THE SNAKE. 1801. My love and I, the other day, “See,” said the maid with laughing eyes— "Yonder the fatal emblem lies! "Who could expect such hidden harm "Beneath the rose's velvet charm ?" Never did mortal thought occur To talk of love and think of bliss. I rose to kill the snake, but she "No," said the girl--and many a spark Flash'd from her eyelid, as she said it—"Under the rose, or in the dark, "One might, perhaps, have cause to dread it; "But when its wicked eyes appear, "And when we know, for what they wink so, "One must be very simple, dear, "To let it sting one-don't you think so?" LINES, WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA. -τηνδε την πολιν φιλώς Ειπων επάξια γαρ. Sophocl, Edip. Colon. v. 758. ALONE by the Schuylkill a wanderer rov'd, And bright were its flowery banks to his eye; But far, very far were the friends that he lov'd, And he gaz'd on its flowery banks with a sigh! Oh nature! though blessed and bright are thy rays, O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown, Yet faint are they all to the lustre, that plays In a smile from the heart that is dearly our own! Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain Unblest by the smile he had languish'd to meet: Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again, Till the threshold of home had been kiss'd by his feet! But the lays of his boy-hood had stol'n to their ear, And they lov'd what they knew of so humble a name, And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear, That they found in his heart something sweeter than fame! Nor did woman-oh woman! whose form and whose soul Are the spell and the light of each path. we pursue! Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too! Nor did she her enarmouring magic deny, That magic his heart had relinquish'd so long, Like eyes he had lov'd was her eloquent eye, Like them did it soften and weep at his song. Oh! blest be the tear, and in memory oft May its sparkle be shed o'er his wandering dream! Oh! blest be that eye, and may passion as soft As free from a pang ever mellow its beam! The stranger is gone-but he will not forget, When at home he shall talk of the toil he has known, To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met, As he stray'd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone! THE FALL OF HEBE. A DITHYRAMBIC ODE.* 'Twas on a day When the immortals at their banquet lay; The bowl Sparkled with starry dew, The weeping of those myriad urns of light, Within whose orbs, the almighty Power, At nature's dawning hour, *Though I call this a Dithyrambic Ode, I cannot presume to say that it possesses, in any degree, the characteristics of that species of poetry. The nature of the ancient Dithyrambic is very imperfectly known. According to M. Burette, a licentious irregularity of metre, an extravagant research of thought and expression, and a rude embarrassed construction, are among its most distinguishing features. He adds, "Ces caractéres des dityrambes se font sentir à ceux qui lisent attentivement les odes de Pindare." Mémoires de l'Acad. Vol. x. p. 306. And the same opinion may be collected from Stor'd the rich fluid of etherial soul !* Around Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight From eastern isles, (Where they have bath'd them in the orient ray, Schmidt's dissertation upon the subject. But I think if the Dithyrambics of Pindar were in our possession, we should find, that, however wild and fanciful, they were by no means the tasteless jargon they are represented, and that even their irregularity was what Boileau calls "un beau désordre." Chiabrera, who has been styled the Pindar of Italy, and from whom all its poetry upon the Greek model was called Chiabreresco (as Crescimbeni informs us, Lib. i. cap. 12.) has given, amongst his Vendemmie, a Dithyrambic, all' uso de' Greci; it is full of those compound epithets, which, we are told, were a chief character of the style συνθετος δε λεξεις εποίεν. Suid. A Supaußodid. ;) such as Briglindorato Pegaso But I cannot suppose that Pindar, even amidst all the licence of dithyrambics, would ever have descended to ballad-language like the following: Bella Filli, e bella Clori Non piu dar pregio a tue bellezze e taci, Fo le fiche a' vostri baci. E se troppo desiro esser vorrei Coppier, Deh fossi io Bottiglier. Rime del Chiabrera, Part ii. p. 352. *This is a Platonic fancy; the philosopher sup poses, in his Timæus, that, when the Deity had formed the soul of the world, he proceeded to the composition of other souls; in which process, says |