May the flames of destruction that here he has spread

Be tenfold return'd on his murderous head!

'THE SUN GOES DOWN IN THE DARK BLUE MAIN'

'Irreparabile tempus.' - VIRGIL.

THE sun goes down in the dark blue main,
To rise the brighter to-morrow;
But oh what charm can restore again
Those days now consign'd to sorrow?

The moon goes down on the calm still night,
To rise sweeter than when she parted;
But oh what charm can restore the light
Of joy to the broken-hearted?

The blossoms depart in the wintry hour,
To rise in vernal glory;

But oh! what charm can restore the flower
Of youth to the old and hoary?

AH! yes, the lip may faintly smile,
The eye may sparkle for a while;
But never from that wither'd heart
The consciousness of ill shall part!

That glance, that smile of passing light,
Are as the rainbow of the night;
But seldom seen, it dares to bloom
Upon the bosom of the gloom.

Its tints are sad and coldly pale,
Dim-glimmering thro' their misty veil;
Unlike the ardent hues which play
Along the flowery bow of day.

The moon-beams sink in dark-rob'd shades,
Too soon the airy vision fades;

And double night returns, to shroud
The volumes of the showery cloud.

'THOU

CAMEST TO THY BOWER, MY LOVE, ACROSS THE MUSKY GROVE'

'Virgo egregia forma.' — TERENCE.

THOU camest to thy bower, my love, across the musky grove,

To fan thy blooming charms within the coolness of the shade;

Thy locks were like a midnight cloud with silver moon-beams wove,?

And o'er thy face the varying tints of youthful passion play'd.

Thy breath was like the sandal-wood that casts a rich perfume,

Thy blue eyes mock'd the lotos in the noon-day of his bloom;

Thy cheeks were like the beamy flush that gilds the breaking day,

And in th' ambrosia of thy smiles the god of rapture lay.3

Fair as the cairba-stone art thou, that stone of dazzling white,+

Ere yet unholy fingers chang'd its milk-white hue to night;

And lovelier than the loveliest glance from Even's placid star,

And brighter than the sea of gold," the gorgeous Himsagar.

In high Mohammed's boundless heaven Al Cawthor's stream may play,

The fount of youth may sparkling gush be neath the western ray;6

And Tasnim's wave in chrystal cups may glow with musk and wine,

But oh their lustre could not match one beauteous tear of thine!

4 Vide Sale's Koran.

See Sir William Jones on Eastern Plants.

6 The fabled fountain of youth in the Bahamas, in search of which Juan Ponce de Leon discovered Florida.

THE PASSIONS

'You have passions in your heart - scorpions; they sleep now-beware how you awaken them! they will sting you even to death!'-Mysteries of Udolpho, vol. iii.

BEWARE, beware, ere thou takest
The draught of misery!
Beware, beware, e'er thou wakest
The scorpions that sleep in thee!

The woes which thou canst not number,

As yet are wrapt in sleep;

Yet oh! yet they slumber,

But their slumbers are not deep.

Yet oh! yet while the rancour

Of hate has no place in thee,

While thy buoyant soul has an anchor
In youth's bright tranquil sea:

Yet oh! yet while the blossom

Of hope is blooming fair,

While the beam of bliss lights thy bosom
O! rouse not the serpent there!

For bitter thy tears will trickle
'Neath misery's heavy load,
When the world has put in its sickle
To the crop which fancy sow'd.

When the world has rent the cable
That bound thee to the shore,
And launched thee weak and unable
To bear the billow's roar;

Then the slightest touch will waken
Those pangs that will always grieve thee,
And thy soul will be fiercely shaken

With storms that will never leave thee!

So beware, beware, ere thou takest
The draught of misery!
Beware, beware, ere thou wakest
The scorpions that sleep in thee!

THE HIGH-PRIEST TO ALEXANDER

'Derrame en todo el orbe de la tierra
Las armas, el furor, y nueva guerra.'
La Araucana, cant. xvi.

Go forth, thou man of force !
The world is all thine own;

Before thy dreadful course
Shall totter every throne.
Let India's jewels glow
Upon thy diadem:

Go, forth to conquest go,
But spare Jerusalem.

For the God of gods, which liveth
Through all eternity,

"T is he alone which giveth
And taketh victory:

Though thy streets be a hundred, thy gates be all brass,

Yet thy proud ones of war shall be wither'd like grass;

Thy gates shall be broken, thy strength be laid low.

And thy streets shall resound to the shouts of the foe!

1 Arise, ye princes, and anoint the shield.' ISAIAH xxi. 5.

2 I will make drunk her princes.' - JEREMIAH li. 57. 3 The mountains melted from before the Lord.'. JUDG. v. 5. Oh! that the mountains might flow down

thrown,

And the rank grass shall wave o'er the lonely hearthstone;

And your sons and your sires and your daughters shall bleed

By the barbarous hands of the murdering Mede!

I will sweep ye away in destruction and death, As the whirlwind that scatters the chaff with its breath;

And the fanes of your gods shall be sprinkled with gore,

And the course of your stream shall be heard of no more! +

There the wandering Arab shall ne'er pitch his tent,

But the beasts of the desert shall wail and lament;

In their desolate houses the dragons shall lie, And the satyrs shall dance, and the bittern shall cry! 5

at thy presence.' ISAIAH lxiv. 1. And again, ver. 3, The mountains flowed down at thy presence.'

A drought is upon her waters.'-JEREMIAH 1. 38. 5 Vide ISAIAH xiii. 20.

LOVE

I

ALMIGHTY Love! whose nameless power
This glowing heart defines too well,
Whose presence cheers each fleeting hour,
Whose silken bonds our souls compel,
Diffusing such a sainted spell,

As gilds our being with the light
Of transport and of rapturous bliss,
And almost seeming to unite

The joys of other worlds to this,
The heavenly smile, the rosy kiss;

Before whose blaze my spirits shrink,
My senses all are wrapt in thee,
Thy force I own too much, to think
(So full, so great thine ecstacy)
That thou art less than deity!

Thy golden chains embrace the land,
The starry sky, the dark blue main;
And at the voice of thy command,

(So vast, so boundless is thy reign)
All nature springs to life again!

II

The glittering fly, the wondrous things
That microscopic art descries;
The lion of the waste, which springs,

Bounding upon his enemies;
The mighty sea-snake of the storm,
The vorticella's viewless form,1

The vast leviathan, which takes

His pastime in the sounding floods;
The crafty elephant, which makes

His haunts in Ceylon's spicy woods -
Alike confess thy magic sway,
Thy soul-enchanting voice obey!

O! whether thou, as bards have said,
Of bliss or pain the partial giver,
Wingest thy shaft of pleasing dread

From out thy well-stor'd golden quiver, O'er earth thy cherub wings extending, Thy sea-born mother's side attending;

Or else, as Indian fables say,

Upon thine emerald lory riding, Through gardens, mid the restless play

Of fountains, in the moon-beam gliding, Mid sylph-like shapes of maidens dancing, Thy scarlet standard high advancing; —

Thy fragrant bow of cane thou bendest,2
Twanging the string of honey'd bees,
And thence the flower-tipp'd arrow sendest,
Which gives or robs the heart of ease;
Camdeo, or Cupid, O be near,

To listen, and to grant my prayer!

1 See BAKER on Animalculæ.

See Sir WILLIAM JONES'S WORKS, vol. vi. p. 313.

And, the bright gem of conquest her chaplet adorning,

Platea rejoic'd at the blood that ye spilt! Remember the night, when, in shrieks of affright,

The fleets of the East in your ocean were sunk:

Remember each day, when, in battle array, From the fountain of glory how largely ye drunk!

For there is not ought that a freeman can fear,
As the fetters of insult, the name of a slave;
And there is not a voice to a nation so dear,
As the war-song of freedom that calls on the
brave.

'He bends the luscious cane, and twists the string;
With bees how sweet, but ah! how keen the sting!
He with five flowrets tips thy ruthless darts,
Which thro' five senses pierce enraptur'd hearts'