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LADY whose soft and dove-like eye, Beaming with Love's own witchery, Hath from our Album's pages caught Feelings responsive to thy thought; Sweet lady twine no sacred ties With Pleasure’s heartless votaries : Hide thy soul's richness like that flower Whose sweet aroma to no power But the pure sunshine is revealed— Long, long, midst leaves and moss concealedi But, when secure of well-tried worth, Then pour its hidden treasure forth: And blend thy trusting tenderness With man’s strong, deep devotedness; Nor turn thee with “a scornful eye,” From faith a kingdom could not buy? And thou, fond Lover ! to whose truth Woman intrusts her hopes, her youth, Her very life—oh guard and cherish Reelings which once neglected—perish Keep her fair form, and spotless mind, Within thy heart of hearts enshrined: Be thou the oak, round which may twine The graceful foliage of the vine: And ask, to bless thee, from above The precious boon of woman's love! “Now, farewell, lords and ladies bright ! To each and all we wish good night ! And rosy dreams and slumbers light.” “Good night, good night! parting is such s* sorrow, That we shall say good night till it be morrow.”




In thus connecting together a series of Songs by a thread of poetical narrative, my chief object has been to combine Recitation with Music, so as to enable a greater mumber of persons to join in

the performance, by enlisting,

Part as singers.

as readers, those who may not feel willing or competent to take a

The Island of Zea, where the scene is laid, was called by the ancients Ceos, and was the birth

place of Simonides, Bacchylides, and other eminent persons.

An account of its present state may

be found in the Travels of Dr. Clarke, who says, that “it appeared to him to be the best cultivated

of any of the Grecian Isles.”—THoMAs MooRE.


“THE sky is bright—the breeze is fair,
“And the mainsail flowing, full and free—
“Our farewell word is woman's pray'r,
“And the hope before us—Liberty!
“Farewell, farewell.
“To Greece we give our shining blades,
“And our hearts to you, young Zean Maids!

*The moon is in the heavens above,
“And the wind is on the foaming sea—
*Thus shines the star of woman's love
“On the glorious strife of Liberty!
“Farewell, farewell.
“To Greece we give our shining blades,
“And our hearts to you, young Zean Maids!”

Thus sung they from the bark, that now
Turn'd to the sea its gallant prow,
Bearing within it hearts as brave,
As e'er sought Freedom o'er the wave;
And leaving on that islet's shore,
Where still the farewell beacons burn,
Friends, that shall many a day look o'er
The long, dim sea for their return.

Virgin of Heaven! speed their way—
Oh, speed their way,+the chosen slow'r,
Of Zea's youth, the hope and stay
Of parents in their wintry hour,
The love of maidens, and the pride
Of the young, happy, blushing bride,
Whose nuptial wreath has not yet dictl—
All, all are in that precious bark,
Which now, alas, no more is seen—
Though every eye still turns to mark
The moonlight spot where it had been.
Wainly you look, ye maidens, sires,
And mothers, your belov'd are gone!—
Now may you quench those signal fires,
Whose light they long lock'd back upon
From their dark deck—watching the flame
As fast it faded from their view,
With thoughts, that, but for manly shame,
Had made them droop and weep like you.

Home to your chambers! home, and pray
For the bright coming of that day,
When, bless'd by heaven, the Cross shall sweep
The Crescent from the AEgean deep,
And your brave warriors, hast'ning back,
Will bring such glories in their track,
As shall, for many an age to come,
Shed light around their name and home.

There is a Fount on Zea's isle, -
Round which, in soft luxuriance, smile
All the sweet flowers, of every kind,
On which the sun of Greece looks down,
Pleas'd as a lover on the crown
His mistress for her brow hath twin'd,
When he beholds each flow'ret there,
Himself had wish'd her most to wear;
Here bloom'd the laurel-rose," whose wreath
Hangs radiant round the Cypriot shrines,
And here those bramble-flowers, that breathe
Their odour into Zante's wines:—f
The splendid woodbine, that, at eve,
To grace their floral diadems,
The lovely maids of Patmos weave:—f
And that fair plant, whose tangled stems
Shine like a Nereid's . when spread,
Dishevell'd, o'er her azure bed;—
All these bright children of the clime,
(Each at his own most genial time, -
The summer, or the year's sweet prime,)
Like beautiful earth-stars, adorn
The Valley, where that Fount is born:
While round, to grace its cradle green,
Groups of Velani oaks are seen,
Tow'ring on every verdant height—
Tall, shadowy, in the evening light,
Like Genii, set to watch the birth o
Of some enchanted child of earth-
Fair oaks, that over Zea's vales,
Stand with their leafy pride unfurl’d;
While Commerce, from her thousand sails,
Scatters their fruit throughout the world !!!

'Twas here—as soon as prayer and sleep (Those truest friends to all who weep) Had lighten’d every heart, and made Ev’n sorrow wear a softer shade—

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'Twas here, in this secluded spot,
Amid whose breathings calm and sweet
Grief might be sooth'd, if not forgot,
The Zean nymphs resolv'd to meet
Each evening now, by the same light
That saw their farewell tears that aight;
And try, if sound of lute and song,
If wand'ring 'mid the moonlight flowers
In various talk, could charm along
With lighter step, the ling’ring hours,
Till tidings of that Bark should come,
Or Victory waft their warriors home!

When first they met—the wonted smile
Of greeting having gleam'd awhile—
'Twould touch ev’n Moslem heart to see
The sadness that came suddenly
O'er their young brows, when they look'd round
Upon that bright, enchanted ground;
And thought, how many a time, with those
Who now were gone to the rude wars,
They there had met, at evening's close,
And danc'd till morn outshone the stars'

But seldom long doth hang th' eclipse
Of sorrow o'er such youthful breasts—
The breath from her own blushing lips,
That on the maiden's mirror rests,
Not swifter, lighter from the glass,
Than sadness from her brow doth pass.
Soon did they now, as round the Well
They sat, beneath the rising moon—
And some, with voice of awe, would tell
Of midnight fays, and nymphs who dwell
In holy founts—while some would tune
Their idle lutes, that now had lain,
For days, without a single strain;–
And others, from the rest apart,
With laugh, that told the lighten’d heart,
Sat, whisp'ring in each other's ear
Secrets, that all in turn would hear;-
Soon did they find this thoughtless play
So swiftly steal their griefs away,
That many a nymph, though pleas'd the while,
Reproach'd her own forgetful smile,
And sigh'd to think she could be gay

Among these maidens there was one,
Who to Leucadia" late had been—
Had stood, beneath the evening sun,
On its white tow'ring cliffs, and seen
The very spot where Sappho sung
Her swan-like music, ere she sprung
§. holding, in that fearful leap,
y her lov'd lyre,) into the deep,
And dying quench'd the fatal fire,
At once, of both her heart and lyre.

Mutely they listen’d all—and well Did the young travell'd maiden tell Of the dread height to which that steep Beetles above the eddying deep—f Of the lone sea-birds, wheeling round The dizzy edge with mournful sound– And of those scented liliest found Still blooming on that fearful place– As if call'd up by Love, to grace * Th’ immortal spot, o'er which the last Bright footsteps of his martyr pass'd :

While fresh to ev'ry listener's thought
These legends of Leucadia brought
All that of Sappho's hapless flame
Is kept alive, still watch'd by Fame—
The maiden, tuning her soft lute,
While all the rest stood round her, mute,
Thus sketch'd the languishment of soul,

* Now Santa Maura—the island, from whose cliffs Sappho leaped

by to the sea.

+ “The precipice, which is fearfully dizzy, is about one hundred and footteen feet from the water, which is of a profound depth, as apfear; som, the dark-blue colour and the eddy'that lays round the

pointed and projecting rocks.”—Goodisson's Ionian Isles.

