Thomas Moore- Collected Poetical Works

by Thomas Moore

  1 The account which Macrobius gives of the downward journey of the Soul, through that gate of the zodiac which opens into the lower spheres, is a curious specimen of the wild fancies that passed for philosophy in ancient times.

  2 “We adorned the lower heaven with lights, and placed therein a guard of angels.” — Koran, chap. xli.

  THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS

  ’Twas when the world was in its prime,

  When the fresh stars had just begun

  Their race of glory and young Time

  Told his first birth-days by the sun;

  When in the light of Nature’s dawn

  Rejoicing, men and angels met

  On the high hill and sunny lawn, —

  Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn

  ‘Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!

  When earth lay nearer to the skies

  Than in these days of crime and woe,

  And mortals saw without surprise

  In the mid-air angelic eyes

  Gazing upon this world below.

  Alas! that Passion should profane

  Even then the morning of the earth!

  That, sadder still, the fatal stain

  Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth —

  And that from Woman’s love should fall

  So dark a stain, most sad of all!

  One evening, in that primal hour,

  On a hill’s side where hung the ray

  Of sunset brightening rill and bower,

  Three noble youths conversing lay;

  And, as they lookt from time to time

  To the far sky where Daylight furled

  His radiant wing, their brows sublime

  Bespoke them of that distant world —

  Spirits who once in brotherhood

  Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,

  And o’er whose cheeks full oft had blown

  The wind that breathes from ALLA’S throne,1

  Creatures of light such as still play,

  Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,

  And thro’ their infinite array

  Transmit each moment, night and day,

  The echo of His luminous word!

  Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,

  Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;

  Till yielding gradual to the soft

  And balmy evening’s influence —

  The silent breathing of the flowers —

  The melting light that beamed above,

  As on their first, fond, erring hours, —

  Each told the story of his love,

  The history of that hour unblest,

  When like a bird from its high nest

  Won down by fascinating eyes,

  For Woman’s smile he lost the skies.

  The First who spoke was one, with look

  The least celestial of the three —

  A Spirit of light mould that took

  The prints of earth most yieldingly;

  Who even in heaven was not of those

  Nearest the Throne but held a place

  Far off among those shining rows

  That circle out thro’ endless space,

  And o’er whose wings the light from Him

  In Heaven’s centre falls most dim.2

  Still fair and glorious, he but shone

  Among those youths the unheavenliest one —

  A creature to whom light remained

  From Eden still, but altered, stained,

  And o’er whose brow not Love alone

  A blight had in his transit cast,

  But other, earthlier joys had gone,

  And left their foot-prints as they past.

  Sighing, as back thro’ ages flown,

  Like a tomb-searcher, Memory ran,

  Lifting each shroud that Time had thrown

  O’er buried hopes, he thus began: —

  FIRST ANGEL’S STORY.

  ’Twas in a land that far away

  Into the golden orient lies,

  Where Nature knows not night’s delay,

  But springs to meet her bridegroom, Day,

  Upon the threshold of the skies,

  One morn, on earthly mission sent,3

  And mid-way choosing where to light,

  I saw from the blue element —

  Oh beautiful, but fatal sight! —

  One of earth’s fairest womankind,

  Half veiled from view, or rather shrined

  In the clear crystal of a brook;

  Which while it hid no single gleam

  Of her young beauties made them look

  More spirit-like, as they might seem

  Thro’ the dim shadowing of a dream.

  Pausing in wonder I lookt on,

  While playfully around her breaking

  The waters that like diamonds shone

  She moved in light of her own making.

  At length as from that airy height

  I gently lowered my breathless flight,

  The tremble of my wings all o’er

  (For thro’ each plume I felt the thrill)

  Startled her as she reached the shore

  Of that small lake — her mirror still —

  Above whose brink she stood, like snow

  When rosy with a sunset glow,

  Never shall I forget those eyes! —

  The shame, the innocent surprise

  Of that bright face when in the air

  Uplooking she beheld me there.

  It seemed as if each thought and look

  And motion were that minute chained

  Fast to the spot, such root she took,

  And — like a sunflower by a brook,

  With face upturned — so still remained!

  In pity to the wondering maid,

  Tho’ loath from such a vision turning,

  Downward I bent, beneath the shade

  Of my spread wings to hide the burning

  Of glances, which — I well could feel —

  For me, for her, too warmly shone;

  But ere I could again unseal

  My restless eyes or even steal

  One sidelong look the maid was gone —

  Hid from me in the forest leaves,

  Sudden as when in all her charms

  Of full-blown light some cloud receives

  The Moon into his dusky arms.

