by Thomas Moore
I prayed, I wept, but all in vain;
For me the spell had power no more.
There seemed around me some dark chain
Which still as I essayed to soar
Baffled, alas, each wild endeavor;
Dead lay my wings as they have lain
Since that sad hour and will remain —
So wills the offended God — for ever!
It was to yonder star I traced
Her journey up the illumined waste —
That isle in the blue firmament
To which so oft her fancy went
In wishes and in dreams before,
And which was now — such, Purity,
Thy blest reward — ordained to be
Her home of light for evermore!
Once — or did I but fancy so? —
Even in her flight to that fair sphere,
Mid all her spirit’s new-felt glow,
A pitying look she turned below
On him who stood in darkness here;
Him whom perhaps if vain regret
Can dwell in heaven she pities yet;
And oft when looking to this dim
And distant world remembers him.
But soon that passing dream was gone;
Farther and farther off she shone,
Till lessened to a point as small
As are those specks that yonder burn, —
Those vivid drops of light that fall
The last from Day’s exhausted urn.
And when at length she merged, afar,
Into her own immortal star,
And when at length my straining sight
Had caught her wing’s last fading ray,
That minute from my soul the light
Of heaven and love both past away;
And I forgot my home, my birth,
Profaned my spirit, sunk my brow,
And revelled in gross joys of earth
Till I became — what I am now!
The Spirit bowed his head in shame;
A shame that of itself would tell —
Were there not even those breaks of flame,
Celestial, thro’ his clouded frame —
How grand the height from which he fell!
That holy Shame which ne’er forgets
The unblenched renown it used to wear;
Whose blush remains when Virtue sets
To show her sunshine has been there.
Once only while the tale he told
Were his eyes lifted to behold
That happy stainless, star where she
Dwelt in her bower of purity!
One minute did he look and then —
As tho’ he felt some deadly pain
From its sweet light thro’ heart and brain —
Shrunk back and never lookt again.
Who was the Second Spirit? he
With the proud front and piercing glance —
Who seemed when viewing heaven’s expanse
As tho’ his far-sent eye could see
On, on into the Immensity
Behind the veils of that blue sky
Where ALLA’S grandest secrets lie? —
His wings, the while, tho’ day was gone,
Flashing with many a various hue
Of light they from themselves alone,
Instinct with Eden’s brightness drew.
’Twas RUBI — once among the prime
And flower of those bright creatures, named
Spirits of Knowledge,5 who o’er Time
And Space and Thought an empire claimed,
Second alone to Him whose light
Was even to theirs as day to night;
‘Twixt whom and them was distance far
And wide as would the journey be
To reach from any island star
To vague shores of Infinity
’Twas RUBI in whose mournful eye
Slept the dim light of days gone by;
Whose voice tho’ sweet fell on the ear
Like echoes in some silent place
When first awaked for many a year;
And when he smiled, if o’er his face
Smile ever shone, ’twas like the grace
Of moonlight rainbows, fair, but wan,
The sunny life, the glory gone.
Even o’er his pride tho’ still the same,
A softening shade from sorrow came;
And tho’ at times his spirit knew
The kindlings of disdain and ire,
Short was the fitful glare they threw —
Like the last flashes, fierce but few,
Seen thro’ some noble pile on fire!
Such was the Angel who now broke
The silence that had come o’er all,
When he the Spirit that last spoke
Closed the sad history of his fall;
And while a sacred lustre flown
For many a day relumed his cheek —
Beautiful as in days of old;
And not those eloquent lips alone
But every feature seemed to speak —
Thus his eventful story told: —
SECOND ANGEL’S STORY.
You both remember well the day
When unto Eden’s new-made bowers
ALLA convoked the bright array
Of his supreme angelic powers
To witness the one wonder yet,
Beyond man, angel, star, or sun,
He must achieve, ere he could set
His seal upon the world as done —
To see the last perfection rise,
That crowning of creation’s birth,
When mid the worship and surprise
Of circling angels Woman’s eyes
First open upon heaven and earth;
And from their lids a thrill was sent,
That thro’ each living spirit went
Like first light thro’ the firmament!
Can you forget how gradual stole
The fresh-awakened breath of soul
Throughout her perfect form — which seemed
To grow transparent as there beamed
That dawn of Mind within and caught
New loveliness from each new thought?
