Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells, Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping; a Of music and of light,—so fair So brilliantly his features beam, And such a sound is in the air Of sweetness when he waves his wings,— From CHINDARA's" warbling fount I come, And voices are singing the whole day long, And every sigh the heart breathes out Is turned, as it leaves the lips, to song! Hither I come From my fairy home, And if there's a magic in Music's strain, a «This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea."-Wilford. b"A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be constantly playing."-Richardson. I swear by the breath Of that moonlight wreath, Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. For mine is the lay that lightly floats, As the musk-wind, over the water blowing, Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway Let but the tuneful talisman sound, And they come, like Genii, hovering round. From soul to soul, the wishes of love, As a bird, that wafts through genial airs a "The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree."-See Brown's Illustr. Tab. 19. |