Yet heav'n will shed a soothing beam,

To bless the bond itself hath form'd. But then, that eye, that burning eye!

Oh! it doth ask, with magic power, If heaven can ever bless the tie,

Where love inwreaths no genial flower! Away, away, bewildering look!

Or all the boast of Virtue's o'er; Go-hie thee to the sage's book,

And learn from him to feel no more ! I cannot warn thee! every touch,

That brings my pulses close to thine, Tells me I want thy aid as much,

Oh! quite as much, as thou dost mine! Yet stay, dear love-one effort yet

A moment turn those eyes away, And let me, if I can, forget

The light that leads my soul astray! Thou say'st, that we were born to meet,

That our hearts bear one common seal,Oh, Lady! think, how man's deceit

Can seem to sigh and feign to feel! When, o'er thy face some gleam of thought,

Like day-beams through the morning air, Hath gradual stole, and I have caught

The feeling ere it kindled there:
The sympathy I then betray'd,

Perhaps was but the child of art;
The guile of one, who long hath play'd

With all these wily nets of heart.
Oh! thou hast not my virgin vow!

Though few the years I yet have told, Canst thou believe I lived till now,

With loveless heart or senses cold? No—many a throb of bliss and pain,

For many a maid, my soul hath provid; With some I wanton'd wild and vain,

While some I truly, dearly lov'd! The cheek to thine I fondly lay,

To theirs hath been as fondly laid; The words to thee I warmly say,

To them have been as warmly said. Then, scorn at once a languid heart,

Which long hath lost its early spring ; Think of the pure, bright soul thou art,

And-keep the ring, oh! keep the ring. Enough-now, turn thine eyes again;

What, still that look, and still that sigh ! Dost thou not feel my counsel then?

Oh! no, beloved !- nor do I. While thus to mine thy bosom lies,

While thus our breaths commingling glow, 'Twere more than woman to be wise,

"Twere more than man to wish thee so! Did we not love so true, so dear,

This lapse could never be forgiven; But hearts so fond and lips so near

Give mo the ring, and now-Oh heaven!

Yes, if 'twere any common love,

That led my pliant heart astray, I grant, there's not a power above

Could wipe the faithless crime away! But, 'twas my doom to err with one

In every look so like to thee, That, oh! beneath the blessed sun,

So fair there are but thou and she ! Whate'er may be her angel birth,

She was thy lovely perfect twin, And wore the only shape on earth, That could have charm'd my soul to sin.!

. Your eyes !—the eyes of languid doves

Were never half so like each other! The glances of the baby loves

Resemble less their warm-ey'd mother! Her lip !-oh, call me not false hearted,

When such a lip I fondly prest; 'Twas Love some melting cherry parted,

Gave thee one half and her the rest! And when, with all thy murmuring tone,

They sued, half open, to be kiss'd, I could as soon resist thine own

And them, heaven knows! I ne'er resist. Then, scorn me not, though false I be,

'Twas love that wak'd the dear excess; My heart had been more true to thee,

Had mine eye priz'd thy beauty less !

TO WHEN Hlov'd you, I can't but allow

I had many an exquisite minute; But the scorn that I feel for you now

Hath even more luxury in it!

Thus, whether we're on or we're off, Some witchery seems to await you; To love you is pleasant enough,

And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you!

FROM THE GREEK OF MELEAGER.'

FILL high the cup with liquid flame,
And speak my HELIODORA's name!
Repeat its magic o'er and o'er,

And let the sound my lips adore,
Sweeten the breeze, and mingling swim
On every bowl's voluptuous brim!

Give me the wreath that withers there;
It was but last delicious night
It hung upon her wavy hair,

And caught her eyes' reflected light!
Oh! haste, and twine it round my brow;
It breathes of HELIODORA now!

The loving rose-bud drops a tear,
To see the nymph no longer here,
No longer, where she used to lie,
Close to my heart's devoted sigh!

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
Resembles not the happy sigh

That rapture moves.

Yet do I feel more tranquil now
Amid the gloomy wilds of ocean,
In this dark hour,

Than when, in transport's young emotion,
I've stol'n, beneath the evening star,
To Julia's bower.

Oh! there's a holy calm profound
In awe like this, that ne'er was given
To rapture's thrill;

'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,
Of slumbering with the dead to-morrow
In the cold deep,

Where pleasure's throb or tears of sorrow
No more shall wake the heart or eye,
But all must sleep!

Well!-there are some, thou stormy bed,
To whom thy sleep would be a treasure!
Oh most to him,

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 e'en for thee, thou lovely one!
Would I endure such pangs again.
If there be climes, where never yet
The print of Beauty's foot was set,
Where man may pass his loveless nights,
Unfever'd by her false delights,

Thither my wounded soul would fly,
Where rosy cheek or radiant eye

Should bring no more their bliss, their pain,
Or fetter me to earth again!

