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Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their swords, That youth to-day,-a proselyte, worth hordes
On points of faith, more eloquent than words; Of cooler spirits and less practis'd swords,
And such their zeal, there's not a youth with brand Is come to join, all bravery and belief,
Uplifted there, but, at the Chief's command, The creed and standard of the heav'n-sent Chief.
Would make his own devoted heart its sheath,

Though few his years, the West already knows And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death!

Young Azim's fame ;-beyond th' Olympian snows, In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night,'

Ere manhood darken'd o'er his downy cheek, Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white;

O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the Greek,' Their weapons various ;-some, equipp'd for speed, He linger'd there, till peace dissolv'd his chains ; With javelins of the light Kathaian reed;

Oh! who could, ev'n in bondage, tread the plains Or bows of Buffalo horn, and shining quivers

Of glorious GREECE, nor feel his spirit rise Filld with the stems that bloom on Iran's rivers ;

Kindling within him ? who, with heart and eyes, While some, for war's more terrible attacks,

Could walk where liberty had been, nor see Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle-axe;

The shining foot-prints of her Deity, And, as they wave aloft in morning's beam

Nor feel those god-like breathings in the air, The milk-white plumage of their helms, they seem

Which mutely told her spirit had been there : Like a chenar-tree grove, when Winter throws

Not he, that youthful warrior,-no, too well O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. For his soul's quiet work'd th' awakening spell;

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold And now, returning to his own dear land, The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, Full of those dreams of good, that, vainly grand, Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise,

Haunt the young heart;—proud views of huna-kind, Where, through the silken net-work, glancing eyes, Of men to Gods exalted and refin'd ;From time to time, like sudden gleams that glow False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp below. Where earth and heav'n but seem, alas, to meet What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, would dare Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais'd To hint that aught but Heav'n bath plac'd you there? To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd Or that the loves of this light world could bind On the white flag MOKANNA's host unfurl'd, In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring mind? Those words of sunshine, “Freedom to the World," No-wrongful thought !-commission'd from above At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey'd To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, Th' inspiring summons; every chosen blade, (Creatures so bright, that the same lips and eyes That fought beneath that banner's sacred text, They wear on earth will serve in Paradise)

Seem'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the next; There to recline among Heav'n's native maids, And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage bind And crown th' Elect with bliss that never fades ! Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind, Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done; In virtue's cause ;-never was soul inspir'd And every beauteous race beneath the sun,

With livelier trust in what it most desir'd, From those who kneel at Brahma's burning founts,» | Than his, th' enthusiast there, who, kneeling, pale To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er YEMEN's mounts; With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, From PERSIA's eyes of full and fawn-like ray, Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, To the small, half-shut glances of KATHAY;* Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free And GEORGIA's bloom and Azab's darker smiles, This fetter'd world from every bond and stain, And the gold ringlets of the Westem Isles; And bring its primal glories back again! All, all are there ;-each land its flower hath given,

Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven!

Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd, But why this pageant now? this arm'd array?

With shouts of “ALLA!" echoing long and loud; What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day

While high in air, above the Prophet's head, With turban'd heads, of every hue and race, Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, Bowing before that veil'd and awful face,

Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that fan
Like tulip-beds, of different shape and dyes,

The flying throne of star-taught SOLIMAN!
Bending beneath th' invisible West-wind's sighs !

Then thus he spoke :-“Stranger, though now the
What new-made mystery now, for Faith to sign,

frame
And blood to seal, as genuine and divine,

Thy soul inhabits now, I've track'd its flame
What dazzling mimicry of God's own power

For many an age, in every chance and change
Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this hour ?

Of that existence, through whose varied range, Not such the pageant now, though not less proud. As through a torch-race, where, from hand to hand Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd,

The flying youths transmit their shining brand,
With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape,

From frame to frame the unextinguish'd soul
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape,

Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal!
So fiercely beautiful in form and eye,
Like war's wild planet in a summer's sky;

“Nor think 'tis only the gross Spirits, warm'd

With duskier tire and for earth's medium formid, 1 Black was the colour adopted by the Caliphs of the House of Abbas, in their garments, tuibans, and standards. 2 Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians.

1 In the war of the Caliph Mohadi against the Empross 3 The burning fountains of Brahma near Chitlogong, Irene : for an account of which, see Gibbon, vol. x. steemed as holy. Turner.

