--

"Ask a gift for the love that burns in thy song, and it shall be given
thee." And Seralim answered,--

"There is in that place which men call Purgatory, and which is the
escape from hell, but the painful porch of heaven, many souls that adore
Thee, and yet are punished justly for their sins; grant me the boon to
visit them at times, and solace their suffering by the hymns of the harp
that is consecrated to Thee!"

And the Voice answered,--

"Thy prayer is heard, O gentlest of the angels! and it seems good to Him
who chastises but from love. Go! Thou hast thy will."

Then the angel sang the praises of God; and when the song was done he
rose from his azure throne at the right hand of Gabriel, and, spreading
his rainbow wings, he flew to that melancholy orb which, nearest to
earth, echoes with the shrieks of souls that by torture become pure.
There the unhappy ones see from afar the bright courts they are
hereafter to obtain, and the shapes of glorious beings, who, fresh from
these Fountains of Immortality, walk amidst the gardens of Paradise,
and feel that their happiness hath no morrow; and this thought consoles
amidst their torments, and makes the true difference between Purgatory
and Hell.

Then the angel folded his wings, and entering the crystal gates, sat
down upon a blasted rock and struck his divine lyre, and a peace fell
over the wretched; the demon ceased to torture and the victim to wail.
As sleep to the mourners of earth was the song of the angel to the
souls of the purifying star: one only voice amidst the general stillness
seemed not lulled by the angel; it was the voice of a woman, and it
continued to cry out with a sharp cry,--

"Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim! mourn not for the lost!"

The angel struck chord after chord, till his most skilful melodies were
exhausted; but still the solitary voice, unheeding--unconscious of--the
sweetest harp of the angel choir, cried out,--

"Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim! mourn not for the lost!"

Then Seralim's interest was aroused, and approaching the spot whence the
voice came, he saw the spirit of a young and beautiful girl chained to
a rock, and the demons lying idly by. And Seralim said to the demons,
"Doth the song lull ye thus to rest?"

And they answered, "Her care for another is bitterer than all our
torments; therefore are we idle."

Then the angel approached the spirit, and said in a voice which stilled
her cry--for in what state do we outlive sympathy?--"