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At length a murmur, all but mute,
So faint it was, came from the lute
Of a young melancholy maid,
Whose fingers, all uncertain play'd
From chord to chord, as if in chase
Of some lost melody, some strain
Of other times, whose faded trace
She sought among those chords again.
Slowly the half-forgotten theme
(Though born in feelings ne'er forgot)
Came to her memory—as a beam
Falls broken o'er some shaded spot.
And while her lute's sad symphony
Fill'd up each sighing pause between;
And Love himself might weep to see
What ruin comes where he hath been—
As witner'd still the grass is found
Where says have danc'd their merry round--
Thus simply to the list'ning throng
She breath'd her melancholy song:-

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Can touch it with peculiar power.
As when the air is warm, the scent
&f the most wild and rustic flower
Can fill the whole rich element–
And, in such moods, the homeliest tone
That's link'd with feelings, once our own—
With friends or joys gone by—will be
Worth choirs of loftiest harmony:

But some there were, among the grou
Of damsels there, too light of heart
To let their spirits longer droop,
Ev’n under music's melting art;
And one upspringing, with a bound,
From a low bank of flowers, look’d round
With eyes that, though so full of light,
Had still a trembling tear within;
And, while her fingers, in swift flight,
Flew o'er a fairy mandolin,
Thus sung the song her lover late
Had sung to her—the eve before
That joyous night, when, as of yore,
All Zea met, to celebrate
The Feast of May, on the sea-shore.


WHEN the Balaika"
Is heard o'er the sea,
1’ll dance the Romaika
By moonlight with thee.
If waves then, advancing,
Should steal on our play,
Thy white feet in dancing,
Shall chase them away.f
When the Balaika
Is heard o'er the sea,
Thou'lt dance the Romaika,
My own love, with me.

Then, at the closing
Of each merry lay,
How sweet ’tis, reposing,
Beneath the night ray!
Or if, desining,
The Inoon leave the skies,
We'll talk by the shining
Of each other's eyes.

Oh then, how featly
The dance we’ll renew,
Treading so fleetly
Its light mazes through:1
Till stars, looking o'er us
From heaven's high bow’rs,
Would change their bright chorus
For one dance of ours!
When the Balaika
Is heard o'er the sea,
Thou'lt dance the Romaika,
My own love, with me.

How changingly for ever veers
The heart of youth, 'twixt smiles and tears.
Ev’n as in April, the light vane
Now points to sunshine, now to rain.
Instant this lively lay dispell’d
The shadow from each blooming brow,
And Dancing, joyous Dancing, held
Full empire o'er each fancy now.

But say—what shall the measure be 2 “Shall we the old Romaika tread, (Some eager ask'd) “as anciently

This word is defrauded here, I suspect, of a syllable; Dr. Clarke, * I recollect right, makes it “Balalaika.” t "I saw above thirty parties engaged in dancing the Romaika upon the sand; in some of those groups, the girl wholed them chased the tetreating wave.”—Douglas on the Modern Greeks. ! “In dancing the Romaika (says Mr. Douglas) they begin in slow *1 solemn step till they have gained the time, but by degrees the air becomes more sprightly ; the conductress of the dance sometimes setting to her partner, sometimes darting before the rest, and leading thern Wirough the most rapid revolutions; sometimes crossing under

the hands, which are held up to let her pass, and giving as much live- |

- - - - - - - - -

“”Twas by the maids of Delos led, “When, slow at first, then circling fast, “As the gay spirits rose-–at last, “With hand in hand, like links, enlock'd, “Through the light air they seem'd to flit “In labyrinthine maze, that mock'd “The dazzled eye that follow'd it?” Some call'd aloud “the Fountain Dance!”— While one young, dark-ey’d Amazon, Whose step was air-like, and whose glal.ce Flash'd, like a sabre in the sun, Sportively said, “Shame on these soft “And languid strains we hear so oft. “Daughters of Freedom have not we “Learn’d from our lovers and our sires “The Dance of Greece, while Greece was free“That Dance, where neither flutes nor lykes, “But sword and shield clash on the ear “A music tyrants quake to hear? § “Heroines of Zea, arm with me, “And dance the dance of Victory !”

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