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| 3. | CANTO THIRD. PALACE OF GNOMES.
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| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | ||
CANTO THIRD. PALACE OF GNOMES.
Having liberty, while at Paris, to take any books I might wish from the Bibliothèque du Roi, and M. Van Praët being very obliging in looking for them, it was in my power to make much more copious notes than will appear to this canto, which, from its subject, admits of a great variety. Many obstacles and engagements occurred to prevent; which I regret only because many passages of the old Christian writers and their Pagan contemporaries, on the subject of angels and other spirits, are extremely curious and entertaining. Sufficient poetical authority is, however, given for the incidents of the story; and the text, perhaps, is sufficiently explained. Copious notes extracted from the works of others indicate nothing but toil and patience in the writer.
Having liberty, while at Paris, to take any books I might wish from the Bibliothèque du Roi, and M. Van Praët being very obliging in looking for them, it was in my power to make much more copious notes than will appear to this canto, which, from its subject, admits of a great variety. Many obstacles and engagements occurred to prevent; which I regret only because many passages of the old Christian writers and their Pagan contemporaries, on the subject of angels and other spirits, are extremely curious and entertaining. Sufficient poetical authority is, however, given for the incidents of the story; and the text, perhaps, is sufficiently explained. Copious notes extracted from the works of others indicate nothing but toil and patience in the writer.
ARGUMENT.
Midnight.—Zóphiël and Phraërion sit conversing together near a ruin on the banks of the Tigris.—Zóphiël laments his former crimes; speaks of a change in his designs; dwells on the purity of his love for Egla: and expresses a wish to preserve her life and beauty beyond the period allotted to mortals.—Phraërion is induced to lead the way to the palace of Tahathyam.—Palace and banquet of Gnomes.—Zóphiël, by fórce of entreaty and promise, obtains from Tahathyam a drop of the elixir of life.
I.
'Tis now the hour of mirth, the hour of love,The hour of melancholy: Night, as vain
Of her full beauty, seems to pause above,
That all may look upon her ere it wane.
II.
The heavenly angel watched his subject star,This line is in accordance with the belief that the stars are guarded by celestial intelligences, to the prevalence of which many passages in the sacred writings bear testimony, and from which may be inferred a possibility that each inhabited and separate planet may, in reality, be under the care of some delegate spirit. Saturnius of Antioch taught that “the world and its first inhabitants were created by seven angels, which presided over the seven planets;” and that “the work was carried on without the knowledge of the benevolent deity, and in opposition to the material principle. The former, however, beheld it with approbation, and honored it with several marks of his beneficence.”
Many singular systems of this kind are classed under the name of heresies by Mosheim.
O'er all that's good and fair benignly smiling:
The sighs of wounded love he hears from far;
Weeps that he cannot heal, and wafts a hope beguiling.
III.
The nether earth looks beauteous as a gem:High o'er her groves in floods of moonlight laving,
The towering palm displays his silver stem,
The while his plumy leaves scarce in the breeze are waving.
IV.
The nightingale among his roses sleeps;The soft-eyed doe in thicket deep is sleeping;
The dark-green myrrh her tears of fragrance weeps;
I had hoped to see the plant myrrh in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris, but was disappointed. Its appearance, however, can be easily conceived by the following: “Mr. Bruce, while in Abyssinia, made some remarks on the myrrh-tree, which are to be found in the ‘Journal de Physique,’ &c., tome xiii., 1778. He (Bruce) says that the naked troglodytes brought him specimens of myrrh, of which both the leaves and bark bore a great resemblance to the acacia vera.” Among the leaves he observed some straight prickles about two inches in length. He likewise mentions seeing a saffa-tree, which was a native of the myrrh country, covered with beautiful crimson flowers. Drops of perfume distil from this tree, which probably harden into that substance called myrrh, which is common in medicine. In one of the letters of M. Demonstier's delightful work on Mythology the young Adonis is represented as pointing to a myrrh-tree, and exclaiming, “Hélas! ces larmes précieuses sont les pleurs de ma mère!” who, according to the fable, was metamorphosed by the gods in compassion to her grief.
And every odorous spike in limpid dew is steeping.
For an account of the “spikenard of the ancients,” Sir William Jones may be referred to with pleasure. One species of it is said to have been discovered by the horses and elephants of the vizier Afufaddaulah. “If the spikenard of India was a reed, or grass, we can never be able to discover it among it among the genera of those natural orders which here form a wilderness of sweets; and some of them have not only fragrant roots, but even spikes, in the ancient and modern sense of that emphatical word.”
V.
Proud prickly cerea, now thy blossom 'scapesIts cell,
Few persons have seen the blossom of this astonishing flower, because it only opens at or after midnight, and is so evanescent, that, unless constantly watched, it is difficult to know the exact time of its perfection. It is large, and of a yellowish white; and in its cup, or rather in the midst of its fragrant petals, there is an appearance of lambent light or flame, resembling burning nitre.
“I am not for gross mortals: blood of grapes,
And sleep, for them!—Come, Spirits, while ye may!”
VI.
And slowly gains the Tigris, where 'tis lost.
By a forgotten prince of old 'twas made,
The ancients throughout Syria (though ignorant of some useful principles discovered by modern science) were very skilful in hydraulics. Some of the earlier kings of that country had gardens with fountains and artificial streams without the walls of Jerusalem, in a place which is now a parched and barren desert.—See Josephus.
And, in its course, full many a fragment crost
Her golden dust the flaunting lotus threw
O'er her white sisters, throned upon the tide,
And queen of every flower that loves perpetual dew.
