Or guides around the burning pole The wing'd chariot of some blissful soul! O son of earth! what dreams shall rise for thee! Thou'lt see a streamlet run, Which I have warm'd with dews of melody; There, by that wondrous stream, And I will send thee such a godlike dream, And, looking to the orient dim, Watch'd the first flowing of that sacred fount, Wafted his prayer to that eternal Power, Or, dost thou know what dreams I wove, From every earthly chain, From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain, Drank at the source of nature's fontal number § * Orpheus. I swear In one of the Hymns of Orpheus, he attributes a figured seal to Apollo, with which he imagines that deity to have stamped a variety of forms upon the universe. Alluding to the cave near Samos, where Pythagoras devoted the greater part of his days and nights to meditation, and the mysteries of his philosophy. § The Tetractys, or Sacred Number of the Pythagoreans, on which they solemnly swore, and which they called παγαν αέναου φύσεως, “The Fountain of Perennial Nature." By the great diadem that twines my hair, In a soft iris of harmonious light, O mortal! such shall be thy radiant dreams! No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring; Though love hath ne'er the mystery warm'd, To bless the bond itself hath form'd. But then that eye, that burning eye! If Heaven can ever bless the tie Where love inwreathes no genial flower! Away, away, bewildering look! Or all the boast of virtue's o'er; And learn from him to feel no more! I cannot warn thee; every touch That brings my pulses close to thine Tells me I want thy aid as much, Oh! quite as much, as thou dost mine! Yet stay, dear love-one effort yet- The light that leads my soul astray ! Thou sayst that we were born to meet, When o'er thy face some gleam of thought, *This diadem is intended to represent the analogy between the notes of music and the prismatic colours. The sympathy I then betray'd Oh! thou hast not my virgin vow; With loveless heart or senses cold? No-many a throb of bliss and pain, To them have been as warmly said. Then scorn at once a languid heart, Which long hath lost its early spring: Think of the pure, bright soul thou art, And-keep the ring, oh! keep the ring. ΤΟ WHEN I loved you, I can't but allow And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you! FROM THE GREEK OF MELEAGER. FILL high the cup with liquid flame, Give me the wreath that withers there- It hung upon her wavy hair, And caught her eyes' reflected light, The loving rose-bud drops a tear I FOUND her not-the chamber seem'd It felt as if her lips had shed O NEA! NEA! where art thou? 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 yester-night, While Reason talk'd about the weather; The boy in many a gambol flew, No wonder Love, as on they pass'd, Fell on the boy, and cool'd him still. In vain he tried his wings to warm, "This must not be," said little Love- Now gaily roves the laughing boy And drinking bliss in every beam. From all the gardens, all the bowers, He cull'd the many sweets they shaded, And ate the fruits and smell'd the flowers, Till taste was gone and odour faded! But now the sun, in pomp of noon, Look'd blazing o'er the parched plains; Alas! the boy grew languid soon, And fever thrill'd through all his veins ! The dew forsook his baby brow, No more with vivid bloom he smiledOh, where was tranquil Reason now, To cast her shadow o'er the child? Beneath a green and aged palm, His foot at length for shelter turning, "Oh, take me to thy bosom cold," He felt her bosom's icy touch, And soon it lull'd his pulse to rest; For ah! the chill was quite too much, And Love expired on Reason's breast! |