But, whither means the muse to roam ? When cups are sparkling to the brim, 'Tis true, it talks of danger nigh, Of slumb'ring with the dead to-morrow Where pleasure's throb or tears of sorrow Well! - there are some, thou stormy bed, Whose lip hath drain'd life's cup of pleasure, Yes he can smile serene at death: Tell them that he lies calmly sleeping ODES TO NEA; WRITTEN AT BERMUDA. Now float before me, soft and bright As when they first enamouring shone, What hours and days have I seen glide, While fix'd, enchanted, by thy side, Unmindful of the fleeting day, I've let life's dream dissolve away. O bloom of youth profusely shed! O moments! simply, vainly sped, Yet sweetly too -for Love perfum'd The flame which thus my life consum'd; And brilliant was the chain of flowers, In which he led my victim-hours. Say, Nea, say, couldst thou, like her, When warm to feel and quick to err, Of loving fond, of roving fonder, This thoughtless soul might wish to wander,Couldst thou, like her, the wish reclaim, Endearing still, reproaching never, Till ev'n this heart should burn with shame, Could bind such faithless folly fast; Could make such virtue false at last! Nea, the heart which she forsook, For thee were but a worthless shrineGo, lovely girl, that angel look Must thrill a soul more pure than mine. Oh! thou shalt be all else to me, That heart can feel or tongue can feign; I'll praise, admire, and worship thee, But must not, dare not, love again. Tale iter omne cave. I PRAY you, let us roam no more Where late we thoughtless stray'd; That little Bay, where turning in The billows kiss the shore, and then As though they did not kiss. Remember, o'er its circling flood In what a dangerous dream we stood I saw you blush, you felt me tremble, In vain would formal art dissemble All we then look'd and thought; 'Twas more than tongue could dare reveal, 'Twas ev'ry thing that young hearts feel, By Love and Nature taught. I stoop'd to cull, with faltering hand, A shell that, on the golden sand, Before us faintly gleam'd; I trembling rais'd it, and when you Had kist the shell, I kist it too How sweet, how wrong it seem'd! Oh, trust me, 'twas a place, an hour, The worst that e'er the tempter's power Could tangle me or you in; Sweet Nea, let us roam no more Along that wild and lonely shore, Such walks may be our ruin. You read it in these spell-bound eyes, And there alone should love be read; You hear me say it all in sighs, And thus alone should love be said. Then dread no more; I will not speak; Although my heart to anguish thrill, I'll spare the burning of your cheek, And look it all in silence still. Heard you the wish I dar'd to name, To murmur on that luckless night, When passion broke the bonds of shame, And love grew madness in your sight? Divinely through the graceful dance, You seem'd to float in silent song, Bending to earth that sunny glance, As if to light your steps along. Oh! how could others dare to touch That hallow'd form with hand so free, When but to look was bliss too much, Too rare for all but Love and me! With smiling eyes, that little thought How fatal were the beams they threw, My trembling hands you lightly caught, And round me, like a spirit, flew. Heedless of all, but you alone, And you, at least, should not condemn, If, when such eyes before me shone, My soul forgot all eyes but them,— I dar'd to whisper passion's vow,— For love had ev'n of thought bereft me,— Nay, half-way bent to kiss that brow, But, with a bound, you blushing left me. Forget, forget that night's offence, Forgive it, if, alas! you can; 'Twas love, 'twas passion-soul and sense'Twas all that's best and worst in man. That moment, did th' assembled eyes Of heaven and earth my madness view, I should have seen, through earth and skies, But you alone-but only you. Did not a frown from you reprove, Myriads of eyes to me were none; Enough for me to win your love, And die upon the spot when won. A DREAM OF ANTIQUITY. I JUST had turn'd the classic page, And trac'd that happy period over, When blest alike were youth and age, And love inspir'd the wisest sage, And wisdom grac'd the tenderest lover. Before I laid me down to sleep, Awhile I from the lattice gaz'd Upon that still and moonlight deep, With