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Saw those luxuriant beauties sink
In lapse of loveliness, along the azure skies! 3
Upon whose starry plain they lay,
Like a young blossom on our meads of gold,
Shed from a vernal thorn

Amid the liquid sparkles of the morn!
Or, as in temples of the Paphian shade,
The myrtled votaries of the
queen behold

An image of their rosy idol, laid

Upon a diamond shrine!
The wanton wind,

Which had pursued the flying fair,

And sweetly twined

Its spirit with the breathing rings

Of her ambrosial hair,

Soar'd as she fell, and on its ruffling wings

(Oh wanton wind!)

'Heraclitus (Physicus) held the soul to be a spark of the stellar "Scintilla stellaris essentiæ.-MACROBIUS, in Somn. Scip. lib. i. cap. 14.

essence:

The country of the Hyperboreans; they were supposed to be placed so far north that the north wind could not affect them ;they lived longer than any other mortals; passed their whole time in music and dancing, etc. etc. But the most extravagant fiction related of them is that to which the two lines preceding allude. It was imagined that instead of our vulgar atmosphere, the Hyperboreans breathed nothing but feathers! According to HERODOTUS and PLINY, this idea was suggested by the quantity of snow which was observed to fall in those regions; thus the former. Ta Y птεрa εixαζοντας την χιονα τους Σκύθας τε και τους περιοίκους δοκέω λέγειν. Ηenopor. lib. iv, cap. 31. Orip tells the fable otherwise see Metamorph. lib. xv.

Mr O'Halloran, and some other Irish Antiquarians, have been at great expense of learning to prove that the strange country, where they took snow for feathers, was Ireland, and that the famous Abaris was an Irish Druid. Mr Rowland, however, will have it, that Abaris was a Welshman, and that his name is only a corruption of Ap Rees! 3 I believe it is SERVIUS who mentions this unlucky trip which Hebe made in her occupation of cup-bearer; and HOFFMAN tells it after him: Cum Hebe pocula Jovi administrans, perque lubricum minus caute incedens, cecidisset, revolutisque vestibus-in short, she fell in a very awkward manner, and though (as the Encyclopédistes think) it would have amused Jove at any other time, yet, as he happened to be out of temper on that day, the poor girl was dismissed from her employment.

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Fell glowing through the spheres,
While all around, new tints of bliss,
New perfumes of delight,
Enrich'd its radiant flow!

Now, with a humid kiss,
It thrill'd along the beamy wire

Of heaven's illumined lyre, 3
Stealing the soul of music in its flight!
And now, amid the breezes bland
That whisper from the planets as they roll,
The bright libation, softly fann'd
By all their sighs, meandering stole!
They who, from Atlas' height,
Beheld the rill of flame

Descending through the waste of night,
Thought 't was a planet whose stupendous frame
Had kindled as it rapidly revolved
Around its fervid axle, and dissolved
Into a flood so bright!

The child of day,

Within his twilight bower,

Lay sweetly sleeping

On the flush'd bosom of a lotos-flower; 4

'The arcane symbols of this ceremony were deposited in the cista, They were generally carried in the procession by an ass; and hence where they lay religiously concealed from the eyes of the profase. portat mysteria.-See the Divine Legation, book ii, sect. 4. the proverb, which one may so often apply in the world, asinus

In the Geoponica, lib. ii, cap. 17, there is a fable somewhat like this descent of the nectar to earth. Εν ουρανῳ των θεών ενώ χουμένων, και του νέκταρος πολλού παρακειμένου, ανασκίρτησαι χορεία του Ερωτα και σύσσεισαι πτερω του κρατήρος την βάσιν, και περιτρέψαι μεν αυτόν το δε νεκταρ εις την γην εκχυθεν, κ. τ. λ. See Autor, de Re Rust. edit. Cantab. 1704.

---

The constellation Lyra. The astrologers attribute great virtues to this sign in ascendenti, which are enumerated by PONTANO, in his Urania:

➖➖➖➖ Ecce novem cum pectine chordas
Emodulans, mulcetque novo vaga sidera cantu,
Quo capta nascentum animæ concordia ducant
Pectora, etc.

4 The Egyptians represented the dawn of day by a young boy seated upon a lotos. Είτε Αιγυπτους έωρακως αρχήν ανατολής παιδίον νεογνόν γράφοντας ἐπὶ λωτώ και

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θεζόμενον. ΡLUTARCH. περί του μη χραν έμμετρ See also his treatise de Isid. et Osir. Observing that the lotos showed its head above water at sun-rise, and sank again at his setting, they conceived the idea of consecrating it to Osiris, or the sun.

