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Here paus'd he, while the music, now less near,
Breath'd with a holier language on his ear,

As though the distance, and that heavenly ray
Through which the sounds came floating, took away
All that had been too earthly in the lay.

Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov'd,

And by that light-nor dream of her he lov'd?

Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou mayst;

'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart,

Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart.

Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them last,
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast;
Recall her tears, to thee at parting given,

Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in heaven!
Think in her own still bower she waits thee now,
With the same glow of heart and bloom of brow,
Yet shrin'd in solitude-thine all, thine only,
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely!
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy'd,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy'd!

The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are flown, And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ;

Alone?-no, not alone-that heavy sigh,

That sob of grief, which broke from some one nigh―—
Whose could it be?-alas! is misery found
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground?
He turns, and sees a female form, close veil'd,
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had fail'd,
Against a pillar near;-not glittering o'er

With gems and wreaths, such as the others wore,

But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress,*
Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness
Of friends or kindred dead or far away,-
And such as ZELICA had on that day

He left her,
He took away

when, with heart too full to speak, her last warm tears upon his cheek.

A strange emotion stirs within him--more
Than mere compassion ever wak'd before;
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she
Springs forward, as with life's last energy,
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound,
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the ground;
Her veil falls off-her faint hands clasp his knees—
"Tis she herself!-'tis ZELICA he sees!

But, ah! so pale, so chang'd-none but a lover
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover
The once ador'd divinity!—even he
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd,
Ere he could think she was indeed his own,
Own darling maid, whom he so long had known
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both;
Who, ev'n when grief was heaviest when loth
He left her for the wars-in that worst hour
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower, †
When darkness brings its weeping glories out,
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about!

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The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spead its rich odour after sunset.

"Look up, my
ZELICA- -one moment show
Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know
Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone,

But there, at least, shines as it ever shone.
Come, look upon thy AzIM-one dear glance,
Like those of old, were heaven!-whatever chance
Hath brought thee here, oh! 'twas a blessed one!
There my sweet lids-they move-that kiss hath run
Like the first shoot of life through every vein,

And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again!

Oh, the delight!-now, in this very hour,

When, had the whole rich world been in my power,
I should have singled out thee, only thee,
From the whole world's collected treasury-
To have thee here to hang thus fondly o'er
My own best, purest ZELICA once more!"

It was indeed the touch of those lov'd lips
Upon her eyes that chas'd their short eclipse,
And, gradual as the snow, at heaven's breath,
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath,
Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were seen
Gazing on his,-not, as they late had been,
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene;
As if to lie, ev'n for that tranced minute,
So near his heart, had consolation in it;
And thus to wake in his belov'd caress
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness.
But, when she heard him call her good and pure,
Oh, 'twas too much-too dreadful to endure!
Shuddering she broke away from his embrace,
And, hiding with both hands her guilty face,

Said, in a tone whose anguish would have riven

A heart of very marble, "Pure!-O Heaven!"

That tone those looks so chang'd-the withering blight,
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light-
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes,
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise,
He would have seen himself, too happy boy!
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy ;-
And then the place, that bright unholy place,
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves
Its wily covering of sweet balsam-leaves ;*.
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold
As death itself;-it needs not to be told-
No, no he sees it all, plain as the brand

Of burning shame can mark-whate'er the hand,
That could from heaven and him such brightness sever,
'Tis done to heaven and him she's lost for ever!

It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,
The lingering, lasting misery of years,

Could match that minute's anguish-all the worst.

Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst

Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of fate,
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate!

“Oh! curse me not!" she cried, as wild he toss'd His desperate hand tow'rds heaven-" though I am lost,



Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were frequent among the balsam-trees,

I made very particular inquiry; several were brought me alive, both to Yambo and Jidda."--Bruce,"


Think not that guilt, that falsehood made me fall,
No, no 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all!

Nay, doubt me not-though all thy love hath ceas'd

I know it hath-yet, yet believe, at least,

That every spark of reason's light must be

Quench'd in this brain, ere I could stray from thee!

They told me thou wert dead-why, Azim, why

Did we not, both of us, that instant die,

When we were parted?-oh! couldst thou but know With what a deep devotedness of woe

I wept thy absence-o'er and o'er again

Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain,

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