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Then scorn at once a languid heart, But, 'twas my doom to err with one
Which long hath lost its early spring; In every look so like to thee, Think of the pure bright soul thou art, That, oh! beneath the blessed sun, And-keep the ring, oh! keep the So fair there are but thou and she ! ring
Whate'er may be her angel birth, Enough--uow, turn thine eyes again; She was thy lovely perfect twin, What, still that look and still that And wore the only shape on earth sigh!
That could have charmed my soul to Dost thou not feel my counsel then? sin! Oh ! no, beloved !-- nor do I.
Your eyes ! -- the eyes of languid doves
Were never halt so like each other! While thus to mine thy bosom lies, While thus our breaths commingling The glances of the baby loves
Resemble less their warm-eyed glow,
mother! "Twere more than woman to be wise, "Twere more than man to wish thee Her lip!-oh, call me not false-hearted, so!
When such a lip I fondly pressed ; Did we not love so true, so dear,
'Twas Love some melting cherry parted,
Gave thee one half and her the rest!
They sued, half open, to be kissed,
resist. ON SEEING HER WITH A WHITE VEIL Then, scorn me not, though false I be, AND A RICH GIRDLE.
'Twas love that waked the dear exΜΑΡΓΑΡΙΤΑΙ ΔΗΛΟΥΣΙ ΔΑΚΡΥΩΝ POON.
. Ap. Nicephor. in Oneirocritico.
My heart had been more true to thee,
Had mine eye prize thy beauty less ! Por off the vestal veil, nor, oh!
Let weeping angels view it; Your cheeks belie its virgin spow,
TO And blush repenting through it.
When I loved you, I can't but allow Put off the fatal zone you wear ;
I had many an exquisite minute ; The lucid pearls around it
But the scorn that I feel for you now Are tears that fell from Virtue there
Hath even more luxury in it! The hour that love unbound it.
Thus, whether we're on or we're off,
Some witchery seems to await you ;
To love you is pleasant enough,
And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you !
vo cercand' io
FROM THE GREEK OF
That led my pliant heart astray, And speak my Heliodora's name; I grant, there's not a power above Repeat its magic o'er and o'er, Could wipe the faithless crime awar!! And let the sound my lips adore,
Sweeten the breeze, and mingling swim Oh ! most to him,
Round misery's brim. It hung upon
wavy hair, And caught her eyes' reflected light! Yes--he can smile serene at death : Oh! haste, and twine it round my Kind Heaven ! do thou but chase the brow;
weeping It breaths of Heliodora now !
Of friends who love him ;
Tell them that he lies calmly sleeping, The loving rose-bud drops a tear, To see the nymph no longer here,
Where sorrow's sting or envy's breath
No more shall move him.
ODES TO NEA.
WRITTEN AT BERMIDA.
NEA TYPANNEI. That sky of clouds is not the sky
Euripid. Medea, v. 937. To light a lover to the pillow Of her he loves
VAY, tempt me not to love again :
There was a time when love was The swell of yonder foaming billow,
sweet; Resembles not the happy sigh
Dear Nea ! had I known thee then, That rapture moves.
Our souls had not been slow to meet ! Yet do I feel more tranquil now But, oh! this weary heart hath run Amid the gloomy wilds of ocean, So many a time the rounds of pain, In this dark hour,
Not even for thee, thou lovely one ! Than when, in transport's young emo.
Would I endure such pangs again. tion, I've stolen, beneath the evening star, If there be climes where never yet To Julia's bower.
The print of Beauty's foot was set,
Where man may pass his loveless Oh ! there's a holy calm profound
nights In awe like this, that ne'er was given Unfevered by her false delightsTo rapture's thrill;
Thither my wounded soul would fly, 'Tis as a solemn voice from heaven,
Where rosy cheek or radiant eye And the soul, listening to the sound,
Should bring no more their bliss, their Lies mute and still !
pain, 'Tis true, it talks of danger nigh,
Or fetter me to earth again! Of slumbering with the dead to-morrow Dear absent girl ! whose eyes of light, In the cold deep,
Though little prized when all my Where pleasure's throb or tears of sor- own,
Now float before me, soft and bright row No more shall wake the heart or eye,
As when they first enamouring shone! But all must sleep!
How many hours of idle waste,
Within those witching arms embraced, Well !- there are some, thou stormy Unmindful of the fleeting day, bed,
Have I dissolved life's dream away! To whom thy sleep would be a trea. O bloom of time profusely shed !
