He instructs the young Jewess in music and poetry;
his admiration and affection grow with the hours; and he exerts his
immortal energies to preserve her from the least pain or sorrow, but
selfishly confines her as much as possible to solitude, and permits
for her only such amusements as he himself can minister. Her
confidence in him increases, and in her gentle society he almost
forgets his fall and banishment.

But the difference in their natures causes him continual anxiety;
knowing her mortality, he is always in fear that death or sudden
blight will deprive him of her; and he consults with Phraerion on the
best means of saving her from the perils of human existence. One
evening,

Round Phraerion, nearer drawn,
One beauteous arm he flung: "First to my love!
We'll see her safe; then to our task till dawn."
Well pleased, Phraerion answered that embrace;
All balmy he with thousand breathing sweets,
From thousand dewy flowers. "But to what place,"
He said, "will Zophiel go? who danger greets
As if 'twere peace. The palace of the gnome,
Tahathyam, for our purpose most were meet;
But then, the wave, so cold and fierce, the gloom,
The whirlpools, rocks, that guard that deep retreat!
Yet _there_ are fountains, which no sunny ray
E'er danced upon, and drops come there at last,
Which, for whole ages, filtering all the way,
Through all the veins of earth, in winding maze have past.
These take from mortal beauty every stain,
And smooth the unseemly lines of age and pain,
With every wondrous efficacy rife;
Nay, once a spirit whispered of a draught,
Of which a drop, by any mortal quaffed,
Would save, for terms of years, his feeble, flickering life."

Tahathyam is the son of a fallen angel, and lives concealed in the
bosom of the earth, guarding in his possession a vase of the elixir of
life, bequeathed to him by a father whom he is not permitted to see.
The visit of Zophiel and Phraerion to this beautiful but unhappy
creature will remind the reader of the splendid creations of Dante.

The soft flower-spirit shuddered, looked on high,
And from his bolder brother would have fled;
But then the anger kindling in that eye
He could not bear. So to fair Egla's bed
Followed and looked; then shuddering all with dread,
To wondrous realms, unknown to men, he led;
Continuing long in sunset