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274

TO A BUTTERFLY.

[_]

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

I

Born with the balmy breath of Spring,
With fragrant roses dying,
With Zephyr's light and sportive wing
In playful motion vying.

II

Bright as the pure and cloudless blue
Of heaven above, — or blossom
That opes its chalice, as to woo
Thy beauty to its bosom.

III

Intoxicated with perfume,
With light and azure glowing;
From wings surcharg'd with youthful bloom
Thy feathery glory throwing.
275

IV

Then borne away, like thought or breath,
To viewless, endless distance,
How lovely in thy life and death
Appears thy brief existence!

V

A gentle wish, a soft desire,
To fancy, it resembles,
Which, ardent, restless, would aspire
To bliss — at which it trembles: —

VI

But still, unsatisfied below,
Just glances o'er each treasure,
Then soars whence brighter splendours flow,
To seek for purer pleasure.
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