restored her to my hands, — 
 
 ' Goddess, in thy propitiated power, 
 Let holy love now close her nuptial bands ! ' 
 
 So prayed I as we went. But evil was the hour 
 
 " When from her home I led her : some fell star, 
 That, while the sorcerer culls his herbs malign, 
 
 Favors his spell, with secret power afar 
 
 Reigned o'er that wretched princess' birth and mine. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 " Through all the livelong night no sleep for her : 
 She called me to her couch at day's first beam, 
 
 But not on lord or palace to confer : 
 
 Stranger and festival, — she would no other theme. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " I lent her bath of perfume every art ; 
 
 I spread her banquet of the choicest store ; 
 I bade her women touch their lutes apart, 
 
 And told her tales she never heard before. 
 
156 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " Warbled her birds, her bubbling fountains played ; 
 
 But bath and banquet all untouched remain ; 
 And to her maidens trilling in the shade 
 
 She called impatiently to close the strain. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 " And all in her neglected charms she lay : 
 Fever was in her veins ; her pulse beat high ; 
 
 And on the morning of the second day 
 She said, 6 Neantes, wilt thou see me die?' 
 
 LXXIX, 
 
 " ' Die ! ' (so I spoke.) ' Venus forfend such sight ! ' 
 6 Then, if thou wilt not, O my friend ! ' (she said,) 
 
 ' Go find the lovely Median ere 'tis night : 
 Nay, dear Neantes, here upon this bed 
 
 " ( Else will I spill my blood. The wall is low 
 Nearest Euphrates, where pomegranates bloom 
 
 Among the orange-trees. Nay, wilt not go ? 
 Look upon this ! and who shall tell my doom 
 
 " ' To Imlec ? ' Then that dagger, keen and bright, 
 She drew from 'neath her robe, and bade me be 
 
 Content to go and find the Mede ere night. — 
 Lord Imlec, this was treachery to thee ! 
 
ZAMEIA. 157 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " But well I knew Zameia ; was afraid, 
 
 And bowed me to the earth, and said, 6 Then be, 
 Thou dearest wife of him I serve, obeyed, 
 
 Though to destruction both of thee and me.' 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " She took the ruby from her neck : ' Give this ; 
 
 Tis red like my life-blood, and he will know ' 
 (She said, and gave the jewel many a kiss) 
 
 6 Upon whose bosom he beheld it glow.' 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " Then as a beggar, all in humble guise, 
 I sat me on the palace-steps, and thence 
 
 Beheld the stranger of the sparkling eyes 
 Late as he came from kingly audience. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " Then I approached, and touched the broidered tie 
 That bound his sandal on : he turned, and knew 
 
 The crimson token ; took it silently, 
 
 And, quickly mingling with the crowd, withdrew. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " But when all passed, and I sat down alone, 
 He came again ; but, for he knew his life 
 
 For slightest wrong to Imlec must atone, 
 
 Against the hope of bliss some doubt and fear made 
 strife. 
 
158 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 " ' Jewels/ he said, ' are dim to her dark eyes : 
 What precious gift shall match this token dear ? ' 
 
 ' One ringlet of thy black hair she will prize/ 
 I said, ' beyond the gems of all Ophir.' 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 " Then I depicted how she wept and burned 
 And panted on her couch ; nor, haply, more 
 
 Would rise again to life, when I returned, 
 If any poorer gift than love and hope I bore. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 " ' Great was the meed,' I said, ' the danger small ; 
 
 The moon at midnight down ; nor very high 
 Beside the river's brink her garden- wall ; 
 
 And safe the path from every hand and eye.' 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 " So, ere he could depart, the hour of love 
 Was named ; and this, my little Ethiop, hung 
 
 A curious chain, of silken girdles wove, 
 
 Down from the wall where light from bended date he 
 sprung. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 " Holy Euphrates lowly murmuring swept, 
 As if he moaned our treachery ; sadlier sang 
 
 The nightingale : her watch Zameia kept 
 
 Until upon the flowers some being gently sprang. 
 
ZAMEIA. 159 
 
 XC. 
 
 " It was the Mede ; and thrice returning night 
 With friendly veil of darkness hid their loves ; 
 
 But soon again the crescent's silver light 
 
 Must shine upon the deeds of Imlec's weeping groves. 
 
 xci. 
 
 " A light repast was set forth in a bower : 
 
 There sat Zameia by her lover's side, 
 With heart of bliss so full, it had not power 
 
 Or space for even a thought of all that might betide. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 " But Meles said, ( Should I return no more, 
 W T ouldst thou this love's excess, so dear to me, 
 
 For white-haired Imlec's coming keep in store ? 
 
 Or should some other brave the peril scorned for thee ? 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 " ' Were it not better, if my soul could tear 
 It from thy sight, that Meles went his way 
 
 In peace to seek some other humbler fair? 
 
 Princess/my life and thine are forfeit if I stay. ! 
 
 xciv. 
 
 " Zameia, paler than the ivory white 
 
 That formed the pillars of her couch, exclaimed, 
 ' Do I not love thee more than life or light ? 
 
 And have I lived to hear another named ? 
 
l6o ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 " ' Imlec to thee is nought ! and all in vain 
 
 His love for me : 'tis Meles I adore. 
 If danger come, be mine the care and pain ! 
 
 Another ! — let me die, or hear that word no more i ' 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 " ' My own, my bright Zameia's truth/ he said : 
 
 ' 'Twas spoken but to prove/ And then he smiled, 
 
 And her, all trembling, to the banquet led ; 
 
 And love and hope are twins, and so she was beguiled. 
 
 xcvu. 
 
 " Another midnight saw them as before, 
 
 With banquet spread, and wine the lip to woo. 
 
 Zameia, 'neath her robe's adornment, wore 
 
 A steel half hid in gems : he saw it sparkle through. 
 
 xcvm. 
 
 " But well he knew (with all the tenderness 
 Meet for a heart whose fires so fiercely burn) 
 
 To hush her doubts. With many a false caress 
 He went, and many an oath and promise of return. 
 
 xcix. 
 
 " The bower is lit ; the banquet waits ; and wake 
 Love's votaress and her trembling slave : but where 
 
 The lover wont to come, and scarce partake 
 
 E'en of the grape's sweet blood for gazing on his fair? 
 
ZAMEIA. l6l 
 
 " Lone passed the night. My beauteous mistress faints 
 Upon her couch, or fills the frighted ears 
 
 Of every slave with passionate complaints ; 
 For darkly to her soul her boding fate appears. 
 
 " Another midnight : still he had not come : 
 
 And thus she me reproached : ' All had been bliss, 
 
 Neantes, but for thee. Is this my doom ? 
 And was I made an offering but for this ? ' 
 
 ci. 
 
 " e Alas ! ' I answered, ' I am but a slave, 
 
 Princess, ana thine : destroy me if thou wilt. 
 
 Shall I go look for him the goddess gave ? 
 Or for thy pleasure shall my blood be spilt ? ' 
 
 en. 
 
 " The frailest hope is better than despair, 
 And many a life a timely word has saved. 
 
 She bade me to the palace, but not there 
 
 To find her Median more : the stream that laved 
 
 " The garden where they met, at early morn 
 To his own land had seen him on his way : 
 
 Nor word nor token left he, to be borne 
 
 To her who, for his sake, sickened at light of day. 
 
162 z6phiel. 
 
 era. 
 
 " But that it had been death to tell her then. 
 
 What means to save, alas ! could I employ? 
 That moment came beneath a column's shade, 
 
 To rest a while, a dusky Arab boy. 
 
 civ. 
 
 " Quick came the thought. I gave him gold, and craved 
 
 A cluster of his locks : he gave me one, 
 And black as earth-hid ebony it waved 
 
 Like those of Meles : thanks to thee, O Sun ! 
 
 cv. 
 
 " In childhood once, slave to a scribe, I sought 
 To trace the character, and shape the reed ; 
 
 And sometimes, when my lord beheld, he taught 
 A little of his art ; and now it served my need. 
 
 cvi. 
 
 " The choicest of the Arab's locks I dipt, 
 And framed a letter as from Meles' hand ; 
 
 Then a black ringlet, first in perfumes dipt, 
 
 Laid in the midst : nor words more sweet and bland 
 
 " Could Meles of the honey lip indite : 
 
 'Twas written on papyrus of the Nile, 
 Fragrant with rose ; as opening lotos white ; 
 
 And gold and silver dust in sprinkles o'er it smile. 
 
ZAMEIA. 163 
 
 CVII. 
 
 " 'Neath the pomegranates in the orange -shade, 
 Where lingered last the Median (such my plan), 
 
 Among the falling blossoms it was laid 
 
 In secret, ere I came ; and thus, in promise, ran : — 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 " ' Radiant Zamei'a, think upon the pain 
 I bear in telling thee how many a night 
 
 Must pass ere back to Babylon again 
 I come to yield my life to thy delight. 
 
 " ' My soul is sick with absence, while the will 
 Of an unpitying sovereign bids me wait. 
 
 Preserve a little of love's balm to heal 
 
 Thy Meles, who returns at gathering of the date.* 
 
 crx. 
 
 "So, when among the flowers the scroll was flung, 
 
 Sadly I came at having found him not ; 
 And near that wall, where silken chain was hung, 
 
 I drew Zamei'a. On the very spot 
 
 " Where her loved Meles spoke his last farewell 
 That princess kissed a camel-driver's hair ! 
 
 And tears of joy (ah, too fallacious !) fell 
 
 On what a slave's poor hand had placed in pity there. 
 
164 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 CX. 
 
 " Yet, though 'twas sad to see her so deceived, 
 
 I could but bless the tears her cheek was drinking ; 
 
 For pity framed the falsehood hope believed, 
 
 And so by this slight reed her soul was saved from 
 sinking. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 "The gathering of the sweet and savory date 
 Approached, and Imlec still was far away. 
 
 Zameia learned to wait and hope and wait, 
 And blessed the powerful Belus for his stay. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 " But as the date-tree sees her blossoms die, 
 And blasted on the earth her fruit's soft germ, 
 
 Unless her vegetable love come nigh 
 
 With genial power while yet endures her term ; 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 " So poor Zameia's hopes, like date-buds, down 
 Must fall to earth unblest and immature : 
 
 Alas ! unless her Meles come to crown 
 
 With fruit, hope's blossoms cannot long endure ! 
 
 cxiv. 
 
 " The date was ripe and plucked ; but still there came 
 No beauteous Mede. Zameia raged and pined, 
 
 And pined and hoped and wept. What could I frame ? 
 With what new bland deceit bedew her withering mind ? 
 
zame'ia. 165 
 
 cxv. 
 
 " Night after night she waked and waked : consumed 
 Her full round arms ; no tulip hue upon 
 
 Her sunny cheek in changeful beauty bloomed : 
 
 She felt a dearth, a blight, and all was cold and wan. 
 
 " I trembled for her life : so when one day 
 
 She glided, pale, where full pomegranates glowed, 
 
 Among the leaves another letter lay ; 
 
 And thus, as kindly as the first, it flowed : — 
 
 cxvi. 
 
 " ' Adored Zamei'a ! if thou still dost bear 
 Enough of love to feel a moment's pain 
 
 That Meles, still detained by toil and care, 
 Comes not to thee and Babylon again, 
 
 " ' Though dates be plucked, I prithee wait a span : 
 For, when rich spices from Arabia's hills 
 
 Load for thy happy streets the caravan, 
 
 I come to keep the word my panting soul fulfils.' 
 
 cxvn. 
 
 " I need not tell who placed the letter there ; 
 
 And though her reason made some little strife, 
 By sending doubt 'gainst hope, yet from despair 
 
 A while her heart emerged ; and so was saved her life. 
 
l66 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 iC Again she bathed her limbs, and ate her food, 
 
 And bound her streaming hair, and clasped her zone. 
 
 Like the wild courser by his wants subdued, 
 
 So stooped her soul to feed on this poor hope alone. 
 
 CXlX. 
 
 " The Median had but lightly loved ; while she 
 Inhaled a flame that never ceased to prey 
 
 Upon her victim heart : she ceased to be, 
 And, severed from herself, became, that day, 
 
 " Appendage to another. Not the string 
 
 Of Meles' sandal, scarf about his waist, 
 Or feather for his arrows, was a thing 
 
 More wholly his than she, so proud ere love debased ! 
 
 cxx. 
 
 " Euphrates' floods are swollen with timely rain ; 
 
 Cassia and myrrh perfume the crowded streets ; 
 The burthen from the camel's back is ta'en : 
 
 But Meles' footsteps press no flower in our retreats. 
 
 CXXl. 
 
 " Most wretched princess ! who her state can show ? 
 
 Panting with haste, a messenger arrives 
 To tell (oh full completion of her woe !) 
 
 That Imlec's on his way, and bids prepare his wives. 
 
ZAMEIA. 167 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 H ' Hide me,' she said, ' in some dark desert cave, 
 
 Till I can look a moment on my love ! 
 Cast me, Neantes, to Euphrates' wave 
 
 Ere Imlec come ! — O Venus ! can I prove 
 
 " ' For Meles' ardor frenzy of the grape, 
 
 The poppy's fetid juice for Meles' breath? — 
 
 Save me, Neantes ! aid me to escape ! 
 
 If Imlec clasp at all, he clasps me cold in death ! ' 
 
 cxxm. 
 
 " Her forceful words were true : her pale, pale cheek 
 And tearless eye too strong concurrence gave 3 
 
 And o'erwrought passion left her form so weak, 
 But little more had laid it in the grave. 
 
 cxxiv. 
 
 " A curious cincture by her mother wrought, 
 
 Twined with a tress of her black hair, was thrown 
 
 To the full stream to baffle those who sought, 
 That by no vestige might our course be known. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 " Enough to tell, upon a fearful night, 
 
 By the same silken chain that Meles prest, 
 
 The garden wall was scaled. Our piteous plight, 
 This place, O stranger ! must declare the rest." 
 
 Cuba: Pueblo Nuevo, September, 1828. 
 
CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 BRIDAL OF HELON. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 Twilight. — Egla alone in her grove of acacias. — Zophiel returns wounded 
 and dejected, and sits watching her invisibly. — A being, who wishes to 
 preserve Egla, perceives that she is beset with dangers. — Zamei'a dies 
 in attempting the life of Egla. — Egla is reproached by a slave, faints, 
 and is supported by Helon : Helon and Hariph bear her home. — Egla, 
 about to destroy herself, is saved by Helon, who receives her in mar- 
 riage, and puts Zophiel to flight by means of a carneol box. — Hariph 
 discovers himself to be the angel Raphael ; seeks Zophiel in the deserts 
 of Ethiopia, and speaks to him of hope and comfort. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 
 
 Sweet is the evening twilight ; but, alas ! 
 
 There's sadness in it : day's light tasks are done ; 
 And leisure sighs to think how soon must pass 
 
 Those tints that melt o'er heaven, O setting Sun ! 
 
 And look like heaven dissolved. A tender flush 
 Of blended rose and purple light o'er all 
 
 The luscious landscape spreads, — like pleasure's blush, ■ 
 And glows o'er wave, sky, flower, and palm-tree tall. 
 
 'Tis now that solitude has most of pain : 
 Vague apprehensions of approaching night 
 
 Whisper the soul attuned to bliss, and fain 
 To find in love equivalent for light. 
 
 171 
 
172 ♦ ZOPHIEL. 
 
 III. 
 
 The bard has sung, God never formed a soul 
 Without its own peculiar mate, to meet 
 
 Its wandering half, when ripe to crown the whole 
 Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most complete. 
 
 rv. 
 
 But thousand evil things there are that hate 
 To look on happiness : these hurt, impede, 
 
 And, leagued with time, space, circumstance, and fate, 
 Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine and pant and 
 bleed. 
 
 And as the dove to far Palmyra flying 
 
 From where her native founts of Antioch beam, 
 
 Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, 
 Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; 
 
 So many a soul o'er life's drear desert faring, — 
 
 Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, — 
 
 Suffers, recoils ; then, thirsty and despairing 
 
 Of what it would, descends, and sips the nearest draught. 
 
 v. 
 
 Tis twilight in fair Egla's grove : her eye 
 Is sad and wistful ; while the hues that glint 
 
 In soft profusion o'er the molten sky 
 
 O'er all her beauty spread a mellower tint. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 173 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, formed in every fibre for such love 
 As Heaven not yet had given her to share, 
 
 Through the deep shadowy vistas of her grove 
 Sent looks of wistfulness. No Spirit there 
 
 Appears as wont : for many a month so long 
 He had not left her : what could so detain ? 
 
 She took her lute, and tuned it for a song, 
 
 The while spontaneous words accord them to a strain 
 
 Taught by enamoured Zdphiel : softly heaving 
 The while her heart, thus from its inmost core 
 
 Such feelings gushed, to Lydian numbers weaving, 
 As never had her lip expressed before : — 
 
 VII. 
 SONG. 
 
 Day in melting purple dying, 
 Blossoms all around me sighing, 
 Fragrance from the lilies straying, 
 Zephyr with my ringlets playing, 
 
 Ye but waken my distress : 
 
 I am sick of loneliness. 
 
 Thou to whom I love to hearken, 
 Come ere night around me darken : 
 Though thy softness but deceive me, 
 Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee. 
 
 Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent : 
 
 Let me think it innocent ! 
 
174 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure : 
 All I ask is friendship's pleasure : 
 Let the shining ore lie darkling ; 
 Bring no gem in lustre sparkling ; 
 
 Gifts and gold are nought to me : 
 I would only look on thee ; 
 
 Tell to thee the high-wrought feeling, 
 
 Ecstasy but in revealing ; 
 
 Paint to thee the deep sensation, 
 
 Rapture in participation, 
 
 Yet but torture, if comprest 
 In a lone unfriended breast. 
 
 Absent still? Ah, come and bless me ! 
 
 Let these eyes again caress thee. 
 
 Once, in caution, I could fly thee : 
 
 Now I nothing could deny thee. 
 
 In a look if death there be, 
 Come, and I will gaze on thee ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 An unknown spirit, who for many a year 
 Had marked in Helon passing excellence, 
 
 And loved to watch o'er Egla too, came near 
 
 This eve ; but other cares had long time kept him 
 hence. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 75 
 
 IX. 
 
