A SPIRIT fallen from the realms of light
Above this dim world winged his weary flight,
For memories came crowding thick and fast
Of vanished splendours and delights long past. —
How erst, a Cherub bright, he loved to race
With fiery comets through the fields of space;
No mists could blind, no clouds his progress bar,
He followed knowledge on from star to star.
Creation's heir, the first-born of all time,
He loved, he trusted in that happy prime.
Ah, little recked he safe from doubts and fears,
The sad monotony of coming years,
Trouble on trouble, pain succeeding pain —
Tortures that racked his ever-teeming brain.
Long had he wandered without goal or aim
Through the dull round of centuries still the same,
Ruling this puny world, and sowing ill,
Ceaseless, resistless, unenjoying still.
Now o'er Caucasian heights with pinions slow
The outcast spirit steered his course; below,
Gleamed like a diamond facet Kasbek's snow,
And, in the deep-cleft gorge, where dragons hide,
He saw the Darial like a serpent glide;
The Terek foamed, a lion with bristling mane.
Plunging in cataracts to the distant plain,
And beasts and birds, that high in ether soar,
Quailed, as they caught the mighty torrent's roar.
Clouds from the golden south his course attend,
The giant rocks in dreamy slumber bend
Their heads, and muse where all these waves can tend.
To ward the entrance, as he hurries down.
Through mists he sees majestic castles frown.
Thus at his feet in all its beauty lay
God's earth; — contemptuous he looked away.
It moved him not; of beauty recked he nought; 35
He passed, nor gave the scene a second thought.
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