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To Time's forgetful foot and mine; Or, on the Coliseum's wall,

When moonlight touch'd the ivied stone, Reclining, with a thought of all

That o'er this scene has come and goneThe shades of Rome would start and flee Unconsciously I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,
In Vallombrosa's holy shade,

Where nobles born the friars be,

By life's rude changes humbler made. Here Milton fram'd his Paradise;

I slept within his very cell; And, as I clos'd my weary eyes,

I thought the cowl would fit me wellThe cloisters breath'd, it seemed to me, Of heart's-ease-but I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,
In Venice, on a night in June;
When through the city of the sea,

Like dust of silver slept the moon.

Slow turn'd his oar the gondolier,

And, as the black barks glided by,
The water to my leaning ear

Bore back the lover's passing sigh-
It was no place alone to be—
I thought of thee-I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,
In the Ionian Isles-when straying
With wise Ulysses by the sea-

Old Homer's songs around me playing ;
Or, watching the bewitched caique,
That o'er the star-lit waters flew,

I listened to the helmsman Greek,
Who sung the song that Sappho knew-
The poet's spell, the bark, the sea,
All vanished-as I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,

In Greece-when rose the Parthenon Majestic o'er the Egean sea,

And heroes with it, one by one;

When, in the grove of Academe,

Where Lais and Leontium stray'd
Discussing Plato's mystic theme,
I lay at noontide in the shade-
The Egean wind, the whispering tree,
Had voices-and I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,
In Asia on the Dardanelles;

Where swiftly as the waters flee,

Each wave some sweet old story tells;

And, seated by the marble tank

Which sleeps by Ilium's ruins old,
(The fount where peerless Helen drank,
And Venus lav'd her locks of gold,*)

I thrill'd such classic haunts to see,
Yet even here-I thought of thee.

I thought of thee-I thought of thee,
Where glide the Bosphor's lovely waters,
All palace-lined from sea to sea;

*In the Scamander,-before contending for the prize of beauty on Mount Ida. Its head waters fill a beautiful tank near the walls of Troy.

And ever on its shores the daughters Of the delicious East are seen,

Printing the brink with slipper'd feet, And oh, the snowy folds between,

What eyes of heaven your glances meet! Peris of light no fairer be—

Yet-in Stamboul-I thought of thee.

I've thought of thee-I've thought of thee, Through change that teaches to forget;

Thy face looks up from every sea,

In every star thine eyes are set, Though roving beneath Orient skies, Whose golden beauty breathes of rest, I envy every bird that flies

Into the far and clouded West:

I think of thee-I think of thee!

Oh, dearest! hast thou thought of me?

LINES ON LEAVING EUROPE.

BRIGHT flag at yonder tapering mast!
Fling out your field of azure blue;
Let star and stripe be westward cast,

And point as Freedom's eagle flew! Strain home! oh lithe and quivering spars! Point home, my country's flag of stars!

The wind blows fair! the vessel feels
The pressure of the rising breeze,

And, swiftest of a thousand keels,

She leaps to the careering seas! Oh, fair, fair cloud of snowy sail,

In whose white breast I seem to lie, How oft, when blew this eastern gale,

I've seen your semblance in the sky,

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