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OH, WERE IT NOT FOR THIS SAD VOICE.
Oh, were it not for this sad voice,
Stealing amid our mirth to say,
Ere night may be the earth-worm's prey;
DRINK OF THIS CUP.
“Drink of this cup— Osiris 1 sips
The same in his halls below;
Of the Dead? who downward go.
“Drink of this cup - the water within
Is fresh from Lethe's stream;
Osiris, under the name of Serapis, was supposed to rule over the subterranean world ; and performed the office of Pluto, in the mythology of the Egyptians. They believed,” says Dr. Prichard, “ that Serapis presided over the region of departed souls, during the period of their absence, when languishing without bodies, and that the dead were deposited in his palace.” — Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology.
? “ Frigidam illam aquam post mortem, tanquam Hebes poculum, expetitam.” Zoega. — The Lethe of the Egyptians was called Ameles. See Dupuis, tom. viii. p. 651.
'Twill make the past, with all its sin,
And all its pain and sorrows, seem
“ The pleasure, whose charms
Are steep'd in woe;
The soul to know ;
“ The hope, that, bright
As the lake of the waste,
But mocks the taste;
“ The love, that binds
Its innocent wreath,
In venom beneath ;
“ All that, of evil or false, by thee
Hath ever been known or seen,
DRINK OF THIS CUP.
“Drink of this cup— when Isis led
Her boy, of old, to the beaming sky,
• Drink of this cup, thou'lt never die!'
· The mos adavaoias papuakov, which, according to Diodorus Siculus, Isis prepared for her son Orus. — Lib. i.
“ Thus do I say and sing to thee,
Heir of that boundless heaven on high,
Drink of this cup, thou'lt never die!”
OH! ABYSSINIAN TREE.
pray, we pray to thee ;
And the greeting mute
Of thy bough's salute
“Oh! Abyssinian tree,
How the traveller blesses thee,
And though bendst thy boughs,
To kiss his brows,
Oh! Abyssinian tree,
It came o'er her sleep, like a voice of those days,
See an account of this sensitive tree, which bends down its branches to those who approach it, in M. Jomard's Description of Syene and the Cataracts.
And, soft as in moments of bliss long ago,
“ Alas," sigh’d the maiden,“ how fancy can cheat ! “ The world once had lips that could whisper thus sweet ; “But cold now they slumber in yon fatal deep, “ Where, oh that beside them this heart too could sleep!”
She sunk on her pillow — but no, 'twas in vain
“Oh sleep, come and shield me,” in anguish she said, “From that call of the buried, that cry of the Dead!" And sleep came around her—but, starting, she woke, For still from the garden that spirit Voice spoke!
“I come,” she exclaim'd: “be thy home where it may, “ On earth or in heaven, that call I obey." Then forth through the moonlight, with heart beating fast, And loud as a death-watch, the pale maiden past.
Still round her the scene all in loneliness shone;
No, ne'er came she back, but the watchman who stood,
CUPID AND PSYCHE.
They told her that he, to whose vow she had listen'd
Through night's fleeting hours, was a spirit unblest ;Unholy the eyes, that beside her had glisten'd,
And evil the lips she in darkness had prest.
“When next in thy chamber the bridegroom reclineth,
“ Bring near him thy lamp, when in slumber he lies; “And there, as the light o'er his dark features shineth,
“ Thou'lt see what a demon hath won all thy sighs !”
Too fond to believe them, yet doubting, yet fearing,
When calm lay the sleeper she stole with her light; And saw
such a vision ! – no image, appearing To bards in their day-dreams, was ever so bright.
A youth, but just passing from childhood's sweet morning,
While round him still linger'd its innocent ray; Though gleams from beneath his shut eyelids gave
warning Of summer-noon lightnings that under them lay.
His brow had a grace more than mortal around it,
While, glossy as gold from a fairy-land mine,
Seem'd fresh from the breeze of some garden divine.
Entranc'd stood the bride, on that miracle gazing,
What late was but love is idolatry now ;
A sparkle flew from it and dropp'd on his brow.