As if it pouted with desire Some cooling, nectar'd draught to sip. Nor yet was she, who heard the lute, But, oh! the fairest of the group Was one, who in the sunshine lay, And op'd the cincture's golden loop That hid her bosom's panting play! And still her gentle hand she stole Another nymph, who linger'd nigh, And still as one's enamour'd touch Too wildly charm'd, I would have fled→→→ "If true my counting pulses beat, "When Love, with visitation sweet, "Descends upon our bloomy bower. "And with him from the sky he brings "Our sister-nymph who dwells above— "Oh! never may she haunt these springs, "With any other god but Love! "When he illumes her magic urn, "And sheds his own enchantments in it, "Though but a minute's space it burn, "'Tis heaven to breathe it but a minute! "Not all the purest power we boast, "Such transport to the soul can give, "When Love conducts our sister hither!” She ceas'd-the air respir'd of bliss- Declar'd the melting power was nigh! I saw them come-the nymph and boy, While all her sisters languish'd round ! A sigh from every bosom broke- Till with the glow I trembling woke, THE STEERSMAN'S SONG. WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE 28th APRIL.* When lighter breezes swell the sail, Port, my boy! port. When calms delay, or breezes blow Thus, my boy! thus. *I left Bermuda in the Boston about the middle of April in company with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter of which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides his year between Halifax and Bermuda, and is the very soul of society and good-fellowship to both. We separated in a few days, and the Boston after a short cruise prdceeded to New-Yokr. But see the wind draws kindly aft, Some breeze of fortune thus may spring, Some breeze to waft me, love, to thee! And in that hope I smiling sing, Steady, boy! 80. TO CLOE. IMITATED FROM MARTIAL. I COULD resign that eye of blue, In short, I've learn'd so well to fast, TO THE FIRE-FLY.* THIS morning, when the earth and sky Nor thought upon thy gleaming wing. But now the skies have lost their hue, For sparkling o'er the dreary way. Oh! let me hope that thus for me, When life and love shall lose their bloom, Some milder joys may come, like thee, To light, if not to warm, the gloom! *The lively and varying illumination, with which these fire-flies light up the woods at night, gives quite an idea of enchantment. "Puis ces mouches se développant de l'obscurité de ces arbres et s'approchant de nous, nous les voyions sur les orangers voisins, qu'ils mettaient tout en feu, nous rendant la vue de leurs beaux fruits dores que la nuit avait ravie," etc. etc. See l'Histoire des Antilles, Art. 2. Chap. 4. Liv. 1. |