Of the wild bees of PALESTINE, Banquetting through the flowery vales; And, JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine, And woods, so full of nightingales! But nought can charm the luckless PERI; Her soul is sad her wings are weary — 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 With the Great Name of SOLOMON, "The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. May teach her where, beneath the moon, In earth or ocean lies the boon, The charm, that can restore so soon, Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither;- That flutter'd round the jasmine stems, 7" You behold there a considerable number of a remarkable species of beautiful insects, the elegance of whose appearance and their attire procured for them the name of Damsels."- Sonnini. She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount 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! Ere Mercy weeps them out again! Yet tranquil now that man of crime, Though still, whene'er his eye by chance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, But hark! the vesper call to prayer, 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, with his forehead to the south, Lisping th' eternal name of God From purity's own cherub mouth, Just lighted on that flowery plain, Oh 'twas a sight that Heav'n-that Child A scene, which might have well beguil'd Ev'n 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, 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! Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. |