VII.
Gold-sprinkling lotus, theme of many a songBy slender Indian warbled to his fair!
Still tastes the stream thy rosy kiss, though long
Has been but dust the hand that placed thee there.
VIII.
The little temple where its relics restLong since has fallen: its broken columns lie
Beneath the lucid wave, and give its breast
A whitened glimmer as 'tis stealing by.
IX.
Here cerea, too, thy clasping mazes twineThe only pillar time has left erect:
Thy serpent arms embrace it as 'twere thine,
And roughly mock the beam it should reflect.
X.
Was wont to wander to this spot, and deemed
A water-nymph came to him, and carest
And loved him well: haply he only dreamed.
And flowers were set that still in wildness bloom;
And the cold ashes that were him repose
Carefully shrined in this lone ivory tomb.
XI.
It is a place so strangely wild and sweet,That spirits love to come; and now upon
A moonlight fragment Zóphiël chose his seat,
In converse close with soft Phraërion,
XII.
Who on the moss beside him lies reclining,O'erstrewn with leaves from full-blown roses shaken
By nightingales, that, on their branches twining,
The livelong night to love and music waken.
XIII.
Phraërion, gentle Sprite! nor force nor fireHe had to wake in others doubt or fear:
He'd hear a tale of bliss, and not aspire
To taste himself; 'twas meet for his compeer.
XIV.
No soul-creative in this being bornIts restless, daring, fond aspirings hid:
Within the vortex of rebellion drawn,
He joined the shining ranks—as others did.
XV.
Success but little had advanced; defeatHe thought so little, scarce to him were worse;
And, as he'd held in heaven inferior seat,
Less was his bliss, and lighter was his curse.
XVI.
To curl the tendril, fold the bud; his pain
So light, he scarcely felt his banishment.
Zóphiël, perchance, had held him in disdain;
'Twas such relief his burning thoughts to pour
In other ears, that oft the strong control
Of pride he felt them burst, and could restrain no more.
Love, grief, remorse, shame, pity, jealousy,
Each boundless in his breast, impels or burns:
His joy was bliss, his pain was agony.
Nothing imperfect in its kind can be:
There every form is fresh, soft, bright, and fair,
Yet differing each with that variety—
And wonder, and admire the cause that formed
So like, and yet so different every face,
Though of the selfsame clay, by the same process warmed.
XVII.
“Order is heaven's first law.” But that obeyed,The planets fixed, the Eternal Mind, at leisure,
A vast profusion spread o'er all it made,
As if in endless change were found eternal pleasure.
XVIII.
Retained the looks that had been his above;
Soothed the fallen seraph's heart, and changed his scorn to love;
Happy, because too little thought had he
To place in contrast past delight with present,
Had given his soul of fire for that inanity.
XIX.
But, oh! in him the Eternal had infusedThe restless soul that doth itself devour,
Unless it can create; and fallen, misused,
But forms the vast design to mourn the feeble power.
XX.
In plenitude of love, the Power benignNearer itself some beings fain would lift,
To share its joys, assist its vast design
With high intelligence: oh dangerous gift!
It is said the angels who rebelled were among the most wise and powerful of celestial creatures. None of them were more resplendent in beauty than Lucifer, who drew with him, when he fell, a third part of the stars of heaven.
The supposition that many beings, subordinate to the supreme will, were employed in that disposition of matter called “the creation,” is not only according to every system of religion, but agreeable to all analogy. “God said, Let there be light; and light was.” The King of Persia commanded a temple to be built, and it rose. There is little more reason to believe that the first was accomplished without multiplied means and agency than the last. Every thing in natural history and in natural philosophy favors the idea of an infinity of beings to supply the gradations between man and the Sovereign of creation. Indeed, after thinking a little on the subject, it seems almost absurd to believe the contrary. This belief, besides, is far more pleasing in itself than that of regarding the Supreme Giver of life only as an all-competent artisan.
M. l'Abbé Poule, discoursing upon a future state of existence, gives the following passage:—
“Ils ne seront plus cachés, pour nous, ces êtres innombrables, qui échappent à nos connoissances par leur éloignement ou par leur petitesse; les différentes parties qui composent le vaste ensemble de l'univers; leurs structures, leur rapport, leur harmonie; ils ne seront plus des énigmes, pour nous, ces jeux surprenans, ces secrets profonds de la nature, ces ressorts admirables que la providence emploie pour la conservation et la propagation de tous les êtres.”
I translate from the French of M. de Châteaubriand the following delightful passage: “The sovereign happiness of the elect is a consciousness that their joys are never to be terminated. They are incessantly in the same delicious state of mind as a mortal who has just performed a good or heroic action, a man of genius who has just given birth to a sublime conception, of a person in the first transports of an unforbidden love, or the charms of a friendship made certain by a long series of adversity. The nobler passions are not extinguished by death, in the hearts of the just; and whenever they are found, even on earth, respire something of the grandeur and eternity of the Supreme Intelligence.”
XXI.
Superior passion, knowledge, force, and fireThe glorious creatures took; but each, the slave
Of his own strength, soon burnt with wild desire,
And basely turned it 'gainst the hand that gave.
XXII.
But Zóphiël, fallen sufferer, now no moreThought of the past: the aspiring voice was mute
That urged him on to meet his doom before,
And all dissolved to love each varied attribute.
XXIII.
“Come, my Phraërion, give me an embrace!”He said, “I hope a respite of repose
Like that respiring from thy sunny face,—
Even the peace thy guileless bosom knows.
XXIV.
