So while the poet stood in this sweet spot,
Some fainter gleamings o'er his fancy shot;
Nor was it long ere he had told the tale
Of young Narcissus, and sad Echo's bale.
Where had he been from whose warm head outflew
That sweetest of all songs, that ever-new,
That aye-refreshing, pure deliciousness,
Coming ever to bless
The wanderer by moonlight, to him bringing
Shapes from the invisible world, unearthly singing
From out the middle air, from flowery nests,
And from the pillowy silkiness that rests
Full in the speculation of the stars?
Ah! surely he had burst our mortal bars;
Into some wondrous region he had gone
To search for thee, divine Endymion!
He was a poet, sure a lover too,
Who stood on Latmos' top, what time there blew
Soft breezes from the myrtle vale below;
And brought, in faintness solemn, sweet and slow,
A hymn from Dian's temple; while, upswelling,
The incense went to her own starry dwelling.
But, though her face was clear as infant's eyes,
Though she stood smiling o'er the sacrifice,
The poet wept at her so piteous fate,
Wept that such beauty should be desolate;
So, in fine wrath, some golden sounds he won,
And gave meek Cynthia her Endymion.
[It is recorded in the Hindoo mythology that the deity Brama has descended nine times upon the world, in various forms, and that he is yet to appear a tenth time, in the figure of a warrior, upon a white horse, to cut off all incorrigible offenders. Camdeo is the god of Love, in the mythology of the Hindoos, and Ganesa and Seriswattee correspond to the pagan deities Janus and Minerva.]
NINE times have Brama's wheels of lightning hurled
His awful presence o'er th' alarmed world;
Nine times hath Guilt, through all his giant frame,
Convulsive trembled as the Mighty came;
Nine times hath suffering Mercy spared in vain,-
But heaven shall burst her starry gates again!
He comes! dread Brama shakes the sunless sky
With murmuring wrath, and thunders from on high!
Wide waves his flickering sword, his bright arms
glow
Like summer suns, and light the world below.
Earth and her trembling isles in Ocean's bed
Are shook, and Nature rocks beneath his tread.
Το pour redress on India's injured realm,
Th' oppressor to dethrone, the proud to whelm,
To chase destruction from her plundered shore,
With arts and arms that triumphed once before,
The tenth Avatar comes! at Heaven's command
Shall Seriswattee wave her hallowed wand,
And Camdeo bright and Ganesa sublime
Shall bless with joy their own propitious clime!
Come, Heavenly Powers! primeval peace restore!
Mercy,- Wisdom, -rule forevermore!
THE MOON, A TABLET.
SWEET Moon! if, like Crotona's sage,
By any spell my hand could dare
To make thy disk its ample page,
And write my thoughts, my wishes there,
How many a friend, whose careless eye
Now wanders o'er that starry sky,
Should smile upon thy orb to meet
The recollection kind and sweet,
And all my heart and soul would send
To many a dear-loved, distant friend!
THE RECOVERY OF THOR'S HAMMER.
WROTH waxed Thor, when his sleep was flown,
And he found his trusty hammer gone;
He smote his brow, his beard he shook,
The son of earth 'gan round him look;
And this the first word that he spoke :
"Now listen what I tell thee, Loke;
Which neither on earth below is known,
Nor in heaven above: my hammer's gone."
Their way to Freyia's bower they took,
And this the first word that he spoke :
"Thou, Freyia, must lend a wingéd robe,
To seek my hammer round the globe."
"That shouldst thou have though 'twere of gold, And that, though 'twere of silver, hold."
Away flew Loke; the winged robe sounds,
And soon he has reached the Jotunheim bounds. High on a mound in haughty state
Thrym, the king of the Thursi, sat;
For his dogs he was twisting collars of gold, And trimming the manes of his coursers bold.
"How fare the Asi? the Alfi* how?
Why roam'st thou alone to Jotunheim now ?"
"Ill fare the Asi, the Alfi mourn;
Thor's hammer from him thou hast torn."
"I have the Thunderer's hammer bound
Fathoms eight beneath the ground;
* Asi and Alfi, gods of different dignities.
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