But serene in the rapturous throng,
Unmoved by the rush of the song,

With eyes unimpassioned and slow,
Among the dead angels, the deathless
Sandalphon stands listening breathless

To sounds that ascend from below ;

From the spirits on earth that adore,
From the souls that entreat and implore

In the fervor and passion of prayer ; From the hearts that are broken with losses, And weary with dragging the crosses Too heavy for mortals to bear.

And he gathers the prayers as he stands, And they change into flowers in his hands, Into garlands of purple and red;

And beneath the great arch of the portal, Through the streets of the City Immortal Is wafted the fragrance they shed.

Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; Yet the old medieval tradition,qu£ SAT The beautiful, strange superstition, s40 But haunts me and holds me the more.

When I look from my window at night,
And the welkin above is all white, *** va

All throbbing and panting with stars, Among them majestic is standing Sandalphon the angel, expanding His pinions in nebulous bars.

And the legend, I feel, is a part
Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,
The frenzy and fire of the brain,
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, All
The golden pomegranates of Eden, (7/
To quiet its fever and pain. 1987

EPIMETHEUS,

tiny & ar „set I brogd sit bra JOR THE POET'S AFTERTHOUGHT. 10 a and sɗs to guf Læs voreıl erT HAVE I dreamed? or was it realer T What I saw as in a vision, neblog adT When to marches hymeneal,

In the land of the ideal,

Moved my thought o'er fields Elysian?

What! are these the guests whose glances
Seemed like sunshine gleaming round me;
These the wild, bewildered fancies,
That with dithyrambic dances,

As with magic circles, bound me?

Ah! how cold are their caresses!

Pallid cheeks and haggard bosoms!
Spectral gleam their snow-white dresses,
And from loose, dishevelled tresses
Fall the hyacinthine blossoms!

O my songs! whose winsome measures
Filled my heart with secret rapture!
Children of my golden leisures!
Must even your delights and pleasures
Fade and perish with the capture?

Fair they seemed, those songs sonorous,
When they came to me unbidden;
Voices single, and in chorus,

Like the wild birds singing o'er us
In the dark of branches hidden."

Come at last to this conclusion, out del

Jarring discord, wild confusion,

Lassitude, renunciation ?

Not with steeper fall nor faster,
From the sun's serene dominions,"
Not through brighter realms nor vaster,
In swift ruin and disaster

Icarus fell with shattered pinions! ⠀

Sweet Pandora! dear Pandora!

Why did mighty Jove create thee

Coy as Thetis, fair as Flora,
Beautiful as young Aurora,

If to win thee is to hate thee?

No, not hate thee! for this feeling
Of unrest and long resistance

Is but passionate appealing,
A prophetic whisper stealing

O'er the chords of our existence.

Him whom thou dost once enamour,
Thou, beloved, never leavest;

In life's discord, strife, and clamor,
Still he feels thy spell of glamour;

Him of Hope thou ne'er bereavest.

Weary hearts by thee are lifted,

Struggling souls by thee are strengthened, Clouds of fear asunder rifted,

Truth from falsehood cleansed and sifted,
Lives, like days in summer, lengthened.

Therefore art thou ever dearer,

O my Sibyl, my deceiver !

For thou makest each mystery clearer,
And the unattained seems nearer

When thou fillest my heart with fever!

Muse of all the Gifts and Graces!
Though the fields around us wither,
There are ampler realms and spaces,
Where no foot has left its traces;

Let us turn and wander thither.