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Gentle son, High Heaven's should be more valued. - I did hope Such was thy holy thought--but there are those Who say, thou art at war with all of good That Heaven's blessings are as things of nought, And gifts of darker worlds have won thy soul From its God-vow'd obedience.--Dearest son, I would not give thee pain, for I rejoice To see thee thus collected; but there are Some who, in this most wondrous sudden change, See much of mystery and secret sin ; And thy lone wanderings are at length become The sad theme of the island.-Wilt thou not Tell to thy father's ear thy source of joy ? Think’st thou he could betray thee? Leontine.

Oh, no, noBut I am not permitted-should I once Reveal my secret, all contentment ends, And I am lost again.—Oh, do not deem My thoughts unsanctified !-Yon sacred light, When first from the Eternal's hand it came, Before its glows had kindled flames on earth, Or its bright eye gazed on the sins of man, Was not more pure than is this sinless heart. In those lone heavenly wanderings—they were giver A blessing to my spirit, and from Heaven Alone the blessing came. Ah, doubt me not! It is communion with my God I hold, And with his cherish'd Spirits-Should I say My secret, it were silent-Earth nor Heaven Would have a voice for me-Look on this ring; It is the source of this dear happiness. Should I betray its virtues, thou wouldst gain Nought; but thy son would lose his all his soul ! It were a sin, my father; it would draw The hatred of all nature on my head. Who would not shrink from that ingratitude To him who gave the gift, and him who deigns To serve me with its uses! From the Man, The holiest of thousands, I received The wondrous gift; and from his lips I learn'd Its virtues and its powers—he who died In pale Marpesus' cave. Now, sire beloved, Urge thy poor son no farther-not thy hand Should pluck his only rose. Andronicus.

From Basil's lip, This I but now was told-he hates thee for The love which she--forgive me,I will not Name her unto thee-but, thou know'st the cause, His hateful jealousy. He hath been here, Pouring the vials of his wrath upon My startled head, and threat’ning me with death, Or punishment to thee. Leontine.

Regard him not; His wrath is mortal, and will pass awayA shadow, as himself ;-he is a foe To all of joy or happiness, the which He hath not soul to share ;-he cannot love That which his mind receives not. Let his wrath Be to thee as the waves which wave around The storm-clad Cyclades, yet dare not act Their fierce, but iille threat'nings. Let it be

The rage of frenzy, which we hasten from,
But mourn it as we fly. The wild bull's wrath,
Which spurneth at the earth, defacing her
With wounds, which her young son, the smiling Spring,
Uplifted on the snowy wings of Time,
Heals with his soft’ning breath-Oh! heed it not !
And for the malice of the wondering world-
That cannot harm me, while within my breast
I bear the talisman of peace. Should I
Resign the gift of that same holy man,
Marpesus, some time hermit, I should be
Once more a ruin, for the Fiend Despair
To stride above in triumph. I should be
The lone-the miserable the living dead-
The spectre of the past. Oh, sire beloved !
When Mother Earth into her arms received
My Zoe's beauteous form, I did not deem
That even for thy peace-that I could live-
Now, I am reconciled ; Oh open not
The deep, scarce closed wound! Thou weep'st, ah me,
Melt me not, oh my father, with thy tears !
Thou knowest, to withstand their gentle force
I have no power. I should resign my bliss,
And bow my head, and die.-

O pardon me!
That I have given the pain. Again no more
Will I hold question with thee. Go in peace-
Preserve thy treasure ;-mayst thou keep it still
The sun of thy sad day.--

