Hark! Zephyr comes-I hear his wing
Amongst the woodbine fluttering,—
Now, near approaching, see, he waves
The lilac-branch, whereon his slaves,
Gnome, elf, and sprite, submissive all,
Wait his commanding beck and call.
But the light God Euphemia sees
No longer gambols through the trees;
No longer sports in idle play,
Around some silver-tinted ray,

Shot dazzling from the rising moon,
But rushes to the gay saloon;
And, gazing on the form divine,
Officiating at Flora's shrine,

To his fair spouse unfaithful proves,

Rests on his wing entranced, and loves :

Now wantons in Euphemia's hair,

Whose ringlets on her forehead fair

Hang, as if proud to nestle there :
And now the God, presumptuous grown,
Plays with the tucker of her gown.

They say you Gods at mortals scoff,
But, ne'ertheless, I'll warn you off;

Yes, spite of all your stout resistance,
You and your gnomes shall keep your distance;
Yes, spite of you and all your elves,

We'll keep Euphemia to ourselves;

For this bright form to us was given,
To show what you possess in heaven.
Though you may flutter, scold, and pout,
Unfaithful God, I'll shut you out.
You've Goddesses enough above,

To court, to flirt with, and to love,

So, Zephyr, homeward take your flight,
Good night!

ODE,

FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK.

TO META.*

META! the wide wide world between us lies,
But time divides us not so far apart;
He who hath gazed on seventy summer skies
Soon by thy side may hope to lay his heart.

Meta! for many a mournful year I've seen
The linden waving o'er thy peaceful tomb;
A little space and then its foliage green

O'er me shall wave, o'er me be shed its bloom.

Yet! not o'er me its fading bloom shall fall,
The shadow only lies beneath the sod-
Upon thy shadow in its darksome hall

Long hath it fallen-but thou art with our God.

* Meta (or Margaret) Klopstock, the poet's first wife; she died young.

Then, Meta! then! I too that realm shall know, That world where thou hast long been sojourning; Then joyful shall we see the limes below

Cooling our grave with their sweet shadowing.

Then! but, alas! as yet is hid from me

What to thy view hath long been clear and bright, Save that, from fear and dark forebodings free, It hovers round my soul with life and light.

With soothing hopes I see draw slowly on
The glow of eve before my longing eyes;
With inward feelings of a joy unknown
The blessed sun in yonder heavens arise.

M. S.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND
TILUN FOU DATIONS.