The morn was lovely, every wave was still, When the first perfume of a cedar-hill Sweetly awak'd us, and with smiling charms, The fairy harbour woo'd us to its arms*. Gently we stole, before the languid wind, Through plaintain shades, that like an awning twin'd And kiss'd on either side the wanton sails, Breathing our welcome to these vernal vales; While, far reflected o'er the wave serene Each wooded island shed so soft a green, That the enamour'd keel, with whispering play, Through liquid herbage seem'd to steal its way! Never did weary bark more sweetly glide, Or rest its anchor in a lovelier tide! Along the margin, many a brilliant dome, White as the palace of a Lapland gnome, Brighten'd the wave; in every myrtle grove Secluded bashful, like a shrine of love,

4

• Nothing can be more romantic than the little harbour of St. George's. The number of beautiful islets, the singular clearness of the water, and the animated play of the graceful little boats, gliding for ever between the islands, and seeming to sail from one cedar-grove into another, form all together the sweetest miniature of nature that can be imagined.

Some elfin mansion sparkled through the shade;
And, while the foliage interposing play'd,
Wreathing the structure into various grace,
Fancy would love, in many a form, to trace
The flowery capital, the shaft, the porch,
And dream of temples, till her kindling torch
Lighted me back to all the glorious days
Of Attic genius; and I seem'd to gaze
On marble, from the rich Pentelic mount,
Gracing the umbrage of some Naiad's fount.

Sweet airy being! who, in brighter hours, Liv'd on the perfume of these honied bowers,

"This is an illusion which, to the few who are fanciful enough to indulge in it, renders the scenery of Bermuda particularly interesting. In the short but beautiful twilight of their spring evenings, the white cottages scattered over the islands, and but partially seen through the trees that surround them, assume often the appearance of little Grecian temples, and fancy may embellish the poor fisherman's hut with columns which the pencil of Claude might imitate. I had one favourite object of this kind in my walks, which the hospitality of its owner robbed me of, by asking me to visit him. He was a plain good man, and received me well and warmly, but I never could turn his house into a Grecian temple again.

• Ariel. Among the many charms which Bermuda has for a poetic eye, we cannot for an instant forget that it is the scene of Shakspeare's Tempest, and that here he conjured up the "delicate Ariel," who alone is worth the whole heaven of ancient mythology.

In velvet buds, at evening, lov'd to lie,
And win with music every rose's sigh!
Though weak the magic of my humble strain,
To charm your spirit from its orb again,
Yet oh! for her, beneath whose smile I sing,
For her, (whose pencil, if your rainbow wing
Were dimm'd or ruffled by a wintry sky,
Could smooth its feather and relume its dye,)
A moment wander from your starry sphere,
And if the lime-tree grove that once was dear,
The sunny wave, the bower, the breezy hill,
The sparkling grotto can delight you still,
Oh! take their fairest tint, their softest light,
Weave all their beauty into dreams of night,
And, while the lovely artist slumbering lies,
Shed the warm picture o'er her mental eyes;
Borrow for sleep her own creative spells,

And brightly shew what song but faintly tells!

THE

GENIUS OF HARMONY.

AN IRREGULAR ODE.

AD HARMONIAM CANIT MUNDUS.

Vide Cicero. de Nat. Deor. Lib. 3.

THERE lies a shell beneath the waves,

In many a hollow winding wreath'd,

Such as of old,

Echoed the breath that warbling sea-maids breath'd; This magic shell

From the white bosom of a syren fell,

As once she wander'd by the tide that laves
Sicilia's sands of gold.

It bears

Upon its shining side, the mystic notes

Of those entrancing airs',

The genii of the deep were wont to swell, When heaven's eternal orbs their midnight music roll'd!

1 In L'Histoire naturelle des Antilles, there is an account of some curious shells, found at Curaçoa, on the back of which were lines, filled

Oh! seek it, wheresoe'er it floats;

And, if the power

Of thrilling numbers to thy soul be dear,
Go, bring the bright shell to my bower,
And I will fold thee in such downy dreams,
As lap the spirit of the seventh sphere,

When Luna's distant tone falls faintly on his ear2!

filled with musical characters so distinct and perfect, that the writer assures us a very charming trio was sung from one of them. "On le nomme musical, par ce qu'il porte sur le dos des lignes noirâtres pleines de notes, qui ont une espece de clé pour les mettre en chant, de sorte que l'on diroit qu'il ne manque que la lettre a cette tablature naturelle. Ce curieux gentilhomme (M. du Montel) rapporte qu'il en a vû qui avoient cinq lignes, une clé et des notes, qui formoient un accord parfait. Quelq'un y avoit ajouté la lettre, que la nature avoit oubliée, et la faisoit chanter en forme de trio, dont l'air étoit fort agréable." Chap. 19. Art. 11. The author adds, a poet might imagine that these shells were used by the syrens at their

concerts.

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2 According to Cicero, and his commentator, Macrobius, the lunar tone is the gravest and faintest on the planetary heptachord. Quam ob causam summus ille cœli stellifer cursus, cujus conversio est concitatior, acuto et excitato movetur sono; gravissimo autem hic lunaris atque infimus." Somn. Scip. Because, says Macrobius, "spiritu ut in extremitate languescente jam volvitur, et propter angustias quibus penultimus orbis arctatur impetu leniore convertitur." In Somn. Scip. Lib. 2. Cap. 4. It is not very easy to understand the ancients in their musical arrangement of the heavenly bodies. See Ptolem. Lib. 3.

Leone Hebreo, pursuing the idea of Aristotle, that the heavens are animal, attributes their harmony to perfect and reciprocal love. Non pero