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Adoring Him in his least works display'd; Watching this youngest star of His dominions: And as the latest birth of his great word, Eager to keep it worthy of our Lord. Why is thy brow severe ?

And wherefore speak'st thou of destruction near?


Had Samiasa and Azaziel been

In their true place, with the angelic choir,
Written in fire

They would have seen

Jehovah's late decree,

And not inquired their Maker's breath of me:
But ignorance must ever be

A part of sin;

And even the spirits' knowledge shall grow less
As they wax proud within;

For Blindness is the first-born of Excess.

When all good angels left the world, ye stay'd Stung with strange passions, and debased By mortal feelings for a mortal maid; But ye are pardon'd thus far, and replaced With your pure equals: Hence! Hence! away! away! Or stay,

And lose eternity by that delay!


And Thou! if earth be thus forbidden

In the decree

To us until this moment hidden,

Dost thou not err as we

In being here?


I came to call ye back to your fit sphere,

In the great name and at the word of God! Dear, dearest in themselves, and scarce less dear That which I came to do: till now we trod Together the eternal space, together

Let us still walk the stars. True, Earth must die!
Her race, return'd into her womb, must wither,
And much which she inherits; but oh! why
Cannot this earth be made, or be destroy'd,
Without involving ever some vast void
In the immortal ranks? immortal still
In their immeasurable forfeiture.
Our brother Satan fell, his burning will

Rather than longer worship dared endure !
But ye who still are pure!

Seraphs! less mighty than that mightiest one,
Think how he was undone!

And think if tempting man can compensate
For Heaven desired too late?

Long have I warr'd,

Long must I war

With him who deem'd it hard

To be created, and to acknowledge him
Who 'midst the cherubim

Made him as suns to a dependant star,
Leaving the archangels at his right hand dim.

I loved him-beautiful he was: oh Heaven! Save His who made, what beauty and what power Was ever like to Satan's! Would the hour

In which he fell could ever be forgiven!
The wish is impious: but oh ye!
Yet undestroy'd, be warn'd! Eternity

With him, or with his God, is in your choice

He hath not tempted you, he cannot tempt


The angels, from his further snares exempt;

But man hath listen'd to his voice, And ye to woman's-beautiful she is,

The serpent's voice less subtle than her kiss,

The snake but vanquish'd dust; but she will draw
A second host from Heaven, to break Heaven's law.
Yet, yet, oh fly!

Ye cannot die,
But they

Shall pass away,

While ye shall fill with shrieks the upper sky

For perishable clay,

Whose memory in your immortality

Shall long outlast the sun which gave them day, Think how your essence differeth from theirs

In all but suffering! Why partake

The agony to which they must be heirs

Born to be plough'd with years, and sown with cares,
And reap'd by Death, lord of the human soil?
Even had their days been left to toil their path
Through time to dust, unshorten'd by God's wrath,
Still they are Evil's prey and Sorrow's spoil.


Let them fly!

I hear the voice which says that all must die,
Sooner than our white-bearded Patriarchs died;
And that on high

An ocean is prepared,

While from below

The deep shall rise to meet Heaven's overflow.
Few shall be spared;


seems; and, of that few, the race of Cain Must lift their eyes to Adam's God in vain.

Sister! since it is so,

And the eternal Lord

In vain would be implored

For the remission of one hour of woe,
Let us resign even what we have adored,
And meet the wave, as we would meet the sword,
If not unmoved, yet undismay'd,

And wailing less for us than those who shall
Survive in mortal or immortal thrall,

And, when the fatal waters are allay'd,
Weep for the myriads who can weep no more.
Fly, Seraphs! to your own eternal shore,
Where winds nor howl nor waters roar.
Our portion is to die,

And yours to live for ever:

But which is best, a dead eternity,
Or living, is but known to the great Giver:
Obey him, as we shall obey;

I would not keep this life of mine in clay
An hour beyond His will;

Nor see ye lose a portion of His grace,
For all the mercy which Seth's race

Find still.

And as your pinions bear ye back to Heaven, Think that my love still mounts with thee on high,


And if I look up with a tearless eye,

'Tis that an angel's bride disdains to weepFarewell! Now rise, inexorable Deep!


And must we die?

And must I lose thee too,

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Thy prophecies were true,

And yet thou wert so happy too!

The blow, though not unlook'd for, falls as new;
But yet depart!
Ah, why?

Yet let me not retain thee--fly!

My pangs can be but brief; but thine would be
Eternal, if repulsed from Heaven for me.
Too much already hast thou deign'd
To one of Adam's race!

Our doom is sorrow : not to us alone,
But to the spirits who have not disdain'd

To love us, cometh anguish with disgrace.
The first who taught us knowledge hath been hurl'd
From his once archangelic throne

Into some unknown world :

And thou, Azaziel! No

Thou shalt not suffer woe

For me. Away! nor weep!

Thou canst not weep; but yet

May'st suffer more, not weeping: then forget Her, whom the surges of the all-strangling Deep Can bring no pang like this. Fly! fly! Being gone, 'twill be less difficult to die.


Oh say not so!

Father! and thou, archangel, thou!

Surely celestial Mercy lurks below

That pure severe serenity of brow:

Let them not meet this sea without a shore, Save in our ark, or let me be no more!

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