Oh! thou shalt own this universe divine Is mine! That I respire in all and all in me, One mighty mingled soul of boundless harmony! Welcome, welcome, mystic shell! O'er the cold bosom of the ocean wept, Hath in the waters slept! I fly, With the bright treasure, to my choral sky, Walks o'er the great string of my Orphic Lyre, The winged chariot of some blissful soul! O son of earth! what dreams shall rise for thee! Thou'lt see a streamlet run, Which I have warm'd with dews of melody; There, by that wondrous stream, And I will send thee such a godlike dream, And, looking to the orient dim, Watch'd the first flowing of that sacred fount, What pious ecstacy Wafted his prayer to that eternal Power. Whose seal upon this world impress'd The various forms of bright divinity! Or, dost thou know what dreams I wove, 'Mid the deep horror of that silent bower. Where the rapt Samian slept his holy slumber? When, free From every earthly chain, From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain, I swear By the great diadem that twines my hair, In a soft iris of harmonious light, O mortal! such shall be thy radiant dreams! Он, what a tempest whirl'd us hither!? Winds, whose savage breath could wither Yet think not, George, that fancy's charm His 1 This gentleman is attached to the British consulate at Norfolk. talents are worthy of a much higher sphere; but the excellent dispositions of the family with whom he resides, and the cordial repose he enjoys amongst some of the kindest hearts in the world, should be almost enough to atone to him for the worst caprices of fortune. The consul himself, Colonel Hamilton, is one among the very few instances of a man ardently loyal to his king, and yet beloved by the Americans. His house is the very temple of hospitality: and I sincerely pity the heart of that stranger who, warm from the welcome of such a board, and with the taste of such Madeira still upon his lips, "col dolce in bocca," could sit down to write a libel on his host in the true spirit of a modern philosophist.-See the Travels of the Duc de la Rochefoucault Liancourt, vol. ii. 2 We were seven days on our passage from Norfolk to Bermuda, during three of which we were forced to lav-to in a gale of wind. The Driver sloop of war, in which I went, was built at Bermuda of cedar, and is accounted an excellent sea-boat. She was then commanded by my very much regretted friend Captain Compton, who, in July last, was killed aboard the Lilly in an action with a French privateer. Poor Compton! he fell a victim to the strange impolicy of allowing such a miserable thing as the Lily to remain in the service; so small, crank, and unmanageable, that a well-manned nierchantman was at any time a match for her. When close they reef'd the timid sail, And e'en our haughty main-mast bow'd! Which time has saved from ancient days! Take one of these, to Lais sung; I wrote it while my hammock swung, SWEETLY you kiss, my Lais dear! Our last- -go, false to heaven and me! 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! And felt the pure, elastic flow Oh! could you view the scenery dear, In glassy calm the waters sleep, The fainting breeze of morning fails, That languish idly round the mast. Oh! for the boat the angel gave To him who, in his heavenward flight, These are the sprites, O radiant queen! Thy planet's brightening balm to shed; To make the eye's enchantment clearer, To give the cheek one rosebud more, And bid that flushing lip be dearer, Which had been, oh! too dear before! But, whither means the muse to roam? When cups are flowing to the brim, No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring; Do not disturb their tranquil dream, Though love hath ne'er the mystery warm'd, Yet Heaven will shed a soothing beam, To bless the bond itself hath form'd. But then, that eye, that burning eye! 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, Oh! quite as much, as thou dost mine! Yet stay, dear love-one effort yet- The light that leads my soul astray! |