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SONG.

Who dooms the brow o'er which he flies • Who comes so gracefully

To wear a crown of Royalty.
Gliding along,

She had, herself, last evening, sent
Wbile the blue rivulet

A winged messenger, whose flight
Sleeps to her song;

Through the clear, roseate element,
Song, richly vying

She watch'd till, less'ning out of sight
With the faint sighing

Far to the golden West it went,
Which swans, in dying,

Wafting to him, her distant love,
Sweetly prolong?'

A missive in that language wrought

Which flow'rs can speak, when aptly wove,
So sung the shepherd-boy

Each hue a word, each leaf a thought.
By the stream's side,
Watching that fairy boat
Down the flood glide,

And now-oh speed of pinion, known
Like a bird winging,

To Love's light messengers alone !
Through the waves bringing

Ere yet another ev'ning takes
That Syren, singing

Its farewell of the golden lakes,
To the hush'd tide.

She sees another envoy fly,

With the wish'd answer, through the sky.
• Stay,' said the shepherd-boy,
Fairy-boat, stay,

SONG.
Linger, sweet minstrelsy,
Linger, a day.'

WELCOME, sweet bird, through the sunny
But vain his pleading,

air winging, Past bim, unheeding,

Swift hast thou come o'er the farSong and boat speeding,

shining sea, Glided away.

Like Seba's dove, on thy snowy neck

bringing So to our youthful eyes

Love's written vows from my lover to Joy and hope shone ;

me. So, while we gaz'd on them, Oh, in thy absence, what hours did | Fast they flew on ;

number !Like flow'rs, declining

Saying oft, Idle bird, how could be Ev'n in the twining,

rest?' One moment shining,

But thou art come at last, take now thy And, the next, gone!

slumber, And lull thee in dreams of all thou

lov'st best. Soon as the imagin'd dream went by, Uprose the nymph, with anxious eye

Yet dost thou droop-even now while I Turn'd to the clouds, as though some boon

utter She waited from that sun-bright dome, And marvell'd that it came not soon

Love's happy welcome, thy pulse dies As her young thoughts would have it Cheer thee, my bird—were it life's ebbing

flutter, But joy is in her glance !—the wing This fondling bosom should woo it to of a white bird is seen above;

stay. And oh, if round his neck he bring But no-thou art dying—thy last task is

The long-wish'd tidings from her love, Not half so precious in her eyes

Farewell, sweet martyr to Love and to Ev'n that high-omen'd bird 1 would be, me!

come.

over

| The Huma

The smiles thou hast waken'd by news Let not a moon-beam glinimer from my lover,

"Twixt the food and brim. Will now all be turn'd into weeping When hath the world set eyes on for thee,

Aught to match this light,
Which, o'er our cup's horizon,

Dawns in bumpers bright?
While thus the scene of song (their last
For the sweet summer season) pass'd,

Truth in a deep well liethh few presiding nymphs, whose care

So the wise aver : Watch'd over all, invisibly,

But Truth the fact deniethAs do those guardian sprites of air,

Water suits not her. Whose watch we feel, but cannot see, No, her abode's in brimmers, Lad from the circle-scarcely miss'd,

Like this mighty cupEre they were sparkling there again Waiting till we, good swimmers, Glided, like fairies, to assist

Dive

to bring her up. Their handmaids on the moonlight

plain, Where, hid by intercepting shade Thus circled round the song of glee,

From the stray glance of curious eyes, And all was tuneful mirth the while, A feast of fruits and wines was laid — Save on the cheeks of some whose smile, Soon to shine out, a glad surprise ! As fix'd they gaze upon the sea,

Turns into paleness suddenly! And now the moon, her ark of light What see they there ? a bright blue light Steering through Heav'n, as though That, like a meteor, gliding o'er she bore

The distant wave, grows on the sight In safety through that deep of night, As though 'twere wing'd to Zea's shore. Spirits of earth, the good, the bright, To some remote immortal shore,

To some, 'mong those who came to gaze,

It seem'd the night-light, far away, Had half-way sped her glorious way, When, round reclin'd on hillocks green,

Of some lone fisher, by the blaze In groups, beneath that tranquil ray,

Of pine torch, luring on his prey; The Żeans at their feast were seen.

