Have I hung floating, till each sense Seemed full of their bright influence. Innocent joy! alas, how much

Of misery had I shunned below, Could I have still lived blest with such; Nor, proud and restless, burned to know

The knowledge that brings guilt and

woe !

Often-so much I loved to trace
The secrets of this starry race-
Have I at morn and evening run
Along the lines of radiance spun,
Like webs, between them and the sun,
Untwisting all the tangled ties
Of light into their different dyes—
Then fleetly winged I off, in quest
Of those, the farthest, loneliest,
That watch, like winking sentinels,
The void, beyond which Chaos dwells,
And there, with noiseless plume, pur-
sued

Their track through that grand solitude,
Asking intently all and each

What soul within their radiance dwelt,

And wishing their sweet light were speech,

That they might tell me all they felt.

Nay, oft, so passionate my chase
Of these resplendent heirs of space,
Oft did I follow-lest a ray
Should 'scape me in the farthest
night-

Some pilgrim Comet, on his way

To visit distant shrines of light; And well remember how I sung

Exulting out, when on my sight New worlds of stars, all fresh and young. As if just born of darkness, sprung!

Such was my pure ambition then,

My sinless transport, night and morn, Ere this still newer world of men,

And that most fair of stars was born, Which I, in fatal hour, saw rise Among the flowers of Paradise! Thenceforth my nature all was changed, My heart, soul, senses turned below; And he, who but so lately ranged

Yon wonderful expanse, where glow

Worlds upon worlds, yet found his mind Even in that luminous range contined, Now blest the humblest, meanest sod Of the dark earth where Woman trod! In vain my former idols glistened

From their far thrones; in vain these

ears

To the once thrilling music listened, That hymned around my favourite spheres

To earth, to earth each thought was given,

That in this half-lost soul had birth; Like some high mount, whose head's in heaven,

While its whole shadow rests on earth!

Nor was it Love, even yet, that thralled
My spirit in his burning ties;
And less, still less could it be called
That grosser flame, round which Love
flies

Nearer and nearer, till he dies-
No, it was wonder, such as thrilled

At all God's works my dazzled sense; The same rapt wonder, only filled

With passion, more profound, in-
teuse,

A vehement, but wandering fire,
Which, though nor love, nor yet desire,
Though through all womankind it took
Its range, as vague as lightnings run,
Yet wanted but a touch, a look,
To fix it burning upon One.

Then, too, the ever-restless zeal,
The insatiate curiosity

To know what shapes, so fair, must feel

To look, but once, beneath the seal
Of so much loveliness, and see
What souls belonged to those bright

I had beheld their First, their Eve,1
Born in that splendid Paradise,
Which God made solely to receive

The first light of her waking eyes.
I had seen purest angels lean

In worship o'er her from above; And man-oh, yes-had envying seen Proud man possessed of all her love.

I saw their happiness, so brief,

So exquisite-her error, too," That easy trust, that prompt belief

In what the warm heart wishes true; That faith in words, when kindly said, By which the whole fond sex is ledMingled with (what I durst not blame, For 'tis my own) that wish to know, Sad, fatal zeal, so sure of woe; Which, though from Heaven all pure

it came,

Yet stained, misused, brought sin and shame

On her, on me, on all below!

Whether Eve was created in Paradise or not is a question that has been productive of much doubt and controversy among the theologians. With respect to Adam, it is agreed on all sides that he was created outside; and it is accordingly asked, with some warmth, by one of the commentators, why should woman, the ignobler creature of the two, be created within? Others, on the contrary, consider this distinction as but a fair tribute to the superior beauty and purity of women; and some, in their zeal, even seem to think that, if the scene of her creation was not already Paradise, it became so, immediately upon that event, in compliment to her. Josephus is one of those who think that Eve was formed outside; Tertullian, too, among the Fathers; and, among the Theologians, Rupertus, who, to do him justice, never misses an opportunity of putting on record his ill-will to the sex. Pererius, however (and his opinion seems to be considered the most orthodox), thinks it more consistent with the order of the Mosaic narration, as well as with the sentiments of Basil and other Fathers, to conclude that Eve was created in Paradise.

