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What should I be without thee? without thee,
How dull were power, how joyless victory!
Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine
Bless'd not my banner, 'twere but half divine.
But why so mournful, child?-those eyes, that shone
All life, last night-what! is their glory gone?
Come, come-this morn's fatigue hath made them pale,
They want rekindling-suns themselves would fail,
Did not their comets bring, as I to thee,
From Light's own fount supplies of brilliancy!
Thou seest this cup,--no juice of earth is here,
But the pure waters of that upper sphere,
Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow,
Catching the gem's bright colour as they go.
Nightly my Genii come, and fill these urns :
Nay, drink-in every drop life's essence burns;
"Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all light,-
Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night :
There is a youth-why start?-thou saw'st him, then ;
Look'd he not nobly? Such the god-like men
Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers above ;-
Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love,
Too ruled by that cold enemy of bliss
The world calls virtue-we must conquer
Nay, shrink not, pretty sage; 'tis not for thee
To scan the mazes of heaven's mystery.
The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield
Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield.
This very night I mean to try the art
Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart.
All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit,
Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite,


Shall tempt the boy ;-young MIRZALA'S blue eyes,
Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies;
AROUYA's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun,
And lips that, like the seal of Solomon,
Have magic in their presence; ZEBA's lute,
And LILLA's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot,
Rapid and white, as sea-birds o'er the deep,—
All shall combine their witching powers to steep
My convert's spirit in that softening trance,
From which to heaven is but the next advance-
That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast,
On which Religion stamps her image best.

But hear me, Priestess !-though each nymph of these
Hath some peculiar, practis'd power to please,
Some glance or step, which, at the mirror tried,
First charms herself, then all the world beside;
There still wants one to make the victory sure,
One, who in every look joins every lure;
Through whom all beauty's beams concentred pass,
Dazzling and warm, as through Love's burning-glass;
Whose gentle lips persuade without a word,—
Whose words, even when unmeaning, are ador'd,
Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine,
Which our faith takes for granted are divine!
Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and light,
To crown the rich temptations of to-night;
Such the refin'd enchantress, that must be
This hero's vanquisher, and thou art she!"

With her hands clasp'd, her lips apart and pale, The Maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil

From which these words, like south-winds through a fence Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with pestilence: *

So boldly utter'd, too!-as if all dread

Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were fled,
And the wretch felt assur'd that, once plung'd in,
Her woman's soul would know no pause in sin!

At first, though mute she listen'd, like a dream Seem'd all he said; nor could her mind, whose beam As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme.

But when, at length, he utter'd "Thou art she!"

All flash'd at once, and, shrieking piteously,

"Oh, not for worlds!" she cried,—“Great God! to whom

I once knelt innocent, is this my doom?

Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss,

My purity, my pride, then come to this,—

To live, the wanton of a fiend!—to be

The pander of his guilt-O infamy !—
And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep
In its hot flood, drag others down as deep!
Others?-ha! yes-that youth who came to-day--
Not him I lov'd-not him-oh! do but say,

But swear to me this moment 'tis not he,

And I will serve, dark fiend-will worship even thee!"

"Beware, young raving thing!-in time beware, Nor utter what I cannot, must not bear,

Even from thy lips. Go-try thy lute, thy voice,—
The boy must feel their magic; I rejoice

"It is commonly said in Persia, that if a man breathe in the hot south wind, which in June or July passes over that flower (the Kerzereh), it will kill him."Thevenot.

To see those fires, no matter whence they rise,
Once more illuming my fair Priestess' eyes;

And should the youth, whom soon those eyes shall warm,
Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form,

So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom,

As one warm lover, full of life and bloom,

Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb.

Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet!—those eyes were made For love, not anger;-I must be obey'd.'

"Obey'd!—'tis well-yes, I deserve it all—
On me, on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall
Too heavily-but AZIM, brave and true
And beautiful-must he be ruin'd too?
Must he, too, glorious as he is, be driven

A renegade, like me, from love and heaven?

Like me?-weak wretch! I wrong him—not like me;
No-he's all truth and strength and purity!

Fill up your madd'ning hell-cup to the brim,
Its witchery, fiends, will have no charm for him;
Let loose your glowing wantons from their bowers,
He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers!
Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign
Pure as when first we met, without a stain!
Though ruin'd-lost,-my memory, like a charm
Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from harm.
Oh! never let him know how deep the brow
He kiss'd at parting is dishonour'd now,-
Ne'er tell him how debas'd, how sunk is she,
Whom once he lov'd-once !-still loves dotingly!

Thou laugh'st, tormentor,—what! thou❜lt brand my name?
Do, do-in vain-he'll not believe my shame;

He thinks me true-that nought beneath God's sky
Could tempt or change me, and—so once thought I.
But this is past,-though worse than death my lot--
Than hell-'tis nothing, while he knows it not.
Far off to some benighted land I'll fly,

Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die;

Where none will ask the lost one whence she came,
But I may fade and fall without a name !

And thou-curst man or fiend, whate'er thou art,
Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my heart,
And spread'st it-oh, so quick!—thro' soul and frame,
With more than demon's art, till I became

A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame! -

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"Hold, fearless maniac! hold,
Nor tempt my rage,-by Heaven not half so bold
The puny bird that dares, with teazing hum,
Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come! *
And so thou'lt fly, forsooth?-what! give up all
Thy chaste dominion in the Haram hall,
Where now to Love and now to Alla given,

Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as even
As doth Medina's tomb 'twixt hell and heaven!
Thou'lt fly?—as easily may reptiles run,
The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon;
As easily, when caught, the prey may be
Pluck'd from his loving folds, as thou from me.

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus or humming-bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of the crocodile, is firmly believed at Java.”—Barrow's Cochin-china.

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