  ’Tis not in words to tell the power,

  The despotism that from that hour

  Passion held o’er me. Day and night

  I sought around each neighboring spot;

  And in the chase of this sweet light,

  My task and heaven and all forgot; —

  All but the one, sole, haunting dream

  Of her I saw in that bright stream.

  Nor was it long ere by her side

  I found myself whole happy days

  Listening to words whose music vied

  With our own Eden’s seraph lays,

  When seraph lays are warmed by love,

  But wanting that far, far above! —

  And looking into eyes where, blue

  And beautiful, like skies seen thro’

  The sleeping wave, for me there shone

  A heaven, more worshipt than my own.

  Oh what, while I could hear and see

  Such words and looks, was heaven to me?

  Tho’ gross the air on earth I drew,

  ’Twas blessed, while she breathed it too;

  Tho’ dark the flowers, tho’ dim the sky,

  Love lent them light while she was nigh.

  Throughout creation I but knew

  Two separate worlds — the one, that small,

  Beloved and consecrated spot

  Where LEA was — the other, all

  The dull, wide waste where she was not!

  But vain my suit, my madness vain;

  Tho’ gladly, from her eyes to gain

  One earthly look, one stray desire,

&n
bsp; I would have torn the wings that hung

  Furled at my back and o’er the Fire

  In GEHIM’S4 pit their fragments flung; —

  ’Twas hopeless all — pure and unmoved

  She stood as lilies in the light

  Of the hot noon but look more white; —

  And tho’ she loved me, deeply loved,

  ’Twas not as man, as mortal — no,

  Nothing of earth was in that glow —

  She loved me but as one, of race

  Angelic, from that radiant place

  She saw so oft in dreams — that Heaven

  To which her prayers at morn were sent

  And on whose light she gazed at even,

  Wishing for wings that she might go

  Out of this shadowy world below

  To that free, glorious element!

  Well I remember by her side

  Sitting at rosy even-tide,

  When, — turning to the star whose head

  Lookt out as from a bridal bed,

  At that mute, blushing hour, — she said,

  “Oh! that it were my doom to be

  “The Spirit of yon beauteous star,

  “Dwelling up there in purity,

  “Alone as all such bright things are; —

  “My sole employ to pray and shine,

  “To light my censer at the sun,

  “And cast its fire towards the shrine

  “Of Him in heaven, the Eternal One!”

  So innocent the maid, so free

  From mortal taint in soul and frame,

  Whom ’twas my crime — my destiny —

  To love, ay, burn for, with a flame

  To which earth’s wildest fires are tame.

  Had you but seen her look when first

  From my mad lips the avowal burst;

  Not angered — no! — the feeling came

  From depths beyond mere anger’s flame —

  It was a sorrow calm as deep,

  A mournfulness that could not weep,

  So filled her heart was to the brink,

  So fixt and frozen with grief to think

  That angel natures — that even I

  Whose love she clung to, as the tie

  Between her spirit and the sky —

  Should fall thus headlong from the height

  Of all that heaven hath pure and bright!

  That very night — my heart had grown

  Impatient of its inward burning;

  The term, too, of my stay was flown,

  And the bright Watchers near the throne.

  Already, if a meteor shone

  Between them and this nether zone,

  Thought ’twas their herald’s wing returning.

  Oft did the potent spell-word, given

  To Envoys hither from the skies,

  To be pronounced when back to heaven

  It is their time or wish to rise,

  Come to my lips that fatal day;

  And once too was so nearly spoken,

  That my spread plumage in the ray

  And breeze of heaven began to play; —

  When my heart failed — the spell was broken —

  The word unfinisht died away,

  And my checkt plumes ready to soar,

  Fell slack and lifeless as before.

  How could I leave a world which she,

  Or lost or won, made all to me?

  No matter where my wanderings were,

  So there she lookt, breathed, moved about —

  Woe, ruin, death, more sweet with her,

  Than Paradise itself, without!

  But to return — that very day

  A feast was held, where, full of mirth,

  Came — crowding thick as flowers that play

  In summer winds — the young and gay

  And beautiful of this bright earth.

  And she was there and mid the young

  And beautiful stood first, alone;

  Tho’ on her gentle brow still hung

  The shadow I that morn had thrown —

  The first that ever shame or woe

  Had cast upon its vernal snow.

  My heart was maddened; — in the flush

  Of the wild revel I gave way

  To all that frantic mirth — that rush

  Of desperate gayety which they,

  Who never felt how pain’s excess

  Can break out thus, think happiness!

  Sad mimicry of mirth and life

  Whose flashes come but from the strife

  Of inward passions — like the light

  Struck out by clashing swords in fight.

