Like those antique imperial dyes Which age nor use can e'er efface, But win from Time a nobler grace, Stamped on my soul, thy image lies. While Faith still vivifies this frame, Or Memory prompts one soul-felt sigh And Hope looks upward to the sky, This heart shall beat, for thee the same. No mortal strength nor skill can sever XXI. KEPLER'S APOSTROPHE.-Anon. YES! On the annals of my race, In characters of flame, Which time shall dim not nor deface, The fire which on my vitals preys, And stream along the skies. Chafed as the angry ocean's swell Like a chained monarch in his cell, F To wealth, to pride, to lofty state, The God which formed me for command, Shall with the thorny crown of fame A monarch of the mind. Me, heaven's bright galaxy shall greet Stung in her turn, the heartless fair Tune oh! my soul thy loftiest strain, Exult in song and glee, For scorn has snapped each earthlier chain And set the immortal free. Minds destined to a glorious shape Wine oozes from the trodden grape, So gushes from affection bruised And steadfast faith unkindly used XXII. FROM. THE ITALIAN. OCCHI ! stelle immortali, Cagione de' miei mali ! Se chiusi m' ammazate, Aperti che farete ! EYES, like stars in heaven that glow, If e'en closed, my soul ye slew, XXIII. WHAT'S IN A NAME?-Anon. IN names a mystic virtue lies The voice which breathes thy name in air, The guardian angel at thy birth, But grieved that one like angels fair Attendant spirits hovering nigh Whichever way we turn that name XXIV. THE STORY OF EUROPA.* HOR. OD. III. xxvii. 25. SNOW-WHITE midst Ocean's monster-brood, Set sidelong on the crafty steer, At mantling perils of the flood, The hundred-citied, 'Father!' cries, 'Oh! forfeit filial tie and name,' Whilst fury flashes from her eyes. I quote the subjoined argument from honest old Lemprière: Europa, a daughter of Agenor, King of Phoenicia and Telephassa. She was so beautiful that Jupiter became enamoured of her, and the better to engage her affections, he assumed the shape of a bull, and mingled with the herds of Agenor, while Europa and her female attendants were gathering flowers in the meadows. Europa caressed the beautiful animal, and at last had the courage to mount upon his back. The god took advantage of her situation, and retiring towards the shore, crossed the sea, with Europa on his back, and arrived safe in Crete. Here he assumed his original shape, and declared his love. The nymph, a stranger on an unknown shore, consented (although she had once made vows of perpetual celibacy), and became the mother of Minos, Sarpedon, and Rhadamanthus.' Could anything be more regular and satisfactory? |