« ForrigeFortsæt »
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile ;-
With rapid step, yet pleas'd and ling’ring eye, Did the youth pass these pictur'd stories by, And hastend to a casement, where the light Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright The fields without were seen, sleeping as still As if no life remain’d in breeze or rill. 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 may'st ; '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, 93 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—when, with heart too full to speak,
A strange emotion stirs within him,-more
“ Look up, my ZELICA—one moment show “ Those gentle eyes to me, that I
“ Hath brought thee here, oh, 'twas a blessed one !
There—my lov'd lips--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 fond lips
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, 95. All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold