As in those gardens where the day Springs from the gems of Circassy- Of melody in woodland rill Or (music of the passion-hearted) Yet all the beauty-all the flowers That list our Love, and deck our bowers Adorn yon world afar, afar— The wandering star. 'Twas a sweet time for Nesace-for there Her world lay lolling on the golden air, To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode, And late to ours, the favoured one of God— But, now, the ruler of an anchored realm, She throws aside the sceptre-leaves the helm, Now happiest, loveliest in yon lovely Earth, Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth, (Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star, Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar, It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt) Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled— Fit emblems of the model of her world— Of other beauty glittering thro' the light- And all the opaled air in colour bound. All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed So eagerly around about to hang Upon the flying footsteps of deep pride Of her who loved a mortal-and so died. The Sephalica, budding with young bees, |