Thought 'twas their herald's wing
returning ;-

Oft did the potent spell-word, given
To envoys hither from the skies,
To be pronounced, when back to heaven
It is their hour 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 playWhen my heart failed, the spell was broken,

The word unfinished died away,
And my checked plumes, ready to soar,
Fell slack and lifeless as before.

For all that relates to the nature and attributes of angels, the time of their creation, the extent of their knowledge, and the power which they possess, or can occasionally assume, of performing such human functions as eating, drinking, etc. etc., I shall refer those who are inquisitive upon the subject to the following works: The Treatise upon the Celestial Hierarchy, written under the name of Dionysius the Areopagite, in which among much that is heavy and trifling, there are some sublime notions concerning the agency of these spiritual creatures; the questions de Cognitione Angelorum of St. Thomas, where he examines most prolixly into such puzzling points as whether angels illuminate each other, whether they speak to each other,' etc. etc.; the Thesaurus of Cocceius, containing extracts from almost every theologian that has

My heart was maddened-in the flush
Of the wild revel I gave way
To all that frantic mirth, that rush

Of desperate gaiety, 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 passions, like the light
Struck out by clashing swords in fight.

Then, too, that juice of earth, the bane1 And blessing of man's heart and brainThat draught of sorcery, which brings Phantoms of fair, forbidden thingsWhose 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 through 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 wild-fires

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 hushed, had met alone, At the same silent moonlight hour. I found her-oh, so beautiful!

Why, why have hapless angels eyes.3

written on the subject; the 9th, 10th, and 11th chapters, sixth book, of l'Histoire des Juifs, where all the extraordinary reveries of the Rabbins about angels and demons are enumerated the questions attributed to St. Athanasius; the treatise of Bonaventure upon the Wings of the Seraphim; and lastly, the ponderous folio of Suarez de Angelis, where the reader will find all that has ever been fancied or reasoned, upon a subject which only such writers could have contrived to render so dull.

2 Some of the circumstances of this story were suggested to me by the Eastern legend of the two angels, Harut and Marut, as it is given by Mariti, who says that the author of the Taalim founds upon it the Mahometan prohibition of wine. The Bahardanush tells the story differently.

3 Tertullian imagines that the words of St.

Thus poisoned, maddened-held me bound,

As though I stood on God's own ground.

Even as it was, with soul all flame,

And lips that burned in their own sighs,

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.

eyes;

Full o'er me when I saw those And though 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 sawThe 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 worked within me at that hour,
When-with a voice, where Passion
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,

Paul, Woman ought to have a veil on her head, on account of the angels,' have an evident reference to the fatal effects which the beauty of women once produced upon these spiritual beings. See the strange passage of this Father (de Virgin. Velandis), beginning, Si enim propter angelos,' tc., where his editor Pamelius endeavours to save his morality, at the expense of his Latinity, by substituting the word 'excussat' for 'excusat.

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 be-
neath

The scorching of the south wind's breath;

But when I named-alas, too well

I now recall, though 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 Istamped one burning kiss, and name?

Such instances of indecorum, however, are but too common throughout the Fathers; in proof of which I need only refer to some passages in the same writer's treatise, De Anima, to the Second and Third Books of the Pædagogus of Clemens Alexandrinus, and to the instances which La Mothe le Vayer has adduced from Chrysostom in his Herameron Rustique, Journée Seconde.

The mystic word, till then ne'er told
To living creature of earth's mould!
Scarce was it said, when, quick as
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 vapour from this vale of tears, Between her and her God appears!

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 round the eternal throne, Whose plumes, as buoyantly she rose

Above me, in the moonbeam shone With a pure light, which-from its hue, Unknown upon this earth-I knew Was light from Eden, glistening through!

Most holy vision! ne'er before

Did aught so radiant-since the day When Lucifer, in falling, 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?

1_

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,

And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did cast them to the earth.' Rev. ai. Docent sancti (says Sualez) supremum angelum traxisse secum tertiam partem stellarum.'-Lib. 7. cap. 7.

The idea of the Fathers was, that the vacancies occasioned in the different orders of angels by the fall were to be filled up from the human race. There is, however, another opinion, backed by papal authority, that it was only the tenth order of the Celestial Hierarchy that fell, and that, therefore, the promotions which occasionally take place from earth are intended for

There seemed around me some dark chain,

Which still, as I essayed to soar,

Battled, alas! each wild endeavour : Dead lay my wings, as they have lain Since that sad hour, and will remain

So wills the offended God-for ever! It was to yonder star I traced Her journey up the illumined wasteThat 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 passing dream was gone;
Farther and farther off she shone,
Till lessened to a point as small

As are those specks that yonder burnThose 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 passed 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 completion of that grade alone; or, as it i explained by Salonius (Dat in Eccl.)—' Decem sunt ordines angelorum, sed unus cecidit per superbiam, et idcirco boni angeli semper laborant, ut de hominibus numerus adimpleatur, et proveniat ad perfectum numerum, id est, denarium.' According to some theologians, virgins alone are admitted 'ad collegium angelorum;' but th authorof the Speculum Peregrinarum Quæstionum rather questions this exclusive privilege :-' Hoc non videtur verum, quia multi, non virgines, ut Petrus et Magdalena, multis etiam virginibus eminentiores sunt,'-Decad. 2, cap. 10.

Come, once more a bumper!-then drink as you please,

Though who could fill half-way to toasts such as these ?

"Here's our next joyous meeting-and oh, when we meet,

May our wine be as bright and our union as sweet!"

Charge! (drinks) hip, hip, hurre, hurra!

HUSH, HUSH!

"HUSH, hush!"-how well That sweet word sounds, When Love, the little sentinel,

Walks his night-rounds; Then, if a foot but dare

One rose-leaf crush,
Myriads of voices in the air
Whisper, "Hush, hush!"
“Hark, hark, 'tis he!"

The night-elves cry,
And hush their fairy harmony,
While he steals by;
But if his silvery feet

One dewdrop brush,
Voices are heard in chorus sweet,
Whispering, "Hush, hush!"

THE PARTING BEFORE THE

BATTLE.

HE.

ON to the field, our doom is sealed,
To conquer or be slaves:
This sun shall see our nation free,
Or set upon our graves.

SHE.

Farewell, oh farewell, my love!

May Heaven thy guardian be, And send bright angels from above To bring thee back to me.

HE.

On to the field, the battle-field,

Where Freedom's standard waves, This sun shall see our tyrant yield, Or shine upon our graves.

THE WATCHMAN.

A trio.

WATCHMAN.

Past twelve o'clock-past twelve. Good night, good night, my dearestHow fast the moments fly! 'Tis time to part, thou hearest That hateful watchman's cry.

WATCHMAN.

Past one o'clock-past one. Yet stay a moment longerAlas! why is it so,

The wish to stay grows stronger, The more 'tis time to go?

WATCHMAN.

Past two o'clock-past two.
Now wrap thy cloak about thee-

The hours must sure go wrong,
For when they're passed without thee
They're, oh, ten times as long.

WATCHMAN.

Past three o'clock-past three. Again that dreadful warning!

Had ever time such flight? And see the sky, 'tis morning So now, indeed, good night.

WATCHMAN.

Past three o'clock-past three.

Good night, good night.

That music haunts, or young feet wander o'er.

Hark! 'tis the light march, to whose measured time,

The Polish lady, by her lover led, Delights through gay saloons with step untired to tread,

Or sweeter still, through moonlight walks,

Whose shadows serve to hide The blush that's raised by him who talks

Of love the while by her side; Then comes the smooth waltz, to whose floating sound

Like dreams we go gliding around, Say, which shall we dance? which shall we dance?