The Muse's swans with happiest wing, "Tis not for thee the fault to blame, For from those eyes the madness came. Forgive but thou the crime of loving, In this heart more pride 'twill raise To be thus wrong, with thee approving, Than right, with all a world to praise ! SONG AND TRIO. THE LEVEE AND COUCHEE. CALL the Loves around, Of their wings be heard alone, My Lady blest At this bright hour hath gone. Play o'er her dreams, Till, touch'd with light all through, Like a summer sea, And, while thus hush'd she lies, Let the whisper'd chorus rise "Good evening, good evening, to our Lady's bright eyes." But the day-beam breaks, Call the Loves around once more, At Morning's gate, Her first steps to adore. Let the veil of night Leaving it full of day. And, while her last dream flies, Let the whisper'd chorus rise "Good morning, good morning, to our Lady's bright eyes." SONG. IF to see thee be to love thee, If to love thee be to prize Naught of earth or heav'n above thee, Nor to live but for those eyes: If such love to mortal given, Be wrong to earth, be wrong to heav'n, But say, while light these songs resound, Of Mystery, in this gay hour, As Love himself for bride could ask, What, in the name of all odd things That woman's restless brain pursues, What mean these mystic whisperings? Thus runs the tale :-yon blushing maid, But no-earth still demands her smile; A young Duke's proffer'd heart and hand For love concerns expressly meant, The fond proposal first was made, And love and silence blush'd consent. Parents and friends (all here, as Jews, Enchanters, housemaids, Turks, Hindoos,) Have heard, approved, and bless'd the tie; And now, hadst thou a poet's eye, Thou might'st behold, in th' air, above That brilliant brow, triumphant Love, Holding, as if to drop it down Gently upon her curls, a crown And set in gold like that which shines In short, a crown all glorious-such as Love orders when he makes a Duchess. But see, 'tis morn in heaven; the Sun And, though not yet arrived in sight, His leader's nostrils send a steam Of radiance forth, so rosy bright As makes their onward path all light. What's to be done? if Sol will be So deuced early, so must we; And when the day thus shines outright, Now, by daylight, dim and pale; All that's mighty, all that's bright; Tyre and Sidon had their day, And ev'n a Ball-has but its night! EVENINGS IN GREECE. In thus connecting together a series of Songs by a thread of poetical narrative, my chief object has been to combine Recitation with Music, so as to enable a greater number of persons to join in the performance, by enlisting, as readers, those who may not feel willing or competent to take a part as singers. The Island of Zea, where the scene is laid, was called by the ancients Ceos, and was the birthplace of Simonides, Bacchylides, and other eminent persons. An account of its present state may be found in the Travels of Dr. Clarke, who says, that "it appeared to him to be the best cultivated of any of the Grecian Isles."-Vol. vi. p. 174. T. M.. EVENINGS IN GREECE. FIRST EVENING. "THE sky is bright-the breeze is fair, "And the mainsail flowing, full and free Of Zea's youth, the hope and stay Which now, alas, no more is seenThough every eye still turns to mark The moonlight spot where it had been Vainly you look, ye maidens, sires, And mothers, your beloved are gone!Now may you quench those signal fires, Whose light they long look'd back upon When, bless'd by heaven, the Cross shall sweep There is a Fount on Zea's isle, On which the sun of Greece looks down, The lovely maids of Patmos weave:- While round, to grace its cradle green, Stand with their leafy pride unfurl'd; While Commerce, from her thousand sails, Scatters their fruit throughout the world! "Twas here as soon as prayer and sleep (Those truest friends to all who weep) Had lighten'd every heart, and made Ev'n sorrow wear a softer shade"Twas here, in this secluded spot, Amid whose breathings calm and sweet Grief might be sooth'd, if not forgot, The Zean nymphs resolved to meet Each evening now, by the same light That saw their farewell tears that night; And try, if sound of lute and song, If wand'ring 'mid the moonlight flowers In various talk, could charm along With lighter step, the ling'ring hours, Till tidings of that Bark should come, Or Victory waft their warriors home! When first they met-the wonted smile O'er their young brows, when they look'd round Who now were gone to the rude wars, And danced till morn outshone the stars! But seldom long doth hang th' eclipse Of sorrow o'er such youthful breastsThe breath from her own blushing lips, That on the maiden's mirror rests, Not swifter, lighter from the glass, Than sadness from her brow doth pass. Soon did they now, as round the Well They sat, beneath the rising moonAnd some, with voice of awe, would tell Of midnight fays, and nymphs who dwell In holy founts-while some would tune 4 Cuscuta europaa. "From the twisting and twining of the stems, it is compared by the Greeks to the dishevelled hair of the Nereïds."