49-1 Delttr Amautioru [May, 



And I'm glad of it ; for I'm dear, 

 If Venus now descended here, 

 To bask in beauties which the earth 

 Has shower'd on those of mortal birth. 

 The radiant daughter of the billow, 



Without a moment's pause, would fly 



To woo my Proclus, and poor I 

 Might {i/ / would) go wear the willow ! 



His cheek is like the ripened peach, 

 The down just veiling the rich red ; 

 His ivory neck, his god-like head, 

 With hair of Phoebus-gold are spread : 

 Love tempers pride within his eyes, 

 Whicli seem the fittest books to teach 

 The lessons of Love's mysteries ! 

 And yet, there is a beam of fire 



Flashing at times, which seems to prove 

 That, roused by war, or stung with ire, 

 The glance, which is so soft in love, 

 Would burn like the flame upon Etna's pyre. 

 And strike like the lightning bolts of Jove ! 

 His voice is soft as a maiden's breath — 



His white skin is unseamed with scars — 

 But his war-cry foreruns the stroke of deatii, 

 Which he deals with a blow like Mars ! 



One evening — when the evening closes, 

 Deck'd with its blushing tint of roses — 

 I sail'd upon the gentle seas, 

 Studded with gem-like Cyclades, 

 Round which the peaceful winds of even 

 Seemed like the brcatii of sighs from heaven ! 

 I was on board a toy-like boat. 

 Just formed deliciously to float 

 With that full, soft, voluptuous motion, 

 Unknown save on the slumb'ring ocean : 

 Think what a charming hour to be 

 Alone upon the twilight sea 

 With one, one only ! — that soft season 

 When love succeeds in lulling reason. 

 And ev'ry word which lips express 

 Comes fraught with double raovingness ! 

 I doubt not you'll expect to hear 

 All that was whispered in my ear — 

 The soft things my companion said 

 ' To win my heart, and turn my head : 



But I'll not tell them — no, I can't ! 

 My comrade was— my maiden aunt ! 

 Yes, it is true ! — one ancient slave 

 Guided our shallop o'er the wave. 

 But, except him, as I'm alive. 



There only were my aunt and me ; 



I was not quite sev'nteen, and she 

 Was something more than fifty-five. 



I see you wonder why I state, 

 With such exactitude, the date 

 Of both our ages; if you'll wait 