SCENE-The stream near the Marble Cave.- T'ime-night.
Leontine (alone.) Again, again returns the blessed night,
The hour of holiness, and of repose-
To me, of triumph over death and woe:
Let me delay my joy, that I may dwell
On that which doth await me. I am here
Upon the throne of my felicity,
Gazing upon the couch where tranquil lies
Mine own, mine only love, awaiting calm
The signal, and the hour, and the charm
That brings her to my side, the immortal maid,
Beside her mortal lover. Can this be
Transgression ! No! Would the Eternal Lord
Permit these visits were they for my harm !
Yet doth he sometimes punish us by grant
Of that which we do pray for ; but the Sage,
Who, in compassion to my anguish, gave
This wondrous ring, -and in the sacred stream,
Where the moon kiss’d it, bade me lave the gein
And the encircling gold, had not reveald
The secret in the solemn hour of death,
Had it been sinful in the eye of Heaven!-
In that last hour our mortal sense is clear,
And the stern King doth with a steady hand
Unveil the face of Truth, howe'er in life
The form divine was hidden-he had done
With earth and earthly things—and he was then
About to render up a strict account
Of his well-doings; would he then have scald
The record with a sin—would he, who was
About to hear the sentence of his fate
From his Almighty Judge, have counsell’d me,

Yea, hurried me to guilt, by raising up
My buried love to my transported eye!
Ah, no!—it is no crime! Ye Elements,
I do attest ye; and Thou, Mightiest Mind,
Soul of those elements, bear witness here,
That I am free of sin ! Yea, and their smiles,
The holy stillness of this sacred spot,
And the bright radiance of yon gazing moon,
Do bear my bosom witness-Then once more
To my delightful task,--pardon me, air,
And clouds, and water, and celestial fire,
That I do rob ye of a spirit bright,
The fairest in your realms, and give her back
For some short hours solely to the earth,
Of which she is no longer. - Dearest, come!
I am alone, no human breath shall 'file
The air made pure for thee, for I do watch
With zealous care the secret, - Come, O come !
In all the beauty of this world, but shrined
In the glory of another. See, I dip..
The Ring into the Stream, and I will sing
The song of holiness, to charm thee back
To this earth, and to me :


When we shall meet
In bowers of bliss;
When we shall greet
With a holy kiss;
When we shall look,
With a soften'd eye,
On the closed book

Of the things gone bye,-
When we shall think of this short, dark night,
As the rest that prepares for eternal light,
And look on the bed where they laid us last,
As only the grave of the weary past;
Then shall we smile to think a tear
Should e'er have fallen on a mortal bier !

But till the beam
Of that holy day
Shall chase the dream
Of hope away:
Till Fate shall burn
With her kindling eye,
This casing urn

of the spirit high.
Come from thy couch of holiest dew,
Which the moonbeam shines and sparkles through,
Turning each drop to gems, which might
Circle an angel's brow of light-
To sooth, as heaven hath willed thee,
The anguish of mortality!
[A cloud rises from the water and approaches Leontine, then gradu-

ally unfolding, discovers a beautiful female figure reclining in it.] Leontine. Beautiful spirit of mine only love, I kiss the spot o'er which thy silver cloud, Wreathing itself in curls of light, reclines, And bid thee, Sweetest, welcome: Oh, the joy

To gaze upon thy face, and see thine eye
Beam once again with life! Yet this is death!
Beautiful death! Oh, why do mortals shrink
From thy embrace ! -
The Spirit.

Because encumber'd with
A load of earth, the spirit scarce can look
Beyond the senses--and that beaming hope
Which is, thou knowest, of immortal birth,
O’ermaster'd is by fear, the earth-born, who,
Is stronger in their bosoms—thou art bless'd
Above mankind, for terror will not stand
By thy departing couch-for thee, the cloud
That hid the grave, is like the ponderous stone,
Rolld from before its portals—thou hast look'u
Into the dark, and see'st how much to hope,
How little is to fear; but since we met
Thy spirit hath been tortured; greater yet
The trial that awaits thee: when 'tis past
Thou hast no more to fear.

So that I lose
Not thee, my sacred love, I am content
To bear all lighter sorrows. I have nought
To tell thee, dear; for in thine absence I
Have only life to bear me silent through
The long and weary day; then I lie down
At eve upon this bank, and watch the sun,
Or wait the rising moon, and mark the stars
Starting from out the heaven, and then I guess
In which of those bright orbs thy beauteous soul
Is wandering ; but now I pray thee, love,
Tell me from whence my charm hath summon'd thee?
Where wast thou when the words of power broke
The laws of death’s stern empire?
The Spirit.

What to thee, The son of time, was yesternight, I sat In a huge cloud, which, to its very edge, Was charged with winds, and tempests. I did wislı To mark its bursting in full majesty Over the earth, uncheck’d by mortal fears. So, gathering up mine essence, I reclined Upon the lightning's flash, and o’er the world Shot a wild wond'rous light. At first, I deem'd The meteor flame was harmless, but I found It was the red bolt of the wrath of God, And big with desolation : so I left My throne of vengeance, for I could not bear To be the instrument of justice, and Couch'd from its terrors and its glories, in The fragrant bosom of a half-blown rose. There, sull'a by music, which the unseen airs Do bring from the melodious choirs above, I slept such sleep as holy spirits do Who are not yet all heaven. When I woke, I borrow'd from the rose an ærial robe Of its young delicate hues, and darted far Upon a golden cloud unto the realms of snow and frost eternal-the white point Most northern of your earth—then I forsook Mine ether couch, and, for a throne of ice, Exchanged its melting softness, and it fell In mist down to the earth. I rested long, Gazing upon that world, and, when I rose,

I found my mantle had the snowy white
For those to whom th’ Omnipotent hath given
His promised boon, the bright and morning star
Till then, with me, thou shalt in tranquil joy
Sport in the air, or wing thy flight above
The atmosphere of Earth, the dense, dark robe
Which wraps her wheeling form. The Sun's red beam
By day, shall in a gold garb mantle thee-
At night, the silvery Moon's, and both shall lend
Their rays to be thy chariot. We shall walk
Upon the curved Rainbow, the bright zone
Girdling the universe, and clasping worlds
Within its mighty circle. We shall dart
From orb to orb, and on our brows shall bear
The bright and shooting stars—we shall repose
In worlds of fire, that, nearest to the sun
Revolve their course, and those white orbs whích roll
Far distant from his centre we shall sail
Through seas of ether in our cloudy ship,
And overtake the Morning-we shall list
The song which spirits hear--that song in which
The bands of angels praise the unknown name
Of the Almighty, and whose wondrous sound
Shall even to our accents still remain
Impossible, until the terrible day
Shali make us like to them.--Then, when the Seals
Be open’d, and the Heavens and Earth are doom'd,
Shall the great judgment follow. Nature's things
Shall disobey her laws-Wild Anarchy
And Uproar reign--the shadow of the foot
Of the Eternal shall blot out the Sun.
The Moon be motionless, and faint, and die,
And melt away for anguish—the bright Stars
Fall down with desolation in their light,
And burst asunder, scattering all around
Woe, woe-and bitterness--and there shall be
Blood and not water,-and the Angels' hands
Shall grasp the four winds, and then bury them
In their capacious bosoms. Then, all things
Shall groan for air ; and, 'midst the pouring forth
The vials of deep wrath, and cries, and shrieks,
And trumpet blasts, and thunderings, and groans
Of Worlds, and shuddering of the crumbled Heaven-
The trampling of the death-steed shall be leard
Bearing his mighty Rider-Summoner
Of mortals, and the Herald of his God-
And then-there shall be silence, in the heaven !
A pause of death--the uproar shall be stillid-
For the Eternal cometh -not a sound
Among those myriads to break the awe
Of his tremendous presence--not a sound
Until the Volume of Eternity
Be ope'd-and closed again ! -

Is it thy voice,
My Zoe, that doth pour these awful tones
Upon my trembling soul?-Oh, how my heart
Shrinks from that day of terrors ! -
The Spirit.

Fear not thou-
Thou art beloved, and thy spotless life
Hath won high Heaven's grace- thou shalt throw off
This chrysalis case, and rise, and wing thy way
Through fields of peace and light-thou didst but cry

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