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Ah! rather bid the perished pleasures move,
A shadowy train, across the soul of Love !
O'er Disappointment's wintry desert fling
Each flower that wreathed the dewy locks of Spring,
When blushing, like a bride, from Hope's trim bower
She leapt, awakened by the pattering shower.
Now sheds the sinking Sun a deeper gleam,
Aid, lovely Sorceress ! aid thy Poet's dream !
With faery wand O bid the Maid arise,
Chaste Joyance dancing in her bright blue eyes !
As erst when from the Muses' calm abode
I came, with Learning's meed not unbestowed ;
When as she twined a laurel round my brow,
And met my kiss, and half returned my vow,
O'er all


frame rapid my thrilled heart, And every nerve confessed the electric dart.

O dear Deceit! I see the Maiden rise,
Chaste Joyance dancing in her bright blue eyes !
When first the lark high soaring swells his throat,
Mocks the tired eye, and scatters the loud note,
I trace her footsteps on the accustomed lawn,
I mark her glancing mid the gleam of dawn.
When the bent flower beneath the night dew weeps
And on the lake the silver lustre sleeps,
Amid the paly radiance soft and sad,
She meets my lonely path in moon-beams clad.
With her along the streamlet's brink I rove;
With her I list the warblings of the grove ;
And seems in each low wind her voice to float,
Lone whispering Pity in each soothing note!

Spirits of Love! ye heard her name! Obey
The powerful spell, and to my haunt repair,

Whether on clustering pinions ye are there,
Where rich snows blossom on the Myrtle trees,
Or with fond languishment around my fair
Sigh in the loose luxuriance of her hair ;
O heed the spell, and hither wing your way,
Like far-off music, voyaging the breeze !

Spirits ! to you the infant Maid was given
Formed by the wondrous Alchemy of Heaven!
No fairer Maid does Love's wide empire know,
No fairer Maid e'er heaved the bosom's snow.
A thousand Loves around her forehead fly;
A thousand Loves sit melting in her eye;
Love lights her smile—in Joy's red nectar dips
His myrtle flower, and plants it on her lips.
She speaks! and hark that passion-warbled song-
Still, Fancy! still that voice, those notes prolong,
As sweet as when that voice with rapturous falls
Shall wake the softened echoes of Heaven's Halls !

0 (have I sigh’d) were mine the wizard's rod,
Or mine the power of Proteus, changeful God !
A flower-entangled Arbor I would seem
To shield my Love from Noontide's sultry beam :
Or bloom a Myrtle, from whose odorous boughs
My Love might weave gay garlands for her brows.
When Twilight stole across the fading vale,

my Love I'd be the Evening Gale; .
Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest,
And flutter my faint pinions on her breast !
On Seraph wing I'd float a Dream by night,
To soothe my Love with shadows of delight:-
Or soar aloft to be the Spangled Skies,
And gaze upon her with a thousand eyes!

To fan

As when the savage, who his drowsy frame
Had basked beneath the Sun's unclouded flame,
Awakes amid the troubles of the air,
The skiey deluge, and white lightning's glare-
Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep,
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep ;-
So tossed by storms along Life's wildering way,
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove,
While Hope with kisses nursed the Infant Love.

Dear native brook! like Peace, so placidly
Smoothing through fertile fields thy current meek!
Dear native brook! where first young Poesy
Stared wildly eager in her noon-tide dream!
Where blameless pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek,
As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream !
Dear native haunts ! where Virtue still is gay,
Where Friendship’s fix'd star sheds a mellowed ray,
Where Love a crown of thornless Roses wears,
Where softened Sorrow smiles within her tears;
And Memory, with a Vestal's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of joy !
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill the attuned heartstring with delight-
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between!
Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song,
That soars on Morning's wing your



Scenes of my Hope! the aching eye ye leave
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!

Tearful and saddening with the saddened blaze Mine

eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze: Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend, Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.


AS late each flower that sweetest blows

I plucked, the Garden's pride !
Within the petals of a rose

A sleeping Love I spied.
Around his brows a beamy wreath

Of many a lucent hue;
All purple glowed his cheek, beneath,

Inebriate with dew.

I softly seized the unguarded Power,

Nor scared his balmy rest :
And placed him, caged within the flower,

On spotless Sara's breast.
But when unweeting of the guile

Awoke the prisoner sweet,
He struggled to escape awhile,

And stamped his faery feet.
Ah! soon the soul-entrancing sight

Subdued the impatient boy!
He gazed! he thrilled with deep delight !

Then clapped his wings for joy.
“ And O!” he cried—“of magic kind

What charms this Throne endear!
Some other Love let Venus find-

I'll fix my empire here."

ONE kiss, dear maid, I said, and sigh’d—

Your scorn the little boon denied.
Ah why refuse the blameless bliss ?
Can danger lurk within a kiss ?
Yon viewless Wanderer of the vale,
The Spirit of the Western Gale,
At Morning's break, at Evening's close
Inhales the sweetness of the Rose,
And hovers o'er the uninjured Bloom
Sighing back the soft perfume.
Vigor to the Zephyr's wing
Her nectar-breathing Kisses fling;
And He the glitter of the Dew
Scatters on the Rose's hue,
Bashful, lo! she bends her head,
And darts a blush of deeper Red !

Too well those lovely lips disclose
The triumphs of the opening Rose;
O fair! O graceful ! bid them prove
As passive to the breath of Love.
In tender accents ; faint and low,
Well-pleased I hear the whispered “No!"
The whisper'd “No!”—how little meant !
Sweet Falsehood that endears Consent!
For on those lovely lips the while
Dawns the soft relenting smile,
And tempts with feign'd dissuasion coy
The gentle violence of Joy.

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