While others, as, 'twixt awe and mirth, Gay was the picture-ev'ry maid

They breath'd the bless'd Panaya's! Whom late the lighted scene display'd,

name, Still in her fancy garb array'd ;

Vow'd that such light was not of earth,

But of that drear, ill-omen'd flame, The Arabian pilgrim, smiling here

Which mariners see on sail or mast,
Beside the nymph of India's sky;
While there the Mainiote mountaineer

When Death is coming in the blast.
Whisper'c in young Minerva's ear,

While marv'lling thus they stood, a maid, And urchin Love stood laughing by.

Who sat apart, with downcast eye,

Nor yet had, like the rest, survey'd Meantime the elders round the board,

That coming light which now was nigh, By mirth and wit themselves made Soon as it met her sight, with cry

Of pain-like joy, 'Tis he! 'tis he!' young,

Loud she exclaim'd, and hurrying by High cups of juice Zacynthian pour'd, And, while the flask went round, thus

The assembled throng, rush'd tow'rds

the sea.
sung:-
SONG.

At burst so wild, alarm'd, amaz'd,

All stood, like statues, mute, and gaz'd
Up with the sparkling brimmer, Into each other's eyes, to seek
Up to the crystal rim;

What meant such mood, in maid so meek?

1 The name which who Proeks give to the Virgin Mary.

Till now, the tale was known to few, Some balm unto the maiden's heart,
But now from lip to lip it flew :-

That, soon as the fierce fight was o'er, A youth, the flower of all the band, To home he'd speed, if safe and free

Who late had left this sunny shore, Nay, ev'n if dying, still would come, When last he kiss'd that maiden's hand, So the blest word of Victory!'

Ling'ring, to kiss it o'er and o'er, Might be the last he'd breathe at home, By his sad brow too plażnly told

. By day,' he cried, thou'lt know my Th' ill-omen'd thought which cross'd bark; him then,

But, should I come through midnight That once those hands should lose their dark, hold,

A blue light on the prow shall tell They ne'er would meet on earth again! That Greece hath won, and all is well!' In vain his mistress, sad as he, But with a heart from self as free

Fondly the maiden, every night,

Had stolen to seek that promis'd light; As gen'rous woman's only is, Veild her own fears to banish his :

Nor long her eyes had now been turn'd With frank rebuke, but still more vain,

From watching when the signal burn'd. Did a rough warrior, who stood by,

Signal of joy-for her, for allCall to his mind this martial strain,

Fleetly the boat now nears the land, His favourite once, ere Beauty's eye

While voices, from the shore-edge, call Had taught his soldier-heart to sigh:

For tidings of the long-wish'd band.

Ob the blest hour, when those who've SONG,

been MARCH! nor heed those arms that hold Through peril's paths by land or sea, thee,

Lock'd in onr arms again are seen
Though so fondly close they come; Smiling in glad security;
Closer still will they enfold thee,

When heart to heart we fondly strain, When thou bring'st fresh laurels home. Questioning quickly o'er and o'erDost thou dote on woman's brow ? Then hold them off, to gaze again,

Dost thou live but in her breath? And ask, though answer'd oft before, March !-one hour of victory now

If they, indeed, are ours once more? Wins thee woman's smile till death.

Such is the scene, so full of joy, Oh what bliss, when war is over, Which welcomes now this warrior-boy,

Beauty's long-miss'd smile to meet, As fathers, sisters, friends all run And, when wreaths our temples cover, Bounding to meet him-all but one, Lay them shining at her feet!

Who, slowest on his neck to fall, Who would not, that hour to reach, Is yet the happiest of them all.

Breathe out life's expiring sigh,Proud as waves that on the beach

And now behold him, circled round Lay their war-crests down, and die? With beaming faces, at that board,

While cups, with laurel foliage crown'd, There ! I see thy sonl is burning

Are to the coming warriors pour'd, She herself, who clasps thee so, Coming, as he, their herald, toid. Paints, ev'n now, thy glad returning, With blades from vict'ry scarce yet cold,

And, while clasping, bids thee go. With hearts untouch'd by Moslem steel, One deep sigh, to passion given,

And wounds that home's sweet breath will One last glowing tear and then

heal. March !_nor rest thy sword, till Heaven Brings thee to those arms again.

