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SWEETLY' you kiss, my LAIS dear!
But, while you kiss, I feel a tear,
Bitter as those when lovers part,
In mystery from your eye-lid start!
Sadly you lean your head to mine,
And round my neck in silence twine,
Your hair along my bosom spread,
All humid with the tears you shed!
Have I not kiss'd those lids of snow?
Yet still, my love, like founts they flow,
Bathing our cheeks, whene'er they meet-
Why is it thus ? do, tell me, Sweet!
Ah, LAIS! are my bodings right?
Am I to lose you? is to-night

Our last-go, false to heaven and me!
Your very tears are treachery.

SUCH, while in air I floating hung,

Such was the strain, Morgante mio! The muse and I together sung,

With Boreas to make out the trio ; But, bless the little fairy isle!

How sweetly after all our ills,
We saw the dewy morning smile

Serenely o'er its fragrant hills!
And felt the pure, elastic flow
Of airs, that round this Eden blow,
With honey freshness, caught by stealth
Warm from the very lips of health!
Oh! could you view the scenery dear
That now beneath my window lies,
You'd think, that Nature lavish'd here
Her purest wave, her softest skies,
To make a heaven for Love to sigh in,
For bards to live, and saints to die in!
Close to my wooded bank below,

In glassy calm the waters sleep,
And to the sun-beam proudly show

The coral rocks they love to steep!" The fainting breeze of morning fails, The drowsy boat moves slowly past, And I can almost touch its sails

That languish idly round the mast.

1 This epigram is by Paulus Silentiarius, and may be found in the Analecta of Brunck, Vol. 8. p. 72. But as the reading there is somewhat different from what I have followed in this translation, I shall give it as I had it in my memory at the time, and as it is in Heinsius, who, I believe, first produced the epigram. See his Poemata.

Ηδυ μεν εστι φίλημα το Λαιδος ηδυ δε αυτων
Ηπιοδίνητων δακρυχέεις βλεφάρων

Και πολυ κιχλίζεσα τόβοις ευβοστρυχον αιγλην
Ημέτερα κεφαλην δηρον ερεισάμενη.
Μυρομενην δ' εφίλησαν τα δίως δροσερης απο πηγηση
Δάκρυα μιγνυμένων πιπτε κατα στομάτων
Είπε δ' ανειρομένω, τινος συνεκα δάκρυα λείβεις ;
Δείδια μη με λίπης" εστι γαρ ορκαπαται,

The sun has now profusely given
The flashes of a noontide heaven,
And, as the wave reflects his beams,
Another heaven its surface seems!
Blue light and clouds of silvery tears
So pictur'd o'er the waters lie,
That every languid bark appears
To float along a burning sky!

Oh! for the boat the angel gave1

To him, who, in his heaven-ward flight,
Sail'd o'er the sun's ethereal wave,

To planet-isles of odorous light!
Sweet Venus, what a clime he found
Within thy orb's ambrosial round !2

There spring the breezes, rich and warm,

That pant around thy twilight car;
There angels dwell, so pure of form,
That each appears a living star!3
These are the sprites, oh radiant queen!
Thou send'st so often to the bed
Of her I love, with spell unseen,

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Thy planet's brightening balm to shed;
To make the eye's enchantment clearer,
To give the cheek one rose-bud more,
And bid that flushing lip be dearer,

Which had been, oh! too dear before!
But, whither means the muse to roam?
"Tis time to call the wanderer home.
Who could have ever thought to search her
Up in the clouds with Father Kircher?
So, health and love to all your mansion!

Long may the bowl that pleasures bloom in,
The flow of heart, the soul's expansion,
Mirth, and song, your board illumine!

Fare you well-remember too,

When cups are flowing to the brim,
That here is one who drinks to you,
And, oh! as warmly drink to him.

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1 In Kircher's "Extatic 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) hanc asbestinam naviculam commoditati tua præparatam." Itinerar. 1. Dial. 1. Cap. 5. There are some very strange fancies in this work of Kircher.

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 2 The water is so clear around the island, that the rocks shed the cosmetic influence of this planet over the earth; are seen beneath to a very great depth, and, as we entered such being, according to astrologers, the "vis influxiva" of the harbour, they appeared to us so near the surface, that it Venus. When they are in this part of the heavens, a casu seemed impossible we should not strike on them. There is istical question occurs to Theodidactus, and he asks no necessity, of course, for heaving the lead, and the negro" Whether baptism may be performed with the waters of pilot, looking down at the rocks from the bow of the ship, Venus?"—“ An aquis globi Veneris baptismus institui postakes her through this difficult navigation, with a skill and sit?" to which the Genius answers, "Certainly," confidence which seem to astonish some of the oldest sailors.

3 This idea is father Kircher's. "Tot animatos roles dixisses." Itinerar. i. Dial. Cap. 5

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 prov'd; 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 nearGive me the ring, and now-Oh heaven!

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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!

ΤΟ

WHEN I lov'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,

1 Εγχει, και παλιν οίπε, παλιν, παλιν, Ηλιοδώρος
Είπε, συν ακρητω το γλυκύ μιση' ονόμα.
Και μοι τον βρέχθεντα μύροις και χθιζόν εοντα,
Μναμοσυνον κείνας, αμφιτεθεί στεφάνον·
Δάκρυσι φιλεραστον ίδου ρόδον, συνεκα κειναν
Αλλοθι κ' ου κολποις ημετέροις ισορα.
Brunck. Analect. tom. i. p. 28.

Whose lip hath drain'd life's cup of pleasure, Nor left one honey drop to shed

Round misery's brim.

