There is a dark rock looks on the blue sea; 'Twas there love's last song echoed-there she sleeps, Whose lyre was crown'd with laurel, and whose name Will be remember'd long as love and song Are sacred-the devoted Sappho !
ON SAILING PAST CAPE TRAFALGAR IN THE
HAVE you sail'd on the breast of the deep,
When the winds had all silenced their breath,
And the waters were hush'd in as holy a sleep,
And as calm as the slumber of death;
When the yellow moon beaming on high,
Shone tranquilly bright on the wave,
And career'd through the vast and impalpable sky,
Till she found in the ocean a grave,
And dying away by degrees on the sight,
The waters were clad in the mantle of night?
'Twould impart a delight to thy soul,
As I felt it imparted to mine,
And the draught of affliction that blacken'd my bowl,
Grew bright as the silvery brine.
I carelessly lay on the deck,
And listen'd in silence to catch
The wonderful stories of battle or wreck
That were told by the men of the watch,
Sad stories of demons most deadly that be,
And of mermaids that rose from the depths of the sea.
Strange visions my fancy had fill'd,
I was wet with the dews of the night;
And I thought that the moon still continued to gild The wave with a silvery light.
I sunk by degrees into sleep,
I thought of my friends who were far,
When a form seem'd to glide o'er the face of the deep,
As bright as the evening star.
Ne'er rose there a spirit more lovely and fair,
Yet I trembled to think that a spirit was there.
Emerald green was her hair,
Braided with gems of the sea,
Her arm, like a meteor, she waved in the air,
And I knew that she beckon'd on me.
She glanced upon me with her eyes,
How ineffably bright was their blaze!
I shrunk and I trembled with fear and surprize,
Yet still I continued to gaze;
But enchantingly sweet was the smile of her lip,
And I follow'd the vision and sprang from the ship.
'Mid the waves of the ocean I fell,
The dolphins were sporting around,
And many a triton was tuning the shell,
And extatic and wild was the sound;
There were thousands of fathoms above,
And thousands of fathoms below,
And we sunk to the caves where the sea lions rove,
And the topaz and emerald glow,
Where the diamond and sapphire eternally shed
Their lustre around on the bones of the dead.
And well might their lustre be bright,
For they shone on the limbs of the brave,
Of those who had fought in the terrible fight,
And were buried at last in the wave.
In grottoes of coral they slept,
On white beds of pearl around;
And near them for ever the water snake crept,
And the sea lion guarded the ground,
While the dirge of the heroes by spirits was rung,
And solemn and wild were the strains that they sung.
HINDA'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH HER LOVER.
SHE loves, but knows not whom she loves,
Nor what his race, nor whence he came ;
Like one who meets, in Indian groves,
Some beauteous bird, without a name,
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze
From isles in the undiscover'd seas,
To shew his plumage for a day
To wondering eyes, and wing away!
Will he thus fly-her nameless lover?
Alla forbid! 'twas by a moon
As fair as this, while singing over
Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,
Alone, at this same witching hour,
She first beheld his radiant eyes
Gleam through the lattice of the bower,
Where nightly now they mix their sighs;
And thought some spirit of the air
(For what could waft a mortal there?)
Was pausing on his moonlight way,
To listen to her lonely lay!
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind;
And though, when terror's swoon had past, She saw a youth of mortal kind,
Before her in obeisance cast,
Yet often since, when he has spoken,
Strange awful words, and gleams have broken
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear,
Oh! she hath fear'd her soul was given
To some unhallowed child of air,
Some erring spirit cast from heaven,
Like those angelic youths of old,
Who burn'd for maids of mortal mould,
Bewilder'd left the glorious skies,
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes!
Fond girl! nor fiend, nor angel he,-
Who wooes thy young simplicity;
But one of earth's impassion'd sons,
As warm in love, as fierce in ire,
As the best heart whose current runs
Full of the Day-God's living fire!
"Hold, hold-thy words are death," The stranger cried, as wild he flung His mantle back, and show'd beneath The Gheber belt that round him clung"Here, maiden, look-weep-blush to see All that thy sire abhors in me! Yes, I am of that impious race,
Those slaves of Fire, who, morn and even,
Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
Among the living lights of heaven!
Yes, I am of that outcast few,
To IRAN and to vengeance true,
Who curse the hour your Arabs came
To desolate our shrines of flame;
And swear, before God's burning eye,
To break our country's chains, or die!
Thy bigot sire-nay, tremble not-
He who gave birth to those dear eyes,
With me is sacred as the spot
From which our fires of worship rise!
But know-'twas he I sought that night,
When from my watch-boat on the sea,
I caught this turret's glimmering light,
And up the rude rocks desperately
Rush'd to my prey-thou know'st the rest→→→
I climb'd the gory vulture's nest,
And found a trembling dove within;
Thine, thine the victory-thine the sin-
If love has made one thought his own,
That vengeance claims first-last alone!
Oh! had we never, never met,
Or could this heart even now forget
How link'd, how bless'd we might have been,
Had fate not frown'd so dark between!
Hadst thou been born a Persian maid,
In neighbouring valleys had we dwelt,
Through the same fields in childhood play'd,
At the same kindling altar knelt,-
Then, then, while all those nameless ties,
In which the charm of country lies,
Had round our hearts been hourly spun,
Till Iran's cause and thine were one;
While in thy lute's awakening sigh
I heard the voice of days gone by,
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