While thus he thinks, still nearer, on the breeze,
Come those delicious, dreamlike harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.

He turns him toward the sound, and far away
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play
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,—
He sees a group of female forms advance,
Some chained together in the mazy dance
By fetters forged in the green sunny bowers,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers;*
And some disporting round, unlinked and free,
Who seemed to mock their sisters' slavery;
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night;
While others waked, as gracefully along

Their feet kept time, the very soul of song

From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly thrill,
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still.

And now they come, now pass before his eye,

Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would vie
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things

Lovely beyond its fairest picturings.

a «They deferred it till the King of Flowers should ascend his throne of enamelled foliage."-The Bahardanush.

Awhile they dance before him, then divide,

Breaking, like rosy clouds at eventide

Around the rich pavilion of the sun,

Till, silently dispersing, one by one,

Through many a path, that from the chamber leads
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads,
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind,
And but one trembling nymph remains behind,-
Beckoning them back in vain, for they are gone,
And she is left in all that light alone;

b

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,a
Such as the maids of YEZD and SHIRAZ wear,
From which, on either side, gracefully hung
A golden amulet, in th' Arab tongue,
Engraven o'er with some immortal line

From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine;

While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood,

Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood,

Which, once or twice, she touched with hurried strain,
Then took her trembling fingers off again.

a "One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is composed of a light golden chain-work, set with small pearls, with a thin gold plate pendant, about the bigness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the ear."-Hanway's Travels.

b❝Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest women in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezdecas, and drink the wine of Shiraz."-Tavernier.

H

But when at length a timid glance she stole

At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul

She saw through all his features, calmed her fear,
And, like a half-tamed antelope, more near,

Though shrinking still, she came ;-then sat her down

a

Upon a musnud's edge, and bolder grown,

In the pathetic mode of ISFAHAN

b

Touched a preluding strain, and thus began:

c

There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER's stream,

And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.

That bower and its music I never forget,

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year,
I think Is the nightingale singing there yet?
Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?

No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gathered, while freshly they shone,

a Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for persons of distinction. b The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musical modes or Perdas by the name of different countries or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, &c.

c A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar.

And a dew was distilled from their flowers, that gave
All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies,

An essence that breathes of it many a year; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,

Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER!

"Poor maiden!" thought the youth, "if thou wert

sent,

"With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment,

"To wake unholy wishes in this heart,

"Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art.
"For though thy lip should sweetly counsel wrong,
"Those vestal eyes would disavow its song.
"But thou hast breathed such purity, thy lay

"Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day,
"And leads thy soul-if e'er it wandered thence-

"So gently back to its first innocence,

"That I would sooner stop the unchained dove,

"When swift returning to its home of love,

"And round its snowy wing new fetters twine,

"Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine!"

Scarce had this feeling passed, when, sparkling through

The gently opened curtains of light blue

That veiled the breezy casement, countless eyes,
Peeping like stars through the blue evening skies,
Looked laughing in, as if to mock the pair
That sat so still and melancholy there:-

And now the curtains fly apart, and in
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine
Which those without fling after them in play,
Two lightsome maidens spring,-lightsome as they
Who live in th' air on odours,-and around
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the ground,
Chase one another, in a varying dance
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance,
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit:-
While she, who sung so gently to the lute
Her dream of home, steals timidly away,
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray,-
But takes with her from Azım's heart that sigh
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain
Creatures of light we never see again!

Around the white necks of the nymphs who danced

Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanced
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ;*

a «To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near Badku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, arising from the sea-glass and crystals