That blesses heaven's inhabitants

With fruits of immortality,
Down to the basil tuft *, that waves
Its fragrant blossom over graves,
And to the humble rosemary,
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed
To scent the desert † and the dead:
All in that garden bloom, and all
Are gathered, by young NOURMAHAL,
Who heaps her baskets with the flowers
And leaves, till they can hold no more;
Then to NAMOUNA flies, and showers

Upon her lap the shining store.

-

With what delight the' Enchantress views
So many buds, bath'd with the dews

And beams of that bless'd hour! — her glance

Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures,
As, in a kind of holy trance,

She hung above those fragrant treasures,
Bending to drink their balmy airs,

As if she mix'd her soul with theirs.

* Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally found in churchyards. "The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the week, to pray and weep at the sepulchres of the dead; and the custom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort of herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is our sweet basil." — MAILLET, Lett. 10.

"In the Great Desert are found many stalks of lavender and rosemary." Asiat. Res.

And 't was, indeed, the perfume shed
From flow'rs and scented flame, that fed
Her charmed life- for none had e'er
Beheld her taste of mortal fare,
Nor ever in aught earthly dip,

But the morn's dew, her roseate lip.
Fill'd with the cool, inspiring smell,
The' Enchantress now begins her spell,
Thus singing as she winds and weaves
In mystic form the glittering leaves:

I know where the winged visions dwell
That around the night-bed play;

I know each herb and flow'ret's bell,
Where they hide their wings by day.
Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To morrow the dreams and flowers will fade

The image of love, that nightly flies
To visit the bashful maid,

Steals from the jasmine flower, that sighs
Its soul, like her, in the shade.

The dream of a future, happier hour,

That alights on misery's brow,

Springs out of the silvery almond flower,
That blooms on a leafless bough.*

The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on the bare branches." HASSELQUIST.

Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes
The glitter of mines unfold,
Inhabit the mountain-herb *, that dyes

The tooth of the fawn like gold.

The phantom shapes — oh touch not them -
That appal the murderer's sight,
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem,
That shrieks, when pluck'd at night!
Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

The dream of the injur'd, patient mind,
That smiles at the wrongs of men,

* An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communicate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goats and other animals that graze upon it.

Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the Eastern alchymists look to as a means of making gold. "Most of those alchymical enthusiasts think themselves sure of success, if they could but find out the herb which gilds the teeth and gives a yellow colour to the flesh of the sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be of a golden colour. It is called Haschischat ed dab."

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth of the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver colour; and adds, "this confirms me that which I observed in Candia; to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida eat a certain herb, which renders their teeth of a golden colour; which, according to my judgment, cannot otherwise proceed than from the mines which are under ground."-DANDINI, Voyage to Mount Libanus.

Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind

Of the cinnamon, sweetest then.
Then hasten we, maid,

To twine our braid,

To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade.

No sooner was the flowery crown

Placed on her head, than sleep came down,
Gently as nights of summer fall,
Upon the lids of NOURMAHAL;-
And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze,
As full of small, rich harmonies
As ever wind, that o'er the tents
Of AZAB* blew, was full of scents,

Steals on her ear, and floats and swells,

Like the first air of morning creeping

Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells,

Where Love himself, of old, lay sleeping; †

And now a Spirit form'd, 'twould seem,

Of music and of light,

so fair,

So brilliantly his features beam,

And such a sound is in the air
Of sweetness when he waves his wings,
Hovers around her, and thus sings:-

* The myrrh country.

"This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red Sca."-WILFORD.

From CHINDARA's* warbling fount I come,
Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell;
From CHINDARA's fount, my fairy home,

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell:
Where lutes in the air are heard about,

And voices are singing the whole day long,
And every sigh the heart breathes out
Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song!
Hither I come

From my fairy home,

And if there's a magic in Music's strain,"
I swear by the breath

Of that moonlight wreath,

Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again.

-

For mine is the lay that lightly floats,
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes,
That fall as soft as snow on the sea,
And melt in the heart as instantly:
And the passionate strain that, deeply going,
Refines the bosom it trembles through,
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing,
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too.

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway
The Spirits of past Delight obey;-

Let but the tuneful talisman sound,

And they come, like Genii, hovering round.

* "A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to be constantly playing." RICHARDSON.