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Oh! who in such a night will dare
To tempt the wilderness ?
Our signal of distress ?
To try the dubious road?
That outlaws were abroad.
More fiercely pours the storm!
To keep my bosom warm.
O'er brake and craggy brow: While elements exhaust their wrath,
Sweet Florence! where art thou ? Not on the sca, not on the sea,
Thy bark hath long been gone : Oh may
the storm that pours on me
When last I press'd thy lip;
Impellid thy gallant ship.
Hast trod the shore of Spain :
Should linger on the main. And since I now remember thee,
In darkness and in dread,
Which mirth and music sped;
If Cadiz yet be frec,
Look o'er the dark blue sea ;
Endcard by days gone by ;
To me a single sigh.
The paleness of thy face,
Of melancholy grace,
Some coxcomb's raillery;
Who ever thinks on thee.
Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
Where panting nature droops the licad, Where only thou art scen to smile,
I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craycy shore,
Divided by the dark-blue main, A few brief rolling seasons o'er,
Perchance I view her cliffs again. But whcresoe'er I now may roam,
Through scorching clime and varied sea, Though time restore me to my home,
I ne'er shall bend minc eyes on thee. On thee, in whom at once conspire
All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire,
And oli! forgive the word- to love. Forgive the word in one who neer
With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share,
Believe me, what I am, thy friend. And who so cold as look on thee,
Thou lovely wanderer, and be less ?
The friend of Beauty in distress!
Through Danger's most destructive patlı,
And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath? Lady! when I shall view the walls
Where free Byzantium once arose; And Stamboul's Oriental lialls
The Turkish tyrants now enclose; Though mightiest in the lists of fame
That glorious city still shall be,
As spot of thy nativity.
When I behold that wondrous scene,
WRITTEN AT ATIJENS,
JANUARY 16, 1810.
Thus is it with life's fitful fever;
Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought
Recals the woes of Nature's charter, And he that acts as wise men ought,
But lives, as saints have died, a wartyr,
Thougla smile and sigh alike are vain,
When sever'd hearts repine; My spirit flies o'er mount and main,
And mourns in search of thine.
WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. Dear object of defeated care!
Though now of love and thee bereft, To reconcile me with despair
Tbine image and my tears are left. "T is said with sorrow timc can cope;
But this I feel can ne'er be true : For by the death-blow of my liope
My memory immortal grew,
Ou Lady! wlien I left the shore,
The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,
To quit another spot on earth.
Gr. Tennyson, The Lover's
Tale', ist. They said the Swewe die, sté.
By those tresses unconfined,
Wood by each #gean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming linge,
By those wild eyes like the roe, Jy in the month of dark December,
Ζώη μού, σας αγαπώ.
By that lip I long to taste ;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-tlowers' that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
Maid of Athens! I am gone;
Think of me, sweet, wbea alone. --
Though Illy to Istambol,
Atheus bolds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee! No!
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπά.
And swam for love, as I for glory; ’T were hard to say who fared the best :
TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR-
Δεύτε, παίδες των Ελλήνων, ,
The following translation is as literal as the author could make it is
verse; it is of the same measure as that of the original (pair). ATUENS, 1810.
Sons of the Greeks, arise!
The glorious hour 's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,
Display who gave us birth.
Sons of Greeks, let us to
In arms against the foe, 1 On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was
Till their bated blood shall flow lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutnant Ekeubead of that frigate and the
In a river past our feet. writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore to the Asiatic -by-the-by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing
Then manfully despising on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, The Turkish tyrant's yoke, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four English
Let your country see you rising, miles ; though the actual bruadth is barely one. The rapidity of tho
And all her chains are broke, current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may in some measure be estimated from the circumstance of the whole dis
Brave shades of chiefs and sages, tance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and fivo, Behold the coming strife! and by the other in an hour and ten minutes. The water was ex- Hellénes of past ages, tremely cold from the melting of the mountain-snows. About three
Oh, start again to life! weeks before, in April, we had made an attempt, but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till Your sleep, ob, join with me! the frigate anchored below the castles, whon we swam the straits, as And the seven-hillid city seeking, just stated, catering a considerable way above the European, and
Fight, conquer, till we're free. landing below the Asiatic fort, Chevalier says that a young Jew swam
Sons of Greeks, etc. the same distance for his mistress; and Oliver mentions its baving been done by'a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered nei her of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A Sparta, Sparta, wliy in slumbers number of the Salsetle's crew were known to have accomplished a
Lethargic dost thou lie? greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no travel
Awake, and join thy numbers ler bad ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability.
With Athens, old ally! • Zoé mou, sas agapo, or Zoon pou, ous cyattő, a Romaie expression of tenderness : if I translate it I shall affront the gentlemen, scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc., convey the seati
In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should as it may seem that I supposed ibey could not; and if I do not, I may
ments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercary-as old affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the lauter I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means, «
woman. A cinder says. . I burn for thee;" a bunch of Rowers tie!
My life, I love you !- which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is
with hair, . Take me and fly ;- but a pebble declares-what working as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, th two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions
* Constavtinople. were all Hellenized.
s Constantinople. «Latopos."
By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart, no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.
Μπαίνω μες το περιβόλι, ,
Ωραιότατη Χαηδή,» etc. The song from wbich this is taken is a great favourite with the young
girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner of singing it is by
Beloved and fair Haidée,
For surely I see her in thee.
Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Yet trembles for what it has sung.
Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Shines the soul of the young Haidée.
When love has abandon'd the bowers;
That herb is more fragrant than tlowers.
Will deeply embitter the bowl;
The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
My heart from these horrors to save :
bosom restore thee?
Secure of his conquest before,
Hast pierced through iny heart to its core.
By pangs which a smile would dispel?
For torture repay me too well?
Beloved but false Haidée !
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.
Witnout a stone to mark the spot,
And say, what truth might well have said, Dy all, save one, perchance forgol,
Ah, wherefore art thou lowly laid? By mauy a shore and many a sea
Divided, yet beloved in vain; The past, the future tied to thee
To bid us meet-no-ne'er again! Could this have been-a word, a look,
That softly said, « We part in peace,» Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou uot, since death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for lajm thou ne'er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! who like him had watch'd thee here?
Or sadly marh'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear,
When silent sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more
*T was thine to reck of human woc, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er,
Had tlowd as fast-as now they tlow. Shall they not tlow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away,
Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside;
The smile none else might understand ; The whisperd thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss so guiltless and refined,
That love each warmer wish forbore; Those
eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind, Even passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine; The song celestial from tly voice,
but sweel to me from none but thine;
ON PARTING. Tue kiss, dear maid! thy lip lias left,
Shall never part from mine,
The pledge we wore-I wear it still,
But where is thine?--ah, where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain. If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again; But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here. Teach me-too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven : On earth thy love was such to me,
It fain would form my hope in heaven!
Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not form’d to live alone: I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none. It was not thus in days more dear;
It never would have been, but thou Hast tled, and left me lonely here :
Thou 'rt nothing-all are nothing now.
În vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that sorrow fain would wear But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
The heart-the heart is lonely still!
On many a lone and lovely night
It soothed to gaze upon the sky, For then I deem'd the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye ; And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the Egean wave, « Now Thyrza gazes on that moon—»
Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave!
When stretch'd on fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, « 'T is comfort still,» I faintly said,
« That Thyrza cannot know my pains, Like freedom to the time-worn slave,
A boon 't is idle then to give, Relenting Nature vainly gave
My life when Thyrza ceased to live !
Away, away, ye notes of woe!
Be silent, thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter daysBut lull the chords, for now,
alas! I must not think, I may not gaze
On what I am, on what I was. The voice that made those sounds more sweet
Is husli'd, and all their charms are fled; And now their softest notes repeat
A dirge, an apthein o'er the dead? Yes, Thyrza ! yes, they breathe of thiec,
Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart! "T is silent all!- but on my ear
The well-remember'd echoes thrill; I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still : Yet oft my doubting soul 't will shake,
Even slumber owns its gentle tone, Till consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown. Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dreamA star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turn'd from earth its tender beam. But he who through life's dreary way
Must pass, when licaven is veil'd in wrath, Will long lament the vanish'd ray
That scatter'd gladness o'er his path.
My Thyrza's pledge in better days,
When love and life alike were new, llow different now thou meet'st my gaze!
How tinged by time with sorrow's liue! The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent-ah, were mine as still! Though cold as even the dead can be,
It feels, it sickens with the chill.
Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful tokeu !
Though painful, welcome to my brcast! Still, still prescrve that love unbroken,
Or break the licart to which thou 'rt prei! Time tempers love, but not removes,
More hallowd when its hope is fled: Oh! what are thousand living loves
To that which cannot quit the dead?
When Time, or soon or late, shall bring
The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, Oblivion! may thy languid wing
Wave gently o'er my dying bed!
ONE struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain ; One last long sigh to love and thee,
Then back to busy life again. It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before : Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief can touch me more?
No band of friends or heirs be there,
To weep or wish the coming blow : No maiden, with dishevell d hair,
To fecl, or feign, decorous woc.
But silent let me sink to earth,
With no officious mourners near: I would not mar one hour of mirth,
Nor starile friendship with a fear, Yet Love, if Love in such an hour
Could nobly check its useless sighs, Might then exert its latest power
In her who lives and him who dies.
'T were sweet, my Psyche, to the last
Thy features still serene to see: Forgetful of its struggles past,
Even Pain itself should smile on thee.
The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine;
Shall never more be thine.
Nor need I to repine
Must fall the earliest prey;
The leaves must drop away:
Thao see it pluck'd to-day;
But vain the wish—for Beauty still
Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath; And woman's tears, produced at will,
Deceive in life, unman in death. Then lonely be my
latest hour, Without regret, without a groan! For thousands death hath ceased to lower,
And paio been transient or unknown. « Ay, but to die, and go,» alas!
Where all have gone, and all must go!
Ere born to life and living woe!
Count o'er thy days from anguish free,
'T is something better-not to be.
I know not if I could have bornc
To see thy beauties fade; The night that follow'd such a morn
llad worn a deeper shade: Thy day without a cloud hath past, And thou wert lovely to the last;
Extinguish d, not decay'd ; As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high.
As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, low fondly! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free, The loveliest things that still remain,
Thian thus remember thee!
Returns again to me,
I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
So I behold them not:
Like common earth can rot;
Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou,
And canst not alter pow.
Nor falsehood disavow:
Oh! pardon that in crowds awhile,
I waste ove thought I owe to thee, And, self-condemn'd, appear lo smile,
Unfaithful to thay memory!