Who dooms the brow o'er which he flies To wear a crown of Royalty. She had, herself, last evening, sent A winged messenger, whose flight She watch'd till, less'ning out of sight, A missive in that language wrought Which flow'rs can speak, when aptly wove, Each hue a word, each leaf a thought. And now-oh speed of pinion, known Its farewell of the golden lakes, She sees another envoy fly, With the wish'd answer, through the sky. SONG. Glided, like fairies, to assist Their handmaids on the moonlight plain, Where, hid by intercepting shade From the stray glance of curious eyes, A feast of fruits and wines was laidSoon to shine out, a glad surprise! And now the moon, her ark of light Steering through Heav'n, as though she bore To some remote immortal shore, Beside the nymph of India's sky; WELCOME, Sweet bird, through the sunny air wing- Meantime the elders round the board, Thus circled round the song of glee, And all was tuneful mirth the while, Save on the cheeks of some, whose smile, As fix'd they gaze upon the sea, Turns into paleness suddenly! What see they there? a bright blue light That, like a meteor, gliding o'er The distant wave, grows on the sight, As though 'twere wing'd to Zea's shore. To some, 'mong those who came to gaze, Of pine torch, luring on his prey; They breath'd the bless'd Panaya's name, Vow'd that such light was not of earth, But of that drear, ill-omen'd flame, That coming light which now was nigh, Of pain-like joy, ""Tis he! 'tis he!" Loud she exclaim'd, and, hurrying by The assembled throng, rush'd tow'rds the sea. At burst so wild, alarm'd, amaz'd, What meant such mood, in maid so meek? : Till now, the tale was known to few, Th' ill-omen'd thought which cross'd him That once those hands should lose their hold, They ne'er would meet on earth again! In vain his mistress, sad as he, His favourite once, ere Beauty's eye 1 The name which the Greeks give to the Virgin Mary. 66 And wounds that home's sweet breath will heal. From his rosy mouth sent such a breath of de "Ere morn," said he,- and, while he spoke, Turn'd to the east, where, clear, and pale, The star of dawn already broke "We'll greet, on yonder wave, their sail!" Then, wherefore part? all, all agree To wait them here, beneath this bower; And thus, while ev'n amidst their glee, Each eye is turn'd to watch the sea, With song they cheer the anxious hour. SONG. ""TIs the Vine! 'tis the Vine!" said the cup-loving boy, As he saw it spring bright from the earth |