The other's eye, entranced as much,
Hung giddy o'er its 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 above"Oh! never may she haunt these springs "With any other god but Love!

"When he illumes her magic urn,

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"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,

"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!"

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!

A sigh from every bosom broke-
I felt the flames around me glide,
Till with the glow I trembling woke,
And found myself by FANNY's side!

THE STEERSMAN'S SONG.

WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE, 28TH april.*

WHEN freshly blows the northern gale,
And under courses snug we fly;
When lighter breezes swell the sail,

And royals proudly sweep the sky;
'Longside the wheel, unwearied still
I stand, and as my watchful eye
Doth mark the needle's faithful thrill,
I think of her I love, and cry,

Port, my boy! port.

When calms delay, or breezes 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,

* 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 proceeded to New York.

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 through waves and air.
Oh! then I think that yet for me

Some breeze of Fortune thus may spring, Some breeze to waft me, love, to thee!

And in that hope I smiling sing,

Steady, boy! so.

TO CLOE.

IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.

I COULD resign that eye of blue,

Howe'er it burn, howe'er it thrill me;
And, though your lip be rich with dew,
To lose it, CLOE, scarce would kill me.

That snowy neck I ne'er should miss,
However warm I've twined about it!

And though your bosom beat with bliss,
I think my soul could live without it.

In short, I've learn'd so well to fast,
That, sooth my love, I know not whether
I might not bring myself at last,
To-do without you altogether!

TO THE FIRE-FLY.*

THIS morning, when the earth and sky
Were burning with the blush of spring,
I saw thee not, thou humble fly!

Nor thought upon thy gleaming wing.

But now the skies have lost their hue,
And sunny lights no longer play,
I see thee, and I bless thee too

For sparkling o'er the dreary way.

* 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 dorés que la nuit avait ravie,” etc. etc.—See l'Histoire des Antilles, art. 2. chap. 4. liv. 1.