For the bright Spirit at the gate
Smil'd as she gave that offering in;
And she already hears the trees
Of Eden, with their crystal bells
Ringing in that ambrosial breeze
That from the throne of ALLA Swells; And she can see the starry bowls
That lie around that lucid lake,
Upon whose banks admitted Souls
Their first sweet draught of glory take! 184
But, ah! even PERIS' hopes are vain-
Again the Fates forbade, again
The immortal barrier clos'd-"Not yet,"
The Angel said as, with regret,
He shut from her that glimpse of glory -
"True was the maiden, and her story,
Written in light o'er ALLA's head,
By seraph eyes shall long be read.
- the crystal bar
Of Eden moves not - holier far
Than even this sigh the boon must be
That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee."
Now, upon SYRIA's land of roses 185
Softly the light of Eve reposes,
And, like a glory, the broad sun
Hangs over sainted LEBANON ;
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,
And whitens with eternal sleet,
While summer, in a vale of flowers,
Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
To one, who look'd from upper air
O'er all the enchanted regions there,
How beauteous must have been the glow,
The life, the sparkling from below!
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks
Of golden melons on their banks,
More golden where the sunlight falls;
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls 186
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright
As they were all alive with light;
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks,
With their rich restless wings, that gleam
Variously in the crimson beam
Of the warm West, — as if inlaid
With brilliants from the mine, or made
Of tearless rainbows, such as span
The unclouded skies of PERISTAN.
And then the mingling sounds that come
Of shepherd's ancient reed,187 with hum
Of the wild bees of PALESTINE, 188
Banqueting through the flow'ry vales;
And, JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine,
And woods, so full of nightingales.189
But nought can charm the luckless PERI;
Her soul is sad — her wings are weary -
Joyless she sees the Sun look down
On that great Temple, once his own,190
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials, which the wizard, Time,
Had rais'd to count his ages by!
Yet haply there may lie conceal'd
Beneath those Chambers of the Sun,
Some amulet of gems anneal'd
In upper fires, some tablet seal'd
With the great name of SOLOMON,
Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes,
May teach her where, beneath the moon,
In earth or ocean, lies the boon,
The charm, that can restore so soon
An erring Spirit to the skies.
Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither;-
Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven,
Nor have the golden bowers of Even
In the rich West begun to wither;-
When, o'er the vale of BALBEC winging
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild flowers singing,
As rosy and as wild as they;
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes,
The beautiful blue damsel flies,191
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems,
Like winged flowers or flying gems:
And, near the boy, who tir'd with play
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
She saw a wearied man dismount
From his hot steed, and on the brink
Of a small imaret's rustic fount 192
Impatient fling him down to drink.
Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd
To the fair child, who fearless sat,
Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd
Upon a brow more fierce than that, -
Sullenly fierce-a mixture dire,
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire;
In which the PERI's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed;
The ruin'd maid- the shrine profan❜d -
and the threshold stain'd
With blood of guests! - there written, all,
Black as the damning drops that fall
From the denouncing Angel's pen,
Ere Mercy weeps them out again.
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
(As if the balmy evening time
Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play :-
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance
Met that unclouded joyous gaze,
As torches that have burnt all night
Through some impure and godless rite,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But, hark! the vesper call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air,
From SYRIA's thousand minarets!
The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
And down upon the fragrant sod
Kneels,198 with his forehead to the south,
Lisping the eternal name of God
From Purity's own cherub mouth,
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are lifted to the glowing skies,
Like a stray babe of Paradise,
Just lighted on that flowery plain,
And seeking for its home again.
Oh! 'twas a sight that Heaven
A scene, which might have well beguil'd
Even haughty EBLIS of a sigh
For glories lost and peace gone by!
And how felt he, the wretched Man
Reclining there while memory ran
O'er many a year of guilt and strife,
Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,
Nor found one sunny resting-place,
Nor brought him back one branch of grace!
"There was a time," he said, in mild,
Heart-humbled tones "thou blessed child!
When, young and haply pure as thou,
I look'd and pray'd like thee; but now
He hung his head - each nobler aim,
And hope, and feeling, which had slept
From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept - he wept!
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence !
In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.
"There's a drop," said the PERI, "that down from
Falls through the withering airs of June
Upon EGYPT's land,194 of so healing a power,
So balmy a virtue, that e'en in the hour
The drop descends, contagion dies,
And health re-animates earth and skies!
Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin,
The precious tears of repentance fall?
Though foul thy fiery plagues within,
One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!"
And now behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble prayer,
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