We went with fruits and flowers and meteor light,
And the fair creature, on the damp rock, there
Shivering and trembling so? Ah! well she might!
Then, as I knelt before her feet, and sued;
Yet still she blooms, uninjured, innocent,
Though now for seven long months by Zóphiël watched and wooed!
XXV.
“Gentle Phraërion, 'tis for her I craveAssistance: what I could have blighted then
'Tis now my only care to guard and save;
Companion, then, my airy flight again.
XXVI.
“Conduct me to those hoards of sweets and dewsTreasured—in haunts to all but thee unknown—
For favorite Sprites; teach me their power and use;
And whatso'er thou wilt of Zóphiël be it done!
XXVII.
“Throughout fair Ecbatane the deeds I've wroughtHave cast such dread, that of all Sardius' train
I doubt if there be one, from tent or court,
Who'll try what 'tis to thwart a Spirit's love again.
XXVIII.
“My Egla, left in her acacia-grove,Has learnt to lay aside that piteous fear
That sorrowed thee; and I but live to prove
A love for her as harmless as sincere.
XXIX.
Her ear with songs she never heard before;
And many an hour of thoughtfulness disarm
With stories culled from that vague, wondrous lore
Inscribed that still exist; but hidden so,
From fear of those who told, that diadems
Have passed from brows that vainly ached to know:
It is said to have been believed by the Egyptians that many wonderful secrets were engraved by one of the Mercuries on tablets of emerald, which still remain hidden in some part of their country.
Being assisted by a friend in looking over the first part of Brucker's “Historia Critica Philosophiæ” for something concerning these tablets of emerald, we were soon disappointed by the following passage:—
“Non detenibimus itaque lectorem fabularum de Mercurio Græcarum atque Latinarum recitatione, quas qui legere vult, apud Lilium Gyraldum (Lugd. Bat. 1698, 4) vel Natalem Comitem (Mythol. L. V., c. 5. P. M. 439) aliosque mythologiæ veteris interpretes abunde inveniet unde sitem extinguat.” To those authors, therefore, the reader is referred.
Some of the fathers (Tertullian in particular) supposed that all impious and daring sciences, such as magic and alchemy, came to the heathen nations through the medium of fallen angels, who, during the violence of their love for particular women, would sometimes reveal to them doctrines and truths which could never otherwise have been conceived by their poets and philosophers.
Petrarch, in a letter to Robert, King of Naples, says, “The expectation which our faith presents was unknown to the heathen philosophers; but they felt the soul was not to die.” Pherecydes was the first among them who openly maintained it. Pherecydes most probably conceived his belief from old and vague traditions, confirmed by his own feelings and experience.
“Epicurus,” continues Petrarch, “was the only one who denied it. From Pherecydes it passed to Pythagoras, from Pythagoras to Socrates, from Socrates to Plato; and Cicero established this doctrine in his discourses on friendship, old age, and other parts of his works.”
The lives of all these philosophers, that of Socrates in particular, rather confirm than disporve the belief of the fathers respecting communications from a higher order of beings.
Loved ages past like her I now adore,
Caught from their Angels some low whisperings,
Then told of them to such as dared not tell them more;
Of shuddering, longing men; then, buried deep,
Till distant ages bade their secrets lie,
In hopes that time might tell what their dread oaths must keep.
XXX.
Admires, but, trembling, dares not bid me stay:
Yet hour by hour her timid heart more used
Grows to my sight and words; and when a day
To muse upon and feel her lonely state,
At my returning, though restrained her pleasure,
There needs no Spirit's eye to see she does not hate.
XXXI.
How Love, by slow advances, knows to twine
Each fibre with his wreaths, then overthrow
At once each stern resolve. The maiden's mine!
Nor touched the living coral of her lip;
Though, listening to its tones, so sweet, so bland,
I've thought—oh impious thought!—who formed might sip!
XXXII.
“Most impious thought! Soul, I would rein thee in,E'en as the quick-eyed Parthian quells his steeds;
But thou wilt start, and rise, and plunge in sin,
Till gratitude weeps out, and wounded reason bleeds.
XXXIII.
“Soul, what a mystery thou art! not oneAdmires, or loves, or worships virtue, more
Than I; but passion hurls me on, till, torn
By keen remorse, I cool, to curse me and deplore.
XXXIV.
I hover o'er her fragrant couch, and sprinkle
Sweet dews about her, as she slumbers light,—
Dews sought with toil, beneath the pale stars' twinkle,
Too high and pure my bliss: her gentle breath
I hear, inhale, then weep (for, oh! she must;
That form is mortal, and must sleep in death).
XXXV.
“And oft, when nature pants, and the thick air,Charged with foul particles, weighs sluggish o'er,
I breathe them all: that deep disgust I bear,
To leave a fluid pure and sane for her.
XXXVI.
My soul's wild elements forbear their strife;
While, on these harmless cares pleased and intent,
I hope to save her beauty and her life
Shall hold her to his heart: to me confined,
Her soul must glow; nor ever shall she bear
That mortal fruit for which her form's designed.
XXXVII.
“No grosser blood, commingling with her own,Shall ever make her mother. Oh! that mild,
Sad glance I love, that lip, that melting tone,
Shall ne'er be given to any mortal's child.
XXXVIII.
Unsoiled by earth, fresh, chaste, and innocent;
And all a Spirit dares, or can, I'll give:
And sure I thus can make her far more blest,
For more than mortal's to this creature given;
She's spirit more than half; her beauty's hue
Is of the sky, and speaks my native heaven.
XXXIX.
