When, bless'd by heaven, the Cross shall sweep The Crescent from the Egean deep, And your brave warriors hastening back, Will bring such glories in their track, There is a Fount on Zia's isle, Pleas'd as a lover on the crown Hangs radiant round the Cypriot shrines. And here those bramble-flowers, that breathe Their odours into Zante's wines :2 The splendid woodbine, that, at eve, To grace their floral diadems, The lovely maids of Patmos weave :3And that fair plant, whose tangled stems Shine like a Nereïd's hair, spread, Dishevell'd o'er her azure bed; when All these bright children of the clime, Like beautiful earth-stars, adorn Fair oaks, that over Zia's vales, Scatters their acorns through the world !5 as prayer and 'Twas here- -as soon sleep (Those truest friends to all who weep) Had lighten'd every heart, and made Ev'n sorrow wear a softer shade'Twas here, in this secluded spot, Amid whose breathings calm aud sweet Grief might be sooth'd, if not forgot, The Zian nymphs resolv'd to meet Each evening now, by the same light That saw their farewell tears that night; And try, if sound of lute and song, If wandering 'mid the moonlight flowers In various talk, could charm along With lighter step, the lingering hours, Till tidings of that Bark should come, Or Victory waft their warriors home! When first they met-the wonted smile 'Twould touch ev'n Moslem heart to see Of greeting having beam'd awhileThe sadness that came suddenly O'er their young brows, when they look'd round Upon that bright, enchanted ground; And thought, how many a time, with those Who now were gone to the rude 4 Cuscuta europæa. From the twisting and twining of the stems, it is compared by the Greeks to the dishevelled hair of the Nereids.'-Walpole's Turkey. 5 The produce of the island in these acorns alone amounts annually to fifteen thousand quin 3 Lonicera Caprifolium, used by the girls of tals.'-Clarke's Travels. Patmos for garlands. Not swifter, lighter from the glass, Than sadness from her brow doth pass. Soon did it now, as round the Well They sat, beneath the rising moonAnd some, with voice of awe, would tell Of midnight fays, and nymphs who dwell In holy fountains-some would tune Their idle lutes, that now had lain, For days, without a single strain ;While some, from all the rest apart, With laugh that told the lighten'd heart, Sat, whisp'ring in each other's ear Secrets, that all in turn would hear;— Soon did they find this thoughtless play So swiftly steal their griefs away, That many a nymph, though pleas'd the while Reproach'd her own forgetful smile, And sigh'd to think she could be gay. Among these maidens there was one, Who to Leucadia1 late had been- Mutely they listen'd all-and well Of whose white flowers, the Zian said 1 Now Santa Maura-the island from whose cliffs Sappho leaped into the sea. 2 The precipice, which is fearfully dizzy, is about one hundred and fourteen feet from the water, which is of a profound depth, as appears from the dark-blue colour of the eddy that plays round the pointed and projecting rocks.' Goodisson's Ionian Isles. Th' immortal spot, o'er which the last Thus sketched the languishment of soul, Which still-like sparkles of Greek Undying, ev'n beneath the wave- SONG. As o'er her loom the Lesbian Maid In love-sick languor hung her head, Unknowing where her fingers stray'd, She weeping turn'd away, and said, 'Oh, my sweet mother-'tis in vain I cannot weave, as once I woveSo wilder'd is my heart and brain With thinking of that youth I love !' 4 Again the web she tried to trace, But tears fell o'er each tangled thread; While, looking in her mother's face, Who o'er her watchful lean'd, she said, 'Oh, my sweet mother-'tis in vain- With thinking of that youth I love!' A silence follow'd this sweet air, As each in tender musing stood, 3 See Mr. Goodisson's very interesting description of all these circumstances. 4 I have attempted, in these four lines, to give some idea of that beautiful fragment of Sappho, beginning Tuxeîa pâтep, which represents so truly (as Warton remarks) the languor and listlessness of a person deeply in love." Thinking, with lips that mov'd in pray'r, Of Sappho and that fearful flood: While some, who ne'er till now had known How much their hearts resembled hers, Felt as they made her griefs their own, That they, too, were Love's worship pers. At length a murmur, all but mute, Of some lost melody, some strain She sought among those chords again. Slowly the half-forgotten theme (Though born in feelings ne'er forgot) Came to her memory-as a beam Falls broken o'er some shaded spot;And while her lute's sad symphony Fill'd up each sighing pause between ; And Love himself might weep to see (As fays behold the wither'd green Where late they danced) what misery May follow where his steps have been Thus simply to the list'ning throng SONG. WEEPING for thee, my love, through the long day, Lonely and wearily life wears away, Weeping for thee, my love, through the long night No rest in darkness, no joy in light! Nought left but Memory, whose dreary tread Sounds through this ruin'd heart, where all lies dead Wakening the echoes of joy long fled ! 1 This word is defrauded here, I suspect, of a syllable; Dr. Clarke, if I recollect right, makes it 'Balalaika.' 