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POEMS.
Of the unfruitful ocean seeks her prey,And often dips her pinions in the brine,So Hermes flew along the waste of waves. But when he reached that island, far away,Forth from the dark blue ocean-swell he steppedUpon the sea-beach, walking till he cameTo the vast cave in which the bright-haired nymphMade her abode. He found the nymph within.A fire blazed brightly on the hearth, and farWas wafted o'er the isle the fragrant smokeOf cloven cedar, burning in the flame,And cypress wood. Meanwhile, in her recess,She sweetly sang, as busily she threwThe golden shuttle through the web she wove.And all about the grotto alders grew,And poplars, and sweet-smelling cypresses,In a green forest, high among whose boughsBirds of broad wing, wood-owls and falcons, built
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