God! who could then this sword withstand? Its every flash were victory! But now-estranged, divorced for ever, Far as the grasp of Fate can sever; Our only ties what love has wove,— Faith, friends, and country, sunder'd wide; And then, then only, true to love, When false to all that's dear beside! Thy father, Iran's deadliest foeThyself, perhaps, e'en now-but noHate never look'd so lovely yet! No-sacred to thy soul will be The land of him who could forget All but that bleeding land for thee! When other eyes shall see, unmoved, Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, Thou'lt think how well one Gheber loved, And for his sake thou'lt weep for all! But look With sudden start he turn'd And pointed to the distant wave, Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave; And fiery darts, at intervals,1 Flew up all sparkling from the main, As if each star that nightly falls, Were shooting back to heaven again. My signal-lights!-I must awayBoth, both are ruin'd, if I stay. Farewell-sweet life! thou cling'st in vain Now-Vengeance! I am thine again,' Down 'mid the pointed crags beneath, '1 come-1 come-if in that tide Thou sleep st to-night-I'll sleep there too, In death's cold wedlock by thy side. Oh! I would ask no happier bed Than the chill wave my love lies under ; Sweeter to rest together dead, Far sweeter than to live asunder!' But no-their hour is not yet comeAgain she sees his pinnace fly, Wafting him fleetly to his home, Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie; And calm and smooth it seem'd to win Its moonlight way before the wind, As if it bore all peace within, Nor left one breaking heart behind! THE Princess, whose heart was sad enough already, could have wished that Feramorz had chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her ladies, however, were by no means sorry that love was once more the Poet's theme; for when he spoke of love, they said, bis voice was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of that enchanted tree, which grows over the tomb of the musician, Tan-Sein.2 Their road all the morning had lain through a very dreary country ;through valleys, covered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo staff, with the white flag at its top, 1 The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it was dark, used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into the air, which in some measure resembled lightning or falling stars.'-Baumgarten. chewing of its leaves will give an extraordinary melody to the voice.'-Journey from Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq. 3 The awful signal of the bamboo-staff.—' It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed 2 That tree which grows over the tomb of Tan-to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at Sein. At Gualior is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the court of Akbar. The tomb is overshadowed by a tree, concerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that the the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. The sight of these flags imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension.'-Oriental Field Sports, vol. ii. reminded the traveller that in that very spot the tiger had made some human creature his victim. It was therefore with much pleasure that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely glen, and encamped under one of those holy trees, whose smooth columns and spreading roofs seem to destine them for natural temples of religion. Beneath the shade, some pious hands had erected1 pillars ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain. which now supplied the use of mirrors to the young ladies, as they adjusted their hair in descending from the palankeens. Here, while, as usual. the Princess sat listening anxiously, with Fadladeen in one of his loftiest moods of criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning against a branch of the tree, thus continued his story : THE morn hath risen clear and calm, And o'er the Green Sea palely shines, Revealing Bahrein's groves of palm, And lighting Kishma's amber vines. Fresh smell the shores of Araby, While breezes from the Indian sea Blow round Selama's sainted cape, And curl the shining flood beneath,Whose waves are rich with many a grape, A cocoa-nut and flowery wreath, Which pious seamen, as they pass'd, Had toward that holy headland castOblations to the Genii there For gentle skies and breezes fair! The nightingale now bends her flight5 From the high trees, where all the night Shesung so sweet, with none to listen; And hides her from the morning star Where thickets of pomegranate glisten In the clear dawn,-bespangled o'er With dew, whose night-drops would not stain The best aud brightest scimitar On the first morning of his reign! And see-the Sun himself!-on wings Of glory up the east he springs. 1 Beneath the shade some pious hands had erected, &c.-The Ficus indica is called the Pagod Tree and Tree of Councils; the first from the idols placed under its shade; the second, because meetings were held under its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected beneath the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly carved and ornamented with the most beautiful porcelain to supply the use of mirrors.'-Pennant. 2 The Persian Gulf. To dive for pearls in the Green Sea, or Persian Gulf.'-Sir W. Jones. a Islands in the Gulf. * Or Selemeh, the genuine name of the headand at the entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. The Indians, when Angel of light! who from the time Those heavens began their march sublime, Hath first of all the starry choir Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere, When Iran, like a sun-flower, turn'd To meet that eye, where'er it burn'd ?— When, from the banks of Bendemeer To the nut-groves of Samarcand Thy temples flamed o'er all the land? Where are they? ask the shades of them Who, on Cadessia's? bloody plains, Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem From Iran's broken diadem, And bind her ancient faith in chains:Ask the poor exile, cast alone On foreign shores, unloved, unknown, Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates, 8 Or on the snowy Mossian mountains, Far from his beauteous land of dates, Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains! Yet happier so than if he trod they pass the promontory, throw cocoa-nuts, fruits, or flowers into the sea to secure a propi tious voyage.'-Morier. 5 The nightingale now bends her flight.-The nightingale sings from the pomegranate-groves in the daytime, and from the loftiest trees at night.'-Russel's Aleppo. 6 In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Franck lin says, The dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not receive the least rust.' 7 The place where the Persians were finally defeated by the Arabs, and their ancient monar chy destroyed. 8 Derbend. 'Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir Capi, Porte de Fer; ce sont les Caspia Portæ des anciens.'-D'Herbelot. |