Dear absent girl, whose eyes of light,
Though little priz'd when all my own,
Now float before me, soft and bright
As when they first enamouring shone!
How many hours of idle waste,
Within those witching arms embraced,
Unmindful of the fleeting day,
Have I dissolv'd life's dream away!
O bloom of time profusely shed!
O moments! simply, vainly fled,
Yet sweetly too-for love perfum'd
The flame which thus my life consum'd;
And brilliant was the chain of flowers,
In which he led my victim hours!

Say, NEA, dear! could'st thou, like her,
When warm to feel and quick to err,
Of loving fond, of roving fonder,
My thoughtless soul might wish to wander-
Could'st thou, like her, the wish reclaim,

Endearing still, reproaching never.
Till all my heart should burn with shame,
And be thine own, more fix'd than ever?
No, no on earth there's only one
Could bind such faithless folly fast:
And sure on earth 'tis I alone

Could make such virtue false at last! 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.

Oh! thou shalt be all else to me,

That heart can feel or tongue can feign; I'll praise, admire, and worship thee,

But must not, dare not, love again.

TALE ITER OMNE CAVE.

Propert. Lib. iv. Eleg. 8

I PRAY you, let us roam no more
Along that wild and lonely shore,

Where late we thoughtless stray'd;
'Twas not for us, whom heaven intends
To be no more than simple friends,

Such lonely walks were made. That little bay, where, winding in From ocean's rude and angry din,

(As lovers steal to bliss,)
The billows kiss the shore, and then
Flow calmly to the deep again,

As though they did not kiss !
Remember, o'er its circling flood
In what a dangerous dream we stood

The silent sea before us,
Around us, all the gloom of grove,
That e'er was spread for guilt or love,

No eye but nature's o'er us !
I saw you blush, you felt me tremble,
In vain would formal art dissemble

All that we wish'd and thought ;'Twas more than tongue could dare reveal, 'Twas more than virtue ought to feel,

But all that passion ought!
I stoop'd to cull, with faltering hand,
A shell that on the golden sand

Before us faintly gleam'd;
I rais'd it to your lips of dew,
You kiss'd the shell, I kiss'd it too-

Good heaven, how sweet it seem'd! 0, trust me, 'twas a place, an hour, The worst that e'er temptation's power

Could tangle me or you in! Sweet NEA ! let us roam no more Along that wild and lonely shore

Such walks will be our ruin!

Bending to earth that beamy glance,

As if to light your steps along !
Oh! how could others dare to touch

That hallow'd form with hand so free,
When but to look was bliss too much,

Too rare for all but heaven 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, I wildly turn'd,

My soul forgot-nor, oh! condemn, That when such eyes before ine burn'd

My soul forgot all eyes but them!
I dar'd to speak in sobs of bliss,

Rapture of every thought bereft me,
I would have clasp'd you-oh, even this !

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 the best and worst of man! That moment, did the mingled eyes

Of heaven and earth my madness view, I should have seen, through earth and skies,

But you alone, but only you! Did not a frown from you reprove,

Myriads of eyes to me were none; I should have-oh, my only love!

My life! what should I not have done!

You read it in my languid eyes,

And there alone should love be read; You hear me say it all in sighs,

And thus alone should love be said. Then dread no more ; I will not speak;

Although my heart to anguish thrill, I'll spare the burning of your cheek,

And look it all in silence still ! Heard you the wish I dar'd to name,

To murmur on that luckless night, When passion broke the bonds of shame,

And love grew madness in your sight? Divinely through the graceful dance,

You seem'd to float in silent song,

A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY I just had turn'd the classic page,

And trac'd that happy period over, When love could warm the proudest sage,

And wisdom grace the tenderest lover! Before I laid me down to sleep,

Upon the bank awhile I stood,
And saw the vestal planet weep

Her tears of light on Ariel's flood.
My heart was full of Fancy's dream,
And, as I watch'd the playful stream,
Entangling in its net of smiles
So fair a group of elfin isles,
I felt as if the scenery there

Were lighted by a Grecian sky-
As if I breath'd the blissful air

That yet was warm with Sappho's sigh!
And now the downy hand of rest
Her signet on my eyes imprest,
And still the bright and balmy spell,
Like star-dew, o'er my fancy fell !
I thought that, all enrapt, I stray'd
Through that serene luxurious shade,

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 Assomatos) is the place called at present Kepoi, or the Gardens; and Ampelos Kepos, or the Vineyard Garden; these were probably the gardens which Pausanias visited.” Chap. ii. Vol. I.