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(As lovers steal to bliss)
The billows kiss the shore, and then
Flow calmıy to the deep again,

As though hey did not kiss!
Remember, o'er its circling flood
In what a dangerous dream we stood-

The silent sea before us,
Around us, all the gloom of grove,
That e'er was spread for guilt or love,

No eye but N ture's o'er us !
I saw you blush, you felt me tremble,
In vain would formal art dissemble

All that we wished and thought ;
'Twas more than tongue could dare reveal,
'Twas more than virtue ought to feel,

But all that passion ought !
I stooped to cull, with faltering hand,
A shell that, on the golden sand,

Before us faintly gleamed ;
I raised it to your lips of dew,
You kissed the shell, I kissed it too--

Good heaven ! how sweet it seemeu !
Oh! 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 !

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 dared 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 seemed to float in silent song, Bending to earth that beamy glance,

As if to light your steps along!

Oh! how could others dare to touch

That hallowed form with hand so free, When but to look was bliss too much,

Too rare for all but heaven and me! V'ith 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. Weedless of all, I wildly turned,

My soul forgot-nor oh ! condemn That when such eyes before me burned,

My soul forgot all eyes but them! I dared to speak in sobs of bliss,

Rapture of every thought bereft nie; I would have clasped you--oh even this!

But, with a bound, you blushing left me. Forget, forget that night's offence,

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 vieiv, 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 !

Mly life I what should not have done?

A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY. I just had turned the classic page,

And traced 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,
And saw the vestal planet weep

Her tears of light on Ariel's flood.
My heart was full of fancy's dream,
And, as I watched the playsul streamil,
Entangling in its net of smiles
So sair a group of elfin isles,
I felt as if the scenery there

Were lighted by a Grecian sky-
As if I breathed the blissful air

That yet was warm with Sappho's sigla !


And now, the downy hand of rest
Her signet on my eyes impressed,
And still the bright and balmy spell,
Like star-dew, o'er my fancy fell !
I thought that, all enrapt, I strayed
Through that serene, luxurious shade,
Where Epicurus taught the Loves

To polish virtue's native brightness,
Just as the beak of playful doves

Can give to pearls a smoother whiteness *
'Twas one of those delicious nights

So common in the climes of Greece,
When day withdraws but half its lights,

And all is moonshine, balm, and peace !
And thou wert there, my own beloved !
And dearly by thy side I roved
Through many a temple's reverend gloom,
And many a bower's seductive bloom,
Where beauty blushed and wisdom taught,
Where lovers sighed and sages thought,
Where hearts might feel or heads discern,

And all was formed to soothe or move,
To make the dullest love to learn,

To make the coldest learn to love !
And now the fairy pathway seemed

To lead us through enchanted ground.
Where all that bard has ever dreamed

Of love or luxury bloomed around !
Oh ! 'twas a bright, bewildering scene-
Along the alley's deepening green
Soft lamps, that hung like burning flowers,
And scented and illumed the bowers,
Seemed as to him who darkling roves
Amid the lone Hercynian groves
Appear the countless birds of light
That sparkle in the leaves at night,
And from their wings diffuse a ray
Along the traveller's weary way!
'Twas light of that mysterious kind

Through which the soul is doomed to roald
When it has left this world behind,

And gone to seek its heavenly home!
And, Nea, thou didst look and move,

Like any blooming soul of bliss
That wanders to its home above

Through mild and shadowy light like this!
But now, methought, we stole along

Through halls of more voluptuous glory
* This method of polishing pearls, by leaving them awhile to be played with
by doves, is mentioned by the fanciful Cardanus, de Rerum Varietat. lib. vii

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cap. 34.

Than ever lived in Teian song,

Or wantoned in Milesian story!
And nymphs were there, whose very eyes
Seemed almost to exhale in sighs ;
Whose every little ringlet thrilled,
As if with soul and passion filled !
Some flew, with amber cups, around,

Shedding the flowery wines of Crete,
And, as they passed with youthful bound,

The onyx shone beneath their feet !
While others, waving arms of snow

Entwined by snakes of burnished gold,
And showing limbs, as loth to show,

Through many a thin Tarentian fold,
Glided along the festal ring,
With vases, all respiring spring,
Where roses lay, in languor breathing,
And the young bee-grape, round them wreathing,
Hung on their blushes warm and meek,
Like curls upon a rosy cheek!
O Nea! why did morning break

The spell that so divinely bound me?
Why did I wake? how could I wake,

With thee my own and heaven around me!

Well-peace to thy heart, though another's it be,
And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for me!
To-morrow, I sail for those cinnamon groves
Where nightly the ghost of the Carribee roves,
And, far from thine eye, oh! perhaps, I may yet
Its seduction forgive and its splendour forget!
Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom
Of the lemon and myrtle its valleys perfume ;
May spring to eternity hallow the shade
Where Ariel has warbled and Waller has strayed !
And thou-when, at dawn, thou shalt happen to roam
Through the lime-covered alley that leads to thy home
Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done,
And the stars were beginning to fade in the sun,
I have led thee along, and have told by the way
What my heart all the night had been burning to say
Oh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times,
And a blessing for me to that alley of limes:

If I were yonder wave, my dear,

And thou the isle it clasps around,
I would not let a foot come near

My land of bliss, my fairy ground !

If I were yonder conch of gold,

And thou the pearl within it placed, I would not let an eye behold

The sacred gem my arms embraced ! If I were yonder orange-tree,

And thou the blossom blooming there. I would not yield a breath of thee,

To scent the most imploring air ! Oh ! bend not o'er the water's brink,

Give not the wave that rosy sigh, Nor let its burning mirror drink

The soft reflection of thine eye. That glossy hair, that glowing cheek,

Upon the billows pour their beam So warmly that my soul could seek

Its Nea in the painted strean.. The painted stream my chilly grave

And nuptial bed at once may be ; I'll wed thee in that mimic wave,

And die upon the shade of thee ! Behold the leafy mangrove, bending

()'er the waters blue and bright, Like Nea's silky lashes, lending

Shadow to her eyes of light! O my beloved ! where'er I turn,

Some trace of thee enchants mine eyes, In every star thy glances burn,

Thy blush on every floweret lies. But then thy breath !—not all the fire

That lights the lone Semenda's death, In eastern climes, could e'er respire

An odour like thy dulcet breath!
pray thee, on those lips of thine

To wear this rosy leaf for me,
And breathe of something not divine,

Since nothing human breathes of thee!
All other charms of thine I meet

In nature, but thy sigh alone;
Then take, oh ! take, though not so sweet,

The breath of roses for thine own!
So, while I walk the flowery grove,

The bud that gives, through morning dew, The lustre of the lips I love,

May seem to give their perfume too!

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