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T was in die summer-time so sweet,

When hearts and flowers are both in season, That-who, of all the world, should meet,

Onc carly dawn, but Love and Reason!

Love told his dream of yester-night,

While Reason talk d about the weather, The morn, in sooth, was fair and bright,

And on they took their way together.

The boy in many a gambol flew,

While Reason like a Juno stalk'd, And from her portly figure threw

A lengthen'd shadow as she walk d.

Last night, when we came from the calabash-tree, When

my limbs were at rest and my spirit was free, The glow of the grape and the dreams of the day Put the magical springs of my fancy in play, And oh!-such a vision as launted me then I could slumber for ages to witness again! The many I like, and the few I adore, The friends, who were dear and beloved before, But never till now so beloved and dear, At the call of my fancy surrounded me here! Soon, soon did the flattering spell of their smile To a paradise brighten the blest little isle; Serener the wave, as they look'd on it, llow'd, And warmer the rose, as they gather'd it, glow'd! Not the valleys leraan (though water'd by rills Of the pearliest flow, from those pastoral hills,' Where the song of the shepherd, primeval and wild, Was taught to the nymphis by their mystical child) Could display such a bloom of delight, as was given By the magic of love to this miniature lleaven!

No wonder Love, as on they pass'd,

Should find that sunny morning chill, For still the shadow Reason cast

Fell on tlic boy, and coold him still.

In vain he tried liis wings to warm,

Or find a path-way not so dim, For still the maid's gigantic form Would

pass

between the sun and him!

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The dew forsook his baby brow,

No more withi vivid bloom he smiled Oh! where was tranquil Reason now,

To cast her shadow o'er the chuld?

fess, are not very civilized; and the old philosopher, who imagined that, after this life, men would be changed into mules, and women into turtle doves, would find the m-tamorphosis in some degree anticipated at Bermuds.

Mountains of Sicily, upon whicla Daphnis, the first inventor of burolii portry, was nursed by the nymphs. See the livrly description of these mountains in DIODURUS SHOULUS, lib. iv. ορη κατα την Σικελιαν εςιν, ά φασι καλλει η. τ. λ.

? A slip, ready to sail for England.

"Hpara gap

Beneath a green and aged palm,

Ilis foot at length for shelter turning,

+ Quoted somewhere in Si PIERRE'S Etudes de la Nature

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The world! —ah, Fanny! Love must shun

The path where many rove;
One bosom to recline upou,
One heart, to be his only one,

Are quite enough for Love!
What can we wish, that is not here

Between your arms and mine?
Is there on earth a space so dear,
As that within the blessed sphere

Two loving arms entwine?

For me, there's not a lock of jet

Along your temples curld, Within whose glossy, tangling net, My soul doth not, at once, forget

All, all the worthless world: Tis in your eyes, my sweetest Jove!

My only worlds I see; Let but their orbs in sunshine move, And earth below and skies above

May frown or smile for ine!

Was it the moon, or was it morning's ray,
That call'd thee, dearest, from these arms away?
I linger'd still, in all the murmuring rest,
The languor of a soul too richly blest!
Upon my breath thy sigh yet faintly hung;
Thy name yet died in whispers o'er my tongue;
I heard thy lyre, which thou hadst left behind,
In amorous converse with the breathing wind;
Quick to my heart I press'd the shell divine,
And, with a lip yet glowing warm from thine,
I kiss d its every chord, while every kiss
Shed o'er the chord some dewy print of bliss.
Then soft to thee I touch'd the fervid lyre,
Which told such melodies, such notes of fire,
As none but chords that drank the burning dews
Of kisses dear as ours could e'er diffuse!
Oh love! how blissful is the bland repose
That soothing follows upon rapture's close,
Like a soft twilight, o'er the mind to shed
Mild melting traces of the transport fled!
While thus I lay, in this voluptuous calm,
A drowsy languor steep'd my eyes in balm,
Upon my lap the lyre in murmurs fell,
While, faintly wandering o'er its silver shell,
My fingers soon their own sweet requiem play'd,
And slept in music which themselves had made!
Then, then, my Theon, what a heavenly dream!
I saw two spirits on the lunar beam,
Two winged boys, descending from above,
And gliding to my bower with looks of love,
Like the young genii, who repose their wings
All day in Amatha's luxurious springs,