3 The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. * China.

see D' Herbelot.

That run this course ;-Beings, the most divine, One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day
Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. Has been like death ;-you saw her pale dismay,
Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt,

Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst
To which all Heav'n, except the Proud One, knelt ;' Of exclamation from her lips, when first
Such the refin'd Intelligence that glow'd

She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known In Moussa's frame ;-and, thence descending, flow'd Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne. Through many a prophet's breast ;-in Issa? shone,

Ah ZELICA! there was a time, when bliss And in MOHAMMED burn'd; till, hastening on,

Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; (As a bright river that, from fall to fall

When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air In many a maze descending, bright through all,

In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest prayer' Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth past,

When round him hung such a perpetual spell, In one full lake of light it rests at last!)

Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free

Too happy days ! when, if he touch'd a flower From lapse or shadow, centres all in me!”

Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour; Again, throughout th' assembly at these words, When thou didst study him, till every tone Thousands of voices rung; the warrior's swords And gesture and dear look became thy own,Were pointed up to heav'n; a sudden wind Thy voice like his, the changes of his face In th' open banners play'd, and from behind In thine reflected with still lovelier grace, Those Persian hangings, that but ill could screen Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught The Haram's loveliness, white hands were seen With twice th' ærial sweetness it had brought! Waving embroider'd scarves, whose motion gave Yet now he comes—brighter than even he A perfume forth ;-like those the Houris wave E'er beam'd before,--but ah! not bright for thee; When beckoning to their bowers the' Immortal Brave. No—dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant

“But these,” pursued the Chief,“ are truths sublime, From th' other world, he comes as if to haunt That claim a holier mood and calmer time

Thy guilty soul with dreams of lost delight, Than earth allows us now ;--this sword must first

Long lost to all but memory's aching sight :The darkling prison-house of mankind burst,

Sad dreams! as when the Spirit of our Youth Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in

Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth Her wakening day-light on a world of sin!

And innocence once ours, and leads us back, But then, celestial warriors, then, when all

In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner fall;

Of our young life, and points out every ray When the glad slave shall at these feet lay down

Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way! His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown,

Once happy pair !—in proud BOKHARA's groves, The priest his book, the conqueror his wreath, Who had not heard of their first youthful loves ? And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath Born by that ancient flood,' which from its spring Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze In the Dark Mountains swiftly wandering, That whole dark pile of human mockeries ;- Enrich'd by every pilgrim brook that shines Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth, With relics from BUCHARIA's ruby mines, And starting fresh, as from a second birth,

And, lending to the Caspian half its strength, Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring, In the cold Lake of Eagles sinks at length ;Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ! There, on the banks of that bright river born, Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow The flowers, that hung above its wave at morn, Shall cast the Veil that hides its splendours now, Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by, And gladden'd Earth shall, through her wide expanse, With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh Bask in the glories of this countenance !

And virgin glance of first affection cast For thee, young warrior, welcome!-thou hast yet Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'a ! Some task to learn, some frailties to forget, But war disturb'd this vision--far away Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can wave;- From her fond eyes, summon'd to join th' array But, once my own, mine all till in the grave !" OF PERSIA's warriors on the hills of TORACE, The pomp is at an end,—the crowds are gone- The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelling-place Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone For the rude tent and war-field's deathful clash; Of that deep voice, which thrill'd like Alla's own! His ZELICA's sweet glances for the flash The young all dazzled by the plumes and lances, Of Grecian wild-fire,-and love's gentle chains The glittering throne,and Haram's half-caught glances; For bleeding bondage on BYZANTIUM's plains. The old deep pondering on the promis'd reign

Month after month, in widowhood of soul
Of peace and truth; and all the female train

Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze!

Their suns away-but, ah! how cold and dim

E'en summer suns, when not bebeld with him! But there was one among the chosen maids From time to time ill-omen'd rumours came, Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken shades,- (Like spirit tongues, muttering the sick man's name,

1 "And when we said unto the Angels, Worship Adam, 1 The Amoo, which rises in the Belar Tag, or Dark they all worshipped him except Eblis, (I ucifer,) who re- Mountains, and running nearly from east to weat, splits into fused." The Koran, chap. ii.

two branches, one of which falls into the Caspian sea, and 2 Jesus.

the other into Aral Nabr, or the Lake of Eaglos.

Just ere he dies,)—at length those sounds of dread Her soul's delirium, in whose active frame,
Fell withering on her soul, “Azim is dead!" Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant flame,
Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate

He saw more potent sorceries to bind
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind,
In the wide world, without that only tie

More subtle chains than hell itself e'er twin'd. For which it lor'd to live or fear'd to die ;

No art was spar’d, no witchery ;-all the skill Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken His demons taught him was employ'd to fill Since the sad day its master-chord was broken! Her mind with gloom and extacy by turns

Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer burns ; Ev'n reason blighted sunk beneath its touch; That extacy, which from the depth of sadness And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose

Glares like the maniac's moon,whose light is madness! Above the first dead pressure of its woes,

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the sound Though health and bloom return'd, the delicate chain of poesy and music breath'd around, Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again.

Together picturing to her mind and ear Warın, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day,

The glories of that heav'n, her destin'd sphere, The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray ;

Where all was pure, where every stain that lay A wandering bark, upon whose pathway shone

Upon the spirit's light should pass away, All stars of hear'n, except the guiding one!

And, realizing more than youthful love Again she smil'd, nay, much and brightly smil'd,

E'er wish'd or dream'd, she should for ever rove But 'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ;

Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side, And when she sung to her lute's touching strain,

His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride ! "Twas like the notes, half extacy, half pain, 'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this, The bulbul' utters, e'er her soul depart,

He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss, When, vanquish'd by some minstrel's powerful art,

To the dim charnel-house ;-through all its steams She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke her of damp and death, led only by those gleams heart!

Which foul Corruption lights, as with design Such was the mood in which that mission found

To show the gay and proud she too can shine!Young ZELICA,--that mission, which around

And, passing on through upright ranks of dead, The Eastern world, in every region blest

Which to the maiden, doubly craz'd by dread, With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest, Seem'd,through the bluish death-light round them casi, 'To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes,

To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd Which the Veild Prophet destin'd for the skies

There, in that awful place, when each had quaff'd And such quick welcome as a spark receives

And pledg'd in silence such a fearful draught, Dropp'd on a bed of autumn's wither'd leaves, Such-oh! the look and taste of that red bowl Did every tale of these enthusiasts find

Will haunt her till she dies—he bound her soul
In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. By a dark oath, in hell's own language fram'd,
All fire at once the madd’ning zeal she caught ;- Never, while earth his mystic presence claim'd,
Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought; While the blue arch of day hung o'er them both,
Predestin'd bride, in heaven's eternal dome,

Never, by that all-imprecating oath,
Of some brave youth-ha! durst they say “ of some ?" In joy or sorrow from his side to sever.-
No of the one, one only object trac'd

She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, “Neve:
In her heart's core too deep to be effac'd;
The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd

From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given
With ev'ry broken link of her lost mind;
Whose image lives, though Reason's self be wreck’d, Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam’d,

To him and—she believ'd, lost maid !-to Heaven; Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect!

How proud she stood, when in full Haram nam'd Alas, poor ZELICA! it needed all

The Priestess of the Faith how flash'd her eyes The fantasy, which held thy mind in thrall,

With light, alas ! that was not of the skies, To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids

When round, in trances only less than hers, A sainted colony for Eden's shades;

She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate worshippers . Or dream that he,-of whose unholy flame

Well might MOKANNA think that form alone, Thou wert too soon the victim,-shining came

Had spells enough to make the world his own :From Paradise, to people its pure sphere

Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd here!

Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, No had not Reason's light totally set,

When from its stem the small bird wings away! And left thee dark, thou had'st an amulet

Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil'd,
In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart,
Which would have sav'd thee from the tempter's art, As are the momentary meteors sent

The soul was lost; and blushes, swift and wild And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath,

Across th' uncalm, but beauteous firmament. That purity, whose fading is love's death!

And then her look-oh! where's the heart so wise, But lost, inflam'd,-a restless zeal took place

Could unbewilder'd meet those matchless eyes ? Of the mild virgin's still and feminine grace ;

Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal, First of the Prophet's favourites, proudly first

Like those of angels, just before their fall; In zeal and charms,-too well th’ Impostor nurs'd

Now shadow'd with the shames of earth-now cront 1 The Nightingale.

By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost;

never!”

