The visions, that oft to worldly eyes
The glitter of mines unfold,
Inhabit the mountain-herb,*

that dyes
The tooth of the fawn like gold.
The phantom shapes-oh touch not them-
That appal the murderer's sight,
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem,
That shrieks, when pluck'd at night!
Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The dream of the injur'd, patient mind,
That smiles at the wrongs of men,
Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then.
Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

No sooner was the flowery crown
Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down,
Gently as nights of summer fall,
Upon the lids of NOURMAHAL;-
And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze,
As full of small, rich harmonies
As ever wind, that o'er the tents
Of AZAB+ blew, was full of scents,
Steals on her ear, and floats and swells,
Like the first air of morning creeping
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells,

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping‡

An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to commu. nicate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it.

The myrrh country.

"This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sea." --Wilford.

And now a Spirit form'd, 'twould seem,
Of music and of light,-so fair,
So brilliantly his features beam,

And such a sound is in the air
Of sweetness, when he waves his wings,
Hovers around her, and thus sings:-

From CHINDARA's warbling fount I come,
Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell;
From CHINDARA's fount, my fairy home,
Where in music, morn and night, I dwell.
Where lutes in air are heard about,

And voices are singing the whole day long,
And every sigh the heart breathes out
Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song!
Hither I come

From my fairy home,

And if there's a magic in Music's strain,
I swear by the breath

Of that moonlight wreath,

Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

For mine is the lay that lightly floats,
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes,
That fall as soft as snow on the sea,
And melt in the heart as instantly!-
And the passionate strain that, deeply going,
Refines the bosom it trembles through,
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing,
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too!

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway
The Spirits of past Delight obey ;-
Let but the tuneful talisman sound,
And they come, like Genii, hovering round.

"A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to

be constantly playing."-Richardson.

And mine is the gentle sound that bears
From soul to soul, the wishes of love,
As a bird, that wafts through genial airs
The cinamon-seed from grove to grove.*

'Tis I that mingle one sweet measure
The past, the present, and future of pleasure;
When Memory links the tone that is gone

With the blissful tone that's still in the ear;
And Hope from a heavenly note flies on

To a note more heavenly still that is near!

The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me,
Can as downy soft and as yielding be

As his own white plume, that high amid death Through the field has shone-yet moves with a breath.

And oh how sweet the eyes of Beauty glisten,
When Music has reach'd her inward soul,
Like the silent stars, that wink and listen
While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll!
So, hither I come
From my fairy home,

And if there's a magic in Music's strain,
I swear by the breath

Of that moonlight wreath,

Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

"Tis dawn-at least that earlier dawn,
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn,t
As if the morn had wak'd, and then
Shut close her lids of light again.

"The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by carrying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a great disseminator of this valuable tree."-V. Brown's Illustr. Tab. 19.

"They have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim, and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real day-break."Waring.

And NOURMAHAL is up, and trying

The wonders of her lute, whose strings-
Oh, bliss!-now murmur like the sighing
From that ambrosial Spirit's wings!
And then, her voice-'tis more than human-
Never, till now, had it been given
To lips of any mortal woman

To utter notes so fresh from heaven;
Sweet as the breath of angel sighs,

When angel sighs are most divine."Oh! let it last till night," she cries, "And he is more than ever mine." And hourly she renews the lay,

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness Should, ere the evening, fade away,

For things so heavenly have such fleetness! But, far from fading, it but grows

Richer, diviner as it flows;

Till rapt she dwells on every string, And pours again each sound along, Like echo, lost and languishing,

In love with her own wondrous song.

That evening, (trusting that his soul
Might be from haunting love releas'd
By mirth, by music, and the bowl,)
Th' Imperial SELIM held a Feast
In his magnificent Shalimar :-
In whose Saloons, when the first star
Of evening o'er the waters trembled,
The Valley's loveliest all assembled;
All the bright creatures that, like dreams,
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams
Of beauty from its founts and streams;*
And all those wandering minstrel-maids,
Who leave-how can they leave?—the shades

"The waters of Cachemir are the more renowned from its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted for their beauty to them."-Ali Yezdi.

202

Of that dear Valley, and are found
Singing in gardens of the South*
Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound
As from a young Cashmerian's mouth.
There, too, the Haram's inmates smile ;-
Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair
And from the Garden of the NILE,
Delicate as the roses there;+-
Daughters of Love from CYPRUS' rocks,
With Paphian diamonds in their locks;‡-
Like Peri forms, such as there are
On the gold meads of CANDAHAR!§
And they, before whose sleepy eyes,
In their own bright Kathaian bowers
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies,||

That they might fancy the rich flowers,
That round them in the sun lay sighing,
Had been by magic all set flying.

Every thing young, every thing fair
From East and West is blushing there

"From him I received the following little Gazzel or Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper from the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, who wander from that delightful valley over the various parts of India."-Persian Miscellanies.

The roses of the Jinan Nile, or Garden of the Nile, (attached to the Emperor of Morocco's Palace) are unequalled, and matrasses are made of their leaves for the men of rank to recline upon."-Jackson.

On

"On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cavern which produces the most beautiful crystal. account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian diamond."-Mariti.

"There is a part of Candahar, called Peria or Fairy Land." Thevenot. In some of those countries to the north of India vegetable gold is supposed to be produced.

"These are the butterflies, which are called in the Chinese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have such shining colours, and are so variegated, that they may be called flying flowers; and indeed they are always produced in the finest flower-gardens."-Dunn.