Zophiel | Page 7

there appeared
"And would have brought thee others to supply?Its loss, a Median?--thou, dissolved, to praise,?Didst note the beauty of his shape and eye,?And, as he parted, in the sunny rays
"The ringlets of his black locks clustering bright?Around his pillar-neck," ''tis pity he'?Thou saidst, 'in all the comeliness and might?Of perfect man--pity like him, should be
"But an idolater: how nobly sweet?He tempereth pride with courtesy; a flower?Drops honey when he speaks. Yet 'twere most meet?To praise his majesty: he stands--a tower.'
"The same, a false idolater no more,?Now bows him to the God, for whose dread ire?Fall'n on us loved but sinning, we deplore?This long but just captivity. Thy sire
"Receives him well and harkens his request?For know, he comes to ask thee-for a bride?And to be one among a people, blest?Tho' deep in suffering. Nor to him denied
"Art thou, sad daughter--weep--if't be thy will--?E'vn on the breast that nourished thee and ne'er?Distrest thee or compelled; this bosom still?Ev'n should'st though 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,?Let my heart pine regardless of thy vow."
XXV.
She thus, 'O think not, kindest, I forget,?Receiving so much love, how much is due?From me to thee: the Mede I'll wed--but yet?I cannot stay these tears that gush to pain thy view.'
XXVI.
Sephora held her to 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
Sighed forth o'erpowering breath; 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. 'Tis thus, kind Nature lets our woe?Swell 'til 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 to rest.
XXVII.
Now all the mortal maid lies indolent?Save one sweet cheek which the cool velvet turf?Had touched too rude, tho' all the 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,?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 thro'?Peeped brightly 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 eye brow--just so dark might well define?Its flexile arch;--throne of expression's charm.
XXVIII.
As the vexed Caspian, tho' 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?Tho' passion and its pains were lulled to rest,?And "even and anon" a pitious sob?Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast. [FN#12]
[FN#12] This effect is very observable 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 utter sobs.
XXIX.
Save that 'twas all tranquillity; that reigned?O'er fragrance sound and beauty; all was mute--?Save when a dove her dear one's absence plained?And the faint breeze mourned o'er the slumberer's lute.
XXX.
It chanced, that day, lured by the verdure, came?Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere?He sinned, a heavenly angel. The faint flame?Of dying embers, on an altar, where
Raguel, fair Egla's sire, in secret vowed?And sacrificed to the sole living God,?Where friendly shades the sacred rites enshround;--(2)?The fiend beheld and knew; his 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.
XXXI.
When fiercer spirits, howled, he but complained (3)?Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth,?His heaven-invented harp he still retained?Tho' 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 spirit less severe where he might lift?His plaining voice--and frame the like as now he sung:
XXXII.
"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ?Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell,?Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy,?And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.
"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,--?Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,?And stright were fiends;--hurled from the shrinking field,?They waked in agony to wait the change.
"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire?The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,?To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,--?Dared to attempt--and doomed the world to death.
"Thy 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