Raising its amorous head And all heaven's host of eyes Saw those luxuriant beauties sink in lapse of loveliness, along the azure skies! Like a young blossom on our meads of gold, Amid the liquid sparkles of the morn! Upon a diamond shrine! Who was the spirit that remember'd Man And with a wing of Love Brush'd off the scatter'd tear, Fell glowing through the spheres, Now, with a humid kiss, It thrill'd along the beamy wire Stealing the soul of Music in its flight! That whisper from the planets as they roll, By all their sighs, meandering stole! Beheld the rill of flame Descending through the waste of night, Around its fervid axle, and dissolv'd Into a flood so bright! The child of day, Within his twilight bower, * In the "Geoponica," lib. ii. cap. 17, there is a fable somewhat like this descent of the nectar to earth. + The constellation Lyra. The astrologers attribute great virtues to this sign in the ascendant Lay sweetly sleeping On the flush'd bosom of a lotus-flower ;* Steeping The rosy clouds, that curl'd Like myrrh upon the locks of Cupid shed! Wav'd his exhaling tresses through the sky. The tide divine, All glittering with the vermil dye And every drop was wine, was heavenly wine! That caught, upon their hallow'd breast, ANACREONTIC. SHE never look'd so kind before- The wine which she had lately tasted; On whom but Lamia could they hang? *The Egyptians represented the dawn of day by a young boy seated upon a lotus. The ancients esteemed those flowers and trees the sweetest upo which the rainbow had appeared to rest; and the wood they chiefly burned in sacrifices was that which the smile of Iris had consecrated. Those floating oyes, that floating shine That mould so fine, so pearly bright, Of which luxurious Heaven hath cast her, And Lamia's lip that warbled there! And when you think heaven's joys await you, TO MRS ON SOME CALUMNIES AGAINST HER CHARACTER. Is not thy mind a gentle mind? Is not thy heart a heart refin'd? Hast thou not every blameless grace, That man should love or Heaven can trace? And oh art thou a shrine for sin To hold her hateful worship in? No, no, be happy-dry that tear Though some thy heart hath harbour'd near May now repay its love with blame; Though man, who ought to shield thy fame, Ungenerous man be first to wound thee; Though the whole world may freeze around thee, Oh! thou'lt be like.that lucid tear* Which, bright, within the crystal's sphere In liquid purity was found, Though all had grown congeal'd around; Floating in frost, it mock'd the chill, Was pure, was soft, was brilliant still! This alludes to a curious gem-a drop of pure water enclosed within a piece of crystal.-See Claudian. HYMN OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER. OH! lost, for ever lost!-no more In holy musings shall we roam, Guide of my heart! to memory true, Thy looks, thy words, are still my own I see thee raising from the dew, Some laurel, by the wind o'erthrown, Though sunk awhile the spirit lies. And spoke of truth so sweetly well, Is not thy shade still lingering here? When, meeting on the sacred mount, That mine should be the simplest mien, Upon all important occasions, they sent to Tempé for their laurel We find, in Pausanias, that this valley supplied the branches of which the temple was originally constructed; and Plutarch says, in his Dialogue on Music, "The youth who brings the Tempic laurel to Delphi is always at tended by a player on the flute.' My lyre and voice the sweetest there, And guiding every mazy tread! TO MISS SUSAN BECKFORD, ON HER SINGING. I MORE than once have heard, at night, Who seem'd like thee, to breathe of heaven But this was all a dream of sleep, And I have said, when morning shone, "Oh! why should fairy Fancy keep These wonders for herself alone?" I knew not then that fate had lent And yet, in all that flowery maze Through which my life has lov'd to tread When I have heard the sweetest lays From lips of dearest lustre shed; When I have felt the warbled word From beauty's mouth of perfume sighing, Sweet as music's hallow'd bird Upon a rose's bosom lying! Though form and song at once combin'd Their loveliest bloom and softest thrill. My heart hath sigh'd, my heart hath pin'd, For something softer, lovelier still' |