2 The comparative extent of Eve's delinquency, and the proportion which it bears to that of Adam, is another point which has exercised the tiresome ingenuity of the commentators; and they seem generally to agree (with the exception always of Rupertus) that, as she was not yet created when the prohibition was issued, and therefore could not have heard it (a conclusion remarkably confirmed by the inaccurate way in which she reports it to the serpent), her share in the crime of disobedience is considerably lighter than that of Adam. In corroboration this

I had seen this; had seen Man-armed As his soul is with strength and

sense

By her first words to ruin charmed;

His vaunted reason's cold defence, Like an ice-barrier in the ray Of melting summer, smiled away! Nay-stranger yet-spite of all this

Though by her counsels taught to err, Though driven from Paradise for her (And with her-that, at least, was bliss), Had I not heard him, ere he crossed

The threshold of that earthly heaven, Which by her wildering smile he lost

So quickly was the wrong forgivenHad I not heard him, as he pressed The frail fond trembler to a breast Which she had doomed to sin and strife, Call her-think what-his Life! his Life !3

view of the matter, Pererius remarks that it is to Adam alone the Deity addresses his reproaches for having eaten of the forbidden tree, because to Adam alone the order had been originally pro mulgated. So far, indeed, does the gallantry of another commentator, Hugh de St. Victor, carry him, that he looks upon the words, I will put enmity between thee and the woman,' as a proof that the sex was from that moment enlisted into the service of Heaven, as the chief foe and obstacle which the Spirit of Evil would have to contend with in his inroads on this world:-'Si deinceps Eva inimica Diabolo, ergo fuit grata et amica Deo.'

3 Chavah (or, as it is in the Latin version, Eva) has the same signification as the Greek, Zoe (Life).

Epiphanius, among others, is not a little surprised at the application of such a name to Eve, so immediately, too, after that awful denunciation of death, Dust thou art,' etc. etc. Some of the commentators think that it was meant as a sarcasm, and spoken by Adam, in the first bitterness of his heart,-in the same spirit of irony (says Pererius) as that of the Greeks in calling their Furies, Eumenides, or Gentle. But the Bishop of Chalon rejects this supposition:-'Explodendi sane qui id nominis ab Adamo per ironiam inditum uxori suæ putant; atque quod mortis causa esset, amaro joco vitam appellasse."

With a similar feeling of spleen against women, some of these distillateurs des Saintes Lettres (as Bayle calls them), in rendering the text 'I will make him a help meet for him,' translate these last words against or contrary to him' (a meaning which, it appears, the original will bear), and represent them as prophetic of those

Even in his outcast hour, when curst,
By her fond witchery, with that worst
And earliest boon of love-the grave!
She, who brought death into the world,
There stood before him, with the light
Of their lost Paradise still bright
Upon those sunny locks, that curled
Down her white shoulders to her feet-
So beautiful in form, so sweet
In heart and voice, as to redeem

The loss, the death of all things dear, Except herself-and make it seem

Life, endless life, while she was near! Could I help wondering at a creature, Enchanted round with spells so strong

One, to whose every thought, word, feature,

In joy and woe, through right and wrong,

Such sweet omnipotence Heaven gave, To bless or ruin, curse or save?

Nor did the marvel cease with her-
New Eves in all her daughters came,
As strong to charm, as weak to err,
As sure of man through praise and
blame,

Whate'er they brought him, pride or shame,

Their still unreasoning worshipper— And, wheresoe'er they smiled, the

same

Enchantresses of soul and frame, Into whose hands, from first to last, This world, with all its destinies, Devotedly by Heaven seems cast,

To save or damn it as they please! Oh, 'tis not to be told how long,

How restlessly I sighed to find Some one from out that shining throng, Some abstract of the form and mind Of the whole matchless sex, from which, In my own arms beheld, possessed, I might learn all the powers to witch, To warm, and (if my fate unblessed Would have it) ruin, of the rest!

contradictions and perplexities which men experience from women in this life.

It is rather strange that these two instances of perverse commentatorship should have escaped the researches of Bayle, in his curious article upon Eve. He would have found another subject of

Into whose inward soul and sense

I might descend, as doth the bee Into the flower's deep heart, and thence Rifle, in all its purity,

The prime, the quintessence, the whole Of wondrous Woman's frame and soul !

