As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy-
O! nothing earthly save the thrill

Of melody in woodland rill

Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joy's voice so peacefully departed
That, like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell-
Oh, nothing of the dross of ours—

Yet all the beauty-all the flowers

That list our Love, and deck our bowers

Adorn world afar,

yon

The wandering star.

afar

'Twas a sweet time for Nesace-for there

Her world lay lolling on the golden air,

Near four bright suns-a temporary rest―-
An oasis in desert of the blest.
Away-away-'mid seas of rays that roll
Empyrean splendour o'er th' unchained soul----
The soul that scares (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destined eminence-

To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode,
And late to ours, the favoured one of God—
But, now, the ruler of an anchored realm,

She throws aside the sceptre-leaves the helm,
And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,

Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.

Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth, Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth, (Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,

Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,

It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)

She looked into Infinity-and knelt.
Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled-
Fit emblems of the model of her world-
Seen but in beauty-not impeding sight

Of other beauty glittering thro' the light—
A wreath that twined each starry form around,
And all the opaled air in colour bound.

All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed

Of flowers of lilies such as reared the head

:

On the fair Capo Deucato," and sprang

So eagerly around about to hang

Upon the flying footsteps of deep pride

Of her who loved a mortal-and so died.

The Sephalica, budding with young bees,
Upreared its purple stem around her knees :

And gemmy flower,“ of Trebizond misnamed

Inmate of highest stars, where erst it shamed

All other loveliness: its honied dew

(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew),

Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from heaven,

And fell on gardens of the unforgiven
In Trebizond-and on a sunny flower

So like its own above that, to this hour,
It still remaineth, torturing the bee
With madness, and unwonted reverie :
In heaven, and all its environs, the leaf
And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief
Disconsolate linger-grief that hangs her head,
Repenting follies that full long have fled,
Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,
Like guilty beauty, chastened, and more fair:
Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light

She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:
And Clytia pondering between many a sun,

While pettish tears adown her petals run:
And that aspiring flowerf that sprang on Earth-

And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,

Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing

Its way to heaven, from garden of a king:
And Valisnerian lotus & thither flown

From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:

h

And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante! Isola d'oro !-Fior di Levante !

And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever;

i

With Indian Cupid down the holy river

Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given

k

To bear the Goddess' song, in odours, up to heaven :

PIRIT! that dwellest where,

In the deep sky,

The terrible and fair

In beauty vie!

Beyond the line of blue

The boundary of the star

Which turneth at the view

Of thy barrier and thy bar

Of the barrier overgone

By the comets who were cast

From their pride, and from their throne

To be drudges till the last—

To be carriers of fire

(The red fire of their heart)

With speed that may not tire

And with pain that shall not part—

Who livest-that we know—

In Eternity-we feel

But the shadow of whose brow

What spirit shall reveal?

Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace,