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May spring to eternity hallow the shade, Behold the leafy mangrove bending Where Ariel has warbled and Walleri O'er the waters blue and bright, has strayed !
Like Nea's silky lashes, lending And thou-when, at dawn, thou shalt Shadow to her eyes of light !
happen to roam Through the lime-covered alley that Oh, my beloved ! where'er I turn,
Some trace of thee enchants mineeyes; leads to thy home,
In every star thy glances buro, Where oft, when the dance and the
Thy blush on every floweret lies. revel were done, And the stars were beginning to fade But then thy breath !- not all the fire in the sun,
That lights the lone Semenda's death I have led thee along, and have told In eastern climes, could e'er respire by the way
An odour like thy dulcet breath! What my heart all the night had been I pray thee, on those lips of thine burning to say
To wear this rosy leaf for me, Oh ! think of the past-give a sigh to And breathe of something not divine, those times,
Since nothing human breathes of thee! And a blessing for me to that alley of limes !
All other charms of thine I meet
In nature, but thy sigh alone ;
Then take, oh! take, though not so IF I were yonder wave, my dear,
sweet, And thou the isle it clasps around,
The breath of roses for thine own! I would not let a foot come near So while I walk the flowery grove, My land of bliss, my fairy ground ! The bud that gives, through morning
dew, If I were yonder conch of gold,
And thou the pearl within it placed, The lustre of the lips I love, I would not let an eye behold
May seem to give their perfume too! The sacred gem my arms embraced ! If I were yonder orange-tree,
THE SNOW SPIRIT. And thou the blossom blooming Tu potes insolitas, Cynthia, ferre nives ? there,
Properi. lib. i. eleg. 8. I would not yield a breath of thee, No, ne'er did the wave in its clement To scent the most imploring air !
An island of lovelier charms;
It blooms in the giant embrace of the
deep, Nor let its burning mirror drink The soft reflection of thine eye.
Like Hebe in Hercules' arms !
The tint of your bowers is balm to the That glossy hair, that glowing cheek, eye,
Upon the billows pour their beam Their melody balm to the ear; So warmly, that my soul could seek But the fiery planet of day is too niyh, Its Nea in the painted streazn.
And the Snow Spirit never comes
here ! The painted stream my chilly grave
And nuptial bed at once may be ; The down from his wing is as white as I'll wed thee in that mimic wave,
the pearl And die upon the shade of thee! Thy lips for eir
Johnson does not thiuk that Waller was its authority than for the pleasure I feel i cver at Bermuda; but the Account of the Euro- quoting an unacknowledged production of the pean Settlements in America afirms it confidently great Edmund Burke. (vol. ii). I mention this work, however, less for
And it falls on the green earth as melt- Oh for a Naiad's sparry bower,
To shade me in that glowing hour !
Before me from a plantain flew,
For Fancy told me Love had sent But the Snow Spirit cannot come
This snowy bird of blandishment, here !
To lead me, where my soul should
meetHow sweet to behold him when, borne I knew not what, but something sweet!
on the gale, And brightening the bosom of morn, Blest be the little pilot dove ! He flings, like the priest of Diana, a He had indeed been sent by Love, veil
To guide me to a scene so dear O'er the brow of each virginal thorn! As Fate allows but seldom here : Yet think not the veil he so chillingly One of those rare and brilliant hours, casts
Which, like the aloe's lingering flowers, Is the veil of a vestal severe ; May blossom to the eye of man No, no-thou wilt see what a moment But once in all his weary span !
it lasis, Should the Snow Spirit ever come Just where the margin's opening shade here!
A vista from the waters made, But fly to his region—lay open thy Upon a rich banana's bloom.
My bird reposed his silver plume zone, And he'll weep all his brilliancy dim, What spell, what magic raised her there?
Oh, vision bright! oh, spirit fair ! To think that a bosom, as white as his 'Twas Nea ! slumbering calm and mild, Should not melt in the day-beam Whose spirit in Elysium keeps
And bloomy as the dimpled child like him!
Its playful sabbath while he sleeps ! Oh! lovely the print of those delicate feet
The broad banana's green embrace O'er his luminous path will appear, Hung shadowy round each tranquil Fly! my beloved ! this island is sweet, But the Snow Spirit cannot come One little beam alone could win
grace ; here!
The leaves to let it wander in,
And stealing over all her charms, Ενταύθα δε καθωρμισται ημιν. και ό, τι μεν ονομα From lip to clieek, fronm neck to arms, τη νησω ουκ οιδα χρυση δ' αν προς γε εμου | It glanced around a fiery kiss, ovouaSoito. — Philostrat. Icon. 17, lib. 2.
All trembling, as it went, with bliss ! I STOLE along the flowery bank, While many a bending sea-grape 1 Her eyelid's black and silken fringe drank
Lay on her cheek, of vermil tinge, The sprinkle of the feathery oar Like the first ebon cloud that closes That winged me round this fairy shore: Dark on Evening's Heaven of roses ! 'Twas noon; and every orange bud
Her glances, though in slumber hid, Hung languid o'er the crystal flood
Seemed glowing through their ivory Faint as the lids of maideu eyes Beneath a lover's burning sighs !