“But the night wanes: while all is bright above,”He said,—and round Phraërion, nearer drawn,
One beauteous arm he flung,—“first to my love:
We'll see her safe; then to our task till dawn.”
XL.
'Tis often thus with Spirits, when retiredAfar from haunts of men: so they delight
To move in their own beauteous forms attired;
Though like thin shades or air they mock dull mortals' sight.
The discoveries effected by chemistry and natural philosophy, although they make apparent the fallacy of many superstitions, do not in the least disprove the existence of spiritual creatures. After hearing explained the nature of light and heat, and observing the effects produced by many common experiments, it is not difficult to conceive of beings powerful, beautiful, and exquisitely organized, yet of a material so refined and subtle as easily to elude the most perfect animal perception.
XLI.
All balmy he with thousand breathing sweets
From thousand dewy flowers. “But to what place,”
He said, “will Zóphiël go? who danger greets
Tahathyam,
In respect to the birth of Tahathyam and his court, I have followed the opinion of Tertullian and others. The beings, however, which are described in the text, can only be called gnomes from their residence in the earth, and their knowledge of mineralogy and gems. The
“La terre est remplie, presque jusqu'au centre, de gnomes, gens de petites statures, gardiens des trésors, des minéraux, et des pierreries. Ceux-ei sont ingénieux, amis de l'homme, et faciles à commander. Les gnomides, leurs femmes, sont petites mais fort agré ables et leur habit est fort curieux.”
“Les gnomes et les sylphes sont mortels, mais cessent d'être mortel du moment qu'ils épousent une de nos filles.”
“De la naquit l'erreur des premiers siècles, de Tertullien, du martyr Justin, de Lactance, de Cyprien, de Clement d'Alexandrie, d'Anathagore, philosophe Chrétien, et généralement de tous les écrivains de ce tems là. Ils avaient appris que ces demi-hommes élémentaires avaient recherché le commerce des filles; et ils ont imaginé que la chute des anges n'étoit venue que de l'amour dont ils s'étaient laissés toucher pour les femmes. Quelques gnomes désireux de devenir immortels avaient voulu gagner les bonnes graces de nos filles, et leur avaient apportées des pierreries dont ils sont gardiens naturels; et ces auteurs ont crû s'appuyans sur le livre d'Enoch mal-entendu, que c'étaient des pièges que les anges amoureux avaient préparés pour mieux en assurer la conquête.”—
Comte de Gabalis.Though not immediately relative to the subject, I cannot forbear inserting the following curious account of sylphs:—
“L'air est plein d'une innombrable multitude de peuples de figure humaine, un peu fiers en apparence, mais dociles en effet: officieux aux sages, et ennemies des sots et des ignorans. Leurs femmes et leurs filles sont des beautés mâles telles qu'on depeint les amazones.”—
Le même.But then the wave so cold and fierce, the gloom,
The whirlpools, rocks that guard that deep retreat!
E'er danced upon; and drops come there at last
Which for whole ages, filtering all the way,
Through all the veins of earth in winding maze have passed.
XLII.
“These take from mortal beauty every stain,And smooth the unseemly lines of age and pain,
With every wondrous efficacy rife:
Nay, once a Spirit whispered of a draught,
Of which a drop, by any mortal quaffed,
Would save for terms of years his feeble flickering life.”
XLIII.
The being who should taste that drop? Is't so?
O dear Phraërion! for another breath
We have not time! Come, follow me: we'll go
Of the Gnome's palace. There is not a blast
To stir the sea-flower: we will go and back
Ere morn. Nay, come: the night is wasting fast.”
XLIV.
“My friend, O Zóphiël! only once I went:Then, though bold Antreon bore me, such the pain,
I came back to the air so racked and spent,
That for a whole sweet moon I had no joy again.
XLV.
“What sayst thou?—back at morn? The night, a dayAnd half the night that follows it, alas!
Were time too little for that fearful way;
And then such depths, such caverns, we must pass!”
XLVI.
“Nothing, beloved Phraërion! I know howTo brave such risks, and, first, the path will break,
As oft I've done in water-depths; and thou
Need'st only follow through the way I make.”
XLVII.
And from his bolder brother would have fled;
But then the anger kindling in that eye
He could not bear. So to fair Egla's bed
Followed, and looked; then, shuddering all with dread,
To wondrous realms unknown to men he led;
Until for flowery Sicily he bent;
Then, where Italia smiled upon the night,
Between their nearest shores chose midway his descent.
XLVIII.
The sea was calm, and the reflected moonStill trembled on its surface: not a breath
Curled the broad mirror. Night had past her noon.
How soft the air! how cold the depths beneath!
XLIX.
The Spirits hover o'er that surface smooth;Zóphiël's white arm around Phraërion twined
In fond caress, his tender fears to soothe;
While either's nearer wing the other's crossed behind.
L.
Well pleased, Phraërion half forgot his dread,And first, with foot as white as lotus-leaf,
The sleepy surface of the waves essayed;
But then his smile of love gave place to drops of grief.
LI.
Change the sweet floods of air they floated on?
E'en at a touch his shrinking fibres thrill;
But ardent Zóphiël, panting, hurries on,
That whispered courage 'twixt each glowing kiss)
Persuades to plunge: limbs, wings, and locks they dip:
Whate'er the other's pains, the lover felt but bliss.
LII.
Even lighter than he hoped: some power benign
Seems to restrain the surges, while they boil
'Mid crags and caverns, as of his design
As if obedient to his wish, gave way:
So, comforting Phraërion, on he went;
And a high craggy arch they reach at dawn of day,
That arch the thick, cold floods, with such a roar
That the bold Sprite receded, and would view
The cave before he ventured to explore.
