"Let him but live,-the burning tear, "The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear,

"Which have been all too much his own,

"Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. "Youth pass'd in penitence, and age "In long and painful pilgrimage,

"Shall leave no traces of the flame

"That wastes me now nor shall his name

"Ere bless my lips, but when I pray

"For his dear spirit, that away

Casting from its angelic ray

"The' eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine "Redeem'd, all glorious and all Thine! "Think-think what victory to win

"One radiant soul like his from sin,
"One wandering star of virtue back
"To its own native, heaven-ward track!
"Let him but live, and both are Thine,

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Together thine-for, blest or crost, Living or dead, his doom is mine,

66

And, if he perish, both are lost!"

THE next evening LALLA ROOKH was entreated by her Ladies to continue the relation of her wonderful dream; but the fearful interest that hung round the fate of HINDA and her lover had completely removed every trace of it from her mind;-much to the disappointment of a fair seer or two in her train, who prided themselves on their skill in interpreting visions, and who had already remarked, as an unlucky omen, that the Princess, on the very morning after the dream, had worn a silk dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, Nilica.*

FADLADEEN, whose indignation had more than once broken out during the recital of some parts of this

* "Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a durable colour to silk."― Remarks on the Husbandry of Bengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indian names of this flower.-Sir W. Jones. The Persians call it Gul.-Carreri.

heterodox poem, seemed at length to have made up his mind to the infliction; and took his seat this evening with all the patience of a martyr, while the Poet resumed his profane and seditious story as follows:

To tearless eyes and hearts at ease
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas,
That lay beneath that mountain's height,

Had been a fair enchanting sight.
'Twas one of those ambrosial eves

A day of storm so often leaves

At its calm setting-when the West
Opens her golden bowers of rest,

And a moist radiance from the skies

Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes

Of some meek penitent, whose last
Bright hours atone for dark ones past,
And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven,

Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven!

"Twas stillness all-the winds that late

Had rush'd through KERMAN's almond groves,

And shaken from her bowers of date

That cooling feast the traveller loves,*
Now, lull'd to languor, scarcely curl

The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl

Were melted all to form the stream:

And her fair islets, small and bright,

With their green shores reflected there,

Look like those PERI isles of light,

That hang by spell-work in the air.

But vainly did those glories burst
On HINDA's dazzled eyes, when first

The bandage from her brow was taken,

And, pale and aw'd as those who waken
In their dark tombs-when, scowling near,

The Searchers of the Grave † appear,

"In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them for those who have not any, or for travellers."- Ebn Haukal.

The two terrible angels, Monkir and Nakir, who are called "the Searchers of the Grave" in the "Creed of the orthodox Mahometans" given by Ockley, vol. ii.