Slow as o’er summer seas we trace
The progress of the noontide air,
Dimpling its bright and silent face
Each minute into some new grace,
And varying heaven’s reflections there —
Or like the light of evening stealing
O’er some fair temple which all day
Hath slept in shadow, slow revealing
Its several beauties ray by ray,
Till it shines out, a thing to bless,
All full of light and loveliness.
Can you forget her blush when round
Thro’ Eden’s lone, enchanted ground
She lookt, and saw the sea — the skies —
And heard the rush of many a wing,
On high behests then vanishing;
And saw the last few angel eyes,
Still lingering — mine among the rest, —
Reluctant leaving scenes so blest?
From that miraculous hour the fate
Of this new, glorious Being dwelt
For ever with a spell-like weight
Upon my spirit — early, late,
Whate’er I did or dreamed or felt,
The thought of what might yet befall
That matchless creature mixt with all. —
Nor she alone but her whole race
Thro’ ages yet to come — whate’er
Of feminine and fond and fair
Should spring from that pure mind and face,
All waked my soul’s intensest care;
Their forms, souls, feelings, still to me
Creation’s strangest mystery!
It was my doom — even from the first,
When witnessing the primal burst
; Of Nature’s wonders, I saw rise
Those bright creations in the skies, —
Those worlds instinct with life and light,
Which Man, remote, but sees by night, —
It was my doom still to be haunted
By some new wonder, some sublime
And matchless work, that for the time
Held all my soul enchained, enchanted,
And left me not a thought, a dream,
A word but on that only theme!
The wish to know — that endless thirst,
Which even by quenching is awaked,
And which becomes or blest or curst
As is the fount whereat ’tis slaked —
Still urged me onward with desire
Insatiate, to explore, inquire —
Whate’er the wondrous things might be
That waked each new idolatry —
Their cause, aim, source, whenever sprung —
Their inmost powers, as tho’ for me
Existence on that knowledge hung.
Oh what a vision were the stars
When first I saw them born on high,
Rolling along like living cars
Of light for gods to journey by!6
They were like my heart’s first passion — days
And nights unwearied, in their rays
Have I hung floating till each sense
Seemed full of their bright influence.
Innocent joy! alas, how much
Of misery had I shunned below,
Could I have still lived blest with such;
Nor, proud and restless, burned to know
The knowledge that brings guilt and woe.
Often — so much I loved to trace
The secrets of this starry race —
Have I at morn and evening run
Along the lines of radiance spun
Like webs between them and the sun,
Untwisting all the tangled ties
Of light into their different dyes —
The fleetly winged I off in quest
Of those, the farthest, loneliest,
That watch like winking sentinels,7
The void, beyond which Chaos dwells;
And there with noiseless plume pursued
Their track thro’ that grand solitude,
Asking intently all and each
What soul within their radiance dwelt,
And wishing their sweet light were speech,
That they might tell me all they felt.
Nay, oft, so passionate my chase,
Of these resplendent heirs of space,
Oft did I follow — lest a ray
Should ‘scape me in the farthest night —
Some pilgrim Comet on his way
To visit distant shrines of light,
And well remember how I sung
Exultingly when on my sight
New worlds of stars all fresh and young
As if just born of darkness sprung!
Such was my pure ambition then,
My sinless transport night and morn
Ere yet this newer world of men,
And that most fair of stars was born
Which I in fatal hour saw rise
Among the flowers of Paradise!
Thenceforth my nature all was changed,
My heart, soul, senses turned below;
And he who but so lately ranged
Yon wonderful expanse where glow
Worlds upon worlds, — yet found his mind
Even in that luminous range confined, —
Now blest the humblest, meanest sod
Of the dark earth where Woman trod!
In vain my former idols glistened
From their far thrones; in vain these ears
To the once-thrilling music listened,
That hymned around my favorite spheres —
To earth, to earth each thought was given,
That in this half-lost soul had birth;
Like some high mount, whose head’s in heaven
While its whole shadow rests on earth!
Nor was it Love, even yet, that thralled
My spirit in his burning ties;
And less, still less could it be called
That grosser flame, round which Love flies
Nearer and near till he dies —
No, it was wonder, such as thrilled
At all God’s works my dazzled sense;
The same rapt wonder, only filled
With passion, more profound, intense, —
A vehement, but wandering fire,
Which, tho’ nor love, nor yet desire, —
Tho’ thro’ all womankind it took
Its range, its lawless lightnings run,
Yet wanted but a touch, a look,
To fix it burning upon One.
