Suddenly behold we now

On her brow

Pride enthroned in awful beauty. Pride? ah no!-but where, my Muse, Wilt thou choose

Words to satisfy thy duty?

When abroad on orient wings

Eurus springs

O'er the summer seas to revel;

And his feet in rapid race

Print their trace,

Where he skims the watery level;

Curling waves with murmuring sound
Foam around :

Yet no storm of wrath collected

Speaks that sound; the sign but shows,
Ocean knows

How to make his power respected!

Thus we on that brow discern,
Sweetly stern,

Terrors which no pain occasion :
'Tis not anger that is shown;
'Tis alone

Beauty daunting bold invasion;

And that gentle look severe
Charms endear

So transporting to the lover,

Not one thought he more employs
On the joys

Which her beauteous smiles discover!

VOL. VI.

F. LAURENCE.

SS

SONG.

FROM THE ITALIAN.

YIELD to the spheres that witching strain
That from their orbs has roll'd ;
To eastern climes return again
Their fragrance, pearls, and gold.

Be to the sun that lustre given,
Thou borrow'st from his flame:
And render back thy smile to heaven
From whence its sweetness came.

Owe to the morn that blush no more,
That from her cheek has flown;
To seraph bands their truth restore,
Her chasteness to the moon.

What then shall of the charms remain,
Which thou canst call thine own,

Except the anger and disdain,

That turn thy slave to stone?

ANONYMOUS.

SONNET.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF MOZARELLO.

YE gales that gently fan the smiling sky, [dews,
And stealing from the flowers their fragrant
With wiles of wanton blandishment, diffuse
The gather'd shower of odours as ye fly!
Ye verdant vales, and streams that murmur by;

Fit haunts which amorous sorrow well might

choose;

Who bad your conscious echoes to my Muse Each whisper'd hope, each flatter'd fear reply! Those conscious echoes I no more to tales Of woe shall wake; since o'er my manlier mind Firm Reason holds again her calm control: Yet though no more, to lonely grief resign'd, I wander here to weep, not less my soul This cool, this murmur loves, these verdant vales !

F. LAURENCE.

SONNET.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF GIAMBATTISTA COTTA.

I SAW the' eternal God, in robes of light,
Rise from his throne :-to judgment forth he

came;

His presence pass'd before me like the flame That fires the forest in the depth of night. Whirlwind and storm, and horror and affright Compass'd his path, and shook creation's frame, When from the heaven of heavens, with awful aim,

To earth he wing'd his instantaneous flight.
As some triumphal oak, whose boughs have shed
Their changing foliage through a thousand years,
Stoops to the rushing wind its glorious head,

The universal arch of yonder spheres

Bow'd with the pressure of its Maker's tread, And earth's foundations quaked with mortal fears.

MONTGOMERY.

SONNET.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF FILICAJA.

As some fond mother views her infant race, With tender love o'erflowing while she sees; She kisses one, one clasps in her embrace,

Her feet supporting one, and one her knees; Then, as the winning gesture, speaking face,

Or plaintive cry, explain their different pleas, A look, a word, she deals with various grace, And smiles, or frowns, as Love alone decrees. O'er man, frail kind, so Providence divine

Still watches; hears, sustains, and succours all, With equal eye beholding each that lives.

If Heaven denies, ah! let not man repine!
Heaven but denies to quicken duty's call,
Or feigning to deny, more largely gives!

F. LAURENCE.

ENDYMION SLEEPING.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF TASSONI.

TIRED with long toil Endymion lay reposed Where herbs and flowers an odorous couch com[play,

posed:

And while the freshening breeze, with amorous Fann'd the fierce beam and burning heat of day, There the light Loves, a duteous band, descend, Loose the full quiver and the bow unbend;

For from those eyes so closed, that form so fair, Cupid himself, they deem'd, their god lay there.

Spread to the gale, by every zephyr blown,
Dark o'er his cheeks his burnish'd locks were

thrown;

[place,
The' obsequious Loves those straggling locks re-
That oft returning veil'd his heavenly face:
From the fresh flowers that thickly grew beneath,
Chaplets they wove, and many a fragrant wreath,
Sweet garlands to adorn that form design'd,
And with fantastic folds each beauteous limb to
bind.

Oft to his lips would the disporting crew
Compare the piony's vermilion hue;

Oft to his cheek the rose and lily's bloom-
But pion, rose, and lily were o'ercome !-
The winds and waves were hush'd in dead repose,
And not a whisper on the plain arose :
Earth, water, air, accordant all confess'd,
And silent seem'd to say, the God of Love's at rest.

ANONYMOUS.

TO SLEEP.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF FRACASTORO.

WITH the pale poppy's nodding flower These sable violets I braid,

And for my fair, who asks thine aid,

Thy healing balm, O Sleep, implore!

For ah! her bright eyes fade by grief oppress'd, And thou alone, O Sleep, canst charm her cares to rest.

Soft-soothing Sleep, secure relief
Of every labour, every grief;