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THE ISLE OF DEVILS. 



A METRICAL TALE. 



" Should I report this now, would they believe me ? 

 If I should say, I saw such islanders, 

 Who, though they were of monstrous shape, yet, note, 

 Their manners were more gentle-kind, than of 

 Our human generation you shall find 



Many ; nay, almost any ! " — Tempest, Act 3. 



I, 



Speed, Halcyon, speed, and here construct thy nest : 

 Brood on these waves, and charm the winds to rest ! 

 No wave should dare to rage, no wind to roar, 

 Till lands yon blooming maid on Lisbon's shore. 

 That maid, as Venus fair and chaste is she, 

 When first to dazzled sky and glorying sea 

 The bursting conch Love's new-born queen exposed, 

 The fairest pearl that ever shell inclosed. 



While love's fantastic hand had joyed to braid 

 Her locks with weeds and shells like some sea-maid, 

 High seated at the stern was Irza seen, 

 And seemed to rule the tide, as ocean's queen. 

 Smooth sailed the bark ; the sun shone clear and bright ; 

 The glittering billows danced along in light ; 

 While Irza, free from fear, from sorrow free, 

 Bright as the sun, and buoyant as the sea, 

 Bade o'er the lute her flying fingers move, 

 And sang a Spanish lay of Moorish love. 



s 3 



