A liquid chord in every wave that flows, And I will send thee such a godlike dream, And, looking to the orient dim, Watch'd the first flowing of that sacred fount, Mingling their beams In a soft Iris of harmonious light, Oh, mortal! such shall be thy radiant dream EPISTLE IV. TO GEORGE MORGAN, ESQ. of Norfolk, VIRGINIA.1 FROM BERMUDA, JANUARY 1804. ΚΕΙΝΗ Δ' ΗΝΕΜΟΕΣΣΑ ΚΑΙ ΑΤΡΟΠΟΣ, ΟΙΑ ΘΑ Callimach, Hymn. in Del. T.. OH! what a tempest whirl'd us hither!2 Yet think not, George, that Fancy's charm When close they reef'd the timid sail, The stars of song, Heaven's burning minstrelsy! I swear By the great diadem that twines my hair, 1 These two lines are translated from the words of Achilles Tatius. Εαν γαρ ολιγος ανεμος εις τας δίνας εμπέση, το μεν ύδωρ ως χορδή κρέεται, το δε πνεύμα το υδατος πλεκ τρον γίνεται, το ρεύμα δε ως κιθαρα λαλει. Lib. 2. 2 Orpheus. 3 They called his lyre αρχαιότροπον επτάχορδον Ορφέως. See a curious work by a professor of Greek at Venice, entitled" Hebdomades, sive septem de septenario libri." Lib. 4. Cap. 3. p. 177. 4 Eratosthenes, telling the extreme veneration of Orpheus for Apollo, says that he was accustomed to go to the Pangæan mountain at day-break, and there wait the rising of the sun, that he might be the first to hail its beams. Eγειρομένος τε της νυκτος, κατα την εωθινήν επι το όρος το καλέμενον Παγγαιον, προσέμενε τας ανατολας, ίνα ίδη τον Ηλιον πρωτον. Καταστερισμ. 24. 5 There are some verses of Orpheus preserved to us, which contain sublime ideas of the unity and magnificence of the Deity. As those which Justin Martyr has produced: Ουτος μεν χαλκείον ες έρανον εστήρικται Χρυσείω ενι θρόνω, κ. τ. λ. Ad Græc. cohortat. It is thought by some, that these are to be reckoned amongst the fabrications which were frequent in the early times of Christianity. Still it appears doubtful to whom we should impute them; they are too pious for the Pagans, and too poetical for the Fathers. 6 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. And e'en our haughty main-mast bow'd! The casket where my memory lays Which time has sav'd from ancient days! I wrote it while my hammock swung, Cassiodorus, whose idea I may be supposed to have be rowed, says, in a letter upon music to Boetius, “ Ut dia ma oculis, varia luce gemmarum, sic cythara diversita soni, blanditur auditui." This is indeed the only tolera thought in the letter. Lib. 2. Variar. Norfolk. His talents are worthy of a much higher spher 7 Alluding to the cave near Samos, where Pythagoras 2 We were seven days on our passage from Norfolk to Bermuda, during three of which we were forced to lay-to in a gale of wind. The Driver, sloop of war, in which I went, was built at Bermuda, of cedar, and is accounted an excellent sea-boat. She was then commanded by my very regretted friend, Captain Compton, who in July last was killed aboard the Lilly, in an action with a French priva 9 This diadem is intended to represent the analogy be- teer. Poor Compton! he fell a victim to the strange im tween the notes of music and the prismatic colours. We policy of allowing such a miserable thing as the Lilly to find in Plutarch a vague intimation of this kindred harmony remain in the service: so small, so crank, and unmanage in colours and sounds. Os Texas axov, μSTα Qwvns Table, that a well-manned merchantman was at any time s και φωτος την αρμονίαν επιφαίνεσι. De Musica. match for her. The sun has now profusely given SWEETLY' you kiss, my Lais dear! The flashes of a noontide heaven, But, while you kiss, I feel a tear, And, as the wave reflects his beams, Bitter as those when lovers part, Another heaven its surface seems! In mystery from your eye-lid start ! Blue light and clouds of silvery tears Sadly you lean your head to mine, So pictur'd o'er the waters lie, And round my neck in silence twine, That every languid bark appears To float along a burning sky! Oh! for the boat the angel gave' To him, who, in his heaven-ward flight, To planet-isles of odorous light! Sweet Venus, what a clime he found Am I to lose you? is to-night Within thy orb’s ambrosial round !2 Our last-go, false to heaven and me! There spring the breezes, rich and warm, That pant around thy twilight car; That each appears a living star !3 These are the sprites, oh radiant queen! Such, while in air I floating hung, Thou send'st so often to the bed Of her I love, with spell unseen, Thy planet's brightening balm to shed; To make the eye's enchantment clearer, But, bless the little fairy isle ! To give the cheek one rose-bud more, How sweetly after all our ills, And bid that flushing lip be dearer, We saw the dewy