36 



News from Parnassus^ No. XXII. [Feb. I, 



incident which gave rise to his passion 

 reminds us of llie Musidora ot Thom- 

 son ; and, in its very (liilcient style of 

 execution, has at least equal merit. 



in our opinion, he has far surpassed 

 his competitor will be readily inferred. 

 We admit that, in the brilliancy of his 

 imiigcry, in tenderness of sentiment, 

 and in the easy and elegant turn of 

 Lis versification, Mr. Moore has fully 

 performed all tliat his well-merited 

 reputation had led us to expect. His 

 poem, however, beautiful as it cer- 

 tainly is, cannot be perused without a 

 strong feeling of satiety, and it is by a 

 considerable effort tliat we follow him, 

 through a crowd of ingenious meta- 

 phors, and pretty turns of expression, 

 to t!ie end of the lender but nionoto- 

 lious loves of his angels. All is exqui- 

 sitely beautiful, but nothing is great. 

 In jiarts, it is almost everj-where 

 equally deliglitful ; as a whole, it 

 oi)presscs and overcomes us. If we 

 attempt to feed upon his delicacies, 

 we are soon surfeited. It is far other- 

 wise with Lord Byron, to whose ma- 

 jestic conceptions and noble verse we 

 may return, again and again, without 

 any diminution of relish. 



We should observe, too, before we 

 proceed to a miiiuter examination of 

 each, that Mr. Moore's plan com- 

 prizes only the details of the amorous 

 adventures of three angels, and their 

 consequent punishment. The erring 

 passions of the fond imnimtals are not 

 so exclusively dwelt upon by Lord 

 liyron, who hfis judiciously fixed the 

 j)eriod of his drama immediately pre- 

 vious to the deluge ; and, whilst he has 

 tlius avoided the monotony into which 

 Mr. Moore lias fallen, has introduced 

 a terrible and superiiuman incident, 

 ■which no one but himself could have 

 Irtated in a manner so striking and 

 magnificent. 



In the youth of the world, before 

 the communion of men and angels had 

 ceased — 



One eveiiinif in tliat time of bloom, 

 On ;i hill's side where hnnj; the ray 



Of sun-set, sleeping in perfume. 

 Three noble youtlis conversing lay. 



Their discourse turns upon their seve- 

 ral temptations and falls, which each 

 in turn narrates, for thi; amusement 

 and edification of his companions. 



The first who spoke was one, with look 



The leiist cclesii;il of the tliree,— 

 A spirit of li,'lit mould, Ihat took 



The prints of eanh uiostyicldinuly; 

 Who, even in heaven, was riot of those 



Nearcit the throne; but held a place 

 F'lr off, among those shining rows 



Tliat circle out through endless space ; 

 And o'er whose wings tlie light from Him 

 In llie i'reat centre falls most dim. 



Such was the fallen spirit who first 

 relates the history of his love. Tlie 



One morn, on earthly mission sent. 

 And mid-way choosing where loli^'ht, 



I saw, from the bine element, — 

 Oh beautiful, tut fatal sight.'— 



One of eaith's fairest womankind. 



Half veil'd from view, or rather shrin'd 



In the clear crjstal of a brook ; 

 Whicli, while it hid no single gleam 



Of her yoni!g beanlie-, made tliein look 

 More spii It-like, as they might seem 

 Thiougli the dim shadowing of a dream. 



Pausing, in wonder I look'd on, 



While, playfnilv aiunud her breaking 

 The waters, thatiiUcdi imomls shone. 



She mov'd in light of l^cr own making; 

 At length, as sloiviy I desi ended, 

 'I'o view more near u siiilil so splendid. 

 The tremble of iny wiuLis all o'er, 



(For through each plume I felt the thrill, ) 

 Startled her, as she reach'd the shore 



Of that small lake,— her mirror siHl; 

 Above whosi' brink she stood, like snow 

 When rosy with a iuiiset glow ; 

 Never shall 1 forget (hose eyes! 

 The!^hame, the innocent surprise 

 Of that bright face, when in mid air 

 Uplooking, she beheld me there. 

 It seem'd asif each thought, and look. 



And motion, were that miuute chain'd 

 Fast to the spot, such root she took. 

 And, — like a snu-flower by a brook, 



\V ith face upturn'd, — so still remain'd. 



The intruding cherub pities the 

 distress of the fair bather, and, instead 

 of concealing himself in the shade, 

 lilic J>ainon, he bends his face down- 

 ward bencaili his spread wings, to 

 relieve her from his impassioned gaze. 

 ^^'hen he ventures another glance, the 

 object of his admiration has, he finds, 

 taken advantage of the occasion to 

 disappear. To a spirit, however, it 

 was no difficult task to tind her ; and 

 he accordingly soon discovers and lays 

 strong siege to his fair one's heart. 

 He makes very encouraging progress 

 in her affections, but her innocence 

 and virtue, which are very touchhigly 

 delineated, are happily redeemed from 

 the hazardous trial. 



While thus I spoke, the fearlul maid. 

 Of me, ami of net self afraid. 

 Had shrinking stood, like flowers beneath 

 The scorching of the south wind's breath; 

 But when 1 nam'd, — alas, too well 



1 now recall, tho' wihlei'd then,— . 

 Instantly, when I nam'd the spell. 



Her brow, her eyes uprose again. 

 And, with an eagerness Ihat spoke 

 The sudden light that o'er her broke, 

 "The spell, the spell ! oh, speak it now. 



And 1 will bless thee!" she exclaim'd. 



Unknowing what 1 did, inflain'd. 

 And lost already, on her brow 



I stamp'd one burning kiss, and nam'd 

 'I'he mystic word, till then ne'er told 

 To living creature of earth's mould. 

 Scarce was it said, when, quick as thought. 

 Her lips from mine, like echo, caught 

 'Ihe holy sound, — her bands and eyes 

 Were instant lifted to the skies. 

 And thrice to heaven she spoke it out. 



With that triumphant look Faith wears. 

 When not a cloud of fear or doubt, 



A vapour from this vale of tears 



BcuvL-eu her and her (jod appears ! 



