A nightingale in transport, seem'd to fling
His warble out, and then sit listening:
And ever and anon, amid the flush
Of the thick leaves, there ran a breezy gush;
And then, from dewy myrtles lately bloomed,
An odour small, in at the window, fumed."
The passing of the waters is more picturesquely touched than any thing of the kind I ever met with—"It is of the water, watery."—The Abydanian's voyages were prosperous during the summer season, when
"———The night was almost clear as day,
Wanting no torch; and then with easy play
He dipp'd along beneath the silver moon,
Placidly hearkening to the water's tune."
But the pleasant days of autumn now were over,
"
Began to clang against the coming rain,
And peevish winds ran cutting o'er the sea,
Which at its best look'd dark and slatily.—
******But still he came, and still she bless'd his sight;
And so, from day to day, he came and went,
Till time had almost made her confident.