BOOK THE THIRD
2. Chapter II
(continued)
It was then in this clime--on those seas, that the Athenian gazed upon a
face that might have suited the nymph, the spirit of the place: feeding his
eyes on the changeful roses of that softest cheek, happy beyond the
happiness of common life, loving, and knowing himself beloved.
In the tale of human passion, in past ages, there is something of interest
even in the remoteness of the time. We love to feel within us the bond
which unites the most distant era--men, nations, customs perish; THE
AFFECTIONS ARE IMMORTAL!--they are the sympathies which unite the ceaseless
generations. The past lives again, when we look upon its emotions--it lives
in our own! That which was, ever is! The magician's gift, that revives the
dead--that animates the dust of forgotten graves, is not in the author's
skill--it is in the heart of the reader!
Still vainly seeking the eyes of Ione, as, half downcast, half averted, they
shunned his own, the Athenian, in a low and soft voice, thus expressed the
feelings inspired by happier thoughts than those which had colored the song
of Nydia.
THE SONG OF GLAUCUS
I
As the bark floateth on o'er the summer-lit sea,
Floats my heart o'er the deeps of its passion for thee;
All lost in the space, without terror it glides,
For bright with thy soul is the face of the tides.
Now heaving, now hush'd, is that passionate ocean,
As it catches thy smile or thy sighs;
And the twin-stars that shine on the wanderer's devotion
Its guide and its god--are thine eyes!
II
The bark may go down, should the cloud sweep above,
For its being is bound to the light of thy love.
As thy faith and thy smile are its life and its joy,
So thy frown or thy change are the storms that destroy.
Ah! sweeter to sink while the sky is serene,
If time hath a change for thy heart!
If to live be to weep over what thou hast been,
Let me die while I know what thou art!
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