ENEAS AND DIDO.

He comes he comes through storm and night!

No sail impels-no pilot guides;

The sky has not a single light

To lamp him o'er the tides!

Through breeze and billow-swell and spray,

He stands upon his fated

way,

One of those fair and visioned forms

That-like the rainbow-come in storms !—

And bears, through more than mortal strife,

The treasure of a charmed life!

-Upon his brow the grace revealed

Which kings have stamped-and gods have sealed,

He rises on her, through the night,

Like some bright spirit of the sea,

And stands before her, in the light
Of his own high nobility!

But he is as those meteor things

That tread, like monarchs, through the sky,
Yet have their red and burning wings
Controlled and plumed by destiny!-
He came like light,-like light is gone,
Where far Hesperia beckons on ;
And a young blighted passion-flower
Lies withering in Elissa's bower!

Born eastward, where the palmy Tyre
Holds spirits, like its daylight-fire;
And passion takes a deeper tone
From Syria's warm and glowing zone;
And love-and every sunny thing—
Spring upward on a brighter wing ;-

ENEAS AND DIDO.

He comes he comes through storm and night!

No sail impels-no pilot guides;

The sky has not a single light

To lamp him o'er the tides!

Through breeze and billow-swell and spray,

He stands upon his fated

way,

One of those fair and visioned forms

That-like the rainbow-come in storms !

And bears, through more than mortal strife,

The treasure of a charmed life!

-Upon his brow the grace revealed

Which kings have stamped-and gods have sealed,

He rises on her, through the night,

Like some bright spirit of the sea,

And stands before her, in the light
Of his own high nobility!

But he is as those meteor things

That tread, like monarchs, through the sky,
Yet have their red and burning wings
Controlled and plumed by destiny!—
He came like light,-like light is gone,
Where far Hesperia beckons on;
And a young blighted passion-flower
Lies withering in Elissa's bower!

Born eastward, where the palmy Tyre
Holds spirits, like its daylight-fire;
And passion takes a deeper tone
From Syria's warm and glowing zone;
And love and every sunny thing-
Spring upward on a brighter wing ;-

Her heart is like her native scenes,
(And all a woman's-though a queen's!)
A heart whose fountains, dried away,
Have left it to the scorching ray,

That makes her young and wasted breast
Like wilds and waters in the East,-

A lifeless and a tideless sea,

A desert, to eternity!