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Or plunged their hands within some secret well,
And as they flung on high the sparkling wave
Muttered each a soothing spell.

Fearless the Dryads left their sacred trees,

For well that day did the rude Fauns behave,

And through the morn-the noon-the evening hours,'
Some tore the violet from its stem,

To grace the sea-maid's couch when night should spread ;
And some inwove a diadem,

Formed all of roses white, to deck her head;

Some plucked the golden fruits, some rolled amongst the flowers.

Still some were wanting; yet as day declined

They came-then first was heard Favonius' sigh,

Wild whispering through the blossoms, as he pined
Away, in notes of fragrant melody-

And Cupid, who till then had fluttered far,

Blushing, and fretful on the varying wing,

And wept to see the Nereids fear,

Came wheeling round and round-near and more near— (As doves come homeward in their narrowing ring)

And loitering Dian sent her vesper star

To tell her coming, and to say, that night

She nearer to the Earth would bend her head,

And rest a moment on old Pelion's height,

And kiss pale Thetis on her bridal bed.

And now the nymph was borne along
'Midst dance and festal song,

In spotless garments, as became a bride,
Whilst Peleus languished by her side,
Breathing in murmurs faint his fondest sigh:
His helmet and his arms were all laid by-
Yet loooked he, though unarmed he rode!
Hero, and prince, and demi-god !

His head was laurelled, and his eyes of fire
Fashioned to softness all, and looks of love :
Around his shoulders broad a robe he threw,

Stained with the murex' matchless hue,

(This the rude fisher found, who wont to rove,

Seeking for bright shells through the seas of Tyre).

Now was the altar won,

And that sweet rite begun

Mysterious that unites in awful chain

Hearts that none may part again.

Bright was the flame, and holy that arose,
(Fed all by flowers that once on Pelion grew)
And sweet the incense that ascended high,
Fanned by Favonius' sigh.

(Favonius, who at evening blows,

And stirs the laurel on Parnassus' side):
Aloft in pairs the birds of Venus flew,
And all without a pang the victims died.

All was propitious. Soon amidst the throng
Low tones were heard increasing, till the tide
Dilated in a sound of war. That song
Through all the caves on Pelion's side
Burst; and then (diminished) died :—
Then breathed the flute, the bugle pealed afar,
(In tones of music, but too near to war);
The trumpet poured its note, and all was still-
Silence was heard o'er vale and hill;
When (from on high descending, like a star
That leaves its orb to watch o'er men below),
Hymen, the god of wedded love was seen

Standing beside the altar green;

Before his feet the votive wreaths were flung,

And wildly sweet the hymn-his hymn-by kneeling virgins sung.

And midnight came, and all the gods departed,

On pillows of the fresh-blown rose ;

And nymphs-and left the lovers to repose

The winds were silent, and the waters played

No more-lest that they should the sea-green maid

Disturb (no longer pale and broken-hearted).
Love only on the couch was hovering,

A couch that gods had deigned to bless,
Where each had given some gift of happiness;
Love only staid, he kissed each forehead fair,
And flung narcotic odours from his wing
(Sweet beyond man's imagining);

Then took his flight upon the morning air :
Yet every night returned and blessed that happy pair!

MOONLIGHT.

WHAT See'st thou, silver crescent of the sky,
When, in thy growing beauty, thou dost sail
Bright, through yon blue unclouded canopy,

And when, ere twilight gathers in the vale,
Or sunny radiance leaves the mountain's brow,
Thy gentler beams their loveliest light bestow?
Thou see'st the village-dance, where light hearts meet
Upon the village green, and where the lute
Breathes forth in merry tunes its accents sweet,
Nor stops until the tabor's voice is mute,
And till the dancers in their mirth forget
The jingling music of the castanet.

Thou see'st the lover in the twilight bower,
When vow is poured on vow, and eye meets eye,
And when the bliss of that enraptured hour
Is uttered only in the burning sigh;
Ah! tell them not that youth is on the wing,
Blight not the hopes of their delicious spring.

Thou see'st the fisher loitering by the shore;

Thou see'st the school-boy wandering through the wood;
Thou see'st the peasant by his cottage door;
Thou see'st the poet in his solitude,
Musing, perchance, some high heroic lay-
Soft fall thy light where'er his footsteps stray!

But other scenes are thine, sweet star of night,

When, in thy wane, the too victorious morn Steals from thee all thy radiance, and with light

From orb more dazzling hastens to adorn This lower world: Ah! then, fair planet, say, What see'st thou, as thou hold'st thy heavenly way? Thou see'st the traveller, haply doomed to roam In foreign lands, unfriended and alone, An exile from his country and his home,

The sweets of friendship and of love unknown; Now round his bark the whitening billows rise, And now his path through Afric's desert lies. Thou see'st pale genius watching from afar

The first faint traces of the wakening day, Or gazing sadly on yon fading star,

Whose little light fades not more fast away : Ah! 'tis the vigil of the broken heart,

That fain would live, though treacherous hope depart.

Thou see'st the mother, wife, or sister stand,

By the lorn sick-bed, where disease has found
Another victim and with icy hand

The joyful current of the blood has bound,
And from the brow plucked off the festive wreath,
Triumphant of the thorns that lurked beneath.

Thou see'st the soldier on the tented field

Snatching short slumber ere he wakes to die; Thou see'st the wretch whose senses never yield

To gentle sleep, and in whose dim, sunk eye Thou read'st remorse and terror ;-this is he Who finds, too late, that guilt is misery.

Thou see'st, fair orb, the truths of human life,

Things which will be, and which have ever been; A motley stage, that shows a constant strife Betwixt the tragic and the comic scene; Where now a sage, and now a fool appears; To-day delight and smiles, to-morrow care and tears.

STANZAS TO A LADY.

BY T. K. HERVEY, ESQ.

ACROSS the waves-away and far,
My spirit turns to thee;

I love thee as men love a star,

The brightest where a thousand are,
Sadly and silently;

With love unstained by hopes or fears,
Too deep for words, too pure for tears!
My heart is tutored not to weep;
Calm, like the calm of even,

Where grief lies hushed, but not asleep,
Hallows the hours I love to keep

For only thee and heaven;

Too far and fair to aid the birth

Of thoughts that have a taint of earth!

And yet the days for ever gone,

When thou wert as a bird,

Living 'mid flowers and leaves alone,

And singing in so soft a tone

As I never since have heard,

Will make me grieve that birds, and things

So beautiful, have ever wings!

And there are hours in the lonely night,

When I seem to hear thy calls,

Faint as the echoes of far delight,

And dreamy and sad as the sighing flight

Of distant waterfalls ;—

And then my vow is hard to keep,

For it were a joy, indeed, to weep!

For I feel, as men feel when moonlight falls

Amid old cathedral aisles;

Or the wind plays, sadly, along the walls

Of lonely and forsaken halls,

That we knew in their day of smiles;

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