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Look'd like a flight of ring-doves playing,
Silvery through a roseate bower!

And when, to shade the playful boy,
Her dark hair fell, in mazes bright,
Oh! 'twas a type of stolen joy,

'Twas love beneath the veil of night! Soft as she smiled, he smiled again;

They seem'd so kindred in their charms, That one might think the babe had then Just budded in her blooming arms!

THE SNOW-SPIRIT.

TU POTES INSOLITAS, CYNTHIA, FERRE NIVES?

PROPERT. lib. 1. eleg. 8.

No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep
An island of lovelier charms;

It blooms in the giant embrace of the deep,
Like Hebe in Hercules' arms!

The tint of your bowers is balm to the eye,
Their melody balm to the ear;

But the fiery planet of day is too nigh,

And the Snow-Spirit never comes here!

The down from his wing is as white as the pearl Thy lips for their cabinet stole,

And it falls on the green earth as melting, my girl, As a murmur of thine on the soul!

Oh! fly to the clime, where he pillows the death, As he cradles the birth of the year;

Bright are your bowers and balmy their breath, But the Snow-Spirit cannot come here!

How sweet to behold him when, borne on the gale,
And brightening the bosom of morn,

He flings, like the priest of Diana, a veil
O'er the brow of each virginal thorn!
Yet think not the veil he so chillingly casts
Is the veil of a vestal severe;

No, no-thou wilt see what a moment it lasts,
Should the Snow-Spirit ever come here!

But fly to his region-lay open thy zone,
And he'll weep all his brilliancy dim,
To think that a bosom, as white as his own,
Should not melt in the day-beam like him!
Oh! lovely the print of those delicate feet

O'er his luminous path will appear

Fly! my beloved! this island is sweet,

But the Snow-Spirit cannot come here !

*y 82

οιδα

Ενταύθα δε καθωρμισται ήμιν. και ό, τι μεν όνομα τη χρυση δ' αν προς γε εμε ονομάζοιτο. PHILOSTRAT. Icon. 17. lib. 2.

I STOLE along the flowery bank,

While many a bending sea-grape* drank
The sprinkle of the feathery oar
That wing'd me round this fairy shore !

'Twas noon; and every orange bud
Hung languid o'er the crystal flood,
Faint as the lids of maiden eyes
Beneath a lover's burning sighs!
Oh for a Naiad's sparry bower,
To shade me in that glowing hour!

A little dove, of milky hue,
Before me from a plantain slew,
And, light along the water's brim,

I steer'd my gentle bark by him;

* The sea-side or mangrove grape, a native of the West Indies.

For Fancy told me, Love had sent

This snowy bird of blandishment,

To lead me, where my soul should meet

I know not what, but something sweet!

Bless'd be the little pilot dove!

He had indeed been sent by Love,
To guide me to a scene so dear

As Fate allows but seldom here:

One of those rare and brilliant hours,

Which, like the aloe's* lingering flowers,
May blossom to the eye
of man

But once in all his weary span !

Just where the margin's opening shade

A vista from the waters made,

My bird reposed his silver plume

Upon a rich banana's bloom.

Oh, vision briglit! oh, spirit fair!
What spell, what magic raised her there?
'Twas NEA! slumbering calm and mild,
And bloomy as the dimpled child

The Agave. I know that this is an erroneous idea, but it is quite true enough for poetry. PLATO, I think, allows a poet to be "three removes from truth;” rgiraros AñO TYS αλήθειας.

Whose spirit in Elysium keeps

Its playful sabbath while he sleeps!

The broad banana's green embrace

Hung shadowy round each tranquil grace ; One little beam alone could win

The leaves to let it wander in,

And, stealing over all her charms,
From lip to cheek, from neck to arms,
It glanced around a fiery kiss,

All trembling, as it went, with bliss!

Her eyelid's black and silken fringe
Lay on her cheek, of vermil tinge,
Like the first ebon cloud that closes
Dark on Evening's Heaven of roses!
Her glances, though in slumber hid,
Seem'd glowing through their ivory lid,
And o'er her lip's reflecting dew
A soft and liquid lustre threw,
Such as, declining dim and faint,
The lamp of some beloved saint
Doth shed upon a flowery wreath,

Which pious hands have hung beneath!

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