Who dooms the brow o'er which he flies To wear a crown of Royalty.

She had, herself, last evening, sent

A winged messenger, whose flight
Through the clear, roseate element,

She watch'd till, less'ning out of sight,
Far to the golden West it went,
Wafting to him, her distant love,

A missive in that language wrought Which flow'rs can speak, when aptly wove, Each hue a word, each leaf a thought.

And now-oh speed of pinion, known
To Love's light messengers alone !—
Ere yet another ev'ning takes

Its farewell of the golden lakes,

She sees another envoy fly,

With the wish'd answer, through the sky.

SONG.

Glided, like fairies, to assist

Their handmaids on the moonlight plain, Where, hid by intercepting shade

From the stray glance of curious eyes, A feast of fruits and wines was laidSoon to shine out, a glad surprise!

And now the moon, her ark of light

Steering through Heav'n, as though she bore
In safety through that deep of night,
Spirits of earth, the good, the bright,

To some remote immortal shore,
Had half-way sped her glorious way,
When, round reclin'd on hillocks green,
In groups, beneath that tranquil ray,
The Zeans at their feast were seen.
Gay was the picture—ev'ry maid
Whom late the lighted scene display'd,
Still in her fancy garb array'd ;-
The Arabian pilgrim, smiling here

Beside the nymph of India's sky;
While there the Mainiote mountaineer
Whisper'd in young Minerva's ear,
And urchin Love stood laughing by.

Thus circled round the song of glee,

And all was tuneful mirth the while, Save on the cheeks of some, whose smile, As fix'd they gaze upon the sea, Turns into paleness suddenly!

What see they there? a bright blue light

That, like a meteor, gliding o'er The distant wave, grows on the sight,

As though 'twere wing'd to Zea's shore.

To some, 'mong those who came to gaze,
It seem'd the night-light, far away,
Of some lone fisher, by the blaze

Of pine torch, luring on his prey;
While others, as, 'twixt awe and mirth,

They breath'd the bless'd Panaya's name, Vow'd that such light was not of earth,

But of that drear, ill-omen'd flame,
Which mariners see on sail or mast,
When Death is coming in the blast.
While marv'lling thus they stood, a maid,
Who sat apart, with downcast eye,
Nor yet had, like the rest, survey'd

That coming light which now was nigh,
Soon as it met her sight, with cry

Of pain-like joy, ""Tis he! 'tis he!" Loud she exclaim'd, and, hurrying by

The assembled throng, rush'd tow'rds the sea.

At burst so wild, alarm'd, amaz'd,
All stood, like statues, mute, and gaz'd
Into each other's eyes, to seek

What meant such mood, in maid so meek?

:

Till now, the tale was known to few,
But now from lip to lip it flew :-
A youth, the flower of all the band,
Who late had left this sunny shore,
When last he kiss'd that maiden's hand,
Ling'ring, to kiss it o'er and o'er,
By his sad brow too plainly told

Th' ill-omen'd thought which cross'd him
then,

That once those hands should lose their hold,

They ne'er would meet on earth again!

In vain his mistress, sad as he,
But with a heart from Self as free
As gen'rous woman's only is,
Veil'd her own fears to banish his :-
With frank rebuke, but still more vain,
Did a rough warrior, who stood by
Call to his mind this martial strain,

His favourite once, ere Beauty's eye
Had taught his soldier-heart to sigh

1 The name which the Greeks give to the Virgin Mary.

66

"Ere morn," said he,- and, while he spoke,

Turn'd to the east, where, clear, and pale,

The star of dawn already broke

"We'll greet, on yonder wave, their sail!" Then, wherefore part? all, all agree

To wait them here, beneath this bower; And thus, while ev'n amidst their glee, Each eye is turn'd to watch the sea,

With song they cheer the anxious hour.

SONG.

""TIs the Vine! 'tis the Vine!" said the cup-loving boy,

As he saw it spring bright from the earth