PART III.

But all are now gone, alas, alas!

All have left this earth; alas, therefore ! And the world it is brought to a sorry pass.

Oh, 'tis well the Sirens have left the shore, Or they fain would stop their own sweet ears, Not to hear our daring gibes and jeers.

They're gone, how or wherefore the Chronicles fail
To tell; but the wisest folk still say,
They were wafted away by a comet's tail,

And their route is still mark'd by the milky way;
And that all have been whirl'd above, afar,
Far from our ken to a brighter star.

The windows were each like the full-orb'd moon,
Excepting they were of various hue;
There was boudoir and rich saloon,

With floors inlaid with ormolu. And silver bells of many a sound, Sent music ever sweetly round.

Hard by delicious gardens lay,

And slopes and lakes and waterfalls,
And silver fountains, at whose play

The sweet birds sang their madrigals;
And spotted leopards fawn'd around
The gentle deer with harmless bound.

There trees did grow of every kind,

And every colour, and young and old, With sweeping boughs, and silken rind,

And leaves of brightest green and gold; And they bow'd their tops all link'd above, As if instinct with life and love.

There was the wonderful Talking Bird,
There chanted the glorious Singing Tree,
A sprig whereof, so it is averr'd,

Was planted in garden of Araby;
There ever the Yellow Water play'd,
In jets of topaz light array'd.

And whenever within the enchanted ground
The Sisters laid their beauteous feet,
The fountain threw its amber round,

And the boughs threw off their concert sweet;
And the Talking Bird 'gan tales to tell,
Whereof each word was a fastening spell.

The Water, the Bird, and the Singing Tree,
Wafted their spells to earth and to air,
That it seem'd the pure Spirit of Chastity

Alone stood guardian angel there;
And Love himself, if thither he came,
First laid by his quiver and darts of flame.

No boisterous Satyrs there were found,
To frighten Nymphs in wanton freak;
But Cupid and Psyche went round and round,
Link'd hand in hand-or, cheek to cheek,
Lay painted in mirror of placid stream,
The white swans lingering round their dream.

Over their heads the ring-doves coo'd
With necks uprais'd; and in mid bound
The playful fawn admiring stood;

And the leopard lay stretch'd on the sunny ground,
And show'd his white breast to the lucid air,
Before that gentle sleeping pair.

Venus came there with her team of Doves,
Whenever she would her charms renew
In the golden lymph-and bands of Loves

Sported about in the sparkling dew
That flew from the Yellow Fountain's spray,
And dipp'd their bright wings therein alway.

And thither the Muses came full oft,

And hand in hand with the Graces Three,
Blended their voices clear and soft,

And danced around the Singing Tree;
And the Fountain sent forth its silver tone,
As ever they danced their cotillon.

O, it was the very "Bower of Bliss ;"
Nor was ever yet so fair domain,
That might upon earth be compared to this,
Of Potentate, Prince, or Sovereign-
And visitants went and visitants came,
And some there are I yet must name.

PART V.

O, had you seen the glorious fête

The Graces gave-the month was May;
And open flew the ivory gate,

And Beauty walk'd therein alway;
For never on earth may you hope to see
Since then so fair a company.

But thither nor Naiad nor Nymph repair'd,
Nor Goddess, howe'er of high degree,
That with the sweet Zephyrs might be compar'd;
For likest were they to the Graces Three,-
So like, that in record of ancient book,
They're put for each other—as authors mistook.

I know there are some, and of early date,

That strangely (both Latin and Greek) perplex
And mislead the world, as they boldly state

The Zephyrs were of the ruder sex.
And the blunder goes on from year to year,
And from scholar to scholar thro' classic Lempriere.

They were softest and gentlest, most feminine,
And groups of Loves about them flew,
And play'd with their vestures gauzy and fine,
Of the rose and the pearl and the sapphire blue,
That floated all free, and crisping bright,
In the flickering beams of the golden light.

Oh, the Graces and Zephyrs! were never seen
Sisters more fondly linked than they,
In silken saloon, or on flowery green,

Ever together by night and by day.
A stronger love there never might be,
Than between the fair Zephyrs and Graces Three.

Through the flowery gardens breathed soft air,

The Zephyrs walk'd round each loveliest spot, And planted anemones everywhere,

For the flower was their "Forget me not," And the Graces said " This place shall take The Zephyrs' soft name for friendship's sake.

"Your names be carved on every tree,

Yours be these gardens, grove, and wood; Our mansion be Zephyr Lodge, and we

Will form but one gentle sisterhood." But, alas! how wishes oft come to nought, Though Love and Friendship breathe the thought.

The Zephyrs, the truth must be confess'd,

As the Graces themselves, though gentle, yet Had a trifle too much, though scarcely express'd, Of the wanton air-O no, the coquette ! And their eyes gave a look, as eyes sometimes do That have often glanced over a billet-doux.

Indeed it was said, and perchance with truth,
That often flirtations had taken place
Between more than one, and a curly youth
Of Æolus' blustering noisy race:
Another proof, if the fact be so,
That Beauty oft worketh a world of woe.

PART VI.

King Eolus, he was a surly crone,

And he lived by the sea in a windy cave, 'Mid the comfortless blast, and the dreary moan, That ever came off the roaring wave— 'Twas in charge of him and his burly sons To keep the winds pent in bags and tuns.

But though they kept them in barrels and bags,

So careless were they of their mighty charge, That they often leak'd, and were split to rags

By the winds rushing out, and thus set at large. And their vessels at best they seldom kept tight, And in quarrels oft turned the spigots for spite.

But the Zephyrs and Graces to verdant shade,

To tell their sweet tales, had wander'd away, And then by a crystal stream were laid,

While on the green herbage their vestures lay; And their beautiful limbs were half in the stream, Half above, and lit by the leafy gleam.

O Titian, bright was the splendid glow,
And the pearly tints thy pencil threw,
When Dian's nymphs did their soft limbs throw
By the stream that kiss'd celestial hue,-
But little beseemeth it even to think
Of the beauty that lay by that water's brink.

Now Boreas he had been searching round

The thick plantations, both far and near,
If entrance therein there might be found;
And finding none,-like a pioneer,
He broke his rude way, and in luckless hour,
Came in full gaze of the secret bower.

O it forceth me even with tears to weep,
That ever there should intruders be
Where Beauty rests-awake or in sleep,

That innocence is not safe and free-
So rudely rough Boreas burst his way
To the spot where the Zephyrs and Graces lay.