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THE GENIUS OF HARMONY,
AN IRREGULAR ODE.
Cicero. de Nat. Deor. lib. ii.
Such as of old
This magic shell
Of those entrancing airs
And, if the power
Go, bring the bright shell to my bower,
As lap the spirit of the seventh sphere,
And thou shalt own
From the pellucid tides that whirl
From the rich sigh
On Afric's burning fields;
Welcome, welcome, mystic shell !
Many a tear has Saturn's urn
Since thy aërial spell
Where she who waked its early sweli,
The Siren, with a foot of fire,
Or guides around the burning pole
Beneath Hispania's sun
Thou'lt see a streamlet run
Listen !-when the night-wind dies
There, by that wondrous stream,
Go, lay thy languid brow,
Sat on the chill Pangæan mount,
And, looking to the orient dim, Watched 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 ecstacy
Whose seal upon this world impressed
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,
Mingling their beams
O mortal ! such shall be thy radiant dreams ! Oh! for the boat the angel gave
To him who, in his heavenward flight,
To planet-isles of odorous light !
That pant around thy twilight car ;
That each appears a living star!
Thou send'st so often to the bed
Thy planet's brightening balm to shed :
To give the cheek one rosebud more,
Which had been oh! too dear before!
Tis time to call the wanderer home.
Long may the bowl that pleasures bloom in
Mirth and song your board islumine:
When cups are flowing to the brim,
And oh !—as warmly drink to him.
- 1801. 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 warmed, Yet Heaven will shed a soothing beam,
To bliss the bond itself hath formed. 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 sayest that we were born to meet,
That our hearts bear one common seal O Lady! think how man's deceit
Can seem to sigh and feign to feel ! When o'er thy face some gleam of thought,
Like daybeams through the morning air, Hath gradual stole, and I have caught
The feeling ere it kindled there : The sympathy I then betrayed
Perhaps was but the child of art; The guise of one who long hath played
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 maid my soul hath proved : With some I wantoned wild and vain,
While some I truly, dearly loved ! 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 glo", "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 me the ring, and now- heaven!
Μαργαριται δηλουσι δακρυων ροον.
Ap. Nicephor. in Oneirocritico.
Let weeping angels view it;
And blush repenting through it.
The lucid pearls around it
The hour that Love unbound it.
- vo cercand' io
Petrarc, Sonett. 14.
That led my pliant heart astray,
Could wipe the faithless crime away!
But 'twas my doom to err with one
In every look so like to thee
So fair there are but thou and she !
Whate'er may be her angel birth,
She was thy lovely, perfect twin,
That could have charmed my soul to sin !
Your eyes !--the eyes of languid doves
Were never half so like each other !
Resemble less their warm-eyed mother !
Her lip !-oh, call me not false-hearted,
"Nhen such a lip I fondly pressed;
Gave thee half and her the rest i