"Would sully the bright spot or leave it bare, "Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane his cause "With the world's vulgar pomps; no, no - I see "Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze "Of my young soul; - shine on, 'twill stand the blaze!" So thought the youth; - but, ev'n while he defied This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Through every sense. The perfume, breathing round, Like a pervading spirit; the still sound Of falling waters, lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng Around the fragrant NILICA, and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep! 7 7 My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus sleep on its blossoms." named because the bees are supposed to -Sir W. Jones. And music too dear music! that can touch - Beyond all else the soul that loves it much — Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ;- His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave "Oh my lov'd mistress! whose enchantments still "Are with me, round me, wander where I will "It is for thee, for thee alone I seek "The paths of glory to light up thy cheek "With warm approval in that gentle look, "To read my praise, as in an angel's book, "And think all toils rewarded, when from thee "I gain a smile, worth immortality! "How shall I bear the moment, when restor'd "To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 66 Though of such bliss unworthy,—since the best "Alone deserve to be the happiest ! "When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for "I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, years, "And find those tears warm as when last they started, "Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted! "Oh my own life! - why should a single day, "A moment keep me from those arms away?" While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze Of countless lamps, like the rich track which Day Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us; So long the path, its light so tremulous ; — And some disporting round, unlink'd and free, And round and round them still, in wheeling flight Awhile they dance before him, then divide, Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads, Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, And but one trembling nymph remains behind, Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are gone, And she is left in all that light alone; No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; But a light, golden chain-work round her hair, From holy writ, or bard scarce less divine; Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurried strain, Then took her trembling fingers off again. But when at length a timid glance she stole At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul She saw through all his features calm'd her fear, Though shrinking still, she came;-then sat her down 8 Upon a musnud's edge, and, bolder grown, In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN 9 Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began: 8 Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction. 9 The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes or Perdas by the names of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c. |