 A lute-chord sounds : hark ! for a tender hymn 
 To bear to heaven he pauses in his flight : 
 
 Alas ! it is not heaven that lends her theme ! 
 Nay, if he leave her, she is lost to-night. 
 
 x. 
 
 He starts ; he looks through the light, trembling shade, 
 And fears, e'en now, his coming is too late : 
 
 What varied perils have beset the maid ! 
 She verges to the crisis of her fate. 
 
 XI. 
 
 He gazes on her guileless face, and grieves : 
 There's treachery even in her own lute's sound ; 
 
 And things his heavenly sense alone perceives, 
 Unseen amidst the flowers lurk close around. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And Zdphiel too, late from the deep returned 
 
 In such a state 'twas piteous but to see, 
 Watched near the maid — whose love he fain had earned 
 
 By fiercer torments still — invisibly. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 His wings were folded o'er his eyes : severe 
 
 As was the pain he'd borne from wave and wind, 
 
 The dubious warning of that Being drear 
 Who met him in the lightning, to his mind 
 
176 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Was torture worse : a dark presentiment 
 Came o'er his soul with paralyzing chill, 
 
 As when Fate vaguely whispers her intent 
 
 To poison mortal joy with sense of pending ill. 
 
 xrv. 
 
 He searched about the grove with all the care 
 
 Of trembling jealousy, as if to trace 
 By track or wounded flower some rival there ; 
 
 And scarcely dared to look upon the face 
 
 Of her he loved, lest it some tale might tell 
 To make the only hope that soothed him vain. 
 
 He hears her notes in numbers die and swell, 
 But almost fears to listen to the strain 
 
 Himself had taught her, lest some hated name 
 Had been with that dear gentle air inwreathed 
 
 While he was far. She sighed : he nearer came : 
 Oh transport ! Zdphiel was the name she breathed ! 
 
 xv. 
 
 He saw but her, and thought her all alone : 
 His name was on her lip in hour like this ! 
 
 And, doting, — drinking every look and tone, — 
 Paused, ere he would advance, for very bliss. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The joy of a whole mortal life he felt 
 
 In that one moment. Now, too long unseen, 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 177 
 
 He fain had shown his beauteous form, and knelt ; 
 But, while he still delayed, a mortal rushed between. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Tall was her form ; her quivering lip was pale ; 
 
 Long streamed her hair ; and glared her wild dark eye ; 
 And, grasping Egla's arm, — " No arts avail 
 
 Thee now ! Vile murderess of my Meles, die ! " 
 
 She said : her dagger at soft Egla's breast 
 
 Touched the white folded robe ; but, failing breath 
 
 And strength, at once that frenzied arm arrest ; 
 
 And, sinking to the earth, Zameia groaned in death. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 This Orpha saw, — a slave, a sullen maid, 
 But beautiful; -whose glance Rosanes caught 
 
 While yet the captives at the palace staid, 
 And secretly caressed until he taught 
 
 The haughty girl, impatient of her fate, 
 
 A hope that gave her, in her lowliness, 
 The wild ambition of a higher state. 
 
 But who can paint the depth of her distress, 
 
 When he had gone to seek the dangerous bride, 
 And when the following morn his death revealed ? 
 
 Hate, envy, love, sorrow, hopes crushed, — all vied 
 To nurture the revenge her withering heart concealed. 
 
178 z6phiel. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Twas she who told Zameia of the doom 
 
 Of her loved Mede, and led her to the breast 
 She burned to pierce. Now from her heart of gloom 
 Burst the deep smouldering rage thus bitterly ex- 
 pressed : — 
 
 xx. 
 
 " Another murder ! Sorceress, to me 
 
 Tell not a Spirit did it : I know well 
 What wanton thing thou art : was't not by thee 
 
 Rosanes, Meles, young Altheetor fell, 
 
 " Lured by thine arts to glut a love as dread 
 As that fell queen's, who every morning spilt 
 
 The separate life that warmed her nightly bed, 
 
 Closing, with death's cold seal, lips that might tell her 
 guilt?" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Then came Neantes, knelt, and bathed with tears 
 The lost Zameia's form : 'twas dim and cold ; 
 
 But the strong cast of beauty still appears, 
 
 Though o'er her brow the last chill dews had rolled., 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And, as he held the taper hand in his 
 
 Of his loved mistress (with a piteous look 
 
 On Egla cast), his sole reproach was this, 
 
 Half checked by rising sobs that burst forth as he 
 spoke ; — 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 79 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Oh ! warm with health and beauty as thou art, 
 Couldst thou have seen her as I have, — then reft 
 
 Of all, — and known the torments of her heart, 
 Thou hadst not ta'en what little life was left." 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The attempted deed, the scene, the bitter word, 
 Like knot of serpents, each with separate sting, 
 
 Pierced, each and all, more keenly than a sword, 
 Through Egla's heart, that bled while answering : — 
 
 " Cease, cease ! I killed her not, nor knew such one 
 There lived on earth. Alas ! her purpose rough, 
 
 Would to high Heaven, ere she had died, were done ! — 
 O Power that formed me ! was it not enough 
 
 " To bear perpetual solitude and gloom ? 
 
 Must I, too, live a theme of foul reproach 
 To stranger and to slave ? The tomb, the tomb, 
 
 Is all I ask ! Oh ! do I ask too much ? " 
 
 XXV. 
 
 She said, and swooned : so Helon, not in vain, 
 
 Searched wandering for his guide (he knew not 
 whither), 
 To lead him to the gates of Ecbatane ; 
 
 And haply, though unseen, his guide had led him 
 hither. 
 
l80 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He saw Zameia on the earth laid low ; 
 
 And Egla, faint, but fresh in all her charms, 
 Had sunk beside the corse for weight of woe 
 
 But for the timely aid of his receiving arms. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The group, the dead, the form his arms sustain, 
 The trembling leaves, the twilight's fading gleam, ■ 
 
 Confuse : the youth distrusts both eye and brain ; 
 For 'gainst his heart he sees the image of his dream. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But faithful Hariph soon was at his side, 
 
 In search of whom had Helon chanced to roam : 
 
 " Ask nothing, youth, but haste with me ! " he cried. 
 " Life has not left the maiden : bear her home." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 They laid her her on her couch, and in her sire 
 Found him they sought, and in her dwelling staid. 
 
 Sephora sat her by the perfumed fire 
 All night, and watched her child, yet sore afraid 
 
 Of her enamoured Spirit, — well she knew 
 The presence of a mortal vexed his will, — 
 
 And mused on Helon's youth ; and could but view, 
 In thought, another scene of death and ill. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. l8l 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Egla lay drowned in grief, and could not speak, 
 But calmed at morn the tumult of her breast, 
 
 And kissed her mother thrice ; then bade her seek, 
 And warn, and save from death, the stranger guest. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And through her window when the deepening glows 
 
 Of pensive twilight told another day- 
 Was spent, to bathe that fatal form she rose, 
 
 Bound cincture o'er her robe, and sent her maids away. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Alone, she thought how Helon had sustained 
 And saved, for his own doom, her fatal breath ; 
 
 Zamei'a, Orpha too : why still remained 
 
 Her own scorned life the cause of so much death ? 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 She could not pray ; and to her aching eye 
 Would come no sweet relief, no wonted tear ; 
 
 For one of those dark things that lurked was by, 
 And whispered thoughts of horror in her ear. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 Then on his sad unguarded victim fixed, 
 And coldly, to her wounded bosom's core, 
 
 Infused him like some fell disease, and mixed 
 His being with her blood : all hope was o'er, 
 
1 82 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 All fear, all nature, — all was bitterness : 
 
 She felt her heart within her like a clod ; 
 And, when at length the sullen deep distress 
 
 Found utterance, thus she spoke ungrateful to her 
 God : — 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Was but my infant life for tortures worse 
 
 Than flame or sword preserved ? On me — on me — 
 Falls the whole burthen of my nation's curse ? 
 
 Of all offence I bear the misery ! 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 " O Power that made ! thou'st been profuse of pain, 
 And I have borne ; but now is past the hour : 
 
 I ask no mitigation, — that were vain : 
 
 Wreak, wreak on me thy whole avenging power ! 
 
 xxxvu. 
 
 " Yet wherefore more the doom I wish delay ? 
 
 Dissolve me : oh ! as earth I was before, 
 Change this fair-colored form to silent gray, 
 
 And let my weary organs feel no more ! " 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 She paused : " Tis written thus : ' Thou shalt not kill.' 
 
 Yet deeper were the crime to keep a life 
 Torture to me, to others death and ill : 
 
 So in thy presence, God, I end my nature's strife ! " 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 83 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Then from her waist she took the girdle blue ; 
 
 Looked on the world without, but breathed no sigh ; 
 Then calmly o'er the window's carving threw 
 
 That scarf, and round her neck wound thrice the silken 
 tie. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Where, in that hour, was Z6phiel ? All in vain 
 He burns, with love and jealous rage impelled : 
 
 With the dark Being of the storm again 
 
 He strives and struggles in the grove, withheld 
 
 From her he loves ; had seen her borne away 
 Before his very eyes ; and now, perforce, 
 
 Could only look where, newly murdered, lay 
 The lost Zamei'a's pale and breathless corse. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Whichever Spirit conquers in the strife, 
 
 Alas for Egla ! Now her hands intwine 
 The guilty knot ; she springs. " Hold, hold ! thy life, 
 
 Maiden, is not thine own, but God's and mine ! " 
 
 XLII. 
 
 'Twas Helon's voice : but still the legate fiend, 
 
 Reluctant to resign her, would not part ; 
 But by his secret, subtle nature screened, 
 
 Even from Spirits, through her brain and heart 
 
184 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 Darted like pain. The youth with firm embrace 
 
 Holds and protects ; but, writhing, vexed, and thrown, 
 
 She could not even look upon his face, 
 And answered all he said but with a moan. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Helon bent o'er, and murmured, " Calm those fears : 
 
 To be my bride already art thou given ! 
 And I am he, who, in thy childish years, 
 
 Was in thy grove announced to thee by Heaven." 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 She seemed to listen : soon her moans were hushed ; 
 
 She caught his words thus suffering and possest ; 
 From her torn heart a grateful torrent gushed, 
 
 And love expelled the demon from her breast. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Still Helon held, and soothed, and timely drew 
 Near to the vase of perfumes nightly burning, 
 
 And, from his open box of carneol, threw 
 
 All it contained. Twas well : Z6phiel returning, 
 
 That moment 'scaped from him whose malice held, 
 Rushed fiercely anxious to a scene of love 
 
 Approved by Heaven. Oh torture ! he beheld 
 A stranger's arm intwine ! Eager to prove 
 
 That power to mortal rival late so fell, 
 Enough had been a moment for his ire : 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 85 
 
 But a strange force he vainly strove to quell, 
 Insufferable, from the perfume fire, 
 
 Rushed forth, resistless as his Maker's breath ; 
 
 And when he fain would place him by the bed, 
 Which, but to touch, had been gay Meles' death, 
 
 He felt him hurled away, uttered a shriek, and fled. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But Helon lives, supporting still the maid 
 
 O'erwhelmed with hopes and fears, and all o'erspent 
 
 With recent pain. " Didst hear that shriek? " he said : 
 " The Sprite has left us : kneel with me!" They knelt 
 
 Them both to earth, — the bridegroom and his bride, 
 So filled with present joy, the past was dim : 
 
 'Twas rapture now, whatever might betide ; 
 
 And pain to her were bliss, so it were shared with him. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Then prayed he : " Heaven, if either have offended, 
 Punish us now ! avenge ! but with one breath 
 
 Let our so-late-united lives be ended ! 
 
 Let her be mine, and give me life or death ! " 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then she : " If now I die, I die his wife, 
 And fully blest, O Heaven, await my doom ! 
 
 Nor would exchange for thousand years of life 
 The dearer privilege to share his tomb. 
 
1 86 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 " Yet, if we die not, Maker, to him give 
 
 Light from thy source : so shall my sin be less 
 
 In thine account ; for, oh ! I ne'er can live 
 Other, with him, than his idolatress.' ' 
 
 " Let me adore thy image as I gaze 
 
 On her fair eyes now raised with mine to thee ; 
 And let her find, while flow our years and days, 
 
 To feed her love, some spark of thee in me," 
 
 LI. 
 
 (He said :) " thus, as we kneel, no wild desire 
 Blends with our voices in unhallowed sighs. 
 
 Spirit, to thee we quench the nuptial fire : 
 Look down propitious on the sacrifice ! 
 
 LII. 
 
 " Receive it as a token that our love 
 Is of the soul ; and, if our lives endure, 
 
 Spirit, who sit'st diffusing life above, 
 
 Look on our union, and pronounce it pure ! " 
 
 LIII. 
 
 While thus they prayed, Hariph her kindred brought 
 To listen to them : thus, as, one by one, 
 
 Rose their heart-offerings, sense subdued by thought, 
 " This borne to heaven," he said, " my task is done. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 87 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Call me no longer Hariph : I but took, 
 
 For love of that young pair, this mortal guise ; 
 
 And often have I stood beside Heaven's book, 
 And given in record there their deeds and sighs. 
 
 LV. 
 
 " From infancy I Ve watched them, far apart, 
 
 Oppressed by men and fiends, yet formed to dwell 
 
 Soul blent with soul, and beating heart 'gainst heart : 
 Tis done. Behold the angel Raphael ! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " That blest commission, friend of men, I bear, 
 To comfort those who undeservedly mourn ; 
 
 And every good resolve, kind tear, heart-prayer, 
 'Tis mine to show before the Eternal's throne. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " And oft I haste, and, when the good and true 
 Are headlong urged to deep pollution, save, 
 
 Just as my wings receive some drops of dew, 
 Which else must join Asphaltites' black wave," 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 He said, all o'er to radiant beauty warming : 
 While they, in doubt of what they looked upon, 
 
 Beheld a form dissolving, dazzling, charming ; 
 But, ere their lips found utterance, it was gone. 
 
1 88 ZOPHIEL. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Afar that pitying angel bent his flight, 
 In anxious search, revolving in his breast 
 
 Of a once heavenly brother's wretched plight : 
 
 Torn from his last dear hope, where could he rest ? 
 
 LX. 
 
 Hurled 'gainst his will, the suffering Z6phiel went 
 
 To the remotest of Egyptia's bounds : 
 Demons pursued to view his punishment, 
 
 And with his shrieks the desert blast resounds. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Dark shadowy fiends, invidious that he joyed 
 In love and beauty still, less deeply curst 
 
 Than they, of late had leagued them, and employed 
 All arts to crush and foil. Now, as when first 
 
 Expelled from heaven they saw him writhe, and while 
 He groans, and clasps the earth, sit them beside, 
 
 Ask questions of his bliss, and then with smile 
 Recount his baffled schemes, and linger to deride. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 And, when they fled, he hid him in a cave, 
 
 Strewn with the bones of some sad wretch, who there, 
 
 Apart from men, had sought a desert grave, 
 And yielded to the demon of despair. 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 1 89 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 There beauteous Z6phiel, shrinking from the ray, 
 Envying the wretch that so his life had ended, 
 
 Wailed his eternity. He fain would pray, 
 But could not pray to one he had offended. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The fiercest pains of death had been relief, 
 And yet his quenchless being might not end. 
 
 Hark ! Raphael's voice breaks sweetly on his grief: — 
 " Hope, Z6phiel ! hope, hope, hope ! thou hast a 
 friend ! " 
 
 Cuba, Cafetal San Andres, January, 1829. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 " Con Vistas del Cz'elo." 
 
 The dearth is sore : the orange leaf is curled. 
 There's dust upon the marble o'er thy tomb, 
 My Edgar, 1 fair and dear : 
 Though the fifth sorrowing year 
 Hath passed since first I knew thine early doom, 
 I see thee still, though Death thy being hence hath hurled. 
 
 I could not bear my lot, now thou art gone, — 
 With heart o'er-softened by the many tears 
 Remorse and grief have drawn, — 
 Save that a gleam, a dawn 
 (Haply of that which lights thee now), appears 
 To unveil a few fair scenes of Life's next coming morn. 
 
 "What, where, is heaven?" earth's sweetest lips exclaim. 
 In all the holiest seers have writ or said, 
 Blurred are the pictures given : 
 We know not what is heaven, 
 Save by those views mysteriously spread 
 When the soul looks afar by light of her own flame. 
 
 1 The son of Mrs. Brooks. 191 
 
192 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Yet all our spirits, while on earth so faint, 
 
 By glimpses dim, discern, conceive, or know, 
 The Eternal Power can mould 
 Real as fruits or gold, 
 Bid the celestial roseate matter glow, 
 And forms more perfect smile than artists carve or paint. 
 
 To realize every creed conceived 
 
 In mortal brain by love and beauty charmed — 
 Even like the ivory maid, 
 Who, as Pygmalion prayed, 
 Oped her white arms, to life and feeling warmed — ■ 
 Would lightly task the power of life's great Chief believed. 
 
 If Grecian Phidias, in stone like this 
 
 Thy tomb, could do so much, what cannot He, 
 Who from the cold, coarse clod 
 By reckless laborer trod 
 Can call such tints as meeting seraphs see, 
 And give them breath and warmth like true love's soul- 
 felt kiss ? 
 
 Wild fears of dark annihilation, go ! 
 
 Be warm, ye veins, now blackening with despair ! 
 Years o'er thee have revolved, 
 My first-born ; thou'rt dissolved, — 
 All — every tint — save a few ringlets fair : 
 Still, if thou didst not live, how could I love thee so? 
 
ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 1 93 
 
 Quick as the warmth which darts from breast to breast 
 When-lovers from afar each other see. 
 Haply thy spirit went, 
 Where mine would fain be rent, 
 To take a heavenly form, designed to be 
 Meet dwelling for the soul thine azure eye expressed. 
 
 Thy deep blue eye ! — say, can heaven's bliss exceed 
 The joy of some brief moments tasted here? 
 Ah ! could I taste again ! 
 Is there a mode of pain 
 Which for such guerdon could be deemed severe ? 
 Be ours the forms of heaven, and let me bend and bleed ! 
 