O moments ! simpiy, vainly fled,
Yet sweetly too--for love perfumed Remember, o'er its circling flood The flame which thus my life con- In what a dangerous dream we stoodsumed ;
The silent sea before us,
No eye but Nature's o'er us!
I saw you blush, you felt me tremble,
In vain would formal art dissemble Of loving fond, of roving fonder, My thoughtless soul might wish to
All that we wished and thought; wander
'Twas more than tongue could daro Couldst thou, like her, the wish re.
'Twas more than virtue ought to feel, Endearing still, reproaching never,
But all that passion ought ! Till all my heart should burn with
I stooped to cull, with faltering hand, shame, And be thy own more fixed than A shell that, on the golden sand,
Before us faintly gleamed ; ever ?
I raised it to your lips of dew, No, no-on earth there's only one
You kissed the shell, I kissed it tooCould bind such faithless folly fast:
Good Heaven ! how sweet it seemed ! And sure on earth 'tis I alone Could make such virtue false at last! Oh! trust me, 'twas a place, an hour,
The worst that e'er temptation's power Nea! the heart which she forsook, Could tangle me or you in! For thee were but a worthless Sweet Nea, let us roam no more shrine
Along that wild and lonely shore, Go, lovely girl, that angel look
Such walks will be our ruin ! Must thrill a soul more pure than
mine. Oh! thou shalt be all else to me, You read it in my languid eyes, That heart can feel or tongue can And there alone should love be read ; feign ;
You hear me say it all in sighs, I'll praise, admire, and worship thee,
And thus alone should love be said. But must not, dare not, love again.
Then dread no more; I will not speak;
Although my heart to anguish thrill,
I'll spare the burning of your cheek, . . Tale iter omne cave.
And look it all in silence still !
Heard you the wish I dared to name Along that wild and lonely shore,
To murmur on that luckless night, Where late we thoughtless strayed; When passion broke the bonds of 'Twas not for us, whom Heaven in
And love grew madness in your To be no more than simple friends,
sight? Such lonely walks were made.
Divinely through the graceful dance,
You seemed to float in silent song, That little bay where, winding in From Ocean's rude and angry din
Bending to earth that beamy glance,
As if to light your steps along ! (As lovers steal to bliss), The billows kiss the shore, and then Oh ! how could others dare to touch Flow calmly to the deep again,
That hallowed form with hand so As though they did not kiss!
When but to look was bliss too much, And saw the vestal planet weep
Too rare for all but Heaven and me! Her tears of light on Ariel's flood. With smiling eyes, that little thought
My heart was full of Fancy's dream, How fatal were the beams they And as I watched the playful stream, threw,
Entangling in its net of smiles My trembling hands you lightly So fair a group of elfin isles, caught,
I felt as if the scenery there And round me, like a spirit, flew.
Were lighted by a Grecian sky
As if I breathed the blissful air Heedless of all, I wildly turned,
That yet was warm with Sappho's My soul forgot-nor, oh ! condemn,
sigh! That when such eyes before me burned, My soul forgot all eyes but them!
And now the downy hand of rest I dared to speak in sobs of bliss, Her signet on my eyes imprest,
Rapture of every thought bereft me, And still the bright and balmy spell, I would have clasped you-oh, even Like star-dew, o'er my fancy fell ! this !
I thought that, all enrapt, I strayed But, with a bound, you blushing Through that serene luxurious shade, left me.
Where Epicurus taught the Loves Forget, forget that night's offence;
To polish Virtue's native brightness, Forgive it, if, alas! you can ;
Just as the beak of playful doves 'Twas love, 'twas passion-soul and
Can give to pearls a smoother white
ness ! 'Twas all the best and worst of man! 'Twas one of those delicious nights
So common in the climes of Greece, That moment did the mingled eyes When day withdraws but half its Of heaven and earth my madness lights, view,
And all is moonshine, balm, aud I should have seen, through earth and
And thou wert there, my own beloved ! But you alone, but only you ! And dearly by thy side I roved Did not a frown from you reprove,
Through many å temple's reverend Myriads of eyes to me were none; gloom, I should have-oh, my only love! And many a bower's seductive bloom, My life! what should I not have Where beauty blushed and wisdom done?
taught, Where lovers sighed and sages thought,
Where hearts might feel or heads disA DREAM OF ANTIQUITY.
cern, I JUST had turned the classic page,
And all was formed to soothe or And traced that happy period over, move, When love could warm the proudest To make the dullest love to learn, sage,
To make the coldest learn to love! And wisdom grace the tenderest lover!
