r, and at me, I dreaded him less and less, and scarcely
looked toward him. The milder and calmer Genius, the third, in
proportion as I took courage to contemplate him, regarded me with more
and more complacency. He held neither flower nor arrow, as the others
did; but, throwing back the clusters of dark curls that overshadowed
his countenance, he presented to me his hand, openly and benignly. I
shrank on looking at him so near, and yet I sighed to love him. He
smiled, not without an expression of pity, at perceiving my
diffidence, my timidity: for I remembered how soft was the hand of
Sleep, how warm and entrancing was Love's. By degrees, I became
ashamed of my ingratitude; and turning my face away, I held out my
arms, and felt my neck within his. Composure strewed and allayed all
the throbbings of my bosom; the coolness of freshest morning breathed
around: the heavens seemed to open above me; while the beautiful cheek
of my deliverer rested on my head. I would now have looked for those
others; but knowing my intention by my gesture, he said,
consolatorily:

'Sleep is on his way to the Earth, where many are calling him; but it
is not to these he hastens; for every call only makes him fly farther
off. Sedately and gravely as he looks, he is nearly as capricious and
volatile as the more arrogant and ferocious one.'

'And Love!' said I, 'whither is he departed? If not too late, I would
propitiate and appease him.'

'He who cannot follow me, he who cannot overtake and pass me,' said
the Genius, 'is unworthy of the name, the most glorious in earth or
heaven. Look up! Love is yonder, and ready to receive thee.'

I looked: the earth was under me: I saw only the clear blue sky, and
something brighter above it.

POEMS

I

She I love (alas in vain!)
Floats before my slumbering eyes:
When she comes she lulls my pain,
When she goes what pangs arise!
Thou whom love, whom memory flies,
Gentle Sleep! prolong thy reign!
If even thus she soothe my sighs,
Never let me wake again!

II

Pleasure! why thus desert the heart
In its spring-tide?
I could have seen her, I could part,
And but have sigh'd!

O'er every youthful charm to stray,
To gaze, to touch....
Pleasure! why take so much away,
Or give so much?

III

Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives,
Alcestis rises from the shades;