 To be in place, even like some spots on earth, 
 In those sweet moments when no ill comes near ; 
 Where perfumes round us wreathe, 
 And the pure air we breathe 
 Nerves and exhilarates ; while all we hear 
 So tells content and love, we sigh, and bless our birth • 
 
 To clasp thee, Edgar, in a fragrant shape 
 Of fair perfection, after death's sad hour, 
 Known as the same I've prest 
 Erst to this aching breast, — 
 The same, but finished by a kind, bland Power, 
 Which only stopped thy heart to let thy soul escape, ■ 
 
194 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Oh ! every pain that vexed thy mortal life, 
 
 Nay, even the lives of all who round me lie, — 
 Be this one bliss my share, 
 The whole condensed I'll bear, 
 Bless the benign creative hand, and sigh, 
 And kneel to ask again the expiatory strife, — 
 
 Strife, for the hope of making others blest, 
 Who trespassed only that they were not brave 
 Enough to bear or take 
 Pains, even for pity's sake, — 
 Strife, for the hope to wake, incite, and save 
 Even those who, dull with crime, know not fair Honor's 
 zest. 
 
 If in the pauses of my agony 
 
 (Be it or flame, stab, scourge, or pestilence), 
 If, fresh and blest as dear, 
 Thou 'It come in beauty near, 
 Speak, and with looks of love charm my keen sense, 
 I'll deem it heaven enough even thus to feel and see ; 
 
 To feel my hand wrenched as with mortal rack, 
 Then see it healed, and ta'en, and kindly prest, 
 And fair as blossoms white 
 Of cerea in the night ; 
 While tears that fall upon thy spotless breast 
 Are sweet as drops from flowers touched in thy heavenly 
 track ! 
 
ODE TO THE DEPARTED. I95 
 
 In form to bear nor stain nor scar designed, — 
 Yes ! let me kneel to agonize again ; 
 Ask every torment o'er 
 More poignant than before : 
 Of a whole world the price of a whole pain 
 Were small for such blest gifts of matter and of mind ! 
 
 Comes a cold doubt, — that still thou art alive, 
 Edgar, my heart tells, while these numbers thrill, 
 Yet of a bliss so dear, 
 And as Death's portal's near 
 I feel me too unworthy : dreary Time, 
 I fear, must bear his part ere Hope her plight fulfil ! 
 
 Time, time was meet (so many a sacred scroll 
 Has told and tells) ere light was bid to smile ; 
 Ere yet the spheres, revealed, 
 Gave music as they wheeled ; 
 Warm, rife, eternal love — a time — a while — 
 Brooded and charmed and ranged till chaos gloomed no 
 more. 
 
 As time was needful ere a world could bloom 
 With forms of flowers and flesh, haply must wait 
 Some spirits ; and, lingering still, 
 Of deeds both good and ill 
 Mark the effect in intermediate state, 
 And think and pause and weep even over their own tomb. 
 
I96 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Be it so : if, thin as fragrance, light, or heat, 
 Thine essence, floating on the ambient air, 
 Can with freed intellect 
 View every deed's effect, 
 Read even my heart in all its pantings bare, 
 When denser pulses cease, how sweet even thus to meet ; 
 
 To roam those deep green aisles crowned with tall palms, 
 And weep for all who tire of toil and ill, 
 While moons of winter bring 
 Their blossoms fair as spring •, 
 To move, unseen by all we've left, and will 
 Such influence to their souls as half their pain becalms ; 
 
 On deep Mohecan's 1 mounts to view the spot 
 
 Where, as these arms were oped to clasp thee, came 
 The tidings, dread and cold, 
 I nevermore might hold 
 Thy pulsing form, nor meet the gentle flame 
 Of thy fair eyes till mine for those of earth were not ; 
 
 On precipice where the gray citadel 
 Hangs over Ladaiianna's 2 billows clear, 
 How sweet to pause and view 
 As erst the far canoe ; 
 To glide by friends who know not we are near, 
 And hear them of ourselves in tender memory tell ; 
 
 1 " Mohecan," aboriginal name of the Hudson. 
 
 2 " LadaUanna," aboriginal name of the St. Lawrence. 
 
ODE TO THE DEPARTED. I97 
 
 Or, where Niagara with maddening roar 
 Shakes the worn cliff, haply to flit, and ken 
 Some angel, as he sighs 
 With pleasure at the dyes 
 Of the wild depth, while to the eyes of men 
 Invisible we speak by signs unknown before ; 
 
 Or, far from this wild Western world, where dwelt 
 That brow whose laurels bore a leaf for mine, 
 When, strong in sympathy, 
 Thy sprite shall roam with me, 
 Edgar, 'mid Derwent's flowers, one soul benign 
 May to thy soul impart the joy I there have felt ! 
 
 What though, " imprisoned in the viewless winds," 
 
 'Mid storms and rocks, like earthly ship, we're dashed, 
 Unsevered while we're blent, 
 We'll bear in sweet content 
 The shock of falling bolt or forest crashed, 
 While thoughts of hope and love nerve well our mystic 
 minds. 
 
 Wafted or wandering thus, souls may be found 
 Or ripe for forms of heaven, or for that state 
 Of which, when angels think, 
 Or saints, they weep and shrink, 
 And oft, to draw or save from such dread fate, 
 Are fain their beauteous heads to dash 'gainst blood- 
 stained ground. 
 
198 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Freed from their earthly gyves, if spirits laugh 
 And shriek with horrid joy when victims bleed 
 Or suffer as we view 
 Mortals in vileness do, 
 The Eternal and his court may keep their meed 
 Of joy : far other cups fell thirsty Guilt must quaff ! 
 
 O Edgar ! spirit or on earth or air, 
 Seen or impalpable to artist's sketch, 
 In essence or in form, 
 In bliss, pain, calm, or storm, 
 Let us, wherever met a suffering wretch, 
 Task every power to shield and save him from despair ! 
 
 Nature hath secrets mortals ne'er suspect : 
 
 At some we glance, while some are sealed in night. 
 The optician, by his skill, 
 Even now can show at will 
 Long-absent pheers in shapes of moving light : 
 If man so much can do, what cannot Heaven effect ! 
 
 Shade, image, manes, all the ancient priest 
 Told to his votarists in fraud or zeal, 
 May be, and might have been 
 By means and arts we ween 
 No more of, in this age : for woe or weal 
 Of man, full much foreknown, to this late race hath 
 ceased. 
 
ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 1 99 
 
 That souls may take ambrosial forms in heaven, 
 
 A dawning science half assures the hope : 
 
 These forms may sleep and smile 
 
 Midst heaven's fresh roses, while 
 
 Their spirits free roam o'er this world's whole scope 
 
 For pleasure and for good, Heaven's full permission given. 
 
 I have not sung of meeting those we've loved 
 Or known, and listening to their accents meek, 
 While pitying all they've pained 
 On earth, while passion reigned, 
 To wreak redress upon themselves they seek, 
 And bless, for each stern deed, the pain they now have 
 proved. 
 
 I have not sung of the first, fairest court 
 
 Of all those mansions ; of the heavenly home, 
 Of which the best hath told 
 Who e'er trod earthly mould : 
 •To courts of earthly kings the fairest come 
 Haply to show faint types of this supreme resort. 
 
 Haply the Sire of sires may take a form, 
 And give an audience to each set unfurled 
 With bands of sympathy, 
 Wreathen in mystery, 
 Round those who've known each other in this world, 
 Perfecting all the rest, and breathing beauty warm. 
 
200 ODE TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Essence, light, heat, form, throbbing arteries, — 
 To deem each possible, enough I see ! 
 Edgar, thou knowest I wait : 
 Guard my expectant state ; 
 Console me, as I bend in prayers for thee ; 
 Aid me, even as thou mayest, both Heaven and thee to 
 please ! 
 
 This song to thee alone ! Though he who shares 
 Thy bed of stone shared well my love with thee, 
 Yet in his noble heart 
 Another bore a part, 
 Whilst thou hadst never other love than me : 
 Sprites, brothers, manes, shades, present my tears and 
 prayers ! 
 
 Note. — Mr. Griswold says, in his " Female Poets of America " 
 (1853), that the above peculiar stanza was invented by Maria del 
 Occidente. 
 
FAREWELL TO CUBA. 
 
 Adieu, fair isle ! I love thy bowers : 
 I love thy dark-eyed daughters there ; 
 
 The cool pomegranate's scarlet flowers 
 Look brighter in their jetty hair. 
 
 They praised my forehead's stainless white, 
 And, when I thirsted, gave a draught 
 
 From the full clustering cocoa's height, 
 And, smiling, blessed me as 1 quaffed. 
 
 Well pleased, the kind return I gave, 
 And, clasped in their embraces' twine, 
 
 Felt the soft breeze, like Lethe's wave, 
 Becalm this beating heart of mine. 
 
 Why will my heart so wildly beat? 
 
 Say, seraphs, is my lot too blest, 
 That thus a fitful, feverish heat 
 
 Must rifle me of health and rest? 
 
 Alas ! I fear my native snows : 
 
 A clime too cold, a heart too warm, — 
 Alternate chills, alternate glows, — 
 
 Too fiercely threat my flower-like form. 
 
202 FAREWELL TO CUBA. 
 
 The orange-tree has fruit and flowers ; 
 
 The grenadilla in its bloom 
 Hangs o'er its high, luxuriant bowers, 
 
 Like fringes from a Tyrian loom. 
 
 When the white coffee-blossoms swell, 
 The fair moon full, the evening long, 
 
 I love to hear the warbling bell, 
 
 And sunburnt peasant's wayward song. 
 
 Drive gently on, dark muleteer, 
 And the light seguidilla frame : 
 
 Fain would I listen still to hear 
 At every close thy mistress' name. 
 
 Adieu, fair isle ! the waving palm 
 Is pencilled on thy purest sky : 
 
 Warm sleeps the bay, the air is balm, 
 And, soothed to languor, scarce a sigh 
 
 Escapes for those I love so well, 
 
 For those I've loved and left so long : 
 
 On me their fondest musings dwell, 
 To them alone my sighs belong. 
 
 On, on, my bark ! blow, southern breeze ! 
 
 No longer would I lingering stay : 
 'Twere better far to die with these 
 
 Than live in pleasure far away. 
 
 Cuba, April, 1827. 
 
NOTES TO ZOPHIEL. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 GROVE OF ACACIAS. 
 
 Page 3, Verse i, Line 3. 
 
 " The selfsame breeze that passes o *er thy breast." 
 The remains of Columbus are preserved in the cathedral at 
 Havana, beneath a monument and bust of very rude sculpture. 
 These stanzas were written on the same coast, about seventy miles 
 distant. 
 
 Page 3, Verse 2, Line i. 
 
 tc Madoc, my ancient fathers' bones repose 
 Where their bold harps thy country's bards inwreathed" 
 
 The well-known and beautiful poem of Dr. Robert Southey, which 
 bears the name of the Welch prince Madoc, renders it unnecessary 
 to give any further account of him. 
 
 Page 5, Verse 4, Line 3. 
 From the cessation of oracles at the death of the Founder of 
 our religion, the old Christian fathers inferred that the demons 
 who uttered them were at that time confined. 
 
 205 
 
206 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Page 8, Verse 5, Line 2. 
 Twenty years, among the Spartans, was the age required by the 
 law for the marriage of women ; and, in whatever climate they may 
 live,- it is seldom that they attain their full height and proportion 
 before that age. If this custom of the Spartans could be every- 
 where observed, it is probable the strength and beauty of the race 
 would be improved by it. 
 
 Pxge 9, Verse 3, Line i. 
 Some of the acacias of the East are endowed with a sensitive 
 power, and are said to bend gently over those who seek their 
 shade. 
 
 Page 9, Verse 4, Line 3. 
 
 " And he-re the full cerulea7i passion-flower , 
 Climbing among the leaves, its mystic symbols hung. 1 * 
 
 Those who have only seen this flower as a curious exotic in 
 severer climates can have little idea of the profusion with which 
 it grows in its native realms. It climbs from shrub to shrub, 
 forming natural bowers, sparkling with morning dew, and looking, 
 from its beamy shape, like a beautiful planet. 
 
 Page 10, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 It is impossible for those who never felt it to conceive the effect 
 of such a situation in a warm climate. In this island, the woods, 
 which are naturally so interwoven with vines as to be impervious 
 to a human being, are in some places cleared and converted into 
 nurseries for the young coffee-trees, which remain sheltered from 
 the sun and wind till sufficiently grown to transplant. To enter 
 one of these "semilleros," as they are here called, at noonday, pro- 
 duces an effect like that anciently ascribed to the waters of Lethe. 
 After sitting down upon the trunk of a fallen cedar or palm-tree, 
 and breathing for a moment the freshness of the air and the odor 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 207 
 
 of the passion-flower, — which is one of the most abundant and cer- 
 tainly the most beautiful of the climate, — the noise of the trees, 
 which are continually kept in motion by the trade-winds ; the flut- 
 tering and various notes (though not musical) of the birds ; the 
 loftiness of the green canopy (for the trunks of the trees are bare 
 to a great height, and seem like pillars supporting a thick mass of 
 leaves above) ; and the soft, peculiar light which the intense ray of 
 the sun, thus impeded, produces, — have altogether such an effect, 
 that one seems involuntarily to forget every thing but the present, 
 and it requires a strong effort to rise and leave the place. 
 
 Page 12, Last Verse, Line 3. 
 "The palm is a very common plant in this country (Media), and 
 generally fruitful : this they cultivate like fig-trees ; and it produces 
 them bread, wine, and honey." — See Beloe's notes to his translation 
 of Herodotus. Mr. Gibbon adds that the diligent natives celebrated 
 either in verse or prose three hundred and sixty uses to which the 
 trunk, the branches, the leaves, the juice, and the whole of this 
 plant, were applied. Nothing can be more curious and interesting 
 than the natural history of the palm-tree. 
 
 Page 13, Last Verse, Line i. 
 
 The women among all the nations of antiquity were accustomed 
 to express violent grief by tearing their hair. This must have been 
 a great and affecting sacrifice to the object bemoaned, as they con- 
 sidered it a part of themselves, and absolutely essential to their 
 beauty. Fine hair has been a subject of commendation among all 
 people, and particularly the ancients. Cyrus, when he went to visit 
 his uncle Astyages, found him with his eyelashes colored, and deco- 
 rated with false locks. The first Caesar obtained permission to wear 
 the laurel wreath in order to conceal the bareness of his temples. 
 The quantity and beauty of the hair of Absalom are commemorated 
 in Holy Writ. The modern Oriental ladies also set the greatest 
 
208 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 value on their hair, which they braid and perfume. Thus the poet 
 Hafiz, whom Sir William Jones styles the Anacreon of Persia : — 
 
 " These locks, each curl of which is worth a hundred musk-bags 
 of China, would be sweet indeed if their scent proceeded from 
 sweetness of temper." 
 
 And again: "When the breeze shall waft the fragrance of thy 
 locks over the tomb of Hafiz, a thousand flowers shall spring from 
 out the earth that hides his corse." 
 
 Achilles clipped his yellow locks, and then threw them as a sacri- 
 fice upon the funeral pyre of Patroclus. The women of the abori- 
 gines of America cut off locks of their long black hair, and strew 
 them upon the graves of their husbands. 
 
 Page 20, First Two Lines. 
 
 " That, close inclining o' er her, seemed to reck 
 What 'twas they canopied." 
 
 This kind of acacia, or mimosa, particularly belongs to Abyssinia : 
 it is said to incline its branches, as if sensible, when any one seeks 
 its shade. The Arabians love it as a friend. A low species of 
 mimosa, which grows profusely in this island (Cuba), is extremely 
 sensitive : it not only shuts its pretty leaves like a closed fan when 
 touched, but the whole branch which supports them stoops, and 
 clings closely to the main stalk. 
 
 The affection of " Aswad " for a mimosa that bent over him in 
 the gardens of Shedad or Irem forms a particularly beautiful pas- 
 sage in " Thalaba." 
 
 Page 20, Verse 4, Last Line. 
 
 Every one must have observed this effect in little children, who 
 for several hours after they have cried themselves to sleep, and 
 sometimes even when a smile is on their lips, are heard from time 
 to time to sob. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 209 
 
 Page 21, Line 7. 
 
 " While friendly shades the sacred rites enshroud" 
 The captive Hebrews, though they sometimes outwardly con- 
 formed to the religion of their oppressors, were accustomed to 
 practise their own in secret. 
 
 Page 21, Verse 4. 
 
 " His heaven-invented harp he still retained." 
 The invention of the harp was ascribed by the Hebraic historians 
 to Jubal, who, as he lived before the deluge, enjoyed, in common 
 with others of his race, the privilege of conversing with angels, 
 from whom he may be supposed to have received his art. That 
 Mercury to whom the Grecians ascribed the invention of the lyre, 
 according to the belief of the Christian fathers, might have been the 
 son of a guilty angel. 
 
 Page 23, Verse 5. 
 
 " Weary he fainted through the toilso7ne hours; 
 And theti his mystic nature he sustained 
 On steam of sacrifices, breath of flowers" 
 
 " Eusebe, dans sa ' Preparation Evangelique,' rapporte quantite 
 de passages de Porphyre, oil ce philosophe payen assure que les 
 mauvais demons sont les auteurs des enchantemens, des philtres, et 
 des malefices ; que le mensonge est essentiel a leur nature ; qu'ils 
 ne font que tromper nos yeux par des spectres et par des fan-' 
 tomes ; qu'ils excitent en nous la plupart de nos passions ; qu'ils 
 ont l'ambition de vouloir passer pour des dieux ; que leurs corps 
 aeriens se nourissent de fumigations de sang repandu et de la 
 graisse des sacrifices ; qu'il n'y a qu'eux qui se melent de rendre 
 des oracles, et a qui cette fonction pleine de tromperie soit tombee 
 en partage." — Fontenelle, Histoire des Oracles. 
 
 It is related also, in the " Caherman Nameh," that the Peris fed 
 upon precious odors brought them by their companions when im- 
 prisoned and hung up in cages by the Dives. 
 