-Walpole's Turkey. "The produce of the island in these acorns alone amounts annually to fifteen thousand quintals."-Clarke's Travels. Their idle lutes, that now had lain, That many a nymph, though pleased the while, And sigh'd to think she could be gay. Among these maidens there was one, Mutely they listen'd all-and well While fresh to ev'ry listener's thought Burn on through Time, and ne'er expire. 1 Now Santa Maura--the island, from whose cliffs Sap pho leaped into the sea. 2 "The precipice, which is fearfully dizzy, is about one hurdred and fourteen feet from the water, which is of a profound depth, as appears from the dark-blue color and the eddy that plays round the pointed and projecting rocks."Goodisson's Ionian Isles. SONG. As o'er her loom the Lesbian Maid In love-sick languor hung her head, Unknowing where her fingers stray'd, She weeping turn'd away, and said, "Oh, my sweet Mother-'tis in vain-"I cannot weave, as once I wove"So wilder'd is my heart and brain "With thinking of that youth I love!" Again the web she tried to trace, But tears fell o'er each tangled thread; While, looking in her mother's face, Who watchful o'er her lean'd, she said, "Oh, my sweet Mother-'tis in vain"I cannot weave, as once I wove"So wilder'd is my heart and brain "With thinking of that youth I love!" A silence follow'd this sweet air, As each in tender musing stood, Thinking, with lips that moved in prayer, Of Sappho and that fearful flood: While some, who ne'er till now had known How much their hearts resembled hers, Felt as they made her griefs their own, That they, too, were Love's worshippers. At length a murmur, all but mute, Of some lost melody, some strain She sought among those chords again (Though born in feelings ne'er forgot) Fill'd up each sighing pause between; What ruin comes where he hath beenAs wither'd still the grass is found Where fays have danced their merry round 3 See Mr. Goodisson's very interesting description of all these circumstances. 4 I have attempted, in these four lines, to give some idea of that beautiful fragment of Sappho, beginning Turcia pãrep, which represents so truly (as Warton remarks) "the languor and listlessness of a person deeply in love." 1 This word is defrauded here, I suspect, of a syllable; Dr. Clarke, if I recollect right, makes it "Balalaika." 2 "I saw above thirty parties engaged in dancing the Romaika upon the sand; in some of these groups, the girl who led them chased the retreating wave."-Douglas on the Modern Greeks. "In dancing the Romaika (says Mr. Douglas) they begin in slow and solemn step till they have gained the time, but by degrees the air becomes more sprightly; the conductress SONG. WHEN the Balaika1 Is heard o'er the sea, Should steal on our play, Thy white feet, in dancing, Shall chase them away. When the Balaika Is heard o'er the sea, Thou'lt dance the Romaika, My own love, with me. Then, at the closing Of each merry lay, How sweet 'tis, reposing, Beneath the night ray! Or if, declining, The moon leave the skies, We'll talk by the shining Of each other's eyes. Oh then, how featly The dance we'll renew, Treading so fleetly Its light mazes through: Till stars, looking o'er us From heaven's high bow'rs, Would change their bright chorus For one dance of ours! When the Balaika Is heard o'er the sea, Thou'lt dance the Romaika, My own love, with me. How changingly forever veers The heart of youth, 'twixt smiles and tears! of the dance sometimes setting to her partner, sometimes darting before the rest, and leading them through the most rapid revolutions; sometimes crossing under the hands, which are held up to let her pass, and giving as much liveliness and intricacy as she can to the figures, into which she conducts her companions, while their business is to follow her in all her movements, without breaking the chain, or losing the measure." |