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elegant strain; the concluding verses are Anthemion had left his native vale to written with considerable beauty and implore for his mistress, a lovely Arcasoftness :

dian, the grace and favour of the god. u Central amid the myrtle grove

Callirüe had long pined under the influThat venerable temple stands Three statues, raised by gifted hands,

ence of a malady which baffled the powers Distinct with sculptured emblems fair,

of medicine, and even Pan had been His threefold influence imaged bear,

vainly supplicated to restore the declinCreative, Heavenly, Earthly Love. The first, of stone and sculpture rude,

ing maiden. As Anthemion approaches From immemorial time has stood;

the altar, he is terrified by a prodigy of Not even in vague tradition known The hand that raised that aucient stone.

an alarming and inauspicious kind. The Or brass the next, with holiest thought, statue of Heavenly Love regards him The skill of Sicyon's artist wrought.

with a frown, but that of Earthly with a The third, a marble form divine, That seems to move, and breathe, and smile, smile. A moinent, and the semblanco Fair Phryne to this holy shrine

fled;" and Anthemion gathers courage Conveyed, when her propitious wile Had forced her lover to impart

to offer bis votive wreath on the altar The choicest treasure of his art.

the wild flowers wither on the fane. Her, too, in sculptured beauty's pride, His skill has placed by Venus' side;

" His brain swims round, portentous fear Nor well the enraptured gaze descries

Across his wildered fancy flies:
Which best mighi claim the Hesperian prize. Shall death thus seize his maiden dear?
Fairest youths and maids assembling

Does Love reject his sacrifice?
Dance the inyrtle bowers among:

He caught the arm of a damsel near, Harps to sosiest numbers trembling

And soft sweet accents smole his ear; Pour the impassioned strain along,

What ails thee, stranger ? Leaves are sear, Where the poet's gifted song

And flowers are dead, and fields are drear, Holds the intensely listening throng.

And streams are wild, and skies are bleak, Matrons grave and sages gray

And white with snow each mountain's peak, Lead the youthful train to pay

When winter rules the year; Homage on the opening day

And children grieve, as if for aye Or Love's returning festival:

Leaves, flowers, and birds were past away: Every fruit and every flower

But buds and blooms again are seen, Sacred to his gentler power,

And fields are gay, and hills are green, Twined in garlands bright and sweet,

And streams are bright, and sweet birds sing ; They place before his sculptured feet,

And where is the infant's sortowing?
And on his name they call:
From thousand lips, with glad acclaim,

He turns, and beholds in the person
Is breathed at once that sacred name;
And music, kindling at the sound,

addressing him, a maid of surpassing and Wafts holier, tenderer strains around: dazzling beauty. The rose a richer sweet exhales : The myrtle waves in softer gales;

“Her bright hair, in the noon-beams glowing, Through every breast one influence flies;

A rose-hud wreath above confined, All hate, all evil passion dies;

From whence, as from a fountain flowing, The heart of man, in that blest spell, Becomes at once a sacred cell,

Long ringlets round her temples twined, Where Love, and only Love, can dwell."

And fell in many a graceful fold,

Streaming in curls of feathery lightness Among the votaries of the Thespian Around her neck's marmoreal wbiteness. deity is a youth of Arcadia, whose per. Twin roses of persuasion, played,

Love, in the smile that round her lips, fections of form and feature might well ---Nectaries of balmier sweets than sips be envied by modern beaus.

The Hymettian bee,-his ambush laid;

And his own shafts of liquid fire « From Ladon's shores Athemion came,

Came on the soul with sweet surprise, Arcadian Ladon, loveliest tide

Through the soft dews of young desire Or all the streams of Grecian name

That trembled in her large dark eyes; Through rocks and sylvan hills that glide. But in those eyes there seemed to move The flower of all Arcadia's youth

A flame, almost too bright for love, Was be: such form and face, in truth,

That shone, with intermitting flashes,
As thoughts of gentlest maidens scek

Beneath their long deep-shadowy lashes."
In their day-dreams: soft glossy hair
Shadowed his forehead, snowy-fair,

The lovely stranger continues hier With many a hyacinthine cluster:

speech to the wondering Anthemion. Lips, that in silence seemed to speak, Were his, and eyes of mild blue lustre:

«What ails thee, youth?'- A fearful siga And even the paleness of his cheek,

For one whose dear sake led me hither: The passing trace of tender care,

Love repels me from his shrine, Suill showed how beautiful it were

And seems to say; That maid divine If its own natural bloom were there."

Like these ill-omcned flowers shall wither'

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- Flowers may die on many a stem; titude are celebrating the festival of the Fruits may fall from many a tree; Not the more for loss of them

deity. Shall this fair world a desert be: Thou in every grove wilt see

“ An aged man was near, Fruits and flowers enough for thee.

or rugged brow, and eye severe. Stranger! I with thee will share

What evil,'--thus the stranger spoke, The votive fruits and flowers I bear,

" Has this our city done to thee, Rich in fragrance, fresh in bloom;

Ill-omened boy, that thou should'st be These may find a happier doom:

A blot on our solemnity? If they change not, fade not now,

Or what Alastor bade thee wear Deem that Love accepts thy vow.'”

That laurel-rose, to Love profane,

Whose leaves, in semblance falsely fair The simple and unsuspicious youth, of Love's maternal flower, contain takes the chaplet, and places it on the Art thou a scorner? dost thou throw

For purest fragrance deadliest bane? altar-it fades not! On his offering the Defiance at his power? Beware! fascinating stranger casts her own, when What pangs his shafts of anger bear :

soon thy impious youth may know they

For not the sun's descending dart,

Nor yet the lightning-brand of Jove, “ Entwine and blend again,

Fall like the shaft that strikes the heart Wreathed into one, even as they were,

Thrown by the mightier hand of Love.' Ere she, their brilliant sweets to share,

-Oh stranger! not with impious thougut Unwove their flowery chain."

My steps this holy rite have sought.

With pious heart and offerings due Exultation sparkles in her radiant eyes, Nor dia 1 deem this flower profane;

I mingled in the votive train; as she witnesses lier influence over An- Nor she, I ween, its evil knew, themion, and (bidding him keep her That radiant girl, who bade me cherish flower) she addresses him at parting in a Who, and what, and whence was she?

Her memory till its bloom should perish.' strain of mystic admonition to which the -A stranger till this hour to me.' poor youth listens in a sort of dumb sim- - O youth, beware! that laurel-rose

Around Larissa's evil walls plicity.

In tufts of rank luxuriance grows,

'Mid dreary valleys, by the falls “ His brain

or haunted streams; and magic knows Was troubled with conflicting thought:

No herb or plant of deadlier might, A dim and dizzy sense of pain

When impious footsteps wake by night That maid's surpassing beauty brought ;

The echoes of those dismal dells, And strangely on his fancy wrought

What time the murky midnight dew Her mystic moralisings, fraught

Trembles on many a leaf and blossomt, With half-prophetic sense, and breathed That draws from earth's polluted bosom In tones so sweetly wild.

Mysterious virtue, to imbue Unconsciously the flower be took,

The chalice of unnatural spells. And with absorbed admiring look

Oft, those dreary rocks among, Gazed as with fascinated eye

The murmurs of' unholy song, The lone bard gazes on the sky,

Breathed by lips as fair as hers Who, in the bright clouds rolled and wreathed By whose false hands that flower was given: Around the sun's descending car,

The solid earth's firm breast have riven, Sees shadowy rocks sublimely piled,

And burst the silent sepulchres, And phantom standards wide unfurled,

And called strange shapes of ghastly fear, And towers of an aërial world

To hold, beneath the sickening moon, Embattled for unearthly war.

Portentous parle, at nights deep noon, So stood Anthemion, till among

With beauty skilled in mysteries drear. The mazes of the festal throng

Oh, youth! Larissa's maids are fair; The damsel from his sight had past.

But the dæmons of the earth and air Yet well he marked that once she cast

Their spells obey, their councils share, A backward look, perchance to see

And wide o'er earth and ocean bear If he watched her sill so fixedly."

Their mandates to the storms that tear

The rock-enrooted oak, and sweep They part, and Anthemion sets forth With whirwind wings the labouring deep.

Their words of power can make the streams on his return to Arcadia;---troubled by his Roll refluent on their mountain-springs, adventure with the beautiful unknown, Can torture sleep with direful dreams, and his imagination captivated by her Man, beast, bird, fish, with influence strange,

And on the shapes of earthly things, charms, yet clinging with all the fond. Breathe foul and fearful interchange, ness of devoted love to his tender and And fix in marble bonds the foron

Erewhile with natural being warm, languishing Callirõe, he passes on through And give to senseless stones and stocks the crowded ways of Thespia, heedless Motion, and breath, and shape that mocks,

As far as nicest eye can scan, of the sports with which the joyous mul- The action and the life of man.

Beware! yet once again beware!

Lo! with pure hand the crystal flood Ere round thy inexperienced mind,

Collecting, on these altars blest, With voice and semblance falsely fair,

Lihation holiest, brightest, best, A chain Thessalian magic bind,

I pour. If round my footsteps dwell Which never more, oh youth! believe,

Unholy sign or evil spell, Shall either earth or heaven unweave.'

Receive me in your guardian sway;

And thou, oh gentle Naiad! bear Anthemion is alarmed by the portent. With this false flower those spells away,

If such be lingering there.'--" ous address of the old man, and recalling to his recollection the mysterious appear

He turns his face from the stream, acance and demeanour of the maid of La- cording to the advice of the stranger, and rissa—the frown with which the brazeu casts the flower he had received from the statue regarded bim as he approached fatal beauty into the wave-a sudden the altar—the withering of his chaplet – shriek assails bis ear from the water-he and the spontaneous twining with hers starts, but turns notof his second offering ;-these combining

_“ Again! with the vague but fearful ideas of Thes- Could that dear maiden's cry of pain

It is Calliroë's cry! In vain salian magic which the words of the aged Strike on Anthemion s ear? stranger were so well calculated to in- He turned to plunge into the ride,

At once, forgetting all beside, spire in the mind of a simple youth— But all again was still : agitate him with the most dreadful appre- Poured bis last line of crimson light,

The sun upon the surface bright hensions, and he implores his venerable Hall-sunk behind the hill: mouitor to inform him if there be any mode But through the solemn plane-trees pası

The pinions of a mightier blast, of averting the threatened evil. The old And in its many-sounding sweep, man, after commenting upon the almost Among the foliage broad and doep,

Aerial voices seemed to sigh, hopeless condition of those round whom

As if the spirits of the grove the spells of magic bave been cast, says, Mourned, in prophetic sympathy

With some disastrous love." - Ere close of day Seek thou the planes, whose broad shades fall The third canto (we forgot to mention On the stream that laves yon mountain's base : that the poem is divided into seven) opens There on thy Natal Genius call For aid, and with averted face

with some very pleasing verscs, in which Give to the stream that flower, nor look the author expresses his regret at the Upon the running wave again; For, if thou should'st, the sacred plane

destruction of a religion so favourable as Has heard thy suppliant vows in vain; the Grecian to the purposes of poetry. Nor then thy Natal Genius can, Nor Phoebus, nor Arcadian Pan,

" By living streams, in sylvan shades,

Where winds and waves symphonious make Dissolve thy tenfold chain.'—"

Sweet melody, the youths and maids The stranger quits him, and he repairs No more with choral music wake

Lone Echo from her tangled brake, to a neighbouring grove, through which On Pan, or Sylvan Genius, calling, flows a clear and gentle stream

Naiad or Nymph, in suppliant song:

No more by living fountain, falling “ Anthemion paused upon the shore : The poplar's circling bower among, All thought of magic's impious lore,

Where pious hands have carved of yore All dread of evil powers, combined

Rude bason for its lueid store Against his peace, attempered ill

And reared the grassy altar nigh, With that sweet scene; and on his mind The traveller, when the sun rides high, Fair, graceful, gentle, radiant still,

For cool refreshment lingering there, The form of that strange damsel came;

Pours to the Sister Nymphs his prayer. And something like a sense of shame

Yet still the green vales smile: the springe
He felt, as if his coward thought

Gush forth in light: the torest weaves
Foul wrong to guileless beauty wrought. Its own wild bowers; the breeze s wings
At length Oh radiant girl! -he said, - Make music in their rustling leaves;
• If in the cause that bids me tread

But 'tis no spirit's breath that sighs
These banks, the mixed injurious dread Among their tangled canopies :
of thy fair thoughts, the tears of love

In occan's caves no Nereid dwells: Must with thy injured kindness plead

No Oread walks the mountain-dells: My pardon for the wrongful deed.

The streams no sedge-crowned Genii rol! Ye Nymphs, and Sylvan Gods, that rove From bounteous urn: great Pan is dead: The precincts of this sacred wood!

The lise, the intellectual soul Thou, Achelous' gentle daughter,

Of vale, and grove, and stream has fled Bright Naiad of this beauteous water!

For ever with the creed sublime And thou, my Natal Genius good!

That nursed the muse of carlier time."