2IO NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Most of the Oriental superstitions harmonize perfectly with the 
 belief of the fathers; and what is there in philosophy, natural 
 or moral, to disprove the existence of beings similar to those de- 
 scribed by the latter ? 
 
 Page 23, Verse 6. 
 
 " Sometimes he gave out oracles." 
 This passage accords with a belief prevalent in the earlier ages 
 of Christianity, that all nations, except the descendants of Abraham, 
 were abandoned by the Almighty, and subjected to the power of 
 demons or evil spirits. Fontenelle, in his " Histoire des Oracles," 
 makes the following extract from the works of the Pagan philoso- 
 pher Porphyry: " Auguste deja vieux et songeant a se choisir un 
 successeur alia consulter l'Oracle de Delphes. L'Oracle ne repon- 
 dait point, quoiqu' Auguste n'epargnat pas des sacrifices. A ]a fin, 
 cependant, il en tira cette reponse. L'enfant Hebreu a qui tous 
 les Dieux obeissent, me chasse d'ici, et me renvoie dans les Enfers. 
 Sors de ce temple sans parler ! " 
 
 Page 23, Last Verse. 
 The identity of Zophiel with Apollo will be perceived in this 
 and other passages. 
 
 Page 25, Verse i. 
 
 " Still trtie 
 To one dear theme, my full soul ', flowing o* 'er, 
 Would find no room for thought of ivhat it knew, 
 Nor, picturing forfeit transport, curse me more" 
 
 " Si l'homme" (says a modern writer), " constant clans ses affec- 
 tion, pouvait sans cesse fournir a un sentiment renouvele sans 
 cesse, sans doute la solitude et l'amour l'egaleraient a Dieu meme ; 
 car ce sont la les deux eternels plaisirs du grand Etre." 
 
 St. Theresa used to describe the Prince of Darkness as an 
 unhappy being who never could know what it was to love. 
 
GROVE OF ACACIAS. 211 
 
 Page 26, Verse 4, Line i. 
 Zophiel, being one of the angels who fell before the creation 
 was completed, is not supposed to know any thing of the immor- 
 tality of the souls of men. 
 
 Page 28, Verse 2, Line 3. 
 Coelestes, or the Moon, was adored by many of the Jewish 
 women, as well as the Carthaginians. They addressed their vows 
 to her, burnt incense, poured out drink-offerings, and made cakes 
 for her with her own hands. This goddess is called, in Scripture, 
 the Queen of Heaven. 
 
 Page 31, Verse 4, Line 4. 
 " Les Perses semblent etre les premiers hommes connus de nous 
 qui parlerent des anges comme d'huissiers celestes et de porteurs 
 d'ordres." — Voltaire, sur les Mceurs et P Esprit des Nations. 
 
 Page ^ Verse 3, Last Line. 
 It was not unusual among the nations of the East to imitate 
 flowers with precious stones. The Persian kings, about the time 
 of Artaxerxes, sat, when they gave audience, under a vine, the 
 leaves of which were formed of gold, and the grapes of emeralds. 
 Gold is supposed by some of the Asiatics to have grown like a tree 
 in the Garden of Eden, and the veins of ore found in the earth 
 still correspond to the form of branches. Shedad, in the gardens 
 cf his wonderful palace, had trees formed of gold and silver, with 
 fruit and blossoms of precious stones. This palace, the Arabs 
 suppose, still exists in the desert, where, though generally in- 
 visible, individuals from time to time have been indulged with a 
 sight of it. 
 
 Page 33, Verse 4, Line 3. 
 " Sister " was an affectionate appellation used by the Hebrews 
 to women. 
 
212 NOTES TO CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Page 34, Verse 4. 
 
 li And o* er her sense, as ivhen the fond night-bird 
 Wooes the full rose, o* er powering fragrance stole** 
 
 This allusion is familiar to every one in the slightest degree 
 acquainted with Oriental literature. 
 
 " The nightingale, if he sees the rose, becomes intoxicated : he 
 lets go from his hands the reins of prudence." — Fable of the Gar- 
 dener and Nightingale, 
 
 Lady Montagu also translates a song thus : — 
 
 " The nightingale now hovers amid the flowers. 
 His passion is to seek roses." 
 
 Again, from the poet Hafiz : — 
 
 " When the roses wither, and the bower loses its sweetness, 
 You have no longer the tale of the nightingale." 
 
 Indeed, the rose, in Oriental poetry, is seldom mentioned without 
 her paramour, the nightingale ; which gives reason to suppose that 
 the nightingale, in those countries where it was first celebrated, 
 had really some natural fondness for that flower, or perhaps for 
 some insect which took shelter in it. In Sir W. Jones's transla- 
 tion of the Persian fable of " The Gardener and Nightingale " is 
 the following distich : — 
 
 " I know 7 not what the rose says under his lips, that he brings 
 back the helpless nightingales, with their mournful notes. 
 
 "One day the gardener, according to his established custom, 
 went to view the roses : he saw a plaintive nightingale rubbing his 
 head on the leaves of the roses, and tearing asunder with his sharp 
 bill that volume adorned with gold." 
 
 And Gelaleddin Ruzbehar: — 
 
 " While the nightingale sings thy praises with a loud voice, I 
 am all ear, like the stalk of the rose-tree." 
 
 Pliny, however, in his delightful description of this bird, says 
 nothing, I believe, about the rose. 
 
 Cuba, Cafetal San Patricio, April, 1823. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 DEATH OF ALTHEETOR.* 
 
 Page 40, Line 2. 
 
 Chess was known at an early period. Queen Parysatis played 
 with Artaxerxes, her son, for the life of a person whom she wished 
 to destroy. Sir William Jones's article on the ancient game of 
 Chaturanga, or Indian chess, is well known. 
 
 Page 41, Verse 4, Line 4. 
 
 Couches of gold and silver were not uncommon among the Me- 
 dian and Persian princes. 
 
 Page 41, Verse 4, Line 4. 
 
 The white and yellow jessamine is now found growing in abun- 
 dance about Mount Casius, intermixed with laurels, myrtles, and 
 other delightful shrubs. 
 
 1 This name is formed of the two Greek words Alethes and etor> 
 
 213 
 
214 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Page 41, Last Verse, Last Line. 
 
 " In every full, deep flower that crowned his paradise?' 
 The Medes and Persians were accustomed to retire to delicious 
 gardens, which were called paradises. 
 
 Josephus, speaking of a powerful Babylonian king, says, "He 
 erected elevated places, for walking, of stone, and made them 
 resemble mountains ; and built them so that they might be planted 
 with all sorts of trees. He also erected what was called a pensile 
 paradise, because his wife was desirous to have things like her own 
 country, she having been bred up in the palaces of Media.' , 
 
 The same custom is still continued in the East, where people of 
 distinction pass their most pleasant hours in the pavilions or kiosks 
 of their gardens. 
 
 Page 44, Line 5. 
 Sardius is the name of a precious stone. 
 
 Page 44, Verse 5, Last Line. 
 
 " A nd to his manes let my life-blood flow ! " 
 Egla might have heard of the gods' manes from some wandering 
 Ionian. The Greeks attributed four distinct parts to man, — the 
 body, which is resolved to dust ; the soul, which, as they imagined, 
 passed to Tartarus or the Elysian Fields, according to its merits ; 
 the image, which inhabited the infernal vestibule ; and the shade, 
 which wandered about the sepulchre. This last they were accus- 
 tomed to invoke three times ; and libations were poured out to this 
 as well as to the gods' manes, who were the genii of the dead, and 
 had the care of their sepulchres and wandering shades. — See Trav- 
 els of Afttenor. 
 
 The Jews, besides, at the time this scene is supposed to have 
 transpired, began to be imbued with the Chaldaic superstitions or 
 belief. " The modern Jews," says Father Augustin Calmet, " hold 
 the souls of men to be spiritual and immortal, but that they some- 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 21 5 
 
 times appear again, as well as good and evil demons; that the 
 souls of the Hebrews are never visible either in hell or paradise, 
 except their bodies are buried ; that, even after they are buried, the 
 soul makes frequent excursions from its destined residence to visit 
 its former body, and inquire into its condition ; that it wanders 
 about for a full year after its first separation from the body ; and 
 that it was before the expiration of this year that the witch of 
 Endor called up the soul of Samuel." 
 
 Origen and Theophylact say also that the Jews and Heathens be- 
 lieved the soul to continue near the body for some time after the 
 death of the person. : — Calmet. 
 
 Origen, in his second book against Celsus (continues the Rever- 
 end Father Dom Augustin Calmet), relates and subscribes to the 
 opinion of Plato, who says " that the shadows and images of the 
 dead, which are seen near sepulchres, are nothing but the soul 
 disengaged from its gross body, but not yet entirely freed from 
 matter." From the same old book, which is probably read by few, 
 I cannot forbear transcribing the following curious account, which, 
 however impossible, appears to have been at one time generally 
 believed: — 
 
 " If there is any truth in what we are told by the learned Digby, 
 chancellor to Henrietta, Queen of England, by Father Kircher, a 
 celebrated Jesuit, by Father Schott of the same order, and by Gaf- 
 ferell and Vallemont, concerning the wonderful mystery of the 
 Palingenesis, or resurrection of plants, it will help to account for 
 the shades and phantoms which many will confidently assert they 
 have seen in churchyards." 
 
 The account which these curious naturalists give of their per- 
 forming the wonderful operation of the Palingenesis is as follows : — 
 
 " They take a flower, and burn it to ashes, from which, being 
 collected with great care, they extract all the salts by calcination. 
 These salts they put into a glass phial ,• and, having added to them 
 a certain composition which has a property of putting the ashes in 
 motion upon the application of heat, the whole becomes a fine dust 
 of a bluish color. From this dust, when agitated by a gentle heat, 
 there arise gradually a stalk, leaves, and then a flower ; in short, 
 
2l6 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 there is seen the apparition of a plant rising out of the ashes. 
 When the heat ceases the whole show disappears, and the dust falls 
 into its former chaos at the bottom of the vessel. The return of 
 heat always raises out of its ashes this vegetable phoenix, which 
 derives its life from the presence of this genial warmth, and dies as 
 soon as it is withdrawn." 
 
 Then follows the manner in which Father Kircher endeavors to 
 account for the wonderful phenomenon ; and the author continues 
 with an assertion that the members of the Royal Society at London 
 had (as he was informed) made the same experiment upon a spar- 
 row, and were then hoping to make it succeed upon men. 
 
 Page 46, Verse 5. 
 The Medes, as well as the Persians, were expert with the bow and 
 javelin. 
 
 Page 49, Verse 4. 
 
 " Yet 'such things are."* 
 
 In the whole catalogue of all the crimes and cruelties ever re- 
 corded since the invention of letters, there is nothing so horrid to 
 the imagination as the simple fact of the existence of desire in the 
 immediate presence of death and carnage. Peter the Great, Czar 
 of Muscovy, killed several of his soldiers with his own hand, at the 
 taking of Narva, to prevent the same atrocity related of Philomars 
 in the text. 
 
 "Jornandes reconte " (says M. de Chateaubriand), "que des 
 sorcieres chassees loin des habitations des homines dans les deserts 
 de la Scythie, furent visitees par des demons, et de ce commerce 
 sortirent la nation des Huns." Deeds are still done which might 
 well serve to prove a similar origin. 
 
 Page 50, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 When the Persians celebrate their feast of roses. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 2\J 
 
 Page 50, Verse 4. 
 
 "And snow-white Egla, mild and chaste and fair, 
 Ca7iie o'er his fancy." 
 
 The love of Sardius for Egla resembles that of Cyrus for Aspasia 
 or Milto, of whom the Chevalier de Lender gives the following 
 account : " Aspasia, being brought to Sardis by one of the satraps 
 of Cyrus, was compelled to come into the presence of that prince 
 with many other women. While the rest by every art endeavored 
 to attract his attention, Milto stood at a distance, with her eyes fixed 
 upon the earth ; and Cyrus was so charmed with the singularity of 
 her modesty (or, more probably, of her beauty), that he dismissed 
 all beside, and remained a long time attached to this favorite." 
 
 Page 52, Verse i, Last Line. 
 Many of the young men of Asia, and even those of Athens, used 
 the same arts at their toilets as the women. 
 
 Page 52, Verse 3. 
 
 " With black 
 To tip the eyelid; stain the finger; deck 
 The cheek with hues that languor bids it lack." 
 
 The arts practised by women to heighten their beauty were sup- 
 posed to have been taught them by fallen angels. 
 
 " Dans le livre de la parure des femmes, chap. 2, Tertullien ex- 
 plique, plus au long, pourquoi le demon et ses mauvais anges 
 apprirent, autrefois, aux femmes Tart de se farder et les moyens 
 d'embellir leurs corps. lis volurent, sans doute, dit il, les recom- 
 penser des faveurs qu'elles leurs avaient accordes : Tertullien 
 suppose done qu'il y avait eu un mauvais commerce entre les mau- 
 vais anges et les femmes. 
 
 " Ce paradox n'est pas particulier a Tertullien, que plusieurs 
 autres peres de l'Eglise devant et apres lui ne l'aient pas avance. 
 
 " Mais cette erreur a ete solidement refutee par St. Chrisostome, 
 St. Augustin, St. Epiphane, etc. 
 
2l8 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 " A l'occasion de cet etrange commerce, notre auteur fait une 
 reflection qui passe les bornes de la raillerie. Les demons, dit il, 
 sont venus trouver les filles des homines : tout demons qu'ils sont, ils 
 en ont ete favorablement recu ; il ne manquait que cette ignominie 
 aux femmes, ut haec ignominia fceminas accedat. Nam cum et 
 materias quasdam bene occultas et artes plurasque non bene reve- 
 latas, seculo, multo magis imperito prodidissent (siquidem et metal- 
 lorum opera nudaverant et herbarum ingenia traduxerant et 
 incantationum vires promulgaverant et omnem curiositatem usque 
 ad stellarum interpretationem designaverant) proprie et quasi pesunt 
 ariter fceminis instrumentum istud muliebris gloriae contulerunt ; 
 lumina lapillorum, quibus brachia arctantur ; et medicamenta ex 
 fuco, quibus lanae colorantur et ilium ipsum nigrem pulverem, quo 
 oculorum exordia producantur." 
 
 The above extract is from a French translation, or rather com- 
 pendium, of Tertullian, which was sent me by M. Van Praet 
 from the Bibliotheque du Roi at Paris. But, as many of the most 
 curious passages were entirely omitted, the same gentleman was so 
 obliging as to look for the Latin folio containing that very amusing 
 article of Tertullian entitled " De Habitu Muliebri ; " from which I 
 had intended to have given in this note a longer extract, written out 
 for me by Baron Joseph de Palm, from whose very beautiful Ger- 
 man verses two inadequate translations will appear in this volume. 
 The extract, however, was accidentally left at Paris ; and, Zophiel 
 being reviewed and arranged for the last time at Keswick (Eng- 
 land), I fear it may not reach me soon enough to be inserted. 
 
 Page 52, Verse 4. 
 
 " With wreaths of gems, or made or found by him, 
 Or his enamoured brothers, when they bore 
 Love for the like" 
 
 This passage, like the preceding one, is simply in pursuance of 
 the belief of Tertullian, that the custom of arraying themselves 
 with gold and gems was first taught to beautiful women by their 
 angel lovers, who understood chemistry, and imparted to them, 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 219 
 
 among other ornamental arts, that of preparing colors for dyeing 
 their garments, and heightening the beauty of their complexions. 
 But the sage Comte de Gabalis says that gnomes are the guardians 
 of minerals and precious stones. I know not what origin he as- 
 cribes to his " peuples des elemens ; " but he expressly affirms that 
 no sylph or sylphide, gnome or gnomide, can be immortal unless 
 united with a son or daughter of earth. Those who have any 
 curiosity to know more must, I suppose, consult those learned 
 authors whom he names in the following passage : — 
 
 " En croyez vous, dit il, plus a votre nourice qu'a la raison natu- 
 relle qu'a Platon, Pythagore, Celse, Psellus, Procle, Porphyre, Plo- 
 tin, Trismegiste, Nolius, Dornee, Fludd ; qu'au grand Philippe 
 Aureole Theophraste Bombast Paracelse de Hohenheim, et qu'a 
 tous nos compagnons ? " 
 
 After describing the people of earth, air, fire, and water, the 
 sage continues : " II y avait beaucoup de proportion entre Adam et 
 ces creatures si parfaites; parce qu'etant compose de ce qu'il y 
 avait de plus pur dans les quatre elemens il renfermait les perfec- 
 tions de ces quatre especes de peuples, et etait leur roi naturel. 
 Mais des-lors que son peche Ueiit precipite dans les particles les 
 plus viles des elemens, comme vous verrez quelquefois, l'harmonie 
 fut deconcertee, et il (Adam) n'eut plus de proportion, etant impur 
 et grosier avec ces substances si purs et si subtiles." 
 
 Page 54, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 
 " Slight bandelets were twined of colors five" 
 
 There is a German work by Hartmann on the toilet of Hebrew 
 women, which those who are curious on the subject may do well to 
 consult. 
 
 The father Calmet has also written a dissertation on the dress of 
 the ancient Hebrews, which the French translator of Tertullian 
 says, "ne prouve pas clairement sa proposition." M. de Chateau- 
 briand introduces his Cymodocee (when arrayed for a religious 
 ceremony, after her conversion to Christianity) in the same cos- 
 tume chosen by Egla for the banquet of Sardius. 
 
220 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Page 55, Verse 3. 
 This description is from the life, and does not exceed in any 
 particular they^^ of a Canadian lady of Swiss descent She was 
 called by the peasants of her neighborhood " l'ange des bois." 
 
 Page 59, Verse 2, Line i. 
 It is said by Pliny that Appion raised up the soul of Homer in 
 order to learn from him his country and his parents, and Apol- 
 lonius Tyanaeus is said to have raised the manes of Achilles. 
 
 Page 59, Verse 4. 
 
 " And oft his mother, vain in her delight. 
 Boasted she owed hi7n to a god's embrace." 
 
