The Impostor once alive within his grasp,
Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp,
Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep pace
With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace!

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the walls; Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, But still no breach "Once more, one mighty swing

Of all your beams, together thundering!"

There the wall shakes the shouting troops exult,
"Quick, quick discharge your weightiest catapult
Right on that spot, and NEKSHEB is our own!”
'Tis done -the battlements come crashing down,
And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two,
Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew,
Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through.
But strange! no signs of life-nought living seen
Above, below what can this stillness mean?
A minute's pause suspends all hearts and eyes-
"In through the breach!" impetuous AzIм cries;
But the cool CALIPH, fearful of some wile

In this blank stillness, checks the troops awhile.
Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanc'd
Forth from the ruin'd walls, and, as there glanc'd
A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see

The well-known Silver Veil!""Tis He, 'tis He,
MOKANNA, and alone!" they shout around;
Young AZIM from his steed springs to the ground -
"Mine, Holy CALIPH! mine," he cries, "the task
To crush yon daring wretch-'tis all I ask."
Eager he darts to meet the demon foe,
Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow
And falteringly comes, till they are near;
Then, with a bound, rushes on AZIм's spear,

And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows-
Oh! 'tis his ZELICA's life-blood that flows!

"I meant not, AZIM," soothingly she said, As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head, And, looking in his face, saw anguish there Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can bear— “I meant not thou shouldst have the pain of this: Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss. Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but know How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so! But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow; To linger on were maddening- and I thought If once that Veil nay, look not on it — caught The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. But this is sweeter oh! believe me, yes I would not change this sad, but dear caress, This death within thy arms I would not give For the most smiling life the happiest live! All, that stood dark and drear before the eye Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by; A light comes o'er me from those looks of love, Like the first dawn of mercy from above; And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiven, Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven! But live, my AZIM;-oh! to call thee mine Thus once again! my AZIM - dream divine! Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet Thy ZELICA hereafter would be sweet, Oh, live to pray for her to bend the knee Morning and night before that Deity,

To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain,
As thine are, Azıм, never breath'd in vain,
And pray that He may pardon her, may take

:

Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake,
And, nought remembering but her love to thee,
Make her all thine, all His, eternally!

Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd
Our youthful hearts together - every wind

That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flowers,

Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours

Back to thy soul, and mayst thou feel again
For thy poor ZELICA as thou didst then.
So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies
To Heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise
With all love's earliest ardor to the skies!
And should they — but, alas, my senses fail

Oh for one minute! - should thy prayers prevail·
If pardon'd souls may, from that World of Bliss,
Reveal their joy to those they love in this

I'll come to thee - in some sweet dream

and tell

Oh Heaven - I diedear love! farewell, farewell!"

Time fleeted

years on years had pass'd away, And few of those who, on that mournful day, Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see The maiden's death and the youth's agony, Were living still — when, by a rustic grave, Beside the swift Aмoo's transparent wave, An aged man, who had grown aged there By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, For the last time knelt down and, though the shade Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, That brighten'd even Death like the last streak Of intense glory on the horizon's brim,

When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim.
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept;

She, for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept
So many years, had come to him, all drest

In angel smiles, and told him she was blest!

For this the old man breath'd his thanks, and died. And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide,

He and his ZELICA sleep side by side.

THE story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan being ended, they were now doomed to hear FADLADEEN's criticisms upon it. A series of disappointments and accidents had occurred to this learned Chamberlain during the journey. In the first place, those couriers stationed, as in the reign of Shah Jehan, between Delhi and the Western coast of India, to secure a constant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, had, by some cruel irregu larity, failed in their duty; and to eat any mangoes but those of Mazagong was, of course, impossible.149 In the next place, the elephant, laden with his fine antique porcelain,150 had, in an unusual fit of liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces:- an irreparable loss, as many of the vessels were so exquisitely old, as to have been used under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the dynasty of Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to be the identical copy between the leaves of which Mahomet's favorite pigeon used to nestle, had been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three whole days; not without much spiritual alarm to FADLADEEN, who, though professing to hold with other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that salvation could only be found in the Koran, was strongly suspected of believing in his heart, that it could only be found in his own particular copy of it. When to all these grievances is added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting the pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily suppose that he came to the task of criticism with, at least, a sufficient degree of irritability for the purpose.