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High as the enamellid cupola, which towers
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers :
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through
The sprinkling of that fountain's silv'ry dew,
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye,
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie.

Here too he traces the kind visitings Of woman's love in those fair, living things Of land and wave, whose fate-in bondage thrown For their weak loveliness is like her own ! On one side gleaming with a sudden grace Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase


In which it undulates, small fishes shine,
Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ;-
While, on the other, latticed lightly in
With odoriferous woods of COMORIN, 68
Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ;
Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between
The crimson blossoms of the coral tree
In the warm Isles of India's sunny sea :
Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, 70 and the thrush
Of Hindostan, whose holy warblings gush,
At evening, from the tall pagoda's top ;-
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food 72
Whose scent hath lur’d them o'er the summer flood;
And those that under Araby's soft sun
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon :
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly
Through the pure element, here calmly lie
Sleeping in light, like the green birds 75 that dwell
In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel!



So on, through scenes past all imagining,
More like the luxuries of that impious King, 76
Whom Death's dark angel, with his lightning torch,
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure's porch,
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent,
Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfranchise-

Young Azim wander'd, looking sternly round,
His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound
But ill according with the pomp and grace
And silent lull of that voluptuous place.

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"Is this, then,” thought the youth, “ is this the way
“ To free man's spirit from the dead'ning sway
"Of worldly sloth,--to teach him, while he lives,
“ To know no bliss but that which virtue gives,
“ And, when he dies, to leave his lofty name
“ A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame?
“ It was not so, Land of the generous thought
* And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught ;
“ It was not thus, in bowers of wanton ease,
“ Thy Freedom nurs'd her sacred energies ;
* Oh! not beneath the enfeebling, withering glow
"Of such dull luxury did those myrtles grow,
“ With which she wreath'd her sword, when she would

“ Immortal deeds ; but in the bracing air
“ Of toil, --of temperance,--of that high, rare,
“ Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe
“ Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath.

Who, that surveys this span of earth we press,
“ This speck of life in time's great wilderness,
“ This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless scas,
“The past, the future, two eternities ! -
“Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare,
“When he might build him a proud temple there,
" A name, that long shall hallow all its space,
And be each purer soul's high resting-place?

it cannot be, that one, whom God
“ Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood's rod,-
" A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws

Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its cause

With the world's vulgar pomp ;-no, no,-1 see“ He thinks me weak, this glare of luxury

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6. But no

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“ Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze “ Of my young



'twill stand the blaze !"

So thought the youth ;-but, ev’n while he defied This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Through ev'ry sense. The perfume breathing round, Like a pervading spirit ;—the still sound Of falling waters, lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ; 77 And music, too-dear music! that can touch Beyond all else the soul that loves it muchNow heard far off, so far as but to seem Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; All was too much for him, too full of bliss, The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this; Soften'd he sank upon a couch, and gave His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on wave Succeeding to smooth seas, when storms are laid ; He thought of ZELICA, his own dear maid, And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, They sat and look'd into each other's eyes, Silent and happy--as if God had given Nought else worth looking at on this side heaven.

“Oh, my lov'd mistress, thou, whose spirit still “Is with me, round me, wander where I will— “ It is for thee, for thee alone I seek “ The paths of glory; to light up thy cheek “ With warm approval—in that gentle look “ To read my praise, as in an angel's book,


“And think all toils rewarded, when from thee
“I gain a smile worth immortality !
“ How shall I bear the moment when restor'd
“ To that young heart where I alone am Lord,
“Though of such bliss unworthy,—since the best
“ Alone deserve to be the happiest ;--
“ When from those lips, unbreath'd upon


years, “ I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, “ And find those tears warm as when last they started, “ Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted ? “O my own life !-why should a single day, “A moment, keep me from those arms away? ”

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While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,
Each note of which but adds new, downy links
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and far away
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play
Of countless lamps,-like the rich track which Day
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us,
So long the path, its light so tremulous ;-
He sees a group of female forms advance,
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers ; 78
And some disporting round, unlink'd and free,
Who seem'd to mock their sisters' slavery ;
And round and round them still, in wheeling flight,
Went, like gay moths about a lamp at night ;
While others walk'd, as gracefully along
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song,

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