Or guides around the burning pole

The wing'd chariot of some blissful soul!
While thou,

O son of earth! what dreams shall rise for thee!
Beneath Hispania's sun,

Thou'lt see a streamlet run,

Which I have warm'd with dews of melody;
Listen!-when the night wind dies
Down the still current, like a harp it sighs!
A liquid chord is every wave that flows,
An airy plectrum every breeze that blows!
There, by that wondrous stream,

Go, lay thy languid brow,

And I will send thee such a godlike dream,
Such-mortal! mortal! hast thou heard of him,*
Who, many a night, with his primordial lyre,
Sate on the chill Pangean mount,

And, looking to the orient dim,

Watch'd the first flowing of that sacred fount,
From which his soul had drunk its fire!
Oh! think what visions, in that lonely hour,
Stole o'er his musing breast!

What pious ecstasy

Wafted his prayer to that eternal Power,
Whose seal upon this world imprest+
The various forms of bright divinity!

Or, dost thou know what dreams I wove,
'Mid the deep horror of that silent bower,‡
Where the rapt Samian slept his holy slumber?
When, free

From every earthly chain,

From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain,
His spirit flew through fields above,

Drank at the source of nature's fontal numbers
And saw, in mystic choir, around him move
The stars of song, Heaven's burning minstrelsy!
Such dreams, so heavenly bright,

*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 яayar asras Quotas, "The Fountain of Perennial Nature."

By the great diadem that twines my hair,
And by the seven gems that sparkle there,*
Mingling their beams

In a soft iris of harmonious light,

Oh, mortal! such shall be thy radiant dreams!

No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring;
Oh! think, how many a future year,
Of placid smile and downy wing,
May sleep within its holy sphere!

Do not disturb their tranquil dream,

Though love hath ne'er the mystery warm'd,
Yet Heaven 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 inwreathes 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:

This diadem is intended to represent the analogy between the notes of music and the prismatic colours.

The sympathy I then betray'd,
Perhaps was but the child of art;
The guile of one, who long hath play'd
With all these wily nets of heart.
Oh! thou hast not my virgin vow;

Though few the years I yet have told,
Canst thou believe I live till now,

With loveless heart or senses cold? No-many a throb of bliss and pain, For many a one my soul hath prov'd; With some I sported 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.

ΤΟ

WHEN I lov'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 speak my Heliodora's name!
Repeat its magic o'er and o'er,
And let the sound my lips adore,
Sweeten the breeze, and mingling swim
On every bowl's voluptuous brim!

Give me the wreath that withers there,
It was but last delicious night,

P

It hung upon her wavy hair,

And caught her eyes' reflected light
Oh! haste, and twine it round my brow ·
It breathes of Heliodora now!

The loving rose-bud drops a tear,
To see the nymph no longer here,
No longer, where she used to stay,
To glad my heart and cheer my way.

I FOUND her not-the chamber seem'd
Like some divinely haunted place,
Where fairy forms had lately beam'd,
And left behind their odorous trace.
It felt, as if her lips had shed
A sigh around her, ere she fled
Which hung, as on a melting lute,
When all the silver chords are mute,
There lingers still a trembling breath
After the note's luxurious death,
A shade of song, a spirit air

Of melodies which had been there!
Oh NEA! NEA! where art thou?
In pity fly not thus from me;

Thou art my life, my essence now,
And my soul dies of wanting thee!

LOVE AND REASON.

"Quand l'homme commence a raisonner, il cesse de sentir." J. J Rousseau

"Twas in the summer-time, so sweet,

When hearts and flowers are both in season.
That-who, of all the world, should meet,
One early dawn, but Love and Reason!

Love told his dream of yester-night,

While Reason talk'd about the weather; The morn, in sooth, was fair and bright, And on they took their way together.

The boy in many a gambol flew,

While Reason like a Juno stalk'd, And from her portly figure threw

A lengthen'd shadow, as she walk'd.

No wonder Love, as on they past,
Should find that sunny morning chill,
For still the shadow Reason cast

Fell on the boy, and cool'd him still.

In vain he tried his wings to warm,
Or find a path-way not so dim,
For still the maid's gigantic form

Would pass between the sun and him!

"This must not be," said little Love"The sun was made for more than you," So, turning through a myrtle grove, He bid the portly nymph adieu!

Now gaily roves the laughing boy

O'er many a mead, by many a stream;

In every breeze inhaling joy,

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 parch'd 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 smil'd--
Oh! 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,
He saw the nymph reclining calm,
With brow as cool, as his was burning'

"Oh! take me to that bosom cold,"
In murmurs at her feet he said;
And Reason op'd her garment's fold,
And flung it round his fever'd head.

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 expir'd on Reason's breast