of Norfolk, VIRGINIA.*

FROM BERMUDA, JANUARY, 1804.

ΚΕΙΝΗ ΔΗΝΕΜΟΕΣΣΑ ΚΑΙ ΑΤΡΟΠΟΣ, ΟΙΑ Θ'ΑΛΙΠΛΗΞ, ΑΙΘΥΙΗΣ ΚΑΙ ΜΑΛΛΟΝ ΕΠΙΔΡΟΜΟΣ HΕΠΕΡ ΙΠΠΟΙΣ, ΠΟΝΤΩ ΕΝΕΣΤΗΡΙΚΤΑΙ.

CALLIMACH. Hymn. in Del. v. II.

Он what a tempest whirl'd us hither!†
Winds, whose savage breath could wither

* This gentleman is attached to the British consulate at Norfolk. His talents are worthy of a much higher sphere, but the excellent dispositions of the family with whom he resides, and the cordial repose he enjoys amongst some of the kindest hearts in the world, should be almost enough to atone to him for the worst caprices of fortune. The consul himself, Colonel Hamilton, is one among the very few instances of a man, ardently loyal to his king, and yet beloved by the Americans. His house is the very temple of hospitality, and I sincerely pity the heart of that stranger who, warm from the welcome of such a board, and with the taste of such Madeira still upon his lips, "col dolce in bocca," could sit down to write a libel on his host, in the true spirit of a modern philosophist. See the Travels of the DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT LIANCOURT, vol. 2.

+ We were seven days on our passage from Norfolk to Bermuda, during three of which we were forced to lay-to in a gale of wind. The Driver sloop of war, in which I went, was built at Bermuda of cedar, and is accounted an excellent sea-boat. She was then commanded by my very regretted friend Captain Compton, who in July last was

All the light and languid flowers

That bloom in Epicurus' bowers!

Yet think not, George, that Fancy's charm
Forsook me in this rude alarm.

When close they reef'd the timid sail,
When, every plank complaining loud,
We labour'd in the midnight gale,

And even our haughty main-mast bow'd!
The muse, in that unlovely hour,
Benignly brought her soothing power,
And, 'midst the war of waves and wind,
In song's elysian lapp'd my mind!

She open'd, with her golden key,

The casket where my memory lays

Those little gems of poesy,

Which time has saved from ancient days!
Take one of these, to LAIS sung,

I wrote it while my hammock swung,
As one might write a dissertation

Upon "suspended animation!"

killed aboard the Lilly, in an action with a French privateer. Poor Compton! he fell a victim to the strange impolicy of allowing such a miserable thing as the Lilly to remain in the service; so small, crank, and unmanageable, that a well manned merchantman was at any time a match for her.

SWEETLY * you kiss, my Lais dear!
But, while you kiss, I feel a tear,
Bitter as those when lovers part,
In mystery from your eye-lid start !
Sadly you lean your head to mine,
And round my neck in silence twine,
Your hair along my bosom spread,
All humid with the tears you shed!
Have I not kiss'd those lids of snow?
Yet still, my love, like founts they flow,
Bathing our cheeks, whene'er they meet-
Why is it thus ? do tell me, sweet!

*This epigram is by PAULUS SILENTIARIUS, and may be found in the Analecta of BRUNCK, vol. 3. p. 72. But as the reading there is somewhat different from what I have followed in this translation, I shall give it as I had it in my memory at the time, and as it is in HEINSIUS, who, I believe, first produced the epigram. See his Poemata.

Ήδυ

μεν εστι φιλημα το Λαιδοσ ήδυ δεαυτων
Ηπιοδίνητων δακρυ χεείς βλεφαρων

Και πολύ κιχλίζεσα σοβείς ευβοστρυχον αιγλην
Ημετεμα κεφαλην δηρον ερεισάμενε.

Μυρομενην δεφίλησα τα δως δροσερης απο πηγές,
Δάκρυα με γνυμενων πιπτε κατα στοματων

Ειπε δ' ανειρομένω, τινος ένεκα δακρυα λειβείς ;

Δειδια

μη με λίπης εστε γαρ ορκαπαται.

Ah, LAIS! are my bodings right?
Am I to lose you? is to-night

Our last-go, false to Heaven and me!

Your very tears are treachery.

SUCH, while in air I floating hung, Such was the strain, Morgante mio! The Muse and I together sung,

With Boreas to make out the trio.

But, bless the little fairy isle!
How sweetly, after all our ills,
We saw the dewy morning smile
Serenely o'er its fragrant hills!

And felt the pure, elastic flow
Of airs, that round this Eden blow
With honey freshness, caught by stealth
Warm from the very lips of health !

Oh! could you view the scenery dear,
That now beneath my window lies,
You'd think that Nature lavish'd here

Her purest wave, her softest skies,