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Not by the elm-treeHim didst thou visit,With the pair of dovesHeld in his gentle arm,--With the beauteous garland of roses,--Caressing him, so blest in his flowers,Anacreon,Storm-breathing godhead!Not in the poplar grove,Near the Sybaris' strand,Not on the mountain'sSun-illumined browDidst thou seize him,The flower-singing,Honey-breathing,Sweetly noddingTheocritus.

Sudden I heard a voice that cried--

1818.-----TO THE RISING FULL MOON.