Then too the ever-restless zeal,
The insatiate curiosity,
To know how shapes so fair must feel —
To look but once beneath the seal
Of so much loveliness and see
What souls belonged to such bright eyes —
Whether as sunbeams find their way
Into the gem that hidden lies,
Those looks could inward turn their ray,
And make the soul as bright as they:
All this impelled my anxious chase.
And still the more I saw and knew
Of Woman’s fond, weak, conquering race,
The intenser still my wonder grew.
I had beheld their First, their EVE,
Born in that splendid Paradise,
Which sprung there solely to receive
The first light of her waking eyes.
I had seen purest angels lean
In worship o’er her from above;
And man — oh yes, had envying seen
Proud man possest of all her love.
I saw their happiness, so brief,
So exquisite, — her error, too,
That easy trust, that prompt belief
In what the warm heart wishes true;
That faith in words, when kindly said.
By which the whole fond sex is led
Mingled with — what I durst not blame,
For ’tis my own — that zeal to know,
Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe;
Which, tho’ from heaven all pure it came,
Yet stained, misused, brought sin and shame
On her, on me, on all below!
I had seen this; had seen Man, armed
As his soul is with strength and sense,
By her first words to ruin charmed;
His vaunted reason’s cold defence,
Like an ice-barrier in the ray
Of melting summer, smiled away.
Nay, stranger yet, spite of all this —
Tho’ by her counsels taught to err,
Tho’ driven from Paradise for her,
(And with her — that at least was bliss,)
Had I not heard him ere he crost
The threshold of that earthly heaven,
Which by her bewildering smile he lost —
So quickly was the wrong forgiven —
Had I not heard him, as he prest
The frail, fond trembler to a breast
Which she had doomed to sin and strife,
Call her — even then — his Life! his Life!8
Yes, such a love-taught name, the first,
That ruined Man to Woman gave,
Even in his outcast hour, when curst
By her fond witchery, with that worst
And earliest boon of love, the grave!
She who brought death into the world
There stood before him, with the light
Of their lost Paradise still bright
Upon those sunny locks that curled
Down her white shoulders to her feet —
So beautiful in form, so sweet
In heart and voice, as to rede
em
The loss, the death of all things dear,
Except herself — and make it seem
Life, endless Life, while she was near!
Could I help wondering at a creature,
Thus circled round with spells so strong —
One to whose every thought, word, feature.
In joy and woe, thro’ right and wrong,
Such sweet omnipotence heaven gave,
To bless or ruin, curse or save?
Nor did the marvel cease with her —
New Eves in all her daughters came,
As strong to charm, as weak to err,
As sure of man thro’ praise and blame,
Whate’er they brought him, pride or shame,
He still the unreasoning worshipper,
And they, throughout all time, the same
Enchantresses of soul and frame,
Into whose hands, from first to last,
This world with all its destinies,
Devotedly by heaven seems cast,
To save or ruin as they please!
Oh! ’tis not to be told how long,
How restlessly I sighed to find
Some one from out that witching throng,
Some abstract of the form and mind
Of the whole matchless sex, from which,
In my own arms beheld, possest,
I might learn all the powers to witch,
To warm, and (if my fate unblest
Would have it) ruin, of the rest!
Into whose inward soul and sense,
I might descend, as doth the bee
Into the flower’s deep heart, and thence
Rifle in all its purity
The prime, the quintessence, the whole
Of wondrous Woman’s frame and soul!
At length my burning wish, my prayer —
(For such — oh! what will tongues not dare,
When hearts go wrong? — this lip preferred) —
At length my ominous prayer was heard —
But whether heard in heaven or hell,
Listen — and thou wilt know too well.
There was a maid, of all who move
Like visions o’er this orb most fit.
To be a bright young angel’s love —
Herself so bright, so exquisite!
The pride too of her step, as light
Along the unconscious earth she went,
Seemed that of one born with a right
To walk some heavenlier element,
And tread in places where her feet
A star at every step should meet.
’Twas not alone that loveliness
By which the wildered sense is caught —
Of lips whose very breath could bless;
Of playful blushes that seemed naught
But luminous escapes of thought;
Of eyes that, when by anger stirred,
Were fire itself, but at a word
Of tenderness, all soft became
As tho’ they could, like the sun’s bird,
Dissolve away in their own flame —
