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Corrupted all, nor its ethereal touch
Quite lost, but tasting of the fountain still!

As some bright river, which has roll'd along
Through meads of flowery light and mines of gold,
When pour'd at length into the dusky deep,
Disdains to mingle with its briny taint,

But keeps awhile the pure and golden tinge,
The balmy freshness of the fields it left 1o!

And here the old man ceased—a winged train
Of nymphs and genii led him from our eyes.
The fair illusion fled! and, as I wak'd,
I knew my visionary soul had been
Among that people of aerial Dreams
Who live upon the burning galaxy"!

10 This fine Platonic image I have taken from a passage in Father Bouchet's letter upon the Metempsychosis, inserted in Picart's Cérém. Relig. Tom. IV.

11 According to Pythagoras, the people of Dreams are souls collected together in the Galaxy. Δημος δε ονειρων, κατα Πυθαγοραν, αι ψυχαι ὡς συναγέσθαι ás ProTV ELS TOV yarağav. Porphyr. de Antro Nymph.

ΤΟ

THE world had just begun to steal
Each hope, that led me lightly on,
I felt not, as I us'd to feel,

And life grew dark and love was gone!

No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,

No lip to mingle pleasure's breath, No tongue to call me kind and dear— 'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death!

But when I saw that gentle eye,

Oh! something seem'd to tell me then, That I was yet too young to die,

And hope and bliss might bloom again!

With every beamy smile, that crost

Your kindling cheek, you lighted home Some feeling, which my heart had lost,

And peace, which long had learn'd to roam!

'Twas then indeed so sweet to live, Hope look'd so new and love so kind, That, though I weep, I still forgive

The ruin, which they've left behind!

I could have lov'd you—oh so well!—
The dream, that wishing boy-hood knows,
Is but a bright, beguiling spell,

Which only lives, while passion glows:

But, when this early flush declines,
When the heart's vivid morning fleets,
You know not then how close it twines
Round the first kindred soul it meets !

Yes, yes,

I could have lov'd, as one

Who, while his youth's enchantments fall, Finds something dear to rest upon,

Which pays him for the loss of all!

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DREAMS.

ΤΟ

IN slumber, I prithee how is it

That souls are oft taking the air,

And paying each other a visit,

While bodies are- -Heaven knows where?

Last night, 'tis in vain to deny it,
Your Soul took a fancy to roam,

For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet,
Come ask, whether mine was at home.

And mine let her in with delight,

And they talk'd and they kist the time through, For, when souls come together at night,

There is no knowing what they mayn't do!

And your little Soul, Heaven bless her!
Had much to complain and to say,
Of how sadly you wrong and oppress her
By keeping her prison'd all day.

"If I happen," said she, "but to steal
"For a peep now and then to her eye,
"Or, to quiet the fever I feel,

“Just venture abroad on a sigh;

“In an instant, she frightens me in

"With some phantom of prudence or terror,

"For fear I should stray into sin,

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Or, what is still worse, into error!

"So, instead of displaying my graces

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Through look and through words and through mien,

"I am shut up in corners and places, " Where truly I blush to be seen!"

Upon hearing this piteous confession,
My Soul, looking tenderly at her,
Declar'd, as for grace and discretion,

He did not know much of the matter;

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