• It was imagined by some of the ancients that there is an ethereal ocean above us, and that the sun and moon are two floating luminous islands, in wbich the spirits of the blessed reside. Accordingly, we find that the word xsaves was sometimes synonymous with anp, and death was not unfrequeally called Nxtavolo Tropos, or the passage of the ocean..

* Eunapius, in his Life of Jamblichus, tells us of two beautiful little spirits or loves, which Jamblichus raised by enchantment from

ASPASIA 'T was in the fair Aspasia's bower, That Love and Learning many an hour In dalliance met, and Learning smiled With rapture on the playful child, Who wanton stole to find his nest Within a fold of Learning's vest!

There, as the listening statesman hung
In transport on Aspasia's tongue,
The destinies of Athens took
Their colour from Aspasia's look.
Oh happy time! when laws of state,
When all that ruled the country's fate,
Its glory, quiet, or alarms,
Was plann'd between two snowy arms!

Sweet times! you could not always lastAnd yet, oh! yet, you are not past;

And riscat midnight, from the tepial rill,

And there the twine of Pythias'' gentle arms
To cool their plumes upon some moon-light hill! Repaid the zeal wlich deified her charms!
Soft o'er my brow, which kindled with their sigles, The Attic Master, 2 in Aspasia's eyes,
Awhile they play'd; then gliding through my eyes Forgot the toil of less endearing ties;
(Where the bright babies, for a moment, hung,

While fair Theano, 3 innocently fair,
Like those thy lip liath kiss'd, thy lyre hath sung), Play'd with the ringlets of her Samian's hair, 4
To that dim mansion of my breast they stole,

Who, fix'd by love, at length was all her own,
Where, wreathed in blisses, lay my captive soul. And pass'd his spirit through her lips alone!
Swift at their touch dissolved the ties that clung
So sweetly round her, and aloft she sprung!

Ob Samian sage! whate'er thy glowing thought
Exulting guides, the little genii flew

Of mystic Numbers hath divinely wrought, Through paths of light, refresh'd with starry dew, The One that's form'd of Two who dearly love, And fann'd by airs of that ambrosial breath,

Is the best number leaven can boast above!
On which the free soul banquets after death!

But think, my Theon, how this soul was thrilla,
Thou know'st, my love, beyond our clouded skies, When near a fount, which o'er the vale distillid,
As bards have dream'd, the spirits' kingdom lies. My fancy's eye beheld a form recline,
Tirrough that fair clime a sea of ether rolls,

Of lunar race, but so resembling thine,
Gemmd with bright islands, where the hallow'd souls, That, oli! – i was but fidelity in me,
Whom life bath wearied in its race of hours,

To tly, to clasp, and worship it for thee! Repose for ever in unfading bowers !

No aid of words the unbodied soul requires That very orl, whose solitary light

To waft a wish, or embassy desires; So often guides thee lo my arms at night,

But, by a throb to spirits only given, Is no chill planet, but an isle of love,

By a mute impulse, only felt in heaven, Floating in splendour through those seas above!

Swifter than meteor shaft through summer skies, Thither, I thought, we wing'd our airy way,

From soul to soul the ulanced idea Mies!
Mild o'er its valleys streamd a silvery day,
While all around, on lily beds of rest,

We met-like dier the youthful vision smiled;
Reclined the spirits of the immortal Blest!?

