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,
"And the crane
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.