  Then too that juice of earth, the bane

  And blessing of man’s heart and brain —

  That draught of sorcery which brings

  Phantoms of fair, forbidden things —

  Whose drops like those of rainbows smile

  Upon the mists that circle man,

  Brightening not only Earth the while,

  But grasping Heaven too in their span! —

  Then first the fatal wine-cup rained

  Its dews of darkness thro’ my lips,

  Casting whate’er of light remained

  To my lost soul into eclipse;

  And filling it with such wild dreams,

  Such fantasies and wrong desires,

  As in the absence of heaven’s beams

  Haunt us for ever — like wildfires

  That walk this earth when day retires.

  Now hear the rest; — our banquet done,

  I sought her in the accustomed bower,

  Where late we oft, when day was gone

  And the world husht, had met alone,

  At the same silent, moonlight hour.

  Her eyes as usual were upturned

  To her loved star whose lustre burned

  Purer than ever on that night;

  While she in looking grew more bright

  As tho’ she borrowed of its light.

  There was a virtue in that scene,

  A spell of holiness around,

  Which had my burning brain not been

  Thus maddened would have held me bound,

  As tho’ I trod celestial ground.

  Even as it was, with soul all flame

  And lips that burned in their own sighs,

  I stood to gaze with awe and shame —

  The memory of Eden came

  Full o’er me when I saw those eyes;

  And tho’ too well each glance of mine

  To the pale, shrinking maiden proved

  How far, alas! from aught divine,

  Aught worthy of so pure a shrine,

  Was the wild love with which I loved,

  Yet must she, too, have seen — oh yes,

  ’Tis soothing but to think she saw

  The deep, true, soul-felt tenderness,

  The homage of an Angel’s awe

  To her, a mortal, whom pure love

  Then placed above him — far above —

  And all that struggle to repress

  A sinful spirit’s mad excess,

  Which workt within me at that hour,

  When with a voice where Passion shed

  All the deep sadness of her power,

  Her melancholy power — I said,

  “Then be it so; if back to heaven

  “I must unloved, unpitied fly.

  “Without one blest memorial given

  “To soothe me in that lonely sky;

  “One look like those the young and fond

  “Give when they’re parting — which would be,

  “Even in remembrance far beyond

  “All heaven hath left of bliss for me!

  “Oh, but to see that head recline

  “A minute on this trembling arm,

  “And those mild eyes look up to mine,

  “Without a dread, a thought of harm!

  “To meet but once the thrilling touch

  “Of lips too
purely fond to fear me —

  “Or if that boon be all too much,

  “Even thus to bring their fragrance near me!

  “Nay, shrink not so — a look — a word —

  “Give them but kindly and I fly;

  “Already, see, my plumes have stirred

  “And tremble for their home on high.

  “Thus be our parting — cheek to cheek —

  “One minute’s lapse will be forgiven,

  “And thou, the next, shalt hear me speak

  “The spell that plumes my wing for heaven!”

  While thus I spoke, the fearful maid,

  Of me and of herself afraid,

  Had shrinking stood like flowers beneath

  The scorching of the south-wind’s breath:

  But when I named — alas, too well,

  I now recall, tho’ wildered then, —

  Instantly, when I named the spell

  Her brow, her eyes uprose again;

  And with an eagerness that spoke

  The sudden light that o’er her broke,

  “The spell, the spell! — oh, speak it now.

  “And I will bless thee!” she exclaimed —

  Unknowing what I did, inflamed,

  And lost already, on her brow

  I stampt one burning kiss, and named

  The mystic word till then ne’er told

  To living creature of earth’s mould!

  Scarce was it said when quick a thought,

  Her lips from mine like echo caught

  The holy sound — her hands and eyes

  Were instant lifted to the skies,

  And thrice to heaven she spoke it out

  With that triumphant look Faith wears,

  When not a cloud of fear or doubt,

  A vapor from this vale of tears.

  Between her and her God appears!

  That very moment her whole frame

  All bright and glorified became,

  And at her back I saw unclose

  Two wings magnificent as those

  That sparkle around ALLA’S Throne,

  Whose plumes, as buoyantly she rose

  Above me, in the moon-beam shone

  With a pure light; which — from its hue,

  Unknown upon this earth — I knew

  Was light from Eden, glistening thro’!

  Most holy vision! ne’er before

  Did aught so radiant — since the day

  When EBLIS in his downfall, bore

  The third of the bright stars away —

  Rise in earth’s beauty to repair

  That loss of light and glory there!

  But did I tamely view her flight?

  Did not I too proclaim out thrice

  The powerful words that were that night, —

  Oh even for heaven too much delight! —

  Again to bring us, eyes to eyes

  And soul to soul, in Paradise?

  I did — I spoke it o’er and o’er —