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From the depth of whose shadow, like holy revealings From innermost shrines, came the light of her feelings! Then her mirth — oh! 'twas sportive as ever took

wing From the heart with a burst, like the wild bird in

spring ; Illumed by a wit that would fascinate sages, Yet playful as Peris just loosed 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, – 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 flowers of this planet, though treasures were

there, For which Soliman's self might have given 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 the visions of a trance,
That one might think, who came by chance

Into the Vale this happy night,


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

O you that have the charge of Love,

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the fields of Bliss above

He sits, with flowerets fetter'd round: Loose not a tie that round him clings, Nor ever let him use his wings;

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The fondest hearts may soon be riven;
Some shadow in love's summer heaven,
Which, though a fleecy speck at first,
May yet in awful thunder burst;
Such cloud it is, that hangs over
The heart of the imperial lover,
And far hath banish'd from his sight
His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light !
Hence is it, on this happy night,
When Pleasure through the fields and groves
Has let loose all her world of loves,
And every heart has found its own,
He wanders joyless and alone,
And weary as that bird of Thrace,
Whose pinion knows no resting-place.
In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes
This Eden of the earth supplies

Come crowding round, — the cheeks are pale,
The eyes are dim ; though rich the spot
With every flower this earth has got,

What is it to the nightingale,
If there his darling rose is not ?
In vain the Valley's smiling throng
Worship him, as he moves along ;
He heeds them not, one smile of hers
Is worth a world of worshippers.
They but the star's adorers are,
She is the heaven that lights the star !

Hence is it too that Nourmahal,

Amid the luxuries of this hour,

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