The loving rose-bud drops a tear, To see the nymph no longer here, No longer, where she used to lie, Close to my heart's devoted sigh!

ODES

то

NEA;

WRITTEN AT BERMUDA.

ΝΕΑ ΤΥΡΑΝΝΕΙ.

EURIPID. Medea, v. 967.

NAY, tempt me not to love again,

There was a time when love was sweet;

Dear NEA! had I known thee then,

Our souls had not been slow to meet!
But, oh! this weary heart hath run
So many a time the rounds of pain,
Not e'en for thee, thou lovely one!

Would I endure such pangs again.

If there be climes, where never yet.
The print of beauty's foot was set,
Where man may pass his loveless nights,
Unfever'd by her false delights,

Thither my wounded soul would fly,

Where rosy cheek or radiant eye

Should bring no more their bliss, their pain,

Or fetter me to earth again!

Dear absent girl! whose eyes of light,'
Though little priz'd when all my own,
Now float before me, soft and bright

As when they first enamouring shone!

How many

hours of idle waste,

Within those witching arms embrac'd,
Unmindful of the fleeting day,

Have I dissolv'd life's dream away!
O bloom of time profusely shed!
O moments! simply, vainly fled,
Yet sweetly too-for love perfum'd
The flame which thus my life consum'd;
And brilliant was the chain of flowers,
In which he led my victim hours!

Say, NEA dear! could'st thou, like her,
When warm to feel and quick to err,
Of loving fond, of roving fonder,

My thoughtless soul might wish to wander,
Could'st thou, like her, the wish reclaim,
Endearing still, reproaching never,

Till all my heart should burn with shame, And be thy own more fix'd than ever? No-no-on earth there's only she

So long could bind such folly fast; None, none could make, but only me, Such pure perfection false at last!

NEA! the heart which she forsook

For thee were but a worthless shrine

Go, lovely girl, that angel look

Must thrill a soul more pure than mine.