The child of day,

Within his twilight bower,
Lay sweetly sleeping

On the flush'd bosom of a lotos-flower *;
When round him, in profusion weeping,
Dropp'd the celestial shower,

Steeping

The rosy clouds, that curl'd
About his infant head,

Like myrrh upon the locks of Cupid shed!
But, when the waking boy

Wav'd his exhaling tresses through the sky,
O morn of joy!

The tide divine,

*The Egyptians represented the dawn of day by a Είτε Αίγυπτος ἑωρακως young boy seated upon a lotos. αρχην ανατολης παιδιον νεογνον γράφοντας επι λωτω καθεζόμενον. Plutarch. περί τε μη χραν έμμετρο See also his treatise de Isid. et Osir. Observing that the lotos shewed its head above water at sunrise, and sank again at his setting, they conceived the idea of consecrating it to Osiris, or the sun.

This symbol of a youth sitting upon a lotos, is very frequent on the Abraxases, or Basilidian stones. See Montfaucon, tom. ii. planche 158, and the " Supplement," &c. tom. ii. lib. vii. chap. 5.

All glittering with the vermil dye
It drank beneath his orient eye,
Distill'd, in dews, upon the world,
And every drop was wine, was heavenly WINE!

Blest be the sod, the flowret blest,

That caught, upon their hallow'd breast, The nectar'd spray of Jove's perennial springs! Less sweet the flowret, and less sweet the sod, O'er which the Spirit of the rainbow flings The magic mantle of her solar god *!

*The ancients esteemed those flowers and trees the sweetest upon which the rainbow had appeared to rest; and the wood they chiefly burned in sacrifices, was that which the smile of Iris had consecrated. Plutarch. Sympos. lib. iv. cap. 2. where (as Vossius remarks) xaixõi, instead of x, is undoubtedly the genuine reading. See Vossius, for some curious particularities of the rainbow, De Origin. et Progress. Idololat. lib. iii, cap. 13.

ΤΟ

THAT Wrinkle, when first I espied it, At once put my heart out of pain, Till the eye, that was glowing beside it, Disturb'd my ideas again!

Thou art just in the twilight at present, When woman's declension begins, When, fading from all that is pleasant, She bids a good night to her sins!

Yet thou still art so lovely to me,

I would sooner, my exquisite mother!

Repose in the sun-set of thee,

Than bask in the noon of another!

ANACREONTIC.

SHE never look'd so kind before"Yet why the wanton's smile recall? "I've seen this witchery o'er and o'er, "Tis hollow, vain and heartless all!"

Thus I said and, sighing, sipp'd

The wine which she had lately tasted; The cup, where she had lately dipp'd Breath, so long in falsehood wasted.

I took the harp, and would have sung
As if 'twere not of her I sang;
But still the notes on LAMIA hung-
On whom but LAMIA could they hang?

That kiss, for which, if worlds were mine, A world for every kiss I'd give her ; Those floating eyes, that floating shine Like diamonds in an eastern river!

That mould so fine, so pearly bright,

Of which luxurious heaven hath cast her, Through which her soul doth beam as white As flame through lamps of alabaster!

Of these I sung, and notes and words
Were sweet, as if 'twas LAMIA's hair
That lay upon my lute for chords,

And LAMIA's lip that warbled there!

But when, alas! I turn'd the theme,
And when of vows and oaths I spoke,
Of truth and hope's beguiling dream-
The chord beneath my finger broke!

False harp! false woman!—such, oh! such
Are lutes too frail and maids too willing;
Every hand's licentious touch

Can learn to wake their wildest thrilling!

And when that thrill is most awake,

And when you think heaven's joys await you, The nymph will change, the chord will breakOh Love! oh Music! how I hate you!