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'Tis thus my heart shall learn to know

And, soon as night shall close the eye
How fleeting is this world below,

Of heaven's young wanderer in the west;
Where all that meets the morning light,

When seers are gazing on the sky,
Is changed before the fall of night!'

To find their future orbs of rest ;

Then shall I take my trembling way,
I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire,

Unseen but to those worlds above,
“ Swift, swift the tide of being runs,

And, led by thy mysterious ray,
“ And Timo, who bids thy flame expire,

Steal to the night-bower of my love.
“Will also quench yon heaven of suns."
Oh, then if earth's united power
Can never chain one feathery hour;
If every print we leave to-day
To-morrow's wave will sweep away;

TO MRS.
Who pauses to inquire of heaven
Why were the fleeting treasures given,

ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF
The sunny days, the shady nights,

VOITURE'S KISS.
And all their brief but dear delights,

Mon âme sur mon lévre étoit lors toute entière,
Which heaven has made for man to use,

Pour savourer le miel qui sur la vôtre étoit;
And man should think it crime to lose ?

Mais en me retirant, elle resta derrière,
Who that has culld a fresh-blown rose

Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce là restoit.

VOITURE
Will ask it why it breathes and glows,
Unmindful of the blushing ray,

How heav'nly was the poet's doom,
In which it shines its soul away ;

To breathe his spirit through a kiss ;
Unmindful of the scented sigh,

And lose within so sweet a tomb
With which it dies and loves to die ?

The trembling messenger of bliss !
Pleasure, thou only good on earth !

And, sure his soul return'd to feel
One precious moment given to theo

That it again could ravish'd be;
Oh! by my Lais' lip, 'tis worth

For in the kiss that thou didst steal,
The sage's immortality.

His life and soul have fled to thee.
Then far be all the wisdom hence,

That would our joys one hour delay!
Alas, the feast of soul and sense

Love calls us to in youth's bright day,
Il not soon tasted, fleets away.

RONDEAU.
Ne'er wert thou form’d, my Lamp, to shed “Good night! good night!"-And is it so ?
Thy splendor on a lifeless page ;-

And must I from my Rosa go?
Whate'er my blushing Lais said

Oh Rosa, say “Good night !” once more,
Of thoughtful lore and studies sage,

And I'll repeat it o'er and o'er,
'Twas mockery all-her glance of joy

Till the first glance of dawning light
Told me thy dearest, best employ.'

Shall find us saying, still, "Good night.”
* Pav tabla torapov duxny, as expressed among the dog. duction, he calls him, “ une nouvelle créature, qui pourra
mas of Heraclitas the Ephesian, and with the same mage by comprendre les choses les plus sublimes, et ce qui est bien
Beneca, in whom we find a beautiful diffusion of the thought. an-dessus, qui pourra goûter les mêmes plaisirs." See his
* Nemo est mane, qui fait pridie. Corpora nostra rapiuntur Venus Physique. This appears to be one of the efforts at
framlaam more ; quidquid vides currit cum tempore. Nihil Fontenelle's gallantry of manner, for which the learned Pres-
et his quæ videmus manet. Ego ipse, dum loquor mutari ident is so well and justly ridiculed in the Akakia of Vol-
ipsa, mutatas sum," &c.

taire. * Aristippus considered motion as the principle of happi Maupertuis may be thought to have borrowed from the ansess, in which idea he differed from the Epicureans, who cient Aristippus that indiscriminate theory of pleasures looked to a state of repose as the only true voluptuousness, which he has set forth in his Essai de Philosophie Morale, and avoided even the too lively agitations of pleasure, as a and for which he was so very justly condemned. Aristipviolent and ungraceful derangement of the senses.

pus, according to Laertius, held in drapepev te çdovou * Maupertuis has been still more explicit than this philoso- hdowns, which irrational sentiment has been adopted by phet, in ranking the pleasures of sense above the sublimest Maupertuis : “Tant qu'on ne considère que l'état présenh pursuits of wisdom. Speaking of the infant man in his pro tous les plaisirs sont du même genre," &c. &c.

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“Good night!" you'll murmur with a sigh,
And tell me it is time to fly:
And I will vow, will swear to go,
While still that sweet voice murmurs “ No!"
Till slumber seal our weary sight-
And then, my love, my soul, “Good night!"

SONG.

Why does azure deck the sky?

'Tis to be like thine eyes of blue ; Why is red the rose's dye?