 The Christian fathers did not in the least doubt that many of the 
 heroes of antiquity were really so produced. They, however, sup- 
 posed that their fathers were some of the banished angels, who 
 assumed at pleasure the forms of those gods under whose names 
 they caused themselves to be adored. 
 
 Page 61, Verse 4. 
 
 " Not Eva, lovelier than the tints of air" 
 
 The beauty which the antediluvian women must have possessed, 
 in order to be such a temptation to angels as the Christian fathers 
 supposed them to have been, agrees with the account of " Rabadan 
 the Morisco," whose poem is said by Dr. Southey to contain " the 
 fullest Mohammedan Genesis." 
 
 The Creator, having formed the earth, and adjusted his plan of 
 procedure, summoned his angels, and requested that one of them 
 might descend, and bring him soil or clay wherewith to make a 
 man ; but the angels unanimously expressed a reluctance to what 
 they could but consider a loathsome and debasing office. Azarael, 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 221 
 
 however, an angel of extraordinary stature, flew down, and col- 
 lected the material required from the north, east, south, and west 
 of the new-made earth. "Azarael," said the Creator, "thou 
 shalt, in reward of thine obedience, be him who separateth the 
 souls from the bodies of the creatures I am about to make : hence- 
 forth be called Azarael Malec el Mout, or Azarael the Angel of 
 Death.' , 
 
 The Creator then caused the earth which Azarael had brought 
 to be washed and purified in the fountains of heaven, till it became 
 so resplendently clear, that it cast a more shining and beautiful 
 light than the sun in its utmost glory. Gabriel was then command- 
 ed to carry this lovely though as yet inanimate statue of clay 
 throughout the heavens, the earth, the centres, and the seas. 
 
 When the angels saw so beautiful an image, they said, " Lord, 
 if it be pleasing in thy sight, we will, in thy most high and mighty 
 name, prostrate ourselves before it." This proposal meeting the 
 approbation of the Creator, the angels all bowed, inclining their 
 celestial countenances at the feet of the inanimate Adam. 
 
 Eblis, or Lucifer, was the only one who refused, proudly valuing 
 himself upon his heavenly composition : whereupon the Creator 
 said to him, with extreme sternness, " Prostrate thyself to Adam." 
 He made a show of doing so, but remained upon his knees, and 
 then rose up before he had performed what God had commanded 
 him. 
 
 The other angels, seeing him so refractory, prostrated them- 
 selves a second time in order to complete what he had left undone. 
 For this reason the Mohammedans, in all their prayers, at each 
 inclination of the body, make two prostrations, one immediately 
 after the other. — See Rabadan. 
 
 Page 6i, Verse 4, Line 3. 
 
 " That form, all Panti7ig , neath her yellow hair" 
 
 Milton has described the hair of the first woman as of a 
 yellow or golden tint. This color appears to have been admired 
 from the most remote antiquity. Indeed, when fine eyes, and sym- 
 
222 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 metry of outline, are united with a white, transparent skin, and hair 
 of this color in profusion, the form so constructed and adorned 
 seems more than mortal. Persons of this complexion are generally 
 of tender, voluptuous dispositions, and not naturally addicted to 
 the passions of hatred and revenge. Such, however, are extremely 
 rare, and, unless by the race of artists, seem, at present, less ap- 
 preciated than beauties of a darker shade. Black hair and eyes 
 embellish very much a common face and person; and, could one 
 look entirely over the world, the aggregate of comeliness would 
 perhaps be found greater among the dark than among the fair 
 haired nations. 
 
 The Athenian ladies, so late as the time of Alcibiades, wore a 
 yellow powder in their hair to give it the appearance of gold. 
 
 Josephus writes that King Solomon caused many of the finest 
 horses of those presented him by neighboring princes to be rid- 
 den by young men, chosen at the most beautiful period of their 
 lives, and remarkable for stature, and symmetry of person. These, 
 dressed in the rich colors of Tyre, wore their hair long, and 
 sprinkled with golden dust. This king, so renowned for his wis- 
 dom, deserves to be still more so for his taste. The murder of his 
 brother, as related by Josephus, however, though so little men- 
 tioned, is a very dark blot on his character. Pleasure is too gener- 
 ally selfish and cruel. 
 
 Page 63, Verse i. 
 
 " And round his neck an amulet he wore 
 Of many a gem in mystic mazes tied.' 7 
 
 Men of all countries and ages have put faith in these talismans. 
 The Egyptians have left a great number : they wore them on the 
 neck, in the form of little cylinders, ornamented with figures and 
 hieroglyphics. 
 
 " Les Grecs faisaient aussi un grand usage des amulettes ; ils 
 attribuerent des proprietes surnaturelles au laurier, au saule, aux 
 arbrisseaux epineux, au jaspe, a presque toutes les pierres pre- 
 cieuses." — Voyages cfAntenor. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 223 
 
 " The Arabs," says Shaw, " hang about their children's necks 
 the figure of an open hand, which the Turks and Moors paint upon 
 their ships and houses, as an antidote and counter-charm to an evil 
 eye. Those who are grown up still carry about with them some 
 paragraph or other of their Koran, which, as the Jews did their 
 phylacteries, they place upon their breast, or sew under their caps, 
 to prevent fascination and witchcraft, and to secure themselves 
 from sickness and misfortune. The virtue of" these charms and 
 scrolls is supposed likewise to be so far universal, that they sus- 
 pend them upon the necks of their cattle, horses, and other beasts 
 of burden.' , 
 
 The most wonderful properties were ascribed to precious stones : 
 some detected the presence of poison ; others made ineffectual the 
 power of evil spirits and magicians. 
 
 " Giafar, the founder of the Barmecides, being obliged to fly 
 from Persia, his native country, took refuge at Damascus, and 
 implored the protection of the caliph Soliman. When he was 
 presented' to that prince, the caliph suddenly changed color, and 
 commanded him to retire, suspecting he had poison about him. 
 Soliman had discovered it by means of ten stones which he wore 
 upon his arm. They were fastened there like a bracelet, and never 
 failed to strike against each other, and make a slight noise, when 
 any poison was near. Upon inquiry, it was found that Giafar 
 carried poison in his ring, for the purpose of self-destruction in 
 case he had been taken by his enemies." — Marigny. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott avails himself very beautifully of that power of 
 detecting poison attributed to the opal. 
 
 Belief in the efficacy of amulets is too pleasing to be easily laid 
 aside ; and probably will, in some degree, exist as long as the pain 
 of fear or the pleasure of security. I was shown last evening, in 
 company with a young Greek of Athens, an amulet which had 
 belonged to his deceased companion. It was a little square case 
 of silver, suspended from a chain, in order to be worn about the 
 neck in the manner of a miniature. On the outside were three 
 small figures in relief, — the Saviour, Mary, and Martha ; and the 
 case contained a thin slip of light-colored wood, about an inch in 
 
224 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 breadth, and an inch and a half in length, delicately carved, and 
 representing a figure on horseback. This wood was supposed, by 
 its former possessor, to be a fragment of the real cross. The 
 Greek youth in whose presence it was shown has been educated by 
 a gentleman of the south of England, and now living at the foot of 
 Skiddaw with his enchanting lady. The protectors are all gener- 
 osity, the youth all gratitude ; and nothing can be more interesting 
 than their family circle. The latter recollected some of the airs of 
 his native country, which were wild and sweet, and, accompanied 
 by the piano-forte, had a fine effect ; and it was difficult to forbear 
 thinking of those lyres which once might possibly have thrilled 
 to them. 
 Keswick, April 19, 1831. 
 
 Page 66, Verse 2, Last Line. 
 
 " By magic skill, some philtre with his wine" 
 
 The ancients were much addicted to this practice, and sometimes 
 died in consequence of mixtures secretly thrown into their drink or 
 food for the purpose of securing their love for particular persons. 
 A pretty incident of the kind is introduced into that very enter- 
 taining work, " Les Voyages d'Antenor." According to Josephus, 
 the immediate cause of the execution of Mariamne was Herod's 
 fear of such experiments. Sending for this queen in a violent fit 
 of fondness, he met nothing but coldness and reproaches in return ; 
 and, while stung to the soul at her behavior, his mother and sister 
 took the opportunity to inform him that Mariamne had prepared 
 for him a love -potion. 
 
 Page 66, Verse 3, Line i. 
 
 " Or there 's in her blue eye some wicked light?' 
 
 The fear of hurtful influences emanating from the eyes of persons 
 suspected of magic was common to most nations of antiquity, and 
 perhaps is not yet entirely laid aside in some parts of Europe. 
 
 " Les Thessaliens, les IUyriens, et les Triballes, etaient celebre 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 225 
 
 par leurs enchantemens. Les derniers, selon Pline, pouvaient 
 faire perir des animaux et des enfans par leurs seule regards. 
 
 " Les anciens craignaient les regards des envieux autant pour 
 eux-memes que pour leurs enfans ; c'est pourquoi ils attachaient 
 les memes amulettes au cou de leurs enfans : ils en mettaient aux 
 jambes des portes, de maniere qu'en les ouvrant on agitait ces 
 phallus, et on ebranlait les clochettes." — Voyages cfAntenor. 
 
 Page 68, Verse 2, Last Line. 
 
 " And twines her long hair round him as he sings." 
 This act was often resorted to as the most forcible manner of 
 imploring protection. When the young prince Cyrus was brought 
 before his brother Artaxerxes, whose throne he had attempted to 
 usurp, Parysates, his mother, intwined him with her hair, and by 
 tears and entreaties succeeded in saving him from death. 
 
 Page 70, Verse 4. 
 
 " He died of love, — of the o ' er-perfect joy 
 Of being pitied, prayed for, prest by thee!" 
 
 Zimmermann, in his admired work on Solitude, gives an instance 
 of two Italian lovers, who, after having been separated, sprang 
 into each other's embrace, and both died immediately. Joy is 
 seldom perfect enough to kill ; but, could it exist as free from the 
 alloy of any other sensation as grief is sometimes felt, it would 
 probably destroy life much sooner, from the circumstance of mortal 
 nerves being far less accustomed to it. " Many," said Dr. Gold- 
 smith, "die of grief; but who was ever known to die of joy ? " 
 Instances of the latter, though rare, are sometimes found. 
 
 I was told by a lady, whose word there was not the least reason 
 to doubt, of a person she had known who was passionately fond of 
 music. She had heard him say, while listening to a concert of 
 sacred compositions, " I shall certainly die if I hear many more 
 of these strains." A few years afterwards, the same person actu- 
 
226 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 ally fell dead while assisting at a concert. This happened in a 
 country where education and every custom tend rather to the 
 annihilation than the culture of any deep or violent emotion. 
 
 Page 72, Verse 2, Last Line. 
 
 " But gained a bliss frail nature could 7iot bear." 
 Excessive joy, by preventing sleep (as it invariably does in a 
 person capable of feeling it at all), very soon procures for itself a 
 mitigation proceeding from corporeal uneasiness : were this not the 
 case, it would soon terminate in death or madness, even though 
 not felt in a very unusual degree. 
 
 Past joy is a thing so pleasant to speak upon, that raptures are 
 generally exaggerated in the telling. When really intense, as they 
 are sometimes described, their power to produce death can scarcely 
 be doubted. Every one has heard of Chilo's death in the arms of 
 his son, who returned victorious from the Olympic games. 
 
 Page 72, Verses 4 and 5. 
 
 " It is whispered that the Unquelled desires 
 Another Spirit for each forfeit seat 
 Left vacant by our fall." 
 
 It was an idea generally entertained by the fathers, that the 
 many vacancies caused by the different orders of angels who fell 
 through love or ambition were to be filled up by souls selected 
 from the human species. Another opinion afterwards arose, and 
 was favored by one or more of the popes, " that it was only the 
 tenth order of the celestial hierarchy which supplied angels, who, 
 by falling, assimilated themselves to the inhabitants of earth ; and 
 that it is only to supply the deficiencies of that grade that the best 
 of mortals will be promoted." Much interesting speculation on 
 this subject may be found in the works of Dionysius, to which I 
 had free access while at Paris, but no time to make extracts or 
 translations. 
 
DEATH OF ALTHEETOR. 227 
 
 Page 74, Verses 3 and 4. 
 The Assyrians, Persians, and Medians are said not to have 
 burned their dead ; but the mother of Althee'tor was an Ionian, — 
 the only reason that can be assigned for Zophie'Ps supposing he 
 would be burnt after the Grecian manner. 
 
 Page 74, Verse 5. 
 
 " O my loved Hyacinth / when as a god 
 I hurled the disk, and from thy hapless head 
 The pure sweet blood made Jlowers upon the sod." 
 
 This, and other passages which serve to identify Zophiel with 
 Apollo, are perfectly conformable to a belief once acknowledged 
 by every Christian. 
 
 An able writer in " The North-American Review " (in an article 
 entitled " Ancient and Modern Poetry," which appeared some time 
 between the years twenty-one and four) appears to have read a 
 great deal on the subject. The following is not irrelative : " Some 
 evil spirits or fallen angels, whom the fathers had cast out, were 
 compelled by the fire of exorcism to confess that they were the 
 same who had inspired the heathen poets ; and these, with all the 
 duties of ' gay religions full of pomp and gold,' were confined to 
 the doom of that infernal host described by Milton. So far were 
 the Christians from denying the existence of any of the beings of 
 Pagan mythology, that they continually urged, as an argument in 
 favor of the superiority and divinity of their faith, the power which 
 it gave over them ; and Eunapius (see Eunapius' life of Porphyry 
 in his Vitae Philosophorum) very gravely mentions the story of 
 Porphyry's expelling a demon." 
 
 M. de Fontenelle wrote his " Histoire des Oracles " expressly to 
 prove that heathen temples were not inhabited by demons or fallen 
 angels. In that work is found the following oracle, extracted from 
 the writings of Eusebius : " Unhappy priest," said Apollo to one of 
 his ministers, " ask me no more concerning the Divine Father, nor 
 of his only Son, nor of that Spirit which is the soul of all things : 
 it is that Spirit which expels me forever from these abodes." 
 
228 NOTES TO CANTO SECOND. 
 
 Page 74, Last Verse, Line i. 
 See fable of Zephyr and Hyacinth. Oriel is supposed to show 
 himself to mortals as Zephyrus, while Phraerion in reality nurses 
 and protects the flowers. 
 
 Page 75, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 Zophiel, as may be perceived, since his first introduction, is sup- 
 posed to be that fallen angel who was adored by mortals as the 
 god Apollo. This manner of imparting to a young artist excel- 
 lence in sculpture is not, therefore, out of character. 
 
 Page yy f Last Verse. 
 
 " Dejected Egla went 
 With all her house, and seeks her own acacia-grove ." 
 
 The facility with which the young king of Media forgets his 
 beautiful captive, setting aside the effect produced by the prema- 
 ture death of Altheetor his preserver, agrees perfectly with the 
 following description : — 
 
 " Nous rencontrames une troupe a cheval leste et brillant, a la 
 tete de laquelle etait le jeune Pharnabaze, Pair serein et radieux, 
 faisant caracoler son cheval, et plaisantant avec ses camarades; 
 j'en fus etourdis : je l'avais vue, la veille, desespere ; s'arrachant 
 les cheveux, se jettant sur le corps de la belle Statira ; invoquant 
 la mort, voulant se poignarder ; et, deja, la rire, le plaisir, avait 
 succedes a ce grand desespoir." — Voyages d'Antenor. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 PALACE OF GNOMES. 
 
 Having liberty, while at Paris, to take any books I might wish 
 from the Bibliotheque du Roi, and M. Van Prae't being very obli- 
 ging in looking for them, it was in my power to make much more 
 copious notes than will appear to this canto, which, from its sub- 
 ject, admits of a great variety. Many obstacles and engagements 
 occurred to prevent ; which I regret only because many passages 
 of the old Christian writers and their Pagan contemporaries, on the 
 subject of angels and other spirits, are extremely curious and enter- 
 taining. Sufficient poetical authority is, however, given for the 
 incidents of the story; and the text, perhaps, is sufficiently ex- 
 plained. Copious notes extracted from the works of others indi- 
 cate nothing but toil and patience in the writer. 
 
 Page 8t, Verse 2, Line t. 
 
 " The heave7tly angel watched his subject star.'* 
 
 This line is in accordance with the belief that the stars are 
 guarded by celestial intelligences, to the prevalence of which many 
 passages in the sacred writings bear testimony, and from which 
 may be inferred a possibility that each inhabited and separate 
 
 229 
 
23O NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 planet may, in reality, be under the care of some delegate spirit. 
 Saturnius of Antioch taught that " the world and its first inhabit- 
 ants were created by seven angels, which presided over the seven 
 planets ; " and that " the work was carried on without the knowl- 
 edge of the benevolent deity y and in opposition to the .material prin- 
 ciple. The former, however, beheld it with approbation, and hon- 
 ored it with several marks of his beneficence. " 
 
 Many singular systems of this kind are classed under the name of 
 heresies by Mosheim. 
 
 Page 81, Verse 3, Line 3. 
 
 The trunk of the palm-tree is of a light dove or ash color, and 
 assumes a silvery appearance by moonlight. 
 
 Page 82, Verse i, Line 3. 
 
 " Myrrh her tears of fragrance weeps" 
 
 I had hoped to see the plant myrrh in the Jardin des Plantes 
 at Paris, but was disappointed. Its appearance, however, can be 
 easily conceived by the following : " Mr. Bruce, while in Abys- 
 sinia, made some remarks on the myrrh-tree, which are to be found 
 in the 'Journal de Physique,' &c, tome xiii., 1778. He (Bruce) 
 says that the naked troglodytes brought him specimens of myrrh, 
 of which both the leaves and bark bore a great resemblance to 
 the acacia vera" Among the leaves he observed some straight 
 prickles about two inches in length. He likewise mentions seeing 
 a soffit-tree, which was a native of the myrrh country, covered with 
 beautiful crimson flowers. Drops of perfume distil from this tree, 
 which probably harden into that substance called myrrh, which is 
 common in medicine. In one of the letters of M. Demonstier's 
 delightful work on Mythology the young Adonis is represented as 
 pointing to a myrrh-tree, and exclaiming, " Helas ! ces larmes pre- 
 cieuses sont les pleurs de ma mere ! " who, according to the fable, 
 was metamorphosed by the gods in compassion to her grief. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 23 1 
 
 Page 82, Verse i, Last Line. 
 
