Like balm, until that life becomes a boon,
Which elsewhere is a burthen and a curse.

Hear then, O, hear the sea-maid's airy shell;
Listen, O listen! 't is the siren sings, -
The spirit of the deep, Parthenope, -
She who did once i' the dreamy days of old
Sport on these golden sands beneath the moon,
Or poured the ravishing music of her song
Over the silent waters, and bequeathed
To all these sunny capes and dazzling shores
Her own immortal beauty and her name.

DRIFTING.

M Is far away,

Y soul to-day

Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;

My wingéd boat,

A bird afloat,

Anna Jameson.

Swims round the purple peaks remote;

Round purple peaks

It sails, and seeks

Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,

Where high rocks throw,

Through deeps below,

A duplicated golden glow.

Far, vague, and dim

The mountains swim;

While on Vesuvius' misty brim,
With outstretched hands,
The gray smoke stands
O'erlooking the volcanic lands.

Here Ischia smiles

O'er liquid miles ;

And yonder, bluest of the isles,

Calm Capri waits,

Her sapphire gates

Beguiling to her bright estates.

I heed not, if

My rippling skiff

Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff;

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise.

Under the walls

Where swells and falls

The Bay's deep breast at intervals,
At peace I lie,

Blown softly by,

A cloud upon this liquid sky.

The day, so mild,

Is Heaven's own child,

With Earth and Ocean reconciled;

The airs I feel

Around me steal

Are murmuring to the murmuring keel.

Over the rail

My hand I trail

Within the shadow of the sail,

A joy intense,

The cooling sense

Glides down my drowsy indolence.

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Where Summer sings and never dies,

O'erveiled with vines,

She glows and shines
Among her future oil and wines.

Her children, hid

The cliffs amid,

Yon deep bark goes

Where traffic blows,

From lands of sun to lands of snows;

This happier one,

Its course is run

From lands of snow to lands of sun.

O happy ship,

To rise and dip,

With the blue crystal at your lip!

O happy crew,

My heart with you

Sails, and sails, and sings anew!

No more, no more
The worldly shore
Upbraids me with its loud uproar !

With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise!

Thomas Buchanan Read.

Nemi.

NEMI.

O, Nemi! navelled in the woody hills

So far, that the uprooting wind which tears The oak from his foundation, and which spills The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares The oval mirror of thy glassy lake;

And, calm as cherished hate, its surface wears A deep, cold, settled aspect naught can shake, All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake.

And near Albano's scarce divided waves
Shine from a sister valley; and afar

The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves The Latian coast where sprang the Epic war, "Arms and the Man," whose reascending star Rose o'er an empire; but beneath thy right Tully reposed from Rome; and where yon bar Of girdling mountains intercepts the sight The Sabine farm was tilled, the weary bard's delight. Lord Byron.

NEMI.

HARK! from dark Nemi's plantain-woods, where

twining

The tendrilled vine the branches clasps along,

Where glows through olives the bright cactus shining, Echo the sounds of laughter and of song! Lo, trooping forth, wild-flowers their hair among, Albano's dark-browed daughters! from their eyes Joy flashing lightning, a Bacchante throng: Forms such as danced beneath Idalian skies, Or trod the flowery fields of golden Arcadies.

It is Gensano's flower-fête! the streets shine
Strewn o'er with irises of living blue,
Galaxied thick with star-eyed jessamine,.