Yes-he can smile serene at death:
Kind heaven! do thou but chase the weeping
Of friends who love him;

Tell them that he lies calmly sleeping
Where sorrow's sting or envy's breath
No more shall move him.

ODES TO NEA; WRITTEN AT BERMUDA.

NEA TYPANNEI.

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 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 shrine-
Go, 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!
O, 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!

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,

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!

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 Vinoyard Garden; these were probably the gardens which Pausanias visited." Chap. ii. Vol. I.

Where Epicurus taught the Loves

To polish virtue's native brightness, Just as the beak of playful doves

Can give to pearls a smoother whiteness!! "Twas one of those delicious nights

So common in the climes of Greece, When day withdraws but half its lights,

And all is moonshine, balm, and peace! And thou wert there, my own belov'd! And dearly by thy side I rov'd Through many a temple's reverend gloom, And many a bower's seductive bloom, Where beauty blush'd and wisdom taught, Where lovers sigh'd and sages thought, Where hearts might feel or heads discern, And all was form'd to sooth or move, To make the dullest love to learn,

To make the coldest learn to love! And now the fairy pathway seem'd

To lead us through enchanted ground, Where all that bard has ever dream'd

Of love or luxury bloom'd around! Oh! 'twas a bright bewildering sceneAlong the alley's deepening green, Soft lamps, that hung like burning flowers, And scented and illum'd the bowers, Seem'd, as to him, who darkling roves Amid the lone Hercynian groves, Appear the countless birds of light, That sparkle in the leaves at night, And from their wings diffuse a ray Along the traveller's weary way 'Twas light of that mysterious kind,

12

Through which the soul is doom'd to roam, When it has left this world behind,

And gone to seek its heavenly home! And, NEA, thou didst look and move, Like any blooming soul of bliss, That wanders to its home above Through mild and shadowy light like this! But now, methought, we stole along

Through halls of more voluptuous glory Than ever liv'd in Teian song,

13

Or wanton'd in Milesian story!
And nymphs were there, whose very eyes
Seem'd almost to exhale in sighs;
Whose every little ringlet thrill'd,

As if with soul and passion fill'd!
Some flew, with amber cups, around,
Shedding the flowery wines of Crete,4
And, as they pass'd with youthful bound,
The onyx shone beneath their feet!"

1 This method of polishing pearls, by leaving them awhile to be played with by doves, is mentioned by the fanciful Cardanus, de Rerum Varietat. Lib. vii. cap. 34.

[While others, waving arms of snow

Entwin'd by snakes of burnish'd gold,'
And showing limbs, as loth to show,

Through many a thin Tarentian fold,"
Glided along the festal ring
With vases, all respiring spring,

Where roses lay, in langour breathing,
And the young bee-grape,3 round them wreathing,
Hung on their blushes warm and meek,
Like curls upon a rosy cheek!
Oh, NEA! why did morning break

The spell that so divinely bound me?
Why did I wake! how could I wake

With thee my own and heaven around me ?

WELL-peace to thy heart, though another's it be,
And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for me!
To-morrow, I sail for those cinnamon groves,
Where nightly the ghost of the Carribee roves,
And, far from thine eye, oh! perhaps, I may yet
Its seduction forgive and its splendour forget!
Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom
Of the lemon and myrtle its vallies perfume;
May spring to eternity hallow the shade,
Where Ariel has warbled and Waller' has stray'd!
And thou-when, at dawn, thou shalt happen to roam
Through the lime-cover'd alley that leads to thy home,
Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done,
And the stars were beginning to fade in the sun,
I have led thee along, and have told by the way
What my heart all the night had been burning to say-
Oh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times,
And a blessing for me to that alley of limes!

If I were yonder wave, my dear, And thou the isle it clasps around,

I would not let a foot come near

My land of bliss, my fairy ground!

1 Bracelets of this shape were a favourite ornament among the women of antiquity. O sixxρis opsi xx as xpuexe πεδαι Θαιδος και Αρισταγόρας και Λαίδος φαρμακα. Philostrat. Epist. xl. Lucian too tells of the Epxx1010 Spακοντες. See his Amores, where he describes the dressingroom of a Grecian lady, and we find the "silver vase," the rouge, the tooth-powder, and all the "mystic order" of a modern toilet.

2 Ταραντινίδιον, διαφανές ενδυμα, ωνομασμένον απο της Ταραντίνων χρήσεως και τρυφης. Polluz.

3 Apiana, mentioned by Pliny, Lib. xiv. and "now called the Muscatell (a muscarum telish") says Pancirollus, Book i. Sect. 1. Chap. 17.

4 The inhabitants pronounce the name as if it were written Bermooda. See the commentators on the words "stillvex'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 Bermu

2 In Hercynio Germaniæ saltu inusitata genera alitum accepimus, quarum pluma, ignium modo, colluceant nocti-dez, who, about the same period, (the beginning of the sixbus. Plin. Lib. x. cap. 47.

3 The Milesiacs, or Milesian Fables, had their origin in Milatus, a luxurious town of Jonia. Aristides was the most celebrated author of these licentious fictions. See Plutarch (in Crasso) who calls them XXROTH BIGXIX.

4 Some of the Cretan wines, which Athenæus calls ovOS avis, from their fragrancy resembling that of the finest flowers. Barry on Wines, chap. vii.

teenth 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.

5 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 5 It appears, that in very splendid mansions the floor or work, however, less for its authority, than for the pleasure I pavement was frequently of onyx. Thus Martial: "Calca-feel in quoting an unacknowledged production of the grea tusque tuo sub pede lucet onyx.' Epig. 50. Lib. xii. Edmund Burke.

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