 For an account of the " spikenard of the ancients," Sir William 
 Jones may be referred to with pleasure. One species of it is said 
 to have been discovered by the horses and elephants of the vizier 
 Afufaddaulah. " If the spikenard of India was a reed, or grass, 
 we can never be able to discover it among the genera of those 
 natural orders which here form a wilderness of sweets ; and some 
 of them have not only fragrant roots, but even spikes^ in the 
 ancient and modern sense of that emphatical word." 
 
 Page 82, Verse 2, Line i. 
 
 " Proud prickly cerea, now thy blossom 'scafies 
 Its cell" 
 
 Few persons have seen the blossom of this astonishing flower, 
 because it only opens at or after midnight, and is so evanescent, 
 that, unless constantly watched, it is difficult to know the exact 
 time of its perfection. It is large, and of a yellowish white ; and 
 in its cup, or rather in the midst of its fragrant petals, there is an 
 appearance of lambent light or flame, resembling burning nitre. 
 
 Page 82, Verse 3, Line 3. 
 
 The ancients throughout Syria (though ignorant of some useful 
 principles discovered by modern science) were very skilful in hy- 
 draulics. Some of the earlier kings of that country had gardens 
 with fountains and artificial streams without the walls of Jeru- 
 salem, in a place which is now a parched and barren desert. — See 
 Josephus, 
 
 Page 82, Last Verse, Last Line. 
 
 Of all the varieties of this celebrated flower, the red or rose- 
 colored is the most admired for its fragrance ; the white and yellow 
 give a fainter odor ; and the azure-colored lotos, which is a native 
 of Persia and Cashmir, is perhaps the most beautiful of all. 
 
232 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Page 83, Verse 2, Line i. 
 
 The night-blooming cereus is fond of clasping rocks, old walls, 
 or fallen trees. It grows in profusion where these verses were 
 written (Cuba), and produces a fruit not unpleasant to the taste. 
 
 Page 86, Verse 4, Last Lines. 
 
 " To share its joys, assist its vast design 
 With high intelligence : oh dayigerotis gift!" 
 
 It is said that the angels who rebelled were among the most wise 
 and powerful of celestial creatures. None of them were more re- 
 splendent in beauty than Lucifer, who drew with him, when he fell, 
 a third part of the stars of heaven. 
 
 The supposition that many beings, subordinate to the supreme 
 will, were employed in that disposition of matter called "the 
 creation," is not only according to every system of religion, but 
 agreeable to all analogy. " God said, Let there be light ; and light 
 was." The King of Persia commanded a temple to be built, and 
 it rose. There is little more reason to believe that the first was 
 accomplished without multiplied means and agency than the last. 
 Every thing in natural history and in natural philosophy favors the 
 idea of an infinity of beings to supply the gradations between man 
 and the Sovereign of creation. Indeed, after thinking a little on 
 the subject, it seems almost absurd to believe the contrary. This 
 belief, besides, is far more pleasing in itself than that of regarding 
 the Supreme Giver of life only as an all-competent artisan. 
 
 M. l'Abbe Poule, discoursing upon a future state of existence, 
 gives the following passage : — 
 
 " lis ne seront plus caches, pour nous, ces etres innombrables, 
 qui echappent a nos connoissances par leur eloignement ou par leur 
 petitesse ; les differentes parties qui composent le vaste ensemble 
 de 1'univers ; leurs structures, leur rapport, leur harmonic ; ils ne 
 seront plus des enigmes, pour nous, ces jeux surprenans, ces secrets 
 profonds de la nature, ces ressorts admirables que la providence 
 emploie pour la conservation et la propagation de tous les etrcs." 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 233 
 
 I translate from the French of M. de Chateaubriand the follow- 
 ing delightful passage : " The sovereign happiness of the elect is 
 a consciousness that their joys are never to be terminated. They 
 are incessantly in the same delicious state of mind as a mortal who 
 has just performed a good or heroic action, a man of genius who 
 has just given birth to a sublime conception, of a person in the 
 first transports of an unforbidden love, or the charms of a friend- 
 ship made certain by a long series of adversity. The nobler 
 passions are not extinguished by death, in the hearts of the just ; 
 and whenever they are found, even on earth, respire something of 
 the grandeur and eternity of the Supreme Intelligence." 
 
 Page 87, Verse 4, Last Line. 
 
 From the blooming of the roses at Ecbatana to the coming-in of 
 spices at Babylon. 
 
 Page 88, Verse 4, Last Line, and Verse 5. 
 
 " That vague i wondrous lore 
 
 " But seldom told to mortals^ — arts on gems 
 Inscribed that still exist ; but hidden so, 
 From fear of those who told, that diadems 
 Have passed fro7n brows that vainly ached to know" 
 
 It is said to have been believed by the Egyptians that many 
 wonderful secrets were engraved by one of the Mercuries on tablets 
 of emerald, which still remain hidden in some part of their country. 
 
 Being assisted by a friend in looking over the first part of 
 Brucker's " Historia Critica Philosophise " for something concern- 
 ing these tablets of emerald, we were soon disappointed by the fol- 
 lowing passage : — 
 
 " Non detenibimus itaque lectorem fabularum de Mercurio Grae- 
 carum atque Latinarum recitatione, quas qui legere vult, apud 
 Lilium Gyraldum (Lugd. Bat. 1698, 4) vel Natalem Comitem (My- 
 thol. L. V., c. 5. P. M. 439) aliosque mythologiae veteris interpretes 
 
234 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 abunde inveniet unde sitem extinguat.' , To those authors, there- 
 fore, the reader is referred. 
 
 Some of the fathers (Tertullian in particular) supposed that all 
 impious and daring sciences, such as magic and alchemy, came to 
 the heathen nations through the medium of fallen angels, who, 
 during the violence of their love for particular women, would 
 sometimes reveal to them doctrines and truths which could never 
 otherwise have been conceived by their poets and philosophers. 
 
 Petrarch, in a letter to Robert, King of Naples, says, " The ex- 
 pectation which our faith presents was unknown to the heathen 
 philosophers ; but they felt that the soul was not to die." Phere- 
 cydes was the first among them who openly maintained it. Phere- 
 cydes most probably conceived his belief from old and vague tradi- 
 tions, confirmed by his own feelings and experience. 
 
 " Epicurus," continues Petrarch, " was the only one who denied 
 it. From Pherecydes it passed to Pythagoras, from Pythagoras 
 to Socrates, from Socrates to Plato; and Cicero established this 
 doctrine in his discourses on friendship, old age, and other parts of 
 his works." 
 
 The lives of all these philosophers, that of Socrates in particular, 
 rather confirm than disprove the belief of the fathers respecting 
 communications from a higher order of beings. 
 
 Page 92, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 
 " Though like thin shades or air they mock dull mortals sight." 
 
 The discoveries effected by chemistry and natural philosophy, 
 although they make apparent the fallacy of many superstitions, do 
 not in the least disprove the existence of spiritual creatures. After 
 hearing explained the nature of light and heat, and observing the 
 effects produced by many common experiments, it is not difficult 
 to conceive of beings powerful, beautiful, and exquisitely organized, 
 yet of a material so refined and subtle as easily to elude the most 
 perfect animal perception. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 235 
 
 Page 92, Verse 5, First Lines. 
 
 " The Palace of the Gnome, 
 Tahathya?n." 
 
 In respect to the birth of Tahathyam and his court, I have fol- 
 lowed the opinion of Tertullian and others. The beings, however, 
 which are described in the text, can only be called gnomes from 
 their residence in the earth, and their knowledge of mineralogy and 
 gems. The 
 
 " Four dusky spirits, by a secret art, 
 Taught by a father thoughtful of his wants," 
 
 which " Tahathyam kept " in his immediate service, might have 
 answered the description of the Comte de Gabalis. 
 
 " La terre est remplie, presque jusqu'au centre, de gnomes, gens 
 de petites statures, gardiens des tresors, des mineraux, et des pierre- 
 ries. Ceux-ci sont ingenieux, amis de l'homme, et faciles a com- 
 mander. Les gnomides, leurs femmes, sont petites mais fort agrea 
 bles et leur habit est fort curieux." 
 
 " Les gnomes et les sylphes sont mortels, mais cessent d'etre 
 mortel du moment qu'ils epousent une de nos filles." 
 
 " De la naquit l'erreur des premiers siecles, de Tertullien, du 
 martyr Justin, de Lactance, de Cyprien, de Clement d'Alexandrie, 
 d'Anathagore, philosophe Chretien, et generalei?zejit de tons les ecri- 
 vains de ce terns la. lis avaient appris que ces demi-hommes elemen- 
 taires avaient recherche le commerce des filles ; et Us ont imagine 
 qiCe la chute des anges ii'etoit venue que de V amour dont ils s'etaient 
 laisses toucher pour les femmes. Quelques gnomes desire ux de 
 devenir immortels avaient voulu gagner les bonnes graces de nos 
 filles, et leur avaient apportees des pierreries dont ils sont gardiens 
 naturels; et ces auteurs ont cru s'appuyans sur le livre d'Enoch 
 mal-entendu, que c'etaient des pieges que les anges amoureux avaient 
 prepares pour mieux en assurer la conquete." — Comte de Gabalis. 
 
 Though not immediately relative to the subject, I cannot forbear 
 inserting the following curious account of sylphs • — 
 
 " L'air est plein d'une innombrable multitude de peuples de 
 figure humaine, un peu fiers en apparence, mais dociles en effet : 
 officieux aux sages, et ennemies des sots et des ignorans. Leurs 
 
236 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 femmes et leurs filles sont des beautes males telles qu'on depeint 
 les amazones." — Le mime. 
 
 Page 94, Verse 4, Last Line. 
 
 Not far from the scene of Vulcan's labors : yet the regions 
 sought by these spirits must have been very much deeper. 
 
 Page 99, Verse 4. 
 
 " Had lightly left his pure and blissful home 
 To taste the blandishments of -mortal love." 
 
 In the Book of Enoch, two hundred or more of such angels as 
 Cephroniel are said to have descended on Mount Hermon for the 
 purpose of visiting women of whose beauty they had become en- 
 amoured. Tertullian regards this book as of sacred authority, as 
 will be seen in the article, " De Habitu Muliebri ; " but some of the 
 other fathers are disinclined to believe it. 
 
 Page 100, Verse i. 
 
 This manner of bearing the car is not inconsistent with the known 
 docility and strength of serpents in general. 
 
 Page 100, Verse 2, Last Line. 
 Tsaveven signifies tint-gem. 
 
 Page 100, Verse 3, Line 2. 
 
 It has been said that an art once existed of composing a sub- 
 stance, which, together with a perfect pliancy, had the color and 
 transparency of glass or crystal. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 237 
 
 Page 100, Verse 4. 
 
 " The reptiles, in their fearful beauty , drew, 
 A s if from love, like steeds of A raby : 
 Like blood of lady 's lip their scarlet hue" 
 
 The docility, and even affection, of the serpent, is sufficiently 
 known and attested. Some chemical arts might have been used 
 to give the scales of these their scarlet color, surrounded as they 
 were by beings of such exquisite skill. Little serpents, however, 
 of a bright glossy scarlet, are not uncommon in America ; and (if 
 the Count de Buff on, and his admirer and frequent translator Dr. 
 Goldsmith, are to be relied on) the snake, as long as it lives, con- 
 tinues to increase, having no fixed dimensions allotted to it like 
 other animals. These most pleasing writers (if I am not much 
 mistaken) believe also that no particular bound is set to its vitality, 
 and that it is capable of retaining life and youth so long as it can 
 be preserved from accidents. 
 
 The following account of the celebrated exploit of Prometheus, 
 which M. de Lender puts into the mouth of an old Grecian or 
 Assyrian mariner, may not be unentertaining : — 
 
 Prometheus, having made a statue of clay, mixed with it levin of 
 gall, flesh of the aspic, and foam of the lion. But the figure was 
 still an insensible mass. Prometheus stole fire from the sun, and 
 man was animated. Scarcely had he drawn a breath ere he com- 
 plained to the gods of the fatal gift of life : pain was his first sen- 
 sation. Jupiter, to console him, and mitigate his sufferings, gave 
 him a drug that had the virtue of restoring youth. The man was 
 delighted with the present, and placed it on an ass for the purpose 
 of conveying it to his own abode. 
 
 The beast, tormented with thirst, stopped on his way at a foun- 
 tain guarded by a serpent. The wicked reptile would not suffer 
 him to drink, except on condition that the drug should meanwhile 
 be left in its care. The ass consented, and the serpent kept the 
 drug. From that time the serpent has had power to renew its 
 youth, while poor human beings grow old without remedy. 
 
238 NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 Page 10 r, Verse 3. 
 
 " Bright Ramaour followed on, in order meet; 
 Then Nahalcotil and Zotzaraven, best 
 Beloved, save Rouamasak of perfume sweet; 
 Then Talhazak and Marmorak" 
 
 These names are formed from Hebraic words, expressive of the 
 various qualities and employments of the beings who bear them. 
 
 Aishalat signifies fire-control; Psaamayim, black-water; Ra- 
 maour, light-direct; Nahalcoul, guide-sound; Zotzaraven, shape- 
 spar ; Rouamasak, mingle-air ; Talhazak, dew-congeal ; Marmorak 
 (partly Greek), marble-stain. 
 
 Nothing can be more barbarous than Hebrew words as they are 
 pronounced in English. They are, however, much softer on the 
 lips of Oriental speakers, or even those of the south of Europe. 
 Some of the dialects of the aborigines of America, though they 
 look so repulsively as we get them on paper, are soft as the mur- 
 mur of the forest when spoken by forest orators. 
 
 Page 102, Verse 4. 
 
 Diamond, it is said, is but crystal of carbon. Tahathyam, how- 
 ever, might not have meant to have his flowers literally covered or 
 incrusted with diamond, but might only have used this expression 
 to impress on Talhazak a sense of the value he held them in. 
 
 Page 104, Verse 4. 
 
 " Where is the bright Cefihroniel ? Spirit '; tell 
 But how he fares" 
 
 Tahathyam has never seen his father since first established in 
 his submarine kingdom ; and knows not whether he has been re- 
 ceived again into heaven, or remains still wandering about in a 
 state of punishment. The crimes of those angels made guilty only 
 by their intercourse with mortals were supposed to have been 
 punished less severely than those of the subordinates of the prince 
 of ambition. 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 239 
 
 Page 105, Last Verse. 
 
 It was perfectly in the power of optics and chemistry, of which 
 sciences these beings were in possession, to produce, the effect 
 described beneath the roof of so vast a cavern. 
 
 Page 107, Verse 4. 
 
 " That baffling, maddening, fascinating art, 
 Half told by Sprite most mischievous, that he 
 Might laugh to see men toil, then not impart." 
 
 Some alchemists still exist who have not laid aside the hope of 
 success in their labors. 
 
 In Voltaire's "Life of Charles XII." is related the following 
 circumstance : " A certain Livonian, who was an officer in the 
 Saxon army, and named Paikel, was made prisoner by the troops 
 of Charles, and condemned to be decapitated at Stockholm. Before 
 the execution of his sentence he found means to inform the senate 
 that he was in possession of the secret of making gold; which, 
 on condition of pardon, he would communicate to the king. The 
 experiment was made in prison, in presence of Col. Hamilton and 
 the magistrates of the city. The gold found in the crucible after 
 the experiment was carried to the mint at Stockholm, and a judicial 
 report made to the senate ; which appeared so important, that the 
 queen-mother ordered the execution to be suspended until the king 
 could be informed of so singular an event, and transmit his orders 
 to Stockholm. Charles answered that he had refused the pardon 
 of the criminal to his relations, and that he would never grant to 
 interest what he had refused to friendship. After viewing the fable 
 of Midas, in connection with the belief of the fathers, it is not diffi- 
 cult to imagine that the secret of alchemy was actually imparted to 
 that king by a fallen angel, who caused himself to be adored as 
 the god Bacchus; and the disastrous consequences that must 
 necessarily ensue, provided such an art could be obtained, are 
 forcibly depicted in the sufferings of Midas. 
 
 Gold, like every thing else not absolutely necessary to existence, 
 
24O NOTES TO CANTO THIRD. 
 
 would cease to be valued as soon as it became plentiful ; but nothing 
 would, perhaps, occasion more dreadful immediate misery than a 
 possibility of procuring it easily. 
 
 The secret of alchemy, even if it could be discovered, would 
 bring with it nothing delightful ; but it is pleasant to imagine a 
 glimpse of possibility of discovering, sooner or later, the means of 
 preserving mortal life beyond its present imperfect term. 
 
 It has always seemed to me (whether any other person has 
 thought the same I know not) that something in favor of this 
 possibility may be inferred from a passage in the Mosaic account 
 of the fall. The first pair are driven from the garden, lest, having 
 tasted the tree of knowledge, they might pluck also of the tree of 
 life, and live forever. Is this an allegory? or to what does the 
 passage relate ? 
 
 " The animals," says Father Jerom Dandini in his " Voyage to 
 Mount Libanus," " eat a certain herb which causes their teeth to 
 change to a golden color." This herb Father Jerom thinks must 
 proceed from mines under Mount Ida. And Niebuhr mentions 
 that the Eastern alchemists fancy their success would be certain, 
 provided they could find out the herb which tinges the color of the 
 flesh of the sheep that eat it. 
 
 Page 109, Last Verse; Page iio, Verse i. 
 
