And further to the right, the Cyclades: Phoebus had rais'd and fixt them, to surround

His native Delos and aerial fane.

He saw the land of Pelops, host of Gods,

Saw the steep ridge where Corinth after stood

Beckoning the serious with the smiling Arts

Into the sunbright bay; unborn the maid

That to assure the bent-up hand unskilled

Lookt oft, but oftener fearing who might wake.

He heard the voice of rivers; he descried

Pindan Peneus and the slender nymphs That tread his banks but fear the thun

dering tide;

These, and Amphrysos and Apidanus And poplar-crown'd Spercheus, and reclined

On restless rocks Enipeus, where the winds

Scatter'd above the weeds his hoary hair.

Then, with Pirene and with Panope
Evenus, troubled from paternal tears,
And last was Achelous, king of iles.
Zacynthus here, above rose Ithaca,
Like a blue bubble floating in the
bay.

Far onward to the left a glimm'ring light

Glanced out oblique, nor vanisht; he inquired

Whence that arose, his consort thus replied,

"Behold the vast Eridanus! ere long We may again behold him and rejoice. Of noble rivers none with mightier force Rolls his unwearied torrent to the main." And now Sicanian Etna rose to view: Darkness with light more horrid she confounds,

Baffles the breath and dims the sight of day.

Tamar grew giddy with astonishment . And, looking up, held fast the bridal vest;

He heard the roar above him, heard the

roar

Beneath, and felt it too, as he beheld, Hurl, from Earth's base, rocks, moun tains, to the skies.

TO TACEA.

TO-MORROW, brightest-eyed of Avons train,

To-morrow thou art slavelike bound and sold,

Another's and another's; haste away, Winde through the willows, dart along the path,

It nought avails thee, nought our plaint avails.

O happy those before me, who could say,

"Short though thy period, sweet Tacra,

short

Ere thou art destined to the depths below,

Thou passest half thy sunny hours with me."

I mourn not, envy not, what others gain,

Thee, and thy venerable elms I mourn, Thy old protectors, ruthless was the pride,

And gaunt the need that bade their heads lie low.

I see the meadow's tender grass start back,

See from their prostrate trunks the gory glare.

Ah! pleasant was it once to watch thy

waves

Swelling o'er pliant beds of glossy weed; Pleasant to watch them dip amid the

stones,

Chirp, and spring over, glance and gleam along,

And tripping light their wanton way pursue.

Methinks they now with mellow mourn fulness

Bid their faint breezes chide my fond delay,

Nor suffer on the bridge nor on the knee

My poor irregularly pencilled page.
Alas, Tacæa, thou art sore deceived!
Here are no foren words, no fatal seal,
But thou and all who hear me shall

avow

The simple notes of sorrow's song are here.

FÆSULAN IDYL.

HERE, when precipitate Spring with one light bound

Into hot Summer's lusty arms expires; And where go forth at morn, at eve, at night,

Soft airs, that want the lute to play with them,

And softer sighs, that know not what they want;

Under a wall, beneath an orange tree Whose tallest flowers could tell the lowlier ones

Of sights in Fiesole right up above,
While I was gazing a few paces off
At what they seemed to show me with
their nods,

Their frequent whispers and their pointing shoots,

A gentle maid came down the garden steps

And gathered the pure treasure in her lap.

I heard the branches rustle, and stept

forth

To drive the ox away, or mule, or goat, (Such I believed it must be); for sweet

scents

Are the swift vehicles of still sweeter

thoughts,

And nurse and pillow the dull memory That would let drop without them her best stores.

They bring me tales of youth and tones of love,

And 'tis and ever was my wish and way

To let all flowers live freely, and all die,

Whene'er their Genius bids their souls depart,

Among their kindred in their native place.

I never pluck the rose; the violet's

head

Hath shaken with my breath upon its bank

And not reproacht me; the ever-sacred cup

Of the pure lily hath between my hands Felt safe, unsoiled, nor lost one grain of gold.

I saw the light that made the glossy leaves

More glossy; the fair arm, the fairer cheek

Warmed by the eye intent on its pursuit;

I saw the foot, that although half-erect From its gray slippers, could not lift her up

To what she wanted; I held down a branch,

And gathered her some blossoms, since their hour

Was come, and bees had wounded them, and flies

Of harder wing were working their way through

And scattering them in fragments under foot.

So crisp were some, they rattled unevolved,

Others, ere broken off, fell into shells, For such appear the petals when detacht,

Unbending, brittle, lucid, white like snow,

And like snow not seen through, by

stood, and cried

Eternal. At that word, that sad word, joy,

Faithful and fond her bosom heaved once more;

Her head fell back; and now a loud deep sob

Swelled thro' the darkened chamber; 'twas not hers.

CORINNA, FROM ATHENS, TC TANAGRA,

[From Pericles and Aspasia.]

I.

TANAGRA! think not I forget

Thy beautifully-storied streets; Be sure my memory bathes yet

In clear Thermodon, and yet greets

can sail."

THE DEATH OF ARTEMIDORA.

"ARTEMIDORA! Gods invisible,

While thou art lying faint along the couch,

Have tied the sandal to thy slender feet

And stand beside thee, ready to convey Thy weary steps where other rivers flow.

Refreshing shades will waft thy

weariness

Away, and voices like thy own

come near

And nearer, and solicit an embrace." Artemidora sighed, and would have prest

The hand now pressing hers, but was too weak.

Trio stood over her dark hair unseen While thus Elpenor spoke. He lookt into

Eyes that had given light and life erewhile

To those above them, but now dim with tears

And wakefulness. Again he spake of joy

Whose sunny bosom swells with joy When we accept his matted rushes Upheaved with sylvan fruit; away he bounds, and blushes.

Flapping the while with laurel-rose
The honey-gathering tribes away;
And sweetly, sweetly, Attick tongues
Lisp your Corinna's early songs;
To her with feet more graceful come
The verses that have dwelt in kindred
breasts at home.

5.

) let thy children lean aslant

Against the tender mother's knee, And gaze into her face, and want

To know what magic there can be In words that urge some eyes to dance, While others as in holy trance Look up to heaven; be such my praise! Why linger? I must haste, or lose the Delphic bays.

CLEONE TO ASPASIA.

WE mind not how the sun in the midsky

Is hastening on; but when the golden orb

Strikes the extreme of earth, and when the gulphs

Of air and ocean open to receive him, Dampness and gloom invade us; then we think

Ah! thus it is with youth. Too fast his feet

Run on for sight; hour follows hour; fair maid

Succeeds fair maid; bright eyes bestar his couch;

The cheerful horn awakens him; the feast,

The revel, the entangling dance, allure,

And voices mellower than the Muse's

THE MAID'S LAMENT. [From the Examination of Shakespeare.] I LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone.

I checked him while he spoke; yet could he speak,

Alas, I would not check.

For reasons not to love him once I sought

And wearied all my thought

To vex myself and him; I now would give

My love, could he but live Who lately lived for me, and when he found

'Twas vain, in holy ground

He hid his face amid the shades of death.

I waste for him my breath Who wasted his for me; but mine returns,

And this lorn bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,

And waking me to weep

Tears that had melted his soft heart; for years

Wept he as bitter tears. "Merciful God!" such was his latest

prayer,

"These may she never share!" Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold

Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,

His name, and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be,

And, O, pray too for me.

WHY, why repine, my pensive friend, At pleasures slipt away?

Some the stern Fates will never lend,
And all refuse to stay.

I see the rainbow in the sky,
The dew upon the grass;

I see them, and I ask not why
They glimmer or they pass.