XXXIX.

From the rock of New Plymouth what shoots
Through Europe have scattered their fruits!
In forests o'ershadowed with weeds,
Though severed, like stars they are seen,
With regions of darkness between,
Immortal with heaven-winged seeds!

XL.

On the gales of the south they are borne,
Where the splendors of nature adorn

Rich vales which the Andes o'ershade:

In regions luxuriant and vast,

Elastic with hope they 'll be cast,

Till the Sun from his orbit shall fade!

XLI.

Excuse me this subject suspends,

All personal sorrow, and bends

The thoughts to the great commonweal,

We fly from the selfish as mean,

And rise to the future unseen,

And but for the universe feel.

XLII.

To return, is there one in the land,

That many a month could withstand
That sorceress beaming of eyes,
In concert with musical sound,

Their witchery casting around,

And taking young hearts by surprise ?

XLIII.

The serpent, a look if he darts,

Will fascinate strong-guarded hearts,
Transfix all sensation of power;
Inclosed in a magical snare,

Like horror, your stony eyes glare,
He, ready to seize and devour!

XLIV.

So woman, secure of her slave,

Her magic hand round him will wave,-
Like Prospero, boldly she cries,
(The coquette accomplished in art,
Her charming rod buries apart,)

"I rise," silly mortal, "I rise."

XLV.

Such conquests might Moses provoke-
The charm ever after was broke-

Oppressed with a mean self-contempt,

I issue, yet courage regain,

For alone not the weak and the vain,

But the brave are from fraud not exempt.

XLVI.

This triumph o'er full-trusting mind
Suits the wit of half woman-kind;
From merit they 've nothing to fear,
The profligate only, they dread,

Who meet them with bosoms of lead,
Though flexible, yet insincere !—

XLVII.

A wit that would always be smart,

Is a being without any heart;

But there are-and of such, not a few, Whose wit, like a sweet-flowing stream Reflecting the moon's silver beam, Throws on things a poetical hue!

XLVIII.

One night-'twas when Cooper first played

A lady drank all that I said

Could a churl long resist such attention?

In converse, unconscious, I slid,

And witlessly opened the lid

Of her brilliant and powerful invention.

XLIX.

What store of gay fancies was there!
Allusions, how various and rare!

Gems gathered from east and from west;

There poets from Sappho to Moore,

All sparkling in pure Attic ore,

Leaped up at the heave of her breast.

L.

But the case had no pad of silk thread,

A polished flint feathered its bed,

Whence sparks, on collision, would strike

How dazzling and brilliant the spark!

Yet it stripped the green trees of their bark, Shot either direct or oblique !

с

LI.

A form so enchantingly fine,

I was loath in a week to resign;

But malice though pungent at first,

Must make every bosom recoil

A robber that lives upon spoil,

No man in his senses can trust!

LII.

When a being we almost adored,

From the throne of our bosom is lowered,

Contempt for the race may pervade;

Nor scarce by an effort of pain,

A decent composure we gain,

With pity their errors to shade.

LIII.

No bosom of honor can wear,
The upas-tree blossom, though fair,

It makes such a desert around!
No merry lark comes with his cheer,
No stock-dove approaches through fear;
The stillness of death chills the ground!