 " In form of canopy was seen to fall 
 The stony tapestry." • 
 
 There now exists, either in Virginia or some of the neighboring 
 country (I have no reference, and do not recollect this particular), 
 a singularly beautiful grotto, called, by those who live around it, 
 Wyer's Cave. It contains several apartments, in some of which 
 the concretions are said by those who have seen them to be spread 
 over the sides and roof in the form of curtains and festoons. One 
 of the chambers is extremely remarkable. It is commonly called 
 the " Lady's Drawing-room ; " and on one side of it a crystalline 
 projection is shown, which rings at the touch in such a manner, 
 
PALACE OF GNOMES. 24I 
 
 that the person whose description I saw fancied a skilful hand 
 might draw music from it. Many curious and extensive caverns 
 are found in the Island of Cuba. One near the Bay of Matanzas is 
 often visited by strangers ; but nobody has ventured to penetrate 
 far. I visited one twenty miles distant from this, and not far from 
 the estate San Patricio, which contained three apartments and a 
 reservoir of water. Being a great deal above the surface of the 
 earth, on the side of a pleasant hill, it would not, in that climate, 
 have been very uncomfortable as a residence. Some of the con- 
 ' cretions had attained the shape of large and perfect columns ; 
 others were in the form of two acute pyramids or obelisks, — one 
 depending from the roof, and the other rising from the floor. These 
 were of a whitish color ; but though evening came on, and we had 
 two or three tapers, I could see nothing transparent or sparkling. 
 This grotto is on either the Cafetal Teresa, or the one adjoining it : 
 the boundaries of both were covered with wood. There is another, 
 deeper in the earth, about six or seven English miles from Matanzas, 
 on the estate of Octavius Mitchell, Esq., from which I was shown 
 specimens of spar of the size and shape of a common quill, and 
 clear like glass. Some beautiful concretions, or perhaps petrifac- 
 tions, were also found there, which were said to bear some resem- 
 blance to groups of sculpture. These I did not see ; but one was 
 taken out, and named " The Twins of Latona." 
 
 Page iio, Verse 4, Line 3. 
 
 This name is compounded of a Hebraic and a Greek word, and 
 signifies to move or affect the soul. 
 
 Page 114, Last Verse, First Words. 
 From eva, life ; and nathan, to give. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 Page 119, Verse 2, Last Line. 
 
 " And fed on the revenge deep smouldering in his breast" 
 
 Caius Marius, musing over the ruins of Carthage, has been made 
 the subject of a very good picture ; and the author of that not very- 
 old Italian work entitled " Notti Romane " has entered with great 
 effect into those feelings which the successor of Sylla probably 
 acted under. If the characters of those who commit crimes could 
 be analyzed, it would be found, perhaps invariably, that such per- 
 sons are either too stupid to be sensible of what they do, or under 
 some illusion of feeling or imagination which entirely conceals from 
 them its atrocity. 
 
 " Nodrito dalla sola vendetta m' inoltrai sulla spiaggia peregri- 
 nando verso Minturno : ivi mi abbattei immantininte ne' guerrieri 
 Sillani miei indefessi persecutori. Mi gettai fra le onde a nuoto, e 
 mi rivolei a due navi, non remote, per ricoverarmi in esse. Le 
 gravi, provette, vaste, oppresse, mie membra faceano a stento 
 quell' offizio, cosi che il sommergermi era imminente, lo udiva, in- 
 tanto que' sicarj dal lido far voti crudeli a Nettuno, ed a Nereo 
 perche mi traessero negli abbissi loro, et invocare i mostri voraci 
 del mare ; e schernire con ribalde parole quella mia trista ansieta. 
 242 
 
THE STORM. 243 
 
 '"A me sospinto da continue sciagure, scacciato da ogni lido, era 
 omai divenuto ogni terra inospitale, ogni mare tempestoso ; e stetti 
 muto contemplando la mine della spenta Cartagine, come specchio 
 della fortuna." — Notti Romane. 
 
 Marius, soon after the scene depicted in this extract, returned to 
 Rome, and (as he is made to express it in the same work) purged 
 the city of its horrid ingratitude. 
 
 Page 119, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 
 " From where with children's blood their guilty altars reek?' 
 
 The Carthaginians retained the custom of offering human sacri- 
 fices to their gods till the destruction of their city. When Gelon 
 of Syracuse gained a victory over them in Sicily, one of the articles 
 of stipulation was that no more human lives should be sacrificed to 
 Saturn. "For," says Rollin," during the whole engagement, which 
 lasted from morn till night, Hamilcar, the son of Hanno, was con- 
 tinually offering to the gods sacrifices of living men, who were 
 thrown on a flaming pile." Seeing his troops put to flight, Hamil- 
 car threw himself upon the same pile, and received, after his death, 
 divine honors. Mothers (according to Plutarch and Tertuilian) 
 threw their children into the sacrificial flames, and the least in- 
 dication of pity or sorrow would have been punished in them as 
 impious. 
 
 According to the belief of the fathers, it must have been the 
 princely instigator of the rebellion in heaven who caused himself tG 
 be adored as the god Belus or Saturn, whose altars were continually 
 glowing with the blood and flames of human sacrifices. Those 
 angels who fell from the thirst of power must have been the au- 
 thors of all cruelty. The seraphic offenders were only voluptuous. 
 The angel presiding over licentious love is sometimes forcibly 
 alluded to in " Les Martyrs " of M. de Chateaubriand. 
 
244 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 Page 119, Last Verse, First Lines. 
 
 " But far, far of, tip on the sea y s expanse, 
 The very silence has a shriek of fear" 
 
 In the suspense and stillness which precede a storm on or near 
 the ocean, or any other vast extent of water, there is an effect pro- 
 duced on the feelings of some persons as if a shriek were really 
 uttered in the distance. This effect was probably attributed, by 
 such of the ancients as observed it, to their sea-gods or nymphs. 
 Christian fathers or Jewish rabbins must have supposed it to pro- 
 ceed from those angels, who, according to the books of the latter, 
 preside over the elements. 
 
 Page 124, Verse i, Line i. 
 
 " The shivering Sprite of flowers." 
 
 According to the Hebraic writings, nothing animate or inani- 
 mate exists throughout all nature without a particular angel to 
 protect and take care of it. 
 
 " Archangelos et angelos, quibus cura committitur Regnorum, 
 provinciarum, Nationum, principum, et particularium personarum ; 
 quaeritur igitur, num etiam animalia bruta, et res insensibiles, id 
 est lapides, et elementa atque etiam vegetabilia habeant proprios 
 Angelos ad sui custodiam destinatos ? " — Bibliotheca Magna Rab- 
 binic a : Bartoloccii. 
 
 This, whether true or false, is much more delightful than the 
 belief or knowledge that every thing depends on material laws. 
 The Greeks had a nymph for every tree ; and their religion was a 
 mere alteration of those of the more Oriental and ancient nations. 
 The idea of the Elysian Fields was, it has been supposed, conceived 
 by Orpheus after a glance at the vast subterranean abodes of the 
 priests of Egypt, who, as is usual, converted those sublime truths 
 conveyed to them, according to the faith of the fathers, by erring 
 but celestial intelligences, to purposes of the grossest fraud and 
 cruelty. 
 
THE STORM. 245 
 
 Page 125, Last Verse; Page 126, Verse i. 
 
 " Not, as 'tis wont, with intermitting flash , 
 But like an ocean all of liquid flame" 
 
 This is but a simple description of the appearance of the sky for 
 several minutes during a storm which happened on the island 
 where the verses of the text were written, either in the year 1823 
 or 1824. I lay under a transparent mosquito-net, listening to the 
 pleasing noise made by the trees and shrubs around the principal 
 dwelling of the Cafetal San Patricio, and watching the flashes of 
 lightning that darted through the green blinds of an unglazed win- 
 dow. It was about midnight when the loudness of the thunder- 
 peals increased, and the flashes became more continued than any I 
 had ever seen. A crash was soon heard from without, and the 
 whole room seemed deluged, as it w T ere, with flame. 
 
 Thinking the building on fire, I arose, and succeeded in waking 
 a negress, who still slept soundly by the door of my apartment. 
 Going into the hall, and getting a window opened which looked 
 into a broad piazza, I was surprised to see it occupied by those 
 fierce dogs which were accustomed to be let loose at ten or eleven 
 o'clock at night, in order that they might prowl about till sunrise, 
 and guard the plantation. They had sought shelter from the ele- 
 ments : and, as they ran in a distressed manner from one side of the 
 piazza to the other, it seemed as if they moved in fire ; for the 
 whole firmament continued to be, at long intervals, like a vast sea 
 of light. Some glazed windows on the slant roof of the building 
 were torn from their hinges, and whirled over the secaderos ; 1 and 
 the rain then descended in cataracts. 
 
 The sun rose brightly next morning ; and the scene, though 
 rather sad, was delightful. The Bermuda grass-plats were strewn 
 with leaves, twigs, and broken flowers : and numbers of those 
 black birds which the Spanish inhabitants of the island call judeos 
 were hovering over a dark clump of bamboos which had been torn 
 
 1 Secaderos are made of plaster, in the manner of broad platforms, rising a 
 little, however, in the centre, and formed with many divisions and conduits for the 
 rain, which is retained in cisterns beneath them. On these the red and sweet- 
 smelling coffee-berries are dried. 
 
246 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 up by the roots, and uttering the most piteous cries ; for many of 
 them were unable to find again their nests, constructed amidst the 
 almost impervious foliage of those vast and beautiful reeds which 
 now lay prostrate. 
 
 The palm thatching was torn from some of the out-houses of 
 San Patricio. One mansion on a neighboring estate, belonging to 
 Don Jose Martinez, was taken by the tempest from an insecure 
 foundation, and set in another place. One estate, several leagues 
 distant, and near a river, was deluged. But no human lives, that I 
 heard of, were lost. 
 
 Page 127, Verse 3. 
 
 " A sable 77iantle fell in cloudy fold 
 From its stit/>endous breast." 
 
 That many of the angels were of a larger stature than that of 
 men appears to have been believed by the Oriental nations. 
 Asrael, or Azarael, who assisted in forming the first man, was, 
 according to Rabadan the Morisco, noticed particularly by the 
 Creator on account of his uncommon stature. 
 
 Herodotus relates that Xerxes, while yet undecided upon carrying 
 the war into Greece, was warmly dissuaded from his design by his 
 brother Artabanes. Falling asleep soon after, he saw in a dream 
 a man of uncommon stature and beauty, who urged him on to the 
 undertaking. This, Calmet supposes, must have been some angel 
 or spirit who sought his destruction. 
 
 It is said of Apollonius Tyaneus, that, coming to the tomb of 
 Achilles, he raised his manes, and begged that the figure of the 
 hero might appear to him : whereupon a phantom appeared like a 
 young man, seven feet and a half high, which soon increased to 
 twelve cubits, and assumed an extraordinary beauty. The whole, 
 however, proved to be the work of a demon which Apollonius had 
 power over. This incident is introduced by Byron in " The De- 
 formed Transformed." 
 
THE STORM. 247 
 
 Page 129, Verse 3. 
 
 " There, on the steam of human heart-blood, spilt 
 By priest or murderer, make repast" 
 
 Those evil spirits or angels who caused themselves to be adored 
 as deities, were said to subsist (according to M. de Fontenelle, who 
 gives authority for all that he asserts, " Leurs corps aeriens se 
 nourissent de fumigations de sang repandu et de la graisse de sacri- 
 fices." — Histoire des Oracles) on the smoke of sacrifices. One is 
 almost induced to believe, with the earlier Christians, that demons 
 really inhabited those temples where so much human blood was 
 spilled. It is far more shocking to suppose that so horrid an expe- 
 dient could have been invented by one's fellow-mortals for the 
 purposes of deception or interest. 
 
 Page 129, Verse 3. 
 
 " Over the vile creations of thy guilt.** 
 
 It is not impossible that some of the angels who assisted at the 
 creation (as is believed by all very ancient nations) might, after 
 the fall, have amused themselves with making those noisome and 
 disgusting reptiles and animalcula which can but startle one's be- 
 lief in the beneficence of the Being who formed them. 
 
 Page "129, Verse 4. 
 
 " Waste thy life-giving" power on reptiles foul." 
 
 Life, it is supposed, may exist without the slightest mixture of 
 soul, as is the case with many marine animals. Some chemists, in 
 the enthusiasm of their successes, have imagined that even human 
 life was kept up by a mechanical process carried on in the lungs. 
 This, granting it for a mo??ient to be true, does not in the least 
 detract from the power or bounty of the great Creator and Foun- 
 tain of soul ; for of what value is any animated form unless ennobled 
 by a breath or emanation from him ? 
 
248 NOTES TO CANTO FOURTH. 
 
 After receiving it as a truth, that such beings as good and evil 
 angels exist, one may reasonably suppose them in possession of 
 many arts and much science, which men, from the shortness of 
 their lives, have been unable to attain. 
 
 Page 129, Last Verse. 
 
 " While, blent with winds, ten thousand agents wage 
 The strife anew." 
 
 Many passages in the writings of both Jews and Christians occur 
 to justify this. It must, however, have been some inferior angel, 
 cwho, according to the continually quoted belief of the fathers, was 
 worshipped as the god ^Eolus. The " prince of the powers of the 
 air " himself must have been sufficiently employed in feasting on 
 the exhalations of the blood of his numerous sacrifices. The god 
 Mars, to preserve the same system entire, must have been also one 
 of his subordinates. The field of battle, therefore, together with 
 the hearts that quivered on altars both in the Old and New World, 
 must have made his banquets long and frequent. 
 
 Page 132, Verse 4. 
 
 " Though the first seraph formed, how could I tell 
 The ways of guile ?" 
 
 The angels are supposed to have been created at different 
 periods : they were endowed with different capacities, and had 
 different employments assigned to them. 
 
 " Cum enim soli Angeli supremae hierarchiae immediate illumi- 
 nentur a Deo, illi soli dicuntur assistere Deo ; caeteri aliarum hier- 
 archiarum, ministrantes Angeli nominantur. Itaque tarn illi, quam 
 isti sunt fere infiniti." — Bibliotheca Magna Hebraica : Bartoloccii. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Z A M E I A. 
 
 Page 138, Verse 4, Line i. 
 
 " *T£s there thori bid'st a deeper ardor glow.*'' 
 
 It has been generally believed that " the cold in clime are cold 
 in blood ; " but this, on examination, would, I am convinced, be 
 f ound physically untrue, at least, in those climates near the equator. 
 It is here that most cold-blooded animals, such as the tortoise, the 
 serpent, and various tribes of beautiful insects, are found in the 
 greatest perfection. 
 
 . Fewer instances of delirium or suicide, occasioned by the pas- 
 sion of love, would, perhaps, be found within the tropics than in 
 the other divisions of the earth. Nature, in the colder regions, 
 appears to have given an innate warmth and energy proportionate 
 to those efforts which the severity of the elements, and the numer- 
 ous wants which they create, keep continually in demand. 
 
 Those who live, as it were, under the immediate protection of 
 the sun, have little need of internal fires. Their blood is cool and 
 thin; and, living where every thing is soft and flattering to the 
 senses, it is not surprising that their thoughts seldom wander far 
 beyond what their bright eyes can look upon. 
 
 Though sometimes subject to violent fits of jealousy, these gen- 
 
 249 
 
25O NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 erally pass off without leaving much regret or unhappiness behind ; 
 and any other object falling in their way (for they would not go far 
 to seek it) would very soon become just as valuable to them as the 
 one lost. Such of them as are constant are rather so from indo- 
 lence than from any depth of sentiment, or conviction of excellence. 
 " The man who reflects," says Rousseau, " is a monster out of the 
 order of nature." The natives of all tropical regions might be 
 brought forward in proof of his assertion : they never look at 
 remote results, or enter into refined speculations; and yet are, 
 undoubtedly, less unhappy than any other of the inhabitants of 
 earth. 
 
 Page 139, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 
 " Excess of soul through the material breast" 
 I have never observed this effect except in very few instances, 
 and those were of persons neither brilliant for their attainments, 
 nor .(with one exception) remarkable for external beauty. They 
 were, however, possessed of most excellent dispositions ; and it was 
 impossible to converse with them without being sensible of some- 
 thing which could be felt, and almost seen, — a sort of emanation. 
 
 Page 139, Verse 4, Last Lines. 
 
 " A warmth — a mystic charm — seemed breathing through 
 Each viewless pore, and circling him withottt." 
 
 This is but a copy from the life, and the original of it was so 
 uneducated as to be scarcely tolerable : he had made, however, the 
 most generous sacrifices for his friends and relatives ; and it was 
 impossible to be near and look at him, while speaking, without per- 
 ceiving all attempted to be described in the text. 
 
 Page 140, Verse 3, Last Line. 
 
 For the origin of the name of this mountain or ridge, see an 
 article on Mount Caucasus in "Asiatic Researches." 
 
ZAMEIA. 251 
 
 Page 142, Verse i, Last Line. 
 
 " Cast me to the flames, and save me from the thought /" 
 
 Human victims were sometimes thrown into fires burning in 
 honor of the god Baal. It appears from some passages in the 
 Mosaic writings that the same custom prevailed even among the 
 Hebrews. 
 
 Page 142, Verse 4, Last Lines. 
 
 " Forsake 
 A II other gods for love 's idolatry'* 
 
 It appears that the Hebrews were not averse to intermarrying 
 with those of other nations, provided such would embrace their 
 religion. " Pharaoh's daughter became, it is supposed, a prose- 
 lyte : a marriage with her was not, therefore, considered a fault in 
 their wise but voluptuous king." — See Notes to Josephus. 
 
 Page 145, Verse 4, Line 2. 
 
 The carneol is a gem of carnation tint, which for hardness ranks 
 little below the ruby and amethyst. 
 
 Page 146, Last Verse, Last Line. 
 
 "Are thrown to bear yo7i to some floating isle." 
 
 For an account of those flowery islets which once floated about 
 the Mississippi, from whose mud and vegetation they were formed, 
 one has only to look at the beginning of "Atala." There M. de 
 Chateaubriand has given a description surpassed only by the exqui- 
 site story which follows. 
 
 The Mexicans, before the conquest of their city by Cortez, were 
 accustomed to sail about its lakes on floating islets : th&s^ how- 
 ever, must have been constructed by art. 
 
252 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Page 147, Verse i, Last Line. 
 
 " He rears his white-ringed neck, and watches you from far." 
 
