The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 174

The mythology of the Persians has allegorized the same doctrine, in the history of those genii of light who strayed from their dwellings in the stars and obscured their original nature by mixture with this material sphere; while the Egyptians connecting it with the descent and ascent of the sun in the zodiac considered Autumn as emblematic of the Soul's decline toward darkness and the re-appearance of Spring as its return to life and light.

Besides the chief spirits of the Mahometan heaven, such as Gabriel the angel of Revelation, Israfil by whom the last trumpet is to be sounded, and Azrael the angel of death, there were also a number of subaltern intelligences of which tradition has preserved the names, appointed to preside over the different stages of ascents into which the celestial world was supposed to be divided.[2] Thus Kelail governs the fifth heaven; while Sadiel, the presiding spirit of the third, is also employed in steadying the motions of the earth which would be in a constant state of agitation if this angel did not keep his foot planted upon its...o...b..

Among other miraculous interpositions in favor of Mahomet we find commemorated in the pages of the Koran the appearance of five thousand angels on his side at the battle of Bedr.

The ancient Persians supposed that Ormuzd appointed thirty angels to preside successively over the days of the month and twelve greater ones to a.s.sume the government of the months themselves; among whom Bahman (to whom Ormuzd committed the custody of all animals, except man) was the greatest.

Mihr, the angel of the 7th month, was also the spirit that watched over the affairs of friendship and love;--Chur had the care of the disk of the sun;--Mah was agent for the concerns of the moon;--Isphandarmaz (whom Cazvin calls the Spirit of the Earth) was the tutelar genius of good and virtuous women, etc. For all this the reader may consult the 19th and 20th chapters of Hyde, "_de Religione Veterum Persarum_," where the names and attributes of these daily and monthly angels are with much minuteness and erudition explained. It appears from the Zend-avesta that the Persians had a certain office or prayer for every day of the month (addressed to the particular angel who presided over it), which they called the Sirouze.

The Celestial Hierarchy of the Syrians, as described by Kircher, appears to be the most regularly graduated of any of these systems. In the sphere of the Moon they placed the angels, in that of Mercury the archangels, Venus and the Sun contained the Princ.i.p.alities and the Powers;--and so on to the summit of the planetary system, where, in the sphere of Saturn, the Thrones had their station. Above this was the habitation of the Cherubim in the sphere of the fixed stars; and still higher, in the region of those stars which are so distant as to be imperceptible, the Seraphim, we are told, the most perfect of all celestial creatures, dwelt.

The Sabeans also (as D'Herbelot tells us) had their cla.s.ses of angels, to whom they prayed as mediators, or intercessors; and the Arabians worshipped _female_ angels, whom they called Benab Hasche, or, Daughters of G.o.d.

[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 pa.s.sed 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 Pa.s.sion 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 n.o.ble 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 sh.o.r.e 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 Pa.s.sion 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, I would have torn the wings that hung Furled at my back and o'er the Fire In GEHIM'S[4] 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. .h.i.ther from the skies, To be p.r.o.nounced 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 pa.s.sions--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 l.u.s.tre 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 Pa.s.sion 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 G.o.d appears!