morning smile Which had been, oh! too dear before! Serenely o’er its fragrant hills! But, whither means the muse to roam ? And felt the pure, elastic flow 'Tis time to call the wanderer home. Of airs, that round this Eden blow, With honey freshness, caught by stealth 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, For bards to live, and saints to die in! When cups are flowing to the brim, Close to my wooded bank below, That here is one who drinks to you, In glassy calm the waters sleep, And, oh! as warmly drink to him. And to the sun-beam proudly show The coral rocks they love to steep !2 The fainting breeze of morning fails, The drowsy boat moves slowly past, THE RING. And I can almost touch its sails TO 1801. That languish idly round the mast. No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring; Oh! think how many a future year, 1 This epigram is by Paulus Silentiarius, and may be Of placid smile and downy wing, found in the Analecta of Brunck, Vol. 8. p. 72. But as the reading there is somewhat different from what I have fol May sleep within its holy sphere ! lowed in this translation, I shall give it as I had it in my memory at the time, and as it is in Heinsius, who, I believe, Do not disturb their tranquil dream, first produced the epigram. See his Poemata. Though love hath ne'er the mystery warm’d, “Ηδυ μεν εστι φιλημα το Λαιδος· ηδυ δε αυτων Ηπιοδινητων δακρυ χεεις βλεφαρων 1 In Kircher's “Extatic Journey to Heaven," Cosmiel, Και πολυ κιχλιζεσα σoβεις ευβοστρυχον αιγλην the genius of the world, gives Theodidactus a boat of AsΗμετερα κεφαλην δηρον ερεισαμενη. bestos, with which he embarks into the regions of the sun. "Vides (says Cosmiel) hanc asbestinam naviculam commoΜυρομενην δ'εφιλησα τα δ'ως δροσερης απο πηγησ, ditati tuæ præparatam." Itinerar. 1. Dial. 1. Cap. 5. There Δακρυα μιγνυμενων πιπτε κατα στοματων: are some very strange fancies in this work of Kircher. Ειπε δ' ανειρο μενω, τινος ουνεκα δακρυα λειβεις; 2 When the Genius of the world and his fellow-traveller Δειδια μη με λιπης» εστε γαρ ορκαπαται, arrive at the planet Venus, they find an island of loveliness, full of odours and intelligences, where angels preside, who 2 The water is so clear around the island, that the rocks shed the cosmetic influence of this planet over the earth ; are seen beneath to a very great depth, and, as we entered such being, according to astrologers, the “vis intluxiva” of the harbour, they appeared to us so near the surface, that it Venus. When they are in this part of the heavens, a casu. seemed impossible we should not strike on them. There is istical question occurs to Theodidactus, and he asks no necessity, of course, for heaving the lead, and the negro "Whether baptism may be performed with the waters of prlot, looking down at the rocks from the bow of the ship, Venus ?"-"An aquis globi Veneris baptismus institui postakes her through this difficult navigation, with a skill and sit ?" to which the Genius answers, "Certainly." confidence which seem to astonish some of the oldest sai- 3 This idea is father Kircher's. “Tot animatos soles Jorg. dixisses.” Itinerar. i. Dial. Cap. 5 Yet heav'n will shed a soothing beam, To bless the bond itself hath form'd. But then, that eye, that burning eye! Oh! it doth ask, with magic power, If heaven can ever bless the tie, Where love inwreaths no genial flower! Away, away, bewildering look! Or all the boast of Virtue's o'er; Go-hie thee to the sage's book, 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 A moment turn those eyes away, And let me, if I can, forget The light that leads my soul astray! Thou say'st, that we were born to meet, That our hearts bear one common seal,Oh, Lady! think, how man's deceit Can seem to sigh and feign to feel! When, o'er thy face some gleam of thought, Like day-beams through the morning air, Hath gradual stole, and I have caught The feeling ere it kindled there: Perhaps was but the child of art; With all these wily nets of heart. Though few the years I yet have told, Canst thou believe I lived till now, With loveless heart or senses cold? No—many a throb of bliss and pain, For many a maid, my soul hath provid; With some I wanton'd wild and vain, While some I truly, dearly lov'd! The cheek to thine I fondly lay, To theirs hath been as fondly laid; The words to thee I warmly say, 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. Enough-now, turn thine eyes again; What, still that look, and still that sigh ! Dost thou not feel my counsel then? Oh! no, beloved !