Because it is thy blushes' hue. All that's fair, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling thee!

This tribute's from a wretched elf, Who hails thee, emblem of himself. The book of life, which I have traced, Has been, like thee, a motley waste Of follies scribbled o'er and o'er, One folly bringing hundreds more. Some have indeed been writ so neat, In characters so fair, so sweet, That those who judge not too severely, Have said they loved such follies dearly: Yet still, O book! the allusion stands; For these were penn'd by female hands : The rest--alas! I own the truthHave all been scribbled so uncouth That Prudence, with a with’ring look, Disdainful, flings away the book. Like thine, its pages here and there Have oft been staind with blots of care ; And sometimes hours of peace, I own, Upon some fairer leaves have shone, White as the snowings of that heav'n By which those hours of peace were give But now no longer-such, oh, such The blast of Disappointment's touchNo longer now those hours appear; Each leaf is sullied by a tear: Blank, blank is ev'ry page with care, Not ev'n a folly brightens there. Will they yet brighten ?-never, never! Then shut the book, O God, forever!

Why is falling snow so white,

But to be like thy bosom fair ? Why are solar beams so bright?

That they may seem thy golden hair! All that's bright, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling thee!

Why are nature's beauties felt?

Oh! 'tis thine in her we see ! Why has music power to melt?

Oh! because it speaks like thee All that's sweet, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling theo

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Then, again comes the Harp, when the combat is

Ter

When heroes are resting, and Joy is in bloom

SONG.
When laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover, Fly from the world, 0 Bessy! to me,
And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.

Thou wilt never find any sinoerer;
Light went the harp when the War-God, reclining,

I'll give up the wc.d, O Bessy! for thee, Lay lulld on the white arm of Beauty to rest,

I can never meet any that's dearer. When round his rich armor the myrtle hung

Then tell me no more, with a tear and a sigh,

That our loves will be censured by many;

All, all have their follies, and who will deny And flights of young doves made his helmet their

That ours is the sweetest of any?

twining,

Dest.

But, when the battle came,

The hero's eye breathed flame:
Soon from his neck the white arm was fung;

While, to his wak’ning ear,
No other sounds were dear

But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets

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But then came the light harp, when danger was

When your lip has met mine, in communion so

sweet,
Have we felt as if virtue forbid it ?-
Have we felt as if heav'n denied them to meet ?-

No, rather 'twas heav'n that did it.
So innocent, love, is the joy we then sip,

So little of wrong is there in it,
That I wish all my errors were lodged on your lip,

And I'll kiss them away in a minute.

ended, !! And Beauty

once more lull'd tho War-God to

rest;

When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended,

And flights of young doves made his helmet their

Dest.

Then come to your lover, oh! fly to his shed,

From a world which I know thou despisest;
And slumber will hover as light o'er our bed

As e'er on the couch of the wisest.

1 Εγχει,

και παλιν ειπε, παλιν, παλιν, Ηλιοδωρας
Ειπε, συν ακρητω το γλυκυ μισγ ονομα.
Και μου τον βρεχθέντα μυρους και χθιζον εοντα,
Μναμοσυνον κεινας, αμφιτιθει στεφανον

Δακρυει φιλεραστον ιδoν ροδον, oύνεκα κειναν
Αλλοθι κ' ου κολποις ημετερους εσορα. .

BRUNCK. Analect. tom. i. p. 23.

Then bid me not to despair and pine,

Fanny, dearest of all the dears! The Love that's order'd to bathe in wine,

Would be sure to take cold in tears.

Reflected bright in this heart of mine,

Fanny, dearest, thy image lies; But, ah, the mirror would cease to shine,

If dimm'd too often with sighs. They lose the half of beauty's light,

Who view it through sorrow's tear; And 'tis but to see thee truly bright

That I keep my eye-beam clear. Then wait no longer till tears shall flow,

Fanny, dearest—the hope is vain; If sunshine cannot dissolve thy snow,

I shall never attempt it with rain.

THE RING.

TO

No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring :

On! think, how many a future year, Of placid smile and downy wing,

May sleep within its holy sphere.

Do not disturb their tranquil dream,

Though love hath ne'er the myst'ry wa Yet heaven 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 witching 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

Ev'n more, alas, than thou dost mine.

And when o'er our pillow the tempest is driven,

And thou, pretty innocent, fearest,
I'll tell thee, it is not the chiding of heaven,

'Tis only our lullaby, dearest.