This symbol of a youth sitting upon a lotos, is very frequent on the Abraxases, or Basilidian stones.-See MONTFAUCON, tom. ii, planche 158, and the Supplément, etc. tom. ¡¡, lib. vii, chap. 5.

'The ancients esteemed those flowers and trees the sweetest upon which the rainbow had appeared to rest: and the wood they chiefly burned in sacrifices, was that which the smile of Iris bad consecrated, -PLUTARCH. Sympos. lib. iv, cap. 2, where (as Vossius remarks) 72101st, instead of xaλovat, is undoubtedly the genuiue reading. -See Vossius for some curious particularities of the rainbow, De Ori gin, et Progress, Idololat. lib. iii, cap. 13.

I took the harp, and would have sung
As if 't were not of her I sang;
But still the notes on LAMIA hung-
On whom but LAMIA could they hang?

That kiss for which, if worlds were mine, A world for every kiss I'd give her; Those floating eyes, that floating shine Like diamonds in an eastern river!

That mould, so fine, so pearly bright,

Of which luxurious Heaven hath cast her, Through which her soul doth beam as white As flame through lamps of alabaster'

Of these I sang, and notes and words Were sweet as if 't was LAMIA's hair That lay upon my lute for chords,

And LAMIA's lip that warbled there!

But when, alas! I turn'd the theme,
And when of vows and oaths I spoke,
Of truth and hope's beguiling dream-
The chord beneath my finger broke!

False harp! false woman!-such, oh! such Are lutes too frail and maids too willing; Every hand's licentious touch

Can learn to wake their wildest thrilling!

And when that thrill is most awake,

And when you think Heaven's joys await you, The nymph will change, the chord will breakOh Love, oh Music! how I hate you!

TO MRS

ON SOME CALUMNIES AGAINST HER CHARACTER.

Is not thy mind a gentle mind?

Is not thy heart a heart refined?

Hast thou not every blameless grace,

That man should love or Heaven can trace?

And oh art thou a shrine for Sin
To hold her hateful worship in?

No, no, be happy-dry that tear

Though some thy heart hath harbour'd near
May now repay its love with blame;

Though man, who ought to shield thy fame,
Ungenerous man, be first to wound thee;

Though the whole world may freeze around thee,
Oh! thon 'It be like that lucid tear

Which, bright, within the crystal's sphere
In liquid purity was found,

Though all had grown congeal'd around;
Floating in frost, it mock'd the chill,
Was pure, was soft, was brilliant still!

'This alludes to a curious gem, upon which Claudian bas left us some pointless epigrams. It was a drop of pure water inclosed within a piece of crystal.-See CLAUDIAN. Epigram. de Chrystallo cui aqua inerat. ADDISON mentions a curiosity of this kind at Milan; he also says, It is such a rarity as this that I saw at Vendôme in France, which they there pretend is a tear that our Saviour shed over Lazarus, and was gathered up by an angel, who put it in a little crystal vial and made a present of it to Mary Magdalen.-ADDISON'S Remarks on several Parts of Italy.

RINGS AND SEALS.

HYMN OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI,

AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER.

On! lost, for ever lost!-no more
Shall Vesper light our dewy way
Along the rocks of Crissa's shore,

To hymn the fading fires of day!
No more to Tempé's distant vale

In holy musings shall we roam, Through summer's glow and winter's gale, To bear the mystic chaplets home! 'T was then my soul's expanding zeal,

By Nature warm'd and led by thee, In every breeze was taught to feel

The breathings of a deity!

Guide of my heart! to memory true,

Thy looks, thy words, are still my ownI see thee raising from the dew

Some laurel, by the wind o'erthrown,
And hear thee say, This humble bough
Was planted for a doom divine,
And, though it weep in languor now,

Shall flourish on the Delphie shrine!
Thus in the vale of earthly sense,

Though sunk awhile the spirit lies, A viewless hand shall cull it thence, To bloom immortal in the skies!»

Thy words had such a melting flow,

And spoke of truth so sweetly well, They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow, And all was brightness where they fell. Fond soother of my infant tear!

