THE GENIUS OF HARMONY.

There lies a shell beneath the waves,

In many a hollow winding wreathed,

Such as of old

Echoed the breath that warbling sea-maids breathed;

This magic shell,

From the white bosom of a syren fell,

As once she wandered by the tide that laves

Sicilia's sands of gold.

It bears

Upon its shining side the mystic notes

Of those entrancing airs,

The genii of the deep were wont to swell,

When heaven's eternal orbs their midnight music rolled!

Oh! seek it, wheresoe'er it floats;

And, if the power

Of thrilling numbers to thy soul be dear,

Go, bring the bright shell to my bower,

And I will fold thee in such downy dreams

As lap the Spirit of the Seventh Sphere,

When Luna's distant tone falls faintly on his ear!

And thou shalt own,

That, through the circle of creation's zone,

Where matter slumbers or where spirit beams;

From the pellucid tides,that whirl

The planets through their maze of song,

To the small rill, that weeps along

Murmuring o'er beds of pearl;

From the rich sigh

Of the sun's arrow through an evening sky,

To the faint breath the tuneful osier yields

On Afric's burning fields;

Thou'lt wondering own this universe divine

Is mine!

That I respire in all and all in me,

One mighty mingled soul of boundless harmony.

Welcome, welcome, mystic shell!

Many a star has ceased to burn,

Many a tear has Saturn's urn

O'er the cold bosom of the ocean wept,

Since thy aerial spell

Hath in the waters slept.

Now blest I'll fly

With the bright treasure to my choral sky,

Where she, who waked its early swell,

The Syren of the heavenly choir.

Walks o'er the great string of my Orphic Lyre;

Or guides around the burning pole

The winged chariot of some blissful soul:

While thou —

Oh son of earth, what dreams shall rise for thee!

Beneath Hispania's sun,

Thou'll see a streamlet run,

Which I've imbued with breathing melody;

And there, when night-winds down the current die,

Thou'lt hear how like a harp its waters sigh:

A liquid chord is every wave that flows,

An airy plectrum every breeze that blows.

There, by that wondrous stream,

Go, lay thy languid brow,

And I will send thee such a godlike dream,

As never blest the slumbers even of him,

Who, many a night, with his primordial lyre,

Sate on the chill Pangaean mount,

And, looking to the orient dim,

Watched the first flowing of that sacred fount,

From which his soul had drunk its fire.

Oh think what visions, in that lonely hour,

Stole o'er his musing breast;

What pious ecstasy

Wafted his prayer to that eternal Power,

Whose seal upon this new-born world imprest

The various forms of bright divinity!

Or, dost thou know what dreams I wove,

Mid the deep horror of that silent bower,

Where the rapt Samian slept his holy slumber?

When, free

From every earthly chain,

From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain,

His spirit flew through fields above,

Drank at the source of nature's fontal number,

And saw, in mystic choir, around him move

The stars of song, Heaven's burning minstrelsy!

Such dreams, so heavenly bright,

I swear

By the great diadem that twines my hair,

And by the seven gems that sparkle there,

Mingling their beams

In a soft iris of harmonious light,

Oh, mortal! such shall be thy radiant dreams.

I found her not — the chamber seemed

Like some divinely haunted place

Where fairy forms had lately beamed,

And left behind their odorous trace!

It felt as if her lips had shed

A sigh around her, ere she fled,

Which hung, as on a melting lute,

When all the silver chords are mute,

There lingers still a trembling breath

After the note's luxurious death,

A shade of song, a spirit air

Of melodies which had been there.

I saw the veil, which, all the day,

Had floated o'er her cheek of rose;

I saw the couch, where late she lay

In languor of divine repose;

And I could trace the hallowed print

Her limbs had left, as pure and warm,

As if‘ twere done in rapture's mint,

And Love himself had stamped the form.

Oh my sweet mistress, where wert thou?

In pity fly not thus from me;

Thou art my life, my essence now,

And my soul dies of wanting thee.