To those gay sounds that still came o'er,
Faintly from many a distant shore,
And the unnumbered lights that shone
Far o'er the flood from Memphis on
To the Moon's Isle and Babylon.

now,

My oars were lifted and my boat
Lay rocked upon the rippling stream;
While my vague thoughts alike afloat,
Drifted thro' many an idle dream,
With all of which, wild and unfixt
As was their aim, that vision mixt,
That bright nymph of the Temple-
With the same innocence of brow
She wore within the lighted fane -
Now kindling, thro' each pulse and vein
With passion of such deep-felt fire
As Gods might glory to inspire;-
And now- oh Darkness of the tomb,
That must eclipse even light like hers!
Cold, dead, and blackening mid the gloom
Of those eternal sepulchres.

Scarce had I turned my eyes away

From that dark death-place, at the thought,

When by the sound of dashing spray

From a light oar my ear was caught, While past me, thro' the moonlight, sailed A little gilded bark that bore Two female figures closely veiled

And mantled towards that funeral shore. They landed

and the boat again Put off across the watery plain.

Shall I confess -to thee I may
That never yet hath come the chance
Of a new music, a new ray

From woman's voice, from woman's
glance,

Which let it find me how it might,
In joy or grief- I did not bless,
And wander after as a light

Leading to undreamt happiness.
And chiefly now when hopes so vain
Were stirring in my heart and brain,
When Fancy had allured my soul

Into a chase as vague and far As would be his who fixt his goal In the horizon or some star Any bewilderment that brought More near to earth my high-flown thought

Quick to the shore I urged my bark,

And by the bursts of moonlight shed
Between the lofty tombs could mark
Those figures as with hasty tread
They glided on-till in the shade
Of a small pyramid, which thro'
Some boughs of palm its peak displayed,
They vanisht instant from my view.

I hurried to the spot- -no trace
Of life was in that lonely place;
And had the creed I hold by taught
Of other worlds I might have thought
Some mocking spirits had from thence
Come in this guise to cheat my sense.

At length, exploring darkly round
The Pyramid's smooth sides, I found
An iron portal opening high
'Twixt peak and base-and, with a
prayer

To the bliss-loving Moon whose eye
Alone beheld me sprung in there.
Downward the narrow stairway led
Thro' many a duct obscure and dread,
A labyrinth for mystery made,
With wanderings onward, backward,
round,

And gathering still, where'er it wound,
But deeper density of shade.

Scarce had I asked myself, "Can aught "That man delights in sojourn here?"

When, suddenly, far off, I caught

A glimpse of light, remote, but clear Whose welcome glimmer seemed to pour From some alcove or cell that ended The long, steep, marble corridor,

Thro'which I now, all hope, descended. Never did Spartan to his bride With warier foot at midnight glide. It seemed as echo's self were dead In this dark place, so mute my tread. Reaching at length that light, I saw Oh! listen to the scene now raised Before my eyes then guess the awe, The still, rapt awe with which I gaz

.ed.

'T was a small chapel, lined around
With the fair, spangling marble found
In many a ruined shrine that stands
Half seen above the Libyan sands.
The walls were richly sculptured o'er,
And charactered with that dark lore
Of times before the Flood, whose key
Was lost in the "Universal Sea."
While on the roof was pictured bright
The Theban beetle as he shines,
When the Nile's mighty flow declines
And forth the creature springs to light,
With life regenerate in his wings:
Emblem of vain imaginings!
Of a new world, when this is gone,
In which the spirit still lives on!

The holy spot where she but came
And went again like summer lightning!

Upon the crystal o'er the breast
Of her who took that silent rest,
There was a cross of silver lying-

Another type of that blest home,
Which hope and pride and fear of dying
Build for us in a world to come:-
This silver cross the maiden raised
To her pure lips :- then, having gazed
Some minutes on that tranquil face,
Sleeping in all death's mournful grace,
Upward she turned her brow serene,
As if intent on heaven those eyes
Saw then nor roof nor cloud between
Their own pure orbits and the skies,
And, tho' her lips no motion made,
And that fixt look was all her speech,
I saw that the rapt spirit prayed

Deeper within than words could reach.