isles like floating gardens rais'd For Ariel there his sports to keep; While, gliding 'twixt their leafy shores, The lone night-fisher plied his oars. 1 Gassendi thinks that the gardens, which Pausanias mentions, in his first book, were those of Epicurus; and Stuart says, in his Antiquities of Athens, "Near this convent (the convent of Hagios Asomatos) is the place called at present Kepoi, or the Gardens; and Ampelos Kepos, or the Vineyard Garden: these were probably the gardens which Pausanias visited." Vol. i. chap. 2. I felt, s That late had thrill'd to Sappho's sigh. Thus, waking, dreamt I,—and when Sleep To polish virtue's native brightness, - So common in the climes of Greece, When day withdraws but half its lights, And all is moonshine, balm, and peace. And thou wert there, my own belov'd, And by thy side I fondly rov'd Through many a temple's reverend gloom, And many a bower's seductive bloom, Where Beauty learn'd what Wisdom taught, And sages sigh'd and lovers thought; Where schoolmen conn'd no maxims stern, But all was form'd to soothe or move, To make the dullest love to learn, To make the coldest learn to love. And now the fairy pathway seem'd To lead us through enchanted ground, Of love or luxury bloom'd around. Through which the soul perchance may roam, When it has left this world behind, And gone to seek its heavenly home. And, Nea, thou wert by my side, But, lo, as wand'ring thus we rang'd Through halls of more voluptuous glory Or wanton'd in Milesian story. ' And nymphs were there, whose very eyes Entwin'd by snakes of burnish'd gold, 4 Through many a thin Tarentian fold, 5 Where roses lay, in languor breathing, And the young beegrape, round them wreathing, 3 It appears that in very splendid mansions, the floor or pavement was frequently of onyx. Thus Martial: "Calcatusque tuo sub pede lucet onyx." Epig. 50. lib. xii. • Bracelets of this shape were a favourite ornament among the women of antiquity. Oi sinagtion oque nai сай χρυσαι πελας θαίδος και Αρισταγόρας και Λαίδος φαρμακα Philostrat. Epist. xl. Lucian, too, tells us of the Beaxiaoi deaxorres. See his Amores, where he describes the dressing-room of a Grecian lady, and we find the "silver vase," the rouge, the tooth-powder, and all the "mystic order" of a modern toilet. To-morrow I sail for those cinnamon groves,7 Where nightly the ghost of the Carribee roves, And, far from the light of those eyes, I may yet Their allurements forgive and their splendour forget. Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom roam Through the lime-covered alley that leads to thy home, Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done, say Oh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times, And a blessing for me to that alley of limes. If I were yonder wave, my dear, If I were yonder conch of gold, If I were yonder orange-tree, And thou the blossom blooming there, I would not yield a breath of thee To scent the most imploring air. the Muscatell (a muscarum telis)," says Pancirollus, book i. sect. 1. chap. 17. 7 I had, at this time, some idea of paying a visit to the West Indies. 8 The inhabitants pronounce the name as if it were written Bermooda. See the commentators on the words "still-vex'd Bermoothes," in the Tempest.-I wonder it did not occur to some of those all-reading gentlemen that, possibly, the discoverer of this "island of hogs and devils" might have been no less a personage than the great John Bermudez, who, about the same period (the beginning of the sixteenth century), was sent Patriarch of the Latin church to Ethiopia, and has left us most wonderful stories of the Amazons and the Griffins which he encountered. — Travels of the Jesuits, vol. i. I am afraid, however, it would take the Patriarch rather too much out of his way. 9 Johnson does not think that Waller was ever at Bermuda ; but the "Account of the European Settlements in America" 5 Tagastividion, diæçæris erdvuæ, NNVOLLATμLEVOV ATO Ts Taçar- affirms it confidently. (Vol. ii.) I mention this work, however, τίνων χρήσεως και τρυφης. — Pollus. * Apiana, mentioned by Pliny, lib. xiv. and "now called less for its authority than for the pleasure I feel in quoting an unacknowledged production of the great Edmund Burke. |