"A wretch, who takes his lusts to heaven,
"And makes a pander of his God!
"If her proud sons, her high-born souls,
"Men, in whose veins-oh last disgrace!
"The blood of ZAL and RUSTAM3 rolls,
"If they will court this upstart race,
"And turn from MITHRA's ancient ray,
“To kneel at shrines of yesterday!

"If they will crouch to IRAN's foes,

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Why, let them till the land's despair "Cries out to heav'n, and bondage grows "Too vile for ev'n the vile to bear!

"Till shame at last, long hidden, burns
"Their inmost core, and conscience turns
"Each coward tear the slave lets fall
"Back on his heart in drops of gall!
"But here, at least, are arms unchain'd,
"And souls that thraldom never stain'd;.
"This spot, at least, no foot of slave
"Or satrap ever yet profan'd;

And, though but few though fast the wave

-

"Of life is ebbing from our veins,

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Enough for vengeance still remains.

3 Ancient heroes of Persia. <<

Among the Guebres there are

some, who boast their descent from Rustam."- Stephen's Persia.

As panthers, after set of sun, "Rush from the roots of LEBANON

"Across the dark sea-robber's way,

4

"We'll bound upon our startled prey;
"And when some hearts that proudest swell
"Have felt our falchion's last farewel;

"When Hope's expiring throb is o'er,
"And ev❜n Despair can prompt no more,
"This spot shall be the sacred grave
"Of the last few who, vainly brave,
"Die for the land they cannot save!"

His Chiefs stood round — each shining blade
Upon the broken altar laid-

And though so wild and desolate

Those courts, where once the Mighty sate;

Nor longer on those mouldering towers
Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers,
With which of old the Magi fed

The wandering Spirits of their Dead; '

4 V. Russel's account of the panthers attacking travellers in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of Lebanon.

Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place upon the

Though neither priest nor rites were there,
Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate;
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air,

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet ;'
Yet the same God that heard their sires
Heard them, while on that altar's fires
They swore the latest, holiest deed
Of the few hearts, still left to bleed,
Should be, in IRAN's injur'd name,
To die upon that Mount of Flame
The last of all her patriot line,

Before her last untrampled Shrine!

tops of high towers various kinds of rich viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves." - Richardson.

6 In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their Fire, as described by Lord, "the Daroo," he says, "giveth them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew in the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness."

"Early in the morning, they (the Parsees or Ghebers at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres consecrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the sun, and when the sun rises, these orbs seem to be inflamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They have every one a censer in their hands, and offer incense to the sun.”· Benjamin.

Rabbi

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew
How many a tear their injuries drew

From one meek maid, one gentle foe,

Whom Love first touch'd with others' woe
Whose life, as free from thought as sin,

Slept like a lake, till Love threw in
His talisman, and woke the tide,
And spread its trembling circles wide.
Once, EMIR! thy unheeding child,
Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd, -
Tranquil as on some battle-plain

The Persian lily shines and towers,
Before the combat's reddening stain
Hath fall'n upon her golden flowers.
Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd,
While heav'n but spar'd the sire she lov❜d,
Once at thy evening tales of blood
Unlistening and aloof she stood-

And oft, when thou hast pac'd along

Thy Haram halls with furious heat, Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song,

That came across thee, calm and sweet,

Like lutes of angels, touch'd so near Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear!

Far other feelings Love hath brought
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness,
She now has but the one dear thought,

And thinks that o'er, almost to madness! Oft doth her sinking heart recal

His words" for my sake weep for all;"
And bitterly, as day on day

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds,

She weeps a lover snatch'd away

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds.
There's not a sabre meets her eye,

But with his life-blood seems to swim;
There's not an arrow wings the sky,
But fancy turns its point to him.
No more she brings with footstep light
AL HASSAN'S falchion for the fight;

And, — had he look'd with clearer sight,

Had not the mists, that ever rise

From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes—

He would have mark'd her shuddering frame,
When from the field of blood he came,
The faltering speech -the look estrang'd

Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd—