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If I were yonder couch of gold,
And thou the pearl within it plac'd, I would not let an eye behold
The sacred gem my arms embrac'd! If I were yonder orange-tree,
And thou the blossom blooming there, I would not yield a breath of thee,
To scent the most imploring air ! Oh! bend not o'er the water's brink,
Give not the wave that rosy sigh, Nor let its burning mirror drink
The soft reflection of thine eye. That glossy hair, that glowing cheek,
Upon the billows pour their beam So warmly, that my soul could seek
Its Nea in the painted stream. The painted stream my chilly grave
And nuptial bed at once may be, I'll wed thee in that mimic wave,
And die upon the shade of thee ! Behold the leafy mangrove, bending
O'er the waters blue and bright, Like Nea's silky lashes, lending
Shadow to her eyes of light' Oh, my beloved ! where'er I turn,
Some trace of thee enchants mine eyes, In every star thy glances burn,
Thy blush on every flowret lies.
That lights the lone Semenda's' death
An odour like thy dulcet breath!
To wear this rosy leaf for me,
Since nothing human breathes of thee !
In nature, but thy sigh alone; Then take, oh! take, though not so sweet,
The breath of roses for thine own! So, while I walk the flowery grove,
The bud that gives, through morning dew, The lustre of the lips I love,
May seem to give their perfume too!
No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep
An island of lovelier charms;
Like Hebe in Hercules' arms !
Their melody balm to the ear;
And the Snow-Spirit never comes here !
Thy lips for their cabinet stole,
As a murmur of thine on the soul!
As he cradles the birth of the year;
But the Snow-Spirit cannot come here !
And brightening the bosom of morn,
O'er the brow of each virginal thorn!
Is a veil of a vestal severe;
Should the Snow-Spirit ever come here !
And he'll weep all his brilliancy dim,
Should not melt in the day-beam like him!
O'er his luminous path will appearFly! my beloved ! this island is sweet,
But the Snow-Spirit cannot come here!
Ενταύθα δε καθαρμισται ημιν, και ο, τι μεν ονομα τη νησο ου και οιδα χρυση δ' αν τρος γι μου ονομαζοιτο.
Philostrat. Icon. 17. Lib. 2.
ON SEEING AN INFANT IN NEA'S ARMS.
That Psyche to her bosom prest,
Nor blush'd upon a lovelier breast !
Along her lips' luxuriant flower,
Silvery through a roseate bower!
Her dark hair fell, in mazes bright, 1 Referunt tamen quidam in interiore India avem esse, nomine Semendam, etc. Cardan. 10 de Subtilitat. Cæsar Scaliger seoms to think Semenda but another name for the Phonix. Exercitat. 233.
I STOLE along the flowery bank,
1 The sea-side or mangrove grape, a native of the West Indies
And, light, along the water's brim,
Of many a nightly dream it told, I steered my gentle bark by him;
When all that chills the heart by day, For Fancy told me, Love had sent
The worldly doubt, the caution cold, This snowy bird of blandishment,
In Fancy's fire dissolve away! To lead me where my soul should meet
When soul and soul divinely meet; I knew not what, but something sweet.
Free from the senses' guilty shame, Blest be the little pilot dove!
And mingle in a sigh so sweet, He had indeed been sent by Love,
As virtue's self would blush to blame! To guide me to a scene so dear,
How could he lose such tender words? As Fate allows but seldom here :
Words ! that of themselves should sprinig One of those rare and brilliant hours,
To Nea's ear, like panting birds, Which, like the aloe's' lingering flowers,
With heart and soul upon their wing May blossom to the eye of man
Oh! fancy what they dar'd to speak; But once in all his weary span!
Think all a virgin's shame can dread, Just where the margin's opening shade
Nor pause until thy conscious cheek A vista from the waters made,
Shall burn with thinking all they said ! My bird repos'd his silver plume
And I shall feigri, shall fancy, too, Upon a rich banana's bloom.
Some dear reply thou might'st have given Oh, vision bright! oh, spirit fair!
Shall make that lip distil its dew What spell, what magic rais'd her there?
In promise bland and hopes of heaven! 'Twas Nea! slumbering calm and mild,
Shall think it tells of future days, And bloomy as the dimpled child
When the averted cheek will turn, Whose spirit in elysium keeps
When eye with eye shall mingle rays, Its playful sabbath, while he sleeps !
And lip to lip shall closely burnThe broad banana's green embrace
Ah! if this flattery is not thine, Hung shadowy round each tranquil grace;
If colder hope thy answer brings, One little beam alone could win
I'll wish thy words were lost like mine, The leaves to let it wander in,
Since I can dream such dearer things! And, stealing over all her charms, From lip to cheek, from neck to arms, It glanc'd around a fiery kiss,
I found her not-the chamber seem'd All trembling, as it went, with bliss!
Like some divinely haunted place, Her eyelid's black and silken fringe
Where fairy forms had lately beam'd Lay on her cheek, of vermil tinge,
And left behind their odorous trace! Like the first ebon cloud, that closes
It felt, as if her lips had shed Dark on evening's heaven of roses !
A sigh around her, ere she fled, Her glances, though in slumber hid,
Which hung, as on a melting lute, Seem'd glowing through their ivory lid,
When all the silver chords are mute, And o'er her lip's reflecting dew
There lingers still a trembling breath A soft and liquid lustre threw,
After the note's luxurious death, Such as, declining dim and faint,
A shade of song, a spirit air
Of melodies which had been there !
I saw the web, which all the day,
Had floated o'er her cheek of rose ; Was ever witchery half so sweet! Think, think how all my pulses beat,
I saw the couch, where late she lay As o'er the rustling bank I stole
In languor of divine repose ! Oh! you, that know the lover's soul,
And I could trace the hallow'd print It is for you to dream the bliss,
Her limbs had left, as pure and warm The tremblings of an hour like this!
As if 'twere done in rapture's mint,
And love himself had stamp'd the form!
Oh, NEA! NEA! where wert thou?
In pity fly not thus from me;
Thou art my life, my essence now,
And my soul dies of wanting thee! OH! it was fill'd with words of flame,
With all the wishes wild and dear, Which love may write, but dares not name, Which woman reads, but must not hear!
A KISS A L'ANTIQUE.
BEHOLD, my love, the curious gem 1 The Agave. I know that this is an erroneous idea, but Within this simple ring of gold; it is quite true enough for poetry. Plato, I think, allows a poot to be "three removes from truth;" tpotatos ***
'Tis hallow'd by the touch of them *ng Anuss.
Who liv'd in classic hours of old.
Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps,
TO JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ.
FROM BERMUDA.' The more we gaze, it charms the more :
March. Come,-closer bring that cheek to mine, And trace with me its beauties O'er.
“The daylight is gone—but, before we depart,
One cup shall go round to the friend of my heart, Thou see'st, it is a simple youth
To the kindest, the dearest-oh! judge by the tear, By some enamour'd nymph embrac'd- That I shed while I name him, how kind and how Look, Nea, love! and say, in sooth,
dear!" Is not her hand most dearly plac'd !
'Twas thus, by the shade of a calabash-tree, Upon his curled head behind
With a few who could feel and remember like me, It seems in careless play to lie,'
The charm, that to sweeten my goblet I threw, Yet presses gently, half inclin'd
Was a tear to the past and a blessing on you !
Oh! say, do you thus, in the luminous hour
Of wine and of wit, when the heart is in flower, The one so fond and faintly loath, The other yielding slow to joy
And shoots from the lip, under Bacchus's dew,
In blossoms of thought ever springing and new! Oh, rare indeed, but blissful both!
Do you sometimes remember, and hallow the brim Imagine, love, that I am he,
Or your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him, And just as warm as he is chilling;
Who is lonely and sad in these vallies so fair, Imagine, too, that thou art she,
And would pine in elysium, if friends were not there! But quite as cold as she is willing :
1 Pinkerton has said that " a good history and description So may we try the graceful way
of the Bermudas might afford a pleasing addition to the In which their gentle arms are twin'd,
geographical library;" but there certainly are not materials And thus, like her, my hand I lay
for such a work. The island, since the time of its disco
very, has experienced so very few vicissitudes, the people Upon thy wreathed hair behind :
have been so indolent, and their trade so limited, that there
is but little which the historian could amplify into imporAnd thus I feel thee breathing sweet,
tance; and, with respect to the natural productions of the As slow to mine thy head I move;
country, the few which the inhabitants can be induced to And thus our lips together meet,
cultivate are so common in the West Indies, that they have
been described by every naturalist, who has written ang And—thus I kiss thee-oh, my love!
account of those islands.
It is often asserted by the trans-atlantic politicians, that this little colony deserves more attention from the mother
country than it receives ; and it certainly possesses advan•••••λιβανοτω εικασιν, οτι σε πολλυμενον ευφραίνει.
lages of situation, to which we should not be long insensible, Aristot. Rhetor. Lib. iii. Cap. 4. if it were once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a
celebrated friend of Washington, at New-York, that they THERE's not a look, a word of thine
had formed a plan for its capture, towards the conclusion of My soul hath e'er forgot ;
the American War; “ with the intention (as he expressed Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine,
himself,) of making it a nest of hornets for the annoyanco
of British trade in that part of the world." And there is Nor giv'n thy locks one graceful twine,
no doubi, it lies so fairly in the track to the West Indies, Which I remember not!
that an enemy might with ease convert it into a very haras
sing impediment. There never yet a murmur fell
The plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at Bermuda, From that beguiling tongue,
where American savages might be converted and educated,
though concurred in by the government of the day, was a Which did not, with a lingering spell,
wild and useless speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who was goUpon my charmed senses dwell,
vernor of the island some years since, proposed, if I mistake Like something heaven had sung!
not, the establishment of a marine academy for the instruc
tion of those children of West Indians, who might be inAh! that I could, at once, forget
tended for any nautical employment. This was a more
rational idea, and for something of this nature the island is All, all that haunts me so
admirably calculated. But the plan should be much more And yet, thou witching girl !--and yet,
extensivo, and embrace a general system of education, To die were sweeter, than to let
which would entirely remove the alternative, in which the The lov'd remembrance go!
colonists are involved at present, of either sending their song
to England for instruction, or entrusting them to colleges in No; if this slighted heart must see
the Suntes of America, where ideas by no means favourIts faithful pulse decay,
able to Great Britain, are very sedulously inculcated.
The women of Bermuda, though not generally handsome, Oh! let it die, remembering thee,
have an affectionate languor in their look and manner, And, like the burnt aroma, be
which is always interesting. What the French imply by
their epithet aimante seems very much the character of the Consum'd in sweets away!
young Bermudian girls--that predisposition to loving, which,
without being awakened by any particular object, diffuses 1 Somewhat like the syınplegma of Cupid and Psyche itself through the general manner in a tone of tenderness at Florence, in which the position of Psyche's hand is that never fails to fascinate. The men of the island, I con finely expressive of affection. See the Museum Florenti- fess, are not very civilized; and the old philosopher, who num, Tom. ii. Tab. 43, 44. I know of very few subjects in imagined that, after this life, men would be changed into which poetry could be more interestingly omployed, than in mulos, and women into turtle doves, would find the meta illustrating somo of the ancient statues and gems. I morphosis in some degree anticipated at Bermuda.
Last night, when we came from the calabash-tree,
The boy in many a gambol flew,
While Reason, like a Juno stalk'd, And from her portly figure threw
A lengthen'd shadow, as she walk'd. No wonder Love, as on they pass'd,
Should find that sunny morning chill, For still the shadow Reason cast
Fell on the boy, and cool'd him still. In vain he tried his wings to warm,
Or find a pathway not so dim, For still the maid's gigantic form
Would pass between the sun and him! " This must not be," said little Love
“ The sun was made for more than you." So, turning through a myrtle grove,
He bid the portly nymph adieu! Now gaily roves the laughing boy
O’er many a mead, by many a stream; In every breeze inhaling joy,
And drinking bliss in every beam. From all the gardens, all the bowers,
He cull'd the many sweets they shaded, And ate the fruits, and smelt the flowers,
Till taste was gone and odour faded ! But now the sun, in pomp of noon,
Look'd blazing o'er the parched plains ; Alas! the boy grew languid soon,
And fever thrill'd through all his veins ! The dew forsook his baby brow,
No more with vivid bloom he smil'd Oh! where was tranquil Reason now,
To cast her shadow o'er the child ? Beneath a green and aged palm,
His foot at length for shelter turning, He saw the nymph reclining calm,
With brow as cool as his was burning! “Oh! take me to that bosom cold,"
In`murmurs at her feet he said ; And Reason op'd her garment's fold,
And flung it round his fever'd head. He felt her bosom's icy touch,
And soon it lull'd his pulse to rest ; For, ah! the chill was quite too much,
And Love expir'd on Reason's breast !
LOVE AND REASON. "Quand l'homme commence à raisonner, il cesse de sentir."
J. J. Rousseau." 'Twas in the summer-time so sweet,
When hearts and flowers are both in season,
One early dawn, but Love and Reason!
While Reason talk'd about the weather;
And on they took their way together.
Nay, do not weep, my Fanny dear!
While in these arms you lie,
From that beloved eye!
The path where many rove;
Are quite enough for love!
Between your arms and mine ?
I Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daphois, the first inrentor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs.--See ne lively description of these mountains in Diodorus Sicuule, Lib iv. Hραιο γαρ ορη κατα την Σικελιαν ιστιν, α φασι και αλλοι κ. τ. λ.