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In every glance there broke without control, Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow,
The flashes of a bright but troubled soul,

The thought, still haunting her, of that bright brow
Where sensibility still wildly play'd,

Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal'd Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! Would soon, proud triumph! be to her reveal'd,

To her alone ;-and then the hope most dear, And such was now young ZELICA-so chang'd

Most wild of all, that her transgression here From her who, some years since, delighted rang'd

Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire, The almond groves, that shade BOKHARA's tide,

From which the spirit would at last aspire, All life and bliss, with Azim by her side!

Ev'n So alter'd was she now, this festal day,

than before,-as perfumes rise

purer When, 'mid the proud Divan's dazzling array,

Through flaine and smoke, most welcome to the

skicsThe vision of that Youth, whom she had lov'd, And wept as dead, before her breath’d and mov'd ;-- Should circle her in heav'n, no darkening trace

And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace When-bright, she thought, as if from Eden's track

Would on that bosom he once lor'd remain, But half-way trodden, he had wander'd back

But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light

These were the wildering dreams, whose curst deceit
Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight.

Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's feet,
Oh Reason! who shall say what spells renew, And made her think ev'n damning talsehood sweet.
When least we look for it, thy broken clew! But now that Shape which had appall'd her view,
Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain That Semblance-oh how terrible, if true!-
Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again;

Which came across her frenzy's full carcer
And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe,
Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend within, As when in northern seas, at midnigiit dark,
One clear idea, waken'd in the breast

An isle of ice encounters some switt bark,
By Memory's magic, lets in all the rest !

And, startling all its wretches from their sleep,
Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee! By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep ;-
But, though light came, it came but partially; So came that shock not frenzy's self could bear,
Enough to show the maze, in which thy sense And waking up each long-lull'd image there,
Wander'd about,--but not to guide it thence; But check'd her headlong soul, to sink it in despair !
Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave,
But not to point the harbour which might save.

Wan and dejected, through the evening dusk,
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind,

She now went slowly to that small kiosk, With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind;

Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, But oh! to think how deep her soul had gone

MOKANNA waited her—too wrapt in dreams In shame and falsehood since those moments shone;

Of the fair-ripening future's rich success, And, then, her oath-there madness lay again,

To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless, And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain

That sat upon his victim's downcast brow, Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee

Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd now From light, whose every glimpse was agony!

From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light bound Yet, one relief this glance of former years

Came like a spirit's o'er th' unechoing ground,
Brought, mingled with its pain-tears, floods of tears, Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a trance !

From that wild ZELICA, whose every glance
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills, Upon his couch the Veiled MOKANNA lay,
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost,

While lamps around—not such as lend their ray
Through valleys where their flow had long been lost! Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly pray
Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame

In holy Koom,' or Mecca's dim arcades, Trembled with horror, when the summons came

But brilliant, soft, such light as lovely maids (A summons proud and rare, which all but she,

Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow And she, till now, had heard with extacy,)

Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow. To meet MOKANNA at his place of prayer,

Beside him, 'stead of beads and books of prayer, A garden oratory, cool and fair,

Which the world fondly thought he mused on there, By the stream's side, where still at close of day

Stood vases, fill’d with KISHMEE's golden wine, The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray;

And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine; Sometimes alone--but, oftener far, with one,

Of which his curtain'd lips full many a draught One chosen nymph to share his orison.

Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff”d,

Like ZEMZEM's Spring of Holiness," had power
Of late none found such favour in his sight

To freshen the soul's virtues into flower!
As the young Priestess; and though, since that night And still he drank and ponder'd-nor could see
When the death-caverns echo'd every tone Th' approaching maid, so deep his reverie;
Of the dire oath that made her all his own,
Th' Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize,

1 The cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan aro full of Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's disguise, mosques, mausoleums, and sopulchres of the descendants And utter'd such unheav'nly, monstrous things,

of Ali, the Saints of Persia. Chardin. As ev'n across the desperate wanderings

2 An Island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its whito Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out,

3 The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sala, Threw startling shadows of dismay and doubt ;- from the murmuring of its watere.

wine.

