ow sinks, more, lovely ere his race be run, ng Morea's hills the setting sun;

t, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, one unclouded blaze of living light!

r the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Is the green wave, that trembles as it glows. old Aegina's rock, and Idra's isle,

god of gladness sheds his parting smile; his own regions lingering, loves to shine, 1180 ngh there his altars are no more divine. ending fast the mountain shadows kiss glorious gulph, unconquered Salamis !

In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!

That weapon of her weakness she can wield,

To save, subdue at once her spear aud shield:
Avoid it Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs,
Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers!
What lost a world, and bade a hero fly?
The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.

1160

Yet be the soft triumvir's fault forgiven,
By this-
how many lose not earth - but heaven!
Consign their souls to man's eternal foe,

-

And seal their own to spare some wanton's woe!

'Tis morn

XVI.

and o'er his altered features play The beams without the hope of yesterday.. What shall he be ere night? perchance a thing O'er which the raven flaps her funeral wing: By his closed eye unheeded and unfelt,

While sets that sun, and dews of evening melt, Chill wet and misty round each stiffened

limb,

Refreshing carth- reviving all but him!

1170

END OF CANTO 11.

THE CORSAIR;

CAN то III.

"Come vedi ancor non m'abbandona."

DANTE.

1.

SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea's hills the setting sun;

Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light!

O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
On old Aegina's rock, and Idra's isle,

The god of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, 1180
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast the mountain shadows kiss
Thy glorious gulph, unconquered Salamis!

Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course and own the hues of heaven; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.

1190

On such an eve, his palest beam he cast,
When — Athens! here thy Wisest looked his last.
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murdered sage's "latest day!

Not yet

not yet

Sol pauses on the hill The precious hour of parting lingers still;

But sad his light to agonizing eyes,

And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes:
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seemed to pour,
The land, where Phoebus never frowned before,
But ere he sunk below Cithacron's head,
The cup of woe was quaffed -the spirit fled;
The soul of him who scorned to fear or fly
Who lived and died, as none can live or die!

But lo! from high Hymettus to the plain,
The queen of night asserts her silent reign,

1200

19

No murky vapour, herald of the storm,
Hides her fair face, nor girds her glowing form;