Fond sharer of my infant joy!
Is not thy shade still lingering here?
Am I not still thy soul's employ?
And oh! as oft at close of day,

When meeting on the sacred mount,
Our nymphs awaked the choral lay,

And danced around Cassotis' fount; As then, 't was all thy wish and care That mine should be the simplest mien, My lyre and voice the sweetest there,

My foot the lightest o'er the green; So still, each little grace to mould,

Around form thine eyes are shed, my Arranging every snowy fold,

And guiding every mazy tread! And, when I lead the hymning choir, Thy spirit still, unseen and free, Hovers between my lip and lyre,

And weds them into harmony!

Flow, Plistus, flow! thy murmuring wave

Shall never drop its silvery tear

Upon so pure, so blest a grave,

To memory so divinely dear!

'The laurel, for the common uses of the temple, for adorning the altars and sweeping the pavement, was supplied by a tree near the fountain of Castalia: but upon all important occasions, they sent to Tempe for their laurel. We find in PAUSANIAS, that this valley sup plied the branches of which the temple was originally constructed; and PLUTARCH says, in his Dialogue on Music, The youth who brings the Tempic laurel toDelphi is always attended by a player on the flute.

Αλλά μην και τῳ κατακομίζοντε παιδι την Τεμπικήν δαφνη εις Δελφους παρομαρτει αυλητης.

Ώσπερ σφραγίδες τα φιλήματα. ACHILLES TATIUS, lib. ii.

Go! said the angry, weeping maid, The charm is broken!-once betray'd, Oh! never can my heart rely

On word or look, on oath or sigh.
Take back the gifts, so sweetly given,
With promised faith and vows to Heaven;
That little ring which, night and morn,
With wedded truth my hand hath worn;
That seal which oft, in moments blest,
Thou hast upon my lip imprest,
And sworn its dewy spring should be
A fountain seal'd' for only thee!
Take, take them back, the gift and vow,
All sullied, lost, and hateful now!

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Oh! I have thought, and thinking sigh'd-
How like to thee, thou restless tide!
May be the lot, the life of him,
Who roams along thy water's brim!
Through what alternate shades of woe
And flowers of joy my path may go!
How many an humble, still retreat
May rise to court my weary feet,
While still pursuing, still unblest,
I wander on, nor dare to rest!
But, urgent as the doom that calls
Thy water to its destined falls,
I see the world's bewildering force
Hurry my heart's devoted course
From lapse to lapse, till life be done,
And the lost current cease to run!
Oh! may my falls be bright as thine!
May Heaven's forgiving rainbow shine
Upon the mist that circles me,
As soft as now it hangs o'er thee!

CLORIS AND FANNY.

CLORIS! if I were Persia's king,
I'd make my graceful queen of thee;
While Fanny, wild and artless thing,
Should but thy humble handmaid be.
There is but one objection in it-
That, verily, I'm much afraid

I should, in some unlucky minute,
Forsake the mistress for the maid!

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'There is a dreary and savage character in the country immediately above these falls, which is much more in harmony with the wildness of such a scene, than the cultivated lands in the neighbourbood of Niagara. See the drawing of them in Mr WELD's book. According to him, the perpendicular beight of the Cohos Fall is fifty feet; but the Marquis de Chastellux makes it seventy-six. The fine rainbow, which is continually forming and dissolving as the spray rises into the light of the sun, is perhaps the most interesting beauty which these wonderful cataracts exhibit.

TO MISS

WITH woman's form and woman's tricks
So much of man you seem to mix,

One knows not where to take you :
I pray you, if 't is not too far,
Go, ask of Nature which you are,
Or what she meant to make you.

Yet stay-you need not take the pains-
With neither beauty, youth, nor brains,
For man or maid's desiring;
Pert as female, fool as male,

As boy too green, as girl too stale—
The thing 's not worth inquiring!

ΤΟ

ON HER ASKING ME TO ADDRESS A POEM TO HER.

Sine Venere friget Apollo.

EGID. MENAGIUS.

How can I sing of fragrant sighs

I ne'er have felt from thee? How can I sing of smiling eyes

That ne'er have smiled on me?

The heart, 't is true, may fancy much, But, oh! 'tis cold and seemingOne moment's real, rapturous touch Is worth an age of dreaming!

From the corpse of him he slew,
Drops the chill and gory dew!

Think'st thou, when Julia's lip and breast

Inspired my youthful tongue,
I coldly spoke of lips unprest,
Nor felt the Heaven I sung?

