Along the rocks of Crissa's shore, In holy musings shall we roam, Some laurel, by the winds o'erthrown, And hear thee say, "This humble bough "Was planted for a doom divine; And, though it droop in languor now, "Shall flourish on the Delphic 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!" All that the young should feel and know, Fond sharer of my infant joy, When, meeting on the sacred mount, My foot the lightest o'er the green: And guiding every mazy tread. Flow, Plistus, flow, thy murmuring wave Shall never drop its silv'ry tear Upon so pure, so blest a grave, I'LL ask the sylph who round thee flies, And in thy breath his pinion dips, Who suns him in thy radiant eyes, And faints upon thy sighing lips: I'll ask him where's the veil of sleep And I will say her angel breast Has never throbb'd with guilty sting; Her bosom is the sweetest nest Where Slumber could repose his wing! And I will say her cheeks that flush, Like vernal roses in the sun, Have ne'er by shame been taught to blush, Except for what her eyes have done! Then tell me, why, thou child of air! Does slumber from her eyelids rove? What is her heart's impassion'd care?Perhaps, oh sylph! perhaps, 'tis love. THE WONDER. COME, tell me where the maid is found, Oh! tell me where's her sainted home, A pilgrimage of years I'll roam LYING. Che con le lor bugie pajon divini. Mauro d'Arcano. I DO confess, in many a sigh, My lips have breathed you many a lie; Nay, look not thus, with brow reproving; Lies are, my dear, the soul of loving. If half we tell the girls were true, If half we swear to think and do, And now, my gentle hints to clear, For once I'll tell you truth, my dear. Whenever you may chance to meet Some loving youth, whose love is sweet, Long as you're false and he believes you, Long as you trust and he deceives you, So long the blissful bond endures, And while he lies, his heart is yours: But, oh! you've wholly lost the youth The instant that he tells you truth. ANACREONTIC. FRIEND of my soul, this goblet sip, "Twill chase that pensive tear; "Then love the Lamp-'twill often lead "Thy step through learning's sacred way; "And when those studious eyes shall read, "At midnight, by its lonely ray, 1 It does not appear to have been very difficult to become a philosopher among the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and just it enough to produce an occasional apophthegm, seem to have been all the qualifications necessary for the purpose. The principles of moral science were so very imperfectly understood, that the founder of a new sect, in forming his ethical code, might consult either fancy or temperament, and adapt it to his own passions and propensities; so that Mahomet, with a little more learning, might have flourished as a philosopher in those days, and would have required but the polish of the schools to become the rival of Aristippus in morality. In the science of nature, too, though some valuable truths were discovered by them, they seemed hardly to know they were truths, or at least were as well satisfied with errors; and Xenophanes, who asserted that the stars were igneous clouds, lighted up every night and extinguished again in the morning, was thought and styled a philosopher, "Of things sublime, of nature's bir "Of all that's bright in heaven or "Oh, think that she, by whom 'twas give "Adores thee more than earth or heaven Yes-dearest Lamp, by every charm On which thy midnight beam has hu The head reclined, the graceful arm Across the brow of iv y flung; The heaving bosom, partly hid, The sever'd lip's unconscious sighs, The fringe that from the half-shut lid Adown the cheek of roses lies: By these, by all that bloom untold, And often, as she smiling said, In fancy's hour, thy gentle rays Shall guide my visionary tread Through poesy's enchanting maze. Thy flame shall light the page refined, Where still we catch the Chian's bre Where still the bard, though cold in Has left his soul unquench'd behind. Or, o'er thy humbler legend shine, Oh man of Ascra's dreary glades!3 To whom the nightly warbling Nine A wand of inspiration gave,* Pluck'd from the greenest tree, that sha The crystal of Castalia's wave. Then, turning to a purer lore, as generally as he who anticipated Newton in de arrangement of the universe. For this opinion of Xenophanes, see Plutarch Philosoph., lib. ii. cap. 13. It is impossible t treatise of Plutarch, without alternately admiring and smiling at the absurdities of the philosopher 2 The ancients had their lucernæ cubicular chamber lamps, which, as the emperor Galienu cras meminere ;" and, with the same commend crecy, Praxagora addresses her lamp in A EKKλns. We may judge how fanciful they were and embellishment of their lamps, from the famo Lucerna which we find in the Romanum Mus Ang. Causei, p. 127. $ Hesiod, who tells us in melancholy terms of flight to the wretched village of Ascra. Еpy.kat 4 Εννυχίαι στείχον, περικαλλέα οσσαν ιείσαι. Τ 5 Και μοι σκήπτρον εδον, δαφνης εριθήλεα οξον. |