As Anthemion proceeds on his way, A maiden, on a mossy stone,

Full in the moonlight, sits alone : the sounds of revelry come floativg on

Her eyes, with humid radiance bright; the breeze from Thespis, but with such As if a tear had dimmed ibeir ligli, tones his mind is in too agitated a state to

Are fixed upon the moon; her hair

Flows long and loose in the light soft air ; be delighted, and the contrast between A golden lyre her white hands bear; the joyous scenes be had so lately left, Its chords, beneath her fingers fleet,

To such wild symphonies awake, and the disastrous circumstances and Her sweet lips breathe a song so sweet,

That the echoes of the cave repeat bodings attached to himself, only create

Its closes with as soli a sigii, a livelier sense of his unhappiness. He

As if they almost feared to break hurries on-through Asera, and by the The magic of ils harmony. fountain of Aganippe

Oh! there was passion in the sound,
Intensest passion, strange and deep;

Wild breathings of a soul, around “ The Muses' grove is nigh. He treads

Whose every pulse one hope had hound, Its sacred precincts. O'er bim spreads

One burning hope, which might not sleep. The palm's aërial canopy;

But hark! that wild and solemn swell! Thai, nurtured by peremial springs,

And was there in those tones a spell, Around its summit broad and high

Which none may disobey? Forlo: Its light and branchy foliage flings,

Anthemion from the sylvan shade Arching in graceful symmetry.

Moves with reluctant steps and slow, Among the tall stems jagg'd and bare

And in the lonely moonlight glade
Luxuriant laurel interweaves

He stands before the radiant maid."
An undershade of myriad leaves,
Here black in rayless masses, there
In partial moonlight glitering fair;

On the approach of Anthemion she And wheresoe 'er the barren rock

ceases her song-for a while they both Peers through the grassy soil, its roots The sweet andrachne strikes, to mock

remain silent: at length she asks why he Sterility, and profusely shoots

has thrown away the flower she presented Its light boughs, rich with ripening fruits. The moonbeams, through the chequering shade,

him at Thespis?--Anthemion ingenuously Upon the silent temple played,

informs her and she breaks forth into The Muses' sanc. The nighingale,

a strain of tender reproach, tells him Those consecrated bowers among, Poured on the air a warbled tale,

that from that lower her own name, So sweet, that scarcely from her nest,

Rhododaphne, is borrowed—and gives the Where Orpheus' hallowed relics rest, She breatlies a sweeter

following beautiful description of the song A scene, whose power the maniac sense place of her birth, and the manner in or passion's wildest mood might own! wbich her earlier years were employed : Anthemion felt its influence: His fancy drank the soothing tone Of all that tranquil loveliness;

-"Down Pindus' steep Penëus fulls, And health and bloom returned to bless

And swili and clear through hill and dale
His dear Calliröe, and the groves

It flows, and by Larissa's walls,
And rocks where pastoral Ladon roves And through wild Tempe, loveliest vale.
Bore record of their blissful loves.

And on its banks the cypress gloom
List! there is music on the wind !

Viaves round iny father's lonely tomb. Sweet music! seldom mortal ear

My mother's only child am I: On sounds so tender, so refined,

Mid Tempe's sylvan rocks we dwell; Has dwelt. Perchance some Muse is near, And from my earliest infancy, Euterpe, or Polymnia bright,

The darling of our coltage-dell. Or Erato, whose gentle lyre

For its bright leaves and clusters fair, Responds to love and young desire!

My namesake fiower has bound my hair. It is the central hour of night;

With cosuy gilt and flattering song, The time is holy, lone, severe,

Youths, rich and valiant, sought my love. And mortals may not linger here!

They moved me not. Ishunned the throng Still on the air those wild notes fling

or suitors, for the mountain-grove Their airy spells of voice and string,

Where Sylvan gods and Oreads rove. In sweet accordance, sweeter made

The Muses, whom I worship here, By response soti from caverned shade.

Had breathed their intiuence on my being; He turns to where a lovely glade

Keeping my youthful spirit clear Sleeps in the open moonlight's smile,

From all corrupting thoughts, and freeing A natural fane, whose ample bound

My footsteps from the crowd, to treaci The palm's columnar stems surround,

Beside the forrent's echoing hed, A wild and stately peristyle ;

Mid wind-lost pines, on steeps airial, Save where their interrupted ring

M'here elemental Genii throw Bends on the consecrated cave,

Eliluence of natures more ethereal From whose dark arch, with tuneful wave, Than vulgar minds can feel or know, Libethrus issues, sacred spring.

Oli on those steeps, at earliest dawn, Beside its gentle mu muring;

The world in mist bencath mc lay, Vol. ly.-No. 1.


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Whose vapory curtains, half withdrawn, And twined her arms of beauty nare
Revealed ide How of Therma's bay,

Around him, and the light curls drew lied with the nascent light of day;

lu closer bands: ethereul dew Till tui from Athos' distant heiglit

Of love and young desire was swimming
The sun poured down his golden beans In her bright eyes, albeit not dimming
Scattering the mises like morning dreams, Their starry radianee, rather brightning
And rocks and lakes and isles and streams Their beams with passion's liquid lightung.
Burst, like creation, into light.

She clasped him to her throbbing breast,
In ncontide howers the bubbling springs, And on his lips her lips she prest,
In evening vales the winds that sigh

And cried the while
To eddving rivers murmuring by,

With joyous smile: Have heard to these symphonious strings ---- These lips are mine; the speils have won The rocks and caverned glens reply.

them, Spirits that love the moonlight hour

Which round and round thy soul I (wine ;
Hlave met me on the shadowy hill:

Avui be ihc kiss I print upon thein
Dream'st thou of Magic? of the power l'oison to all lips but mine!'
That makes the blood of life run chill,
And shakes the world with demon skill?

We could instance the cominencing Beany is Magic; grace and song;

lines of the fourth canto as a felicitous
Fair ionin, lignt noiion, airy sound:
I'rail we'is! and yet a chain more strong example of the author's powers of fancy
They weave the strongest hearts around,

and versification.
Than e'er Alcides' arin unbound:
And such a chain I weave round thee,
Though but with mortal witchery.'

** Magic and mystery, spells Circvan,

The Sireu voice, ihat calnied the sea, Anthemion is powerfully affected by The enchanted chalice, sparkling free

And steeped the soul in dew's Letharan: the eloquent appeal of Rhododaphne. With wine, amid whose l'uby glow Is she concludes her address, she lays Love couched, with madness linked, and wo;

Nanue and zone, whose woof' beneath her hand on his arm, and the magic Lurked wily grace, in subtle wreath touch inflames his every sense; but the With blandishment and young desire

And soli persuasion, intertwined, progress of the delirium is checked by Whose touch, with sympathetic fire, the remembrance of Calliröen-pale-- Could melt at once the sternest mind; sad--and her cyes dim with weeping. Young Fancy's foc, and Reason chill,

Have passed away: for vestal Truth He endeavours to release himself from Have chased the dreams that charmed the youth the embrace of Rhododaphne, and wildly Amid thar vesta! light severe,

Of nature and the world, which still, teils her he has “another love."

Our colder spirits leap to hear

Like echoes from a fairy hill, “ But still she held his arm, and spoke

Yet deem not so. The Power of Spells Again in accents thrilling sweet :

Sill lingers on the earth, but dwells In Tempe's valc a lonely oak

In deeper folds of close disguise, llas felt the storins of


That baffle Reason's searching eyes :
Blasted by the lightning-stroke,

Nor shall that mystic Power resign A hollow, leatless, branchless trunk

To Truth's cold sway his webs of guile, It stands; but in its giant cell

Till woman's eyes have ceased to shine, A mighty sylvan power doch dwell,

And woinan's lips liave ceased to smile, An old and holy oracle.

And woman's voice has ceased to be knecling by that ancient tree,

The earthly soul of'melody."
I son zhi the voice of destiny,
And in my car these accents sunk:

Anthemion now approaches bis natire Waste not in loprliness thy bloom:

vale, and his heart begins to bound with With flowers the Thespian altar dress : The youth whom Love's mysterious dovin

joy as he proceeds through scenes and Assigns to thee, thy sigbe shall bless

sounds of rural loveliness to a horne enWith yo ambiguous loveliness;

deared to liim by every sweet rememAnd thoui, amid the joyous scene, Shall know him, by his mournful inien, brance of carly happiness; and though, And by the poleness of his cheek,

as he draws nigh the cottage of Pheidon, And by the sadness of his cyc, And by his withered flowers, and by

the recollection of late events awakens The language thy own heart shall speak.'” a few faint sears for the safety of Calliröe,

The passage immediately following these are quickly banished when he bethis, and in wbich the consummation of holds the venerable father sitting at the the charm is related, is conceived with door of his simple mansion, with Callirüe brilliancy, and executed with spirit. by his side, blooming in renovated health “ She gathered up her glittering hair,

and beauty. The whole scene is very And rouard his neck its tresses threw,

sweetly related.

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