As true as e'er warmed a woman's breast-
"Sleep on, in visions of odour rest,
"In balmier airs than ever yet stirred
"Th' enchanted pile of that lonely bird,
"Who sings at the last his own death-lay,"
"And in music and perfume dies away!"

Thus saying, from her lips she spread

Unearthly breathings through the place,
And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed
Such lustre o'er each paly face,

That like two lovely saints they seemed,
Upon the eve of doomsday taken

From their dim graves, in odour sleeping:

While that benevolent PERI beamed

Like their good angel, calmly keeping

Watch o'er them till their souls would waken.

a "In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself."-Richardson.

High throbbed her heart, with hope elate,

The Elysian palm she soon shall win,
For the bright Spirit at the gate

Smiled as she gave that offering in;
And she already hears the trees

Of Eden, with their crystal bells

Ringing in that ambrosial breeze

That from the throne of ALLA Swells;

And she can see the starry bowls

That lie around that lucid lake,

Upon whose banks admitted Souls

a

Their first sweet draught of glory take! a

But ah! even PERIS' hopes are vain—
Again the Fates forbade, again

Th' immortal barrier closed-" Not yet,"
The angel said as, with regret,

He shut from her that glimpse of glory—
"True was the maiden, and her story,
"Written in light o'er ALLA's head,
"By seraph eyes shall long be read.
"But, PERI, see-the crystal bar
"Of Eden moves not-holier far

“Than evʼn this sigh the boon must be

"That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee."

a "On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave."From Chateaubriand's Description of the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beau ies of Christianity.

Now, upon SYRIA's land of roses a
Softly the light of Eve reposes,

And, like a glory, the broad sun

Hangs over sainted LEBANON;

Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,
And whitens with eternal sleet,
While summer, in a vale of flowers,
Is sleeping rosy at his feet.

To one, who looked from upper air
O'er all th' enchanted regions there,

How beauteous must have been the glow,

The life, the sparkling from below!
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks
Of golden melons on their banks,

More golden where the sunlight falls ;—
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls

Of ruined shrines, busy and bright

As they were all alive with light;–
And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks
Of pigeons, settling on the rocks,

a Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that country has been always famous;—hence, Suristan, the Land of Roses.

b«The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings, were covered with them."-Eruce.