now · Up, daughter, up-the kerna's1 breath | But cheer thee, maid, -the wind that Has blown a blast would waken death, And yet thou sleep'st-up, child, and see This blessed day for heaven and me, mine; This very night his blood shall steep Still singling one from all mankind. This night, with all his band, shall know How deep an Arab's steel can go, When God and vengeance speed the blow. Ard-Prophet!-by that holy wreath Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex Would be on prostrate Persian necks Cursed race, they offer swords instead! 1 A kind of trumpet:-it was that used by Jamerlane, the sound of which is described as Incommonly dreadful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several miles.'-Bichardson. 2 Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior one, the latter of which, called Al Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, bowers !' His bloody boast was all too true- In her last hold of flame and blood. He lay-but died not with the brave; That sun, which should have gilt his grave, Saw him a traitor and a slave ;- To their high rocky fortress mourn'd Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave, Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might! May life's unblessed cup for him Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, With hopes, that but allure to fly, With joys, that vanish while he sips, Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye,3 But turn to ashes on the lips! Mawashah, the fillet, wreath, or wreathed gar land, he wore at the battle of Ohod.'Univer History. 3They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but which are all full of ashes.'-Thavenot. The His country's curse, his children's | Are fading off, untouched, untasted,1 shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, Like the once glorious hopes he blasted! Full in the sight of Paradise, LALLA ROOKH had had a dream the night before, which, in spite of the impending fate of poor Hafed, made her heart more than usually cheerful during the morning, and gave her cheeks all the freshened animation of a flower that the Bidmusk had just passed over. She fancied that she was sailing on that Eastern ocean, where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water, enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark approaching her. It was like one of those boats which the Maldivian islanders annually send adrift, at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as an offering to the Spirit whom they call King of the Sea. At first this little bark appeared to be empty, but, on coming nearer— She had proceeded thus far in relating the dream to her ladies, when Feramorz appeared at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, of course, every, thing else was forgotten, and the continuance of the story was instantly requested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set to burn in the cassolets;-the violet sherbets were hastily handed round, and, after a short prelude on his same is asserted of the oranges there: Vide Witman's Travels in Asiatic Turkey. The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the Dead Sea, is very remarkable on account of the considerable proportion of salt which it contains. In this respect it surpasses every other known water on the surface of the carth. The great proportion of bitter-tasted salts is the reason why neither animal nor plant can live in this water.'-Klaproth's Chemical Analysis of the Water of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, January, 1813. There are, however, shellfish found in its waters. flower of that name.' 'The wind which blows these flowers commonly lasts till the end of the month.'-Le Bruyn. Where the sea-gipsies, who live for ever on the water.-The Biajus are of two races; the one is settled on Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious nation, who reckon themselves the original possessors of the island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea-gipsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered boats, and enjoy a perpetual summer on the eastern ocean, shifting leeward from island to island, with the variations of the monsoon. In some of their customs this singular race resemble the natives of the Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually launch a small bark, loaded with perfumes, Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the Dead Sea, in that wonderful display of genius, his third Canto of Childe Harold,'-gums, flowers, and odoriferous wood, and turn it magnificent beyond anything, perhaps, that even he has ever written. The Suhrab or Water of the Desert is said to be caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from extreme heat: and, which augments the delusion, it is most frequent in hollows, where water might be expected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected in it, with as much accuracy as though it had been the face of a clear and still lake.'-Pottinger. As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapour in a plain, which the thirsty traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh thereto he findeth it to be nothing.'-Koran, chap. xxiv. 2 A flower that the Bidmusk had just pass'd over.-- A wind which prevails in February, called Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous adrift at the mercy of winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of the Winds; and sometimes similar offerings are made to the spirit whom they term "the King of the Sea." In 'like manner the Biajùs perform their offering to the god of evil, launching a small bark,loaded with all the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to fall on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as first to meet with it.'-Dr. Leyden on the Languages and Literature of the Indo-Chinese Nations. The violet sherbets.