Tho' passion and its pains were lulled to rest,
And "even and anon" a pitious sob
Shook the pure arch expansive o'er her breast. [FN#12]

[FN#12] This effect is very observable in little children, who for
several hours after they have cried themselves to sleep, and
sometimes even when a smile is on their lips, are heard, from time to
time, to utter sobs.

XXIX.

Save that 'twas all tranquillity; that reigned
O'er fragrance sound and beauty; all was mute--
Save when a dove her dear one's absence plained
And the faint breeze mourned o'er the slumberer's lute.

XXX.

It chanced, that day, lured by the verdure, came
Zophiel, now minister of ill; but ere
He sinned, a heavenly angel. The faint flame
Of dying embers, on an altar, where

Raguel, fair Egla's sire, in secret vowed
And sacrificed to the sole living God,
Where friendly shades the sacred rites enshround;--(2)
The fiend beheld and knew; his soul was awed,

And he bethought him of the forfeit joys
Once his in Heaven;--deep in a darkling grot
He sat him down;--the melancholy noise
Of leaf and creeping vine accordant with his thought.

XXXI.

When fiercer spirits, howled, he but complained (3)
Ere yet 'twas his to roam the pleasant earth,
His heaven-invented harp he still retained
Tho' tuned to bliss no more; and had its birth

Of him, beneath some black infernal clift
The first drear song of woe; and torment wrung
The spirit less severe where he might lift
His plaining voice--and frame the like as now he sung:

XXXII.

"Woe to thee, wild ambition, I employ
Despair's dull notes thy dread effects to tell,
Born in high-heaven, her peace thou could'st destroy,
And, but for thee, there had not been a hell.

"Thro' the celestial domes thy clarion pealed,--
Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And stright were fiends;--hurled from the shrinking field,
They waked in agony to wait the change.

"Darting thro' all her veins the subtle fire
The world's fair mistress first inhaled thy breath,
To lot of higher beings learned to aspire,--
Dared to attempt--and doomed the world to death.

"Thy thousand wild desires, that still torment
The fiercely struggling soul, where peace once dwelt,
But perished;--feverish hope--drear discontent,
Impoisoning all possest--Oh! I have felt

"As spirits feel--yet not for man we mourn
Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he,
That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return,
And sleeps at ev