And o'er her lip's reflecting dew
A soft and liquid lustre threw, The sea-side or mangrove grape, a native of Such as, declining dim and faint,
The lamp of some beloved saint
the West Indies,
Doth shed upon a flowery wreath, Nor thought that time's eternal lapse Which pious hands have hung beneath. Should see it grace a lovelier maid !
Was ever witchery half so sweet ! Look, darling, what a sweet design ! Think, think how all my pulses beat, The more we gaze, it charms the As o'er the rustling bank I stole
more ! Oh ! you that know the lover's soul,
Come, --closer bring that cheek to mine, It is for you to dream the bliss,
And trace with me its beauties o'er. The tremblings of an hour like this.
Thou seest, it is a simple youth
By some enamoured nymph emI FOUND her not the chamber seemed braced Like some divinely haunted place,
Look, Nea, love! and say, in sooth, Where fairy forms had lately beamed,
Is not her hand most dearly placed ? And left behind their odorous trace !
Upon his curled head behind
It seems in careless play to lie,
Oh happy maid ! too happy boy!
The one so fond and faintly loth, A shade of song, a spirit air
The other yielding slow to joyOf melodies which had been there! Oh, rare indeed, but blissful both ! I saw the web, which, all the day, Imagine, love, that I am he,
Had floated o'er her cheek of rose, And just as warm as he is chilling; I saw the couch, where late she lay Imagine too that thou art she, In languor of divine repose !
But quite as cold as she is willing : And I could trace the hallowed print So may we try the graceful way
Her limbs had left, as pure and warm In which their gentle arms are As if 'twere done in rapture's mint, twined, And Love himself had stamped the And thus, like her, my hand I lay form!
Upon thy wreathed hair behind : Oh, Nea ! Nea! where wert thou ?
And thus I feel thee breathing sweet, In pity fly not thus from me;
As slow to mine thy head I move ; Thou art my life, my essence now, And thus our lips together meet, And my soul dies of wanting thee !
And-thus 1 kiss thee-oh, my love !
A KISS A L'ANTIQUE. BEHOLD, my love, the curious gem
Within this simple ring of gold ; 'Tis hallowed by the touch of them
Who lived in classic hours of old. Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps,
Upon her hand this gem displayed,
... λιβανοτω εικασεν, ότι απολλυμενον ευφραινει.
Aristot. Rhetor. lib. iii. cap. 4.
My soul hath e'er forgot;
Which I remember not !
| Somewhat like the symplegma of Cupid and 44. I know of very few subjects in which Psyche at Florence, in which the position of poetry could be more interestingly employed, Psyche's hand is finely expressive of affection. ihan 'in illustrating some of the ancient staines See the Museum Florentinum, tom. ii. tab. 43, and gems.
There never yet a murmur fell | To die were sweeter, than to let
The lovedl remembrance go!
No, if this slighted heart must see
And, like the burnt aroma, be
TO JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ.
'Twas thus, by the shade of a calabash-tree,
| Pinkerton has said that'a good history and the Government of the day, was a wild and usedescription of the Bermudas might afford a pleas- less speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who ing addition to the geographical library; but governor of the island some years since, prothere certainly are not materials for such a work. posed, if I mistake not, the establishment of a The island, since the time of its discovery, has marine academy for the instruction of those experienced so very few vicissitudes, the people children of West Indians who might be intended have been so indolent, and their trade so limited, for any nautical employment. This was a more that there is but little which the historian could rational idea, and for something of this nature amplify into importance; and, with respect to the island is admirably calculated. But the plan the natural productions of the country, the few should be much more extensive, and embrace a which the inhabitants can be induced to culti- general system of education, which would entirely vate are so common in the West Indies, that remove the alternative in which the colonists are they have been described by every naturalist who involved at present, of either sending their sons has written any account of those islands.
to England for instruction, or entrusting them to It is often asserted by the transatlantic politi- colleges in the States of America, where ideas by cians, that this little colony deserves more atten. no means favourable to Great Britain are very tion from the mother-country than it receives; sedulously inculcated. and it certainly possesses advantages of situation, The women of Bermuda, though not generally to which we should not be long insensible ifit were handsome, have an affectionate languor in their once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a louk and manner, which is always interesting. celebrated friend of Washington, at New York, What the French imply by their epithet aimante that they had formed a plan for its capture to seems very much the character of the young wards the conclusion of the American War, with Bermudian girls—that predisposition to loving, the intention (as he expressed himsell) of making which, without being awakened by any particu. it a nest of hornets for the annoyance of British lar object, diffuses itself through the general trade in that part of the world. And there is no manner in a tone of tenderness that never fails doubt it lies so fairly in the track to the West to fascinate. The men of the island, I confess, Indies, that an enemy might with ease convert it are not very civilised; and the old philosopher, into a very harassing impediment.
who imagined that, after this life, men would be The plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at changed into mules, and women into turtle. Bermuda, where American savages might bo doves, would find the metamorphosis in some converte 1 an 1 educatel, though concurred in by degree anticipated at Bermuda,
Oh! say, do you thus, in the luminous hour
"Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daplınis, the first inventor of bucolic poetry, was nurscd lig the nymphs. ? A ship, ready to sail for England.