At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which broke | So let him-Eblis! grant this crowning curse, From Ellis at the Fall of Man, he spoke :- But keep him what he is, no hell were worse.""Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given,

“Oh my lost soul!" exclaim'd the shuddering maid Too mean for earth, yet claiming kin with heaven;

Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said, God's images, forsooth !—such gods as he

MOKANNA started—not abash'd, afraid,Whom India serves, the monkey deity ;'

He knew no more of fear than one who dwells Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay,

Beneath the tropics knows of icicles ! To whom, if LUCIFER, as grandams say,

But, in those dismal words that reach'd his ear, Refus'd, though at the forfeit of Heaven's light, “Oh my lost soul!" there was a sound so drear, To bend in worship, LUCIFER was right! So like that voice, among the sinful dead, Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck

In which the legend o'er Hell's gate is read, Of your foul race, and without fear or check,

That, new as 'twas from her, whom nought could dim Luxariating in hate, avenge my shame,

Or sink till now, it startled even him.
My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's name!
Soon, at the head of myriads, blind and fierce

"Ha, my fair Priestess !"—thus, with ready wile, As hooded falcons, through the universe

Th' impostor turn'd to greet her—"thou, whose smile I'll sweep my darkening, desolating way,

Hath inspiration in its rosy beam Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey!

Beyond th' enthusiast's hope or prophet's dream! * Ye wise, ye learn'd, who grope your dull way on So close with love's, men know not which they feel,

Light of the Faith! who twin'st religion's zeal By the dim twinkling glears of ages gone, Nor which to sigh for in their trance of heart, Like superstitious thieves, who think the light From dead men's marrow guides them best at night – What should I be without thee? without thee

The Heav'n thou preachest, or the Heav'n thou art ! Ye shall have honours—wealth,-yes, sages, yes

How dull were power, how joyless victory! I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothingness ;

Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere,

Bless'd not my banner, 'twere but half divine. But a gilt stick, a bauble blinds it here.

But—why so mournful, child ? those eyes, that shone How I shall laugh when trumpeted along,

All life, last night-what is their glory gone ? In lying speech, and still more lying song,

Come, come—this morn's fatigue hath made them pale, By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the throng; They want rekindling--suns themselves would fail, Their wits bought up, their wisdom shrunk so small, Did not their comets bring, as I to thee, A sceptre's puny point can wield it all!

From Light's own fount, supplies of brilliancy! “Ye loo, believers of incredible creeds,

Thou seest this cup-no juice of earth is here, Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it breeds ; But the pure waters of that upper sphere, Who, bolder ev’n than NEMROD, think to rise Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow, By nonsense heap'd on nonsense to the skies ; Catching the gem's bright colour, as they go. Ye shall have miracles, aye, sound ones too, Nightly my Genii come and fill these urnsSeen, heard, attested, every thing—but true. Nay, drink-in every drop life's essence burns ; Your preaching zealots, too inspired to seek 'Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all lightOne grace of meaning for the things they speak; Come, coine, I want thy loveliest smiles to-night : Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood

There is a youth-why start ?—thou saw'st him then; For truths too heavenly to be understood;

Look'd he not nobly? such the god-like men And your state priests, sole venders of the lore

Thou’lt have to woo thee in the bowers above ;That works salvation ;-as on Ava's shore, Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too stern for love, Where none but priests are privileg'd to trade Too rul'd by that cold enemy of bliss In that best marble of which gods are made ;9– The world calls Virtue—we must conquer this They shall have mysteriesmaye, precious stuff Nay, shrink not, pretty sage ; 'tis not for thee For knaves to thrive by-mysteries enough;

To scan the mazes of Heav'n's mystery. Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave, The steel must pass through fire, ere it can yield Which simple votaries shall on trust receive, Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. While craftier feign belief, till they believe. This very night I mean to try the art A Hear'n too ye must have, ye lords of dust,- of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart. A splendid Paradise-pure souls, ye must :

All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, That Prophet ill sustains his holy call,

Of skill and charms, most rare and exquisite, Who finds not heav'ns to suit the tastes of all; Shall tempt the boy ;-young Mirzala's blue eyou, Houris for boys, omniscience for sages,

Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies ; And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. AROUYA's cheeks, warm as a spring-day gun, Vain things !-as lust or vanity inspires,

And lips, that, like the seal of SOLOMON, The heav'n of each is but what each desires, Have magic in their pressure; ZEBA's lute, And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be,

And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot Man would be man to all eternity !

Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep!

All shall combine their witching powers to steep 1 Tne god Hannaman. 2 A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called the My convert's spirit in that softening trance, Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of the fat From which to Heav'n is but the next advance ;of a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather a western That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, than an eastern superstition. 3 Symes's Ava, vol. ii. p. 376.

TOn which Religion stamps her image best.
E

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