And now he yields - now turns away,
Shuddering as if the venom lay

All in those proffer'd lips alone-
Those lips that, then so fearless grown,
Never until that instant came

Near his unask'd or without shame.

"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, 't is 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,

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"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, "Who art my life itself? —No, no — "When the stem dies, the leaf that grew

"Out of its heart must perish too!

"Then turn to me, my own love, turn,

"Before, like thee, I fade and burn;
"Cling to these yet cool lips, and share
"The last
pure life that lingers there!"

She falls she sinks as dies the lamp
In charnal airs, or cavern-damp,

So quickly do his baleful sighs

Quench all the sweet light of her eyes.

One struggle and his pain is past —
Her lover is no longer living!

One kiss the maiden gives, one last,

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 -

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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, *
"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

"In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different harmonies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and consumes himself." RICHARDSON.

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 Heav'n 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! *

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,

*"On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thousand goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predestined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave." From CHATEAUBRIAND's Description of the Mahometan Paradise, in his Beauties of Christianity.

"Than ev❜n this sigh the boon must be

"That opes the Gates of Heav'n for thee."

Now, upon
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.

SYRIA'S land of roses *

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 sun-light falls:
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls †

* Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, a beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that country has been always famous; hence, Suristan the Land of Roses.

"The number of lizards I saw one day in the great court of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings, were covered with them." - BRUCE.

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 *, with hum
Of the wild bees of PALESTINE, †

Banqueting through the flowery vales;
And, JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine,
And woods, so full of nightingales. †

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, §
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,

Flinging their shadows from on high,

*"The Syrinx or Pan's pipe is still a pastoral instrument in Syria."-RUSSEL. + "Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is said (Psalm 1xxxi.), honey out of the stony rock.'"-BURDER's Oriental Customs.

"The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, thick, and pleasant woods, among which thousands of nightingales warble all together."- THEVE

NOT.

§ The Temple of the Sun at Balbec.