And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That ISRAFELI’S fire Is owing to that lyre By which he sits and sings―― The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings. But the skies that angel trod, Where deep thoughts are a duty―― Where Love’s a grown-up god―― Where the Houri glances are Imbued with all the beauty Which we worship in a star. Therefore, thou art not wrong, ISRAFELI, who despisest An unimpassion’d song; To thee the laurels belong, Best bard, because the wisest! Merrily live, and long! The ecstasies above With thy burning measures suit―― Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love, With the fervor of thy lute―― Well may the stars be mute! Yes, heaven is thine; but this Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merely――flowers, And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. If I could dwell Where ISRAFEL Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than this might swell From my lyre within the sky. * * * * * TO ONE IN PARADISE. THOU wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine―― A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine, All wreath’d with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, “On! on!”――but o’er the Past (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies Mute, motionless, aghast! For, alas! alas! with me The light of life is o’er! No more――no more――no more―― (Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar! And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams―― In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams. * * * * * LENORE.