The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 175

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-- 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 G.o.d--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 pa.s.sing 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 suns.h.i.+ne _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, Flas.h.i.+ng 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 s.p.a.ce 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 sh.o.r.es 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 n.o.ble 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 l.u.s.tre 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 wors.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+nes 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 vanis.h.i.+ng; 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 G.o.ds to journey by![6]

They were like my heart's first pa.s.sion--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 wis.h.i.+ng their sweet light were speech, That they might tell me all they felt.

Nay, oft, so pa.s.sionate my chase, Of these resplendent heirs of s.p.a.ce, 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 G.o.d's works my dazzled sense; The same rapt wonder, only filled With pa.s.sion, 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 wors.h.i.+p 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 s.e.x 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 redeem 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 wors.h.i.+pper, 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 s.e.x, 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 h.e.l.l, Listen--and thou wilt know _too_ well.

There was a maid, of all who move Like visions o'er this...o...b..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-- Of form, as pliant as the shoots Of a young tree, in vernal flower; Yet round and glowing as the fruits, That drop from it in summer's hour;-- 'Twas not alone this loveliness That falls to loveliest women's share, Tho' even here her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess Enough to make even _them_ more fair-- But 'twas the Mind outs.h.i.+ning clear Thro' her whole frame--the soul, still near, To light each charm, yet independent Of what it lighted, as the sun That s.h.i.+nes on flowers would be resplendent Were there no flowers to s.h.i.+ne upon-- 'Twas this, all this, in one combined-- The unnumbered looks and arts that form The glory of young womankind, Taken, in their perfection, warm, Ere time had chilled a single charm, And stampt with such a seal of Mind, As gave to beauties that might be Too sensual else, too unrefined, The impress of Divinity!

'Twas this--a union, which the hand Of Nature kept for her alone, Of every thing most playful, bland, Voluptuous, spiritual, grand, In angel-natures and her own-- Oh! this it was that drew me nigh One, who seemed kin to heaven as I, A bright twin-sister from on high-- One in whose love, I felt, were given The mixt delights of either sphere, All that the spirit seeks in heaven, And all the senses burn for here.

Had we--but hold!--hear every part Of our sad tale--spite of the pain Remembrance gives, when the fixt dart Is stirred thus in the wound again-- Hear every step, so full of bliss, And yet so ruinous, that led Down to the last, dark precipice, Where perisht both--the fallen, the dead!

From the first hour she caught my sight, I never left her--day and night Hovering unseen around her way, And mid her loneliest musings near, I soon could track each thought that lay, Gleaming within her heart, as clear As pebbles within brooks appear; And there among the countless things That keep young hearts for ever glowing-- Vague wishes, fond imaginings, Love-dreams, as yet no object knowing-- Light, winged hopes that come when bid, And rainbow joys that end in weeping; And pa.s.sions among pure thoughts hid, Like serpents under flowerets sleeping:-- 'Mong all these feelings--felt where'er Young hearts are beating--I saw there Proud thoughts, aspirings high--beyond Whate'er yet dwelt in soul so fond-- Glimpses of glory, far away Into the bright, vague future given; And fancies, free and grand, whose play, Like that of eaglets, is near heaven!

With this, too--what a soul and heart To fall beneath the tempter's art!-- A zeal for knowledge, such as ne'er Enshrined itself in form so fair, Since that first, fatal hour, when Eve, With every fruit of Eden blest Save one alone--rather than leave That _one_ unreached, lost all the rest.

It was in dreams that first I stole With gentle mastery o'er her mind-- In that rich twilight of the soul, When reason's beam, half hid behind The clouds of sleep, obscurely gilds Each shadowy shape that Fancy builds-- 'Twas then by that soft light I brought Vague, glimmering visions to her view,-- Catches of radiance lost when caught, Bright labyrinths that led to naught, And vistas with no pathway thro';-- Dwellings of bliss that opening shone, Then closed, dissolved, and left no trace-- All that, in short, could tempt Hope on, But give her wing no resting-place; Myself the while with brow as yet Pure as the young moon's coronet, Thro' every dream _still_ in her sight.

The enchanter of each mocking scene, Who gave the hope, then brought the blight, Who said, "Behold yon world of light,"

Then sudden dropt a veil between!

At length when I perceived each thought, Waking or sleeping, fixt on naught But these illusive scenes and me-- The phantom who thus came and went, In half revealments, only meant To madden curiosity-- When by such various arts I found Her fancy to its utmost wound.

One night--'twas in a holy spot Which she for prayer had chosen--a grot Of purest marble built below Her garden beds, thro' which a glow From lamps invisible then stole, Brightly pervading all the place-- Like that mysterious light the soul, Itself unseen, sheds thro' the face.

There at her altar while she knelt, And all that woman ever felt, When G.o.d and man both claimed her sighs-- Every warm thought, that ever dwelt, Like summer clouds, 'twixt earth and skies, Too pure to fall, too gross to rise, Spoke in her gestures, tones, and eyes-- Then, as the mystic light's soft ray Grew softer still, as tho' its ray Was breathed from her, I heard her say:--

"O idol of my dreams! whate'er "Thy nature be--human, divine, "Or but half heavenly--still too fair, "Too heavenly to be ever mine!