Who, fix'd by love, at length was all her own,
And pass'd his spirit through her lips alone!

Oh Samian sage! whate'er thy glowing thought
Of mystic Numbers hath divinely wrought,
The One that's form'd of Two who dearly love,
Is the best number Heaven can boast above!

But think, my Theon, how this soul was thrill'd,
When near a fount, which o'er the vale distill'd,
My fancy's eye beheld a form recline,
Of lunar race, but so resembling thine,
That, oh!-'twas but fidelity in me,

To fly, to clasp, and worship it for thee!
No aid of words the unbodied soul requires,
To waft a wish or embassy desires;

But, by a throb to spirits only given,

By a mute impulse, only felt in Heaven,
Swifter than meteor shaft through summer skies,
From soul to soul the glanced idea flies!

We met-like thee the youthful vision smiled; But not like thee, when passionately wild,

granted it was all his own, as he has not mentioned him among those ancients who were obliged to have recourse to the "coma apposititia."—L'Hist. des Perruques, chap. 1.

Thou wakest the slumbering blushes of my cheek,
By looking things thyself would blush to speak!
No; 'twas the tender, intellectual smile,
Flush'd with the past and yet serene the while,
Of that delicious hour when, glowing yet,
Thou yield'st to nature with a fond regret,
And thy soul, waking from its wilder'd dream,
Lights in thine eye a mellower, chaster beam!

Oh my beloved! how divinely sweet

Is the pure joy, when kindred spirits meet!

*

Th' Elean god, whose faithful waters flow,

With love their only light, through caves below,

Wafting in triumph all the flowery braids,

And festal rings, with which Olympic maids
Have deck'd their billow, as an offering meet
To pour at Arethusa's crystal feet!

Think, when he mingles with his fountain-bride,
What perfect rapture thrills the blended tide!

*The river Alpheus; which flowed by Pisa or Olympia, and into which it was customary to throw offerings of different kinds, during the celebration of the Olympic games. In the pretty romance of Clitophon and Leucippe, the river is supposed to carry these offerings as bridal gifts to the fountain Arethusa. Και επι την Αρεθεσαν έτω τον Αλφειον νυμφαςολει· όταν εν ή των ολυμπιων ἑορτη κ. τ. λ. lib. 1.

Each melts in each, till one pervading kiss
Confound their currents in a sea of bliss!

'Twas thus

But, Theon, 'tis a weary theme,
And thou delight'st not in my lingering dream.
Oh! that our lips were, at this moment, near,
And I would kiss thee into patience, dear!
And make thee smile at all the magic tales
Of star-light bowers and planetary vales,
Which my fond soul, inspired by thee and love,
In slumber's loom hath exquisitely wove.

But no; no more-soon as to-morrow's ray
O'er soft Ilissus shall dissolve away,

I'll fly, my Theon, to thy burning breast,
And there in murmurs tell thee all the rest :
Then, if too weak, too cold the vision seems,

Thy lip shall teach me something more than dreams!

THE SENSES.

A DREAM.

IMBOWER'D in the vernal shades,
And circled all by rosy fences,

I saw the five luxurious maids,
Whom mortals love, and call THE SENSES.

Many and blissful were the ways

In which they seem'd to pass their hours-
One wander'd through the garden's maze,

Inhaling all the soul of flowers;

Like those who live upon the smell

*

Of roses, by the Ganges' stream,
With perfume from the flowr'et's bell,

She fed her life's ambrosial dream!

Another touch'd the silvery lute,
To chain a charmed sister's ear,

Who hung beside her, still and mute,
Gazing as if her eyes could hear!

Circa fontem Gangis Astomorum gentem tantum viventum et odore quem naribus trahant.

halitu

PLIN. lib. vii. cap. 2.

The nymph who thrill'd the warbling wire Would often raise her ruby lip,

As if it pouted with desire

Some cooling, nectar'd draught to sip.

Nor yet was she who heard the lute
Unmindful of the minstrel maid,
But press'd the sweetest, richest fruit,
To bathe her ripe lip as she play'd!

But, oh! the fairest of the group

Was one who in the sunshine lay,

And oped the cincture's golden loop
That hid her bosom's panting play!

And still her gentle hand she stole
Along the snows, so smoothly orb'd,

And look'd the while as if her soul
Were in that heavenly touch absorb'd!

Another nymph, who linger'd nigh,
And held a prism of various light,
Now put the rainbow wonder by,
To look upon this lovelier sight.

And still as one's enamour'd touch
Adown the lapsing ivory fell,