The fainting breeze of morning fails; As loose they flap around the mast. That each small bark, in passing, seems Oh for the pinnace lent to thee,' Blest dreamer, who, in vision bright, Didst sail o'er heaven's solar sea And touch at all its isles of light. That each appears a living star.3 Thy planet's bright'ning tints to shed; To lend that eye a light still clearer, To give that cheek one rose-blush more, And bid that blushing lip be dearer, Which had been all too dear before. But, whither means the muse to roam? 'Tis time to call the wand'rer home. Who could have thought the nymph would perch her Up in the clouds with Father Kircher? When cups are sparkling to the brim, LINES, WRITTEN IN A STORM AT SEA. THAT Sky of clouds is not the sky To light a lover to the pillow Of her he loves The swell of yonder foaming billow Yet do I feel more tranquil far Than when, in passion's young emotion, Oh! there's a holy calm profound "Tis as a solemn voice from heaven, And the soul, listening to the sound, Lies mute and still. 'Tis true, it talks of danger nigh, Where pleasure's throb or tears of sorrow Well!-there are some, thou stormy bed, Whose lip hath drain'd life's cup of pleasure, Yes he can smile serene at death: beneath to a very great depth; and, as we entered the harbour, they appeared to us so near the surface that it seemed impossible we should not strike on them. There is no necessity, of course, for heaving the lead; and the negro pilot, looking down at the rocks from the bow of the ship, takes her through this difficult navigation, with a skill and confidence which seem to astonish some of the oldest sailors. In Kircher's "Ecstatic Journey to Heaven," Cosmiel, the Genius of the world, gives Theodidactus a boat of asbestos, with which he embarks into the regions of the sun. "Vides (says Cosmiel) hane asbestinam naviculam commoditati tuæ præparatam."- Itinerar. I. Dial. i. cap. 5. This work of Kircher abounds with strange fancies. 2 When the Genius of the world and his fellow-traveller arrive at the planet Venus, they find an island of loveliness, full of odours and intelligences, where angels preside, who shed the cosmetie influence of this planet over the earth; such being, according to astrologers, the "vis influxiva" of Venus. When they are in th part of the heavens, a casuistical question occurs to Theodidact and he asks," Whether baptism may be performed with the waar of Venus?"-" An aquis globi Veneris baptismus institul posest ?" to which the Genius answers," Certainly." 3 This idea is Father Kircher's. "Tot animatos soles dixisses." Itinerar. I. Dial. i. cap. 5. ODES TO NEA; WRITTEN AT BERMUDA. Oh! thou shalt be all else to me, NEA repaves.- EURIPID. Medea, v. 967. NAY, tempt me not to love again, There was a time when love was sweet; Dear Nea! had I known thee then, Our souls had not been slow to meet. But, oh, this weary heart hath run, So many a time, the rounds of pain, Not ev'n for thee, thou lovely one, Would I endure such pangs again. If there be climes, where never yet Dear absent girl! whose eyes of light, As when they first enamouring shone, Say, Nea, say, couldst thou, like her This thoughtless soul might wish to wander, - Till ev'n this heart should burn with shame, Could bind such faithless folly fast; Nea, the heart which she forsook, For thee were but a worthless shrineGo, lovely girl, that angel look Must thrill a soul more pure than mine. Then dread no more; I will not speak; Heard you the wish I dar'd to name, Oh! how could others dare to touch That hallow'd form with hands so free, When but to look was bliss too much, Too rare for all but Love and me! With smiling eyes, that little thought How fatal were the beams they threw, My trembling hands you lightly caught, And round me, like a spirit, flew. Heedless of all, but you alone, And you, at least, should not condemn, If, when such eyes before me shone, My soul forgot all eyes but them, - I dar'd to whisper passion's vow, But, with a bound, you blushing left me. Forget, forget that night's offence, Forgive it, if, alas! you can; 'Twas love, 'twas passion-soul and sense"Twas all that's best and worst in man. That moment, did th' assembled eyes Of heaven and earth my madness view, I should have seen, through earth and skies, Did not a frown from you reprove, And die upon the spot when won. A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY. I JUST had turn'd the classic page, And trac'd that happy period over, 1 Gassendi thinks that the gardens, which Pausanias mentions, in his first book, were those of Epicurus; and Stuart says, in his Antiquities of Athens, "Near this convent (the convent of Hagios Asomatos) is the place called at present Kepoi, or the Gardens; and Ampelos Kepos, or the Vineyard Garden: these When blest alike were youth and age, And wisdom grac'd the tenderest lover. Before I laid me down to sleep, Awhile I from the lattice gaz'd Upon that still and moonlight deep, With isles like floating gardens rais'd For Ariel there his sports to keep; While, gliding 'twixt their leafy shores, The lone night-fisher plied his oars. I felt, - so strongly fancy's power Came o'er me in that witching hour, As if the whole bright scenery there Were lighted by a Grecian sky, And I then breath'd the blissful air That late had thrill'd to Sappho's sigh. Thus, waking, dreamt I, — and when Sleep I thought that, all enrapt, I stray'd To polish virtue's native brightness, So common in the climes of Greece, When day withdraws but half its lights, And all is moonshine, balm, and peace. To make the dullest love to learn, And now the fairy pathway seem'd To lead us through enchanted ground, Of love or luxury bloom'd around. were probably the gardens which Pansanias visited." Vel i chap. 2. 