THE HYACINTH.

WHEN Earth, refreshed by Winter's sleep,
Unfolds her ample charms to Spring,

The kindling Zephyr sighs with deep

Emotion as he bears his wing,

In concert with prolific showers,

O'er this the prince of vernal flowers.*

* For the instruction of those who may not have learned the fabulous history of this flower, I would remark that Hyacinthus, in the heathen mythology, is said to have been a favourite both with Apollo and Zephyrus; and that, at the impulse of jealousy, the latter blew a quoit, thrown by Apollo, on the head of Hyacinthus, and killed him on the spot. The disconsolate deity transformed his blood into the flower that bears his name. Zephyrus (Zephyr) identified with the West, or any calm soft wind, was said to produce flowers and fruits by the sweetness of his breath; and having been represented at Athens as a young man of delicate form, with two wings on his shoulders, the license I have adopted in this stanza will appear sufficiently intelligible.

An emerald tint discloses first

The Hyacinth in sweet embrace, Until the ripening blossom burst

The verdant bonds that hide its face, And mounting then its gorgeous stem, In glory lives this matchless gem.

Around the garden where it grows
Its fragrant exhalations dwell,

And if translated thence, it throws

On some young heart its magic spell,

And not unaptly prompts a sigh

That such a lovely flower should die.

TO LUCRETIA.

BE where I may, there is a spell

That binds my heart so close to thine,

No tongue could half its sweetness tell,
Unless it spoke with power divine.

In hours of mirth, when hope invests
The reigning thought with pure delight,

The charm that on thy bosom rests

Should sickness hold remorseless sway

Where now serenely rests my head,

No aid like thine could well repay

The torture of my sleepless bed.

Oh! say not then, as late thou didst,

That all thy brightest hours are gone,

While unabated love, amidst

Encircling friends, exists in one.

That one will I through future years With pure unshaken faith remain, Till haply all thy groundless fears Shall merge in sweet unending gain.

ΤΟ

WHEN kindred souls desire

To meet each other's gaze,

And mutually inspire

A love of wisdom's ways,

Their happiness is all divine,

And answers to a bliss like thine.

When absence ever fills

With sympathetic glow,

Each heart till it distils

In rapturous overflow,

It answers to a bliss like thine,
And finds a parallel in mine.

A friendship thus refined

Shall flourish in the tomb,

Like thy immortal mind

In undecaying bloom,

Till blest and perfected above,
It ripen into boundless love.