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Like dials, which the wizard, Time,
Had raised to count his ages by!
Yet haply there may lie conceald
Beneath those chambers of the sun,
With the great name of Solomon,
May teach her where, beneath the moon,
Cheer'd by this hope, she bends her thither:
Still laughs the radiant eye of heaven,
Nor have the golden bowers of even
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
As rosy and as wild as they ;
From his hot steed, and on the brink
Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd
To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that, Sullenly fierce, - a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire; In which the Peri's eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed, The ruin'd maid, the shrine profaned, Oaths broken, and the threshold stain'd With blood of guests ! — there written, all, Black as the damning drops that fall From the denouncing Angel's pen, Ere Mercy weeps them out again ! Yet tranquil now that man of crime (As if the balmy evening time Soften’d his spirit) look'd and lay, Watching the rosy infant's play ; Though still, whene’er his eye by chance Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, As torches that have burnt all night Through some impure and godless rite,
Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
From Syria's thousand minarets !
Of flowers, where he had laid his
guiled E'en haughty Eblis of a sigh For glories lost and peace gone by!
Nor brought him back one branch of grace ?
And hope and feeling, which had slept
Fresh o'er him, and he wept - he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence !
In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.
“There's a drop,” said the Peri, “ that down from
The precious tears of repentance fall ?
One heavenly drop hath dispell’d them all!”
And now — behold him kneeling there
'Twas when the golden orb had set,
"Joy, joy for ever ! my task is done, — The Gates are pass’d, and heaven is won ! Oh! am I not happy?
I am To thee, sweet Eden ! how dark and sad Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,
And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad ! Farewell, ye odours of earth, that die, Passing away like a lover's sigh! My feast is now of the tooba-tree, Whose scent is the breath of eternity!