But not like thee, when passionately wild, Oh! there I met those few congenial maids,

Thou wakest the slumbering blushes of my cheek. Whom love hath warın'd, in philosophic shades;

By looking things thyself would blush to speak! There still Leontium, 3 on her sage's breast,

No; I was the tender, intellectual smile, Found lore and love, was tutord and caress d;

Flush'd with the past and yet serene the while,

Of that delicious lour when, glowing yet,
the warm «prings at Gadara, dicens astantibus (says the author of
the Dii Falcı, p. 16.) illos cose lour Grmos:v nbuch words bewerer Thon yieldse to nature with a food regret,
are not in Eunapius,

And thy coul, waking from its wilderd dream,
I find from CELLARIU: that Imatla, in the neighbourhood of
Cader, was also erlebted for its warm springs, and I have pferred Lights in thine eye a mellower, chaster beam!
it as a more poetical name tha Gadara. CELLARIUs quotes -

- Esi et alia villa in sujata Gadare nomino Amalia, ul. Ob my beloveel! how divinely sweet
calde aqur erumpunt, . -- Geograph. Antiq. lib ii. cap. 13. Is the pure joy, when kindred spirits meet!

1 This belief of all ocean in the heavens, or raters abore the frmament,. was one of the many physual errors 1a rhich the carly fathers bewildered themselves, LE P. BALTVs, in his Defense des

* Pythias was a roman hom Aristotle lored, and to whom ter saints Pere; accusés de Platonisme, taking it for granted that the loer dithhe paid dosine donours, solemnizing her memors to the aucients were moro correct in their notions (which by no means ap- Haine sacrifices which the Atheniany offered to the goddess Cars pears from what I bave already quoted), adduces the obstinacy of the

For this inprous fallantry the philosopher was, of course, ceasuri fathers in this shimsical opinion, as a proof of their repugnance to it would be well however if some of our modern Stagyrites had a litika even truth from the hands of the philosophers This is a strange way of this superstition about the memory of their mistresses. of defending the fathers, and attributes much more than the deserve

? Socrates; who used to console himself in the society of Asians to the philosophers. For an abstract of this work of Baltus (the op

for those eless mlearing ties which he found at home with Wate poser of Fontenelle, Van Dale, rte, in the famous oracle controversy),

For an account of this extraordinary creature, Aspasia, and her ad see Bibliothèque des Auteurs Ecclesiast. du 18° siècle, i part. tumi. ii.

of crudire luxury at Athens, Been L'Histoire de l'Académie, et 2 There were various opinions among the accents with respect to

tom, muxi, p. 64). Ségur rather fails on the subject of Aspasu..k their lunar establishment; some made it an elysium, and others a pur

Femmes.. tom. i. p. 123. Gatory: while some supposed it to be a kind of entrepšt between hea

The author of the l'evage de Momele de Descartes bas a'y ven and earili, where souls which had left their bodies, and those that

placed these palosophers in the moon, and has allotted Seigneanett were on their way to join them, were deposited in the valleys of llecate,

them, as well as to the astronomers: (2 part. p. 143.) but be a sister and remain el till further orders. Τοις περι σεληνην αερι λεγειν not to have forgotten their wives and mistresses; e cure sea ipe 12 αυτας κατοικιν, και απ' αυτης κατω χωρειν εις την

morte relinquunt. TEDITEROY 2 Sve ory.- Srov. lib. 1. Eclog. Physie.

There are some srpsible litters estant under the name of this is The pupil and mistress of Epicurus, who called her bus. dear

Pythagorean. They are addressed to her female friends up ab | little Leontium. (Λεονταριον), 45 appears by fragment of one ediation of buildren, the treatment of servants, etc. One, ta pato of his Letters in Laertius. 'This Loutrum was a woman of talent : titular, to Neostrata, whose husband had givea ber reasons for you - she had the impudence (says Cicran) to sprit againve Theophrastus; usy contains such truly considerate and rational advice, that it can and, at the same time, Cicinn fiset boot a name which is neither polito to be translated for the editication of all married ladies. See Gil nor translateable. Merrenula tam !contium cotra Theophrastum Opuscul. Myths. Phrs p.541. Beribere aus r.-D. Vetur

She leti i ducherr, called

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this resting

But press'd the sweetest, richest fruit,

To bathe her ripe lip as she play'd'

But, oh! the fairest of the group

Was one who in the sunshine lay, And oped the cincture's golden loop

Thai hid her bosom's panting play!

And still her gentle hand she stole

Along the snows, so smoothly orbid, And look d the while as if her soul

Were in that heavenly touch absorb'd!

The Elean god, whose faithful waters flow,
With love their only light, through caves below,
Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids,
And festal riogs, with which Olympic maids
llave deck'd their billow, as an offering meet
To pour at Arethusa's crystal feet!
Think, when he mingles with his fountain-bride,
What perfect rapture thrills the blended tide!
Fach melts in each, till one pervading kiss
Confound their currents in a sea of bliss
Twas thus-

But, Theon, 't is a weary theme,
And thou delight'st not in my lingering dream
Ob! that our lips were, at this moment, near,
And I would kiss thee into patience, dear!
And make thee smile at all the magic tales
Of star-light bowers and planetary vales,
Which my fond soul, inspired by thee and love,
In slumber's loom hath exquisitely wove,
Put no; no more-soon as to-morrow's ray
() er soft llissus shall dissolve away,
1 Il tly, my Theon, to thy burning breast,
And there in murmurs tell thee all the rest :
Then, if too weak, too cold the vision seems,
Thy lip shall teach me something more than dreains'

Another nymph, who linger'd nigh,

And held a prison of various light, Now put the rainbow wonder by.

To look upon this lovelier sight.

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THE SENSES.

A DREAM INBOWER'd in the vernal shades,

And cireled all by rosy fences, I saw the five luxurious maids,

Whom mortals love, and call The Senses.

And still as ones euamour'd touch

Adown the lapsing ivory fell,
The other's eye, entranced as much,

Hung giddy o er ius radiant swell'
Too wildly charm'd, I would have fled-

But she who in the sunshine lay Replaced her golden loop, and said,

« We pray thee for a moment stay. « If true my counting pulses beat,

It must be now almost the hour When Love, with visitation sweet,

Descends upon our bloomy bower. « And with him from the sky he brings

Our sister-nymph who dwells aboveOh! never may she haunt these springs

With any other god but Love! « When he illomes her magic urn,

And sheds his own enchantments in it, Though but a ininute's space it burn,

Tis heaven to breathe it but a minute! • Not all the purest power we boast,

Nor silken touch, nor vernal dye, Nor music, when it thrills the most,

Nor balmy cup, nor perfume's sigh, « Such transport to the soul can give,

Though felt till time itself shall wither. As in that one dear moment live;

When Love conducts our sister hither '»

Many and blissful were the ways

In which they seem'd to pass their hoursOne wander'd through the garden's maze,

Inhaling all the soul of flowers; Like those who live upon the smell

Of roses, by the Ganges' stream,' With perfume from the flowret's bell,

She fed her life's ambrosial dream!

Another touch'd the silvery lute,

To chain a charmed sister's ear, Who hung beside her, still and mute,

Gazing as if her eyes could hear! The nymph who thrilld the warbling wire

Would often raise her ruby lip, As if it pouted with desire

Some cooling, nectar'd draught to sip. Nor yet was she who heard the lute

Upmindful of the minstrel maid,

She ceased the air respired of bliss

A languor slept in every eye; And now the scent of Cupid's kiss

Declared the melting power was nigh! I saw them come-the nymph and boy.