At length, my burning wish, my prayer (For such-oh, what will tongues not dare,

When hearts go wrong?-this lip preferred)

At length my ominous prayer was heard

But whether heard in heaven or hell, Listen-and thou wilt know too well.

There was a maid, of all who move

Like visions o'er this orb, most fit To be a bright young angel's love,

Herself so bright, so exquisite ! The pride, too, of her step, as light

Along the unconscious earth she went, Seemed that of one born with a right

To walk some heavenlier element,
And tread in places where her feet
A star at every step should meet.
'Twas not alone that loveliness

By which the wildered sense is
caught--

Of lips whose very breath could bless-
Of playful blushes, that seemed nought
But luminous escapes of thought-
Of eyes that, when by anger stirred,
Were fire itself, but, at a word

Of tenderness, all soft became, Asthough they could, like the sun's bird, Dissolve away in their own flameOf form, as pliant as the shoots

Of a young tree in vernal flower; Yet round and glowing as the fruits That drop from it in summer's hour'Twas not alone this loveliness

That falls to loveliest woman's share, Though even here her form could spare From its own beauty's rich excess

Enough to make all others fair

discussion, equally to his taste, in Gataker's whimsical dissertation upon Eve's knowledge of the Texm vodaνrien, and upon the notion of Epiphanius, that it was taught her in a special revelation from heaven.—Miscellan, lib. ii. cap.3 p. 200.

But 'twas the Mind, sparkling about Through her whole frame-the soul brought out

To light each charm, yet independent
Of what it lighted, as the sun
That shines on flowers, would be re-
splendent

Light, winged hopes, that come when bid,

And rainbow joys that end in weeping, And passions among pure thoughts hid, Like serpents under flowerets sleep ing

'Mong all these feelings, felt where'er

The glory of young womankind

Taken in their first fusion, warm, Ere time had chilled a single charm, And stamped with such a seal of Mind, As gave to beauties, that might be Too sensual else, too unrefined,

The impress of divinity! 'Twas this-a union, which the hand Of Nature kept for her alone, Of everything most playful, bland, Voluptuous, spiritual, grand,

In angel-natures and her ownOh! this it was that drew me nigh One who seemed kin to Heaven as I, My bright twin sister of the skyOne in whose love, I felt, were given The mixed delights of either sphere, All that the spirit seeks in heaven,

Proud thoughts, aspirings high-beyond Whate'er yet dwelt in soul so fondGlimpses of glory, far away

Into the bright vague future given, And fancies free and grand, whose play,

Like that of eaglets, is near heaven! With this, too-what a soul and heart To fall beneath the tempter's art!A zeal for knowledge, such as ne'er Enshrined itself in form so fair, Since that first fatal hour when Eve, With every fruit of Eden blessed, Save only one, rather than leave

That one unknown, lost all the rest. It was in dreams that first I stole With gentle mastery o'er her mindIn that rich twilight of the soul,

When Reason's beam, half hid behind The clouds of sense, obscurely gilds Each shadowy shape that Fancy

builds

'Twas then, by that soft light, I brought Vague, glimmering visions to her

view

And yet so ruinous, that led Down to the last dark precipice,

Where perished both-the fallen, the dead!

From the first hour she caught my sight, I never left her-day and night Hovering unseen around her way,

And 'mid her loneliest musings near, I soon could track each thought that lay Gleaming within her heart, as clear As pebbles within brooks appear; And there, among the countless things That keep young hearts for ever glowing,

Vague wishes, fond imaginings, Love-dreams, as yet no object knowing

Catches of radiance, lost when caught,

And vistas with a void seen throughDwellings of bliss, that opening shone, Then closed, dissolved, and left no

trace

All that, in short, could tempt Hope or,

Myself the while, with brow as yet But give her wing no resting-place; Pure as the young moon's coronet, Through every dream still in her sight

The enchanter of each mocking scene, Who gave the hope, then brought the blight,

Who said, 'Behold yon world of light!'

Then sudden dropped a veil between. At length, when I perceived each thought,

Waking or sleeping, fixed on nought

But these illusive scenes, and me,