Those groups of lovely date-trees bending Bathing their beauties in the lake, That they may rise more fresh and bright, Amid whose fairy loneliness Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, And glittering like an Idol bird!— Who could have thought, that there, even there, Amid those scenes so still and fair, The Demon of the Plague hath cast Which, full of bloom and freshness then, Is rankling in the pest-house now, And, oh! to see the' unburied heaps On which the lonely moonlight sleeps- And sicken at so foul a prey! "Poor race of men !" said the pitying Spirit, Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall "Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, "But the trail of the Serpent is over them all!" She wept the air grew pure and clear Around her, as the bright drops ran; For there's a magic in each tear Such kindly Spirits weep for man! Just then beneath some orange trees, Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze Were wantoning together, free, Like age at play with infancy— Beneath that fresh and springing bower, Of one who, at this silent hour, Had thither stolen to die alone. One who in life, where'er he mov'd, Drew after him the hearts of many; Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov'd, Dies here unseen, unwept by any ! None to watch near him-none to slake The fire that in his bosom lies, With even a sprinkle from that lake, Is still like distant music heard ;— Deserted youth! one thought alone Shed joy around his soul in death— That she, whom he for years had known, And lov'd, and might have call'd his own, Was safe from this foul midnight's breath, Safe in her father's princely halls, Where the cool airs from fountain falls, But see who yonder comes by stealth, 182 She, who would rather die with him, Than live to gain the world beside !— Her arms are round her lover now, His livid cheek to hers she presses, And dips, to bind his burning brow, In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. Ah! once, how little did he think An hour would come, when he should shrink With horror from that dear embrace, Those gentle arms, that were to him Of Eden's infant cherubim ! "Oh! let me only breathe the air, "That blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, "And, whether on its wings it bear "Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me! "There-drink my tears, while yet they fall"Would that my bosom's blood were balm, "And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, "To give thy brow one minute's calm. "Nay, turn not from me that dear face "Am I not thine-thy own lov'd bride"The one, the chosen one, whose place "In life or death is by thy side? "Think'st thou that she, whose only light, "In this dim world, from thee hath shone, "Could bear the long, the cheerless night, "That must be hers when thou art gone? "That I can live, and let thee go, R "When the stem dies, the leaf that grew Long kiss, which she expires in giving! "Sleep," said the PERI, as softly she stole The farewell sigh of that vanishing soul, As true as e'er warm'd a woman's breast"Sleep on, in visions of odour rest, "In balmier airs than ever yet stirr'd "The' enchanted pile of that lonely bird, "Who sings at the last his own death-lay, 183 "And in music and perfume dies away!" Thus saying, from her lips she spread Unearthly breathings through the place, And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed Such lustre o'er each paly face, That like two lovely saints they seem'd, Upon the eve of doomsday taken From their dim graves, in odour sleeping; While that benevolent PERI beam'd |