And, ah! too sure, the youth, unscar'd, Still dares the path so often dar'd ;
Still yields to Love's impatient sway;
For, as he left this conscious tow'r,
He swore by ev'ry sacred pow'r—
And death alone obstructs his way.
And now his vig'rous arm in vain
Repells the fury of the main ;
He breasts in vain the dashing wave,
And finds, alas! a wat'ry grave.
"Invidious pow'r, thy placid mien
Was meant thy fell intent to screen;
Not glossy mirror shone so gay.
Thy waves in false repose were laid,
Till, on thy smiling surface sped,
Leander urg'd his vent'rous way;
And now, upon thy bosom toss'd,
Ere half the stormy flood be cross'd,
Thou whelm'st him in thy ruthless deep,
And leav'st despairing love to weep!"
And still the storm's increasing roar
Resounds from either rocky shore,
And each rude billow braves the sky.
The oak-ribb'd bark contends in vain
To stem the fury of the main;
No aid the pilot's arts supply. And lo! the torch, whose wonted light So oft had cheer'd the lover's night, Now quench'd, withdraws its friendly ray, And horror holds unbounded sway.
To Venus now the hapless fair
Prefers the vow of soft despair,
And calls her pitying aid divine;
To ev'ry Wind a victim vows,
A wanton steer, whose stately brows
With golden horns resplendent shine.
Each goddess of the dark profound,
Each pow'r on high Olympus crown'd,
The wretched suppliant assails,
To quell the fury of the gales.
"And thou, divinest Leucothe, Whom oft, upon the shoreless sea,
The storm-beat mariner implores; Who oft, propitious to his pray'r, Hast smooth'd the wave and still'd the air, O hear me from thy coral bow'rs! And bear my love thy sacred veil, Whose power can sooth the angry gale, Each terror of the deep can charm, And nerve the swimmer's slacken'd arın.”
And straight the wild winds softer blow, And fair Aurora's ruddy glow
Again proclaims the new-born day.
The sea resumes its wonted bed,
Each blast in still repose is laid,
And morning smiles, and all is gay.
Soft roll the lucid waves along,
And gently break the rocks among;
In playful lapse the strand explore,
And waft a pallid corse to shore.
"Tis he, who still his promise keeps,
Tho' wrapt in Death's cold arms he sleeps;
And quick the well-known form she view'd.
Nor one sad plaint escap'd the fair,
Nor dimm'd her eye one single tear,
But lost in torpid woe she stood.
And now the fatal deep she eyes,
Now gazes on the vaulted skies;
And now her kindling cheeks declare
The transient flush of wild despair.
"Ye Gods! (she cries) I own your sway;
Your dreaded might ye thus display!
Nor vows nor tears shall mercy find!
In youth's soft prime my course is sped;
Yet many a flow'r my path has spread,
And sweet the lot that fate assign'd.
While living, to thy pow'r divine,
These hands, O Venus, deck'd thy shrine;
Thy willing victim now I prove,
The victim of almighty Love."
She spoke, and lo! the madd'ning fair,
Her robes all flutt'ring in the air,
Plung'd headlong in the closing wave:
The wave each hallow'd corse sustains;
And, rising from his deep domains,
The God himself supplies their grave.
And now, exulting in his prey,
He gladsome speeds his eddying way,
And thriftless from his urn he pours
His clear and never-ceasing stores.
On! cease, my love, to doubt and fear;
I'll kiss away that stealing tear:
No tear should dim thy azure eye,
But the sparkling tear of joy!
No sigh should heave thy heavenly breast,
But the sigh that speaks thee blest!
My soul from thine no power shall sever:
My dearest girl! I'll love thee ever!
Yet hold, we ne'er can cease to know
And keenly feel another's woe :
But, when thou weep'st, I'll weep with thee,
And thou wilt mingle sighs with me!
Thus e'en from sorrow we shall steal
Joys the selfish never feel.
And can I cease to love! oh! never:
My soul's delight! I'll love thee ever!
I'll swear, if still you doubt my truth,
By all the sanguine hopes of youth
Which gleam amid the gloom of woe,
And bliss ideal still bestow !
By all the joys thy sex can give,
Of which bereft we cease to live!
By these by these, we ne'er shall sever:
By these dear hopes, I'll love thee ever!
But trust not to a lover's oath :
("Tis like the flame that lures the moth!)
By stronger ties I'm bound to thee-
The magic chords of Sympathy!
I've mark'd thy wealth of intellect,
Thy power to feel and to reflect;
And can I cease to love! oh never!
I'll still adore-I'll love thee ever!
Then cease, my love, to doubt and fear;
Not life itself is half so dear;
Nor promis'd joys of Heav'n above,
As thy pure bosom's heav'n of love!
To me more bright thy dewy eye
Than sun-beams in the eastern sky!
"Twere worse than death from thee to sever!
Light of my soul! I'll love thee ever!
And when the tempest howls on high,
And lightnings cleave the lurid sky;
Or in the more malignant storm
Brooded by fiends in human form;
I'll press to mine thy beating heart,
And never-never shall we part!
My soul from thine no power can sever:
My life, my all, I'll love thee ever!
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