 The ring-necked serpent is still sometimes seen in North Amer- 
 ica : it is of a shining black, with a white circle about its neck, as 
 exact as if drawn with a pencil. From the extreme swiftness of its 
 movement, it received from the English settlers the name of horse- 
 racer. Its lifts its head, from time to time, above the grass through 
 which it glides ; and is said to have the power of destroying even 
 men by twining itself about them. If death, however, has ever 
 happened from that cause, the cases of it must have been very 
 unfrequent. I saw, when a child, a very young snakelet of this 
 kind, which had been found in a cellar, and was kept in spirits of 
 wine by the woman of the house : it was of the length of a common 
 pen, and very smooth and delicate. 
 
 Page 148, Verse i, Last Line. 
 
 " That from the City of the Dove ye came" 
 
 The dove was, in ancient times, the device of the Assyrian Em- 
 pire, as the eagle was that of the Roman ; and was adopted from a 
 belief that the Indian god Maha-deva, and his goddess Parvate, 
 once assumed the appearance of doves in order to benefit the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 The worship of the dove was peculiar to India, Arabia, Syria, 
 and Assyria. Semiramis, the queen and beautifier of Babylon, is 
 said to have been fed by doves in the desert, and to have vanished 
 at last from the sight of mortals in the shape of a dove. 
 
 Semiramis was supposed to have been an incarnation of Parvate, 
 consort of Maha-deva, or Nature ; which goddess was called Sami- 
 rama, from a circumstance (related in one of the Puranas) of her 
 having chosen to reside in a Sami-tree, whither she had fled from 
 the god, her husband, in a fit of jealousy. 
 
 It is from the Sami-tree that the Indians cut the A rani, a cubic 
 piece of wood, from which they obtain fire by drawing a cord 
 through a perforation in the centre. 
 
ZAMEIA. 253 
 
 According to the fable, a fire issued from Sami-rama while per- 
 forming austere devotion, which spread over the whole range of 
 mountains near her retirement. This fire she confined to the Samif- 
 tree, in pity to the neighboring people. 
 
 The Arani is still called by the Indians the " daughter of the 
 Sami-tree, and mother of fire. " 
 
 See an extract from the Hindoo sacred books, contained in the 
 " Asiatic Researches." 
 
 Page 148, Last Verse, Last Two Lines. 
 
 Phrah : the original name, the Euphrates, is thought by Jose- 
 phus to signify flower, or dispersion. 
 
 Page 149, First Verse. 
 
 ts Divine Mylitta, child of light, and that 
 Which from dark nothing formed the teeming earth." 
 
 The earnest and apparently pure adoration of Neantes for this 
 goddess may proceed from some glimpses of Oriental and Grecian 
 cosmogony caught from the scribe, his former master. One of the 
 Venuses is said to have been the daughter of Ccelus and Light. 
 This personification of the soul, or active principle of creation, by a 
 form of perfect beauty, was an idea sublime, perhaps, as delightful, 
 but, like every thing else of excessive refinement, was incapable of 
 being generally understood in the manner first designed, and 
 soon became perverted to the sanction of a pernicious licentious- 
 ness. The following is extracted from Enfield's " Compendium of 
 Brucker : " — 
 
 " There were different opinions among the ancients concerning 
 the first cause of nature. Some might possibly ascribe the origin 
 of all things to a generating force, destitute of thought, which they 
 conceived to be inherent in matter, without looking to any higher 
 principle. But it is probable that the general opinion among them 
 was that which had prevailed among the Egyptians and in the 
 
254 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 East, and was communicated by traditions to the Greeks, — that 
 matter or chaos existed eternally with God ; that, by the divine 
 energy of emanation, material forms went forth from him, and the 
 visible world arose into existence. This principle being admitted, 
 a satisfactory explanation may be given of most of the Grecian 
 fables. Upon this supposition, their doctrines of the creation, 
 divested of all allegory and fable, will be as follows : The first 
 matter, containing the seeds of all future beings, existed from eter- 
 nity with God. At length the divine energy, acting upon matter, 
 produced a motion among its parts, by which those of the same 
 kind were brought together, and those of a different kind separated, 
 and by which, according to certain wise laws, the various forms of 
 the material world were produced. The same energy of emanation 
 gave existence to animals and men, and to gods who inhabit the 
 heavenly bodies and various other parts of nature. Among men, 
 those who possess a larger portion of the divine nature than others 
 are hereby impelled to great and beneficent actions, and afford 
 illustrious proofs of their divine original, on account of which they 
 are, after death, 1'aised to a place among the gods, and so become 
 objects of religious worship." This is perfectly in accordance with 
 the Christian belief, that the places left vacant by the fallen angels 
 are to be supplied by human souls ; and some of the fathers sup- 
 pose that such secrets could only have been communicated to the 
 heathen by means of angels. 
 
 Page 153, Verse 3. 
 
 " A fairer scene wari7i Syria never shall 
 Be hold ." 
 
 Of the festivals given in honor of Mylitta, Herodotus has given 
 an account ; and a very full and amusing one is to be found in 
 " Les Voyages d'Antenor." No blood flowed upon the altars of 
 this goddess,: roses, apple-blossoms, fruits, incense, and perfumes 
 were thought more acceptable offerings. Mylitta is but one of the 
 names of Venus. 
 
ZAMEIA. 255 
 
 Page 154, Verse 3, Line i. 
 
 This might have been of the pomegranate-flower, the bright 
 scarlet of which is very becoming to a dark complexion : it, how- 
 ever, respires but a faint odor. There is also a species of mimosa, 
 which produces a splendid scarlet flower, much esteemed by the 
 women of those climates where it is found. 
 
 Page 158, Verse i, Last Line. 
 
 " The gems of all Ophir? 1 
 
 Ophir, or Aurea Chersonesus. This pronunciation of the word 
 is agreeable to the accent of all modern Oriental languages, which, 
 as they are generally founded on the Hebraic, are, of course, more 
 conformable to the ancient sweetness of a language supposed to 
 have been that of angels and spirits than those harsh sounds to 
 which it is now perverted by English and North-American theolo- 
 gists. The present Spanish pronunciation of scriptural names is 
 very soft and delightful. 
 
 The language in which the Koran is written, and which is univer- 
 sally studied and spoken by learned Mahometans, is said to be a 
 dialect of the Hebrew. The guttural sounds of the modern Cas- 
 tilian have probably been remotely derived from the same source. 
 
 Page 158, Last Verse, Line i. 
 
 "Holy Euphrates lowly imirmttring swept?' 
 
 Rivers were, in general, held sacred by the nations of antiquity ; 
 and to wash the hands, spit, or throw any thing of an impure nature, 
 into the Euphrates, was punished by the Babylonians as an act of 
 the greatest impiety. Peleus vowed to make an offering of the hair 
 of Achilles to the stream Sperchius in case he returned victor from 
 Troy. 
 
256 NOTES TO CANTO FIFTH. 
 
 Page 159, Last Verse, Line i. 
 
 " Zame'ia, paler than the ivory white 
 TJiat formed the pillars of her couch" 
 
 Ivory, it is said, was not much heard of till the reign of Solomon, 
 who caused it to be brought from India to Palestine, where it was 
 considered more precious than gold; but afterwards ivory beds 
 and ivory palaces are frequently mentioned. The beautiful statue 
 carved by Pygmalion of Cyprus is said to have been of ivory. 
 Marble, however, when white and pure, was, it appears, also called 
 ivory. 
 
 Page 162, Last Verse. 
 
 " 'Twas written on papyrus of the Nile, 
 Fragrant with rose ; as opening lotos white ; 
 And gold and silver dust in sprinkles o 'er it smile." 
 
 This might have been. The Greeks, however, at a later period, 
 wrote their letters on thin smooth tablets of wood, neatly covered 
 with wax : these were wrapped in linen, and sealed with the wax 
 of Asia. 
 
 According to Sir William Jones and others, the manuscripts of 
 the modern Persians are sprinkled with dust of gold and silver. 
 These, as well as those of the Arabians, are so very beautiful, that 
 those accustomed to them dislike to look on printed copies. 
 
 As there are many lovers of poetry who are not profound scholars, 
 the following extract from an entertaining work may not be un- 
 acceptable : — 
 
 " Les tablettes des Grecs etaient des tables de bois, et enduites 
 de cire : on y ecrivait avec un petit stylet de cuivre, de fer, ou 
 d'or, pointu d'un cote et plat de l'autre ; ce dernier bout servait a 
 effacer. Les Grecs portaient a la ceinture un etui nomine graphia- 
 rium 011 etaient renfermes ce stylet et ces tablettes. 
 
 " Les lettres que les particuliers s'ecrivaient etaient sur des 
 tables de bois mince, deliees, et enduites de cire, que Ton en- 
 veloppait de lin, et que l'on cachetait de craie, ou de cire d'Asie. 
 A la tete de leurs lettres ils mettaient ces mots, ' Joie et prosperite : ' 
 
ZAMEIA. 257 
 
 a leur fin, cette autre formule, ' Portez-vous bien, soyez heureux.' 
 Les Atheniens mettaient, apres leurs noms, dans leur signature, 
 celui de leurs peres, et les pays de leur naissance ; par exemple, 
 * Demosthene de Peanee, fils de Demosthene.' " — Voyages d'Antenor. 
 
 Page 164, Verse 3. 
 
 " But as the date-tree sees her blossoms die." 
 
 The palm-tree is said, by a learned writer, to be " the most 
 curious and interesting subject which the science of natural history 
 involves." However that may be, the most eminent naturalists, 
 ancient and modern, have apparently taken pleasure in describing 
 it. A very full and satisfactory account of- this surprising vegeta- 
 ble is to be found in the ' Amoenitates Exoticae ' of Kaempfer. 
 
 Page 166, Verse 3. 
 
 " Not the string 
 Of Metes' sandal, scarf about his waist, 
 Or feather for his arrows, was a thing 
 More wholly his than she." 
 
 The old Neantes appears to suppose this destructive passion to 
 be no fault of his mistress, but thinks her inspired with it by their 
 goddess as a punishment for former neglect. Racine, in his tra- 
 gedy of " Phedre," extenuates the crimes of that queen by a similar 
 supposition. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 BRIDAL OF HELON. 
 
 Page 172, Verse i. 
 
 " The bard has sung, God never formed a soul 
 Without its own peculiar mate." 
 
 The gods (says Plato in his " Banquet " ) formed man, at first, of 
 a round figure, with two bodies and two sexes. The variety of his 
 powers rendered him so audacious, that he made war against his 
 creators. Jupiter was about to destroy him; but, reflecting that 
 with him the whole human race must perish, the god contented 
 himself with merely reducing his strength. The androgyne was 
 accordingly separated in two parts, and Apollo received the order 
 of perfecting them. From that time, each part, though become a 
 separate being, seeks, desires, and feels a continual impulse, to 
 meet the other. — See Voyages d^ Anterior, tome i. chap. 22. 
 
 Some of the Jewish rabbins have entertained a similar opinion. 
 According to their accounts, Adam was created male and female, — 
 man on one side, woman on the other ; and God afterwards sepa- 
 rated the two forms that were before united. 
 
 " Les androgynes avait deux sexes, deux tetes, quatre bras, quatre 
 pieds." — Voyages d' ^ Anterior.- - See Note to vol. 1. 
 
 It was evidently from such opinions, as well as his own feelings, 
 258 
 
BRIDAL OF HELON. 259 
 
 that Dr. Watts conceived the idea of that popular little poem 
 which he has called " The Indian Philosopher." 
 
 The different accounts of creation are sufficiently amusing. It is 
 said, in the Talmud, that God did not wish to create woman, be- 
 cause he foresaw that her husband would very soon have to com- 
 plain of her perversity : he therefore waited till Adam asked her 
 of him, and then took every precaution to make her as good as 
 possible. He would not take her from the head, lest she should 
 have sufficient wit and spirit to become a coquette ; nor from the 
 eyes, lest she should cast mischievous glances ; nor from the mouth, 
 lest she should listen at doors ; nor from the heart, lest she should 
 be jealous ; nor from the hands or the feet, lest she should be a 
 thief or a runaway. But every precaution was vain : she had all 
 these defects, although drawn from the most quiet and honest part 
 that could possibly be found about Adam. (This is merely trans- 
 lated from M. de Lentier.) 
 
 Page 173, Verse i. 
 
 " And formed in every fibre for such love 
 As Heaven not yet had given her to share." 
 
 Souls, according to Plato, are rays of the divinity, which, ere 
 they are shut up in the gross envelope of mortality, pass through 
 a state of existence, during which an invincible attraction unites 
 them two by two, and inflames them with a love pure and celestial. 
 When embodied upon earth, these souls, thus previously united, 
 continually seek and feel a propensity for each other, and, unless 
 they are so happy as to meet, can never be animated by a true and 
 genuine affection. 
 
 Page 187, Last Verse. 
 
 " He said, all o *er to radiant beauty warming ; 
 While they, in dotibt of what they looked upon, 
 Beheld a form dissolving, dazzling, charming; 
 But, ere their lifis fotmd uttera7ice, it was gone." 
 
 Flesh is said to be composed of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and 
 
26o NOTES TO CANTO SIXTH. 
 
 nitrogen. If men have already been able to discover its materials, 
 the power of making and dissolving it at pleasure may, without in- 
 consistency, be ascribed to beings so much superior to them as 
 angels have ever been thought. Indeed, the supposition of such a 
 power is the only thing that can give the least semblance of possi- 
 bility to what has been related of good and evil angels. 
 
 The following passage, extracted by Brucker from the writings 
 of Bonaventura, looks as reasonable as any thing which has ever 
 yet been said concerning the mysterious union of spirit and body : 
 " The formal principles of bodies are celestial bodies, which, by 
 their accession or recession, cause the production or corruption of 
 the inferior. It may, therefore, be concluded that there is in these 
 occult forms a capacity of being restored to higher principles, — 
 namely, celestial bodies ; or to powers still higher than these, — 
 that is, to separate intellectual substances, which, in their respective 
 operations, leave traces of themselves." 
 
 Page 189, Last Verse. 
 
 " Hoj>e y Zofihiel 7 hope, hoJ>e, hope ! thou hast a friend /" 
 
 As Zophiel appears to have no evil propensity, and commits only 
 such crimes as are occasioned by the violence of his love, Raphael 
 may think it possible to induce him to repent, and ultimately obtain 
 pardon. Haruth and Maruth were condemned for a time to inhabit 
 a cavern beneath the Tower of Babel, with the permission of return- 
 ing to heaven after a proper expiation of their offences. Their 
 appearance in this cavern is beautifully represented in " Thalaba." 
 These angels, according to the story, had obtained, while in heaven, 
 such a reputation for wisdom, that they were sent on earth to judge 
 the whole race of men. They soon, however, became so enamoured 
 of the beautiful Zohara, that she obtained, from them the most holy 
 of secrets. 
 
NOTES OF ZOPHIEL. 26l 
 
 The notes of " Zophiel " were written, some in Cuba, some in Can- 
 ada, some at Hanover, U. S., some at Paris ; and the last at Kes- 
 wick, Eng., under the kind encouragement of Robert Southey, 
 Esq., and near a window which overlooks the beautiful Lake 
 Derwent, and the finest groups of those mountains which encircle 
 completely that charming valley where the Greta winds over its 
 bed of clean pebbles, looking as clear as dew. 
 
 MARIA GOWEN BROOKS. 
 
 April 15, 1831. 
 
" Altogether the vohcme is one of marked excellence, and one which will 
 make a decided impression upon the reading public." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 MEG, A PASTORAL, 
 
 And Other Poems, 
 
 By Mrs. Zadel Barnes Gustafson. i6mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " This volume has the impress of a genuine poet, endowed with a fertile and 
 graceful fancy, a well-attuned ear, and a fluent vocabulary." — Boston Gazette. 
 
 " Between her own poetic gifts and her liberal literary experience, Mrs. Gustaf- 
 son has been particular to produce that which a certain class of people have long 
 been hungering for, namely, a love-story of elevated type told in elevated verse. 
 * Meg ' is one of the sweetest pastorals that has been published for many a day. 
 It is fragrant with the odor of clover-blooms, and the revelation of woman's nature 
 is as true as any that has ever been presented. The story is told with a sympathy 
 on the part of the writer that completely wins over the reader at the very outset, 
 and holds him fascinated till the tale is finished. The other poems of the volume 
 are also of a superior nature, and embrace a number of popular themes." — 
 Chicago Times. 
 
 " The volume contains, among the other fresh work from Mrs. Gustafson, a 
 graceful dramatic poem entitled ' Meg,' which, if we are not greatly mistaken, will 
 attract much attention. Her memorial poem on William Cullen Bryant is one of 
 the worthiest tributes yet paid America's great poet of nature. All nature is rep- 
 resented as saluting him. The opening of the poem is in a most stately elegiac 
 style; but this presently changes to a more joyous, triumphal strain, as full as 
 Mendelssohn's ' Midsummer Night's Dream,' music of revelling fairies, flowers, and 
 insects, chanting or preparing to chant a fit threnody to welcome to his repose 
 among them him ' who had loved them best.' " — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " The first half of this volume is composed of three poems which have not before 
 appeared in print. The opening one, which gives name to the book, is a country 
 love-story in dramatic form, told with studied simplicity. The second is a fine* 
 memorial poem on William Cullen Bryant, in which the sympathy of nature and 
 man with the departed poet is expressed in eloquent and melodious measures. The 
 frame of the poem suggests a symphony, — a delicate pastoral prelude, a gracious 
 allegro, modulating to a sweet andante, and a finale of sustained dignity." — 
 Springfield Republican. 
 
 • The following is printed by permission, from the letter of a distinguished 
 author after his examination of advance sheets of '" Meg, a Pastoral, and 
 other Poems" 
 
 " In the title poem Mrs. Gustafson tells a charming little love-story. There is 
 no attempt at unusualness in scene or plot, which is laid in New-England country 
 life, during the earlier days of the late Rebellion. The author's power and quality 
 as a poet is, therefore, to be judged from the higher standpoint of characterization, 
 coloring, and interpretation. In these Mrs. Gustafson's work reaches great emi- 
 nence, and gives her at once an undoubted place in the front rank of our poets. 
 She writes with almost faultless melody, with fine healthful spirituality, and with a 
 simplicity which proves her possession of an imagination as trained as it is rich 
 and vivid." 
 
 Sold by all booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on 
 receipt of price. 
 
 LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers . . . Boston. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 028 068 166