- nor do I. While thus to mine thy bosom lies, While thus our breaths commingling glow, 'Twere more than woman to be wise, "Twere more than man to wish thee so! Did we not love so true, so dear, This lapse could never be forgiven; But hearts so fond and lips so near Give mo the ring, and now-Oh heaven! Yes, if 'twere any common love, That led my pliant heart astray, I grant, there's not a power above Could wipe the faithless crime away! But, 'twas my doom to err with one In every look so like to thee, That, oh! beneath the blessed sun, So fair there are but thou and she ! Whate'er may be her angel birth, She was thy lovely perfect twin, And wore the only shape on earth, That could have charm'd my soul to sin.! . Your eyes !—the eyes of languid doves Were never half so like each other! The glances of the baby loves Resemble less their warm-ey'd mother! Her lip !-oh, call me not false hearted, When such a lip I fondly prest; 'Twas Love some melting cherry parted, Gave thee one half and her the rest! And when, with all thy murmuring tone, They sued, half open, to be kiss'd, I could as soon resist thine own And them, heaven knows! I ne'er resist. Then, scorn me not, though false I be, 'Twas love that wak'd the dear excess; My heart had been more true to thee, Had mine eye priz'd thy beauty less ! TO WHEN Hlov'd you, I can't but allow I had many an exquisite minute; But the scorn that I feel for you now Hath even more luxury in it! Thus, whether we're on or we're off, Some witchery seems to await you; To love you is pleasant enough, And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you! FROM THE GREEK OF MELEAGER.' FILL high the cup with liquid flame, And let the sound my lips adore, Give me the wreath that withers there; And caught her eyes' reflected light! The loving rose-bud drops a tear, LINES, WRITTEN IN A STORM AT SEA. THAT sky of clouds is not the sky Of her he loves The swell of yonder foaming billow That rapture moves. Yet do I feel more tranquil now Than when, in transport's young emotion, Oh! there's a holy calm profound 'Tis as a solemn voice from heaven, 'Tis true, it talks of danger nigh, Where pleasure's throb or tears of sorrow Well!-there are some, thou stormy bed, NAY, tempt me not to love again, Our souls had not been slow to meet ! So many a time, the rounds of pain, Thither my wounded soul would fly, Should bring no more their bliss, their pain, Dear absent girl, whose eyes of light, Say, NEA, dear! could'st thou, like her, Endearing still, reproaching never. 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. TALE ITER OMNE CAVE. Propert. Lib. iv. Eleg. 8 1 I PRAY you, let us roam no more Where late we thoughtless stray'd; Such lonely walks were made. That little bay, where, winding in From ocean's rude and angry din, (As lovers steal to bliss,) As though they did not kiss ! The silent sea before us, No eye but nature's o'er us ! All that we wish'd and thought ;'Twas more than tongue could dare reveal, 'Twas more than virtue ought to feel, But all that passion ought! Before us faintly gleam'd; Good heaven, how sweet it seem'd! 0, trust me, 'twas a place, an hour, The worst that e'er temptation's power Could tangle me or you in! Sweet NEA ! let us roam no more Along that wild and lonely shore Such walks will be our ruin! Bending to earth that beamy glance, As if to light your steps along ! That hallow'd form with hand so free, 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 ine burn'd My soul forgot all eyes but them! Rapture of every thought bereft me, But, with a bound, you blushing left me. Forgive it, if, alas! you can; 'Twas love, 'twas passion-soul and sense 'Twas all the best and worst of man! 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! Did not a frown from you reprove, Myriads of eyes to me were none; I should have-oh, my only love! My life! what should I not have done! 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 ! Heard you the wish I dar'd to name, To murmur on that luckless night, When passion broke the bonds of shame, And love grew madness in your sight? Divinely through the graceful dance, You seem'd to float in silent song, 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, Her tears of light on Ariel's flood. Were lighted by a Grecian sky- That yet was warm with Sappho's sigh! 1 Gassendi thinks that the gardens, which Pausanias mentions, in his first Book, were those of Epicurus; and Stuart says, in his Antiquities of Athens, “ Near this convent (the convent of Hagios Assomatos) is the place called at present Kepoi, or the Gardens; and Ampelos Kepos, or the Vineyard Garden; these were probably the gardens which Pausanias visited.” Chap. ii. Vol. I. |