LIII.
Then, fearful lest his frighted guide might part,And not be missed, amid such strife and din,
He strained him closer to his burning heart,
And, trusting to his strength, rushed fiercely in.
LIV.
Till thinner grew the floods, long, dark, and dense,
From nearness to earth's core; and now a glare
Of grateful light relieved their piercing sense;
Of warmth and light darts mingling with the waves
Whole fathoms down; while, amorous of his beams,
Each scaly monstrous thing leaps from its slimy caves.
LV.
Far sweeter than the land-bird's note, afar
By the long-baffled, storm-worn mariner,—
Tahathyam's realms-alone can give this light!
Oh! though 'tis not the life-awakening sun,
How sweet to see it break upon such fearful night!”
LVI.
The wide expanding cavern floors and flanks:
Could one have looked from high, how fair the sight!
Like these the dolphin on Bahaman banks
While even his shadow on the sands below
Is seen, as through the waves he glides and glints
Where lies the polished shell, and branching corals grow.
LVII.
No massive gate impedes; the waves in vainMight strive against the air to break or fall;
And, at the portal of that strange domain,
A clear, bright curtain seemed, or crystal wall.
LVIII.
The Spirits pass its bounds, but would not farTread the slant pavement, like unbidden guest;
The while, on either side, a bower of spar
Gave invitation for a moment's rest.
LIX.
And, deep in either bower, a little throneLooked so fantastic, it were hard to know
If busy Nature fashioned it alone,
Or found some curious artist here below.
LX.
Soon spoke Phraërion: “Come, Tahathyam, come!Thou knowest me well. I saw thee once to love,
And bring a guest to view thy sparkling dome,
Who comes full fraught with tidings from above.”
LXI.
Past from his lips, in mazy depths retreating
(As if that bower had been the cavern's ear)
Full many a stadia far, and kept repeating
Echo to echo guiding them: their tone
(As just from the sweet Spirit's lip) at last
Tahathyam heard, where on a glittering throne
Ere such delightful, grateful sound had blest
His pleasured sense; and with a starting tear,
Half joy, half grief, he rose to greet his guest:
LXII.
To give both Spirits welcome where they wait,
And bid them haste; for he might strive in vain,
Half-mortal as he was, to reach that gate
His bidding, and, from cumbrous matter free,
Arose, and to his princely home came near
With such spiritual strange velocity,
The Gnome appeared, with all his band, elate
In the display of his resplendent store
To such as knew his father's high estate.
LXIII.
Had lightly left his pure and blissful home
To taste the blandishments of mortal love;
In the Book of Enoch, two hundred or more of such angels as Cephroniel are said to have descended on Mount Hermon for the purpose of visiting women of whose beauty they had become enamoured. Tertullian regards this book as of sacred authority, as will be seen in the article, “De Habitu Muliebri;” but some of the other fathers are disinclined to believe it.
And from that lowly union sprang the Gnome,
He looked like heaven, fair semi-earthly thing!
The rest were born of many a maid carest
After his birth, and chose him for their king.
LXIV.
He sat upon a car (and the large pearlOnce cradled in it glimmered, now, without)
Bound midway on two serpents' backs, that curl
In silent swiftness as he glides about.
LXV.
A shell, 'twas first in liquid amber wet;Then, ere the fragrant cement hardened round,
All o'er with large and precious stones 'twas set
By skilful Tsaveven, or made or found.
LXVI.
The reins seemed pliant crystal (but their strengthHad matched his earthly mother's silken band),
And, flecked with rubies, flowed in ample length
Like sparkles o'er Tahathyam's beauteous hand.
LXVII.
The reptiles, in their fearful beauty, drew,As if from love, like steeds of Araby:
Like blood of lady's lip their scarlet hue;
The docility, and even affection, of the serpent, is sufficiently known and attested. Some chemical arts might have been used to give the scales of these their scarlet color, surrounded as they were by beings of such exquisite skill. Little serpents, however, of a bright glossy scarlet, are not uncommon in America; and (if the Count de Buffon, and his admirer and frequent translator Dr. Goldsmith, are to be relied on) the snake, as long as it lives, continues to increase, having no fixed dimensions allotted to it like other animals. These most pleasing writers (if I am not much mistaken) believe also that no particular bound is set to its vitality, and that it is capable of retaining life and youth so long as it can be preserved from accidents.
The following account of the celebrated exploit of Prometheus, which M. de Lentier puts into the mouth of an old Grecian or Assyrian mariner, may not be unentertaining:—
Prometheus, having made a statue of clay, mixed with it levin of gall, flesh of the aspic, and foam of the lion. But the figure was still an insensible mass. Prometheus stole fire from the sun, and man was animated. Scarcely had he drawn a breath ere he complained to the gods of the fatal gift of life: pain was his first sensation. Jupiter, to console him, and mitigate his sufferings, gave him a drug that had the virtue of restoring youth. The man was delighted with the present, and placed it on an ass for the purpose of conveying it to his own abode.
The beast, tormented with thirst, stopped on his way at a fountain guarded by a serpent. The wicked reptile would not suffer him to drink, except on condition that the drug should meanwhile be left in its care. The ass consented, and the serpent kept the drug. From that time the serpent has had power to renew its youth, while poor human beings grow old without remedy.
Their scales so bright and sleek, 'twas pleasure but to see.
LXVIII.
With open mouths, as proud to show the bit,They raise their heads, and arch their necks (with eye
As bright as if with meteor fire 'twere lit),
And dart barbed tongues 'twixt fangs of ivory.
