And answer'd by a ziraleet

From neighbouring Haram, wild and sweet;

The merry laughter, echoing

From gardens, where the silken swing *
Wafts some delighted girl above
The top leaves of the orange-grove;
Or from those infant groups at play
Among the tents † that line the way,
Flinging, unaw'd by slave or mother,
Handfuls of roses at each other.

Then, the sounds from the Lake, the low whispering in boats.

As they shoot through the moonlight; - the dipping of

oars,

And the wild, airy warbling that every where floats,

Through the groves, round the islands, as if all the shores,

Like those of KATHAY, utter'd music, and gave
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave. †

* "The swing is a favourite pastime in the East, as promoting a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those sultry climates." —) RICHARDSON.

"The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime is accompanied with music of voices and of instruments, hired by the masters of the swings." — THEVENOT.

"At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of men, women, boys, and girls, with music, dances." &c. &c.-HERBERT.

"An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the ancients having remarked that a current of water made some of the stones near its banks send forth a sound, they detached some of them, and being charmed with the delightful sound they emitted, constructed King or musical instruments of them."— GROSIER.

But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full of feeling,
That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching power
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour.
Oh! best of delights as it every where is
To be near the loved One,

what a rapture is his

Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may glide O'er the Lake of CASHMERE, with that One by his side! If woman can make the worst wilderness dear,

Think, think what a Heav'n she must make of CASHMERE!

So felt the magnificent Son of ACBAR, *

When from power and pomp and the trophies of war
He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all

With the Light of the HARAM, his young NOURMAHAL.
When free and uncrown'd as the Conqueror rov'd
By the banks of that Lake, with his only belov'd,
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully snatch
From the hedges, a glory his crown could not match,
And preferr'd in his heart the least ringlet that curl'd
Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the world.

There's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright,
Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day's light,
Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender,
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour.

This miraculous quality has been attributed also to the shore of Attica. "Hujus littus, ait Capella, concentum musicum illisis terræ undis reddere, quod prop. ter tantam eruditionis vim puto dictum."- LUDOV. VIVES in Augustin de Civitat. Dei, lib. xviii. c. 8.

* Jehanguire was the son of the Great Acbar.

This was not the beauty-oh, nothing like this,
That to young NOURMAHAL gave such magic of bliss!
But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays
Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days,
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies
From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes;
Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams,
Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heav'n in his dreams.
When pensive it seem'd as if that very grace,

That charm of all others, was born with her face!
And when
angry, for ev'n in the tranquillest climes
Light breezes will ruffle the blossoms sometimes
The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest when shaken.
If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye,

From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings
From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings.
Then her mirth -oh! 't was sportive as ever took wing
From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in spring;
Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate sages,

Yet playful as Peris just loos'd from their cages. *
While her laugh, full of life, without any control
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul;
And where it most sparkled no glance could discover,
In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten'd all over,-

* In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the former took the latter prisoners, "they shut them up in iron cages, and hung them on the highest trees. Here they were visited by their companions, who brought them the choicest odours"-RICHARDSON.

Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon,
When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun.
Such, such were the peerless enchantments that gave
NOURMAHAL the proud Lord of the East for her slave:
And though bright was his Haram, a living parterre
Of the flow'rs* of this planet-though treasures were there,
For which SOLIMAN's self might have giv'n all the store
That the navy from OPHIR e'er wing'd to his shore,
Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all,
And the Light of his Haram was young NOURMAHAL!

But where is she now, this night of joy,
When bliss is every heart's employ?
When all around her is so bright,

So like a vision of a trance,

That one might think, who came by chance
Into the vale this happy night,

He saw that City of Delight f

In Fairy-land, whose streets and towers
Are made of gems and light and flowers!
Where is the lov'd Sultana? where,

When mirth brings out the young and fair,
Does she, the fairest, hide her brow,
In melancholy stillness now?

Alas!-how light a cause may move

Dissension between hearts that love!

* In the Malay language the same word signifies women and flowers.

† The capital of Shadukiam. See note, p. 133.

Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied;

That stood the storm, when waves were rough,
Yet in a sunny hour fall off,

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquility!
A something, light as air a look,
A word unkind or wrongly taken
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds, or like the stream,

That smiling left the mountain's brow

As though its waters ne'er could sever,
Yet, ere it reach the plain below,
Breaks into floods, that part for ever.

Oh, you, that have the charge of Love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,

As in the Fields of Bliss above

He sits, with flow'rets fetter'd round;

*See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Ceremonies Religieuses.