2 A ship, ready to sail for England. 3 Quoted somewhere in St. Pierre's Etudes de la Nature.
Is there, on earth, a space so dear,
Upon my breath thy sigh yet faintly hung;
Thy name yet died in whispers o'er my tongue;
I heard thy lyre, which thou hadst left behind,
In amorous converse with the breathing wind;
Quick to my heart I press'd the shell divine,
And, with a lip yet glowing warm from thine,
I kiss'd its every chord, while every kiss
Shed o'er the chord some dewy print of bliss.
Then soft to thee I touch'd the fervid lyre,
Which told such melodies, such notes of fire
As none but chords, that drank the burning dews
Of kisses dear as ours, could e'er diffuse!
Oh love! how blissful is the bland repose,
That soothing follows upon rapture's close,
Mild melting traces of the transport fled !
While thus I lay, in this voluptuous calm, 'Twas in the fair Aspasia's bower,
A drowsy languor steep'd my eyes in balm, That Love and Learning many an hour,
Upon my lap the lyre in murmurs fell, In dalliance met, and Learning smil'd,
While, faintly wandering o'er its silver shell, With rapture on the playful child,
My fingers soon their own sweet requiem play'd, Who wanton stole to find his nest
And slept in music which themselves had made ! Within a fold of Learning's vest !
Then, then, my 'THEON, what a heavenly dream'
I saw two spirits, on the lunar beam, There, as the listening statesman hung Two winged boys, descending from above, In transport on Aspasia's tongue,
And gliding to my bower with looks of love, The destinies of Athens took
Like the young genii, who repose their wings Their colour from ASPAsia's look.
All day in Amatha's luxurious springs,' Oh happy time! when laws of state,
And rise at midnight, from the tepid rill When all that ruld the country's fate, To cool their plumes upon some moon-light hill! Its glory, quict, or alarms,
Soft o'er my brow, which kindled with their sighs, Was plann'd between two snowy arms ! Awhile they play'd; then gliding through niy eyes, Sweet times ! you could not always last
(Where the bright babies, for a moment, hung, And yet, oh! yet, you are not past;
Like those thy lip hath kiss'd, thy lyre hath sung, Though we have lost the sacred mould,
To that dim mansion of my breast they stole, In which their men were cast of old,
Where, wreath'd in blisses lay my captive soul. Woman, dear woman, still the same,
Swift at their touch dissolv'd the ties that clung While lips are balm, and looks are flame,
So sweetly round her, and aloft she sprung! While man possesses heart or eyes,
Exulting guides, the little genii flew Woman's bright empire never dies !
Through paths of light, refresh'd with starry dew,
And fann'd by airs of that ambrosial breath,
On which the free soul banquets after death!
Thou know'st, my love, beyond our clouded skies, Attun'd to woman's soft control,
As bards have dream'd, the spirits' kingdom lies. And Fanny hath the charm, the skill,
Through that fair clime a sea of ether rolls? To wield a universe at will!
Gemm'd with bright islands, where the hallow'd souls, two flouting, luminous islands, in which the spirits of the blessed resido. Accordingly we find that the word 12 xoxvos
was sometimes synonymous with me, and death was not THE GRECIAN GIRL'S DREAM OF THE
unfrequontly called?****050 78005, or “the passage of the BLESSED ISLANDS.'
| Eunapius, in his life of Jambhchus, tells us of two TO HER LOVER.
beautiful little spirits or loves, which Jamblichus raised by enchantment from the warm springs at Gadara; "dicena
astantibus (says the nuthor of the Dii Fatidici, p. 160) illos *** TI **10;
esse loci Genios :" which words however are not in EunaΠο? γορκς, οσσοι τι κορον στηριξαν ερωτος.
pius. Απολλων περι Πλατιν». Oracul, Metric. I find from Cellarius, that Amatha, in the neighbourhood a Joan. Opsop. Collecta.
of Gardara, was also celebrated for its warm springs, and I have preferred it as a more poetical name than Gadara.
Cellarius quotes Hieronymus. "Est et alia villa in viciniu Was it the moon, or was it morning's ray,
Gadaræ nomine Amatha, ubi calidæ aquæ erumpunt."That call'd thee, dearest, from these arms away? Geograph. Antiq. Lib. iii. cap. 13.
2 This belief of an ocean in the heavens, or“ waters above I linger'd still, in all the murmuring rest,
the firmament,” was one of the many physical errors in The languor of a soul too richly blest !
which the early fathers bewildered themselves. Le P. Baltus,
in bis “Defense des saints Pères accusés de Platonisme," 1“ It was imagined by some of the ancients that there is taking it for granted that the ancients were more correct in on ethereal ocean abovo us, and that the sun and moon are their notions, (which by no means appears from what I have