And, oh! while we lie on our deathbed, my love,

Looking back on the scene of our errors,
A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above,

And Death be disarm'd of his terrors.
And each to the other embracing will say,

“ Farewell! let us hope we're forgiven.” Thy last fading glance will illumine the way,

And a kiss be our passport to heaven!

THE RESEMBLANCE.

-vo cercand' io,
Donna, quant'e possibile, in altrui
La desiata vostra forma vera.

PETRARC. Sonnett. 14.

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, underneath yon blessed sun,

So fair there are but thou and she.

Both born of beauty, at a birth,

Sho held with thine a kindred sway, And wore the only shape on earth

That could have lured my soul to stray.

Then blame me not, if false I be,

'Twas love that waked the fond excess; My heart had been more true to thee,

Had mine eye prized thy beauty less.

FANNY, DEAREST.
Yes! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,

Fanny, dearest, for thee I'd sigh ;
And every smile on my cheek should turn

To tears when thou art nigh.
But, between love, and wine, and sleep,

So busy a life I live,
That even the time it would take to weep

Is more than my heart can give.

Yet, stay,—one hope, 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,

Still flying from Nature to study her laws, That our hearts bear one common seal ; And dulling delight by exploring its cause, Think, Lady, think, how man's deceit

You forget how superior, for mortals below, Can seem to sigh and feign to feel.

Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they

know. When, o'er thy face some gleam of thought, Oh! who, that has e'er enjoy'd rapture complete,

Like daybeams through the morning air, Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet; Hath gradual stole, and I have caught

How rays are confused, or how particles fly The feeling ere it kindled there;

Through the medium refined of a glance or a sigh ;

Is there one, who but once would not rather have The sympathy I then betray'd,

known it, Perhaps was but the child of art,

Than written, with Harvey, whole volumes upon it? The guile of one, who long hath play'd With all these wily nets of heart.

As for you, my sweet-voiced and invisible love,

You must surely be one of those spirits, that rove 0! thine is not my earliest vow;

By the bank where, at twilight, the poet reclines, Though few the years I yet have told, When the star of the west on his solitude shines, Canst thou believe I've lived till now,

And the magical figures of fancy have hung With loveless heart or senses cold?

Every breezo with a sigh, every leaf with a tongue.

Oh! hint to him then, 'tis retirement alone No-other nymphs to joy and pain

Can hallow his harp or ennoble its tone; This wild and wandering heart hath moved ; Like you, with a veil of seclusion between, With some it sported, wild and vain,

His song to the world let him utter unseen, While some it dearly, truly loved.

And like you, a legitimate child of the spheres,

Escape from the eye to enrapture the ears.
The cheek to thine I fondly lay,
To theirs hath been as fondly laid ;

Sweet spirit of mystery! how I should love, The words to thee I warmly say,

In the wearisome ways I am fated to rove, To them have been as warmly said.

To have you thus ever invisibly nigh,

Inhaling forever your song and your sigh! Then, scorn at once a worthless heart,

Mid the crowds of the world and the murmurs of Worthless alike, or fix'd or free; Think of the pure, bright soul thou art,

I might sometimes converse with my nymph of the And-love not me, oh love not me.

air,

And turn with distaste from the clamorous crew, Enough—now, turn thine eyes again ;

To steal in the pauses one whisper from you.
What, still that look and still that sigh!
Dost thou not feel my counsel then ?

Then, come and be near me, forever be mine, Oh! no, beloved,,nor do I.

We shall hold in the air a communion divine,
As sweet as, of old, was imagined to dwell
In the grotto of Numa, or Socrates' cell.
And oft, at those lingering moments of night,
When the heart's busy thoughts have put slumber

to flight,

You shall come to my pillow and tell me of love, THE INVISIBLE GIRL.

Such as angel to angel might whisper above.

Sweet spirit !-and then, could you borrow the They try to persuade me, my dear little sprite,

tone That you're not a true daughter of ether and light, Of that voice, to my ear like some fairy-song I or have any concern with those fanciful forms

known, That dance upon rainbows and ride upon storms; The voice of the one upon earth, who has twined

That, in short, you're a woman; your lip and your With her being forever my heart and my mind, 1 eye

Though lonely and far from the light of her smile, As mortal as cver drew gods from the sky.

An exile, and weary and hopeless the while, Bat I will not believe them-no, Science, to you Could you shed for a moment her voice on my ear, I have long bid a last and a careless adieu : I will think, for that moment, that Cara is near;

care,

TO

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