2 This method of polishing pearls, by leaving them awhile to be played with by doves, is mentioned by the fanciful Cardanos, de Rerum Varietat. lib. vii. cap. 34. And from their wings diffuse a ray And gone to seek its heavenly home. Bat, lo, as wand'ring thus we rang'd Or wanton'd in Milesian story. And nymphs were there, whose very eyes Entwin'd by snakes of burnish'd gold, And the young beegrape', round them wreathing, Oh, Nea why did morning break The spell that thus divinely bound me ? Why did I wake? how could I wake With thee my own and heaven around me! 1 In Hercynio Germaniæ saltu inusitata genera alitum acceus, quarum plume, ignium modo, colluceant noctibus.-Plin. lib. 1. cap. 47. * The Milesiace, or Milesian fables, had their origin in Miletus, a ions town of Ionis. Aristides was the most celebrated author of these licentious fictions. See Plutarch (in Crasso), who calls them ashara Bißhis, "Some of the Cretan wines, which Athenæus calls owoç avtooplas, from their fragrancy resembling that of the finest flowers."-Barry on Wines, chap. vii. It appears that in very splendid mansions, the floor or pavement was frequently of onyx. Thus Martial: "Calcatusque tuo sub pede luret onyx." Epig. 50. lib. xii. Bracelets of this shape were a favourite ornament among the Women of antiquity. Οι επικαρπιοι οφεις και αἱ χρυσαι πεδαι Θαιδος και Aurorayon, kai haidos tapuara.—Philostrat. Epist. xl. Lucian, too, tells us of the Spaxi &partes. See his Amores, where he describes the dresing-room of a Grecian lady, and we find the "silver vase," the rouge, the tooth-powder, and all the "mystic order" of a modern toilet. Ο Ταραντινιδίου, διάφανες ένδυμα, ωνομασμένον από της Ταραντίνων KOTTEN KOL TAV.-Pollux. WELL-peace to thy heart, though another's it be, And health to that cheek, though it bloom not for me! To-morrow I sail for those cinnamon groves, Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom roam Through the lime-covered alley that leads to thy home, Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done, Oh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times IF I were yonder wave, my dear, If I were yonder conch of gold, If I were yonder orange-tree, 7 Apiana, mentioned by Pliny, lib. xiv. and "now called the Muscatell (a muscarum telis)," says Pancirollus, book i. sect. 1. chap. 17. s I had, at this time, some idea of paying a visit to the West Indies. 9 The inhabitants pronounce the name as if it were written Bermooda. See the commentators on the words "still-vex'd Bermoothes," in the Tempest. I wonder it did not occur to some of those all-reading gentlemen that, possibly, the discoverer of this "island of hogs and devils" might have been no less a personage than the great John Bermudez, who, about the same period (the beginning of the sixteenth century), was sent Patriarch of the Latin church to Ethiopia, and has left us most wonderful stories of the Amazons and the Griffins which he encountered. Travels of the Jesuits, vol. i. I am afraid, however, it would take the Patriarch rather too much out of his way. 10 Johnson does not think that Waller was ever at Bermuda; but the "Account of the European Settlements in America" affirms it confidently. (Vol. ii.) I mention this work. however, less for its authority than for the pleasure I feel in quoting an unacknowledged production of the great Edmund Burke. Oh! bend not o'er the water's brink, The soft reflection of thine eye. And nuptial bed that stream might be; I'll wed thee in its mimic wave, And die upon the shade of thee. Behold the leafy mangrove, bending O'er the waters blue and bright, Like Nea's silky lashes. lending Shadow to her eyes of light. Oh, my belov'd! where'er I turn, Some trace of thee enchants mine eyes; In every star thy glances burn; Thy blush on every flow'ret lies. Nor find I in creation aught Of bright, or beautiful, or rare, Sweet to the sense, or pure to thought, But thou art found reflected there. THE SNOW SPIRIT. No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep It blooms in the giant embrace of the deep, The blush of your bowers is light to the eye, And the Snow Spirit never comes here. Oh! fly to the clime, where he pillows the death, How sweet to behold him, when borne on the gale, He flings, like the priest of Diana, a veil No, no, thou wilt see, what a moment it lasts, The seaside or mangrove grape, a native of the West Indies. 2 The Agave. This, I am aware, is an erroneous notion, but it is Ενταύθα δε καθωρμισται ἡμῖν· και ό, τι μεν ονομα τη νησιά στα οιδα χρυση dav mos te pov ovoμafoiro, -PHILOSTRAT. Icon. 17. lib. ii. I STOLE along the flowery bank, 'Twas noon; and every orange bud A little dove, of milky hue, And bless the little pilot dove! Just where the margin's op'ning shade The broad banana's green embrace The leaves to let it wander in, quite true enough for poetry. Plato, I think, allows a poet to be "three removes from truth;" spirare; año vực Hàndemás. |