2 'I saw above thirty parties engaged in danc Of many a stanza, this alone When thus the heart is in a vein As when the air is warm, the scent That's link'd with feelings, once our own With friends or joys gone by-will be Worth choirs of loftiest harmony! But some there were, among the group Of damsels there, too light of heart To let their fancies longer droop, Ev'n under music's melting art: And one upspringing, with a bound, From a low bank of flowers, look'd round With eyes that, though they laugh'd with light, Had still a lingering tear within; And while her hand in dazzling flight, Flew o'er a fairy mandolin, Thus sung the song her lover late Had sung to her-the eve before That joyous night, when, as of yore, All Zia met, to celebrate The Feast of May, on the sea-shore. SONG. WHEN the Balaika1 Is heard o'er the sea, I'll dance the Romaika By moonlight with thee. If waves, then, advancing, Should steal on our play, Thy white feet, in dancing, Shall chase them away." ing the Romaika upon the sand; in some of those groups, the girl who led them chased the retreating wave.'-Douglas on the Modern Greeks. When the Balaika Is heard o'er the sea, Thou'lt dance the Romaika, My own love, with me. Then, at the closing Of each merry lay, We'll lie reposing, Beneath the night ray! Or if, declining, The moon leave the skies, We'll talk by the shining Of each other's eyes. Oh then, how featly The dance we'll renew, Wandering fleetly Its light mazes through!1 Till stars shining o'er us From heaven's high bow'rs, Would give their bright chorus For one dance of ours! When the Balaika Is heard o'er the sea, Thou'lt dance the Romaika, My own love, with me. How changingly for ever veers With hand in hand, like links, enlock'd, Through the light air they seem'd to flit In labyrinthine maze, that mock'd Each dazzled eye that follow'd it?' Some call'd aloud the Fountain Dance!' While one young, dark-eyed Amazon, Whose step was air-like, and whose glance Flash'd, like a sabre in the sun, Sportively said, 'Shame on these soft And languid strains we hear so oft. Daughters of Freedom! have not we Learn'd from our lovers and our sires The Dance of Greece, while Greece was free That Dance, where neither flutes nor But sword and shield clash on the ear, me, Thus saying, she, with playful grace, Loos'd the wide hat, that o'er her face (From Anatolia3 came the maid) Hung, shadowing each sunny charm: And, with a fair young armourer's aid, Fixing it on her rounded arm, The heart of youth, 'twixt smiles and A mimic shield with pride display'd; tears! Ev'n as in April, the light vane The shadow from each blooming brow, And Dancing, joyous Dancing, held Full empire o'er each fancy now. But say what shall the measure be? 'Shall we the old Romaika tread' (Some eager ask'd) as anciently 'Twas by the maids of Delos led, When, slow at first, then circling fast, As the gay spirits rose-at last, In dancing the Romaika (says Mr. Douglas) they begin in slow and solemn step till they have gained the time, but by degrees the air becomes more sprightly; the conductress of the dance sometimes setting to her partner, sometimes darting before the rest, and leading them through the most rapid revolutions; sometimes crossing under the hands which are held up to let her pass, and giving as much liveliness and intricacy as she can to the figures, into which she conducts her companious, while their business is to follow Then, springing tow'rds a grove that spread Its canopy of foliage near, Pluck'd off a lance-like twig, and said, 'To arms, to arms!' while o'er her head She wav'd the light branch, as a spear Promptly the laughing maidens all Obey'd their Chief's heroic call ;Round the shield-arm of each was tied Hat, turban, shawl, as chance might be; The grove, their verdant armoury, Falchion and lance1 alike supplied; her in all her movements, without breaking the chain, or losing the measure.' 2 For a description of the Pyrrhic Dance, see De Guys, &c.-It appears from Apuleius (lib. x.) that this war-dance was, among the ancients, sometimes performed by females. 3 See the costumes of the Greek women of Na tolia in Castellan s Mœurs des Othomans. The sword was the weapon chiefly used in this dance. And as their glossy locks, let free, Fell down their shoulders carelessly, You might have dream'd you saw a throng Of youthful Thyads, by the beam Of a May Moon, bounding along Peneus' silver-eddied' stream! And now they stepp'd with measured Martially, o'er the shining field: While still, through every varying feat, That morning dawn'd by whose immortal light They grandly died for thee and liberty!? 'Raise the buckler-poise the lance'Now here now there-retreat-ad vance!' Such was the Spartan heroes' dance. Scarce had they clos'd this martial lay All breathless from the war-field fly; Stood smiling at their children's play-Fond girls!' an aged Zian said-- SONG. One who himself, had fought and bled, 'RAISE the buckler-poise the lance-Fond maids! who thus with War Now here now there-retreat-ad vance !' Such were the sounds, to which the Danc'd in those happy days, when Thus train'd their steps to war and can jest Like Love, in Mars's helmet drest, Pleas'd with the shade that helmet Did luck but shine on righteous blades, Raise the buckler-poise the lance-But, no, alas !-hear one, who well Now here now there-retreat-ad vance !' Such was the Spartan warriors' dance. 'Grasp the falchion gird the shield'Attack-defend-do all, but yield.' Thus did thy sons, oh Greece, one glorious night, Dance by a moon like this, till o'er the sea Hath track'd the fortunes of the Hear me, in mournful ditty, tell grave. SONG. As by the shore, at break of day, 1 Homer, Il. ii. 753. 2 It is said that Leonidas and his companions employed themselves, on the eve of the battle, in music and the gymnastic exercises of their country. |