LXIX.
These, when the quick-advancing Sprites they sawFurl their swift wings, and tread with angel grace
The smooth fair pavement, checked their speed in awe,
And glided far aside as if to give them space.
LXX.
The Gnome alighted with a pleasing pride,And, in like guise, to meet the strangers bent
His courteous steps; the while on either side
Fierce Aishalat and Pshaämayim went;
LXXI.
Then Nahalcoul and Zotzaraven, best
Beloved, save Rouämasak of perfume sweet;
Then Talhazak and Marmorak:
These names are formed from Hebraic words, expressive of the various qualities and employments of the beings who bear them.
Aishalat signifies fire-control; Psaämayim, black-water; Ramaöur, light-direct; Nahalcoul, guide-sound; Zotzaraven, shape-spar; Rouämasak, mingle-air; Talhazak, dew-congeal; Marmorak (partly Greek), marble-stain.
Nothing can be more barbarous than Hebrew words as they are pronounced in English. They are, however, much softer on the lips of Oriental speakers, or even those of the south of Europe. Some of the dialects of the aborigines of America, though they look so repulsively as we get them on paper, are soft as the murmur of the forest when spoken by forest orators.
Arranged to meet their monarch's wishes, vie
In seemly show to please the strangers' eyes,
And show what could be wrought without or soil or sky.
LXXII.
The like before; and, for he had to ask
A boon almost as dear as heaven, his mien
Was softness all. But 'twas a painful task
Due to such welcome, all his soul possest
With thoughts of Egla's lone, unguarded state;
While still he smiled, restraining his request.
LXXIII.
How Zóphiël suffered in this smooth delay:
So toward the princely Gnome he gently drew
To tell what lured them to these depths from day;
How hard the task to bring, I need not tell:
Receive the poor, poor gift, for friendship's sake!”
Tahathyam took a yellow asphodel,
And their spoke out, “My Talhazak, come hither;
Look at these flowers, cropt where the sunbeam glows;
Crust them with diamond; never let them wither!”
LXXIV.
Then soon Phraërion: “Monarch, if 'tis truthThou hast (and that 'tis false sweet powers forfend!)
A draught whose power perpetuates life and youth,
Wilt thou bestow one drop upon my friend?”
LXXV.
Then Zóphiël could no more withhold, but knelt,And said, “O sovereign! happier far than I!
Born as thou wert, and in earth's entrails pent,
Though once I shared thy father's bliss on high.
LXXVI.
“One only draught! and if its power I prove,—By thy sweet mother, to an Angel dear,—
Whate'er thou wilt, of all the world above,
Down to these nether realms I'll bring thee every year.
LXXVII.
“Thy tributary slave, I'll scorn the pain,Though storms and rocks my feeling substance tear.
Tahathyam, let me not implore in vain:
Give me the draught, and save me from despair.”
LXXVIII.
Tahathyam paused, as if the bold requestHe liked not to refuse, nor wished to grant;
Then, after much revolving in his breast,—
“What of this cup can an Immortal want?
LXXIX.
The vilest toils, deep hidden in the ground,
To mix this drink; nor was't at last procured
Till all he feared had happed: death's sleep profound
Mortal, like her he held than heaven more dear;
But by his chemic arts he robbed the tomb,
And fixed my solitary being here,
Of his presumptuous task, untried before,
The prized success, bidding the secret lie
Forever here. I never saw him more
From age to age, thus hidden 'neath the wave?
Nor life nor being have I power to give;
And here, alas! are no more lives to save.
LXXX.
“For my loved father's sight in vain I pine.Where is the bright Cephroniel? Spirit, tell
But how he fares,
Tahathyam has never seen his father since first established in his submarine kingdom; and knows not whether he has been received again into heaven, or remains still wandering about in a state of punishment. The crimes of those angels made guilty only by their intercourse with mortals were supposed to have been punished less severely than those of the subordinates of the prince of ambition.
Fair hope from Zóphiël's look that moment fell.
LXXXI.
How far his exile limited his will;
And, half divining why he so besought
Gift worthless save to man, continued still
Spirit, to thee, what my great father fain
Would hide from heaven, and what, with all his art,
Even the second power desires in vain?
LXXXII.
“All long, but cannot touch: a sword of flameGuards the life-fruit once seen. Yet, Spirit, know
There is a service: do what I shall name,
And let the danger threaten: I'll bestow.
LXXXIII.
“But first partake our humble banquet, spreadWithin these rude walls, and repose a while,”
He said; and to the sparry portal led
And ushered his fair guests with hospitable smile.
LXXXIV.
High towered the palace and its massive pile,Made dubious if of nature or of art,
So wild and so uncouth; yet all the while
Shaped to strange grace in every varying part.
LXXXV.
And groves adorned it, green in hue, and brightAs icicles about a laurel-tree;
And danced about their twigs a wondrous light:
Whence came that light so far beneath the sea?
LXXXVI.
Zóphiël looked up to know; and, to his view,Scarce seemed less vast than day's the vault that bent
In lofty arch, its soft, receding blue
As of the sky, with tender cloudlets sprent;
LXXXVII.
And in the midst an orb looked as 'twere meantTo shame the sun, it mimicked him so well.
But, ah! no quickening, grateful warmth it sent:
Cold as the rock beneath, the paly radiance fell.
LXXXVIII.
Within, from thousand lamps the lustre strays,Reflected back from gems about the wall:
And from twelve dolphin shapes a fountain plays,
Just in the centre of the spacious hall.