In twisted wreaths of rapture bound; I saw her light the urn of joy,

While all her sisters languish'd round'

* The river Alpheus ; which flowed by Pisa or Olympia, and ato tach it was customary to throw offerings of different kinds, during be celebration of the Olympic games. In the pretty romance of Theophon and Leucippe, the river is supposed to carry these offering

bridal gifts to the fountan Arethaus Ka s TI TAY AFSLUTTY υτα τον Αλφειον νυμφασολει' όταν ουν και των ΟλυμΓιαν εορτα, κ. τ. λ. lib. 1. • Curea fontem Gangis Astomorum gentem

baliu lactam neatum et odore que Barba trabant.

l'us. Ibi cap 1

A sigh from every bosom broke

I felt the flames around me glide, Till with the glow I trembling woke.

And found myself by Faony's side'

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THE VASE. THERE was a vase of odour lay

For many an bour on Beauty's shrine, So sweet that Love went every day

To banquet on its breath divine.

When calms delay, or breczes blow

Right from the point we wish to steer; When by the wind close-haul'd we go,

And strive in vain the port to near; I think 'tis thus the Fates defer

My bliss with one that's far away, And while remembrance Springs to her, I watch the sails, and sighing say,

Thus, my boy! thus But see the wind draws kindly aft,

All hands are up the yards to square, And now the floating stu'n-sails waft

Our stately ship though waves and air. Oh! then I think that yet for me

Some breeze of Fortune thus may spring, Some breeze to waft me, love, lo thee! And in that hope I smiling sing,

Steady, boy! so.

And not an eye had ever seen

The fragrant charm the vase conceal'd; Oh Love! how happy 't would have been,

If thou hadst ne'er that charm reveald!

But Love, like every other boy,

Would know the spell that lurks within; He wishid to break the crystal toy,

But Beauty murmured « 't was a sin!»

Ilc swore, with many a tender plea,

That neither Heaven nor earth forbad it: She told him, Virtue kept the key,

And look d as if- she wish'd he had it!

TO CLOE.

IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.

I could resign that eye of blue,

Howe'er it burn, lowe'er it thrill me; And, though your lip be rich with dew,

To lose it, Cloe, scarce would kill me.

Ile stole the key when Virtue slept

(Even she can sleep, if Love but ask it), And Beauty sigh'd, and Beauty wept,

While silly Love unlock'd the casket.

That snowy neck I ue'er should miss,

flowever warm I've twined about it! And though your bosom beat with bliss,

I think my soul could live without it.

Oh dulcet air that vanish'd then!

Can Beauty's sigh recal thee ever! Can Love himself inhale again

A breath so precious ?-never, never!

In short, I've learn'd so well to fast,

That, sooth my love, I know not whether I might not bring inyself at last

To-do without you altogether!

Go, maiden, weep-the tears of woe

By Beauty to repentance given, Though bitterly on earth they flow,

Shall turn to fragrant balm in Heaven!

THE WREATH AND THE CHAIN,

TO THE FIRE-FLY.?

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I DRING thee, love, a golden chain,

I bring thee too a flowery wreath; The gold shall never wear a stain,

The tlow'reis long shall sweetly breathe! Come, tell me which the tie shall be To biod thy gentle heart to me.

Thus morning, when the earth and sky

Were burning with the blush of spring, I left Bermuda in the Boston, ahout the middle of April, pany with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter of which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides his year het een Halilar and Bermuda, ani vs the very soul of society and good-fellowship to both We separated in a few days, and the Boston after a short cruise proceeded to Yes York.

? The lovely and varying illumination, with which these fire-flies bocht up the woods at mglit, fins quite attra of enchantmrot Purs are morrave developpant de l'obrunte de ces arbres et s'approbant de nous, nous les voyons sur les orangers vorsins, qu'ils mettaient tout au feu, nous pendant la sur de leurs beaux fruits dere que la nuit avant ravie, etich, -Sex (llistoire des Antilles, L. chap 4. hs, i

The Chain is of a splendid thread,

Stolen from Minerva's yellow hair, Just when the setting sun had shed

The cober beam of evening there. The Wreate's of brightest myrıle wove, Wille brilliant tears of bliss among

it,

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