Or plunged their hands within some secret well, Fearless the Dryads left their sacred trees, For well that day did the rude Fauns behave, And through the morn-the noon-the evening hours,' To grace the sea-maid's couch when night should spread ; Formed all of roses white, to deck her head; Some plucked the golden fruits, some rolled amongst the flowers. Still some were wanting; yet as day declined They came-then first was heard Favonius' sigh, Wild whispering through the blossoms, as he pined And Cupid, who till then had fluttered far, Blushing, and fretful on the varying wing, And wept to see the Nereids fear, Came wheeling round and round-near and more near— (As doves come homeward in their narrowing ring) And loitering Dian sent her vesper star To tell her coming, and to say, that night She nearer to the Earth would bend her head, And rest a moment on old Pelion's height, And kiss pale Thetis on her bridal bed. And now the nymph was borne along In spotless garments, as became a bride, His head was laurelled, and his eyes of fire Stained with the murex' matchless hue, (This the rude fisher found, who wont to rove, Seeking for bright shells through the seas of Tyre). Now was the altar won, And that sweet rite begun Mysterious that unites in awful chain Hearts that none may part again. Bright was the flame, and holy that arose, (Favonius, who at evening blows, And stirs the laurel on Parnassus' side): All was propitious. Soon amidst the throng Standing beside the altar green; Before his feet the votive wreaths were flung, And wildly sweet the hymn-his hymn-by kneeling virgins sung. And midnight came, and all the gods departed, On pillows of the fresh-blown rose ; And nymphs-and left the lovers to repose The winds were silent, and the waters played No more-lest that they should the sea-green maid Disturb (no longer pale and broken-hearted). A couch that gods had deigned to bless, Then took his flight upon the morning air : MOONLIGHT. WHAT See'st thou, silver crescent of the sky, And when, ere twilight gathers in the vale, Thou see'st the lover in the twilight bower, Thou see'st the fisher loitering by the shore; Thou see'st the school-boy wandering through the wood; But other scenes are thine, sweet star of night, When, in thy wane, the too victorious morn Steals from thee all thy radiance, and with light From orb more dazzling hastens to adorn This lower world: Ah! then, fair planet, say, What see'st thou, as thou hold'st thy heavenly way? Thou see'st the traveller, haply doomed to roam In foreign lands, unfriended and alone, An exile from his country and his home, The sweets of friendship and of love unknown; Now round his bark the whitening billows rise, And now his path through Afric's desert lies. Thou see'st pale genius watching from afar The first faint traces of the wakening day, Or gazing sadly on yon fading star, Whose little light fades not more fast away : Ah! 'tis the vigil of the broken heart, That fain would live, though treacherous hope depart. Thou see'st the mother, wife, or sister stand, By the lorn sick-bed, where disease has found The joyful current of the blood has bound, Thou see'st the soldier on the tented field Snatching short slumber ere he wakes to die; Thou see'st the wretch whose senses never yield To gentle sleep, and in whose dim, sunk eye Thou read'st remorse and terror ;-this is he Who finds, too late, that guilt is misery. Thou see'st, fair orb, the truths of human life, Things which will be, and which have ever been; A motley stage, that shows a constant strife Betwixt the tragic and the comic scene; Where now a sage, and now a fool appears; To-day delight and smiles, to-morrow care and tears. STANZAS TO A LADY. BY T. K. HERVEY, ESQ. ACROSS the waves-away and far, I love thee as men love a star, The brightest where a thousand are, With love unstained by hopes or fears, Where grief lies hushed, but not asleep, For only thee and heaven; Too far and fair to aid the birth Of thoughts that have a taint of earth! And yet the days for ever gone, When thou wert as a bird, Living 'mid flowers and leaves alone, And singing in so soft a tone As I never since have heard, Will make me grieve that birds, and things So beautiful, have ever wings! And there are hours in the lonely night, When I seem to hear thy calls, Faint as the echoes of far delight, And dreamy and sad as the sighing flight Of distant waterfalls ;— And then my vow is hard to keep, For it were a joy, indeed, to weep! For I feel, as men feel when moonlight falls Amid old cathedral aisles; Or the wind plays, sadly, along the walls Of lonely and forsaken halls, That we knew in their day of smiles; |