LXXXIX.
These shapes once lived in suppleness and pride,
And then, to decorate this wondrous court,
Were stolen from the waves, and petrified,
And scaled all o'er with gems, they were but stone.
Casting their showers and rainbows 'neath the dome,
To man or angel's eye might not be known.
XC.
No snowy fleece in these sad realms was found;Nor silken ball, by maiden loved so well:
But, ranged in lightest garniture around,
In seemly folds, a shining tapestry fell.
XCI.
And fibres of asbestos, bleached in fire,And all with pearls and sparkling gems o'erflecked,
Composed of that strange court the rich attire;
And such the cold, fair form of sad Tahathyam decked.
XCII.
Of marble white the table they surround,And reddest coral decked each curious couch,
Which softly yielding to their forms was found,
And of a surface smooth and wooing to the touch.
XCIII.
Here was no lack; but if the veins of earth,
Torn open by man's weaker race, so soon
Supplied the alluring hoard, or here had birth,
Half told by Sprite most mischievous, that he
Might laugh to see men toil, then not impart,
Some alchemists still exist who have not laid aside the hope of success in their labors.
In Voltaire's “Life of Charles XII.” is related the following circumstance: “A certain Livonian, who was an officer in the Saxon army, and named Paikel, was made prisoner by the troops of Charles, and condemned to be decapitated at Stockholm. Before the execution of his sentence he found means to inform the senate that he was in possession of the secret of making gold; which, on condition of pardon, he would communicate to the king. The experiment was made in prison, in presence of Col. Hamilton and the magistrates of the city. The gold found in the crucible after the experiment was carried to the mint at Stockholm, and a judicial report made to the senate; which appeared so important, that the queen-mother ordered the execution to be suspended until the king could be informed of so singular an event, and transmit his orders to Stockholm. Charles answered that he had refused the pardon of the criminal to his relations, and that he would never grant to interest what he had refused to friendship. After viewing the fable of Midas, in connection with the belief of the fathers, it is not difficult to imagine that the secret of alchemy was actually imparted to that king by a fallen angel, who caused himself to be adored as the god Bacchus; and the disastrous consequences that must necessarily ensue, provided such an art could be obtained, are forcibly depicted in the sufferings of Midas.
Gold, like every thing else not absolutely necessary to existence, would cease to be valued as soon as it became plentiful; but nothing would, perhaps, occasion more dreadful immediate misery than a possibility of procuring it easily.
The secret of alchemy, even if it could be discovered, would bring with it nothing delightful; but it is pleasant to imagine a glimpse of possibility of discovering, sooner or later, the means of preserving mortal life beyond its present imperfect term.
It has always seemed to me (whether any other person has thought the same I know not) that something in favor of this possibility may be inferred from a passage in the Mosaic account of the fall. The first pair are driven from the garden, lest, having tasted the tree of knowledge, they might pluck also of the tree of life, and live forever. Is this an allegory? or to what does the passage relate?
“The animals,” says Father Jerom Dandini in his “Voyage to Mount Libanus,” “eat a certain herb which causes their teeth to change to a golden color.” This herb Father Jerom thinks must proceed from mines under Mount Ida. And Niebuhr mentions that the Eastern alchemists fancy their success would be certain, provided they could find out the herb which tinges the color of the flesh of the sheep that eat it.
The guests left uninquired: 'tis still a mystery.
XCIV.
Here were no flowers; but a sweet odor breathedOf amber pure: a glistening coronal
Of various-colored gems each brow inwreathed,
In form of garland, for the festival.
XCV.
All that the shell contains most delicate,Of vivid colors, ranged and dressed with care,
Was spread for food, and still was in the state
Of its first freshness: if such creatures rare
Among cold rocks, so far from upper air,
By force of art might live and propagate,
Or were in hoards preserved, the Muse cannot declare.
XCVI.
But here, so low from the life-wakening sun,However humble, life was sought in vain;
But, when by chance or gift or peril won,
'Twas prized and guarded well in this domain.
XCVII.
Four dusky Spirits, by a secret artTaught by a father thoughtful of his wants,
Tahathyam kept for menial toil apart;
But only deep in sea were their permitted haunts.
XCVIII.
Bossed o'er with gems, were beautiful to view;
But, for the madness of the vaunted grape,
Their only draught was a pure, limpid dew,
Longed for the streams that once on earth they quaffed;
And, half in shame, Tahathyam coldly sips,
And craves excuses for the temperate draught.
XCIX.
“Man tastes,” he said, “the grapes' sweet blood that streamsTo steep his heart when pained: when sorrowing, he
In wild delirium drowns the sense, and dreams
Of bliss arise to cheat his misery.”
C.
Nor with their dews were any mingling sweetsSave those, to mortal lip, of poison fell:
No murmuring bee was heard in these retreats;
The mineral clod alone supplied their hydromel.
CI.
The Spirits, while they sat in social guise,Pledging each goblet with an answering kiss,
Marked many a Gnome conceal his bursting sighs,
And thought death happier than a life like this.
CII.