No, no, the spell that warm'd so long
Was still my Julia's kiss,
And still the girl was paid in song
What she had given in bliss!

Then beam one burning smile on me,
And I will sing those eyes;

Let me but feel a breath from thee,
And I will praise thy sighs.

That rosy mouth alone can bring
What makes the bard divine-
Oh, Lady! how my lip would sing,
If once 't were prest to thine!

SONG

OF THE EVIL SPIRIT OF THE WOODS.'

Qua via difficilis, quaque est via nulla........
OVID. Metam. lib. iii, v. 237.

Now the vapour, hot and damp,
Shed by day's expiring lamp,
Through the misty ether spreads
Every ill the white man dreads:
Fiery fever's thirsty thrill,
Fitful ague's shivering chill!
Hark! I hear the traveller's song,
As he winds the woods along,
Christian! 't is the song of fear;
Wolves are round thee, night is near,
And the wild, thou darest to roam-
Oh!'t was once the Indian's home. 2

Hither, sprites, who love to harm,
Wheresoe'er you work your charm,
By the creeks, or by the brakes,
Where the pale witch feeds her snakes,
And the cayman 3 loves to creep,

3

Torpid, to his wintry sleep:
Where the bird of carrion flits,
And the shuddering murderer sits 4
Lone beneath a roof of blood,

While upon his poison'd food,

1 The idea of this poem occurred to me in passing through the very dreary wilderness between Batavia, a new settlement in the midst of the woods, and the little village of Buffalo upon Lake Erie. This is the most fatiguing part of the route, in travelling through the Genesee country to Niagara.

1. The Five Confederated Nations (of Indians) were settled along the banks of the Susquehannah and the adjacent country, until the year 1779, when General Sullivan, with an army of 4,000 men, drove them from their country to Niagara, where, being obliged to live on salted provisions, to which they were unaccustomed, great numbers of them died. Two hundred of them, it is said, were buried in one grave, where they had encamped.» — MORSE's American Geography.

The alligator, who is supposed to lie in a torpid state all the winter in the bank of some creek or pond, having previously swallowed a large number of pine knots, which are his only sustenance, during the time.

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Hither bend you, turn you hither
Eyes that blast and wings that wither!
Cross the wandering Christian's way,
Lead him, ere the glimpse of day,
Many a mile of maddening error
Through the maze of night and terror,
Till the morn behold him lying
O'er the damp earth, pale and dying!
Mock him, when his eager sight
Seeks the cordial cottage-light;
Gleam then like the lightning-bug,
Tempt him to the den that 's dug
For the foul and famish'd brood
Of the she-wolf, gaunt for blood!
Or, unto the dangerous pass
O'er the deep and dark morass,
Where the trembling Indian brings
Belts of porcelain, pipes, and rings,
Tributes, to be hung in air
To the Fiend presiding there!'
Then, when night's long labour past
Wilder'd, faint he falls at last,
Sinking where the causeway's edge
Moulders in the slimy sedge,
There let every noxious thing
Trail its filth and fix its sting;
Let the bull-toad taint him over,
Round him let musquitoes hover,
In his ears and eye-balls tingling,
With his blood their poison mingling,
Till, beneath the solar fires,
Rankling all, the wretch expires!

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Say, Love! in all thy spring of fame,
When the high Heaven itself was thine;

When piety confess'd the flame,
And even thy errors were divine!

Did ever Muse's hand so fair

A glory round thy temple spread?
Did ever lip's ambrosial air

Such perfume o'er thy altars shed?

One maid there was, who round her lyre

The mystic myrtle wildly wreathed—
But all her sighs were sighs of fire,

The myrtle wither'd as she breathed!

We find also collars of porcelain, tobacco, ears of maize, skins etc., by the side of difficult and dangerous ways, on rocks, or by the side of the falls; and these are so many offerings made to the spirits which preside in these places.-See CHARLEVOIX's Later on the Tra

This was the mode of punishment for murder (as Father CHARLEditions and the Religion of the Savages of Canada, vorx tells us) among the Hurons. They laid the dead body upon poles at the top of a cabin, and the murderer was obliged to remain several days together, and to receive all that dropped from the carcass, not only on himself but on his food..

Father HENNEPIN, too, mentions this ceremony; he also says, - We took notice of one barbarian, who made a kind of sacrifice upon an oak at the Cascade of St Antony of Padua, upon the river Missiasipi.-See HENNEPIN'S Voyage into North America.

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