Like their good angel, calmly keeping
Watch o'er them till their souls would waken.
But morn is blushing in the sky;
Again the PERI soars above,
Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh
Of pure self-sacrificing love.
High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate,
The' Elysian palm she soon shall win,
For the bright Spirit at the gate Smil'd as she gave that offering in ; And she already hears the trees
Of Eden, with their crystal bells Ringing in that ambrosial breeze
That from the throne of ALLA swells ; And she can see the starry bowls
That lie around that lucid lake,
Upon whose banks admitted Souls
Their first sweet draught of glory take ! 184
But, ah! even PERIS' hopes are vain— Again the Fates forbade, again
The' immortal barrier clos'd-" Not yet," The Angel said as, with regret,
He shut from her that glimpse of glory- "True was the maiden, and her story, "Written in light o'er ALLA's head, "By seraph eyes shall long be read.
"But, PERI, see-the crystal bar "Of Eden moves not-holier far
"Than even this sigh the boon must be
That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee."
Now, upon SYRIA's land of roses Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
To one, who look'd from upper air O'er all the' enchanted regions there, How beauteous must have been the glow, The life, the sparkling from below! Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks Of golden melons on their banks, More golden where the sunlight falls; Gay lizards, glittering on the walls 186 Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright As they were all alive with light; And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, With their rich restless wings, that gleam Variously in the crimson beam
Of the warm West,—as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span The' unclouded skies of PERISTAN. And then the mingling sounds that come Of shepherd's ancient reed,187 with hum Of the wild bees of PALESTINE, 188
Banqueting through the flow'ry vales; And, JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine, And woods, so full of nightingales. 189
But nought can charm the luckless PERI; Her soul is sad-her wings are weary— Joyless she sees the Sun look down On that great Temple, once his own,190 Whose lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials, which the wizard, Time, Had rais'd to count his ages by!
Yet haply there may lie conceal'd Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, Some amulet of gems anneal'd In upper fires, some tablet seal'd With the great name of SOLOMON, Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes, May teach her where, beneath the moon, In earth or ocean, lies the boon, The charm, that can restore so soon An erring Spirit to the skies.
Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither ;- Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, Nor have the golden bowers of Even In the rich West begun to wither ;- When, o'er the vale of BALBEC winging Slowly, she sees a child at play, Among the rosy wild flowers singing, As rosy and as wild as they ; Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, The beautiful blue damsel flies, 191 That flutter'd round the jasmine stems, Like winged flowers or flying gems :- And, near the boy, who tir'd with play Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount
From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount 192
Impatient fling him down to drink.
Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that,— Sullenly fierce a mixture dire,
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire;
« ForrigeFortsæt » |