* * * * *
While thus this scene of song (their last
For the sweet summer season) past,
A few presiding nymphs whose care
Watched over all invisibly,
As do those guardian sprites of air
Whose watch we feel but cannot see,
Had from the circle—scarcely missed,
Ere they were sparkling there again—
Glided like fairies to assist
Their handmaids on the moonlight plain,
Where, hid by intercepting shade
From the stray glance of curious eyes,
A feast of fruits and wines was laid—
Soon to shine out, a glad surprise!
And now the moon, her ark of light
Steering thro' Heaven, as tho' she bore
In safety thro' that deep of night
Spirits of earth, the good, the bright,
To some remote immortal shore,
Had half-way sped her glorious way,
When round reclined on hillocks green
In groups beneath that tranquil ray,
The Zeans at their feast were seen.
Gay was the picture—every maid
Whom late the lighted scene displayed,
Still in her fancy garb arrayed;—
The Arabian pilgrim, smiling here
Beside the nymph of India's sky;
While there the Mainiote mountaineer
Whispered in young Minerva's ear,
And urchin Love stood laughing by.
Meantime the elders round the board,
By mirth and wit themselves made young,
High cups of juice Zacynthian poured,
And while the flask went round thus sung:—
SONG.
Up with the sparkling brimmer,
Up to the crystal rim;
Let not a moonbeam glimmer
'Twixt the flood and brim.
When hath the world set eyes on
Aught to match this light,
Which o'er our cup's horizon
Dawns in bumpers bright?
Truth in a deep well lieth—
So the wise aver;
But Truth the fact denieth—
Water suits not her.
No, her abode's in brimmers,
Like this mighty cup—
Waiting till we, good swimmers,
Dive to bring her up.
* * * * *
Thus circled round the song of glee,
And all was tuneful mirth the while,
Save on the cheeks of some whose smile
As fixt they gaze upon the sea,
Turns into paleness suddenly!
What see they there? a bright blue light
That like a meteor gliding o'er
The distant wave grows on the sight,
As tho' 'twere winged to Zea's shore.
To some, 'mong those who came to gaze,
It seemed the night-light far away
Of some lone fisher by the blaze
Of pine torch luring on his prey;
While others, as 'twixt awe and mirth
They breathed the blest Panaya's[27] name,
Vowed that such light was not of earth
But of that drear, ill-omen'd flame
Which mariners see on sail or mast
When Death is coming in the blast.
While marvelling thus they stood, a maid
Who sate apart with downcast eye,
Not yet had like the rest surveyed
That coming light which now was nigh,
Soon as it met her sight, with cry
Of pain-like joy, "'Tis he! 'tis he!"
Loud she exclaimed, and hurrying by
The assembled throng, rushed towards the sea.
At burst so wild, alarmed, amazed,
All stood like statues mute and gazed
Into each other's eyes to seek
What meant such mood in maid so meek?
Till now, the tale was known to few,
But now from lip to lip it flew:—
A youth, the flower of all the band,
Who late had left this sunny shore,
When last he kist that maiden's hand,
Lingering to kiss it o'er and o'er.
By his sad brow too plainly told
The ill-omened thought which crost him then,
That once those hands should lose their hold,
They ne'er would meet on earth again!
In vain his mistress sad as he,
But with a heart from Self as free
As generous woman's only is,
Veiled her own fears to banish his:—
With frank rebuke but still more vain,
Did a rough warrior who stood by
Call to his mind this martial strain,
His favorite once, ere Beauty's eye
Had taught his soldier-heart to sigh:—