That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gather'd, while freshly they shone, An essence that breathes of it many a year; "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; Scarce had this feeling pass'd, when, sparkling through The gently open'd. curtains of light blue That veil'd the breezy casement, countless eyes, Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair Around the white necks of the nymphs who danc'd Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore; * While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall Of curls descending, bells as musical As those that, on the golden-shafted trees Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze, † * "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 with which it abounds." Journey of the Russian Ambassador to Persia, 1746. + "To which will be added, the sound of the bells hanging on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the blessed wish for music."-Sale. Rung round their steps, at every bound more sweet, A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh Is burning now through earth and air; Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh, Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there! His breath is the soul of flowers like these, Is making the stream around them tremble! Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. By the fair and brave, Who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave, When they meet at night! * The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere and in Persia. By the tear that shows When passion is nigh, As the rain-drop flows From the heat of the sky! By the first love-beat Of the youthful heart, By the bliss to meet, And the pain to part! By all that thou hast To mortals given, This earth were heaven! We call thee hither, entrancing Power! Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet as this. Impatient of a scene whose luxuries stole, Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, And where, 'midst all that the young heart loves most, Could call up into life of soft and fair, Of fond and passionate, was glowing there; With rapid step, yet pleas'd and lingering eye, * For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the Queen of Sheba or Saba, vide D'Herbelot and the Notes on the Koran, chap. ii. + The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. Her adventure with the patriarch Joseph is the subject of many of their poems and romances. ‡ The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the Coptic girl, in justification of which he added a new chapter to the Koran, may be found in Gagnier's Notes upon Abulfeda, p. 151. |