OH, fairer than the mountain snow,
O'er which the polar breezes blow,
Which living footstep never prest,
Oh fairer, purer is thy breast!
Beneath thy cheek, O lovely maid,
Some rose by stealth its leaf convey'd ;
To shed its bright and beauteous dye,
And still the varying bloom supply.
The tresses of thy silken hair
As curling mists are soft and fair,
Bright waving o'er thy graceful neck,
Its pure and tender snow to deck.
Sweet is the melting magic hung
In liquid notes upon thy tongue,
Whose tones might death himself control,
And call back the expiring soul.
As when the softly blushing rose
Close by some neighboring lily blows,
Such is the glow thy cheeks diffuse,
And such their bright and blended hues.
The timid lustre of thine eye
With Nature's purest tints can vie,
With the sweet harebell's azure gem,
That droops upon its slender stem.
As when the simple birds, at night,
Fly round the taper's fatal light,
Wild and with extacy elate,
Unconscious of approaching fate :
So the soft splendors of thy face,
So thy fair form's bewitching grace,
Allure to death unwary Love;
And thousands the bright ruin prove.
Ev'n he whose hapless eyes *
Admit from Beauty's cheering day;
He, though he cannot see the light,
Yet feels it warm, and knows it bright.
O THOU more bright, more cheering to our eyes,
Than the young beams that warm the dawning skies,
Hast thou not heard the weeping nurse relate
The mournful tale of young Narcissus' fate?
How, as the bards of ancient days have sung,
While fondly o'er the glassy stream he hung,
Enamor'd he his lovely form survey'd,
And died at length the victim of a shade.
Sweet! do not thou a like misfortune prove,
O be not such thy fate, nor such thy love!
No more on that bewitching beauty gaze,
Nor trust thy sight to meet its dazzling blaze.
*This celebrated Irish bard lost his sight in early infancy.
Hide, hide that breast so snowy fair:
Hide the bright tresses of thy hair;
And oh! those eyes of radiant ruin hide,
Brilliant as sunbeams dancing on the tide ;
Hide the fair lids where their soft glories roll,
Darting their tender glances to the soul.
Hide the twin berries of thy lip's perfume,
Their breathing fragrance, and their deepening
Thy lip, whose sounds such raptures can impart,
Whose words of sweetness sink into the heart;
Hide those fair cheeks, that glow like radiant morn,
When Sol's bright rays the blushing East adorn;
No more to thy incautious sight display'd,
Be that dear form in every grace array'd :—
The rosy finger's tapering charms;
The slender hand, the snowy arms;
The little foot so soft, so fair;
The timid step, the modest air;
No more their graces let thine eye pursue,
But hide, oh hide the peril from thy view.
Against thy own attractions steel thy heart,
And fear no wound from Cupid's idle dart;
For thee while all the youths of Erin sigh,
And wounded by thy thrilling eyebeam die,
Peace shall within thy gentle bosom reign,
Their love unpitied and unheard their strain.
MILUACHRA THE ENCHANTRESS.
On her soft cheek of tender bloom
The rose its tint bestow'd;
And in her richer lip's perfume,
The ripening berry glow'd.
Her neck was as the blossom fair,
Or like the cygnet's breast,
With that majestic, graceful air,
In snow and softness drest.
Gold gave its rich and radiant dye,
And in her tresses gleam'd;
And like a freezing star, her eye
With Heaven's own splendor beam'd.
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