Less sweet the flow'ret, and less sweet the sod,

O'er which the Spirit of the rainbow flings

The magic mantle of her solar god !*

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!

*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) xa8o, instead of A801, is undoubtedly the genuine reading. See Vossius, for some curious particularities of the rainbow, De Origin. et Progress. Idololat. Lib. iii. cap. 13.

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 break

Oh Love! oh Music! how I hate you!

TO MRS.

ON SOME CALUMNIES AGAINST HER CHARACTER.

Is not thy mind a gentle mind!

Is not thy heart a heart refin'd!

Hast thou not every blameless grace,

That man should love or Heaven can trace!

And oh! art thou a shrine for Sin

To hold her hateful worship in ?

No, no, be happy-dry that tear

Though some thy heart hath harbour'd near

May now repay its love with blame!
Though man, who ought to shield thy fame,
Ungenerous man be first to wound thee!
Though the whole world may freeze around
thee,

Oh! thou'lt be like that lucid tear,*
Which, bright, within the crystal's sphere
In liquid purity was found,

Though all had grown congeal'd around;
Floating in frost, it mock'd the chill,
Was pure, was soft, was brilliant still!

HYMN

OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI,

AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER.

Oн! lost, for ever lost !-no more
Shall Vesper light our dewy way
Along the rocks of Crissa's shore,

To hymn the fading fires of day!

*This alludes to a curious gem, upon which Claudian has left us some pointless epigrams. It was a drop of pure water inclosed within a piece of crystal. See Claudian. Epigram. de Chrystallo cui aqua inerat. Addison mentions a curiosity of this kind at Milan; He says, "It is such a rarity as this that I saw at Vendome in France, which they there pretend is a tear that our Saviour shed over Lazarus, and was gathered up by an angel, who put it in a little crystal vial and made a present of it to Mary Magdalen." Addison's Remarks on several Parts of Italy.

No more to Tempe's distant vale

In holy musings shall we roam,
Through summer's glow and winter's gale,
To bear the mystic chaplets home !*
'Twas then my soul's expanding zeal,
By nature warm'd and led by thee,
In every breeze was taught to feel
The breathings of a deity!

Guide of my heart! to memory true,
Thy looks, thy words, are still my own-
I see thee raising from the dew,

Some laurel, by the wind o'erthrown, And hear thee say, "This humble bough "Was planted for a doom divine,

'

And, though it weep in languor now, "Shall flourish on the Delphic shrine! "Thus, in the vale of earthly sense,

(6 Though sunk awile the spirit lies, "A viewless hand shall cull it thence, "To bloom immortal in the skies!"

Thy words had such a melting flow,

And spoke of truth so sweetly well,

They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow,

*The laurel, for the common uses of the temp for adorning the altars and sweeping the paveme was supplied by a tree near the fountain of Castal But upon all important occasions, they sent to Te » pe for their laurel. We find in Pausanias, that t valley supplied the branches, of which the tem was originally constructed; and Plutarch says, his Dialogue on Music. "The youth who brings Tempie laurel to Delphi is always attended by player on the flute." Αλλά μην και τω κατακομίζετ παιδί την Τεμπικην δαφνην εις Δελφος παρομαρτει αυλητής,