-The sweet-scented vio let is one of the plants most esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which they make of violet sugar.'-Hasselquist. The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drunk by the Grand Signor himself, is made of violets and sugar.'-Tavernier. lute, in the pathetic measure of Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus continued: THE day is lowering-stilly black Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack, Dispersed and wild, 'twixt earth and sky Hangs like a shatter'd canopy! As proud to be the thunder's dwelling! The mighty womb that gave him birth, And, having swept the firmament, Was now in fierce career for earth. On earth 'twas yet all calm around, A pulseless silence, dread, profound, More awful than the tempest's sound. The diver steer'd for Ormus' bowers, And moor'd his skiff till calmer hours; The sea-birds, with portentous screech, Flew fast to land ;-upon the beach The pilot oft had paused, with glance Turn'd upward to that wild expanse; And all was boding, drear, and dark As her own soul, when Hinda's bark Went slowly from the Persian shoreNo music timed her parting oar,2 Nor friends upon the lessening strand Linger'd, to wave the unseen hand, Or speak the farewell heard no more;But lone, unheeded, from the bay The vessel takes its mournful way, The pathetic measure of Nava.-'Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air in the measure called Nava, which is always used to express the lamentations of absent lovers.'Persian Tales. 2 The Easterns used to set out on their longer Poyages with music.'-Harmer. The Gate of Tears, the straits or passage into the Red Sea, commonly called Babelmandel. It received this name from the old Arabians, on account of the danger of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by which it was distinguished; which induced them to consider as dead, and to wear mourning for, all who had the : Like some ill-destined bark that steers And where was stern Al Hassan then? By which the vulture snuffs his food In the still warm and living breath !4 While o'er the wave his weeping daughter Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, As a young bird of Babylon,5 By the red hands that held her chain'd. And does the long-left home she seeks Light up no gladness on her cheeks? The flowers she nursed-the wellknown groves, Where oft in dreams her spirit rovesOnce more to see her dear gazelles Come bounding with their silver bells; Her birds' new plumage to behold, And the gay, gleaming fishes count, She left, all filleted with gold, Shooting around their jasper fount.6Her little garden mosque to see, And once again, at evening hour, boldness to hazard the passage through it into the Ethiopic ocean.'-Richardson. I have been told, that whensoever an animal falls down dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, instantly appear.'- Pennant. 5They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat, or Babylonian pigeon.-Travels of certain Englishmen. The Empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which were many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, which she caused to be put round them.'-Harris. To tell her ruby rosary1 In her own sweet acacia bower. Can these delights, that wait her now, Call up no sunshine on her brow? No-silent, from her train apart,— As if even now she felt at heart The chill of her approaching doom,— She sits, all lovely in her gloom As a pale angel of the grave; And o'er the wide, tempestuous wave, Looks, with a shudder, to those towers, Where, in a few short awful hours, Blood, blood, in steaming tides shall run, Foul incense for to-morrow's sun! So loved, so lost, where art thou now? Still glorious-still to this fond heart Before its earthly idol fall, Nor worship even Thyself above him.- Her hands were clasp'd-her eyes upturn'd, Dropping their tears like moonlight rain; And, though her lip, fond raver! burn'd With words of passion, bold, profane, Yet was there light around her brow, A holiness in those dark eyes, Which show'd though wandering earthward now,— Her spirit's home was in the skies. Yes-for a spirit, pure as hers, is always pure, even while it errs; Her ruby rosary.-' Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet, composé de 99 petites boules d'agathe, de jaspe, d'ambre, de corail, ou d'autre matière précieuse. J'en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur As sunshine, broken in the rill, With the rude riot of the sky.— That crash, as if each engine there, Mast, sails, and all, were going to wreck, 'Mid yells and stampings of despair! Merciful Heaven! what can it be? 'Tis not the storm, though fearfully The ship has shudder'd as she rode O'er mountain waves.-'Forgive me, God! Forgive me!'-shriek'd the maid and knelt, Trembling all over, for she felt Her handmaids clung, nor breathed, nor stirr❜d When, hark! -a second crash a third- And now, as if a bolt of thunder gore, Flutter'd like bloody flags-the clash Once too-but no-it could not be- 2 Never hath beam'd on those who rest In the White Islands of the West,3 Burns through the storm with looks of flame That put heaven's cloudier eyes to shame! But no -'twas but the minute's dreamA fantasy-and ere the scream Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse Of soul and sense, its darkness spread Around her, and she sunk, as dead! How calm, how beautiful, comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone! The meteors that Pliny calls' faces." 2 The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European climates.'-Brown. 3 Vide Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred isles in the West. A precious stone of the Indies, called by the When warring winds have died away, When, 'stead of one unchanging There blow a thousand gentle airs, And each a different perfume bears, As if the loveliest plants and trees Such was the golden hour, that broke |