Part 29 (2/2)

And often, as she smiling said, In fancy's hour thy gentle rays Shall guide my visionary tread Through poesy's enchanting maze.

Thy flame shall light the page refined, Where still we catch the Chian's breath, Where still the bard though cold in death, Has left his soul unquenched behind.

Or, o'er thy humbler legend s.h.i.+ne, Oh man of Ascra's dreary glades, To whom the nightly warbling Nine A wand of inspiration gave, Plucked from the greenest tree, that shades The crystal of Castalia's wave.

Then, turning to a purer lore, We'll cull the sage's deep-hid store, From Science steal her golden clue, And every mystic path pursue, Where Nature, far from vulgar eyes, Through labyrinths of wonder flies.

'Tis thus my heart shall learn to know How fleeting is this world below, Where all that meets the morning light, Is changed before the fall of night!

I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire, ”Swift, swift the tide of being runs, ”And Time, who bids thy flame expire, ”Will also quench yon heaven of suns.”

Oh, then if earth's united power Can never chain one feathery hour; If every print we leave to-day To-morrow's wave will sweep away; Who pauses to inquire of heaven Why were the fleeting treasures given, The sunny days, the shady nights, And all their brief but dear delights, Which heaven has made for man to use, And man should think it crime to lose?

Who that has culled a fresh-blown rose Will ask it why it breathes and glows, Unmindful of the blus.h.i.+ng ray, In which it s.h.i.+nes its soul away; Unmindful of the scented sigh, With which it dies and loves to die.

Pleasure, thou only good on earth[2]

One precious moment given to thee-- Oh! by my Lais' lip, 'tis worth The sage's immortality.

Then far be all the wisdom hence, That would our joys one hour delay!

Alas, the feast of soul and sense Love calls us to in youth's bright day, If not soon tasted, fleets away.

Ne'er wert thou formed, my Lamp, to shed Thy splendor on a lifeless page;-- Whate'er my blus.h.i.+ng Lais said Of thoughtful lore and studies sage, 'Twas mockery all--her glance of joy Told me thy dearest, best employ.

And, soon, as night shall close the eye Of heaven's young wanderer in the west; When seers are gazing on the sky, To find their future orbs of rest; Then shall I take my trembling way, Unseen but to those worlds above, And, led by thy mysterious ray, Steal to the night-bower of my love.

[1] It does not appear to have been very difficult to become a philosopher amongst the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and just wit enough to produce an occasional apophthegm, seem to have been all the qualifications necessary for the purpose.

[2] Aristippus considered motion as the principle of happiness, in which idea he differed from the Epicureans, who looked to a state of repose as the only true voluptuousness, and avoided even the too lively agitations of pleasure, as a violent and ungraceful derangement of the senses.

TO MRS,---.

ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF VOITURE'S KISS.

_Mon ame sur mon levre etoit lors toute entiere.

Pour savourer le miel qui sur la votre etoit; Mais en me retirant, elle resta derriere, Tant de ce doux plaisir l'amorce l'a restoit_.

VOITURE.

How heavenly was the poet's doom, To breathe his spirit through a kiss: And lose within so sweet a tomb The trembling messenger of bliss!

And, sure his soul returned to feel That it _again_ could ravished be; For in the kiss that thou didst steal, His life and soul have fled to thee.

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