POETRY. f,2J 



Jk'Iy notes, itj circles of the great and gay. 



Have hail'd the rising, cheei'd the closing, day. 



Each in my fond liftections claim'd a part, » 



But none discern'd the secret of my heart ; — 



AVhat though my strains and sorrows slow combin'cj, 



Yet ears are slow, and carnal eyes are blind. 



Free through each mortal form the spirits roll. 



But sight avails not ; can we see the soul ?" 



Such notes breath'd gently from yon vocal frame i 



Breath'd, said I ? — no : 'twas allrenliv'ning flame, 



*Tis love that fills the reed with warmth divine I 



'Tis love that sparkles in the racy wine. 



Me, plaintive wand'rer from my peerless maid, 



The reed has fir'd, and all my soul betray'd. 



He gives the bane, and he with balsam cures, 



Afflicts, yet soothes 5 impassions, yet allures. 



Delightful pangs his am'rous tales prolong. 



And Laili's frantic lover lives in song. 



Not hewhoreasons best this wisdom knows ; 



Ears only drink what rapt'rous tongues disclose ; 



Nor fruitless deem the reed's heart-piercing pain; 



See sweetness dropping from the parted cane. 



Alternate hope, and fear my days divide, 



I courted grief, and anguish was my bride - 



Flow on, sad stream of life, I smile secure ; 



Thou livest — thou the purest of the pure. 



Rise, vigorous youth, be free, be nobly bold ; 



Shall chains contine you, though they blaze with gold ? 



Go, to your vase the gather'd main convey. 



What were your stores ? the pittance of a day; 



New plans for wealth your fancies would invent. 



Yet shells, to nourish pearls, must be content. 



Tlie man whose robe love's purple arrows rend, 



Bidsav'rice rest, and toils tumultuous end. 



Hail, heavenly Love ! true source of endless gains, ' 



Thy balm restores mc, and thy skill sustains. 



Dh, more than Galen Icard'd, than Plato wise. 



My guide, my law, my joy supreme, arise; 



I>ove warms this frigid clay Ayitli mystic fire. 



And dancing mountains leap with young desire. 



Blest is the soul that swims in seas of love, 



And long the life sustain'd by food above. 



With forms imperfect can perfection dwell ? 



Here pause my song ;— ^nd thou, vain world, farewell ! 



Sonnet 



