win her o'er to death!—
Most beautiful of all in earth, in heaven,
Oh! could I quaff for aye that fragrant breath
Couldst thou, or being likening thee, be given

"To bloom forever for me thus—still true
To one dear theme, my full soul flowing o'er,
Would find no room for thought of what it knew—
Nor picturing forfeit transport, curse me more. (5)

"But oh! severest pain!—I cannot be
In what I love, blest ev'n the little span—
(With all a spirit's keen capacity
For bliss) permitted the poor insect man.

XXXVII.

"The few I've seen and deemed of worth to win
Like some sweet flowret mildewed, in my arms,
Withered to hidiousness—foul ev'n as sin—
Grew fearful hags; and then with potent charm [FN#14]

[FN#14] One of the most striking absurdities in the lately- dispelled superstition of witchcraft, is the extreme hidiousness and misery usually ascribed to such as made use of the agency of evil spirits. I have therefore made it the result of an unforeseen necessity: no female can be supposed to purchase, voluntarily, the power of doing mischief to others at the price of beauty and every thing like happiness on her own part.

"Of muttered word and harmful drug, did learn
To force me to their will. Down the damp grave
Loathing, I went at Endor, and uptorn
Brought back the dead; when tortured Saul did crave,

"To view his pending fate. Fair—nay, as this
Young slumberer, that dread witch; when, I arrayed
In lovely shape, to meet my guileful kiss
She yielded first her lip. And thou, sweet maid—
What is't I see?—a recent tear has strayed
And left its stain upon her cheek of bliss.—

XXXVIII.

"She's fall'n to sleep in grief—haply been chid,
Or by rude mortal wronged. So let it prove
Meet for my purpose: 'mid these blossoms hid,
I'll gaze; and when she wakes with all that love

"And art can lend, come forth. He who would gain
A fond full heart, in love's soft surgery skilled
Should seek it when 'tis sore; allay its pain—
With balm by pity prest 'tis all his own, so healed

XXXIX.

"She may be mine a little year—ev'n fair
And sweet as now—Oh! respite! while possest
I lose the dismal sense of my despair—
But then—I will not think upon the rest.

"And wherefore grieve to cloud her little day [FN#15]
Of fleeting life?—What doom from power divine
I bear eternal! thoughts of ruth, away!
Wake pretty fly!—and—while thou mayst,—be mine.

"Tho' but an hour—so thou suppli'st thy looms
With shining silk, [FN#16] and in the cruel snare
See'st the fond bird entrapped, but for his plumes
To work thy robes, or twine amidst thy hair."

[FN#15] The ancient Hebrews had no idea of a future state.

[FN#16] I have not been able to discover whether the use of silk was known at so early a period. It is said to have been sold in Rome for its weight in gold, and was considered so luxurious an article that it was considered infamous for a man to appear drest in it. The Roman Pausanias says that it came from the country of the Seres, a people of Asiatic Scythia.

XL.

To wisper softly in her ear he bent,
But draws him back restrained: A higher power
That loved to watch o'er slumbering innocent,
Repelled his evil touch; and, from her bower

To lead the maid, Sephora comes; the sprite
Half baffled, followed—hovering on unseen—
Till Meles, fair to see and nobly dight,
Received his pensive bride. Gentle of mien

She meekly stood. He fastened round her arm
Rings of refulgent ore; low and apart
Murmuring, "so beauteous captive, shall thy charms
Forever thrall and clasp thy captive's heart."

The air breathed softer, as she slowly moved
In languid resignation: his quick eye
Spoke in black glances how she was approved,
Who shrunk reluctant from its ardency.

XLI.

'Twas sweet to look upon the goodly pair
In their contrasted loveliness: her height
Might almost vie with his; but heavenly fair,
Of soft proportion she, and sunny hair
He cast in manliest mould with ringlets murk as night.

XLII.

All art could give with Nature's charms was blent,
His gorgeous country shone in his attire,
And as he moved with tread magnificent
She could but look and looking must admire.

XLIII.

And oft her drooping and resigned blue eye
She'd wistful raise to read his radiant face,
But then—why shrank her heart? a secret sigh
Told her it most required what there it could not trace.

XLIV.

Now fair had fall'n the night. The damsel mused
At her own window, in the pearly ray
Of the full moon; her thoughtful soul infused
Thus in her words; left 'lone awhile, to pray.

XLV.

"What bliss for her who lives her little day,
In blest obedience; like to those divine
Who to her loved, her earthly lord, can say
'God is thy law,' most just 'and thou art mine.'

"To every blast she bends in beauty meek—
How can she shrink—his arms her shelter kind?—
And feels no need to blanch her rosy cheek
With thoughts befitting his superior mind.

"Who only sorrows when she sees him pained,
Then knows to pluck away pain's fiercest dart;
Or, love arresting, ere its gaol is gained
Steal half its venom ere it reach his heart.

"'Tis the soul's food—the fervid must adore—
For this the heathen, insufficed with thought
Moulds him an idol of the glittering ore
Or shines his smiling goddess, marble-wrought.

"What bliss for her—e'en on this world of woe
Oh! sire who mak'st yon orb-strown arch thy throne,—
That sees thee, in thy nobles work below,
Shine undefaced!—and calls that work her own!

"This I had hoped: but hope too dear, too great—
Go to thy grave! I feel thee blasted, now—
Give me, fate's sovereign, well to bear the fate
Thy pleasure sends—this, my sole prayer, allow."

XLVI.

Still, fixed on heaven, her earnest eye, all dew,
Seemed as it sought amid the lamps of night
For him her soul addressed; but other view
Far different—sudden from that pensive plight

Recalled her: quick as on primeval gloom
Burst the new day-star, when the Eternal bid,
Appeared, and glowing filled the dusky room,
As 'twere a brillant cloud; the form it hid

Modest emerged, as might a youth beseem;
Save a slight scarf, his beauty bare, and white
As cygnet's bosom on some silver stream;
Or young narcissus, when to woo the light

Of its first morn, that flowret open springs;—
And near the maid he comes with timid gaze
And gently fans her, with his