• Ere morn,' said he,-and, while he spoke, Turn'd to the east, where, clear, and

pale, Ev'n then, o'er loth their hands could part, The star of dawn already broke (sail!"

A promise the youth gave, which bore We'll greet, og sonder wave, theu Then, wherefore part? all, all agree

* And the fount of Wit never can rail.' To wait them here, beneath this bower; "Tis the Vine! 'tis the Vine!' bills and And thus, while ev'n amidst their glee, valleys reply, Each eye is turn'd to watch the sea, Hail, hail to the Wine-tree, all hail!' With song they cheer the anxious hour,

Next, Love, as he lean'd o'er the plant to SONG.

admire "'Tis the line! 'tis the Vine !' said the Each tendril and cluster it wore, ccp-loving boy,

From his rosy mouth sent such a breatb As he saw it spring bright from the of desire, earth,

As made the tree tremble all o'er. And call'd the young Genii of Wit, Love, Oh, never did dow'r of the earth, sea, or and Joy,

sky, To witness and hallow its birth.

Such a soul-giving odour inhale : The fruit was full grown, like a ruby it "'Tis the Vine! 'tis the Vine !' all reo Alam'd

echo the cry, Till the sun-beam that kiss'd it look'd Hail, hail to the Wine-tree, all-bail!'

pale: ""Tis the Vine! 'tis the Vine!' ev'ry Last, Joy, without whom even Lore and Spirit exclaim'd,

Wit die, •Hail, hail to the Wine-tree, all hail!' Came to crown the bright hour with his

ray; First, fleet as a bird, to the summons Wit And scarce bad that mirth-waking tree dew,

met his eye, While a light on the vine-leaves there When a laugh spoke what Joy could broke,

not say ; -Ia flashes so quick and so brilliant, all A laugh of the heart, which was echoed knew

around 'Twas the light from his lips as he Till, like music, it swellid on the gale; spoke.

'Tis the Vine! 'tis the Vine !' laughing • Bright true! let thy nectar but cheer myriads resound, Tr' he cried,

• Hail, hail to the Wine-tree, all beil !

LEGENDARY BALLADS.

TO

THE MISS FEILDINGS,

THIS VOLUME 18 INSCRIBED,

BY THEIR FAITHFUL FRIEND AND SERVANT,

THOMAS MOORE.

maiden past.

THE VOICE.

For still from the garden that spirit Voice

spoke! It came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days,

'I come,' she exclaim'd, be thy home

where it may, When love, only love, was the light of her on earth or in heaven, that call I obey; '. ways;

Then forth through the moonlight, with And, soft as in moments of bliss long ago,

heart beating fast It whisper'd her name from the gardon And loud as a death-watch, the pale

below, Alas,' sigh'd the maiden,“ how fancy can Still round her the scene all in lonelinesh cheat !

shone; The world once had lips that could whis. And still, in the distance, that Voice led

per thus sweet; But cold now they slumber in yon fatal But whither she wander’d, by wave or by deep,

shore, Where, oh that beside them this heart None ever could tell, for she came back too could sleep!'

No, ne'er came she back,-but the watchShe sunk on her pillow—but no, 'twas in man who stood, vain

That night in the tow'r which o'ershadows To chase the illusion, that Voice came the flood, again!

Saw dimly, 'tis said, o'er the moon-lighted She flew to the casement-but, hush'd as

spray,

A youth on a steed bear the maiden away. In moonlight lay slumbering woodland

and wave.

her on;

no more.

the grave,

• Oh sleep, come and shield me,' in an

CUPID AND PSYCHE. guish she said, • From that call of the buried, that cry of They told her that he, to whose vows she the Dead!'

had listen'd And sleep came around her—but, starting, Through night's fleeting hours, who she woke,

Spirit unhlest:

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