Doth shed upon a flowery wreath, Which pious hands have hung beneath. Was ever witchery half so sweet! Think, think how all my pulses beat, As o'er the rustling bank I stole Oh! you that know the lover's soul, It is for you to dream the bliss, The tremblings of an hour like this. I FOUND her not-the chamber seemed It felt as if her lips had shed And I could trace the hallowed print Oh, Nea! Nea! where wert thou? In pity fly not thus from me; Thou art my life, my essence now, And my soul dies of wanting thee! 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, Somewhat like the symplegma of Cupid and Psyche at Florence, in which the position of Psyche's hand is finely expressive of affection. See the Museum Florentinum, tom. ii. tab. 43, Come, -closer bring that cheek to mine, And trace with me its beauties o'er. Thou seest, it is a simple youth By some enamoured nymph em- Look, Nea, love! and say, in sooth, Upon his curled head behind It seems in careless play to lie,1 Yet presses gently, half inclined To bring his lip of nectar nigh! Oh happy maid! too happy boy! The one so fond and faintly loth, The other yielding slow to joy Oh, rare indeed, but blissful both! Imagine, love, that I am he, And just as warm as he is chilling; Imagine too that thou art she, But quite as cold as she is willing: So may we try the graceful way And thus, like her, my hand I lay λιβανοτῳ εικασεν, ότι απολλυμένον ευφραίνει. THERE'S not a look, a word of thine, 44. I know of very few subjects in which poetry could be more interestingly employed, than in illustrating some of the ancient statues and gems. 'THE daylight is gone-but, before we depart, 'Twas thus, by the shade of a calabash-tree, 1 Pinkerton has said that a good history and the Government of the day, was a wild and use. description of the Bermudas might afford a pleas- less speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who was 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 colleges in the States of America, where ideas by no means favourable to Great Britain are very sedulously inculcated. It is often asserted by the transatlantic politicians, that this little colony deserves more attention from the mother-country than it receives; and it certainly possesses advantages of situation, to which we should not be long insensible ifit were once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a celebrated friend of Washington, at New York, that they had formed a plan for its capture towards the conclusion of the American War, with the intention (as he expressed himself) of making it a nest of hornets for the annoyance of British trade in that part of the world.' And there is no doubt it lies so fairly in the track to the West Indies, that an enemy might with ease convert it into a very harassing impediment. The plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at Bermuda, where American savages might be converted an 1 educated, though concurred in by The women of Bermuda, though not generally handsome, have an affectionate languor in their look and manner, which is always interesting. What the French imply by their epithet aimante seems very much the character of the young Bermudian girls-that predisposition to loving, which, without being awakened by any particu lar object, diffuses itself through the general manner in a tone of tenderness that never fails to fascinate. The men of the island, I confess, are not very civilised; and the old philosopher, who imagined that, after this life, men would be changed into mules, and women into turtle doves, would find the metamorphosis in some degree anticipated at Bermuda, Oh! say, do you thus, in the luminous hour Last night, when we came from the calabash-tree, The friends, who were dear and beloved before, Oh, magic of love! unembellished by you, Like the vista that shines through the eye to the heart? Alas! that a vision so happy should fade ! That, when morning around me in brilliancy played, Should still be before me, unfadingly bright; While the friends, who had seemed to hang over the stream, And to gather the roses, had fled with my dream! But see, through the harbour, in floating array, 1 Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daphnis, the first inventor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs. A ship, ready to sail for England. Not the tranquillest air that the winds ever blew, LOVE AND REASON. 'Quand l'homme commence à raisonner, il cesse de sentir.'-J. J. Rousseau. "TWAS in the summer-time so sweet, When hearts and flowers are both in season, Love told his dream of yesternight, While Reason talked about the weather; The boy in many a gambol flew, Fell on the boy, and cooled him still. Would pass between the sun and him! 'This must not be,' said little Love- Now gaily roves the laughing boy O'er many a mead, by many a stream; In every breeze inhaling joy, And drinking bliss in every beam. From all the gardens, all the bowers, He culled the many sweets they shaded, But now the sun, in pomp of noon, And fever thrilled through all his veins! The dew forsook his baby brow, No more with vivid bloom he smiled- Beneath a green and aged palm, His foot at length for shelter turning, 'Oh! take me to that bosom cold,' He felt her bosom's icy touch, And soon it lulled his pulse to rest; For, ah! the chill was quite too much, And Love expired on Reason's breast! TO FANNY. NAY, do not weep, my Fanny dear! The world !-ah, Fanny! Love must shun The path where many rove; One bosom to recline upon, Are quite enough for Love! What can we wish, that is not here For me, there's not a lock of jet 'Tis in your eyes, my sweetest love! Let but their orbs in sunshine move, May frown or smile for me! |