HEAVEN AND EARTH; A MYSTERY. FOUNDED ON THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE IN GENESIS, CHAP. VI. "And it came to pass.... that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose." "And woman wailing for her demon lover."-COLERIDGE. Anah. OUR father sleeps: it is the hour when they Through the deep clouds o'er rocky Ararat : How my heart beats! Aho. Our invocation. Anah. Let us proceed upon But the stars are hidden. What was I going to say? my heart grows impious. I love our God less since his angel loved me: This cannot be of good; and though I know not Which are not ominous of right. Aho. Then wed thee Unto some son of clay, and toil and spin! There's Japhet loves thee well, hath loved thee long: Anah. I should have loved Azaziel not less were he mortal; yet Will one day hover o'er the sepulchre Of the poor child of clay which so adored him, His grief will be of ages, or at least Mine would be such for him, were I the seraph, Aho. Rather say, That he will single forth some other daughter Anah. And if it should be so, and she loved him, Aho. If I thought thus of Samiasa's love, All seraph as he is, I'd spurn him from me. But to our invocation!-T is the hour. Anah. Seraph! From thy sphere! Whatever star contain thy glory, Albeit thou watchest with the "seven,' Oh! think of her who holds thee dear! Unborn, undying beauty in thine eyes; Thou walk'st thy many worlds, thou see'st Of those cast out from Eden's gate: Oh hear ! For thou hast loved me, and I would not die That thou forget'st in thine eternity Her whose heart death could not keep from o'erflowing *The archangels, said to be seven in number. For thee, immortal essence as thou art! Great is their love who love in sin and fear: Forgive, my Seraph! that such thoughts appear, Delight An Eden kept afar from sight, Though sometimes with our visions blent. Which tells me we are not abandon'd quite.— Aho. My own Azaziel! be but here, Or warring with the spirits who may dare Who made all empires, empire; or recalling I call thee, I await thee, and I love thee. Though I be form'd of clay, More bright than those of day Thine immortality can not repay My love. There is a ray In me, which, though forbidden yet to shine, It may be hidden long death and decay Our mother Eve bequeath'd us— but my heart Thou art immortal· so am I: I feel |