Thus did the Sophist discourse. What mortal, alas! could resist him?

And when a master commands, I have been train'd to obey.

Now he deceitfully keeps his word, gives food for my numbers,

But, while he does so, alas! robs me of time, strength, and mind.

Looks, and pressure of hands, and words of kindness, and kisses,

Syllables teeming with thought, by a fond pair are exchang'd.

Then becomes whispering, talk,--and stamm'ring, a language enchanting;

Free from all prosody's rules, dies such a hymn on the ear.

Thee, Aurora, I used to own as the friend of the Muses;

Hath, then, Amor the rogue cheated, Aurora, e'en thee?

Thou dost appear to me now as his friend, and again dost awake me

Unto a day of delight, while at his altar I kneel.

All her locks I find on my bosom, her head is reposing,

Pressing with softness the arm, which round her neck is entwin'd; Oh! what a joyous awak'ning, ye hours so peaceful, succeeded,

Monument sweet of the bliss which had first rock'd us to sleep In her slumber she moves, and sinks, while her face is averted,

Far on the breadth of the couch, leaving her hand still in mine Heartfelt love unites us for ever, and yearnings unsullied,

And our cravings alone claim for themselves the exchange.

One faint touch of the hand, and her eyes so heavenly see I

Once more open. Ah, no! let me still look on that form!

Closed still remain! Ye make me confused and drunken, ye rob me

Far too soon of the bliss pure contemplation affords.

Mighty, indeed, are these figures! these limbs, how gracefully rounded!

Theseus, could'st thou e'er fly, whilst Ariadne thus slept?

Only one single kiss on these lips! Oh, Theseus, now leave us!

Gaze on her eyes! she awakes--Firmly she holds thee embrac'd ----- PART II.

ALEXIS AND DORA.

[This beautiful poem was first published in Schiller's h.o.r.en.]

FARTHER and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel

Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-cover'd flood!

Long is the track plough'd up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,

Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.

All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness

Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.

Forward presses the heart of each seamen, like colours and streamers;

Backward one only is seen, mournfully fix'd near the mast, While on the blue tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he gazeth,

And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs.

Vanish'd from thee, too, oh Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee

Of thine Alexis, thy friend,--ah, thy betrothed as well!

Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain. Our hearts are still throbbing,

Though, for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more.

Oh, thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest

Every day which had else coldly from memory fled.

'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended

Life, such as deities grant, though thou perceived'st it not.

Phoebus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory:

Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me.

Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there, in the silence,

Strive to recover the time when she appear'd with each day.

Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it?

Work'd not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine?

Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma

Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words.

Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful,

Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense.

When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladden'd,

And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight.

Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, oh Amor,

Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,--wherefore remove it so late?

Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favouring breezes,

'Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea.

Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future!

Ye all vanish, and nought, saving the moment, remains.

Yes! it remains,--my joy still remains! I hold thee; my Dora,

And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclos'd.