The weeping of those myriad urns of light, Stored the rich fluid of ethereal soul ! Around Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight (Where they have bathed them in the orient ray, All must be luxury, where Lyæus smiles! Were crowned With a bright meteor-braid, Which, like an ever-springing wreath of vine, And o'er his brow in lambent tendrils played! A thousand clustering blooms of light, And all the curtains of the deep, undrawn, Languished upon her eyes and lip, Now on his arm, In blushes she reposed, And, while her zone resigned its every charm, The nectared wave Lyæus gave, And from her eyelids, gently closed, Shed a dissolving gleam, Which fell, like sun-dew, in the bowl, While her bright hair, in mazy flow Of gold descending Along her cheek's luxurious glow, And was reflected by its crystal tide, Whose sunny leaves, at evening hour, Hang o'er the mirror of a silver stream! Burned in the hands Of dimpled Hebe, as she winged her feet The empyreal mount, To drain the soul-drops at their stellar fount; As the resplendent rill Flamed o'er the goblet with a mantling heat, Would cool its heavenly fire In gelid waves of snowy-feathered air, In those enchanted lands, Where life is all a spring, and north winds never blow! Sweet Hebe, what a tear And what a blush were thine, Along the studded sphere, With a rich cup for Jove himself to drink, 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! The wanton wind, Which had pursued the flying fair, Its spirit with the breathing rings Soared as she fell, and on its ruffling wings, Wafted the robe, whose sacred flow Hangs o'er the mysteries! The Muses blushed, And every cheek was hid behind a lyre, While every eye was glancing through the strings. エ Drops of ethereal dew That burning gushed, As the great goblet flew From Hebe's pearly fingers through the sky! And with a wing of Love Fell glowing through the spheres, Stealing the soul of music in its flight! Beheld the rill of flame The child of day, Within his twilight bower, Lay sweetly sleeping On the flushed bosom of a lotus flower; The rosy clouds, that curled About his infant head, Like myrrh upon the locks of Cupid shed! Waved his exhaling tresses through the sky, All glittering with the vermeil dye And every drop was wine, was heavenly WINEĮ Blest be the sod, the floweret blest, That caught, upon their hallowed breast, The nectared spray of Jove's perennial springs! ΤΟ THAT wrinkle, when first I espied it, Thou art just in the twilight at present, I would sooner, my exquisite mother! Than bask in the noon of another! ANACREONTIC. "SHE never looked so kind before- The wine which she had lately tasted; I took the harp, and would have sung On whom but Lamia could they hang? That kiss, for which, if worlds were mine, That mould so fine, so pearly bright, Of which luxurious Heaven hath cast her, Through which her soul doth beam as white As flame through lamps of alabaster! Of these I sung, and notes and words And Lamia's lip that warbled there! But when, alas! I turned the theme, The chord beneath my finger broke! False harp! false woman !—such, oh! such Can learn to wake their wildest thrilling! And when that thrill is most awake, And when you think heaven's joys await you, The nymph will change, the chord will breakO Love! O Music! how I hate you! TO MRS.. ON SOME CALUMNIES AGAINST HER CHARACTER. Is not thy mind a gentle mind? Is not thy heart a heart refined? Hast thou not every blameless grace That man should love or Heaven can trace? No, no, be happy--dry that tear Though some thy heart hath harboured near May now repay its love with blame; Though man, who ought to shield thy fame, Though the whole world may freeze around thee! Oh! thou'lt be like that lucid tear Which bright within the crystal's sphere Though all had grown congealed around; HYMN OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER. OH! lost, for ever lost !—no more To hymn the fading fires of day! |