_) PARADISE AND THE PERI. ONE morn a PERÍ at the gate Of Life within, like music flowing, "How happy," exclaim'd this child of air, 'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me, One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all! "Though sunny the Lake of cool CASHMERE, And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall; し How the waters of Heaven outshine them all! "Go, wing thy flight from star to star, As the universe spreads its flaming wall: Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of Heaven is worth them all!" The glorious Angel, who was keeping From Eden's fountain, when it lies "Nymph of a fair but erring line!" Gently he said "One hope is thine. 'Tis written in the Book of Fate, The Peri yet may be forgiven Who brings to this Eternal gate The Gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in.” Rapidly as comets run To the embraces of the Sun;· And, lighted earthward by a glance That just then broke from morning's eyes, But whither shall the Spirit go To find this gift for Heaven? "I know 163 The wealth," she cries, "of every urn, 164 The jewell'd cup of their King JAMSHID, 165 But gifts like these are not for the sky. While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd But crimson now her rivers ran With human blood-the smell of death Mingled his taint with every breath Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ? 168 'Tis he of GAZNA 169 - fierce in wrath He comes, and INDIA's diadems Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path. His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, Torn from the violated necks Of many a young and lov'd Sultana; 170 All crimson with his country's blood, False flew the shaft, though pointed well; Yet mark'd the PERI where he lay, And, when the rush of war was past, Swiftly descending on a ray Of morning light, she caught the lastLast glorious drop his heart had shed, Before its free-born spirit fled! "Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flight, "My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. Though foul are the drops that oft distil On the field of warfare, blood like this, Liberty For Liberty shed, so holy is,171 It would not stain the purest rill, That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss! Oh, if there be, on this earthly sphere, A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, "Tis the last libation Liberty draws 1 From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!" "Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave The gift into his radiant hand, "Sweet is our welcome of the Brave Who die thus for their native Land — Than even this drop the boon must be, Her first fond hope of Eden blighted, And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains Deep in those solitary woods, Where oft the Genii of the Floods 174 Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings,1 کے |