Of the vast area of that sparkling hall,
Fringed round with gems that all the rest outvied,
In form of canopy was seen to fall
There now exists, either in Virginia or some of the neighboring country (I have no reference, and do not recollect this particular), a singularly beautiful grotto, called, by those who live around it, Wyer's Cave. It contains several apartments, in some of which the concretions are said by those who have seen them to be spread over the sides and roof in the form of curtains and festoons. One of the chambers is extremely remarkable. It is commonly called the “Lady's Drawing-room;” and on one side of it a crystalline projection is shown, which rings at the touch in such a manner, that the person whose description I saw fancied a skilful hand might draw music from it. Many curious and extensive caverns are found in the Island of Cuba. One near the Bay of Matanzas is often visited by strangers; but nobody has ventured to penetrate far. I visited one twenty miles distant from this, and not far from the estate San Patricio, which contained three apartments and a reservoir of water. Being a great deal above the surface of the earth, on the side of a pleasant hill, it would not, in that climate, have been very uncomfortable as a residence. Some of the concretions had attained the shape of large and perfect columns; others were in the form of two acute pyramids or obelisks,—one depending from the roof, and the other rising from the floor. These were of a whitish color; but though evening came on, and we had two or three tapers, I could see nothing transparent or sparkling. This grotto is on either the Cafétal Teresa, or the one adjoining it: the boundaries of both were covered with wood. There is another, deeper in the earth, about six or seven English miles from Matanzas, on the estate of Octavius Mitchell, Esq., from which I was shown specimens of spar of the size and shape of a common quill, and clear like glass. Some beautiful concretions, or perhaps petrifactions, were also found there, which were said to bear some resemblance to groups of sculpture. These I did not see; but one was taken out, and named “The Twins of Latona.”
An altar to some deity appeared;
But it had cost full many a year to adjust
The limpid crystal tubes that 'neath upreared
Their wondrous rangement, that a tuneful Gnome
Drew from them sounds more varied, clear, and sweet,
Than ever yet had rung in any earthly dome,—
CIII.
Loud, shrilly, liquid, soft: at that quick touchSuch modulation wooed his angel-ears,
That Zóphiël wondered, started from his couch,
And thought upon the music of the spheres.
CIV.
Tahathyam marked; and, casting down the boardA wistful glance to one who shared his cheer,
“My Ragasycheon,” said he: at his word
A Gnome who knew what strains his prince would hear
CV.
And than his many feres more lightly dressed;
Yet, unsurpassed in beauty and in grace,
Silken-haired Ragasycheon soon expressed
Choosing such tones as when the breezes sigh
Through some lone portico, or, far apart
From ruder sounds of mirth, in the deep forest die.
CVI.
Preluding low in notes that faint and tremble,Swelling, awakening, dying, plaining deep;
While such sensations in the soul assemble
As make it pleasure to the eyes to weep.
CVII.
Is there a heart that ever loved in vain,Though years have thrown their veil o'er all most dear,
That lives not each sensation o'er again
In sympathy with sounds like those that mingle here?
CVIII.
Still the fair Gnome's light hands the chime prolong;And, while his utmost art the strain employs,
Cephroniel's softened son in gushing song
Poured forth his sad, deep sense of long-departed joys.
CIX.
SONG.
Was fragrant, when, by looks alone carest,
I felt it, wafted by the pitying air,
Float o'er my lips, and touch my fervid breast!
And how thy gentle form would heave and swell,
As if the love thy heart contained would break
That warm pure shrine where Nature bade it dwell!
Never, Phronema, shall I see thee more!
One little ringlet of thy graceful head
Lies next my heart: 'tis all I may adore.
Hopes unaccomplished, warmest wishes crost,
How can I longer bear my weary doom?
Alas! what have I gained for all I lost?
CX.
The music ceased, and from Tahathyam passedThe mournful ecstasy that lent it zest;
But tears adown his paly cheek fell fast,
And sprinkled the asbestos o'er his breast.
CXI.
Then thus: “If but a being half so dearCould to these realms be brought, the slow distress
Of my long solitude were less severe.
And I might learn to bear my weariness.
CXII.
Of mortals, when they quaff, keeps in suspense,
While thus chained up the quick perceptive sense.
Where like a god I guard Cephroniel's gift!”
Soon through the rock they wind: the draught divine
Was hidden by a veil the king alone might lift.
CXIII.
Cephroniel's son, with half-averted faceAnd faltering hand, that curtain drew, and showed,
Of solid diamond formed, a lucid vase;
And warm within the pure elixir glowed,
CXIV.
Ascending, sparkling, dancing, whirling, ever
In quick perpetual movement; and of heat
So high, the rock was warm beneath their feet
(Yet heat in its intenseness hurtful never),
Which led to that deep shrine in the rock's breast,
As far as if the half-angel were afraid
To know the secret he himself possessed.
CXV.
Tahathyam filled a slip of spar with dread,As if stood by and frowned some power divine;
Then trembling, as he turned to Zóphiël, said,
“But for one service shalt thou call it thine.
CXVI.
(I will not risk destruction save for love!)
Fair-haired and beauteous like my mother: say,
Plight me this pact; so shalt thou bear above,
Since bloomed the second age, to Angels dear.
Bursting from earth's dark womb, the fierce wave swept
Off every form that lived and loved; while here,
Deep hidden here, I still lived on and wept.”
CXVII.
I promise,—nay, unhappy prince, I swear
By what I dare not utter,—I will go
And search, and one of all the loveliest bear
Give her nepenthic drink, and through the wave
Brave hell's worst pains to guard her gentle life.
Monarch! 'tis said: now give me what I crave!
CXVIII.
“Tahathyam Evanath, son of a sireWho knew how love burns in a breast divine,
If this thy gift sustain, one vital fire,
Sigh not for things of earth; for all earth's best are thine.”
CXIX.
He took the spar: the high-wrought hopes of bothForbade delay. So to the palace back
They came. Tahathyam faintly pressed, nor loath
Saw his fair guests depart to wend their watery track.
| Zóphiël ; or, the bride of seven | ||