To make the eye's enchantment clearer,
To give the cheek one rose-bud more,
And bid that flushing lip be dearer,
Which had been, oh! so dear before!
But, whither means the Muse to roam?
"Tis time to call the wanderer home.
Who could have ever thought to search her
Up in the clouds with Father Kircher?
So, health and love to all your mansion!
Long may the bowl that pleasures bloom in,
The flow of heart, the soul's expansion,
Mirth and song your board illumine!
Fare you well-remember too,
When cups are flowing to the brim, That here is one who drinks to you, And, oh!-as warmly drink to him.
WRITTEN IN A STORM AT SEA.
OH! there's a holy calm profound
In awe like this, that ne'er was given
To rapture's thrill;
'Tis as a solemn voice from heaven,
And the soul, listening to the sound,
Lies mute and still!
'Tis true, it talks of danger nigh,
Of slumbering with the dead to-morrow
In the cold deep,
Where pleasure's throb or tears of sorrow
No more shall wake the heart or eye,
But all must sleep!
Well! there are some, thou stormy bed,
To whom thy sleep would be a treasure;
Oh! most to him,
Whose lip hath drain'd life's cup of pleasure,
Nor left one honey drop to shed
Round misery's brim.
Yes he can smile serene at death:
Kind Heaven! do thou but chase the weeping
Of friends who love him;
Tell them that he lies calmly sleeping
Where sorrow's sting or envy's breath
No more shall move him.
NAY, tempt me not to love again,
There was a time when love was sweet; Dear Nea! had I known thee then,
Our souls had not been slow to meet!
But, oh! this weary heart hath run,
So many a time, the rounds of pain,
Not ev'n for thee, thou lovely one!
Would I endure such pangs again.
If there be climes, where never yet
The print of beauty's foot was set,
Where man may pass his loveless nights,
Unfever'd by her false delights,
Thither my wounded soul would fly,
Where rosy cheek or radiant eye
Should bring no more their bliss, their pain,
Or fetter me to earth again!
Dear absent girl! whose eyes of light,
Though little priz'd when all my own,
Now float before me, soft and bright
As when they first enamouring shone!
How many hours were idly past,
As if such bliss must ever last,
Unmindful of the fleeting day,
Have I dissolv'd life's dream away!
O bloom of time profusely shed!
O moments! simply, vainly fled,
Yet sweetly too-for love perfum'd
The flame which thus my life consum'd;
And brilliant was the chain of flowers,
In which he led my victim-hours!
Say, Nea dear! could'st thou, like her,
When warm to feel and quick to err,
Of loving fond, of roving fonder,
My thoughtless soul might wish to wander,
Could'st thou, like her, the wish reclaim,
Endearing still, reproaching never,
Till all my heart should burn with shame, And be thy own more fix'd than ever?
No, no on earth there's only one
Could bind such faithless folly fast:
And sure on earth 'tis I alone
Could make such virtue false at last!
Nea! the heart which she forsook,
For thee were but a worthless shrineGo, lovely girl, that angel look
Must thrill a soul more pure than mine. Oh! thou shalt be all else to me,
That heart can feel or tongue can feign; I'll praise, admire, and worship thee, But must not, dare not love again.
You read it in my languid eyes,
And there alone should love be read; You hear me say it all in sighs,
And thus alone should love be said.
Then dread no more; I will not speak;
Although my heart to anguish thrill,
I'll spare the burning of your cheek,
And look it all in silence still!
Divinely through the graceful dance,
You seem'd to float in silent song,
Bending to earth that beamy glance,
As if to light your steps along!
Oh how could others dare to touch
That hallow'd form with hand so free,
When but to look was bliss too much,
Too rare for all but heaven and me! With smiling eyes, that little thought How fatal were the beams they threw, My trembling hands you lightly caught, And round me like a spirit, flew. Heedless of all, I wildly turn'd,
My soul forgot-nor, oh! condemn,
That when such eyes before me burn'd,
My soul forgot all eyes but them!
That moment, did the mingled eyes
Of heaven and earth my madness view,
I should have seen, through earth and skies,
But you alone-but only you!
A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY.
I JUST had turn'd the classic page,
And trac'd that happy period over,
When love could warm the proudest sage,
And wisdom grace the tenderest lover!
Before I laid me down to sleep,
Upon the bank awhile I stood,
And saw the vestal planet weep
Her tears of light on Ariel's flood.
My heart was full of fancy's dream,
And, as I watch'd the playful stream,
Entangling in its net of smiles
So fair a group of elfin isles,
I felt as if the scenery there
Were lighted by a Grecian sky-
As if I breath'd the blissful air
That yet was warm with Sappho's sigh!
And now, the downy hand of rest
Her signet on my eyes imprest,
And still the bright and balmy spell,
Like star-dew, o'er my fancy fell!
I thought that, all enrapt, I stray'd
Through that serene, luxurious shade,
Where Epicurus taught the Loves
To polish Virtue's native brightness,
Just as the beak of playful doves
Can give to pearls a smoother whiteness!*
"Twas one of those delicious nights
So common in the climes of Greece,
When day withdraws but half its lights,
And all is moonshine, balm, and peace!
And thou wert there, my own belov'd!
And dearly by thy side I rov'd
Through many a temple's reverent gloom,
And many a bower's enticing bloom,
Where beauty learned and wisdom taught,
Where lovers sigh'd and sages thought,
* This method of polishing pearls, by leaving them awhile to be played with by doves, is mentioned by the fanciful Cardanus, de Rerum Varietat. lib. vii. cap. 34.
Where hearts might feel or heads discern,
And all was form'd to soothe or move,
To make the dullest love to learn,
To make the coldest learn to love!
And now the fairy pathway seem'd
To lead us through enchanted ground
Where all that bard has ever dream'd
Of love or luxury bloom'd around!
Oh! 'twas a bright, bewildering scene
Along the alley's deepening green
Soft lamps, that hung like burning flowers,
And scented and illum'd the bowers,
Seem'd, as to him, who darkling roves
Amid the lone Hercynian groves,
Appear the countless birds of light,
That sparkle in the leaves at night,
And from their wings diffuse a ray
Along the traveller's weary way!
"Twas light of that mysterious kind,
Through which the soul is doom'd to roam,
When it has left this world behind,
And gone to seek its heavenly home!
And, Nea, thou didst look and move,
Like any blooming soul of bliss,
That wanders to its home above
Through mild and shadowy light like this!
But now, methought, we stole along
Through halls of more voluptuous glory
Than ever lived in Teian song,
Or wanton'd in Milesian story!
And nymphs were there, whose very eyes
Seem'd almost to exhale in sighs;
Whose every little ringlet thrill'd,
As if with soul and passion fill'd!
Some flew, with amber cups, around,
Shedding the flowery wines of Crete,
And, as they pass'd with youthful bound,
The onyx shown beneath their feet!
While others, waving arms of snow
Entwin'd by snakes of burnish'd gold,
With fairy form, as loth to show,
Through many a thin Tarentian fold,
Glided along the festal ring
With vases, all respiring spring,
Where roses lay, in languor breathing,
And the young bee-grape, round them wreathing,
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