Beneath some patriarchal tree, has cheered
The peasant's heart, and drawn his benison!
Pride of the West! beneath thy placid light
The tender tale shall never more be told,
Man's soul shall never wake to joy again:
'Thou set'st for ever-lovely orb, farewell!"

SCENE FROM HADAD.

The terraced roof of ABSALOM's house by night; adorned with vases of flowers and fragrant shrubs; an awning over part of it. TAMAR and HADAD.

Tam. No, no, I well remember-proofs, you said, Unknown to Moses.

Had. Well, my love, thou know'st
I've been a traveller in various climes;
Trod Ethiopia's scorching sands, and scaled
The snow-clad mountains; trusted to the deep;
Traversed the fragrant islands of the sea,
And with the wise conversed of many nations.
Tam. I know thou hast.

Had. Of all mine eyes have seen,

The greatest, wisest, and most wonderful

Is that dread sage, the Ancient of the Mountain.
Tam. Who?

[locks

Had. None knows his lineage, age, or name: his
Are like the snows of Caucasus; his eyes
Beam with the wisdom of collected ages.
In green unbroken years he sees, 'tis said,
The generations pass, like autumn fruits,
Garner'd, consumed, and springing fresh to life,
Again to perish, while he views the sun,
The seasons roll, in rapt serenity,

And high communion with celestial powers.
Some say 'tis Shem, our father, some say Enoch,
And some Melchizedek.

Tam. I've heard a tale

Like this, but ne'er believed it.

Had. I have proved it.

Through perils dire, dangers most imminent,
Seven days and nights mid rocks and wildernesses,
And boreal snows, and never-thawing ice,
Where not a bird, a beast, a living thing,
Save the far-soaring vulture, comes, I dared
My desperate way, resolved to know or perish.
Tam. Rash, rash advent'rer!

Had. On the highest peak

Of stormy Caucasus there blooms a spot
On which perpetual sunbeams play, where flowers
And verdure never die; and there he dwells.

Tam. But didst thou see him?

Had. Never did I view

Such awful majesty: his reverend locks
Hung like a silver mantle to his feet,

His raiment glistered saintly white, his brow

Rose like the gate of Paradise, his mouth

Was musical as its bright guardians' songs.

Tam. What did he tell thee? Oh! what wisdom

From lips so hallowed?

Had. Whether he possess

[fell

The Tetragrammaton-the powerful name
Inscribed on Moses' rod, by which he wrought
Unheard-of wonders, which constrains the heavens
To shower down blessings, shakes the earth, and
The strongest spirits; or if God hath given
A delegated power, I cannot tell.

[rules

But 'twas from him I learned their fate, their fall,
Who erewhile wore resplendent crowns in Heaven;
Now scattered through the earth, the air, the sea.
Them he compels to answer, and from them
Has drawn what Moses, nor no mortal ear,
Has ever heard.

Tam. But did he tell it thee?

Had. He told me much-more than I dare reveal; For with a dreadful oath he sealed my lips.

Tam. But canst thou tell me nothing? Why unSo much, if I must hear no more?

Had. You bade

[fold

Explain my words, almost reproached me, sweet, For what by accident escaped me.

Tam. Ah!

A little-something tell me-sure not all
Were words inhibited.

Had. Then promise never,

Never to utter of this conference
A breath to mortal.

Tam. Solemnly I vow.

Had. Even then, 'tis little I can say, compared With all the marvels he related.

Tam. Come,

I'm breathless. Tell me how they sinn'd, how fell. Had. Their head, their prince involved them in his ruin.

Tam. What black offence on his devoted head Drew endless punishment?

Had. The wish to be

Like the All-Perfect.

Tam. Arrogating that

Due only to his Maker! awful crime !

But what their doom? their place of punishment? Had. Above, about, beneath; earth, sea, and air; Their habitations various as their minds, Employments, and desires.

Tam. But are they round us, Hadad? not confined In penal chains and darkness?

Had. So he said,

And so your holy books infer. What saith

Your Prophet? what the Prince of Uz?

Tam. I shudder,

Lest some dark minister be near us now.

Had. You wrong them.

ligences,

They are bright intel

Robbed of some native splendour, and cast down,

'Tis true, from Heaven; but not deformed, and foul.

Revengeful, malice-working fiends, as fools
Suppose. They dwell, like princes, in the clouds;
Sun their bright pinions in the middle sky;
Or arch their palaces beneath the hills,
With stones inestimable studded so,

That sun or stars were useless there.
Tam. Good heavens!

Had. He bade me look on rugged Caucasus,
Crag piled on crag beyond the utmost ken,
Naked and wild, as if creation's ruins
Were heaped in one immeasurable chain
Of barren mountains, beaten by the storms
Of everlasting winter. But within

Are glorious palaces and domes of light,
Irradiate halls and crystal colonnades,
Vaults set with gems the purchase of a crown,
Blazing with lustre past the noontide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
Tam. Unheard-of splendour!

Had. There they dwell, and muse,
And wander; beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky,

Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.

Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea
And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles,
They study Nature's secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.

Tam. Are they beautiful,

And powerful far beyond the human race?

Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it. When The sage described them, fiery eloquence

Flowed from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme, Like one who feels a deity within.

Tam. Wondrous !

with men?

What intercourse have they

Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man, But oft with woman.

Tam. Ha! with woman?

Had. She

Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft,
And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves.
They have been known to love her with a passion
Stronger than human.

Tam. That surpasses all
You yet have told me.

Had. This the sage affirms; And Moses, darkly.

Tam. How do they appear? How manifest their love?

Had. Sometimes 'tis spiritual, signified

By beatific dreams, or more distinct

And glorious apparition. They have stooped

To animate a human form, and love

Like mortals.

Tam. Frightful to be so beloved!

Who could endure the horrid thought! What makes
Thy cold hand tremble? or is't mine
That feels so deathy?

Had. Dark imaginations haunt me

When I recall the dreadful interview.

Tam. Oh, tell them not: I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deigned?

Tam. Forswear

My Maker! love a demon!

Had. No-oh, no

And

[lo!

My thoughts but wandered. Oft, alas! they wander.
Tam. Why dost thou speak so sadly now?
Thine eyes are fixed again upon Arcturus.
Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star. Hath it the power
To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?

[He appears lost in thought. Tell me, ascrib'st thou influence to the stars? Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st thou

of the stars?