Strange power of Innocence, to turn

To its own hue whate'er comes near, And make even vagrant Passion burn

With purer warmth within its sphere! She who but one short hour before Had come like sudden wild-fire o'er My heart and brain · whom gladly even

From that bright Temple in the face Of those proud ministers of heaven,

I would have borne in wild embrace, And risked all punishment, divine And human, but to make her mine;She, she was now before me, thrown By fate itself into my arms There standing, beautiful, alone, With naught to guard her but her charms.

Or voice or whisper broke the chain
That linked her spirit with the skies,
I would have gladly in that place
From which I watched her heavenward
face,

Let my heart break, without one beat *
That could disturb a prayer so sweet.
Gently, as if on every tread,

My life, my more than life depended, Back thro' the corridor that led

To this blest scene I now ascended,
And with slow seeking and some pain
And many a winding tried in vain
Emerged to upper air again.

The sun had freshly risen, and down
The marble hills of Araby,
Scattered as from a conqueror's crown
His beams into that living sea.
There seemed a glory in his light,

Newly put on — as if for pride
Of the high homage paid this night
To his own Isis, his young bride,
Now fading feminine away
In her proud Lord's superior ray.

My mind's first impulse was to fly

At once from this entangling net → New scenes to range, new loves to try, Or in mirth, wine, and luxury

Of every sense that night forget.
But vain the effort - spell-bound still,
I lingered, without power or will

To turn my eyes from that dark door,
Which now enclosed her 'mong the dead;
Oft fancying, thro' the boughs that o'er
The sunny pile their flickering shed,
'T was her light form again I saw

Starting to earth --still pure and bright, But wakening, as I hoped, less awe, Thus seen by morning's natural light, Than in that strange, dim cell at night.

That time, too - oh, 't is like a dream
When from Scamander's holy tide
I sprung as Genius of the Stream,
And bore away that blooming bride,
Who thither came, to yield her charms
(As Phrygian maids are wont ere wed)
Into the cold Scamander's arms,

But met and welcomed mine, instead--
Wondering as on my neck she fell,
How river-gods could love so well!
Who would have thought that he who
roved

Like the first bees of summer then, Rifling each sweet nor ever loved

But the free hearts that loved again, Readily as the reed replies To the least breath that round it sighs Is the same dreamer who last night Stood awed and breathless at the sight Of one Egyptian girl; and now Wanders among these tombs with brow Pale, watchful, sad, as tho' he just, Himself, had risen from out their dust!

FROM ORCUS, HIGH PRIEST OF MEMPHIS, TO DECIUS, THE PRÆTORIAN PREFECT.

REJOICE, my friend, rejoice: - the youthful Chief

Of that light Sect which mocks at all belief,

And gay and godless makes the present hour

Its only heaven, is now within our power. Smooth, impious school! -not all the weapons aimed,

At priestly creeds, since first a creed was framed,

E'er struck so deep as that sly dart they wield,

The Bacchant's pointed spear in laughing flowers concealed.

And oh, 't were victory to this heart, as sweet

As any thou canst boast even when the

feet

Of thy proud war-steed wade thro' Christian blood,

To wrap this scoffer in Faith's blinding

hood,

And bring him tamed and prostrate to implore

The vilest gods even Egypt's saints adore.

What! do these sages think, to them alone

The key of this world's happiness is known?

That none but they who make such proud parade

Of Pleasure's smiling favors win the maid, Or that Religion keeps no secret place, No niche in her dark fanes for Love to grace?

Fools! did they know how keen the zest that 's given

To earthly joy when seasoned well with heaven;

How Piety's grave mask improves the hue Of Pleasure's laughing features, half seen thro',

'Twixt Sword and Altar makes our best ally

Would they not change their creed, their craft, for ours?

Leave the gross daylight joys that in their bowers

Languish with too much sun, like o'erblown flowers,

For the veiled loves, the blisses undisplayed

That slyly lurk within the Temple's shade? And, 'stead of haunting the trim Garden's school

Where cold Philosophy usurps a rule, Like the pale moon's, o'er passion's heaving tide,

Till Pleasure's self is chilled by Wisdom's pride

Be taught by us, quit shadows for the true,

Substantial joys we sager Priests pursue,
Who far too wise to theorize on bliss
Or pleasure's substance for its shade to
miss,

Preach other worlds but live for only this:

Thanks to the well-paid Mystery round us flung,

Which like its type the golden cloud that hung

O'er Jupiter's love-couch its shade benign,

Round human frailty wraps a veil divine.