And now the fairy pathway seemed Before I laid me down to sleep,
To lead us through enchanted Upon the bank awhile I stood,
1 Gassendi thinks that the gardens which the Vineyard Garden: these were probably the Pausanias mentions in bis first book were those gardens which Pausanias visited.'- Chap. i1. vol.1. of Epicurus; and Stuart says, in his Antiquities 2 This method of polishing pearls, by leaving of Athens : "Near this convent (the convent of them awhile to be played with by doves, is menHagios Assomatos) is the place called at present tioned by the fanciful Cardanus, de Rerum Kepoi, or the Gardens; and Ampelos Kepos, or Varietat, lib, vii. cap. 34.
Where all that bard has ever dreamed | While others, waving arms of snow
Of love or luxury bloomed around ! Entwined by snakes of burnished Oh ! 'twas a bright bewildering scene- gold, 4 Along the alley's deepening green, And showing limbs, as loth to show. Soft lamps, that hung like burning Through many a thin Tarentiau fo!! flowers,
Glided along the festal ring And scented and illumed the bowers, With vases, all respiring spring, Seemed, as to him, who darkling roves Where roses lay, in languor breathing Amid the lone Hercynian groves, And the young bee grape, round them Appear the countless birds of light wreathing, That sparkle in the leaves at night, Hung on their blushes warm and meek, And from their wings diffuse a ray Like curls upon a rosy cheek! Along the traveller's weary way! 'Twas light of that mysterious kind, Oh, Nea! why did morning break Through which the soul is doomed The spell that so divinely bound me? to roam
Why did I wake? how could I wake, When it has left this world behind, With thee my own and Heaven
And gone to seek its heavenly home! around me! And, Nea, thou didst look and move,
Like any blooming soul of bliss, That wanders to its home above Through mild and shadowy light Well-peace to thy heart, though like this!
another's it be, But now, methought, we stole along And health to thy cheek, though it Through halls of more voluptuous bloom not for me! glory
To-morrow I sail for those cinnamon Than ever lived in Teian song,
groves, Or wantoned in Milesian story !! Where nightly the ghost of the Caribbee And nymphs were there, whose very eyes roves, Seemed almost to exhale in sighs ; And, far froin thine eye, oh! perhaps Whose every little ringlet thrilled, I may yet As if with soul and passion filled ! Its seduction forgive and its splendour Some flew, with amber cups, around, forget!
Shedding the flowery wines of Crete, Farewell to Bermuda, and long may And, as they passed with youthful the bloom bound,
Of the lemou and myrtle its valleys The onyx shone beneath their feet !3 perfume;
| The Milesiacs, or Milesian fables, had their See his Amores, where he describes the dressing. origiu in Miletus, a luxurious town of lonia. room of a Grecian lady, and we find the silver Aristides was the inost celebrated author of these vase,' the rouge, the tooth-powder, and all the licentious tictions. See Plutarch in Crasso), mystic order of a modern toilet. who calls them ακολαστα βιβλια. .
5* The inhabitants pronounce the name as if it ? Some of the Cretan wines, which Athenæus were written Bermooda. See the commentators calls ovos avoogulas, from their fragrancy re
on the words 'still-vexed Bermoothes,' in the sembling that of the finest flowers.'--Barry on Tempest.- I wonder it did not occur to some of Wines, chap. vii.
those all-reading gentlemen, that possibly the 3 It appears that, in very splendid mansions, might have been no less a personage than the
discoverer of this island of hogs and devils' the floor or pavement was frequently of onyx. great John Bermudez, who about the same Thus Martial : Calcatusque tuo sub pede lucet period (the beginning of the sixteenth century) onyx.'- Epig. 50, lib, xii.
was sent Patriarch of the Latin Church to 4 Lracelets of this shape were a favourite orna- Ethiopia, and has left us most wonderful stories ment among the womenofantiquity. Oi etrlkapalot of the Amazons and the Griffins which he enopeus kai ai xpvoal Tredal Qaidos Kai Aplorayopas countered.---Travels of the Jesuits, vol. i. I am
Λαιδος φαρμακα. Philostrat. cpis. xl. afraid, however, it would take the Patriarch Lucian, too, tells of the Bpaxcolor Spakovmes. / rather too much' out of his way.