Ye offspring of the morning sun, Ye flowers that deck the smiling plain, Your lives, in joy and bliss begun, In Nature's love unchanged remain. With hues of bright and godlike splendor Sweet Flora graced your forms so tender, And clothed ye in a garb of light; Spring's lovely children weep forever, For living souls she gave ye never, And ye must dwell in endless night? The nightingale and lark still sing In your tranced ears the bliss of love; The toying sylphs, on airy wing, Around your fragrant bosoms rove, Of yore, Dione's daughter [6] twining In garlands sweet your cup-so shining, A pillow formed where love might rest! Spring's gentle children, mourn forever, The joys of love she gave ye never, Ne'er let ye know that feeling blest! But when ye're gathered by my hand, A token of my love to be, Now that her mother's harsh command From Nanny's [7] sight has banished me-- E'en from that passing touch ye borrow Those heralds mute of pleasing sorrow, Life, language, hearts and souls divine; And to your silent leaves 'tis given, By Him who mightiest is in heaven, His glorious Godhead to enshrine. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. A HYMN. By love are blest the gods on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven! In Pyrrha's rear (so poets sang In ages past and gone), The world from rocky fragments sprang-- Mankind from lifeless stone. Their soul was but a thing of night, Like stone and rock their heart; The flaming torch of heaven so bright Its glow could ne'er impart. Young loves, all gently hovering round, Their souls as yet had never bound In soft and rosy chains; No feeling muse had sought to raise Their bosoms with ennobling lays, Or sweet, harmonious strains. Around each other lovingly No garlands then entwined; The sorrowing springs fled toward the sky, And left the earth behind. From out the sea Aurora rose With none to hail her then; The sun unhailed, at daylight's close, In ocean sank again. In forests wild, man went astray, Misled by Luna's cloudy ray-- He bore an iron yoke; He pined not for the stars on high, With yearning for a deity No tears in torrents broke. . . . . . But see! from out the deep-blue ocean Fair Venus springs with gentle motion The graceful Naiad's smiling band Conveys her to the gladdened strand, A May-like, youthful, magic power Entwines, like morning's twilight hour, Around that form of godlike birth, The charms of air, sea, heaven, and earth. The day's sweet eye begins to bloom Across the forest's midnight gloom; Narcissuses, their balm distilling, The path her footstep treads are filling.