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Along the rocks of Crissa's shore,
To hymn the fading fires of day;
No more to Tempé's distant vale

In holy musings shall we roam,
Through summer's glow and winter's gale,
To bear the mystic chaplets home.
'Twas then my soul's expanding zeal,

By nature warm'd and led by thee, In every breeze was taught to feel The breathings of a Deity. Guide of my heart! still hovering round, Thy looks, thy words are still my ownI see thee raising from the ground

Some laurel, by the winds o'erthrown, And hear thee say, "This humble bough "Was planted for a doom divine;

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All that the young should feel and know,
By thee was taught so sweetly well,
Thy words fell soft as vernal snow,
And all was brightness where they fell!
Fond soother of my infant tear,

Fond sharer of my infant joy,

Is not thy shade still ling'ring here?
Am I not still thy soul's employ?
Oh yes—and, as in former days,

When, meeting on the sacred mount,
Our nymphs awak'd their choral lays,
And danc'd around Cassotis' fount;
As then, 'twas all thy wish and care,
That mine should be the simplest mien,
My lyre and voice the sweetest there,

My foot the lightest o'er the green : So still, each look and step to mould, Thy guardian care is round me spread, Arranging every snowy fold,

And guiding every mazy tread. And, when I lead the hymning choir, Thy spirit still, unseen and free, Hovers between my lip and lyre,

And weds them into harmony.

Flow, Plistus, flow, thy murmuring wave

Shall never drop its silv'ry tear

Upon so pure, so blest a grave,
To memory so entirely dear!

1 The laurel, for the common uses of the temple, for adorn ing the altars and sweeping the pavement, was supplied by a tree near the fountain of Castalia; but upon all important occasions, they sent to Tempé for their laurel. We find, in Pausanias, that this valley supplied the branches, of which

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LOVE AND MARRIAGE. Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne malum.

SECUNDUS, eleg. vii.

STILL the question I must parry,

Still a wayward truant prove: Where I love, I must not marry ; Where I marry, cannot love.

Were she fairest of creation,

With the least presuming mind;
Learned without affectation;
Not deceitful, yet refin'd;

Wise enough, but never rigid;
Gay, but not too lightly free;
Chaste as snow, and yet not frigid;
Fond, yet satisfied with me:

Were she all this ten times over,
All that heav'n to earth allows,
I should be too much her lover
Ever to become her spouse.

Love will never bear enslaving;

Summer garments suit him best; Bliss itself is not worth having, If we're by compulsion blest.


I FILL'D to thee, to thee I drank,
I nothing did but drink and fill;
The bowl by turns was bright and blank,
'Twas drinking, filling, drinking still.

At length I bid an artist paint

Thy image in this ample cup, That I might see the dimpled saint,

To whom I quaff'd my nectar up.

Behold, how bright that purple lip

Now blushes through the wave at me; Every roseate drop I sip

Is just like kissing wine from thee.

And still I drink the more for this;

For, ever when the draught I drain, Thy lip invites another kiss,

And in the nectar flows again.

So, here's to thee, my gentle dear,
And may that eyelid never shine
Beneath a darker, bitterer tear
Than bathes it in this bowl of mine!

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Che con le lor bugie pajon divini. Mauro d'Arcano.

I Do confess, in many a sigh,

My lips have breath'd you many a lie; And who, with such delights in view, Would lose them, for a lie or two?

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,
Were aught but lying's bright illusion,
This world would be in strange confusion.
If ladies' eyes were, every one,
As lovers swear, a radiant sun,
Astronomy must leave the skies,
To learn her lore in ladies' eyes.
Oh, no-believe me, lovely girl,
When nature turns your teeth to pearl,
Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire,
Your amber locks to golden wire,
Then, only then can Heaven decree,
That you should live for only me,
Or I for you, as night and morn,
We've swearing kist, and kissing sworn.

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.


FRIEND of my soul, this goblet sip, "Twill chase that pensive tear;


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It does not appear to have been very difficult to become a philosopher amongst the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and just wit 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, as generally

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as he who anticipated Newton in developing the arrangement of the universe.

For this opinion of Xenophanes, see Plutarch. de Placit. Philosoph. lib. ii. cap. 13. It is impossible to read this treatise of Plutarch, without alternately admiring the genius, and smiling at the absurdities of the philosophers.

2 The ancients had their lucernæ cubiculariæ or bedchamber lamps, which, as the emperor Galienus said, "nil cras meminere ;" and, with the same commendation of secrecy, Praxagora addresses her lamp in Aristophanes, Exzàng. We may judge how fanciful they were, in the use and embellishment of their lamps, from the famous symbolic Lucerna, which we find in the Romanum Museum Mich. Ang. Causei, | p. 127.

3 Hesiod, who tells us in melancholy terms of his father's flight to the wretched village of Ascra. Egy. zai 'Husg. v. 251 4 Εννυχίαι στείχον, περικαλλια οσσαν μέσαι. Τheog. v. 10.

5 Και μοι σκηπτρον εδόν, δαφνης εξίθηλια οζον. Ιd. v. 30.


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