O'er her smooth brow, and the sweet Air just moved
Their vine-like beauty with his gentle wing;

The earliest bloom of youth's Idalian rose

Blush'd thro' the Tuscan olive of her cheek

(So thro' the lightest clouds does morning break)—
And there shone forth that hallowing soul which glows
Round beauty, like the circling light on high,
Which decks and makes the glory of the sky.
Breathless and motionless she stood awhile,
And drank deep draughts of passion—then a smile
Play'd on her lip—and bending down, her hand
Trac'd on her tablet the wild thoughts which stole,
Like angel-strangers, o'er her raptur'd soul;
For she was of the poet's golden land,

Where thought finds happiest voice, and glides along
Into the silver rivers of sweet song.

V.

O'er him she leant enamour'd, and her sigh
Breath'd near and nearer to his silent mouth,
Rich with the hoarded odours of the south.
So in her spiritual divinity

Young Psyche, stood the sleeping Eros by ;-*
What time she to the couch had, daring, trod ;-

And-by the glad light-saw her bridegroom God!

* In allusion to that most beautiful of the ancient tales, the story of Cupid and Psyche, in Apuleius.

It is said in the story, that the lamp itself partook of the serene gladness on the countenance of the God.

Did her locks touch his cheek? or did he feel
Her breath like music o'er his spirit steal?
I know not-but the spell of sleep was broke;
He started-faintly murmur'd—and awoke!
He woke as Moslems wake from death, to see
The Houris of their heaven; and reverently
He look'd the transport of his soul's amaze :
And their eyes met !-The deep-deep love supprest
For years, and treasur'd in each secret breast,
Waken'd, and glow'd, and center'd in their gaze.
And their eyes met-one moment and no more!
Nurs'd in bright dreams of old romantic lore,
Of Eastern fairies gliding on the beam,
Or Grecian goddess haunting minstrel's dream;
He rose-and tho' no faintest voice might stir
His lips-he knelt adoringly to her,

And gazed his worship; but the spell was past,
And the boy's gesture broke the breathless charm,
And maiden shame, and woman's swift alarm,
Burningly o'er the Italian's soul was rushing;
And her lip trembled, and her pulse beat fast,
And with a thousand new-born feelings blushing—
She turned away-and with a step of air

She fled, and left him mute and spell-bound there.*

* The whole of the above lines make the part of the poem first written.

VI.

Time waned, and thoughts intense, and grave, and high,
In that young minstrel mixed with softer dreams,
Yet never vanished wholly from his eye

The wandering star of love's Ausonian sky;
But aye and ever, in his memory

Set as a heaven, its lov'd and haunting beams,
Glass'd their dim beauty in his soul's deep sea.
Time waned—and o'er his cheek the darkening hue
Of manhood settled-and the long desire
Which he had nurs'd within him, till it grew
A passion to behold that heart of earth
Yet trembling to the echoes of the lyre
That Virgil woke, and Tasso strung anew,
Became his guide;-and for the shrine of Rome
A pilgrim bound-he left his father's home.
With a deep heart he drank the mighty lore
That floateth o'er the saddened Clime of Song.
Beheld the starry sage,* what time he bore,
For Truth's dear glory, the immortal wrong;
Held no light commune with the master-minds
Of that fast ripening day; and all he saw,
Or felt, or learned, or dreamt, were as the winds
That swelled the sails of his majestic soul,
As then-ev'n then-with ardour yet in awe
It swept Time's ocean to its distant goal.

* In allusion to the story of Milton's visit to Galileo.

VII.

It was the evening-and a group were strewn
O'er such a spot as ye, I ween, might see,
When basking in the Summer's breathless noon,
With upward face beneath the murmuring tree;
While in a vague and floating sleep arise

Sweet shapes and fairy knolls to the half-conscious eyes.
It was the evening-still it lay, and fair;
Lapp'd in the quiet of the lulling air.
Still-but how happy! like a living thing
All love itself-all love around it seeing;
And drinking from the earth, as from a spring,
The hush'd delight and essence of its being.
And round the spot-a wall of glossy shade-
The interlaced and bowering trees reposed;
And through the world of foliage had been made
Green lanes and vistas, which at length were closed
By fount, or fane, or statue, white and hoar,
Startling the heart with the fond dreams of yore.
And near, half glancing through its veil of leaves,
An antique temple stood in marble grace;
Where still, if fondly wise, the heart believes,
Lingers the pining Spirit of the Place.

Seen wandering yet perchance at earliest dawn
Or greyest eve-with Nymph or bearded Faun.
Dainty with mosses was the grass you prest,
Through which the harmless lizard glancing crept.

And-wearied infants on Earth's gentle breast-
In every nook the little field-flowers slept.
But ever when the soft air drew its breath,
(Breeze is a word too rude), with half-heard sigh,
From orange shrubs and myrtles-wandereth
The Grove's sweet spirit borne in fragrance by.
And aye athwart the alleys fitfully

Glanc'd the fond moth enamoured of the Star.
And aye, from out her watch-tower in the tree,
The music which a falling leaf might mar,
So faint so faëry seem'd it ;—of the bird
Transformed at Daulis thrillingly was heard.
And in the centre of that spot which lay
A ring embosom'd in the wood's embrace,
A fountain clear as ever glass'd the day,
Breathed yet a fresher luxury round the place;
But now it slept, as if its silver shower,
And the wide reach of its aspiring sound,
Were far too harsh for that transparent hour:-
Yet-like a gnome that mourneth underground—
You caught the murmur of the rill which gave
The well's smooth calm the passion of its wave;
Like one who pours the thoughts that will not rest
Into the quiet of a loving breast.

VIII.

And, group'd around the fountain o'er the green, Were Dames and Gallants of a form that threw